Change from the canon aged gap between Dean and Sam.
Booth looked up at the entrance to the lab to find a young man in his early twenties and a boy around twelve. The young man had a hand on the boy's shoulder, seeming to keep him in line in his excitement. The boy was about to run over to a display when the young man bent down and whispered something in his ear. He snapped to disciplined attention immediately.
Brennan noticed the two shortly after Booth and frowned in annoyance. Hodgins looked up from a tray of goop from the latest crime scene to notice the cause of Brennnan's annoyance. He walked over to the two strangers. "Can I help you?"
The young man nodded. "I'm here to see Special Agent Booth…if he's not busy…" he didn't seem intimidated by Hodgins. Though anyone had to admit if the young man compared himself to others solely on physical aspects it would take a lot to intimidate him. He was all muscles and carefully disguised fighting prowess.
"Sure, come on over. You're actually doing me a huge favor. Booth's been hovering for over an hour now and keeps on stuffing up my concentration." Hodgins spoke, leading the two over to the platform.
The boy went to follow him up the stairs but the man glanced at him. Something passed between the two that Booth couldn't pick up on but the boy didn't set foot on the first step. He was craning his neck to see onto the platform though. He turned to the man with eager eyes.
"Dean, can I go up there, please? I promise I'll be good and I won't get in the way. Please?" the boy asked softly.
Dean shrugged. "I don't know Sammy. You better ask the good doctor over there if she'll let you in her work area…" Dean pointed with his eyes at Brennan.
Sam's eyes grew wide. "Dr Brennan, wow. I never thought I'd actually meet you. I've read your books. I really enjoyed them…"
Brennan smiled tightly at Sam. "Yes, I quite enjoy murder mysteries myself. Though I wonder what a boy your age is doing reading it…?"
He shook his head. "Not the fictional book, it was good though. Your autobiography. And a couple of your textbooks."
Brennan looked stunned. "Well, why don't you come on up and have a look at what we do?" Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean.
"Just put a pair of gloves on in case you touch something by accident." Dean replied, staying at the bottom of the stairs. Brennan couldn't believe how responsible the young man was. Not only was he looking after the young boy but he was also protecting her evidence from him.
"You're more than welcome to come up as well, Dean. I don't mind." Brennan added, seeing he was hanging back.
He walked up the steps and found an empty corner on the platform immediately, leaning against the metal rail. Booth watched him for a moment. Dean seemed to be overly disinterested but Booth could see he was listening to what the team was saying and understood it as well. He walked over to the stranger.
"Dean? I'm Special Agent Booth. You told Hodgins that you wanted to see me…" Booth spoke, leaning against the rail beside Dean.
He nodded. "My father sent me. Said you guys were in the war together. His name is John Winchester."
Booth's eyes went wide. "I haven't heard from your dad in years. How is he? And your mother? I only met her once or twice but she was nice."
Dean's eyes went empty, watching Sam closely as he studied Brennan. "Our mother died years ago. House fire, when Sammy was six months old."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know. How old are you two anyway?" Booth asked, realizing Dean didn't like to speak about his mother.
"I'm eighteen, Sammy's twelve. Look, Dad said you might listen to what I need to tell you. But I can't tell you in front of other people." His eyes scanned the room in a manner Booth recognized. He was checking for dangers. "Sammy! Don't you touch that leg bone."
Booth glanced over at the boy to see him snatch his hand back. He hadn't intended to touch the bone but Dean's sharp eye had prevented it. Dean glanced around and saw an empty stool, he pointed to it and Sam sat down out of the way.
Brennan shot Dean a thankful look before going back to her work. Hodgins shook his head and went back to looking at slime through a microscope. Booth looked back at Dean. "Come on, we can talk in Bones' office."
"Sammy, your butt stays glued to that chair unless they ask you to move it." Dean said, following Booth.
xxx
They had been helping Booth for several months when Dean got a phone call, standing on the platform with the entire team. He checked the caller ID and snapped the phone to his ear. "Dad? What's going on? You were supposed to meet up with us months ago…" he stopped talking and his shoulders pulled back. He was so tense everyone stopped working to look at him. "Yes, sir. I'll take care of it. No, sir, he's been good. Yes, sir. Of course I'll take care of Sammy." He turned around, to hand the phone to his little brother.
"Dad? When are you coming to get us? Guess what? I met Dr Brennan and her team. Bye Dad." Sam's voice quivered.
Dean leant over and took the phone off him. He put the phone away and took hold of his brother's shoulders, looking him in the eye. "Sammy…Dad's dying."
The boy shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. "NO! Dad can't die. Dad's always there. No, you're lying."
Dean closed his eyes. "Sammy, he's got cancer. He's only got a couple of weeks left but he's in so much pain…he's going to Bobby's and he's going to finish it…"
"No, he's coming to pick us up and we're going to a motel. No!" Sam shook his head. Dean pulled him close, rubbing circles on his little brother's back.
"Sammy, out of everything that matters, have I ever lied to you? You asked me about mum and I told you the truth. You asked me about monsters and I told you everything. You asked me to teach you and I did my best." He stepped back and looked his little brother in the eyes. "Sammy, Dad's dying."
Sam burst into sobs, clinging to Dean and shaking his head. Trying to deny it. Trying to find some way out of it.
The entire team was staring at Dean. His last conversation with his father had been orders. The last words his father had said to him had been to watch over his brother. For a young man about to lose his father he was taking this very well.
