"Wait, you guys met on a case?" Moving over to perch on the bumper, Sam leaned his elbows back on the rim of the open trunk, making no bones about the fact that he was watching Skye and Dean like a hawk. What in the hell was up with those two? They were circling each other like feral cats or whatever other territorial animals you might care to name. "...but I take it you're definitely not in the business, Skye. It is Skye, right?"
"Why, yes. Yes, it is. Your bonehead brother seems to have his head stuck too far up his own ass to bother to learn my name, so thanks for that." Sam figured out pretty quick that he'd stepped in the middle of an ongoing argument and the thought was only confirmed when Skye shot Dean a smug smile that Dean promptly returned with an obscene gesture. "And no, to answer your question, I'm not 'in the business' if by 'business' you mean hunting the Bogeyman. I'm not even on the same block as your business. No offense, Sam, but I'm not yet convinced that you're not both bat-shit crazy. ...or hell, maybe I am."
"None taken, it is crazy. I mean, it's definitely a thing that exists, but it is crazy." 'Batshit crazy' was actually a totally rational way to view the life Sam and Dean had been forced to live for the last twenty-two years. Couldn't really take offense at the truth. Wait, back up a second. Turning his attention back to Dean, he picked up the thread of the conversation again, "Wait, Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"
"Dude, I'm 26."
Okay, Sam could see where that could be offensive. Funny, but offensive. Also funny that Dean was way more offended by that than by Skye calling his life's work 'batshit crazy'.
Finally, after what felt like forever, or at least like several pages of expositional dialogue, Dean found what he'd been looking for and pulled it out of the trunk with a triumphant smile.
Holding up a file folder with a short stack of papers inside, Dean looked entirely too self-satisfied, which lasted all of two seconds, until he realized nobody was paying the least bit of attention to him anymore. Or, at least, that she wasn't paying the least bit of attention anymore
With a sound born of equal parts resignation and aggravation, Dean took a piece of paper out of the thick file folder in his hand. An old newspaper article, from the looks of it, "Dad was checkin' out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California." Flipping the paper in his hand, Dean offered it to Sam, letting him look for himself. "About a month ago this guy disappeared. They found his car but he'd vanished, completely MIA."
Taking the page, Sam barely glanced at it, more interested in what Dean had to say than reading the article he'd been handed. Skye, on the other hand, seemed to prefer her information in written form and took the sheet when Sam offered it to her, giving him a smile that turned instantly into a look that could curdle milk when Dean snatched it right back again.
Leaning against the car with his arms crossed, Sam eyed his brother. Sure Dean could be a dick, but he was being uncharacteristically hostile, especially to an attractive female of legal age. ...Jesus. She was of legal age, right? Man, he sure as hell hoped so. She did look to be on the young side but now he was kind of afraid to ask. Shrugging a shoulder while still pondering the problem, Sam made a suggestion, "Maybe he was kidnapped."
"Maybe." Flipping open the folder in his hand, Dean picked up one article after another after another, "...except here's one in April, and December. ..'04, '03, '98, '92'...Ten of them over the past twenty years. All men, all on the same five-mile stretch of road. I do know how to do my damn job, Sam." Looking at him reproachfully, Dean stuffed the sheaf of papers back in the folder and tossed all and sundry onto the pile of weaponry in the trunk. "It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around, that was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough, then yesterday I get this voicemail-"
Pulling out the mini-cassette player from the pocket he'd stuffed it in, Dean held it up for Sam to listen, studiously ignoring Skye when she perched on the bumper between them as the familiar voice of John Winchester issued from the tinny speaker. Heavily distorted, it was difficult to make out exactly what was said.
"Dean, s***thing is starting to ha****. I think it's serious. I *** ** figure out what's going on." The static increased, muffling John's voice, making it next to impossible to hear every word. "Be v*** car***l, Dean. We're al* *n d**ger."
Well, that was comforting. Leaning forward and nibbling on his thumbnail, Sam took a second to sort his thoughts out before speaking. So, Dean probably wasn't overreacting and there really was something going on. Great. Tapping his fingers on the cold metal of the Impala, he sighed, nodding toward the cassette player in Dean's hand, "You know there's EVP on that?"
"Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like ridin' a bike, isn't it." The pride in Dean's voice was kind of nice. Ridiculous, but nice. Did Dean really think Sam was just going to forget everything he'd learned before he'd come to California? The man really needed to get a hobby.
"What's EVP?"
The complete lack of sarcasm on Skye's part got Sam's attention, his eyes flickering from her to Dean and back again as he braced for another round of bitch-flirting. Because come on, let's just admit that's exactly what it was, shall we? Bitch-flirting, with maybe a giant pinch of stubborn, hard-headed denial. On both their parts. Sam had only watched them interact for all of twenty minutes, but even a blind man could see that.
"Electronic Voice Phenomenon. Sometimes you can hear a spirit speaking when you play back a recording. There's a voice on here, once you clean it up. I slowed down the message and ran it through a GoldWave-"
The smile that crept across Dean's lips when he looked down at Skye was one Sam had to admit he hadn't seen before, answering the question with no trace of the hostility he'd shown thus far. And why exactly was he being hostile? Why hadn't he just seduced her and gotten it over with? It wasn't like he didn't know how. Even Sam had to admit that when Dean turned on the charm, he could get damn near anything he wanted from any even half-willing woman, and she was willing, or he was seriously misreading the situation. Not likely.
"GoldWave?"
"GoldWave is audio recording and playback tech, used by a lot of ghost hunters. Sometimes they get lucky and actually catch real EVP, but mostly not so much. God forbid they ever actually run into a real live ghost."
"If it was 'real live', then it wouldn't be a ghost."
The corner of Sam's lips twitched into a wry smile as he silently watched this 'witty' repartee, the entire feel of this little exchange the exact opposite of everything he'd yet seen. ...and that smile on his brother's stupid face. Could it possibly be Dean wasn't just being Dean? Could he maybe have a little crush. Oh my god, he totally did. Dean had a crush.
That explained it. Sam didn't think Dean had ever had any interest in anyone beyond the physical, and considering that Dean had all the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old boy… and let's face it, the girl didn't seem much better… Well, that certainly explained the aggressive playground behavior.
Closing his eyes for a second, it took everything Sam had not to start giggling. Oh, good lord, this was just hilarious. Of course his brother would be a walking, talking cliche of a human being. Taking a deep breath, Sam pried his eyes open again when Dean cleared his throat to get Sam's attention.
"I ran it through the GoldWave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got." With a click of cheap plastic, Dean pushed play again, holding it up so it could be heard as clearly as possible in the still October air. Wait, no, that was last night. It was November now. Because that was important.
The hiss of static permeated the background and it took a second for Sam to zero in on the soft feminine voice that had hidden in his father's message, "...I can never go home…"
Pushing Dean's deep emotional issues to the back burner for now, Sam tried to focus on the problem, weighing the pros and cons as he absently repeated the mystery woman's words, "I can never go home."
"I gotta say, that's fuckin' creepy. Like...I mean, you guys seem to find this very normal, so I just wanna take a second to make sure I'm not havin' an aneurysm or somethin' and point out that this is really freaky. You guys get that, right?"
Skye's warm Oklahoma drawl slipped through the air around them, pulling Sam out of his thoughts and back to the present. Time to make a choice. Really, he'd made it just as soon as he'd decided to follow Dean out the door to hear what he had to say. Ah well, he could spare a few days to road-trip with his brother and some strange random teenage girl. It's not like this decision would have any real impact on the entire rest of his life...right?
Besides, it was an invitation to a front-row seat in what promised to be some highly amusing family drama. How could he turn down the opportunity to watch Dean trip all over himself like this? He also had to admit, if only to himself, that he was more than a little curious to find out what kind of young woman had caught his brother's attention.
"Yeah. Sorry." With a purely internal sigh, Sam finally answered Skye's question, though it very well may have been rhetorical. If she was going to get into this, it was better to be as honest as possible from the start, "...you'll get used to it." Running a hand through his shaggy hair, Sam turned to Dean, wondering if he was about to make a huge mistake, "Alright, but I've got to be back by Monday morning."
"Why? What's Monday?"
Sam had really been hoping Dean wouldn't ask, but that was just too much to wish for, wasn't it. With a resigned sigh, purely external this time, Sam reluctantly answered, "...I've got an interview." Come on, Dean, just drop it. Yeah, no chance of that.
"What, a job interview? Skip it."
He could tell from Dean's tone, not to mention body language, and really just about every other damn thing about him, that Dean thought Sam had his priorities seriously skewed. How could he possibly explain to his brother how important this was? Dean's entire focus was family, it was everything, and Sam's just wasn't. "It's a law school interview and it's my entire future on a plate."
"Law school? ...what'd you get on your LSATs?" Before Dean could pop off with something, Skye interrupted, surprising Sam with the question. Aside from people actually going into law themselves, very few knew what an LSAT was. While not exactly ground-breaking, it was certainly interesting that she even knew enough to ask.
Chewing on his lower lip, Sam managed to look humble even as he felt a familiar surge of pride, "...174."
"Holy shit, dude." Looking suitably impressed, Skye grinned up at him as she leaned back against the Impala, hands deep in the pockets of her worn jeans, "I mean, I figured you got the brains in the family, but damn, that's impressive. Good job, Stretch."
"Thanks." Stretch, huh? The girl was like two feet tall, everyone was 'Stretch' to her. Except maybe an Oompa Loompa. With a grin of his own, Sam inclined his head in acknowledgment of the compliment, though the smile quickly slipped away.
Half-turning to look up at the building behind him, Sam blew the hair out of his eyes. This was going to be fun. "Alright, you guys wait here, I'll be back. ...just as soon as I figure out what I'm going to tell Jess."
Leaning back against the Impala, Dean watched Sam retreat into the building, on his way to lie through his teeth to his girlfriend.
Yet another reason relationships were a bad idea, and that wasn't even getting into the liability issues. ...is it really that bad an idea though?... Shoving that rogue thought right back down where it came from, Dean ignored it and cleared his throat, finally breaking the silence that threatened to stretch out uncomfortably between him and the aggravating little girl a few feet away. Sam was a safe topic, right? They couldn't possibly fight about him. "...so, 174. That's good?"
Sliding down the length of the car, Skye settled back against it once within comfortable talking distance, but still just far enough away that he'd have to move to touch her. She had a habit of doing that kind of thing. Seriously, like ninety-percent of the time she stayed just out of easy reach, like she didn't even realize she was doing it. The other ten percent she was all up in his personal space like she lived there. It was confusing as fuck for multiple reasons, none of which Dean was going to give even a seconds worth of thought. Of course that was like trying not to think of a pink elephant after being specifically told not to think of a pink elephant. Impossible.
"Uh, yeah. It's like, full-ride, Harvard kinda good. A perfect score is 180, and only a tenth of a percent of the people that take it get a perfect score. 174 is really impressive."
Cocking her head to the side, she raised a brow in his direction, hesitating for a second as if trying to figure out how to say something. Definitely a first. He'd been starting to wonder if she ever actually thought about the words that came out of her mouth or if she liked being just as surprised as everyone else. He'd been leaning toward the latter. "Just spit it out, Skyler."
She pressed her lips together and Dean could have sworn he actually saw her deciding to ignore the 'Skyler'. Guess whatever was on her mind was important enough for her to skip a chance to insult his existence and she never skipped a chance to insult his existence. "It's just- I don't know. The way you gushed about Sam the whole way here, I thought you two were close-" And there went the hair around the finger again. Between that and the total lack of venom spiking that backwoods accent, Dean was starting to think she might actually be interested in something that involved him. Also a first. He wasn't real sure he liked it, to be honest. "-but he was real surprised to see you in there and you had no idea he was going to law school. How long has it been since you guys talked?"
"Okay, first off, I don't gush. About anything. Ever." Did he? He was pretty sure he didn't. Sure, he'd told a few stories about Sam on the long drive up from Louisiana, but he certainly hadn't gushed. ...oh good Lord, he had totally gushed, hadn't he? Shit, well, that was embarrassing. Still, what else was he supposed to talk about? The snippy little brat refused to talk about anything but the pointless random bullshit that popped into her head and that she rambled on about at length. A week, a full week sitting two feet away from her and he still knew next to nothing about her. So fine, he'd gushed a bit. He wasn't about to admit that to her. What was the question again? Oh. Yeah… "Not that it's any of your business, but it's been about four years."
"Four years? Shit. ...and you didn't visit or even pick up the phone? Man, that's-"
"Look, it's complicated, alright. And again, not your business." For just a split second, she actually looked hurt and Dean found himself wanting to eat his words, but the expression was replaced with bland disinterest so quick he couldn't be sure he'd really seen it.
Okay, so maybe that had come out a little harsher than he'd intended, but did she have to be so damn nosy? This was hard enough without her putting her two cents in about shit she knew nothing about. ...so tell her...Because that was going to happen.
It was bad enough that she'd gotten caught up in the middle of his professional life, she didn't need to be in the middle of his personal life, too. Not that I've got one. Running a hand through his hair, Dean tried to figure out how to smooth over the conversation and utterly failed.
"You know what, whatever, Winchester."
He had the unpleasant feeling that it was going to be a very long night.
