Title: A Tale of Two Siblings
Author: Myself
Pairing: None
Rating: K, I don't intend to get TOO graphic
Spoilers: Not sure yet, but if there are any I'll give a heads up
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, but if I did I would be uber-rich and uber-happy
Summary: The Winchester boys have caught wind of a rival family of hunters, The Montagues, whom in fact have a more creditable work ethic and appear to be chasing the same line of jobs that their father left in his journal. POV will change.
Author's Note: I originally had this as chapter 2 but decided to do a switcheroo. From 3rd person view from here on out. I want to get into everyone's head and really get into the DeanSam dilemma, really digging in and dredging up what I believe to be some underlying hostility and envy between our two boys.
Chapter 1
"Now comes the night
Feel it fading away
And the soul underneath
Is it all that remains
So just slide over here
Leave your fear in the fray
Let us hold to each other
Till the end of our days"-Rob Thomas (Now Comes the Night)
Chicago, Illinois
Present Day
Some song blared loudly on the radio of the 67' Impala as images of crumbling buildings standing tall under scorching hot skies as summer was starting to tune in. The weather was unforgiving at this time of year, making anyone who passed outside their door feel its overwhelming hatred for whoever was to encounter it and like a great wave it swept the Midwest without so much of a heads-up in one night.
Dean Winchester hated hot weather, hated the stench of the earth as it exuded from the sticky heat that now hung over the town like a bad hangover, hated the sweat that formed at the base of his neck and rode down his spine, forcing his most beloved clothes to cling to him in all the worst places. How was he supposed to get women when he was over-exemplifying his much finer traits?
His younger brother sat quietly next to him without one peep of complaining, and Sam Winchester was known for complaining in uncomfortable situations. Dean had shut off the air conditioning just as they entered the bottom of Missouri and drove through the Ozarks taking in the sights and smells of fresh water lakes. Dean had hated sitting in the humid infested heat, but Sammy loved the smell of water in the summer and Dean would hate to have denied him that and heard about it for the next week. So being a good brother came at a price and he gave up his hate of the heat so Sam could relish in the simpler more normal things in life if only for a moment.
"Alright dude, this heat has got to go…" Dean said stretching one arm over the back of the seat and brushing Sam's back lightly.
"It's not that bad." Sam said looking over at his older brother only to be greeted with a face that showed that Sam couldn't be any farther from the truth.
"You're kidding me, Sammy? This heat could kill a small child… or a large one in your case." He grinned flashing those white teeth that were known to slay women within a one mile radius. Dean had charm, had charisma, but had no mind for anyone outside of himself unless it came to his family. Sam supposed that was worth something.
"You're a freakin' jerk, man." Sam looked back out the window before rolling it up, for once adhering to his brother's wishes.
Their banter was endless but often a comfort, Sam found much of his resolve in their confrontations seeing as how it was something that was becoming normal, something that was resembling a thing closer to a home, to what they once were. Sam's words rang clear in his mind from a previous speech the two men had shared "Things will never be the way they were before…". Sam had tried sticking to that but was noticing that it was undoubtedly hard to do so. Some of the looks that Dean gave him almost broke him on the inside, the things he had to go through Sam could never imagine and almost didn't want to.
"What are you thinking about 'Sammy Button-Nose'?" Dean grinned again, that shit-eating grin that made Sam want to dead arm him. 'Sammy Button-Nose' was a nickname from elementary, one of the other student's mothers would call him that because of his slight up-turned nose. Dean had tortured him for years with the endearing term and Sam believed it to be a disturbing, distant memory. Apparently he was wrong.
"Shut up. What's our next job?" Sam stretched two arms into the air behind his seat before returning to sitting normally.
"We got ourselves a gig up in the great state of Illinois, just outside Chicago actually."
"Great, not only are we dealing with the supernatural demons but now the possibility of getting shot up too." Sam frowned, his brow wrinkling slightly. Dean pursed two cupid shaped lips before giving a lazy nodshrug.
"Nothin' we ain't dealt with before right, Sammy?" Sam shrugged in return, his eyes returning to the scenery which had switched to decrepit buildings, which at this instant reflecting his feelings. Sam didn't like the big city, didn't like too tall buildings, and didn't like to go to places where for once he was the subject of a possible pick pocketing. Dean had perfected the art and kept from getting rusty by stealing Sam's stuff. Sam learned quickly to put stuff in his front pockets of his jeans.
"So what's the deal?" Sam eyes were focused on one spot on the dash that was warped, but he dared not tell Dean. Like the sleeping beast it was best not to poke it with sticks.
"There are rumors of a distant wailing before a person turns up dead in a small neighborhood outside Chicago." He passed several sheets of paper to Sam for him to inspect himself. "There have been 4 people that have been pronounced dead, all from the same family, but all died in different ways. The police of course haven't connected any of the deaths… but read the last article."
"Artair O'Connor, youngest son of three siblings, claims that he heard a loud wailing only hours before the death of his oldest sister, Anna. Anna passed away early Saturday morning suffering many years with a weak heart. She was 26 years old… I don't get it. They all died in different ways and none of them are connected." Sam scratched his head before placing the papers into his lap.
"Yeah, but in old Gaelic traditions they were tied to certain families just for that purpose, to announce the death of a loved one. I mean you have all these IrishScottish families living in one neighborhood you're bound to end up with some actual blood ties right? And who's to say they aren't all connected… I mean maybe it's the 'small-town syndrome' you marry your neighbor because you're afraid to venture out." Dean raised his eyebrows and knew that Sam had nothing to contradict what he was saying.
"What if… they're not?" Sam looked back at Dean and watched him shake his head in disapproval.
"Real lame defense Sammy." Dean stepped harder on the accelerator and kept his eye out for a reasonably priced motel. It had been a long journey through several states and funds were running low. At the last stop Horatio's credit card had finally been declined and he had no others with the same name and he was forced to hit up Sam for some cash.
He kept two clear sea green eyes focused on his objectives, the street underneath passing with ever increasing speed which had become a grey blur that had long since lost its magnificence, even the constantly changing scenery was becoming old. Something in Dean's mind was pulling at the thought of why Sam had left him and his father in the first place. Maybe it wasn't them… maybe it was everything else that came along with them, the motels, the bad food, the continuously shifting life. Sam had always like the idea of being grounded, the 2 car garage, the 2.5 kids, the half acre land. Dean was starting to understand why- it was safe, it was nice, it was normal…
Dean wasn't normal, never had been… had never taken the time to stop and think about what normal was really like. He had always had these missions: help dad, take care of Sammy, follow dad, find mom's killer, keep Sammy safe, and hunt the supernatural. Never had he thought outside of those things for many years, maybe that's why he resented Sam so much… no, resent was too strong a word… envy? No. He did what he did for a purpose even if that purpose was so construed now that he had lost sight of all other things except one: Keep Sam safe.
Even when they were kids, well when Sam was a kid, he had done everything for him: cooked, cleaned, bathed, watched, helped him with his homework, and even tucked him in at night. Dean did all that, not for himself and not because his father told him to but because it was, in his belief, that older brothers are put there to protect the younger ones, to give them the chances they never had. He wanted to give everything to Sammy and when Sam wanted to go off to college Dean let him without a word because he somewhere understood the want to get out.
Sam watched Dean, watched his face expression change as he went through thoughts, went through the motions. Sam had watched Dean now more then he ever had and was learning there was so much more to his brother that he never saw. He now understood that Dean was a haunted man, plagued by the idea that he has to do what his father tells him to make up for a mistake when he was only a child, that he is tied and tethered to this life. Sam drew two eyebrows together before shutting his eyes and lying against the seat, the pit of guilt rising up in his stomach and burning through him like a wildfire in a brush field. He was now, himself, plagued with the idea that it was his own fault that Dean turned out the way he did and that he only could have saved him from himself. Sam also knew that he was burdened with the hero complex and that, if attempted, anyone can be saved. Sam hated that about himself more then anything, but knew that false hope was better then no hope.
Sam watched as objects passed by, no longer concerned with what they were and what purpose they held. He was dwelling.
"Sam… give me some cash." Dean punched him hard in the shoulder.
"What? Why?"
"One-We need gas and two-I'm starving dude." Dean pulled the car into one of the most rundown gas stations it had ever seen… and the car had seen a lot. Sam pulled out his wallet and gave the rest of his cash to his older brother. It totaled out to $27.45.
Dean returned with a bag of some kind of chips in his hands to the unwashed car, which sporting grass, dirt, grime, wood, pollen and any other namable substance on its hood.
"Pork Rhines®?" Dean passed the bag over and Sam forced it away.
"I don't eat Pork Rhines®." Dean looked down at the bag incredibly like he couldn't comprehend that there were people on the Earth who didn't eat Pork Rhines®.
"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked, throwing the bag down and getting out of the car. He soon returned with another bag and threw it at Sam's head.
"Man! What the hell?" Sam asked picking up the bag of Funyun's®.
"Here's your sissy food… you girl." Dean shook his head before getting back into the car.
Sam grinned as he held the bag in his hands. Dean was still taking care of him without even thinking about it, it was subconscious by now no doubt. Sam slid inside the car and locked in his seat belt, for once, perfectly content listening to ACDC and eating Funyuns®.