AN: This one is a doozy, my longest chapter by far. Some questions are gonna get answered here, and in the next chapter. Because this chapter is so long, I don't expect to have another one done before the weekend is over. Thank you again so much for your support, it's so encouraging to read your comments, so feel free to leave a fav or a comment. I hope you enjoy!
-GNS-
Chapter 5:
The three men got two separate rooms at the Cozy Costal Motel. The kind right next to each other with the doors that conjoin. Dean had to catch himself when he started to follow Sam into his room for the night. He remembered what Henry said about them always sharing a room, and well, if Sam was dead set on Henry not knowing, Dean would try his best to act the part.
He hung back from Henry a few feet to watch, not sure if they had a usual way of going about it—who got which bed and what not—and he didn't want to raise anymore red flags. If they really were as close as Sam has been suggesting they are, Dean wasn't sure how Henry could have possibly not noticed Dean wasn't, well, Henry's Dean. Hell, the only reason Sam realized it was by how nice Dean was being to him. That was a thought that didn't really sit well in Dean's stomach.
Henry threw his stuff down on the far bed, so Dean plopped his bag—or the other him's bag—down at the end of the bed closest to the door. He had just splayed out across the wrinkled thread-thin blue comforter when there was a short knock on the connecting door.
"I'll get it," Henry said, waving Dean off as he began to sit up. He undid the deadbolt and swung the door open. Sam strode in and sat down at the small wooden table in the corner by the window. "Make yourself comfortable," Henry deadpanned.
"Why thank you kindly sir," Sam sneered back, flipping open his laptop.
"Hey, this is our room," Henry replied, clearly exasperated. Dean could understand, he had been here less than a day, and the fighting was already wearing on him.
"And you opened the door, sweetheart," Sam clipped back, "who else was gonna be knocking on the door that connects to my room?"
Henry stayed silent, arms crossed and lips set in a deep frown.
"Are we gonna get to work, or what?" Sam asked, eyes hard and resolve unwavering.
"Fine," Henry huffed.
Dean pulled himself up and sat on the end of the bed while Henry made himself at home in the chair across from Sam.
"So, get this," Sam started, "Qalupalik have pretty terrible eyesight. I've been thinking, three grown men trying to lure this thing out in the middle of the night is probably not the best bet, unless we wanted to use a child as bait—"
"Which isn't an option," Henry interrupted.
"Exactly, so if you'd let me finish," Sam broke in, "Qalupalik lure kids to the edge of the water or out onto the ice… if we were to get a pair of kids shoes, and plant them by the edge of the water, the thing might just fall for it enough to climb out and take a peak."
"Right, and how are we gonna get the thing far enough out of the water to light it on fire?" Henry protested.
"I mean, we could always use a flare gun," Dean offered, "Maybe even get a doll and dangle it over the edge or something to make it real believable. Then when the thing rears it's ugly head, we waste it."
"I guess it could work," Henry admitted, "you and I could go grab some stuff right now, I saw a Walmart not too far up the road."
"Why don't you go yourself," Dean said, tossing him the keys. Henry caught them one handed midair, from the way the movement seemed practiced, it was probably something they'd done on multiple occasions, "I'm still a little groggy from last night, and I'd prefer to be well rested for the hunt."
"Alright," Henry said, a little unsure, "Need anything else while I'm out?" The question wasn't directed at him specifically, but the way he locked eyes at Dean made it clear that Sam was not invited in on the offer.
"Nah," Dean said, "I'm alright." As Henry started to turn out the door Dean said, "What about you, Sam? Need anything?" Henry's shoulders tightened and Sam looked up in dull surprise.
"I'm good," he said, and Henry left, the door shutting behind him with a snap. Dean waited for a few moments to make sure the man hadn't forgotten anything before speaking.
"Well, now that he's gone, we can talk," Dean said, pushing himself up off of the bed and into Henry's previous spot across from Sam.
"Sure," Sam replied, shifting in his chair and pushing his computer out of the way, "I have some questions I'd still like you to answer."
"You're telling me," Dean sighed, leaning back in his seat.
"So in your world, you're still a hunter? Just no Henry?" Sam asked.
"I guess, I'm not really sure how much our timelines diverged," Dean answered, "I mean, mom died when you were six months old, she was killed by the yellow eyed demon after he showed up in your nursery. I pulled you out of the fire, and Dad was pretty much obsessed after that. Finding out what killed her, ya know?"
"I mean, mom was killed by yellow eyes, but it was when Henry was six months old, not me," Sam explained. "He still came for me when I was a baby, still tainted me, but I guess mom knew. She didn't get out of bed that night." The way he said 'tainted' lit a low, angry fire somewhere deep in Dean's stomach. The ease Sam had describing himself that way suggested he had accepted it as a fact for far too long. Dean had locked his own Sam up for detox—he could only imagine what this Sam must have gone through.
"Two years later and the demon comes again for Henry, try to maximize his possible results or something, ya know?" Sam continued, "But mom was ready, stopped him before he could—but it wasn't enough. She went up in flames that night. I wasn't even three yet, and Dad drug me out. You—you took Henry. Dad was still obsessed on finding the thing, and Henry always butted heads with him pretty bad. He's stubborn, but he won't always stand up for himself—most of the time you ended up doing it for him."
"I took his side over dads?" Dean asked, surprised.
"Took his side? Half the time there was all out screaming matches between you two. Henry was yours, ya know? You had to protect him, even if he couldn't do it himself. When he went to Yale, it crushed you he was leaving, but you were also the one to speak up for him, to support him," Sam explained, "he was never fit for this life, you knew that. It wasn't until Dad went missing two years later that he bothered coming back."
"And what about you?" Dean asked, "didn't you ever go to college?"
"Me? Hell no!" Sam exclaimed. Then, his voice got low and quiet, "Henry was always the smart one, ya know? I was dad's project. We got along most of the time. I wasn't, I wouldn't have fit in at school anyways." It was an amount of vulnerability that Dean hadn't seen out of this Sam yet, and he wondered what else he didn't know about the man. He was always angry, frustrated, as if the world had forsaken him from the start—and well, maybe it had.
"Did I go to college in your world?" He asked softly.
"Sammy, you got a full ride to Stanford," Dean answered.
"Huh," he sighed. "And you don't have any idea how you got here? Was it a hunt?" Sam asked, quickly changing the subject. There was something calmer, more civil about the way he spoke when Henry was out of the room. Clearly from the way Sam was protecting him from the truth, he cared, but the two fought with each other nonstop when they're in the same room. It vaguely reminded him of Sam and John.
"No, no clue. I went to bed in my motel room, wasted off my ass, and the next moment I'm waking up in the Impala. We weren't even on a hunt. Just kind of in-between jobs on our way back to Kansas." Dean answered, "Any reason why your Dean would get replaced with me?"
"No, just like you said, we were on our way to this job… nothing that would do this," Sam said, waiving his arm around to emphasize their current predicament. It seemed, for now at least, what caused this was a mystery.
"So… what about yellow eyes? Did you guys kill him?" Dean asked instead, trying to get more context on how much things changed.
"Yeah, he uh, well after he possessed Dad and I, I couldn't take the shot, he escaped. Then the thing kidnapped me and took me to some ghost town—"
"Cold Oak," Dean interrupted, just the name made his hands go numb.
"Exactly. I mean, then Jake—another chosen kid like me—ended up stabbing me in the back and Dad, well he made a deal to uh, save me. You ended up shooting yellow eyes with the colt," Sam explained.
"In my world I almost died in a car crash not long after dad was possessed," Dean said, "He uh, Dad gave his life and the colt for mine… but it was me who made the deal for you after Cold Oak. Then all the bullshit with being vessels for Michael and Lucifer. How'd you," Dean began, already afraid of the answer he was going to get, "after the apocalypse, how'd you get out of the cage?"
"I gained consciousness and um, well I threw the devil back into the box—but it was a year and a half before I got pulled back out. It was an angel—Castiel," Sam said quietly.
"Cas?" Dean said surprised.
"Yeah, you know him?"
"Yeah he, he was our friend for a long time," Dean answered shortly. Purgatory was still a wound fresh in his mind, and he didn't really want to talk about it.
"Well, he said that God had bigger plans for me, and just like that I was out." Then, Sam got quiet. He appeared, all at once, to be a different person. Smaller. His hard façade faded away and all that was left was a boy. He, well Sam looked lonely. He glanced down at the table as if he were studying it and inhaled sharply. "So," he began, "in your world… are we close?"