Disclaimer: I do not receive any profit for my fanfictions, nor do I own Supernatural or Sam and Dean Winchester.
Title: Brother, Where Art Thou?
Chapter Title: Chapter Two
Setting: (Author's Universe) Sam's 23 and Dean's 27
Summary: What if, along with killing Mary that night, the demon also kidnapped Sam? Dean missed his brother greatly throughout his life, but learned to move on, hunting and killing things with his father. But now they've heard about a young Stanford student dying the same way Mary had, and this mystery leads him to the one person who's been missing from his life…
Warnings: probably a few typos here and there...
"There has to be something more to him," Dean muttered, typing away on his laptop like a madman. Ever since he had first talked to Sam, the Winchester boy had felt something familiar about him. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. And, hell, he hated not knowing about something. He hated keeping his guard down. It just gave demons and evil sons of bitches to catch him off guard and beat the shit out of him. Which really, really didn't sound fun. No, his idea of a good time was being the shit out of them.
"Hmm..." Dean bit his bottom lip slightly and narrowed his eyes at the information that lay before him. He had hacked into a government file from the internet, and everything about Sam Charles was staring him in the face.
Samuel Charles
Age
23
DOB
May 2, 1983
Physical Description
Brown hair, brown eyes, 6'2", thin build.
Family History
All family history before the age of thirteen is unknown. Classified as a runaway at the age of thirteen; November 15, 1995. Asked of family, but wasn't willing to give up any real information other than his first name. No one responded when report given out to nation about the boy. Sent to a boys' home at the age of thirteen; December 1, 1995. Adopted by Chad and Erin Charles at the age of fourteen; May 2, 1996.
Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. How could the government, of all the people in the nation, have no fucking clue about Sam's family history before he was thirteen? Wasn't it their job to keep tabs on their citizens? Then again, he couldn't really downplay the government, could he?
Mental Illness
Diagnosed by Doctor Fredrick S. Taylor at the age of fourteen; June 21, 1996. Sam repeatedly talked about how he had been kidnapped by a demon as a baby, escaping when he was thirteen. Also talked about how the demon killed his family consisting of his mother, his father, and his older brother. Cured from this mental illness at the age of sixteen; September 30, 1998.
Dean reread that paragraph a couple times. Wait. A demon? It said that Sam had thought a demon kidnapped him when he was a baby? But... that's how his Sam had disappeared. Maybe they were the same person. It was a long shot, but it was worth checking up on. Dean scrolled down the information and, after finding the institution's name, quickly started searching for its files. About an hour later he was staring at Sam's records, and he couldn't believe what he was reading.
Samuel Charles
Age
23
DOB
May 2, 1983
Submitted
June 25, 1996
Released
September 31, 1998
Reason for Admittance
Mental illness.
Patient History
Samuel believed that he had been kidnapped by a demon when he was a baby. This demon also killed his family in the process, or so he was told when the demon was raising him as a young boy. Samuel believed that the demon always spoke to him, taunting him, talking about Samuel having powers one day, powers that the demon wanted. Samuel also stated that he had escaped the demon's hold by chance when he was thirteen, but would not reveal any information about the escape for his own safety.
Samuel used to talk of having a brother, and thinking that his older brother was there to protect him, even though he hadn't seen him since he was a baby. Samuel remembered his brother's first name from when the demon told him about the boy: Dean. No known last name, so the institution was unable to contact any families to see if Samuel actually had a brother.
Dean stopped there. He swallowed hard, shaking his head. No way. This couldn't be right. But, yet... it explained why Dean was drawn to him, why he felt the need to help him. And why the demon killed that Jessica girl, along with many other things that Dean had thought up in his spare time. "Oh my god. Sam Charles is really Sam Winchester... my brother."
Sam sat in a bar, staring down at the drink in front of him. Normally he wasn't a heavy drinker; damn, one beer and he had enough to last him a week or so. Bet, yet, this time wasn't like the other times. He was downing his fifth tequila shot, and the bartender was giving him a funny look. But he didn't care. He had lost the most important people in his life as a young baby, and now he just lost his fiancée. What the hell was he going to do?
"Don't you think you've had enough, buddy?" the bartender asked, taking Sam's glass away from him.
Sam narrowed his eyes at the old overweight man. How dare he tell Sam what to do. Let's see him lose his fiancée and be all find and dandy about it. It wasn't something he was just going to get over. But, in the meantime, the alcohol really helped.
The bartender noticed the change in Sam's behavior and sighed, leaning against the counter. "Tell me about your troubles, son."
Sam didn't know why, but he actually felt like telling this creep. Maybe it was because he was an old man, and usually old men were nice. Or maybe it was because this was a bar and no one would really care anyone. Or maybe Sam was just so drunk he didn't give a fly rat's ass about what he told to anyone, because he wasn't thinking clearly. He guessed it was the last one.
Sam sighed slightly and nodded, resting his head on the cool counter. Was it just him, or did it seem too cold? "My fiancée was murdered last week. And, what's worse, she was the first person I really ever cared about since I was a baby. Back then some psycho guy, I think it was the same person both times, killed my mom, my dad and my brother."
The bartender looked at him sympathetically, and gave him another shot, which Sam downed on the spot. "Why don't I call you a cab and you can head on home?"
"No need, sir."
Sam lifted his head up slightly and noticed Dean standing there. Well, Jack in his mind. Cover name, remember? Anyway, he couldn't believe he was here. What, hadn't he asked enough questions? And didn't he realize that Sam was is no condition to answer anything about Jess at the moment? Damn, if Sam wasn't afraid that he wouldn't be able to walk on his own two feet without falling flat on his face he'd have punched Dean already.
"I'm his, um..." Dean looked down at Sam, and noticed the boy's bloodshot eyes. Great. His first job as a big brother would be to make sure Sam didn't choke on his own vomit later. Sounded just peachy. He looked back at the bartender and gave him a smile. "I'm his cousin." The bartender seemed to accept this, and nodded, walking off. Dean then grabbed Sam around the waist, pulling him up from the chair. "C'mon, let's get you back to your home."
"I on't got a ows anymo'. It burn ow, memer?" Sam said, slurring his words together. Dean would've laughed, had Sam's tone not been one of anger. "Eeev me awown!" Sam then pulled away from Dean, and stumbled a bit. Dean had to move quickly to keep his brother from smashing his head into the counter.
Dean just rolled his eyes, his arm once again around Sam's waist. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You can yell at me all you want tomorrow. For now I'm more concerned about getting you in a nice warm bed so you can sleep this off."
Sam gave him a funny look. What was with this guy? What, suddenly he cared? They didn't even know each other! So, after five minutes of questions about his dead fiancée, they were allowed to act all buddy-buddy? Sam was seriously starting to get annoyed, but he didn't have the strength to fight him at the moment. He'd just have to do what "Jack" suggested. He'd yell at him tomorrow.
"Oh, god, my head."
Dean looked over at his motel bed, where Sam was sitting up slightly, his eyes closed tightly. It was now ten in the morning, and Dean was on his laptop, researching some things about the demon, and Sam's past. He wanted to know what Sam knew, but he also knew that the boy would never tell him anything willingly. So all Dean had was his asylum files.
Dean stood up from his chair and walked over to his bag before grabbing a bottle of Advil and throwing it at Sam. "Want water?"
Sam shook his head, opening the bottle slowly. "No, I'm fine, thanks." After he popped a few pills, he looked around. "Where am I?" Oh god, that man had kidnapped him, didn't he? Shit. Sam knew there was something funny about him. Why didn't he just trust his gut and call the cops on him as soon as he met him?
"My motel room," Dean said, shrugging. He walked back over to his chair and sat down, turning back to the laptop. "I figured that it'd be easier, since it wasn't that far away from the bar."
Sam let out a snort, rolling his eyes. Though, immediately he wished that he hadn't; it made his head hurt like a bitch. "Why were you at the bar, anyway? Following me?"
Dean smirked slightly, amused, and looked over at Sam. "Don't flatter yourself. No, actually, I found out some stuff last night. I needed to get out of the motel and think about some things. The bar seemed like the best solution." Or maybe fate was just finally saying 'Hey, these boys suffered enough, let them know that they're brothers now'. Either way, Dean was glad that he had gone.
"Really?" Sam looked interested. "What kind of stuff?"
Dean looked at Sam for a moment. God, his brother looked horrible. He could tell just by his appearance that he didn't drink very often. And that he had probably only been drunk about once in his whole life. "Nothing, it's not very interesting. You know, if you're still tired, go ahead and get some more rest. I have all the time in the world."
Sam nodded slightly, thinking that was a good idea. He laid back down and closed his eyes. Whatever, he didn't need to know anyway. If it had been about Jess "Jack" would've told him. It wasn't any of his business, anyway.
As he watched his long lost brother go back to sleep, Dean sighed slightly. Sam was happy in his currently life; well, obviously he wasn't happy about Jessica's death, but he'd grieve then move on. The point was, he wasn't hunting. He wasn't moving from there to here and back again. He was in school. He was having a life. He was doing everything Dean wanted to do... he wasn't just going to rip that away from him. So, for now, Sam didn't need to know that Dean was his brother. All he needed to know was that Dean would be gone by the time he woke up.
Haley: Very exciting,yes? Oh, and credit for Sam's birthday and height goes to carocali. Thanks girl!And, for everthing else that doesn't seem familiar? That's me trying to get information, too. Yeees... Anyway, I'm in class right now, so I'm gonna sign off. I wrote this chapter last night, actually. Oh, and I'm sorry for the short chapter!
Dean: Haley?
Haley: Yeeees?
Dean: I...er...well...I...
Sam: Spit it out, Dean.
Dean: Haley, I'm sorry.
Haley: For what?
Dean: What, you're actually gonna make me say it?
Haley: Yeeeeees.
Dean: I'm sorry for saying that I don't love you. There, happy?
Haley:Yup!
Sam: O.O... Eye roll.
Haley: Anyway, bye, ya'll!