In which I look like I spend my time drinking tea and listening to Taylor Swift which I do but that's besides the point but actually spent an hour of calc debating my apparently very emo venture into mcr and three days grace. Or, it's finals week and I'm glad I had something to feel nice about today. Namely, not my precarious grades and desperate cramming. Send help.
UPDATE: I JUST READ SQUISHCAS'S SUBMISSION AND IT'S AWESOME (despite the Destiel). I TOTALLY WASN'T EXPECTING SAM'S COVERT APPROACH TO HUNTING AND THE HAPPY ENDING, I SQUEED FOREVER
Prompt: Dean is taken or injured by the MotW. Sam is at Stanford, John isn’t answering his cell
A/N: Pre-S1, Stanford-era setting. Canon AU. Angels, Leviathan, etc. have been introduced at this point. Castiel exists.
Round 2.1: I’d Rather Hunt Monsters Than Take Finals vs. The Only Thing
The lines are beginning to blur together on the page. Sam swears he’s read the definition for “amicus curiae” three times, although he doubts that he’ll remember it tomorrow. Yawning, he gets up and stretches. A quick flip of the light switch plunges the room into darkness, and he tosses himself on the bed next to his desk without bothering to change.
Finals week is hell.
The strident beeps of the alarm clock edge into Sam’s consciousness as he grumbles and pulls the covers tighter, fighting to stay asleep. The noise is persistent though, and Sam forces himself to sit up and turn off the alarm. The urge to simply go back to sleep is almost overwhelming, but Sam reminds himself of all the studying he still has to do. Shaking his head groggily, he slowly gets out of bed and shuffles across his room.
Sam groans, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He’s exhausted, and he doesn’t want to deal with anything before his first cup of coffee. Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he pads down the hallway towards the coffee machine. As it whirs and begins to work its magic, Sam turns on his phone. He’s not used to leaving it off at all, but he hadn’t wanted to get distracted while attempting to read his brick of a textbook.
A notification pings, alerting Sam to one new voicemail. The caller ID is a string of numbers, but it’s one that Sam recognizes as one of the burner phones his family uses. Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He hasn’t heard from anyone in his family for ages now, not since he left for Stanford. Hesitant but also curious, Sam hits play, unsure of what to expect.
“Sammy!”
It’s Dean. Sam probably could have guessed, but he hasn’t talked to Dean since he caught him fooling around with Kathy, Sam’s girlfriend from two years ago. That had been a few days before Sam left, and there hadn’t been time to patch things up. It probably didn’t help that Dean felt like Sam was betraying the family by abandoning hunting to go to Stanford. Sam had called Dean a jerk, and Dean had punched him, clearly drunk and emotional. Sam had walked away without saying anything more and left for Stanford two days later. He hadn’t spoken to Dean since.
“It’s Dean. Look, I know we haven’t talked for a while, but I don’t have a lot of options here.”
Dean’s voice is urgent, hushed.
“I’m in Jericho. There’s something down here that’s been killing the locals. I found it today, but it busted my leg. I’m hiding in a cave near the Sunny Hills Motel, or some crap like that. Sam, I need you to drive down here and come find me. Ask for the Jericho Forest at the front desk. They’ll point you in the right direction.”
Sam hears Dean swear. His voice drops even lower. “I gotta go. You know I wouldn’t be calling you if I had any other options, okay? Come as soon as you can.”
The voicemail ends, and Sam feels stunned. He hasn’t had to deal with anything like this for all of two years. It’s slightly irritating that his brother expects him to drop everything and drive to Jericho, but he knows that what Dean said is true: he wouldn’t have called if he had other options. Sam’s indecision is brief. He knows he needs to study, but his brother could be in actual danger. Sam had almost forgotten how it felt to be in life or death situations on a consistent basis. He groans. It’s definitely still too early to deal with this. Sam abandons his coffee and starts packing, grabbing a couple weapons and tossing them into a duffel. He’s on the road in fifteen minutes, the ability to pick up and leave in minutes still deeply ingrained.
It’s a seven hour drive, and Sam doesn’t have the time or peace of mind to appreciate the coastal scenery. How badly was Dean injured? A lot can happen in seven hours. Worst case scenarios pop into Sam’s head, one after another. They get progressively more morbid and tragic until Sam snaps himself out of it, berating himself for getting so dramatic. There’s no way to know what the situation is like until he gets there. Sam feels anxious for the rest of the drive anyway.
—-
Sam breathes a sigh of relief as he pulls into the Sunny Hills Motel parking lot. He stretches after stepping out of the car, relishing the fresh air and open space. A quick stop by the front desk tells him where the forest is. It’s a short drive and then Sam’s in front of the nature reserve, daunted by its size. He has no idea how he’s supposed to find Dean in a huge forest in the dark. Still, sheer dumb luck has helped them out before. Maybe it’s not too much to hope it would do so once again.
He knows it’s a risk, but Sam starts shouting Dean’s name anyway. If whatever Dean was fighting is attracted by the noise, he’ll deal with that when it happens, because he’s not feeling up to thinking of a smarter plan right now. Armed and alert, Sam heads deeper into the forest, calling out periodically. He doesn’t keep track of how much time goes by before he hears someone call back.
“Dean?” Sam turns, trying to figure out where the response had come from.
“Sammy? Over here!”
Sam follows Dean’s voice, rushing through the underbrush. He finds Dean underneath a small overhang. His leg is clearly injured. There’s blood pooling on the ground around the cut, but from what Sam can tell, it doesn’t look like anything immediately life-threatening.
“Long time no see, Sammy.”
Sam ignores Dean to examine the wound more closely. He rips off a strip of the shirt he’s wearing for a makeshift tourniquet.
“I thought I asked you to stop calling me Sammy.”
“Sure thing, Sammy.”
Sam rolls his eyes. Dean hasn’t changed at all.
“Can you walk?” Sam asks, helping Dean stand.
Dean tries to take a step, but his leg collapses underneath him. Sam catches him and lets Dean lean heavily on him as they clumsily hobble back to Sam’s car. While they’re walking in what Sam sincerely hopes is the right direction, Dean fills him in on the case.
“It’s an angel, Sam. We think he’s gone rogue and started killing humans.”
“Angels? I thought angels didn’t exist. And who’s we?”
“A lot’s happened in the last two years, man. Angels are real. This one’s gone off the deep end, but he’s weaker than usual. Apparently, he’s been losing grace. That’s the stuff that gives angels their power.”
Sam decides to store away his disbelief for now. He’s gotten used to finding out supposedly mythical creatures were all too real and likely trying to kill people. Repressing his feelings about the supernatural world is probably not ideal, but Sam’s given up on being fully mentally and emotionally healthy years ago.
“Okay. So who’s we?” Sam asks again, kicking aside some plants to clear a path.
There’s no answer for a second, and Sam turns to face Dean. He swears Dean is blushing, but it’s too dark to really tell.
Dean’s voice is casual. “I’ve been hunting with Cas. He’s an angel too, but he’s one of the good ones.” His tone is tinged with worry when he adds, “The angel we’re hunting captured him.”
Sam disregards his brother’s odd behavior and nods his understanding. They finish the rest of the walk back in silence,because Dean looks too tired to maintain any kind of conversation.
—-
It’s not as though the Stanford dorms are luxury penthouses, but Sam would give a lot for his dorm’s bed. The uncomfortable motel mattress creaks as Sam sits up, shaken roughly awake by Dean.
“Sam? Sam, wake up. We gotta go after Cas, man.”
The memories of yesterday come flooding back, and Sam wonders how his life had fallen back into the hunting routine so quickly and easily. Sam starts getting dressed. Dean hobbles to his bag and pulls out a blade, all silver. He hands it to Sam, saying “This thing can kill angels. All we gotta do is find where the angel’s hideout is, stab the bastard, and rescue Cas.”
Sam stops putting his second plaid shirt on.
“We?” he asks, looking at his brother. “Dean, you’re injured. You’re not coming.”
Dean looks outraged. “Sammy, Cas and I’ve been hunting together for a while now. I owe him this.”
Sam has always admired his brother’s loyalty, but he’s not going to let Dean use it to make stupid decisions. “I can handle this one on my own. Just tell me where you ran into the rogue angel yesterday. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Dean still looks rebellious, so Sam adds, “With your injury, you might put Cas in more danger. It’s safer for all of us if you wait here.”
“Fine,” Dean acquiesces. “But if you’re not back in a couple hours, I’m going after you.”
Rolling his eyes at his brother’s stubbornness, Sam grabs the silver blade and heads out. Dean had said that he was pretty sure the angel’s hideout was relatively close to where Sam had found him last night. It doesn’t take Sam long to find the overhang again, but he’s not sure where to go from there.
A curtain of ivy catches his eye. Sam’s a bit of a plant enthusiast, although he doesn’t have much time to indulge in his hobby. Still, he knows that ivy doesn’t grow naturally in Californian woods. Carefully, and as quietly as he can, Sam pushes aside the ivy and steps through, his grip tightening on the angel blade. The corridor behind the curtain is dark, the hanging plants preventing the light from filtering through. The stone makes the tunnel feel chilly and damp. Sam clicks his flashlight on, the white beam harsh against the surrounding darkness, and then moves forward, listening intently.
“Castiel, your grace is wasted on you. Why do you sully yourself with human company?”
The unfamiliar voice rings through the tunnel, echoing off the stone. Sam moves swiftly towards the sound, scoffing internally at the angel’s speech. Villains are embarrassingly unoriginal. As Sam nears the source of the sound, he turns off the flashlight. He gives his eyes a minute to adjust and then keeps walking, blade in hand.
The tunnel ends at an entrance to what seems to be a dimly lit room. Light shines faintly through the cracks around the door, and Sam can still hear the angel talking. Now that he’s closer, he can also hear muffled noises like the sounds of a gagged person trying to talk. Sam hopes it’s Cas. Searching the rest of the dark tunnels for the angel sounds extremely unappealing.
Sam pauses for a moment, trying to think of a plan. He doesn’t know what the situation in the room is like. He figures his best bet is to barge in and attempt to catch the angel off-guard. If he wants to surprise the rogue angel, Sam knows he’s going to have to break down the door on his first try. He backs up, braces himself, and puts his momentum and entire weight against the door. It flies off its hinges and Sam struggles to keep his balance.
A quick glance tells him he’s in a small room. A brown-haired man Sam assumes is Cas is in manacles on the far wall. Immediately, Sam pinpoints his target and lunges at the angel, who is already recovering from his shock. Sam has clearly just interrupted some kind of torture session, as the angel is unfortunately holding a blade similar to the one Sam has.
The angel dodges and swipes at Sam. It’s been two years since Sam has had to do anything close to physically fighting for his life. Luckily, although Sam’s fighting skills are rusty, his instincts are still more than intact. He sidesteps the angel’s blows and maneuvers around him to stab him between the ribs. The blade slides past sinew and flesh, and the angel screams as a bright light bursts from the wound. Instinctively, Sam closes his eyes against the blinding radiance. The power of the light passes through the room like a strong wind, and when he opens his eyes, the black outline of wings flares from the angel’s corpse.
The fight had lasted for a minute at most, but Sam is breathing hard, the adrenaline heady and intense. He cleans off the blade and stows it away, turning his attention towards the man bound in chains. The cloth gag is tightly bound around the man’s mouth, the edges cutting into his flesh. Sam removes it, asking “Are you Cas?”
“Yes,” the angel responds. “Sam Winchester. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Sam is surprised at that. Dean isn’t the type to open up, and Sam is sure that he’s been a touchy subject since Stanford. Deciding to analyze that later, Sam focuses on getting Cas out of the chains binding him to the wall. A couple minutes later, they’re making their way back to the entrance of the cave.
Even as Sam watches, Cas’s many wounds are healing, the purpled bruises fading, the flesh knitting back together. The angel notices Sam’s curious expression and explains, “Those handcuffs were charmed. They prevented me from healing while I was wearing them.”
Sam is bursting with questions about angels, but he figures that Cas is probably exhausted, magical healing or no. He holds his tongue and leads them through the forest.
—-
They stumble back into the motel room two hours later. Dean attempts to cover up his obvious relief, gruffly saying, “About time. I was about to go after you two myself.”
Cas’s eyes go immediately to the bandages around Dean’s leg.
“Dean,” he says, voice full of concern, “were you injured?”
“It’s nothing, Cas, really,” Dean protests. “I’m fine.”
Cas still looks worried about Dean, but he reluctantly stops pursuing the subject. “I’m going to go take a shower. Then we can leave this place.” He moves towards Dean, briefly kisses him, and moves towards the bathroom.
Dean blushes and immediately looks at Sam, trying to gauge his reaction.
“Like I said, a lot’s happened in two years.”
“I can see that.”
Sam feels surprised, but he’s known that Dean is bisexual for six years now, and he’d felt that there was something about Cas that Dean wasn’t telling him. His brother obviously cares for the angel, and Sam can’t really find fault in that. The sound of water from the shower fills the room.
“Sam, listen,” Dean starts, clearly hesitant about how to broach the subject. “I’m sorry about what happened before Stanford. I know I should’ve called to apologize, but I was angry and embarrassed about being such a shitty brother.”
Sam cuts Dean off with a gesture. “It’s fine, Dean. Kathy and I would’ve broken up eventually anyway.”
“So what now?,” Dean asks. “Are you just gonna drive back to Stanford? How can you just forget about all of this?” Dean gestures around him, as though to indicate the insanity of the supernatural world.
“Dean, I haven’t forgotten about all the monsters. I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life in crappy motel rooms eating takeout. A lot of these supernatural creatures have infiltrated corporations. Have you heard of Dick Roman, CEO of “Roman Enterprises”? I’m pretty sure he’s a Leviathan. There’s more than one way to fight monsters, Dean. Being a corporate lawyer gives me access to a lot more information about these guys. It’s hard to take out monsters like Roman, because they have so much power. If I were a lawyer, I’d have the resources to bring him down.”
Dean looks slightly stunned. “So you weren’t planning to give up hunting?”
Sam shakes his head. “It’s like you said. How could I forget about all of that? It’s just that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life on the road. I want to have a life outside of hunting, Dean.”
“Sammy, Cas and I have a place. It’s a bunker in Kansas, and I swear there’s an actual kitchen there. There’s plenty of room.You should- you should come stay with us.” Dean finishes his last sentence hesitantly.
Sam laughs, unable to believe his luck. “I’ve actually been looking for a place to stay in Kansas. I got a job offer there. I’m moving as soon as I finish my exams.”
“Really? You’ll actually come stay with us?”
“I can’t believe I’m moving back in with my brother,” Sam says, shaking his head. “I’m probably going to regret this.”
—-
Epilogue
Sam swears Dean asked him to move here so he could force Sam to do all the food shopping. He walks into the kitchen, wanting to put the groceries in the fridge right away.
“Damn it, Dean!” he shouts, dropping the groceries to cover his eyes with his hands. “This is the fifth time this month. You and Cas have a bedroom for a reason.”
Sam runs from the kitchen, cursing his brother for being completely shameless. Sam wants to continue believing that his brother never has sex with anyone. It’s hard to be in denial when Dean can’t keep it in his pants around Cas.
“Remind me why I moved here again? I knew I would regret this!”
Sam hears Dean laugh and shout back, “You know you love it here, Sammy!”
Shaking his head in disgust, Sam retreats to his room and starts playing music at the loudest volume. In spite of himself, he smiles. Dean and Cas are terrible people who can’t respect the sanctity of public living space, but Sam figures he can deal with it. He’s home.
A/N: I’m fluffy SPN trash. Sam’s backstory taken from Jared’s commentary.
Good job! :) Don't be discouraged; you totally deserve a huge high five. It sucks when people respond by nitpicking, but good job on your a m a z i n g score anyway <3
ja;lskdjfsdf u are so sweet!! this message is making me smile <333
HEY HEY MERRY CHRISTMAS <3 It's been lovely chatting with you these past few weeks; I know we've both been a bit busy, but I hope you enjoyed my messages as much as I enjoyed yours. How has your day been? It's only about 5PM for me right now, and Christmas has been pleasant so far <3 -your (not so secret) santa
Oh wow. Thanks for the compliment, and it was fab talking to you too :) It is 9 PM on my side of the world, and my day has been fab (Christmas Presents were absolutely fab this year)
