Chapter 1: Year One
Chapter Text
Someone Else's Story
Year One
September 19th - May 20th 1995
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Chapter 2: Year Two
Chapter Text
Someone Else's Story
Year Two
S eptember 19th 1994 - May 20th 1995
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Chapter 3: Year Three
Chapter Text
Someone Else's Story
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“Sorry you’ve missed us, please leave a message and we’ll back to you later. Maybe.”
Beep.
“Hi Dean, it’s Sam...you must be sleeping or something, sorry it’s so late that I called. I just wanted to keep my promise. SAF got out way late, because one of the local theaters is renting out the upstairs as a practice and rehearsal space and they wouldn’t leave, you have no idea it was so annoying. So yeah, I didn’t get out until 9, and dad was pretty pissed. So it’s probably 12 your time, I just didn’t want to freak you out, or whatever. Call me tomorrow sometime, okay? Bye, sleep well.”
Beep.
Chapter 4: Year Four
Chapter Text
Someone Else’s Story
Year Four: May 3rd 1997 - June 19th 1998
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“Okay? What about my art?”
“Last week you mentioned that SFA wanted to show you. At the risk of sounding stereotypical, how do you feel about that?”
Grin. “I’m excited but seriously stressed out because so much of my work is done small scale, and unfinished. Getting it all done is pretty harrowing, what with all the regular work. Good thing I’m a genius.”
“That’s the first time, I think, I’ve heard you refer to your intelligence in a positive way.”
Shrug. “I can’t change it, you know? And yeah, I’m a sixteen year old high school almost-graduate, but I’ve got friends too.”
“Yes, you mentioned them. Andy, and his brother Ansem.” Smile. “How is that going?”
“It’s...great, actually. Andy is the youngest of the two but he’s definitely the more mature.” Grin. “They’re good models and really good listeners.”
“Do you feel they’re replacing Dean?”
Smile fades. “No...I mean, Dean and I still talk all the time.”
“But, having a long term, long distance relationship is hard on adults, let alone teenagers.”
Pale. “It’s not a relationship. We’re just friends.”
“Sam.” Kindly. “I am a therapist, everything you tell me is confidential. If you’re having a homosexual relationship with Dean, you can tell me.”
Quietly. “I am not having a..a homosexual relationship with Dean. I am sleeping with Andy...”
“So you are a homosexual?”
“...And Ansem.”
Pause. “I see.”
“Dean doesn’t know.”
“Sam, as a gay male, life can be very difficult, so I won’t complicated it by asking too many questions. Just one. Are you being safe?”
Nod. “We used condoms both times. I’m a genius remember?”
Laugh. “Okay. One more question before you have to go, and I’ll bring it back to your art. You’ve signed all these drawings SW. Why?”
Blink. “It’s my pseudonym. Sam Winchester.”
“Hey Sam!”
“Uh...sorry, this is Sam’s friend, Ansem? Sam’s upstairs, he told me to grab the phone, he’s just out of the shower now.”
“Oh. Well, hi, Ansem. This is Dean.”
“Oh my God, you’re Dean? The Dean?!”
“Um.”
“Holy shit, Sam never stops talking about you. I was starting to get jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Well Jesus Christ, you really do exist. Damn. Guess I have some competition after all.”
“Competition?”
“Well yeah, I mean, I know I’m awesome, at least, but damn the way Sam talks about you? Shit.”
Pause. Footsteps. Muffled words. “It’s Dean, Sambo, chill out.” Muffled shouting. Clattering.
“Hi Dean.”
Relief. “Sammy.”
Worried. “Is everything okay?”
Grin. “Everything’s fine. I just missed talking to you.”
Muffled words. “I missed you too, Dean. I’m about to go out with Ansem though, so I can call you later, when I get home?”
“Yeah sure, that’s fine.”
“What time is too late?”
Pause. “It’s never too late for you to call, Sammy.”
Pause. Grin. “I’ll call you later, Dean.”
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Be safe.”
Pause. Frown. “I will.”
*
“Dean? Damn it, I knew I’d wake you up.”
“Sammy? It’s fine, I had the phone in here anyway. I didn’t...” yawn “...mean to fall asleep.”
“Do you want me to let you go?”
“No.”
“Um.” Pause. “Okay. What did you want to talk about when you called before?”
“Nothing in particular.” Rustle. “I just...you know, missed talking to you.”
Creaking. Rustle. “I missed it too. Sorry, hang on. Can’t get changed and talk on the phone at the same time.” Muffled rustling. “Hi.”
Smile. “Hi.”
“So, my art show is in like...a week. Eight days, tomorrow.” Sigh. “I have ten pieces done out of fifteen. This blows.”
Low laugh. “Finally figured out your subjects?”
“Most of them. I even threw some still lifes and landscapes for variety.”
“Well, you know what they say?”
Amused. “What’s that?”
“Spice is the variety of life.”
Pause.
“What?”
“What what?”
“I think you mean variety is the spice of life.”
“That’s what I said.”
Laughter.
“Dean?”
“Hm?”
“Do you ever wish, nah, never mind.”
“Hey, tell me.”
“Ever wish that you were different?”
Pause. “Not really, no.”
Long sigh. “I do, all the time.”
“You okay, Sammy?”
“No, Dean, I’m really not.”
Pause. “Wanna talk about it?”
Rustling. “Nah. I’ll be okay. Thanks for talking to me this late, though.”
Low laugh. “It’s later for you than for me.”
Shiver. “Maybe so, but you were already asleep.”
“I’ll always come when you call.”
Long sigh. “What’d I do to deserve a friend like you, Dean?”
“I don’t know, Sammy. Maybe you’re just lucky.”
Grunt. “Guess so.”
Yawn. “You okay to sleep now, Sammy?”
“Uh huh.” Rustle. Sigh. “G’night, Dean.”
“Good night Sam.”
Click.
Grunt. Twist. Jerk. Release. Despair.
“If this is another ‘things I love’ list, I’m going to have to disrespectfully decline.”
Laugh. “No, Sam. But I’m glad to know you hold my help in such high regard.”
Rolls eyes. “What do you want me to, oh Master Zak Webb, therapist of all?”
“Cheeky. I want you to tell Dean how you feel.”
Pale. “I can’t.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t try, Sam.”
“I can’t. I’ll see you next week.”
Slam.
“Hi Mrs. Hastings, can I talk to Sam?”
Smile. “Dean. It’s nice to hear from you. Sam’s upstairs, let me get him.”
Running footsteps. Clatter. “Dean!”
“Hi Sammy.” Grin. “I got your picture.”
Blush. “I’m doing the I Told You So dance in my head right now. Just so you know.”
Laughter. “You grew up good, bro.”
“Whatever, jerk.”
“Shut up, bitch.”
Long pause.
“Hey Dean?”
“Yeah, Sammy?”
“I have something to tell you.”
Muffled voices. Clattering. Swears. “Shit, Sam, sorry, Claudia just came in, she needs the phone, tell me later okay? Sorry, dude. Later.”
Click.
“...I’m gay.”
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*End
Chapter 5: Year Five
Chapter Text
Someone Else's Story
Year Five
July 4th 1998 - May 10th 1999
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“No.” Sheepish. “I tried though.”
“You tried?” Skeptical.
“I was about to, but he had to go, and hung up just before I said it.”
“I see. And are you going to try again?”
Uncomfortable. “I don’t know. It was so hard the first time...and he didn’t even hear it.”
“Telling someone about a crush is never easy.”
Horrified. “I wasn’t going to tell him about that! I was just going to tell him I was gay.”
“Why?”
“Because then if he hated me, at least it would be for the right reason. If nothing else, he’d be awkward but accepting and then we could...go from there.”
“I see you thought this through.”
“Not really. I did a lot of research. Gay teens in America, and all that. We’re a bit of a minority but there are places we can go.”
“And how does that effect you?”
Steady. “I will never tell Dean I’m in love with him, Zak. I will keep it to myself, and I will keep it close to my heart. But I will never tell him.”
“That’s not a healthy response, Sam.”
“Maybe not. But it’s the only one I’ve got.”
*
“Hello?”
“Uh...? Hi, can I speak to Sam please?”
“Sure.” Gum pop. “Can I ask who’s calling?”
“It’s Dean. Um, who’s this, can I ask?”
“Oh, my name’s Pam. I work with Sam.”
“At SAF?”
“Yah-huh.” Gum pop. “I’m a psychic.”
Skeptical. “A psychic? And where’s Sam?”
“Shower. Look, Dean, not sure he’ll be up for talking when he gets out.”
Instantly worried. “Why, what happened?”
“Sam and Ansem had it out.”
“They were in trouble?”
“Nah, Andy started the whole damn thing. Right in the middle of work, even. Threatened Sam for stealing Ansem’s attention.”
“They have been spending a lot of time together, haven’t they?”
Grin. “You askin’ or tellin’?”
“Asking. So, is Sam okay?”
“Bloody nose. Fat lip. Little things.”
“If Andy started it, why did Sam and Ansem fight it out?”
“Ansem said a few things she shouldn’t have” Muffled noises. “Sam, God, you look terrible. Shit, Anse, that shiner is ruthless.”
“Hey is that Sam?”
Clatter. “Hey Dean. Can’t really talk now. I’ll call you later, bye.”
Click.
Quietly. “Why are you avoiding me?”
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Panting. Grinning. “Jesus, Sam. Way to convince me that you weren’t choosing Ansem over me.”
Snort. Thumping. “That was kind of the point, Andy.”
“Can I ask you a question, Sambo?”
Grin. “You just did, but feel free to ask another.”
Rolled eyes. “When are you going to tell your Dean that you’re in love with him?”
Smile fades. “I just fucked your brain out your ears and that’s the question you ask me?”
“Aw, Sam...” Tugging, rustling. “C’mere, moron.”
Pause.
“The answer is never.” Careful, quiet. “Never.”
“Sam...”
“Don’t worry. I’ll just fade out of his life. I’m good at that.”
“Sam.”
“Andy, shut up and kiss me.”
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“Hi, you’ve reached the Hastings, neither Cindy, Kyle and Sam can answer the phone right now, but if you leave your name, your number and short message we’ll get back to you just as soon as we can. Oh! And don’t forget to wait for the beep, have a nice day and thanks for calling!”
Beep.
“Sam? Dean. Call me, please. Come on, dude, what did I do? Sammy please.”
Beep.
“Sammy, it’s me. Please. Just call me.”
Beep.
“Hey Sam, it’s Claudia. Could you call Dean? He’s about ready to kill himself he’s so worried about you.” Sigh. “Come on, Sam...at least call me okay?”
Beep.
“Fuck you, Sam. It’s been six months! Jesus, if I had the issue here, I’d have at least told you. Damn it!”
Beep.
*
DIVINE DESTRUCTION
“Found in the Eden Garden”
SIDE A
1. Sweet Heresy
2. Nothing but a Shadow
3. Smoke and Mirrors
4. Red Reflection
SIDE B
1. Indigo
2. Void
3. Empty the Sky
4. For Those Left Behind
5. Forsaken
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Sigh. “Not good, Zak. Not good at all.”
“You told him and he rejected you?”
“No. I stopped being friends with him entirely.”
Wince. “Sam. Remind me what I said about healthy responses.”
“I know. I know. I just...I got scared.”
“Let me make this easy.” Picks up phone. “Dean?”
“ZAK!”
“Hi Dean, my name is Zak Webb. I’m Sam’s therapist. Did he tell you about me?”
Muffled response.
“Oh, well, if glares could kill, I’d be a smoking pile of ash.”
Muffled response.
“Put you on speaker? Sure I can do that. Hold on.” Beeping. “Go ahead, Dean.”
“Sammy? Sammy, look you don’t have to say anything, I just...man, I miss you. I don’t have any other best friends, Sam. Who else am I going to turn to when my sisters get bad, huh? And I know that things are tough, bro. And seriously, half the time? I don’t want to be friends with me either.” Small laugh. “I miss you, Sam. Say something, please.”
Choked. “Dean.”
Relief. “Sammy.”
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Door opens.
“Hi, can I help you?”
Smile. “Hi, Mrs. Hastings. I’m Dean.”
“D-You’re Dean? Wow, finally I can put a face to the voice. Sam’s upstairs, come on in.”
Clattering.
“Hey mom, Ava needs a ride to the mall so I’m going to pick her up and–holy shit, Dean!”
Grin. “Hi Sam. Uh, surprise?”
“I didn’t think you’d be here for like, a week!”
“I took the train.”
“Holy shit! I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I heard something about a mall?” Grin.
“Oh my god, get in my car right now!” Pause. “We’ll be back mom.”
Laughs. “I’ll make up the couch, Dean.”
“Thanks Mrs. Hastings.”
Door closes.
“Dean, I can’t believe you’re here.”
“You already said that, Sammy.”
“Well I’m saying it again!” Laughs. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”
“Yeah well...” Sheepish. “I couldn’t not, you know? So where’s my hug?”
“Right here!”
Embrace.
*
“Surprisingly well, actually. I mean, Ansem was pretty pissed.”
“Why was Ansem pissed? What about Andy?”
Sigh. “No, Andy figured out that I fell in love with Dean so he was pretty understanding about the whole thing. Ansem was pissed because I wouldn’t fuck around with him ‘cause Dean was there.”
“Did it become a problem?”
“Almost. Ansem wanted to out me. He kept crowding me, and molesting me. You know, like,” blush “trying to turn me on and leaving me hanging when Dean was about to come back into the room.”
Wryly. “And this is the boy you’ve chosen?”
“He’s a stand in, and he knows it.”
Pause. “Did Dean like Ansem?”
Laugh. “Not even a little bit.”
“No?”
“Nope. He kept trying to uninvite ‘Sem and make him angry. He–it was nice to be fought over.”
“But Dean is still straight.”
Quietly. “He hit on Ava and Jo the whole week.”
“So, yes.”
“Yes.”
“Sam. I mean it. Tell Dean.”
“I can’t.”
“He’s your best friend.”
“Yeah. I’d like to keep it that way.”
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Chapter 6: Year Six
Chapter Text
Someone Else's Story
June 3rd 1999 - April 1st 2000
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Clears throat. “Hi, Sam.”
Surprise. “Dean. Hi.”
“So, we haven’t talked in a while.”
“Y-yeah. We, we really haven’t.”
Pause.
“Okay, so dude. If you being...you know...is all that was bothering you, I only have one thing to say.”
Quiet. “Yeah?”
“What, like I didn’t know?” Smiling.
“Y–you already knew?”
“Dude. You only ever talked about Andy and Ansem and never about girls. So look, whatever, okay? I’ll pretend you’re talking about women, and it’ll all be fine.”
Pause. “So you don’t...hate me?”
“Dude, I’m just relieved you’re not dying or some shit like that. That would way suck.”
“Yeah-yeah, it would.”
“Please, bitch. Give me some credit. You're gay, okay but don’t expect me to be butt buddies with you.”
Laughter. “Butt buddies? I seriously cannot believe you just said that.”
“I seriously just did, so get over it bitch!”
“Jerk.” Grinning. “So. Girls. You want to talk about them?”
“No way, dude. We all know girls will like you more than me.”
“So just keep me away from your girlfriends.”
Laughter. “Will do, Sammy.
*
“So, Sam. This is our last session, I’ve sent your file over to a colleague of mine at Stanford, so you can continue your sessions there.”
Smiling. “You know, when we started talking, Zak, I was really...really, really sure that I was going to hate you.”
“I’ve just one of those faces, my boy.” Laughing. “Her name is Riesel Anderson, and she’s very excited to meet you.”
“Riesel? That’s an interesting name.” Pondering. “So Dean...he called me, after I uh, you know, told him I was gay.”
Smiles. “I do hate to sound like a dick, Sam, but I believe the best response I could possibly come up with is Told You So.”
Rolls eyes. “Whatever, Zak. He and I talked and things are good.”
“So you know what your next course of action is then? Telling him you’re in love with him.”
Pulls a face. “I’ll skip that, thanks.”
“I was right before, you know.”
“Yeah, and its much easier to accept that your best friend’s a fag rather than your best friend’s a fag and in love with you.” Harsh laugh. “I’ll keep things the way they are, thanks much.”
Warmly. “You’ll figure it out Sam.” Pause. “You always do.”
“Thanks Zak. I’ll miss you. Do you want me to hate on this Riesel for a few weeks in solidarity?”
Laughs. “Nah, she’ll be good for you. And she’s a good friend. So be nice, young man.”
“I will, Dr. Webb. Thanks.”
Door closes.
Pause.
Phone rings.
“This is Zachariah.” Pause. “Yes, he’ll be leaving in a few days. As soon as he gets settled he’ll be making an appointment.” Pause. “That won’t be a problem, sir. He’s very pliant. Has been after years of my influence. You’ll get what you want.” Pause. “Riesel, sir. Riesel Anderson.” Pause. “Female, sir. It was the best I could do on short notice.” Pause. “Yes, Uriel. I understand.”
Clicks.
Quietly. “What have I done? What have I done?”
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Door bell rings.
Door opens.
Squeal. “SAM! Holy Shit, Sam you’re here, and I thought I would never get to meet you in person and holy shit, you drove here, oh my god, your car is so cool, and Dean’s at work so I’ll give you–are you okay?”
Weakly. “Hi, Claudia. And no. Not really.”
“Wow, you look terrible. Sorry, that was tactless. Here, got a pen, I’ll give you the address to Dean’s work.”
Relief. “Thanks, Claud.”
“You best be coming home with him though, Mr. Hastings. Everyone else is going to want to meet you.”
Quietly. “Okay. Thanks.”
*
“Hi, Welcome to Mountain Top Records, anything I -Sammy!”
Waves. “Hi, Dean.”
“Are you ok–ahem. Hey Walter, I’m going to take my break, okay?”
Door opens. Hustling.
“Dean, I’m fine. I just...it’s been a rough...I’m going to coll...there was this guy...” Grunts. Sighs. “Have you heard of Matthew Shepard?”
Shakes head. “Should I have?”
“I can’t imagine so. He’s a murder victim from Laramie, Wyoming.” Quiet. “You don’t hate me right? I mean, I know we’ve been talking more, but like, you don’t want to...kill me...for being...what I am.”
“Shit, Sam. Did someone threaten you?”
“No, and answer my question please.”
Quietly. “No, Sammy. I don’t understand it, but I don’t hate you for it. Now, Jesus, would you just tell me what’s going on?”
“There was...it was on the news. This guy, little older than you. He was murdered, in...in Laramie, Wyoming. It was...they called it a hate crime. They beat him to death, so badly that he died...tied to a fence in some back field.” Breathing hitches. “I didn’t know him, but when they caught, caught the guys who did it, they said it was because he was a fag. Dean, it was so bad, they didn’t even release pictures.”
“Oh shit, Sam.” Rough embrace. “No one’s threatened you, though, right?”
Shakes head. “No. But so many people, in, in town, they’re acting like this poor guy deserved it. I was leaving in a week to go to Stanford, so I just left early. Came here instead.”
“Shit, I’m glad you did. Jesus, dude.” Another hug. “Look, why don’t you hang around here. Lucky and the others will be around later. You can sit with them, and when my shift is over, you can give me a ride home.”
Blinks. “So you just want me for the ride?” Deadpan.
“What?! Dude, no!”
Laughter.
*
“Hi, is this Riesel Anderson?” Bites lip. “My name is Samuel W-Hastings, my former therapist Zak Webb, he referred me to you?”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Hastings. I have your referral right here. Dr. Webb said that you were showing great progress in your years of therapy with him, yes?”
“Y-Yeah, I guess so. I mean, things got better.”
Low laughter. “People rarely get better Mr. Hastings. I’m looking forward to seeing you. When will you be in Palo Alto?”
“Um, I left a little earlier than expected. I’ve been staying with a friend in Colorado, so I’ll be here for four more days, before heading to California on my own.”
“So that would be...Tuesday?”
“Yeah. Classes start on, I think the 7th, so I figured I’d go in on the 9th, which is a Friday, which would give me time to settle in to Dorm and start getting books and stuff.”
“That sounds perfect, Mr. Hastings. Friday the 9th, at 4:00PM, do you think?”
“That’s great, Dr. Anderson. I’ll see you then.”
Clicks.
“I don’t think I’m going to like her as much as I liked Zak...” Whispering.
“What’s up, Claud?”
Somberly. “I have a very important question to ask you.”
Confused. “Uh, okay?”
“Are you in love with my brother?”
Pale. “No! God, Claudia what the hell kind of question is that?!”
Pause. Skeptical. “You’re lying.”
Crumpling. “Claudia, you cannot tell him. You just can’t. I’ve managed to keep it a secret this long but I can’t lose him.”
“Whoa, hey, Sam.” Quick hug. “I’m not going to tell him. Calm down.”
“Fuck, Claudia. He can’t know. He simply can’t.”
Dryly. “Considering as he’s straight...I get it.” Smiles. “Look, he’ll never figure it out until it smacks him in the face, so your secret is safe with me. But Sam? I think you should just tell him.”
Snorts. “God, that’s even worse. My therapist, you, everyone wants me to just tell Dean, but Claudia, it would kill me. It would kill our friendship, and that would kill me.”
“Give him some credit, please.”
Sighs. “He handled that I was gay pretty well. All things considered. But Claudia, he already told me that he doesn’t want me to...hit on him, or even talk about this stuff with him. Telling him, hi, PS, I’m in love with you...that wouldn’t go over very well.”
“I think you’d be surprised.”
“Claudia...do you know something I don’t?”
“No, not yet.”
“Not yet, how does that make any sense?”
“Go talk to him, Sam. You’ll be fine.”
*
Smiling. “Dean...”
“Can’t you go tomorrow?” Whining.
“Not really. It’s a three day drive from here to Palo Alto and I can’t afford to waste time, I need to get into my dorm, unpack and make an appointment on Friday.”
Pouts. “That Dr. Anderson chick? Aren’t you like, cured?”
Bitter. “Suicidal people are never cured. They can only be okay for a little while.”
“Shit, Sammy. I hate it when you say that out loud.” Rough hug.
“Look, I’ll call you when I get there, okay? That way you’ll have my dorm number.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Hesitant. “Not like my parents offered. Or, you know. Andy. Ansem. Ava. Pam. None of them wanted to come. They’re all staying back in the Pitt. They’re all a little annoyed with me for wanting out.”
Indignant. “Well, then they’re idjits.”
“I’m sorry, I’m a what?” Laughing. “A...what?”
“An idjit! It’s like an idiot only sounds better. I dunno where I heard it before.”
Grinning. “Ah. So instead of sounding mean, you just sound pretentious.”
Swats. “Bitch.”
“Jerk.” Clears throat. “No, Dean. You don’t have to come with me.”
“You didn’t actually answer my question, Sammy. I know I don’t have to come with you but do you want me to? I could take a few days off work, we can go together, I can take the bus back.”
Slow sigh. “No, Dean. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Confused. “Why?”
“Dean. I’m gay. I’m gay and it’s 1999 and if you come to Palo Alto with me, everyone will think...” Trails off. “It’s just not a good idea.”
“Dude.” Solemn. “You’re my best friend.”
“Yeah. I know. But...that’s all you are.” Quick smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Sam, damn it!”
Door closes.
Car starts.
“FUCK!”
“Sam? Are you okay?”
“Just...Just, Dean. Please?”
“Yeah. Yeah, hold on.”
Clicks.
“Sammy? Sam, what’s wrong?”
“N-Nothing. I just...I needed to talk to someone.”
“You don’t sound so good, man. What’s going on?”
“Things are really...really hard here. I mean the work isn’t that bad...but...” breaths hitching “I can’t...I had my first appointment with Dr. Anderson last night.”
“Dude.”
“Y-Yeah. She and I...didn’t work out so well. She’s awful Dean.”
“So what are you going to do, man?”
“Call Zak, I think. Let him know what’s going on. I just...” Slow breath out. “I needed to...Dean, you have no idea...”
“Hey, hey, Sammy. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“I don’t think so Dean, things are all different now.” Soft chuckle. “I should go. Sorry for freaking you out. I haven’t had a panic attack in years.”
“Call me before one happens again, okay? We’ll head it off.”
Smiles. “I will. Thank you, Dean.”
“Forget about it.”
Clicks.
“Good morning, Mr. Hastings. How was your week? Any progress on what we talked about last Friday?”
Flat look. “You mean when you informed me that it was high time to get over this phase of being gay?”
“It’s plain to see, Mr. Hastings, that in your struggle to find role models in your formative years, you latched onto Dean, someone who treated you as a normal person without regard to your intelligence, and sometimes those connections can be unhealthy. I don’t want to be one of those people who tells you that being gay is a mindset, but truly, Mr. Hastings, things are not as bad as you’re making them out to be.”
“No, it only feels like my entire world is ending.”
“No.”
Surprised. “Well. That was...definite. Can I ask why?”
“I’m adopted, Dr. Anderson. I have no sisters or brothers. Everyone in my town has either known each other since birth or went to school with each other since everyone was in diapers. I worked and practically lived at an Artist store, and everything I ever did was to move past the label of being gay. The only person who helped me do that...is Dean. And you’re telling me I have to cut off all ties with him because I was unfortunate enough to fall in love with my best friend?” Scoffs. “Romance movies are made of people who fall in love with their best friends. I just happen to be male. So, no thank you. I will not be taking that advice, and I will be calling Dr. Webb to inform him of how terribly I’ve been treated here. Thank you, Dr. Anderson. For your overly expensive time.”
Door closes.
“Excuse me? Mr. Hastings?”
Pause. “Look, I’ve just had a really shitty time of it and I’d like to go home now.”
“Sorry. I’m Dr. Novak.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve only seen you twice, here. But if you ever need to talk...I’m here.” Small smile. “I also work on Campus, I’m the LGTB Activist Coordinator.”
“LGTB?”
“Lesbian-Gay-Transgendered-Bisexual.”
“How...did you know I was gay?”
Head tilt. “I have very good ears.” Offers hand. “Here’s my card. Call me anytime.”
Small smile. “Thanks, I will.”
*
“Sam?”
“Oh, shit. Hi, Jim. Sorry, just came in from a run, thought I was going to miss the phone.”
“Should I call back?”
“No, you’re fine. Hang on, let me get some water so I don’t sound like I’m dying.”
Pause.
“Sam?”
“Here.”
“The other members of our group were wondering if maybe we could convince you to do an art show.”
“Wait, seriously? They do realize I’m a law student and not an art major right?”
“I...don’t believe they care.”
“Oh. Then. Yes. Sure. What medium?”
“Any. And since it’ll be at the center of our sort of life, they want anything explicit or homosexual that you have. Some of the girls are a little more interested in this part of your art than they should be.”
Laughter. “Of course. I’ll do it. Just let me know when, where, and how many pieces to do.”
“And Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“How’s Dean?”
Laughs. “Good bye, Jimmy.”
*
*
“Um. You must be Alastair.”
Low chuckle. “Yes, may I ask who I’m speaking to?”
“This is Sam. Hastings. I’m phoning for Dean.”
Faint surprise. “Sam? Ahh...Sam. Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. So you’re the voice that belongs to the name he called.”
Confusion. “Um, what?”
“Nothing, my dearest. Let me get Dean for you.”
Rustling, muffled voices.
“Sam!” Pause. “I told you he was annoying.”
“He seemed nice, actually.” Absently. “And he sounds kind of hot, if you want my opinion.”
“Dude!”
Laughs. “What? English accents are hot. It’s just the truth.”
“Jesus, Sammy. Ever heard of TMI? Ugh. So hanging up on you now.”
“Hey, before you go.”
“If this is another thing about Crowley being hot, I’m still hanging up on you.”
Snort. “No! Just, sorry I missed your birthday man.”
“Dude, you’re like a month too late.”
“Shut up. You know how hard Law school is? Especially when you’re 19? Suck it.”
Blush. “Good-bye Sam.”
“Night, Dean.”
Click.
Chapter 7: Year Seven
Chapter Text
Someone Else's Story
November 29th 2000 - November 1st 2001
*
*
“Yeah?”
“Is that anyway to answer the phone, Sammy?”
Smiling. “Dean!”
“So, I have two things, real quick. The first is this, do you have a cell phone yet?”
“Yet? Like you have one already?”
“Yup! 752-555-7241. Write it down and don’t lose it!”
“Okay, okay...” scribbles. “So what was the second thing?”
Sudden quiet. “Look, I have something to tell you okay? It’s not... you won’t like it.”
Frowning. “Um. You’re not like, going to tell me that you hate me?”
“No!”
“That you’re dying?”
“No.”
“That you’re moving to Timbuktu?”
“Uh, no.”
“Okay then.” Grinning. “So the odds that whatever you have to say will incur my wrath is relatively slim.”
Dryly. “It’s not your wrath I’m worried about.”
Snorts. “Queen, please.”
Laughter.
“Um. It’s just that...you know that I...you know what? Never mind. I got to run, talk to you later, text me when you get that cell phone. Bye, Sammy.”
Click.
Baffled. “What the hell was that about?”
*
*
“Hello?”
“Sam! Thank God, I wasn’t sure you were going to pick up the phone.”
“Um, why not? Dean? Is everything okay?”
“Haven’t you been watching the news?”
“No...today I had no class so I’ve been studying for my Calculus Exam. Why?”
“There’s been a terrorist attack.”
Startles. “What? Where?”
“On the twin towers, you know, in New York City? And the pentagon and there might have been a third one but it failed. There’s like, a super warning on TV for big places. Like...universities.”
“Shit, I didn’t have my TV on, and no one came to tell me.”
“Look, check in with me every hour okay? Because if they have to evacuate you, you come here. You got that, Sammy?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Pause. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Everyone is freaking out though. I mean, shit, a terrorist attack.”
“How the hell did it happen?”
“From what I can tell from the news, a plane flew into one of the twin towers and the pentagon. Another one went down in Pennsylvania. Apparently the passengers took back that plane. They’re evacuating and shit Sam, people are jumping off the towers, like that’s their only option.”
“Damn it...” Quietly “Glad I didn’t decide to go to NYU after all...”
“Shut up Sam, don’t even joke!”
“I’m fine, Dean. I’ll call you in an hour okay?”
“Be safe.”
Click.
*
*
*
“Oh for, it’s Sam, for the millionth time, Jim. You manage to remember when your cock is up my ass but not on the phone.”
Clears throat. “Yes, well... things are a little less formal then.”
“You’re never formal.”
“And you’re embarrassing me, so stop.”
Grins. “Sorry, Jim. What’s up?”
“I wanted you to know, I’m going out of state soon. I have to make a few trips before heading to Detroit.”
Frowns. “How long will you be gone?”
“About two weeks, I think. Less if everything goes well.”
“Is this the conference thing that you were telling me about last week?”
“Yes.”
Long sigh. “I’m going to miss you. Who else am I going to call when things get rough?”
Amused. “Dean, maybe?”
“Would you stop pushing that please?” Grumble. “I could always call Zak.”
“Zak?”
“Yeah, Zachariah Webb, my former therapist. I haven’t talked to him much, he was really disappointed in Dr. Anderson, and took care of that whole thing for me.”
“Where did you meet this doctor?”
Pause. “The Brien Center at Pittsfield on South St.”
“Huh. Zak. That’s very interesting.” Short pause. “Okay, Short Time, I’ll call you when I get to Dallas. It’s my first stop.”
“I’m not short, Jim!”
“Say hi to Dean for me.”
Click.
*
*
Dean: Welcome to the modern age.
Sammy: ha ha very funny
Dean: so whats up? U in class?
Sammy: yes.
Dean: u rebel u
Sammy: im way in back.
Dean: cause ur a fukin giant
Sammy: nooo so I can text u
Dean: didnt know u cared sunshine
Sammy: moron
Dean: what class?
Sammy: ethics of law in modern history
Dean: snore
Sammy: pretty much
Dean: when u get out?
Sammy: 1 hr
Dean: gag
Sammy: yup
Dean: call me when ur out?
Sammy: kk
*
*
“Hey Sammy.”
Crunches. “Hey Dean.”
“Are you eating?”
“Yeah. It’s lunch time.”
“Dude, it’s like, 2.”
“Dude, I’m like, 2 hours behind you.”
Grumbles. “You’re an ass.”
“So what’s up?”
“Nothing, what do you mean what’s up?”
“Uh, Dean, you told me to call you.”
“Oh. Right. I don’t know, I just miss you, I guess.”
“You should come up here for my birthday.”
“That’s in a week...Maybe Walter would give me the days off...”
“You should find out and come celebrate with me. I’m going to be twenty, you know.”
“I know, which makes me 24 so shut it.”
“Okay, okay old man.”
“Sammy, I will hang up this phone.”
“And be deprived of my voice and stunning personality?”
“Good bye Sammy.”
“Hey!”
“What?”
“You never told me what you wanted.”
“Um. Nothing. Just wanted to say hi.”
Confused. “Okay. Don’t tell me then.”
Groans. “Aw, Sam, come on. Don’t be mad.”
“Not mad, just confused.” Softly. “Is it bad? Is that why you don’t want to tell me?”
“No Sam...it’s not bad. I just...it’s hard okay? I’ll work up to it.”
Pause.
“Okay. I’ll let you go then. Text me later?”
Smiles. “Yeah, Sammy. I will.”
Click.
“Shit, Sam. I think I love you.”
*
*
“Hey Zak, it’s Sam.”
Surprised. “Sam, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you ever again after what happened with Riesel. I had no idea she felt that way, and I really can’t apologize enough.”
“Meh, whatever. I got over it.” Pause. “I’m calling because I really need someone to talk to.”
A little awed. “And you chose me?”
“Well who else would I choose?”
“Dean?”
Laughs. “You’re the second person who’s said that and funny but the idiot is totally avoiding me because there’s something he wants to tell me and won’t.”
“Is it serious?”
“Fuck if I know.”
Contemplating. “So what could be bad enough that he can’t even tell you?”
“Don’t know. I asked if he was dying, he said no. I asked if he changed his mind about hating me, he said no. I asked if he was going some place far away and he said no. I’m at a loss, and the guy I’ve been talking to in Dr. Anderson’s stead had to go on a trip for 2 weeks.”
“Guy you’ve been talking to?”
“Yes. His name is Jim Novak.”
Sharp inhale. “Novak?”
“Do you know him?”
“I’ve heard of him. One of the brothers in arms...” clears throat. “You picked a good one Sam. Stick with him.”
Confused. “Why do I feel like I missed something?”
“It’s nothing, Sam. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I wasn’t, for a while. I...can I tell you something, even though you’re not my therapist anymore?”
Softly. “Of course you can, Sam.”
“I tried to kill myself, last year. I had already made the cuts in my right arm, you know? Then I freaked out, called Dean. Talking to him helped, and I managed to patch myself up and now I’ve got scars, but you know...I might have actually done it, if I hadn’t called Dean that night.” Snorts. “I got blood all over my sketch pad, I had to start another.”
“Oh Sam. I’m so sorry.”
Soft laugh. “Don’t be sorry Zak, it wasn’t like it was your intention.”
“No...not mine.” Pause. “How are you now? Does Dean know?”
“I’m okay. Dealing. Dean doesn’t know. Dean will never know if I have anything to say about it. I just...Jim doesn’t get it, not really. It’s almost like he’s an automaton, you know?”
Laughs. “Yes, I know.”
“Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’m okay. And to say thanks. Because, without you, I would never have...I wouldn’t be me today.”
“I...thank you Sam.”
Clicks.
“...For putting things in perspective for me.”
*
*
Phone rings.
“Yeah, what?”
“Is that any way to talk to someone you haven’t seen in a few days?”
“Jim! You might know where it is.”
“Where what is?”
“Where the pages for the LGBT Newspaper are? The ones I did for August’s issue? I had my copy on my desk before you left last, but then I don’t know, I had notes all over the place, but I can’t find them and one of the group wants a copy.”
“The pages you did...had the picture you painted of your arm, and Dean and the boy with the jeans? The one where you said you loved your best friend?”
“Jim! You were there for most of those drawing sessions!”
“Oh those...”
Pause. “I don’t like that tone, Jim.”
“I sent them to Dean.”
“What?!”
Dryly. “And the one whose cock is up your ass, I feel that it’s my duty to send the man whose cock should be up your ass the pages that would make that happen. Good luck, Samuel. I wish you well. I’ll figure this out sooner or later.”
“Figure what out?”
“How to wake you up.”
“What?”
“Good bye, Samuel.”
Click.
*
“...Hello?”
“Hey Sammy. Can we talk about something for a second?”
Quietly. “Sure, Dean. What did you want to talk about?”
“How about the fact that you’re in love with me?”
*End
TBC:
Year Eight
January 24th 2002 - December 24th 2003
Chapter 8: Year Eight
Chapter Text
January 24th 2002 - December 24th 2002
*
Sammy: page mill rd
Dean: kk see you in a bit
Sammy: will be here
Dean: missing the snow
Sammy: NOT MISSING SNOW
Dean: ??
Sammy: Sorry
Dean: capslock accident?
Sammy: new phone = confusing
Dean: be there soon
Sammy: kk
Ten Minutes Later
Dean: oops
Sammy: Oops??
Dean: missed exit
Sammy: take the next 1 then. Sand hill rd
Dean: sorry am idiot
Sammy: idjit
Dean: that too
Sammy: stop texting and driving
Dean: take two be there soon
Twenty Minutes Later
Dean: left or right at Wisteria?
Dean: hurry
Sam: left
Dean: kk
Ten Minutes Later
Dean: which house?
Sammy: the blue one
Dean: there is no blue one
Sammy: what??
Dean: shit wrong road
Sammy: on Lakehurst?
Dean: yeah which way next?
Sammy: which direction you in?
Dean: facing west
Sammy: take a right
Sammy: at light, take left
Dean: what light?
Sammy: your other right dean!!!
Dean: shit
*
*
Ten Minutes Later
Dean: I hate this damn city
Sammy: where are you?
Dean: the gas station on Wisteria and Union
Sammy: stay. Be there in five.
Dean: walking or driving
Sammy: walking
Dean: sorry
Sammy: its fine hold on
Dean: to what?
Sammy: perv
Dean: you love it
Sammy: if youre good ill give you a bj in car cant text and walk
Dean: um
Sammy: nvm
Dean: promise?
Sammy: WHAT
Dean: see you in a minute
Sammy: Dean what? You better explain that!
Sammy: Dean?
Sammy: DEAN.
Sammy: fuck you asshole be there in a sec
*
*
“So.”
Slow sigh. “So what, Dean?”
“Are...we going to talk about this?”
Pointedly. “You hate talking.”
“I’ll make an exception.”
Long silence.
“Christ, Sammy. Were you ever going to tell me?”
“No.”
“You really weren’t? You were just going to be miserable for the rest of...forever? Because, man, that just sounds...”
Biting. “Well, fuck Dean! What exactly am I supposed to say? I could quote my last therapist, by saying I made an unhealthy attachment to you because you’re the only person outside my parents - who aren’t even mine! - to show me any real degree of kindness. I could say that I’m a walking cliche, and that I followed the plot line of every romantic comedy known to man. I could say that I’m a stereotype, a gay man falling for a straight man. I could even say that I’m the last person on earth who deserves something good, which is why I tried to kill myself! But god damn it, Dean, I was not going to open myself up to even more ridicule.”
Slow. Shocked. “You...tried to kill yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Where? When? How? What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Dryly. “I did, technically. Though at the time, I told you I was having a panic attack.”
Pause.
“You called me that day.”
“I did, yes.” Holds out arm. “I was a little too late for the pre-suicidal thoughts freak out, but you came in at the top of the mid-action freak out. Got myself to stop bleeding on the phone with you and called a friend to come get me and bring me to the hospital.” Wry smile. “Brady chewed my ass up one way and down the other when he got here.”
“Well there’s the how and the when. How about the why?”
Soft snort. “Dr. Anderson. I won’t go into what she said, but it was...pretty bad. I didn’t know what else to do. It seemed like the only option at the time. Then I started and I realized I was in too deep and I needed out.”
Slow sigh. “Because you loved me?”
Dirty look. “Don’t flatter yourself, Dean. I squared away the knowledge that you didn’t love me like I loved you a long time ago.”
“You never even gave me a chance, Sam.”
Exasperated. “You didn’t want one!”
“When the hell did I say that?”
Bitter snort. “When you said that you didn’t care that I was gay so long as you didn’t have to hear about me talking about guys, and that I didn’t expect to, and I quote, be butt buddies with you.”
Wince. “Oh. That.”
“Yeah. That.”
“Well...that was before.” Carefully. “Yeah. Before. Sammy before you say anything else, do you promise not to hate me? God isn’t that familiar? Just...don’t hit me, okay?”
“Hate you? Hit you? Dean, what?”
“Just promise me, Sammy.”
Confused. “Okay. I promise.”
Steps in close. “I’m holding you to that, Sammy.”
“Why what are you going to d–....” Kiss.
*
*
Dean: are u in class?
*
*
TBC
Chapter 9: Year Nine
Chapter Text
Year Nine
*
Gets up. Walks away.
Click.
*
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Hey Dean, it’s Sam. It’s been a week. I just...I want to you know you’re okay.” Slow sigh. “I miss...I miss you.”
*
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Dean, it’s Sammy. I want to check in...like usual. It’s been another week. I keep telling myself that I’m only going to call once a week on a Friday...I keep catching myself trying to call, like, I’ll dial and then hang up, and it’s...really, really sad. Sorry. Bye, Dean.”
*
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Another week gone by. Just...saying hi. Numbers still the same. I miss you.”
*
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Can you just, please let me know that you’re not dead?”
*
Dean: not dead sammy
Sammy: thank u
Dean: sorry cant see u yet
Sammy: its ok
Sammy: well no its not
Sammy: miss u
Dean: sorry sammy
*
*
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Dean, it’s Sam. I just...wanted to update you. Ansem called me last night. He and Andy moved out together, like a whole other state and everything. They’re up in Vermont, and yeah, they’re still brothers...but they’re together. They um, aren’t speaking to their dad, but at least they’re happy y’know? I thought...you’d want to know. Bye, Dean. I miss you.”
*
Dean: thanks sammy
Sammy: welcome
Dean: u ok?
Sammy: stupid question
Dean: sorry
Sammy: no not ok
Dean: sorry
Sammy: u ok?
Dean: not really
Sammy: dean come home
Dean: I cant
*
*
“Hi, this is Samuel Hast–Winchester. I was wondering if we could open my file again...I wanted to know who my father is. And if there is any contact info for him.”
“Of course, Samuel.”
Wince. “It’s Sam, actually. Er, I prefer Sam.”
“Okay, so your father was named John Winchester, and there isn’t any contact information for him...but he did leave a next of kin behind. A Bobby Singer, I have a number for him.”
“I’ll take that. Anything, y’know?”
“Okay, Robert Singer...555-2900. Now, this contact information is twenty years out of date, so don’t get your hopes up too high.”
“Anything is better than nothing, ma’am. Thank you for your time.”
Click.
*
*
Phone rings.
“Singer Salvage.”
Startled. “Hi, sorry. I didn’t...think you were going to pick up. My name’s Sam Has....Winchester. My name is Sam Winchester. I don’t know if you remember me, or my father, but I got your number from my adoption file, you’re listed as John Winchester’s next of kin. I just...I wanted to know him, and I hoped you could help me.”
Surprised. “Sam Winchester? Shit, you must be twenty years old.” Low laugh. “Yeah, I remember your father. Biggest son of a bitch you’ll ever meet. Loved his boys though, loved them enough to give them up when the going got tough.”
“Have you spoken to him lately?”
“He dropped off the map, son. Haven’t heard from your daddy in a long time. Besides which, he knows better, and the next time I see him I’ll shoot the old bastard in the leg, he knows it.”
Startled laugh. “What’d he do?”
“Well boy, sit down and I’ll tell you about your daddy.”
*
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Dean, it’s me. I found one of dad’s old friends. His name is Bobby Singer, he works in a salvage yard in the middle of South Dakota, and he knows some of the best stories. Text me if you want his number. I didn’t tell him we were...lovers, but I said I had found you, entirely by accident.” Sigh. “I miss you.”
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“You, Mr. Dean Winchester. Are driving. Me insane. I think. I’m going crazy. Can masturbating make you blind? ‘Cause dude...fuck, just thinking of you makes me hard as fucking nails and I really wish you were home so we could just be together again. Shit, Dean you have no idea. I–fuck.” Grunt. “You left your whiskey here when you left.”
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Ignore last message. Please. Ow, my head hurts.”
*
Dean: how much?
Sammy: ???
Dean: did u drink?
Sammy: uh...all of it?
Dean: !!!
Sammy: was depressed fuck u very much
Dean: drink water lots of water and have aspirin
Sammy: going to college know all this
Dean: hows class?
Sammy: really dean?
Dean: im tryin here sammy
Sammy: class is good
Dean: meet any boys?
Sammy: REALLY DEAN?
Dean: have u?
Sammy: NO
Dean: u should
Sammy: wont
Dean: Sammy...
Sammy: shut up & come home damnit
*
*
Knock on door.
“Yeah, hold on a second.”
More insistent knocking.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, Jesus. Wait a fuckin’ min–....”
Door opens.
“Dean.” Aborted step forward. “Did you forget your keys?”
“Yeah...I left them on the beside table.” Awkward silence. “Shit Dean...what the fuck do we do now?”
“I don’t know, Sammy. I just...I know I can’t be away from you. God, we’ve been together...in so many different ways for what, nine fuckin’ years now? Jesus Christ Sam...I don’t know how to do this.”
Shaky sigh. “Yeah, me either.”
“So what are we, Sammy? Brothers? Or lovers?”
Hysterical laugh. “Both.”
“You’re not my brother, Sam. Yeah sure, a bit of paper and an adoption agency in fuck knows where says we are. But I don’t know you as my brother.”
Quietly. “You told me once that you looked to me as a little brother, Dean.”
“Yeah...” Soft laugh. “That was a really a deflection. Dude, I know I’m oblivious but I’m not that bad.”
Eyebrow raise. Dead pan. “What?”
“Man, you’re going to make me say it?”
“Hell fuckin’ yes I’m going to make you say it.”
Covers face with one hand. “Is there any Jack Daniels left?”
“No. And if there was, I wouldn’t let you have any. Just tell me, Dean.”
“You really drank the whole thing? Shit Sammy, you could have gotten alcohol poisoning, you have to be more careful!”
Flat look. “Dean. Focus.”
“Fine!” Pause. “Before Crowley...I used to dream about you. Not when you were real young, like thirteen or whatever. But after you sent me that photo of you, after the growth spurt. I used to jerk off in the shower to...” Pause. Blush. “Well, you get it. I wasn’t entirely ignorant and I didn’t want to upset you, mostly because I thought you thought of me as a brother.” Stratches back of his head. “Then I got those pages and everything kind of fell into place.”
“So then...why did you leave, when I told you what the Agency said?”
“Because it was like a worst nightmare come true. And when I leave in my dreams, I always wake up. I wanted to wake up.”
“Not a dream, Dean. It’s all real. Now, the question is, do we just...continue as we are and hide that we’re brothers? Or do we forget about it?”
“I don’t know Sammy. I really don’t.”
*
*
Knocks on car window.
Window rolls down.
*
“Zachariah, what made you have this change of heart?”
Snort. “You know, Castiel, when Sam told me that you were the one who began their relationship, I was shocked. And here you are, same as always.”
“You called me here. I am merely ascertaining the reason for doing so.”
“I don’t think I could explain it to you if I tried, Castiel.”
“Try.”
“It is...hard for any of the Host to admit they were wrong. You know this. In this war between Heaven and Hell, I have always been on the side of Heaven. But our orders haven’t come from our Father, not for many years. And we...that is, Sam and I...he connected to me, Castiel.”
“He’s good at that.”
“I grew up with him. I watched him grow. He isn’t a monster. He’s just a boy.”
Small smile. “Yes. I know.”
“I only have one question, before we undo this Universe.”
“Yes?”
“Were you really sleeping with him?”
“Uh.”
“God’s Blood you were!” Laughs. “How was that experience?”
“Humanizing.”
“This will ruin them, Castiel.”
“They deserve to know.”
“I know they do. Especially Sam. He has become my friend. Against all odds, he has become my friend.”
“I understand the feeling, Zachariah. A word of caution though... do not let Uriel find out.”
“For what?”
“Listening.”
*
*
Hoarse. “Sammy.”
Confused. “Yeah Dean?”
“Fuck, I give up. We’re not brothers. We’re not. I lo....” Grunt.
“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”
“Shut up, Sammy. You just shut up.” Desperate kiss. “I love you, okay? I fuckin’ love you.”
Small smile. “Yeah Dean. Love you too.”
*End
Chapter 10: Year Ten
Notes:
Warnings: Many of these pictures are NSFW. Also, CHARACTER DEATH - not either of our boys though and the death itself is off screen.
Chapter Text
Year Ten:
December 1st 2003 - June 8th 2004
*
“Fuck, Dean, fuck... c’mon...Jesus Christ Dean....” Pants. Writhes. “Fucking get on with it.”
Low laugh. “Giving up already, Sammy?”
“What do you mean, already? It’s been two fucking hours!”
Grin. “What’s the magic word Sammy?” Stroke. Twist.
“FUCK!”
“Ah-ah-ah, Sammy. That’s not it.”
“Dean!”
“That’s not it either, even though it sounds so good.” Rub.
“Fuckfuckfuck!” Desperate. Bucks.
“C’mon Sammy, just give me what I want...”
“Wouldyoujusttakethisfuckingringoffalready?!” Whine.
“Close, but no–.”
Phone rings.
“Your phone is ringing, Sammy. Should I answer it?”
“You should let me fucking come you giant dickbag!”
“Wrong answer!” Picks up phone. “Yeah?” Pause. “Hi, Zak. No, this is Dean.” Pause. “It’s good to talk to you too, what’s up?” Pause. “Sam’s a bit indisposed right now.” Laugh. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Dr. Webb.” Muffled exclamation. “Okay, I’ll let him know and he’ll call you when he’s done.”
Click.
“Now, where were we?”
“Shut the fuck up Dean and –nngh!” Arch. Writhe.
“What was that, Sammy?”
“Fuck, Jesus Christ Dean, please!”
“Much better.” Twist. Stroke.
“Nngh! Dean!” Release.
*
Dean: called ash 4 u
Sam: huh?
Dean: u missed class called him to get notes 4 u
Sam: time is it?
Dean: almost 3.
Sam: WHAT
Dean: wore u out I must have
Sam: stfu yoda and bring me pizza
Dean: yessir
*
*
Sammy: if I tear out ur drawings ull what?
Dean: withhold sex?
Sammy: askin or tellin
Dean: fuck off
Sammy: :P
Dean: gonna be late at shop
Sammy: y?
Dean: car with lots of issue
Sammy: like what?
Dean: his sister needed to be blessed
Sammy: uh
Sammy: what?
Sammy: that makes no sense
Dean: dude?
Sammy: go back and read what u wrote!!
Dean: Doh!
Dean: his system needed to be flushed
Sammy: how’d u manage that?
Dean: autocorrect. It’s a bitch.
*
*
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Deaaaann...you’re a total dickhead. Way to leave me here without the car. If you’re out getting beer, I will END YOU. Call me back and come get me!”
Hey it’s Sam, you know what to do.
“Sammy! Jesus, you just called me, how are you not answering your phone? I’m on my way, you giant girl. With chinese food and beer. Does the chinese make it better? Sit tight.”
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Dean, really? Tag. You’re it.”
Hey it’s Sam, you know what to do.
“Sam, it’s C—ahem. It’s Jim. I left you a message on your refrigerator, but maybe you didn’t see it. Maybe because you have a thousand other post it notes on your refrigerator. I told you to call me, and it’s been many days since then. Call me back, Sam. It’s important.”
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Deano, this is your dad. Well. It’s Mr. Charleston. Your real dad came by the house. Look, there’s something we need to tell you.”
Hey, it’s Sam, you know what to do.
“Sam, it’s Cast–...” Beep.
Click.
*
Sammy: been gettin weird msgs from jim
Dean: weird like how?
Sammy: weird like...
Sammy: dunno
Sammy: weird like he gets his name wrong
Dean: that is weird
Sammy: wants me to call him
Sammy: thoughts?
Dean: call him
Dean: might be interesting
*
You’ve reached Andy and Ansem, and we’re real busy now, so leave us one and we’ll call you when we feel like it.
Snort. “Andy, Anse, its Sam. Just calling ‘cause I wanted to know if you care that I’m using a bunch of sketches I did of you back in high school in my Portfolio. Just give me a ring back, when you can. Or when you feel like it.”
You’ve reached the voice mail box of... “why do you want me to say my name? I don’t understand”... is not available. Please leave a message after the tone.
“Hey Jim, you should really change your voice mail greeting. You sound like a total moron. Anyway, I’m giving you that call back and I also have a question. Can I use a sketch I did of you in my portfolio for class? Just let me know when you get this, okay? And then you can tell me about what’s so important. I miss you. Come over more.”
Hey this is Dean, I’m not around. Leave me a message.
“Hey you, it’s me. Call me when you get this. Loveyoubye!”
*
Dean: whats up?
Sammy: had a ?
Dean: wha?
Sammy: can I use ur pictures in portfolio?
Dean: ...which ones
Sammy: u at the fence
Sammy: older u from weird dream
Dean: sure
Sammy: u jerkin off 4 me
Dean: SAM
Sammy: what? Its art
Dean: u cant give that 2 people!!
Sammy: prude
Dean: am not
Sammy: are too
Dean: argue later when I get home
Sammy: still using it
Sammy: sealing envelope now
Sammy: loveu
Dean: dickbag
Sammy: assbutt
Dean: ASSBUTT?
*
*
“We need a plan of action, Castiel.”
“Sam has been calling my cell phone every few days. I am not ready to bestow upon him the knowledge he has been lied to for his entire life.”
Slowly. “Sam already remembers some of his life as Sam Winchester. He used to dream about it. Come to think of it though, he hasn’t mentioned the dreams in a while.”
“Is this because he ceased having them or because he ceased speaking about them?”
Thoughtful. “I have no idea.”
“How do we tell them they are brothers? How do we tell them they are living lives that aren’t even real?”
“They already know they’re brothers, Castiel.”
“They...do?”
“Of course they do. Sam figured it out months ago. They had a bit of a falling out but from what I understand, they’ve moved past it. Possibly because Andy and Ansem are also brothers.” A little sheepish. “In order for my plan to work, Sam needed to understand about...relationships such as the one he was interested in having.”
Absently. “You weren’t far off the mark, either, brother. The eldest Gallagher wanted a relationship such as that. It drove him to madness.”
“Mm, well. I refined the designed a little.”
“So then, that leaves us with this, Zachariah. How do we tell them everything they know is a lie?”
“We just do, Castiel. We just do. We’ll meet them in Palo Alto tomorrow.”
“Agreed. I will see you there, Zachariah.”
“Good luck, Castiel.”
“You may call me Cas, if you wish. Dean does, after all.”
Vanish.
*
*
“Sam, it’s good to see you.” Rough embrace.
“Hey Zak. What’s so important that Jim got in contact with you? Where is Jim anyway?”
“He was...unavoidably detained. Where’s Dean?”
Looks at watch. “Work still. He’ll be there for another three hours, why?”
“This will be easier without him here, I think.”
Confused. “Um. What the hell do you have to tell me, Zak?”
“What if everything you’ve ever known was a lie, Sam? What would you do?” Holds up hand. “No, let me speak. Do you remember your dreams, Sam?”
“Yes. Hard to forget them.”
“Do you still get them?”
“Not anymore. They faded a lot when I turned 22.”
Faint surprise. “22? Odd. Look, Sam. I want to apologize.”
“Apologize for what?”
“For what I’m about to do.” Light touch. “When you wake up, you’ll hate me again. Just the way it should be.”
Collapse.
*
Hey, it’s Sam. You know what to do.
“Sam, it’s Dean. Where are you? I got home and you’re not here. No note. Are you still with Zak? Call me back.”
Hey, it’s Sam. You know what to do.
“Sam, it’s Dean again. It’s been like, two hours dude. Where the fuck are you?”
Hey, it’s Sam. You know what to do.
“Sam! Jesus Christ, this better not be about what my dad said. Come on, Sammy.”
Hey, it’s Sam. You know what to do.
“Sammy, please. Just call me.”
*
“Hello, Dean.”
Startled. “Who the hell are you?
“My name is Castiel. I’m an Angel of the Lord.”
Laughs. “You must be Jim.”
“Yes, sometimes I’m him too.”
“Do you know where Sam is?”
“Sam’s waiting for you, Dean. And please, accept my apology in how long it has taken me to gather up courage to do this.”
“Do what?”
Light touch. “When you wake, you’ll be in the last place Dean Winchester remembers being. But you’ll also remember Dean Charleston. Whatever it is you do from here, Dean, do not leave him behind.”
Collapses.
*
Door unlocks. Door opens.
“Sam.”
Slow breath in. “Dean.”
“You remember too?”
“Y-yeah. I remember too. I remember everything.”
“Me too.”
Silence.
“What now, Sammy?”
“I don’t know Dean.” Sits on opposite bed. “Its like, I remember living two lives. But...neither of them were mine.”
“We were fucking, Sam. How do you get passed that? Fuck, this is worse than when I was Dean Smith and you were Sam Wesson. Shit. Cas was in on this.”
“No, I don’t think he was.” Thoughtful. “I’m pretty sure this was all Zak–I mean, Zachariah.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, Sam.”
Suddenly worried. “Do what Dean?”
“This.” Gestures. “Us. The...you’re my little brother but I know what you look like when you come.”
“You didn’t care in the...other place.” Desperate. “Dean what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that it’s my turn, Sam. That this time, I get to leave. Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. I need...to get my head on straight. Be safe and call Bobby if you have any...issues.”
“Dean, you can’t do this.”
“I can Sam. But more than that, I have to.”
“Dean...!”
Door closes.
Engine starts.
“Zak? Zak? Cas? Someone? Please...”
*
*
“Hello Sam.”
“Cas! Thank God, Cas.”
Slight smile. “Your brother told me where to find you. I have news.”
“Of Dean?”
“No. Dean has asked to remain unfound. I will respect his wishes. For now. Though our relationship in the Other Place was far from conventional...I wish to continue our friendship through other means.”
Soft snort. “I’d like that. Is that what you had to tell me?”
“No. Zachariah is dead.”
Chokes. “Wow, that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. What happened?”
“Uriel.”
“Uriel?”
“He did not enjoy the knowledge that Zachariah had switched sides. He killed him. But. I am here Sam. And I will help you if I can.”
“I just want my brother back, Cas.”
“Give him time, Sam. And...here.” Holds out bag. “These are yours.”
“What are they?”
“Your sketch books from the Other Place. The artwork inside of them is...quite stunning and I felt you should have the reminders. Good luck, Sam. You will call me if you have need of anything.”
“Yes, Cas. I’ll call you.”
Vanish.
*
*
2009
Chapter 11: Year Eleven
Chapter Text
Year Eleven
Hey, this is Dean. Leave me a message.
“Dean, it’s Sam. Look, I know you need space, and things are...really fucking weird. But, Dean, I’m in the hospital. I’m hunting a Vyrkolas, and it nearly sliced me from nose to naval. I need help man. I can’t do this one by myself.” Pause. “And, I miss you. Call me, okay?”
Click.
Phone rings.
Surprise. “Dean?”
“Shit, Sammy, are you okay?”
“You were totally screening your calls, you dick!” Scowl. “I’m fine. Stitched up and sore as hell but I’m fine.”
“And the Vyrkolas?”
“Still fucking at large. Dude, it’s killing children. I need help.”
“I’ve got this. Where are you?”
“Miami.”
Pause. “Wait, seriously?”
Low laugh. “Um, yes. Miami.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
Click.
*
“So, who’s Eric?”
Confused face. “Um. Who?”
“In your journal. You had a note from an Eric, telling you to call. Boyfriend?”
“Case.”
“I mean, if he’s your boy-what, case?”
Laughs. “Yeah Dean. His son was taken by the Vyrkolas last. He sent me that message at the motel I was staying at. The girl behind the desk gave it to me. Once I got there, more children had disappeared. Did you kill the thing?”
“It’s dead as a doornail, Sammy. Salted and burned the bones for good measure. You took good notes, babe.”
Shock. Faint surprise. “Babe?”
Soft smile. “Here, Sam. Read your journal. I’ll be back with some coffee.”
*
