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Thursday Night 2005, Palo Alto, California
The crimson liquid swirled around the bowl held in the hands of a rather young man. If you saw this man in the street, you’d find him rather odd as he was clad in leather black pants, a fishnet shirt, accompanied by red leather Doc Martin boots and a sleeveless patch and pin filled jacket. He certainly stood out with spiked electric blue hair and was full of piercings. Eyes defined by a thick eyeliner under the lower lash line, and an almost ghostly pale complexion. Usually a man looking this way would cause many wayward glances from people in the street, perhaps even cause a few crude and rather uncalled for slurs to be hollered his way. However, those slurs would have maybe affected the man and caused him to shout back and possibly resort to violent methods of asking the hecklers to shut their goddamn faceholes, had he been himself. Like many people this man was a victim to a lodger in his body, who recently had staged a hostile takeover. The body certainly fought. Sometimes if the creature listened really closely, he could still hear the man fighting. A rather futile attempt. Regardless, it made the monster smile.
The sky was clear. The stars littering the sky shimmered, leaving a bitter taste in our sulfuric friend’s mouth. It was as if the angels themselves were mocking him, taunting him. By the creature’s boot laid the body of a girl. She couldn’t have been older than 17. Blonde hair braided, stained crimson by the pool of blood. She wore a now crimson denim jacket paired with bootcut jeans and a crop top with the slogan “Whateva” emblazoned across in rhinestones. Perhaps the girl would have been considered odd. Maybe that’s why she found herself drawn to the punk misfit. Two people who truly didn’t fit in. Once bright blue eyes dulled by a distinct lack of something.. Life perhaps? A soul? Who knows? Truth be told, the demon didn’t really care. After all, to this demon, she was merely a crucial part to this spell. A battery to power the hellish phone.
The demon waited, getting rather impatient for the response on the other end.
“Come on!” he grumbled. “What the hell could possibly be keeping him?!”
Now most demons were not exactly known for their intelligence.. Hell. They aren’t exactly known for loyalty at the best of times. However, most demons have enough basic common sense, or at the very least self preservation skills, to know that usually it does no good to get mad towards your leader.
After what felt like hours, there was a response on the other end. A rather exhausted yellow eyed demon. The demon could practically feel Azazel’s power radiating through the bowl, especially as he spoke, demanding an update on his prized horse.
“Well.” The demon began. “I’m in no way trying to question anything of yours, my lord, but is this definitely the correct Samuel Winchester?”
There was a long pause before the golden eyed mastermind responded.
“Of course.” The demon spat, causing the caller to flinch as he continued. “I sent you to keep an eye on someone completely irrelevant, mistaking them for the boy king.. Because that sounds like an error I could make.” He droned, making no effort at all to mask the sarcasm lacing his words. The other demon had almost begun to open his mouth to answer. However, Azazel had continued.
“Need I remind you of your place, child?” Azazel had begun rather calmly. “I allowed you up there to watch that boy. My golden egg. It is a simple task that could be done by any pathetic scum.. You are replaceable.” He continued picking up speed as the agitation in his voice grew. “And you need reminding of how low you are on the food chain, I can drag you down here and crush you faster than you can smoke out of that and hide.” He paused. The demon caller could practically see the sadistic grin forming on the other end. “So what’s it gonna be? Do you want to question me more, pathetic worm? Do ya feel lucky, punk?”
The outrageous looking man had listened intensely, eyes growing wider as his master went on. Perhaps it was fear causing him to shake but if asked, he’d claim it was low temperature. His head went side to side as he stammered.
“Uh- of- of course not! I- I meant in no way t- to- to offend you sir. I- I just- he-.” The blue haired demon paused, taking a moment to take a breath. Not that he really needed the oxygen. No demon needed to breathe. They didn’t need anything to survive. This particular breath was more aimed to compose himself for the current boss before Azazel did well on his threat.
“I’m sorry.. Forgive me, please.” He said, shaking his head. “I-”
He was cut off by the demon on the other end.
“So!” He exclaimed rather brightly “How is my Sammy boy? I trust you brought me an update on the champ? You didn’t just call to waste time questioning and insulting me?” The last question challenging the caller.
“Well.. I went to check on him in his dorm and uh-” The demon swallowed, clearly nervous. “He wasn’t conscious.” He began, practically feeling Azazel’s disappointment in the sigh he let out.
“Go on..” Yellow eyes demanded through gritted teeth.
“Well.. Uh.. The toaster was on fire and-” The demon sighed. “I can’t do it, master!” He exclaimed, jolting the bowl and causing blood to slosh out as if he were a drunk and this was his final drink. “If he is to be our king, then we are all doomed! I cannot keep him alive! Nobody can. He’s hopeless!” The demon dropped to his knees, spilling more blood. “I am begging you to either reassign me, or find a different boy to rule.. Master, he's useless.”
There was yet another long pause as the demon put down the bowl and Azazel chose his next words.
“Now listen here. That boy is special, chosen by our father himself. A prodigy, hand picked by Lucifer himself. This is from the very top and you… You… Bottom feeding scum.. You dare to insult our father by defying him and just choosing another?” Azazel paused, letting his words sink in before continuing, his next words getting louder as he went. “Hopeless, You say? You can’t keep him alive? Nobody can? You really are a special brand of moron… Dean Winchester has been keeping him alive since ol’ Deano was four years old. You can’t do what a human child can? What kinda brand of slow are ya?!”
The demon listened closely, flinching at his words. Shaking his head, he glared at the bowl as the voice within the blood teased and taunted him.
“Hand picked?! That’s the best he could do?! A Sasquatch who can’t even keep himself alive?!” He shook his head. “Hell no! Lucifer has clearly lost his mind! You! You are insane for even humoring his choice! You have doomed us all! We will die under that human’s rule! Please master, see it for what it is!” He pleaded angrily, shaking his head. At which moment he heard a low chuckle from the bowl, sending a shiver up his spine.
“Bravo!” Azazel began, slowly clapping. “Tell me son.. Did that little outburst make ya feel better? Was it worth it? I sure hope so.. Because what’s in store for you-” He cut himself off to let out a laugh.. “You are going to come to me immediately, or we can send the hounds to retrieve you-”
The yellow eyed demon couldn’t finish his threat as he heard the fateful sound of a demon leaving the body. Black smoke poured out of the meatsuit, swirling in the air as it made it’s way to it’s destination. The body then slumped forward, landing face first into the bowl of blood as the connection severed. Silence filled the night, the bodies lying peacefully in a bloodbath that wouldn’t be discovered until morning.
Two days later, Stanford Dormitories
Sam Winchester awoke with a start. The first thing he was aware of was the stench of weed infused into the carpet his face was in contact with. The second thing he noticed was the fact he was on the carpet. The student groaned before pulling himself up onto his forearms. He looked around. How did he end up on the floor? In the corner of his vision, he saw a chair on its side. That answered that question. Next question. Why was his head pounding? And how long had he been on the floor? Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Sam once again made a noise of general discomfort. Turns out a very close relationship with the carpet is very toxic and does your body no good. Taking a moment to reorient himself, the Winchester closed his eyes and took a deep breath before bringing himself to stand. He glanced around briefly before feeling a wave of relief that Brady and Luis weren’t there to mock him and his intimate moment with the carpet. Slowly, Sam began to stretch out, feeling the clicking and cracking of joints.
Now one thing that it is probably too late to point out, is that Samuel William Winchester is an idiot.. Some could say it was a testament to how well Dean Winchester was able to raise and shelter the boy up to a point so that when the kid did the unexpected and left his family for college, he was not equipped for independence. A child raised by a child. Some may argue that it was merely human nature.. Regardless of why, his self preservation skills are non-existent.. And his roommates have quite frequently found the ex hunter in similar scenarios. The cause, to Sam, remains a mystery. To anybody watching from high, they would assume it was due to Dean Winchester raising the boy and doing too well of a job at protecting him from most things. This includes the boy’s knack for getting himself into danger. Despite being written by the man upstairs himself to either kill his brother or die at the hands of his brother, Sam has a habit of nearing the veil between life and death from either self neglect or other situations totally avoidable with a little common sense.
Sam Winchester glanced around. His eyes scanned the room, brushing over the offending upturned chair, before his eyes fell onto the table with the piles of books and papers. Using that, his hazy tired mind began to connect the dots. Sheer exhaustion had knocked him out.
One of Sam Winchester’s problems was his work ethic. Sometimes when he was alongside his dad and brother, he had a tendency to work until he dropped, spending his days hunting and his nights studying. Take hunting out of the equation, it would make sense to then use the day to study and the night for sleeping. That is unless you are Samuel Winchester. His days would be spent either studying, attending classes and working to pay for the essentials (because credit card fraud and pool hustling isn’t a good thing to add, especially when trying to appear normal) such as toothpaste and stationary. His nights would be spent studying or picking up more shifts where he worked. So basically, Sam did not sleep until absolute exhaustion knocked him out. Many people knew that it wasn’t exactly a good way to live. Recently, the youngest Winchester has found himself with another worry. Brady. Sam has found his evening plans have been paused by Brady’s problems. Seeing Brady, someone Sam has grown to care a lot about, abusing himself the ways he has put many strains on the former hunter. Sam has been trying as much as he can to help. He’s supported Brady. He’s been there when he calls. He’s even stayed with him all night in case something happened requiring Sam to take him to hospital. It still hurts every time. Not to mention the emotional turmoil he puts himself through. Yet he still did it. Perhaps Sam believed one day Brady would get clean. Maybe Sam felt a little bit guilty himself, the idea of him being unclean clung to him desperately. The Winchester couldn’t tell you where exactly these thoughts came from. The idea of him having something dark, ugly inside of him has been around as long as he can remember. Perhaps Sam was half right. Brady couldn’t be saved. He was doomed the moment he came close to Sam. From the very first ‘Hello’ Brady was marked ripe for possession. He was merely a puppet in a sadistic game bigger than even the largest entity known to the most experienced hunters in the universe.
With a heavy sigh, Sam dragged his feet to the kitchen. Coffee then back to it. The first thing he did was make a beeline for the fridge, opening the door and taking out the milk. He twisted the cap off. The stench of spoiled milk instantly hit his nostrils causing him to gag. Putting the carton in the trash, he was shaking his head. Black coffee it was. Dragging his sleep deprived self towards the cupboard where the coffee was kept. He let out a small laugh as he thought about how this is how he imagined death felt like and if this was what it felt like to be dead, how the fuck were ghosts able to move so fast and pull off damn near impossible feats?
“Friggin’ supernatural..” Sam laughed again, shaking his head as he opened the cupboard. His eyes scanned the barren space before they landed on the empty jar that should have contained the brown grounds he needed. Alas, it was empty. With a shake of his head, he forced himself out of the kitchen in search of shoes. Looks like he was headed for crappy diner coffee. Still better than being uncaffeinated. That was the thought running through Sam’s head as he located and wrestled his body to put shoes on. Sam pushed his laptop closed then began to gather various papers and books. He carried them out of the door.
The walk to the diner was short. Sam passed by a newspaper stand. He took at least five steps forward before he then had to backtrack to look at the paper that had caught his eye. The photos on the cover particularly caught his attention. It showed two separate people. A punk looking male, kitted out in denim, piercings. There was also a female in a separate photo next to the photo of the man. She looked young, carefree and was donning a rather short dress, holding a bottle of Jack. Both looked happy in their photos. It took a moment for Sam’s tired brain to supply where he’d seen the male before. One of Brady’s new friends. The guy was nice, if not a little too hands on for Sam’s taste. He first met Sam a few weeks ago. Ever since that one night when Brady had practically dragged the Winchester to that club to ‘give him a break’, Sam found this guy popping up more and more often. Then all of a sudden Brady stopped bringing him home. Sam secretly had thanked a higher power for it. Every time the man was there, Sam felt himself being watched closely. As if he was being sized up. Some sense long dormant in the hunter was itching around him.. Something about this man was fishy to him. Perhaps it was the staring or when he got a little too close for comfort, stroking Sam’s hair. He shuddered at the thought as he scanned the paper before finding the headline before his eyes widened in shock.
“COUPLE FOUND DEAD IN ALLEYWAY AS RITUALISTIC HOMICIDE GOES WRONG”
Shaking his head, Sam brought the paper and walked on. Reading the paper as he walked, to him it smelt like a case. If it smelt like a case, it probably was. However Sam refused to let himself get sucked back in. He was finally free of the life. He was well on his way to the life he wanted. Not his fathers life. Eventually he approached the local diner. Somewhere in the distance, he could have sworn he’d heard the rumblings of an old familiar engine. But that was crazy. Sam entered the diner as a 1967 Chevrolet Impala passed by. A familiar face in the driver’s seat. Green eyes trained on the door of the diner with big brother senses that if they had visual and audio, they would be the brightest flashing lights and have the most obnoxious sirens blaring loud enough to be heard in the darkest depths of hell. Dean Winchester was here. To say that Dean Winchester was concerned about his baby brother was a fucking understatement.
Dean Winchester had only been in town a few hours. He’d caught the newspaper reports in Palo Alto and he instantly was concerned for his little brother. His father was rather fast to dismiss the reports. Seeing as they’d looked into cases with less, Dean knew it was more than a case of ‘this isn’t a supernatural case’. The hunter knew John Winchester would have been all over this case if it was anywhere else. Anywhere the younger Winchester wasn’t. Dean would be lying if he didn’t understand. Sam left them. He chose college over his own family. Over Dean. That was just as painful as a literal kick in the nads. Yet there was still that need in Dean to follow one of the first orders he ever received from his dad. Words echoing as clear as they did all those years ago.
Watch out for Sammy.
To Dean, that was his stone number one. John Winchester may have forgotten about his kids in favour of the soldiers replacing them but Dean did not. His baby brother could potentially be in danger. Whether or not it was a serial killer; already a closed case or something in the jurisdiction of hunters, it didn’t matter. All were reasons to at least check to be sure. Protect his kid if needed. Not that Dean didn’t believe that Sam was capable of protecting himself from a homicidal maniac or worse-
No he’s not. Sam’s dumb. Remember that time he bought a Rolecks? He needs us
Okay. Maybe Dean didn’t have as much faith in the kid he raised as he should. Could anybody really blame him? Dean knew that a child can’t raise a child. Trying to navigate the world by yourself as a child is hard enough without bringing up, looking after, protecting and trying to teach a child.
In the end, John let Dean go on his own. Dean considered that a win. Dean had planned to get the case solved than just a quick peek at Sam, just to hopefully quell his uneasy feeling. The plans changed as soon as Dean caught a sighting of his little brother as Sam made his way to the diner. The first thing Dean noticed about his little brother was that he had become a tall beanpole. He wasn’t always that skinny.. Was he? There was something gaunt about Sammy… Which brought Dean to his second observation. The paleness in his skin, contrasting the dark circles under his eyes. When the hell did the boy sleep? Dean shook his head as he watched Sam drag himself into the diner..
“Dammit Sammy..” He grumbled to himself, watching the boy from the parked impala through the diner window. It was then and there that he decided to change plans. Of course he’d look into the deaths.. However, Sam came first. He was gonna watch out for his kid brother. See if he can help that situation while solving the case, if there even was a case in the first place. Dean also made a mental note to check in more often.
Meanwhile Sam remained in the diner. The words were beginning to blur on the various texts he had. He swore to himself ‘one more paragraph’ five books and six webpages ago. He wasn’t even sure if the information was even going in. Eventually he resigned, giving into his frustrated exhaustion. Coffee could only help so much. He shook his head, hair falling in front of his face, covering his eyes. He gathered his things and then glanced around. Nodding a thanks to the waitress serving him, Sam quickly made his departure, heading out the door and down the street. He wasn’t looking around at his surroundings.. If he was, he may have noticed the familiar black vintage motor parked barely a stones throw from the diner.
Dean watched the kid go and quietly cursed to himself. Sam was either more exhausted than Dean had initially thought, or Sam had gone totally native and abandoned all of his training for the sake of blissful unawareness. Which made it all the more urgent for Dean to get reassurance about the dead couple not being the start of a case. Dean twisted the keys in the ignition. Glancing towards the clock, Dean gave a satisfactory nod. Still time to investigate. The impala roared as Dean drove off, swerving out of the car park and into the road. The noise died down into a steady rumble as he drove down the road.
The youngest Winchester dragged himself into the dormitory, leaving his stuff on the table. He glanced around for a moment.
“Brady?” He called out hesitantly “Luis?” He tried.
“Hey Winchester.” A voice could be heard beyond one of the doors. “Luis left like ten minutes ago to meet Zack. They’re going to study hall together.” The voice said.
The door opened and a familiar blonde stepped out. He smiled as he saw Sam. Then his eyes fell to the table where all of Sam’s papers, books and laptop.
“Been busy?” He asked, turning to face Sam again. Winchester responded with a nod, causing Brady to smile. “Damn Winchester. You really work hard.. Too hard..” He chuckled, shaking his head as he came out of the door into the room. “I can get you something to y’know.. Help you relax.. You look like total crap by the way.” Brady mentioned, stepping towards him.
Sam glanced at him, briefly making eye contact before bringing his eyesight down to stare at the ground.
“I’m good thanks..” He said, bringing himself to look up and smile at him. “I’m okay.. Honestly..” He said, shaking his head. “I was actually gonna just head to class.. You coming?”
“Fraid not Winchester.. I got plans.” Brady said with a smile. A smile that chilled Sam for reasons the kid couldn’t explain. “Big plans.. So don’t wait up..” Brady called out as he headed towards the door.
Dean slammed the door of the impala shut and sat in the leather seat. Well that was a bit of a bust. Although Dean was able to confirm that yes, this was definitely a case. Sulfur at the crime scene, indicating that a demon was in fact present at one point. The ritual bowl was reportedly full of one of the victim's blood. The other? Well only idiots could drown themselves in a bowl full of blood. Something that honestly is laughable. Dean, and probably most other hunters, can take relief in knowing that demons were freaking stupid enough to get themselves killed doing something dumb. It was almost like a man choking to death on a sausage, or slipping in the shower and dying. Or eating a funny taco. After a careful investigation, Dean Winchester had concluded that while this was a case, but not exactly urgent. Which means he could focus on Sam. Or the Demon will strike again and Dean can still help Sam and get the hunt done. Regardless, he wasn’t worried.. Nor was he skipping town yet. So, for Dean, it was a case of going back to his brother.
The impala pulled up just in time to witness Sam exit the dorm, off to college and class. Dean watched him go, shaking his head. As soon as the man was out of sight, Dean set his plan in motion, break in and see what’s what and work out if there’s anything he could discreetly do to help his little brother.
Dean approached the door. Before the man could even think about lockpicks, he glanced over and saw the open window. This caused Dean to silently curse his idiot brother. The man shrugged, heading towards the window. The man jumped up, crawling through the open space. He wriggled his way in, landing rather ungracefully with a thud in a bathtub.
“Ow! Son of a Bitch..” He groaned, cursing as he pulled himself out of the tub. He looked around as he stepped into the bathroom.
“Okay little brother. Let’s see what’s going on..” He muttered, stepping out from the bathroom, cautiously. He took a large breath. His nose wrinkled. What the hell was up with that smell. Was that roses? Why was it so strong? Almost covering up a scent.. Dean shook his head, erasing the thought as he began to walk around, poking his head into rooms. He looked into what he was able to identify as his brother’s dorm room. The bed was well made and if the layer of dust settled on top was any indication, untouched for days. Dean shook his head, disappointed in his baby brother..
After thorough inspection of the dorm, the eldest Winchester found himself in the dorm kitchen, looking at the food his brother kept in the cupboards.. Or rather the lack of, he held a rather unimpressed expression on his face. His eyes fell onto the fridge and felt something drop to the pit of his stomach. Dean took a deep breath as he slowly approached the offending appliance.
“Come on Sammy.. Please have something in there..” He quietly pleaded as he pulled the door open.
There were two eggs, an empty tub that once housed butter and a bottle of… Well the label said milk.. Dean’s nose says otherwise. Dean also thought he’d smelt corpses better than the contents of that carton. He shook his head, disappointed.
“Oh little brother, Sammy.. Come on..” Dean sighed, shaking his head as he shut the door. It was worse than he thought.. Shaking his head, he headed back the way he came. Time to do something about it.
After a few hours, Dean had gone round the stores. He was back at the Stanford Dormitories, filling up the cupboards. The Winchester was alerted to a new presence in the building. He looked up to see a total stranger staring at him.
“Son of a bitch..” Dean cursed. “Fuck..”
“Who the hell are you?” The stranger asked. Dean met his eyes.
“Uh.. I… Live here?” Dean told him, holding up a block of cheese, waving it around.
“I don’t think you do somehow?” The other asked, placing a hand on their hip. The stranger was a male. Dean slowly put the cheese into the fridge.
“Yeah. Pretty sure I do.. Why else would I be putting groceries away?” He asked, giving the other guy a look, as if he wasn’t a total stranger, refilling a random fridge. Because yes. You are reading this correct. Dean Winchester honestly believed that gaslighting someone who possibly lived there into thinking he lived in the same dorm was a great idea. In reality it probably was a dumb move.. But then Winchester stupid is almost always the option taken with any member of that family. Ask anyone!
“Well I don’t know. Why are you refilling our fridge? Do you even go to Stanford?” He asked. Dean’s response was to merely hold his arms up in surrender.
“Okay..” He began. He let out a chuckle. “You got me.. You know my brother, Sam?” The guy paused.
“Winchester? Yeah I know him.. Great kid.. Smart..” He paused. “You’re related to him?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Dean nodded.
“Okay.. Tell you what..” Dean began.. “Keep the groceries.. I’ll get the hell outta town… It’ll be like we never saw each other..” Dean nodded. “Sammy will never know I was here. Yeah?” The guy nodded.
“You got yourself a deal..” The guy nodded, turning and heading off. “I didn’t see you..”
Dean Winchester took this opportunity to quickly finish up, leaving behind the groceries for his baby brother. One stone down.. Time to focus on the case. Dean could now do that without his little brother radar going off loud out like a wailing siren.