SPN fic: Reunion (past Sam/Dean)
Title: Reunion
Author: chash
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Past Sam/Dean.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: ...none?
Word Count: ~1300 words.
Summary: Sam's dad is missing.
Notes: So. This is the first of what will probably be several, if not many, fics dealing with the AU Supernatural from Like Winning Every Lottery. That means Dean and Sam are not related, but are still fucked up. Hey, they wouldn't be Dean and Sam if they weren't, right?
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.


The noise wakes Sam at once, going from blissful sleep to full consciousness in a second; he can't kill his instincts, no matter how hard he tries. He checks Jess's room first, finds her happily asleep and unaware. He creeps out into the living room, hands itching, stance careful.

He really can't kill his instincts.

He almost feels bad for the burglar, whoever it is. They probably don't have a psycho ex-Marine for a dad, to say nothing of the pent-up anger. Sam's been spoiling for a good fight for--a lot longer than he wants to think about. Years, even.

He takes in the situation quickly--it's too dark to see much, but the intruder is is shorter than he is and not as broad. Should be a piece of cake. He grins and launches himself, shocked when the guy easily parries, and he finds himself on the floor before he can blink, trapped under a familiar weight.

"Dean," he breathes. His brain can't take it in, quite; shock fighting with anger and--horribly, embarrassingly--arousal as he sees a flash of white teeth and Dean's same old grin.

"Sam," says Dean, and Sam's breath hitches. He doesn't know the last time Dean called him Sam--it's been Sammy for as long as he can remember, Dean's special name for him. He hated it for a long time, thinking it meant Dean still thought he was a kid.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks. He wishes he had a better opening line--"I missed you" or "I'm sorry" or something--but he can barely think with how happy he is to see Dean at all.

"Kicking your ass, apparently," says Dean. "You used to be good at this."

Sam grins and easily flips them over, pins Dean.

"Still am," he points out.

"I wasn't ready," Dean protests. It's hard to tell in the faint light, but it looks like Dean might be blushing. "Let me up, we've got stuff to do."

But Sam can't bring himself to move. Dean's right there, after two years, and Sam wants to do something stupid, like kiss him. It would be so easy.

The light turns on before he can, though, and he hears Jess say, "Sam?"

Sam blinks away from Dean's face and pulls himself up. "Jess! Hi!"

He feels more than sees Dean getting up behind him, brushing off. He wants to know what Dean looks like when he sees Jess, but he doesn't really trust himself to turn around.

"You've got a room," Jess says. "Do you have to do this on the living room floor?"

"Hi," says Dean, stepping past Sam with his girl-charming grin. It's the same as ever, of course. "I'm Dean."

"Jess. I'm Sam's roommate."

"Let me tell you," says Dean, still grinning, "you are way out of Sam's league."

"Also pretty far out of his gender of choice," Jess points out. Dean's grin doesn't falter. "What are you guys doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"I just need to borrow your boyfriend for a sec," says Dean. "Family business."

"Family business?" ask Jess and Sam together.

"Your dad," says Dean. "Out on a hunting trip. Haven't heard from him in a few days."

"Your dad hunts?" asks Jess.

"Um," says Sam. "Yeah. Let me just--can you excuse us, Jess?"

He pulls Dean outside, drags him farther than he has to just because he doesn't want to let go of Dean's arm.

"I don't think she can hear us anymore, dude," Dean says mildly.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He drops Dean's arm, stops and waits for Dean to explain himself. He takes in the sight of him, cataloging changes--deeper lines around his eyes, a new scar, thin and white, on his cheek. A little more muscle, maybe. Different enough Sam is sure he's not dreaming.

"Nice roommate," says Dean finally. Sam can't find jealousy in his eyes, but he can't find much of anything. Dean's never been so hard to read before.

He rolls his eyes. "Dad, Dean. What happened?"

"Me and Bobby and him were working a case--shapeshifter, we're thinking. We were doing legwork while your dad was finishing off some thing of his own in Cali. We were gonna meet up once he finished, except he never did."

"And he couldn't just...not be done yet?"

Dean snorts. "We did call."

"So you came to find me."

Dean shrugs. "He's your family, Sam. Even if you ditched his ass."

Sam doesn't want to hear that again, not right now. "Dean."

"Figured you'd want to be a little informed. But hey, I can leave."

"Don't," says Sam, raw and unwilling. He soldiers on, not wanting to leave that stupid, needy word in the air between them. "I don't--I don't want you to leave, Dean."

"Could've fooled me," says Dean simply. "And I am going, man. Just figured I'd give you the chance to come with me."

Sam swallows. "Come with you?"

"Yeah, you know. I could use the help." Dean tosses a smile over his shoulder. "Even if you totally suck now."

"What about Bobby?"

"He's got the shapeshifter thing. A lot of things. Told him I could handle a search and rescue."

"Does he know you're here?" Sam can't help asking.

Dean looks away. "He's got other stuff to worry about."

Sam clears his throat, not sure how to respond. "Where's dad?" he asks finally. "I mean, where was he?"

"San Diego. Looked like a pretty simple poltergeist, but apparently not so much."

"All right," says Sam, nodding. "Yeah. Let me just--tell Jess, get some stuff."

"Wouldn't want your girlfriend worrying about you," snorts Dean.

"She's not--Dean, there hasn't been--there's nobody, okay? Not since--never. Nobody but--"

Dean holds up his hand. "Skip the chick-flick moment, Sam. We've got more important stuff to do. Just get your stuff and let's get out of here."

Sam wants to say something more, to kiss Dean, to apologize for whatever it was that made Dean so pissed at him in the first place--which of the billion things Sam's done in the last seven years that could have been the breaking point--but Dean doesn't look like he wants that. Dean wants to get going, find John, and then...Sam doesn't really know from there.

It's been a long time since Sam's been sure what Dean Harvelle wants. Sometimes, he's not sure he ever knew.

"I've got class on Monday," Sam says.

Dean rolls his eyes. "I'll get you home."

Sam almost protests, because nowhere in California has ever been home for him, but it would just turn into a chick-flick moment. That stupid scene where the one guy says "I made a mistake" and "I never should have left you" and "I've always loved you."

They're all things Sam should be saying, but instead he nods and says, "I'll be back."

"You've got fifteen minutes," says Dean, "and then I'm leaving your giant ass."

Sam doesn't think he means it, but he hurries anyway, because--after all these years, Dean leaving again? He can't breathe with the thought of it.

"So that's the ex, huh?" asks Jess, leaning against the door.

"Yeah," says Sam, focusing hard on stuffing his shirts away. "That's him."

"Why'd you break up?"

Sam laughs, mirthless and a little dry. "I don't know."

Jess doesn't press it. "You coming back?"

"Depends on what my dad says when we get him."

"Where is he?"

"Out in the woods somewhere. Drunk off his ass, I'm guessing. Wouldn't be the first time."

She rubs his shoulder. "Call me, okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "Definitely."

When he goes downstairs, Dean is leaning against the car, waiting and looking like everything Sam has ever wanted in the world. "Ready?" he asks, pushing off the car.

Sam adjusts the strap of his bag, looks up, trying to seem calm and cool and capable. He doesn't think it's working. "Yeah," he says, managing to keep his voice steady. "Let's go."