[Fic: Supernatural] "Hypocrisy Rules"
Oct. 22nd, 2007 06:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rocknloadTitle: Hypocrisy Rules (1/1)
Author: Brittany (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sterlingsylver)
Fandom: Supernatural
Words: ~2500
Summary: [gen] Pre-series; modern technology can sometimes make it hard to let go and get away.
Author's Notes: Typos within the emails are most likely intentional -- outside the emails is fair game! ^^ I think the different fonts makes this easier to follow, but, hell, I could definitely be wrong.
*
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2002 14:12:12
To: sjw14@standord.edu
From: bcknblck67@yahoo.com
Subject: sammy?
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2002 14:49:02
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@yahoo.com>
From: “Sam Wincester” <sjw14@standord.edu>
Subject: RE: sammy?
What is it, Dean?
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2002 14:52:27
To: sjw14@standord.edu
From: bcknblck67@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: RE: sammy?
what? i need some kinda reason to drop my kid brother a line?
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2002 20:11:52
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@yahoo.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@standord.edu>
Subject: RE: Re: RE: sammy?
Yeah, you do. Seriously, Dean, what is it? Are you drunk or something?
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2002 20:15:35
To: sjw14@standord.edu
From: bcknblck67@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: RE: Re: RE: sammy?
fuck you forget it
Date: Fri, 21 Nov 2002 17:18:45
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@yahoo.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE: Re: RE: Re: RE: sammy?
Look Dean, I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect you to just start writing me out of nowhere. We haven’t even talked on the phone in forever. Is there anything you wanted to talk about? What’s up? Are you and Dad doing okay?
Date: Fri, 21 Nov 2002 17:19:22
To: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@standord.edu>
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem <mailer-daemon@stanford.edu>
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
This is an automatically generated Delivery Status Notification.
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
bcknblck67@yahoo.com
Technical details of permanent failure:
PERM_FAILURE: SMTP Error (state 12): 554 delivery error: dd This user doesn’t have a yahoo.com account (bcknblck67@yahoo.com) [0] – mta399.mail.re4.yahoo.com
*
The first chunk of his sophomore year had been the semester Sam almost lost his scholarship, and half of that was because that was the year he met Jessica.
The rest of it was because Dean wouldn’t answer his damn phone.
—beep Beep BEEP. We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not—
At first it just rang and rang, a few weeks later it took him straight to voicemail. And now it was disconnected. It was funny. He hadn’t even dialed that number in more than a year, but he’d always figured that if he did Dean would definitely be on the other side. Now that he knew he wasn’t going to get a response, he called every freaking day.
—we’re sorry, the number you have dialed—
And sometimes twice.
“Damnit, Dean!” He snapped his cell shut and threw it down onto the bed.
“Sam?”
Jess was standing in the doorway of his dorm, and he remembered that he was supposed to be getting ready. Crap. “Yeah, Jess, just a second.”
“You still can’t get a hold of your brother?”
“Nope.” He regretted the tone as soon as the word left his mouth, bitter anger was his response to warm concern. “Sorry,” he added quickly.
“It’s okay,” she said it, and she meant it, too, because she was the best girl in the entire world. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Yes, he realized. He actually wanted to talk about it. He’d known her for only a couple of months and already he wanted to tell her about Dad, about Dean. Maybe about their fucked up home life and the fact that even though he’d hardly spent an hour outside of the company of his family for the first eighteen years of his life, now he couldn’t even get them on the phone. He wanted to tell her all that, and he’d never been tempted to say a word to anyone else. Because she was the best girl in the entire world.
It was kind of amazing, actually, and he marveled at that for a second.
But he said, “Nah.”
“You sure?”
He was, because he couldn’t begin to tell her about his family without carrying it through to the end, and no one deserved to have that dumped on them, whether they believed it or not. “Dean, he probably just changed his number and forgot to let me know.”
“Is that like him?”
“Yeah, it is. It’s exactly like him.”
*
Date: Tue, 11 Feb 2003 18:18:59
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject:
hey sammy whats up?
Date: Tue, 11 Feb 2003 09:27:52
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE:
What the fuck, Dean.
Date: Tue, 12 Feb 2003 10:42:02
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: RE:
what?
Date: Tue, 12 Feb 2003 12:34:59
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE: Re: RE:
YOu know what. You don’t answer your emails, you don’t answer your phones. i called Pastor Jim, I called Bobby, I called Caleb, no one knows where you and dad are. For three fucking months Dean, Jesus Christ.
Date: Wed, 13 Feb 2003 07:15:44
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: RE: Re: RE: well arent we paranoid?
i’m sorry man, calm down, your freaking out for no reason. me and Dad had this thing and we thought we outa lie low for a while. dad said we should dump everything, the email, the credit cards, the cell. I woulda told ya, but I didn’t think youd give a shit.
Date: Wed, 19 Feb 2003 10:10:27
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: oh very funny
don’t ignore me sam, that’s just not cool
Date: Fri, 21 Feb 2003 22:43:13
To: sjw14@standord.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject:
Sam, don’t do this
Date: Sun, 23 Feb 2003 15:19:36
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject:
i know you didn’t lbock my email
Date: Sun, 23 Feb 2003 23:57:04
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: GOD DAMNIT
SAMMY STOP ACTING LIKE A FREAKING CHILD ALREADY
Date: Mon, 24 Feb 2003 00:12:37
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE: GOD DAMNIT
With what you guys do? You could have been DEAD. How the hell is that supposed to make me feel?
Date: Mon, 24 Feb 2003 00:20:18
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: RE: GOD DAMNIT
aw sammy, you don’t gotta be scared for us
Date: Wed, 26 Feb 2003 17:28:11
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject:
sam COME ON i was KIDDING
*
Sam hoped Dean was freaking happy.
He rolled over – slowly, so Jess wouldn’t know he wasn’t sleeping again – and scowled into the dark. It was infuriating. He’d known what the score was when he’d left for school, and he hadn’t heard a word from Dad in all that time. He got a letter from Dean occasionally, a note to say he was still alive, and sometimes months and months passed between of those.
If he was really honest with himself, he’d admit that Dean and Dad could have been dead during any of those long silences, too.
With his family, it was just easier not knowing anything at all.
He might as well give this up.
He groaned just a little bit and then he sat up in bed, carefully pulling the blankets out of his way, as silently as he could, and years of sneaking around in the dark meant he could pad over to the desk without making a sound. He opened the laptop, and the glow from the screen whitewashed the whole room.
He squinted in the light, and then he opened up his email.
I hate you, Dean, he wanted to write. He imagined sending that, imagined Dean laughed at him at the other end of the World Wide Web. I hate you so much right now, two o’clock in the morning, class tomorrow, why can’t I get away—
“Sam?” Jess propped herself up on her elbow, yawned lightly. “What are you doing up?”
“Yeah, I’m just…” He started typing. “I’m just finishing up some homework.”
And he started typing what he really wanted to write.
*
Date: Thu, 11 Mar 2003 02:47:10
To: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
From: “San Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Suject: Don’t ignore this.
What happened?
Date: Thu, 11 Mar 2003 23:51:59
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: dont tell me what to do, dude
whatre you talking about?
Date: Fri, 12 Mar 2003 09:35:18
To: “Dean” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: Shove it
You know what I’m talking about. What the hell could have happened to make you and dad drop off the face of the earth for that long.
Date: Sun, 14 Mar 2003 13:50:50
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: Shove it
exorcism gone wrong. I’d give you the details but then you dont really want them, do you?
Date: Tue, 16 Mar 2003 19:37:02
To: “Dean” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE: Re: Shove it
What?!
Date: Wed, 17 Mar 2003 15:45:59
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: RE: Re: Shove it
i thought you were all college smart and stuff cant you read?
Date: Wed, 17 Mar 2003 15:50:24
To: “Dean” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE: Re: RE: Re: Shove it
Fuck you too, Dean.
Date: Tue, 06 May 2003 10:02:45
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject:
hey sammy youre almost on your break already right?
Date: Tue, 06 May 2003 14:43:26
To: “Dean” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE:
Why?
*
“Wasn’t sure you’d show,” Dean said.
Sam stuck his hands in his pockets and stared firmly in the wrong direction, away from Dean, out the window into the side of a brick building across the street. This little café was an hour out of his way so that he didn’t have to worry about being seen by anyone he knew, which had been his first condition to this meeting.
“Yeah, well,” Sam replied. “I wasn’t sure, either.”
Dean looked… good. Sam couldn’t help but check, check for any new scars on visible skin, see if he’d lost any weight, wonder if he’d had to patch his jacket. But Dean looked perfectly fine, healthy, grinning. Sprawled out in his chair like he was as comfortable in a snooty little café with wireless Internet as he was in a shady bar with a shotgun under the counter, his jacket sprawled out in the seat next to him. “You want some coffee?” he asked.
Sam slid into the seat across from him. “No.”
“C’mon, I’ll buy you some coffee.” Dean raised his hand to signal the waitress.
“Dean,” Sam said. “I can buy my own stuff.”
Dean paused, and then he lowered his hand. “Yeah, right.” He waited a beat, then another, and now he was the one staring out the window. “Dad says hi.”
“Yeah, I doubt that.”
Dean shrugged. “He did, though.”
That had been the second condition, the one Sam had repeated over and over and over. If Dad showed Sam would walk, and Dean knew it. And so Dad wasn’t here, except in spirit.
Sam leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Dean, you need to tell me what you’re here for.”
Dean sighed.
“Dean.”
“I already said, didn’t I?” He stirred his soda with his straw. “Things went south. Exorcism, lesser demon, you know the drill.” He rolled his eyes. “Except this time it’s a really lesser demon. It’s like a really annoying bug.”
Sam wanted to shudder, but he held it in. He knew that, whatever Dean said, an exorcism was serious, and to hear his brother talk about it so casually was chilling. “So what happened?”
“It’s not a big deal, it’s just—it’s a trouble maker, a mischievous evil little bastard and we pissed it off and now it wants back at us.”
He wanted to ask if they were okay, but he knew they were already. Dean and Dad, they’d probably come through the apocalypse slightly ahead of the roaches, that’s how indestructible they were. So instead he ask, “So what’s it doing.”
“And that’s the thing.” Dean sucked on his soda, and looked out the window some more. Then he studied the pattern on the tabletop. “It’s coming after people we know. Finding them no matter what.”
Sam just stared. Everything fell into place. “And you think he’s coming after me next.”
“We got that idea, yeah.” Dean nodded to himself, and he looked like he was almost getting comfortable. Talking about finding and killing evil was always the best way to relax him.
Sam shook his head slowly. “Oh, my God, you two just don’t change, do you?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but it was so freaking typical.
Dean looked up. “What’s that, now?”
“Well, you found a way to make sure you catch this guy! This thing.” Sam gestured wildly, almost knocking over Dean’s drink as he did it. “You know exactly where he’s going to show up next so you guys take advantage and show up and wait and get ready to bag the next guy—”
“What, are you nuts?” Dean was looking at him like he’d shaved his head. “You think—Sammy, you are such an idiot, I swear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means fine. I’m using you as bait. You happy, now?”
He wasn’t, of course, but he didn’t say anything.
The third condition was that he’d have nothing to do with the hunt, he wouldn’t lift a finger to help them and they wouldn’t ask him to, either. Dean had only argued that one a little bit.
“You won’t know a thing about it, promise. You’re gonna stay indoors as much as you can over the weekend and you’re definitely not gonna—”
Sam groaned reflexively, like he was twelve again and Dean was sixteen and barking orders like he thought he was Dad. “Don’t boss me around.”
Dean slammed both his hands down on the table, and the whole café went silent. “Don’t, Sam,” he said quietly. “Just don’t.”
Sam swallowed.
Dean glared.
“What do you want me to do?” Sam asked.
“Exactly what I say, down to the very last word.” He sucked on his soda some more. “You’re going to line every door and window with salt, you’re going to rent some DVDs, you’re going to stay put. Got it?”
Sam sighed. He thought he could do this, but how he wasn’t sure. It was just—the thought of them doing this right outside his apartment… “Dean, if you guys need my—”
“We don’t.”
“I can—”
“You won’t even know we’re there.” Dean tossed a five down on the table, and then he grabbed his coat.
Sam couldn’t believe this was over so quickly. “Wait, Dean.”
He didn’t. Instead, he stood up.
The final condition had been, of course, the most important one of all. Dean hadn’t even commented on it, and Sam had thanked God and whoever invented cell phones because they’d made sure he hadn’t had to see the look on his brother’s face while he spelled it out. As soon as they were done with this conversation—
“See you around,” Dean said. He turned and didn’t look back.
—they would go their separate ways.
*
Date: Wed, 14 May 2003 23:01:36
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: you dont gotta answer this
dad says this email t hing is kinda a waste a time you know and i guess were not gonna have Internet much more after this, so. We caught that troublemaker without a hitch just so you know it was pretty cool, actually. He wont bother any one any more
He was coming right for you just like we thought, but that’s okay cuz you’v got me and dad covering your back right? maybe you’d been ok on your own but who knows, you didn’t have to be
This address wont work after this and my phone it won’t work either probably i dont know how long
But your my brother, Sammy, you’ll always be able to find me if you need to, promise. i won’t say the mushy stuff cuz you know it already
be careful please
Author: Brittany (
sterlingsylver)Fandom: Supernatural
Words: ~2500
Summary: [gen] Pre-series; modern technology can sometimes make it hard to let go and get away.
Author's Notes: Typos within the emails are most likely intentional -- outside the emails is fair game! ^^ I think the different fonts makes this easier to follow, but, hell, I could definitely be wrong.
*
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2002 14:12:12
To: sjw14@standord.edu
From: bcknblck67@yahoo.com
Subject: sammy?
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2002 14:49:02
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@yahoo.com>
From: “Sam Wincester” <sjw14@standord.edu>
Subject: RE: sammy?
What is it, Dean?
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2002 14:52:27
To: sjw14@standord.edu
From: bcknblck67@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: RE: sammy?
what? i need some kinda reason to drop my kid brother a line?
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2002 20:11:52
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@yahoo.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@standord.edu>
Subject: RE: Re: RE: sammy?
Yeah, you do. Seriously, Dean, what is it? Are you drunk or something?
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2002 20:15:35
To: sjw14@standord.edu
From: bcknblck67@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: RE: Re: RE: sammy?
fuck you forget it
Date: Fri, 21 Nov 2002 17:18:45
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@yahoo.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE: Re: RE: Re: RE: sammy?
Look Dean, I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect you to just start writing me out of nowhere. We haven’t even talked on the phone in forever. Is there anything you wanted to talk about? What’s up? Are you and Dad doing okay?
Date: Fri, 21 Nov 2002 17:19:22
To: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@standord.edu>
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem <mailer-daemon@stanford.edu>
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
This is an automatically generated Delivery Status Notification.
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
bcknblck67@yahoo.com
Technical details of permanent failure:
PERM_FAILURE: SMTP Error (state 12): 554 delivery error: dd This user doesn’t have a yahoo.com account (bcknblck67@yahoo.com) [0] – mta399.mail.re4.yahoo.com
*
The first chunk of his sophomore year had been the semester Sam almost lost his scholarship, and half of that was because that was the year he met Jessica.
The rest of it was because Dean wouldn’t answer his damn phone.
—beep Beep BEEP. We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not—
At first it just rang and rang, a few weeks later it took him straight to voicemail. And now it was disconnected. It was funny. He hadn’t even dialed that number in more than a year, but he’d always figured that if he did Dean would definitely be on the other side. Now that he knew he wasn’t going to get a response, he called every freaking day.
—we’re sorry, the number you have dialed—
And sometimes twice.
“Damnit, Dean!” He snapped his cell shut and threw it down onto the bed.
“Sam?”
Jess was standing in the doorway of his dorm, and he remembered that he was supposed to be getting ready. Crap. “Yeah, Jess, just a second.”
“You still can’t get a hold of your brother?”
“Nope.” He regretted the tone as soon as the word left his mouth, bitter anger was his response to warm concern. “Sorry,” he added quickly.
“It’s okay,” she said it, and she meant it, too, because she was the best girl in the entire world. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Yes, he realized. He actually wanted to talk about it. He’d known her for only a couple of months and already he wanted to tell her about Dad, about Dean. Maybe about their fucked up home life and the fact that even though he’d hardly spent an hour outside of the company of his family for the first eighteen years of his life, now he couldn’t even get them on the phone. He wanted to tell her all that, and he’d never been tempted to say a word to anyone else. Because she was the best girl in the entire world.
It was kind of amazing, actually, and he marveled at that for a second.
But he said, “Nah.”
“You sure?”
He was, because he couldn’t begin to tell her about his family without carrying it through to the end, and no one deserved to have that dumped on them, whether they believed it or not. “Dean, he probably just changed his number and forgot to let me know.”
“Is that like him?”
“Yeah, it is. It’s exactly like him.”
*
Date: Tue, 11 Feb 2003 18:18:59
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject:
hey sammy whats up?
Date: Tue, 11 Feb 2003 09:27:52
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE:
What the fuck, Dean.
Date: Tue, 12 Feb 2003 10:42:02
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: RE:
what?
Date: Tue, 12 Feb 2003 12:34:59
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE: Re: RE:
YOu know what. You don’t answer your emails, you don’t answer your phones. i called Pastor Jim, I called Bobby, I called Caleb, no one knows where you and dad are. For three fucking months Dean, Jesus Christ.
Date: Wed, 13 Feb 2003 07:15:44
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: RE: Re: RE: well arent we paranoid?
i’m sorry man, calm down, your freaking out for no reason. me and Dad had this thing and we thought we outa lie low for a while. dad said we should dump everything, the email, the credit cards, the cell. I woulda told ya, but I didn’t think youd give a shit.
Date: Wed, 19 Feb 2003 10:10:27
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: oh very funny
don’t ignore me sam, that’s just not cool
Date: Fri, 21 Feb 2003 22:43:13
To: sjw14@standord.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject:
Sam, don’t do this
Date: Sun, 23 Feb 2003 15:19:36
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject:
i know you didn’t lbock my email
Date: Sun, 23 Feb 2003 23:57:04
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: GOD DAMNIT
SAMMY STOP ACTING LIKE A FREAKING CHILD ALREADY
Date: Mon, 24 Feb 2003 00:12:37
To: “Dean Winchester” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE: GOD DAMNIT
With what you guys do? You could have been DEAD. How the hell is that supposed to make me feel?
Date: Mon, 24 Feb 2003 00:20:18
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: RE: GOD DAMNIT
aw sammy, you don’t gotta be scared for us
Date: Wed, 26 Feb 2003 17:28:11
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject:
sam COME ON i was KIDDING
*
Sam hoped Dean was freaking happy.
He rolled over – slowly, so Jess wouldn’t know he wasn’t sleeping again – and scowled into the dark. It was infuriating. He’d known what the score was when he’d left for school, and he hadn’t heard a word from Dad in all that time. He got a letter from Dean occasionally, a note to say he was still alive, and sometimes months and months passed between of those.
If he was really honest with himself, he’d admit that Dean and Dad could have been dead during any of those long silences, too.
With his family, it was just easier not knowing anything at all.
He might as well give this up.
He groaned just a little bit and then he sat up in bed, carefully pulling the blankets out of his way, as silently as he could, and years of sneaking around in the dark meant he could pad over to the desk without making a sound. He opened the laptop, and the glow from the screen whitewashed the whole room.
He squinted in the light, and then he opened up his email.
I hate you, Dean, he wanted to write. He imagined sending that, imagined Dean laughed at him at the other end of the World Wide Web. I hate you so much right now, two o’clock in the morning, class tomorrow, why can’t I get away—
“Sam?” Jess propped herself up on her elbow, yawned lightly. “What are you doing up?”
“Yeah, I’m just…” He started typing. “I’m just finishing up some homework.”
And he started typing what he really wanted to write.
*
Date: Thu, 11 Mar 2003 02:47:10
To: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
From: “San Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Suject: Don’t ignore this.
What happened?
Date: Thu, 11 Mar 2003 23:51:59
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: dont tell me what to do, dude
whatre you talking about?
Date: Fri, 12 Mar 2003 09:35:18
To: “Dean” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: Shove it
You know what I’m talking about. What the hell could have happened to make you and dad drop off the face of the earth for that long.
Date: Sun, 14 Mar 2003 13:50:50
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: Shove it
exorcism gone wrong. I’d give you the details but then you dont really want them, do you?
Date: Tue, 16 Mar 2003 19:37:02
To: “Dean” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE: Re: Shove it
What?!
Date: Wed, 17 Mar 2003 15:45:59
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: RE: Re: Shove it
i thought you were all college smart and stuff cant you read?
Date: Wed, 17 Mar 2003 15:50:24
To: “Dean” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE: Re: RE: Re: Shove it
Fuck you too, Dean.
Date: Tue, 06 May 2003 10:02:45
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject:
hey sammy youre almost on your break already right?
Date: Tue, 06 May 2003 14:43:26
To: “Dean” <bcknblck67@hotmail.com>
From: “Sam Winchester” <sjw14@stanford.edu>
Subject: RE:
Why?
*
“Wasn’t sure you’d show,” Dean said.
Sam stuck his hands in his pockets and stared firmly in the wrong direction, away from Dean, out the window into the side of a brick building across the street. This little café was an hour out of his way so that he didn’t have to worry about being seen by anyone he knew, which had been his first condition to this meeting.
“Yeah, well,” Sam replied. “I wasn’t sure, either.”
Dean looked… good. Sam couldn’t help but check, check for any new scars on visible skin, see if he’d lost any weight, wonder if he’d had to patch his jacket. But Dean looked perfectly fine, healthy, grinning. Sprawled out in his chair like he was as comfortable in a snooty little café with wireless Internet as he was in a shady bar with a shotgun under the counter, his jacket sprawled out in the seat next to him. “You want some coffee?” he asked.
Sam slid into the seat across from him. “No.”
“C’mon, I’ll buy you some coffee.” Dean raised his hand to signal the waitress.
“Dean,” Sam said. “I can buy my own stuff.”
Dean paused, and then he lowered his hand. “Yeah, right.” He waited a beat, then another, and now he was the one staring out the window. “Dad says hi.”
“Yeah, I doubt that.”
Dean shrugged. “He did, though.”
That had been the second condition, the one Sam had repeated over and over and over. If Dad showed Sam would walk, and Dean knew it. And so Dad wasn’t here, except in spirit.
Sam leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Dean, you need to tell me what you’re here for.”
Dean sighed.
“Dean.”
“I already said, didn’t I?” He stirred his soda with his straw. “Things went south. Exorcism, lesser demon, you know the drill.” He rolled his eyes. “Except this time it’s a really lesser demon. It’s like a really annoying bug.”
Sam wanted to shudder, but he held it in. He knew that, whatever Dean said, an exorcism was serious, and to hear his brother talk about it so casually was chilling. “So what happened?”
“It’s not a big deal, it’s just—it’s a trouble maker, a mischievous evil little bastard and we pissed it off and now it wants back at us.”
He wanted to ask if they were okay, but he knew they were already. Dean and Dad, they’d probably come through the apocalypse slightly ahead of the roaches, that’s how indestructible they were. So instead he ask, “So what’s it doing.”
“And that’s the thing.” Dean sucked on his soda, and looked out the window some more. Then he studied the pattern on the tabletop. “It’s coming after people we know. Finding them no matter what.”
Sam just stared. Everything fell into place. “And you think he’s coming after me next.”
“We got that idea, yeah.” Dean nodded to himself, and he looked like he was almost getting comfortable. Talking about finding and killing evil was always the best way to relax him.
Sam shook his head slowly. “Oh, my God, you two just don’t change, do you?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but it was so freaking typical.
Dean looked up. “What’s that, now?”
“Well, you found a way to make sure you catch this guy! This thing.” Sam gestured wildly, almost knocking over Dean’s drink as he did it. “You know exactly where he’s going to show up next so you guys take advantage and show up and wait and get ready to bag the next guy—”
“What, are you nuts?” Dean was looking at him like he’d shaved his head. “You think—Sammy, you are such an idiot, I swear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means fine. I’m using you as bait. You happy, now?”
He wasn’t, of course, but he didn’t say anything.
The third condition was that he’d have nothing to do with the hunt, he wouldn’t lift a finger to help them and they wouldn’t ask him to, either. Dean had only argued that one a little bit.
“You won’t know a thing about it, promise. You’re gonna stay indoors as much as you can over the weekend and you’re definitely not gonna—”
Sam groaned reflexively, like he was twelve again and Dean was sixteen and barking orders like he thought he was Dad. “Don’t boss me around.”
Dean slammed both his hands down on the table, and the whole café went silent. “Don’t, Sam,” he said quietly. “Just don’t.”
Sam swallowed.
Dean glared.
“What do you want me to do?” Sam asked.
“Exactly what I say, down to the very last word.” He sucked on his soda some more. “You’re going to line every door and window with salt, you’re going to rent some DVDs, you’re going to stay put. Got it?”
Sam sighed. He thought he could do this, but how he wasn’t sure. It was just—the thought of them doing this right outside his apartment… “Dean, if you guys need my—”
“We don’t.”
“I can—”
“You won’t even know we’re there.” Dean tossed a five down on the table, and then he grabbed his coat.
Sam couldn’t believe this was over so quickly. “Wait, Dean.”
He didn’t. Instead, he stood up.
The final condition had been, of course, the most important one of all. Dean hadn’t even commented on it, and Sam had thanked God and whoever invented cell phones because they’d made sure he hadn’t had to see the look on his brother’s face while he spelled it out. As soon as they were done with this conversation—
“See you around,” Dean said. He turned and didn’t look back.
—they would go their separate ways.
*
Date: Wed, 14 May 2003 23:01:36
To: sjw14@stanford.edu
From: bcknblck67@hotmail.com
Subject: you dont gotta answer this
dad says this email t hing is kinda a waste a time you know and i guess were not gonna have Internet much more after this, so. We caught that troublemaker without a hitch just so you know it was pretty cool, actually. He wont bother any one any more
He was coming right for you just like we thought, but that’s okay cuz you’v got me and dad covering your back right? maybe you’d been ok on your own but who knows, you didn’t have to be
This address wont work after this and my phone it won’t work either probably i dont know how long
But your my brother, Sammy, you’ll always be able to find me if you need to, promise. i won’t say the mushy stuff cuz you know it already
be careful please
