WinchesterHaunt: I don’t think anybody has done a fic like this before so I thought I would give it a try. I hope you all enjoy.

Rating: PG-13 (for language)

Disclaimer: I own nothing that is mentioned in this fic.

Time Frame: Sometime after 1.14 ‘Nightmare’

Summery: Ever wonder how the boys come up with the names they use on their fake credit cards? So do they…

What’s in a Name?

One-Shot

Sam yawned as he took out the key to his and Dean’s motel room. The last few days had been nothing short of exciting. Chasing down a malevolent spirit in an old abandon fun house tended to have that effect. But Sam actually found the whole hunt to be quite informative. He would’ve never imagined that his cock-sure brother had an acute case of clown phobia. Sam couldn’t blame him though; poke fun at him, yes; but blame him, no.

He scrapped the key against the already scratched doorknob before managing to unlock the door and stumble in with the two bags of take-out in hand.

“Hey, what took you so long?”

Sam sat the bags down on the small motel table before eyeing his brother. He raised an eyebrow at the scattered mess of papers Dean had surrounded himself with. Surely he wasn’t already working on finding them a new gig. They had just finished this one.

The younger boy shook his head and peeled off his jacket, “Sorry. I forgot my gun so I had to wait in line like everybody else.”

Sam smiled at the face Dean pulled in response to his smartass comment, “Besides, if you were so concerned you could’ve just called.”

“Oh I wasn’t worry about you,” the older hunter abandoned the paperwork strewn across his bed and joined his brother in raffling through the fast food bags, “I was worried about my stomach eating a hole in itself.”

“Good to see you survived,” Sam mumbled before plopping down into the chair closest to him.

“Somebody’s grumpy,” Dean scooted the other closer to him and also plopped himself down.

“Just tired,” the younger hunter amended, but after seeing the sudden attentive look on his brother’s face, Sam decided a quick change of subject was in order. He didn’t feel like having a discussion about his nightmares or visions with Dean right now.

“So what’s with all the papers?” Sam flattened out his take-out bag and dumped his fries across it. He had a hard time keeping the disappointment out of his voice at the thought of another hunt so soon. So he made sure to keep his concentration locked on removing the ketchup from its’ small packet, “Find another gig?”

“Nope,” Dean replied and could see Sam finally look up at him from the corner of his eye, “our cash flow has dried up. With all our spending on gas and…” the older hunter trailer off to inspect his greasy wrapped burger before shooting Sam a look, “elegant dining. All of our generous benefactors are tapped out.”

“Right. Credit card fraud,” Sam shook his head and swirled a fry around in his peony blob of sauce, “what happened to hustling?”

“Hustling’s fun,” Dean was quick to defend, “but if we started throwin’ around large amounts of cash people would start thinkin’ we’re up to something.”

“Yeah, we won’t want people to think we’re doing something illegal.”

“Exactly,” Dean grinned and popped open the apple pie from its’ red container, “and that’s why we need the cards.”

Sam rolled his eyes and was about to deposit another fry into his mouth when the weight of Dean’s words finally registered with him.

“Wait. We?” Sam tilted his head to the side and paused long enough for Dean to remove the wedge of dessert that was protruding from his mouth, “Don’t you mean you?”

“No, I mean we,” Dean swallowed and tried to reason with the frown that suddenly appeared on his baby brother’s face, “Ah come on, Sammy. You’re a big boy now, and I think it’d be best if you carried one around. You know, in case of an emergency.”

“Dean, you know I don’t like—,”

“Yeah, I know Sam,” Dean frowned as he watched his brother doodle little designs in his ketchup with one of his stiffer fries. He was well aware of Sam’s dislike for ‘thievery.’ The kid was a firm believer in ‘honesty being the best policy.’ Where ever he’d picked up that kind of thinking from, Dean didn’t know; but even if it wasn’t Dean’s style, he admired that about his little brother. But admiration didn’t give him piece of mind when it came to his younger charge.

“But you need to have one,” Dean continued, “It’d make me feel better if you had one in case we ever got separated.”

Sam sighed and smoothed out the designs in his ketchup. He looked up a Dean’s expectant face before cramming the fry into his mouth. It was the younger boy’s weird way of letting Dean know he had conceded. Dean grinned when Sam looked away and added onto his statement.

“Besides, the paperwork’s already filled out,” he knew he didn’t need to say it, but Dean had to make sure Sam knew he was in charge of their family operation, or at least make it appear that way. He grinned when he was rewarded with a soft glare, “all that’s left to do is fill out the names.”

“Saved the hard part for last,” Sam offhandedly commented.

“Nah,” Dean took another bite of his burger which would now make over three fourths of the sandwich devoured, “that’s the fun part. You can be anybody you want to.”

“Any name that can’t have a ‘y’ pinned on the end of it sounds good to me.”

“I was thinking we could go with something like Hammett or Ulrich as a last name.”

“No way,” Sam shot Dean raised eyebrows to see if he was serious, “I have to hear those guys every time I step foot into your car. Why the hell would I want to be named after them?”

“Well,” Dean gestured with one of his fries, “you got any better ideas?”

Sam inhaled a deep breath and abandoned his food in favorite of joining his two pointer fingers together and resting them on his chin in a thoughtful gesture.

“We could just keep our real first names—”

“And this coming from the guy who just said he wanted a name that couldn’t support the ‘y’ suffix.”

“Well if you would let me finish,” Sam cut back in and continued when Dean leaned back and gestured for him to do so, “I was thinking we could keep our first names, but instead of using them as first names they could be our last names.”

Dean raised an eyebrow when Sam gave him an expecting look, “So that’s your brilliant idea?” he paused before hitting the rest of the statement home, “Well it’s good to know those two years at college didn’t go to waste.”

Sam’s expression went blank, “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Oh come on. Don’t be like that. Sit down,” Dean made a grab at Sam’s arm even though he was clearly out of reach.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not that bad of an idea,” Dean started but wrinkled up his nose after he appraised Sam for a moment, “Though, on second thought, you could use a shower. I’m surprised you still needed a gun to clear the line at the fast food joint.”

“You’re hilarious,” Sam dead-panned before perking up slightly, “ever thought about joining the circus?”

Dean glared at the implications of his younger brother’s words before retaliating, “Ever thought about joining the Freak Show?”

An audible huff came from the annoyed looking boy before he started back toward the bathroom.

“Come on little bro,” Dean’s grin was back in place and was nothing short of cheeky. He made another grab for his irritated baby brother, and this time he found purchase, “seriously. We could make your idea work.”

Sam reluctantly sat back on the edge of his seat after Dean had given him a ‘guiding’ push in the direction. He flashed his older brother an unconvinced look.

Dean ignored the look and reassumed his relaxed position. His face immediately took up a pensive expression, as if he were rethinking the idea, “Yeah, in fact, I have the perfect first name for you.”

“Oh really?” Sam’s interested had gone back up a notch but the uncertainty in his voice was still present, “what’s that?”

“Yosemite.”

Sam’s annoyed face was a starch contrast to Dean’s, which looked quite pleased with the original name he had concocted. But Sam wasn’t just going to sit back; not this time. This was the fourth time his older brother had made a crack at him. And as much as Sam wasn’t the kind to stoop to levels, he knew that the only way to win was to play the game.

“Alright, fine,” the younger man crossed his arms and slide back in his seat signaling that he was settling in, “then I have one for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean raised his eyebrows in anticipation and amusement that his kid brother was going to try him at his own element, “and what might that be little brother?”

“Jimmy.”

And now the expression on each brother’s face had flipped. This time it was Sam who was amused and Dean who was annoyed.

“Jimmy Dean?” Dean held onto his aggravated look for the sake of pretending, “Oh okay, I see how this is gonna be. I give you the name of the roughest, toughest cowboy on television and how do you thank me? By naming me after the sausage guy.”

Sam snorted and was by no means falling for Dean’s ‘good intentions’ routine. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the cleared edge of the table, “Yosemite Sam is a stumpy cartoon character that’s more mustache than face. I think making you the sausage guy is more than fair.”

“Well,” Dean grasped at another tactic to justify his choice in name, “at least I gave you a name that can’t have ‘y’ tacked onto it.”

This only seemed to make Sam grin, and out of curiosity—and sanity purposes—Dean couldn’t help but inquire about his geeky brother’s sudden jovial expression.

“That’s true; there’s no ‘y,’” Sam paused to look up at Dean, whose facial expression screamed ‘and?’ This only made his grin widen, “but your name has one.”

Dean furrowed his brow until the second reason for his little brother naming him Jimmy completely registered with him. He glared at the smug boy. Revenge was a bitch; and so was his brother.

“You little bitch.”

If there was any seriousness to the statement, none of it fell on Sam. The only response the comment roused was a well deserved laugh from the young man.

“Yeah, well. Laugh it up Sammy,” Dean scoffed and had a hard time not sounding childish with his next statement, “I’m taking your cowboy name back.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Sam grinned through his own sarcasm, “does that mean I still have to get the card now?”

“Yes, you’re still getting it,” Dean leveled his eyes up to Sam’s, “I’m just gonna have to be more creative with your name.”

Sam mentally groaned at the thought of his older brother becoming more creative than he usually was. Dean was bad enough without trying. He didn’t need to put more effort into it.

“And since my name has a ‘y’ on the end of it, the no ‘y’ rule is completely out,” Dean thought aloud so that Sam had a vague idea of where they stood in their little unofficial game. But Sam didn’t need to hear his brother’s thoughts to know that Dean was giving this next name a serious amount of deliberation. The pensive look on his face was indication of that.

“Might as well keep my original name then,” Sam offered dryly and hoped that the sudden switch of name position had thrown Dean off.

Unfortunately, the switch didn’t seem to faze the older brother. If anything, Dean’s face appeared to have brightened for a second before his established and well crafted poker face slid back into place.

“And anything goes?” Dean asked as he tapped one of the few fries he had left on the crumpled wrapper of his departed burger.

“Yeah,” Sam furrowed his brow in suspicion and replied against his better judgment, “we didn’t make any other rules.”

“No. No we didn’t,” Dean nodded thoughtfully to himself before a long pause of silence settled over the two of them.

It didn’t take long for the stillness to grate on Sam’s nerves. Having a thoughtful moment between the two of them—one where Dean was doing the most thinking—was unnatural to Sam, and before long he found himself not being able to stop his urge to fill the void.

“Dean…?” Sam started with an uncertain tone.

“I’m thinking,” Dean grumbled, not liking his focus broken or being rushed.

Sam rolled his eyes at the serious look of concentration on his older brother’s face, “You know, Dean. This isn’t rocket science. Just pick something.”

But Dean disagreed and shot Sam a rude look to let him know just that. Clearly this was as close to rocket science as Dean was going to get and he had every intention on doing it right. Sam just shook his head and rose from his chair once more. He only paused long enough to answer the inquisitive look his brother shot him.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Sam grinned to himself as he collected his toiletries, “but you keep brainstorming. I’m sure it will come to you.”

“Good,” Dean looked relieved before shooting Sam a smirk, “maybe I’ll be able to think now that the air is cleared.”

Sam only scuffed and replied with his usual “jerk” before closing the bathroom door behind him.

Dean turned back in his seat, but kept his head tilted slightly toward the bathroom. When the sound of the tap being turned on greeted his ears, he grinned to himself and eased out of his chair.

He snorted as he picked up the credit card forms from his bed and tucked them into his jacket pocket. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that his little brother was bright. But tonight, Dean had been just a little bit brighter. Sam’s over confidence in his own quips and his impatience with Dean had ultimately caused him to make the biggest mistake he could have made in their little game.

Sammy had left Dean alone with the paperwork, and had left with the thought that Dean hadn’t come up with him a name yet. But in truth, Dean knew exactly what he was going to name little Sammy.

The older hunter picked up his car keys and headed out the front door; because if he didn’t mail these papers tonight, Sam would never agree to let Dean send them off.

One Month Later

Dean eased the Impala into the parking lot of their newest home for their newest hunt. He killed the engine with a turn of the key before leaning back and rolling his head in Sam’s direction.

At first, Sam didn’t say anything. He just continued to sit quietly and stare his sullen face straight ahead. But after a minute of Dean’s eyes boring into the side of his head, the boy finally shifted in his seat and spoke.

“I don’t want too.”

Dean favorite the kid with a short laugh, “Too bad, kiddo.”

“Come on, Dean,” Sam’s voice was just short of whining.

“Nah ah, no way,” Dean’s voice was serious, but also filled with amusement, “It’s your turn to get the room. Jimmy,” he paused to point a finger at himself, “got the room last time. Now it’s your turn, Sammy.”

“I hate that name,” Sam grumbled has he popped his side door open and unwillingly exited.

“You’re the one that wanted to keep it,” Dean poked his head out his window as he watched his brother make his way toward the motel office. He didn’t receive a reply as Sam entered through the glass doors.

Dean continued to watch until Sam had disappeared over to the other side of the room. After staring at the still doors for another moment, he popped his own door open and began to unload his and Sam’s bags. By the time he’d wrestled both of their luggages out of the backseat, Sam had emerged from the office. For the first few steps, his kid brother wore a pleasant smile, but after he was out of the desk clerk’s view, his demeanor quickly changed to annoyed.

“How’d it go…ow,” Dean glared at Sam when he punched him in the arm, “what the hell was that for?”

“You deserved it,” the irritated young hunter took his pre-offered bag from Dean and slung it over his shoulder, “after I showed the guy my card, he wanted my autograph.”

Dean pressed his lips together to try and keep his grin under control, but once he saw the incredulous look flash over his brother’s face, he couldn’t help the short bark of laughter that came out.

Sam huffed in disbelieve before turning away from Dean and heading toward their room.

“Aw come on,” Dean jogged back up to Sam’s side with the same jovial grin plastered on his face, “You probably made that kid’s day. I mean, how often do these small town people get the chance to meet Sammy Hagar?”

“Yeah well,” Sam replied as he unlocked their room, “the next celebrity he’s meeting is going to be of the sausage persuasion.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean brushed off his brother’s comment before giving him a playful push through the doorway, “get in the room, ‘Sam I Am,’ before the paparazzi show up.”

A goaded, but some what amused “shut up,” was the last thing heard as the door closed behind the two of them.

End