Title: Man's Best Friend
Author: Sarah :)
Pairing/Character: Dean and Sam, gen. And, fine, a little bit Dean/LiveJournal.
Word Count: 2,867
Summary: Dean totally has a LiveJournal.
Spoilers: Up to 2x12, although this takes place between 2x13 and 2x14. Yeah, I don't get it either. ;)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Yet.
Notes: This is only my second Supernatural fic, and it's pretty cracktastic. But you ALL KNOW you've had this thought at one time or another. Right? Bueller? ;) Anyway, I've had this fic in my head since Dean's MySpace comment in 2x08, and I finally just forced myself to sit down and write this. Thanks to the lovely herowlness for the beta, and the encouragement. And for not laughing at me. Too much. ;)
Dean settled into the car and handed Sam the list of potential black dog sightings he had received from the animal shelter, frowning as he glanced at the paper stuck to his hand.
"And, uh...I don't know what this thing is." He showed Sam a Post-It Note. Sam laughed, and Dean looked at him strangely.
"You mean Carly's MySpace address?" Sam grinned.
"Yeah, MySpace, what the hell is that?" Dean frowned as his brother continued chuckling. "Seriously, is that, like, some sort of porn site?"
"Dean, are you seriously telling me you've never heard of MySpace?"
Dean stared at Sam blankly.
"You know, it's kind of like Facebook … ?"
"Facebook? What the hell is this crap, Sammy?"
"They're social networking sites. Places where you can keep track of friends, or find people in your area, or - "
"Oh, wait, I got it." Dean nodded knowingly. "You mean they're places for dweebs to try to get laid."
"Yeah, Dean. Whatever." Sam rolled his eyes as they pulled out of the parking lot.
"I need you to watch out for me." Sam looked at Dean pleadingly.
"Yeah, I always do."
"No, no no no. You have to watch out for me. All right? And if I ever...turn into something that I'm not, you have to kill me."
Dean blinked slowly, regarding his brother with a horrified expression. "Sam..."
"Dean, Dad told you to do it. You have to." He grabbed his brother by the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward.
Dean laughed bitterly, "Yeah, well Dad's an ass. He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that. You don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids."
Growing more agitated by the second, Sam shook his head forcefully. "No! He was right to say it!" Still flailing around drunkenly, he continued. "Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!"
"Yeah, well I'm not dying. Okay? And neither are you. Come on." Dean started to shove a resisting Sam back towards the bed. "Sam!" He pushed his brother down.
Still no satisfied, Sam reached for Dean. "No! Please, Dean. You're the only one who can do it." His voice full of desperation, he stared his brother straight in the eye. "Promise."
"Don't ask that of me."
Sam grew more earnest at the refusal. "Dean, please. You have to promise me." Long, strained moments passed as the two looked at each other, face to face, waiting for the other to back down first.
Finally, Dean spoke.
Sam looked relieved, tears threatening his eyes, and nodded. "Thanks." He pulled Dean's face closer to his, his words slurring slightly. "Thank you."
"All right, come on." Dean managed to thrust Sam on the bed once again. As soon as he hit the mattress, Sam rolled over, ready to sleep off the effects of the alcohol..
Dean mumbled as he sat on the edge of his own bed, clearly agitated at what had just taken place. "Wait until my friends-list hears about this."
Sam spoke into his pillow, trying and failing to turn over to look at Dean. "What?"
Dean straightened up quickly, unaware that his brother was still among the conscious. "Nothing. I just said 'wait until my friend Liz hears about this.' She'll, uh, never believe it." He took a deep breath, hoping Sam was too out of it to question him further.
Still speaking through a mouthful of pillow, Sam giggled drunkenly. "Since when do you have friends?"
"Hey! I have lots of friends." Dean exclaimed, hoping to distract his brother by goading him into an argument.
Sam snorted. "Fine. Since when have you had 'friends' that are female?"
Dean smirked and settled back on the bed. "Do you really want me to answer that question, Sammy? I thought I told you about how when a boy likes a girl, and they decide to - "
Groaning in horror, Sam pulled his pillow over his head. "Never mind," he replied, as the alcohol finally pushed him into oblivion.
"Don't use all the hot water again!" Sam managed to catch Dean's artfully-flicked middle finger before the door to the bathroom closed. "Asshole!" He yelled to the empty room. "I mean it, Dean! If you're not out in ten minutes, I'm coming in there after you!"
"Sounds kinky!" Dean returned, the sputter of the shower ending any further conversation.
Cursing under his breath about older brothers who hogged the shower first, even though the younger one clearly had dibs, Sam puttered around the room for a while, and then opened the laptop to check his email. Noticing that instead of a log-in screen, he was presented with an already-open account, he rolled his eyes. Scrolling through the page curiously, he called out to his brother once he heard the shower turn off.
"Dean, how many times have I told you to sign out of your email? I mean, it's fine when it's just me, but what if something happens? Hell, if the feds ever remand our computer, they wouldn't even have to hack into anything to see what we've been up to."
Pulling on a T-shirt as he exited the steamy bathroom, Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's paranoia. "Chill, Sammy, that's not my business email. It's just my pleasure email. There's nothing incriminating there." Grinning widely, he shrugged. "Okay, maybe there is, but nothing that's going to get me arrested." A pause. "At least, I don't think so."
"Whatever. We just have to be extra careful now. I mean, we risk getting caught every day we keep the Impa--"
"Dude, do not even finish that sentence. We're not ditching the car." Flinging his arms out dramatically, Dean collapsed onto one of the beds. "If it goes, I go."
"Yeah, yeah. The car is your soul, I've heard it before." Skimming the page quickly before logging out of Dean's account, Sam's eyebrow raised at the familiar subject line of an email. Peering at Dean out of the corner of his eye, and positive that his brother was otherwise distracted with thoughts of his beloved vehicle, Sam clicked the link.
Reply to your entry...
"What the fuck?" Sam muttered to himself, stealing another glance at Dean. Gmail told him that the email contained sixty-eight threaded messages. The first one read:
OMG, DEAN, I CAN'T BELIEVE HE WOULD DO THAT TO YOU!!! Ur brother is so mean! Call me and I'll make you feel better, K? XOXOXOX
Sam's eyes widened. He moved onto the next one.
Wow, that really sucks. When are you going to post more pictures? Me and Lisa miss you. Call us!
He sighed and read on.
samy is sooooo stupid! he cant even see whats write their! u r such a good bruther. call me if u cum 2 cali!
Apparently, his brother was some kind of online pimp.
"Dean?" Sam's voice was incredulous. "You have a LiveJournal??"
"What?" Dean snuffled into his pillow, having been on the verge of dozing off. "Wait, are you still reading my email? Isn't that totally an invasion of my privacy?" Dean reached over and flicked the wet towel he had carried out of the bathroom at Sam's head. "Sign out, dumbass."
"Dean!" Sam was hysterical. "Are you kidding me? How did I not know about this?"
"A man's got to have some secrets, Sammy. Besides, I knew you'd just get your panties in a twist over it. Which you are, so I win."
He regarded Dean silently for a second. "So, you write about me? Because these comments are all about me."
"Dude, I have comments! Move the fuck over!" Dean clamored off of the bed and over to where Sam sat, commandeering the chair for himself. "Did Stacey comment? She loves it when I get in touch with my sensitive side."
"Yeah. She's the one that we met at that bar in Austin."
"With the huge tits? And the fishnets?"
"Ahh. Stacey." Sam nodded. "I'm surprised you even got her name, the two of you were out of there so fast."
"Yeah, well." Dean shook his head fondly. "Good times. Anyway, she just posted these pictures, and I realized that we're heading out to Texas, so I figured --"
"Dean, we have work to do. Not to mention we're still hiding out from the feds. Aren't you worried at all? This isn't the time to be scaring up dates on LiveJournal!"
"Hey, hey. Calm down there, tiger. It's not only for hooking up with chicks--which I can do without the internet, thank you very much. It just so happens that I've gotten some important information on there."
"Yeah?" Sam countered. "Like what?"
"Well, you see, Amy, she's a lawyer, and she thinks--"
"Dean! Are you that deficient? People are out there, looking to lock you up for a LONG TIME. People can't know what we do! What were you thinking?" He huffed out an annoyed breath. "Not to mention that you even know what LiveJournal is. What, you've never heard of MySpace, or Facebook, but you're some kind of LJ guru?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Relax, Sammy. All of the good stuff is filtered. The hunting stuff is totally safe."
A very frustrated Sam batted Dean's arm away and clicked the link in the email which brought him to Dean's journal. Muttering under his breath, he navigated his way to Dean's userinfo page.
"There's no way that you have over seven-hundred friends. Not even you can be that much of a slut, Dean."
Leaning back in the chair, Dean sighed wistfully. "That's what you think, little brother."
"God, Dean, listen to yourself!" Sam clicked the touchpad button fiercely, surprised to see that he had clicked the (more details...) area in Dean's profile.
"Sammy?" Dean frowned at his brother's sudden silence.
"This journal," Sam started. "You created it..." He looked at Dean, an unreadable expression on his face. "You created it the day after I left for Stanford."
His scowl deepening, Dean began picking at a hole in his jeans.
"I...Dean." Sam looked at his brother pleadingly.
"Yeah, big freakin' deal. I started a journal when you went off to school. Maybe it's just because I finally had five fucking minutes to myself for the first time in my life." Dean's voice was bitter. "Don't worry about it, Sam. Not everything revolves around you."
"Oh. Right." Sam reached a hand out as if he were going to touch Dean's shoulder, then withdrew it at the last possible second. "You know, I started one when I got to Stanford. A journal."
"Really?" Dean tried not to look too interested.
"Yeah. I was pretty lonely, and I wasn't making any friends, so...I looked up a bunch of people I knew from high school and stuff. Or, high schools. Anyway, it helped. Kind of." He shook his head. "Never thought to see if you had one."
"Figures," Dean said, trying to hide the roughness in his voice. "Anyway, I didn't know you had enough friends to have a LiveJournal. You know, with you being such a nerd and all."
"Well, weirdly enough, I did meet a few people at Stanford," Sam offered, glad that Dean's anger seemed to have dissipated. "I use it to keep in touch with some of them and stuff."
"Right, friends like Becky." Dean winked at Sam. "How's that goin'?"
"Shut up, jerk." Sam smacked him on the head. "Anyway, what was your latest entry about? The one that's making all of those girls curse my name and offer to comfort you with acts of casual sex?"
"And that's different from the way things go every day how?"
"Hey!" Dean held his hands up in surrender. "I can't help it that the ladies can't keep their hands off of me. It's my curse."
"Still, using your journal just to make sure you're gonna get laid in whatever town we go to next? That's pretty sad, Dean."
Dean let out a low whistle. "God, this LiveJournal thing is pretty freakin' sweet."
"Dean? The entry?"
"Oh, yeah. I told them all about how you totally forgot my birthday, and then made me promise to kill you if you went evil. Definite panty dropper." On Sam's horrified glance, Dean smirked. "Please, Sammy. Give me some credit. I changed the 'killing you' to 'killing your puppy.' Girls eat that shit up with a spoon. I'm totally the master."
"Wait, Dean." Sam spoke slowly. "It was your birthday? What day is it today, anyway?"
Dean pointed to the faded calendar pinned to the door of the motel room. "February twelfth."
"God, man, I'm sorry. With the whole SWAT team thing, and us being on the lam, I totally lost track of time."
"The thing with the FBI happened after my birthday, Sammy." Dean shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's fine. I mean, I haven't really celebrated a birthday since I was, like, four, so it wasn't like I was expecting anything. You're off the hook."
"Sure. Still," Sam looked pained. "I'm really sorry."
"You can make it up to me when we get to Austin." Dean waggled his eyebrows at Sam. "I'll let you handle the research while I handle Stacey."
Sam snorted. "Fine. Deal. As long as I don't have to hear about it the next day."
Several moments passed in silence as Dean scrolled through the comments to his latest post, occasionally nodding and grinning at them.
Sam was the first to speak. "Aren't you worried about that Henrickson guy finding your journal and reading all about us? He'd know how to find us, Dean. If you're posting a lot, he can follow our locations, just like that. You didn't post about Milwaukee, did you? He could already be on to us."
"So you didn't post about it. Good. Phew. Better safe than sorry, right?" Sam breathed a sigh of relief.
"I didn't say that I didn't post about it."
"It's in a private entry, dude. Don't worry, no one but me can read it." Dean smiled reassuringly at his brother.
"Yeah, because I'm sure the FBI can't figure out how to hack into freaking LIVEJOURNAL, Dean. What were you thinking?"
"Seriously, relax, man. I mean, LiveJournal has a goat."
"Yeah. Any site with a goat as their mascot? Is way too cool to be hacked into. Trust me on this one." Dean grinned widely, as if he had just uncovered the meaning of the universe.
Sam thumped his head down onto the cheap pine desk. "Dean..."
"Besides, I wondered about the same thing, so I posted about it. Ash did some tweaking on my account, and he guaranteed me that there's no way the FBI can track my--"
"Wait." Sam lifted his head, alarmed. "Ash has a LiveJournal?"
"I have got to be dreaming," Sam muttered. "Dean, this is insane." A few more moments of silence passed until Sam's curiosity got the better of him. Affecting casual as best as he could, he prodded Dean some more. "Sooo...do you post about me a lot?"
"Yep. I mean, dude, you're the only person I ever see. Who else am I gonna write about?"
"What do you say?"
"None of your business. All of that stuff goes on my special Sammy filter."
"I have my own filter?" Sam tried to keep the earnestness out of his voice. "Why?"
"Just a precaution. We still don't know how Gordon got his info on you from the Roadhouse. I wanted to make sure Ash and Jo didn't read--"
"Yeah. Man, you hadn't pegged her as a blogger? She's even more emo than you. Please."
"How is she? Ellen said she barely hears from her since she left. Are her hunts going okay? Where is she?"
"Chill, dude. How should I know?"
"Hi, Dean, didn't you just say she had a journal? What does she write about?"
Dean shrugged. "I don't know about hunts, but...she did get a cat. Oh, and she listens to a lot of Justin Timberlake." He shook his head. "She thinks he's the real deal."
"You know about her new cat, but not about her hunting?" Sam's voice was skeptical.
"Dude, I have a life. What, you think I have time to sit around and read my LJ all day? Job full of life and death situations, here! I usually just skim. Everyone's spelling and shit is really bad, too. It just depresses me." Dean heaved a put-upon sigh.
Sam threw himself back onto a bed, sighing deeply.
"If Ash and Jo have journals, why didn't they friend me?" Sam pouted. "Ash can find anything. He has to know."
"Cause you're a major geek?" Dean laughed.
"Jerk," Sam muttered.
"Bitch," Dean returned.
There was a lengthy pause.
"So...if I friended you, would you friend me back?" Sam made sure to look everywhere in the room but at his brother.
Dean smiled. "Of course, Sammy. I mean, you're my brother." Looking thoughtful, he raised a finger before Sam could get a word in. "No way, dude. You're off the Sammy filter. I prefer my journal emo-comment free, thank you very much."