Summary: Alternate version of the Pilot...what if the first meeting between Sam and Dean took place months later, during the events of Faith?
Author's Notes: Oh yeah, I have no idea what I'm doin' here people, but this story popped up from somewhere so thought, okay why not write it down. I'm just gonna kinda let this one go where it wants so no idea of the length quite yet...but of course, reviews, good or bad, are always appreciated :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Sam and Dean. But I like to pretend I do :D
He wasn't sure what woke him at first, just blinked the sleep from his eyes, trying to decipher what could have pulled him from his dreams.
There! Another soft 'thump' and Sam was instantly on alert. He may have been out of the game for awhile but a hunter's instincts never really disappeared.
He tensed, torn between the urge to tackle the approaching threat and the need to protect the sleeping form beside him. After a quick glance at Jess, if only to confirm that she was alright, he headed downstairs.
He moved swiftly and quietly, back pressed against the wall, moving soundlessly like his Dad had taught him. He might have loathed his father's lessons, but, hell, didn't mean they weren't useful.
And there were other noises now, more thumps, scraping, and what sounded like a quiet groan…
Reaching the bottom of the stairwell, Sam quietly turned the corner, back to the wall, all senses on guard.
At first glimpse of the dark figure crossing the room, Sam moved, no hesitation, his only thought to take down the intruder that had dared to violate his house, his home.
It wasn't until a few minutes later, when he'd paused to take in the face of the man pinned to the floor, that he realized he had just kicked his big brother's ass.
"Dean?" Sam breathed, looking down in amazement. "You scared the crap outta me!"
"Hello to you too, little bro," Dean said, eyebrow raised. He glanced around the room. "So, uh not that this whole togetherness thing isn't awesome but...you plannin' on getting your giant ass off me anytime soon?
Sam blinked, then shook his head as if willing the situation to sink in.
His older brother was here. In his house.
His brother…who he hadn't seen or spoken to in almost two years, the brother that for all intensive purposes had cut him out of his life, was sitting in his living room.
No, wait…scratch that.
His brother was PINNED in his living room. Sam didn't know which was more surreal, Dean coming to visit him, or the fact that Sam had managed to take him down.
He stood and reached out a hand to Dean, who grasped it with a groan. "Color me impressed, Sammy. Didn't think you'd be keeping with training here in Stepford."
"I haven't been," Sam said coldly. "Guess you're just losing your touch."
"Yeah, well. What can I say?" Dean gave a wry smile. "Must be getting rusty in my old age."
Sam's mouth tightened into a line. "What the hell are you doing here, Dean?"
"I was looking for a beer."
Sam ran a hand over his face. He'd almost forgotten what an ass his brother could be.
"Dean…What. The hell. Are you doing here?"
Ignoring the question, Dean stepped around Sam and surveyed the dark room. "Not a bad place, Sammy…." Squinting in the dim light, he moved to the bookcase and picked up the small ceramic cat that had belonged to Jess's grandmother. He waved it in his brother's direction. "Course, your decorating taste could use some work."
"First…" Sam strode over and plucked the small knickknack from his brother's hands. "It's Sam. And second, man, what is your deal? I haven't seen or heard from you in over two years and now you show up to discuss collectibles? Why. Are. You. Here?"
Dean put a hand to his chest. "What? Can't I just drop by and check up on my little brother?"
"Right," Sam huffed. "Cause you and Dad have been so concerned up till now." He flicked on the nearby light switch.
And stopped cold.
"Jesus!" Instantly his hands were on his brother's shoulders.
Dean looked like roadkill. His face was pale, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead that Sam hadn't noticed in the moonlight. Even worse were the dark circles under his brother's eyes and the stiff way in which he was held himself… like even breathing was painful.
Sam ran his hands down Dean's sides, looking for any injury, any reason why his normally strong, confident, pain-in-the-ass big brother looked like he could crumple to the ground at any second.
"Dean…what the hell happened to you?"
Brushing off his brother's hands, Dean moved awkwardly towards the window and lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. "Oh, you know…nothin' much. A little hunting, a little vanquishing of evil…" he paused and picked awkwardly at a scratch in the end table. "A little electrocution."
Sam blinked and shook his head. "Electro-?"
Dean looked up and met his brother's eyes.
"I'm dying, Sam."
Comments? Concerns? Complete and utter crap??
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