Voicemail


A/N: In this very AU story, Sam never figured out about the deal, was never told about it either, and went back to Stanford after Dean killed Azazel and John went to wherever good dead people go. It also assumes that Dean skedaddled not too long after getting Sam settled to take care of the demons-getting-out-thing, as well as to keep any demon from tattling about the deal. Sam had tried tracking down his brother, of course, but it was pretty much a failure, so lacking anything else to do, stayed to finish out the year at Stanford.

I really think this is what Dean had in mind when he decided to keep the deal a secret, although I don't know if he would have gone through on it. I can just see him wanting to stay away from Sam so Sam could get used to being on his own, then tell Sam he was dying (not about the deal, of course) right before the hell hounds came to collect, just so Sam wouldn't have time to react.

This is kind of an experiment, I've never written anything in this style before... hope it doesn't show and that you guys like it. I'm not all that good with Dean... he's not nearly as easy as Sam. And I hope I didn't go too strong on the no-chickflick-moments rule.

Ah well. Tell me what you guys think.

*note - jurisprudence is totally a word. I know, surprised me too.


New message, received May 5, 12:03 PM.

BEEP.

Hello, this is Sam Winchester. Leave your name and phone number and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

BEEP.

Heya Sammy, it's me. Hope everything's going all right over there in sunny Cali.

(pause)

(throat clears)

So yeah, didn't run off to join the circus or film Girls Gone Wild in Mexico, just, well…

(pause)

Well, been kinda avoiding you, I guess.

…Shit, that didn't come out right. Uh-

(mutter)

BEEP.

New message, received May 5, 12:45 PM.

BEEP.

Hello, this is Sam Winchester. Leave your name and phone number and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

BEEP.

Hey, it's me again. Sorry about that.

I know, I know - I'm kind of cheating, calling your apartment in the middle of the day like this. Like a total nutcase I even checked your schedule to make sure you were out, and sure enough you have like three classes back-to-back right now, you freaky little overachiever. So there's no way you're gonna be there to pick up the phone. I mean, not unless you're planning on missing, uh... Therapeutic Ju... Jurisprudence? JIs that even a word? Therapeutic, now, that sounds like it should involve some kind of massage, hopefully with some hot chick in glasses and not, say, a tiny Asian man named Steve, but I just dunno about that last one, Sam, wouldn't be surprised if that's something a frilly lawyer made up so he could sound like even more of an asshole.

(pause)

And yeah, smartass, I know I could have just written a letter if all I wanted was a monologue, but this way you get to hear my pretty, pretty voice, and far be it from me to deny you the pleasure. Yup, that's me, thinking of you like always.

(laugh)

(pause)

You're probably wondering where I've been and all since I left your sorry ass at Nerd Central. Or maybe you're not - in which case good, 'cause I don't have the time to list every shithole in America. All you gotta know is that I've been up to the usual old schtick, nothing new there.

Anyway. I, uh… well, I'm kinda on this… hunt. Yeah, a hunt. Uh. It's kinda... personal, okay, so don't mind if I don't bust out with all the gory details. Don't worry about it though, Joe College, it's got nothing to do with you.

Except that well, I ah... I'm not coming back after this one, Sammy. Like, this is it. End of the line. Don't ask me how I know – though hell, it's not like it'll help you any, seeing as how this is a fricking machine you're listening to – but I do. Nothing I or anyone can do about it.

I'm not bullshitting you here, I swear. I'm checking out, Sam. Kicking the bucket. Meeting up with Elvis. Buying the goddamn farm. Take your pick, I'm it.

(pause)

I know, I sound pretty awesome for a dead guy, huh? Talk about dulcet tones - baby, I'm practically an angel. Heh, admit it Sam, you know you're gonna miss -

BEEP.

New message, received May 5, 12:51 PM.

BEEP.

Hello, this is Sam Winchester. Leave your name and phone number and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

BEEP.

Yeah right, you'll get back. Jeeze, you sound like one of those tech support guys, all helpful and sincere and let-me-put-you-on-hold-for-two-fucking-hours. Assholes.

Not that I've had to call them or anything like that. I know how to handle a laptop, thanks. Don't need you around for that.

(throat clears)

But seriously, way to sound like a robot. If I were you I'd go for something more personal, like "hey, Dean's geeky little brother here, call 554-7239 if you're a sexy chick looking for a good time, hang up and look for me at the next emo poetry club meeting if you're not. I'll be the tall guy eating a salad."

(chuckle)

All right, maybe not that one. You should probably mention your own name, and really it's not like I have much time left for the hot girl hotline thing. Although, pretty sweet if I did.

...I probably wouldn't get much use out of it anyway, you being the Great Prude and all. Honestly, Sam? Sometimes I wonder if you know cooties aren't real.

Haha, I can sense the patent angry Sam glare from here. Okay dude, dropping it. Not like I'm calling to lecture you about your sex life anyway – I figure after spending most of our lives in the same room, you've already learned everything you need from me.

Which makes me calling you now seem kinda pointless, now that I think about it.

Except you know what? Fuck that. These are my dying words or whatever, and if I want to go on and on about girls and hot Asian action, I damn well will.

Or not. That's the point, I get to decide.

(pause)

Maybe later. Keep you on your toes.

(pause)

So.

Uh…

Crap. Thought this'd be easier without you mouthing off on the other end, but... hah, guess not.

Damn it, there were things I... Should have probably made a list or something. Except that's totally a geek thing to do, so never mind.

Hey, when - when I go... truth is, Sammy, I'm expecting great things outta ya. Fuck hunting and the blue-collar shit, you're gonna make Winchester history, living large off some cushy lawyering gig. I'm talking six-figure salary here, geekstein, and like, a pool in the backyard filled with those… colory straw things… they're called noodles, I think? Yeah. Yeah, there better be some fucking noodles in that pool, bitch. Ain't no kind of pool without some noodles.

Hah, yeah.

Oh, and-

BEEP.

New message, received May 5, 12:54 PM.

BEEP.

Hello, this is Sam Winchester. Leave your name and phone number and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

BEEP.

Fuck, Sammy, this getting cut off shit is getting old. Would have been nice if your voicemail wasn't as dry as Bobby's shopping list, too. Not that I've ever bought the man groceries, but I'd swear that man lives off bacon and tequila.

...Where was - right. Noodles. Get on that, Sam.

Oh, and no kind of rich life's complete without a sweetass ass around, if you know what I mean. She better be miles out of your league, too, or I'm telling you man, I'll be pretty disappointed. And speaking of butts, maybe you can ring up that Sarah chick, she was pretty fixed on yours if I remember right. Plus she's kinda hot. Hey, who knows, maybe she can balance out your fugliness if you guys ever decide to have some mini-Winchesters running around? We can only hope, right? I mean, we all know I got the good genes in the family.

(pause)

About that.The thought of you spawning is weird, and I know you got a good couple of years before you'll even have the balls to ask someone out, let alone knock her up, but uh, since I won't be there for it, and neither's Dad, figure I might as well cover my bases. Call it a preemptive strike.

(pause)

So yeah, you having little Sammys running around? I mean, it's really not like I can tell you much about being a parent, but don't sweat it. Trust me, as long as you keep your priorities straight, you'll be fine.

Or not like Dad, anyway, which I'm guessing's your main thing.

Now I know you'll do your best to make your kids all dweeby and normal and creepy smart like you, and hey, nothing wrong with that aside from I think cloning's illegal. But I'm telling you right now, any nephews of mine – and nieces too, for that matter – better damn well know how to handle a gun. Just to be safe. If there's anything to learn from this, any of this, it's that it never hurts to be prepared. You never know what might come in useful.

That goes for Metallica too. Master of Puppets, you got me? That's some lifesaving shit right there.

Which reminds me. Keep the Radiohead down to a zero in my car, you hear? Treat my girl like a lady, or I'll… uh. Well, I won't haunt you, 'cause to be honest that'll probably just bore me to death again, but ah, I will be unhappy with you, all right? And we don't want that.

…Of course, it'd probably help if you had the car to start with. Shit. Well, I'll probably drop her off somewhere and call Bobby to come pick her up, say aloha to the old man while I'm at it. But I want you to have her, okay Sam? My baby was meant to be driven.

I uh… Huh. Hey, I think that pretty much covers -

BEEP.

New message, received May 5, 1:05 PM.

BEEP.

Hello, this is Sam Winchester. Leave your name and phone number and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

BEEP.

...Hey. Me again.

Still think this is a crappy voicemail. All the same, though, it's good to hear you. Even if it isn't really, you know, you.

(pause)

One last thing - you take care of yourself, Sam. All right? Eat your Lucky Charms and all that. Grow another inch and go for a Guinesse record. Just do me a favor and don't do anything stupid now that I'm not around to save your ass. I know you're gonna miss me, me being awesome and all, but dude, no need to go crazy. Stay cool.

Or, y'know, try. Since it's you we're talking about here, after all.

(chuckle)

(pause)

I'm kidding, you know that right? Just doing my job.

...The making fun of my pain-in-the-ass little brother job, I mean, not the...

I mean, you're okay.

(pause)

God, I suck at this.

(sigh)

(pause)

(throat clears)

(pause)

Um, Sammy? I -

BEEP.

No new messages. Inbox full.