Shooting Shark

Rating- M to be safe probably not until later chapters though

Summary- The time when Dean was told to go and check on Sam at Stanford, the time Sam told him to leave and was grateful when he didn't when everything started to look suspiciously like a haunting, Wincest SamxDean

Disclaimer- Not mine, they belong to the wonderful Kripke (bows) I'm just borrowing briefly,

A/N- I love Stanford era fics, not many around at the moment so thought I'd go back to the beginning with this one, hope you enjoy,

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Prologue

Dean had been sceptical at first, as the words had fallen from his father's lips he had merely stared at the phone as though it had just sprouted a head. It was the urgency and the desperation that began to coat his father's words that made Dean begin to worry himself, made him start to think that something was wrong and it didn't matter that his father didn't tell him exactly what it was that was worrying him nothing could stop him from going. It took him five minutes at most to pack up and head out letting his dad know that he would get in touch the minute he knew anything.

The drive was long and lonely, Dean hated it, his heart pounded in his chest and he prayed to a God that he wasn't entirely sure he believed in that Sammy was ok. He decided on his course of action as he followed the interstate, an endless sea of black folding out before him, he would go to Stanford, keep to the shadows, check that his brother was ok, then he would disappear into the night. He didn't want Sam to see him, things hadn't ended well between them and if everything was fine he didn't want to confront his brother for fear of starting something he would only later regret.

He found it ridiculous how they had gone from being so close to so distant, from seeing each other daily to not even a phone call once in a while. It had been all and now it was nothing and everyone had just seemed to adapt, they had learnt to live with it, but deep down Dean could feel how raw everything still was. Like the burnt flesh on his arm from the creature that he had burnt not two nights ago that had got a little too close by accident, so he told himself.

In his head he could hear Sam laughing right beside him, like it had been, when he turned there was nothing there but a phantom memory clinging to the edge of his mind. He held the steering wheel a little tighter, stared at the road a little harder and tried to forget everything else that would make him smile briefly before breaking his heart a little more. He drives for hours, see's the sun rise and then witnesses it set again, turns up the volume of the music to drown his thoughts.

He rolls into town like a ghost, careful because he knows his car doesn't blend in very well round here. The dark of the night covers him as he glances at sidewalks, groups of people laughing and joking. Looking, careful and precise, he feels like he is so close to losing everything that makes him human and just succumbing to the warrior beneath his flesh, to become the perfect soldier completely. He drives past the college, the huge, old building that seems to look just like every other college building in the world. Sam had wanted normal and Dean thought that Stanford was the epitome of normal.

The elder Winchester studies illuminated windows, looking for the slightly less familiar form of his baby brother. He doesn't see anything but nameless faces, he wonders if the people he catches glances of know his baby brother, wonders if they're friends with him or if they just share a lecture and know his face. He knows that none of them know who his brother really is, the things he has done, his family, he feels it in his bones, what Sam has desperately tried to keep hidden.

He pulls away, drives past pubs and local hangouts, he gets glances, he's not sure if it's just from people admiring his car or people thinking that he looks suspicious crawling round the town. He doesn't give it too much thought. The minutes tick by and with no sign of his brother his father's words begin to repeat in his head. What if something had happened? What if Dean had arrived too late?

All the what if's fade as he catches sight of his younger brother, walking down the road from one of the local bars, a group of people with him and a woman clutching his hand. Dean couldn't explain the feeling that overwhelms him in that instance if he had tried. He shifts in his seat trying to hide in shadows just in case Sam glanced his way.

He stares at his brother from the dark, he's changed, a little taller, hair a little bit longer, he smiles at something someone has said, Dean smiles too because he hasn't seen Sam's smile in so long and it's so beautiful. The blonde beside his brother chuckles at something and Dean notices one of the guys at the front of the horde glance at his car, he pulls a face, admiration the elder Winchester notes proudly before thinking that maybe that was his cue to bale. He put the car into drive and drove away taking the next turning even though he didn't have a clue where it led.

Sam was fine, he knew that now, he decided that he would head to a motel let his father know that his youngest was absolutely fine, crash for the night and then head on to his next job. It hurt him that he hadn't got to speak to Sam, but it was for the best, why force him to face a past that he didn't want any more, that he had tried so hard to sever all ties to?

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Sam laughed slightly at the completely ridiculous joke that one of the girls in their company had just told, Jess laughing as well and squeezed his hand a little bit. The rest of their friends just rolled their eyes at the girl who took offence at the lack of response to her joke. He heard one of the guys up in front of them describing a car to another guy in their party, he listened in a little harder to the description, his hand falling away from Jess'.

"It was amazing man, a complete beauty, perfectly restored, I've never seen one that age so pristine, not a spot of rust on it." Sam's heart skipped a beat,

"Mike," Sam called out to the guy in front, he stopped and turned to face the taller man, "what did this car look like?" Sam asked and he prayed to a God he hoped was willing to listen that it wasn't what he thought it was.

"Uh, old style, um, I think it was a Chevy, perfect condition man, someone must really love her," Sam stared at him,

"Let me guess, black, 1967 Chevy Impala,"

"Yeah that's it, couldn't remember for the life of me, did you see it?" Sam shook his head,

"Not today, where was it?" Mike gave him a funny look but shrugged and pointed at the other side of the road.

"Was parked over there, took off about five minutes ago," Sam stared down the road and wondered what it was that he was feeling, was he annoyed at his brother for being here, or was he annoyed that he never bothered to come and see him, just came and went.

"You ok Sam?" Jess asked grabbing hold of Sam's hand once again.

"I don't know," he said honestly, finding his phone only to see that there were no missed calls anyway. He was angry but he was worried as well, what was going on, was Dean ok? Was there something wrong with their Dad? Would they even tell him if there was, he hadn't spoken to them in so long and despite knowing that deep down he really missed his older brother he didn't want to see him, not now, not ever.

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Well there's the prologue this is something that I just sort of wrote and developed for myself but decided to post it anyway, hope it's ok,

Hope you enjoyed, xxx