Some time ago, Reaper's Curse asked for M rated Sam/werewolf!Andy, complete with tail kink, tacos, and Andy topping. Well…it grew into a freaking monstrosity. This was originally one massive one-shot but I decided to split it up into chapters to make for an easier read. This is a very different take on 2x05, but I didn't want to just write Heart with Andy in Madison's place, hence the insanely long not-so-one-shot-anymore. I couldn't quite wrap my mind around the pairing at first, so my apologies if this sucks even worse than I think it does.
The scenery flew by outside the Impala as Dean drove well over the speed limit on the way to their new hunt. The older hunter was singing Foreigner's "Hot Blooded" at the top of his lungs, his younger sibling wondering if it would be less painful to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger rather than suffer through any more of Dean's singing. He finally decided to tough it out and continued to stare out the window, tuning out the sound of his brother's voice.
They were on their way to a small town in Oklahoma to hunt a werewolf. Sam had rolled his eyes at Dean's excitement over the "totally freakin' badass guns" they would get to use. They were about an hour out now, according to the map spread across Sam's lap, the edges of it slightly torn from overuse and being stuffed into the glove compartment one too many times. Sam looked out at his dull surroundings, his head throbbing from the volume of his brother's music. Finally, after the two hours he'd spent pointlessly asking Dean to turn it down, he lost his temper.
Sam looked over at him, rubbing his temples. "If you don't turn that music down, I will take your 'totally freakin' badass gun' and blow your jewels off with it."
"Geez, I think it's Samantha's time of the month," Dean quipped, lowering the volume.
Sam sighed and closed his eyes as the headache eased off. It wasn't the kind he got with visions, just the kind that made him threaten to but a bullet in his brother's genitals. He just wanted a hunt to distract him. Every day was the same anymore, and he knew that a mundane lifestyle was better than an unpredictable one, but the way every day ran together was getting a little depressing. He could go for a little differentiation.
When they finally arrived in Guthrie, Sam's long legs were in desperate need of a stretch. They pulled up at their usual haunt, a crappy motel, and slid out of the Impala, closing the doors behind them. A few joints popped as Sam stretched, rolling his shoulders and working the knots of tension out of his muscles. Dean made an offhand comment about Sam popping and squeaking like an old man, and his younger brother turned to glare at him.
Dean checked them into a room, the secretary jumping to the usual assumption, which was that they were gay. They both denied it quickly, Dean going on about it for ten minutes once they got back to their room. Sam agreed that it was sick, wrong, twisted, gross, fucked up, and every other colorful adjective his brother supplied to describe the notion of them being lovers. When Dean reached the end of his rant, he asked Sam what he had as far as leads went.
"Well I would have more if someone hadn't been blaring mullet rock too loud for me to concentrate on the newspaper I was trying to read," Sam replied.
"Hey, you know the rules Sammy. Driver picks the music-"
"Shotgun shuts his cakehole. I know the drill," he said, opening his laptop and connecting it to the motel's wireless Internet server.
A few minutes later, he said, "Okay, so this is an article from the local newspaper. It says that the authorities are puzzled and devastated by the gruesome and mysterious deaths in their town, all within a five mile radius of a local and well known diner."
"Let's go check out this diner," Dean said, pulling the car keys from his pocket. "I'm hungry anyways."
Sam bookmarked the article and closed his laptop, pushing his hair out of his face and following his brother back out to the Impala. His legs protested to climbing back in it so soon, but work was work. Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of AC/DC, which was thankfully a lot quieter now that Sam had threatened castration.
It was an extremely small town, so it wasn't long before they arrived at an old, rundown diner that seemed to do surprisingly good business. A fairly pretty blond brought them their requested coffee, and then bustled off to the kitchen to retrieve Dean's burger. In her absence, Sam looked around. This place reeked of small town diner. The interior looked more like someone's living room than a professional establishment, and there was even a couch against one wall. Overall it wasn't that different from where they usually ate, save for it having tables and chairs instead of booths and barstools.
"Thank you sweetheart," Dean said flirtatiously as the waitress returned with his food.
She blushed. "Is there anything else I can get you boys?"
"Oh I'm sure there is."
Sam glared over at his brother. "Please excuse him. Actually we're just passing through and we were hoping you might know something about the deaths that have been happening here?"
"Those poor people," she said sadly. "This is an everybody knows everybody kind of town, so it really tore us up when our friends kept dying. Especially Andy." There was a wistful fondness when she said "Andy" that suggested they might have been romantically involved at one point.
"Andy?" Sam repeated, leaning forwards.
She nodded, her loosely curled blond hair bouncing against her shoulders. "Andy Gallagher. He freaks out every time he hears about one of the deaths, and he wasn't even all that close to some of these people. I understand, I mean he's a real sensitive guy and all, but I worry about him."
Sam and Dean shared a look, both knowing they'd found their first lead. That piece of information had "guilty conscious" written all over it. The freaking out could be from guilt or from fear of being caught, but either way it didn't look good. Then it occurred to Sam that if he was right to think this girl had been involved with Andy, and he was sure he was, then their guy was pretty damn young. The waitress couldn't be any older than Sam, and she didn't seem to be the older guy type. Sam always hated it when they had to kill the younger ones, monsters or not.
Nonetheless, Sam gave her his best puppy dog look and asked, "Where might we find Andy? We'd love to offer him our sympathies."
"Orchard Street. Look for the van with the Barbarian Queen on it."
"The Barbarian Queen?" Dean repeated, giving her a dubious glance over the rim of his cup.
"She's riding a polar bear. Kinda hard to miss."
Turns out it was pretty hard to miss. I guess something about a large blue van with a half naked woman riding a polar bear on it stands out a little. Dean commented that he liked the kid's style, which earned a glare from Sam.
"Hey, I think that's our guy," Dean said, nodding to a young man across the street.
He was of about average height, with adorably handsome features, curly brown hair, and a sweet smile. Nothing about Andy really said "murderer" but Sam knew just how well monsters could blend in. Dean snorted at the boy's long robe, the back adorned with a tiger, and loose fitting clothing that included grey sweatpants, mumbling something about him looking like a throwback from the sixties. Sam couldn't help but to agree, but he also found it admirable that Andy expressed who he was so freely and openly, seemingly without a care about what anyone else thought of him.
"You follow Andy, I'll check out the van," Dean said.
Sam nodded and got out of the car, walking across the street and discreetly falling into step a few paces behind Andy. Thankfully the dark haired boy was walking in the opposite direction from Dean, and if need be, Sam could keep him busy with small talk to make sure Dean had enough time to give the boy and presumed werewolf's home a thorough inspection. Sam became lost in his thoughts as he walked, not realizing how close he was to Andy until he tumbled into his back.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going," he apologized, Andy's hand on his arm to help straighten him.
Andy flashed him a smile. "It's okay. You high?"
"What? Oh, um, no, I don't…"
"You should, man. It's awesome."
This guy's a werewolf? Sam thought. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind." He held out his hand, feeling oddly compelled to tell Andy his real name, "I'm Sam Winchester."
"Andy Gallagher. You look like you haven't gotten any sleep, dude. How about some coffee?"
"Just had some, but thanks." Sam was surprised at how friendly Andy was, and how easy it felt to converse with him.
"So, where ya heading?"
Sam shrugged. "Nowhere in particular, just out for a walk."
"I'm heading to the old records store, wanna tag along?" Andy offered. To a perfect stranger, mind you.
While he was reluctant to follow who they assumed to be a man-eating monster, Sam not only needed to tail Andy so he could observe whether or not there was anything suspicious about his whereabouts, but in spite of years spent building caution towards strangers and especially ones they were hunting, he liked Andy. He may be bloodthirsty and cruel by night, but right now he was just a nice, easygoing kid and Sam wouldn't mind spending some time with him. So he shrugged off the little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Dean's and followed Andy, his feet carrying him across the lightly cracked pavement of the sidewalk.
The 'old records store' was exactly what it sounded like. An older man that looked like he still belonged in the sixties (much like Andy) stood at the counter, and records of all sorts covered the walls and bins in the middle of the store. Old music from the fifties played from an honest to Hades record player. Sam smiled, watching Andy with fond amusement as the boy danced around to the music whilst flipping through the stacks of records. Judging from the familiarity with which Andy maneuvered the store, it was a frequent haunt for him.
"Come on Sam, do something besides stand there," Andy said.
He shifted awkwardly. "I, um…"
"Dude, could that stick be any further up your ass? You need to get high. Or laid. Or both…"
Sam blushed, which only made Andy's ever present grin widen. If he didn't know any better (which he really did, or so he told himself) he'd say Andy was flirting with him. It wouldn't be the first time Sam had gotten hit on during a hunt, but however it was the first time that he kind of…well…liked it. It was a very, very bad idea and Sam knew it, but he'd spent his life playing by the unspoken rules that applied to every "good" boy in the world, and maybe just this once, he could get away with bending them a little. Dean would go through the roof, but if the younger Winchester was being entirely honest with himself, that was part of the rush that accompanied the whole idea of returning the somewhat lewd gaze being aimed at him from Andy Gallagher.
But Sam was Sam, so he smiled back at Andy in a way nothing more than friendly before turning to casually peruse the merchandise.
Half an hour later, which was spent strolling through downtown and window shopping (Sam fervently denied to himself that it wasn't something usually reserved for couples) Dean called, worried, and asked where the hell Sam was. Um, going for an afternoon stroll with the hippie throwback that may or may not be a werewolf? That probably wouldn't go over so well. So he just replied that he'd gotten tied up and that he'd meet Dean back at the Impala.
"Andy, I'm sorry, but I've got to go," Sam said, slipping his phone back in his pocket.
Andy nodded as they began to part ways, and before Sam was out of earshot, he yelled, "Today was fun! Don't be a stranger!"
Guilt knotted in Sam's stomach as he started back for the Impala, Andy thankfully not seeming to want to return to his van, because Sam thought that would be awkward if they had to walk together all the way back. It would feel too much like the end of a date, which that most certainly had not been. The light, airy feeling that had come with Andy's presence had faded, replaced by a sinking feeling that was wallowing in Sam's gut. Now that he'd gotten to know Andy, the thought of killing him was that much more repulsive.
Soon Sam was sliding into the passenger's side of the Impala, Dean cranking the classic automobile and asking, "What's the story on our guy?"
"He seems nice," Sam responded nonchalantly. "What about the van?"
"Well it has a half naked chick on it. This kid's got style."
At Sam's sigh of exasperation, he added, "Everything's perfectly normal, except that I didn't see hide nor hair of anything silver. Nothing, notta, zilch. Not even a class ring."
"I think we've got our guy," Sam said, less with the usual triumph of nailing a suspect and more with disappointment that, by all means, Andy would be dead within the next twenty-four hours.
The boy's words echoed in his head. Don't be a stranger. Sam wished it was that simple.