Don't Stoke The Fire

-1-

Summay: Pre-series. Set one year after Sam leaves for Stanford. John and Dean have a hunt in the area.

Disclaimer: Nope. Not Mine.

Dean was itching for a fight.

He and John had been in this dingy little motel for a week now, researching, and looking for a job...but that part he could handle. The part that just killed him and left him itching for a fight was that he knew they were no more than a half hour outside of Palo Alto, and as much as he contemplated getting in his car and going to see Sam...he wouldn't. He couldn't just sit there and be the visiting big brother, not when he still couldn't bring himself to forgive Sam for leaving like he did. But he couldn't just sit there and ignore the fact that they were in the middle of hunting a demon in the same town Sam was in...so he compromised. He told his dad he was taking a break, going to get a drink, and he had every intention of doing that and then driving by Sam's dorm...just to check on things.

Things never turn out how you plan though.

--

The night was early, and so John had no objection to Dean getting a drink...he didn't blame him either, he could use a drink too. Perhaps after Dean went to bed, he'd go to the bar and have a few...it wasn't like they were making a bit of headway on the case.

"Don't stay out to late, and keep up your guard; we don't know exactly what it is yet that we're up against in this town." John called after him.

"No worries." Dean grinned, and grabbed his shotgun off of the table, "Just as a precaution."

John smiled, he could always count on Dean, twenty-three and he was a better hunter still than most men twice his age. "Good boy." He said approvingly, unable to shake the slight feeling that there was something a bit off about Dean. The whole week they'd been here he'd been acting extremely odd, he wanted to just chalk it up to nerves, but couldn't help but wonder if Dean was bothered by the fact they were close to Stanford. He knew Dean and Sam didn't speak, and he could probably blame himself for that. He shouldn't have handled Sam leaving the way he had, he screwed up there. Not anything new, John. Since Sam had left he had to admit he had taken a while for the gnawing painstaking fear to dull into a throbbing worry for his well being.

He'd called Sam when they got there, leaving the part that they were there conveniently out of the equation, and warning him to stay on his guard since there was a possible demon in the area. The conversation went about the same way it always did.

"There's a good chance there's a demon in the area, Sam, I want you to be careful."

"I always am."

"I-I know. Good."

"Is that it, Dad?"

"Yeah, that's about it."

"Okay. Bye."

Sam didn't ask about his brother anymore, but John didn't know that they didn't speak at all when he asked Dean if he remembered to call Sam for his birthday, he'd forgotten again and called up the following day, but Dean's response shocked him.

"No. Sam and I haven't talked since he left for Stanford."

It had stunned John and he had no response to it. But what could he say, he was the one who told his son that if he was going to be leaving then not to come back.

God help him he didn't even want to picture what Mary must think of what he'd managed. I am so sorry.

--

Dean stopped at the bar first. If he was going to do this, really do this...he was going to need a couple drinks.

He didn't even know yet how he was going to do this. He knew where Sam's school was, he knew the exact location of Sam's dorm. It was a Friday night but Sam would be there, in his room, studying. It was just who Sam was.

Dean could walk up to his dorm, knock on the door, and Sam would be there...accompanied only by a giant pile of books.

But he couldn't.

So he would settle on driving down in the Impala and just sitting there for a bit, checking up on things, checking up on his little brother.

Sam probably wouldn't believe it, but he missed him. He did. It was why he never called, he couldn't, because he couldn't figure how easy it had been for him to just up and leave, whilst for him it felt like…abandonment. It was like losing his mom all over again, except Sam, Sam left by choice. And you don't leave your family, you just don't.

--

Sam could list half a dozen reasons off the top of his head why this was a bad, stupid, and most importantly, an illegal idea. And yet he went along.

Mike, his room mate, had gotten the idea to get everyone together and go out for drinks. Sam usually declined, as a matter of fact, he considered declining again, but Mike and Jess talked him into it--given Jess could talk him into a lot of things...but he couldn't help the gnawing feeling that he should have just stayed back at the dorm and studied for his government exam

After the call from his dad...he probably shouldn't have left his dorm, if his dad was worried enough about something being around their probably was, but the way Sam saw it, that made it a double edged sword. If John thought there was a demon here...he and Dean were probably here too,

And truth was, that was why he decided to leave, it was kind of a fleeting...completely impossible million in one chances of happening but Mike wanted to go to D'Arcy's , it was on the outskirts of town, a sort of rural place, if his dad and brother were in town...it was the kind of place they'd be. Dean especially. And if there was the chance...he didn't want to miss it.

Yeah, this was stupid.

--

"Just a beer." Dean told the red-headed bartender with a smile.

"Coming right up." She left to go and get it, and Dean watched her walk away.

She was pretty, but he figured her for about thirty-five and he'd learned the hard way once or twice to never date a girl more than ten years older than him. It didn't matter, tonight he wasn't looking for a girl for a few days, he was trying to figure out what he was going to do.

He knew what he was going to do. He was going to drive to Stanford, he was going to sit in the Impala and make sure there was nothing lurking around on campus, then go back to the motel and try to find the damn demon they were after.

It was simple, to the point, and yet there was one thing that bothered him. I can't just walk away.

"Here ya go." She said, setting the beer in front of him. "Enjoy."

"Thanks." Dean looked up at her for a moment, and took a swig.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe he should just be focusing on the job. After all, that was why they were here…there was a bad ass demon in town and they were supposed to be taking it down…excuses, excuses, Dean. You're just afraid you might actually see Sam.

Damn straight he was.

"Sugar, you okay?" The red-headed bartender asked him walking back over.

"Uh, yeah I'm good." Dean said, god since when had he turned into such a crappy liar?

"You sure? You look like you waging world war two inside that head."

Dean couldn't help but to smile. "Just thinking on things."

"Ah, aren't we all." She smiled at him, he was cute young….maybe a university student. "Mary Catherine Margaret , but you can call me Kitty."

"Kitty?" Dean smirked, "Didn't like the three first names?"

"The curse of having an Irish dad, I got the terrible temper and the names of a nun." Kitty said, "But before we start judging names, I think its only fair you share."

"Dean." He said.

"I like it." She popped open a beer and took a swig. "So, what's got a handsome young man like yourself in a backward bar like this."

"Passing through town." Dean replied.

"Hmmm…and thinking on things?"

"A therapist too?"

"I'm Irish my dear, we're utterly impervious to psychoanalysis, we make perfect therapists."

Dean couldn't help but to laugh. He almost wanted to tell her what he was thinking...leaving out the bit about demons of course.

"We make great comedians too, but we owe that to crazy families." Kitty added.

Dean said nothing and took a sip of his beer he should have been gone by now, not sitting here with an Irish bartender named Kitty , listening to her try to psychoanalyze him.

"So," She said after a moment. "You have your Versailles?"

"Huh?" Dean was confused, she lost him there.

"The treaty…ended the war." Kitty laughed, "Ah, my references are lost on my patrons."

"You own the bar?"

"My dad opened it when he came over from Ireland, my older brothers weren't much interested so my dad finally was forced to pass it on to his daughter. And boy, do you know how to change subjects something fierce, you sure you're not Irish?"

Dean shook his head, "No."

"Now, you should know that Kitty's got an answer to every question. I'm an oracle of sorts, and if the answer is beer…why it just happens its on the house."

"Free beer for sob stories?"

"I'm a sucker for a sad story." Kitty told him, pulling out a bottle of whiskey, and a couple of shot glasses. "To start us off."

Dean took it happily, he could use some hard liquor. "I'm just passing through."

"Aren't we all." Kitty said. "Family in the area?"

"Something like that." Dean said.

Kitty poured him another shot, "You remind me of my brother, he was a terribly stubborn one too. But I always made him talk."

"Hard liquor was his breaking too?"

"Nope." Kitty grinned, "I smacked him aside the head."

Dean laughed. "Sounds like me and my brother." Once the words left his mouth, Dean was surprised that he said it. He didn't even mention Sam to his dad if he could.

"You close to your brother?" Kitty asked.

Dean shrugged, "Used to be."

"Ah." Kitty nodded her head knowingly pouring more whiskey. "Could your brother be in the approximate area that you're passing through?"

"Stanford." Dean told her.

"Hmmm…so he's quite a smart one."

"Always was."

Kitty had to admit, he was a challenge…the young ones always cracked so easily. Owning up to their problems by the second shot, like a teenage boy getting caught with dad's sports illustrated swimsuit edition.

"Now Dean, would I be wrong if I ventured to say you're contemplating visiting this brother?"

"Nope." Dean said, "Kitty, you would not be wrong."

Dean could not believe he'd sat here and talked to this woman…he should have been at Stanford by now.

Kitty looked like she was about to say something when she was interrupted by another woman, younger, closer to Dean's age, but she seemed to be in a frenzy.

"Kitty there's a giant problem!" She exclaimed.

Kitty smiled, as if this was a nightly thing. "Dean, this is my niece Roxanne."

"Roxy." She corrected, "Kitty…"

"Right," Kitty sighed, it was always a big problem with the girl. "Calm down, take a breath, and what the fire truck is the problem?"

"Um…the group that just came in, I think they're underage."

"Well, its not a catastrophe." Kitty sighed, "Are you sure?"

"Well, the one guy had this ID that looked awfully real but….I'm not so sure about the others."

"If it quacks like a duck…" Kitty muttered. "Well, take out their food and I'll get to them in a minute."

Roxy rushed away.

"Sweet girl, and I love her to death…but her boyfriend's a right piece of work, and she thinks a hang-nail is the apocalypse."

Dean grinned, "Well for some girls it just is."

"Anyways, back to you. My advice," Kitty gestured for a waitress to come over. "Get my friend here a burger and fries, Mary."

"Coming up." Mary took the order and walked away.

"Where was I?" Kitty said aloud.

"Your great advice, Oh Oracle." Dean smirked.

"Smartass." Kitty popped him lightly aside the back of his head. "Go see your brother. Dean, in the end…family's all we got."

Kitty went off to go and see to her underage patrons, and Dean had to agree, only problem was, he didn't think Sam would. How important could family be to him if he could just go like that?

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