Disclaimer: Supernatural, its concepts and characters belong to the wonderful genius that is Eric Kripke.
Warnings: Swearing and slash, mentions of subjects which could offend more sensitive readers (to be seen in later chapters)
Authors Opening Note:
This story is way, way, way, way off from my normal subject matter. And I am hopelessly enamored with the idea of it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed playing around with the idea.
This story is slash, but not Wincest. I hope those of you with open minds will still read and enjoy this piece. So I'll say it again, it does contain a Male x Male relationship (Sam and Dean) but in this story, they are not blood related.
And so, onwards with another journey! Enjoy and Review!
Chapter One: Wreck of the Day
And in your sad machines
You'll forever stay
Desperate and displeased
with whoever you are
And you're a star
- Here is no why by the Smashing Pumpkins
With rock music blaring from his baby's speakers and the warm wind roaring through the open windows, Dean could literally feel the knot of tension loosen in his chest. It didn't matter that he would be returning to the same small town with the same people he had known for most of his life. And it didn't matter that he'd feel like he was trapped within the confines of his own small world when he returned.
All that mattered was the deep thrumming of the truck's engine and the constant rumble of the wheels on the worn tarmac.
Dean wasn't one for big cities. Something about them made him feel claustrophobic. He wasn't one for small towns either for he felt judged by everyone around him. Everyone around him was leading their own version of the apple pie life, with a partner and/or kids and a place to call their own. Dean didn't have that, and he wasn't sure if he ever would. He wasn't even sure if that was what he wanted to begin with.
He reached over and turned the volume up as Metallica's 'Turn the Page' reached its guitar solo. Dean rolled his neck and shifted in the leather seat of his pick up truck. Sure, it wasn't the classiest car around, but it was big and it was black and it had a monster engine that came to life with a guttural roar whenever the accelerator was hit.
The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the land, and Dean took a moment to look out the window at the distant hills. Yes, it was a good time of year. Hunting season was coming up soon, and he'd had to make a trip into the next town to pick up extra supplies for the gun shop he co-owned with an old friend. Business had been good lately, so he'd picked up some extra special enhancements for his own gun collection.
Dean made the next turn smoothly, with one hand on the wheel and before he could blink another car was rushing at him. Swearing, he jerked the wheel violently, but it was too late.
With a sickening jolt and the scream of metal on metal, they collided. He was thrown forward with an unpleasant jerk.
Dean's truck was pushed to the other side of the road, while the other spun wildly out of control and ended up in the ditch opposite from him.
Dazed, Dean just sat still for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. It took him a few moments to realize that he was unhurt, save for the painful beating of his heart.
He shoved his mangled door open and practically fell from the truck, gaining his feet before he fell onto the tarmac.
He jogged across the tarmac toward the other car, which was considerably more damaged than his was. The driver was slumped over the wheel, and Dean leant down to look in the window.
"Hey. You all right?"
The young man seemed to be stirring and he sat up. Dean noted the blood running down the side of his face.
"Can you hear me?" Dean asked as he opened the door.
"Mmm...think so..."came the rough reply.
"C'mon. Lets get you out of there. Can you tell me your name?"
" 's Sam."
"Hey there, Sam. I'm Dean."
Dean helped the young man out of the car and sat him down leaning against the side of the old car before he crouched down in front of him and pulled out his cell. He swore silently to himself when he realized that he had no reception.
The young man, Sam, seemed more alert now and he looked at Dean silently for a moment.
"Didn't see you round the corner," he mumbled.
Dean frowned slightly.
"I didn't see you either. That corners been a problem for years but the fucking local council won't do jack shit about it," he replied as he turned to look at his truck.
He grimaced when he saw the crumpled front and the twisted scrapes down the drivers side.
"Shit."
"Sorry bout your truck, man. I'll pay for the repairs." The man offered.
Dean looked back at him, and realized that he was younger than he'd first thought. Barely twenty, with too long brown hair and steady gray eyes. He was tall too, with broad shoulders and the longest freaking legs that ever were.
"Don't worry bout that now. I'll drive you to the hospital and get your head checked out." Dean replied roughly.
Sam shook his head, that grimaced in pain.
"No, it's okay. Just gotta rest for a bit."
Dean frowned once more before settling down beside him, feeling tired himself after the sudden rush of adrenaline. He could still hear the strains of Metalica from his truck, and he closed his eyes for a moment.
"Haven't seen you around before," he commented after a moment of strained silence.
"Just passing through," was the quiet reply. "Although this might set me back a bit."
"It might at that." Dean replied humorlessly before he got up. "Afraid we'll have to leave your car behind. Doesn't look like it'll be going anywhere soon."
"That's okay. Picked it up cheap."
Dean looked down at Sam quizzically for a moment. It seemed strange to him that he didn't seem too bothered by the accident and the subsequent loss of his car. Hell, Dean was pissed as hell about his truck, although he knew the damage wasn't too serious. It'd set him back some though that was for sure.
"I got a friend I can call in town who owns a repair shop. Might take awhile for him to get all the way out here though."
Sam drew his legs up beneath him and slowly got to his feet, using the car to support most of his weight.
"I'd appreciate it."
"Let's get you to the medical center then," Dean said stepping forward.
Sam nodded then turned slowly. "Just let me get my stuff..."
"I'll take care of that. Stay here a moment."
Dean jogged across to the truck and climbed up into the cab. He turned the key and prayed for some sort of response. Thankfully, it started smoothly on the first try, and he grinned and patted the wheel.
"That's my baby. Let's see about getting this sorry chump into town shall we? Then I swear we'll get you all fixed up" he murmured as he pulled the truck around in a smooth U turn.
Leaving the truck idling momentarily, he jumped down and returned to where Sam was leaning against his car, looking like he could barely keep to his feet.
"C'mon. Let's get this over with."
Dean pulled the young man's arm over his shoulders. He felt him wince when he put his weight on his left leg and Dean cursed under his breath. As if he didn't have enough to deal with.
"You got any other injuries I should know about?" he asked, more sharply than he'd intended.
Sam shook his head and they moved slowly around the truck towards the passenger side.
"No. It's just an old injury. It gets aggravated every now and then."
Dean watched critically as Sam pulled himself slowly up into the passenger's side. Blood was coating the left side of his face, and he reached into the back seat of the cab and grabbed a worn rag.
"Here. It's clean."
"Thanks."
Sam accepted it and pressed the wadded up material to the wound on his forehead.
"What d'you need from your car?" he questioned gruffly.
"Just the bag from the back seat." Sam replied quietly as he closed his eyes and leant his head back against the headrest.
Dean nodded and retrieved the bag with minimal fuss, although he had to force the back door open with a kick and a curse.
He grabbed the keys from the ignition and returned to the truck, hefting the large (and heavy) pack into the back seat and sliding into the drivers seat.
Moments later and they were speeding down the road towards his hometown once more. Dean exhaled as he felt a headache building behind his eyes.
What a crappy ending to a good day. He needed a strong drink and a bed so he could just put this particular disaster behind him.
After roughly ten minutes of silence, Dean glanced over at Sam who was quiet in the passenger seat.
He was folded effortlessly into the cramped space, and Dean took another moment to marvel at just how tall he seemed. In reality he was only a couple of inches taller than himself, but he somehow gave off the impression of being much taller. It could have been due his broad shoulders, or the muscled expanse of his chest. Or those thickly muscled arms and the slim waist and hips. And those legs...
Dean swallowed and returned his eyes to the road.
It had been way too long since he'd gotten any. While his tastes ran mainly towards the fairer sex, he had been known to swing towards his own gender from time to time as well. And this boy sitting in his car, this oddly attractive boy who was all sleek muscles and soulful eyes was looking more attractive to him by the moment.
It had definitely been way too long. And how twisted did it make him, sitting here after almost totaling his truck and eyeing up an injured person. He needed to start thinking with his upstairs brain and fast, before his downstairs brain revolted and gained complete control.
"So Sam," he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "You got a last name, or what?"
Sam glanced at him for a moment before he pulled the cloth away from his head and studied the bloodied rag for a moment.
"Remington. Sam Remington."
"No kidding," Dean felt a smile tug at his lips and he reached over and turned down the volume of the radio.
"What?"
"As in, the company that makes the guns?"
"Yeah, I guess," came the confused reply. "Why?"
Dean paused a moment, before looking back over at him with a full out smile this time.
"Last name's Winchester. Like the gun."
Sam blinked at him in shock for a moment before a smile crept it's way onto his face. Dean looked away quickly.
"That is funny."
One thing was for sure. Sam Remington had a nice smile and Dean cursed at himself silently and wished that the trip was through already. No way was he going to speed though.
He let the awkward silence stretch for a moment longer.
"You're kinda young to be roaming the country by yourself aren't you?"
He watched out of the corner of his eye as the smile slowly dropped off the boys face, and he turned to look out the window.
"I'm nineteen."
"That's still pretty young."
He had picked up the hint of a Texan accent early on so there was no point in asking where he was from. Dean was unusually uncomfortable with the situation, and he was unsure why.
Apart from the fact that he had a particularly attractive nineteen year old Texan sitting in his car. But he wasn't thinking about that.
It wasn't the first time he'd picked up hitchhikers before. Where he was from, they had a lot of traveler's and drifter's passing through, which was part of the reason their small town was so prosperous. It was a rural community mainly, but the town had some nice cafe's and a couple of motels that made it a good stop over. Dean's gun and hardware shop was in the heart of the town, so he saw a wide variety of people pass through. He was no strangers to young runaways, and people who were running from a dark past.
He had every reason to suspect that Sam was one of those people. The type who was trying to escape whatever it was that was haunting his past.
Dean had his fair share of demon's to contend with too. Both in the literal and the metaphoric sense.
He was brought out of his thoughts by Sam shifting in the seat next to him as he cleared his throat.
"So...uh, listen. I got some money. Enough to pay you for the repairs for your truck. After we go to the clinic I can get it out for you."
"This wasn't entirely your fault you know," Dean frowned.
"I...I think it was though. I'd been driving too long without a break and wasn't paying attention," was the uncomfortable reply. "So I'll pay for the repairs. It's not a problem."
"What about your car? It won't be cheap to repair."
"I'll probably stick around town for awhile. Maybe find some work to pay for it."
Dean licked his lips and changed gear as he crossed the small wooden bridge that told him he was almost in town.
"Not sure what kind of work you'd find in these parts. What skills have you got?"
Sam shrugged.
"It's not a problem. I've been traveling for a couple of years now. Picked up my fair share of work here and there."
"Hmmm." Dean didn't press further, instead focusing on the road before him and wondering what it would be like to have Sam around for awhile.
He seemed like a quiet sort of person, who kept to himself. A dreamer, some would call him. There was a distance in his eyes that Dean could relate to. It was the distance of a person who had been hurt before, and withdrew into themselves in order to protect from further injury. Yes, Dean knew that tactic well enough, and he also knew that it didn't work. It was a temporary fix, but eventually the walls would crumble and then where would you be?
Alone. Vulnerable. And Sam was certainly alone. A wanderer who couldn't seem to set roots down wherever he went. Oh yes, he knew that sort well enough.
His father was one of them, but that was about the only thing his father and Sam had in common. His father was a hunter with a one track mind. He hunted everything from deer to bear and spirits to werewolves. And he never stayed in one place for more than a few weeks. Dean had put up with it for the first fourteen years of his life before he had put his foot down.
And so his father had left him with Bobby, an old trusted friend who had agreed to raise Dean in his stead with little fuss.
It was on Bobby's ranch that Dean lived now, and he was more of a foster father than a guardian. Dean only heard from his father once in awhile, and saw him even less. He'd stop by once every few months, and they got along well enough. And yes, Dean could admit that he loved the man, but the way things had been left had turned him bitter and angry. It was the knowledge that his father had left him with that set him apart from the other people who lived in this town. Dean was naturally a loner, and while he made friends easily and he had many, he needed a lot of time and space to himself in order to adjust himself to living in the realm of "normal".
Dean had lost more than he cared to admit, and he suspected that this nineteen year old wanderer with nothing and no one was very much the same as him while still being so very different at the same time.
There was no use in getting involved with the teens life, because he'd be gone within a few weeks. Dean would do what he could to aid him, and nothing more.
They turned onto the main street of town, and Sam sat up straighter to look around. There were the usual stores; a chemist, a news agency, a good sized shopping complex and several takeaway shops. When you turned down the streets that led off the main road, you came upon the cafés, the few souvenir shops, the gardening shops and the like. Dean's store stood on the corner of one of these but he drove right past it and on to the Medical center.
"Here we are. C'mon I'll help you in."
Dean said once he'd parked. Sam unbuckled his belt and had opened the door by the time Dean gotten around the car. He watched silently as Sam slid out of the car and gingerly put his weight on his sore leg. After testing it for a moment, he limped out of the way of the door and Dean closed it firmly.
"The doc's here are good. They'll take care of you." Dean told him as he helped Sam up the stairs and into the waiting room. "I'll wait in the truck."
"Sure. And thanks."
Dean nodded, and watched as Sam limped up the nurses desk and began to speak one of the two nurses on duty.
He turned then, and went back out into the late afternoon sun. He rubbed his eyes and pulled out his cell.
Half an hour later, Dean looked up from his place on the truck's hood to watch as Sam limped out of the center and down the stairs towards him.
"How'd it go?" Dean asked neutrally.
"Clean bill of health. Mild concussion, few stitches but nothing serious."
Sam tilted his head as he looked at Dean for a moment. A faint blush appeared on his high cheekbones, and Dean could feel a smile beginning. Sam seemed like a sweet kind of guy and Dean couldn't help but feel charmed by him.
He slid casually off the hood and landed on his feet, aware that Sam was still watching him and secretly basking in the attention.
"I need to get that money out. Then I'll get out of your hair."
Dean nodded. "Sounds like a plan."
Dean drove down the street to the bank and waited while Sam disappeared inside. It wasn't long before he was back and handing a thick wad of bills to Dean through the driver's side window.
"I think that'll be enough."
"Thanks." Dean said flatly, honestly not caring about the money. "Is there anywhere I can drop you off?"
Sam looked down the street for a moment and Dean allowed himself to appraise the young man before him once more, noting the way the afternoon sun picked up the auburn in his hair. Or the way his skin seemed a gorgeous golden brown...
"Nah, I think I'll be right. Thanks. For everything."
"Don't mention it," Dean told him as Sam retrieved his pack from the back of the truck.
"Maybe I'll see you around sometime," Sam offered shyly.
Dean couldn't help but smile at him, touched yet again by the sweet nature of the newest stranger in town.
"Maybe you will," he replied easily, before winking at him and putting the car in gear.
As he pulled away from the curb, he looked in his side mirror to see him standing on the sidewalk with his pack at his feet and watching him drive away.
A/N: Remington from what I've researched and understood, actually is a company that manufactures guns, although I can't remember whether or not they make handguns or rifles. And Winchester is also, as we all know, a brand of gun. Any other questions I'd be happy to answer. Don't forget to review, my readers, and introduce yourselves to me!!!
Stay tuned, there's more to come!