Two Stars and a Universe
A Destiel Partial AU

Chapter One: Then

Five years later, and Dean Winchester still had nightmares about the worst day of his life.

The worst day of his life wasn't the day that his parents died in a fire, or the day that he lost the fight against the bastard who nicknamed Sam "Stupid Sammy," or the day he turned eighteen and fought tooth and nail for a place to sleep every night. The worst day of his life was the day that he and Sam moved in with Samuel Campbell.

He remembered everything vividly, even when he was sleeping. It started at five AM. Dean was packing up the belongings that he had gathered in the last year- a toolbox, a hunter's knife, too much plaid flannel- and the few things he always had- John Winchester's dog tags, Mary Winchester's charm bracelet, a family photo, and a book of sign language he stole from a library in Middletown, Pennsylvania. He glanced over at Sam. Sam was facing away from Dean, and was too quiet, considering that it was only the two of them in the room. "Cheer up, Sammy," Dean forced himself to say with a smile. "It's not gonna be so bad. We're going with family. Hell, Samuel is your namesake. Everything'll be fine, promise."

Sam didn't answer, and Dean set down his large backpack and walked over. As soon as Sam's face was in sight, he knew why the conversation was one-sided. "New book," Dean noted.

Sam looked up. "Bobby told me I could pick a few out for the car ride, and I could just give them back when we're living here again."

Dean smiled at his brother. Stupid Sammy... yeah, right. Sam was as bright as anyone. Wasn't his fault that he was quiet. "Better not dog ear those pages," he warned, "because as soon as Bobby's legs are better, we're coming back."

"Will Bobby's legs get better?"

The truth was, Dean didn't know. The tumble that their guardian took two months ago had been bad, and the two Winchester boys had only made it worse by waiting a full week (at Bobby's insistence) to contact someone and ask for help. Before they knew it, Bobby was in a wheelchair recovering from three broken bones, and when another hunter came in and saw a crippled Bobby dealing with two underage boys, phone calls were made and new living arrangements were made. Again.

There was a difference this time though. Samuel Campbell was their grandfather, father of their mother. Not like it mattered much- weren't grandfathers supposed to be jolly old men who smiled too much and told old stories and took care of you? Dean and Sam had never met Samuel. What sort of bastard doesn't take their own blood in until eleven, twelve years after they first need a place to live? Or at least visits them... sends them a birthday card... picks up a phone... anything? Hell, Dean hadn't even known that their grandparents were hunters until an elaborate web of Bobby's contacts had led to him.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, Sammy. They'll get better. Now, put the book up. Save it for the road."

Sam stuck the tome- some big volume about shifters- into a book bag that was about half his size, and Dean scooped it up. Sam made a face. "I can carry it," he said.

"I'll tell you what. The moment you get taller than I am, you can carry your stuff and mine. Until then, I've got all of it."

"I'll never be taller than you. I'm tiny," Sam said.

"Stop complaining. I bet Bobby will let you pick out another book. Then you'll be carrying something."

Sam grumbled, but he let Dean take both backpacks and the tool kit. The weight was annoying, but not too bad, and the brothers exited the bedroom and headed down to the first floor. Bobby waited at the foot of the flight of stairs, and managed a smile. It didn't fool Dean- he was sure Bobby was just as reluctant to let the boys go with Samuel as the boys were to go. "Don't you boys go making yourself too comfortable with that Samuel fellow," he said, before looking at Dean. "Let your brother get some of that, you idjit, you're going to break your back."

"I'm fine," Dean said. It wasn't exactly a lie. "Hey, Sammy wants to know if he can get another book."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Go get one. And don't dog ear the pages. You've ruined more books in the last year than you're worth."

Sam ran off to pick yet another large book, and Dean set down his bags. "Is Samuel here yet?"

"Nope. Hell, the sun isn't even here. Next time someone tells me they're coming early, I'm getting up at eleven, and if they want to complain, they can kiss my..."

That was when the doorbell rang. Bobby muttered something that Dean couldn't discern and rolled towards the door. He opened it in that way of his, like it was a major inconvenience even when it wasn't, and Dean could hear him say "Samuel Campbell?" It was, and when Bobby rolled back to Dean, he was trailed by a gruff looking man who made Dean wonder if it was possible to keep any hair at all past the age of forty.

Maybe it was the look that accompanied those thoughts that made Samuel narrow his eyes. "This one's Dean?"

"Yup. Sam's in the library."

Samuel looked at Dean, his expression only describable as "hard." "Go get your brother," he said.

Dean didn't argue, though he had a thousand things to say about that man- how he didn't care enough to get them straight off and now he was going to come into their house and boss Dean around? What the hell? Maybe Dean was only fifteen, but he was pretty sure that this was not how it worked, blood or not.

As he walked into the library, his face made his opinions immediately obvious to Sam. "You don't like him," Sam said, his young face crumpled with worry.

"What I think about him doesn't change a thing, Sammy. Come on. It's time to go."

Sam took the biggest book in immediate reach and followed Dean out of the library. Samuel immediately looked at him appraisingly. "So this is Sam."

Sam, predictably, didn't say anything. "You're what, eleven?" Samuel continued.

Sam looked away, and Samuel frowned. "What's the matter? Don't want to talk to your own grandpa?"

Dean frowned. "Sam doesn't talk much," he said to Samuel.

"Well, he'd better start if he wants a roof over his head and food on his plate."

Bobby, who had been steaming quietly, decided then to speak up. "He's selectively mute, you ass."

"So what, he's stubborn? Singer, you let him get away with this? He's eleven, not one."

"It's a friggin' psychiatric disorder, not a temper tantrum. Probably one that's caused by people like you who wait eleven whole years before giving your own grandkids even a lick of attention!"

"I didn't know about them, and now I'm here." The combination of Samuel's yelling and the fact that he was standing made him seem not just insensitive, but scary. At that moment, Dean was pretty sure he would have done anything to keep Sam away from Samuel. "But know this," he continued. "I am their grandfather. They are my grandkids. I'm their family. And you're what, some old drunk who felt sorry for them?"

Bobby pursed his lips. Dean knew Bobby well enough to know that he was trying not to say something. Samuel, however, seemed to take the expression as giving up, or even just plain losing. "It's time to go boys. Get in the car."

Sam reluctantly trailed Samuel out the door, but Dean stayed behind. "I left something in my room," he said. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Don't keep me waiting," Samuel warned, but allowed it.

As soon as it was just the two of them, all of the things Dean had thought about Samuel burst out. "You're not actually making me go with him, Bobby."

"Don't have much of a choice, do I, kid?"

As much as a part of Dean wanted to throw a tantrum and be completely unreasonable, he had too much respect for Bobby to do so. Hell, Bobby was one of the only people he had that kind of respect for. Bobby was the umpteenth hunter who took the two Winchester boys in after their parents had been killed, presumably by a demon. However, he was the first one who actually put them before hunting. Dean knew it was unrealistic to expect anyone to give up the "life," but was it really so much to ask for a bedtime story for Sam, or someone to actually look at their report cards? In the case of a couple, someone to enroll them in school at all! Dean didn't really care for himself- he was a big boy- but Sam needed someone who might actually care for him, despite his selective mutism.

When Bobby Singer let Dean and Sam into his home, he didn't pressure Sam to speak. He didn't stop taking cases, but he made sure they were close to his home in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and that the boys could always contact him. When Dean caught the flu, Bobby actually called up a nearby friend to take a case he was in the middle of, just so he could make sure that Dean didn't need to go to the doctor's office and Sam was too occupied in the library to come in to the bedroom they shared and catch it too.

Nine months after the boys moved in, Dean came home from school to find Bobby at work on an old car- a Chevy Impala. 1967. The very car that belonged to John and Mary. Dean had just hit his fifteenth birthday, and Bobby made him a deal- if he helped fix it up, then it was his as soon as he turned sixteen.

The truth was- and guilt crept in when he admitted this- that the happiest year of Dean's life wasn't the year he remembered with his parents. It was that year, floating in all of the misery, the year that Bobby let them into his house with an enthusiasm and access that the brothers had never had before.

And now, that was all going away. "Come on, I can take care of Sammy. You can take it easy and just yell at us and call us idjits every now and again, and before you know it, you'll be better. You know I know how to take care of the kid."

"Damn it, Dean, that's not how childhood works. You're a friggin' fifteen year old boy. You think you can just waltz in and be the dad for however long it takes me to get better? Well I have news- that isn't how the world works. The Sheriff comes down here the first time you screw up, and she takes you two away, and suddenly you aren't even with hunters anymore. And there's an investigation on me, so you don't even have anyone who can help you when the creepy crawlies start coming. I don't like this grandfather of yours anymore than you do, kid, but he's family, and he's got two legs to stand on, and that's more than I've got going for me."

"He's not family, Bobby. Sam's my family. Hell, you're my family. He wasn't the one taking care of us over the last year."

"You heard him, he didn't even know about you. Now, you better get going before he comes in and throws another hissy fit. Oh, but I've got something for you first." Bobby reached into the makeshift saddlebag that Dean had made in the Home Economics class he was forced to take in the second semester of that school year, his freshman year in high school. When he pulled his hand out, a cheap silver cell phone was in his clutches. "Here. My number's in there. Keep in touch- I'll cover the bill. But, mmm, you probably shouldn't flash it around."

Dean tried to smile, but it wouldn't come. He got the meaning- Samuel might not be so happy to know Dean was still in contact with an "old drunk." He stuffed the phone into his pocket."Will do. I'll... I'll catch you around."

"Sure you will, kid. Be good for your grandpa, no matter how ignorant, mean, or downright stupid he is."

"Don't worry about that," Samuel's voice said smoothly. Dean turned towards the door, where Samuel was standing. He was looking at Bobby. "If you don't get your butt in the car in the next five seconds, your butt isn't going to be doing much of anything for a while."

Dean reluctantly headed out and slid into the backseat an old Ford. He could have stood up to Samuel, but it didn't seem worth it, not when it would upset Sam. Sam was already having enough of a bad day.

Sam was in the seat next to him, and Dean tried again to smile, just for his little brother. They were just getting off to a bad start. Samuel wasn't a bad guy, it was just that he had a lot to live up to. He was family. It was all going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. It was all going to be okay.

Five years later, and Dean was still trying to convince Sammy. He had long ago given up trying to convince himself.

Author's Note: This is the part where I welcome you to a new story (welcome to a new story btw) and direct you to my lovely beta taylorswiftisawinchester on tumblr because without her this would be terribly OOC. It's like midnight so that's it for author's notes night.