Okay, this is an AU. Where Sam and Dean hasn't really spoken since Sam left for college back in 2001. (Let's just say it was 2001… IDK…) None of the things that happened because they were a team has happened… No real apocalypse has ever started, and Dean's still hunting the monster of the week, still oblivious to angels and leviathans and… Many of the 'newer' monsters…
Sam lives with his wife Jessica Lee Winchester… And everything is just apple pies and love and work and normalcy…
After many years apart, Dean seeks out Sam. Dean has lived as a hunter, and without any hunting partners for almost a decade… He has outlived most of what's out there, but it has all left its marks…
Well… Hope you will enjoy it.
Sam Winchester was stuck in traffic on his way home from work. He had been in court for seven hours that day, defending a 40 year old man who had shot and killed an attacker. The big thing was that the bullet had entered in the back of the attacker's shoulder and the exit wound had left a big gaping hole in the man's chest.
But Sam knew that the man was innocent. Or at least… You know…
The man was a hunter, and he had killed a werewolf… But he couldn't tell the court that, much less prove it to people that had grown up without his previous lifestyle…
The four lines heading east were jammed with cars, bumper to bumper… Horns were honking all around, people were anxious to get back home… He was too…
He could almost taste Jess' home cooked lasagna, the one she had promised to make. And then after dinner he would drive Deanna to her gymnastics class, and he and Jimmy would head out to football practice. Where he was one of the co-coaches… His life was so different from what it had been 16 years ago, and he felt truly blessed.
SPNSPNSPN
"Hi honey!" Jess' voice felt like velvet in his ears. "Dinner's almost ready! I just need to set the table and let the lasagna set for a minute or so…"
He flashed her a smile, "What would I ever do without you?"
She winked at him, the usual set-up for their long time banter.
"Crash and burn…" a smile graced her lips, before she went in for a soft kiss.
"Yeah… I probably would…" he brushed a lock of hair away from her face and kissed her on her forehead. "I certainly would…"
SPNSPNSPN
Dean Winchester dragged his half dead body towards his Impala, the only place he had ever called home. It had been a rough couple of decades… Hell… A rough life…
His left hand clamped down on a wound on his abdomen, as his right hand helped dragging him forward. Literally dragging him.
His knee had given out once again, and the thought of retiring started to seem like the only option left. His body had seen enough damage to be no good for anything, but stubbornness kept him going on.
He reached the car, and crawled around to the trunk. Opened her up and found the first aid kit… The four inch cut on the left side of his bellybutton needed stitches, in a hurry… He threaded the needle, a task his hands had done so many times before… Then he found an half-empty bottle of whisky, and poured a good amount on the bleeding gash. He hissed as the alcohol stung his flesh, rinsing it…
He poured a bit over his fingers and the needle too, then he set to work. He dug the needle into his skin, and closed the wound as well as any nurse would have… At least with their heart hammering, in a hurry and with a knife through their knee…
That was what it felt like anyway… His left knee… He hadn't had the chance to take a look at it yet, but he was damn sure something was completely wrong… Crutches for weeks kinda wrong…
He found a bottle of Vicodin pills and placed them in the pocket of his jacket. He would take a couple when he got himself settled for the night, just to get his four hours of shut-eye… Or a good amount of booze could do the same… He would have to see…
He crawled back to the driver's door, and lifted himself up. Experience had taught him that was the best way to get into the car when one leg was busted, your ass was on the ground and no one was around to help… It eliminated the risk of stepping wrong, and placing weight on an already injured leg.
He searched his pockets, found his out of date phone and hit speed-dial #2.
"Yeah…" a gruff voice greeted him, and he relaxed at the sound of Bobby's voice.
"Bobby. It's me…" he paused to keep himself from wincing, "Can I stay with you for a while? I'm less than an hour away…"
"Sure kiddo…" a hint of a smile pressed through in the older hunter's voice, "My place is always open for my boys…"
"Thanks man!" Dean bit his lip as a tremor of pain rolled through his left leg, pressing pain was seizing his knee…
"I'll find a bed sheet and some stuff, just walk right in as alwas…"
"Thanks!"
He hung up, and turned the key. The Impala roared to life, and Fortunate Son by Creedence started playing over the stereo. He smiled and headed towards Singer Salvage…
SPNSPNSPN
A familiar muscle car pulled into his yard, and when no one had walked into his living room after eight minutes, Bobby stepped outside on his porch.
He saw the boy soldier he had met so many years ago, leaning up against the back door. Even in the poor moonlight he could see the kid he regarded as his own son favoring his left leg…
"Dammit you idjit!" he muttered as he hurried towards his fellow hunter.
"What happened son?" he asked when he reached the car.
"Was working a case just across the border, got tossed around good…" Dean admitted as he almost fell into Bobby's offered support.
"Broken?"
"It's something for sure…" this time he couldn't help but growl as the moving jostled his leg, "Not sure that it's broken though…"
"We'll get you inside and have a look at it… Anything else hurt?"
"Nothing a couple of stitches didn't fix…"
"Good…" Bobby remarked as he almost carried the taller hunter inside.
Okay… Hope you enjoyed it so far…