❝TAKE THIS THE WRONG WAY: YOU SURE KNOW HOW TO PICK 'EM, SAMMY.❞
having finally been reunited with sam, dean gets to meet his new girlfriend, whom he doesn't like.
he thinks she has too many secrets.
he's right.
{spn season 4 au}
you can read the pr...
The pair had been split up for nearly a year, and Dean felt all the pain that caused the rift swell up in his heart as the Impala stalled in the La Quinta Inn's parking lot.
It was January, but unlike Manhattan, where he had just been, there was only a slight chill in the air. Manhattan offered a terrifying experience for a lone hunter- there were cops and cynics and crazies everywhere. Bobby hadn't been able to help him much with the case he had been working on there, so for the first time, Dean had been really, truly alone.
But none of that mattered anymore, because his left foot was already carrying him out of the car. His wandering eyes caught those of an old man's, which looked him up and down before eyeing him warily. Dean supposed he was a sight indeed; he was clad in his brown leather jacket atop a red flannel, dark-wash jeans splattered with god-knows-what, and the eerie charm necklace that smiled at everyone.
A knock. It was soft, but his heart beated loudly. Too loudly. He felt dizzy, he felt like running, he felt like passing out. But his brain forced his green eyes to stay open long enough to get another knock in. He was starting to wonder if Sam had given him a false tip; Dean felt like he was pretty close to finding the kid, anyways. All of these thoughts ran around in circles in his brain until the click of the door shut them all down.
All he could focus on was the look in Sam's eyes as the two stared at one another in disbelief: Sam, surprised he came, and Dean, shocked he even opened the door.
Dean invited himself in, nearly tackling his little brother with a giant bear hug.
"Sammy," was all he said, his hoarse voice betraying the tears in his eyes. He buried his head in Sam's shoulder, and his hand grasped the back of his head like he was convincing himself that it really was Sam.
The year-long wait was nothing like the forty years he spent in Hell.
No, it was different. In Hell, he knew that Sam was alive, he knew that Sam was surviving. Separated on Earth, Dean didn't know what had become of the little brother he pushed away.
"Hey, Dean." Sam sounded a little surprised, which matched the expression he wore.
Dean finally let him go. "It's been a while," he remarked, looking his brother up and down before focusing on his eyes. He'd grown out his facial hair just the slightest bit, but it made him look almost entirely different.
"It's been too long." Sam ran a weary hand through his long hair. He felt bad for disappearing, for leaving Dean on his own.
"You look good. Like, really good, man."
"Hey, you too. I actually, uh, have some-"
A sweet voice interrupted Sam. "Honey, who's this?" Its owner stepped out from around a corner. She was a tall girl, with a slightly sporty look. She had dark brown hair swept up into a bun. The muscles in her arms stood out. She wore only a velvet bralette and gray joggers.
Dean wondered if she was a hunter.
"Oh, uh, this is my brother," Sam stammered, "the one I was telling you about yesterday."
"Rachel." With this introduction, she stuck her hand out. Dean just stared at Sam, wondering why this girl was looking so comfortable in his room.
Sam shot him a quick look, forcing him to take Rachel's hand and introduce himself.
"This is my-" Sam stopped short as he put his arm around Rachel, his jaw shifting as he searched for the right word. "Girlfriend," he finished, offering Dean a small smile. He knew the look in his brother's eyes all too well.
"Right," Dean said, eyeing the clearly nervous Sam. "Your... Girlfriend."
Sam rolled his eyes. "What?" He asked flatly.
"I'm sorry, man, it's just that after all these years, I expected you to be doing anything but settling down." Downing demon juice was the first example that came to his mind, but he held his tongue.
Rachel hung on Sam, looping her arm through his and grasping his hand fiercely.
Oddly enough, nothing about Sam looked out of place. Something in Dean told him that his little brother was finally living the life he was meant to.
"Let's all go eat. We can talk over breakfast," Sam suggested, shrugging a bit.
Dean nodded, his head still fuzzy. "Hop in the Impala."
He sounded relaxed, but something about Rachel struck him as unnatural.
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