Dean Winchester (forgetthehearse) wrote in drinkingdjinn, @ 2009-04-15 11:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | john/dean, past |
Episode 0x01 - First Time
Who: John Winchester, Dean Winchester
When: Fall, 1997
What: On a hunt for a shapeshifter, John and Dean cross the line.
Where: On The Road
Dean pulls the Impala into the nearest parking spot, scowling at the large van that had taken his normal spot. Grumbling to himself, he locks the doors and starts up the sidewalk, his keys swinging from his hand. He notes the cars as he goes by, habit instilled by years of trained paranoia, making sure none are strange or suspicious; it still takes him a moment to notice the large black truck parked right outside his door. His face lights up at the sight. He nearly bolts to the door, forcing himself to calm down only as he is unlocking it.
"Dad?" he calls as he pushes the door open.
John barely glances up from his notebook, sitting at the table in the tiny room that pretends to be a kitchen. His duffel is on the floor beside him, still packed, as he sifts through papers, cross referencing stories to track down his next case. "In here, Dean. Your brother at school?"
Dean walks into the kitchen, a small smile on his face that he is attempting to hide. "Yes, sir." He checks John over quickly; he seems in good health, much to his relief.
"Good. Sit." He points to the chair, circling something in the paper. "How's Sam?" he glances over, briefly, before turning back to his work. John flips a few pages in his notebook, checks something, shakes his head, and goes back to the paper. The reports don't quite fit with what he'd suspected, so he has to start again.
Dean sits without hesitation, though he does lean forward a bit to see what his father is working on. "How'd it go?" he asks, eager for the story; he hates being stuck here and feeling useless, though he knows Sammy needs watched. "He's doing fine. Has a science presentation today. Doing it on dolphins." He only tells John this because he knows how proud Sammy was of it this morning, though he would much rather talk about the case than about his little brother's homework.
That gets a small smile out of John, "Yeah? That's good." He leans back in his chair and rubs at his eyes with a sigh. "It went. I've got a lead on something new. Not sure what it is yet, but it's definitely not normal." He pushes the paper over to Dean, raising his eyebrows. "Any ideas?"
Dean is disappointed that John does not want to talk about it, but he is not surprised; he rarely does. He jumps on the chanced to get involved, though, picking up the paper and studying it. He feels a little bit like he is taking a test as he reads, and he wonders if John really does not know what it is or if he just wants to see if Dean can figure it out. "Might be a skinwalker," he guessed, looking quickly up at John to see his reaction.
John raises his eyebrows, looking faintly impressed. "That's what I thought, too. Something's off, though. Not everything matches up. What else." He's got an idea, but he wants to see if Dean can get to it, too. See if he's remembered what John's taught him.
The look John gives him gives Dean confidence; he straightens up in his chair, his voice becoming stronger. "It could be a shapeshifter of a different kind- skinwalkers are just Native American, and other cultures have other shapeshifters." The 'right?' is unspoken, because he cannot show his father that bit of weakness; he has to be able to get it right on his own. "Same powers, but different habits?" He looks John in the eye, quietly praying in his mind that he is right.
"Right." Dean's eagerness to be right always pleases John. The fact that his boy wants to learn, to make John proud, well that feels good. "What sort've habits might our shapeshifter have? Where do we find 'im?" He wants to give Dean a chance to get this one, show how much he knows and how to use what he knows to find out what he doesn't.
Dean looks back at the paper, scanning over the words once again. "The mutilation seems pretty uniform. Might be something on the bodies to tell us more." He says 'us' hopefully, trying to insert himself deeper into the case. "How it does it or what it's after."
After a few moments of consideration, John pushes back from the table and grabs his duffel. "Your brother got a place to stay for a few days? Some friend he can stay with?" He doesn't take Dean with him very often, since Sam needs looking after, but now and then he thinks it's a good idea. Boy needs real life experience, after all.
Dean sits bolt upright, eyes widening a bit. "Yes, sir," he says before he can even think about it. Granted, it is not much of a lie; Sam always seems to have friends, much unlike Dean. He can find somewhere. Having to deal with Sam whine about staying with someone is so worth getting to go on a hunt.
"Good. Tell him to go home with a friend, then come back here. We'll leave as soon as we can." He gathers the papers together and folds them small enough to fit in his notebook and takes his bag to his room to pack for himself and Dean.
Dean is out the door as soon as John stops talking, half-running to his car. He nearly shakes with excitement as he heads towards the school, too old now to babble at the Impala and AC/DC like he used to, but still wound up just by the thought.
Dean is out the door as soon as John stops talking, half-running to his car. He nearly shakes with excitement as he heads towards the school, too old now to babble at the Impala and AC/DC like he used to, but still wound up just by the thought. He hurried to the school and through the office like a windstorm, getting them to pull Sam out of class so he could talk to him.
Sam hates getting pulled out of class. It always means Dad's leaving again, or they're /moving/ again, and it's just never good news. He sighs and schlumps to the office, raising his eyebrows at his big brother, shrugging his shoulders. "What's up?"
Dean ran a hand through his hair, feeling a pang of guilt at the sight of Sam's slouched shoulders. His little brother needed him around, and here he was, darting out like dad. But he also knew that he had to go, and that Sam could come someday, too, and he had to be ready for that. "You got somewhere you can stay a while?" he asks, the excitement gone from his voice.
At least they're not moving. He sighs and nods, hanging his head a little. "Yeah, I guess I do. How long will you be gone?" He hates when Dad goes on his trips, hates it worse when Dean goes too. It makes him feel like he's all alone in the world. Completely unprotected.
"I don't know." He is always truthful with Sam, when he can be; he never begrudges John when he does not show up when he says he will, but it is the one way that he does not want to be like him. He has seen Sam's eyes when John does not show and he does not want to cause that look himself. "Hopefully it'll be quick. It's a shifter of some kind. I'll keep you updated."
"You'll call?" he asks, biting at his lip. "I'll -- I don't know who I'm staying with." He takes a sheet of paper out of his bag and scribbles down a few numbers. "One of these places." He wants to ask Dean to call him every day, but he doesn't want to seem needy or clingy. He wants to be as grown up and cool as Dean is.
"Yeah, of course I'll call." He takes the paper, looking it over. "I'll call the school before you get out, okay? Tell me who then." He puts the paper away, giving Sam a worried glance that he quickly covers up. "You be careful, okay? All the same stuff applies. If something happens, call Bobby right away, and then call me."
"I'll be careful. You too." After a moment, he hugs Dean tightly. "I'll see you when you get back. Tell Dad -- " He bites his lip, stopping himself from saying what he wants to say, 'tell Dad I love him'. "Tell him hi for me."
Dean hugs him back for a quick moment, allowing himself the comfort, before stepping back and ruffling his hair. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." He gives him a warm smile. "Will do, kiddo."
"I'll see you when you get back." Sam smiles back at Dean, even accepting the hair ruffle without complaint. "Bring me back something cool."
"Promise," Dean said, grinning at him. "Now go back to your boring class and enjoy yourself, you freak."
"Shut up," he grins back, punching lightly at Dean's shoulder before running back to class.
Dean's laugh follows him. He puts his worry aside and returns to his car, letting the excitement build up again until he is near full to bursting when he reenters their apartment.
"I'm back!" he calls.
John tosses a dufflebag towards Dean, slinging the other over his shoulder. "Sammy okay? You tell him what was going on?" He doesn't like to leave Sam all alone but... Dean needs the training.
Dean caught it easily, nodding as he copied John's motion. "Yeah, he'll be fine. He knows how to take care of himself for a while, and Bobby's only an hour and a half away, if need be, and he knows how to get a hold of us." It had been trained into both of them, the rules, passed from John to Dean to Sam, as instinctual as breathing.
"Good. Let's go, then." He gives Dean the very briefest of smiles before heading out to load up the car. He'd taught his boys well.
Dean gives the Impala a longing look; it always feels like he is cheating on her when he goes with his dad somewhere, climbing up in his big truck. He does it anyway, keeping his dufflebag with him; it is not that he does not trust John's skills at packing, but he knows he would be disappointed in him if he did not go through and inventory what tools he had at his disposal.
"You'll get your baby back soon enough." Dean's affection for the car is amusing, but endearing. John slides into the driver's seat. "She'll be okay without you for a while."
Dean is a bit embarrassed, looking away. He does not like to think that his dad thinks he is sentimental; he has to be tough, and being attached to something so strongly seems to have some sort of weakening stigma to it. He shrugs it off with a non-committal "Yeah."
[Missing Log]
"Do that. Make sure he's with someone, not by himself." He knows Dean could handle himself for a few days alone, but Sammy... well he doesn't want to think about that. He rubs at the back of his neck, marking something in his book before shutting it with a sigh.
Dean walks over to the phone, worried about that himself. He picks up and dials the number of Sam's school, resisting the urge to let it ring once and hang up, like he has been taught to do when calling family.
John stretches out on his back, kicking his shoes off and shifting to watch Dean on the phone. He worries about Sam, when they're away, but maybe he spoils him too much. Protects him too much. He has to grow up and learn about the business sometime, right? Just... not yet.
Dean gets the office to forward him to Sam, pen and paper ready to write down the address and phone number of whoever he is staying with. If he lived a few years later with better access to the internet, he would run criminal checks on the folks, too, but he had to trust Sammy's instincts on this one.
"Your brother okay?" he asks, opening his notebook again in case it might offer something new. Which it doesn't not yet. Maybe after he sleeps on it. Maybe Dean will give him some fresh ideas.
"He's fine. Staying with a friend and his parents. Know about them, they're good people." He only knows about them because he listens to Sam, even when Sam thinks he is just being quiet to be polite, but he is secure in the knowledge, at least. He puts the information aside, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to relax them before flopping onto his bed.
"Good. We'll call him again tomorrow. Check in on him." He sits on the edge of Dean's bed, tossing the notebook at his chest. "You want to take a look, see if you can see anything new." He smiles faintly, brushing his fingers through Dean's hair briefly.
"Sounds good." Dean catches the book, opening it carefully to where John had marked it. He enjoys the feeling of John's fingers in his hair, and looks through the pages to find something that will make him deserve more of it. "Know if the victims said or did anything odd before they died?" he asks from behind the book.
"Thought we could check into that, tomorrow. Ask around, see if anyone heard or saw anything weird. Think you could pull off college journalist again?" His fingers trail down over Dean's jaw before he pulls his hand away and moving back to his own bed.
"Of course. I still have that ugly sweater-vest." He lifts his head, trying his luck with a further idea. "I was thinking, the wounds all seemed really similar- almost too similar to be animal made. Same places on the body, same lengths, that sort of thing. Maybe our shifter's taking human shape. Something that could establish patterns."
"Makes a lot of good sense." John sits, facing Dean, watching him almost curiously. Waiting to see what he comes up with. "Someone the victims could trust..." he offers, then waits to see where Dean takes it.
Dean looks back at the book to mask his nervousness. "A friend, family, or even just - the mail man, or somebody official looking. Kind you'd let into your house even though you didn't know his name."
"Exactly." He smiles wider, pleased. "How could we track it? What signs would we look for?" Dean's learning well, and John's growing more proud of him every day.
Dean stifles the 'um' that rises in his throat, looking through the book intently. "Says here that animals react badly towards them. And- that a lot of shapeshifters can be recognized by their inhuman eyes."
"Okay, sure. We can see if anyone has pets that got spooked. Or some -- paranoid guy with a security camera, maybe. Could've caught the shift in the eyes." Dammit Dean -- one more clue. John will tell him if he can't get it on the next try, but he'll be disappointed.
Dean knows he has not answered the question right by John's reaction; he has gotten good at reading his father's face and tone. He frowns, one of total concentration, looking at the book. "- they- they'd have to be taking /someone's/ place, I mean- even the mail man, they'd have to make sure he wasn't on route-" He bit his lip. "And if he's getting rid of them, he has to have somewhere to take them - look at missing persons, maybe?" He says the last bit almost meekly, having no clue if he is just shooting wind or is onto something.
Well, that's disappointing. John knows Dean can't be right all the time, but still. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "Skin, boy. They leave their skin behind." He stands and grabs his duffle, going into the bathroom to get ready for bed. "Get sleep, we've got an early morning and a long day tomorrow."
Dean does not respond, expression closed. He is severely disappointed with himself, for not catching that, not remembering. He quietly puts the book aside and slips off his jeans, crawling under the covers, all the while thinking about how stupid he was to have forgotten that.