05: Home Is Where The Heart Is

Fandom: Supernatural

Category/Rated: Gen

Year/Length: 2007/~5180 words

Pairing: Sam and Dean

Disclaimer: No profit was made off this. The characters belong the originators of Supernatural. Was all in pure fun.

Warning: Wincest

Summary: "Sit you down, boy, and tell me what the dickens you think you're doing, meddling with things that you shouldn't, and while you're at it, you can tell me what that brother of yours was thinking. I guess he's too chicken to come see me himself?" Missouri's eyes were flashing, and Sam felt his courage plummet.

Series: Supernatural Virtual Slash Season 3

Beta: ailurophile6 for which much thanks.

The sign read, 'Welcome to Lawrence'.

The Impala cruised down the road past the sign that welcomed them to Lawrence, passing trees and houses as suburbia beckoned. The city spread out before them, but only one of the brothers seemed eager to get there. Sam had no idea why Dean wanted to go home to Lawrence, but he, Sam, wanted to go and see Missouri Mosely. Dean had been trying to come up with an excuse for not going with him. It had taken him from San Antonio, Texas all the way to Lawrence to come up with one, and it still wasn't good enough.

Dean just knew that the moment Missouri saw him, he would be smacked on the back of the head for what he'd done and then again for what he wanted from his brother. She could read him like a book - a kiddie's book in big print with pictures, and that made Dean nervous, because of all the thoughts that rattled around in his head.

First they found a motel. Dean checked them in and got their stuff unloaded. Chores done, he settled himself on the bed to clean the guns, keeping his mind busy and off any other thoughts as if Missouri could read them all right from here. "You know," Dean started. "I was thinking..." there was a pause. "Might drive by the old house, check on Jenny and see if everything is still rosy, you know." It was a good excuse, and he hoped it worked on Jenny, too, or Sam was gonna be breaking him out of jail again. And that would probably have Hendricksen creaming his well-pressed, black FBI pants.

"Good idea." Sam brightened up. He'd been trying to think of a way to go and see Missouri without Dean in attendance. "Why don't you pay her a visit, while I go see Missouri? I know you don't much care for the way she treats you, like you're still only five years old. I just want to get her to translate a passage for me, if she can, and then I'm good to go."

Dean looked up from the gun he was cleaning. Usually the smell of gun oil, and the actions of tearing apart and putting the guns back together, comforted him and prevented him from thinking too much. Still, when Sam spoke, Dean almost felt like yelling and throwing the gun at Sam. His brother was keeping something from him, and the mention of a passage only confirmed it. "Passage? What passage? Can't you get Bobby to do that? This better not be about me! I told you before; you can't." He didn't need to mention the deal. Sam would know what he meant.

"Why do you think that everything automatically has to be about you?" Sam went on the offensive straight away, hoping that Dean would be sidetracked into an argument. "If Missouri doesn't know, I'll ask Bobby, right? But given that we're here in Lawrence, and Missouri is here in Lawrence, and Bobby ain't, I don't see much of a contest, do you? Besides, I like Missouri even if you don't, and I want to go see her. You can come with me, or you can stay away; I'm not making you go where you don't want to go, but you can't expect me not to go see her, when we're right here, dude."

"Because..." Dean was about to argue but then closed his mouth. "Fine, whatever. Go see her. Tell her I'm out of her reach. I don't want to be hit with a wooden spoon, 'cos you know she will just take one look at me and let me have it." He went back to cleaning the guns. "I don't much feel like hearing speeches, either." Dean knew what he'd done for Sam was right, and he'd accepted it even if everyone else around him hadn't.

"Don't you like being hit with a spoon?" Sam was laughing as he spoke. "Dude, I thought that you were into a little kink from time to time. You disappoint me." He snickered. "Guess you prefer something slightly more exotic, huh?"

He sat back on the edge of the bed and studied Dean, watching the way his hands moved, admiring the dexterity with which his brother worked each gun, not even needing to look at what he was doing. "So did you want me to go find food while you're doing that, or should we head out together when you're done?"

"Go find some food, I'll stay here and finish this up. I want to sharpen the knives too." Dean answered, looking at Sam as he put a gun back together and set it aside. "And no Chinese, I'm tired of it."

"Sure," said Sam, rising to his feet. "Any idea what you want to eat? There's that Italian place that was pretty good last time we were here, or I could see if there's a decent burger joint, if you wanna go lowbrow." He fumbled in his boot to pull out his knife and tossed it onto Dean's bed. "There's a pretty good edge on that, but if you want to give it a once-over, I did use it the other day to... to open a package."

"Burger, double bacon and cheese, with extra onions," Dean nodded. He took the knife and looked it over. "Dude, you shouldn't use this to open a package." He set it aside and pulled out his own, laying it down beside Sam's. Rising to his feet, he fetched the whetstone, returning to the bed with the oil. "Well, chop chop." He tossed Sam the keys to the Impala.

"If you're gonna keep going heavy on the extra onions, man, you're gonna have to start getting us separate rooms. You produce enough gas to fuel the space shuttle." Sam snickered as he made for the door, ignoring the black look his brother shot after him.

Returning later, he produced cardboard cartons for Dean containing the requested burger, fries and onion rings too, passing it over without comment and going to sit at the table with his own pork chop, mashed potatoes and greens. "I found a mom and pop type diner that does dinners. I got the blue plate special because it doesn't have any onions in it at all. Maybe compensating will help the global warming you're producing."

Dean took a big bite from his burger as he sat amongst the weapons and merely flipped Sam off as he was chewing. "Dude, you should have gotten one of these. Man, this is the best." Dean held up the burger before taking another bite. He wiped his hand on his jeans and pushed a gun aside. "And also you need to clean your gun more often."

"I guess." Sam grunted as he dug into his food. "I'm kinda tired of burgers. They're food, I guess, but I really wanted something different. I keep on thinking I'd like plain home cooking for a change. No fast food, no fancy foreign stuff, just things that mom would've made for us, if she hadn't died."

He watched Dean for a while and smiled to see his brother digging into his choices as if he was starving. "You know, dude, you really ought to be on TV ads for food. I never saw anyone enjoy crappy fast food so visibly in my life. You'd be a great model, if you just learned some table manners!"

Dean just glowered at his brother. Home cooked meals were what Dean loved the most. He missed his mom's cooking. He remembered it, although Sam did not. Hiding his feelings behind his meal, he dove into it with more gusto. "Yeah, well, food is food, and it's meant to be enjoyed." He paused, then spoke around a mouthful. "And this is not crappy."

"That's okay, man. You're enjoying your food, and I'm enjoying mine. Just sayin', that if you want, we can go there tomorrow and have lunch, or breakfast, or whatever you want, and you'll love whatever you have. They do the real deal. Home cooked food." Sam returned to his dinner, consuming it with every evidence of relish. "So when did you want to go by the old homestead, anyway?" He looked sad for a moment. "Too bad that mom isn't there any more. It might have been really nice to... I dunno - maybe feel a little closer to her."

Dean had tried to ignore Sam and his mumblings about food choices, but then Sam brought up the touchy subject that was always a hot button for him. He looked up, willing Sam to shut up. "You go do whatever with Missouri, I'll stay here," Dean answered at last, not wanting to reveal too much of what he wanted to do. "I'll do a drive by of the old house. Maybe you can get Missouri to tell you about mom too, so I don't have to waste gas." There! That should throw Sam off, he thought. "Sooner we get out of here, the better."

The words made Sam frown and cast a considering, sideways glance at his brother. He wondered why Dean had wanted to come if he now couldn't wait to get out of the place. Shrugging, he decided that Dean would tell him eventually, or he'd find out some other way. He took another bite of his food and then set his fork down. "Dude, if you want to go by the old house, you should go. I wish you'd tell me what's bothering you though. I could use a little togetherness right now."

Dean studied Sam and then looked down, returning to his onion rings. It was gonna be a long night; he could already feel it. "It's just that the last time I was here, none of this was real. Okay? I just... want to make sure it still hasn't changed."

And Sam suddenly remembered the Djinn, and the perfect life Dean had given up to come back to reality and continue his fight against evil. He felt his own callousness like a kick in the stomach and wondered if Dean would be able to forgive him for his lack of sensitivity. "Dude, I forgot about that. Hell, I'm really sorry; I just didn't think..."

Suddenly his food didn't seem that tasty any more, and he pushed it away half eaten. "Guess I'll shut up now," he said, rising to his feet.

Dean smiled reluctantly. "Usually the other way around huh?" He got up to throw away what was left of his own food, not really wanting it any more. "Let's just hit the hay, get an early start tomorrow, okay?" He headed for the bathroom to wash up.

Nodding glumly, Sam rummaged through his bag to find his toiletries. He felt stupid, and he hoped that Dean would forget his faux pas soon. Later, as he climbed into bed, he couldn't help gazing sadly at his brother. He had to get him free of his pledge to the demon; the alternative was completely unthinkable. Missouri would help; she had to.

Dean was up early in the morning. He'd made coffee in the pot that was provided with the room and was rapidly out of the door bearing his dose of life-giving caffeine. Sam could catch a cab to Missouri's and make the woman drive him back, because he was taking the car. No sooner had he thought that than he was heading out down the familiar roads on the way to the house that had been his family home.

Pulling up, Dean slowed the car and parked across the street and sat, staring at the house. Jenny, or whoever owned it now, had already left for work; the house was empty, lifeless and looked nothing like in his wish. He knew he should be thankful for that, but sadness still washed over him. In his head memories were playing. He could see himself and his mom playing in the yard. She was chasing him around, and he was screaming, laughing in glee as his father pulled up in the driveway and joined in, hoisting Dean up onto his father's back while Mary and John kissed hello, and then he was tugged off and tickled.

Those were happier times.

Dean wished desperately that he could have those times back.

He got out of the car and went across to the house, studying it. He remembered Missouri telling Sam she couldn't feel their mom any more. She'd told him that nothing was left of her, but he had to be sure. EMF in hand, Dean broke into the house through the back and began to walk around, peering into rooms and closets, longing for a positive response from the EMF.

Sam, in the meantime, had seen Dean drive off and shrugged philosophically. Setting out to walk, he made his way to the little house where Missouri lived and knocked on the door.

The lady in question flung open the door almost as Sam was knocking, leaving him standing looking foolish with his knuckles raised.

"Sam Winchester, get your ass in here right now." The portly, little black woman was frowning as she stepped aside so he could enter.

Moving ahead of her, Sam made his way into the little living room he remembered so well.

"Sit you down, boy, and tell me what the dickens you think you're doing, meddling with things that you shouldn't, and while you're at it, you can tell me what that brother of yours was thinking. I guess he's too chicken to come see me himself?" Missouri's eyes were flashing, and Sam felt his courage plummet.

"He shouldn't have done what he did, Missouri, and I have to save him. Dean never did an evil thing in his life; he doesn't deserve to go to hell." He gave her the puppy-dog eyes he was so good at. "He can't go to hell for me. I won't let it happen."

"You know that you're going against his wishes, don't you, boy?" She was still looking grim, but Sam held his ground, head up and defiance flashing from his eyes.

"I can't let him do that for me. I can't do without him. I love him." He closed his eyes briefly, pain that was far too personal to share flicking through him. "I already told him, if he has to go, I go with him. I'm not staying behind if he takes a fall for me."

Missouri shook her head at Sam, "Neither one of you listens to the other. You're just like your father was." She wiggled her fingers, "Give it here before it bursts out of your pocket, boy." As Sam jumped and hastily fished out the packet he had brought with him, she took it from him. "And I know you love him," She shot a look at him, "But your brother is not a saint, Sam. He's a lot like your father. You both are. And what he did." She shook her head.

"Dean has done some things you don't know about, Sam." She sighed as she read over the paper, then got up and went to take down a book from the shelf behind her and proceeded to look through it. "This is gonna take a while. Have some tea. Better for you than that mud water your family gulps down." She sighed again, looking over at Sam, "You know, your brother is tired. He's done so much for you and your daddy. He's given a lot of himself. He's not gonna be happy, Sam. Not happy at all."

"My brother is not even thirty years old, yet." Sam's voice was cold as he answered her. "I know he's no angel; he's just a man, but he isn't any ordinary man. There aren't many people who would willingly give up what he's given up just to save people he doesn't even know. There aren't many people who would have given up their fucking life to save someone else. Dean's a kind man, and he's far more deserving of heaven than anyone else that I know." He stopped speaking and looked at her, his eyes wide. "You are going to help him, aren't you? You don't believe he should go to hell for me, do you?"

"No, I don't believe he should, but you need to stop idolizing him. You need to stand on your own." She was making notes at the same time. "Your brother has enough of his own demons inside him to fight, he doesn't need these outward ones." She handed him the paper. "Well, whereever this came from, you found something old and powerful. I don't know who told you where it was, but that there is all I can do. You need to go see a shaman. You know what that is?"

"I know what a shaman is, yes." Sam was looking at the notes she'd made, and he felt a little leap of hope quickening in his breast as he read her words. "So there actually is this... this crystal somewhere that will save him?" he asked her.

"If you follow the instructions yes. And get it blessed by the shaman. But Sam, whatever you do, make sure you give him what he never gave you: a choice. Just don't go do this behind his back. You give him that choice. Your father didn't give him one, and he didn't give you one either. You break that chain for me, you hear?"

"But..." Sam looked stricken. "What if he decides to die after all? I don't want him to burn in hell for eternity. He doesn't deserve that." For a moment he looked as if he were about to cut and run, but then he suddenly broke, put his face in his hands and began to sob.

"Sam," She got up and walked over, rubbing his back. "Your brother loves you. I think he loves you more than he should, but don't deprive him of that choice. You have to accept his decision. You have to respect it. I know it will hurt, but if I know your brother, and I remember him when he was just to your knees, he won't leave your side, unless you tell him to."

"I know," said Sam, looking up, his woebegone face red and tear stained. "I know he won't, but I'm scared." Sam scrubbed at his eyes and sniffed in his attempt to compose himself. "How do I find this crystal? Will the shaman have it, or will I have to get hold of it first and bring it to him to activate it?" He hugged himself as he looked up at Missouri. "He came back here to Lawrence, because he wanted to say goodbye. That's what he's doing right now, just driving round letting go of everything."

Missouri frowned, "I think you'll know when you get there." She rubbed his back. "I know you worry about him, Sam, but let Dean do what he needs to. Let him say his goodbyes. If the feeling I get from you is true, he needs to believe - to find his faith. He has to. Sam, you will take care of him."

Nodding rapidly, Sam began to feel better. He lifted his eyes to look at Missouri and gave her a watery smile. "Yeah. You're right; I know it. I'll do what you say, because..." He took a deep breath. "Because he's been forced into every choice he ever made, and he deserves better; he deserves respect."

Rising to his feet, Sam pulled the little woman into a hug, enveloping her in his arms almost as if she were a child. "Thank you," he murmured. "You've helped more than you could possibly know."

Dean had left the house. It was clean. Empty. He knew just how that felt. He'd hoped against all hope that there would be traces of his mom left, but the house was nearly as they'd seen it a couple of years ago when they'd saved Jenny and her kids. There were more toys lying around, but it was clear that Jenny was dating, and there were no ghosts that he could discover.

He sat outside in the car for a long while, just staring at the house, remembering the wish that the djinn had granted for him, picturing his mom opening the door, the look on her face, the light upon it making her glow. He longed to see his mom again.

Dean finally leaned forward and started the car, "Let's go, baby. It's probably be the last time we'll ever see her... together like this." He took one more look at the house where he'd been born and then slowly pulled away. As he drove the house got smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror, and he felt his chest tighten. He drove aimlessly along the streets. People were all going about their business, and Dean briefly wondered what each person was doing, where they were going, and if they were wondering the same thing about him. Without any intention of doing so, he found himself driving past the garage that had been his father's place of work, and he could see that it seemed to be thriving. He felt a lump form in his throat at the thought that in another lifetime his father would still have been running that.

Finding himself himself at the cemetery, a place he'd thought he would never see again, Dean stopped the car near where he'd parked it the last time he'd visited. He sat there for a long while, staring, scared to move.

Several times he attempted to get out of the car, but couldn't get any further than to touch the door handle. Finally, he steeled himself, pushed the door open, and wandered over. For a while, he hovered, indecisive. He approached, then stopped, fifty feet from his mom's headstone, and turned to head back, thinking how stupid the whole idea was. He stopped again, looking back, drawing closer with each turn 'til finally he stood before the stone.

He looked down at the ground where Sam had buried their father's dog tags, crouching down, to touch the ground. "I'm sorry. The last time I was here I didn't..." Dean couldn't believe he was talking to a headstone. "I can't believe I'm doing this." He shook his head, moved as if to pull away, but then his hand touched the headstone. "God, Mom, I miss you so much." He ran his hand over his mother's name, his eyes prickling with tears.

"None of this should have happened. You should be alive. So should Dad. Sammy should be normal. And me..." Dean looked up. "I'm dying, mom. And not from some mortal disease. I... I did what I had to do. I did it because it was the right thing to do. I couldn't... I couldn't let him die. I couldn't let you down. I couldn't let Dad down. I had to do it, Mom. I hope you can forgive me." Dean ran his hand over the stone. "I'm just setting things right. Dad should have never..." He felt a tear fall. "Mommy," Dean trembled. "I love you. Bye, Mom."

Pushing himself up to his feet, Dean wiped the tears away and turned at last to head back to his car.

Sam had started on his way back to the motel, and was passing the small church where his parents' headstones had been placed. He wondered if he should go and see them, and finally decided that it would be a way of helping clear his head to spend time close beside the grave of the mother he'd never known. Turning to enter the churchyard, he made his way around the building and out into the graveyard. When he spotted the Impala, parked under a tree alongside the cemetery, he raised his eyebrows but said nothing as he spotted his brother making his way back toward it.

Dean looked defeated, and Sam felt the cold clench of fear in the pit of his stomach as he watched the older man approach. Dean had given up; he was sure of it, and that made him want to scream. Putting a determined smile on his face, he turned and began to move toward his brother.

For once, Dean wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. With each step, his heart grew heavier. He glanced back over his shoulder through misty eyes before drawing a deep breath and heading toward the Impala. His green eyes swam with moisture, and his lashes were wet from tears, making him blink rapidly to keep them from falling. He wiped his nose as he reached for the car door.

Without saying a word, Sam ran the last few yards to arrive at the car just as Dean got there. He said nothing, merely drew up beside the passenger's door and leaned on the car, looking over it at his brother.

He wished he could help Dean, that there was something he could say that would make things all right. He knew that Dean wouldn't want him to say anything, and that there was little he could do other than wait for his brother to want to turn to him. Silently, he climbed into the Impala and took his place, waiting to see what Dean might want.

Dean jerked his head up when he saw Sam, then licked his lips and just pulled open the door. "I don't pick up hitch-hikers but in your case..." Dean leaned over, starting the car. "What are you doing here?"

"Dude, I was walking back to the motel and decided to come see Mom..." He winced at his choice of words and then looked at Dean, meeting his eyes. "I mean, her... you know what I mean."

Dean didn't say anything as he put the car in drive and slowly pulled way. He simply sniffed and nodded, making his way back to the motel. "So how was your visit with Missouri?"

"It was... enlightening," said Sam, smiling wryly. "She's got a way of cutting out all the bullshit, you know?" He laughed and shook his head. "She threatened me with violence a couple times. It was quite comforting how some things never change."

"I suppose she said I was avoiding her." Of course Dean was avoiding her, and he knew it. He hadn't want to hear any speeches about what he'd done. He'd had enough of those from Bobby and Ellen, and Sam, of course. He flopped down upon the bed as soon as they entered their room, crossing his ankles and placing his hands behind his head as if he were never going to move again.

"Not really," said Sam, taking a seat at the table by the window. "She seemed to know all the stuff that went down, and she didn't say a word of blame about you. She did make one comment about you being too chicken to go see her for yourself, but she didn't seem really as though she was angry. She was sad more than anything, I think." He rose to his feet and went to start the coffee maker in the corner, not needing to ask his brother if he needed a cup.

Dean shrugged, "Call me chicken, at least my legs don't look it like yours," Dean smirked, trying to up his own mood. He pushed up from the bed, grabbing a cup and leaning against the small counter. "I should go see her, huh?"

"If you want. You never know what she might tell you." Sam smiled at him. "She's fond of you, you know. She's fond of us both; it's just in her nature to scold. She was scolding me almost before she had the door open, and she didn't stop until she shut it again behind me when I left." He chuckled ruefully. "At least she didn't threaten to hit me with a spoon, but she made me drink this disgusting herbal tea stuff. Told me it was good for me."

Dean looked at Sam as he poured the coffee. "Yeah, like herbal tea is good for you. Reading your fortune, or future, or other stuff like that is one thing, but drinking, no way. You'd better flush your system with coffee, just to be on the safe side." Dean poured a cup for Sam and pushed it at him. "I think if I went to see her she'd meet me at the curb with a wooden spoon, and she wouldn't stop hitting me till I left. No, dude, that's something I can do without."

Accepting the coffee with a grunt of thanks, Sam gazed at his brother, his eyes alight with laughter at the thought of the diminutive Missouri terrorizing his large, very muscular brother. "Maybe," he murmured, lips quirked in a smile. "But you know that she's doing it to hide how she really feels about you. She's like you, dude. Try and tap into her feelings and she gets cranky. It's a defense mechanism, and you just have to learn to live with it - like I have."

"Yeah, well, whatever. We're leaving town tomorrow morning anyway. I wanna go see what's up with Bobby, see if he got those bulbs for the car too." Dean nodded in sipping his coffee.

"Yeah, okay." Sam was hoping that Bobby would have repaired the colt, because if the worst came to the worst, when the hellhounds came for Dean, he was going to stand between them and him and shoot the fuckers. "So what would you like to do this evening?"

"Same thing we do every night, Pinky, try and take over the world," Dean smiled, his eyes crinkling up, and when Sam gave him a blank look, he laughed. "You know, the two lab mice, one is smart the other is... Never mind." He walked over and sat back down on his bed. "I don't know. Whatever you want."

"Yeah, well, might as well stay here and catch up on sleep,” murmured Sam. "Don't think Lawrence is known for it's trendy nightclubs and sparkling entertainment. He watched Dean arrange himself on the pillows and turned to face him, frowning.

"So what about you, anyway? Where did you go while I was talking to Missouri? You went to the house?" Sam watched his brother, narrowly. "What was there? Anything?" He held his breath, awaiting Dean's answer, wondering what he might say. "Was Mom really gone? Did you see her?"

He knew what the response would be before Dean answered, but he had to ask, and even though he was sure that the answer would be no, there was still a tiny little burst of hope in his belly that Dean might have seen her, and that it might have given him peace.

Dean looked at his brother; he didn't have to say anything, his expression said it all. Sadness, loss of hope, and loneliness.

Back: Episode 04 –|– Next: Episode 06

---

| Back to My Stories –|– Email Dr. Ruthless |