“The kid lied straight to his face.”
“Oh, Baby.”
Dean was too happy to see his car to care that he looked like a crazy person as he ran his hands over every inch of Baby’s hood. “He didn’t hurt you, did he, Baby? I will KILL HIM!”
Just when Dean had been checking out Andrew Gallagher’s van and thinking he was a cool dude, BAM! The little fucker pulled some jedi mind control shit and asked Dean if he could take the Impala for a drive.
Dean remembered thinking it was a great idea and just handing over his keys. Then Andrew climbed in, drove off, and as soon as he was out of sight, Dean was himself again and freaking out about the car.
Andrew was a dick and Dean was kicking his ass if he so much as moved a mirror, but he wasn’t a thief. He left the car parked right in front of the police station, the keys still in it.
“You’re kind of in love with your car, aren’t you?” Harry asked curiously. “Michaela had a song on her phone about a bloke who was in love with his car. I bet he didn’t love his car nearly as much as you do.”
Dean glanced over at where Harry was rocking on his heels, hands in his pockets, shaking like a hyper chihuahua.
“Don’t quote Queen to me,” Dean told him, rolling his eyes even if his lips twitched in a laugh. “No more coffee for you either, Jesus.”
The kid could have been hyped up over watching someone get smashed by a car, but Dean didn’t think Harry would admit it even if Dean asked. By the time Dean found his car and his brothers, Sam was chatting up the coroner to find out about the victim and Harry was staring at the pool of blood on the ground.
Sam was still talking to the coroner in front of the police station while Dean did inventory on his car. Around the time Dean was sure that Andrew just drove it and parked it, Sam strolled back over to them.
“The victim was the town doctor, Doctor Jennings,” Sam reported. “No connection that I can find to Andrew, but it’s a small town so it’s probably there somewhere.”
“Or,” Dean said sarcastically, “Andy isn’t our guy.”
Even if he was a mind-controlling dick, Andy didn’t seem like a cold-blooded killer, and Dean had met plenty of those. The dude lived in a sweet ass van that had a queen battling an army from the back of a polar bear painted on the side, for fucks sake.
“Dean, he’s our guy,” Sam said.
“Mm, I bet he’s innocent,” Harry chimed in, still talking way too quickly.
Dean knew he shouldn’t have left the kid with Sam. Sam lived off coffee and he was going to get the kid hooked on the crap and then Dean was going to have two insomniac, coffee-addicted, pain in the ass brothers instead of just one. Worse, they would be insomniac, coffee-addicted, pain in the ass brothers that didn’t eat regular meals and sided with each other all the time.
Except then, because Harry was shockingly taking Dean’s side.
“You think the doc just decided to kill himself and it happened to be right after he got off the phone in a town with a guy that can control minds?” Sam asked Harry, apparently comfortable enough or stressed enough to argue with the kid already.
“What if…” Harry paused for a dramatic moment before he held up two fingers. “There’s two people that can control minds in town?”
Unless Harry was one of them, even Dean had to admit that was far-fetched.
“What if we don’t let you have any more espresso?” Sam threw back at him, carefully plucking the styrofoam to-go cup out of Harry’s hands.
“That was mine,” Harry said, gaping when Sam drank the rest of it and tossed it with perfect aim in the trash can on the corner.
“It was cold,” Sam told him before looking at Dean and raising a brow. “You said that Andrew obi wan kanobi’d you,” he reminded him, quoting the exact phrase Dean used when he called to warn Sam. “And now you think it’s a coincidence that the doctor was in my vision and then made himself a stain on the pavement?”
No.
Yes.
Dean didn’t know.
All Dean knew was that the last person that had powers like Sam wound up being an evil little bastard that tried to shoot Dean between his eyes. And if Andrew Gallagher, who lived in a sweet van and parked Dean’s car in probably the safest spot in town, was an evil bastard then - then —
“You have to kill him.”
— then Dean didn’t know what he’d do because Dean couldn’t - wouldn’t - kill Sam.
“I don’t know,” Dean said. “But I’m telling you, this guy doesn’t seem like a killer, Sam.”
“Most people don’t,” Harry chimed in. Dean couldn’t tell whose side he was on anymore or if the kid was just sleep-deprived, over caffeinated, and rambling.
“It’s always the ones you never suspect,” Harry went on, both of his brothers watching him with slow grins of amusement on their faces. “I knew a bloke once, he was evil. And,” Harry looked at them both, one at a time, real serious, “he had a stutter.”
“Nobody with a stutter can be a killer,” Dean disagreed, having the kid on. “That’s Hunter 101.”
“You’re wrooong,” Harry said, all sing-song and annoying. “He tried to kill me, though I suppose he wasn’t stuttering anymore. Oi! Is that Andrew?”
Dean didn’t know if he liked hyper-Harry or not. Dean definitely had some questions about the second time Harry mentioned someone trying to kill him, but the kid pointed across the street and Dean saw that he was right.
Andrew Gallagher walked slowly down the sidewalk, his hands in the pocket of the Hefner-esque robe he wore, his head ducked. The guy didn’t look like a killer at all, he looked like a slacker who was just living it up. Well, actually he looked kind of down then, but Dean still liked his style.
Dean still had to believe that Andrew wasn’t a killer because Dean had to believe that Sam would never be a killer. Not of people anyway.
“That’s the guy that stole your car?” Sam said, scoffing. “Dude… He looks like he smokes weed and watches anime out of his parents basement.”
“Mind control,” Dean reminded Sam in a hiss. “It’s freaking mind control.”
“Let’s go,” Sam said, already opening the passenger door of the Impala. “Follow him.”
They took some side streets, staying out of view, as they followed Andrew back to the docks where his van was parked. Dean smirked in a ‘told you so’ way when Harry laughed at the sight of Andrew’s van.
“Now that car? I’d be in love with that car,” Harry said, nodding in agreement with himself. “He lives in there? I could live in a van.”
“Nobody’s moving in a van,” Dean told him. “But it’s sweet as hell on the inside, Harry. He’s got shag carpet, a flat screen. Hell, I’m jealous.”
A place like that would have made living on the road suck a lot less. Plus there was no way Andy wasn’t bringing babes ‘home’, Dean saw the box of condoms in the back.
“Can you guys focus?” Sam asked, tired bitch voice in full effect.
The kid got as hyper on espresso as Sam did bitchy.
“Focus on what?” Dean asked, slumping down in his seat with the van in full view. “We’re wasting our time, Sam.”
“He pulled some mind control stunt to steal your car, Dean,” Sam said sarcastically. “I think that warrants a conversation.”
Dean huffed, but Sam wasn’t wrong about a conversation. Dean just hoped he was wrong about Andrew being their guy.
They sat out in the car for an hour, just watching the van and waiting on Andrew to emerge.
Dean and Sam had another argument after the first twenty minutes when Sam wondered out-loud what connection Andrew had to the demon. Dean might as well have been talking to their dad for as much as his argument that they didn’t know for sure that Andrew had any connection to the demon did.
Yeah, all the arrows and the psychic vision crap pointed that way, but it wasn’t a definite.
Harry had rolled down the window behind Dean’s seat and had his head resting on the sill as he blinked and looked bored out of his mind.
“Favorite Spice Girl?” Dean asked randomly, trying to think of something to keep the kid from running and diving off the dock out of boredom.
“What? Like oregano?” Harry asked, lifting his head when Dean asked him that.
Even Sam laughed at that and Dean wondered again about what rock the kid lived under.
“The band,” Dean said. “You know, Sporty Spice, Baby Spice?”
“No idea,” Harry said. “Another thing we have in common, clearly.”
“What?” Sam looked from Dean to Harry, pinching his eyebrows together. “You guys are trying to find shit you have in common?”
And failing, Dean thought.
“And failing,” Harry said.
“Dude.” Sam looked at Dean. “Dude.” Sam looked in the back at Harry. “You two are like the same freaking person.”
“No we aren’t,” Dean and Harry said simultaneously, making all three of them grin.
That was all Dean needed; normal, stupid, brother shit. Dean didn’t need to live for duty to protecting people he didn’t know and who didn’t care about him from monsters. Dean had been a hero, and what did he get from it?
Dean could be normal, fucking boring even, and he could have his family.
“I think we’ve been spotted,” Harry suddenly said. When Dean whipped his head over to look out the window, he saw the kid’s warning came a few seconds too late and Andrew Gallagher was storming directly to them.
The dude did not look happy.
“You again?” Andrew demanded, bending down to glare in Dean’s open window. “Are you following me?!”
“No,” Dean lied automatically. “I came to—”
“Tell me the truth.”
“We aren’t lying,” Sam insisted.
They were, but why? Dean felt his mind go soft and floaty, like the one time he’d been high. Why was Dean lying? He should just be honest. Yeah, that was exactly what he’d do.
Sam was in the middle of his spiel about not following Andrew when Dean interrupted with the truth.
“I’m Dean,” Dean told Andrew. “These are my brothers, Sam and Harry. We hunt monsters, you know, those things that most people would hide from? Anyway, Sam thinks you’re a killer with a connection to a demon and that we’re going to have to kill you. I really hope not, but honestly I’m starting to worry he’s right and that you’re all evil.”
As soon as the words were out of Dean’s mouth, the fog in his brain disappeared and Sam was giving him a horrified look. Andrew’s eyes went buggy and he slowly turned his head to look at Harry.
“Is he telling the truth?” Andrew asked him. “Be honest.”
The kid didn’t even hesitate.
“Your Aunt Marjorie died,” Harry told him, cool as could be. “I’m sorry for your loss, but I think you got a lot of inheritance money, if it’s any consolation. I think you should stay in your van, but you could buy a house now!”
How the fuck did the kid…?
Andrew didn’t believe the kid, he screamed at them to leave him alone and then started running away.
“Dude!” Sam smacked Dean in the chest before jumping from the car and chasing after him. “Wait there!” Sam ordered over his shoulder as he ran.
Like Dean wanted to chase after the dude with mind-controlling mojo. Mind-controlling mojo that Sam was clearly immune to… and Harry.
Dean turned around in his seat so he could stare at his brother that had headaches, a shady past, resisted Andrew’s powers, and wasn’t Sam.
“This is embarrassing,” Harry said with a strained smile. “I didn’t actually realize that you were going to call Sam evil, you see. I probably wouldn’t have agreed with you anyway because I happen to like Sam, but we should coordinate next time.”
The kid was nervous and rambling, his hand was on the door handle and Dean wasn’t sure what was keeping him from bolting until he gave himself away with a flick of his eyes. Dean didn’t need to look at where Harry’s eyes went to realize what it was, it was Dean’s pistol sitting in the cup holder.
“The good news is we all gave him entirely different stories so I bet he’s rather confused. But Sam might need help so I should…”
“Hey! Wait!”
Harry threw open the car door and fucking ran. Dean swore and didn’t spare his pistol a second glance before climbing out and chasing after him.
The good news was Harry ran in the direction where Dean could hear Andrew and Sam yelling at each other. The really freaking bad news was that the kid apparently seemed to think Dean was likely to put a bullet in his head.
Harry turned a corner in an alley and Dean was gaining on the fast little fucker. Sam and Andrew were blocking the middle of the alley, but Dean didn’t pay them any attention until Sam suddenly dropped to the ground.
Then the chase was over. Dean screamed Sam’s name and ran to him, kneeling beside him and recognizing the twisting of Sam’s face, the way his hand clutched his forehead.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
Dean had his hands on Sam and whispered meaningless words to him, letting him know he was okay, Dean had him, he was fine.
Harry ran up to Andrew and slammed the man against the side of the building they were beside. For a scrawny ass kid, Harry was all jacked up on espresso and pissed for Sam.
Sure, Harry thought Dean was going to kill him, but Sam got little protective brother fury. That totally seemed fair.
“Nothing!” Andrew cried, his eyes watching Sam, not as scared of the kid as Dean thought he should be.
Harry had a nasty kick, if nothing else.
“We were talking and he just dropped!” Andrew said. It was probably the truth, Dean had seen Sam in the middle of enough visions to know what they looked like. If it was, then Sam should be—
Sam kicked his legs out and gasped. Dean kept a firm pressure on his shoulders, not letting him bolt upright immediately.
“Calm down, I got you,” Dean said. “Just— Christ, Sammy, you’re bleeding.”
Sam was bleeding from his eyes. And Dean wasn’t a doctor, but any dumbass with a GED knew that wasn’t a sign of excellent health.
“Dean, Dean, you gotta go, you gotta save her.” Sam fought to sit up and he rubbed his hand over his eyes, smearing the bloody tears across his face. “He’s going to kill her, a woman.”
“I’m not killing anyone,” Andrew said when Sam pointed directly at him. The guy was still being held hostage by a fourteen year old, Dean didn’t think he was a real threat.
“Marathon gas station, ten miles outside of town,” Sam told Dean, his fist pressed hard against his forehead. “She’s in a red Dodge Neon, blonde hair. I’ll stay here and watch him.”
“I… son of a bitch.” The last thing Dean wanted to do was leave Sam behind with someone who might be ganking innocent people off one by one, but he didn’t have a lot of choices at the moment.
“You, car,” Dean snapped at Harry after helping Sam up. Ten miles outside of town was plenty of time to get one straight answer from the kid and for Dean to let him know that he’d eat a bullet before he fired one at either of his brothers.
“I’ll stay with Sam,” Harry said quickly, shifting so his back was to Andrew and he could stare at Sam with big pleading ‘don’t make me go with the scary one’ eyes.
“You damn well won’t,” Dean bit out, hating how much like Dad he sounded just then. Sam must have heard it too because his knee-jerk reaction was the same as it had been his entire life when Dad gave them orders.
“You’re wasting time,” Sam argued at Dean. “Just go, Harry can stay here.”
“God damnit!” Dean yelled. He pointed at Harry, then at Sam. “We are having a real long talk tonight,” he warned them.
It was going to include ‘why was Harry immune to the mind-control fuckery?’ and ‘no more ganging up on Dean when he gives orders’. Oh, and apparently, ‘don’t look at my gun when you’re nervous’.
Because that didn’t feel exactly great.
“What’s his problem?” Andrew asked as Dean ran off back to his car.
“No idea,” Harry answered, clearly more relaxed when Dean was leaving.
A long, long, talk. On their way to California.
Dean was wound up tighter than ever as he tore out of town, breaking every speed limit as he raced to the gas station Sam told him to go to. The entire case was bullshit and Dean never should have let Sam convince him to take it.
What they should have done is ran in the opposite direction of the case. All the case was doing was ruining everything and bringing up a lot of questions Dean didn’t like not having answers to.
Why was Harry immune to the mind-control crap? Sam made sense, as much as Dean hated admitting it. Whatever gave Max his powers, Andrew his, had given Sam the same type of power.
And, yeah, it seemed a lot like it had been a demon, but that didn’t mean Andrew was evil, Sam certainly wasn’t. Sam was a big old softie, he still cried when Bambi died.
Sam couldn’t go dark side, he just couldn’t. Hell, Dean was more likely to snap and kill a bunch of folks than Sam.
Not his brothers though, Dean wouldn’t kill them and screw Harry for thinking so. Dean wasn’t all warm and fuzzy like Sam, but he sure as hell didn’t think he did anything to make Harry worry about being in a car with him and a .45.
It was bullshit.
The entire case was bullshit. The way Andrew had Dean spilling his guts was bullshit. The hurt look Sam gave Dean after Dean spilled his guts was bullshit.
And, when Dean pulled up to the gas station just in time to see a blonde woman stand beside a red Dodge Neon and light herself on fire, that was bullshit too.
“I need you to run a plate.”
Dean spent half an hour on scene, flashing a badge and getting the information on the crispy fried victim. The gas station clerk watched her talk on the phone before dousing herself with gas from the pump and lighting herself on fire. Dean didn’t get a name, but he did get her license plates which was enough to go on to find a link to Andrew or the doctor that offer himself earlier.
The woman was the only casualty from the fire, but the clerk was going to be in the hospital for a while.
Dean called Bobby after he did Sam. Sam said he was with Andrew the whole time and the guy never touched a phone, which dropped him pretty damn low on the list of suspects unless he could control people without even talking to them.
Once they knew who the woman was, they could have something to go on and work it like any other case.
“Plates come up with a Holly Beckett,” Bobby said, taking no time to run the plates. “You need an address?”
“No need, she’s dead,” Dean said bluntly. “I do need anything you have on her though, can you email it to Sam?”
“Suppose so,” Bobby agreed. “You boys catch a case?”
“Something like that,” Dean said. He sighed and had a brief second where he thought driving his car off the bridge would be less of a headache than the shit storm he was once again involved in.
“You still got Harry with you?”
“No, Bobby, I thought having a kid around was too much work so I traded him to some vamps for a pack of cigarettes,” Dean said sarcastically. “Yes, I have Harry with me. Jesus.”
“Calm down, prissy,” Bobby said. “I thought you weren’t takin’ him on hunts.”
Dean sighed and pulled the car over so he could take just a few minutes and fill Bobby in. Dean started with showing up at the Roadhouse, the screaming match with Sam, and didn’t stop talking until he told Bobby about pulling up in time to watch Holly Beckett KO herself.
“That’s a lot of deep shit you’re wadin’ in,” Bobby said after Dean finished. “And Harry didn’t react at all to the mind control mojo?”
“The kid lied straight to his face,” Dean said.
“And you think he’s lyin’ about more shit?” Bobby guessed.
Sometimes Dean thought Bobby was too damn smart for his own good.
“You don’t?” Dean asked. “The lie about the school, the mind control didn’t work on him. What if - what if he’s like Sam?” Dean asked, voicing the thought that bothered him since Harry spouted off his shit about Andrew’s aunt dying.
Sam having some sort of powers that connected him to a demon was bad enough, but if Harry was connected to - and Dean really thought he was - Dean didn’t know how he could keep them both safe. At some point, the shit was all going to boil over and Dean didn’t want either of his brothers near the mess when it happened.
“What if he is?” Bobby asked casually. “What are you gonna do about it? Shoot ‘im?”
“No I’m not going to fucking shoot him,” Dean sputtered, pissed and offended. “Fuck, why does everyone keep acting like I’m some trigger happy nut job? Sam’s been a freak for a year and I haven’t put a bullet in him.”
Bobby, who had to know Dean was just pissed and saying shit, snorted.
“Don’t tell me, idjit, tell your brother,” Bobby suggested. “The kid ain’t a hunter, Dean. And he didn’t grow up thinkin’ about family like you do. So quit yappin’ at me and tell him.”
When Bobby hung up on Dean, Dean slammed his hand on the steering wheel hard. Dean looked over at his favorite pistol and got pissed all over again.
Dean grabbed it and chucked it out the window, sending the damn thing flying as far as possible out in the woods. Dean shouldn’t have to have some sappy moment where he told Harry - and Sam, because if one of them thought it, the other probably would be too since they were the same damn person - ‘I’m not going to shoot you’.
Dean shouldn’t have to worry that either of his brothers were going to go dark side and end up killing a bunch of people. Dean shouldn’t be thinking about Dad’s last words to him, an order to kill Sam if he couldn’t save him.
Sam was not dying and neither was Harry, damn it.
Dean smacked the steering wheel hard again before letting out a heavy sigh and climbing from the car to go retrieve his gun.
It was actually his favorite pistol.