I barely remember writing this...unfinished something or other
Dean is going to die. Sam has hope, but there it is, reality. Every cell in his body screams for his brother, a constant loop, that keeps him shivering and unfocused.The cases the boys take on during this year, by the end of which his brother will be in the ground, have no meaning for Sam. But then a suburban family acquires a cursed victorian vanity mirror and Sam and Dean can’t save the parents from dying bloody and they are left with a sullen seventeen year old with no home.
“Dean, we can’t let social services take him. Not after everything he’s seen and been through.”
“Why not?” Dean made a face.
“Because it’ll be hell for him.”
“Sammy,” Dean uses his most dramatic, put-upon, big brother voice for this, “What the fuck are we supposed to do about it?”
“We--” Sam cuts himself off. Everything about Dean makes him crazy lately. One second his heart is thudding out of his chest with desire, like he hasn’t known since he was fourteen and Dean was the most sinful thing on two legs, the next Sam’s on the verge of tears, achingly aware of his brother’s imminent death, and just as easily, he’s slammed by anger, ready to throttle Dean himself. This is one of those moments. Yet, Dean has a point. “I don’t know. But we have to do something.”
Sam’s not too sure why he feels so strongly about helping the kid, Alex. Except that he sees something of himself reflected in the displaced boy. Alex is a good student, he plays sports, reads, a supernatural force killed his parents. Alex is also seventeen, almost legally able to take care of himself. A few months and he’ll turn eighteen and a home would cease to be an option anyway.
For now, the lie was that Sam and Dean were distant cousins, Alex’s only surviving family. So the authorities allowed Alex to stay with them in the wake of the deaths. In Sam’s mind, falsifying some paperwork to insure the kid was permanently put in their care until his birthday was an easy decision.
“Sam I feel for the kid, I do, but how are we supposed to take care of him? Do we keep hunting or settle down like some apple pie family, make sure he gets to school on time? And you really expect me to believe you’d be fine turning him out the minute he hits eighteen?” Their arguing inside the impala, fresh from the corner store, not wanting to go into the motel room and argue in front Alex. It’s cold and heat in the car isn’t working. Pulling his collar up more, Dean huffs a breath. “I wanna help him, I do, but this just isn’t realistic and you know it.”
“We were raised hunting...”
“And you hated every minute of it!”
“and...and you raised me ok. Why couldn’t this work?”
Dean’s heart stuttered at that. Throwing a sharp glance at his brother he muttered, “Fine, do what you want man.” In one abrupt motion, Dean was out of the car, leaving the groceries to Sam.
Stamping inside, Dean glowered at Alex who was on one of the beds, looking at the muted TV flash pictures. For the last few nights Alex had been sleeping on the couch since neither of the Winchester’s could fit on it. The three of them in one room was getting a bit claustrophobic for Dean’s taste. Grabbing a beer out of the six pack from the night before, Dean sat at the table and ignored the kid, who looked like he wanted to say something.
Alex was slim, but athletic and healthy looking. His dark hair was cut prep school style, his clothes also conservative, and his blue eyes painfully stood out when bloodshot, which was most of the time since his whole life had changed. As Dean walked in, his eyes shifted to him, tracking his agitated movements.