bloody, but unbowed. part ¼. deancas, samjess. canon divergent. sam and dean mend bridges.
Sam doesn’t know what to expect when hewalks into the courtroom. But of all the possibilities, he would never have imagined this one: his brother, grinning like the devil, in the defendant’s chair.
“Dean,” Sam says, the word lost in the tumult of the courtroom. His stomach feels suddenly, painfully twisted. It’s been six years, but Dean looks much the same – careless grin, restless hands. And Sam knows, in that moment, that his life is about to come apart at the seams.
Dean can’t be – he can’t be here, not in Palo Alto. This is Sam’s home; he’s made a life for himself. Dean being here, in court, can only mean trouble.
Then Mr. McKelvie, Sam’s mentor and the point lawyer for the case, steps up and claps Sam on the shoulder. “Well, Winchester,” he says, “are you ready for your first day in a courtroom?”
And oh, God no, Sam isn’t ready for this. Dean means Dad and Dad means the demon and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t be pulled back into that life. Not when his own is just about to start.
Dean turns, just slightly, and their eyes lock. Dean’s smile falters. It’s slight, subtle, something no one save Sam would notice, but he does. Then Dean’s face hardens, he blinks twice, and turns away again without acknowledgment.