Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

March 2006

Carl hates his roommate. He regrets ever talking shit about nerdy Patrick, he was much preferable to this asshole Brandon he’s been stuck with for the past three months now.

The only positive is that they’re in a two-bedroom apartment so they’re not in a room together. Carl wouldn’t survive that.

Brandon’s also in the process of getting his LLM, so unluckily for Carl, they also have some classes together. This dude seriously believes they’re best friends despite Carl’s every attempt to avoid him.

Carl has only seen Sam and Dean twice since they left. Once in Georgia over Christmas when he went home to see Judith and another time when they were close by in January near Dean’s birthday.

Being around Dean and not being allowed to touch drives him little insane. But he just can’t bring himself to start that up again, not when Sam’s all alone. Carl focuses his attention on Sam and making sure he’s okay.

It’s very reminiscent of the beginning years of his friendship with them, being apart but always in touch.

Right now he’s warming up his takeout leftovers from the night before while cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear. “You’re leaving Toledo now?”

“Yeah,” Sam replies, the rumble of the Impala in the background. “It was a rough one, but we’re okay, I promise.”

Carl hums in acknowledgement, grabbing a soda from the fridge and popping the tab. “How’ve you been sleeping?”

Sam sighs. “Just fine, Carl. You don’t have to ask me that every time we talk.”

“Yes I do,” Carl says. “Cause you’re lying. You sound so tired.”

“You know why I can’t sleep,” he says softly.

Carl does know. The nightmares. And he understands better than anyone. “I know, Sammy.”

“We’re gonna try to come visit soon, okay?”

“Really?” Carl asks excitedly as the microwave beeps. He pulls out his food, wincing at how hot it is and dropping the container on the counter. “I’d really love that.”

“I know, we would too,” Sam says.

“Our first order of business when you visit,” Carl says, digging in a drawer for a fork. “Is you getting some sleep.”

Sam chuckles. “How is me sleeping there any different from anywhere else?”

“Cause you’ll have me sleeping right next to you,” he says. “That always works, right?”

Sam pauses, then sighs reluctantly. “Yeah, it does.”

“It’s great for my ego,” Carl says with a grin.

“Speaking of egos,” Sam says. “Dean keeps aggressively grabbing for the phone so I’m gonna hand it to him now.”

“Okay,” Carl laughs out, picking up his food and drink to make his way to his room. “Hey Dean.”

“Hey baby,” Dean says, a grin in his voice. “How you doin’?”

A rush of heat goes through him at the nickname. “What’d I say about calling me-?”

Brandon appears in front of him in the hallway towards their rooms, a manic smile on his face. God, this dude has crazy eyes. “What’re you having for dinner?”

“Who’s that?” Dean asks gruffly.

Carl groans. “It’s old takeout, now let me by.”

“Is that your obnoxious-ass roommate? He been botherin’ you again?”

Carl tries to walk around Brandon but he steps in front of him again. “Who’re you always on the phone with? It’s like every time I try to talk to you you’re on the phone.” He laughs and it’s an irritating sound.

“A friend, now move,” Carl says.

“Fuckin’ asshat,” Dean grumbles. “You gotta get a new roommate, seriously.”

“Just a friend?” Brandon teases, punching his shoulder. “Come on, Grimes, no one smiles that much talking to a friend.”

Carl finally shoves past him, hurrying into his room and shutting the door. “God. Fuck him.”

“Any movement on the new roommate application?” Dean asks.

“No,” Carl says, setting his food down on his desk and falling heavily into the chair. “And I’m going insane.”

“We’re gonna come visit soon, okay?” Dean says. “And I’ll put him in his damn place for you.”

“Dean,” Carl groans, letting his head flop back. “Don’t. He’s not dangerous, he’s just annoying and kind of a dick. Can’t piss him off too much or he might burn all my stuff or kill me in my sleep or something.”

“Then I’ll just have to talk to whoever’s in charge of movin’ you, slide ‘em some cash or something,” Dean says.

Carl laughs, taking a bite of his food. “Mm-hmm. Good luck with that.”

They talk until Carl finishes eating and they have to hang up. He dreads leaving his room again, but he wants to get the dirty dishes out of his room.

So he listens at his door, hears nothing and ventures out to the kitchen. He’s setting his dishes in the dry rack when Brandon appears next to him and he jumps. “Fuck, dude! What the hell?”

“Sorry,” Brandon says with a laugh. “Did I scare you?”

“What do you want?” Carl asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was just about to go back to my room.”

Brandon smiles, shaking his head. “So.. who was that on the phone? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

Carl rolls his eyes. “None of your business, Brandon. I don’t pry into your life.”

“Hey, I’m just curious!” he insists. “Look, okay. I just want to know if you’re single.”

Carl scrunches his nose up. “Why?”

Brandon glances away like he’s nervous. “Well- I’ve been curious lately. You- you’re really pretty. Like seriously. And I’ve only ever been with girls, but-“

“Woah, woah!” Carl laughs bitterly, shoving past him out of the kitchen. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”

Brandon turns around, following Carl into the hallway. “Wait a second! I mean- if you’re not gay, I’m sorry, but-”

“What the fuck?” Carl stares at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Or- if you- um- you’re not single, then I’m sorry,” Brandon says. “But I mean- I’ve been thinking about experimenting with dudes and you’re just really hot.”

Carl pushes a hand through his hair, gripping it tight at the scalp. “This isn’t happening.”

“Please don’t report me!” Brandon insists. “I can’t take another incident, they’ll kick me out!”

“Another incident?” Carl blinks at him. “Just leave me alone.” He walks to his room, opening the door.

Carl turns back before he goes inside. “For the fucking record, I am gay and I am single and I’m the least interested in you than any other person on this planet. Including girls.” He slams the door behind him and leans against it.

He aches to talk to Jess.

******

Carl wakes up the next morning to banging on the apartment door. Then it sounds like it opens and there’s voices shouting sternly and Brandon’s high-pitched whiny begging.

He leaps out of bed and hastily pulls on sweatpants before throwing his door open and running out into the living room.

Brandon is being arrested be a group of cops. Carl rubs the sleep out of his eyes, squinting. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Brandon Kern is under arrest for the murder of Alexis Grey,” one of the cops says. Another is telling Brandon his Miranda Rights as he’s dragged out of the apartment.

One of them asks Carl a few questions: if he was home last night, the last time Carl saw him, etc.

Once they’re gone, Carl stands alone in the middle of his living room in shock. Brandon killed someone last night after they talked? There’s no way.

Brandon’s a real weirdo, but why would he go murder this random girl from one of their classes? Is he really capable of murder?

They said it was around 9:30 last night. Carl hurries to his phone, checking when he called Sam and Dean and when they hung up.

His call with them ended at 9:56. Brandon was in the kitchen with him for at least the next 5 minutes. There’s no way he was the one who killed this girl.

Carl goes about his day, but his mind is only on Brandon’s situation. He’s got such a weird feeling about it, he just can’t leave it alone.

After his last class, he goes back to his apartment and comes up with a plan. He needs to get information.

Impersonating a police officer or PI is too risky. If he gets caught, he could kiss his law career goodbye.

So he calls his dad, ignoring how awkward it feels because they barely talk.

“Hey Carl,” Rick says. “Is everything okay? Not that I’m not happy to hear from you.”

“I need a favor and I need you to promise not to ask why,” Carl says.

“Alright,” Rick agrees. “What can I do for you?”

Carl asks him if he can get the files for Brandon’s murder case. At first Rick says no, he has no way to do that and no reason to be involved.

But Carl only has to press a little to get him to sigh and say he’ll try something.

Carl forces himself to study while he waits for a call back. He bounces his leg wildly, drumming his fingers on the desk. Something is not right here and it’s making him itch with the need to do something.

To figure it out.

Half an hour later, Rick calls him back. “Check your email.”

Carl grins, quickly clicking over to his inbox and seeing an unread sitting there from Rick. It even has a video file attached.

“Thank you so much, Dad,” Carl says. “Seriously.”

“Don’t ask me for anything like that ever again, okay?” Rick says. “But you’re welcome. This time. And be careful. With whatever it is you’re doing with this.”

Carl reads over the file and watches the security footage. It’s grainy and dark, but that’s definitely Brandon. The timestamp is 9:36pm.

That’s impossible.

Brandon’s eyes flick towards the camera and they flicker completely white. Carl backs it up to see it again, it almost looks like a glare but…

That’s not a glare. Definitely not.

This isn’t Brandon. It’s a monster. It’s something else.

Carl grins so hard it hurts. He’s going to hunt this thing.

******

Two Days Later

Dean’s in their motel room with Sam when his phone rings. He smiles, holding it up. “S’Carl.” He flips it open and presses it to his ear. “Hey, babe.”

“Stop calling me that, Dean.”

Dean laughs, kicking his feet up on the table. “Sorry. I just dunno what else I’m supposed to call you.”

“Maybe my name?”

“No fun.” Dean pouts. “What’s up?”

“I need you guys to come here.”

Dean glances at Sam, who’s sitting on the bed watching intently. “What for?”

“Well- this is crazy to say, but not really crazy by your standards.”

“Try me.”

“I think I’m hunting a shapeshifter.”

Dean freezes. “You-…” He locks eyes with Sam, who raises his eyebrows in question. “You’re hunting something?”

Sam stands up. “Put it on speaker, Dean.”

Dean waves him off, glaring. “What the fuck do you mean hunting, Carl? You don’t- you are not allowed to hunt things.” Sam’s eyes widen and he crowds in next to Dean to listen.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Carl says. “If you’re gonna be all Dean about it, I’ll just call Sam. I don’t need the lecture. But I do need your help, I don’t know how to kill it. Or… track it down, really. I’m not even completely sure I’m right.”

Dean clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath so he doesn’t blow up on him. “We’ll be right there. We’re in Nevada, so we can be there by tonight.”

“Thank you,” Carl says, relieved.

“You don’t do anything else, you hear me?” Dean says, standing up. “I mean it, Carl. If this is a shapeshifter or something, it might come for you next if it knows you’re on it’s trail. Do you understand me?”

Carl scoffs. Definitely rolled his eyes, too. “Yes, Dean.”

“Do not do anything,” Dean says. “You stay home unless you have to go to class.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t,” Dean warns. “Not in the mood.”

“Never thought I’d ever hear those words out of your mouth.”

“We’ll be there tonight,” Dean says. “I’m not fuckin’ happy with you. You better be safe at home when we get there.”

“Or what- you’ll spank me like the bad boy I am?”

“Slut,” Dean says. “Bye.”

He hangs up and scrubs a hand over his face. “What the fuck, Sam?”

Sam’s brow furrows. “Did you just call him a slut?”

Dean ignores him. “Why the hell does he know enough to figure out there’s a shapeshifter running amok on his college campus? Or at least that’s what he thinks it is. Why does he think it’s okay to be trying to hunt something, Sam?”

Sam blinks at him. “Are you blaming me or something? You’re the one who told him what we do in the first place!”

“I didn’t give him details!” Dean puts his hands in his hair, pacing. “Dammit, Sam! He should not- he can’t be doing this. He can’t.”

“Dean, I know. I don’t like it anymore than you do,” Sam says. “And I’m gonna talk to him. But he makes his own choices.”

“He has no idea how serious this shit is, Sam,” Dean says. “No fuckin’ idea. And it is my job to keep him away from it.”

“No it’s not,” Sam says gently. “I know you’re thinking about what we read in Dad’s journal about-”

“No, Sam,” Dean says seriously, shaking his head. “Don’t. That has nothing to do with this.”

Sam looks at him in that sympathetic way that makes Dean want to yell at him. “Dean, just because it happened to him too, it doesn’t mean-”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Dean interrupts him, gathering his stuff and shoving it into his bag. “Because we’re gonna keep him safe. Gonna keep him away from it, make sure he lives his own life. Happy and-…and safe and away from us and everything about this life.”

“I know, Dean,” Sam says as he walks over to his own bag. “We’ll keep him safe. We’ll make sure of it.”

******

It might make Carl a shitty person, but he’s really enjoying his time alone in the apartment. The past couple of days have been so peaceful.

He’s on the couch, having stayed home the rest of the day just like Dean said to. There’s a knock at the door and he jumps up to answer it, flipping the TV off.

Sam greets him warmly, smiling and hugging him before they walk in. Dean just walks right past him.

“Seriously, Dean?” Carl asks, shutting the door behind him. “Not even a ‘hi’?”

“Nope,” Dean says, crossing his arms. “Should’ve called us right away, let us handle whatever this is.”

Sam shakes his head. “Ignore him. Tell us what’s going on.”

Carl does, taking them over to the couch and showing them all the notes and the articles he has.

“My roommate Brandon’s a fucking creep, but he literally couldn’t have killed this Alexis Grey girl from our Criminal Law class. He was talking to me in our kitchen at the time of the murder,” he explains when he shows them the video. “And look at that- the eyes. That’s not right. Not human.”

“Could be a camera flare,” Dean says.

Sam hums. “Doesn’t look like one to me.”

“And then,” Carl clicks over to another article. “Yesterday morning there was another murder. Guy killed his fiancé in their apartment, but was swearing he’d just gotten home and had no idea who did this to her. They arrested him right then and there.”

“So there’s some kind of serial killer on your campus,” Dean says. “Doesn’t mean this is anything supernatural.”

Carl rolls his eyes. “No. I know it is. I feel it. This isn’t right. Everyone that knows that guy is in shock, saying he’d never given off any indication he could be violent.”

Dean scoffs. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Just- I know this is something,” Carl says. “My roommate alone, that’s enough to make this a case. He didn’t do it! That can’t be him in that footage! He was here with me!”

“It definitely sounds like something,” Sam says, putting a hand on his back. “You got anything else?”

Carl nods, pulling up some pictures on his laptop. “So- I went looking around the apartment where the guy killed his fiancé.”

“You went to the crime scene?” Dean nudges him.

Carl glares at him. “I went and looked around, yeah.”

“What’d you find?” Sam asks.

He clicks through the photos that show a blood trail from one of the windows to the middle of the road where it ends abruptly. “They arrested the guy in his apartment. So what left this trail?”

“And why does it end in the middle of the street like that? So abruptly?” Sam says, looking closely.

“There’s a manhole there,” Carl says, pointing. “Think they went down.”

Sam smiles, patting his back. “Good work. I’m impressed.”

Carl looks at Dean, who’s lounging back with his arms crossed. “So? This is something, admit it.”

Dean stands up. “Sam and I will go check it out, yes.”

“I’m coming with,” Carl says, standing up in front of him.

“No!” Sam and Dean say at once.

Carl turns towards Sam who’s standing behind him. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am on your side,” Sam says. “And you’re staying here where it’s safe. Okay? No arguments.”

Carl huffs, but Sam’s looking at him so pleadingly he has to agree. “Fine, okay.”

“Good boy,” Dean says, smirking.

Carl whirls around to face him. “Don’t.”

They leave, promising to be back later. Carl actually does as he’s told for once and stays home, resigning himself to doing school work until they come back.

******

Sam wakes up with his head pounding. He tries to move and realizes his neck and hands are bound to a wooden post. He’s in a dank dingy room that he knows must be underground.

Why didn’t he just take the damn shot? He’s so fucked.

The shapeshifter wearing Dean’s skin walks over to him, smacking him hard across the face.

“Where is he? Where’s Dean?” Sam demands.

The shapeshifter smiles. “I wouldn’t worry about him. I’d worry about you.”

“Where is he?”

“You don’t really wanna know.” The shapeshifter chuckles, walking to the other side of the room. “I swear, the more I learn about you and your family—I thought I came from a bad background.”

“What do you mean, learn?”

The shapeshifter pauses, eyes squeezing shut as he grabs his forehead in pain. Sam tilts his head to the side. It relaxes and looks at him.

“He’s sure got issues with you,” the shapeshifter says with a wicked grin. “You got to go to college with your best friend. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?”

Sam takes a shaky breath. “Where is my brother?”

“I am your brother.” It leans down to his level, bracing its hands on his knees. “See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got to live with our best friend. You could have a life. A life with him. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me.”

“What’re you talking about?”

The shapeshifter walks away. “You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass.” He laughs. “But still. That boy- Carl. I really seem to like him. And if memory serves, he really likes me too. Lotta history with him up here.” He points to his head.

Sam glares. “You leave him the fuck alone.”

“Think I’m gonna go pay him a little visit.” The shifter grins wickedly, bending down in front of Sam. “I’m usually into women, but he’s real pretty.”

“If you touch him, you’re gonna fucking regret it,” Sam nearly growls, struggling against his bindings.

It laughs. “That’s real cute. The two of you are like his attack dogs. Can’t wait to see and feel for myself what the hype’s all about.”

Sam fights harder against his bindings to no avail, the shifter’s gone. Fuck.

He sits there for a while, trying to find a way to work out of the ropes. Someone coughs from a corner of the room he can’t turn his neck to see.

“That better be you, Sam, and not that freak of nature.” He can hear Dean struggling to undo his own ropes.

“Thank god.” Sam huffs out a laugh of relief. “Yeah, it’s me. The shifter’s wearing you to Carl’s.”

“He’s what?!” Dean yells. “Fuck, Sam.”

“I know,” Sam says. “We gotta get out of here.”

Dean appears behind him, fingers deftly undoing his ropes. “We are. C’mon.”

Chapter Text

Carl’s starting to get tired when a knock at the door perks him up. He hurries over to open it, expecting both Sam and Dean.

It’s just Dean, smiling at him. “Hey, Carl.”

“Hey.” Carl smiles back, letting him inside and shutting the door. “Where’s Sam?”

“Oh, he went and got a motel for the night, he’s pretty beat,” Dean says, walking over to the couch.

“A motel?” Carl tilts his head to the side, following Dean. “Why wouldn’t he just stay here?”

Dean sits down on the couch. “Maybe I just wanted some time alone with you. Is that so bad?”

“Guess not,” Carl says, sitting down next to him. “You sure Sam’s okay?”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine,” Dean says, waving a hand. “Just tired. He’ll come by tomorrow.”

It’s weird, but not completely unbelievable. So Carl moves past it, maybe Sam just needed some time alone. And he’s not opposed to spending one-on-one time with Dean.

“You were right by the way,” Dean says after a beat of silence. “It is a shapeshifter we’re out there hunting.”

“Told you so,” Carl says playfully, nudging Dean’s thigh with his own. “You catch it?”

“Yep, thing’s dead.” Dean smiles. “You’re safe now, baby.”

Carl laughs, blushing. “Told you not to call me that anymore.”

Dean moves in closer, hand on Carl’s cheek. “C’mon. Don’t you think we should celebrate?”

Something feels so off about the way Dean’s looking at him. “Dean, I-”

Dean kisses him. Carl falls into it for a second, arms wrapping around Dean’s neck before he even realizes what he’s doing.

They’d agreed to put things on hold. That they shouldn’t start up anything in the wake of Jess’s death with how it’s affected both Carl and Sam, and with Dean on the road and Carl still studying at Stanford. Especially not when they should both be focusing on making sure Sam’s okay.

Carl comes to his senses, pushing Dean away. “Hey, I thought we agreed we were stopping this. What about Sam?”

Dean stares at him incredulously. “What about Sam?”

Carl has to force himself to stay calm. This isn’t Dean. Not at all.

He forces a smile, subtly reaching down to his pocket where his phone is. Not-Dean grabs his hand, so tight it hurts. “I wouldn’t fuckin’ do that if I were you.”

******

Sam and Dean have finally made it out onto the street. “Yeah, that’s the thing,” Sam’s explaining. “He didn’t just look like you, he was you. Or he was becoming you. “

“The hell’s that mean?”

“I dunno, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories.”

Dean furrows his brows. “You mean like the Vulcan mind meld?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Sam says. “I mean, maybe that’s why he didn’t just kill us.”

“We gotta fuckin’ hurry,” Dean says as they exit the alleyway, looking both ways to see if anyone’s around. “That means that thing knows how to act like me.”

“Carl’s smart,” Sam reassures him. “And he knows you almost as well as I do. He’ll know that’s not you.”

“Yeah Sam, real comforting,” Dean says, quickening his pace. “Carl will figure out it’s a monster and piss it off.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Sam says. “We need to find a phone, call the cops. Now.”

“Woah, wait.” Dean pauses. “You’re gonna put an APB out on me.”

“Does it matter?” Sam asks. “Cops can get to Carl faster than we can on foot.”

“Right, okay.” Dean juts his chin out. “There. Payphone. Let’s go.”

******

Carl is tied to his desk chair, blood dripping down his fingers to the floor. The shifter has been taking his sweet time slicing into him. His arms, his thighs, his chest.

He tastes blood from when it punched him in the mouth earlier, lip split and dripping blood down his chin.

“What'd you do with them?” Carl asks through gritted teeth while the shifter makes another cut through his sweatpants onto his thigh. Blood soaks through the grey fabric.

This still isn’t the worst thing a man’s ever done to him. Carl can take it.

The shifter doesn’t respond, just like he hasn’t the last six times Carl asked the same question. He’s behind him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “You’re such a pretty boy.” He presses the knife to Carl’s throat. “You gonna be good for me now?”

Carl swallows hard, making the knife press in just enough to sting. “Fuck you.”

The shifter laughs and it’s close to Dean’s laugh but it’s just off enough to send shivers down Carl’s spine. “He picked such a good one. The memories up here- hot damn.” He walks around in front of Carl, making Dean’s face smile at him. “Bet I can get you just as worked up as him, baby. Just give me a chance.”

“Get out of my face before I spit on you,” Carl says, nearly snarling.

The shifter reaches around to take a fistful of his hair and yank his head back, putting his face so close to Carl’s their lips are nearly touching. “You’re such a little bitch. You’re not even trying to beg.”

Carl laughs. “That’s what you want? For me to beg pretty for you?”

“I’m gonna make you beg for me,” he says, letting Carl’s hair go and slapping him open-handed across the face. “And in the meantime, I have all Dean’s memories to pick through. And let me say, does he have some complex feelings when it comes to you.”

Carl glares at him, saying nothing.

“It’s delicious,” it says, gripping Carl’s jaw to force him to keep eye contact. “Lots of seriously good stuff up here. Hot stuff, too.” He taps his head. “You’re real easy for him, aren't you?”

Carl’s about to spit out a retort when Dean’s- the shifter’s hand wraps around his throat. Not squeezing, but threatening enough to stop Carl in his tracks.

Suddenly it’s Brady in front of him and everything else fades away around him into nothing.

The hand starts squeezing his throat, making him strain for breath. The shifter’s face seems to flick between Dean’s and Brady’s.

It’s exactly what his mind used to do to him some of the times Brady was hurting him.

Then there’s a loud bang at the door and cops flood into his apartment.

******

Sam and Dean stop in front of an electronics store with TVs playing the news in their display window. Breaking news says there was an attempted murder in Carl’s student apartments at Stanford, but the sketch of the suspect is all wrong.

So either the sketch artist is shit or Carl’s protecting Dean, which means he figured out it was the shifter. Dean’s so relieved that he’s okay and that he figured out it wasn’t Dean hurting him.

“We’re probably another fifteen minutes away if we hurry,” Sam says, antsy. “We need to check on him. Get to our phones at least.”

Dean needs to kill this thing that hurt Carl before it tries again. “All right, but first I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him.”

Sam starts walking again and Dean follows. “We have no weapons. No silver bullets.”

“I can’t just let him go, Sam,” Dean says, flexing his fists. “I gotta find him and take him out.”

“Okay,” Sam agrees. “Where do we look?”

“Well. We need our weapons first,” Dean says thoughtfully.

“The car.”

Dean snaps his fingers. “I’m bettin’ he drove over to Carl’s.”

“And the news said he fled on foot,” Sam says, nodding. “Let’s hurry.”

Dean grunts angrily as they walk. “The thought of him drivin’ my car, Sam! Driving my car to go put his dirty fucking hands on Carl!”

“I know, Dean.”

“It’s killin’ me!”

When they get there, Dean just can’t bring himself to go inside. He can’t face Carl without killing this thing first and being able to say that he’s safe now.

“Sammy, you go up and take care of him, okay?” Dean says, walking over and getting the trunk open. “I gotta go take care of this.”

“You’re not doing this alone,” Sam says, coming up next to him.

Dean turns to him, grabbing his shoulders. “I need you to go take care of Carl. That’s the only thing I need you doing right now. Okay?”

Sam’s face softens in understanding and he nods. “Okay, but… don’t do anything stupid.”

Dean scoffs. “When have I ever?”

Sam just shakes his head as he walks off toward Carl’s apartment. Dean gets into the Impala, deciding the best place to start looking for this fucking thing is where it was holding them.

It doesn’t take long to drive back to the place. He slips back in the window, gun at the ready. He takes his time searching the place, listening for any signs of life. Damn thing might’ve already been back and seen that they’re gone, may be out looking for them.

“If that’s you, you sick fuck, either let me go or finish what you fucking started.”

“Carl?!” Dean looks around for the source of his voice.

“Don’t play this dumbass game.”

Dean pinpoints where his voice is coming from, pulling back the dingy curtain to reveal a hole in the wall just big enough to stash a person.

Carl glares up at him, looking like a horror scene with blood dried all over him. His hands and feet are tied together and he’s got his knees tucked into his chest. Dean’s so fucking relieved he could cry.

“You did a shit job of gagging me, dipshit,” he spits. “It fell off.”

Dean kneels down at his side and pulls him into a hug. “Holy shit, baby, oh my god. I’m so fuckin’ happy you’re okay, I thought you-” He stops himself, he didn’t let himself go there before and he won’t go there now.

“Dean?” Carl’s voice is small when they part. He eyes Dean wearily. “It’s really you?”

“Yeah baby, it’s me,” Dean says. He pushes Carl’s sweaty bloody hair back. “Fuck sweetheart. What’d he do to you?”

Carl searches Dean’s face before his eyes soften and he sags with relief. “It is you.”

Dean undoes the bindings on his hands and feet. “What the hell’d he do to you?” His voice is rough.

“Doesn’t matter,” Carl says, letting Dean pull him to his feet. “I’m fine. Where’s Sam? Did you kill it?”

Dean pulls Carl into a hug, breathing him in. “Sam went to see you. And not yet, I came here to look for it.”

“Fuck.” Carl pushes away from him. “We need to hurry- that thing could be at my place waiting.”

******

The moment Sam is able to identify that feeling in his gut as true, that this isn’t Carl at all, he’s hit over the head with a beer bottle and knocked out cold.

When he comes to, the shapeshifter is still wearing Carl. Sam is tied up on the floor and starts to try to work himself out of his bindings.

The shifter walks around in the kitchen, peering at Sam from over the kitchen island. “Morning, sunshine.”

“What’re you gonna do to me?” Sam asks, glaring.

“Oh I’m not gonna do anything.” It opens a drawer, pulling out a big steak knife. “Carl will, though. Then Dean. I’ll make sure to kill you nice and slow, really draw it out and enjoy myself.”

It walks over to stand in front of him, turning the knife over in its hands. It grins at him, Carl’s grin. But those eyes. They might be the right color blue, but they’re cold in a way that Carl’s never are.

“Bet you’d really love to know some of the thoughts I have knocking around up here,” it says, smiling wickedly. “Real juicy stuff.”

“Fuck off,” Sam says. “What did you do with him?”

“Oh, him?” It motions to Carl’s body and then shrugs. “Not gonna tell you, better to leave you in suspense. But you guessed that already.”

“Dean’s gonna come back here,” Sam says. “And when he does, he’s gonna fucking gut you if you hurt him or me.”

The shifter laughs, Carl’s laugh but it’s flat and all wrong. “He won’t get the chance, but that’s really cute- you thinking big brother’s gonna walk through this door and fix everything.”

Sam struggles against his bindings.

The shifter closes it’s eyes, putting a hand to its forehead. “Mmm- Sammy. Do you know how dirty it is to take your brother’s sloppy seconds?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sam nearly snarls.

“Hit a nerve, huh?” It grins, slinking back and forth in front of him. “You know, I get into a lot of people’s heads doing what I do. Learn all their dirty little secrets. But your brother and Carl here… holy shit, they might be the most interesting.”

Sam glares at him, refusing to say anything else. He’s slowly working at his bindings around his wrists behind his back.

“Carl does love you, you know. Always has.” The shifter turns the knife over in its hands. “A lot, too. If it wasn’t for Dean getting to him first…” He pauses. “Who knows what could’ve happened with you two.”

Sam’s jaw twitches.

“But with Dean though-” The shifter clicks its tongue, crouching down in front of him. “There’s just enough of more there that-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sam growls.

It smiles again, standing up. “I will say, I’m sorry to have to get out of this pretty little skin.” He disappears down the hall. “But I’ve got too many plans for Dean.”

Sam hurries to try to maneuver himself to the kitchen for a knife, scooting himself along as best he can with his still-bound hands and feet.

Chapter Text

Sam is fighting the shapeshifter wearing Dean when they get to Carl’s apartment. And after, Carl is watching Dean fight with himself.

Now Carl has watched Dean shoot himself dead and there is now a dead body in his living room.

Sam’s telling him to call the cops, but he shakes his head. “It’s- it’s Dean. If they blame Dean for these murders…” He looks at Dean, who shrugs.

“It’s either that or Brandon and the other guy have to stay in jail for murders they didn’t commit,” Sam says.

Carl shakes his head. “God. If it was just Brandon I’d honestly consider leaving him in there, but that other dude, he’s a nice normal guy.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dean says, waving him off. “I’ll be legally dead, but I don’t use my real name for anything important anyway.”

Carl knows it’s the right thing to do. But it physically hurts that Sam and Dean have to leave him here right after all that’s just happened.

Sam hugs him goodbye, promising to call as soon as they’re somewhere safe so they can meet back up before they leave California.

“I’ll meet you in the car, Sam,” Dean says. Sam nods, flashing Carl a little smile before walking out the door.

Carl stares Dean down, bracing himself. “Go ahead.”

“Go ahead and what?” Dean asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Lecture me!” Carl throws his hands up, walking over to sit down on the arm of his couch. “I know that’s all you want to do. So just-…fucking do it already.”

Dean shakes his head, scoffing. “Well, I was going to. I really was. Because I was so pissed at you for getting involved in this in the first place.”

“Well, I don’t regret it, Dean,” Carl says, flipping his hair back. “So say whatever you want, but it’s not changing my mind.”

“Not changing your-?” Dean shakes his head and laughs. “You are somethin’ else. Dear god. Even if you don’t regret it, you still better have learned your goddamn lesson.”

Carl grins cheekily. “If that’s what you want me to say, sure.”

“You’re a real fuckin’ pain in my ass, Carl.”

“You should really be nicer to me,” Carl says, motioning to himself where he’s still covered in dried blood. “I almost died today.”

Dean’s face softens. In a flash, he’s crossed the room to stand in front of Carl, looking down at him and cupping his face. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Carl feels emotionally whiplashed, hands reaching up to clasp around Dean’s wrists. “I’m- uh- yeah. I’ll be fine, Dean. I’ve had worse.” He feels exhausted and vulnerable.

Dean nods, looking him over. “Nothin’ that needs stitching, you think? You’ll be okay cleaning yourself up?”

Carl wants to say no. The last thing he wants right now is for Dean and Sam to leave him here alone, but there’s no choice. He has to call the cops and get this fucking body out of his apartment so he can clear those two guys’ names.

“I’ll be fine, Dean.” He forces a smile. “C’mon, get out of here so I can call the cops and tell them you’re a dead murderer.”

Dean lets his hands drop to his sides, huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, you do, I guess.” Carl stands up, walking with him to the door.

“Sam’s gonna call me when you get somewhere for the night and I might… I don’t know, I might need somewhere else to stay tonight.”

Dean smiles. “We won’t go too far, okay?”

Carl nods. “Good, so I’ll… see you in a few hours, maybe.”

Dean makes an aborted motion with his hands like he was thinking about touching Carl’s face again, but he settles on pulling him into a hug.

When they part, Carl stays high on his toes, their faces inches from each other. He wants to lean forward, press their lips together. Their breath mingles together in the air between them.

Dean opts to kiss Carl’s forehead. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Carl lets out a shuddery breath, opening the door. “Yeah. See you later.”

******

“Do you really think he’s okay?” Sam asks when they’re fifteen minutes down the road.

Dean grips the steering wheel tighter. “S’what he said, Sam.”

Sam nods, brows still creased with worry. “Let’s stop somewhere an hour or so out. Close enough that he can meet us pretty easily.”

“Already plannin’ on it,” he agrees.

They’re silent for a while before Sam speaks again. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“For what?”

He takes a deep shuddering breath. “I feel like this is my fault. Carl trying to get involved, trying to… hunt on his own.”

“I’m the one who told him about what we do in the first place,” Dean says. “If either of us is to blame, it’s me.”

Sam sighs. “I may have told him stories and… taught him some things. May have made him a little too comfortable with this stuff.”

“You what?” Dean looks at him incredulously. “What the hell, Sam?!”

“It started with me just teaching him how to fight after he broke up with his ex,” Sam explains. “And it just spiraled, I guess. I lost my filter.”

“Lost your filter?! We can’t do things like lose our filter, Sam!”

“I know, alright?!” Sam looks at him. “You shouldn’t have told him in the first place and I shouldn’t have taught him the details! Can we just both take some of the blame here?”

“Fuck.” Dean scrubs a hand over his face. “Fine. Okay. Truce or whatever. But this stops now. We need to- we gotta make him understand, Sammy. Make him… stay away. Far away.”

“From us or from hunting?”

Dean grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. “Both.”

Sam looks out his window. “We can’t keep him away from us.”

“Why not?!”

Sam huffs out a disbelieving sound. “Because I’m not gonna just abandon him, Dean!”

“That’s what’s best,” Dean says, keeping his eyes trained stubbornly on the road ahead.

“Fuck that,” Sam says. “It’s not true.”

“Yeah it is.” Dean’s voice shakes. “You know it is.”

“Then just keep driving,” Sam says bitterly. “Far away from here, somewhere he can’t find us. We’ll ditch our phones and lose his number.”

Dean stops ten minutes later at a motel in Sacramento. Sam calls Carl to tell him the address.

******

A few hours later, Carl is lounging on Sam’s bed in the motel room telling them how everything went down. He waited until the cops came before packing a bag and leaving to meet up with them under the guise of going home for a few days to process everything that happened.

“I can afford to miss a couple days of class,” he says. “I’d rather not be there with Brandon comes back anyway. He’s gonna be a whole situation after this.”

Sam’s responding from his spot next to Carl, but Dean doesn’t even register what he’s saying. He’s too fixated on looking Carl over.

Carl did a good job cleaning himself up, clean damp falling over his shoulders. Some of the worse cuts bandaged up.

Dean hates seeing them litter his body, more visible now that he’s wearing shorts. They’re mid-thigh and when he folds his leg up, Dean can see the old car accident scar peeking out.

These new wounds were preventable. By Dean. Should have been prevented by Dean. He didn’t do nearly enough to protect his boy, to keep him away from this.

Suddenly he realizes Carl’s staring right at him. “Dean? You okay?”

Dean nods, clapping his hands on his thighs and standing up. “Yep, I’m just thinking about going to grab us somethin’ to eat. Burgers sound good to you guys?”

“Sure, we can go with you,” Sam says, moving to stand.

“No, you two just stay here.” Dean grabs the keys off the little table in front of the window by the door.

“Wait- Dean, you can’t go out.” Sam walks over to him. “Someone might see you, your face is gonna be all over the news.”

Dean holds his hands out. “Yeah, my dead face.”

“Still.” Sam takes the keys. “Just let me go. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Fine.” Dean resigns himself back over to his bed, sitting down heavily on it.

“Want me to come with you?” Carl asks, sitting up taller on the bed.

Sam shakes his head, looking between them. “I think you should stay here. I won’t be long.” He disappears out the door.

Dean avoids Carl’s gaze, something heavy settling over the room the moment they’re alone. Guilt weights heavily on Dean.

“You’re seriously still giving me the silent treatment?” Carl asks.

Dean finally looks at Carl then. Those intelligent blue eyes are studying him in a way that makes him feel vulnerable. “M’not.”

Carl rolls his eyes, leaning back against the headboard and crossing his arms. “Real convincing. What do I have to do to get you to stop being pissed at me?”

Dean hums thoughtfully. “Could promise me that this is your first and only brush with hunting.”

Carl smiles, shaking his head. “Can’t promise you that, Dean.”

“Why not?”

“Look, I’m not gonna go seeking it out or anything. I’m gonna get my LLM, pass the bar and become a lawyer. That’s still my plan. But…” Carl shakes his head.

“But what?”

Carl looks at him, unsure. “I don’t really know how to explain it, Dean. It just…. felt right.”

“You almost died!”

Carl sits up straight. “I know that. Obviously it was my first time, so I’m gonna suck. Maybe I shouldn’t do it alone, but-”

“You shouldn’t do it at all.” Dean stands up, walking over to stand by Carl’s bed.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Carl stares up at him defiantly. “It just felt like something I’m meant to do. That I could be really good at. Saving people, hunting things!”

“Stop.” Dean shakes his head. “No. You’re wrong.”

“Like it’s something in my blood, I don’t know,” Carl says. “Like you and Sam.”

Dean thinks of what’s written about Carl’s family in his dad’s journal. “Well, it’s not,” he says angrily.

Carl’s face falls and Dean almost feels bad. “I already said I’m not quitting school or anything, Dean. Just like you want. I was just being honest.”

“C’mere.” Dean sits down next to him, pulling him under his arm. “Can’t I just be happy you’re alive?”

“I guess so.” Carl leans into him, holding the hand that’s hanging over his shoulder.

Dean presses a kiss into Carl’s hair. “Was too close of a call. Way too close.”

“I’m okay, Dean.” Carl turns to face him, their faces so close Dean’s features are blurry.

Dean cups Carl’s cheek, running his thumb along his chin. “You should be runnin’ scared back to your normal life.”

“Do you wanna know what I really want?” Carl asks, running his fingers along the stubble on Dean’s jaw.

Dean’s eyes flick down to Carl’s lips. “Hmm? Tell me.”

“I think about the life we could have together all the time,” Carl whispers. “I could come with you and Sam. Hunt with you guys, be your partner. Especially after today- I feel it, Dean. This is something I’m meant to do.”

“Stop, Carl,” Dean says, voice cracking. “Don’t-"

“I belong with you,” Carl says softly. “I’m not just bullshitting. It’s how I feel.”

“Don’t say shit like that, baby, please,” Dean pleads, thumb stroking Carl’s cheekbone.

“I just had to tell you,” Carl says, leaning into his touch. “I know you don’t want to hear it, don’t want that like I do. But when I picture myself happy, it’s with-”

Dean’s lips are on his, tongue licking into his mouth. Carl kisses back, crawling into his lap and straddling his thighs.

“We should stop,” Carl pants into his mouth even as his hands are pushing Dean’s jacket off.

Dean’s hands slip under his shirt, running across the smooth skin of his sides. “Mm-hmm. Gotta stop this.”

Carl pushes Dean back onto the bed, nipping at his bottom lip. “Fuck. We can’t- Sam’s gonna be back any minute.”

Dean flips them over, grinding his hips down into Carl’s and running a hand through his hair before kissing him again. “Just a little kissing can’t hurt.”

“Yeah,” Carl agrees, hands slipping under Dean’s t-shirt. “Just some kissing.”

‘Just kissing’ turns into a hurried and desperate mutual handjob. Carl makes a big show of licking his hand clean after Dean comes over it and it makes Dean’s eyes get impossibly darker.

The rumble of the Impala pulling in outside gets them to their feet, rushing to make themselves presentable before Sam comes in with the food.

Chapter Text

Early April 2006

It’s only been two weeks since they’ve seen Carl and Sam is already feeling antsy about it. It’s like every time they visit and leave again, he misses him even more.

He knows Dean’s feeling the same way, even if he refuses to admit it. Or even acknowledge it himself.

Carl had only been able to stay with them for two days before he had to go back to Stanford. Not nearly enough time after the scare they’d had. It’s like Carl doesn’t even realize how close he came to dying.

Sam slept better those two nights than he has since leaving Palo Alto the last time. He feels pathetic, being so reliant on Carl sleeping next to him to keep the nightmares away. But it’s the only thing that works.

Sam wakes up missing Carl more than ever the morning after he has this nightmare. Or more accurately, this vision that’s got them on the way to their old house in Kansas.

When he tells Dean about his visions, it makes him thankful he never told Carl about them. He can’t bear to think about the look on Carl’s face if he found out that Sam had had visions about Jess’s death before it happened and kept it a secret. Telling Dean was hard enough.

But he has to help this woman. He knows in his bones something bad’s going to happen to this woman and they have the power to stop it. He won’t make the same mistake twice.

Dean’s tense on the drive there and Sam feels bad for making him go back when he knows it’s the last thing he wants to be doing.

“Do you want to call Carl? See if he wants to go with us? It might help make it easier on you, y’know?” Sam offers.

‘And on me’, he thinks but doesn’t say.

Dean shakes his head. “No. Definitely not.”

“You could at least call him,” Sam says. “Talking to him might help.”

“I’m never talking to him about this, Sam,” Dean says sternly. “Ever.”

Sam nods. “Yeah…”

“And you don’t either,” Dean says. “We keep him away from this. He’s way too fucking smart, if he gets any inkling about this, he might put the pieces together.”

“I know, Dean.” Sam sighs heavily. He wants Carl here for selfish reasons too. For one, he wants to have just one night of good sleep again. And having Carl around just settles him and he knows it’s the same for Dean.

Carl makes them both better in their own ways. But it’s way more important that he stay away.

The woman who lives in their house is really nice. And Sam hopes they can get rid of whatever this thing is before it hurts her. This thing that very well could be what killed Mom and Jess.

For Sam, being here doesn’t feel too different from being anywhere else. But it’s weighing heavy on Dean, he can see it in his eyes.

He almost feels guilty for making Dean come here, but they don’t have a choice. They have to help this woman before it’s too late.

They’re getting gas, talking about the history of their house, when Dean tells him something he never knew before.

“Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?” Sam asks, sitting on the car’s trunk in front of Dean.

“About that night you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Not much.” Dean pauses, looking away. “I remember the fire, the heat… and then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?”

Dean looks at him then. “Yeah, what- you never knew that?”

Sam shakes his head. “No.”

“And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do.” Dean turns around to sit next to him. “Mom was-….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?”

“If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.”

“Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.” Sam looks over at Dean, who stares off into the distance.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Sam thinks back to that night Carl had that big fight with his dad. How Rick showed up too late, how he wasn’t even there for the fire.

And later when Carl told him the whole story himself, sharing the gritty details that are eerily similar to Dean’s.

“Hey Dean,” Sam says softly.

“Hmm?”

“What you said… about that night. How you carried me out.” Sam turns toward him. “Carl carried Judith out on his own too. He had to take her out of her crib, run with her out the front door because his mom was already gone and his dad wasn’t home.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes flash sharply, snapping over to Sam. “Really? All by himself?”

Sam nods, swallowing hard against an onset of emotion rising in his throat. “Yeah.”

Dean clicks his tongue. “Well I’ll be damned.”

Sam hesitates. “Dean… if you’d just call him, talk to him about this- he’s probably the only person in the world who can understand how you’re feeling.”

Dean’s eyes harden and he stands up. “I’ll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.” He quickly walks off and Sam sighs.

The gas pump clicks and Sam stands to take it out.

He hurts, grieving Jess and missing Carl. Wishing Dean would just listen to him.

******

Information given to them by the owner of the garage Dad used to work at leads them to a psychic palm reader named Missouri Mosely that Dad used to see.

She brings them inside, telling them to wait on the couch while she finishes up with a client. “Do you think she’s the real deal?” Sam whispers to Dean.

Dean shrugs a shoulder. “Seems like Dad trusts her.”

Sam wants to press, ask Dean what he thinks instead of just taking their dad’s opinion as gospel like he always does. But the last thing he wants to do is start a fight.

Missouri comes out, sending off her current client with an assurance that his wife is crazy about him. As soon as he’s out the door, she shakes her head. “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asks.

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news,” she says. “Well? Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” She motions for them to follow her into her office.

Okay, maybe she is the real deal. Sam and Dean exchange a confused look before following her.

“Well, lemme look at you.” She turns to face them, chuckling. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She points at Dean. “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” Dean frowns and Sam smirks.

“Sam,” Missouri says with concern, taking his hand and looking right into his soul. “Oh honey… I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” Sam swallows hard against the emotion that builds in his throat.

She tilts her head. “And there’s someone else you’re missing… someone alive but far away. That you love very much.”

Sam forces a smile. “Yeah, um- my best friend.”

Missouri looks like she wants to say more, but glances at Dean and steps back. “And your father… he’s missin’?”

“How’d you know that?” Sam asks.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now,” she says.

Sam raises his eyebrows, impressed.

“Well, where is he?” Dean asks, stepping closer. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know?” Dean scoffs. “Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?”

Missouri narrows her eyes at him, reaching out and taking his hand. Dean looks like he wants to pull it away, but decides against it.

“You’re really in love with that boy, aren't you?” she asks gently.

Dean’s face reddens and he tries to smirk. “Uh- what-”

“Don’t even try to lie to me,” she says, dropping Dean’s hand and walking over to sit down. “Not my fault he’s what you’re thinking about 24/7.”

Dean side-eyes Sam and clears his throat. “So… about our dad.”

******

They stop at a motel that night 6 hours out of Lawrence. After seeing their mom’s spirit, Sam knows Dean wants to get as far away as possible.

Sam lets his duffel bag drop and flops back onto a bed the moment they get into the room. Dean drops his own bag by the door. “Think m’gonna go out for a drink. You good to stay here?”

Sam sits up on his elbows, nodding. “Sure, yeah. I’ll probably just… sleep.” A lie, he’ll lay here watching TV for hours being too afraid to let himself fall asleep for the nightmares to come.

Dean nods. “I’ll see y’later.” He leaves and Sam’s alone in the silent room, the only sound the hum of the AC unit in the window.

Sam pulls his cellphone out of his pocket, overwhelmed with the urge to talk to Carl. He hits call, but realizes it’s super late and he’s probably dead asleep.

It goes to voicemail and Sam resigns himself to watching whatever he can find on late night TV.

******

Carl wakes up to his phone buzzing loudly on his side table. He feels around for it, seeing Sam’s name across the display.

As he’s fumbling with sleep-clumsy fingers to try to answer, another call comes in on top of it. Dean.

Carl bites his lip, pushing the arrow button back and forth between the two calls before choosing.

Dean’s voice comes through, smooth and even. “Hey, punk princess.”

Carl grins to himself at the old nickname, putting the phone on speaker next to his head. “Hi, Dean.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay,” Carl says. “I miss you.” He bites his lip, he hadn’t meant to let that slip out but he’s still in that fuzzy transitional space between sleep and wake.

“Oh do you?” Dean asks, voice lilting up.

“Shut up,” Carl says. “I’m delirious with exhaustion. Don’t listen to me.”

“Oh it was a lie, hmm?” Dean laughs. “That’s too bad.”

“Why?”

“Cause I was just about to tell you I miss you too.”

Carl blushes. “Oh really?”

“So much, baby,” Dean says, voice sincere in a way that makes Carl’s stomach dip. He hears the creak of the Impala’s door opening and then shutting.

“You’re in the car?”

“Mm-hmm,” Dean replies. “We’re at a motel. Sam’s in the room, I just… wanted to be somewhere private.”

“To talk to me?” Carl asks.

“That so bad?”

“Depends,” Carl says. “On if you’re trying to get me to do something dirty for you.”

Dean laughs, warm and low. “I did say that I miss you, didn’t I?”

Chapter Text

Late April 2006

When the doctor tells Sam that Dean only has a few weeks left at the most, the first thing he feels is anger. How fucking unfair is it that this is what’s going to take Dean out after everything.

But no. That anger morphs into determination. This is not how Dean’s story ends, he’s going to make sure of it.

Sam feels the sting of tears the moment he sees Dean in that bed, looking more sick and weak than he ever has in his life. A wave of despair washes over Sam before he forces himself to replace it with blind hope. No. He’s finding a way to fix this.

Dean speaks and his voice is so weak, it’s hits Sam’s ears so wrong. “Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible.”

Sam sighs, shaking his head. “I talked to your doctor.”

“That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down.”

“Dean.”

Dean looks at him then, turning the TV off. “Yeah. All right, well, looks like you're gonna leave town without me.”

“What’re you talking about? I'm not gonna leave you here.”

Dean gives him a pointed look. “Hey, you better take care of that car. Or I swear, I'll haunt your ass.”

“I don’t think that’s funny.”

“Oh come on, it’s a little funny.”

Sam looks at the floor.

Dean sighs. “Look, Sammy, what can I say, man, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it- end of story.”

“Don’t talk like that, alright?” Sam says. “We still have options.”

“You do. And you’re going to choose the one that takes you right back to Palo Alto,” Dean says. “Go be with Carl. Finish school, become a lawyer. Just like you want.”

“Dean,” Sam says sadly.

“Take care of him, okay?” Dean says seriously. “I mean it. Don’t let him get hung up on this.”

“Hung up on this?” Sam scoffs. “Dean, he’s in love with you! If you were to… die, which you’re not because I’m not letting you- that’s really gonna fuck him up!”

Dean sighs. “Sam. He’ll be fine, okay? He’s not in love with me, dude. That’s crazy.”

Sam glares. “I’m gonna figure this out, Dean. With or without your help.” He pulls out his phone.

“Who’re you calling?” Dean asks.

“Well, I’m gonna try dad,” Sam says. “Then Carl.”

“No.” Dean reaches out and grabs his wrist. “You will not call Carl. Do you understand me?”

Sam stares at him incredulously. “You just expect me to not tell him that you’re dying? If things go the way you seem to want, you’ll be dead in a couple weeks. He doesn’t get to say goodbye?”

Dean just barely flinches. “Stop, Sam. No. It’s easier if he just… finds out.”

“What?” Sam gapes at him. “Dean, that’s-… you expect me to be able to just tell him that you died? Just like that?”

Dean shrugs a shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous.” Sam shakes his head, snapping his phone shut. “I’m going back to the motel, I’m figuring this out.”

“Okay, Sammy,” Dean says tiredly, flipping the TV back on. “But do not call Carl or I swear to god I’ll kick your ass- dying or not.”

Sam has already decided he’s not going to. There’s no reason to scare him because Sam is going to fix this.

******

Carl got placed with a new roommate in a new apartment two weeks ago. He’s very strange and stand-offish. But he’s nice, clean and makes himself scarce. That’s all Carl can ask for.

And his name is Sam. Which is weird for Carl, but whatever. He’s short, pale and has a bowl haircut so he’s the opposite of his Sam looks-wise.

He’s at his desk, hunched over textbooks and notes studying for the bar exam. He has less than 8 months until he earns his LLM. And then he’ll be taking the bar exam. He’s so ready to be finished with school.

Carl has an internship lined up at a big law firm in Atlanta, close to home but still far enough away that he’ll be able to live a separate life. He’s ready to be near Judith again, at least for a little while. She’s in her first year at Georgia Tech right now and loving it.

Carl wishes all of this made him feel settled and happy, but it doesn’t.

He reaches over to turn his music down when he hears a knock at their front door. It can’t be for him, Tara would’ve called first and that’s the only person who’d be coming to see him.

He hasn’t heard from Sam or Dean since this morning, but last he heard they were on a hunt in Utah. He hasn’t seen them since the shapeshifter incident, but it finally seems like Dean’s gotten over that and they’ve settled back into their routine.

Carl jumps when there’s a knock at his bedroom door. “Sorry to bother you,” Sam’s timid voice says. “But there’s some guy here to see you. He looks… kind of scary.”

“What?” Carl says, mostly to himself. He walks over and opens his bedroom door. “Who is it?”

“I- I don’t know, he didn’t say. He kind of looks sick or like he’s on drugs maybe.”

Carl tilts his head, following Sam down the hallway and into the living room.

Dean’s in the doorway, leaning against it like he needs it to hold him up. He’s deathly pale with dark circles under his eyes, shoulders hunched over with his hands tucked into his hoodie pocket. He flashes a smirk. “Hey baby.”

“‘Baby’?” Sam asks. “Is this guy your boyfriend or something?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, grinning.

Carl walks over to pull Dean inside, shutting the door behind him. “No, he’s just a friend.”

Sam blinks owlishly at Dean. “Well, okay. I’m gonna go to my room.”

“It was nice to meet you, uh- I didn’t catch your name,” Dean says.

“Sam.”

Dean turns to Carl, chuckling. “Really?”

“Sam, this is Dean,” Carl says, motioning between them. “Dean, this is my roommate Sam.”

Dean flashes him a grin. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

“You too,” Sam says quickly before retreating as fast as he can down the hallway and shutting himself in his room.

“Not a friendly fella, huh?” Dean asks.

Carl turns to him, reaching out to grab his shoulders because he looks like he might fall over at any moment. “What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Sam?”

“Sam’s back in Utah. Am I not allowed to drop in on you or somethin’?”

“I mean, you could’ve called,” Carl says, leading Dean to the couch. “C’mon, sit. You look like you’re about to keel over. What’s wrong?”

Dean waves him off weakly, sitting down next to him. “I’m fine. Just got hurt on a job, but it’s okay.”

“Hurt? Hurt how?!” Carl looks him over. “Do you-?”

Dean holds up a hand. “Already been to a hospital and everything. Just gotta lay low for a bit, okay? That’s all.”

“And you chose to come… here?”

Dean smiles but it’s tight like he’s in pain. “Course, baby. No where else I’d rather waste time than here with you.”

Carl’s face heats and he rolls his eyes. “Wow, I’m flattered.”

Dean puts a hand on Carl’s knee, squeezing. “C’mon, I mean it.”

Carl smiles despite himself. “So why didn’t Sam come with you?”

“Think he’s getting a little sick of me,” Dean says. “Thought it was time to take a little break from each other.”

This just doesn’t seem right, Carl is skeptical. But it’s hard to voice that when Dean looks like he should be laying down and taking a nap. “You’ve spent your whole lives in each other’s back pockets but six months back on the road together did you in?”

Dean shrugs a shoulder. “Guess so.”

Something’s wrong about this, but Carl can’t stop focusing on how sick Dean looks. “Come on, let’s go lay down.” He stands up, offering his hand to Dean.

Dean bats his hand away. “I got it.” He struggles to his feet and Carl rolls his eyes at his stubbornness.

“New room’s nice,” Dean says when they walk in.

Carl closes the door behind him. “Pretty much the same as my last two.”

Dean sits down heavily on the edge of his bed, motioning to Carl. “C’mere, baby.”

“Dean,” Carl huffs, crossing his arms. They haven’t talked about the rushed handjobs they’d given each other last time they were together. But as far as Carl’s concerned, they’re still trying the ‘just friends’ thing. “What’re you doing?”

Dean huffs, crooking his fingers. “Just… c’mere. Throw a sick guy a bone, s’the least you can do.”

“This is your seduction tactic?” Carl lets out a resigned sigh, moving in close to stand between Dean’s knees to look down at him. “Manipulating me with your pitifulness?”

“Watch it,” Dean says, resting his hands on Carl’s hips. “I’m not so far gone that I can’t rail your ass into next week.”

“Mm-hmm, sure,” Carl says, letting Dean pull him down into a kiss with a hand on the back of his neck.

Carl climbs into Dean’s lap, knees bracketing his hips. Dean holds his face, deepening their kisses and licking into his mouth.

They stay like that for a long time, until Carl’s brain is all fuzzy and his lips are tingling. Dean hasn’t tried to move his hands anywhere under his clothes or onto his ass, one staying on his face and the other on his hip.

That’s how Carl knows Dean’s not well. There’s no way he’d just want to kiss for this long.

“You’re tired,” Carl whispers against his lips.

“Don’t matter,” Dean replies, chuckling. “You can do all the work.”

Carl gets to his feet in front of him, pushing at Dean’s shoulder. “Very funny. Lay down.”

Dean smirks. “Only if you lay with me.”

“C’mon, lay.” Carl pushes at his shoulders until he finally gives in and turns so he can lay back on Carl’s pillow.

Dean looks like he might fall asleep any second. “Lay with me.” He reaches out for Carl.

Carl sighs, sitting down next to him. “You should rest, Dean. You must’ve driven for hours to get here.”

“Didn’t drive,” Dean murmurs, eyes sliding closed as he turns onto his side to face Carl.

“Then how’d you get here?” Carl asks softly.

Dean curls a hand over Carl’s thigh, stroking his thumb on the soft skin there. “Bus.”

“You took a bus here?” Carl looks down at him incredulously. “All the way from Utah? That’s like… what- 8 hours?”

“10,” Dean says. “But who’s counting?”

“Dean- why-?” Carl huffs. “Why would you do that if you’re sick?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Dean says, leaning forward to kiss the side of Carl’s thigh.

Carl laughs, scratching his fingers through Dean’s short hair. “Think you do when you drop in on me unexpectedly. You could’ve called first.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Dean smiles, eyes still closed.

Carl bites his lip, watching Dean carefully. Something’s so off here. He hasn’t heard from Sam since yesterday, which is odd in itself.

It only takes a few minutes for Dean’s breathing to even out. Carl waits to make sure he’s really asleep before trying to get out of the bed.

Dean’s grip on his thigh tightens. Fuck, he’s not going anywhere without waking Dean up.

Carl pulls his phone out of his pocket, going to his call log to redial Sam. He looks down at Dean. “Dean?” he whispers, testing.

Nothing. Not even a twitch. Good.

He presses call. “Carl, hey,” Sam says, sounding exhausted and flustered. “Sorry, we’ve been so busy and-”

“Dean’s here with me,” Carl interrupts, keeping his voice low.

“Oh my god,” Sam says, letting out a relieved breath. “Thank god. I just left the hospital and he wasn’t there and he’s not answering his phone.”

Carl frowns. “I haven’t heard it ringing… guess he has it off.”

“Yeah, kept going straight to voicemail,” Sam says. “I should’ve known he’d bolt.”

“What’s wrong with him, Sam?” Carl runs a finger along Dean’s jawline, his sleep-soft face making his heart squeeze. “I know he’s lying to me about just being sick with something.”

Sam sighs heavily. “This isn’t gonna be easy to hear. But don’t worry- I’ve been researching all day and I think I know something we can try.”

“What d’you mean?” Carl asks. “Is he dying or something?”

Sam’s silence is his answer.

“Holy shit, Sam!” Carl says, way too loud because Dean stirs and tries to pull Carl closer. “Fuck. He’s dying? What happened?”

“He got electrocuted and it fucked up his heart, doctor says he has a few weeks at most,” Sam says, controlled calm. “But I’m not gonna let him die, okay? I’m gonna figure something out.”

Carl nods, reaching down with a shaking hand to stroke through Dean’s hair. “Okay.”

Sam makes a pained sound. “Carl, please don’t panic. I didn’t even want you to know because everything’s gonna be fine-”

“Sam, it’s-”

“I don’t want you to be scared,” Sam continues. “It’s-”

“Sammy,” Carl says, getting him to stop. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I can handle it. I know you’re scared too, we can be scared together. And figure this shit out. Just get here.”

“Yeah okay,” he says softly. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay? I’ll drive straight there.”

“Be safe,” Carl says before hanging up. He looks down at Dean, still sickly pale but looking so young and sleep soft it makes Carl’s chest hurt.

His eyes sting with unshed tears as he lays down next to Dean, putting a hand on his face and stroking his cheek.

Carl pulls Dean’s arm up to move under it, settling himself in against his chest. Dean moves in his sleep, tightening his grip around Carl and turning on top of him.

Dean’s weight is basically crushing him now, but he doesn’t mind. It feels reassuring and safe. Carl lets his eyes close, breathing in the warm scent of Dean as he falls asleep.

******

Carl wakes up overly warm, soft lips trailing lazily on the back of his neck and hands pressing up under his shirt. For a split second, it’s 5 years ago and it’s Sam behind him. But he’s surrounded by a very distinctly Dean scent and touch.

Dean’s voice rumbles pleasantly against his skin. “Morning, baby.”

Carl smiles, turning his face to the side. “Morning.” He realizes it’s the first time he’s woken up next to Dean. How have they never done this before?

Dean turns Carl to face him, kissing him deep. “S’nice, wakin’ up next to you.”

“Yeah,” Carl agrees in a breathy voice, throwing his leg over Dean’s hip to push their hips together.

Dean groans, pushing Carl onto his back and rolling on top of him. “It’s not fair for someone to be able to look so damn pretty right when they wake up.”

Carl wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. Dean rolls his hips down, their cocks rubbing together hotly. He touches under Carl’s shirt, hands running up and down his sides.

Dean’s touch doesn’t hold the strength it usually does and reality slams back into Carl. He kisses him harder, fighting against the sting of tears. The last thing he wants to do is confront Dean about this right now.

“Carl,” Dean murmurs against his lips, trying to pull away. Carl shakes his head, hands on the back of Dean’s neck keeping him close.

Dean hums, reaching back to move Carl’s hands so he can pull away. “Baby, hey. What’s wrong?” He cups Carl’s cheek, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb.

Carl swallows hard, vision blurring with tears. He bites his lip and shakes his head.

“You talked to Sam, didn’t you?” Dean whispers, rolling off to lay on his side next to him. “He told you.”

Carl nods, wiping harshly at his eyes and turning to face Dean. “He did, asshole. How could you keep that from me?”

Dean sighs, watching Carl with concern. “To avoid this.”

Carl laughs bitterly, moving away from Dean’s touch and sitting up. “So your plan was to what? Come here and hang out with me until you die? And just not tell me the truth?!”

“No, of course not!” Dean sits up next to him. “I was gonna leave before I died!”

“Oh my god, Dean!” Carl yells incredulously, burying his face in his hands. “What the fuck?”

“Baby.” Dean moves until he’s sitting partly in front of Carl, pulling his hands away from his face. “Look at me.”

Carl does, eyes red rimmed. Dean kisses the palm of his hand, resting it on his face. “All I want is to spend my last couple weeks with you and with Sammy.”

Carl shakes his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Dean- I can’t just-”

“Ain’t nothin’ we can do to change it,” Dean says. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go, but-”

“I don’t want you to leave, you fucking idiot,” Carl says, pushing his hands through his hair. “I’m just… mad at you for lying to me!”

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, touching his face. “I just didn’t want my last days with you to be like this, y’know? Sad and-”

“You didn’t want me to be sad about you dying? You wanted me to just be completely shocked?”

Dean’s face falls. “I- I didn’t-”

“Damn right you fucking didn’t,” Carl says, glaring at him. “I really hate you.”

Dean laughs lightly, taking Carl’s hands. “Well, I really really don’t hate you.”

Carl laughs despite himself, wiping his face with the heel of his palm. “Dying’s made you a sap, huh?”

“Only for you, sweetheart,” Dean says, smirking and pulling Carl in for a kiss.

Dean has just laid Carl down and settled between his legs when there’s a knock at the bedroom door. “Yeah?” Carl calls, Dean kissing down his neck.

“Sorry to bother you, but there’s someone else here to see you. Really tall guy,” his roommate Sam says through the door. “Says his name is Sam, too?”

“You could’ve told me he was coming here,” Dean says, rolling his eyes and climbing off of Carl. “Fuckin’ cockblock.”

“He’s figuring out a way to save your life, Dean,” Carl says, standing up and adjusting his clothes.

Dean follows him out the door, shoulders hunched over. “There’s nothing to figure out.”

Carl rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

******

Two Days Later

Sam calls Carl and tells him that Dean is no longer dying, but the whole thing turned into a hunt. And some guy died in Dean’s place because the faith healer’s wife had a deal with a reaper.

Carl doesn’t even feel a little bad for the guy who was traded for Dean, because he’s too relieved. Dean’s alive and healthy.

“See, baby, I told you everything was gonna be okay,” Dean says when he steals the phone from Sam. “Didn’t I?”

Carl laughs. “Sure, after you told me you were basically rolling over and letting death happen to you without even trying to stop it. Don’t think I’m just gonna forget about that.”

“Well I am, so you might as well too,” Dean says.

“The least you can do is come back and see me again before your next hunt,” Carl says, grinning to himself. “Make up for all the emotional distress you’ve put me through.”

Dean chuckles. “We’ll come again soon, baby, I promise.”

Carl flops back onto his bed. “‘But…?’”

Dean sighs. “But I got a call from an old friend of mine who needs my help now. So after that, I’ll see about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Carl says, picking at a loose thread on his comforter. “I didn’t know you had any of those.”

“What- friends?”

“Yeah.” Carl shrugs even though Dean can’t see him.

“You jealous or somethin’?” Dean teases.

Carl rolls his eyes, smiling. “You’d love that, wouldn't you?”

“You are jealous,” Dean says with astonishment. “Oh, I like this. I like jealous Carl.”

“God, shut up,” Carl says, staring up at his ceiling. “What even are we, Dean?”

“Whatever you want us to be, baby,” Dean says quietly, probably trying to keep Sam from hearing.

Carl sighs, heart thudding in his chest. “But I’m still here and you’re still… everywhere else.”

“I know,” Dean says sadly.

“And Sam…” Carl trails off, unsure what he even means by that.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “I know that, too.”

Chapter Text

Sam is surprised when Dean says an old friend- Cassie called him needing their help. Then he’s even more surprised when he sees that look on Dean’s face that means this girl is definitely not just a friend.

“By ‘old friend’ you mean…?” Sam asks once they’re driving.

“A friend that’s not new,” Dean says, closed-off.

“Oh yeah, thanks. So her name's Cassie huh? You never mentioned her,” Sam says, watching Dean carefully.

Dean shrugs a shoulder. “Didn’t I?”

Sam keeps staring at him, waiting for him to continue.

Dean sighs, annoyed. “Yeah, we went out.”

“You mean you dated somebody who’s not Carl?” Sam asks. “For more than one night?”

Dean’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter. “Am I speaking a language you're not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio a few years ago, she was finishing up college. We went out for a couple of weeks.”

“A few years ago as in…?”

“Jesus, Sam!” Dean shoots him a look. “By that point I hadn’t seen Carl in like a whole year. What’s your point?”

“It’s just weird,” Sam says, laughing lightly. “Imagining you having real feelings for anyone else. I didn’t think-”

“Yeah well, it’s not really your business, is it?” Dean says. “Carl had a whole other boyfriend at the time, what’s your problem?”

Sam just shakes his head. “Look, it's terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I'm not seeing how it fits with what we do.” He pauses. “Which by the way… how does she know what we do?”

Dean glances at him sideways, staying silent.

“You told her!” Sam says angrily. “You told her the secret! Just like you told Carl! You broke our big family rule number one again! We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half I do nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a few times and you tell her everything? Carl I get, you’re in love with him- I mean, he’s my best friend, even I thought about telling him a couple times-”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean says lowly. “I fuckin’ know.”

“Why’d you tell her? You fell in love with her too?”

“Christ, stop- stop throwing that goddamn word around,” Dean says, grimacing. “Look, it wasn’t like that with Cassie. I was just… it was a tough time, alright? And she’s a great girl, we were good together for a little while. I got too comfortable, that’s my fault. I shouldn’t have told her, but I did and it was a huge mistake. Can you shut up about it now?”

Sam tilts his head. “She didn’t believe you?”

“Of course not, Sam!” Dean yells. “She reacted how any normal fuckin’ person would react!”

“Not Carl though,” Sam says softly.

Dean scoffs. “Yeah. Fuckin’ exactly.”

******

Dean hates the way Sam watches him and Cassie, observant and critical. Like he thinks Dean cheated on Carl with her. Dean’s got a lot of issues, but cheating isn’t on the list. It’s just not something he does.

It’s complete bullshit, Cassie and Carl are so far removed from each other. Two totally separate situations. Not that it’s any of Sam’s business at all.

Things with Cassie were good while they lasted, not nearly as intense as things with Carl. Incomparable really. But it had been good, almost… comfortable even.

After talking with Cassie and some others involved with the case, Sam and Dean realize the truck keeps coming up in every conversation. It seems to be at the center of all this.

And all the victims seem to be connected to Cassie and her family in some way.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Dean says as they approach the Impala. “See what I can find out.”

“Just ‘talk’ to her?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dean sighs. “Yes, Sam.”

Sam watches him, suspicious.

“Christ, Sam, stop!” Dean says, wrenching his car door open. “Carl and I aren’t even- just mind your fuckin’ business for once!” He sits down in the car, gripping the wheel.

Sam gets in next to him. “I know you two say you’re not, okay? That technically you aren’t, but I know it’s just because of me and everything that happened with Jess. And I appreciate you guys trying to spare my feelings or whatever-”

“Sam.” Dean laughs, cutting him off. “You really think it’s just about you? Really?”

Sam shrugs. “I mean… partly?”

“Maybe on Carl’s part, I can’t speak for him, but there’s a lot more- y’know what? Fuck you, I don’t have to tell you shit,” Dean says. “I’m gonna drop you off at the motel to see what you can dig up on your laptop while I go ask Cassie a few questions, see what I can get out of her.”

Dean does exactly that, over Sam’s shit for the day so he’s glad to leave him at the motel. At Cassie’s, she tells him that the paper is doing a tribute to Jimmy and the history behind it.

“Where’s your brother?” Cassie asks.

“Not here.” Dean shrugs.

“Alright,” she says, standing in front of him. “So what brings you here?”

“Trying to find the connection between the three victims,” Dean says. “By the way, did you talk to your mom about what Todd said- about not being a racist?”

“I did,” she replies. “She didn't want to talk about it.”

“Right.” Dean thinks for a second. “So just then, why did you ask where my brother was?”

“Nothing. Not important.” She shakes her head.

“S’not because without him here it’s just you and me?” Dean offers. “Alone for the first time since what happened?”

She sighs. “Dean-”

“No, it’s fine,” Dean says, walking away. “We’ll keep it strictly business.”

Cassie laughs bitterly. “I forgot you do that.”

“Do what?” Dean turns back toward her.

“Oh. Whenever we get, what's the word….close?” She throws her hands up. “Anywhere in the neighborhood of emotional vulnerability, you back off. Or make some joke. Or find any way to shut the door on me.”

Dean barks out a laugh. “Oh that's hilarious.” He walks back to stand in front of her. “See, I'm not the one who took that big final door and slammed it behind me.”

“Okay wait a minute-”

“Look Cassie, it’s fine, okay?” Dean says. “We wouldn’t have-…. it wasn’t gonna work anyway. We both know that. But I was totally honest with you and you nailed me for it!”

Cassie stares at him incredulously. “The guy I'm with- the guy I'm hoping might be in my future, tells me he professionally pops ghosts!”

“That’s not the words I used!”

“And that I should just believe him because the ex-boyfriend of his that he’s trying to get over did! And then you just left to go work with your father!”

“I did!”

“All I could think was, If you want out fine, but don't tell me this insane story and compare me to your ex!” she continues. “Do you know how that feels? To know that I was always second to him?”

“No Cassie, hey,” Dean says, moving in close. “That’s not true.”

She smiles sadly. “You don’t have to lie to me. You were honest from the beginning, that there was someone you were hung up on, trying to get over. Someone you’d been in love with. And I understood that because I’d been there, too.”

Dean feels the words like a physical blow. That’s what Sam doesn’t know. Sharing what they do with Cassie wasn’t nearly as hard as talking about Carl. And he’d really wanted to try with Cassie, so he laid it all out there for her. The truth.

“I know,” Dean says, getting in her space. “But Cassie, I really cared about you. I still do. I told you the truth about everything because I really wanted-… wanted to try. Okay?”

“Well, I thought you were just trying to get me to dump you!” she says.

“Well I wasn’t.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“Well you did.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Cassie looks up at Dean with wet eyes before suddenly their lips are colliding, sliding together passionately.

Dean leans into it until Cassie’s hands slip under the hem of his shirt and he gently pulls away, stepping back. “I- Cassie, I can’t.”

“Right.” She closes her eyes, stepping away and laughing lightly. “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, don’t be,” Dean says seriously. “It’s just…. I’m kind of back with him now.”

“Your ex? Carl?” Cassie doesn’t look upset, she looks almost relieved.

Dean nods. “Yeah, we- uh-” His phone rings, cutting him off. He pulls it out of his pocket, expecting it to be Sam.

It’s Carl. Because of course it is.

“That’s him, isn’t it?”

“How’d you know?”

She smiles slightly. “Your smile.”

“What? I didn’t-”

“You better take that,” she says with a sad smile, walking to the front door and opening it. “I’ll see you later.”

******

It takes the truck coming for Cassie for her mother to finally tell the story they needed to hear to piece the rest of the story together and figure out what to do.

Salting and burning the body doesn’t work. But a terrifying idea of Sam’s to have it chase Dean over hallowed ground does, it disappears and it’s finally over.

Now it’s day and they’re outside preparing to leave. Sam gets into the driver’s seat when he sees Cassie walking up to them, giving Dean a look.

“My mother says to tell you thanks again,” she says.

Dean leans against the car. “S’no problem.”

Cassie smiles. “This is a better goodbye than last time.”

“You can say that again,” Dean chuckles.

“Well… goodbye, Dean,” she says, stepping forward to kiss his cheek. “You hold onto him, okay? Be good to him, don’t let him go again.”

Dean swallows hard, nodding. “I’ll try, yeah.”

She smiles again before walking away. Dean gets into the car with a heavy sigh and Sam drives off.

When they’re out on the open road, Sam finally speaks. “She knew about Carl?”

“Yep.”

Sam hums in acknowledgement. “She’s right, y’know?”

Dean stares at Sam for a moment before grinning and slipping his sunglasses on. “Why don't you wake me up when it's my turn to drive?”

“You wanna stop in Palo Alto before we find the next hunt?” Sam asks.

Dean’s lips quirk up at the sides and he gives a barely there nod. “Keep drivin’, Sammy.”

Chapter Text

During the years that Sam was at Stanford, John never missed an opportunity to blame his leaving on ‘that damn boy’.

“That damn boy filled his head with this idea that he can just walk away and live a normal life with no consequences. Gonna get him in a shitload of trouble. That shit doesn’t happen for people like us, Dean. You understand that. Why can’t Sam?”

Dean tried to avoid the topic of Sam altogether, because all it would do is make John upset. But sometimes it was impossible to steer the conversation a different way.

Dean didn’t understand why John seemed to have it out for Carl, someone he met literally once who was just a civilian who they happened to befriend. Yes, keeping friends was a dangerous game, but it seemed like more than that.

Maybe it was just because he needed someone to blame for Sam’s abandonment of their family, and it was easier to hate a stranger rather than your own son.

But Dean couldn’t help but think there was more there, a real reason behind John’s distaste for Carl. But he didn’t dare ask, he couldn’t have John thinking he really cared about Carl or still thought about him in any way.

Everything clicks when Sam and Dean are flipping through John’s journal that first night away from Palo Alto.

Carl isn’t just some civilian. But why would their dad keep this from them?

Dean knows he must have a good reason, Dad always does. But Sam… he’s pissed. More fuel to his already huge dad-hating fire.

Now- six months later, they’re finally reunited with their father and Dean’s bracing himself for the inevitable fight. For the moment Sam brings Carl up and it all explodes in their faces.

Emotions run high in the wake of the demon attack and it seems to have drained the fight out of Sam for the moment, all of them just grateful they’re alive.

John is gone again before they can have a real conversation.

Chapter Text

May 2006

Sam and Dean unexpectedly coming to visit last week was a distraction Carl didn’t need but very much enjoyed. They were barely here a few hours before they had to rush off anyway, something about a suspicious murder in Michigan. Carl doesn’t even know how they found out about it so fast.

Carl has seven months until he graduates with his LLM. And with summer around the corner, he’s been looking for internships like crazy.

Just something temporary, until he passes the bar at least and finds a permanent job. Because he’d rather not get one in Palo Alto.

Because he’s tired of California and he wants to be closer to Judith again. Not at all because he wants to choose somewhere more… central and easy to get to for those who live on the road.

But an internship would be perfect to add to his resume in the future, especially if he could squeeze one or two letters of recommendation out of it.

No luck so far though. But that’s partially his own fault for focusing nearly all of his time on studying instead of job searching.

Carl’s talking to Sam on the phone on his walk to the library. Sam and Dean just got finished with a hunt in Illinois, where they ran into their dad they’ve been chasing all these months.

Their dad who’s already left them again for ‘safety’ reasons or whatever. Figures.

They’re just driving now, looking for their next hunt but haven’t found anything yet. So now he’s filling Sam in on his failing internship search.

“You’ll find something,” Sam says. “Just keep checking the bulletin boards around campus.”

“I’ll try.” Carl sighs. “It’s so much easier for people who have connections. Well- for people who talk to other people in general. Which is not me.”

“Told you being anti-social would come back to bite you in the ass,” Sam says.

“Don’t patronize me,” Carl replies, rolling his eyes.

Sam chuckles. “Hey, what about your roommate Sam?”

“He’s somehow even more anti-social than me,” Carl says. “At least I have you guys. I never see him send a text message, much less hear him talking on the phone. He’s always holed up in his room studying or- whatever the fuck he does.”

“Well hey, you’re gonna find something, okay?” Sam says. “Just keep trying.”

“Yeah yeah.” Carl walks through the library doors. “I gotta go now, I’m at the library.”

They hang up and Carl sits down at a table with a huff, throwing his backpack up onto it and pulling his materials out to settle in for a long study session.

Carl stays at the library until the sun starts to go down and his stomach is gnawing at itself with hunger. He realizes he hasn’t eaten much of anything since…. yesterday morning.

Fuck. Carl and Sam are both bad about that- the not-eating thing. They try to keep each other in check when they’re together but since he’s been on his own, it’s gotten bad again.

Jess was the best at making sure both of them ate 3 meals a day. He’s sure Sam hasn’t done that since she died- he hasn’t either.

Carl packs his stuff up, deciding to treat himself to a nice drive off-campus to get some Taco Bell.

He drops his things off at his apartment, knocking on Sam’s bedroom door to ask if he wants anything. He says no, like he always does. Poor kid has an intense fear of being an inconvenience on any level no matter how much Carl insists he doesn’t mind.

On his way out to his car, he’s looking down at his keys when he bumps into someone. “Oh, sorry,” he says, looking up.

He pauses when it’s Brandon grinning down at him. “Hey, old roomie!”

“Hi Brandon,” Carl says, forcing himself to be nice. “I was just going to my car.”

“Oh yeah no, go ahead.” Brandon moves out of the way to let him by.

But he follows him. Because of course he does. “So how’ve you been?”

Carl turns around, huffing. “Fine…. you?” He has to force himself not to grimace.

“Pretty good all things considered, being accused of murder and all,” Brandon says. “Glad that’s over for sure.”

“Yeah,” Carl says, smiling awkwardly. “Well, I’m gonna-”

“It’s internship season! You found one yet?” Brandon interrupts.

Carl shakes his head. “Uh- no. Not yet. You?”

“Yes! Hey, I can totally bring you in to meet my boss, we have one spot left!”

The idea of working alongside Brandon makes him nauseous, but if he doesn’t get one soon he’s gonna be fucking screwed. The least he can do is meet with the boss.

Niveus Pharmaceuticals is the company and Carl will meet Brandon there in the morning. Meet his boss who he didn’t get the name of.

Honestly, the idea of working in the law office for a pharmaceutical company sounds like a nightmare. But he needs an internship on his resume and having connections is the best way to get one.

******

“You’re on your way to meet Brandon’s boss?” Sam laughs out. “You’d seriously be okay working with him?”

“It’d just be for the summer,” Carl says with a sigh, driving down the highway. “No big deal.”

“What if you like it and get offered a permanent position there?”

Carl scoffs. “A pharmaceutical company? Does that really sound like the place for me?”

Sam hums. “Guess you’re right.”

“So where are you guys now?” Carl asks.

“Just got into Texas, heading to a town called Richardson to investigate a supposedly haunted house.”

“Oooh,” Carl says. “No more details?”

There’s a pause. “Nope,” Sam says, sighing. “You know the rules.”

“Dean’s rules,” Carl says with a scoff. Dean’s new thing about no details, bare-minimum information. To keep him ‘safe’, Dean says, but Carl knows it’s to keep him as separated as possible.

There’s a scuffle on the other end of the line and then Dean speaks. “You need to focus on how you’re gonna dazzle this boss guy, alright?”

Carl rolls his eyes. “Dazzle?”

“Yeah, you know,” Dean says. “You’re gonna do great, okay?”

“Thanks.” Carl sighs, turning into the parking lot. “Talk later?”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean says. “Giving it back to Sam now.”

“Good luck,” Sam says. “You got this.”

“Yeah yeah, okay Mr. Rogers,” Carl says, parking his car in the massive parking lot. “Fuck, I see Brandon a row over. Watching for me.” He shudders. “Okay, I gotta go.”

They say bye and hang up. Carl takes a deep breath before getting out of the car, adjusting his button down shirt, tie, and slacks. God, he feels stupid in business clothes.

Small-talk with Brandon is excruciating on the way up, but Carl deals. They get off the elevator up on the 9th floor. “This isn’t where our department is, but it’s where HR is so you can meet my recruiter. Only way you’re getting the job here is if you impress him first.”

“Gotcha,” Carl says, following him through the cubicles to an office door.

“His name’s Mr. Brady, make sure you address him that way or he gets real pissy,” Brandon says with a laugh, opening the door.

“His name’s- what?” Carl blanches as the door swings open and Brandon motions for him to follow him inside.

“Hi, Mr. Brady!” Brandon says brightly. “I brought my friend in to apply for the-” Brandon’s voice fades into nothing when he sees who’s sitting at the desk. His ears ring so loud he can’t hear anything, time slows down, his heart thuds loudly, thrumming through his whole body.

Carl’s can’t take a step past the doorway, blood turned to ice in his veins. He can’t move his legs, can’t feel his arms, can’t see anything except his face.

Brady’s face splits into a grin and he stands up from his desk. “Well hey, angel.” Carl flinches like the word is a physical blow. “Never in a million years did I think I’d see you here. What a treat.” He walks around his desk. “Brandon, can you leave us alone, please?”

Carl suddenly snaps his attention to Brandon, he’d forgotten he was even in the room. He wants to beg him not to leave, but the last thing he wants to do is show weakness.

“Um, sure. No problem,” Brandon says, walking to the door. Carl has to step inside to let Brandon out and his chest is so tight he can hardly take a breath.

“Close the door, if you would, please,” Brady says, voice dripping with faux-professionalism. Brandon does and the click of the door echoes loudly in Carl’s ears.

Brady’s in his space then, right in front of him, looming. “What? Surprised to see me? Your dumbfuck of an ex-roommate didn’t tell you my name, did he?”

Carl steps back, hand going for the doorknob. “I’ll just go… okay?”

Brady grabs his wrist, grinning. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He pulls him aggressively towards his desk, to the chairs in front of it. “Sit! Please. Let’s talk.”

Carl stays silent, staring him down and trying to hide everything he’s feeling. It’s scarily easy to slip back into this skin. It makes Carl sick that that part of him he thought was long dead can just come back like it’s nothing. “Just let me leave. I’ll say we had a good talk but the hours don’t work for me. Leave it at that.”

Brady sits down heavily in his desk chair, leaning his elbows on his desk and leering at Carl. “Where’s the fun in that, angel? I haven’t seen you in years, least you can do is give me some of your time.”

Carl’s jaw clenches. “Last time we saw each other, you tried to kill me.”

“But you didn’t die, did you?” Brady clicks his tongue, cold blue eyes assessing. “Such a resilient little thing. I’m impressed, really.”

Carl swallows hard. “How did you become such a fucking asshole?”

Brady laughs. “I’ve always been this way, Carl. You were always the one who deluded yourself.”

“You’re high right now, aren't you?” Carl asks, a sudden rush of boldness hitting him. “Still haven’t been able to get any help?”

“Stone cold sober, angel,” Brady says. “But nice try.”

“It’s not you, Brady,” Carl says. “Be as mean as you fucking want to, but I know the truth about you. You let drugs run your life, turn you into a monster. That’s your fucking choice.”

Brady laughs again. “What are you— a fucking after school special? Christ, you never stop trying, do you?”

Carl stands up. “I’m gonna leave now. I don’t have to-“

Brady’s in front of him in a flash, hand pressing into his chest to push him back down into the chair. “You leave when I say you can. I’m not finished catching up with you yet.” Brady leans back against his desk, legs open around Carl’s. Caging him in.

“What do you fucking wan from me, Brady?” Carl demands, the anger overtaking everything else as he glares up at Brady’s smug expression.

Brady leans down until their faces are so close his features blur. Carl resists pulling back, doubling-down and keeping eye contact. Brady smiles, running his finger over Carl’s cheek and making him shudder with fear and disgust. “I think you know, sweetheart.”

“What— you seriously want to fuck me?” Carl laughs. “Never gonna fucking happen. Try anything and I’ll scream. Let all your little coworkers out there know what a piece of shit you are.”

“You’re like a mad little puppy. So cute, but not at all threatening.” Brady laughs, leaning away. “And yes, but that’s not all. Though, it makes sense you’d think of that first- it’s all you were ever good for. ”

Carl glares harder, swallowing against the hurt that makes him feel. “Then what?”

Brady steps forward, pulling Carl to his feet and shoving him up against the wall, caging him in with his arms. “I wanna fuck you so hard everybody out there can hear your cries. Of pain or pleasure- what’s the fucking difference? They certainly won’t know. Then you have to walk out of here, do the most humiliating walk of shame of all time and still I’ll make sure to tell everyone you weren’t good enough to get the internship. Hell, not even to get a fucking janitor job here.”

“Why are you doing this?” Carl asks, voice shaking. His heart’s beating so hard he’s scared he might pass out. His head spins, he can’t breathe. Brady’s all he can see, hear, smell, feel.

Brady grins, tracing lines on Carl’s cheek and jaw with his finger. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really know. Maybe cause it’s fun to fuck with you.” Brady leans in close to put his lips against Carl’s ear and Carl jerks away.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you’re scared,” he whispers, breath hot against Carl’s skin. Brady kisses wet and messy on the skin below his ear, Carl’s breath hitches. He tries to reach up to push him away, but Brady presses his hands back to the wall, grip so tight around his wrists it’s painful.

“God, I missed this,” Brady hisses against his neck as he lavishes it with unwanted kisses and nips. Carl struggles against his grip to no avail. “Yeah, angel, give me a challenge. You know how I like that.”

“I’m gonna tell Sam and his brother- soon as I leave here,” Carl says suddenly. “And they’ll find you.”

Brady chuckles, pulling away to look Carl in the eyes. “I forget you have Sam and Dean Winchester in your back pocket. Your big, bad attack dogs, huh?”

Carl nods, setting his jaw. “They’ll make you fucking pay if you do anything to me.”

“Oh, will they?” Brady laughs, grinning with all his teeth. “Let them try, angel. Go ahead, I’ll even let you call Sam right now. How’re you gonna explain that you were too stupid to do any research ahead of time before walking right into my office? Or maybe… he’ll think that you did it on purpose. That you wanted to see me again like the pathetic thing you are. You missed me so much you just walked right back to me and spread your legs.”

Carl’s chest heaves, blinking back the sting of humiliated tears. “Fuck you. He’d never believe that and you fucking know it.”

Brady tilts his head. “You sure about that? Sure enough to call him right now? Who’s to say I won’t just take the phone from you and talk to Sam myself? Oh- and Dean, too. I’ve heard so much about him, it’s about time I have a nice conversation with him about how fucking easy you are.”

“How the fuck do you know anything about Dean?” Carl huffs.

Brady grins. “Of course I keep tabs on my favorite pet, Carl. Why do you think I hired your fucking idiot of an ex-roommate anyway?”

Carl’s eyes widen as the terror sets in. “What?” he whispers, horrified.

Brady shoves his arms above his head, pressing his wrists into the wall. “You might think you’re safe, think I’m gone, but I’m not. I’ll never be. I’m always waiting, watching, listening. Everything you do, everything you say. I’m in your fucking head, Carl.” Brady drags Carl’s shirt up, exposing the long scar on his side. “I’m on your body.”

Brady runs his fingers down it and Carl tries to jump away. “Yeah,” Brady breathes. “Marked you all up, didn’t I?”

A loud knock at the door startles Carl, but Brady just looks annoyed. “Yes?”

“Mr. Brady, you have the meeting with the director in ten minutes. Is there anything you need me to prepare for you?” a woman’s voice comes through.

Brady stares right into Carl’s eyes as he replies to her. “No, thank you! I’ll be finished up here in just a minute.”

He just keeps holding Carl there after she walks away, staring at him. Calculating. Until finally he lets him go and Carl tries to make a dash for the door.

Brady grabs him by the arm, yanking him close. “If you breathe a word about this to anyone, I’ll make sure you’re blacklisted from every possible internship from here to the east coast. You fucking understand?”

Carl nods. “Just let me fucking go.”

Brady tightens his grip and Carl winces. “Nobody’s ever gonna fucking believe you anyway. Especially not those two dumbfucks who wouldn’t give a shit about you if you didn’t put out.”

Brady opens the door and shoves Carl out. He quickly recovers, managing to slip away without much attention.

Carl needs to get the fuck away as fast as possible. He can’t be here right now. In Palo Alto, in California. He hates this fucking place and all the horrible memories it holds.

He holds himself together until he’s driven fifteen minutes down the road. His entire body starts shaking and a sob wracks through him. He pulls over into the parking lot of a dollar store, letting the sobs overtake him until he can barely breathe.

Carl has no idea how long he sits there, crying and screaming alone in his car like a lunatic before he grabs his phone from his pocket, fumbling to dial Sam.

“Hey Carl, we just-“

“Sam.” Carl’s voice is small, breaking. “Sam, I-”

“What happened?!” Sam demands. “Are you okay?”

Carl starts crying all over again, feeling so pathetic it’s embarrassing. “I saw Brady again,” he manages to choke out.

“You what? Where? Did he-? What did he fucking do to you, Carl?” Sam demands.

“He tried, but he- he didn’t get to do anything,” Carl says, taking a heaving breath. “Fuck, I can’t be here. I gotta get out of here. Right now.”

“You want me to come there? I can let Dean handle this on his own, I’ll steal a car or something and come right now-”

“No, no you don’t have to do that,” Carl says, voice shaking. “I’ll come there. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course. You can stay at the motel with us as long as you want. But um… what do you want me to tell Dean?”

Carl thinks a moment, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. “I’ll calm down on the way there, just say the interview didn’t go well and I needed a break.”

“Got it,” Sam says. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive here? It’s over a day away I think.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go throw some of my shit in a bag and come, I’ll be there tomorrow,” Carl says. “Where are you guys now?”

“Some rest stop about 10 hours away,” Sam says. “Dean’s inside.”

“Good timing for my call,” Carl says, laughing lightly.

Sam’s silent for a beat, but Carl can practically feel how angry he is through the phone. “Where’d you see him?”

Carl takes a deep breath. “Brandon offered to take me to where he works cause there’s another internship position open. And when I went to meet the recruiter, it was him.”

“Fucking Brandon,” Sam says. “I’m sorry, Carl.”

“S’not your fault,” Carl says, huffing out a bitter laugh. “It’s actually mine for not just doing a little research first.”

“Don’t say that,” Sam says quickly. “It’s not your fucking fault.”

Carl sniffles. “Sure, Sam.”

Sam sighs. “What’d he try to do to you?” His voice is low and dangerous.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Carl says quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow-ish.”

“Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all. Even just to talk,” Sam says. “Be safe driving.”

“I’ll try,” Carl says, smiling slightly.

After they hang up, Carl goes to his apartment and takes just enough time to throw stuff into his duffel bag. Enough for a couple of days at least.

On his way out the door, he spots Jess’s camera sitting on one of his shelves. He still hasn’t used it and he feels guilty about that. Jess would’ve wanted him to continue her tradition, her parents gave it to him exactly for that purpose.

What better reason to start than visiting Sam and Dean.

Chapter Text

Two hours away from Sam and Dean, Carl gets a call from Judith. When he answers, she’s whispering. “Carl, don’t freak out.”

“What?” His heart rate immediately spikes. “Why? What’s going on?”

Judith takes a long breath. “Dad’s gonna call you here in a couple minutes and tell you he proposed to Michonne.”

“He- they what? Why didn’t he tell me?” Carl demands.

“I mean, when was the last time you talked to Dad at all?”

She has a point. Carl hasn’t spoken to Rick since that day he needed information about the shapeshifter case.

“It’s just… isn’t this a little fast?”

“I mean, not really,” Judith says. “They’ve been dating for four years. But I mean- you’ve only been home like five times since you left, so I can see how you’d feel that way.”

“Hey, more than five,” Carl says.

“Okay, maybe six,” Judith says playfully. “But usually just on Christmas break.”

Carl sighs. “I’m sorry, Judy.”

“Hey, I’m not upset,” she says. “Seriously. I mean- yeah, I miss you. But you’ve been so much happier since you left. Well- until…” She trails off, sighing. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

Carl laughs lightly. “It’s okay, I know.”

“I just wanted to warn you, cause I know you and Dad don’t really talk anymore,” she says. “I mean- since I’ve been at college, I haven’t either. Since I finished finals, I decided to visit home and then he dropped that bomb on me basically as soon as I got here.”

Carl bites back a scoff. Of course he did. He hates that Rick doesn’t seem to be making an effort with Judith anymore since she left for Georgia Tech back in August. But it really does seem to be Judith’s choice to keep her distance, so he stays silent and lets her do what’s best for herself.

“Thank you for telling me, Jude,” Carl says.

“Of course,” she says. “Are you driving?”

“Yeah,” Carl says. “To see Sam and Dean in Texas.”

“Oh, I see,” Judith says slyly. “To see them. Right.”

“Stop.” Carl’s phone beeps and he pulls it away to see his Dad’s calling now. “Great, there’s Dad now.”

“Good luck,” Judith sighs. “I’m gonna go, finish up lunch with them and book it back to school. I wasn’t planning on taking a summer class, but now… I think I’d just rather be there.”

“I’ll come visit you this summer, okay?” Carl says. “Okay, I gotta go.”

“Bye, love you,” she says.

“Love you too.” Carl hangs up and answers his dad’s call.

******

Sam is researching in the motel room, trying to focus on the article he’s reading and failing. Dean’s out grabbing them something to eat.

Leaving Sam alone with his thoughts, stewing over what the fuck he wishes he was going to do to Brady right now instead.

They’ll eat, then go out and find a place to interview some kids about the local legend, see what they can dig up.

Sam wants to rip Brady apart. He feels alight with newfound anger at everything he did to Carl and at himself for not doing enough to stop it. Still failing to do enough.

But killing Brady is just straight up murdering a man. And Carl has told him that’s a hard no, he’d never forgive himself if Sam did that on his behalf.

There’s a knock at the door and Sam stands up, thinking it might be Dean with his hands full or something. When he opens it, it’s Carl, looking run down and exhausted, but he smiles anyway. “Hey, Sammy.”

“Carl,” Sam says, letting him inside before pulling him into a tight hug. He feels smaller and more fragile than usual in his arms and he pushes him away, scanning him over. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine.” Carl shakes his head.

Sam’s brow furrows, hands running down Carl’s shoulders to his wrists. “You got skinnier. How’s that even possible?”

Carl shrugs him off, tossing his duffel bag into one of the chairs at the little table by the window. “Not eating. You’re one to talk.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing pretty good,” Sam says, crossing his arms. “It’s impossible to live with Dean and avoid getting at least two meals a day.”

Carl scoffs, sitting down next to him. “I feel like I need to sleep for a fucking week.”

“Go ahead,” Sam says, motioning toward the bed. “Dean’s on his way back with food but after that we’re going out to interview some people.”

“I wanna come,” Carl says, leaning against him and letting his eyes fall shut. “Fill me in. I can help.”

Sam huffs out a laugh, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Yeah, sure. Think you’ll pass out before I can get through the first sentence.”

“C’mon, Sam,” Carl whines, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder.

“You know the deal- you’re not helping us,” Sam says, shifting Carl around until he’s laying down on the pillows. “Sleep now. I’m gonna tell Dean you haven’t been eating enough though and he’ll force feed you a burger and fries the moment you wake up.”

Carl groans, eyes fluttering open to look up at him. “I don’t care about the deal, I’ll help when I wake up.”

“Dean’ll never let you,” Sam says, smiling slightly. He reaches down to brush Carl’s hair off his forehead. “Are you okay after what happened? Do you wanna tell me about it?”

Carl shakes his head quickly, pulling the blankets up and crawling under them. “I really really don’t. He just… said some shit, made some threats, whatever. Roughed me up a little. But I’m okay now. I just wanna forget it ever happened.”

Sam nods, frowning. “Okay.”

Carl turns onto his side, pulling the sheets up to his chin and burrowing his face into Sam’s pillow. “Since you insist… guess I’m gonna sleep now.”

Sam huffs out a quiet laugh. “You’ve only been awake the last 24 hours.” Before he even finishes the sentence, Carl’s breathing evens out. He was way too exhausted, was probably a hazard on the road by the end.

Sam’s just happy he’s here, safe and warm in his bed, far away from anything that could hurt him.

******

Carl wakes up to sunlight streaming through the blinds, warming him through the blankets.

He sits up, stretching his arms above his head. It feels like he’s been asleep for a fucking week. He stands up and cracks his back, grabbing his phone off the side table. It’s morning. Holy fuck, he slept for like 18 hours or something.

Sam’s texted him some updates. One from yesterday evening that they went out, one about them leaving this morning, and another saying they’re heading to investigate the house now and will stop back by after.

He has one from Dean. ‘Sammy tells me you’ve been eating like a fucking bird. I got you two burgers. They’re in the fridge. Eat them. If they’re not gone by the time we get back I’m gonna turn your ass red and not in the fun way’

Carl scoffs to himself, walking over to the fridge and pulling the fast food bag out. He throws it in the microwave, going over to Sam’s laptop where it sits on the small kitchen table.

His password is the same thing it’s been since freshman year ‘81082’ - Carl’s birthday. Carl scoffs lightly to himself, he can’t believe after all these years Sam’s never changed it.

He skims through all the open tabs while he eats the burgers- a few articles and a website called HellhoundsLair.com. He uncovers the location of the house they must be going to investigate.

Carl finishes the burgers and grabs his car keys.

******

They search the house, finding nothing much except a freshly painted symbol they don’t recognize. Dean thinks the cops are probably right, this is just teenagers fucking around.

There’s a sound from the other room. When Dean and Sam go to investigate, it’s two dopes who call themselves professional paranormal investigators. Business cards and all. They run that dumbass website Sam used to research the place.

“Oh yeah, yeah, we're huge fans,” Dean says sarcastically.

“And uh- we know who you guys are too,” Ed says.

Sam and Dean glance at each other. “Oh yeah?” Sam asks.

“Amateurs,” Ed says with a cocky smile. “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills.”

Dean loses interest immediately, walking over to look through the cabinets where apparently they’ve stashed some of their equipment.

“Yep,” Harry adds. “So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here.”

“Yeah, what have you got so far?” Dean asks, picking up some night-vision goggles and turning them over in his hand.

Ed grins. “Harry, why don’t’cha tell 'em about EMF?”

Sam looks at them wide-eyed. “EMF?”

“Electromagnetic field?” Harry says. “Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” He turns it on and Dean throws a smirk towards Sam, putting the goggles back in the cabinet and closing it.

“Woah, it’s 2.8 mg,” Harry says, holding it up.

“2.8, it’s hot in-” Ed cuts himself off, pointing towards the window. “Oh my god, what the hell’s that?”

“An apparition!” Harry yells.

Sam and Dean both turn to the window just in time to see a very familiar brunette head disappearing.

“I’ll take care of this,” Dean says, ignoring Harry and Ed’s freak out and leaving out the front door. “Carl!”

Dean runs around the side of the house, seeing Carl disappear around the other corner to the back. “Jesus Christ, stop runnin’!”

Carl’s standing there with his arms crossed when he rounds the corner. “I just wanted to see the place, okay!”

Dean walks over and grabs him by the arm, leading him back around to the front. “Go back to the motel now.”

Carl huffs, stumbling slightly when Dean lets him go. “I haven’t seen you in weeks and the first thing you do is yell at me.”

“Yeah, Carl! That’s what happens when you disobey my direct orders! No hunts! Motel. Now.” Dean points towards the path that leads to the road, grabbing Carl’s arm again.

Carl jerks out away from him. “You don’t get to give me direct orders, I’m not Sam!”

“Carl!” Sam interrupts, running up next to them. “What the hell were you thinking coming here?”

“For once, I agree with Sam,” Dean says. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Carl crosses his arms. “I was thinking I’ve been asleep for a whole damn day instead of spending time with my fucking friends! This haunted house gets checked out by like a hundred teenagers a week. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that we set a boundary with you and you’re crossing it,” Sam says.

“A rule,” Dean says sternly. “That I made for a reason.”

Carl glares at them. “Don’t fucking lecture me like I’m a child!”

“Well, that’s kind of hard when you’re acting like- Sam, what the fuck are they doing?”

They all turn to see the Ghostfacers in the window, recording with their camera and awe on their faces. “Why do they look like that?” Dean asks, frowning.

Sam grimaces. “I may have told them that Carl’s a ghost.”

“You what?” Carl throws his hands up. “Sam! What the fuck?!”

Dean laughs, poking Carl in the chest. “This is what you get for disobeying me.”

Carl shoves his hand away. “Tell them I’m not a ghost, Sam!”

Sam holds back a laugh. “Y’know, it’s kind of crazy that they just believed me.”

“It’s cause he’s so pale,” Dean says, smacking Sam’s shoulder.

Carl rolls his eyes. “Fuck you guys, I know what you’re doing.”

Sam laughs. “He’s so pale you can basically see right through him.”

“Assholes.” Carl turns towards the path back towards the road, walking off. “Fine! I’ll fucking go!”

“That’s my good boy!” Dean calls.

Carl stops in his tracks, whirling around. “The fuck you’d just say?”

Sam steps between them, placating hands up. “Hey. Sorry. But you need to go back to the motel, okay? Like we talked about?”

Dean tilts his head, smirking. “C’mon, Carl. You know the deal.”

Carl flickers his gaze between them before his shoulders drop. “Fine. Okay. I’ll see you back at the motel.”

“Thank you,” Sam says. “We shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Seems like it might be a bust anyway,” Dean says. “Seriously. Super boring stuff.”

Carl turns to walk away. “Those two clowns have been recording this whole thing!”

Dean whirls around, seeing Ed and Harry standing right behind them with their cameras up. He wrenches it out of their hands.

******

That night, there’s another hanging in the house. They’re missing something, Dean knows they are.

So they go back to the house, where they run into the spirit: Mordechai, who nearly kills them both because it’s immune to rock salt.

They’re back at the motel, researching once again trying to figure out what the hell this symbol could mean. Carl is studying at the table, staying out of it like he’s supposed to.

Dean feels bad leaving him alone at the motel so much, but this is what he signed up for showing up while they’re on a hunt knowing they won’t allow him to get involved.

When Sam reads a new post off the Hell Hound site, Carl speaks up. “It sounds fake.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, we saw it,” Sam says. “It almost killed us.”

Carl shrugs. “Someone’s embellishing it then. Maybe summoning it on purpose even. I dunno.”

“But it was immune to rock salt, even if it was summoned, that wouldn’t-“

“I think we need to go talk to that Craig kid again,” Dean says, sitting up straight. “It all started with him.”

Turns out Carl’s right. The damn symbol is from Blue Oyster Cult and Craig and his cousin made the entire thing up for attention.

But that doesn’t explain how Mordechai is very much real and tried to kill them earlier that day.

Back at the motel, Sam is in the shower while Dean sprinkles itching powder into his boxers that lay on his bed. He tries to block what he’s doing from Carl’s view with his body, but he must not be doing a good job.

“What’re you doing?” Carl asks from his study spot at the table, sounding amused.

Dean walks over to him, throwing the powder packet in the trash on the way. “Sam started it. We’re in a prank war.”

“A prank war? What are you- eight?” Carl laughs.

“You don’t have a brother, you don’t get it,” Dean says. “Are you gonna snitch?”

Carl puts a hand on his chest. “I’d never, Dean. You know where my loyalties lie.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Actually, that’s up for debate.”

Carl rolls his eyes. “I promise I won’t tell him, Dean. I’m staying out of it.”

The shower turns off and Sam yells from inside the bathroom. “I think I might have a theory about what's going on!”

“Oh yeah?” Dean calls back.

“What if Mordechai is a Tulpa?” Sam emerges from the bathroom, a towel slung around his waist.

“A Tulpa?” Dean says.

“A Tibetan thought form,” Sam and Carl answer at the same time.

“Nerds,” Dean says, pointing between them. “Hey, get dressed. I wanna grab something to eat.”

“Can I come?” Carl asks.

“Course, yeah, we’re just eating,” Dean says.

At the restaurant, Sam struggles through his explanation of the Tulpa because he can’t stop squirming and adjusting himself in his pants.

Carl keeps giving Dean irritated glances that Dean responds too with glares because if he keeps doing that Sam’s gonna figure it out.

“So why don't we just...uhh ... get this spirit sigil thingy off the wall and off the website?” Dean asks.

“It’s not that easy,” Carl speaks up. “Once Tulpas are created, they become a life form of their own.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Dean asks.

“We like to read, Dean,” Sam says.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Okay. So if he really is a thought form how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”

Sam squirms again. “Well it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their home page.”

Sam turns his laptop around, showing Carl and Dean the video of Mordechai they posted yesterday. “Since they've posted the video their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.”

“Hm, I got an idea,” Dean says, getting up. “Come on.”

“Where’re we going?” Carl asks.

“Gotta find a copy store.”

Sam and Carl get up to follow Dean, Sam practically jumping up and down trying to fix his pants. “Man, I think I’m allergic to our soap or something.”

Dean laughs and walks away. Carl rolls his eyes, following him. “You’re allergic to Dean.”

“You did this?” Sam yells to Dean, running after them. “You’re such a jerk!”

Carl goes with them to the copy store to create the fake death certificate to give the Ghostfacers, but they drop him back off at the motel before going to see them.

“Can’t bring our ghost with us to see the best ghost hunters in America,” Dean says, grinning.

“We’ll be back soon, okay? This is gonna be quick,” Sam says. Carl nods, rolling his eyes and walking to the door.

Ed and Harry buy their story and agree to shut their website down in exchange for the fake information.

They go back to the motel after since all there’s left to do is wait. They settle in to watch a movie with Carl, who’s been doing pretty much nothing but studying since he got there.

“Are you really having a good time just being here with us?” Sam asks quietly halfway through Indiana Jones. “Even though we’ve barely been here?’

Carl smiles slightly. “Yeah. I really am. Better than I’ve had in a long time.”

******

Dean falls asleep towards the end of the movie, sprawled out on his bed. Sam nudges Carl with his elbow. “Wanna go somewhere with me?”

“Sure,” Carl says. “Where?”

They walk to the corner store next door to the motel and Carl follows Sam around while he searches every single shelf until he finds super glue.

“Oh no,” Carl says. “Sam, what’re you planning?”

Sam grins, walking to the counter. “You’ll see. I gotta get him back for the itching powder somehow.”

The cashier gives him the total and Sam pats his pockets. “Oh shit.”

“Are you serious?” Carl asks. “You forgot money?”

Sam looks at him helplessly. “I can pay you back later?”

Carl rolls his eyes, pulling out his wallet and slapping a couple bucks onto the counter. “Do not tell Dean I did this, because this is getting involved. Which I am not doing.”

Sam smiles, shoving the glue into his pocket as they walk out the door. “Course not. Thank you.”

A few hours later, they’re at a cafe for dinner. Carl and Sam are on one side of the booth, huddled around his laptop.

Dean keeps reaching up and pulling the string on this stupid fisherman decoration to make it elicit this obnoxious sounding laugh.

Sam reaches up to stop it, glaring at Dean. “If you pull that string one more time, I’m gonna kill you,” Sam says.

Dean stares at them, deadpan, before reaching up to pull it again. Carl reaches over Sam to stop it.

“Wow, you’re both so damn uptight,” Dean says, laughing. “Come on, you could use a little laughter.” Carl glares at him, looking back at Sam’s laptop.

“They post it yet?” Dean asks.

“Yep,” Carl says, reading off the screen. “‘We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms.’”

“How long do you think we have to wait?” Dean asks.

“Long enough for the new story to spread, and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall iron rounds will work on the sucker,” Sam says, holding his beer up.

Carl and Dean pick theirs up, tapping them altogether before taking a drink. Sam hides his smile behind his hand and Carl watches Dean carefully, feigning nonchalance.

Dean tries to put the bottle down, but it’s stuck to his hand. Sam grins, starting to laugh. Carl bites his lip to keep himself from laughing, too.

“You didn’t.” Dean glares at Sam, shaking his hand trying to get the bottle off.

“Carl bought the glue!” Sam says, holding his hands up.

“What the fuck?!” Carl yells. “Dean, I-”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Thought you weren’t getting involved.”

“I wasn’t!” Carl insists, jabbing Sam hard in the side with his elbow and making him groan. “Sam forgot his fucking money and asked me-” He turns to Sam. “You bitch! You did this on purpose!”

Sam clutches his side, still laughing. “You caught me.”

Dean smirks. “Oh Carl. Bad choice.”

“Now you’re part of it,” Sam says, grinning.

“Fuck both of you.” Carl sits back in the booth, crossing his arms. “Leave that on your hand, Dean. I’ll help you get it off.”

On the way back to the motel, Carl makes them stop at the same corner store so he can buy a little bottle of nail polish remover.

“The hell’s that for?” Dean asks when he takes it out of the bag back in their room.

Carl rolls his eyes. “For your beer bottle hand. S’why I told you to stop messing with it.”

“Don’t help him, Carl,” Sam says, sitting down on his bed. “It ruins the fun of the whole thing!”

“You made me part of this and the last thing I want is to wake up with half my head shaved or something, so I’m helping,” Carl says, pulling Dean into the bathroom.

“Oh baby,” Dean says, using his good hand to run his fingers through Carl’s hair. “I’d never ever mess with this pretty hair.”

Carl ignores how Dean’s touch makes his face heat, turning on the sink and letting the water run until it gets warm. He takes Dean’s hand with the bottle attached and puts it under the flow.

“How’d you know what to do?” Dean asks, leaning back against the counter.

“My dad sucked at putting his stuff away,” Carl says, moving Dean’s hand back and forth to make sure the water reaches the whole spot. “Judith was super into crafting, would use stuff she found around the house. Got into super glue once when she was 8, glued a bunch of beads to her hand on accident.”

“Oh shit,” Dean says softly, “Was she okay?”

“Oh yeah, skin was a little raw though,” Carl says, laughing lightly. “She was scared to tell me, thought I was gonna be upset with her for using something she shouldn’t. But I was just pissed at my dad for leaving his super glue out on the kitchen counter.”

“Yeah I bet,” Dean says, chuckling. He hisses when Carl pulls gently on the bottle before turning the water off.

“Leave your hand over the sink,” Carl says, grabbing the nail polish remover. He pours some over Dean’s hand, gently pulling at the bottle as he does. “When I confronted him about it after, he just said he didn’t know Judith was even into crafting. Fucking ridiculous, she was always at the dining table making things.”

“Shit, yeah,” Dean says.

Carl shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter anymore.” He gently pulls at it, pouring more nail polish remover until the bottle comes free.

Dean flexes his hand. “Hey, it barely even hurts. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Carl chunks the bottle into the trash. “Wash your hands now, get the acetone off.”

Dean does, using the little soap bar by the sink. “Really, Carl. Thank you.”

“S’nothing,” Carl says, leaning back against the wall. “So am I absolved from this stupid prank war?”

Dean dries his hands, looking deep in thought. “Hmm… no.”

“No?” Carl scoffs. “I’ll glue it back on, Dean, I swear-”

“Baby, hey, no.” Dean laughs lightly, moving in close. “I just meant- maybe there’s one more thing I need before I can let you off.”

Carl smiles, looking up at him. “Perv.”

“Always.” Dean cups his face and Carl goes up on his tiptoes to press their lips together. God, he’s missed this.

Dean nips at Carl’s bottom lip before pulling away. “Absolved.” He drags his finger down Carl’s cheek before leaving the bathroom.

Carl watches after him, breathing hard. That asshole.

******

“I can’t believe you convinced him to do this,” Dean says to Sam from their hiding spot behind a tree near Ed and Harry’s trailer they’re in the middle of hitching to their car.

Sam grins. “It was easy, I gave him my saddest eyes. He can’t say no to me when I look like I’m about to start crying.”

“Wow, Sammy,” Dean says. “That’s just wrong.”

“Whatever, he does it to me all the time to get what he wants,” Sam says. “That’s what he gets for playing dirty to get me to do the grocery shopping by myself all those times back at Stanford.”

Dean smacks Sam’s arm. “Look. They’re going back inside!”

They hear Ed and Harry start screaming, yelling over each other to get the camera and the salt. Sam and Dean snicker, nudging each other.

The trailer rocks as Ed and Harry move around frantically. The back window pops open and Carl climbs out, landing on the ground in a heap before getting to his feet and running over to them. “You guys owe me big fucking time.”

Dean laughs. “They threw salt at you?”

“Yes! Idiots.” Carl brushes it out of his hair. “How do they actually fucking believe I’m a ghost?!”

“Like you said- they’re idiots,” Sam says, laughing and helping Carl swipe salt off his shirt.

“Did they get you on camera?” Dean asks.

“No, I got out before they could,” Carl says. “I swear to God, Dean- if I see a video of myself on their stupid fucking website, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Oh don’t worry, I destroyed the memory card from their camera when they recorded us outside the house,” Sam says.

Ed and Harry climb into their car and drive away, a box falling off the top of their RV and busting open on the ground.

“I hope we never see those dweebs again,” Dean says as they walk towards the Impala.

“You shouldn’t,” Carl says, climbing in and scooting to the middle of the front seat. “I sent them a very convincing email from ‘Warner Brothers’ Studios’ telling them to come to our executive office because we want to purchase the right to the Hell House bullshit.”

Sam and Dean climb in around him, faces bright with amusement. “Did you really?” Sam asks.

“Yeah.” Carl grins, pulling the email up on his phone and passing it to him. “Look.”

Sam skims over it before giving it to Dean, who smiles and presses a kiss to the side of Carl’s head. “You little genius. This is perfect. They’re gonna get in so much trouble trying to waltz in like that.”

“You really think they’re that stupid? To believe an open invitation like this?” Carl asks, taking his phone back.

“Oh hell yeah,” Dean says, starting the car. “They’re gonna get tackled by security.”