Chapter Text
“This has gotten out of hand!” The sheriff swore, his arms folded across his chest, fists clenched as he fought back the urge to free his son who was looking at him with pleading eyes from behind the duct tape plastered across his face.
“We’re doing everything we can.” Melissa soothed, her hand coming to rest on the Sheriffs shoulder to offer comfort.
Stiles (No that thing is not my son!) scoffed, a knowing glint in his eyes.
The sheriff turned, shrugging Melissa’s hand off his shoulder and almost walking through Hale in his haste to get to his phone. He dialled a familiar number from memory alone and hesitantly lifted the phone to his ear, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
It rang for a while, before going to voicemail a familiar voice speaking “This is Dean. You should not have this number.” The Sheriff swore before trying another number “Leave your name, number and nightmare after the tone.” Losing hope, he tried the final number he knew “this is dean’s other, other cell so you must know what to do”
“Dean, please call me back… it’s Stiles. We need help” He slumped into a seat, his elbows resting on his knees and his face in his hands. “Now we’ve done everything we can.”
He risked a glance at the thing parading around as his son and felt a little bit of comfort when he saw the barely concealed fear in his eyes.
***
“Dean, please call me back… it’s Stiles. We need help.” Dean felt his heart drop, and he barely caught the bottle of beer he had been holding. He was typing the number in barely a second later, his heart racing, breathing heavy. Today had been a bad day and this was the icing on the cake.
“Hello?” The sheriff’s voice was groggy with sleep, and Dean was betting he hadn’t even opened his eyes before answering the call.
“It’s Dean.” There wasn’t time for niceties if there was something wrong with Stiles he should already be there.
“It’s been too long.” The reprimand was clear in his tone, but Dean knew he was buying time to find privacy to talk, especially on hearing the front door close.
“It’s been 5 years and that door is still sticking?”
“Well, I’m still waiting on you to fix it.”
Dean didn’t reply, the guilt at avoiding this part of his family for a decade rearing to the surface, even if he had only been doing it to protect them.
When it became clear that Dean wasn’t going to respond the Sheriff cleared his throat and began to speak “Listen we’ve got a situation, we could really use a hand. I don’t want to freak you out by telling you stuff without explaining it thoroughly, but if you could get here asap, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Is he hurt?” Dean forced the words out past the blockage in his throat.
“He’s not dying, but he could use a hand.” The sheriff answered, and Dean could tell this was hard on the other man as well.
“Give us 24 hours”
“It’s going to take at least 30 hours, Dean.” The Sheriff warned, exasperated.
“It’s for Stiles. I’ll be there in 24, earlier if possible.” He hung up without saying goodbye, already swinging into action; he downed his beer, wiping the traces off his face before going to wake Sammy and get Cas and Jack ready.
Within half an hour they were on the road, music playing quietly and his foot pressing on the accelerator a little too hard.
“So, what the hell is a Stiles?” Jack finally asked he’d been trying to find the right words since they had piled into the car, it seemed he had decided to just ask.
“Our brother.” Sam replied, “He’ll be eighteen now, same dad different mom. I think you’ll like him.”
“If there’s something going on bad enough for Noah to call us, we need to be prepared, he might not be Stiles.” Dean interrupted, not taking his eyes off the road. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and leant into Cas. Touch for a second before pulling away.
“You think he’s possessed?” Sam asked, thankfully he was sitting in the front which meant Cas’ subtle touch had gone unnoticed – it’s not that Dean is ashamed of his relationship with Cas, it's just he wants it to stay his, wants to have something of his own, for as long as he can.
“I think Noah said he wasn’t in danger of dying, but that he needed help.”
“Possession would explain that it could also be any number of things.” Sam rushed to remind Dean.
“Yeah!” Jack exclaimed, excited about this conversation for some reason Dean couldn’t decipher. “He could have been bitten by a werewolf, or a vampire or anything like that! Oh…. Sorry” He caught himself, realising that this was probably a touchy subject for them, and Dean watched his mouth silently form the words ‘What Would the Winchesters Do’ in the rearview mirror.
“When was the last time you actually saw Stiles?” Cas asked, head tilted to one side inquisitively, trying to move the conversation away from touchy subjects.
“Not long after we started looking for dad,” Sam answered after a few seconds deliberation, things had been happening so quickly the past few years
“We decided it was too dangerous once it became clear demons were involved.” Dean elaborated, “his dad, the man who raised him, didn’t want him involved in any of this stuff, especially not after his mom died.”
“Not that Noah had any hope in keeping him away, he’s too smart for his own good, even as a kid he could see through all our bullshit.”
“Ran circles around us both, Sammy here was always jealous that he wasn’t the smartest one in the room, beaten by a kid almost half his age.” Dean laughed, allowing himself to remember the things from his past, the things he had squished down for so long. The reminders were usually painful, but now that he knew he would be seeing Stiles soon he allowed himself to bask in the memories.
It wasn’t long after that that Sam gave in and fell asleep with his head tilted against the window, Jack flicked his eyes between the Winchesters as though he couldn’t decide who he was going to emulate in that moment, before leaning against his own window and closing his eyes.
Dean drove the rest of the way towards his baby brother with Cas’ hands on his shoulders and his lips pressed gently against the back of his neck.