Chapter Text
*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
7:00AM. Dean was instantly awake. He would have loved a few more minutes to lie in bed, drifting in between sleep and reality, trying to remember that strange dream he’d had that night about monsters angels hunting someone in his class, but unfortunately today was Friday and he had to get ready for a hunt school. As he hauled himself out of his bed he consoled himself with the fact that he could have a lie in tomorrow. The room looked strangely fuzzy for a moment until he remembered his glasses since when did he wear glasses? and once he put them on everything slid into focus. The room did at least, though his mind still felt a bit out of sync. He guessed he should have gone to bed earlier but he had been busy with a vampire nest homework. That had to be the explanation. On autopilot he got dressed, opening the wardrobe and picking out his favourite leather jacket Star Wars shirt. As always, he slid the large small leather book that was Dad’s journal his planner into his trouser pocket. He had packed his duffle school bag the night before, but still he opened it to check he had all the right weapons textbooks. Yep, there they all were. As an afterthought he glanced around the bunker his bedroom and picked up an interesting looking lore comic book from one of the disorganised meticulously arranged bookcases. He could show Charlie it at lunch. That was all he needed from there so he walked out, pausing in the doorway to give a puzzled fond look at the strange familiar room, with all of his old guns knives lore books amulets hex bags fake ID’s weapons model vehicles, video game posters, books and collectable figures.
Once in the bathroom he showered, washing away the blood mud monster gunk sweat from the warm summer night. He carefully shaved brushed his teeth and washed his face before reapplying bandages spot remover. He checked his watch. He was right on schedule. It was 7:15; they had half an hour before they had to go through the portal catch the bus to hell hell. (Aka School) This meant it was time to resurrect wake up his little brother, possibly at the cost of his life.
He walked into Sam’s room, wrinkling his nose at the smell of sweat and days old food. It was dark, but even in the gloom he could see the piles of lore books dirty laundry everywhere. Old artefacts beer cans were scattered around. He carefully stepped around them to reach the window and tore the curtains open. The shape under the twisted mass of blankets on the bed stirred.
“Ugh…”
“Rise and shine Sammy!” heat of the moment
“Go way…”
“Do we really have to do this every morning? We have the bus in…” he quickly whipped out Dad’s journal his planner and consulted it. “…exactly 29 minutes according to this.”
“Don’t care.”
Without a word, Dean grabbed the duvet and yanked it away from his brother, who cringed away from him.
“Screw you and your schedule you damn nerd…” mumbled Sam as he sleepily rubbed his eyes.
“You have exactly 10 minutes to use the bathroom,” Dean informed him, heading towards the door. “I packed your bag last night so once you’re ready come down to the kitchen and I’ll have breakfast ready.”
“Yeah yeah I get it, you say the same every day,” complained Sam, struggling into his jeans while searching for a vaguely clean shirt. “You’re only a year older than me, no need to act like I’m a little kid all the time. And you’re not to say anything about you helping me get ready at school or my reputation will be dead, just like you.”
“Yeah yeah I get it, you say the same every day,” teased Dean, calling out from along the hall.
Downstairs in the kitchen he found a note from his mom of course she always left notes that’s how things were saying she had to go to work early and wouldn’t be back until late. When he saw it Dean felt a lump in his throat sighed in annoyance. Only 17 and it seemed like he had to raise Sammy alone. Not that he needed Dean’s help, he went off to Law College alone and leaving him behind was the cool kid of the year below, the star football player, every girl’s crush and half the boy’s as well. Dean sometimes wondered why he would even need his messed up angsty killer nerdy big brother around, but then he remembered all the times they had died for each other risked it all done whatever they could helped each other out, Sam putting in a good word for his socially awkward big brother with whichever crush he was stricken with that time, Dean helping out with the domestic things in the bunker at home.
He had just served up their normal breakfast of last night’s leftover takeaway cereal and toast when Sam stumbled into the kitchen. His gangly limbs weren’t ideal for a bunker small house and while they gave him an impressive spurt of speed on a hunt the pitch, in the mornings they seemed to make his half-awake efforts at coordination more difficult than usual.
“Here you go,” said Dean, handing him his bowl and plate.
“Thanks,” he grunted, taking it to the table and beginning to eat ravenously. No matter how much he ate, the kid always seemed to have room for more. It was a talent, Dean had decided.
Suddenly, Sam stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “We need to talk,” he said.
Oh great that’s not at all ominous, thought Dean. He hoped Sam wasn’t going to tell him that he’d started the apocalypse sold his soul unleashed a new monster impregnated some girl or something.
“Sure,” he replied nervously, adjusting his thick rimmed glasses. “What about?”
“This,” replied Sam. “Doesn’t it seem… off… to you?”
YES IT DOES THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO NOTICE NONE OF THIS IS RIGHT WHAT IS GOING ON THIS IS NOT MY LIFE “I’m not sure what you mean,” said Dean, peering at Sam with concern. “Are you alright?”
Sam shook his head, looking downcast. “I don’t know. Everything seems normal but at the same time there’s something in my head that says things should be otherwise, that this domestic life isn’t me…”
I FEEL THE SAME “Wow you must be messed up,” joked Dean. “I don’t think I’ve heard you use such sophisticated vocabulary like that before!”
“Exactly,” agreed Sam. “It’s not me. But my mind thinks it is…”
Dean wondered if they should call Bobby a psychiatrist or something. He didn’t remember this in any of his lore psychology textbooks. “Sam, maybe you should take the day off?” he suggested. He didn’t like the idea of anyone missing school (much as he hated the people aspect he felt learning was important) but if he had to spend all day checking up on Sam it would affect his hunting skills his timetable.
Sam shook his head. “No, I guess it was some bad weed I smoked or that weird dream bout the angels and stuff…”
Dean felt a flash of alarm at the thought of his little brother drinking demon blood smoking cannabis but his curiosity overpowered it and made him ask, “A dream about angels?”
Sam looked down and blushed slightly. Dean wasn’t surprised, Sam seemed to find everything that could be considered even slightly girly completely awful and refused to have anything to do with it. If he was willing to talk about ‘girly’ things like dreams and angels, he must be more upset by this than he was letting on.
“Not like stupid pretty angels!” he predictably protested, before running a hand through his shaggy long hair and muttering, “Though one of them wasn’t bad…” He flushed a bit darker and then continued in a normal voice. “These were soldier angels right out of the bible. And there were monsters, worse than any nightmare, and we… we were hunters. We actually took down those things by choice!” He laughed nervously.
‘yes yes yes yes Yes Yes YEs YES YES!’ thought Dean. Suddenly, it all came rushing back. The hunting, the bunker, the angels, the monsters, all of his life, all of the things that had been confusing him that morning made sense. It was like he had been looking at the world with a filter on the blink, but now that filter was fully operational and in addition to all the normal teenaged life information he could remember he had his old memories as well. Now it was what 2 30+ adult hunters were doing as a nerd and a jock in a high school that was confusing.
By Sam’s expression the same thing must have happened to him. “Do you remember?” he asked.
Dean nodded. “Yeah. Why the hell am I a nerd though?”
Sam shrugged. “I’m not sure. I don’t think that’s the most important thing here though. The main question is why we are here at all.”
“Uh huh,” agreed Dean. “Any ideas?”
Sam sat silently, deep in thought. As he waited, Dean fiddled with his glasses and checked his watch a dozen times. “C’mon Sammy…” he complained. “We should have finished breakfast by now, the schedule says so!”
“Dean I don’t care about the schedule!” exploded Sam. “And neither should you!”
Hastily shoving Dad’s journal the planner back into his pocket, Dean shook his head. “I know, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. The schedule seems really important somehow.”
“It’s not,” Sam said firmly. Then he paused and groaned.
“What?”
“I think I know what this is.”
“What?”
“I’m not sure but so far it seems to be like…” Sam took a deep breath. “I think we’re in a high school AU.”