Brothers Saved: Homecoming

And we’re back!

It’s been a while since we visited the Brothers Saved pair, and we left them before John Winchester returned home with Bobby Singer, which is right where this fic pics up! 

Tomorrow the story will continue, in Brothers Saved: Burgers and Bacon and Bobby.

You can find the rest of their story at Archive of Our Own.


“Sam, we’re back!”

The thunderous voice echoed around the Winchester brothers. Sam perked up as he glanced towards the front door, not noticing the way Dean stiffened to hear their father’s deep voice for the first time since he’d woken up just a few inches in height.

John was an intimidating figure on the best of days, and with Dean’s height cut down to a fraction of his original, that would only be heightened. 

“In here!” Sam called, letting the hunters know they were in the library.

Without the ability to go picking through the junked cars out back, there was very little that Dean found interesting to do at Bobby Singer’s house. Due to John’s orders given to Sam before leaving, Dean had stuck close to Sam the entire time since waking up. It helped them both, in a way. Sam didn’t worry so much when Dean was in sight and Dean used it to reassure himself that things weren’t as changed as they felt.

Times like this made Dean doubt that assertion. 

Thudding footsteps made their way through the house. One set split from the other, and Dean could hear Bobby in the kitchen, likely fussing over all the calls he’d missed since joining up with John to help the Winchester family.

Part of Dean wished that Bobby had come to see them in the library, the other part of him knew he would have a hard enough time with just one new giant, never mind a second.

He’d adjusted to Sam over the last two days, spending a lot of time within arm’s reach of the younger Winchester kid. Sam had stayed true to his word, and kept the amount of handling Dean to a minimum, letting his older brother decide if he wanted to change rooms or stay where they were. Only a few times had Sam forgot himself and reached for Dean before offering a hand. 

They were both adjusting, as best as they could.

When Dean has asked about John and Bobby’s extended absence, Sam had shrugged. “They checked in once a day before you woke up, and Bobby made sure to keep the kitchen stocked,” he’d explained. “They’ll be back soon.”

Now that they were, Dean wasn’t ready.

Plodding footsteps preceding him, the threshold of the door to the library filled with John’s formidable figure. Just over a week ago, Dean was only half a foot shorter than him. Now, he found himself craning his head back to just keep his dad in sight.

“Hey, Sammy,” John said, exhaustion in his voice. “How’re things with–“

Trailing off, John’s brown eyes focused on Dean. Having expected to see the small teenager comatose, it was almost comical to see him do a double-take at the sight of his elder son sitting up on his own, clearly alert.

“Sam! I told you to call us if Dean’s condition changed!” John scolded.

Sam hung his head, his cheeks changing to pink as he flushed. “I forgot,” he mumbled at the ground.

Dean couldn’t stop reaching out and patting the arm Sam had resting near him. With everything going on the last few days and the adjustments he was making, Dean was as much to blame for forgetting to call as anyone. He didn’t want Sam shouldering the blame on his own.

Yet there was a small amount of intimidation that coiled in his stomach and prevented him from speaking up about it as John walked to the table.

All of that fled Dean’s mind as John sat down in the chair next to Sam. Compared to the scrawny ten-year-old, John Winchester was massive, and he leaned over to get a better look at Dean.

Sam sheepishly moved his arm out of the way, trying not to fidget in the seat where he was nearly forgotten about in the wake of Dean’s miraculous recovery.

“How ya feelin’, dude?” John asked in an uncharacteristically soft voice. It was a tone of voice Dean couldn’t remember ever hearing out of the man, at least as far as he was concerned. 

Dean clenched his jaw, forcing himself to meet John in the eyes. “I’m fine, sir,” he said stiffly. “No injuries, and Sam’s been careful the whole time.”

John nodded, reaching a hand towards Dean. Dean didn’t let himself flinch away, hating how helpless he felt near his dad.

None of this was right.

All John did was carefully check Dean’s arms and chest for injuries, much like he did with either kid after they took a particularly big fall. Dean had seen him do the same after a hunt, and had even helped patch John back together several times.

Fat lot of good he was now. A needle would be half his size.

John pulled back, and his face clouded over. “I told you to keep us updated while we were gone,” he scolded his younger son, resuming the same conversation as though they’d never stopped.

Sam’s shoulders slouched. “I didn’t mean…”

“You can’t go forgetting something like that,” John said sternly. “Now go help Bobby get the food together. I’ll help Dean.”

Blinking fast, Sam scrambled out of his chair and nearly ran from the room.

Dean watched Sam leave, an odd feeling weighing down his heart.

Not once had John asked him about how things were over the last few days. 

Almost as though he didn’t trust Dean.

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