Chapter Text
The doorbell has been ringing insistently for half a minute now, at the very least.
And Dean has been ignoring it the entire time.
Because he sure as hell is not in the mood to leave his comfy bed behind anytime soon. No, he's barely been home an hour, after coming back from a twenty-four-hour shift, and the only thing he wants to do right now is sleep in his dark room and forget the world outside even exists.
So he merely grumbles and buries his face deeper into the pillow, figuring that whoever is at the door will grow tired eventually.
And indeed it stops soon after, allowing Dean to sigh in relief and let his eyes drop closed again.
Only to snap them open once more when suddenly his phone on the nightstand begins to ring.
He groans.
Very loudly.
With some effort and a lot of awkward bending he recognizes the name on the screen as the one of his brother. Sam certainly doesn't give up, especially when he leans himself back on the doorbell, suddenly harassing Dean from two sides at once.
Dean squeezes his eyes shut. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you …” he mumbles underneath his breath like a mantra.
But after a few more seconds of enduring such torture he figures that whatever Sam is so desperate to tell him might be important enough to get out of bed after all. And so Dean heaves himself onto his legs and somehow manages to stagger to his front door without colliding with too much furniture along the way.
“WHAT?” he barks into Sam's face as he rips the door open so violently it nearly gets pulled off the hinges.
Sam blinks at first, as though despite everything he didn't actually believe his brother would show up. However, soon enough he huffs and quickly pushes himself into Dean's apartment, not even offering a single hello or at least a brief explanation for his unwelcome disturbance. Dean grimaces hard while he closes the door again and follows his brother into the living room.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Dean grumbles. “Did someone die or what?”
Sam snorts before he pushes something into Dean's hand. “Watch and cry, jerk.”
Dean frowns in puzzlement and looks down, right at the paper in his grip. Which looks, after closer inspection, like some pages from a newspaper.
Dean can't help but scowl at Sam. “Seriously? A newspaper? That's why you're waking me up for?”
“Why have you even been asleep?” Sam complains. “It's 9 am.”
Dean raises an eyebrow as he challenges his brother not to be so stupid. “Dude, I've just come back home from work.”
At least Sam is decent enough to be chastised by this as he remembers once again that Dean's schedule can get rather unusual sometimes. Unfortunately Sam has a tendency to forget this on a regular basis, obviously still mystified why Dean decided to become a firefighter instead of following a career that would help the coven to prosper and grow in any way imaginable.
Like himself, who became a lawyer so that he would be able to weasel himself in all sorts of nooks in the local government and have access to things which could offer them an advantage one of these days.
To get your hooks all over town and beyond, that's always been the Campbell's motto.
Dean, however, fancies himself a rebel and chose a different path. Somehow making himself the black sheep in the family in the process, only because he dared to think differently.
“Sammy, what is this?” Dean whines, flapping the newspaper in his hands. He is not physically capable right now to read more than two words in a row and that paper has way too many of those.
Sam scoffs, rips the newspaper back out of Dean's grasp and quickly searches for the right article. Then, when he finally finds himself successful, he holds the paper up and gestures at a huge headline.
“Can you decode that yourself or should I read it to you?” Sam bitches like the bitch he is.
Dean rolls his eyes, but gathers just enough of his willpower and dignity to read the headline in question without any help.
IT WAS LIKE MAGIC, it reads.
Dean blinks again, his dazed brain not capable of making any sense of that.
“Huh?” he asks eloquently.
Sam sighs. “That article is talking about that fire at the Northwall warehouse last night. The one I guess your unit has been issued to?”
Oh, yes.
Contrary to the job description firefighters actually don't deal as often with fire as one presumes. Particularly the big ones that eat entire buildings. Dean surely hasn't handled that many before during his by now ten-year run.
The fire last night was a massive one, though. It spread wide and dangerous, thanks to the things that have been stashed in the warehouse, and his unit as well as the additional firefighters from the next town over had a really hard time getting it somewhat under control.
And then they heard news about a worker still trapped inside …
Dean rubs his eyes and tries to get the gist of the newspaper article in front of him. Most of it remains gibberish to him, just some letters blending together into an unrecognizable mush, but at least he is capable of reading a quote from a witness describing the rescue of their colleague.
““It was like magic,” the man explains. “The fire seemed to part for them like the sea did for Moses.””
“You did this, didn't you?” Sam accuses. “You used magic to manipulate the fire.”
Well, Dean is certainly not here to deny that.
Elemental magic has always come naturally to him – contrary to the (much more powerful, but also much more complex) art of spell works and enchantments – and when the fire started to speak to him just as he heard the poor man's screams from the inside while he was burning alive, Dean didn't hesitate to bend the laws of nature to his will and use that to his advantage. He opened a path, so that he was able, supported by two other firefighters, to rescue the man from the flames and bring him to safety.
“Do you expect me to apologize for saving a man's life?” Dean grumbles, looking at Sam incredulously.
Sam's shoulders sag immediately. “Of course not. But –”
“That man would have died,” Dean makes himself crystal clear. “I heard him screaming inside that burning house and I don't know if you have ever experienced the screams of the truly terrified before, but I can assure you, it's the absolute worst. So I did what I had to do and I'm not ashamed of it.”
Thanks to Dean, that man is sitting at home now, with his wife and their three kids, and enjoying the life he almost lost.
“I'm not saying you shouldn't have saved that guy,” Sam backpedals. “But you should've been more subtle about it.”
Dean huffs. “You sound exactly like Mom and Grandpa, you know?”
“They have a point,” Sam argues.
Dean scoffs as he shakes his head vehemently. “There was no time. No other way.” He throws his arms up in frustration. “What should I have done differently in your opinion, huh?”
Sam looks properly chastised for at least a minute before he snaps back, scowling at his brother. “You will get into trouble for this. Again.”
Dean knows that's true and he most definitely doesn't look forward to it.
But the reminder of the tears of relief and joy running down that man's face after they had rescued him from a fiery death is enough to calm him down.
And so he just grumbles, “It doesn't matter.”
Sam, however, doesn't seem to agree. “You're too careless with you magic. Always have been.” He shakes his head, groaning. “How often have you been reprimanded so far? It feels like every other week.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Don't be a drama queen.”
Sam paces the living room, the beginning of real concern suddenly showing up on his features. “You know just as well as I do that the coven won't stand for this forever. If they deem you too much of a risk, they will banish you for good –”
“I'm a Campbell,” he argues, even though technically he has never used that name on any important documents or whatnot ever before in his life.
Sam lifts his brow, daring him not to pretend to be so stupid. “Mom and Grandpa won't have a choice if the pressure from the others gets too strong …”
And of course Dean is very aware of that, but sometimes it's nice to live in a fantasy world where everything is okay. At least for a while.
“Look, Sammy, I'm not a danger –”
“Articles like that,” Sam cuts in, nodding at the newspaper still in Dean's grasp, “they might lure in hunters.”
And naturally Dean knows that as well.
Something ugly tugs at his heartstrings at the mention of hunters and pictures of his dad looking back at him with a hard expression pop up in front of his inner eye …
There are just things Dean doesn't like to think about.
This is most certainly one of them.
“We're gonna be fine,” Dean tries to reassure. “One little article in a small town newspaper about a man being saved from a fire won't ring any alarm bells for the hunting society, I'd imagine. They have bigger fish to fry.”
Sam begins to look rather pained. “I'm just saying –” He heaves a deep sigh. “You need to be careful, man, before the consequences become too much.”
Dean pats him on the shoulder while attempting somewhat of a cheerful smile. “Don't worry, dude. Everything's gonna be fine.”
If he says it loud enough, maybe he will believe it himself.
---
Just about an hour later Dean gets called in by his grandfather and there is no chance in hell he can refuse, no matter the fact that he still so fucking tired he could sleep for a week.
However, he barely managed to drift off again after Sam left his apartment earlier, and now, with Samuel's disapproving voice telling him over the phone to lift his ass and come over right now, Dean just has to ignore that utter exhaustion and somehow drag himself across town.
By some miracle he doesn't cause any accidents on his way there and by the time he steers into the Campbell's impressive and very long driveway that leads to their estate Dean is jittery enough to feel kind of awake. It's simply an illusion, he knows that much, but for now it's giving him the fuel he needs to face the leaders of the coven.
He parks in front of the main house and uses a few seconds to still be gobsmacked by the sheer size of it (it never ceases to amaze Dean, even after all these years) before he jogs up to the front door and uses his key to let himself in. He might not officially live here anymore as he had chosen a different lifestyle, which included an apartment all of his own half an hour away, but he is still a member of this coven and also a legacy, therefore he is still technically entitled to a certain sort of access.
Back at the anteroom Samuel already awaits him, with the vein on his forehead throbbing in tandem to the dark spark in his gaze. He is alone for a change and Dean can't really say whether that's a good thing or not.
Usually, with others around, he tends to prioritize the coven above anything else while he shows a more familial approach in private. Then again, he often presents himself harsher during personal conversations, not held back by the presence of others who might judge him for his behavior.
Yeah, Dean can't exactly tell what to expect.
However, Samuel doesn't look happy by any means, so Dean doesn't waste his time to wait for a wonderful family bonding moment.
“I know what you want to say,” Dean pipes up, just as Samuel is opening his mouth. “I'm not apologizing for saving a man's life.”
Samuel glares at him. “So that random guy's life is worth putting your family in jeopardy?”
Dean tries to not roll his eyes too dramatically, but it is a challenge. “I don't think –”
“Listen, Dean, if you can't control yourself, we have to implement certain measures,” Samuel interrupts sharply.
Dean narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Samuel leans back in that impressively intimidating armchair of his. “Maybe it's time you move back to the estate. And quit your job –”
“No way!” Dean instantly cuts him off, his voice wavering. He wants to yell at the mere suggestion, but he knows that losing his cool, especially after just two seconds of talking, won't get him any brownie points anytime soon. Instead he inhales deeply and says, as collected as possible, “I love my job. And I'm doing a lot of good with it.”
“I don't doubt that,” Samuel says. “And I'm proud of you for going your own way and helping this town.”
He actually sounds genuine about it and Dean wonders why it took nearly ten years to hear those words for the very first time.
“But this is also a job full of emotions and we know what can happen with your magic if you let it run rampant,” Samuel warns.
“I'm not letting it run rampant,” Dean grumbles.
Samuel merely waves him off, like this is an unimportant detail. “We all know that in moments of high emotions you have trouble controlling it all. I mean, after almost burning down your childhood home –”
“I was four years old,” Dean reminds him with a scoff.
That is another thing he doesn't like to think about. How he had started that fire in Sam's nursery and almost got his little brother killed as a baby, only because he had thrown a tantrum about having to go to bed without getting a dessert for dinner.
It all sounds so stupid now, but yeah, Dean was a dumb kid back then and he likes to believe that he matured somewhat in the last few decades. At least enough that Samuel would trust him not to burn down any houses ever again.
“You have a gift, Dean,” Samuel says, his tone a bit softer now. “The way you communicate with nature and the elements, it's rare. And if you were to move back to the estate –”
“I don't need any more magic lessons,” Dean interjects.
Yes, he knows, with intense training he might be able to harness this natural gift into something amazing and also truly breathtaking, both in a good and in a very bad way, but he is content with the path in front of him. He might not be the greatest witch who has ever lived, but right now he doesn't constantly fear to accidentally kill another person again and he cherishes that far more than any power he could possibly acquire for himself.
Samuel sighs, clearly not thrilled by Dean's quick refusal, but also not overly surprised either.
“Fine, let's talk about this another time,” he concedes for now. “But please, Dean, you have to be more careful. Because next time an army of hunters will show up on our doorstep and destroy everything we built for the last couple of centuries.”
Dean wants to brush him off and tell him he exaggerates, but he is very aware that hunters have eradicated other powerful witch covens in the past. One small misstep and everything might end for good.
And so he squares his shoulders and simply nods briskly before he turns around, deeming this conversation over and done with. At least for the time being.
But just as he is about to step over the threshold, Samuel calls after him, “Maybe you should start to think about what you want from your future.”
Dean shoots a glance over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“What do you want your life to look like?” Samuel elaborates. “Is this all there is? Just go to work, do your job, come back home. Attend family dinner once a week and afterwards run back home as quickly as possible.”
Dean grits his teeth and suppresses the urge to clarify that his life is much more than that, thank you very much. Granted, his job is keeping him pretty busy, but he's got friends and a life outside of family and work and he won't stand for being painted as some sort of loner loser.
“What do you want your life to look like in ten years?” Samuel asks, obviously believing they're in some sort of job interview or something. “Exactly the same as it is now? Or do you want to actually tap into your potential and become someone amazing?”
Dean clenches his hands into fists.
Stares at his grandfather for a moment longer who doesn't break their eye contact even once.
And then Dean grumbles, “I've gotta go,” and walks off before Samuel has the chance to dump even more on him.
Unfortunately the old man hasn't finished yet and so he calls after Dean, “Think about your future, boy.”
Dean merely curses underneath his breath and picks up his pace, more eager than ever to leave all of this behind.