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Mar. 1st, 2007 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notI know I have comments to reply to and emails to answer and all sorts of things I could be working on, but I'm not. I'm sitting here listening to the rain hit the porch roof outside my window and thinking. Which isn't necessarily a good pasttime for me.
I've got a lot of old, partially written fics sitting here on my computer. I never did anything with because they don't feel finished, but they stopped after my muses had their say, so they really are as finished as they're gonna be. So, I thought I'd share two of them, in case anyone is interested. There is really no point to them, no special reason to read them. They haven't been titled or betad, but they really deserve the chance to see the light of LJ. The first one was written way back during last season, somewhere around April I think. And I had just gotten into SPN then. I'm not sure why Sam's wife's a bitch in it, but she is. The second one was written over the summer, between seasons. I don't pretend to be good at this; these are just things I wanted to see. But if you do read, please do tell me what you think, k?
Dean Winchester was completely exhausted, mentally and physically. He couldn't remember with certainty the last time he had eaten or slept. He hadn't been allowed to fully recover from his last encounter with a particularly nasty demon, the aches and pains left behind intensifying with each passing day instead of subsiding. There were three 6-inch gashes in his side, and he thought they might be getting infected despite his self-administered first-aid. He was starting to wonder if there was some type of toxin that had been passed through from the swipe of the demon's claws.
He knew he didn't have to do this now. Hell, he didn't have to do it at all. But if he waited until his head cleared and he was rested up, he might not go through with it. He didn't know what kind of reception to expect, didn't know if all this was a waste of time. Didn't know if he'd walk away from this encounter with a blow to his pride -- that was worse than any physical injury could every be. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel of the Impala -- his baby. The car had been his home, his comfort, his constant for years, even though nearly everything under the hood had been replaced since he first got her. He had always treated her with respect and she never let him down.
Sitting in the Impala and staring up at the house wasn't doing anyone any good. Before he could change his mind, Dean slid out of the car and headed up the sidewalk of the perfect American suburban neighborhood. Up the steps to the house he had never entered when the occupants were home. After ringing the doorbell, he shifted anxiously from one foot to the other, wondering why he was so nervous about this when he was fine talking to complete strangers.
A teenager he didn't recognize opened the door. The expectant look on her face dissolved into suspicion when she saw him. "Can I help you?"
Dean was too tired to even try to charm the girl. "I'm looking for Sam Winchester."
"I'm sorry," The girl said insincerely. "Mr. and Mrs. Winchester are out for the evening. You'll have to come back another time."
There was a noise behind her, and she and Dean both looked up to see a young girl about halfway down the staircase.
"Why aren't you in bed? I told you not to get up again." Her maner with the girl was no less cross than it had been with Dean.
"There's a monster in the closet. I don't want it to get me or Jamie." From her tone, the little girl had said this before.
"For the last time, there are no such things as monsters! Get upstairs and go to bed!" She turned back to Dean, failing to notice the dangerous look he was giving her. "I suggest you try back tomorrow."
"No, I think I'll stick around and wait for Sammy to get back." Dean pushed the door open a bit further and walked into the foyer.
"And just who do you think you are?"
"Winchester. Dean Winchester." He flashed her a fake smile. "Now who the hell are you, and why are you yelling at my niece?"
********************************************
Sam didn't understand. It was one thing for his wife to not want him, to ask for a divorce, for him to buy out her half of their house and let her take one of the cars. It was another thing entirely that she didn't even want to argue about custody of their children. Sure, he and Lisa had their problems -- more lately than ever -- but she was still Mary and Jamie's mother. When he started to say something about it, though, Lisa had practically shouted at him. What do you know about how a mother should act, Sam? You never had one!
Sam had stared at her in stunned silence for a moment before getting up and walking out of the restaurant. The entire ride home, Lisa bitched about how he had left her to put the bill on her credit card, which he was paying for anyway, but he didn't say a word, tuning her out. When they reached the house, he decided to take a short walk before going inside, wanting some time to calm down before he went to say goodnight to the kids. He didn't want them to see him upset. Lisa was upset because Sam wasn't the well-off lawyer with political aspirations she had tried to mold him into, but Sam was upset that she wasn't the person he thought she was.
Several houses from his own, he was stopped by the sight of a familiar black car. He shook his head as he walked over to it. No way. Even if Dean still had the Impala -- which was highly improbable, given the age of the car, and the wear and tear and miles they had inflicted on her -- why would he be here? Sam hadn't seen his brother in years.
A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he ran his fingers over the still-warm hood. He peered inside the window, checking the interior despite his doubts. If anyone asked, he'd just say he was admiring the car, that he used to have one like it. Then his eyes caught sight of two pictures affixed to the underside of the sunvisor, easily accessible to the driver's vision. One picture was from Sam's childhood, him with his father and Dean. The other was recent, something he had emailed only a few months ago; it was a picture of Sam with Mary and Jamie.
Sam was already running back towards the house when he heard his wife shouting for him. He saw Angie, the girl from next door that babysat for them on occasion, sitting on the couch with a boy he vaguely recognized. "What's going on?" he asked, afraid of what it might mean that his brother was here. He hadn't made any personal contact in forever; what if this was business related?
"Some man showed up earlier, and I opened the door because I thought it was Robbie coming over, and he forced his way inside. He said he's your brother, and he's upstairs with Mary right now watching a movie. He's very weird; I wouldn't let him around my children. Your wife apparently agrees."
Sam rolled his eyes and headed up the stairs. Lisa was standing at the doorway to Mary's bedroom, arms crossed angrily as she faced off with Dean. His stance would have been no less aggressive, but it was tempered by the fact he was holding Mary. Both looked up when Sam entered, but Lisa was the first to speak.
"He says he's your brother," she accused, as if Sam had done something wrong.
He had told her from the beginning of their relationship that he had a brother that he rarely saw, so he couldn't quite understand where her tone was coming from. "He is my brother," Sam answered, pushing past her and reaching for Mary.
"That doesn't give him the right to barge into our home and terrorize the babysitter!"
"The babysitter," Dean spit out the word like it was something nasty, "wanted Mary J to go to bed so she could have her boyfriend over for a bit of fun. She yelled at Mary J because she was afraid of the monster in her closet!"
"There's no such thing as monsters," Lisa said scornfully. "It's bad enough we still let her sleep with a nightlight; she's spoiled."
"There are monsters, Mommy," Mary piped up from her father's arms. "Uncle Dean said so. But they can't get me now."
When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.
"Dean, you didn't give her a gun, did you?" Sam demanded, ignoring the look his wife was giving him.
Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Mary J and I used the EMF meter to go through each of the closets to make sure there was nothing there, and then we salted the doorways so that if a monster did show up, it wouldn't be able to pass through." He shook his head, a teasing glint still in his eyes. "A gun? Honestly, Sammy, I don't know where you'd get an idea like that."
"Um, maybe because I doubt you know anything about kids?" Sam shot back.
"What are you talking about? I raised you, didn't I?"
Sam shook his head with a grin. "Dean..."
"Sam," Lisa broke in, arms still crossed as she glared at Sam and Dean in turn, "I want him out of my house before the morning." She stormed down the hallway to the master bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Both men watched her go and then looked back at each other.
"You know, I saw a quaint little motel a couple miles up the road--" Dean offered.
"Dean, you're not going to a motel. At least, not tonight."
"Not for me, Sammy boy. I was thinking of your wife."
Sam rolled his eyes, but his grin didn't fade. "Let me put Mary to bed and check on Jamie, and then you and I have to talk."
"Uncle Dean, can you read me a bedtime story?" Mary asked, wriggling down from her father's arms and scampering across the room to her bookshelf.
"Mary, Uncle Dean and I need to talk. It's time for you to be in bed."
"Please, Daddy?" She gave him the puppy-dog look that he himself had employed on more than on occasion. "Just one story?"
"It's just one story, Sam. I'll read to her while you check on Jamie." Dean was smiling indulgently at his niece and the two books she held in her hands.
Sam sighed. "One story. That's it." He picked Mary back up, hugging her close and kissing her cheek. "Goodnight, sweetie. I love you."
"I love you, too, Daddy," Mary answered as he set her down in her bed and tucked the covers around her.
Sam walked out of the room, glancing back to see his brother perched on the edge of the too-narrow bed with his arm around Mary as they opened the book. He's not here an hour and she already has him wrapped around her little finger. Uncle Dean. He snorted. He always was a sucker for a pretty girl.
********************************************
Sam and Dean stood facing each other in the living room, both having so much to say and nowhere to begin.
"Dad's gone, Sammy." Dean's voice was quieter than Sam could ever remember, and he wouldn't meet Sam's eyes.
Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with this conversation. Hell, he was uncomfortable with this whole situation! "Dean... I can't go with you, no matter how long Dad's been missing. I'm sorry."
"You're not listening to me, Sammy. He's not missing." Dean finally raised his head to look at Sam directly. "He's dead. Died in a car accident in Winchester, Virginia, of all places. I took him back to Lawrence and buried him next to Mom."
Sam could see there were unshed tears in Dean's eyes to match his own. He wondered if his brother had allowed himself to cry at all, but the connection they had always shared told him that he hadn't.
Not even while digging the hole...
"You buried him." It wasn't a question, more like a shocked verification.
"His name was already on the stone. He had it done not long after we destroyed the demon that killed Mom and Jess." Not long after you left us again went unsaid, but it lingered in the air between the two. "After that, he was ready to meet Death, ready to be with Mom again. It was only a matter of time."
"Why didn't you call me? When it happened, I mean? And don't give me that bullshit about not thinking I'd answer because you know I would have."
Dean stared at Sam silently before answering. "I needed to see you. More than that, I need to actually talk to you. Know that you're okay. The day before Dad's accident... I had this dream... I just got a bad vibe that something was wrong and that I needed to be here. If I hadn't split off from Dad and headed this way then... I would have been with him when he died."
"So you show up after nearly ten years of not being around--" Sam started.
"Just because you didn't see me doesn't mean I wasn't around. I was always around, keeping tabs on you. I knew you were okay, sending me emails, leaving me voicemails. I just didn't want to interfere in your life."
"And you couldn't email me back? Or answer the damn phone just once in all that time?" There was an unmistakable taint of hurt underlying the anger in Sam's words. "You couldn't let me know that you were okay? That you were alive?"
"You would know if I was dead."
"What, you think we have some kind of familial, psychic connection or something, Dean? If we ever did, it's not working anymore because I didn't magically know Dad died."
"Sam, if I died, the Impala would find its way to you."
"Oh, God, Dean, I know you love your car, but please tell me you aren't planning on possessing it after you die!" The idea of driverless Impala blasting 80s rock music and following pretty girls jumped into Sam's mind.
Dean laughed. "No, but there's papers in the car that would trace it back to you if something happened to me."
"What?! Do you know how much trouble I'd be in if that car was traced back to me? I mean, c'mon, that car is pretty much a criminal suspect in and of itself! Not to mention the cache of weapons in the trunk!"
"False bottom, Sammy. Combination lock, needs your birthday to open it. Besides, you're a hot-shot lawyer now, right? You'd be able to argue your way out of any trouble."
"I practice real estate law; it's hardly the same thing." Sam looked as if he wanted to argue about it, but then he closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. When he looked back at Dean, it was with that touchy-feely, schmoopy, gleam in his eye that Dean used to fear. Now, though, it was almost a relief. "Damn, man, I missed you!"
Sam closed the distance between them and embraced his brother with ten years of built-up affection. Both men took comfort in the physical reassurance of the other -- they had always had an intangible, irrefutable bond, but that bond had been stretched to the limit while they were apart.
Dean tried his hardest not to flinch as Sam squeezed him a little closer for good measure before releasing him, but Dean wasn't as good as he used to be at keeping things hidden. With no one around to hide things from, he was a bit out of practice.
"You're hurt." Sam's hands were already tugging at the hem of Dean's t-shirt, pushing the edges of his jacket aside.
"It's nothing," Dean insisted, twisting out of Sam's reach. "Just a little bruised up is all."
But Sam had already seen the edges of the crimson-tinted bandages, noticed the way Dean's shirt was sticking to them. "It's not nothing. Why do you always have to be so damn stubborn? C'mon, let's go in the kitchen and have a look."
Dean followed reluctantly, letting himself be pushed into a chair beside the table and pulling off his jacket and shirt while Sam went after the first-aid kit.
"Looks like you haven't lost your touch for this kind of thing," Dean commented as his brother bandaged him up.
Sam glanced up with a grin. "I get plenty of practice; Mary's a rough little girl. And even more stubborn than you." He finished what he was doing and stood up. "There, all done." He crossed the room to wash his hands. "So, do you have another job lined up, or do you have a few days?"
"There's always another job, Sam, you know that. But nothing that can't wait." Dean stood up and helped himself to a beer out of the fridge. "But I'm not too sure about staying here; your wife doesn't seem to like me very much."
Sam nodded. "Well, she doesn't seem to like me too much either." Sam paused for a moment. "No, actually, I was thinking of maybe going back to Lawrence. I know that you just came from there, but I need to make my peace with everything too. Besides, Mary and Jamie deserve to spend a couple days with their Uncle Dean, and they should see our hometown. Who knows if we'd have another chance to do that, if you're going to disappear for another ten years?"
"A road trip with your wife and two kids? Not exactly my idea of a good time."
"Me, you, and the kids. Lisa wouldn't go even if I asked her."
Dean thought about it for a moment. "Fine. But we're taking separate cars."
Sam wasn't sure why he was seeing two fuzzy-looking Deans seated at the side of his bed, but the thought of having two Deans anywhere should have been a scary thought. It wasn't. Sam really couldn't care less why Dean was here, or even why he was here. He hated hospitals. He wanted home and his bed. And Jess fussing over him.
Where was Jess anyway? She knew how he felt about hospitals. There had been than one time when he had to stay overnight for observation after a concussion -- and despite his argument that it wasn't his first and he'd be fine at home -- she had sat at his bedside holding his hand. She hadn't laughed at his irrationality when he had started to freak out, and when it got to be later in the evening, she had crawled up in the bed beside him and they had both slept peacefully.
So why wasn't she here now?
Dean's eyes were closed, but his whole body was tense, as if he was afraid to let himself relax, even though he had never been a heavy sleeper. Years of training had conditioned the Winchester boys to wake at the slightest hint of disturbance.
Sam tried to say Dean's name, make some sort of noise to get his attention, but he couldn't seem to get the message from his brain to his mouth. Actually, he felt disconnected from himself, and the lack of feeling was almost as scary as the absence of Jess. Finally the effort was too much, and Sam gave in to the darkness that was pulling him back in.
When he woke up again, Dean was awake, standing beside the window, staring outside. Sam hoped it was the lights of the hospital creating the illusion that Dean really was that pale and exhausted.
Jess was still noticable in her absence, and Sam was starting to think he should be worried.
The pain washed over him in stages, intensifying as his level of consciousness rose, and the parts of his body that didn't hurt were filled with muscles that protested even the slightest movement.
Sam gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to focus on his brother.
"Dean." Sam barely recognized his own voice, weak and scratchy and hardly loud enough to breach the silence of the room, but for all the strain it cost him to force it out, Dean better have heard him.
Dean tensed up but didn't turn around.
"Dean," Sam tried again, a tad bit louder.
When his brother turned to face him, Sam noticed the stiffness and deliberation to his movements, the loose clothes he was wearing, and the padded look of his left side that indicated bandages underneath his shirt. Was it coincidence that Dean was hurt, or had he and Sam been together?
Sam didn't have time to deal with his inability to remember what had happened to land him in the hospital because Dean was right up in his personal space, stringing together random babbling in his mile-a-minute speech. At first it sounded like a foreign language that got muddled in Sam's brain, but he could hear the worry in Dean's voice, and either whatever drugs he had been given were really good ones or something really bad must've happened because there were tears in Dean's eyes and Sam could count on one hand the number of times Dean had cried in front of him.
When Dean's gibberish finally started to coalesce into words, Sam picked up on some of them -- things like "god" and "worried" and "back" and "demon" and "bastard." Sam wasn't sure if that last one was directed at him or the aformentioned demon.
Dean had taken one of Sam's hands in his own and Sam gave it a slight squeeze, trying to get his brother's attention.
"What happened?" Sam managed to croak out.
Dean froze, a look of confusion crossing his face like he couldn't comprehend Sam not remembering what had caused this.
"You wrecked my car." Dean glanced at Sam before adding, "Well, it wasn't really your fault because we were sideswiped by someone who was probably possessed at the time, but you were driving."
"You let me drive the Impala?"
Dean's confusion deepened. "Yeah-"
"Where's--" Sam broke off in a coughing fit. "Where's Jess?"
Dean was apparently at a loss for words, and Sam would have been amused at the way he was opening and closing his mouth if he hadn't been so frustrated.
"My girlfriend, Jessica? Where is she? Is she hurt?"
"Sammy..." Dean looked away quickly, but not before Sam saw the fresh tears making his eyes shine.
Whatever happened must have been really bad. Before Sam could muster up whatever authority he could manage from a hospital bed to demand answers, a doctor burst into the room with a nurse close on her heels.
"So, our patient's finally awake!"
Somewhere in the middle of all the poking and prodding and talking, Dean slipped out the door.
I've got a lot of old, partially written fics sitting here on my computer. I never did anything with because they don't feel finished, but they stopped after my muses had their say, so they really are as finished as they're gonna be. So, I thought I'd share two of them, in case anyone is interested. There is really no point to them, no special reason to read them. They haven't been titled or betad, but they really deserve the chance to see the light of LJ. The first one was written way back during last season, somewhere around April I think. And I had just gotten into SPN then. I'm not sure why Sam's wife's a bitch in it, but she is. The second one was written over the summer, between seasons. I don't pretend to be good at this; these are just things I wanted to see. But if you do read, please do tell me what you think, k?
Dean Winchester was completely exhausted, mentally and physically. He couldn't remember with certainty the last time he had eaten or slept. He hadn't been allowed to fully recover from his last encounter with a particularly nasty demon, the aches and pains left behind intensifying with each passing day instead of subsiding. There were three 6-inch gashes in his side, and he thought they might be getting infected despite his self-administered first-aid. He was starting to wonder if there was some type of toxin that had been passed through from the swipe of the demon's claws.
He knew he didn't have to do this now. Hell, he didn't have to do it at all. But if he waited until his head cleared and he was rested up, he might not go through with it. He didn't know what kind of reception to expect, didn't know if all this was a waste of time. Didn't know if he'd walk away from this encounter with a blow to his pride -- that was worse than any physical injury could every be. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel of the Impala -- his baby. The car had been his home, his comfort, his constant for years, even though nearly everything under the hood had been replaced since he first got her. He had always treated her with respect and she never let him down.
Sitting in the Impala and staring up at the house wasn't doing anyone any good. Before he could change his mind, Dean slid out of the car and headed up the sidewalk of the perfect American suburban neighborhood. Up the steps to the house he had never entered when the occupants were home. After ringing the doorbell, he shifted anxiously from one foot to the other, wondering why he was so nervous about this when he was fine talking to complete strangers.
A teenager he didn't recognize opened the door. The expectant look on her face dissolved into suspicion when she saw him. "Can I help you?"
Dean was too tired to even try to charm the girl. "I'm looking for Sam Winchester."
"I'm sorry," The girl said insincerely. "Mr. and Mrs. Winchester are out for the evening. You'll have to come back another time."
There was a noise behind her, and she and Dean both looked up to see a young girl about halfway down the staircase.
"Why aren't you in bed? I told you not to get up again." Her maner with the girl was no less cross than it had been with Dean.
"There's a monster in the closet. I don't want it to get me or Jamie." From her tone, the little girl had said this before.
"For the last time, there are no such things as monsters! Get upstairs and go to bed!" She turned back to Dean, failing to notice the dangerous look he was giving her. "I suggest you try back tomorrow."
"No, I think I'll stick around and wait for Sammy to get back." Dean pushed the door open a bit further and walked into the foyer.
"And just who do you think you are?"
"Winchester. Dean Winchester." He flashed her a fake smile. "Now who the hell are you, and why are you yelling at my niece?"
Sam didn't understand. It was one thing for his wife to not want him, to ask for a divorce, for him to buy out her half of their house and let her take one of the cars. It was another thing entirely that she didn't even want to argue about custody of their children. Sure, he and Lisa had their problems -- more lately than ever -- but she was still Mary and Jamie's mother. When he started to say something about it, though, Lisa had practically shouted at him. What do you know about how a mother should act, Sam? You never had one!
Sam had stared at her in stunned silence for a moment before getting up and walking out of the restaurant. The entire ride home, Lisa bitched about how he had left her to put the bill on her credit card, which he was paying for anyway, but he didn't say a word, tuning her out. When they reached the house, he decided to take a short walk before going inside, wanting some time to calm down before he went to say goodnight to the kids. He didn't want them to see him upset. Lisa was upset because Sam wasn't the well-off lawyer with political aspirations she had tried to mold him into, but Sam was upset that she wasn't the person he thought she was.
Several houses from his own, he was stopped by the sight of a familiar black car. He shook his head as he walked over to it. No way. Even if Dean still had the Impala -- which was highly improbable, given the age of the car, and the wear and tear and miles they had inflicted on her -- why would he be here? Sam hadn't seen his brother in years.
A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he ran his fingers over the still-warm hood. He peered inside the window, checking the interior despite his doubts. If anyone asked, he'd just say he was admiring the car, that he used to have one like it. Then his eyes caught sight of two pictures affixed to the underside of the sunvisor, easily accessible to the driver's vision. One picture was from Sam's childhood, him with his father and Dean. The other was recent, something he had emailed only a few months ago; it was a picture of Sam with Mary and Jamie.
Sam was already running back towards the house when he heard his wife shouting for him. He saw Angie, the girl from next door that babysat for them on occasion, sitting on the couch with a boy he vaguely recognized. "What's going on?" he asked, afraid of what it might mean that his brother was here. He hadn't made any personal contact in forever; what if this was business related?
"Some man showed up earlier, and I opened the door because I thought it was Robbie coming over, and he forced his way inside. He said he's your brother, and he's upstairs with Mary right now watching a movie. He's very weird; I wouldn't let him around my children. Your wife apparently agrees."
Sam rolled his eyes and headed up the stairs. Lisa was standing at the doorway to Mary's bedroom, arms crossed angrily as she faced off with Dean. His stance would have been no less aggressive, but it was tempered by the fact he was holding Mary. Both looked up when Sam entered, but Lisa was the first to speak.
"He says he's your brother," she accused, as if Sam had done something wrong.
He had told her from the beginning of their relationship that he had a brother that he rarely saw, so he couldn't quite understand where her tone was coming from. "He is my brother," Sam answered, pushing past her and reaching for Mary.
"That doesn't give him the right to barge into our home and terrorize the babysitter!"
"The babysitter," Dean spit out the word like it was something nasty, "wanted Mary J to go to bed so she could have her boyfriend over for a bit of fun. She yelled at Mary J because she was afraid of the monster in her closet!"
"There's no such thing as monsters," Lisa said scornfully. "It's bad enough we still let her sleep with a nightlight; she's spoiled."
"There are monsters, Mommy," Mary piped up from her father's arms. "Uncle Dean said so. But they can't get me now."
When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.
"Dean, you didn't give her a gun, did you?" Sam demanded, ignoring the look his wife was giving him.
Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Mary J and I used the EMF meter to go through each of the closets to make sure there was nothing there, and then we salted the doorways so that if a monster did show up, it wouldn't be able to pass through." He shook his head, a teasing glint still in his eyes. "A gun? Honestly, Sammy, I don't know where you'd get an idea like that."
"Um, maybe because I doubt you know anything about kids?" Sam shot back.
"What are you talking about? I raised you, didn't I?"
Sam shook his head with a grin. "Dean..."
"Sam," Lisa broke in, arms still crossed as she glared at Sam and Dean in turn, "I want him out of my house before the morning." She stormed down the hallway to the master bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Both men watched her go and then looked back at each other.
"You know, I saw a quaint little motel a couple miles up the road--" Dean offered.
"Dean, you're not going to a motel. At least, not tonight."
"Not for me, Sammy boy. I was thinking of your wife."
Sam rolled his eyes, but his grin didn't fade. "Let me put Mary to bed and check on Jamie, and then you and I have to talk."
"Uncle Dean, can you read me a bedtime story?" Mary asked, wriggling down from her father's arms and scampering across the room to her bookshelf.
"Mary, Uncle Dean and I need to talk. It's time for you to be in bed."
"Please, Daddy?" She gave him the puppy-dog look that he himself had employed on more than on occasion. "Just one story?"
"It's just one story, Sam. I'll read to her while you check on Jamie." Dean was smiling indulgently at his niece and the two books she held in her hands.
Sam sighed. "One story. That's it." He picked Mary back up, hugging her close and kissing her cheek. "Goodnight, sweetie. I love you."
"I love you, too, Daddy," Mary answered as he set her down in her bed and tucked the covers around her.
Sam walked out of the room, glancing back to see his brother perched on the edge of the too-narrow bed with his arm around Mary as they opened the book. He's not here an hour and she already has him wrapped around her little finger. Uncle Dean. He snorted. He always was a sucker for a pretty girl.
Sam and Dean stood facing each other in the living room, both having so much to say and nowhere to begin.
"Dad's gone, Sammy." Dean's voice was quieter than Sam could ever remember, and he wouldn't meet Sam's eyes.
Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with this conversation. Hell, he was uncomfortable with this whole situation! "Dean... I can't go with you, no matter how long Dad's been missing. I'm sorry."
"You're not listening to me, Sammy. He's not missing." Dean finally raised his head to look at Sam directly. "He's dead. Died in a car accident in Winchester, Virginia, of all places. I took him back to Lawrence and buried him next to Mom."
Sam could see there were unshed tears in Dean's eyes to match his own. He wondered if his brother had allowed himself to cry at all, but the connection they had always shared told him that he hadn't.
Not even while digging the hole...
"You buried him." It wasn't a question, more like a shocked verification.
"His name was already on the stone. He had it done not long after we destroyed the demon that killed Mom and Jess." Not long after you left us again went unsaid, but it lingered in the air between the two. "After that, he was ready to meet Death, ready to be with Mom again. It was only a matter of time."
"Why didn't you call me? When it happened, I mean? And don't give me that bullshit about not thinking I'd answer because you know I would have."
Dean stared at Sam silently before answering. "I needed to see you. More than that, I need to actually talk to you. Know that you're okay. The day before Dad's accident... I had this dream... I just got a bad vibe that something was wrong and that I needed to be here. If I hadn't split off from Dad and headed this way then... I would have been with him when he died."
"So you show up after nearly ten years of not being around--" Sam started.
"Just because you didn't see me doesn't mean I wasn't around. I was always around, keeping tabs on you. I knew you were okay, sending me emails, leaving me voicemails. I just didn't want to interfere in your life."
"And you couldn't email me back? Or answer the damn phone just once in all that time?" There was an unmistakable taint of hurt underlying the anger in Sam's words. "You couldn't let me know that you were okay? That you were alive?"
"You would know if I was dead."
"What, you think we have some kind of familial, psychic connection or something, Dean? If we ever did, it's not working anymore because I didn't magically know Dad died."
"Sam, if I died, the Impala would find its way to you."
"Oh, God, Dean, I know you love your car, but please tell me you aren't planning on possessing it after you die!" The idea of driverless Impala blasting 80s rock music and following pretty girls jumped into Sam's mind.
Dean laughed. "No, but there's papers in the car that would trace it back to you if something happened to me."
"What?! Do you know how much trouble I'd be in if that car was traced back to me? I mean, c'mon, that car is pretty much a criminal suspect in and of itself! Not to mention the cache of weapons in the trunk!"
"False bottom, Sammy. Combination lock, needs your birthday to open it. Besides, you're a hot-shot lawyer now, right? You'd be able to argue your way out of any trouble."
"I practice real estate law; it's hardly the same thing." Sam looked as if he wanted to argue about it, but then he closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. When he looked back at Dean, it was with that touchy-feely, schmoopy, gleam in his eye that Dean used to fear. Now, though, it was almost a relief. "Damn, man, I missed you!"
Sam closed the distance between them and embraced his brother with ten years of built-up affection. Both men took comfort in the physical reassurance of the other -- they had always had an intangible, irrefutable bond, but that bond had been stretched to the limit while they were apart.
Dean tried his hardest not to flinch as Sam squeezed him a little closer for good measure before releasing him, but Dean wasn't as good as he used to be at keeping things hidden. With no one around to hide things from, he was a bit out of practice.
"You're hurt." Sam's hands were already tugging at the hem of Dean's t-shirt, pushing the edges of his jacket aside.
"It's nothing," Dean insisted, twisting out of Sam's reach. "Just a little bruised up is all."
But Sam had already seen the edges of the crimson-tinted bandages, noticed the way Dean's shirt was sticking to them. "It's not nothing. Why do you always have to be so damn stubborn? C'mon, let's go in the kitchen and have a look."
Dean followed reluctantly, letting himself be pushed into a chair beside the table and pulling off his jacket and shirt while Sam went after the first-aid kit.
"Looks like you haven't lost your touch for this kind of thing," Dean commented as his brother bandaged him up.
Sam glanced up with a grin. "I get plenty of practice; Mary's a rough little girl. And even more stubborn than you." He finished what he was doing and stood up. "There, all done." He crossed the room to wash his hands. "So, do you have another job lined up, or do you have a few days?"
"There's always another job, Sam, you know that. But nothing that can't wait." Dean stood up and helped himself to a beer out of the fridge. "But I'm not too sure about staying here; your wife doesn't seem to like me very much."
Sam nodded. "Well, she doesn't seem to like me too much either." Sam paused for a moment. "No, actually, I was thinking of maybe going back to Lawrence. I know that you just came from there, but I need to make my peace with everything too. Besides, Mary and Jamie deserve to spend a couple days with their Uncle Dean, and they should see our hometown. Who knows if we'd have another chance to do that, if you're going to disappear for another ten years?"
"A road trip with your wife and two kids? Not exactly my idea of a good time."
"Me, you, and the kids. Lisa wouldn't go even if I asked her."
Dean thought about it for a moment. "Fine. But we're taking separate cars."
Sam wasn't sure why he was seeing two fuzzy-looking Deans seated at the side of his bed, but the thought of having two Deans anywhere should have been a scary thought. It wasn't. Sam really couldn't care less why Dean was here, or even why he was here. He hated hospitals. He wanted home and his bed. And Jess fussing over him.
Where was Jess anyway? She knew how he felt about hospitals. There had been than one time when he had to stay overnight for observation after a concussion -- and despite his argument that it wasn't his first and he'd be fine at home -- she had sat at his bedside holding his hand. She hadn't laughed at his irrationality when he had started to freak out, and when it got to be later in the evening, she had crawled up in the bed beside him and they had both slept peacefully.
So why wasn't she here now?
Dean's eyes were closed, but his whole body was tense, as if he was afraid to let himself relax, even though he had never been a heavy sleeper. Years of training had conditioned the Winchester boys to wake at the slightest hint of disturbance.
Sam tried to say Dean's name, make some sort of noise to get his attention, but he couldn't seem to get the message from his brain to his mouth. Actually, he felt disconnected from himself, and the lack of feeling was almost as scary as the absence of Jess. Finally the effort was too much, and Sam gave in to the darkness that was pulling him back in.
When he woke up again, Dean was awake, standing beside the window, staring outside. Sam hoped it was the lights of the hospital creating the illusion that Dean really was that pale and exhausted.
Jess was still noticable in her absence, and Sam was starting to think he should be worried.
The pain washed over him in stages, intensifying as his level of consciousness rose, and the parts of his body that didn't hurt were filled with muscles that protested even the slightest movement.
Sam gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to focus on his brother.
"Dean." Sam barely recognized his own voice, weak and scratchy and hardly loud enough to breach the silence of the room, but for all the strain it cost him to force it out, Dean better have heard him.
Dean tensed up but didn't turn around.
"Dean," Sam tried again, a tad bit louder.
When his brother turned to face him, Sam noticed the stiffness and deliberation to his movements, the loose clothes he was wearing, and the padded look of his left side that indicated bandages underneath his shirt. Was it coincidence that Dean was hurt, or had he and Sam been together?
Sam didn't have time to deal with his inability to remember what had happened to land him in the hospital because Dean was right up in his personal space, stringing together random babbling in his mile-a-minute speech. At first it sounded like a foreign language that got muddled in Sam's brain, but he could hear the worry in Dean's voice, and either whatever drugs he had been given were really good ones or something really bad must've happened because there were tears in Dean's eyes and Sam could count on one hand the number of times Dean had cried in front of him.
When Dean's gibberish finally started to coalesce into words, Sam picked up on some of them -- things like "god" and "worried" and "back" and "demon" and "bastard." Sam wasn't sure if that last one was directed at him or the aformentioned demon.
Dean had taken one of Sam's hands in his own and Sam gave it a slight squeeze, trying to get his brother's attention.
"What happened?" Sam managed to croak out.
Dean froze, a look of confusion crossing his face like he couldn't comprehend Sam not remembering what had caused this.
"You wrecked my car." Dean glanced at Sam before adding, "Well, it wasn't really your fault because we were sideswiped by someone who was probably possessed at the time, but you were driving."
"You let me drive the Impala?"
Dean's confusion deepened. "Yeah-"
"Where's--" Sam broke off in a coughing fit. "Where's Jess?"
Dean was apparently at a loss for words, and Sam would have been amused at the way he was opening and closing his mouth if he hadn't been so frustrated.
"My girlfriend, Jessica? Where is she? Is she hurt?"
"Sammy..." Dean looked away quickly, but not before Sam saw the fresh tears making his eyes shine.
Whatever happened must have been really bad. Before Sam could muster up whatever authority he could manage from a hospital bed to demand answers, a doctor burst into the room with a nurse close on her heels.
"So, our patient's finally awake!"
Somewhere in the middle of all the poking and prodding and talking, Dean slipped out the door.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 03:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 03:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 03:37 am (UTC)Are you feeling any better?
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Date: 2007-03-02 03:50 am (UTC)I'm... not really. I'm just up and down from one moment to the next, and I'm so sensitive and emotional that I feel like I'm losing it. How about you? What did the docs say when you had your lithium level checked?
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Date: 2007-03-02 03:55 am (UTC)I've still been moody, but I'm starting to feel a little better today. I'm not sure when I'll find out the results of the lithium levels, but hopefully soon. I go see my therapist on Tuesday, and ideally I'd like to have the results by then. I probably won't tho, cause life hasn't been the nicest.
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Date: 2007-03-02 04:02 am (UTC)I'm glad you're starting to feel better. Life has to get nicer sometime, right?
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Date: 2007-03-02 04:12 am (UTC)Life has to get nicer sometime, right?
Absolutely. Or at least everything I believe in says that it should.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 04:21 am (UTC)country music is good for inspiration sometimes, y'know?
1. If you're going through hell, keep on moving, face that fire, walk right through it, you might get out before the devil even knows you're there
2. I've been around and I've noticed that walking's easy when the road is flat, these danged ol' hills will get you every time. The Good Lord gave us mountains, so we can learn how to climb.
3. Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride.
Hmm, maybe I keep to make a playlist with songs like those... I kinda love my new ipod
no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 04:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 04:47 am (UTC)2. Mountains (http://www.sendspace.com/file/zvzlqb) by Lonestar
3. Life Ain't Always Beautiful (http://www.sendspace.com/file/pw1o3k) by Gary Allen (who is kinda hot; i saw him in concert once way back before he was a big name)
My current favorite song though is a Sugarland song and it's awesome and upbeat and perfect. It's called Settlin' (http://www.sendspace.com/file/cqngmt) and it's basically "I ain't settling for anything less than everything." It makes me happy.
I got my ipod saturday. i thought i posted about it, but maybe not. it's my present to myself with my tax money. and when i type without proper punctuation, i can just imagine remus freaking out about it. at least i use commas. I do believe in commas!!
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Date: 2007-03-02 04:58 am (UTC)Thanks for the music! I'm going back to attempting to write this entry.
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Date: 2007-03-02 05:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 05:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-03 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-04 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-04 01:59 am (UTC)Up the steps to the house he had never entered when the occupants were home.
This appeals to me so much, that Dean went into the house to look around, check it out, learn about Sam...but that he couldn't do it while Sam was there.
And I love the details, like the pictures on the visor and that Sam's birthday is the combination to the lock...
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Date: 2007-03-04 04:27 am (UTC)That first one, I'd love to do more on it, but I'm not sure I will. It was written like that forever ago, and I had this vague idea of Sam raising the kids with Uncle Dean around to help out sometimes, and Sam still tries his best to protect his kids from the reality of the life he and Dean led, but Mary J is a hunter (huntress?) at heart (it's in her blood) and Dean teaches her things behind Sam's back.
This appeals to me so much, that Dean went into the house to look around, check it out, learn about Sam...but that he couldn't do it while Sam was there.
I totally believe Dean would do that. I think he did that while Sam was at Stanford; whenever he was in the area, he would sneak in when Sam wasn't home and check up on him (and usually drink his beer -- good thing he had Sam believing in the beer fairy years before he left for college). Sometimes he would park his car somewhere out of sight and kinda hang around to see Sam, make sure he was actually okay and was really happy in his "normal" life.
And Sam's always been (and always will be) Dean's biggest weakness. He's the first person in Dean's thoughts (which is why the combo is Sam's bday) and he's the reason Dean's still hunting. That picture of Sam & his kids reminds Dean why he does this, the innocence and love he's fighting to protect.
god, I'm sappy sometimes...
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Date: 2007-03-04 03:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-10 04:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-15 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-15 04:52 pm (UTC)