Spn Fic: old fic repost Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf
I deleted the drabble series from AO3. I've been meaning to do it forever and something finally poked me to do so. It's not crummy work, but the amount of hits it got were so low it was ridiculous, and it only garnered 1 kudo per drabble--all the love, TheGreenestGreenToEverGreen! :D
Anyhoo, it bugged the heck out of me seeing it there all lonely and unloved so I gathered the drabbles into one post and brought it back home where it's safe.
1
"But what I went through-was nothing like what Dean suffered. It was different. It was…" Sam shrugged. "There was nothing to reach for, to fight against. No one asked me anything, or promised me anything. I never hoped for release or for anyone to save me because…it was what it was."
"I see."
"Dean had-well, someone he mattered to. Kind of. Okay, I get that it was twisted and horrible but…Dean had a goal, of sorts." Sam shrugged. "Maybe not a good one but it wasn't endless pain and…and....
…I kinda lost track of what I was getting at…."
* * *
2
"So…Dean."
"Yeah, Dean. Big heart, little brain. Selfish."
"Because he died for you? Left you?"
"No. Yes."
"But you…."
"That's different. I did it for the world-Dean just did it for me. He wasted his life and left me alone because-I don't know why." Sam sighed. "I made sure he was okay first. That he wasn't alone."
Sam pulled a loose string out of his pants cuff. He sighed again, watched the ceiling fan go round and round…wondered why the curtains were drawn.
"Sam? Do you want to continue tomorrow?"
I want to go home. "I guess."
* * *
3
"I didn't know, I didn't know. My soul wasn't there but I didn’t feel any different. I didn’t dream or think, or wonder, I just…took it. Over and over. I didn’t ask for it- I mean, for my body to be, what-pilotless. It wasn’t my fault."
"No."
"Do you believe me? I mean, you don’t sound like it."
"What do you think?"
"I think Dean doesn't believe it."
"You say you don’t dream about it?"
"No…."
"Hmm."
"What?"
"Nothing. Try and remember your dreams until we speak again."
Sam huffed impatiently. What difference did it make? Who cared?
* * *
4
"There was a dream, I think. I saw Dean. At Lisa's. I was watching through a window. And then I left, and I felt nothing."
"Did you smell anything?"
"What? No."
"Do you smell anything now, feel anything…off?"
"Why, do you think I have a brain tumor?" Sam was mostly joking. The ceiling fan swooped lazily above his head. It was hot. He tapped his fingers on the chair's plump arm and shifted. "I felt nothing."
"And you think you should have? Why is that?"
"Well, shouldn't I have felt something? Or…did you mean why did I care?"
"Goodnight, Sam."
* * *
5
"Your secretary's gone? Hello?"
Sam stood in the open doorway. The therapist wasn’t behind their desk, or in the chair opposite the one he always chose. No one was at the front desk, no one in the hallway.
"Hello?" He walked back out and down the stairs and through the empty lobby. "Hello?"
It was hot, he was sweating and Dean wasn't parked at the curb waiting for him. Dean always waited…didn’t he? Dean wanted him to get better, Dean supported these meetings. Sam swiped a trickle of sweat curling over his cheek. His fingers were smeared red.
* * *
6
"No, no, no. I'm not there, I'm out and Dean is here and-Dean! Dean, where are you?"
It was more than hot, the fabric of his shirt and pants blistered his skin and the blood on his cheek ran thicker and blinded him and…
"Do you smell anything now, feel anything…off?"
Sam jerked and his head bounced off the back of the plump, cushy chair. "What?"
"Sam? Do you want to continue tomorrow?"
Where am I?
"Do you want to continue? Tomorrow?"
Sam felt wet fill his throat. "Is there a tomorrow?"
"There's always a tomorrow, Sam. For you."
* * *
7
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
***
8
"How. How long has it been Friday? How long have I been asking?"
"Ah. Now you're asking the right question."
"So…what…what day is it?"
"It's Friday."
"But I just asked you and you said-you said-it's not really-"
"Just because you asked the right question doesn’t make it less Friday. Sam? Are you listening?"
"Sam? Do you want to continue tomorrow?"
"Sam…?"
* * *
9
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
* * *
10
"Dean's not stupid."
"No."
"I said that because I was mad-because he acts like he's stupid when he's not and it pisses me off. He's always hiding. No one knows him."
"Except you."
"Yeah. Except…I don’t, not really. But…he knows me. I get that now, Dean knows me like no one else. No one. It's kind of scary. But it's also-exciting." Sam stared at the sunlight peeking in from the slit in the draperies. "I'm going to tell him that."
"He'll just laugh at you, you know."
Sam stopped, blinked. "How is that…professional?"
"Sam Winchester, you're an idiot."
* * *
9
"Dean really is the smart one, isn't he?"
Bleeding stone replaced bookcases, and Sam felt crushed by the weight of centuries.
"Of course, you have that whole earnest thing going for you-that unshakable belief that love conquers all. Ridiculous, pathetic, so naïve. Gotta love it, though-so much fun to break, Sam.
I mean, come on Sam-not once? You let this go on and not once did you twig that this is still our Cage? You Winchesters, always with the hope, the faith. No one is gonna grip you tight, buddy…except me. And I won’t be gripping your arm. Shhhh…."
Fin
Anyhoo, it bugged the heck out of me seeing it there all lonely and unloved so I gathered the drabbles into one post and brought it back home where it's safe.
1
"But what I went through-was nothing like what Dean suffered. It was different. It was…" Sam shrugged. "There was nothing to reach for, to fight against. No one asked me anything, or promised me anything. I never hoped for release or for anyone to save me because…it was what it was."
"I see."
"Dean had-well, someone he mattered to. Kind of. Okay, I get that it was twisted and horrible but…Dean had a goal, of sorts." Sam shrugged. "Maybe not a good one but it wasn't endless pain and…and....
…I kinda lost track of what I was getting at…."
* * *
2
"So…Dean."
"Yeah, Dean. Big heart, little brain. Selfish."
"Because he died for you? Left you?"
"No. Yes."
"But you…."
"That's different. I did it for the world-Dean just did it for me. He wasted his life and left me alone because-I don't know why." Sam sighed. "I made sure he was okay first. That he wasn't alone."
Sam pulled a loose string out of his pants cuff. He sighed again, watched the ceiling fan go round and round…wondered why the curtains were drawn.
"Sam? Do you want to continue tomorrow?"
I want to go home. "I guess."
* * *
3
"I didn't know, I didn't know. My soul wasn't there but I didn’t feel any different. I didn’t dream or think, or wonder, I just…took it. Over and over. I didn’t ask for it- I mean, for my body to be, what-pilotless. It wasn’t my fault."
"No."
"Do you believe me? I mean, you don’t sound like it."
"What do you think?"
"I think Dean doesn't believe it."
"You say you don’t dream about it?"
"No…."
"Hmm."
"What?"
"Nothing. Try and remember your dreams until we speak again."
Sam huffed impatiently. What difference did it make? Who cared?
* * *
4
"There was a dream, I think. I saw Dean. At Lisa's. I was watching through a window. And then I left, and I felt nothing."
"Did you smell anything?"
"What? No."
"Do you smell anything now, feel anything…off?"
"Why, do you think I have a brain tumor?" Sam was mostly joking. The ceiling fan swooped lazily above his head. It was hot. He tapped his fingers on the chair's plump arm and shifted. "I felt nothing."
"And you think you should have? Why is that?"
"Well, shouldn't I have felt something? Or…did you mean why did I care?"
"Goodnight, Sam."
* * *
5
"Your secretary's gone? Hello?"
Sam stood in the open doorway. The therapist wasn’t behind their desk, or in the chair opposite the one he always chose. No one was at the front desk, no one in the hallway.
"Hello?" He walked back out and down the stairs and through the empty lobby. "Hello?"
It was hot, he was sweating and Dean wasn't parked at the curb waiting for him. Dean always waited…didn’t he? Dean wanted him to get better, Dean supported these meetings. Sam swiped a trickle of sweat curling over his cheek. His fingers were smeared red.
* * *
6
"No, no, no. I'm not there, I'm out and Dean is here and-Dean! Dean, where are you?"
It was more than hot, the fabric of his shirt and pants blistered his skin and the blood on his cheek ran thicker and blinded him and…
"Do you smell anything now, feel anything…off?"
Sam jerked and his head bounced off the back of the plump, cushy chair. "What?"
"Sam? Do you want to continue tomorrow?"
Where am I?
"Do you want to continue? Tomorrow?"
Sam felt wet fill his throat. "Is there a tomorrow?"
"There's always a tomorrow, Sam. For you."
* * *
7
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
***
8
"How. How long has it been Friday? How long have I been asking?"
"Ah. Now you're asking the right question."
"So…what…what day is it?"
"It's Friday."
"But I just asked you and you said-you said-it's not really-"
"Just because you asked the right question doesn’t make it less Friday. Sam? Are you listening?"
"Sam? Do you want to continue tomorrow?"
"Sam…?"
* * *
9
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday."
* * *
10
"Dean's not stupid."
"No."
"I said that because I was mad-because he acts like he's stupid when he's not and it pisses me off. He's always hiding. No one knows him."
"Except you."
"Yeah. Except…I don’t, not really. But…he knows me. I get that now, Dean knows me like no one else. No one. It's kind of scary. But it's also-exciting." Sam stared at the sunlight peeking in from the slit in the draperies. "I'm going to tell him that."
"He'll just laugh at you, you know."
Sam stopped, blinked. "How is that…professional?"
"Sam Winchester, you're an idiot."
* * *
9
"Dean really is the smart one, isn't he?"
Bleeding stone replaced bookcases, and Sam felt crushed by the weight of centuries.
"Of course, you have that whole earnest thing going for you-that unshakable belief that love conquers all. Ridiculous, pathetic, so naïve. Gotta love it, though-so much fun to break, Sam.
I mean, come on Sam-not once? You let this go on and not once did you twig that this is still our Cage? You Winchesters, always with the hope, the faith. No one is gonna grip you tight, buddy…except me. And I won’t be gripping your arm. Shhhh…."
Fin