"Nothing Good is Free", Supernatural, G, gen.
Title: Nothing Good is Free
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G.
Length: About 1300 words.
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, Bobby, John, Mary.
Spoilers: Through 5x18.
Summary: In the end, it all ties together.
Notes: This was my Mother's Day gift to my mom. This was originally posted for Three Weeks for Dreamwidth here, and author's notes can be found here.
Nothing Good is Free
Sam was seven, and Dad was away on a hunt. It had come up quick, so the only place available for him and Dean was a rotting shack, along with a couple tools to keep the place from falling down around them.
When Dean was boarding up what used to be windows, he smashed his hand with a hammer. As he was on the edge of manhood by Dad's standards, and already there by his own, he only made a small noise in the back of his throat and let a couple silent tears drip down his face.
But silence was more telling than noise. Sam noticed right away. He ran over and hugged Dean, muttering into his shoulder.
"Poor Dean." It's what he thought Mom would say.
Dean allowed the embrace for a moment. But too soon, he shrugged Sam off and went back to work.
-
Bobby left Dean for some reason or other. He said he'd be back soon, but Dean didn't know when that would be. He didn't care.
Sam was spread out on a stained mattress in the other room. Dean stared at him through watery eyes too hollow and stinging to look without pain. Sam's hair dangled over his closed lids, and Dean wanted to brush the strands away, but he couldn't stand to touch the cold, gray skin. Not again.
Tears slipped out of his eyes, and he brushed them away with the back of his hand, like he did when he was a kid.
He vaguely remembered Sam as a baby, crying for Mom after she'd died. It hadn't been for very long, but Dean hadn't been able to sleep for a long time after the fire, and necessity had forced him to share a room with Sam right away. He'd heard every single sound Sam had made in the night.
Dean took a swig of his whiskey and willed the memory to go away.
-
Sam was just a kid to Dean, but even kids have eyes and ears.
One night, he awakened in the middle to find Dad hugging him. Dean stood in the door frame, holding a shotgun. His eyes were the biggest Sam had ever seen.
"What's going on?" Sam asked, half-awake, but of course Dad didn't answer. Dad never answered.
Normally, Sam would've bugged Dean until he got an answer, but Dad scooped him out of bed and took them both to the car. Sam was used to long nights on the road, and sudden exits, so he fell back asleep before could help it.
He woke up for good when the sky was starting to lighten. When he looked over, Dean was staring out the window as if he'd never fallen asleep.
-
"You…want me to say a few words?"
Sam shook his head. "He's coming back."
Bobby pulled the ball cap off his head and smoothed his hair. "Sam…"
"He is."
With a sigh, Bobby trudged back through the forest to where they'd parked. Sam backed against the nearest trunk and sat on the ground.
He took his bottle and poured a liberal amount of whiskey down his throat. The world swam around him, just as he liked it. He sneered at the cross Bobby placed as a marker, clenched his jaw, and shoved the tears away.
The alcohol was making him sleepy, and he allowed himself to drift off.
He was riding with Dean in the back seat of the Impala, like they did as kids. But even though Sam was staring at the back of Dad's solidly black hair, he knew they were all adults.
Dean shoved him.
"Hey!" Sam said. "What's your problem?"
"You."
Sam laughed, in a scoffing sort of way. "I'm not doing anything."
Dean frowned. "You should've saved me, Sammy."
Sam jerked awake. The world around him was dark, barely illuminated by a sliver of moon, and was a bit distant, thanks to the alcohol. He picked his head off the ground.
"Dean?" he asked.
The world focused when he spotted the cross and mound of dirt again.
You should've saved me.
"I will," he whispered.
-
Dean watched Sammy's face light up in the glow of the fireworks, and felt like he was in heaven.
Lately, Sam had been having a tough time, what with being a new teenager and Dad getting on his case more and more. Dean had thought, if only he could make it right, if only he could do something to help…
Sam ran up and hugged Dean so hard his ribs creaked.
For a minute, everything was okay.
-
Dean fell into the front seat of the Impala. He probably shouldn't have been moving, but he didn't want to be there when the hotel found the wreck of what was the honeymoon suite.
He picked up his phone and scrolled to Bobby's number as he coughed dust out of his lungs. But his hand wasn't working quite right yet, so when he let go of the button, Sam's number was highlighted.
You gotta get through to him.
He'd failed. Again. And Sam was juiced up and on his way to face Lilith.
"Damn it," Dean choked out.
As he turned the key in the ignition, he threw the phone in the back seat.
-
"I can't do it anymore," Sam said. "I need my own life."
Dean paced down the road a couple feet. "You have a life."
"No. I live Dad's life. I want a normal life."
"But..." If Dean admitted to himself he wanted to cry, he would. "It's not safe."
Sam's face softened. "I know how to take care of myself."
Silence fell as Dean struggled to find the words that matched his thoughts.
"I don't know how to do this without you," he said, finally.
Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You'll figure it out."
He let go with a squeeze and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat.
"Watch your back, Sammy."
Sam smiled, exasperated. "Don't call me Sammy."
-
During their talk, every inch of Sam's body language said how unsure he was. How much he didn't trust Dean. Maybe it was only stuff Dean could pick up on, but it didn't take a psychic to see the avoiding eyes, the hands clasped in front of him, how slumped he was.
But he looked Dean dead in the eyes when he said his final piece.
"Because...you're still my big brother."
Dean had told Sam that he was going to say yes. He meant it. But that didn't stop his heart from lurching, if only for a second.
-
Dad walked, sweaty and grinning, down the hall to where Dean was sitting.
"Ready to see your brother, Dean?"
Dean bobbed his head excitedly, and took Dad's hand.
When they entered the hospital room, Mom was sitting up in a bed, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief he hadn't known he was holding in. She was holding a squirming blanket in her arms.
"Fussy already," she told Dad, but she was smiling. "Hi, Dean."
"Mommy," Dean said. If he hadn't been holding Dad's hand, he would have run to her.
But he must have been tugging because Dad said, "Be a man, Dean."
Dean nodded, and Dad let him go.
He walked to the bed, and Mom lowered her arms. Inside the blankets was a crinkled face, eyes closed against the lights. Dean looked at Mom.
"You can touch him," Mom said. "Nicely."
Dean extended a careful finger, and touched the baby's cheek. He was soft.
Mom smiled. "John?"
Dad sat in a chair next to the bed, and Dean scrambled up into his lap. Slowly, Mom handed over the baby, and Dad took him, letting Dean hold some of the weight.
"Take care of your brother," Dad said.
Dean looked between Dad and the baby. This was a man's job.
"Yes," he said.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G.
Length: About 1300 words.
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, Bobby, John, Mary.
Spoilers: Through 5x18.
Summary: In the end, it all ties together.
Notes: This was my Mother's Day gift to my mom. This was originally posted for Three Weeks for Dreamwidth here, and author's notes can be found here.
Nothing Good is Free
Sam was seven, and Dad was away on a hunt. It had come up quick, so the only place available for him and Dean was a rotting shack, along with a couple tools to keep the place from falling down around them.
When Dean was boarding up what used to be windows, he smashed his hand with a hammer. As he was on the edge of manhood by Dad's standards, and already there by his own, he only made a small noise in the back of his throat and let a couple silent tears drip down his face.
But silence was more telling than noise. Sam noticed right away. He ran over and hugged Dean, muttering into his shoulder.
"Poor Dean." It's what he thought Mom would say.
Dean allowed the embrace for a moment. But too soon, he shrugged Sam off and went back to work.
-
Bobby left Dean for some reason or other. He said he'd be back soon, but Dean didn't know when that would be. He didn't care.
Sam was spread out on a stained mattress in the other room. Dean stared at him through watery eyes too hollow and stinging to look without pain. Sam's hair dangled over his closed lids, and Dean wanted to brush the strands away, but he couldn't stand to touch the cold, gray skin. Not again.
Tears slipped out of his eyes, and he brushed them away with the back of his hand, like he did when he was a kid.
He vaguely remembered Sam as a baby, crying for Mom after she'd died. It hadn't been for very long, but Dean hadn't been able to sleep for a long time after the fire, and necessity had forced him to share a room with Sam right away. He'd heard every single sound Sam had made in the night.
Dean took a swig of his whiskey and willed the memory to go away.
-
Sam was just a kid to Dean, but even kids have eyes and ears.
One night, he awakened in the middle to find Dad hugging him. Dean stood in the door frame, holding a shotgun. His eyes were the biggest Sam had ever seen.
"What's going on?" Sam asked, half-awake, but of course Dad didn't answer. Dad never answered.
Normally, Sam would've bugged Dean until he got an answer, but Dad scooped him out of bed and took them both to the car. Sam was used to long nights on the road, and sudden exits, so he fell back asleep before could help it.
He woke up for good when the sky was starting to lighten. When he looked over, Dean was staring out the window as if he'd never fallen asleep.
-
"You…want me to say a few words?"
Sam shook his head. "He's coming back."
Bobby pulled the ball cap off his head and smoothed his hair. "Sam…"
"He is."
With a sigh, Bobby trudged back through the forest to where they'd parked. Sam backed against the nearest trunk and sat on the ground.
He took his bottle and poured a liberal amount of whiskey down his throat. The world swam around him, just as he liked it. He sneered at the cross Bobby placed as a marker, clenched his jaw, and shoved the tears away.
The alcohol was making him sleepy, and he allowed himself to drift off.
He was riding with Dean in the back seat of the Impala, like they did as kids. But even though Sam was staring at the back of Dad's solidly black hair, he knew they were all adults.
Dean shoved him.
"Hey!" Sam said. "What's your problem?"
"You."
Sam laughed, in a scoffing sort of way. "I'm not doing anything."
Dean frowned. "You should've saved me, Sammy."
Sam jerked awake. The world around him was dark, barely illuminated by a sliver of moon, and was a bit distant, thanks to the alcohol. He picked his head off the ground.
"Dean?" he asked.
The world focused when he spotted the cross and mound of dirt again.
You should've saved me.
"I will," he whispered.
-
Dean watched Sammy's face light up in the glow of the fireworks, and felt like he was in heaven.
Lately, Sam had been having a tough time, what with being a new teenager and Dad getting on his case more and more. Dean had thought, if only he could make it right, if only he could do something to help…
Sam ran up and hugged Dean so hard his ribs creaked.
For a minute, everything was okay.
-
Dean fell into the front seat of the Impala. He probably shouldn't have been moving, but he didn't want to be there when the hotel found the wreck of what was the honeymoon suite.
He picked up his phone and scrolled to Bobby's number as he coughed dust out of his lungs. But his hand wasn't working quite right yet, so when he let go of the button, Sam's number was highlighted.
You gotta get through to him.
He'd failed. Again. And Sam was juiced up and on his way to face Lilith.
"Damn it," Dean choked out.
As he turned the key in the ignition, he threw the phone in the back seat.
-
"I can't do it anymore," Sam said. "I need my own life."
Dean paced down the road a couple feet. "You have a life."
"No. I live Dad's life. I want a normal life."
"But..." If Dean admitted to himself he wanted to cry, he would. "It's not safe."
Sam's face softened. "I know how to take care of myself."
Silence fell as Dean struggled to find the words that matched his thoughts.
"I don't know how to do this without you," he said, finally.
Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You'll figure it out."
He let go with a squeeze and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat.
"Watch your back, Sammy."
Sam smiled, exasperated. "Don't call me Sammy."
-
During their talk, every inch of Sam's body language said how unsure he was. How much he didn't trust Dean. Maybe it was only stuff Dean could pick up on, but it didn't take a psychic to see the avoiding eyes, the hands clasped in front of him, how slumped he was.
But he looked Dean dead in the eyes when he said his final piece.
"Because...you're still my big brother."
Dean had told Sam that he was going to say yes. He meant it. But that didn't stop his heart from lurching, if only for a second.
-
Dad walked, sweaty and grinning, down the hall to where Dean was sitting.
"Ready to see your brother, Dean?"
Dean bobbed his head excitedly, and took Dad's hand.
When they entered the hospital room, Mom was sitting up in a bed, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief he hadn't known he was holding in. She was holding a squirming blanket in her arms.
"Fussy already," she told Dad, but she was smiling. "Hi, Dean."
"Mommy," Dean said. If he hadn't been holding Dad's hand, he would have run to her.
But he must have been tugging because Dad said, "Be a man, Dean."
Dean nodded, and Dad let him go.
He walked to the bed, and Mom lowered her arms. Inside the blankets was a crinkled face, eyes closed against the lights. Dean looked at Mom.
"You can touch him," Mom said. "Nicely."
Dean extended a careful finger, and touched the baby's cheek. He was soft.
Mom smiled. "John?"
Dad sat in a chair next to the bed, and Dean scrambled up into his lap. Slowly, Mom handed over the baby, and Dad took him, letting Dean hold some of the weight.
"Take care of your brother," Dad said.
Dean looked between Dad and the baby. This was a man's job.
"Yes," he said.