Great story. Very interesting plot, and it ran the gamut of emotions, from the good banter sprinkled throughout to the delicious angst during Dean’s awful “dream.” You captured both boys very well here.
Favorite lines:
They installed cameras, ran cable, checked alarms, asked questions either subtlety (Sam) or tactlessly (Dean).
*g*
“Yeah, it may take some special attention from Santa’s elf to get some of them to unwrap their presents.”
*snickers* Dean, Dean, Dean, how we love thee.
“But you can. Know why?” Sam was using the soft voice. Dean loved the soft voice. He’d bet on the soft voice against any iceberg in the North Atlantic.
Yeah, I love that voice, too. *sighs*
“I have his heart.”
“Ah, jeez.” Dean cleared his throat. After a moment with grim silence, he twisted to look for the waitress. “Does this place serve beer?”
I love this twist to the story, about Celeste having George’s heart, and I love Dean’s reaction.
Sam nodded, empathy glowing like a hearth fire. Dean tried to sip his coffee in a sympathetic manner.
I love how the empathetic thing is such a struggle for Dean. *g*
and Dean played with the baby and looked embarrassed when Sam kept smiling at him playing with the baby.
Dean+baby=*squee*
“Norman Rockwell paintings aren’t for us, Sammy.” Dean intoned.
“Isn’t that why we do what we do? To make this possible?”
Love this exchange.
Dean kept his head stuck in a duct, muttering. It sounded like “not one nurse under Dean’s tree...”
*snickers* Poor, lonely Dean.
But he’d dealt with a benign spirit before. More than once. Once in particular.
Oh, Sam.
“No gifts, Sammy. We said no gifts, we can’t aff...”
“That’s not it. And I got you a new belt.”
“Aw, we said...”
“Cause I found the gloves you bought.”
Damn. So hard to hide things in a car...
Oh, I love this. Boys … you’re too cute. :)
“You know why it was so important to me to go to college?”
Dean stared. High fly, way into left field...
*g*
“I had to be something on my own, and college could do it. My own person, not a duty.”
This is an interesting take on why Sam left for Stanford. I’m sure he was very aware of how much Dean felt responsible for him, for his welfare.
Dean rarely remembered his dreams. They always involved being naked in public
*leers*
He hated them for the humiliation of being taken care of and loved them for trying to take care of Sam, too.
I really like his conflicting feelings, and want to hug these people for taking such good care of Sam.
He remembered Sam leaping at every shadow of hope. It was painful to hear.
Oh, Sam.
Recovery was rare to never, but to Sam (and of course to Dean) that meant ‘let’s get on with it.’
But of course. They’re Winchesters. :)
No one else ever visited. No one from their old life had passed through, or had contacted Sam if they had. He’d heard Sam talking to Bobby Singer, and to Ellen Harvelle, but those calls dwindled to never.
I just ache for Sam, for how lonely he must be here.
One night Sam had realized he hadn’t bought groceries for weeks, and yet there was still food in the cupboards, and he had lost it completely.
This feels so gritty and real, the way his realiziation of this act of kindness makes him lose it. Sam needs some serious hugs right now. *hugs him*
Sam got up from his cot and put his blankets on top of Dean’s comforter and crawled in beside him, because the heat wasn’t working and it was dangerous to leave the oven going all night. He remembered Sam apologetically whispering ‘Sorry, Dean, I know you don’t like... But it’s so cold... Well, Merry Christmas, Dean.’
*heart breaks*
his right was locked painfully around Sam’s wrist. There was a small amount of trembling involved, which was mortifying.
Great image here. You know Dean’s freaked when he holds onto Sam like this.
“God damn it”
Dean swore loudly into the dark. Sam was glad Dean couldn’t see him smiling.
Favorite lines:
They installed cameras, ran cable, checked alarms, asked questions either subtlety (Sam) or tactlessly (Dean).
*g*
“Yeah, it may take some special attention from Santa’s elf to get some of them to unwrap their presents.”
*snickers* Dean, Dean, Dean, how we love thee.
“But you can. Know why?” Sam was using the soft voice. Dean loved the soft voice. He’d bet on the soft voice against any iceberg in the North Atlantic.
Yeah, I love that voice, too. *sighs*
“I have his heart.”
“Ah, jeez.” Dean cleared his throat. After a moment with grim silence, he twisted to look for the waitress. “Does this place serve beer?”
I love this twist to the story, about Celeste having George’s heart, and I love Dean’s reaction.
Sam nodded, empathy glowing like a hearth fire. Dean tried to sip his coffee in a sympathetic manner.
I love how the empathetic thing is such a struggle for Dean. *g*
and Dean played with the baby and looked embarrassed when Sam kept smiling at him playing with the baby.
Dean+baby=*squee*
“Norman Rockwell paintings aren’t for us, Sammy.” Dean intoned.
“Isn’t that why we do what we do? To make this possible?”
Love this exchange.
Dean kept his head stuck in a duct, muttering. It sounded like “not one nurse under Dean’s tree...”
*snickers* Poor, lonely Dean.
But he’d dealt with a benign spirit before. More than once. Once in particular.
Oh, Sam.
“No gifts, Sammy. We said no gifts, we can’t aff...”
“That’s not it. And I got you a new belt.”
“Aw, we said...”
“Cause I found the gloves you bought.”
Damn. So hard to hide things in a car...
Oh, I love this. Boys … you’re too cute. :)
“You know why it was so important to me to go to college?”
Dean stared. High fly, way into left field...
*g*
“I had to be something on my own, and college could do it. My own person, not a duty.”
This is an interesting take on why Sam left for Stanford. I’m sure he was very aware of how much Dean felt responsible for him, for his welfare.
Dean rarely remembered his dreams. They always involved being naked in public
*leers*
He hated them for the humiliation of being taken care of and loved them for trying to take care of Sam, too.
I really like his conflicting feelings, and want to hug these people for taking such good care of Sam.
He remembered Sam leaping at every shadow of hope. It was painful to hear.
Oh, Sam.
Recovery was rare to never, but to Sam (and of course to Dean) that meant ‘let’s get on with it.’
But of course. They’re Winchesters. :)
No one else ever visited. No one from their old life had passed through, or had contacted Sam if they had. He’d heard Sam talking to Bobby Singer, and to Ellen Harvelle, but those calls dwindled to never.
I just ache for Sam, for how lonely he must be here.
One night Sam had realized he hadn’t bought groceries for weeks, and yet there was still food in the cupboards, and he had lost it completely.
This feels so gritty and real, the way his realiziation of this act of kindness makes him lose it. Sam needs some serious hugs right now. *hugs him*
Sam got up from his cot and put his blankets on top of Dean’s comforter and crawled in beside him, because the heat wasn’t working and it was dangerous to leave the oven going all night. He remembered Sam apologetically whispering ‘Sorry, Dean, I know you don’t like... But it’s so cold... Well, Merry Christmas, Dean.’
*heart breaks*
his right was locked painfully around Sam’s wrist. There was a small amount of trembling involved, which was mortifying.
Great image here. You know Dean’s freaked when he holds onto Sam like this.
“God damn it”
Dean swore loudly into the dark. Sam was glad Dean couldn’t see him smiling.
“I’m in your bed.”
LOL! This is priceless. *g*
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