Because I'm Evol ...
Because I'm evol ... and wouldn't want y'all to think I'm not working, 'cause I am. So just a little snippet to whet your bones to a slather. The whole thing (just the chapter ... stop being so greedy!) will be up soon, but until then ...
Dean whined again … whined like a freaking pansy-ass little bitch even though nothing hurt, even though he couldn’t feel a damn thing that might qualify him for a pansy-ass bitch get-out-of-jail free card. His dad must be so proud. His dad must think it was awesome to have a fourteen-year-old girl for a son … one in pigtails and a freakin skirt judging by the pansy he was being over something that didn’t even hurt.
Jesus, Sammy. Don’t be such a little drama queen. If I wanted daughters, I’d dress you boys up in skirts. Rub a little dirt on it, and you’ll be fine. Dean, give your brother a lollypop and a cuddle or two if he starts being a pansy-ass little bitch again.
"I’m right beside you, bud," his dad said instead of giving him shit. "Right beside you. Can you hear me. I’m right beside you."
"Right beside me?" Dean asked. He moved his good hand a little, actually felt it move this time instead of not being sure whether it did what he told it to or not. Maybe it was over. Maybe his dad had already found them, and they were in a hospital, now. Maybe his dad was sitting in a chair beside the bed, trying to talk him out of the darkness while Sammy lay curled up beside him on the bed where the nurses no doubt told him he couldn’t be.
Or maybe they were taking turns holding his hand, one of them trying to talk him awake while the other one held the doctors at bay, told them they could shove their visitors’ policy up their asses because nobody was leaving Dean here, nobody was leaving him alone again, and if they didn’t like that, then tough shit.
Dad wouldn’t waste his time arguing with them; he’d just scare the whole pack of them witless with one of his "don’t fuck with me now" looks that was scary enough to make even Bobby think twice about pushing . But he could see Sammy saying something like that. He could see Sammy standing his ground against the whole hospital if he had to: a ten-year-old, pansy-ass drama queen putting his Rambo on to defend his big brother, to tell doctors and nurses and cops and anybody else who crossed him what a bunch of fuckheads they were not to realize he was in charge, which meant there was no way they were crossing his perimeter until Dad said it was okay, until Dad was done holding Dean’s hand like a real girl and telling him everything was okay now, everything would be alright.
Sammy and Dad didn’t team up much; but when they did, good luck to anybody trying to cross them ...