Supernatural - Post Dead Man'ts Blood ficlet.
I've been rewatching Dead Man's Blood, and there's a particular moment in that episode that just sings to my angsty little heart. Actually there are several of such moments, but this one begged for a ficlet.
TITLE: Touch Up
RATING: PG13 Gen
CHARACTERS: Sam, Dean and John
SPOILERS: up to Dead Man's Blood
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Just playing. Won't hurt them more than Kripke. Much.
NOTES: 500 words. Sam POV. Tag for the last scene in Dead Man's Blood.
Sam glances over at Dean, and wonders who the hell this guy is and what he’s done with his brother.
Wonders why he’s the one snapping to attention so quick his heels practically click, while Dean lifts his chin and smarts off to Dad like he’s possessed. By the ghost of eighteen year old Sam Winchester, seems like.
And then there’s a beat, and in that moment he sees Dad’s jaw shift, and there’s a matching twitch in Dean’s cheek. The world slows down, spinning on its upside down axis for loaded moments.
“You’re right.”
It’s all a front, Sam sees that now. The sheer disbelief in Dean’s face is palpable, and Sam understands now what it cost his brother to confront Dad over this.
See, Sam knows that Dean’s always been between them, but never quite in the middle. He’s always been a little on Dad’s side of the fence, gently reproachful. It’s the job, Sam. He’s just doing what it takes. And the grass in Palo Alto might be greener, Sammy, but Dean's needed back where it’s scorched and burned.
And suddenly Sam hears Dad echoing Dean’s stronger as a family bit and how they’re going to go after this thing together, and he’s too shell-shocked to even think about gloating. Just straightens up and this time Dean’s ‘yes sir’ matches his to the syllable.
They’re shipping out early next morning, and Sam can’t help but grin at Dad’s clumsy attempt to make the order to get some sleep sound like a request. Some things don’t change.
Sam wakes before dawn and it’s weird to hear Dad’s soft snores from the other bed. Maybe he’s dreaming of being little again, when Dad was bigger and braver and stronger than anyone could ever possibly be. And it takes a moment to register in his half-woken brain, if Dad’s there, then where’s Dean? Sam puts out his hand, touches the pillow tentatively, where Dean would be if they were little.
Dean’s not there. Sam opens his eyes, checks the bathroom, but the door opens onto an empty room.
“Dean?” Sam’s wide awake now.
Dad shifts on the bed opposite, mumbles something that might be ‘gotosleepboys’ and then falls straight back into snuffling snores.
Sam slips out from under the covers, the stealthy movements warily familiar, pads across the room. He’s careful not to break the line of salt at the window as he scissors his fingers through the blinds and peers out.
It’s not quite sunrise, the half-light makes the world an old movie, black and white and everything grey in between.
The Chevy glints like jet, and next to it Dean’s face seems pale, and Sam thinks he looks tired. His hands move carefully over the metal, though, there’s a delicacy in his movements, like he’s reading Braille.
Finding the faults. Fixing the mistakes. Searching for perfect.
Sam stands at the window and watches his brother for a long time, and wonders when exactly Dean bought the touch-up paint.
TITLE: Touch Up
RATING: PG13 Gen
CHARACTERS: Sam, Dean and John
SPOILERS: up to Dead Man's Blood
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Just playing. Won't hurt them more than Kripke. Much.
NOTES: 500 words. Sam POV. Tag for the last scene in Dead Man's Blood.
Sam glances over at Dean, and wonders who the hell this guy is and what he’s done with his brother.
Wonders why he’s the one snapping to attention so quick his heels practically click, while Dean lifts his chin and smarts off to Dad like he’s possessed. By the ghost of eighteen year old Sam Winchester, seems like.
And then there’s a beat, and in that moment he sees Dad’s jaw shift, and there’s a matching twitch in Dean’s cheek. The world slows down, spinning on its upside down axis for loaded moments.
“You’re right.”
It’s all a front, Sam sees that now. The sheer disbelief in Dean’s face is palpable, and Sam understands now what it cost his brother to confront Dad over this.
See, Sam knows that Dean’s always been between them, but never quite in the middle. He’s always been a little on Dad’s side of the fence, gently reproachful. It’s the job, Sam. He’s just doing what it takes. And the grass in Palo Alto might be greener, Sammy, but Dean's needed back where it’s scorched and burned.
And suddenly Sam hears Dad echoing Dean’s stronger as a family bit and how they’re going to go after this thing together, and he’s too shell-shocked to even think about gloating. Just straightens up and this time Dean’s ‘yes sir’ matches his to the syllable.
They’re shipping out early next morning, and Sam can’t help but grin at Dad’s clumsy attempt to make the order to get some sleep sound like a request. Some things don’t change.
Sam wakes before dawn and it’s weird to hear Dad’s soft snores from the other bed. Maybe he’s dreaming of being little again, when Dad was bigger and braver and stronger than anyone could ever possibly be. And it takes a moment to register in his half-woken brain, if Dad’s there, then where’s Dean? Sam puts out his hand, touches the pillow tentatively, where Dean would be if they were little.
Dean’s not there. Sam opens his eyes, checks the bathroom, but the door opens onto an empty room.
“Dean?” Sam’s wide awake now.
Dad shifts on the bed opposite, mumbles something that might be ‘gotosleepboys’ and then falls straight back into snuffling snores.
Sam slips out from under the covers, the stealthy movements warily familiar, pads across the room. He’s careful not to break the line of salt at the window as he scissors his fingers through the blinds and peers out.
It’s not quite sunrise, the half-light makes the world an old movie, black and white and everything grey in between.
The Chevy glints like jet, and next to it Dean’s face seems pale, and Sam thinks he looks tired. His hands move carefully over the metal, though, there’s a delicacy in his movements, like he’s reading Braille.
Finding the faults. Fixing the mistakes. Searching for perfect.
Sam stands at the window and watches his brother for a long time, and wonders when exactly Dean bought the touch-up paint.