Every Five Years fic
This fic was based on the Every Five Years challenge.
Title: Growing Up
Author: faithintheboys
Rating: PG
Characters: Dean
Disclaimer: I wish I owned the boys, the show and the car, I don't.
Summary: A look into every Five years of Dean's life.
Notes: I'm new at Supernatural fic, and this has yet to be Beta'ed, which is why it might not be the best thing in the world, but I'm trying. Hope you guys like!
Five- Five is blurry and forgotten. You don’t remember all of five partly because you don’t want to and there’s nothing too significant to remember at five either, except maybe Sammy turning one. What you do remember though, is protectively wrapping your arms around your brother every night you woke up from the same nightmare about fire. You remember calling your father Dad instead of Daddy on your fifth birthday for pretty much the first time.
“Its okay Dad, I knew I wouldn’t get everything I wanted.” You say to him after cake at Mike and Kate’s house.
“What do you mean, Kiddo?” Your father asks and you always wonder if he really had no idea what you were talking about and was trying to act normal and happy for once.
“Mommy isn’t here, but that’s okay, maybe she’ll come for Sammy’s birthday.”
You don’t know what sticks more in your mind. His face or your firm belief that she was coming back.
Five is also a mixture of little kid things and attempting to be a grown up. Some days, according to Sammy or Dad’s moods, you were the oldest son and the big brother. Other days you were a five-year-old little boy.
When you were playing the role as oldest son and big brother you got up extra early in time to take care of things with Sammy, you’re not allowed to change his diaper yet and your not sure you want to, but you can get his bottle and sit with him until he wakes up where you coo at him and tell him everything’s going to be okay, even though you’re pretty sure deep down you’re the one that needs reassuring. Then you get dressed and ready to help Dad with anything that needs help with, even though you know you have to go to school, which you hate by the way. On these days you don’t talk. Dad’s a grown up and he doesn’t talk that much, and to a certain point your five year old mind knows why but just like you will do when you are older you push those thoughts aside and deal. At five years old you have to deal and cope. That’s what happens on grown up days, along with other things you don’t want to remember because you try to remember having a pretty okay childhood, bringing up your thoughts and feelings on grownup days would lead to probably believing otherwise.
On kid days, you wake up not so early. You still go in to check on Sammy and sit with him and you plan what your day should be like, you wonder what kind of smile will make Mrs. Hudson give you that extra cookie. Already at five you are a charmer.
Then you go back to sleep, or depending on whether there is Lucky Charms available, you eat breakfast and after two minutes of eating the sugary cereal you have a sugar high.
These are the days that Dad smiles at you and you talk to him. Mommy is mentioned sometimes, but not all the times because sometimes Dad doesn’t smile back at you. You talk to Dad about all different things. How Sammy is growing up, how Mrs. Hudson tells you your smart and how you want to be fireman.
As five fades to six the kid days become rarer and rarer. They don’t go away, not completely. There will always be a five year old stuck inside of you. But you can tell as Dad reads books and talks to different people about things that he’s changing and that there will be a lot of days where you’ll need to be the older son and big brother.
Ten- Ten. Ten should have been signing up for little league, or boy scouts or something. But instead you got stuck with learning how to salt doors for protection and how to shoot a gun…at ten. Ten passes with being stuck in a motel room for the thousandth time with a gun at your side because you have to keep Sam safe, can’t let anything happen like it did with the strigha. Dad gives you a gun at ten, he’s given you a gun before, but this time it’s yours. The birthday itself is nothing more than a small little cake. You can’t help but planning a birthday where you got to have friends over, where Mom made a cake and you actually smile. Everything else at ten goes by fast, a lot of different towns and schools. Dad meets more people and goes on more hunts. You learn more things. You don’t go on hunts yet; you do the same old same old, watch out for Sam. And actually you’re pretty okay with that.
Fifteen- Fifteen sucks. It’s an in between age and even though you have a fake ID and have known how to drive for a while, your not sixteen yet. Dad still leaves you alone with Sammy and you don’t get to go on hunts with you and Dad just yet. All you have to think about is one more year. There’s not a lot that goes on at fifteen. Your birthday passes with a “Happy Birthday, son.” Muttered from your father and then he returns to his work but promises that you guys can go to the shooting range soon, joy. Sammy makes you a card and you ruffle his hair and hug the squirt, you love the kid. If it weren’t for Sam you probably would have been as surprised as your father when you look at the calendar and realize that you were actually born on that day. Fifteen is no big deal.
Twenty-Twenty is wild. Twenty is fake I.D.s, bars, chicks and the Impala. Twenty is hangovers that make the room spin. Twenty is Sam learning why drinking is definitely bad for you. “Do what I say Sammy and not what I do.” You tell him after a memorable night that you actually can’t remember and you have a headache the size of Texas and Sam’s wondering what the hell you were thinking. Twenty passes with a new fake ID and gun, and a mutter of a happy birthday from your father and a bag of M&Ms from Sam, you love that kid. Twenty is danger. It’s close calls and hospital rooms. It’s driving way over the speed limit to get to the hospital; it’s a nervous Sam and a broken Dad. It’s lying to the cops as best you can and Dad being pretty impressed when he finally wakes up. Twenty is concussions and big hospital vocabulary that makes Sam’s eyes widen and Dad get that look in his eye. It’s both of them getting that same look in their eye and you realizing that they can’t lie for shit, you’re screwed. Twenty is making a full recovery. Twenty is waking up with an amulet around your neck and just getting a nod from your Dad that tells you it’s yours. Twenty is being lucky among other things.
Twenty five- Twenty five is solo. It’s riding down the highway with the windows down and the music blaring like some chick flick. Twenty-five is lonely, and empty. It’s empty seats of the Impala and no one to ask if you’re there yet or to bitch about moving. Twenty-five is spying. It’s Dad calling you and telling you little things about Sam and you wonder why you haven’t gone up there yet, you know you just can’t. Twenty-five is dialing the number at least a thousand times and shaking as you press the end button because you’re trying so hard to press send. Twenty-five passes at a bar, simple and easy. Twenty-five is Cassie, twenty-five is hurt. Twenty-five is buried.
Title: Growing Up
Author: faithintheboys
Rating: PG
Characters: Dean
Disclaimer: I wish I owned the boys, the show and the car, I don't.
Summary: A look into every Five years of Dean's life.
Notes: I'm new at Supernatural fic, and this has yet to be Beta'ed, which is why it might not be the best thing in the world, but I'm trying. Hope you guys like!
Five- Five is blurry and forgotten. You don’t remember all of five partly because you don’t want to and there’s nothing too significant to remember at five either, except maybe Sammy turning one. What you do remember though, is protectively wrapping your arms around your brother every night you woke up from the same nightmare about fire. You remember calling your father Dad instead of Daddy on your fifth birthday for pretty much the first time.
“Its okay Dad, I knew I wouldn’t get everything I wanted.” You say to him after cake at Mike and Kate’s house.
“What do you mean, Kiddo?” Your father asks and you always wonder if he really had no idea what you were talking about and was trying to act normal and happy for once.
“Mommy isn’t here, but that’s okay, maybe she’ll come for Sammy’s birthday.”
You don’t know what sticks more in your mind. His face or your firm belief that she was coming back.
Five is also a mixture of little kid things and attempting to be a grown up. Some days, according to Sammy or Dad’s moods, you were the oldest son and the big brother. Other days you were a five-year-old little boy.
When you were playing the role as oldest son and big brother you got up extra early in time to take care of things with Sammy, you’re not allowed to change his diaper yet and your not sure you want to, but you can get his bottle and sit with him until he wakes up where you coo at him and tell him everything’s going to be okay, even though you’re pretty sure deep down you’re the one that needs reassuring. Then you get dressed and ready to help Dad with anything that needs help with, even though you know you have to go to school, which you hate by the way. On these days you don’t talk. Dad’s a grown up and he doesn’t talk that much, and to a certain point your five year old mind knows why but just like you will do when you are older you push those thoughts aside and deal. At five years old you have to deal and cope. That’s what happens on grown up days, along with other things you don’t want to remember because you try to remember having a pretty okay childhood, bringing up your thoughts and feelings on grownup days would lead to probably believing otherwise.
On kid days, you wake up not so early. You still go in to check on Sammy and sit with him and you plan what your day should be like, you wonder what kind of smile will make Mrs. Hudson give you that extra cookie. Already at five you are a charmer.
Then you go back to sleep, or depending on whether there is Lucky Charms available, you eat breakfast and after two minutes of eating the sugary cereal you have a sugar high.
These are the days that Dad smiles at you and you talk to him. Mommy is mentioned sometimes, but not all the times because sometimes Dad doesn’t smile back at you. You talk to Dad about all different things. How Sammy is growing up, how Mrs. Hudson tells you your smart and how you want to be fireman.
As five fades to six the kid days become rarer and rarer. They don’t go away, not completely. There will always be a five year old stuck inside of you. But you can tell as Dad reads books and talks to different people about things that he’s changing and that there will be a lot of days where you’ll need to be the older son and big brother.
Ten- Ten. Ten should have been signing up for little league, or boy scouts or something. But instead you got stuck with learning how to salt doors for protection and how to shoot a gun…at ten. Ten passes with being stuck in a motel room for the thousandth time with a gun at your side because you have to keep Sam safe, can’t let anything happen like it did with the strigha. Dad gives you a gun at ten, he’s given you a gun before, but this time it’s yours. The birthday itself is nothing more than a small little cake. You can’t help but planning a birthday where you got to have friends over, where Mom made a cake and you actually smile. Everything else at ten goes by fast, a lot of different towns and schools. Dad meets more people and goes on more hunts. You learn more things. You don’t go on hunts yet; you do the same old same old, watch out for Sam. And actually you’re pretty okay with that.
Fifteen- Fifteen sucks. It’s an in between age and even though you have a fake ID and have known how to drive for a while, your not sixteen yet. Dad still leaves you alone with Sammy and you don’t get to go on hunts with you and Dad just yet. All you have to think about is one more year. There’s not a lot that goes on at fifteen. Your birthday passes with a “Happy Birthday, son.” Muttered from your father and then he returns to his work but promises that you guys can go to the shooting range soon, joy. Sammy makes you a card and you ruffle his hair and hug the squirt, you love the kid. If it weren’t for Sam you probably would have been as surprised as your father when you look at the calendar and realize that you were actually born on that day. Fifteen is no big deal.
Twenty-Twenty is wild. Twenty is fake I.D.s, bars, chicks and the Impala. Twenty is hangovers that make the room spin. Twenty is Sam learning why drinking is definitely bad for you. “Do what I say Sammy and not what I do.” You tell him after a memorable night that you actually can’t remember and you have a headache the size of Texas and Sam’s wondering what the hell you were thinking. Twenty passes with a new fake ID and gun, and a mutter of a happy birthday from your father and a bag of M&Ms from Sam, you love that kid. Twenty is danger. It’s close calls and hospital rooms. It’s driving way over the speed limit to get to the hospital; it’s a nervous Sam and a broken Dad. It’s lying to the cops as best you can and Dad being pretty impressed when he finally wakes up. Twenty is concussions and big hospital vocabulary that makes Sam’s eyes widen and Dad get that look in his eye. It’s both of them getting that same look in their eye and you realizing that they can’t lie for shit, you’re screwed. Twenty is making a full recovery. Twenty is waking up with an amulet around your neck and just getting a nod from your Dad that tells you it’s yours. Twenty is being lucky among other things.
Twenty five- Twenty five is solo. It’s riding down the highway with the windows down and the music blaring like some chick flick. Twenty-five is lonely, and empty. It’s empty seats of the Impala and no one to ask if you’re there yet or to bitch about moving. Twenty-five is spying. It’s Dad calling you and telling you little things about Sam and you wonder why you haven’t gone up there yet, you know you just can’t. Twenty-five is dialing the number at least a thousand times and shaking as you press the end button because you’re trying so hard to press send. Twenty-five passes at a bar, simple and easy. Twenty-five is Cassie, twenty-five is hurt. Twenty-five is buried.