SPN Gen drabble repost
This is all old material, reposted for those who'd rather stay away from the Wincest part of the SPN fandom. These drabbles are all gen so if you see something more in them I swear it's all in your head, not mine. Really, these are written as gen and meant to be read as gen.
Gen for nashmaveric 200 words. Icon by carmendove
Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers
“’M sorry,” Sam sniffed. “I ran! I ran as fast as I could.”
“I know, Sammy.” Dean pressed his shirt to his brother’s bleeding knee. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Dad’s gonna be really mad.”
Sammy’s voice shivered and Dean clenched his jaw. All their grocery money now probably being spent on smokes and candy? Yeah, Dad wouldn’t like that.
“We’ll figure something out.” Fast. Dad was already on his way to pick them up.
“You boys alright? Oh. Oh my, that’s a lot of blood.”
They both looked up at the elderly lady, standing by her full grocery cart, eyes wide in alarm. Then they looked back at each other, Dean winked and Sammy started wailing.
“My leg! I think it’s broken! It hurts sooo much!”
Dean eyes filled with tears as he gazed up at the woman, lower lip trembling. “The car… It just drove away!”
“Oh sweet Lord.” She looked around in panic. “You boys stay here. I’ll go get some help.”
“I can’t feel my toes!” Sammy screamed and she broke into a run.
------
“Still can’t understand why you bought all those prunes,” John said.
“Indigestion,” Dean mumbled and Sam almost choked on his peas.
Gen for stars91 100 words. Icon by kituralb
His Father's Son
One phonecall and that’s it. Dad’s leaving, just when they need him the most.
Sam gets it, he really does. Dad’s only got so many friends left and losing both Pastor Jim and Caleb like that… Sam can’t remember ever seeing his father so shaken.
So yeah, he gets it. There’s no alternative and it sucks, but him and Dean can do this alone. They’ve got the Colt now so it’s just shoot and kill, right?
It’s just…
He thought they’d do this together, him and Dad. Avenge the women they loved. And then… Then Dad would finally be proud.
Gen for siberian_skys 200 words. Icon by bittersweet_art
How Far Does The Apple Fall?
Dean’s been in the restroom for close to twenty minutes now. Sam is seriously considering just leaving his brother’s sorry ass behind and drive the Impala back to the motel when Dean finally comes out, an unreadable expression on his face as he slides into the booth.
“Thought you’d drowned in there,” Sam says but Dean doesn’t seem to be listening. He’s studying Sam, teeth biting thoughtfully into his lower lip and just when Sam’s about to ask, ‘What?’ Dean sticks out his tongue, curling it into a slide.
“Can you do this?” he says around it, words mumbled.
Sam raises his eyebrows. “Dude, what are you? Five?”
Dean doesn’t smile. “Show me.”
Sam shrugs and mimics the action. He feels stupid, like his tongue’s too big in his mouth and when he touches it with his finger it’s not curled at all, only slightly bent.
“Ok, so I can’t curl my tongue. So what? Please tell me this isn’t another ‘Why I’m Better At Pleasing Women’ Dean-ism.”
Dean just sits silent and after a moment he slides out of the booth, throwing a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Mom and Dad couldn’t either,” he says quietly and walks out.
Gen for deirdre_c 100 words. Icon by applepie_icons
Hiding In Plain Sight
Sam wears his size like a double camouflage.
First impression is threatening. He looms over you, broad shoulders and strong arms, face hidden by long bangs. Shadows play over his eyes, making you step back, cautious of what they hide.
But then he smiles and the shadows disappear. Suddenly he’s just a young man whose calm voice and warm eyes lull you into a sense of security. ‘You can trust me,’ his whole demeanor says. ‘I just want to help.’
You’re smiling back, already tasting his blood, when the world suddenly goes black.
You should’ve known. First impressions never lie.
for siberian_skys Icon by deadwillwalk Dean. 200 words
Reading Between The Lines
His father’s handwriting reads like a story on its own. On average the letters are neat and precise, facts jotted down with a clear and focused mind. A hunter’s report, a summary of research.
But then there are times when it’s so shaky Dean can hardly read the words, bloody fingerprints smudging them. Each letter pressed deep into the surface, some underlined for emphasis. “Close one,” they read or “Dean needed six stitches.” Simple words that would sound cold if it weren’t for the way they’re written.
His mother’s name is doodled on the margins - Mary, Mary - as if writing it down made her a participant in their lives. “I promise” and “Sam walked today” and “Dean would make you so proud.” Mary, Mary.
Tiny tidbits of their life. “Sammy started school” and “Dean is having nightmares.” “Damn CPS” and “Why does he never listen?” “I gave Dean the Impala.” “I didn’t mean to hit him.” “It hurts how much he looks like you.”
Mary, Mary.
Then “Sam is gone” and “I failed” and “Dean is drunk again.”
Dean runs his fingertips over the words, trying to feel the love he knows lies behind them. He feels nothing.
Gen for menomegirl Icon by causette 100 words. Spoilers for 2.22
Into My Arms, O Lord
There’s blood and there’s dirt and you smell like rain. Like sweat and sulphur and greasy hair. Your skin is wet, sticky, and you’re warm. Sammy, you’re warm. There’s stubble on your face, scratching my skin, and your too damn long hair tickles my nose. One of these days I’m gonna cut it as you sleep, I swear to God. I swear… Sammy? I can feel you, I can smell you. So don’t tell me you’re not here. Don’t you tell me that! I’m here now and I’ve got you and I’m not letting go. I’m not letting go. Sam!
for stars91 Icon by eowyngiulia 100 words. Spoilers for 2.09
And So Here We Are
The metallic click makes Sam flinch as if it’s the sound of Dean cocking his gun, not locking the door. In a way there’s not much difference.
Sam’s breathing heavily, sniffling as he wipes angrily at the tears running down his face. They’re not for himself, but Dean, and the weight of them is breaking Dean’s heart.
All his life Sam’s fought against what others think his lot in life should be. But this, his own death, he accepts easily, only shedding tears over Dean’s stubborn refusal to save himself.
His little brother’s grown up. Just in time to die.
for azure_k_mello Her own icon. 200 words.
Protector
John stands over the narrow bed, watching his boys sleep. Dean's right hand rests on little Sammy’s belly, dried tear-tracks streaking his stubborn face. Every time Sammy sighs or mumbles Dean shifts closer, ink-stained fingers grasping for hold on the worn t-shirt serving as Sammy’s sleepwear.
Not even two months in school and already Dean’s been called to the principal office five times and sent home at least once a week. They call him difficult. Troubled. There’s talk about ADHD and Ritalin and John smashes his fist into the counselor’s desk.
John knows exactly what’s wrong. He can see it in the fear coloring Dean’s eyes every time he has to leave Sammy in the arms of Mrs. Rinez, Sammy’s cries following Dean all the way to the school bus. It’s in the trembling of Dean’s lips as he watches the other children kiss their mother’s goodbye. It’s the guilt he feels for sitting in school, learning what to him seem useless things, instead of being home, helping his dad sort the ammo.
It’s in Dean's evident relief when he finally gets back home and finds Sammy waiting for him. Crying and wet and still not talking. But alive.
for blue_icy_rose. Icon by speakfree. 100 words.
Your Face Is My Canvas
Sometimes Sam gazes at Dean and wonders if his own face looks just as worn and weary as his brother’s. For all their scars and bruises gathered through the years, Fortune has smiled upon Dean’s face, making sure he sports no more than a few silvery lines. So thin they are hardly visible unless you know where to look.
Aren’t the scars or the bruises under Dean’s eyes though that make Sam pause. It's more the lines around his mouth and eyes. Lines of laughter that have long faded and been replaced with evidence of what their lives have become.
for bayouskye. Her own icon. 100 words.
Left Out
You know, just once she’d like to be invited to join them. Really, is it too much to ask? They could bring their beer out and sit on her even. She wouldn’t mind, even if her little Sammy is getting scary big. She can carry the weight. And it’s not like they don’t eat and drink and fucking spread their shit all over her backseat anyway and does she ever complain? No. Except maybe cough occasionally but hey! She needs an oil change anyway.
And still her boys would rather drink beer with that… bimbo, than her. Just not fair.
for killerweasel. Icon by bittersweet_art. 100 words.
Guns Don't Kill People...
He’s always liked guns. The feel of them in his hand, the acid smell, the slowly heating metal molding his grip. He learned to use a gun the year before he learned to read so they’ve always felt more natural to him than pretty words on paper.
But lately his guns have felt heavier to hold. Colder. The metallic smell more like blood than steel. He wonders if it’s because he’s used them to kill innocent human beings.
Or if maybe it’s because he itches to kill more and the fact that it doesn’t even repulse him scares him breathless.
for bayouskye 100 words. Set between ep. 201 and 202. Icon by bayouskye
One More Burden
Dean blames him. Which is so insane Sam doesn’t even know how to react. As if he isn’t feeling guilty enough about dad and Jess and mom and who knows how many others that have died because of him. Now he has to feel guilty for wrecking the damn car?
Not that Dean actually says anything but Sam knows. It’s in the looks Dean shoots him as he runs his fingers over every scratch, every twisted piece of metal, while limping his way around the wreck.
Isn’t until later Sam realises it wasn’t about the car at all. Or him.
for judas_denied 100 words. Icon by judas_denied
A Simple Choice
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation, no doubt. He stands straight despite the wound in his side slowly draining his veins, eyes steady, breath shallow.
“He plays a big part in what’s to come but your part is more important. The loss of your life will bring death to many. You still want this?”
“Will he live?”
“Yes.”
“Then bring it on, dude.”
“As you wish.”
There’s a flash of light and then the pain is fading away just as he hears Sam draw in a breath, gasping his name.
Sorry, Sammy. Never thought it would end like thi…
100 words for bittersweet_art based on this icon:
Many A Winding Turn
“Sam, it's okay. Sam...”
Another coughing fit choked his words and he doubled over as pain cut through his belly.
“Shut up, Dean.”
He was hauled to his feet again, the tight grip around his waist painful but comforting.
“You gotta run. Get the fuck out of here. Leave me.”
“Yeah, like that's gonna happen.”
Sam's voice shook but he didn't slow down, just kept on going, finally hoisting Dean over his shoulder when his legs crumbled, the beast's breath licking their necks.
It sometimes paid off, Dean thought just before he passed out, having a giant for a brother.
200 words for madders based on this icon:
. Happens at the beginning of Faith.
In A Heartbeat
Afterwards he remembers slipping away. The dark room replaced by warm sun on his face and the smell of grass and summer in the air. Dean's eyes sparkling with laughter, gasps shaking him as he hopelessly tries to fight off Sam's tickling fingers. His heart drumming underneath Sam's fingertips working their way to the spot Sam knows will render his brother helpless. A moment of rare happiness branded into his memories.
And then he's back, water soaking his pants where he kneels on the floor, searching frantically for a flicker of life in Dean's staring eyes. His body too still, too silent, too damn cold. Flickering open his phone Sam calls 911, talking without hearing his own words, but he must have said something right because an eternity later they're there, ripping Dean out of his arms and that's when he realises he's been doing CPR, that that's the reason he can taste Dean on his lips and smell his skin on his fingertips. He wants to push them away, because when has Dean ever needed anyone more than him, but somewhere in the back of his brain still lingers rational thought and he stands shaking, watching Dean's body jerk as his heart stops and is restarted again and again, his pale face covered by the oxygen mask. 'We got to get him to the hospital,' they say. 'Every moment counts.'
That's when he remembers, thinking they mean that moment and every other moment he can and must hold on to, when things were good and Dean was still smiling. And then he realises they do but not like that. That every moment Dean spends lying there, lifeless, is one keeping him from coming back, and that he, Sam, wasted a whole one remembering happiness he might never feel again.
Might be added to later if the occasion rises
Gen for nashmaveric 200 words. Icon by carmendove
Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers
“’M sorry,” Sam sniffed. “I ran! I ran as fast as I could.”
“I know, Sammy.” Dean pressed his shirt to his brother’s bleeding knee. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Dad’s gonna be really mad.”
Sammy’s voice shivered and Dean clenched his jaw. All their grocery money now probably being spent on smokes and candy? Yeah, Dad wouldn’t like that.
“We’ll figure something out.” Fast. Dad was already on his way to pick them up.
“You boys alright? Oh. Oh my, that’s a lot of blood.”
They both looked up at the elderly lady, standing by her full grocery cart, eyes wide in alarm. Then they looked back at each other, Dean winked and Sammy started wailing.
“My leg! I think it’s broken! It hurts sooo much!”
Dean eyes filled with tears as he gazed up at the woman, lower lip trembling. “The car… It just drove away!”
“Oh sweet Lord.” She looked around in panic. “You boys stay here. I’ll go get some help.”
“I can’t feel my toes!” Sammy screamed and she broke into a run.
------
“Still can’t understand why you bought all those prunes,” John said.
“Indigestion,” Dean mumbled and Sam almost choked on his peas.
Gen for stars91 100 words. Icon by kituralb
His Father's Son
One phonecall and that’s it. Dad’s leaving, just when they need him the most.
Sam gets it, he really does. Dad’s only got so many friends left and losing both Pastor Jim and Caleb like that… Sam can’t remember ever seeing his father so shaken.
So yeah, he gets it. There’s no alternative and it sucks, but him and Dean can do this alone. They’ve got the Colt now so it’s just shoot and kill, right?
It’s just…
He thought they’d do this together, him and Dad. Avenge the women they loved. And then… Then Dad would finally be proud.
Gen for siberian_skys 200 words. Icon by bittersweet_art
How Far Does The Apple Fall?
Dean’s been in the restroom for close to twenty minutes now. Sam is seriously considering just leaving his brother’s sorry ass behind and drive the Impala back to the motel when Dean finally comes out, an unreadable expression on his face as he slides into the booth.
“Thought you’d drowned in there,” Sam says but Dean doesn’t seem to be listening. He’s studying Sam, teeth biting thoughtfully into his lower lip and just when Sam’s about to ask, ‘What?’ Dean sticks out his tongue, curling it into a slide.
“Can you do this?” he says around it, words mumbled.
Sam raises his eyebrows. “Dude, what are you? Five?”
Dean doesn’t smile. “Show me.”
Sam shrugs and mimics the action. He feels stupid, like his tongue’s too big in his mouth and when he touches it with his finger it’s not curled at all, only slightly bent.
“Ok, so I can’t curl my tongue. So what? Please tell me this isn’t another ‘Why I’m Better At Pleasing Women’ Dean-ism.”
Dean just sits silent and after a moment he slides out of the booth, throwing a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Mom and Dad couldn’t either,” he says quietly and walks out.
Gen for deirdre_c 100 words. Icon by applepie_icons
Hiding In Plain Sight
Sam wears his size like a double camouflage.
First impression is threatening. He looms over you, broad shoulders and strong arms, face hidden by long bangs. Shadows play over his eyes, making you step back, cautious of what they hide.
But then he smiles and the shadows disappear. Suddenly he’s just a young man whose calm voice and warm eyes lull you into a sense of security. ‘You can trust me,’ his whole demeanor says. ‘I just want to help.’
You’re smiling back, already tasting his blood, when the world suddenly goes black.
You should’ve known. First impressions never lie.
for siberian_skys Icon by deadwillwalk Dean. 200 words
Reading Between The Lines
His father’s handwriting reads like a story on its own. On average the letters are neat and precise, facts jotted down with a clear and focused mind. A hunter’s report, a summary of research.
But then there are times when it’s so shaky Dean can hardly read the words, bloody fingerprints smudging them. Each letter pressed deep into the surface, some underlined for emphasis. “Close one,” they read or “Dean needed six stitches.” Simple words that would sound cold if it weren’t for the way they’re written.
His mother’s name is doodled on the margins - Mary, Mary - as if writing it down made her a participant in their lives. “I promise” and “Sam walked today” and “Dean would make you so proud.” Mary, Mary.
Tiny tidbits of their life. “Sammy started school” and “Dean is having nightmares.” “Damn CPS” and “Why does he never listen?” “I gave Dean the Impala.” “I didn’t mean to hit him.” “It hurts how much he looks like you.”
Mary, Mary.
Then “Sam is gone” and “I failed” and “Dean is drunk again.”
Dean runs his fingertips over the words, trying to feel the love he knows lies behind them. He feels nothing.
Gen for menomegirl Icon by causette 100 words. Spoilers for 2.22
Into My Arms, O Lord
There’s blood and there’s dirt and you smell like rain. Like sweat and sulphur and greasy hair. Your skin is wet, sticky, and you’re warm. Sammy, you’re warm. There’s stubble on your face, scratching my skin, and your too damn long hair tickles my nose. One of these days I’m gonna cut it as you sleep, I swear to God. I swear… Sammy? I can feel you, I can smell you. So don’t tell me you’re not here. Don’t you tell me that! I’m here now and I’ve got you and I’m not letting go. I’m not letting go. Sam!
for stars91 Icon by eowyngiulia 100 words. Spoilers for 2.09
And So Here We Are
The metallic click makes Sam flinch as if it’s the sound of Dean cocking his gun, not locking the door. In a way there’s not much difference.
Sam’s breathing heavily, sniffling as he wipes angrily at the tears running down his face. They’re not for himself, but Dean, and the weight of them is breaking Dean’s heart.
All his life Sam’s fought against what others think his lot in life should be. But this, his own death, he accepts easily, only shedding tears over Dean’s stubborn refusal to save himself.
His little brother’s grown up. Just in time to die.
for azure_k_mello Her own icon. 200 words.
Protector
John stands over the narrow bed, watching his boys sleep. Dean's right hand rests on little Sammy’s belly, dried tear-tracks streaking his stubborn face. Every time Sammy sighs or mumbles Dean shifts closer, ink-stained fingers grasping for hold on the worn t-shirt serving as Sammy’s sleepwear.
Not even two months in school and already Dean’s been called to the principal office five times and sent home at least once a week. They call him difficult. Troubled. There’s talk about ADHD and Ritalin and John smashes his fist into the counselor’s desk.
John knows exactly what’s wrong. He can see it in the fear coloring Dean’s eyes every time he has to leave Sammy in the arms of Mrs. Rinez, Sammy’s cries following Dean all the way to the school bus. It’s in the trembling of Dean’s lips as he watches the other children kiss their mother’s goodbye. It’s the guilt he feels for sitting in school, learning what to him seem useless things, instead of being home, helping his dad sort the ammo.
It’s in Dean's evident relief when he finally gets back home and finds Sammy waiting for him. Crying and wet and still not talking. But alive.
for blue_icy_rose. Icon by speakfree. 100 words.
Your Face Is My Canvas
Sometimes Sam gazes at Dean and wonders if his own face looks just as worn and weary as his brother’s. For all their scars and bruises gathered through the years, Fortune has smiled upon Dean’s face, making sure he sports no more than a few silvery lines. So thin they are hardly visible unless you know where to look.
Aren’t the scars or the bruises under Dean’s eyes though that make Sam pause. It's more the lines around his mouth and eyes. Lines of laughter that have long faded and been replaced with evidence of what their lives have become.
for bayouskye. Her own icon. 100 words.
Left Out
You know, just once she’d like to be invited to join them. Really, is it too much to ask? They could bring their beer out and sit on her even. She wouldn’t mind, even if her little Sammy is getting scary big. She can carry the weight. And it’s not like they don’t eat and drink and fucking spread their shit all over her backseat anyway and does she ever complain? No. Except maybe cough occasionally but hey! She needs an oil change anyway.
And still her boys would rather drink beer with that… bimbo, than her. Just not fair.
for killerweasel. Icon by bittersweet_art. 100 words.
Guns Don't Kill People...
He’s always liked guns. The feel of them in his hand, the acid smell, the slowly heating metal molding his grip. He learned to use a gun the year before he learned to read so they’ve always felt more natural to him than pretty words on paper.
But lately his guns have felt heavier to hold. Colder. The metallic smell more like blood than steel. He wonders if it’s because he’s used them to kill innocent human beings.
Or if maybe it’s because he itches to kill more and the fact that it doesn’t even repulse him scares him breathless.
for bayouskye 100 words. Set between ep. 201 and 202. Icon by bayouskye
One More Burden
Dean blames him. Which is so insane Sam doesn’t even know how to react. As if he isn’t feeling guilty enough about dad and Jess and mom and who knows how many others that have died because of him. Now he has to feel guilty for wrecking the damn car?
Not that Dean actually says anything but Sam knows. It’s in the looks Dean shoots him as he runs his fingers over every scratch, every twisted piece of metal, while limping his way around the wreck.
Isn’t until later Sam realises it wasn’t about the car at all. Or him.
for judas_denied 100 words. Icon by judas_denied
A Simple Choice
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation, no doubt. He stands straight despite the wound in his side slowly draining his veins, eyes steady, breath shallow.
“He plays a big part in what’s to come but your part is more important. The loss of your life will bring death to many. You still want this?”
“Will he live?”
“Yes.”
“Then bring it on, dude.”
“As you wish.”
There’s a flash of light and then the pain is fading away just as he hears Sam draw in a breath, gasping his name.
Sorry, Sammy. Never thought it would end like thi…
100 words for bittersweet_art based on this icon:
Many A Winding Turn
“Sam, it's okay. Sam...”
Another coughing fit choked his words and he doubled over as pain cut through his belly.
“Shut up, Dean.”
He was hauled to his feet again, the tight grip around his waist painful but comforting.
“You gotta run. Get the fuck out of here. Leave me.”
“Yeah, like that's gonna happen.”
Sam's voice shook but he didn't slow down, just kept on going, finally hoisting Dean over his shoulder when his legs crumbled, the beast's breath licking their necks.
It sometimes paid off, Dean thought just before he passed out, having a giant for a brother.
200 words for madders based on this icon:
. Happens at the beginning of Faith.
In A Heartbeat
Afterwards he remembers slipping away. The dark room replaced by warm sun on his face and the smell of grass and summer in the air. Dean's eyes sparkling with laughter, gasps shaking him as he hopelessly tries to fight off Sam's tickling fingers. His heart drumming underneath Sam's fingertips working their way to the spot Sam knows will render his brother helpless. A moment of rare happiness branded into his memories.
And then he's back, water soaking his pants where he kneels on the floor, searching frantically for a flicker of life in Dean's staring eyes. His body too still, too silent, too damn cold. Flickering open his phone Sam calls 911, talking without hearing his own words, but he must have said something right because an eternity later they're there, ripping Dean out of his arms and that's when he realises he's been doing CPR, that that's the reason he can taste Dean on his lips and smell his skin on his fingertips. He wants to push them away, because when has Dean ever needed anyone more than him, but somewhere in the back of his brain still lingers rational thought and he stands shaking, watching Dean's body jerk as his heart stops and is restarted again and again, his pale face covered by the oxygen mask. 'We got to get him to the hospital,' they say. 'Every moment counts.'
That's when he remembers, thinking they mean that moment and every other moment he can and must hold on to, when things were good and Dean was still smiling. And then he realises they do but not like that. That every moment Dean spends lying there, lifeless, is one keeping him from coming back, and that he, Sam, wasted a whole one remembering happiness he might never feel again.
Might be added to later if the occasion rises