End of Story
list of things to do tonight: Read chapter in Anthro, write Anthro paper, add more chapters to My Brother's Keeper and Gritty and Bleeding. Um... things I did tonight... start a new series... whuh??? Hope you enjoy. I probably won't be hitting this one up again too soon, but I was folding laundry and literally dropped it to start writing this. I'm a hopeless case I swear. :P
Title: End of Story
Series: Story's End, Story's Beginning
Author: Hunters_Retreat
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: Dean is only 18 when John dies when a hunt goes bad.
He stared out the window and tried to see the world around him. He was trying but there was nothing to it really. There was nothing out there right now that could keep his attention off the grief that was eating him up. There was only one thing that could and it wasn’t here right now. So he looked out the window of the house their Dad had rented (paid through the year, luckily enough.) and tried to see the sun and the bright flower garden that he’d been working on so vigilantly (since Dad got money off the rent saying that they’d take care of the grounds themselves) and still managed to not see any of it until the neighbor walked by and that was only a blip, a ‘not harmful’ moment before he became part of the too white background.
He heard footsteps on the front porch and that’s when the contrast drifted and showed the world again, focused into a narrow spotlight as the door opened and Sammy came through, looking like hell with red rimmed eyes and dark circles that had nothing to do with sleep but more grief. He dropped his bag by the door, something Dad had yelled about a thousand times because it might trip you if you needed a quick exit but Dean didn’t have the energy to care.
“Hey Sammy.” He said, his voice rougher than he wanted it to be. Sam’s eyes turned to him in concern. He cleared his throat and tried again. “you’re late.”
“yeah.” He ducked his head and ran his hand over the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what the look was entirely, but there was something of sadness and shame and embarrassment in it all. “There was … a school counselor. They’re trying to make me do grief counseling but I told them I don’t need it. I have you and I don’t need to talk to anyone else.”
Dean felt his heart lighten a little, that Sam trusted him like that, but he didn’t know if he meant it or if he just said it to keep the others at bay. “You know you can Sam.” He cleared his throat again. “Talk to me that is. I know it’s not my normal MO, but… if you need me Sam, you know I’m here. Right?”
Sam gave a sad half smile. “Yeah. Look, I’m tired. I’m gonna take a nap.” Dean nodded and Sam was halfway up the stairs before his next comment. “Not like I could talk to anyone else anyway. What would they think?”
He knew he wasn’t supposed to hear it. Something about the acoustics in the house made that part of the stairs like a tunnel straight to the kitchen. Dean had learned it pretty quick but Sam hadn’t figured it out yet. Sam didn’t normally try to be quiet in his discontent. He preferred to yell it out. Dean felt a little piece of him break, no longer sure if Sam wanted to confide in him or had no choice. He was right though. What would anyone else think?
John Winchester had been a stubborn selfish son of a bitch if you asked any number of people. But no one, except his two boys, had any doubts about the love he had for them. And if you asked them, both would agree without hesitation that John loved them. It was the doubt that crept in at 3AM after a nasty hunt and Dean was stitching Sammy up, or when Dean was in the hospital and Sam was at his side, refusing to leave and sleeping in the crappy chair so that his big brother wouldn’t wake alone, that the doubts surfaced. And never did they think… does he love me? No. It was always if he loved him why did he let him get hurt, always about the brother, always about the light in their own little worlds, be it Sam’s or Dean’s. And there was no doubt in anyone, anyone’s mind that Sam was Dean’s world just as much as Dean was Sam’s.
But John Winchester’s main flaw was when he forgot about his boys, forgot that they were still just boys, and raised them to be men and warriors. He forgot that they needed to be their own person and that no matter how independent they seemed, they still needed a father. If he hadn’t forgotten that, perhaps he wouldn’t have taken the last case so lightly. He might have taken more precautions and gone in a little less cocky. Alone in the woods, he’d had no backup when the werewolf he’d been hunting had become two. He’d managed the silver to the heart, but not before he’d been sliced up good.
He’d managed to get in his truck and drive, but he wasn’t half way home before blood loss and fatigue drove him to darkness and the car crashed into the heavily wooded area. The brothers told the cops John had been on a local hunting trip. The cops decided he must have been attacked by some monster and had lost too much blood by the time he tried to get home. Sam couldn’t admit the truth, anymore than he could admit that when Dad hadn’t come home that night they’d gone out and salted and burned the bodies of the victims. That it had been Dean who’d called 911 from an anonymous phone booth to give the location of a smashed pick up truck to keep them suspicion free after they’d seen their father’s dead body and cleaned out the equipment that was hidden in the trucks hold.
Dean let out a deep breath and listened to the floorboards creak overhead as Sam settled onto his bed. He had to pull himself together or Sam was never going to be able to deal with this. Hell, he needed to pull himself together for more than that. He had to see the attorney Bobby had called for them. Sam was only 14 and Dean had to find a way to keep custody of his brother. There were no other family members to step in and the last thing either of them needed now was separation.
Dean looked away from the ceiling when the creaking stopped. Sam was asleep and that put Dean’s nerves to rest a little. Sam as in the house and that meant the world had contrast again, he could see and do what he had to. The phone rang in the other room and he went to get it, expecting Bobby or the lawyer.
“Hello?”
“Dean? It’s Leta.” When he didn’t answer right away she continued on. “Leta Sunday, your landlord.”
“Hello Ms. Sunday.” He said, trying to think what he might have done to cause her to call.
“Dean, I wanted to call and say I’m so sorry about your father. He was a good man and I’m sorry about your loss. You and that brother of yours have my sympathy honey.”
“Thank you ma’am.” He said with a soft sigh. He hated these phone calls. Not many people knew Dad and those that did hadn’t called with condolences. So far, he’d had no less that 5 calls of, I owed him a favor so name it when you need it, 3 calls of I owed him money where do I send it, and a huge envelope from people that just sent anything they owed John straight to Bobby who forwarded it on. John had apparently built up a stack of IOUs that he had no doubt been intending to call up whenever he found the subject of his life’s hunt.
“I heard from Ms. Green that you’re going to be meeting with a lawyer to try to keep custody of your brother.”
Dean wanted to curse nosey neighbors who were spilling his business to even nosier landladies but he kept his tongue. “Yes ma’am, I am. We’re all we have left. I won’t let anyone take him from me.” It was more than he meant to say, but at least it was still civil.
“Good for you honey. He’ll need you more than ever I suppose. I know this might not be high on your priorities, but I wanted to give you an offer. You know I’m getting too old to keep going from place to place and all that and you seem like a good reliable boy to me. You need a break and maybe I can help you out and you can ease my mind. I need someone to help me manage the properties I own. I can’t pay much you understand, but it’s free room and board where you are and a paycheck each week. You’d just need to look after my places, do some basic handyman type work and make sure what you can’t fix gets taken care of. Don’t answer me now hon. Think about it and I’ll give you a call in a few days.”
“Alright.” Dean said, somewhat confused and at edge with the offer. No one offered something for nothing.
“Dean, just think about it. And take care of yourself. I know you’re looking after your brother, but that means taking care of you now too.”
She hung up then and he could hear the tears in her voice. She was a nice old lady really and John had played up the grieving widower routine when he’d moved in to lower the rent. She’d felt sorry for the man that still mourned his wife after 14 years and the two boys that he’d had waiting in the car behind him. She was a soft spot and maybe that’s all it was.
“Who was it?” Sam asked from behind him.
Dean hung up the phone and turned to face Sam. “Landlady.”
Sam nodded. “Ms. Sunday been pretty good to us.” He said, not mentioning the number of platters that had come from her in the two weeks since their Dad’s death, or the number of apple pies and chocolate cookies that she’d made for them before that.
“She…” he wasn’t sure what to say, but if he only had Sam to talk to now. The realization made his lips quirk up in a humorless smile. Now he knew how Sam felt earlier and he didn’t feel the terrible fear anymore. “She offered me a job Sam.”
“what?”
“Managing her properties. You know she owns a few places including that complex past the railroad tracks. Says she needs someone to take care of it and she’s too old to do it anymore.”
“you gonna take it?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. I’ve got to do something though. Rents paid up for a few more months but that doesn’t pay for groceries and clothes and they aren’t gonna let you stay if I can’t provide for you Sam.”
“I won’t be a burden Dean, you know I can take care of things myself.”
There was a stubbornness there that had Dean smiling for real now. And Dean knew it was true. Knew that of the two of them Sam could probably find a way to make it on his own. He knew from that look that if someone tried to take Sam away he’d always find his way back to his brother. It made him proud and determined to make sure it never happened. “Yeah, I know Sammy.” He said, gripping his brother’s shoulder tightly. “But that doesn’t help us on paper and that’s what we need.”
Sam nodded, then ran over to the notebook Dad always kept by the phone.
“What are you doing Sam?”
“Looking for Ms. Sunday’s number.”
“Why? She said she’d call back in a few days.”
“Yeah, and you have a meeting with that lawyer this week. If I can get some details from her maybe we can see just how much we need to do to make it work.”
Sam was already dialing the number he’d found as he smiled back at Dean. Dean let the warmth spread into him and felt like he could breath for the first time since they’d found their Dad’s truck. He might be the oldest, the responsible Winchester, but he wasn’t the only. He’d told Ms. Sunday that they only had each other now and he’d meant it. He just the one rule of the universe that he had always known and held true. No one could separate him and Sam. They were unstoppable and if they set their minds together to beat this thing, they would. End of story.
On to Lean
Title: End of Story
Series: Story's End, Story's Beginning
Author: Hunters_Retreat
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: Dean is only 18 when John dies when a hunt goes bad.
He stared out the window and tried to see the world around him. He was trying but there was nothing to it really. There was nothing out there right now that could keep his attention off the grief that was eating him up. There was only one thing that could and it wasn’t here right now. So he looked out the window of the house their Dad had rented (paid through the year, luckily enough.) and tried to see the sun and the bright flower garden that he’d been working on so vigilantly (since Dad got money off the rent saying that they’d take care of the grounds themselves) and still managed to not see any of it until the neighbor walked by and that was only a blip, a ‘not harmful’ moment before he became part of the too white background.
He heard footsteps on the front porch and that’s when the contrast drifted and showed the world again, focused into a narrow spotlight as the door opened and Sammy came through, looking like hell with red rimmed eyes and dark circles that had nothing to do with sleep but more grief. He dropped his bag by the door, something Dad had yelled about a thousand times because it might trip you if you needed a quick exit but Dean didn’t have the energy to care.
“Hey Sammy.” He said, his voice rougher than he wanted it to be. Sam’s eyes turned to him in concern. He cleared his throat and tried again. “you’re late.”
“yeah.” He ducked his head and ran his hand over the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what the look was entirely, but there was something of sadness and shame and embarrassment in it all. “There was … a school counselor. They’re trying to make me do grief counseling but I told them I don’t need it. I have you and I don’t need to talk to anyone else.”
Dean felt his heart lighten a little, that Sam trusted him like that, but he didn’t know if he meant it or if he just said it to keep the others at bay. “You know you can Sam.” He cleared his throat again. “Talk to me that is. I know it’s not my normal MO, but… if you need me Sam, you know I’m here. Right?”
Sam gave a sad half smile. “Yeah. Look, I’m tired. I’m gonna take a nap.” Dean nodded and Sam was halfway up the stairs before his next comment. “Not like I could talk to anyone else anyway. What would they think?”
He knew he wasn’t supposed to hear it. Something about the acoustics in the house made that part of the stairs like a tunnel straight to the kitchen. Dean had learned it pretty quick but Sam hadn’t figured it out yet. Sam didn’t normally try to be quiet in his discontent. He preferred to yell it out. Dean felt a little piece of him break, no longer sure if Sam wanted to confide in him or had no choice. He was right though. What would anyone else think?
John Winchester had been a stubborn selfish son of a bitch if you asked any number of people. But no one, except his two boys, had any doubts about the love he had for them. And if you asked them, both would agree without hesitation that John loved them. It was the doubt that crept in at 3AM after a nasty hunt and Dean was stitching Sammy up, or when Dean was in the hospital and Sam was at his side, refusing to leave and sleeping in the crappy chair so that his big brother wouldn’t wake alone, that the doubts surfaced. And never did they think… does he love me? No. It was always if he loved him why did he let him get hurt, always about the brother, always about the light in their own little worlds, be it Sam’s or Dean’s. And there was no doubt in anyone, anyone’s mind that Sam was Dean’s world just as much as Dean was Sam’s.
But John Winchester’s main flaw was when he forgot about his boys, forgot that they were still just boys, and raised them to be men and warriors. He forgot that they needed to be their own person and that no matter how independent they seemed, they still needed a father. If he hadn’t forgotten that, perhaps he wouldn’t have taken the last case so lightly. He might have taken more precautions and gone in a little less cocky. Alone in the woods, he’d had no backup when the werewolf he’d been hunting had become two. He’d managed the silver to the heart, but not before he’d been sliced up good.
He’d managed to get in his truck and drive, but he wasn’t half way home before blood loss and fatigue drove him to darkness and the car crashed into the heavily wooded area. The brothers told the cops John had been on a local hunting trip. The cops decided he must have been attacked by some monster and had lost too much blood by the time he tried to get home. Sam couldn’t admit the truth, anymore than he could admit that when Dad hadn’t come home that night they’d gone out and salted and burned the bodies of the victims. That it had been Dean who’d called 911 from an anonymous phone booth to give the location of a smashed pick up truck to keep them suspicion free after they’d seen their father’s dead body and cleaned out the equipment that was hidden in the trucks hold.
Dean let out a deep breath and listened to the floorboards creak overhead as Sam settled onto his bed. He had to pull himself together or Sam was never going to be able to deal with this. Hell, he needed to pull himself together for more than that. He had to see the attorney Bobby had called for them. Sam was only 14 and Dean had to find a way to keep custody of his brother. There were no other family members to step in and the last thing either of them needed now was separation.
Dean looked away from the ceiling when the creaking stopped. Sam was asleep and that put Dean’s nerves to rest a little. Sam as in the house and that meant the world had contrast again, he could see and do what he had to. The phone rang in the other room and he went to get it, expecting Bobby or the lawyer.
“Hello?”
“Dean? It’s Leta.” When he didn’t answer right away she continued on. “Leta Sunday, your landlord.”
“Hello Ms. Sunday.” He said, trying to think what he might have done to cause her to call.
“Dean, I wanted to call and say I’m so sorry about your father. He was a good man and I’m sorry about your loss. You and that brother of yours have my sympathy honey.”
“Thank you ma’am.” He said with a soft sigh. He hated these phone calls. Not many people knew Dad and those that did hadn’t called with condolences. So far, he’d had no less that 5 calls of, I owed him a favor so name it when you need it, 3 calls of I owed him money where do I send it, and a huge envelope from people that just sent anything they owed John straight to Bobby who forwarded it on. John had apparently built up a stack of IOUs that he had no doubt been intending to call up whenever he found the subject of his life’s hunt.
“I heard from Ms. Green that you’re going to be meeting with a lawyer to try to keep custody of your brother.”
Dean wanted to curse nosey neighbors who were spilling his business to even nosier landladies but he kept his tongue. “Yes ma’am, I am. We’re all we have left. I won’t let anyone take him from me.” It was more than he meant to say, but at least it was still civil.
“Good for you honey. He’ll need you more than ever I suppose. I know this might not be high on your priorities, but I wanted to give you an offer. You know I’m getting too old to keep going from place to place and all that and you seem like a good reliable boy to me. You need a break and maybe I can help you out and you can ease my mind. I need someone to help me manage the properties I own. I can’t pay much you understand, but it’s free room and board where you are and a paycheck each week. You’d just need to look after my places, do some basic handyman type work and make sure what you can’t fix gets taken care of. Don’t answer me now hon. Think about it and I’ll give you a call in a few days.”
“Alright.” Dean said, somewhat confused and at edge with the offer. No one offered something for nothing.
“Dean, just think about it. And take care of yourself. I know you’re looking after your brother, but that means taking care of you now too.”
She hung up then and he could hear the tears in her voice. She was a nice old lady really and John had played up the grieving widower routine when he’d moved in to lower the rent. She’d felt sorry for the man that still mourned his wife after 14 years and the two boys that he’d had waiting in the car behind him. She was a soft spot and maybe that’s all it was.
“Who was it?” Sam asked from behind him.
Dean hung up the phone and turned to face Sam. “Landlady.”
Sam nodded. “Ms. Sunday been pretty good to us.” He said, not mentioning the number of platters that had come from her in the two weeks since their Dad’s death, or the number of apple pies and chocolate cookies that she’d made for them before that.
“She…” he wasn’t sure what to say, but if he only had Sam to talk to now. The realization made his lips quirk up in a humorless smile. Now he knew how Sam felt earlier and he didn’t feel the terrible fear anymore. “She offered me a job Sam.”
“what?”
“Managing her properties. You know she owns a few places including that complex past the railroad tracks. Says she needs someone to take care of it and she’s too old to do it anymore.”
“you gonna take it?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. I’ve got to do something though. Rents paid up for a few more months but that doesn’t pay for groceries and clothes and they aren’t gonna let you stay if I can’t provide for you Sam.”
“I won’t be a burden Dean, you know I can take care of things myself.”
There was a stubbornness there that had Dean smiling for real now. And Dean knew it was true. Knew that of the two of them Sam could probably find a way to make it on his own. He knew from that look that if someone tried to take Sam away he’d always find his way back to his brother. It made him proud and determined to make sure it never happened. “Yeah, I know Sammy.” He said, gripping his brother’s shoulder tightly. “But that doesn’t help us on paper and that’s what we need.”
Sam nodded, then ran over to the notebook Dad always kept by the phone.
“What are you doing Sam?”
“Looking for Ms. Sunday’s number.”
“Why? She said she’d call back in a few days.”
“Yeah, and you have a meeting with that lawyer this week. If I can get some details from her maybe we can see just how much we need to do to make it work.”
Sam was already dialing the number he’d found as he smiled back at Dean. Dean let the warmth spread into him and felt like he could breath for the first time since they’d found their Dad’s truck. He might be the oldest, the responsible Winchester, but he wasn’t the only. He’d told Ms. Sunday that they only had each other now and he’d meant it. He just the one rule of the universe that he had always known and held true. No one could separate him and Sam. They were unstoppable and if they set their minds together to beat this thing, they would. End of story.
On to Lean