Supernatural Fic: Careful What You Wish For
Title: Careful What You Wish For
Author: kaly
Category: Gen; pre-series (Sam 17, Dean 21)
Characters: Sam
Word Count: 1680
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none
Summary: Sam finds out about Stanford and a new kind of fear for his family sets in.
Note the first: Part of my fanfic_23 table for sn_flashback - bracket 17/21, prompt 'fear'. Prompt Table
Note the second: Thanks so much, geminigrl11, for the beta and all around hinting, badgering and insisting that helped to make this one better. :)
Disclaimer: Not mine. The pretty, snarky, angsty brothers belong to Kripke & the CW.
Careful What You Wish For
Sam stared at the letter, official letterhead - embossed even - and closed his eyes for a moment, the paper crumpling in his hand. His breathing became short, choppy, sticking in his throat. He couldn't imagine how things were going to work out well and he'd only had the letter for a couple of hours. There was no need to show it to his father to know that it was going to be ugly.
Sitting on his bed, Sam wondered absently where Dean had disappeared to. There was no hunt for the moment and Sam knew that Dean welcomed the little reprieves as much as he dreaded and complained about them. He was quite the conundrum, his big brother.
Dean might chase every skirt in town, but when it came to women he was surprisingly chivalrous. He'd taught, or tried to teach, Sam every trick he knew with the ladies but it always ended with the same one - treating them right. Sam couldn't help wondering if a small place in the back of Dean's mind reminded him of their mother in those moments, and what she would've said.
For Sam, the lack of a hunt always was a welcome change. Not so much because he could concentrate on school without worrying about sleepless nights in the car or having to hide inexplicable bruises. No, he liked the way Dean's step was lighter when there was no hunt, at least for the first little bit before he got too bored. Eventually the inactivity would drive Dean crazy, who would in turn drive Sam crazy, but at first he fell back into the unfamiliar habits of any regular guy.
He wished he knew what Dean would say, or rather how Dean would feel, about the letter. Not that his brother would tell him in so many words but there had never been a time Dean could hide what he was feeling from Sam. His eyes gave him away every time, much to Dean's chagrin.
If he were honest with himself, Sam was more apprehensive about showing the letter to Dean than he was their dad. Which said something about their family, but he was past caring.
It was Dean's reaction he needed and dreaded most - out-guessing it was almost impossible. Sam wanted him to be happy, proud even. But he knew that was asking too much, maybe rightfully so. Dean was far more likely to be hurt by Sam's leaving. And Sam couldn't even lie and say he didn't understand; he would be crushed if Dean were to leave and not look back. Sam wanted to look back, he just didn't know if their dad would let him.
Worse yet, what if Dean hated him for leaving? Sam wasn't sure if he could survive seeing his brother's eyes go cold and lifeless, because of him. Dean's love and understanding were the only constants in their ever-changing and ugly world. Losing that might break Sam in ways their father's words never could.
He wished there could be a middle ground - so many kids went to college without hurting the ones they loved. Most of them, even. He just wished he could be one of that lucky number. Instead, going away to college seemed almost like a fairy tale. Calling back home, talking to Dean about classes and girls, maybe even parties. Visits to campus where Dean would crash in his dorm room, no doubt hitting it off with Sam's roommate and girl (if there was one) alike.
He wanted to share that with Dean, who'd never had that for himself. Dean loved hunting, was good at hunting, and Sam got that. He knew Dean claimed not to want anything different. It didn't stop Sam from wondering how things might've been for him, though, if things - life - had been different.
The more he thought about it, the change the letter signified, a heavy band wrapped around Sam's chest. It was squeezing tighter the longer he imagined leaving and what it might do to his family. The more he imagined how things would really go, compared to how he wished they would, the harder it was to breathe.
Sam loved his family. He even loved his father - though more often than not anymore, they were screaming. He can't even remember why it started, or when. It just felt like anymore their default setting was to maximum volume. Every move, every hunt that put one of them in danger, they were yelling. Worst was a blowout in a hospital waiting room after a black dog tore up Dean. He'd been messed up worse than Sam had ever seen. There had been orderlies involved that time, before it was all said and done. Sam was mostly grateful that Dean never found out about it.
Part of him wanted to blame his dad completely, especially when Dean was the one hurt by their inability to get along. But there was no doubting that he helped put the pain in Dean's eyes when they fought and Sam hated himself more every time it happened. He hated knowing he was contributing to his family falling to pieces. He was dying inside; knowing that how much he hated hunting, hated being on the outside looking in, was hurting his brother.
Even more, he hated the constant worry that the next time something might go wrong. That the next time something might happen that even the mighty John Winchester couldn't predict or fix nor hospitals repair. That the fate they taunted and teased daily would lash out and take its own pound of flesh.
Every new hunt, every new town, Sam found himself facing an increasing worry that this time, he would see his small world fall apart. His dad and Dean knew what they were doing - there was no doubt in Sam's mind they knew their jobs well - but everything wasn't always under control. No, sometimes shit happened and Sam feared he'd be there, unable to be smart enough or fast enough or good enough to stop it.
Some nights he could barely sleep for the nightmares of nameless hunts in unknown places, where he watched helplessly as his brother died. There seemed to be an infinite variety of ways he died. The only constant was it was always Dean - never their dad or himself - and Sam could do nothing to stop it. He'd woken, tangled in the covers and screaming himself hoarse, more than once.
Until now, Sam's greatest fear was being there to see the light drain out of Dean's eyes. That one night the cocky swagger that so trademarked his brother would be stilled forever. Even if both John and Sam remained, the world, as Sam knew it - the only way he could imagine or accept it - would be irrecoverable. It might as well stop spinning, if that happened, for all Sam cared.
Pressing the letter flat on his thigh, rubbing the wrinkles out against the worn denim of his jeans, Sam realized he had a chance to make that particular fear go away. If he went to Stanford, to a world so normal his heart ached at the same instant nerves froze his stomach, he wouldn't have to worry about watching Dean die.
No. The chances of him seeing Dean die would decrease drastically if he was gone for nine months out of the year. More, if his father refused to let him come home. Well, home was a misnomer really; home wasn't so much a place as a person. Rather, if he couldn't come back to his family, wherever they might be, during the summers. Would he and Dean be able to bridge the physical distance this letter invited, if - as Sam feared - their father insisted on widening the emotional distance out of anger?
The letter, secretly applied for, not so secretly longed for, opened up a whole other world of worry, Sam found. True, he might not see Dean die. The worst thing he'd ever imagined could be avoided, but it occurred to him that maybe there was something worse. He knew without question that the doubt, the worry, wouldn't fade with distance. How long would it be, before the ringing of his phone - the what if? - would stop making his heart race? Would that day ever come?
Sam felt his heart lurch. There had been times he'd saved Dean on hunts. Not as many as those where his big brother ran to his rescue, but they were there. What if something happened, when Sam was away in academia, escaping, something he could've stopped? Something that couldn't be fixed, purely because Sam was too busy in his fairy tale?
What if Dean died, only instead of the light fading before Sam's eyes, it was because Sam wasn't there to keep it burning? Would he know? Would he feel the irredeemable shift in his world, if he wasn't there? Could he live with himself, when he found out that the center of his world - which Dean would always be, even far away - was gone?
Would not being there when it was broken make it any easier to bear the weight of a world alone? Could he live with himself then? When it came down to it, could he leave? Could he actually pack up and walk away from his small world? Sighing heavily, Sam wished he knew what to do, what to say to make it all okay. What would it take to find the middle ground? If it even existed.
Taking a shaky breath, Sam folded the letter back into the envelope and shoved it inside a textbook. He needed to think, he needed time before Dean and their dad found out and everything spun out of control. Two wishes - two worlds - were tearing him apart, seemingly incapable of coexisting. He'd heard the trite words about being careful what you wished for. He just never expected to feel them ripping his own soul apart.
fin
Author: kaly
Category: Gen; pre-series (Sam 17, Dean 21)
Characters: Sam
Word Count: 1680
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none
Summary: Sam finds out about Stanford and a new kind of fear for his family sets in.
Note the first: Part of my fanfic_23 table for sn_flashback - bracket 17/21, prompt 'fear'. Prompt Table
Note the second: Thanks so much, geminigrl11, for the beta and all around hinting, badgering and insisting that helped to make this one better. :)
Disclaimer: Not mine. The pretty, snarky, angsty brothers belong to Kripke & the CW.
Careful What You Wish For
Sam stared at the letter, official letterhead - embossed even - and closed his eyes for a moment, the paper crumpling in his hand. His breathing became short, choppy, sticking in his throat. He couldn't imagine how things were going to work out well and he'd only had the letter for a couple of hours. There was no need to show it to his father to know that it was going to be ugly.
Sitting on his bed, Sam wondered absently where Dean had disappeared to. There was no hunt for the moment and Sam knew that Dean welcomed the little reprieves as much as he dreaded and complained about them. He was quite the conundrum, his big brother.
Dean might chase every skirt in town, but when it came to women he was surprisingly chivalrous. He'd taught, or tried to teach, Sam every trick he knew with the ladies but it always ended with the same one - treating them right. Sam couldn't help wondering if a small place in the back of Dean's mind reminded him of their mother in those moments, and what she would've said.
For Sam, the lack of a hunt always was a welcome change. Not so much because he could concentrate on school without worrying about sleepless nights in the car or having to hide inexplicable bruises. No, he liked the way Dean's step was lighter when there was no hunt, at least for the first little bit before he got too bored. Eventually the inactivity would drive Dean crazy, who would in turn drive Sam crazy, but at first he fell back into the unfamiliar habits of any regular guy.
He wished he knew what Dean would say, or rather how Dean would feel, about the letter. Not that his brother would tell him in so many words but there had never been a time Dean could hide what he was feeling from Sam. His eyes gave him away every time, much to Dean's chagrin.
If he were honest with himself, Sam was more apprehensive about showing the letter to Dean than he was their dad. Which said something about their family, but he was past caring.
It was Dean's reaction he needed and dreaded most - out-guessing it was almost impossible. Sam wanted him to be happy, proud even. But he knew that was asking too much, maybe rightfully so. Dean was far more likely to be hurt by Sam's leaving. And Sam couldn't even lie and say he didn't understand; he would be crushed if Dean were to leave and not look back. Sam wanted to look back, he just didn't know if their dad would let him.
Worse yet, what if Dean hated him for leaving? Sam wasn't sure if he could survive seeing his brother's eyes go cold and lifeless, because of him. Dean's love and understanding were the only constants in their ever-changing and ugly world. Losing that might break Sam in ways their father's words never could.
He wished there could be a middle ground - so many kids went to college without hurting the ones they loved. Most of them, even. He just wished he could be one of that lucky number. Instead, going away to college seemed almost like a fairy tale. Calling back home, talking to Dean about classes and girls, maybe even parties. Visits to campus where Dean would crash in his dorm room, no doubt hitting it off with Sam's roommate and girl (if there was one) alike.
He wanted to share that with Dean, who'd never had that for himself. Dean loved hunting, was good at hunting, and Sam got that. He knew Dean claimed not to want anything different. It didn't stop Sam from wondering how things might've been for him, though, if things - life - had been different.
The more he thought about it, the change the letter signified, a heavy band wrapped around Sam's chest. It was squeezing tighter the longer he imagined leaving and what it might do to his family. The more he imagined how things would really go, compared to how he wished they would, the harder it was to breathe.
Sam loved his family. He even loved his father - though more often than not anymore, they were screaming. He can't even remember why it started, or when. It just felt like anymore their default setting was to maximum volume. Every move, every hunt that put one of them in danger, they were yelling. Worst was a blowout in a hospital waiting room after a black dog tore up Dean. He'd been messed up worse than Sam had ever seen. There had been orderlies involved that time, before it was all said and done. Sam was mostly grateful that Dean never found out about it.
Part of him wanted to blame his dad completely, especially when Dean was the one hurt by their inability to get along. But there was no doubting that he helped put the pain in Dean's eyes when they fought and Sam hated himself more every time it happened. He hated knowing he was contributing to his family falling to pieces. He was dying inside; knowing that how much he hated hunting, hated being on the outside looking in, was hurting his brother.
Even more, he hated the constant worry that the next time something might go wrong. That the next time something might happen that even the mighty John Winchester couldn't predict or fix nor hospitals repair. That the fate they taunted and teased daily would lash out and take its own pound of flesh.
Every new hunt, every new town, Sam found himself facing an increasing worry that this time, he would see his small world fall apart. His dad and Dean knew what they were doing - there was no doubt in Sam's mind they knew their jobs well - but everything wasn't always under control. No, sometimes shit happened and Sam feared he'd be there, unable to be smart enough or fast enough or good enough to stop it.
Some nights he could barely sleep for the nightmares of nameless hunts in unknown places, where he watched helplessly as his brother died. There seemed to be an infinite variety of ways he died. The only constant was it was always Dean - never their dad or himself - and Sam could do nothing to stop it. He'd woken, tangled in the covers and screaming himself hoarse, more than once.
Until now, Sam's greatest fear was being there to see the light drain out of Dean's eyes. That one night the cocky swagger that so trademarked his brother would be stilled forever. Even if both John and Sam remained, the world, as Sam knew it - the only way he could imagine or accept it - would be irrecoverable. It might as well stop spinning, if that happened, for all Sam cared.
Pressing the letter flat on his thigh, rubbing the wrinkles out against the worn denim of his jeans, Sam realized he had a chance to make that particular fear go away. If he went to Stanford, to a world so normal his heart ached at the same instant nerves froze his stomach, he wouldn't have to worry about watching Dean die.
No. The chances of him seeing Dean die would decrease drastically if he was gone for nine months out of the year. More, if his father refused to let him come home. Well, home was a misnomer really; home wasn't so much a place as a person. Rather, if he couldn't come back to his family, wherever they might be, during the summers. Would he and Dean be able to bridge the physical distance this letter invited, if - as Sam feared - their father insisted on widening the emotional distance out of anger?
The letter, secretly applied for, not so secretly longed for, opened up a whole other world of worry, Sam found. True, he might not see Dean die. The worst thing he'd ever imagined could be avoided, but it occurred to him that maybe there was something worse. He knew without question that the doubt, the worry, wouldn't fade with distance. How long would it be, before the ringing of his phone - the what if? - would stop making his heart race? Would that day ever come?
Sam felt his heart lurch. There had been times he'd saved Dean on hunts. Not as many as those where his big brother ran to his rescue, but they were there. What if something happened, when Sam was away in academia, escaping, something he could've stopped? Something that couldn't be fixed, purely because Sam was too busy in his fairy tale?
What if Dean died, only instead of the light fading before Sam's eyes, it was because Sam wasn't there to keep it burning? Would he know? Would he feel the irredeemable shift in his world, if he wasn't there? Could he live with himself, when he found out that the center of his world - which Dean would always be, even far away - was gone?
Would not being there when it was broken make it any easier to bear the weight of a world alone? Could he live with himself then? When it came down to it, could he leave? Could he actually pack up and walk away from his small world? Sighing heavily, Sam wished he knew what to do, what to say to make it all okay. What would it take to find the middle ground? If it even existed.
Taking a shaky breath, Sam folded the letter back into the envelope and shoved it inside a textbook. He needed to think, he needed time before Dean and their dad found out and everything spun out of control. Two wishes - two worlds - were tearing him apart, seemingly incapable of coexisting. He'd heard the trite words about being careful what you wished for. He just never expected to feel them ripping his own soul apart.
fin