Mending
Title: Mending
Author: LaughtersMelody
Rating: G
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: It's not mine, but I've got Dean now, and I'm not giving him back.
Genre: Angst/Family
Pairing: N/A
Type: One-shot
Spoilers: This is set pre-series, so there are no spoilers in this one.
Characters: Sam
Secondary Characters: Dean, John
Summary: Father's Day was never a good day for the Winchesters. This one was no different. Set pre-series. Sam POV.
A/N: For my friend bhoney, who had surgery in June, and mentioned that she wanted to read about Dean with a broken leg.
As always, I thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who was kind enough to send along this bunny when I asked.
~*~*~*~*~
Mending
Father's Day was never a good day for the Winchesters.
Well, at least, not as far as Sam was concerned. Dean…Dean usually tried to do something. He made sure they went somewhere a little nicer for dinner, or scraped up some extra cash so they could buy a gift, which usually meant something like extra ammo or maybe a new knife. Sam wasn't even sure their dad actually noticed - or cared. Anyway, he was usually gone on Father's Day.
Sam was hoping he'd stick around this year, though, if just for a few days.
For Dean.
Dean, who was currently laying on a motel bed, with a cast up to his knee. He'd gotten thrown into a tree by a wendigo on their last hunt, and broken his right leg in three places. He'd needed surgery to fix it, and the doc at the hospital had told them that it would be at least a few months before Dean could walk without crutches again.
His nineteen-year-old brother had taken the news as well as could be expected - which wasn't really saying much. Dean hated sitting still for long, and just a week into his recovery, he was already going stir-crazy. Sam had tried to help distract him - if just to preserve his own sanity - but since Dean couldn't really move around, TV was pretty much all that was left.
Of course, it turned out that the local station had decided to celebrate Father's Day with a horror movie marathon. Sam would have appreciated the irony, except that horror movies and Dean never mixed well.
"That was ridiculous, dude," Dean complained. "If you tried that with a real poltergeist, you'd be dead."
"Aw, come on, you call that a werewolf?"
"What's wrong with you, lady? Don't just stand there! Run!"
"Oh, please. Like a regular iron round would work against that."
Dean's commentary had been going on for four hours now, and it wasn't showing any signs of stopping. Sam was doing his best to ignore it. School had ended a couple weeks ago, so he didn't have to worry about homework, but he had a stack of job applications to fill out. He'd been planning on getting a job for the summer anyway, so he could start saving for college. Scholarships didn't cover everything, and no matter what school he got into, Sam knew their dad wouldn't react well, and neither would Dean, for that matter. So, he needed to save up as much as he could while he had the chance.
But, Dean's injury changed things. Until his leg was better, it was gonna be up to Sam to pay for as much as he could. Sure, they had the credit cards, but Sam wanted to use those as little as possible. Besides, it was safer that way. Their dad was planning to stay in Michigan until Dean healed, but that would change if they got caught running scams.
The sound of their dad's truck in the parking lot made Sam look up. He heard the key scraping the lock, and their dad appeared a minute later, holding two large, brown paper bags and pushing the door open with his foot.
"Sam, help me with these."
Sam sighed, and pushed himself up from the bed, then took the bags from his dad. He frowned at how heavy they were. "What'd you get?"
"Groceries. Should be enough for a few days."
Sam nodded, and set the bags on the counter, grateful they'd gotten a room with a kitchenette. It was an extra expense their dad didn't usually go for, but he'd made an exception this time. Sam sorted out the cold food first, and stuck it in the fridge, then started on the rest.
He watched as their dad shut the door and made his way over to the chair next to Dean's bed. "How's the leg?"
Dean shrugged. "Fine."
Sam rolled his eyes. It was "fine" if your definition of the word included two metal plates to hold the bones in place. Not that he'd expected Dean to answer the question any other way, especially when their dad was the one asking.
Their dad, though, just patted Dean's uninjured leg, leaned back in his seat, and looked at the TV. "What's on?"
"Horror movie marathon. They're running something called 'The Living Death' next. Sounds like it might be good. Better than the rest of this stuff has been, anyway. Wanna watch?"
Sam wondered if their dad heard the hopeful edge in Dean's voice. If he had, it didn't make any difference.
"Can't. Talked to Bobby. Got what sounds like a vengeful spirit up in Crawford."
"Oh." Some of the light in Dean's eyes dimmed. "You're leaving?"
"Yeah."
So much for their dad sticking around for Father's Day.
"How long you think you'll be?" Dean wondered.
"Don't know. A week, maybe."
Sam glared at the back of his father's head, but forced himself not to say anything. Talking would lead to arguing, which would lead to yelling, which would, as usual, lead to his dad barking orders and taking off anyway, and that would only make this Father's Day even worse than it already was.
So, he bit his tongue and finished putting the groceries away, then dropped back down onto his bed to finish the applications. The springs creaked beneath him.
Last name: Winchester. Middle Initial: J. First name: Samuel.
Date of birth: 5/2/83.
Their dad got up and started packing, stuffing things efficiently into a duffle bag. Sam ducked his head so his bangs would block his view, and kept writing.
Are you a U.S. citizen? Yes.
Have you ever been convicted of a felony? No.
Sam heard his dad check the clip on his gun, but his gaze stayed resolutely on the page.
Do you have a driver's license? Yes.
Keys jingled, and Sam grit his teeth.
"Dean," their dad started, "the doc gave you pain meds for a reason. You need 'em, take 'em. Sam, if your brother needs anything, you get it. No arguments."
You don't have to tell me that, Sam thought bitterly, refusing to answer out loud.
"Bobby said he'd call to check in with you in a couple days. You take it easy, Dean, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good."
The sound of the door shutting seemed to echo in the small room. A few minutes passed.
"No!" the TV exclaimed in the silence. "It was you! It was you all along! You're the-" A blood-curdling scream followed, proclaiming the woman's probably grisly death.
Sam waited for the inevitable comment from Dean, but none came.
Highest level of education completed: High school sophomore, still attending.
Skills and/or additional training:
The words seemed somehow mocking; Sam stared at the page for a long moment, jaw tightening.
He skipped to the next question.
Work History (please list at least three previous or current employers):
The creature on the TV roared, and Sam paused, pen hovering over the page.
Nothing. Dean didn't say a word.
Sam looked up and scowled, studying his older brother's profile in the last of the evening light filtering through the cheap motel curtains. His arms were folded across his chest, his face almost blank as he stared at the television, his right leg propped up on a pillow. His crutches were next to him within easy reach, leaning against the headboard.
"Do you need anything?" Sam tried.
"No."
More silence.
"Are you hungry?"
Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."
Yeah, right. Sam's scowl deepened, familiar anger tightening in his chest. He pushed the anger away. Their dad wasn't here right now, but Dean was.
"Are you sure? We could order pizza."
Sam tried to make it sound casual - pizza wasn't something they got very often. Twenty or thirty bucks for one meal didn't usually work where Winchester economics were concerned. Their dad wouldn't like it, especially since they already had a fridge full of food, but Dad wasn't there to complain.
Dean looked over at him, surprised by the suggestion. "Really? You're not gonna insist I eat health-food or whatever?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "No."
Dean thought about it for a moment longer, then nodded, something in his expression relaxing, just a little. "Okay."
Sam swung his legs over the side of his bed, and reached for the phone on the nightstand.
The motel wasn't far from the pizza place, so they didn't have to wait very long. Sam paid the delivery guy, then headed outside. He got a couple sodas, and started back to the room, only to stop when familiar yellow packaging inside one of the vending machines caught his eye.
He dug in his pocket for some extra quarters.
Five minutes later, he had the sodas and a packet of peanut M&Ms in hand.
After all, it was Father's Day.
Fin
~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and please let me know what you think!
A/N2: I wrote a companion piece to this from John's POV, that takes place just before he shows up at the motel. :) It's called, Old Wounds. If you read it, I hope you enjoy it!
Take care and God bless!
-Laughter
Author: LaughtersMelody
Rating: G
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: It's not mine, but I've got Dean now, and I'm not giving him back.
Genre: Angst/Family
Pairing: N/A
Type: One-shot
Spoilers: This is set pre-series, so there are no spoilers in this one.
Characters: Sam
Secondary Characters: Dean, John
Summary: Father's Day was never a good day for the Winchesters. This one was no different. Set pre-series. Sam POV.
A/N: For my friend bhoney, who had surgery in June, and mentioned that she wanted to read about Dean with a broken leg.
As always, I thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who was kind enough to send along this bunny when I asked.
~*~*~*~*~
Mending
Father's Day was never a good day for the Winchesters.
Well, at least, not as far as Sam was concerned. Dean…Dean usually tried to do something. He made sure they went somewhere a little nicer for dinner, or scraped up some extra cash so they could buy a gift, which usually meant something like extra ammo or maybe a new knife. Sam wasn't even sure their dad actually noticed - or cared. Anyway, he was usually gone on Father's Day.
Sam was hoping he'd stick around this year, though, if just for a few days.
For Dean.
Dean, who was currently laying on a motel bed, with a cast up to his knee. He'd gotten thrown into a tree by a wendigo on their last hunt, and broken his right leg in three places. He'd needed surgery to fix it, and the doc at the hospital had told them that it would be at least a few months before Dean could walk without crutches again.
His nineteen-year-old brother had taken the news as well as could be expected - which wasn't really saying much. Dean hated sitting still for long, and just a week into his recovery, he was already going stir-crazy. Sam had tried to help distract him - if just to preserve his own sanity - but since Dean couldn't really move around, TV was pretty much all that was left.
Of course, it turned out that the local station had decided to celebrate Father's Day with a horror movie marathon. Sam would have appreciated the irony, except that horror movies and Dean never mixed well.
"That was ridiculous, dude," Dean complained. "If you tried that with a real poltergeist, you'd be dead."
"Aw, come on, you call that a werewolf?"
"What's wrong with you, lady? Don't just stand there! Run!"
"Oh, please. Like a regular iron round would work against that."
Dean's commentary had been going on for four hours now, and it wasn't showing any signs of stopping. Sam was doing his best to ignore it. School had ended a couple weeks ago, so he didn't have to worry about homework, but he had a stack of job applications to fill out. He'd been planning on getting a job for the summer anyway, so he could start saving for college. Scholarships didn't cover everything, and no matter what school he got into, Sam knew their dad wouldn't react well, and neither would Dean, for that matter. So, he needed to save up as much as he could while he had the chance.
But, Dean's injury changed things. Until his leg was better, it was gonna be up to Sam to pay for as much as he could. Sure, they had the credit cards, but Sam wanted to use those as little as possible. Besides, it was safer that way. Their dad was planning to stay in Michigan until Dean healed, but that would change if they got caught running scams.
The sound of their dad's truck in the parking lot made Sam look up. He heard the key scraping the lock, and their dad appeared a minute later, holding two large, brown paper bags and pushing the door open with his foot.
"Sam, help me with these."
Sam sighed, and pushed himself up from the bed, then took the bags from his dad. He frowned at how heavy they were. "What'd you get?"
"Groceries. Should be enough for a few days."
Sam nodded, and set the bags on the counter, grateful they'd gotten a room with a kitchenette. It was an extra expense their dad didn't usually go for, but he'd made an exception this time. Sam sorted out the cold food first, and stuck it in the fridge, then started on the rest.
He watched as their dad shut the door and made his way over to the chair next to Dean's bed. "How's the leg?"
Dean shrugged. "Fine."
Sam rolled his eyes. It was "fine" if your definition of the word included two metal plates to hold the bones in place. Not that he'd expected Dean to answer the question any other way, especially when their dad was the one asking.
Their dad, though, just patted Dean's uninjured leg, leaned back in his seat, and looked at the TV. "What's on?"
"Horror movie marathon. They're running something called 'The Living Death' next. Sounds like it might be good. Better than the rest of this stuff has been, anyway. Wanna watch?"
Sam wondered if their dad heard the hopeful edge in Dean's voice. If he had, it didn't make any difference.
"Can't. Talked to Bobby. Got what sounds like a vengeful spirit up in Crawford."
"Oh." Some of the light in Dean's eyes dimmed. "You're leaving?"
"Yeah."
So much for their dad sticking around for Father's Day.
"How long you think you'll be?" Dean wondered.
"Don't know. A week, maybe."
Sam glared at the back of his father's head, but forced himself not to say anything. Talking would lead to arguing, which would lead to yelling, which would, as usual, lead to his dad barking orders and taking off anyway, and that would only make this Father's Day even worse than it already was.
So, he bit his tongue and finished putting the groceries away, then dropped back down onto his bed to finish the applications. The springs creaked beneath him.
Last name: Winchester. Middle Initial: J. First name: Samuel.
Date of birth: 5/2/83.
Their dad got up and started packing, stuffing things efficiently into a duffle bag. Sam ducked his head so his bangs would block his view, and kept writing.
Are you a U.S. citizen? Yes.
Have you ever been convicted of a felony? No.
Sam heard his dad check the clip on his gun, but his gaze stayed resolutely on the page.
Do you have a driver's license? Yes.
Keys jingled, and Sam grit his teeth.
"Dean," their dad started, "the doc gave you pain meds for a reason. You need 'em, take 'em. Sam, if your brother needs anything, you get it. No arguments."
You don't have to tell me that, Sam thought bitterly, refusing to answer out loud.
"Bobby said he'd call to check in with you in a couple days. You take it easy, Dean, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good."
The sound of the door shutting seemed to echo in the small room. A few minutes passed.
"No!" the TV exclaimed in the silence. "It was you! It was you all along! You're the-" A blood-curdling scream followed, proclaiming the woman's probably grisly death.
Sam waited for the inevitable comment from Dean, but none came.
Highest level of education completed: High school sophomore, still attending.
Skills and/or additional training:
The words seemed somehow mocking; Sam stared at the page for a long moment, jaw tightening.
He skipped to the next question.
Work History (please list at least three previous or current employers):
The creature on the TV roared, and Sam paused, pen hovering over the page.
Nothing. Dean didn't say a word.
Sam looked up and scowled, studying his older brother's profile in the last of the evening light filtering through the cheap motel curtains. His arms were folded across his chest, his face almost blank as he stared at the television, his right leg propped up on a pillow. His crutches were next to him within easy reach, leaning against the headboard.
"Do you need anything?" Sam tried.
"No."
More silence.
"Are you hungry?"
Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."
Yeah, right. Sam's scowl deepened, familiar anger tightening in his chest. He pushed the anger away. Their dad wasn't here right now, but Dean was.
"Are you sure? We could order pizza."
Sam tried to make it sound casual - pizza wasn't something they got very often. Twenty or thirty bucks for one meal didn't usually work where Winchester economics were concerned. Their dad wouldn't like it, especially since they already had a fridge full of food, but Dad wasn't there to complain.
Dean looked over at him, surprised by the suggestion. "Really? You're not gonna insist I eat health-food or whatever?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "No."
Dean thought about it for a moment longer, then nodded, something in his expression relaxing, just a little. "Okay."
Sam swung his legs over the side of his bed, and reached for the phone on the nightstand.
The motel wasn't far from the pizza place, so they didn't have to wait very long. Sam paid the delivery guy, then headed outside. He got a couple sodas, and started back to the room, only to stop when familiar yellow packaging inside one of the vending machines caught his eye.
He dug in his pocket for some extra quarters.
Five minutes later, he had the sodas and a packet of peanut M&Ms in hand.
After all, it was Father's Day.
Fin
~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and please let me know what you think!
A/N2: I wrote a companion piece to this from John's POV, that takes place just before he shows up at the motel. :) It's called, Old Wounds. If you read it, I hope you enjoy it!
Take care and God bless!
-Laughter