Roadtrippin' With My Brother
Title: Roadtrippin’ With My Brother
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. It’s all Kripke’s and the CW’s and blah, blah, blah. We all know who the real braintrust is around here.
Rating: R (Winchester language is not network TV language, ya dig?)
Spoilers: None, really. Takes place sometime between ‘Something Wicked’ and ‘Dead Man’s Blood’ in season one.
Summary: A little monster killing, a little snark, a little serpent guts. It’s all in a normal night’s work.
Dedication: None of this would ever be possible without the cheerleading of hiyacynth and the patience of baylorsr and her sister. I also have to thank my brothers who will never see this and never know what the camping trip we took last summer inspired.
FYI, the algae on that part of Green Bay looks something like this.
““You’re not getting in the car like that.” Dean tossed his shotgun in the trunk and shut it with a resolute slam.
He looked across the car’s roof and was hit dead-on with Sam’s face at its bitchiest. Granted, Sam might have a tiny, little excuse for it this time but Dean’d be damned before he’d say anything like that out loud.
“What?” Dean stamped over to the driver’s side door. Damnit, his boots were completely full of sand. “I don’t want that shit on the leather.”
“I’m covered in serpent guts and you’re worried about the upholstery?” Dean was starting to worry that Sam’s face was gonna up and freeze that way this time. His giant of a little brother certainly was a sight; red and goopy, with bits of what might be small intestine twined into his slimed hair. Maybe now the kid would finally get a decent haircut.
Dean waved his arm curtly towards the beach. “It’s not like there isn’t a huge, freakin’ lake over there that you can wash off in.”
Sam glanced at the lake, face going from bitchy to disgusted. From where they stood they could see gray waves lapping at the shore, the sun having just come up over the horizon. The world was still dim enough that the carnage they’d left on the beach was nearly impossible to make out. “I don’t know which is worse, being covered in mishegenabeg guts or washing in algae.”
“Well, they don’t call it Green Bay for nothing.” Dean shrugged. “And, hell, at least the algae wouldn’t smell so damn foul.”
Sam grumbled something that Dean stolidly ignored. The only way Sam’d made it out of adolescence in one piece was because Dean had learned the value of a selectively deaf ear. Sam wrenched the back door open and pulled out a couple of the pilfered motel towels they kept laying around just for these kind of gut-related emergencies, using one to wipe himself down as best he could.
“We’re stopping in Escanaba,” Sam declared, leaving the dirty towel where it fell on the sand. He jerked the front door open and started laying down the towels over the seat with short, angry gestures.
Dean patted the car as he slid in behind the wheel. She knew as well as he did how Sammy could be but a little apology never hurt.
“No can do,” Dean announced as Sam carefully sat down, adjusting the towels as he went in a probably futile attempt to minimize smearing. “I told Chuck we’d meet him in St. Ignace by 10. He’s gotta be back up to the Keewanaw by tonight to take care of some imp that’s raising hell in one of those abandoned copper mines before the tourists show up or some shit.”
The engine turned over with the same throaty rumble that always sent a spike of happiness through Dean’s gut. He glanced at Sam as he pulled onto the state park service road that would take them back out to M35, tires kicking up sand behind them. He grimaced. It was times like this when he felt like a real jackass ‘cause Sam looked pretty damn uncomfortable, entrails and worse drying in his hair and on his neck, his clothes totally caked in that shit. Burning was probably too good for them. Sam was staring out the window at the trees and what Dean could see of his face looked as dejected as Sam had ever gotten.
“I’m sorry man,” Dean sighed. “It’s just, Chuck’s doing us a huge favor, coming all the way down here and we’re down to our last couple’a sliver rounds.” Dean fiddled absently with the radio. Fuckin’ middle of nowhere playing their shitty country-pop on every station. He pushed the tape back in. Damn, Kill ‘Em All never got old.
Sam sighed. “I know, man.” He swiped at his pants dispiritedly, only succeeding in getting crap all over his hands again. He wrinkled his nose and tried to wipe some of it off on the edge of a towel. He sighed again at the uselessness of the gesture and laid his head back, eyes fixed steadily on the ceiling.
They sat like that for long minutes as ‘No Remorse’ shifted to ‘Seek and Destroy’ and they pulled out onto the highway, his baby grateful for asphalt under her wheels again instead of gravel.
Sam shifted, the springs under him creaking a little and his left shoulder settling with a loud pop. “Where the hell did you get that grenade from, anyway?” His face was straight but his tone was pure fifteen year-old ‘I have the coolest big brother ever but I’d die before I’d say it to his face.’
Dean grinned. “Just something I’ve been saving for the right moment.” He winked when he caught the corners of Sam’s mouth twitching out of the corner of his eye. “And I had to do something, what with you trying to take that thing head on with only a machete like some kind of fucking lunatic.” He had to stop himself from reaching over and slugging Sam in the shoulder, he was not getting that shit on his hand.
Sam snorted. “That thing was a lot bigger than we thought it would be. I can see why the campers were so freaked.” Sam gave an amused headshake and Dean heard something wet smack on the ceiling. He was gonna have to disinfect the entire car after this, maybe perform an exorcism too, just to be safe. “Though we should’ve realized something was off when that fishing boat went missing.”
“Hey, the accounts in that book you dug up made it sound more like Nessie, not the freaking sandworm from Dune.” Dean was never going to forget seeing that thing come leaping out of the water in the pre-dawn twilight, lines of teeth snapping in a gaping black hole of a mouth. That sight probably took ten years off his life all on its own.
“Man, I hated that movie,” Sam groaned. “Way too long and boring. The book was a lot better.”
“Every time I think you can’t be more of a geek you say something like that and prove me wrong.” And there was that face that he knew so well.
“Whatever, dude.” Sam turned his head and stared out the window. You could just see the lake beyond the trees. Looked like it was going to be a clear day.
A beat passed and then Sam turned back, an amused glimmer in his eye. “You were pretty damn lucky, getting that grenade right down its throat on the first throw.”
Dean smirked. “Luck, nothing, that was pure skill, little brother.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam replied with an expressive roll of his eyes. Little punk, Dean knew exactly what he wasn’t saying. He was damn lucky he was too gross to touch.
“Whatever, dude. You’ve gotta at least admit that explosion was pretty freaking awesome.” And it had been, the entire upper half of the damn thing going up in one big muffled boom. It was a shame they couldn’t stick around to hear what the park rangers made of what was left behind. Watching the authorities duck and run was always good for a laugh.
They shared identical grins. Oh yeah did their job have some great perks. “It really was.” Sam looked down at his lap with distaste. “Except for the aftermath.”
Dean shrugged. “I told you to duck.”
Sam gave an amused snort and hunkered down in the seat, getting as comfortable as his mutant legs would let him. “Yeah, you did.” He ended with a tired little sigh and then he was out like a light.
Dean glanced over with a nostalgic little smile. It never failed, get Sam back in the car after a big, all-night hunt and he’d be out like a light; 3, 13 or 23, it was all the same. He’d worry about getting smeared entrails off the window later.
He reached forward and turned down the radio. The early morning sun was shining over the water, skipping up off of waves and jumping through the passenger side window. The glow was so bright that it left Sam’s face in shadow and for a second it was almost like they were just two guys on some sort of road trip adventure. The empty highway curved before them, open and irresistible. It was shaping up to be a pretty all right day.
The road wound along the coast. He blinked and they were through Escanaba, ‘The Heart of the U.P.’ The sun rose higher in the sky and some more cars joined them on the road as they left the coast. They plowed through mile after mile of pine forest, shadows still dark under the trees even though the sun beamed through the windshield at the worst possible angle.
Dean swore quietly when traffic slowed and they got stuck behind some semi. He tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, the music having gone from Metallica to Motorhead. That’d teach him to turn his back and leave Sammy in the car, brat went and organized his tapes alphabetically. He took his chance the second it came, pulling around the 18-wheeler and gunning the engine. They flew past the semi on the wrong-side of the two-lane highway and were slotted back in well before any oncoming traffic came anywhere near them.
The road wound back out onto the coast, the waves higher here and tipped with white. Dean glanced at his watch and grinned, they were making great time. He slowed down and pulled off onto the shoulder.
Sam stirred. “What’s going on?” He muttered, half-awake. Then he grimaced, waking up covered in cold, sticky guts had to be pretty damn awful.
Dean turned back from digging in the backseat and tossed Sam a bar of soap which he caught automatically. “We’re not in Green Bay anymore,” he said and jerked his chin meaningfully towards the beach to their right.
Sam grinned in pure delight and was out of the car like a shot. He ran to the beach, stripping as he went, layers flying in all directions. He jumped into the water, boxers his only concession to the cars flying by on the road behind them.
Dean followed at a more leisurely pace. He didn’t bother looking for the clothes, they were a lost cause. They’d have to remember to stop at a Wal-mart or Meijer or something after meeting with Chuck. He sat down on the sand and took a moment to enjoy the warm sun and the sound of the waves breaking on the beach. He leaned back and stretched, his back cracking in all the right ways. He rested on his elbows, eyes closed and face raised up to the sky.
He might’ve dozed off, he wasn’t sure, but he came to with a jerk when he heard Sam yell “Hey Dean!” over the waves.
Dean got to his feet. Sam was only a couple feet away, wet and clean, thank God. He had a peculiar look in his eye. Dean knew that look, that look was trouble.
“What?” Dean asked somewhere between cautious and grumpy. He automatically catalogued the scene, not sure what was coming but knowing he should be prepared.
“I’ve got something to show you,” Sam said and, yeap, he had that tone in his voice. Before Dean could stage a preemptive strike Sam’s hand flew from behind his back and lobbed a handful of wet sand straight at him. It hit Dean in the side of the head, sticking in his hair and ear and slipping down his shirt.
“Oh, bitch, it is on.” Dean kicked off his boots and lunged after the giggling figure already loping back into the water.
~~~
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. It’s all Kripke’s and the CW’s and blah, blah, blah. We all know who the real braintrust is around here.
Rating: R (Winchester language is not network TV language, ya dig?)
Spoilers: None, really. Takes place sometime between ‘Something Wicked’ and ‘Dead Man’s Blood’ in season one.
Summary: A little monster killing, a little snark, a little serpent guts. It’s all in a normal night’s work.
Dedication: None of this would ever be possible without the cheerleading of hiyacynth and the patience of baylorsr and her sister. I also have to thank my brothers who will never see this and never know what the camping trip we took last summer inspired.
FYI, the algae on that part of Green Bay looks something like this.
““You’re not getting in the car like that.” Dean tossed his shotgun in the trunk and shut it with a resolute slam.
He looked across the car’s roof and was hit dead-on with Sam’s face at its bitchiest. Granted, Sam might have a tiny, little excuse for it this time but Dean’d be damned before he’d say anything like that out loud.
“What?” Dean stamped over to the driver’s side door. Damnit, his boots were completely full of sand. “I don’t want that shit on the leather.”
“I’m covered in serpent guts and you’re worried about the upholstery?” Dean was starting to worry that Sam’s face was gonna up and freeze that way this time. His giant of a little brother certainly was a sight; red and goopy, with bits of what might be small intestine twined into his slimed hair. Maybe now the kid would finally get a decent haircut.
Dean waved his arm curtly towards the beach. “It’s not like there isn’t a huge, freakin’ lake over there that you can wash off in.”
Sam glanced at the lake, face going from bitchy to disgusted. From where they stood they could see gray waves lapping at the shore, the sun having just come up over the horizon. The world was still dim enough that the carnage they’d left on the beach was nearly impossible to make out. “I don’t know which is worse, being covered in mishegenabeg guts or washing in algae.”
“Well, they don’t call it Green Bay for nothing.” Dean shrugged. “And, hell, at least the algae wouldn’t smell so damn foul.”
Sam grumbled something that Dean stolidly ignored. The only way Sam’d made it out of adolescence in one piece was because Dean had learned the value of a selectively deaf ear. Sam wrenched the back door open and pulled out a couple of the pilfered motel towels they kept laying around just for these kind of gut-related emergencies, using one to wipe himself down as best he could.
“We’re stopping in Escanaba,” Sam declared, leaving the dirty towel where it fell on the sand. He jerked the front door open and started laying down the towels over the seat with short, angry gestures.
Dean patted the car as he slid in behind the wheel. She knew as well as he did how Sammy could be but a little apology never hurt.
“No can do,” Dean announced as Sam carefully sat down, adjusting the towels as he went in a probably futile attempt to minimize smearing. “I told Chuck we’d meet him in St. Ignace by 10. He’s gotta be back up to the Keewanaw by tonight to take care of some imp that’s raising hell in one of those abandoned copper mines before the tourists show up or some shit.”
The engine turned over with the same throaty rumble that always sent a spike of happiness through Dean’s gut. He glanced at Sam as he pulled onto the state park service road that would take them back out to M35, tires kicking up sand behind them. He grimaced. It was times like this when he felt like a real jackass ‘cause Sam looked pretty damn uncomfortable, entrails and worse drying in his hair and on his neck, his clothes totally caked in that shit. Burning was probably too good for them. Sam was staring out the window at the trees and what Dean could see of his face looked as dejected as Sam had ever gotten.
“I’m sorry man,” Dean sighed. “It’s just, Chuck’s doing us a huge favor, coming all the way down here and we’re down to our last couple’a sliver rounds.” Dean fiddled absently with the radio. Fuckin’ middle of nowhere playing their shitty country-pop on every station. He pushed the tape back in. Damn, Kill ‘Em All never got old.
Sam sighed. “I know, man.” He swiped at his pants dispiritedly, only succeeding in getting crap all over his hands again. He wrinkled his nose and tried to wipe some of it off on the edge of a towel. He sighed again at the uselessness of the gesture and laid his head back, eyes fixed steadily on the ceiling.
They sat like that for long minutes as ‘No Remorse’ shifted to ‘Seek and Destroy’ and they pulled out onto the highway, his baby grateful for asphalt under her wheels again instead of gravel.
Sam shifted, the springs under him creaking a little and his left shoulder settling with a loud pop. “Where the hell did you get that grenade from, anyway?” His face was straight but his tone was pure fifteen year-old ‘I have the coolest big brother ever but I’d die before I’d say it to his face.’
Dean grinned. “Just something I’ve been saving for the right moment.” He winked when he caught the corners of Sam’s mouth twitching out of the corner of his eye. “And I had to do something, what with you trying to take that thing head on with only a machete like some kind of fucking lunatic.” He had to stop himself from reaching over and slugging Sam in the shoulder, he was not getting that shit on his hand.
Sam snorted. “That thing was a lot bigger than we thought it would be. I can see why the campers were so freaked.” Sam gave an amused headshake and Dean heard something wet smack on the ceiling. He was gonna have to disinfect the entire car after this, maybe perform an exorcism too, just to be safe. “Though we should’ve realized something was off when that fishing boat went missing.”
“Hey, the accounts in that book you dug up made it sound more like Nessie, not the freaking sandworm from Dune.” Dean was never going to forget seeing that thing come leaping out of the water in the pre-dawn twilight, lines of teeth snapping in a gaping black hole of a mouth. That sight probably took ten years off his life all on its own.
“Man, I hated that movie,” Sam groaned. “Way too long and boring. The book was a lot better.”
“Every time I think you can’t be more of a geek you say something like that and prove me wrong.” And there was that face that he knew so well.
“Whatever, dude.” Sam turned his head and stared out the window. You could just see the lake beyond the trees. Looked like it was going to be a clear day.
A beat passed and then Sam turned back, an amused glimmer in his eye. “You were pretty damn lucky, getting that grenade right down its throat on the first throw.”
Dean smirked. “Luck, nothing, that was pure skill, little brother.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam replied with an expressive roll of his eyes. Little punk, Dean knew exactly what he wasn’t saying. He was damn lucky he was too gross to touch.
“Whatever, dude. You’ve gotta at least admit that explosion was pretty freaking awesome.” And it had been, the entire upper half of the damn thing going up in one big muffled boom. It was a shame they couldn’t stick around to hear what the park rangers made of what was left behind. Watching the authorities duck and run was always good for a laugh.
They shared identical grins. Oh yeah did their job have some great perks. “It really was.” Sam looked down at his lap with distaste. “Except for the aftermath.”
Dean shrugged. “I told you to duck.”
Sam gave an amused snort and hunkered down in the seat, getting as comfortable as his mutant legs would let him. “Yeah, you did.” He ended with a tired little sigh and then he was out like a light.
Dean glanced over with a nostalgic little smile. It never failed, get Sam back in the car after a big, all-night hunt and he’d be out like a light; 3, 13 or 23, it was all the same. He’d worry about getting smeared entrails off the window later.
He reached forward and turned down the radio. The early morning sun was shining over the water, skipping up off of waves and jumping through the passenger side window. The glow was so bright that it left Sam’s face in shadow and for a second it was almost like they were just two guys on some sort of road trip adventure. The empty highway curved before them, open and irresistible. It was shaping up to be a pretty all right day.
The road wound along the coast. He blinked and they were through Escanaba, ‘The Heart of the U.P.’ The sun rose higher in the sky and some more cars joined them on the road as they left the coast. They plowed through mile after mile of pine forest, shadows still dark under the trees even though the sun beamed through the windshield at the worst possible angle.
Dean swore quietly when traffic slowed and they got stuck behind some semi. He tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, the music having gone from Metallica to Motorhead. That’d teach him to turn his back and leave Sammy in the car, brat went and organized his tapes alphabetically. He took his chance the second it came, pulling around the 18-wheeler and gunning the engine. They flew past the semi on the wrong-side of the two-lane highway and were slotted back in well before any oncoming traffic came anywhere near them.
The road wound back out onto the coast, the waves higher here and tipped with white. Dean glanced at his watch and grinned, they were making great time. He slowed down and pulled off onto the shoulder.
Sam stirred. “What’s going on?” He muttered, half-awake. Then he grimaced, waking up covered in cold, sticky guts had to be pretty damn awful.
Dean turned back from digging in the backseat and tossed Sam a bar of soap which he caught automatically. “We’re not in Green Bay anymore,” he said and jerked his chin meaningfully towards the beach to their right.
Sam grinned in pure delight and was out of the car like a shot. He ran to the beach, stripping as he went, layers flying in all directions. He jumped into the water, boxers his only concession to the cars flying by on the road behind them.
Dean followed at a more leisurely pace. He didn’t bother looking for the clothes, they were a lost cause. They’d have to remember to stop at a Wal-mart or Meijer or something after meeting with Chuck. He sat down on the sand and took a moment to enjoy the warm sun and the sound of the waves breaking on the beach. He leaned back and stretched, his back cracking in all the right ways. He rested on his elbows, eyes closed and face raised up to the sky.
He might’ve dozed off, he wasn’t sure, but he came to with a jerk when he heard Sam yell “Hey Dean!” over the waves.
Dean got to his feet. Sam was only a couple feet away, wet and clean, thank God. He had a peculiar look in his eye. Dean knew that look, that look was trouble.
“What?” Dean asked somewhere between cautious and grumpy. He automatically catalogued the scene, not sure what was coming but knowing he should be prepared.
“I’ve got something to show you,” Sam said and, yeap, he had that tone in his voice. Before Dean could stage a preemptive strike Sam’s hand flew from behind his back and lobbed a handful of wet sand straight at him. It hit Dean in the side of the head, sticking in his hair and ear and slipping down his shirt.
“Oh, bitch, it is on.” Dean kicked off his boots and lunged after the giggling figure already loping back into the water.
~~~