fic: Gone Until Yesterday's Rain
Gone Until Yesterday's Rain
Supernatural; Sam and Dean; pg; 669 words
Sam made his choice to leave; there's no going back now.
Thanks to hateable for betaing.
~*~
The night Sam tells Dad and Dean he's leaving-"I got a full ride to Stanford, Dad. I'm going."), surprisingly, Dad manages to keep his temper relatively in check. Dean knows he's not showing the half of his anger, but it's still worse than how most people would act. He doesn't hit Sam, which he's only done a few times, and never when Sam didn't do something stupid enough to deserve it, just keeps his voice low and firm as he says, "If you leave, don't you come back."
Dean half-expects his brother to toss back a cocky, sarcastic, yes, sir, and is glad when he doesn't. He's taught him better than that, even if Sam doesn't always listen. Sam's always been much more quick to anger than Dean (like their dad, though he'd deny it until he was blue in the face); it's not like Dean hasn't thrown more than his fair share of punches, but getting Sam or Dad riled up is like touching a bear's cubs--dangerous, and really fucking stupid.
It's not like Dean didn't know (didn't pick up extra shifts at the 7-11 to pay for the application fees; didn't see Sam's essays, clean black lettering on stark white paper, laid out on the coffee-stained wood of the table, waiting to be proofread by some English teacher; didn't toss Sam the thick envelopes that started trickling into their PO boxes before Dad could get ahold of them), but he never thought Sam would go through with it, go through with abandoning what little family he has left. Think again, there, Winchester; Sam's never wanted this plays in his head as he hears Sam pack his duffel full of shit that'll be useless once he gets there-all sun and hot sorority girls and freshman lectures, no need for flannel or holy water.
He doesn't say goodbye to their dad, just stomps downstairs. "Can you give me a ride to the bus station?"
*
Even with the windows down, the thick heat of backwater Georgia in late August is stifling. Dirt roads and lots of intersections mean there's not enough time to pick up speed and catch a breeze. Luckily (or not so luckily), it's a short ride, and before Dean knows it, they're at the bus terminal (empty, save for a few weary-eyed people waiting for the next bus west). "Good luck, Sammy," he says, fishing the last three twenties out of his wallet and slapping them in Sam's palm. "I...call when you get there, okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, sure," Sam responds, hesitating before unbuckling his seatbelt. "Dean-"
"Just go." Drawing it out will only make it harder for both of them. Sam made his choice to leave, and there's no going back now.
*
Back at the motel, Dean drinks a six-pack, pouring each beer down his throat, one by one, not stopping to taste the cold alcohol. Afterwards, he smashes all the bottles against the wall, green-tinted glass shattering like the life they'd made. They weren't normal, but the one constant was that Dean and Sam and Sam had Dean, and now they don't. Sam calls him on the stupid shit he does, keeps him from going too far into himself, into his head.
He and Dad will split up eventually, though they'll both fight it every step of the way, but without Sam there, it's not going to work. Yeah, he was a pain in Dad's ass, and Dean's, but he made sure they didn't do stupid shit like piss off the wrong guy at a bar, or get themselves killed on an over-their-heads hunt (which is rare enough, but it has almost happened). He makes sure Dean doesn't hit on some girl with a huge boyfriend-like it'd stop him-and tries to keep Dad from getting too wrapped up in his latest case.
But Sam's off to bigger and better things, a whole different life, and there's nothing Dean can do about it.
Supernatural; Sam and Dean; pg; 669 words
Sam made his choice to leave; there's no going back now.
Thanks to hateable for betaing.
~*~
The night Sam tells Dad and Dean he's leaving-"I got a full ride to Stanford, Dad. I'm going."), surprisingly, Dad manages to keep his temper relatively in check. Dean knows he's not showing the half of his anger, but it's still worse than how most people would act. He doesn't hit Sam, which he's only done a few times, and never when Sam didn't do something stupid enough to deserve it, just keeps his voice low and firm as he says, "If you leave, don't you come back."
Dean half-expects his brother to toss back a cocky, sarcastic, yes, sir, and is glad when he doesn't. He's taught him better than that, even if Sam doesn't always listen. Sam's always been much more quick to anger than Dean (like their dad, though he'd deny it until he was blue in the face); it's not like Dean hasn't thrown more than his fair share of punches, but getting Sam or Dad riled up is like touching a bear's cubs--dangerous, and really fucking stupid.
It's not like Dean didn't know (didn't pick up extra shifts at the 7-11 to pay for the application fees; didn't see Sam's essays, clean black lettering on stark white paper, laid out on the coffee-stained wood of the table, waiting to be proofread by some English teacher; didn't toss Sam the thick envelopes that started trickling into their PO boxes before Dad could get ahold of them), but he never thought Sam would go through with it, go through with abandoning what little family he has left. Think again, there, Winchester; Sam's never wanted this plays in his head as he hears Sam pack his duffel full of shit that'll be useless once he gets there-all sun and hot sorority girls and freshman lectures, no need for flannel or holy water.
He doesn't say goodbye to their dad, just stomps downstairs. "Can you give me a ride to the bus station?"
*
Even with the windows down, the thick heat of backwater Georgia in late August is stifling. Dirt roads and lots of intersections mean there's not enough time to pick up speed and catch a breeze. Luckily (or not so luckily), it's a short ride, and before Dean knows it, they're at the bus terminal (empty, save for a few weary-eyed people waiting for the next bus west). "Good luck, Sammy," he says, fishing the last three twenties out of his wallet and slapping them in Sam's palm. "I...call when you get there, okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, sure," Sam responds, hesitating before unbuckling his seatbelt. "Dean-"
"Just go." Drawing it out will only make it harder for both of them. Sam made his choice to leave, and there's no going back now.
*
Back at the motel, Dean drinks a six-pack, pouring each beer down his throat, one by one, not stopping to taste the cold alcohol. Afterwards, he smashes all the bottles against the wall, green-tinted glass shattering like the life they'd made. They weren't normal, but the one constant was that Dean and Sam and Sam had Dean, and now they don't. Sam calls him on the stupid shit he does, keeps him from going too far into himself, into his head.
He and Dad will split up eventually, though they'll both fight it every step of the way, but without Sam there, it's not going to work. Yeah, he was a pain in Dad's ass, and Dean's, but he made sure they didn't do stupid shit like piss off the wrong guy at a bar, or get themselves killed on an over-their-heads hunt (which is rare enough, but it has almost happened). He makes sure Dean doesn't hit on some girl with a huge boyfriend-like it'd stop him-and tries to keep Dad from getting too wrapped up in his latest case.
But Sam's off to bigger and better things, a whole different life, and there's nothing Dean can do about it.