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If That Horse and Cart Falls Down
Dean/Sam, 1175 words
Coda to 5.04
Dean Winchester loves his brother.
In other news, the sky is blue, the Pope is Catholic, and the Chevy Impala is the finest car ever made.
*
Michael doesn't love Sam. Michael's an angel. Angels don't love people. Michale hates Lucifer--Michael was the one who brought him down in the first place. And Michael probably doesn't care that Sam's not Lucifer yet.
Michael doesn't care about anyone. That's why Dean--the Dean of today, the Dean who can't imagine really, truly leaving Sam--that's why he's better for the world than Michael.
That's why it needs him.
*
Sam doesn't quite fit in shotgun. He never has. Dean likes to watch him out of the corner of his eye. He likes knowing that Sam is there. He likes that Sam can't disappear.
Angels--even the angels you like--aren't dependable.
Sam can leave, but for the first time in his life, Dean is sure he won't.
*
Three nights in, Sam looks at him, something wild in his eyes, and says, "Dean. Look. We--you need to stay with me."
Dean stares at him. "Sammy, I'm not going anywhere."
"No, I mean--Lucifer. He talks to me when I sleep. I wake up and he's next to me, but he's Jess. And--I can't, Dean. I need you too--" he huffs out a long breath. "I need to wake up and see you."
"What," Dean finally says.
"I wouldn't ask," says Sam, "if it wasn't important. It's--Dean, please."
"If you spoon me, I swear to God--" and then he remembers that God is dead, or an asshole, or whatever. "To somebody. I just swear."
Sam looks so relieved that Dean almost wishes he hadn't threatened him at all.
*
When he wakes up the next day, his head is on Sam's chest, right over where he knows Sam's tattoo is under his shirt. Sam's arms are warm and firm around him, and he feels--happy.
He's not going to have to kill Sam. He's going to save him.
*
They waste a group of demons in Kentucky. There's a drop of blood on Dean's cheek when they're done; Sam wipes it off with the pad of his thumb.
Dean's nervous, but not because he thinks Sam will drink the blood.
*
The first motel clerk says they don't take their kind when Sam asks for one king. Dean wants to object, but then he thinks about it and realizes that, if he's honest, no one should take what they are.
The second clerk hands over the key without objection.
"Is it helping?" Dean asks as he unties his boots.
"What?" asks Sam. He pulls off his jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, roots around for something else to wear. It's the first time he's seen Sam change in a while, and it makes something stutter in his chest.
"Waking up with me."
Sam sniffs a pair of boxer-briefs and apparently decides that they're clean. He pulls them on and strips off his layers til it's just his t-shirt. He's so big. Dean doesn't understand when his little brother got so jacked. He remembers when Sam was small enough he could carry him.
"Yeah," says Sam, not looking at him.
"You miss her," says Dean. He forgets, sometimes, how important she was to Sam. How much life Sam lived that Dean will never be able to understand.
"Yeah," says Sam. "I miss her. And I miss the life I thought I wanted."
"It beats the one you've got."
Sam crawls into bed, stares up at the ceiling. "It's got its perks."
"Guns," says Dean. "The Impala."
"You," says Sam.
Dean's not used to being this honest with him.
"Night, Sammy," he says.
"Night, Dean."
*
He wakes up in the night because he feels eyes on him. Sam is up on one elbow next to him, staring down like he's trying to memorize him.
"Hey," he croaks.
"Dean," says Sam. He reaches out his hand and touches Dean's cheek, his lips, his chin.
"Sammy, what--"
"I can change, right? I can--I can be okay."
"You are okay," says Dean. "You just got a little screwed up."
Sam laughs, and it sounds like a little like a sob. "You know what they say about the road to hell."
"We've been on that road our whole lives, Sammy."
"Yeah," says Sam. He's still looking down at Dean, eyes roving. "You're staying with me, right?"
"Forever," says Dean, because he knows now. He never wants a world where something terrible happens to Sam and he doesn't know.
Sam finally settles back down on the bed. Facing each other on the pillow feels more intimate. He feels more naked than he ever has in his life.
Sam nods once, leans forward, and kisses Dean.
He doesn't linger. He doesn't try to slip him some tongue. He just presses his lips against Dean's, once, and it's like Dean can see into his mind, it's so clear.
He's what Sam is fighting for.
*
There's a werewolf in Georgia. Dean expects Sam to have trouble with it, but he doesn't.
Sam doesn't pretend he's not going to cuddle Dean in the night, so Dean doesn't pretend he's going to push him away.
"He doesn't come if I--" Sam says sleepily, into Dean's hair. "You keep him away."
"Yeah," says Dean, and he puts his hand over Sam's, because there are carvings on their ribs that keep anyone from seeing. "Yeah, Sammy."
*
Sam links their fingers together when they're walking to a diner. Dean feels like he's in junior high again, trying to move slow enough that Jennifer Milton will let him touch her boobs.
*
"Fucking your brother, Dean?" says Zachariah. He's dreaming--he knows he's dreaming. "That's a new low."
"Well, at least I'm not eating shellfish. I hear your boss hates that."
"You really think this is going to change anything?"
"Well," he says, with the sunniest smile he can manage, "I figure if he likes my dick enough, he won't wanna let Satan in."
When he wakes up, he's got a hard on, and he's grinding it against Sam's leg.
"Well, that's just fucked up," he mutters.
Sam makes a sleepy noise and pulls him closer. Dean goes with it.
*
"Let's go to a movie," says Sam, in Des Moines.
Dean glances over. They're on a case, of course, but Sam looks happy and young. "Yeah, okay."
They sit in the back row and Sam actually uses that yawn-and-stretch move to get his arm around Dean. Dean snorts and kisses him. They haven't kissed since that first time, and this isn't anything like that. Dean likes to kiss slow and long and deep, and he thinks it should be weirder doing it to Sam, but he's mostly relieved. He feels honest for the first time in a long time.
"Michael wouldn't do that," says Sam, and he's grinning like Dean hasn't seen in years, like he's so happy he'll die of it.
"Neither would Lucifer."
"So we better stay us," says Sam.
"Yeah," says Dean. "Let's do that."
Dean/Sam, 1175 words
Coda to 5.04
Dean Winchester loves his brother.
In other news, the sky is blue, the Pope is Catholic, and the Chevy Impala is the finest car ever made.
*
Michael doesn't love Sam. Michael's an angel. Angels don't love people. Michale hates Lucifer--Michael was the one who brought him down in the first place. And Michael probably doesn't care that Sam's not Lucifer yet.
Michael doesn't care about anyone. That's why Dean--the Dean of today, the Dean who can't imagine really, truly leaving Sam--that's why he's better for the world than Michael.
That's why it needs him.
*
Sam doesn't quite fit in shotgun. He never has. Dean likes to watch him out of the corner of his eye. He likes knowing that Sam is there. He likes that Sam can't disappear.
Angels--even the angels you like--aren't dependable.
Sam can leave, but for the first time in his life, Dean is sure he won't.
*
Three nights in, Sam looks at him, something wild in his eyes, and says, "Dean. Look. We--you need to stay with me."
Dean stares at him. "Sammy, I'm not going anywhere."
"No, I mean--Lucifer. He talks to me when I sleep. I wake up and he's next to me, but he's Jess. And--I can't, Dean. I need you too--" he huffs out a long breath. "I need to wake up and see you."
"What," Dean finally says.
"I wouldn't ask," says Sam, "if it wasn't important. It's--Dean, please."
"If you spoon me, I swear to God--" and then he remembers that God is dead, or an asshole, or whatever. "To somebody. I just swear."
Sam looks so relieved that Dean almost wishes he hadn't threatened him at all.
*
When he wakes up the next day, his head is on Sam's chest, right over where he knows Sam's tattoo is under his shirt. Sam's arms are warm and firm around him, and he feels--happy.
He's not going to have to kill Sam. He's going to save him.
*
They waste a group of demons in Kentucky. There's a drop of blood on Dean's cheek when they're done; Sam wipes it off with the pad of his thumb.
Dean's nervous, but not because he thinks Sam will drink the blood.
*
The first motel clerk says they don't take their kind when Sam asks for one king. Dean wants to object, but then he thinks about it and realizes that, if he's honest, no one should take what they are.
The second clerk hands over the key without objection.
"Is it helping?" Dean asks as he unties his boots.
"What?" asks Sam. He pulls off his jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, roots around for something else to wear. It's the first time he's seen Sam change in a while, and it makes something stutter in his chest.
"Waking up with me."
Sam sniffs a pair of boxer-briefs and apparently decides that they're clean. He pulls them on and strips off his layers til it's just his t-shirt. He's so big. Dean doesn't understand when his little brother got so jacked. He remembers when Sam was small enough he could carry him.
"Yeah," says Sam, not looking at him.
"You miss her," says Dean. He forgets, sometimes, how important she was to Sam. How much life Sam lived that Dean will never be able to understand.
"Yeah," says Sam. "I miss her. And I miss the life I thought I wanted."
"It beats the one you've got."
Sam crawls into bed, stares up at the ceiling. "It's got its perks."
"Guns," says Dean. "The Impala."
"You," says Sam.
Dean's not used to being this honest with him.
"Night, Sammy," he says.
"Night, Dean."
*
He wakes up in the night because he feels eyes on him. Sam is up on one elbow next to him, staring down like he's trying to memorize him.
"Hey," he croaks.
"Dean," says Sam. He reaches out his hand and touches Dean's cheek, his lips, his chin.
"Sammy, what--"
"I can change, right? I can--I can be okay."
"You are okay," says Dean. "You just got a little screwed up."
Sam laughs, and it sounds like a little like a sob. "You know what they say about the road to hell."
"We've been on that road our whole lives, Sammy."
"Yeah," says Sam. He's still looking down at Dean, eyes roving. "You're staying with me, right?"
"Forever," says Dean, because he knows now. He never wants a world where something terrible happens to Sam and he doesn't know.
Sam finally settles back down on the bed. Facing each other on the pillow feels more intimate. He feels more naked than he ever has in his life.
Sam nods once, leans forward, and kisses Dean.
He doesn't linger. He doesn't try to slip him some tongue. He just presses his lips against Dean's, once, and it's like Dean can see into his mind, it's so clear.
He's what Sam is fighting for.
*
There's a werewolf in Georgia. Dean expects Sam to have trouble with it, but he doesn't.
Sam doesn't pretend he's not going to cuddle Dean in the night, so Dean doesn't pretend he's going to push him away.
"He doesn't come if I--" Sam says sleepily, into Dean's hair. "You keep him away."
"Yeah," says Dean, and he puts his hand over Sam's, because there are carvings on their ribs that keep anyone from seeing. "Yeah, Sammy."
*
Sam links their fingers together when they're walking to a diner. Dean feels like he's in junior high again, trying to move slow enough that Jennifer Milton will let him touch her boobs.
*
"Fucking your brother, Dean?" says Zachariah. He's dreaming--he knows he's dreaming. "That's a new low."
"Well, at least I'm not eating shellfish. I hear your boss hates that."
"You really think this is going to change anything?"
"Well," he says, with the sunniest smile he can manage, "I figure if he likes my dick enough, he won't wanna let Satan in."
When he wakes up, he's got a hard on, and he's grinding it against Sam's leg.
"Well, that's just fucked up," he mutters.
Sam makes a sleepy noise and pulls him closer. Dean goes with it.
*
"Let's go to a movie," says Sam, in Des Moines.
Dean glances over. They're on a case, of course, but Sam looks happy and young. "Yeah, okay."
They sit in the back row and Sam actually uses that yawn-and-stretch move to get his arm around Dean. Dean snorts and kisses him. They haven't kissed since that first time, and this isn't anything like that. Dean likes to kiss slow and long and deep, and he thinks it should be weirder doing it to Sam, but he's mostly relieved. He feels honest for the first time in a long time.
"Michael wouldn't do that," says Sam, and he's grinning like Dean hasn't seen in years, like he's so happy he'll die of it.
"Neither would Lucifer."
"So we better stay us," says Sam.
"Yeah," says Dean. "Let's do that."