into the silence [spn][flash fiction]
Title: Into the Silence
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean, Sam
Word Count: 1000
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It was raining, the day Sam left for college.
Notes: For vorpalblades at The Fall Fandom Free-For-All and spn_30snapshots. Latter prompt first thing under the cut. Title from ee cummings' up into the silence the green.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy
- Hamlet
Shakespeare
It was raining with impotent fury the day Sam left for college. It was the kind of rain that you had to raise your voice to be heard around, that slapped against your skin and got under it, chilling. Everything was damp, glistening, the sky heavy with the weight of the clouds, thick and black and clichéd, even thought it was still morning.
“What’re you doing?” Dean asked, as Sam opened the cab door.
He’d had called a cab, a fucking cab. A cab they could never afford, but Sam, Sam had saved up enough cash. “Bus ride”, he’d said, because of course, he’d expected it, expected that two months wouldn’t be enough for Dad to cool down and change his mind - eternity wouldn’t be enough for that.
Wasn’t expecting a cab ride, though, the extra cash that shit required, because Sam wasn’t stupid but he couldn’t see the future either.
He’d mumbled, “Can’t walk to the station,” when Dean had looked up at the sound of the horn, both of them sitting around a small coffee table, an iron block of silence between them. There was a gesture towards Sam’s still-splinted, beat-up leg, a Black Dog in Michigan only a week ago.
Dean just stared and shook his head, knowing what Sam wasn’t saying and wasn’t asking and thought, Would have given you a ride, you fucker, would have given you a ride if you’d asked.
Thought, I’m not the one who wants you gone, you son of a bitch, he’s not me, I’m not him, you bastard, you bastard.
But he’d shaken his head and hadn’t offered, and Sam had slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, pulled his crutches towards him, wearing something broken on his face as he walked out the door. It had only taken a minute for Dean to throw down the newspaper he’d been skimming and follow him out.
“What d’you think this is going to accomplish?” Dean continued, now. That was what this was, after all, something Sam was doing to prove a point, that endlessly stubborn streak of his. Right? A decision that had only been half-hearted until Dad went and told him hell to the fucking no and Sam’s pride smarted. It had to be. He couldn’t believe that this was real, an actual choice that Sam made months and months ago, that it could be so easy for him to leave his family behind.
Dean’s arms were folded over his chest as he watched Sam struggling to swing his well-stuffed duffel and crutches into the backseat. He didn’t move forward to help, and Sam eventually managed it on his own and turned around, hand on the rain-slick cab door.
He shrugged slightly and shook his head, water dripping from the ends of his hair. Looked up and down and everywhere but at Dean. “I’m just - this is right for me, Dean. I can’t-”
“Can’t what?” asked Dean, gritting his teeth, hearing only self-righteousness in Sam’s tone. “Follow orders anymore? Hunt? Be a good son? Not like you were ever doing any of that before. Got by just fine, anyway.”
Sam didn’t flinch, but he did swallow, and said, “Fuck you. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Right. Because I never had that college education? Stupid little high school dropout-”
“Dean, you know that’s not true-”
“Not good enough for you, this family-”
“Don’t make this into something it’s not,” said Sam, then, loudly. His features flickered between pleading and hardness as Dean watched. “I’m not the one who chose this way. The all or nothing way. That wasn’t me.”
“You’re still going, though,” Dean pointed out, eyes like brimstone in his skull. Rain splattered the cement and the car and the two of them and the burning inside Dean made him wonder why the water wasn’t hissing on contact.
“I have to,” said Sam and you’d think his life depended on it, or his sanity.
Water dripped from Dean’s hair to his neck, icy “You don’t have to; you want to. This is all for you. It’s always all for you,’ he said.
Walls slammed down behind Sam’s eyes and his face, expressionless. Pale, but expressionless. His lips twitched into something of a smile. “And Dad? And you? You both want me to stay for who? For me? Because I’m so happy here, right?”
The streetlights glowed misty-orange above their heads, rain and thunder filling the silence.
The cab driver shouted, “Charge’s extra for waiting, so you wanna get this drama the fuck over with?” and Sam shook his head at Dean, slid into the backseat, shoving away his bag to make room.
The cab started to slide away, tires sloshing through the rain and Dean walked forward, walked next to it, staring at Sam.
His brother looked up. Said, “Take care of yourself, Dean.”
Dean laughed at that, a harsh, incredulous breath, thought, you little shit, you don’t get to care anymore, but he sped up when the cab did, walking first and then running, shoes splashing through puddles, and Sam’s eyes never left his, hard and determined, but still wet and all Dean could think to say, all he could fucking think to say was, “Goodbye.”
“I’m going to find it,” Sam said, like he needed to get the last word, like he couldn’t just let it end in goodbye, something too final in that, too never-gonna-see-you-again.
“I’m going to find it,” he repeated, but this time Dean had to read his lips. And then the cab was gone, rushing through sheets of rain, Sam twisting in his seat to look back, and Dean was running, running, running, until he could run no more, and then he was slowing down and stopping and watching the cab fade to a yellow spot that disappeared under the cloud-smudged horizon, wondering what it was Sam needed to find so badly, wondering what it was they were missing without even knowing it.
Wondering if he should be out there, searching for it too.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean, Sam
Word Count: 1000
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It was raining, the day Sam left for college.
Notes: For vorpalblades at The Fall Fandom Free-For-All and spn_30snapshots. Latter prompt first thing under the cut. Title from ee cummings' up into the silence the green.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy
- Hamlet
Shakespeare
It was raining with impotent fury the day Sam left for college. It was the kind of rain that you had to raise your voice to be heard around, that slapped against your skin and got under it, chilling. Everything was damp, glistening, the sky heavy with the weight of the clouds, thick and black and clichéd, even thought it was still morning.
“What’re you doing?” Dean asked, as Sam opened the cab door.
He’d had called a cab, a fucking cab. A cab they could never afford, but Sam, Sam had saved up enough cash. “Bus ride”, he’d said, because of course, he’d expected it, expected that two months wouldn’t be enough for Dad to cool down and change his mind - eternity wouldn’t be enough for that.
Wasn’t expecting a cab ride, though, the extra cash that shit required, because Sam wasn’t stupid but he couldn’t see the future either.
He’d mumbled, “Can’t walk to the station,” when Dean had looked up at the sound of the horn, both of them sitting around a small coffee table, an iron block of silence between them. There was a gesture towards Sam’s still-splinted, beat-up leg, a Black Dog in Michigan only a week ago.
Dean just stared and shook his head, knowing what Sam wasn’t saying and wasn’t asking and thought, Would have given you a ride, you fucker, would have given you a ride if you’d asked.
Thought, I’m not the one who wants you gone, you son of a bitch, he’s not me, I’m not him, you bastard, you bastard.
But he’d shaken his head and hadn’t offered, and Sam had slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, pulled his crutches towards him, wearing something broken on his face as he walked out the door. It had only taken a minute for Dean to throw down the newspaper he’d been skimming and follow him out.
“What d’you think this is going to accomplish?” Dean continued, now. That was what this was, after all, something Sam was doing to prove a point, that endlessly stubborn streak of his. Right? A decision that had only been half-hearted until Dad went and told him hell to the fucking no and Sam’s pride smarted. It had to be. He couldn’t believe that this was real, an actual choice that Sam made months and months ago, that it could be so easy for him to leave his family behind.
Dean’s arms were folded over his chest as he watched Sam struggling to swing his well-stuffed duffel and crutches into the backseat. He didn’t move forward to help, and Sam eventually managed it on his own and turned around, hand on the rain-slick cab door.
He shrugged slightly and shook his head, water dripping from the ends of his hair. Looked up and down and everywhere but at Dean. “I’m just - this is right for me, Dean. I can’t-”
“Can’t what?” asked Dean, gritting his teeth, hearing only self-righteousness in Sam’s tone. “Follow orders anymore? Hunt? Be a good son? Not like you were ever doing any of that before. Got by just fine, anyway.”
Sam didn’t flinch, but he did swallow, and said, “Fuck you. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Right. Because I never had that college education? Stupid little high school dropout-”
“Dean, you know that’s not true-”
“Not good enough for you, this family-”
“Don’t make this into something it’s not,” said Sam, then, loudly. His features flickered between pleading and hardness as Dean watched. “I’m not the one who chose this way. The all or nothing way. That wasn’t me.”
“You’re still going, though,” Dean pointed out, eyes like brimstone in his skull. Rain splattered the cement and the car and the two of them and the burning inside Dean made him wonder why the water wasn’t hissing on contact.
“I have to,” said Sam and you’d think his life depended on it, or his sanity.
Water dripped from Dean’s hair to his neck, icy “You don’t have to; you want to. This is all for you. It’s always all for you,’ he said.
Walls slammed down behind Sam’s eyes and his face, expressionless. Pale, but expressionless. His lips twitched into something of a smile. “And Dad? And you? You both want me to stay for who? For me? Because I’m so happy here, right?”
The streetlights glowed misty-orange above their heads, rain and thunder filling the silence.
The cab driver shouted, “Charge’s extra for waiting, so you wanna get this drama the fuck over with?” and Sam shook his head at Dean, slid into the backseat, shoving away his bag to make room.
The cab started to slide away, tires sloshing through the rain and Dean walked forward, walked next to it, staring at Sam.
His brother looked up. Said, “Take care of yourself, Dean.”
Dean laughed at that, a harsh, incredulous breath, thought, you little shit, you don’t get to care anymore, but he sped up when the cab did, walking first and then running, shoes splashing through puddles, and Sam’s eyes never left his, hard and determined, but still wet and all Dean could think to say, all he could fucking think to say was, “Goodbye.”
“I’m going to find it,” Sam said, like he needed to get the last word, like he couldn’t just let it end in goodbye, something too final in that, too never-gonna-see-you-again.
“I’m going to find it,” he repeated, but this time Dean had to read his lips. And then the cab was gone, rushing through sheets of rain, Sam twisting in his seat to look back, and Dean was running, running, running, until he could run no more, and then he was slowing down and stopping and watching the cab fade to a yellow spot that disappeared under the cloud-smudged horizon, wondering what it was Sam needed to find so badly, wondering what it was they were missing without even knowing it.
Wondering if he should be out there, searching for it too.