my word, something chronic.
Title: Prologue (And Now Your Trip Begins)
Author: misread_
Characters: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, for some ridiculous reason I can't seem to remember right now.
Summary: Sam...doesn't really look the way he's supposed to. Unbeta'd.
Sam never leaves without his phone. Never.'>
A low and annoyed grumbling under his breath as Dean tries to make his way into their motel room. At the third attempt, the key slides in, and Dean opens the door, setting the sixpack on the table, giving the room a quick scan.
"Sam?"
There's no answer, no sounds from the bathroom, and in a few fluid movements Dean's got his cell against his ear, trying to wriggle a beer from the sixpack with the other hand. There's a sudden ringing behind him, and he tenses.
Sam never leaves without his phone. Never.
He turns, trying to figure out where the ringing's coming from, beer instantly forgotten. It sounds muffled. And it's coming from near Sam's bed. The hell.
There's a click, Sam's voice floating through the room - You've reached the cellphone of Sam Winchester - as Dean starts to go through his knees, lifting up a corner of the blanket to look under the bed.
And sees little feet on the other side.
For one painful and seemingly long moment Dean wonders if he entered the wrong room, standing up and rounding the bed, looking down at this child, huddled up in the corner with his knees drawn to his chest, face down and hidden from view.
And then he talks, voice so soft Dean has to strain his ears to hear him.
"M'not supposed to come out of hiding when I'm alone. Not till Dean or Daddy gets home."
Dean's phone falls to the floor, and later on he'll remember hearing the crack as it fell apart.
The boy lifts his head, staring wide-eyed, and Dean has to mentally kick himself, remember to do this thing called breathing.
That, and not freaking the fuck out.
"Unless you know the password?"
He sounds hopeful, almost, and Dean swallows thickly, thinking there is no way his voice is gonna be able to work out a response. But he hunches down anyway, slowly, careful not to scare the boy, memories flooding his senses.
"Lucky Charms, Sammy. Password's Lucky Charms."
There's honest to God light blinding Dean's eyes by the sheer force of Sam's grin as Sam lets his guards down, dropping his legs to the floor and clapping his hands together once.
"Are you a friend of my Daddy?" Sam asks.
Dean doesn't answer, too busy wondering how the hell his little brother turned back into his little brother.
He figures right about now would be a good time to freak the fuck out.
---
Continued in Chapter One (More Than A Memory).
x-posted to sn_slash.
Author: misread_
Characters: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, for some ridiculous reason I can't seem to remember right now.
Summary: Sam...doesn't really look the way he's supposed to. Unbeta'd.
Sam never leaves without his phone. Never.'>
A low and annoyed grumbling under his breath as Dean tries to make his way into their motel room. At the third attempt, the key slides in, and Dean opens the door, setting the sixpack on the table, giving the room a quick scan.
"Sam?"
There's no answer, no sounds from the bathroom, and in a few fluid movements Dean's got his cell against his ear, trying to wriggle a beer from the sixpack with the other hand. There's a sudden ringing behind him, and he tenses.
Sam never leaves without his phone. Never.
He turns, trying to figure out where the ringing's coming from, beer instantly forgotten. It sounds muffled. And it's coming from near Sam's bed. The hell.
There's a click, Sam's voice floating through the room - You've reached the cellphone of Sam Winchester - as Dean starts to go through his knees, lifting up a corner of the blanket to look under the bed.
And sees little feet on the other side.
For one painful and seemingly long moment Dean wonders if he entered the wrong room, standing up and rounding the bed, looking down at this child, huddled up in the corner with his knees drawn to his chest, face down and hidden from view.
And then he talks, voice so soft Dean has to strain his ears to hear him.
"M'not supposed to come out of hiding when I'm alone. Not till Dean or Daddy gets home."
Dean's phone falls to the floor, and later on he'll remember hearing the crack as it fell apart.
The boy lifts his head, staring wide-eyed, and Dean has to mentally kick himself, remember to do this thing called breathing.
That, and not freaking the fuck out.
"Unless you know the password?"
He sounds hopeful, almost, and Dean swallows thickly, thinking there is no way his voice is gonna be able to work out a response. But he hunches down anyway, slowly, careful not to scare the boy, memories flooding his senses.
"Lucky Charms, Sammy. Password's Lucky Charms."
There's honest to God light blinding Dean's eyes by the sheer force of Sam's grin as Sam lets his guards down, dropping his legs to the floor and clapping his hands together once.
"Are you a friend of my Daddy?" Sam asks.
Dean doesn't answer, too busy wondering how the hell his little brother turned back into his little brother.
He figures right about now would be a good time to freak the fuck out.
---
Continued in Chapter One (More Than A Memory).
x-posted to sn_slash.