SPN - Of Fire and Dreams
Title: Of Fire and Dreams
Rating: G
Characters: Dean, Sam
Genre: General
Warnings: None
Word Count: 645
Summary: While John is out on a hunt, Sam asks a question and Dean does some thinking.
Author's Note: This is my first Supernatural fic, so I apologise if it sucks. This little moment just sort of popped into my head and I had to write it down. I like how it turned out, so assuming it's not horrible, I'll probably write more with the Winchesters.
Of Fire and Dreams
Sam is five the first time he asks about his mom.
They’ve been staying in a motel outside of Livingston, Montana. Dean forgets exactly what John’s been hunting (spirit, he remembers, some girl, but he can’t recall the specifics), but he’s been gone for two days. Dean’s not worried; his dad said he should be back by Tuesday night and it’s only Monday morning now.
Dean flicks through channels on the TV. He stares for a while at some program about animal attacks, but he isn’t really paying attention.
“Dean?”
Dean turns. Sam stands in the bedroom doorway, rubbing his eyes, his hair rumpled from sleep. “Hey Sammy, you’re awake early.”
Sam rubs his eyes again. “I had a bad dream.”
Dean pats the seat of the couch and Sam crawls up next to him. “Want to tell me about it?” Dean asks, hugging his little brother around the shoulders with one arm.
Sam shrugs. “Don’t ‘member. There was fire, maybe?” He is watching the TV and misses the frown on his brother’s face. “Are there cartoons?” Sam asks. Dean grins and rolls his eyes, but changes the channel.
“You and your cartoons, Sammy.”
Later, they are eating lunch when Sam carefully puts down his half-eaten sandwich and looks up at Dean.
“Dean, why don’t we have a mom?”
Dean pauses, his own sandwich halfway into his mouth. He glances up; Sam’s watching him, wide-eyed with curiosity. Dean puts down the sandwich with a sigh.
“She died, Sammy. A long time ago.”
Sam frowns. “She died?” Dean nods. Sam is quiet for a moment, staring at his plate. Finally, he says, “What happened?”
Now it is Dean’s turn to frown. “Why?”
Sam shrugs. “I think she was in my bad dream.” He looks at Dean, but he seems a little worried. “Maybe I dreamed what happened.”
Dean feels a lump rise in his throat and swallows. “It’s just a dream, Sammy. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
Sam nods. “Just a dream. Okay.” He nods again, to himself, and picks up his sandwich again.
Dean watches him for a moment, but he’s not hungry anymore. He wonders if Sam could have dreamed about that night back in Kansas. Dean remembers the fire, he remembers his dad thrusting a crying Sam into his arms. Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! Now Dean, go!
Dean clears away his plate and stares out the front window, frowning. He tries to remember how old Sam was. Not even a year, he thinks, not old enough to remember. But Sam said he dreamed about fire, and he asked about their mom. Maybe he had dreamed about it…
“Dean?”
Dean turns around. Sam sits at the table, watching him with worried eyes.
Dean sighs. “I’m alright Sammy, I was just thinking.”
Sam nods. “Okay.” He slides out of his chair and hands his empty plate to Dean, who puts it on the counter. “Are you still thinking?” Sam asks?
Dean smiles. “No, I’m done.” He says.
“Good,” Sam says, smiling. “I wanna play a game.”
Dean rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling still. “Okay, Sam, what do you want to play?”
Sam taps his mouth with his hand, thinking, then beams. “War!” And he skips over to the bag on the floor by the couch and rummages in it, finally pulling out a deck of cards.
Dean sighs as Sam hands him the deck, but he sits down at the table and starts shuffling as Sam climbs into the chair next to his. As he deals out cards, Dean shakes him head at his little brother. “One of these days, Sammy, I’m going to have to teach you some other games.”
Sam grins at him, all innocence. “That’s just ‘cos you always lose, Dean.”
“Well not this time,” Dean says, and puts down his first card.
Rating: G
Characters: Dean, Sam
Genre: General
Warnings: None
Word Count: 645
Summary: While John is out on a hunt, Sam asks a question and Dean does some thinking.
Author's Note: This is my first Supernatural fic, so I apologise if it sucks. This little moment just sort of popped into my head and I had to write it down. I like how it turned out, so assuming it's not horrible, I'll probably write more with the Winchesters.
Of Fire and Dreams
Sam is five the first time he asks about his mom.
They’ve been staying in a motel outside of Livingston, Montana. Dean forgets exactly what John’s been hunting (spirit, he remembers, some girl, but he can’t recall the specifics), but he’s been gone for two days. Dean’s not worried; his dad said he should be back by Tuesday night and it’s only Monday morning now.
Dean flicks through channels on the TV. He stares for a while at some program about animal attacks, but he isn’t really paying attention.
“Dean?”
Dean turns. Sam stands in the bedroom doorway, rubbing his eyes, his hair rumpled from sleep. “Hey Sammy, you’re awake early.”
Sam rubs his eyes again. “I had a bad dream.”
Dean pats the seat of the couch and Sam crawls up next to him. “Want to tell me about it?” Dean asks, hugging his little brother around the shoulders with one arm.
Sam shrugs. “Don’t ‘member. There was fire, maybe?” He is watching the TV and misses the frown on his brother’s face. “Are there cartoons?” Sam asks. Dean grins and rolls his eyes, but changes the channel.
“You and your cartoons, Sammy.”
Later, they are eating lunch when Sam carefully puts down his half-eaten sandwich and looks up at Dean.
“Dean, why don’t we have a mom?”
Dean pauses, his own sandwich halfway into his mouth. He glances up; Sam’s watching him, wide-eyed with curiosity. Dean puts down the sandwich with a sigh.
“She died, Sammy. A long time ago.”
Sam frowns. “She died?” Dean nods. Sam is quiet for a moment, staring at his plate. Finally, he says, “What happened?”
Now it is Dean’s turn to frown. “Why?”
Sam shrugs. “I think she was in my bad dream.” He looks at Dean, but he seems a little worried. “Maybe I dreamed what happened.”
Dean feels a lump rise in his throat and swallows. “It’s just a dream, Sammy. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
Sam nods. “Just a dream. Okay.” He nods again, to himself, and picks up his sandwich again.
Dean watches him for a moment, but he’s not hungry anymore. He wonders if Sam could have dreamed about that night back in Kansas. Dean remembers the fire, he remembers his dad thrusting a crying Sam into his arms. Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! Now Dean, go!
Dean clears away his plate and stares out the front window, frowning. He tries to remember how old Sam was. Not even a year, he thinks, not old enough to remember. But Sam said he dreamed about fire, and he asked about their mom. Maybe he had dreamed about it…
“Dean?”
Dean turns around. Sam sits at the table, watching him with worried eyes.
Dean sighs. “I’m alright Sammy, I was just thinking.”
Sam nods. “Okay.” He slides out of his chair and hands his empty plate to Dean, who puts it on the counter. “Are you still thinking?” Sam asks?
Dean smiles. “No, I’m done.” He says.
“Good,” Sam says, smiling. “I wanna play a game.”
Dean rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling still. “Okay, Sam, what do you want to play?”
Sam taps his mouth with his hand, thinking, then beams. “War!” And he skips over to the bag on the floor by the couch and rummages in it, finally pulling out a deck of cards.
Dean sighs as Sam hands him the deck, but he sits down at the table and starts shuffling as Sam climbs into the chair next to his. As he deals out cards, Dean shakes him head at his little brother. “One of these days, Sammy, I’m going to have to teach you some other games.”
Sam grins at him, all innocence. “That’s just ‘cos you always lose, Dean.”
“Well not this time,” Dean says, and puts down his first card.