SPN: Untitled (PG-13), Gen.
Dean has their mother's eyes, and Sam has their father's temper.
Sam has often suspected, that had he wanted, Dean could have escaped.
It was inevitable that Sam would be tugged back, and back, to this fight that started before he knew how to walk, and became a part of him the moment he lost Jess. Sam had always told himself he was different, that he wasn't like Dean, wasn't like his Dad.
He's the different one, he would say. And he came so close to believing it.
Except Dean has their mother's eyes, or so everyone says, and Sam has his father's temper. Dean has her smile, and Sam looks in the mirror these days and sees John looking back and not himself.
It had a weird kind of irony to it, and he almost laughs, because he spent his life trying to be normal, and Dean spent his trying to be anything but.
For all the good it's done them; they've both ended up in the exact same place.
-----
It's true enough that it's Dean that's the natural. His father told him to grab for the gun, and the next minute there's a flash as it fires, and John is covered in a demon's blood; his first time not standing in front of a paper target, and he doesn't miss.
Dean never feels guilty, never looks back, never questions. He smiles after it's through, and they're sitting in the backseat trying to fall asleep to whatever the local rock station is playing over the radio. He'll make jokes, as he shakes ashes from his hair, and then ask if they can stop somewhere so they can wash off the blood.
Sam will take out his notebook and start writing, doesn't matter what, he'll throw it away in the next town they reach anyway.
-----
He doesn't even really get how screwed up they are until much later. He watches family sitcoms and takes them as pure fiction; horror films are as good as documentaries.
He spends a fair amount of time in front of a TV, too, because they don't always take him before he hits fifteen, John gets by with only Dean whenever he can. Sam isn't naïve enough by this time to think it is his father's doing, and he hears the fights from the next room over almost every night.
Sam's the only reason Dean ever has to raise his voice.
He thinks the dreams might have started about then, but it's hard to tell, because they might well have always been there. He just knows that's the year he sees Dean in an old house, watches him taken down by a werewolf at his throat and not even scream.
He begs him to stay behind, just this one time, but Dean's already had this conversation with their father about him and Sam's the one left in the motel room alone.
Dean just grabs his weapons, follows their father out the door, and comes home bleeding. He probably should have paid more attention to what that meant, but normal people didn't listen to dreams, and Dean didn't either.
-----
Sam used to have dreams he'd end up like this, too, and that's why he left. He'd had countless dreams where he couldn't tell himself and his father apart, or up from down, and revenge burned with in him like flames.
He had one thing that set him apart from his father, though, and that was Dean. Their father had never really seen Dean, or him, because they'd just been drafted soldiers in his war; and if anything ever could be, that would be his downfall.
Dean was never afraid of living this life, never had been, not like he was, because it wasn't about the mother he'd never really known, or the father who cared for nothing so much as revenge, not for him, Dean just did it because it was what he did. He helped people.
Not that he was some kind of saint, or something, but in Sam's life, he was still the closest thing to it.
And if he couldn't be normal, then he could at least try and be the next best thing.
Sam has often suspected, that had he wanted, Dean could have escaped.
It was inevitable that Sam would be tugged back, and back, to this fight that started before he knew how to walk, and became a part of him the moment he lost Jess. Sam had always told himself he was different, that he wasn't like Dean, wasn't like his Dad.
He's the different one, he would say. And he came so close to believing it.
Except Dean has their mother's eyes, or so everyone says, and Sam has his father's temper. Dean has her smile, and Sam looks in the mirror these days and sees John looking back and not himself.
It had a weird kind of irony to it, and he almost laughs, because he spent his life trying to be normal, and Dean spent his trying to be anything but.
For all the good it's done them; they've both ended up in the exact same place.
-----
It's true enough that it's Dean that's the natural. His father told him to grab for the gun, and the next minute there's a flash as it fires, and John is covered in a demon's blood; his first time not standing in front of a paper target, and he doesn't miss.
Dean never feels guilty, never looks back, never questions. He smiles after it's through, and they're sitting in the backseat trying to fall asleep to whatever the local rock station is playing over the radio. He'll make jokes, as he shakes ashes from his hair, and then ask if they can stop somewhere so they can wash off the blood.
Sam will take out his notebook and start writing, doesn't matter what, he'll throw it away in the next town they reach anyway.
-----
He doesn't even really get how screwed up they are until much later. He watches family sitcoms and takes them as pure fiction; horror films are as good as documentaries.
He spends a fair amount of time in front of a TV, too, because they don't always take him before he hits fifteen, John gets by with only Dean whenever he can. Sam isn't naïve enough by this time to think it is his father's doing, and he hears the fights from the next room over almost every night.
Sam's the only reason Dean ever has to raise his voice.
He thinks the dreams might have started about then, but it's hard to tell, because they might well have always been there. He just knows that's the year he sees Dean in an old house, watches him taken down by a werewolf at his throat and not even scream.
He begs him to stay behind, just this one time, but Dean's already had this conversation with their father about him and Sam's the one left in the motel room alone.
Dean just grabs his weapons, follows their father out the door, and comes home bleeding. He probably should have paid more attention to what that meant, but normal people didn't listen to dreams, and Dean didn't either.
-----
Sam used to have dreams he'd end up like this, too, and that's why he left. He'd had countless dreams where he couldn't tell himself and his father apart, or up from down, and revenge burned with in him like flames.
He had one thing that set him apart from his father, though, and that was Dean. Their father had never really seen Dean, or him, because they'd just been drafted soldiers in his war; and if anything ever could be, that would be his downfall.
Dean was never afraid of living this life, never had been, not like he was, because it wasn't about the mother he'd never really known, or the father who cared for nothing so much as revenge, not for him, Dean just did it because it was what he did. He helped people.
Not that he was some kind of saint, or something, but in Sam's life, he was still the closest thing to it.
And if he couldn't be normal, then he could at least try and be the next best thing.