Supernatural Fanfic: Twenty Questions (9/20)
Title: Twenty Questions
Author: poestheblackcat
Chapter rating: PG-13
Chapter characters/pairings: Sam, Dean
Chapter warning/spoilers: Spoilers to “A Very Supernatural Christmas.”
Chapter summary: Since the last one had Dean worrying about Sam losing his innocence, this one is after Sam finds out the truth.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Unfortunately. Darn you, Kripke. So, like I was saying, it’s almost my birthday…Okay, wishful thinking?
Chapter 9: Protection from Monsters, Lifetime Guarantee
“Dean? Are monsters real?”
Dean could have sworn his heart stopped in his chest when he saw his little brother with their dad’s battered old journal. This wasn’t how he wanted Sammy to find out. Not like this. The best-case scenario would have been Sammy never finding out about the things that go bump in the night, but the second-best definitely didn’t involve him simply reading all about it in their father’s handwriting in The Journal.
With a dry mouth, he’d tried to comfort his little brother the best he could, but to no avail. The muffled sobbing in the next bed had faded into the steady breaths of sleep hours ago, but Dean knew the memory of the discovery would still lie heavy in his brother’s mind the next morning. The next morning and for the rest of his life.
Dean looked at the clock. 2:48 blinked red in the dark room. It was Christmas and Dad still hadn’t come home. Dean had crushed Sam’s childish innocence of fairytales and Santa Claus last night, but he couldn’t let down his brother’s faith in Dad as well.
He sat up in bed. Dad had told him to stay inside after nightfall, but still, this was a special occasion. It wasn’t too likely that there’d be anyone scary around at this time of night on Christmas, right? Unless you counted Santa. Dean snickered silently. Imagine, an evil Santa Claus. Right. He’d take the gun anyway, just to be safe.
Dean got dressed as quickly and quietly as he could, so as not to wake Sammy, then slipped outside into the cold night. The snow was frosted over everything and it sparkled in the moonlight like in a picture on the cover of a cheesy Christmas card.
He walked the few blocks to the nice neighborhood they’d passed on the way to their crappy motel and picked a house. Eenie meenie mynie mo. A typical two-story house in the suburbs of Broken Bow, Nebraska. Dean tilted his head to the side and gave it a cursory examination. Should be easy enough to break into, and the Christmas decorations pointed to the family not being Jewish, which meant presents under the tree, there for the taking.
After a quick look around to make sure no one was up to call the cops on him, he slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out the thin scrap of metal he needed to gain entrance into the still house. Warm, heated air set fire to his frozen face and hands as he crept inside on silent feet. An eerie multicolored glow from the lights on the Christmas tree indicated which room he should head to.
Any misgivings he’d had previously about stealing another kid’s gift evaporated at the sheer number of boxes piled under the cheerfully-decorated evergreen. He held his breath for another moment to make sure he was the only one awake in the house, then proceeded to examine the packages for the best one for Sammy. Hey, this was actually kind of fun; sort of like shopping, only it was no money out of his pocket, and the adrenaline rush was a plus.
Dean spent a few precious moments deliberating between a thin stick-looking package and one about the size and shape of a shoebox. He took another look at all the presents left under the tree and decided Shawn (the name scribbled lovingly on the easily peeled-off labels) wouldn’t find anything amiss if he took more than one for Sam. He was probably a big jerk who made fun of poor kids anyway. Serves the bastard right.
Too bad the “bastard” turned out to be a girl. Lame, right? What kind of parents named their daughter “Shawn”? Wasn’t that a guy’s name? Poor chick. Heh. It was kind of funny though, giving chick presents to Sammy. Because he was totally a girl. This turn of events just proved it.
Sam knew instantly what he’d done, but he wasn’t mad. Not at Dean, anyway. Dad had lied to him, he said, but Dean couldn’t help thinking that he’d lied to his brother, too. Maybe not as much as Dad had, but he’d done his fair share.
Then Sam handed over the gift Dean had seen him wrapping earlier for Dad. He accepted it uncertainly, and his hands trembled as he ripped the colorful newspaper apart. A small, cold weight plopped into his hand. It was an ugly little brass thing on a leather cord, but to Dean, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“It’s great,” he choked out, eyes misting over inexplicably. “I love it.”
As the necklace settled around his neck, the unfamiliar weight feeling cold on his chest, he vowed never to take it off. This was something his Sam had given to him, to him and not Dad, because he trusted him, because he was there. He promised himself then and there to try to live up to that.
They stared at each other for a few silent moments before Sammy finally gave in to his roiling emotions. His lip trembled and he crawled into his brother’s ready arms. The jacket rustled and settled warmly around him. “I’m scared, Dean,” he whispered. “I’m scared.”
Dean shifted them into a more comfortable position on the worn couch and put his cheek on the top of his brother’s head. This was what he’d been afraid of: Sammy having to live with the same fear he did, that same fear which had become a constant in Dean’s life since the night Mom had died, since Dad had found out the truth. He swallowed. “It’s okay to be scared, Sammy.” He tried to steady his voice and make it sound as confident as he wished he felt. “But you don’t have to be. Not while I’m around.”
The smaller boy squirmed around in his brother’s arms until he could look into the other’s face. “But what if they get you? The monsters?” he asked, sounding very young to Dean’s ears. “And Dad, too?” He looked as young as he sounded.
Dean summoned up a cocky smirk. “Who me? Nah,” he scoffed. “They don’t scare me. And they sure don’t scare Dad. I mean, come on. The man’s a hero. What have I been telling you all these years?”
One side of Sam’s lip quirked up in an almost-smile. “You mean back when I thought he was a salesman? Or you thought that I thought he was a salesman. I figured out when I was like, seven that he’s not really what you guys said.”
Dean sighed and tipped his head back. “Dammit,” he muttered. “I told Dad that it was a lame-ass thing to tell you. But did he believe me? No. ‘You can pull it off, Dean,’ he said. Yeah right. I’m gonna be in so much trouble.” He cringed at the thought. Aw man. He wondered what the punishment would be. Push-ups, sit-ups, laps, weapons cleaning, or all of them. Probably the last.
Sam frowned. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who took that thing,” he pointed at the brown book sitting on the nightstand with a wrinkle in his nose, “out of his stuff. I’m the one who read it. He’s the one who told you to tell me that. It’s not your fault.” He’d managed to work himself out of the teary stage and straight into the indignant and righteous anger stage.
Dean looked at the glowering visage on his brother and felt a flicker of warmth in his chest. It made him feel a little proud that his little brother was so loyal to him that he felt he had to defend him. It was cute, kind of. He shook his head slowly. “Doesn’t work like that, Sam.”
He was already anticipating the ‘But why?’ out of Sam’s mouth and headed him off. “Because I’m the big brother and it’s my job to take care of you. And if that means that I’m gonna have to take Dad getting all pissed at me for letting you find out, then I’m gonna take it. No buts.”
He softened his tone, wanting to take the pout off of Sammy’s face. “And as for the monsters, you’ve got nothing to worry about from that corner as long as I’ve got your back. Nothing’s going to get you.”
Sammy looked thoughtful. His eyes flicked up to Dean’s through his bangs. “Promise?”
Dean smiled and nodded. “I promise, Sam,” he said steadily, confidently. “Lifetime guarantee. No refund, no exchange.”
Sam pouted, but his eyes danced with mirth. “Aww, so I’m stuck with you forever?” he whined.
Dean laughed, and Sam joined in. “Can’t get rid of me that easy, Sammy.” He poked the kid’s side. “Gonna have to think real hard with that big noggin of yours to do it.”
Sam smiled and leaned back in his brother’s arms. “Nah. I like it here. Not here here in Nebraska, but here with you.”
Dean had to swallow hard for some reason and tightened his arms. “Yeah? Me too. Girl.” He cleared his throat to get the residuals of the chick-flick moment out of his system and shifted away from his little brother. “How about we get to bed now. Then in the morning we can eat some of the stuff I lifted from that house.”
Sam gave him a look.
Dean blinked. Sammy and his constantly changing emotions would be the death of him someday. “What?”
“You stole food from them, too?” A disbelieving look was clearly etched on Sam’s visage. “And you’ve got to give the girl’s presents back, you know that, right?”
Dean groaned. Sammy’s weird goody-two-shoes morals. Put that on the list of things that would kill him too. “It was just a pie and some cans. They could spare it, trust me. And fine, I will give the chick-presents back later. Okay? Happy? Can we go to bed now?”
Sam relented after a scrutinizing stare. “Okay.” He trudged back to his recently-vacated bed, and got in. He waited until Dean had turned the bedside lamp off and gotten into his own bed to ask, “Can I sleep in your bed?”
Dean answered by turning the covers back and shifting over to make room for another scared little boy.
Chapter 10: First Hunt