Title: Bones, 2/?
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: reading_is_in
Characters: Sam, Dean, John
Genre: Drama, Family, Pre-Series
Rating: PG-13.
Disclaimer: All recognized characters from ‘Supernatural’ are property of Eric Kripke/CW. This fan fiction is not for profit.
Summary: My take on the events in Arizone referenced in 'Dark Side of the Moon' (5x16). Spoilers for that episode.
A/N: Apologies for the slow updating. I’m currently doing the footnotes and bibliography on a 20, 000 word thesis, which is simultaneously boring and stressful. (The referencing, not the thesis. The thesis is stressful but exciting, not to mention necessary to my, you know, career and all). Thanks for your patience.
Bones, 2/?
It was, without a doubt, the best escape he’d ever made. No-one else was involved so far - though what exactly he’d do when his money ran out Sam hadn’t decided. He ought to feel satisfaction, but instead he was anxious and pressed with the need to move, to keep going, drawn on towards something, faster…he was too frightened to hitchhike, in case some well-meaning responsible citizen turned him over to the cops. Arizona was never really cold, not even in December: the sky was dull grey and overcast, but the air fresh, good for breathing.
Besides, he’d already made it out of Phoenix. They must have been pretty close to the border, because he’d only been walking for three hours and twenty-eight minutes when he came to a sign at the side of the road reading NOW ENTERING FLAGSTAFF. That felt - significant - Sam had the creeping sensation of having been here before, which he told himself crossly was bullshit. This was his first time in Arizona. ‘This is Flagstaff!’ Was that him? But there were no echoes of something that hadn’t happened, not outside of his mind. He pressed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes against the sudden headache, kept them there until he saw the luminous rings of static.
When this happened - these flashes of impossible conviction - he wondered if there was something seriously wrong with him. Like maybe he had a brain tumour. (Which would explain the he headaches, and that sense of something Other, intrusive, he’d always known…once he’d asked Dean if he’d a twin that died before they were born. Dean had said he was crazy.) He briefly wondered what Dad would do if he did have a brain tumour. Give up hunting? Or just leave him in a hospital someplace? Then he remembered he wasn’t going back.
So he walked.
***
Sam was being followed. He’d known it for over an hour now, looking back over his shoulder, hand reaching towards his knife and then backing off when nothing happened. He stopped. Stood still. Stared towards the tree line, trying not to radiate anything: neither fear, nor hostility. ‘Come on then’.
The bushes moved. The dog crept out with its belly to the ground, long under hairs in the dirt. It was a retriever of some sort - dusty yellow and lean. It looked up at Sam and wagged tentatively, feathery tail beating up the dust. Sam smiled and breathed out.
“Hey boy,” he said softly, “Or are you a girl? Come here.” he crouched down, held his hands out encouragingly. The dog crawled closer. Its tail started to wag in earnest as it sniffled at his hands, eyes brightening, and he saw that it wasn’t so much lean as scrawny, ribs and hips visible beneath its fur. Something inside Sam twinged in sympathy: he knew how it felt to be hungry over a period of time. “Hey skinny, you‘re just skin and bones, huh boy ?” And it was a boy - he could see now. At the word ‘bones’, the dog’s ears pricked up: he wagged harder and put his head on one side, looking expectant. “No, I’m sorry,” Sam laughed. “I don’t have a bone for you. Is that your name, huh? Bones?” The dog thumped his tail in the dirt and yipped happily, standing up straight and shoving his dry nose into Sam. “Okay well I guess you think it should be, if it isn’t your name already. Come on Bonesy, let’s see if I got something for you to eat.”
Sam opened his backpack, and the dog immediately stuck his nose in, whole body wagging now. Sam gave him the fish from a tuna sandwich, which he inhaled without chewing, then licked his lips and looked for more - so Sam gave him the bread too, which he ate in the same fashion.
“No collar huh?” Sam observed. “Where did you come from, Bonesy? You gonna stay with me for a little while?” Bones put his head on one side again, as though trying to understand. He made a whining rumble in his deep chest, thumped his tail, and licked Sam’s hand. When Sam started walked again, Bones followed him, and Sam was quietly pleased.
***
The hut was like something out of a dream - and the presence in his mind throbbed like ‘Here. I have prepared this for you.’ Sam really was going crazy. But there had been rumbles of thunder overhead, the clouds were darker, and Bonesy was shifting uneasily, glancing up at the sky. Sam put his hand on the door, and it opened, swinging inwards like invitation.
Sam’s mouth dropped open a little as shadows sprang from the corners. It was small, clean, woodshavings on the floor, a single clean bunk made up along one wall, a kettle, a sink and an iron stove. He had flashbacks of kindergarten: all those fairytales, kids in the wilderness, secret houses. Well at fourteen he’d dispatched things worse than wolves. Sam was more than willing to chance it. He felt absurdly, personally grateful. Bones huffed happily, ran around the hut a couple of times, dug ineffectually at the floor in one corner before laying down and putting his head on his paws, to all appearances, asleep. Drawn, Sam went to the wooden wall cupboard, opened it to find food. He glanced back over his shoulder, and all around. No further signs of inhabitance. The whole place was neat, as though untouched, as though - waiting for him. There were tins: beans with hotdogs, spaghetti, an unopened jar of peanut butter. Bags of rice and pasta. Sam’s stomach rumbled and his mouth watered. He reached for a tin. And there, at the back, was piece de resistance: a present especially for him. A bag of his favorite food in the world: that special mix of dried banana chips, nuts and raisins and coconuts, which they sold in special stores and which they could never afford, but occasionally he got some on his birthday. Sam tore open the bag and started eating.
Part Three