Lost and Found
Title: Lost and Found
Summary: After being severely disfigured during a hunt, Dean hides himself away before finding reassurance from an unlikely source.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Permanent injury.
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 400
Author’s Note: Four connected drabbles written for nwspaprtaxis's drabble prompt - basically, horribly burned Dean hides in Sam's hoodie and finds acceptance from an animal of my choice. It was supposed to be one drabble, but in my defense, the awesome full prompt itself was drabble length and she said I could write as many drabbles as I wanted...
~~~
Looking at Dean filled Sam with rage.
Dean used to be proud. He’d stroll into a bar like he owned the place, get anything he wanted with an easy smile and a mischievous wink.
Now Dean was a shadow, silently tucked behind Sam. Sam’s over-sized hoodie hung over him, a shield against pitying stares.
Long sleeves fell past fingers that struggled to form a fist, could no longer grip a gun. The hood shrouded muscle-deep scars and an eye that would never again see.
Not only had this been done to Dean, but Sam hadn’t been able to stop it.
~~~
Every night, the nightmare replayed.
A simple salt and burn. The last shovel dug, the casket splintered open. Dean wiped away sweat while smiling at his own wisecracks.
A twig snapped and an invisible force threw Sam back.
Futile struggles and unheard pleas shattered the night’s silence. Sam could only watch as gas splashed over Dean’s face, dripped down his arms, drenched his shirt.
Lying green eyes met Sam’s, promising it’d be okay just before Dean was hurtled into the open grave.
The lighter’s flame sparked, reflected in the demon’s glassy black eyes.
Sam still woke up screaming Dean’s name.
~~~
Dean kept hunting to save people. Sam kept hunting for Dean.
An old cemetery plot simmered. They collapsed into straw, the barn a refuge from the storm. Smoke clung, sweeping nightmares to the forefront.
The hood was jerked from Dean’s head. He pulled his gun as a goose waddled around, craning its neck. Dean shied away, waved off the scrutiny.
Undeterred, the goose nuzzled Dean’s outstretched hand, nestling down against him. It gave a honk when he tried to hide back beneath the hood.
Sam’s heart clenched as Dean gave in and rested his scarred hand on the goose’s wing.
~~~
Dean saw what was broken. Sam saw a hero, half-blind, half-lame, and more capable than any other hunter.
Neither of them saw the farm owner walk into the barn with a double-barrel. A girl with a strong stance stood behind the weapon.
Old Dean would’ve been working a dozen scenarios to get her into bed. Now, Dean fought with the goose to reclaim his hoodie, freezing at the sound of laughter.
“She’s always had great taste in men.”
Dean glanced up, expecting ridicule, finding only a warm smile.
“Winchesters, right?”
With her offered hand, Sam glimpsed the brother he’d lost.
Summary: After being severely disfigured during a hunt, Dean hides himself away before finding reassurance from an unlikely source.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Permanent injury.
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 400
Author’s Note: Four connected drabbles written for nwspaprtaxis's drabble prompt - basically, horribly burned Dean hides in Sam's hoodie and finds acceptance from an animal of my choice. It was supposed to be one drabble, but in my defense, the awesome full prompt itself was drabble length and she said I could write as many drabbles as I wanted...
~~~
Looking at Dean filled Sam with rage.
Dean used to be proud. He’d stroll into a bar like he owned the place, get anything he wanted with an easy smile and a mischievous wink.
Now Dean was a shadow, silently tucked behind Sam. Sam’s over-sized hoodie hung over him, a shield against pitying stares.
Long sleeves fell past fingers that struggled to form a fist, could no longer grip a gun. The hood shrouded muscle-deep scars and an eye that would never again see.
Not only had this been done to Dean, but Sam hadn’t been able to stop it.
~~~
Every night, the nightmare replayed.
A simple salt and burn. The last shovel dug, the casket splintered open. Dean wiped away sweat while smiling at his own wisecracks.
A twig snapped and an invisible force threw Sam back.
Futile struggles and unheard pleas shattered the night’s silence. Sam could only watch as gas splashed over Dean’s face, dripped down his arms, drenched his shirt.
Lying green eyes met Sam’s, promising it’d be okay just before Dean was hurtled into the open grave.
The lighter’s flame sparked, reflected in the demon’s glassy black eyes.
Sam still woke up screaming Dean’s name.
~~~
Dean kept hunting to save people. Sam kept hunting for Dean.
An old cemetery plot simmered. They collapsed into straw, the barn a refuge from the storm. Smoke clung, sweeping nightmares to the forefront.
The hood was jerked from Dean’s head. He pulled his gun as a goose waddled around, craning its neck. Dean shied away, waved off the scrutiny.
Undeterred, the goose nuzzled Dean’s outstretched hand, nestling down against him. It gave a honk when he tried to hide back beneath the hood.
Sam’s heart clenched as Dean gave in and rested his scarred hand on the goose’s wing.
~~~
Dean saw what was broken. Sam saw a hero, half-blind, half-lame, and more capable than any other hunter.
Neither of them saw the farm owner walk into the barn with a double-barrel. A girl with a strong stance stood behind the weapon.
Old Dean would’ve been working a dozen scenarios to get her into bed. Now, Dean fought with the goose to reclaim his hoodie, freezing at the sound of laughter.
“She’s always had great taste in men.”
Dean glanced up, expecting ridicule, finding only a warm smile.
“Winchesters, right?”
With her offered hand, Sam glimpsed the brother he’d lost.