Supernatural fic: Peaceful Easy Feeling
Characters: John, Dean, Sam
Rating: G
Length: 609 words
Status: Complete
Notes: Written for spnspringfling 2011
Peaceful Easy Feeling
They roll through Texas on their way to a gig in Arizona. They’re low on funds, can’t afford refrigerant for the A/C system. The windows are down instead, hot air blasting through the car as they drive, a low whistle pitched just over the strains of guitar coming through the old speakers. They sit in silence, Sam staring out the window, Dean’s fingers tapping restlessly against the wheel. There’s a lot of memories in this part of Texas - a poltergeist that broke three of Dean’s ribs, the bus depot where Sam left his family for Stanford.
It’s not all bad, though. Back before everything fell apart, Texas held nothing but the memories of a long, lazy summer. John got his hands on a summer rental on the edge of an old cattle ranch, nothing but pasture for miles and miles, dry grass and open skies.
They would spar until noon, when the sun was high and it was too hot to even think about moving. In the afternoon they would take turns with John’s old .45, shooting cans off old fence posts on the back edge of the property, shots echoing like thunder in the still air. Sam burned, skin red like a tomato, and sulked when it became apparent that Dean and John couldn’t sunburn if they tried. They turned tan, and grinned when Sam’s burns started peeling. Dean laughed as he threw Sam the aloe vera, and John only had a touch of melancholy in his voice when he told him that Mary once got sunburned in March.
That summer, Sam worked his way through several different summer reading lists - The Great Gatsby, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Odyssey, The Catcher in the Rye. He’d read on the porch while Dean and John worked on the Impala, leaning over the engine bay until it was too dark to see.
They took care of a few ghosts, old cowboys and a gunslinger or two put down with salt and fire under the press of a vast sky glittering with stars. The Impala’s headlights cut through darkness, the only artificial light for miles, and it felt like they were alone in the world, just the three of them and Don Henley singing on the radio. John always drove with the windows down to let the cool night air in, and Dean would stick his hand out the window like a little kid, trying to catch the wind. Sam would stick his tongue out at him and push his hair out of his eyes to watch the prairie rush by.
They stayed for four months, a long, lazy stretch of what passed as domesticity for the Winchesters, before they packed up and left. They were all quiet as they put the rental in the rearview mirror, chasing a lead on a werewolf in the Dakotas. It felt like leaving home. It didn’t matter - they left, and didn’t come back.
Nine years later, with John dead and the hunt for Yellow Eyes stretching on with no end in sight, they’re in Texas again. They’re headed west instead of north, but that doesn’t matter. For a moment or two, when Dean pops in an Eagles tape, it feels like that summer. It smoothes over the rough edges left behind by the last year, and it’s enough.
Sam turns from the window and smiles, and Dean’s fingers pause in their restless tapping. The A/C is still off and it’s hotter than blazes, but that doesn’t matter. Don Henley’s singing about wasted time, and they’ve got a long way to go. Wrapped in a nostalgic kind of peace, they roll on towards the hunt.
Feedback is love!
Rating: G
Length: 609 words
Status: Complete
Notes: Written for spnspringfling 2011
Peaceful Easy Feeling
They roll through Texas on their way to a gig in Arizona. They’re low on funds, can’t afford refrigerant for the A/C system. The windows are down instead, hot air blasting through the car as they drive, a low whistle pitched just over the strains of guitar coming through the old speakers. They sit in silence, Sam staring out the window, Dean’s fingers tapping restlessly against the wheel. There’s a lot of memories in this part of Texas - a poltergeist that broke three of Dean’s ribs, the bus depot where Sam left his family for Stanford.
It’s not all bad, though. Back before everything fell apart, Texas held nothing but the memories of a long, lazy summer. John got his hands on a summer rental on the edge of an old cattle ranch, nothing but pasture for miles and miles, dry grass and open skies.
They would spar until noon, when the sun was high and it was too hot to even think about moving. In the afternoon they would take turns with John’s old .45, shooting cans off old fence posts on the back edge of the property, shots echoing like thunder in the still air. Sam burned, skin red like a tomato, and sulked when it became apparent that Dean and John couldn’t sunburn if they tried. They turned tan, and grinned when Sam’s burns started peeling. Dean laughed as he threw Sam the aloe vera, and John only had a touch of melancholy in his voice when he told him that Mary once got sunburned in March.
That summer, Sam worked his way through several different summer reading lists - The Great Gatsby, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Odyssey, The Catcher in the Rye. He’d read on the porch while Dean and John worked on the Impala, leaning over the engine bay until it was too dark to see.
They took care of a few ghosts, old cowboys and a gunslinger or two put down with salt and fire under the press of a vast sky glittering with stars. The Impala’s headlights cut through darkness, the only artificial light for miles, and it felt like they were alone in the world, just the three of them and Don Henley singing on the radio. John always drove with the windows down to let the cool night air in, and Dean would stick his hand out the window like a little kid, trying to catch the wind. Sam would stick his tongue out at him and push his hair out of his eyes to watch the prairie rush by.
They stayed for four months, a long, lazy stretch of what passed as domesticity for the Winchesters, before they packed up and left. They were all quiet as they put the rental in the rearview mirror, chasing a lead on a werewolf in the Dakotas. It felt like leaving home. It didn’t matter - they left, and didn’t come back.
Nine years later, with John dead and the hunt for Yellow Eyes stretching on with no end in sight, they’re in Texas again. They’re headed west instead of north, but that doesn’t matter. For a moment or two, when Dean pops in an Eagles tape, it feels like that summer. It smoothes over the rough edges left behind by the last year, and it’s enough.
Sam turns from the window and smiles, and Dean’s fingers pause in their restless tapping. The A/C is still off and it’s hotter than blazes, but that doesn’t matter. Don Henley’s singing about wasted time, and they’ve got a long way to go. Wrapped in a nostalgic kind of peace, they roll on towards the hunt.
Feedback is love!