Fic: Another One Bites The Dust
Title: Another One Bites The Dust
Author: safiyabat
Rating: PG
Warnings: Guns - not shown
Pairing: None - gen
Word Count: 595
Characters: Sam Winchester. Mentions of John Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sully
Summary: Coda to 11.08, "Just My Imagination." [Spoiler (click to open)]Young Sam's musings as he boards the bus for Milwaukee.
The bus driver gave Sam a weird look when Sam climbed the steps to the bus. “Where’s your mom, kid?” he asked, bushy eyebrows drawing together into one hairy caterpillar across his lined face.
Sam bit his lip. “She’s gone, sir. Passed away.” He could hear the people behind him in the line, not right behind him but a few places back, shifting and getting restless. “I’ve been staying with my aunt and uncle here, but now I’ve got to go stay with my dad in Milwaukee.” He looked up at the man, letting his eyes go as wide as he could.
Just as he’d expected, the driver seemed taken aback. The caterpillar went away, replaced by separate if oversized eyebrows once more. “Ah, geez, kid. I’m sorry. Do you need a hand with that bag? It seems awfully big for a little thing like you.”
“No, thank you, sir. I’ve got it.” He didn’t have to fake the weak smile he gave to the adult as he shuffled his way down the aisle and chose a seat.
The last thing anyone needed was for the currently sympathetic bus driver to figure out that the unaccompanied minor was travelling with two handguns and enough ammunition to make the entire NRA salivate, after all.
He couldn’t put the bag in the overhead bin, but he was short enough that he could keep it under his feet without a problem. A few passengers gave him funny looks, but no one said anything and no one sat next to him either. He guessed that they didn’t want to be accused of having ideas about him.. Now he could sit back for the long ride to Milwaukee and relax.
He wished he had Sully with him. Not, of course, that he could get away with chattering to his imaginary friend while he was on a bus full of people. Dad and Dean hadn’t been very open-minded about the subject; these strangers would probably have him locked up. And really, nine was too old to have an imaginary friend anyway. It was like Dad said. He needed to buckle down, stop thinking about friends and fantasies about life outside of all this and worry more about how he was going to help his family. How he was going to make himself useful.
He needed to grow the hell up.
Yeah, it had been nice to have someone to listen to him. It had been great to have someone to tell him that he didn’t have to be Dad or Dean, that he was “so awesome” the way he was. At the end of the day, though, Sully wasn’t real. Sam had to bring his head out of the clouds. Winchesters didn’t get to be different. They had to hunt monsters, and the only way to hunt monsters was by being like Dad and Dean. He couldn’t afford to hold on to babyish ideas like running away, going to school, being something else. He had to hunt, because that was what they did. There wasn’t any choice in the matter, and pretending differently was just going to make him miserable.
He couldn’t let himself cry over a figment of his imagination. He couldn’t. Dad and Dean would see tear tracks, and then Dean would make fun of him and Dad would lock him in the car or something and this whole thing would be for nothing. Only babies cried.
He took a deep breath and focused on the back of the seat in front of him. He had work to do.
Author: safiyabat
Rating: PG
Warnings: Guns - not shown
Pairing: None - gen
Word Count: 595
Characters: Sam Winchester. Mentions of John Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sully
Summary: Coda to 11.08, "Just My Imagination." [Spoiler (click to open)]Young Sam's musings as he boards the bus for Milwaukee.
The bus driver gave Sam a weird look when Sam climbed the steps to the bus. “Where’s your mom, kid?” he asked, bushy eyebrows drawing together into one hairy caterpillar across his lined face.
Sam bit his lip. “She’s gone, sir. Passed away.” He could hear the people behind him in the line, not right behind him but a few places back, shifting and getting restless. “I’ve been staying with my aunt and uncle here, but now I’ve got to go stay with my dad in Milwaukee.” He looked up at the man, letting his eyes go as wide as he could.
Just as he’d expected, the driver seemed taken aback. The caterpillar went away, replaced by separate if oversized eyebrows once more. “Ah, geez, kid. I’m sorry. Do you need a hand with that bag? It seems awfully big for a little thing like you.”
“No, thank you, sir. I’ve got it.” He didn’t have to fake the weak smile he gave to the adult as he shuffled his way down the aisle and chose a seat.
The last thing anyone needed was for the currently sympathetic bus driver to figure out that the unaccompanied minor was travelling with two handguns and enough ammunition to make the entire NRA salivate, after all.
He couldn’t put the bag in the overhead bin, but he was short enough that he could keep it under his feet without a problem. A few passengers gave him funny looks, but no one said anything and no one sat next to him either. He guessed that they didn’t want to be accused of having ideas about him.. Now he could sit back for the long ride to Milwaukee and relax.
He wished he had Sully with him. Not, of course, that he could get away with chattering to his imaginary friend while he was on a bus full of people. Dad and Dean hadn’t been very open-minded about the subject; these strangers would probably have him locked up. And really, nine was too old to have an imaginary friend anyway. It was like Dad said. He needed to buckle down, stop thinking about friends and fantasies about life outside of all this and worry more about how he was going to help his family. How he was going to make himself useful.
He needed to grow the hell up.
Yeah, it had been nice to have someone to listen to him. It had been great to have someone to tell him that he didn’t have to be Dad or Dean, that he was “so awesome” the way he was. At the end of the day, though, Sully wasn’t real. Sam had to bring his head out of the clouds. Winchesters didn’t get to be different. They had to hunt monsters, and the only way to hunt monsters was by being like Dad and Dean. He couldn’t afford to hold on to babyish ideas like running away, going to school, being something else. He had to hunt, because that was what they did. There wasn’t any choice in the matter, and pretending differently was just going to make him miserable.
He couldn’t let himself cry over a figment of his imagination. He couldn’t. Dad and Dean would see tear tracks, and then Dean would make fun of him and Dad would lock him in the car or something and this whole thing would be for nothing. Only babies cried.
He took a deep breath and focused on the back of the seat in front of him. He had work to do.