(no subject)
So I posted a mix to the fanmix comm, and I had written drabbles to go with all the songs, and and and then I forgot what I did with them. And then I found them in a weird folder on my computer - but the mix hasn't been approved to the comm, so I can't edit the post / add them in. So I'm posting it here!
Once the mix's post is up, I'll link to it / edit these into it / etc.
Mix post is here if you're a member of the comm, file is here if not. I'm too lazy to format it all over again and post it here; in the future I'll post them here at the same time so as not to have to friggin' worry about that crap.
Preseries/Stanford!era!Dean. No spoilers beyond the Pilot. Harmless fun, and titles are overrated (but this has one if only because the mix they're for has one; Don't Say Goodbye).
--------
It feels like something about to break, like a string pulled too tightly, ready to snap. It’s in the way Dad’s silent and researching if he’s here, and gone the rest of the time. It’s in the way Sam’s buzzing with excitement under the surface, rebelling and trying to prove to Dad, to Dean, to himself, that he’s an adult now. It’s building up to something, something big, and Dean’s tired, he’s too friggin’ tired to try to keep it under control anymore, to keep having to pick a side, when all he wants is his family together, happy, safe.
-
And he knew, he knew exactly what Sam was up to, all this time. He saw the college applications and scholarship papers - Hell, Sam even told him about it once. It just never seemed real. And now there’s a fight lingering in the air and Sam’s trying to say something, to say goodbye, and he doesn’t want to hear it. They part ways without those words, because this isn’t goodbye, no matter what Dad says - you walk out that door, you don’t come back, you hear me?. He doesn’t watch Sam go - he leaves first, so he doesn’t have to.
-
When Sam’s gone, it’s weird, it’s all wrong. It’s like everything he knows is different, because Sam has always been his purpose - taking care of him, keeping him safe. It wasn’t just his job. Now it’s like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, who he even is without his little brother there to define his days. And Dad’s no help with that, with anything. He hardly says a word anymore and the silence is stifling, heavy. They bounce, hunt to hunt to hunt; they rarely stop. Something’s about to break, but this time Dean thinks maybe it’s him.
-
He calls, once, fingers clumsy on the buttons, drunk, and he misdials five times before he remembers Sam’s on speed dial, and then he has nothing to say when Sam answers, quiet “Dean are you okay?” as if he’d only call if he was dying. And maybe he is, the sky spinning overhead but he doesn’t remember falling down. He says “Sammy,” he says “Miss you,” and Sam just says “This isn’t a good time,” voice hushed, and then he’s gone, and the line is dead, and Dean watches the stars spin and tries to remember why he keeps going.
-
Sometimes before Sam was gone they’d drive around all night listening to the radio, talk, windows down and the summer air sticky-hot while they both pretended everything was fine. Back home - the motel or the rental they were at for the day week month - Dad would be waiting, maybe, reading and waiting to yell because Sam always provoked fights, but for just a little while, everything felt fine. Sam wasn’t rebelling, Dad wasn’t yelling, and Dean didn’t have to stand between. Dad doesn’t yell anymore, and Dean doesn’t talk anymore. And it isn’t the same driving alone in the dark.
-
He calls again, sober and he wishes he was drunk. Sam doesn’t say much, and Dean tries to remember how to form words. It’s awkward, and it’s never been awkward with Sam; it’s like a knife in his chest, except he isn’t bleeding, and he thinks if he was, maybe he wouldn’t care much. “Dean, you can’t keep calling me,” and Dean says nothing, stares at the dirt under his boots, “I need to do this alone,” and Dean doesn’t say anything, and Sam sighs and apologies and hangs up before Dean can ask why alone is so much better.
-
Dad notices that something’s up only after months and months, a year. He splits them up, says he needs to do some solo hunting for a while. As if that’s going to fix him. As if the problem isn’t just going to get worse. Sam left, and now Dad’s splitting them up even further, and Dean’s never liked being alone, but now he’s more alone than he’s ever been, and he feels invisible. He wonders if he’s a ghost, sometimes - if he died, and no one noticed. He starts talking again, calls Dad “just to check in” probably too often.
-
Dean’s always been a good actor. He’s great at pretending everything’s fine, when he makes the effort. He visits Pastor Jim because he knows Sam still calls him, and he puts on a good show -Jim says Sam asked about him. He doesn’t want Sam to think he’s anything other than okay. When he leaves, he turns the music up and wishes someone would yell at him to turn it down. He doesn’t call Sam. He doesn’t call Dad. He goes to a bar, and he leaves with a pretty girl on his arm, because he’s tired of being alone.
-
He remembers lying like this with Sam’s tiny frame curled at his side when they were just kids, lying on the hood of the car and watching for shooting stars. He wonders if Sam remembers things like that -probably not, because Sam’s too busy now. Sam doesn’t care. It feels like the end of something, staring at the sky and realizing Sam doesn’t want anything to do with him. It feels like maybe he’s the only person left anywhere, until a car rattles by on the road he’s pulled off by. When the headlights turn the corner, he’s alone again.
-
He calls Sam when he’s drunk again, because he can’t seem to help it. This time he talks, and he hears himself asking Sam to come back, to come home. Sam doesn’t say anything for a long time, and there’s just the sound of his breath on the phone, the sound of the squeaking ceiling fan in Dean’s motel room, the dripping sink, the buzzing lamp. And then “No,” and then there’s a long explanation, Sam asking him to understand why he’s doing this, but by then Dean’s not listening. He’s heard it before. He wanted to hear something new.
-
When Dad stops checking in, when he stops answering, when his phone goes out of service, Dean knows he has options. He’s getting better at this solo stuff, he is. He could go looking on his own. But he finds himself at Sam’s apartment, breaking in instead of knocking, asking for help when he could try to keep his dignity. He’ll give up a little dignity if he doesn’t have to be alone, even just for a while. “I can’t do this alone,” and “I don’t want to,” and it’s worth it. They’re Sam’n’Dean again, at least for a while.
-
Sam’s changed. It’s subtle things, mostly. It’s the way he talks, the words he uses. It’s the light in his eyes when he talks about Jessica, about his friends and his classes and his future. Dean used to wish he’d kept Sam with him, made him stay, but now he thinks maybe it’s worth it, worth it all. Maybe Sam can be happy, maybe everything will work out okay in the end, and he’ll be safe. He promises himself to let Sam go back without a fuss after the weekend. Maybe Sam won’t shut him out again this time. Maybe.
-
Fire has a way of stealing things from Winchesters, taking people from them like it thinks it has the right. Mom, and Dean still remembers that night, it still keeps him awake sometimes, remembering. Jessica, and he never got to know her, but Sam loved her, and that's enough to make Dean hurt, too, hurt for Sam and for not really knowing the girl he loved. It almost took Sam. That's what's keeping him awake, lying on his back and stares at the empty ceiling, to the soft sounds of traffic and Sam's breathing. He won't let anything take Sam.
Once the mix's post is up, I'll link to it / edit these into it / etc.
Mix post is here if you're a member of the comm, file is here if not. I'm too lazy to format it all over again and post it here; in the future I'll post them here at the same time so as not to have to friggin' worry about that crap.
Preseries/Stanford!era!Dean. No spoilers beyond the Pilot. Harmless fun, and titles are overrated (but this has one if only because the mix they're for has one; Don't Say Goodbye).
--------
It feels like something about to break, like a string pulled too tightly, ready to snap. It’s in the way Dad’s silent and researching if he’s here, and gone the rest of the time. It’s in the way Sam’s buzzing with excitement under the surface, rebelling and trying to prove to Dad, to Dean, to himself, that he’s an adult now. It’s building up to something, something big, and Dean’s tired, he’s too friggin’ tired to try to keep it under control anymore, to keep having to pick a side, when all he wants is his family together, happy, safe.
-
And he knew, he knew exactly what Sam was up to, all this time. He saw the college applications and scholarship papers - Hell, Sam even told him about it once. It just never seemed real. And now there’s a fight lingering in the air and Sam’s trying to say something, to say goodbye, and he doesn’t want to hear it. They part ways without those words, because this isn’t goodbye, no matter what Dad says - you walk out that door, you don’t come back, you hear me?. He doesn’t watch Sam go - he leaves first, so he doesn’t have to.
-
When Sam’s gone, it’s weird, it’s all wrong. It’s like everything he knows is different, because Sam has always been his purpose - taking care of him, keeping him safe. It wasn’t just his job. Now it’s like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, who he even is without his little brother there to define his days. And Dad’s no help with that, with anything. He hardly says a word anymore and the silence is stifling, heavy. They bounce, hunt to hunt to hunt; they rarely stop. Something’s about to break, but this time Dean thinks maybe it’s him.
-
He calls, once, fingers clumsy on the buttons, drunk, and he misdials five times before he remembers Sam’s on speed dial, and then he has nothing to say when Sam answers, quiet “Dean are you okay?” as if he’d only call if he was dying. And maybe he is, the sky spinning overhead but he doesn’t remember falling down. He says “Sammy,” he says “Miss you,” and Sam just says “This isn’t a good time,” voice hushed, and then he’s gone, and the line is dead, and Dean watches the stars spin and tries to remember why he keeps going.
-
Sometimes before Sam was gone they’d drive around all night listening to the radio, talk, windows down and the summer air sticky-hot while they both pretended everything was fine. Back home - the motel or the rental they were at for the day week month - Dad would be waiting, maybe, reading and waiting to yell because Sam always provoked fights, but for just a little while, everything felt fine. Sam wasn’t rebelling, Dad wasn’t yelling, and Dean didn’t have to stand between. Dad doesn’t yell anymore, and Dean doesn’t talk anymore. And it isn’t the same driving alone in the dark.
-
He calls again, sober and he wishes he was drunk. Sam doesn’t say much, and Dean tries to remember how to form words. It’s awkward, and it’s never been awkward with Sam; it’s like a knife in his chest, except he isn’t bleeding, and he thinks if he was, maybe he wouldn’t care much. “Dean, you can’t keep calling me,” and Dean says nothing, stares at the dirt under his boots, “I need to do this alone,” and Dean doesn’t say anything, and Sam sighs and apologies and hangs up before Dean can ask why alone is so much better.
-
Dad notices that something’s up only after months and months, a year. He splits them up, says he needs to do some solo hunting for a while. As if that’s going to fix him. As if the problem isn’t just going to get worse. Sam left, and now Dad’s splitting them up even further, and Dean’s never liked being alone, but now he’s more alone than he’s ever been, and he feels invisible. He wonders if he’s a ghost, sometimes - if he died, and no one noticed. He starts talking again, calls Dad “just to check in” probably too often.
-
Dean’s always been a good actor. He’s great at pretending everything’s fine, when he makes the effort. He visits Pastor Jim because he knows Sam still calls him, and he puts on a good show -Jim says Sam asked about him. He doesn’t want Sam to think he’s anything other than okay. When he leaves, he turns the music up and wishes someone would yell at him to turn it down. He doesn’t call Sam. He doesn’t call Dad. He goes to a bar, and he leaves with a pretty girl on his arm, because he’s tired of being alone.
-
He remembers lying like this with Sam’s tiny frame curled at his side when they were just kids, lying on the hood of the car and watching for shooting stars. He wonders if Sam remembers things like that -probably not, because Sam’s too busy now. Sam doesn’t care. It feels like the end of something, staring at the sky and realizing Sam doesn’t want anything to do with him. It feels like maybe he’s the only person left anywhere, until a car rattles by on the road he’s pulled off by. When the headlights turn the corner, he’s alone again.
-
He calls Sam when he’s drunk again, because he can’t seem to help it. This time he talks, and he hears himself asking Sam to come back, to come home. Sam doesn’t say anything for a long time, and there’s just the sound of his breath on the phone, the sound of the squeaking ceiling fan in Dean’s motel room, the dripping sink, the buzzing lamp. And then “No,” and then there’s a long explanation, Sam asking him to understand why he’s doing this, but by then Dean’s not listening. He’s heard it before. He wanted to hear something new.
-
When Dad stops checking in, when he stops answering, when his phone goes out of service, Dean knows he has options. He’s getting better at this solo stuff, he is. He could go looking on his own. But he finds himself at Sam’s apartment, breaking in instead of knocking, asking for help when he could try to keep his dignity. He’ll give up a little dignity if he doesn’t have to be alone, even just for a while. “I can’t do this alone,” and “I don’t want to,” and it’s worth it. They’re Sam’n’Dean again, at least for a while.
-
Sam’s changed. It’s subtle things, mostly. It’s the way he talks, the words he uses. It’s the light in his eyes when he talks about Jessica, about his friends and his classes and his future. Dean used to wish he’d kept Sam with him, made him stay, but now he thinks maybe it’s worth it, worth it all. Maybe Sam can be happy, maybe everything will work out okay in the end, and he’ll be safe. He promises himself to let Sam go back without a fuss after the weekend. Maybe Sam won’t shut him out again this time. Maybe.
-
Fire has a way of stealing things from Winchesters, taking people from them like it thinks it has the right. Mom, and Dean still remembers that night, it still keeps him awake sometimes, remembering. Jessica, and he never got to know her, but Sam loved her, and that's enough to make Dean hurt, too, hurt for Sam and for not really knowing the girl he loved. It almost took Sam. That's what's keeping him awake, lying on his back and stares at the empty ceiling, to the soft sounds of traffic and Sam's breathing. He won't let anything take Sam.