Fic:Selfish
Title: Selfish
Author: Chosenfire
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off playing with them.
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Prompt: Week 8 Self-Gratification
Word Count: 1026
Characters: Dean, Sam, Buffy
Spoilers: BtVS post season 7, SPN season 2
Summary: For once Dean does something for himself.
A/N: So no I am not using it in a sexual reference, yet. Here is a little something I would like to see played out on the show because as much as I am starting to love Sam the whole abandoning his brother thing really gets on my nerves. I am using the prompt as Dean doing something for himself and not for others (Sammy).
“This is really starting to get old Sammy.” Dean shook his head as he threw his duffle bag by one of the hotel beds they had rented for the night. There was a harshness to his voice and a tightness to his body as he methodically went about undressing for bed eyes locked on the task at hand.
“I’m sorry Dean.” Sam apologized softly but the older Winchester ignored the sincerity in his baby brother’s voice feeling something squeeze his chest as he recognized those words.
How many times had he heard them from Sam, from Dad?
Everyone was sorry, sorry for leaving him, sorry for forgetting him, sorry for not even realizing that he needed them…sorry for not needing him at all.
He was sick of it and he was tired and he was scared.
He didn’t want to wake up again and find Sam not there, to find that his dad was gone, his mom was gone and no one was there for him. He was tired of waking up alone.
“Go to sleep Sammy.” Dean bit out turning his back to Sam was he laid down eyes closing as he pulled the standard issued blanket over his head.
“Dean.” That voice pleaded with him to understand and Dean was tired of understanding.
“Goodnight Sam.” There was a brief silence and relief filled him as he heard Sam get ready for bed. He didn’t want to talk about it or hash out his feelings. Hell he didn’t even want to acknowledge the gapping hole of betrayal.
He just wanted to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He woke up in the middle of the night his stomach growling and moisture gathered at the corner of his eyes. He blinked rapidly in the darkness senses attuning to the steady breathing in the bed beside him. He looked over to see Sam’s dark head.
He was okay, he was safe.
Dean hadn’t failed.
His legs slid to the floor as he sat up the carpet muffling the sound of his steps as he grabbed his duffle bag and tossed it on the bed thankful Sam was exhausted as the guns and daggers he had stashed in the bottom clanked together.
He reached for the zipper doubt whispering in the back of his head as he dug through the bag pulling out the jeans and shirt he had stashed in there the night before. He ignored it pulling the clothes on and stashing a gun into the waistband of the jeans slipping his feet into the muddied shoes he had toed off before he had thrown himself into the bed.
He looked back over at Sam as he slipped the bag over his shoulder and dug into his pockets and threw a wad of cash on his unmade bed. That should be able to hold hi for awhile, at least until he found a way to get some cash of his own.
Looking at his sleeping brother Dean made a decision and once again reached into his pocket this time pulling out the keys to the Impala. These he placed on the nightstand his body going cold as he realized what he was doing.
He was leaving.
Running away.
It was selfish and it was the only thing he could do, the only way he could protect Sam and protect himself.
“Love you bitch.” He whispered knowing Sam didn’t hear him but needing to say the words anyway. He then turned his back on the person he had dedicated his life to and slipped out of the hotel room reaching for his cell phone as he closed the door behind him. He pressed speed dial number 3.
Sam was 1, had always been one and would always be one even when they weren’t talking; he was the first person in Dean’s thoughts each day. If he was safe, if he was happy, if he was okay.
His Dad was number 2 and Dean refused to change that, because he knew the day he did would be the day he said goodbye and he wasn’t ready for that yet.
She was number 3, having pushed Bobby back to 4.
She was his act of selfishness.
She was his.
He had met her in between hunts when Sam was at college. She was training an army and he was trying to put some cash in his pockets. How was he suppose to know he was in a demon bar and the guy he had cheated out of a couple of hundred dollars had a stash of tentacles under his trench coat.
Dean had just thought the guy was self conscious. Not a freaking demon.
Luckily for him the petite blond he had been flirting with him was a Slayer and she carried a shiny axe thing that had almost made him drool.
The next time he had come into town he had brought flowers and a sword, the flowers were for her little sister and the sword was for her.
He had spent a month in that town and when he had left she had made him promise to come back.
He had thought he had lied to her but as he began walking to the bus stop they had driven by a smile slipped his way on his face. He felt lighter; he knew that for once he as doing something for himself and it felt damn good.
Author: Chosenfire
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off playing with them.
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Prompt: Week 8 Self-Gratification
Word Count: 1026
Characters: Dean, Sam, Buffy
Spoilers: BtVS post season 7, SPN season 2
Summary: For once Dean does something for himself.
A/N: So no I am not using it in a sexual reference, yet. Here is a little something I would like to see played out on the show because as much as I am starting to love Sam the whole abandoning his brother thing really gets on my nerves. I am using the prompt as Dean doing something for himself and not for others (Sammy).
“This is really starting to get old Sammy.” Dean shook his head as he threw his duffle bag by one of the hotel beds they had rented for the night. There was a harshness to his voice and a tightness to his body as he methodically went about undressing for bed eyes locked on the task at hand.
“I’m sorry Dean.” Sam apologized softly but the older Winchester ignored the sincerity in his baby brother’s voice feeling something squeeze his chest as he recognized those words.
How many times had he heard them from Sam, from Dad?
Everyone was sorry, sorry for leaving him, sorry for forgetting him, sorry for not even realizing that he needed them…sorry for not needing him at all.
He was sick of it and he was tired and he was scared.
He didn’t want to wake up again and find Sam not there, to find that his dad was gone, his mom was gone and no one was there for him. He was tired of waking up alone.
“Go to sleep Sammy.” Dean bit out turning his back to Sam was he laid down eyes closing as he pulled the standard issued blanket over his head.
“Dean.” That voice pleaded with him to understand and Dean was tired of understanding.
“Goodnight Sam.” There was a brief silence and relief filled him as he heard Sam get ready for bed. He didn’t want to talk about it or hash out his feelings. Hell he didn’t even want to acknowledge the gapping hole of betrayal.
He just wanted to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He woke up in the middle of the night his stomach growling and moisture gathered at the corner of his eyes. He blinked rapidly in the darkness senses attuning to the steady breathing in the bed beside him. He looked over to see Sam’s dark head.
He was okay, he was safe.
Dean hadn’t failed.
His legs slid to the floor as he sat up the carpet muffling the sound of his steps as he grabbed his duffle bag and tossed it on the bed thankful Sam was exhausted as the guns and daggers he had stashed in the bottom clanked together.
He reached for the zipper doubt whispering in the back of his head as he dug through the bag pulling out the jeans and shirt he had stashed in there the night before. He ignored it pulling the clothes on and stashing a gun into the waistband of the jeans slipping his feet into the muddied shoes he had toed off before he had thrown himself into the bed.
He looked back over at Sam as he slipped the bag over his shoulder and dug into his pockets and threw a wad of cash on his unmade bed. That should be able to hold hi for awhile, at least until he found a way to get some cash of his own.
Looking at his sleeping brother Dean made a decision and once again reached into his pocket this time pulling out the keys to the Impala. These he placed on the nightstand his body going cold as he realized what he was doing.
He was leaving.
Running away.
It was selfish and it was the only thing he could do, the only way he could protect Sam and protect himself.
“Love you bitch.” He whispered knowing Sam didn’t hear him but needing to say the words anyway. He then turned his back on the person he had dedicated his life to and slipped out of the hotel room reaching for his cell phone as he closed the door behind him. He pressed speed dial number 3.
Sam was 1, had always been one and would always be one even when they weren’t talking; he was the first person in Dean’s thoughts each day. If he was safe, if he was happy, if he was okay.
His Dad was number 2 and Dean refused to change that, because he knew the day he did would be the day he said goodbye and he wasn’t ready for that yet.
She was number 3, having pushed Bobby back to 4.
She was his act of selfishness.
She was his.
He had met her in between hunts when Sam was at college. She was training an army and he was trying to put some cash in his pockets. How was he suppose to know he was in a demon bar and the guy he had cheated out of a couple of hundred dollars had a stash of tentacles under his trench coat.
Dean had just thought the guy was self conscious. Not a freaking demon.
Luckily for him the petite blond he had been flirting with him was a Slayer and she carried a shiny axe thing that had almost made him drool.
The next time he had come into town he had brought flowers and a sword, the flowers were for her little sister and the sword was for her.
He had spent a month in that town and when he had left she had made him promise to come back.
He had thought he had lied to her but as he began walking to the bus stop they had driven by a smile slipped his way on his face. He felt lighter; he knew that for once he as doing something for himself and it felt damn good.