SPN: Until The Clock Strikes Midnight by Legoline
Title: Until The Clock Strikes Midnight
Author: legoline
Notes: PG, Gen, 900 words. Set pre-series while Sam's at Stanford. Spoilers for 3x16.
Summary: Sam sends a letter from Stanford.
Until The Clock Strikes Midnight
by Steffi
„There was a letter for you in the mail today,“ Jim had said and Dean had heard the frown on the pastor’s forehead in his voice, “Says on the envelope right here. Your name and my address.”
“Who the hell would send me a letter?” Dean had asked into the phone and from the corner of his eyes had noticed Dad turning his head at him for a second, before he focused back on the road again. Maybe at that moment, Dad had already known what was coming next or if he hadn’t known, had made a silent educated guess at least.
“Judging from the handwriting,” Jim had replied and tried real hard to sound casual about it, “I think it could be from Sam.”
The conversation comes sneaking back into Dean’s mind as he sits on the porch swing and his feet drift across the wooden planks. He opens the envelope with trembling fingers. Dad hasn’t said a word about it, ignored it when Jim handed over the letter and said that he and Dad would be inside talking.
Things have been weird ever since Sammy ran off and decided to join the breakfast cereal gang at Stanford. Nerds United. People Who Like To Leave Their Family Behind. It’s only been three months since Sam packed his bags and took a taxi to the bus station, nevermind that Dean offered to give him a ride to Palo Alto or if not Palo Alto, at least the station.
Being on the road with Dad now that Sam’s no longer occupying the back bench is weird-life should be easier without Sam’s constant whining and the tantrums and complaining about how he’s fed up with the hunt and moving and changing school every other month. But somehow it isn’t.
With Sam gone it feels like Dad doesn’t know what to do with Dean being around. He no longer needs Dean to make sure Sam is safe, and in a way Dean thinks that maybe Dad believes that Dean failed him. That he should have stopped Sam from running off. That it came with Dean’s job discription, and he fucked it up.
Dad likes to hunt on his own, Dean knows that. Dad’s never been a team player, he prefers to go out alone, drink alone, shoot ghosts on his own. As long as Sam was still around, at least they had a common goal, something that tied them together. To both of them, Sam was the most important mission, everything that mattered. These days, Dad looks at Dean differently and Dean can’t help but think that he irritates Dad, has turned into some sort of appendage that Dad would rather shake off.
Dean unfolds the letter slowly and stares at it blindly for a moment before he starts reading.
Hey Dean,
I know you’re probably not expecting this and it might be the last letter in a while, but I thought I should let you know that I’m fine.
I arrived here safely and, after I’d finally figured out exactly where my dorm was I settled in okay. My room mate’s a full-on nerd, as you would say, but he’s nice and not a slob and luckily like me, he doesn’t go partying until the next morning. It’s a good feeling to know that this will be my home for at least the next four years, that I won’t have to pack up my stuff tomorrow to go wherever Dad takes us.
I work part-time in a local bookshop to save up some money. The work isn’t bad, lots of students hang out there. Yes, girls too, in case you were wondering. Even pretty ones.
Making friends is easy at college, too. I wouldn’t have expected that but it’s true. Or true for me at least.
My classes are very cool. I know you’d probably beg to differ but I like them. By the way, there are classes on pop culture here. You told me you’re not the college-type but I think you might like those. Maybe you should give it a try after all.
In case I won’t see you for a while, I just wanted you to know that I’m doing okay. This is what I always wanted to do. I’ll be just fine. And I also wanted to say that you should be careful. There, I said it. Point and laugh at me if you like .
I hope Dad doesn’t take his anger about me going away out on you.
Take care,
Sam
Dean reads the letter again and again, until he’s memorised every word, every single bit of Sam’s handwriting. He doesn’t really understand why Sam wrote the letter, but then again he doesn’t really care either. Most important thing is that Sam wrote him a letter. That’s good enough for Dean. He tucks the letter away into his wallet and that it where it stays.
It’s there when Dean comes to Stanford to ask for Sam’s help. It watches John Winchester’s body going up in flames, and Sam die in his brother’s arms. It goes to the crosssroads with Dean when he sells his soul for Sam’s life, and Dean goes back to reading it every now and then as his year ticks away.
It’s still in Dean’s wallet when the clock strikes midnight and the hellhounds come for him.
-end-
A/N: Once again, this fic went unbeta'd.
The past few weeks I've had a massive writer's block and this story just suddenly came to me this evening and I just...wanted to post it. Sorry for all the mistakes that might be in it. (You can tell me about them and I'll be happy to fix them) I promise I won't make it a habit to post unbeta'd stories. Scout's honour.
Author: legoline
Notes: PG, Gen, 900 words. Set pre-series while Sam's at Stanford. Spoilers for 3x16.
Summary: Sam sends a letter from Stanford.
Until The Clock Strikes Midnight
by Steffi
„There was a letter for you in the mail today,“ Jim had said and Dean had heard the frown on the pastor’s forehead in his voice, “Says on the envelope right here. Your name and my address.”
“Who the hell would send me a letter?” Dean had asked into the phone and from the corner of his eyes had noticed Dad turning his head at him for a second, before he focused back on the road again. Maybe at that moment, Dad had already known what was coming next or if he hadn’t known, had made a silent educated guess at least.
“Judging from the handwriting,” Jim had replied and tried real hard to sound casual about it, “I think it could be from Sam.”
The conversation comes sneaking back into Dean’s mind as he sits on the porch swing and his feet drift across the wooden planks. He opens the envelope with trembling fingers. Dad hasn’t said a word about it, ignored it when Jim handed over the letter and said that he and Dad would be inside talking.
Things have been weird ever since Sammy ran off and decided to join the breakfast cereal gang at Stanford. Nerds United. People Who Like To Leave Their Family Behind. It’s only been three months since Sam packed his bags and took a taxi to the bus station, nevermind that Dean offered to give him a ride to Palo Alto or if not Palo Alto, at least the station.
Being on the road with Dad now that Sam’s no longer occupying the back bench is weird-life should be easier without Sam’s constant whining and the tantrums and complaining about how he’s fed up with the hunt and moving and changing school every other month. But somehow it isn’t.
With Sam gone it feels like Dad doesn’t know what to do with Dean being around. He no longer needs Dean to make sure Sam is safe, and in a way Dean thinks that maybe Dad believes that Dean failed him. That he should have stopped Sam from running off. That it came with Dean’s job discription, and he fucked it up.
Dad likes to hunt on his own, Dean knows that. Dad’s never been a team player, he prefers to go out alone, drink alone, shoot ghosts on his own. As long as Sam was still around, at least they had a common goal, something that tied them together. To both of them, Sam was the most important mission, everything that mattered. These days, Dad looks at Dean differently and Dean can’t help but think that he irritates Dad, has turned into some sort of appendage that Dad would rather shake off.
Dean unfolds the letter slowly and stares at it blindly for a moment before he starts reading.
Hey Dean,
I know you’re probably not expecting this and it might be the last letter in a while, but I thought I should let you know that I’m fine.
I arrived here safely and, after I’d finally figured out exactly where my dorm was I settled in okay. My room mate’s a full-on nerd, as you would say, but he’s nice and not a slob and luckily like me, he doesn’t go partying until the next morning. It’s a good feeling to know that this will be my home for at least the next four years, that I won’t have to pack up my stuff tomorrow to go wherever Dad takes us.
I work part-time in a local bookshop to save up some money. The work isn’t bad, lots of students hang out there. Yes, girls too, in case you were wondering. Even pretty ones.
Making friends is easy at college, too. I wouldn’t have expected that but it’s true. Or true for me at least.
My classes are very cool. I know you’d probably beg to differ but I like them. By the way, there are classes on pop culture here. You told me you’re not the college-type but I think you might like those. Maybe you should give it a try after all.
In case I won’t see you for a while, I just wanted you to know that I’m doing okay. This is what I always wanted to do. I’ll be just fine. And I also wanted to say that you should be careful. There, I said it. Point and laugh at me if you like .
I hope Dad doesn’t take his anger about me going away out on you.
Take care,
Sam
Dean reads the letter again and again, until he’s memorised every word, every single bit of Sam’s handwriting. He doesn’t really understand why Sam wrote the letter, but then again he doesn’t really care either. Most important thing is that Sam wrote him a letter. That’s good enough for Dean. He tucks the letter away into his wallet and that it where it stays.
It’s there when Dean comes to Stanford to ask for Sam’s help. It watches John Winchester’s body going up in flames, and Sam die in his brother’s arms. It goes to the crosssroads with Dean when he sells his soul for Sam’s life, and Dean goes back to reading it every now and then as his year ticks away.
It’s still in Dean’s wallet when the clock strikes midnight and the hellhounds come for him.
-end-
A/N: Once again, this fic went unbeta'd.
The past few weeks I've had a massive writer's block and this story just suddenly came to me this evening and I just...wanted to post it. Sorry for all the mistakes that might be in it. (You can tell me about them and I'll be happy to fix them) I promise I won't make it a habit to post unbeta'd stories. Scout's honour.