Sick. Ew.
So, I am home sick today. *Blames Dr. Steve for coming in to work with a cold ..... AGAIN*
On the other hand, I get to work on fanfic and watch Supernatural as much as I want, because no one else is home to complain at me that I am an obsessed freak. :-)
*Even though I totally am*
... Is it wrong that I was a little glad to miss a paycheck today b/c it means I get to write? *ponders*
So.... this is a little something I threw together due to writer's block, I was hoping that it would help but it really hasn't, but it is a nice little fic anyway, if anyone wants to read it remember comments are love. :-)
Disclaimer: I suck and therefore have nothing to do with Spn in real life, only in my pathetic obsessed brain. Don't sue, just for fun, blah blah blah.
A look at the evolution of Sam and Dean's relationship from Pilot through AHBL. Beta work done by the fabulous
lotr_lemmy.
Mostly, I blame
kroki_refur for this idea, her episode reviews talk constantly (and hysterically) of the ever-present role reversal between SamDean in Spn, and also how so many eps have parallels of each other just all over them.
Smile Again
Sam Winchester stared silently out of the passenger window of his brother's Impala. The steady rain drumming on the metal frame did little to lighten his mood. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the bruises from where the ghost of Constance Welch had nearly ripped out his heart. He wondered helplessly how he would have explained those bruises to Jess. He had tried to come up with a cover story on the ride home - but now he didn't need it. He closed his eyes tight against the pain, the crippling anguish he was feeling. Last night, he had lost everything. And it was all his fault.
Sam could feel Dean's flickering peripheral glances, measuring him. He just wasn't ready to open up to Dean. Not yet. For the last two years the only person he had felt comfortable around had been Jess. And she never even knew me, came the bitter thought. I lied to her, and now she's dead. Dean could never know, he could never tell a soul what he'd done. Even so, he thought, Dean had saved his life. Again. The pain in his heart threatened to overwhelm him. No matter how distant he had kept himself, no matter how he tried to shut his past out of his life, he was glad that his brother was here with him now. With an effort he tried to squash the feelings of guilt he always felt when he thought of the way he had abandoned Dean. They didn't know each other anymore, and it was all his fault. But they were still a team, and they needed each other now more than ever. Everything else would come in time. Maybe this time things could be different. Maybe, eventually, they could learn to be brothers again.
Dean Winchester was just glad the kid had finally fallen asleep, since staring at him constantly while Sam was awake wasn't really an option. Now as he pulled to a stop at the red light, he allowed himself a moment to pour his gaze over his little brother's face. Dean would never admit it to Sam, he had to keep his game face on, after all, but the terror he felt from the previous night had taken up a permanent residence somewhere in between his icy stomach and his tight throat.
Thank you GOD, thank God I turned around, He thought for what must have been the billionth time that hour. He still didn't know why he had done it, just that he knew from long experience what it felt like when something was wrong. Seeing Sam lying on the bed, the flames engulfing the room around him, had brought Dean's absolute worst nightmare back to life with a blistering vengeance. If I lost you, kid ... he thought towards the pale form slumped up against the Impala's passenger window, but he couldn't finish the thought. He couldn't even entertain the possibility. When Sam had left for Stanford, it hurt, hurt like a bitch, but Dean at least had been glad that Sam was finally happy. Hell, he'd even been proud of him. Now he cringed at the thought of all the times Sam had been left alone. Unprotected. He shook his head. That's what Dad was trying to say, he realized. God, Dad had been right all along.
With a start, Dean realized that the light had been green for he could only guess how long. No matter, not like anyone else was on this backroad anyway. Casting one final glance towards his sleeping brother, he eased the Impala back out onto the road. Sam was too pale, and Dean didn't like the way his face was drawn into a grimace, or how his lips were twitching occasionally as though he was arguing with someone. No, someTHING, he thought. He locked eyes with the road, gripping the 67's steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Sam was broken, and no matter how long it took, Dean was going to help fix him. They had looked out for each other once. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He vowed to himself right then and there that he would not rest until he saw Sam smile again.
~~~~
Dean Winchester watched in silence as his brother turned and walked away from him. It is too little, too late. And I'm not alright. But neither are you. He just wasn't ready to open up to Sam, not yet. For the last year the only person he had ever been able to talk to was Sam, but now it felt like his support had been stripped away. He closed his eyes tight against the pain, the crippling anguish he was feeling. Dad is dead, and it's all my fault. Sam could never know, Dean could never tell another soul what he'd heard. The loss of his father, his hero, was tainted by the cold betrayal of the man's last directive. Don't be scared, Dean. What the hell is that supposed to mean, huh? The pain in his heart threatened to overwhelm him. I can't, Dad. I can't do it on my own. Please ... don't ask me.
The pain, the anger inside him becomes too much. The first sound of shattering glass echoes across the junkyard. Then, all restraint is gone and Dean turns the crowbar on the one thing in his life that he feels he can control. We just started being brothers again.
Sam Winchester was just glad Dean finally seemed to be venting as he watched from the window of Bobby's living room. There was no indication, at first, that Dean would respond to his words at all. Then slowly the mask cracked - just a little - and for the first time since they left for Jefferson City, Sam saw echoes of real anguish in his brother's drawn face. The terror he had felt that night felt like a dream now, but the agony on Dean's face was very real.
Thank you GOD, thank God he's letting it out, Sam thought as he watched the crowbar whistle through the air. He still couldn't stand the thought of what had almost happened at the hospital. The sight of Dean lying on the bed, with tubes and machinery all around him made Sam nauseous. His brother, the consummate hunter had been lying there, vunerable and alone. Unprotected. If I had lost you, Dean ... He couldn't even finish the thought. Loosing dad hurt, it hurt like a bitch, and Sam felt guilty as hell. But loosing Dean? Please be ok, man, I need you.
Dean had stopped pounding the Impala and was just standing there, staring like She was going to say something back. Casting one final glance at his anguished brother, Sam turned to head to the kitchen. He didn't like the haunted, haggard look in Dean's eyes, or the way he always seemed to be thinking about something horrible that he couldn't quite bring himself to accept. Dean was broken, and no matter how long it took, Sam was going to help fix him. They looked out for each other - they always had. Now it's more important than ever, because we are all that's left. He vowed to himself right then and there that he would not rest until he saw Dean smile again.
~~~~
Dean Winchester shifted slightly in the slender wooden chair, eyes glittering with unshed tears as he looked at the young man before him. Oh, Sammy. This is all my fault. He just wasn't ready to give up on Sam, not yet. For the last year his father's last words had echoed in his mind every single day. And every day he had promised himself that he would save Sam, he would save Sam because failing would be ... unthinkable. He closed his eyes tight against the pain, the crippling anguish he was feeling. Sam is dead, and it's all my fault. Sam could never know, he could never tell another soul what he was about to do. He knew it was wrong; he knew how he had felt about it. But he didn't care. The pain in his heart threatened to overwhelm him.
God please, please don't hate me for this ... Seeing Sam, lying still and cold on the mattress, it was all so unbelievable. The warmth had long faded and Dean couldn't bring himself to touch his baby brother anymore, so instead he just watched, watched Sammy sleep just like he always had when he was worried about him. Dean's worst nightmare had come true, beyond any reasonable denial. Sam had been taken from him. He had been alone. Unprotected. I lost you, Sammy... what am I supposed to do?
Dean stood and headed towards the waiting Impala. Casting one final glance at his brother's still form, he knew he had made his choice. He didn't like the absence of Sam in the room, the way there was no one left to talk to, or how Sam just looked so damn peaceful after had just left Dean all alone. Sam was broken, and no matter how long it took, Dean was going to help fix him. It was his job, his responsibility. He never shied away from it, never resented it. It was what he was born to do, and he had promised. He vowed to himself right then and there that no matter what the cost, he would see Sam smile again.
On the other hand, I get to work on fanfic and watch Supernatural as much as I want, because no one else is home to complain at me that I am an obsessed freak. :-)
*Even though I totally am*
... Is it wrong that I was a little glad to miss a paycheck today b/c it means I get to write? *ponders*
So.... this is a little something I threw together due to writer's block, I was hoping that it would help but it really hasn't, but it is a nice little fic anyway, if anyone wants to read it remember comments are love. :-)
Disclaimer: I suck and therefore have nothing to do with Spn in real life, only in my pathetic obsessed brain. Don't sue, just for fun, blah blah blah.
A look at the evolution of Sam and Dean's relationship from Pilot through AHBL. Beta work done by the fabulous
lotr_lemmy.
Mostly, I blame
kroki_refur for this idea, her episode reviews talk constantly (and hysterically) of the ever-present role reversal between SamDean in Spn, and also how so many eps have parallels of each other just all over them.
Smile Again
Sam Winchester stared silently out of the passenger window of his brother's Impala. The steady rain drumming on the metal frame did little to lighten his mood. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the bruises from where the ghost of Constance Welch had nearly ripped out his heart. He wondered helplessly how he would have explained those bruises to Jess. He had tried to come up with a cover story on the ride home - but now he didn't need it. He closed his eyes tight against the pain, the crippling anguish he was feeling. Last night, he had lost everything. And it was all his fault.
Sam could feel Dean's flickering peripheral glances, measuring him. He just wasn't ready to open up to Dean. Not yet. For the last two years the only person he had felt comfortable around had been Jess. And she never even knew me, came the bitter thought. I lied to her, and now she's dead. Dean could never know, he could never tell a soul what he'd done. Even so, he thought, Dean had saved his life. Again. The pain in his heart threatened to overwhelm him. No matter how distant he had kept himself, no matter how he tried to shut his past out of his life, he was glad that his brother was here with him now. With an effort he tried to squash the feelings of guilt he always felt when he thought of the way he had abandoned Dean. They didn't know each other anymore, and it was all his fault. But they were still a team, and they needed each other now more than ever. Everything else would come in time. Maybe this time things could be different. Maybe, eventually, they could learn to be brothers again.
Dean Winchester was just glad the kid had finally fallen asleep, since staring at him constantly while Sam was awake wasn't really an option. Now as he pulled to a stop at the red light, he allowed himself a moment to pour his gaze over his little brother's face. Dean would never admit it to Sam, he had to keep his game face on, after all, but the terror he felt from the previous night had taken up a permanent residence somewhere in between his icy stomach and his tight throat.
Thank you GOD, thank God I turned around, He thought for what must have been the billionth time that hour. He still didn't know why he had done it, just that he knew from long experience what it felt like when something was wrong. Seeing Sam lying on the bed, the flames engulfing the room around him, had brought Dean's absolute worst nightmare back to life with a blistering vengeance. If I lost you, kid ... he thought towards the pale form slumped up against the Impala's passenger window, but he couldn't finish the thought. He couldn't even entertain the possibility. When Sam had left for Stanford, it hurt, hurt like a bitch, but Dean at least had been glad that Sam was finally happy. Hell, he'd even been proud of him. Now he cringed at the thought of all the times Sam had been left alone. Unprotected. He shook his head. That's what Dad was trying to say, he realized. God, Dad had been right all along.
With a start, Dean realized that the light had been green for he could only guess how long. No matter, not like anyone else was on this backroad anyway. Casting one final glance towards his sleeping brother, he eased the Impala back out onto the road. Sam was too pale, and Dean didn't like the way his face was drawn into a grimace, or how his lips were twitching occasionally as though he was arguing with someone. No, someTHING, he thought. He locked eyes with the road, gripping the 67's steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Sam was broken, and no matter how long it took, Dean was going to help fix him. They had looked out for each other once. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He vowed to himself right then and there that he would not rest until he saw Sam smile again.
~~~~
Dean Winchester watched in silence as his brother turned and walked away from him. It is too little, too late. And I'm not alright. But neither are you. He just wasn't ready to open up to Sam, not yet. For the last year the only person he had ever been able to talk to was Sam, but now it felt like his support had been stripped away. He closed his eyes tight against the pain, the crippling anguish he was feeling. Dad is dead, and it's all my fault. Sam could never know, Dean could never tell another soul what he'd heard. The loss of his father, his hero, was tainted by the cold betrayal of the man's last directive. Don't be scared, Dean. What the hell is that supposed to mean, huh? The pain in his heart threatened to overwhelm him. I can't, Dad. I can't do it on my own. Please ... don't ask me.
The pain, the anger inside him becomes too much. The first sound of shattering glass echoes across the junkyard. Then, all restraint is gone and Dean turns the crowbar on the one thing in his life that he feels he can control. We just started being brothers again.
Sam Winchester was just glad Dean finally seemed to be venting as he watched from the window of Bobby's living room. There was no indication, at first, that Dean would respond to his words at all. Then slowly the mask cracked - just a little - and for the first time since they left for Jefferson City, Sam saw echoes of real anguish in his brother's drawn face. The terror he had felt that night felt like a dream now, but the agony on Dean's face was very real.
Thank you GOD, thank God he's letting it out, Sam thought as he watched the crowbar whistle through the air. He still couldn't stand the thought of what had almost happened at the hospital. The sight of Dean lying on the bed, with tubes and machinery all around him made Sam nauseous. His brother, the consummate hunter had been lying there, vunerable and alone. Unprotected. If I had lost you, Dean ... He couldn't even finish the thought. Loosing dad hurt, it hurt like a bitch, and Sam felt guilty as hell. But loosing Dean? Please be ok, man, I need you.
Dean had stopped pounding the Impala and was just standing there, staring like She was going to say something back. Casting one final glance at his anguished brother, Sam turned to head to the kitchen. He didn't like the haunted, haggard look in Dean's eyes, or the way he always seemed to be thinking about something horrible that he couldn't quite bring himself to accept. Dean was broken, and no matter how long it took, Sam was going to help fix him. They looked out for each other - they always had. Now it's more important than ever, because we are all that's left. He vowed to himself right then and there that he would not rest until he saw Dean smile again.
~~~~
Dean Winchester shifted slightly in the slender wooden chair, eyes glittering with unshed tears as he looked at the young man before him. Oh, Sammy. This is all my fault. He just wasn't ready to give up on Sam, not yet. For the last year his father's last words had echoed in his mind every single day. And every day he had promised himself that he would save Sam, he would save Sam because failing would be ... unthinkable. He closed his eyes tight against the pain, the crippling anguish he was feeling. Sam is dead, and it's all my fault. Sam could never know, he could never tell another soul what he was about to do. He knew it was wrong; he knew how he had felt about it. But he didn't care. The pain in his heart threatened to overwhelm him.
God please, please don't hate me for this ... Seeing Sam, lying still and cold on the mattress, it was all so unbelievable. The warmth had long faded and Dean couldn't bring himself to touch his baby brother anymore, so instead he just watched, watched Sammy sleep just like he always had when he was worried about him. Dean's worst nightmare had come true, beyond any reasonable denial. Sam had been taken from him. He had been alone. Unprotected. I lost you, Sammy... what am I supposed to do?
Dean stood and headed towards the waiting Impala. Casting one final glance at his brother's still form, he knew he had made his choice. He didn't like the absence of Sam in the room, the way there was no one left to talk to, or how Sam just looked so damn peaceful after had just left Dean all alone. Sam was broken, and no matter how long it took, Dean was going to help fix him. It was his job, his responsibility. He never shied away from it, never resented it. It was what he was born to do, and he had promised. He vowed to himself right then and there that no matter what the cost, he would see Sam smile again.