They pass a lake, on their way from one town to the next. In the light of the setting sun, the water looks warm, inviting. It catches Sam's eye and he finds himself watching. Dean, too. He slows the car down. It's not a huge lake, but it's big enough that they can coast and keep it in their sights.
Then, he stops, idling in neutral. His hands on the wheel, he glances from the water to Sam. He licks his lips, once, as if trying to decide if he's going to say something.
Sam doesn't know what this is about, but he waits. He's good just being here, and there's something peaceful about the water that soothes him where he's ached.
"I had this dream," Dean starts, and Sam remembers. He'd forgotten, in the rush to get where they'd been asked to go, and afterwards. But now he recalls the half-second of wistfulness, so rare, when Dean spoke about fishing. The stillness, the silence, the ease of letting go.
It's not much, but it's what Sam can do. He opens the passenger door and steps out. Waits for Dean. "We could wade. Swim."
Takes Dean a beat or three, but then he cracks a grin. A hint of the exuberance he used to crackle with. "Could try and rig some fishing poles together. See who gets the biggest catch."
"Smaller catch scales and cleans?" Something strange, both excitement and relief, is building inside Sam. "And cooks."
"We can make a fire on the edge," Dean says, cutting the engine, stepping out, somehow lighter, feeling what Sam feels. "Been a while since we caught our dinner."
"We can take it as it comes," Sam says. He waits for what Dean will say to that, and though Dean's gazing out at the water, his sideways smile is all for Sam.
"Sounds good," he says. "Sounds real good."
It's a start, and as Sam runs, he sheds the weight of the world behind him.
They pass a lake, on their way from one town to the next. In the light of the setting sun, the water looks warm, inviting. It catches Sam's eye and he finds himself watching. Dean, too. He slows the car down. It's not a huge lake, but it's big enough that they can coast and keep it in their sights.
Then, he stops, idling in neutral. His hands on the wheel, he glances from the water to Sam. He licks his lips, once, as if trying to decide if he's going to say something.
Sam doesn't know what this is about, but he waits. He's good just being here, and there's something peaceful about the water that soothes him where he's ached.
"I had this dream," Dean starts, and Sam remembers. He'd forgotten, in the rush to get where they'd been asked to go, and afterwards. But now he recalls the half-second of wistfulness, so rare, when Dean spoke about fishing. The stillness, the silence, the ease of letting go.
It's not much, but it's what Sam can do. He opens the passenger door and steps out. Waits for Dean. "We could wade. Swim."
Takes Dean a beat or three, but then he cracks a grin. A hint of the exuberance he used to crackle with. "Could try and rig some fishing poles together. See who gets the biggest catch."
"Smaller catch scales and cleans?" Something strange, both excitement and relief, is building inside Sam. "And cooks."
"We can make a fire on the edge," Dean says, cutting the engine, stepping out, somehow lighter, feeling what Sam feels. "Been a while since we caught our dinner."
"We can take it as it comes," Sam says. He waits for what Dean will say to that, and though Dean's gazing out at the water, his sideways smile is all for Sam.
"Sounds good," he says. "Sounds real good."
It's a start, and as Sam runs, he sheds the weight of the world behind him.
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This whole meme has cheered me up SO much!
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