Fic: What women want (11.07 episode coda)
I always enjoy case based episodes and I like the old school creepy ones...[Spoiler (click to open)]and what is creepier than ghost possessed people in scary masks? The bunny was terrifying, as was the clown. I'm not a huge fan of Sheriff Donna, but she's starting to grow on me. She's hiding a lot underneath that chipper, darn tootin' mask.
Anyway, suffice to say I enjoyed the ep and I'm bummed that we don't get a new one this week. I guess that's because you're all too busy in America baking pie and stuffing turkey to watch television on Wednesday night? On which note, I hope my American Flisties have a wonderful Thanksgiving on Thursday...mmm turkey...
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Title: What women want
Author: zara_zee
Beta: Not beta’d
Genre(s): Episode coda
Rating: PG-13, Gen
Spoilers: Episode 11.07
Word Count: ~930
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing in the sand box.
Summary: In which Sam tries not to dwell on the cage by talking to Dean about Sheriff Donna Hanscum, gender studies and what women really want from a hot, unattached drifter.
--
The side window sparkles with raindrops and the swoosh of the windscreen wipers is a soothing white-noise. Sam stares out into the darkness and tries not to think about the cage; about Michael and Adam and Lucifer. The finality of his brother’s tone echoes in his mind and he would love nothing more than to obey Dean’s edict to leave the Cage right alone; he’s just not sure he’ll be able to.
When Sam’s wall came down and the fractured parts of his mind were forced to re-integrate, Sam barely hung onto his sanity; nightmares, hallucinations, the whole enchilada. It’s little wonder he ended up in a psychiatric facility. The thought of having anything to do with the Cage makes his heart beat triple time and his brow break out in a cold sweat. But if Michael and Lucifer know how to stop the Darkness, surely he owes it to the world to brave their wrath. After all, it’s his fault the Darkness is here, it’s his responsibility to make it right.
“Hey,” Dean says, “we’ll figure it out. You and me. We’ll rely on us.”
Sam flashes his brother a smile. It isn’t even remotely convincing if the downward pull of Dean’s lips is any indication.
Sam decides that a complete change of subject is in order. “I think I might’ve upset Donna earlier,” he says.
Dean raises an eyebrow. “You?” he says. “Mr Sensitive People-Person?”
“Yeah. We were talking about Doug--”
“Old Doug or New Doug?” Dean interrupts.
Sam huffs. “Well that’s kind of the point. I sort of suggested that maybe she wasn’t giving New Doug a fair chance because of Old Doug and she basically told me to go screw myself.”
Dean snorts. “She did not,” he says. “This is darn tootin’ Donna we’re talking about, that kind of language ain’t in her vocabulary.”
Sam grins at his brother. “Okay, she told me to ‘mind my own beeswax’.”
“Yeah that sounds more like the Donna we know and love.”
“Yeah. She just…New Doug seems like a nice guy, you know? Seems like he deserves a chance.”
An expression that Sam can’t quite fathom flickers across Dean’s face.
“Why?” Dean says.
Sam frowns. “What?”
“Why does he deserve a chance?”
“Oh come on,” Sam says, “I know Old Doug was an asshole, but not all men--”
Dean doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head and quirks his eyebrows.
“Okay, okay,” Sam throws his hands up, “she doesn’t owe any guy jack shit, not even if he’s nice. And being persistent doesn’t mean a guy deserves to be rewarded, but I really think New Doug is genuine,” Dean raises an eyebrow and Sam sighs. “And it’s not my call. She’s the one at risk if New Doug turns out to be abusive, so if she feels safer keeping him at arm’s length, that’s her choice. She's not obliged to be nice to him just because he's interested in her.”
Sam stares out at the rain again, his memories scattering back to Jessica and his time at Stanford. “What I don’t get,” he pauses, considers the least offensive way to continue, “I did a couple semesters of Gender Studies at college, but you…you’re not exactly a poster child for healthy interpersonal relationships. So…”
Dean looks over at him with a sad smile. “You got a lot to learn about being an unattached drifter, young Padawan. If you wanna get laid regularly, it ain’t about what you want; it’s about what she wants. And sometimes what she wants is to complain long and loud about her shitty asshole of an ex.”
“Huh,” Sam says. “So all those nights you didn’t come back to the motel room, you were really just playing Dear Abby for some pissed off woman?”
Dean shrugs. “They have their chick flick moment, I listen and sympathize and then, most of the time, they decide that a night of no-strings-attached sex with the hot, understanding drifter, who they never have to see again, is the perfect pick-me-up. You see Sammy? I’m her fantasy. Whatever she wants, that’s what I give her.”
Sam processes that for a moment and then says, “So what you’re saying is, you don’t use women, you let women use you?”
“It’s all just a fantasy,” Dean says after a beat, “and everybody goes home happy.”
“And what about when it doesn’t lead to sex? You’re seriously telling me that if you do all that listening and don’t get anything out of it, that you’re okay with that?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t happen very often, but if it does, I got a perfectly functional right hand. Trust me, she’s still happy and I’m still her fantasy, even if she goes home alone.”
Sam turns back to the side window and watches a droplet of water trail down the glass. Dean’s idea of intimacy is actually incredibly sad. His brother clearly has no idea how to have a genuine relationship; he just plays whatever role his partner of the night wants him to play, much like he plays an FBI agent or a Park Ranger when the need arises. Dean plays the part and he moves on. And that’s that. He may as well start charging. Sam slides a sideways look at his brother’s profile and wonders if he ever does charge.
Unbidden, an image of Lucifer’s smirking face looms large in Sam’s mind. “Well, hello again, Bunk Buddy,” the devil says, in Sam’s imagination. “Long time no spoon.”
Sam swallows. Donna sure wasn’t wrong; their lives really are just one giant poop-fest. And Sam suspects that things are about to get a whole lot worse.
--
Anyway, suffice to say I enjoyed the ep and I'm bummed that we don't get a new one this week. I guess that's because you're all too busy in America baking pie and stuffing turkey to watch television on Wednesday night? On which note, I hope my American Flisties have a wonderful Thanksgiving on Thursday...mmm turkey...
--
Title: What women want
Author: zara_zee
Beta: Not beta’d
Genre(s): Episode coda
Rating: PG-13, Gen
Spoilers: Episode 11.07
Word Count: ~930
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing in the sand box.
Summary: In which Sam tries not to dwell on the cage by talking to Dean about Sheriff Donna Hanscum, gender studies and what women really want from a hot, unattached drifter.
--
The side window sparkles with raindrops and the swoosh of the windscreen wipers is a soothing white-noise. Sam stares out into the darkness and tries not to think about the cage; about Michael and Adam and Lucifer. The finality of his brother’s tone echoes in his mind and he would love nothing more than to obey Dean’s edict to leave the Cage right alone; he’s just not sure he’ll be able to.
When Sam’s wall came down and the fractured parts of his mind were forced to re-integrate, Sam barely hung onto his sanity; nightmares, hallucinations, the whole enchilada. It’s little wonder he ended up in a psychiatric facility. The thought of having anything to do with the Cage makes his heart beat triple time and his brow break out in a cold sweat. But if Michael and Lucifer know how to stop the Darkness, surely he owes it to the world to brave their wrath. After all, it’s his fault the Darkness is here, it’s his responsibility to make it right.
“Hey,” Dean says, “we’ll figure it out. You and me. We’ll rely on us.”
Sam flashes his brother a smile. It isn’t even remotely convincing if the downward pull of Dean’s lips is any indication.
Sam decides that a complete change of subject is in order. “I think I might’ve upset Donna earlier,” he says.
Dean raises an eyebrow. “You?” he says. “Mr Sensitive People-Person?”
“Yeah. We were talking about Doug--”
“Old Doug or New Doug?” Dean interrupts.
Sam huffs. “Well that’s kind of the point. I sort of suggested that maybe she wasn’t giving New Doug a fair chance because of Old Doug and she basically told me to go screw myself.”
Dean snorts. “She did not,” he says. “This is darn tootin’ Donna we’re talking about, that kind of language ain’t in her vocabulary.”
Sam grins at his brother. “Okay, she told me to ‘mind my own beeswax’.”
“Yeah that sounds more like the Donna we know and love.”
“Yeah. She just…New Doug seems like a nice guy, you know? Seems like he deserves a chance.”
An expression that Sam can’t quite fathom flickers across Dean’s face.
“Why?” Dean says.
Sam frowns. “What?”
“Why does he deserve a chance?”
“Oh come on,” Sam says, “I know Old Doug was an asshole, but not all men--”
Dean doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head and quirks his eyebrows.
“Okay, okay,” Sam throws his hands up, “she doesn’t owe any guy jack shit, not even if he’s nice. And being persistent doesn’t mean a guy deserves to be rewarded, but I really think New Doug is genuine,” Dean raises an eyebrow and Sam sighs. “And it’s not my call. She’s the one at risk if New Doug turns out to be abusive, so if she feels safer keeping him at arm’s length, that’s her choice. She's not obliged to be nice to him just because he's interested in her.”
Sam stares out at the rain again, his memories scattering back to Jessica and his time at Stanford. “What I don’t get,” he pauses, considers the least offensive way to continue, “I did a couple semesters of Gender Studies at college, but you…you’re not exactly a poster child for healthy interpersonal relationships. So…”
Dean looks over at him with a sad smile. “You got a lot to learn about being an unattached drifter, young Padawan. If you wanna get laid regularly, it ain’t about what you want; it’s about what she wants. And sometimes what she wants is to complain long and loud about her shitty asshole of an ex.”
“Huh,” Sam says. “So all those nights you didn’t come back to the motel room, you were really just playing Dear Abby for some pissed off woman?”
Dean shrugs. “They have their chick flick moment, I listen and sympathize and then, most of the time, they decide that a night of no-strings-attached sex with the hot, understanding drifter, who they never have to see again, is the perfect pick-me-up. You see Sammy? I’m her fantasy. Whatever she wants, that’s what I give her.”
Sam processes that for a moment and then says, “So what you’re saying is, you don’t use women, you let women use you?”
“It’s all just a fantasy,” Dean says after a beat, “and everybody goes home happy.”
“And what about when it doesn’t lead to sex? You’re seriously telling me that if you do all that listening and don’t get anything out of it, that you’re okay with that?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t happen very often, but if it does, I got a perfectly functional right hand. Trust me, she’s still happy and I’m still her fantasy, even if she goes home alone.”
Sam turns back to the side window and watches a droplet of water trail down the glass. Dean’s idea of intimacy is actually incredibly sad. His brother clearly has no idea how to have a genuine relationship; he just plays whatever role his partner of the night wants him to play, much like he plays an FBI agent or a Park Ranger when the need arises. Dean plays the part and he moves on. And that’s that. He may as well start charging. Sam slides a sideways look at his brother’s profile and wonders if he ever does charge.
Unbidden, an image of Lucifer’s smirking face looms large in Sam’s mind. “Well, hello again, Bunk Buddy,” the devil says, in Sam’s imagination. “Long time no spoon.”
Sam swallows. Donna sure wasn’t wrong; their lives really are just one giant poop-fest. And Sam suspects that things are about to get a whole lot worse.
--