Fic: Thirteen at Dinner (15/15)
Masterpost
Chapter XIII: Ralph Ashby
Epilogue
“So Isabelle was right,” Sam mumbled. “Sort of.”
“What are you talking about?” Dean tilted Sam’s head to allow himself easier access, and gently pressed an ice pack to his cheek.
“Frances. She needed to know that Avery was… Better, I guess. Better than Joyce. Braver than Joyce.”
“You think she was brave?” Dean noticed Sam shifting uncomfortably, and inched closer so Sam’s head could settle on his shoulder. “Sam, all she agreed to do was talk her father out of cheating people.”
“And she kept her head long enough to burn Colum’s hair.” Dean scoffed. “Hey, I know it’s not a lot, but for her it’s a big step.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Dean curled one arm around Sam’s back. Sam settled into it easily. “What about the locket?”
“Avery gave it to me. Without anybody’s DNA it’s just a locket. We can try to destroy it, I guess. And toss it into the ocean or something if we can’t.”
“With our luck, a mermaid’ll pick it up.”
“Mermaids are real?”
“Who the hell knows?” Dean sighed. “I’m glad this is over, kiddo. I think we’re going to stay clear of Massachusetts for a while. And the next case we take is going to be a simple salt-and-burn. I’ve had about enough of playing detective.”
“Yeah… Hey, Dean?”
“What?”
“You’re the best big brother ever.”
And Sam, the manipulative little brat, followed that up with snuggling right up against Dean, knowing that Dean wouldn’t make him move until the ice pack had melted, and then Sam could just pretend to be asleep.
Dean shrugged. Why not? After the last week, they both deserved to not have to be Winchester-manly for a bit.
“Hey, Dean?”
“What, princess?”
“Read to me.”
Dean suppressed a snicker. He should’ve known that one was coming.
“Sure, kiddo. As long as it’s not an Agatha Christie.”
Notes and Acknowledgements
Chapter XIII: Ralph Ashby
Epilogue
“So Isabelle was right,” Sam mumbled. “Sort of.”
“What are you talking about?” Dean tilted Sam’s head to allow himself easier access, and gently pressed an ice pack to his cheek.
“Frances. She needed to know that Avery was… Better, I guess. Better than Joyce. Braver than Joyce.”
“You think she was brave?” Dean noticed Sam shifting uncomfortably, and inched closer so Sam’s head could settle on his shoulder. “Sam, all she agreed to do was talk her father out of cheating people.”
“And she kept her head long enough to burn Colum’s hair.” Dean scoffed. “Hey, I know it’s not a lot, but for her it’s a big step.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Dean curled one arm around Sam’s back. Sam settled into it easily. “What about the locket?”
“Avery gave it to me. Without anybody’s DNA it’s just a locket. We can try to destroy it, I guess. And toss it into the ocean or something if we can’t.”
“With our luck, a mermaid’ll pick it up.”
“Mermaids are real?”
“Who the hell knows?” Dean sighed. “I’m glad this is over, kiddo. I think we’re going to stay clear of Massachusetts for a while. And the next case we take is going to be a simple salt-and-burn. I’ve had about enough of playing detective.”
“Yeah… Hey, Dean?”
“What?”
“You’re the best big brother ever.”
And Sam, the manipulative little brat, followed that up with snuggling right up against Dean, knowing that Dean wouldn’t make him move until the ice pack had melted, and then Sam could just pretend to be asleep.
Dean shrugged. Why not? After the last week, they both deserved to not have to be Winchester-manly for a bit.
“Hey, Dean?”
“What, princess?”
“Read to me.”
Dean suppressed a snicker. He should’ve known that one was coming.
“Sure, kiddo. As long as it’s not an Agatha Christie.”
Notes and Acknowledgements