SPN Fic - "Manitou"
Title: Manitou
Author: mad_server
Rating: R for a bit of language
Characters: Sam, Dean, Bobby
Pairing: None
Disclaimer: Still don't own Supernatural. (I would have noticed, right?)
A/N: This is a follow-up to another fic, Out of There. I finished it up as a birthday gift for i_speak_tongue, who shares some of my kinks, which makes me happy. A giant thank you goes out to nativestar, who beta'd this for me lightning fast and on zero notice.
Summary: The boys need Bobby's help with a manitou. Dean is just getting over the flu.
A manitou is pulling some shit up in Colorado, so that's where they go next.
Sam drives the whole way, insists on driving, doesn't meet with any resistance. Dean is quiet in the passenger's seat, not really better yet. He sleeps for a lot of the drive, misses some good scenery, whole forests changing colour in the cold air, but Sam supposes he's seen enough scenery to last him.
Up through Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, and now they're in Bobby's part of the world. Sam knows Dean can't hunt yet, he's going to need some more time, and Sam also knows a manitou isn't something you want to tangle with alone, so he calls Bobby up and then takes them over.
Dean wakes up as they're pulling into Bobby's yard. It's after one a.m, but Bobby will be waiting up. Dean doesn't look surprised, just dog-tired as he shifts in the seat and stretches.
'Bobby's,' he says.
'Yeah,' says Sam, not sure if their being here will please Dean, ready to defend his decision if it comes to it. Dean just coughs though, rubs his face.
'You missed Toltec Mounds,' Sam says after awhile.
Dean's face cracks into a fond smile.
'Man. You didn't stop, did you?'
'Nah.'
Sam thinks about Toltec Mounds, and their first hunt together without Dad, who'd been off dealing with a poltergeist in Tennessee. Ancient burial ground, angry spirits, and Sam and Dean put them to rest all on their own. Whenever Sam thinks of that trip, he remembers scads and scads of stars, marshmallows over a smoky fire, wind changing directions, and a new sense of his own power.
Sam watches Dean play over the same set of memories, his face pale, eyes bruised with exhaustion but happy, crinkling, full of Toltec Mounds. Then Dean shifts in the seat again, and suddenly his face is lined with pain, and Sam knows he's got to be sore from all that time in the car with those bruises on his back.
'Come on,' says Sam, 'let's go say hi.'
Outside the car, the air is cold and good. Bobby's got a wood fire going. Sam loves that smell, knows Dean loves it too. They knock on the door and wait, their breath billowing white under Bobby's electric light.
The door creaks open, and then there's Bobby, gruff but pleased behind his beard.
'Boys,' he greets them.
He hands them each a beer and leads them over to the fireplace, and somehow they all find places to sit amid the stacks of books. Bobby sips his beer and asks stiff, courteous questions about the drive.
The cold air must have irritated Dean's lungs, because when he starts coughing now it's harder than before, and he can't seem to stop. Sam watches as he leans forward in the firelight, shoulders up, face screwed up in pain.
'Son, you sound like shit,' says Bobby, eyeing him.
'I'm fine,' Dean says hoarsely after a minute.
'Is that so,' says Bobby, and his eyes stray over to Sam's.
Dean revises: 'I'm just getting over something is all.' His eyes are watery, and he scrubs at them with his sleeve. To Sam he looks pale and shaken.
'I hope you're not planning on stalking a manitou like that,' says Bobby, the whites of his eyes showing under his hat. 'He'll hear you coming a mile off.'
'I'll take something,' Dean says, rubbing his chest now and grimacing.
Bobby watches him for a minute, then speaks carefully. 'You want to be at the top of your game for a manitou,' he says. 'Ain't exactly the easter bunny.'
Sam takes a breath.
'Actually, Bobby, I was sort of hoping you could help us out with this one.' Sam can feel Dean's eyes on him but he doesn't look over. 'I think we might have bitten off more than we can chew.'
'Course I'll help you, Sam,' says Bobby, and Sam thinks he sounds a bit relieved.
Now Sam risks a look at Dean, and sees his eyebrows drawing together.
'What, you're benching me?' Dean croaks.
Sam shrugs.
'Fuck that shit,' Dean says, getting to his feet. Then his face drains of all color. He blinks owlishly and grabs at the mantelpiece, and then Sam and Bobby are both beside him, hands lowering him to the couch, gently pushing his head down between his knees.
'Is he OK?' Bobby whispers to Sam, his hand on Dean's shoulder.
'He'll be fine,' Sam murmurs. 'It's just the flu.'
An awkward moment passes, no sound but the crackle of the fire and Dean's heavy breathing. Then at last Dean straightens up, and glances from Sam to Bobby, shamefaced and queasy.
'Bed?' asks Sam.
'I'm easy.'
They say goodnight, and this time Dean lets Sam help him up off the couch. He leans into Sam as they make their way down the hall to Bobby's spare room, and Sam can feel him trembling with exertion, knows he's running on empty. Into the room, musty with more books, and Sam sits Dean down on the bed, and gets to work on his boots, Dean watching him vacantly.
'You see my point?' Sam asks, loosening the laces, and to his great credit, he doesn't sound smug.
Boots off, pants off, and Dean gets under the covers, dark blue nubbly bedspread. Takes a deep breath, itchy in his lungs, and lets it out slowly.
'Maybe.'
Sam gets undressed, gets into the other bed and knows that he's won, that he and Bobby will take on the manitou and Dean, for once, has recognized his limits.
---
end
Author: mad_server
Rating: R for a bit of language
Characters: Sam, Dean, Bobby
Pairing: None
Disclaimer: Still don't own Supernatural. (I would have noticed, right?)
A/N: This is a follow-up to another fic, Out of There. I finished it up as a birthday gift for i_speak_tongue, who shares some of my kinks, which makes me happy. A giant thank you goes out to nativestar, who beta'd this for me lightning fast and on zero notice.
Summary: The boys need Bobby's help with a manitou. Dean is just getting over the flu.
A manitou is pulling some shit up in Colorado, so that's where they go next.
Sam drives the whole way, insists on driving, doesn't meet with any resistance. Dean is quiet in the passenger's seat, not really better yet. He sleeps for a lot of the drive, misses some good scenery, whole forests changing colour in the cold air, but Sam supposes he's seen enough scenery to last him.
Up through Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, and now they're in Bobby's part of the world. Sam knows Dean can't hunt yet, he's going to need some more time, and Sam also knows a manitou isn't something you want to tangle with alone, so he calls Bobby up and then takes them over.
Dean wakes up as they're pulling into Bobby's yard. It's after one a.m, but Bobby will be waiting up. Dean doesn't look surprised, just dog-tired as he shifts in the seat and stretches.
'Bobby's,' he says.
'Yeah,' says Sam, not sure if their being here will please Dean, ready to defend his decision if it comes to it. Dean just coughs though, rubs his face.
'You missed Toltec Mounds,' Sam says after awhile.
Dean's face cracks into a fond smile.
'Man. You didn't stop, did you?'
'Nah.'
Sam thinks about Toltec Mounds, and their first hunt together without Dad, who'd been off dealing with a poltergeist in Tennessee. Ancient burial ground, angry spirits, and Sam and Dean put them to rest all on their own. Whenever Sam thinks of that trip, he remembers scads and scads of stars, marshmallows over a smoky fire, wind changing directions, and a new sense of his own power.
Sam watches Dean play over the same set of memories, his face pale, eyes bruised with exhaustion but happy, crinkling, full of Toltec Mounds. Then Dean shifts in the seat again, and suddenly his face is lined with pain, and Sam knows he's got to be sore from all that time in the car with those bruises on his back.
'Come on,' says Sam, 'let's go say hi.'
Outside the car, the air is cold and good. Bobby's got a wood fire going. Sam loves that smell, knows Dean loves it too. They knock on the door and wait, their breath billowing white under Bobby's electric light.
The door creaks open, and then there's Bobby, gruff but pleased behind his beard.
'Boys,' he greets them.
He hands them each a beer and leads them over to the fireplace, and somehow they all find places to sit amid the stacks of books. Bobby sips his beer and asks stiff, courteous questions about the drive.
The cold air must have irritated Dean's lungs, because when he starts coughing now it's harder than before, and he can't seem to stop. Sam watches as he leans forward in the firelight, shoulders up, face screwed up in pain.
'Son, you sound like shit,' says Bobby, eyeing him.
'I'm fine,' Dean says hoarsely after a minute.
'Is that so,' says Bobby, and his eyes stray over to Sam's.
Dean revises: 'I'm just getting over something is all.' His eyes are watery, and he scrubs at them with his sleeve. To Sam he looks pale and shaken.
'I hope you're not planning on stalking a manitou like that,' says Bobby, the whites of his eyes showing under his hat. 'He'll hear you coming a mile off.'
'I'll take something,' Dean says, rubbing his chest now and grimacing.
Bobby watches him for a minute, then speaks carefully. 'You want to be at the top of your game for a manitou,' he says. 'Ain't exactly the easter bunny.'
Sam takes a breath.
'Actually, Bobby, I was sort of hoping you could help us out with this one.' Sam can feel Dean's eyes on him but he doesn't look over. 'I think we might have bitten off more than we can chew.'
'Course I'll help you, Sam,' says Bobby, and Sam thinks he sounds a bit relieved.
Now Sam risks a look at Dean, and sees his eyebrows drawing together.
'What, you're benching me?' Dean croaks.
Sam shrugs.
'Fuck that shit,' Dean says, getting to his feet. Then his face drains of all color. He blinks owlishly and grabs at the mantelpiece, and then Sam and Bobby are both beside him, hands lowering him to the couch, gently pushing his head down between his knees.
'Is he OK?' Bobby whispers to Sam, his hand on Dean's shoulder.
'He'll be fine,' Sam murmurs. 'It's just the flu.'
An awkward moment passes, no sound but the crackle of the fire and Dean's heavy breathing. Then at last Dean straightens up, and glances from Sam to Bobby, shamefaced and queasy.
'Bed?' asks Sam.
'I'm easy.'
They say goodnight, and this time Dean lets Sam help him up off the couch. He leans into Sam as they make their way down the hall to Bobby's spare room, and Sam can feel him trembling with exertion, knows he's running on empty. Into the room, musty with more books, and Sam sits Dean down on the bed, and gets to work on his boots, Dean watching him vacantly.
'You see my point?' Sam asks, loosening the laces, and to his great credit, he doesn't sound smug.
Boots off, pants off, and Dean gets under the covers, dark blue nubbly bedspread. Takes a deep breath, itchy in his lungs, and lets it out slowly.
'Maybe.'
Sam gets undressed, gets into the other bed and knows that he's won, that he and Bobby will take on the manitou and Dean, for once, has recognized his limits.
---
end