SPN Fanfic: Falling Fast and Falling Free
Title: Falling Fast and Falling Free
Genre/pairing: Gen, I guess, though Lisa’s there.
Rating: PG? I have no idea how to rate my stories.
Prompt: nightmares
Word count: ~600
Summary: Dean spends a year dreaming about Sam falling.
Spoilers: to s6
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue me.
Note: Written to fill the “nightmares” prompt on my dark_bingo card. Probably not very dark for a dark-fic. Title from a Nick Drake song.
Tonight they’re at the top of the John Hancock building in Chicago. Dean looks around at the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights of the city sparkling beyond. He watches the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier turn in slow revolutions. He remembers this place, they crashed a wedding here when Sam was only 17. One of the few times he got Sam to yank the stick out of his ass long enough to have some fun. They’d stuffed themselves on hors d’oeuvres and told bemused strangers how happy they were for their distant cousin Malia.
He watches as Sam tosses back a stuffed mushroom cap, leans against the window to his back, but the window is gone. One minute he’s laughing, flushed and happy with their con, and the next he’s falling over backwards into nothingness.
He reaches for Sam, he always reaches for Sam, but his hands grasp empty air.
Dean snaps awake. In her sleep, Lisa reaches for his hand.
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Tonight they’re on the bridge outside of Jericho, arguing about Mom and Dad. Dean can feel the cool November wind on his cheeks, bringing with it the stink of the sludgy river below.
They’re fighting again, still, and Sam’s eyes are bright with resentment and unremembered loss, but his eyes are not yet haunted by fire.
Dean wonders why are we arguing? I just got you back but he shoves his brother anyway, slams him against a rusted strut that’s suddenly not there. One minute Sam is yelling at him, eyes flashing in the moonlight, and the next he’s falling backwards into the riverbed below. Dean grabs for Sam’s jacket to reel him back in but his hands come back empty, holding nothing.
Dean snaps awake. In her sleep, Lisa snuggles closer and places a hand over his skittering heart.
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Tonight they’re standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon, far from any tourists or guardrails. They might as well be alone in the world. Sam is sucking all the majesty out of the moment by telling him about the boring documentary he watched on how the gorge was formed.
We’ve never been here, Dean thinks, and wonders how that’s possible.
One minute Sam is talking in the sunlight, earnestly waving his arms to suggest the water that cut the canyon, and the next he’s dropping over the side of the gorge, falling and falling all the way down.
Dean snaps awake. He reaches for the glass of whiskey on the bedside table.
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Dean tries going to bed hungry and going to bed full, going to bed sober and going to bed drunk. Sleeping pills, caffeine pills, TV on, TV off. He never manages to stop Sam from falling through his dreams. Every night the scenery changes but the ending is always the same.
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Sam’s been back for three days and Dean should be happy, but he can’t shake the feeling that his brother’s not his brother.
Still, after dreaming about Sam free-falling through space, night after night for a year, he’s almost eager to go to bed, to sleep deep and dreamless.
But.
Tonight they’re standing on top of a water tower, waiting for a suicidal spirit to show. Dean is sick of ledges and bridges, ready for his dreams to start taking place at sea level. At least Sam won’t fall anymore, anyway. He leans against the railing, looks up at a shooting star, and says, “Hey Sammy, remember the time-”.
He twists awake to the swooping sensation of vertigo. Remembers the dream, the fall, falling while watching his brother lean over to look, with a smirk on his face.
Genre/pairing: Gen, I guess, though Lisa’s there.
Rating: PG? I have no idea how to rate my stories.
Prompt: nightmares
Word count: ~600
Summary: Dean spends a year dreaming about Sam falling.
Spoilers: to s6
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue me.
Note: Written to fill the “nightmares” prompt on my dark_bingo card. Probably not very dark for a dark-fic. Title from a Nick Drake song.
Tonight they’re at the top of the John Hancock building in Chicago. Dean looks around at the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights of the city sparkling beyond. He watches the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier turn in slow revolutions. He remembers this place, they crashed a wedding here when Sam was only 17. One of the few times he got Sam to yank the stick out of his ass long enough to have some fun. They’d stuffed themselves on hors d’oeuvres and told bemused strangers how happy they were for their distant cousin Malia.
He watches as Sam tosses back a stuffed mushroom cap, leans against the window to his back, but the window is gone. One minute he’s laughing, flushed and happy with their con, and the next he’s falling over backwards into nothingness.
He reaches for Sam, he always reaches for Sam, but his hands grasp empty air.
Dean snaps awake. In her sleep, Lisa reaches for his hand.
---------------------------------------
Tonight they’re on the bridge outside of Jericho, arguing about Mom and Dad. Dean can feel the cool November wind on his cheeks, bringing with it the stink of the sludgy river below.
They’re fighting again, still, and Sam’s eyes are bright with resentment and unremembered loss, but his eyes are not yet haunted by fire.
Dean wonders why are we arguing? I just got you back but he shoves his brother anyway, slams him against a rusted strut that’s suddenly not there. One minute Sam is yelling at him, eyes flashing in the moonlight, and the next he’s falling backwards into the riverbed below. Dean grabs for Sam’s jacket to reel him back in but his hands come back empty, holding nothing.
Dean snaps awake. In her sleep, Lisa snuggles closer and places a hand over his skittering heart.
---------------------------------------
Tonight they’re standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon, far from any tourists or guardrails. They might as well be alone in the world. Sam is sucking all the majesty out of the moment by telling him about the boring documentary he watched on how the gorge was formed.
We’ve never been here, Dean thinks, and wonders how that’s possible.
One minute Sam is talking in the sunlight, earnestly waving his arms to suggest the water that cut the canyon, and the next he’s dropping over the side of the gorge, falling and falling all the way down.
Dean snaps awake. He reaches for the glass of whiskey on the bedside table.
---------------------------------------
Dean tries going to bed hungry and going to bed full, going to bed sober and going to bed drunk. Sleeping pills, caffeine pills, TV on, TV off. He never manages to stop Sam from falling through his dreams. Every night the scenery changes but the ending is always the same.
---------------------------------------
Sam’s been back for three days and Dean should be happy, but he can’t shake the feeling that his brother’s not his brother.
Still, after dreaming about Sam free-falling through space, night after night for a year, he’s almost eager to go to bed, to sleep deep and dreamless.
But.
Tonight they’re standing on top of a water tower, waiting for a suicidal spirit to show. Dean is sick of ledges and bridges, ready for his dreams to start taking place at sea level. At least Sam won’t fall anymore, anyway. He leans against the railing, looks up at a shooting star, and says, “Hey Sammy, remember the time-”.
He twists awake to the swooping sensation of vertigo. Remembers the dream, the fall, falling while watching his brother lean over to look, with a smirk on his face.