Fic: Just Because William Tell Could do it Doesn’t Mean That I Should
Author: tahirire
Title: Just Because William Tell Could do it Doesn’t Mean That I Should
Word count: 718
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam, Dean
Spoilers: Pre-series. Oh, and guess what. Sam and Dean are brothers.
Disclaimer: Kripke owns the boys, my soul, and most of my brain. I own nothing useful. :-)
Prompt: comment fic the spn_hurtcomfort meme: Teen!Sam spends some time at a camp while Dean and John are on a hunting trip. One night, exhausted!hungry!(maybe even hurt)Dean sneaks into the camp to check on his little brother.
Warnings: Um - H/C, of course!! (but kind of fluffy) My generic major character death fic list.
Just Because William Tell Could do it Doesn’t Mean That I Should
Sam sighs, laying his head down on the pillow for the hundredth time that night, and thinking for just about the same amount of times how much this sucks.
Just because he’s less than happy with the hunting life doesn’t mean they can just leave him behind. Ok, yes, so he had always begged Dad to let him come to camp, but this isn’t …
Sucks.
Sam tries not to groan. He doesn’t want to wake up Tommy in the bunk below. Sam likes soccer. Sam likes baseball. Sam likes academics. Any camp like that would have been fine.
Sam HATES archery.
The first day, he earned the firm hatred of every other kid by not missing the bulls eye once. He knew what he was doing every time he knocked an arrow, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care.
Dad wants me to practice?
Knock, pull, release, bulls eye.
Fine. Practice THIS.
Knock, pull, release, bulls eye.
Now it’s been three days, and ok, the silence from the other kids is annoying, but the real problem is he’s 14 years old, he’s trained like a warrior, and he’s laying awake tonight practically scared to death because, because …
Sam goes ahead and groans.
He’s worried about them. Figures.
Sam shakes his head, distracted from his musings by a small tap on the window beside his ear. Even the bugs here hate me, he thinks. Stupid things are always buzzing ar-
Tap, tap, tap.
“What the …” Sam mutters. He shakes his bangs out of his eyes, peering through the window into the dark. He doesn’t see anything, but the tapping takes on a familiar pattern, and he lets out a gasp of surprise.
He climbs down from the bunk quietly. He knows how to move in the dark. None of the other kids even roll over when he closes the door.
Sam moves quickly into the edge of the woods, searching the shadows anxiously.
“Hey, over here, kiddo.”
“Dean? What’re you doing here? Are we leaving? Is Dad ok? Why’d you -"
“Woah, easy sport, one question at a time!” Sam makes out his brother’s lean outline among the trees, sees Dean’s green eyes glittering in the full moonlight.
Sam grins sheepishly, moving to Dean’s side.
“You’re not leaving,” Dean says. “And Dad’s fine. He doesn’t know I’m here, ok?”
Sam’s grin fades. Dean sounds tired, and now that Sam is closer he can make out small cuts on his brother’s face. Dean is holding his arm funny, and his eyes look a little dazed.
“Dean?” Sam reaches for his brother without hesitation and Dean doesn’t back away. He lets Sam take his elbow and help him to the ground. He gives Sam an embarrassed grin.
“It’s ok, Sammy. Zigged when I shoulda zagged, is all.”
Sam snorts. “Uh-huh.”
Sam moves around to Dean’s side and helps as his brother struggles stiffly to pull his jacket off. Underneath, Dean’s right t-shirt sleeve is shredded and caked with blood.
“Ugh, Dean,” Sam groans.
Dean takes a swat at Sam with his good arm. He looks more relaxed already. “S’nothing,” he slurs as Sam carefully peels the tattered fabric away. “So you ok here, Sammy? They treating you good? Accidentally shoot anybody?”
Sam wrinkles his nose, inspecting the wound. “Fine I guess. All bulls eyes so far.”
Dean smiles knowingly. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, they hate me.” Sam stands smoothly. “I’m going to get some water for that. Please tell me you have a needle and thread.”
Dean nods wearily, settling against the nearest tree trunk.
Sam turns and heads for the mess hall. He’ll be in huge trouble if he gets caught, but he already knows he won’t. He starts making a mental checklist of what he’ll need - hamburgers are somewhere at the top, followed closely by antibiotics from the infirmary ...
And maybe he should stop by the chapel, because Dean is gonna need some serious prayer if John finds out he’s gone.
“Hey, Sammy.”
Sam stops. “Yeah?”
He can’t see Dean anymore, but he can still picture the look on his face.
“Thanks, dude.”
Sam grins to himself in the dark. His family is totally hopeless sometimes.
But maybe camp doesn’t suck quite as much.
Title: Just Because William Tell Could do it Doesn’t Mean That I Should
Word count: 718
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam, Dean
Spoilers: Pre-series. Oh, and guess what. Sam and Dean are brothers.
Disclaimer: Kripke owns the boys, my soul, and most of my brain. I own nothing useful. :-)
Prompt: comment fic the spn_hurtcomfort meme: Teen!Sam spends some time at a camp while Dean and John are on a hunting trip. One night, exhausted!hungry!(maybe even hurt)Dean sneaks into the camp to check on his little brother.
Warnings: Um - H/C, of course!! (but kind of fluffy) My generic major character death fic list.
Just Because William Tell Could do it Doesn’t Mean That I Should
Sam sighs, laying his head down on the pillow for the hundredth time that night, and thinking for just about the same amount of times how much this sucks.
Just because he’s less than happy with the hunting life doesn’t mean they can just leave him behind. Ok, yes, so he had always begged Dad to let him come to camp, but this isn’t …
Sucks.
Sam tries not to groan. He doesn’t want to wake up Tommy in the bunk below. Sam likes soccer. Sam likes baseball. Sam likes academics. Any camp like that would have been fine.
Sam HATES archery.
The first day, he earned the firm hatred of every other kid by not missing the bulls eye once. He knew what he was doing every time he knocked an arrow, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care.
Dad wants me to practice?
Knock, pull, release, bulls eye.
Fine. Practice THIS.
Knock, pull, release, bulls eye.
Now it’s been three days, and ok, the silence from the other kids is annoying, but the real problem is he’s 14 years old, he’s trained like a warrior, and he’s laying awake tonight practically scared to death because, because …
Sam goes ahead and groans.
He’s worried about them. Figures.
Sam shakes his head, distracted from his musings by a small tap on the window beside his ear. Even the bugs here hate me, he thinks. Stupid things are always buzzing ar-
Tap, tap, tap.
“What the …” Sam mutters. He shakes his bangs out of his eyes, peering through the window into the dark. He doesn’t see anything, but the tapping takes on a familiar pattern, and he lets out a gasp of surprise.
He climbs down from the bunk quietly. He knows how to move in the dark. None of the other kids even roll over when he closes the door.
Sam moves quickly into the edge of the woods, searching the shadows anxiously.
“Hey, over here, kiddo.”
“Dean? What’re you doing here? Are we leaving? Is Dad ok? Why’d you -"
“Woah, easy sport, one question at a time!” Sam makes out his brother’s lean outline among the trees, sees Dean’s green eyes glittering in the full moonlight.
Sam grins sheepishly, moving to Dean’s side.
“You’re not leaving,” Dean says. “And Dad’s fine. He doesn’t know I’m here, ok?”
Sam’s grin fades. Dean sounds tired, and now that Sam is closer he can make out small cuts on his brother’s face. Dean is holding his arm funny, and his eyes look a little dazed.
“Dean?” Sam reaches for his brother without hesitation and Dean doesn’t back away. He lets Sam take his elbow and help him to the ground. He gives Sam an embarrassed grin.
“It’s ok, Sammy. Zigged when I shoulda zagged, is all.”
Sam snorts. “Uh-huh.”
Sam moves around to Dean’s side and helps as his brother struggles stiffly to pull his jacket off. Underneath, Dean’s right t-shirt sleeve is shredded and caked with blood.
“Ugh, Dean,” Sam groans.
Dean takes a swat at Sam with his good arm. He looks more relaxed already. “S’nothing,” he slurs as Sam carefully peels the tattered fabric away. “So you ok here, Sammy? They treating you good? Accidentally shoot anybody?”
Sam wrinkles his nose, inspecting the wound. “Fine I guess. All bulls eyes so far.”
Dean smiles knowingly. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, they hate me.” Sam stands smoothly. “I’m going to get some water for that. Please tell me you have a needle and thread.”
Dean nods wearily, settling against the nearest tree trunk.
Sam turns and heads for the mess hall. He’ll be in huge trouble if he gets caught, but he already knows he won’t. He starts making a mental checklist of what he’ll need - hamburgers are somewhere at the top, followed closely by antibiotics from the infirmary ...
And maybe he should stop by the chapel, because Dean is gonna need some serious prayer if John finds out he’s gone.
“Hey, Sammy.”
Sam stops. “Yeah?”
He can’t see Dean anymore, but he can still picture the look on his face.
“Thanks, dude.”
Sam grins to himself in the dark. His family is totally hopeless sometimes.
But maybe camp doesn’t suck quite as much.