SN canon drabbles: 1.13-1.16
masterlist
previously
hoarded these constants into morning only to find them gone
He can’t believe Dean got serious enough to tell a girl the truth. Dean bore his soul to Cassie, and she spat on him. She threw him out, called him a liar and a freak.
No wonder he’s so flippant. He let himself show and got nothing but scorn. It pisses Sam off, and he wants to strangle Cassie for giving his brother even less self-worth.
Dean still cares for the bitch, still comes running the instant she calls, despite how much she hurt him. He’s endlessly forgiving, and Sam doesn’t understand. Sam ran all the way to California because he got tired of never being right, but Dean always took what Dad gave, never shied away or questioned. Just like he takes what Sam gives, and so rarely ever strikes back.
So it doesn’t surprise Sam at all that Dean chose a woman who’d forever find fault with him. It’s all he knows how to take, and Sam almost hates Dad for that. And himself.
Sam wants to break Cassie apart, but he’ll refrain. He’ll act like a gleeful little brother, giving big brother crap. He’ll play the part like Dean expects, no matter how much he wants to do otherwise. Cassie turned him away once and Sam can tell she’s not smart enough to see what a mistake that was, so she’ll do it again. And Sam’ll be here to help Dean, for a while longer, at least.
bronco that would not be broken of dancing
Dean dying has been Sam’s worst dream for years. Even the premonitions of Jessica dying never quite equaled nightmares from Sam’s childhood. He imagined every possibility a creative boy could think of, and even some his waking hours couldn’t comprehend.
Sam has watched Dean die at least once a month since he was eight years old, and none have ever terrified him as much as the vision he has while pinned behind the bookshelf in Max’s house. Every vision he’s had has come true.
Dean will die, brain blown out by his own gun.
Dean will die, while Sam’s trapped, helpless to stop it.
Dean will die. Sam watches it happen seconds before it will, and he screams. Sam has just gotten Dean back from death, and refuses to lose him again.
The bookshelf moves away.
deathchild
She wasn’t used to strangers. None had ever entered the house before, their sanctuary. She looked at him for a moment before he noticed her-he was prettier than Daddy or Lee or Jarrod, cleaner. She wanted to trace his jaw, to have his face decorate her bedroom, next to that picture the lady-cop gave her.
But then he saw her and she watched him write her off as a little girl, as no threat. She’d never be as big or strong as Lee and Jarrod and Daddy, but Missy was already quicker.
So, pretty or not, she’d show him. And after he died, maybe Daddy’d let her have those jewel-like eyes.
things unknown but longed for still
They’re his boys. He can see them as babies while he looks at the men before him. Sam’s gotten even taller, and still isn’t done filling out. He hesitates-and that hurts John, Sammy being unsure. It’s his own damn fault though, the way things stand. John wishes he had less pride, so he could apologize.
But Dean-John has never done a thing good enough to be rewarded with this boy, ever-forgiving. He’s boundless with his absolution. John and Sam, they’ve taken advantage of that for years, and will continue to do so, and he’ll never stop letting them.
John pulls Dean close, wishing the months ahead could be easy, simple. But everything is just getting started, and Dean-
John turns to Sammy. He’s the point, the beginning. It’s all about him. But Dean-he’s the key.
They’re his boys. He sees his and Mary’s babies in these strong men. It’ll come down to split-second decisions, and he has to hope they’ll be fast enough.
Sam wraps his arms around John, and he remembers when this man was small enough to hold in one hand, and so very fragile.
onwards
previously
hoarded these constants into morning only to find them gone
He can’t believe Dean got serious enough to tell a girl the truth. Dean bore his soul to Cassie, and she spat on him. She threw him out, called him a liar and a freak.
No wonder he’s so flippant. He let himself show and got nothing but scorn. It pisses Sam off, and he wants to strangle Cassie for giving his brother even less self-worth.
Dean still cares for the bitch, still comes running the instant she calls, despite how much she hurt him. He’s endlessly forgiving, and Sam doesn’t understand. Sam ran all the way to California because he got tired of never being right, but Dean always took what Dad gave, never shied away or questioned. Just like he takes what Sam gives, and so rarely ever strikes back.
So it doesn’t surprise Sam at all that Dean chose a woman who’d forever find fault with him. It’s all he knows how to take, and Sam almost hates Dad for that. And himself.
Sam wants to break Cassie apart, but he’ll refrain. He’ll act like a gleeful little brother, giving big brother crap. He’ll play the part like Dean expects, no matter how much he wants to do otherwise. Cassie turned him away once and Sam can tell she’s not smart enough to see what a mistake that was, so she’ll do it again. And Sam’ll be here to help Dean, for a while longer, at least.
bronco that would not be broken of dancing
Dean dying has been Sam’s worst dream for years. Even the premonitions of Jessica dying never quite equaled nightmares from Sam’s childhood. He imagined every possibility a creative boy could think of, and even some his waking hours couldn’t comprehend.
Sam has watched Dean die at least once a month since he was eight years old, and none have ever terrified him as much as the vision he has while pinned behind the bookshelf in Max’s house. Every vision he’s had has come true.
Dean will die, brain blown out by his own gun.
Dean will die, while Sam’s trapped, helpless to stop it.
Dean will die. Sam watches it happen seconds before it will, and he screams. Sam has just gotten Dean back from death, and refuses to lose him again.
The bookshelf moves away.
deathchild
She wasn’t used to strangers. None had ever entered the house before, their sanctuary. She looked at him for a moment before he noticed her-he was prettier than Daddy or Lee or Jarrod, cleaner. She wanted to trace his jaw, to have his face decorate her bedroom, next to that picture the lady-cop gave her.
But then he saw her and she watched him write her off as a little girl, as no threat. She’d never be as big or strong as Lee and Jarrod and Daddy, but Missy was already quicker.
So, pretty or not, she’d show him. And after he died, maybe Daddy’d let her have those jewel-like eyes.
things unknown but longed for still
They’re his boys. He can see them as babies while he looks at the men before him. Sam’s gotten even taller, and still isn’t done filling out. He hesitates-and that hurts John, Sammy being unsure. It’s his own damn fault though, the way things stand. John wishes he had less pride, so he could apologize.
But Dean-John has never done a thing good enough to be rewarded with this boy, ever-forgiving. He’s boundless with his absolution. John and Sam, they’ve taken advantage of that for years, and will continue to do so, and he’ll never stop letting them.
John pulls Dean close, wishing the months ahead could be easy, simple. But everything is just getting started, and Dean-
John turns to Sammy. He’s the point, the beginning. It’s all about him. But Dean-he’s the key.
They’re his boys. He sees his and Mary’s babies in these strong men. It’ll come down to split-second decisions, and he has to hope they’ll be fast enough.
Sam wraps his arms around John, and he remembers when this man was small enough to hold in one hand, and so very fragile.
onwards