A Couple of Fanfics for my Fandom Sisters Angie, Elizabeth, Jilly and Amy!

Midnight Musings (tag to 9.19)

 

Dean paced around the kitchen. It was midnight but he wasn’t really tired. It had been awhile since he’d been able to really sleep. He opened the cabinet and pulled out the Jack Daniels bottle. It was half full, or half empty since he’d drunk it. He held it, thinking if he drank it he might be able to sleep. This routine, these nightly visits to the bottle while Sam slept weren’t helping. What the hell is wrong with me?, he thought. After Bobby died when he used the booze to numb the pain, at least he finally went to sleep But not now.  He felt restless, caged, unable to relax. And there was the other thing.

“It seemed to me like maybe you enjoyed it a little too much.” Sam standing there, almost saying “I’m worried about you” but not.  Dean knew intellectually it was true. Not enjoying so much as simply not caring. It was instinctual, the killing of the vampire. It was feral. Protecting his own. Protecting Sam. Protecting Jody. He took no pleasure in it, he didn’t feel happy about it. He’d said he did. It was plain old Dean bravado in reply to Sam. He was stronger which  both scared and exhilarated him. He was precise. No margin for error. He was angry enough to make hunting effective, he was driven. He was busy so why the hell wasn’t he tired? Physically he should be exhausted. Emotionally he must be because he wasn’t feeling remorse . Not like Dean Winchester usually did. There was still this overwhelming need to protect Sam. That would never, could never go away. It was so much a part of who he was that to lose it would be to lose who  he was entirely.

Dean sat the bottle on the table. Why bother when it wouldn’t help. He truly wanted to go to sleep. To have a normal restful night. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He walked towards the bedrooms, turning off the lights as he went. He stopped at his brother’s open door. Sam was on his back, one hand tucked behind his head, the other holding on to a book that was upside down across his stomach. The light on the bedside table was still on. Dean smiled. How many times had he come across this same scenario in the last thirty years? He crossed the room and gently took the book out of his brother’s hand. He closed it and placed it on the table. He turned off the light and adjusted the comforter. For a minute he stood there just looking at his brother. This is what Dean Winchester had always lived for. Sam, safely sleeping. All the crap they’d seen and done, this had been his main mission. Dean sat down in the chair beside the bed. He leaned forward, head in hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t sure what was up with him. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He wished more than anything it had never come to this. All this darkness he was feeling. But sitting here watching Sam sleep, he still knew this was his number one responsibility. No matter what else happened, he had to take care of Sam. It didn’t matter if Sam   saved him, it didn’t matter if Dean died,he’d done that before. Sam still had to survive. Dean slouched back into the chair. He put his feet on the edge of the bed. He didn’t close his eyes because he wasn’t sleepy but he did, without realizing he did it, reach out towards Sam with the hand closest to the bed. Like he’d done for forever, just I case Sam needed him while he slept. God he wanted to sleep so badly. Instead he just sat, watching Sam.

Sam stirred softly. He realized the book was gone and the light off. He opened his eyes to see Dean in the chair. “Dean? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing Sammy. Just go back to sleep”. Dean barely recognized his own voice it was so deep and gravely.

Sam sat up slowly. “When was the last time you slept Dean? Really slept?” Dean shrugged.

“Not sure.” Sam swung his feet out of bed, stood and crouched in front of Dean. He gripped the open hand that had been reached out to him, placed his hand on the opposite wrist.

“Why don’t you just lie down? At least you could rest.” Dean blinked. Maybe . Sam pulled gently on his hands, got him to his feet. He pushed his brother down on the bed. And reached down to take off his boots and covered him up. He returned to the other side of the bed and crawled in. He placed a hand on Dean’s arm. “try to sleep Dean. Please. You need it.”

“Okay Sam .Go back to sleep.” Sam plumped his own pillow and sank back down. Dean lay there wide awake  listening to Sam’s breathing. He didn’t sleep but he did relax just a little. Even if sleep didn’t come, and he doubted it, he was where he needed to be. He looked over at Sam again. He traced the mark on his arm. He knew something about the damn thing was changing him, making him different but he knew in his heart of hearts, nothing, nothing would change how very much he loved and needed Sam. It wasn’t possible to change that.

This is for my personal SPN Family Angie, Elizabeth and Jilly. It’s just a little H/C fluff but… we love that!  I love you girls TTMAB!! (Borrowed the first little bit from The Real Deal  by Ridley C. James which you can find at hunterstomb.popullus.net)

Being  Real

“Pastor Jim?”, Dean said softly.

“Yes Dean?” The pastor leaned forward in his chair. Dean’s green eyes were bright with unshed tears, unusual for the stoic ten year old.

“When will I be real to Sam and Dad?” It broke the pastor’s heart to hear this boy asking in a ten year old way, “When will they love me the way they should?” Jim, because he was always honest, just like the Skinhorse sighed.

“I don’t know Dean.” He brushed his hand over Dean’s short, soft blond hair. “I don’t know.”

Dean pulled the sleeping form of six year old Sammy closer to him. “That’s okay”, he mumbled as he fell asleep, “they’re real to me. That’s all that matters.”

 

Sam filled a glass with  water and headed back to his bedroom. It was dark and quiet in the bunker. He couldn’t sleep. The events of the day had him more than a little concerned. He’d found Dean in the warehouse with  Gadreel, his hands bruised and bloody. He’d totally beaten up a frigging angel  with his bare hands. No easy feat. Cas had hurt Dean on more than one occasion so Sam knew the strength of angels. He paused just shy of Dean’s door. Something wasn’t right. Sam could sense it. Lately he had a sort of sixth sense about Dean. He knocked on the door. “Dean?”he called. No answer.  Sam waited a few seconds and opened the door. Generally he would not enter without permission but he was worried about his brother. He stepped in to find Dean curled into himself, clutching one of the pillows as if he were in great pain.. Sam sat the water glass on the dresser and hurried to the bed. Dean burrowed further into the pillow and Sam realized why. Dean was crying. Not just tears, silent and terrible weeping. Sam’s heart ached when he realized Dean was sobbing into the pillow so he wouldn’t disturb Sam. He reached a hand out to touch Dean’s bicep and pulled gently on it hoping his brother would look up. He didn’t. The anguished sobbing continued.

“Dean, hey. Look at me.”, Sam whispered, leaning over closer to his brother. As he leaned his elbow hit something flat and hard and he reached beneath the covers to pull it out. An ancient, well read, hard back copy of The Velveteen Rabbit. Sam brushed his fingers over the faded cover of the book. He remembered all the countless times Dean or Pastor Jim had read this book to him. That Dean had kept it all this time touched him deeply. He stroked Dean’s hair . “Dean, what’s up with the book man?” Again no answer. Just  sobbing. Sam couldn’t take it. He felt tears well up in his eyes as well.  Sam didn’t ask. He simply crawled into the bed and and wrapped his arms around Dean. He felt Dean relax his shoulders a little against his chest. The sobbing slowed a little. Dean reached his hand up and covered Sam’s with his. Sam ran his free hand over the cuts and bruises on the knuckles of Dean’s hand.

“Whatever it is, can you tell me?” Sam asked, no pleaded. All he wanted was to take away the suffering. Dean shook his head.

“It …doesn’t ….matter”, Dean said between shuddering sobs. Sam leaned forward and rested his head on the top of Dean’s.

“No, It does. Whatever it is, it matters to me.”  He hugged Dean even tighter. He didn’t speak. He just held on, waiting for the crying to stop. Minutes passed and Sam realized his brother was still. He wondered suddenly if his brother had fallen asleep. He pressed his cheek to Dean’s. “Dean?”

“Sam”, Dean said in a raspy, tear filled voice. “You remember the striga?”

Sam sat up a little. “Yeah. You killed it. Saved that kid’s brother. Why?”

Dean sighed deeply. “That night. That night it came after you. Dad was mad. I mean really mad.”

Sam pressed his head back close to Dean’s. “Maybe he was just scared Dean.”

“No. He was totally pissed. He grabbed you up, threw us in the car, high-tailed it to Pastor Jim’s and…he just…” Dean’s voice trailed off. But Sam remembered what his brother said that night when he told Sam the story. Heard Dean saying Dad, he just never looked at me the same again.”  He waited for Dean to continue.

“Dad.. in the car…he said ‘Your brother is your responsibility Dean. It’s the one thing I ask you to do. Take care of Sam. And tonight Dean you screwed that up. Do you understand how important that is?’ Then …he ..didn’t ..say anything all the way to Jim’s. Didn’t say goodbye. Nothing.”

Sam felt a tear leave his eye and run down his cheek. “Dean, you were what? Ten? That was a lot to pin on you.”

 

“No Sam. He was right. I screwed up.But that’s the night I realized….I’m not real.”

Sam was confused. “Dean what? What does that mean?” Then it hit him. Real as in The Velveteen Rabbit.  Loved so much your fur fell off . Real to the one person who loved your fur off.

Is it painful?, the rabbit asked. Yes , said the Skinhorse. But it’s worth it.

Suddenly Sam realized why Dean was crying, None of the great making-people-real-love he’d given had been returned. At least not in the way Dean needed it. Sam knew Dad loved Dean. Sam did too. So much it hurt.But no one made a habit of telling him, showing him. All the sacrifices, all the times he gave up what he might have dreamed or wanted were all secondary to the need to be real for Dad, to Sam, to take care of his family.

“I just keep screwing it up Sammy. Over and over, and all I kept trying to is make sure you’re okay, safe. I’m sorry Sam. I’m so sorry.”

Sam kissed the top of his brother’s head which he couldn’t remember doing ever, but it felt right, and said softly. “Dean. You haven’t screwed it up. I know I’m the boy who abandoned the rabbit.”

“No Sam. It’s all on me. I keep on screwing it up just like Dad said. I’m afraid I can’t …ever be real. Not like that. How could I? I mean the crap I’ve done? I don’t know where all this is going. I’m…afraid  of….this thing, with the mark and Abbadon. I just wanted to make up for it all. And I know I can’t Sammy. It’s too late for that.” Sam realized Dean was crying again, not sobbing. Just silent tears. He felt the wetness fall on his hands as he continued to hold his brother close.

Dean, listen, “Sam said, his mouth close to Dean’s ear. “You are the realest person I know. You have always given way more than you got. I’m really sorry Dean. I should have told you  I love you more often. So should Dad. Please Dean believe this. I would not be anything, if not for you. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. And no matter what I said on that bridge Dean, I’m glad I’m alive and I’m glad I have you. Not real? I’d say you skipped the rabbit and went all the way to the skinhorse.”

They lay there close and safe and quiet for awhile. Then Dean said, almost in a whisper. “I don’t know about me being real Sam, but you were always worth it.”

“So were you Dean”, Sam said. Neither Winchester made a move to let go of the other and Sam knew he’d stay there all night just to let his brother know just how real he was.