This is no place like home 1/?.
Nov. 7th, 2010 02:49 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ohsamTitle: This is no place like home 1/?.
Author:
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gooferdusty Pairing/ Characters: Sam, Dean.(This is gen, for now)
Rating: This is PG for now, but will probably end up nc-17!
Warnings: None really, guess it could be spoilery for season 6.
Disclaimer: Not making a penny profit, don't own the boys, no hurt intended, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Summary: There are things that Dean knows are a given. Since his brother's return he isn't so sure anymore. The one place that's home suddenly isn't
A/N: This is something that my muse leapt on me what with all the season 6 angst flying around. I don't think its spoilery, but then ive been wrong before! Anyway i figured its about time i took the bull by the horns and attempted to post one of my fics here (more to come with this soon) Not really used to posting on lj so if it all goes belly up you have been warned!
Dean stared through the windscreen of the Impala, the ribbon of black tarmac stretching out endlessly before him. The promise of a fresh start on the horizon, always just over the next rise, always just out of reach. Always.
Sam was riding shotgun, dozing, his soft breaths the only sound above the engine’s low purr. It should have felt like home. It was Sam, warm safe and alive everything Dean thought he’d lost forever. It should have felt comforting. It should have felt right. Should have.
Dean’s hands tightened on the wheel. This place, sitting in his baby with his little brother next to him was as close to home as it got for Dean. As long as he had a full tank of gas and Sammy by his side all was right with the world. Well it used to be that way, now it just feels off, wrong. Dean glances in the rear-view mirror at the empty backseat. He can see Sammy aged eight, his head buried in a Spiderman comic, his child eyes wide with wonder. He sees two brothers, the eldest no more than nine as they play with the Lego Dean had spent his allowance on earlier that day. His dad had said it was a waste of money, that Dean should have left such childish things behind him by now.
Dean smiles as he remembers the look on Sammy’s face as his little brother showed him the car he had made, holding the little coloured bricks up for his big brother’s approval. He remembers the big dimpled smile five year old Sammy had given him when Dean told him it looked just like the Impala. Right then Dean knew the Lego had been worth every penny.
He remembers a crying one year old Sam, all damp rosy cheeks and pudgy limbs, he’s cutting another tooth. He remembers his dad groaning behind the wheel as the sound of Sam’s cries grow ever louder in the small space. Dean was five years old; too old to still have a security blanket, besides Sammy needed it more than him. So he had given Sam the well loved wash worn square of pale blue cloth, his little brother’s cries dwindling as he snuggled into Dean’s blanky. Well, now it was Sam’s blanky Dean supposed but if it helped Sammy feel better Dean was ok with that.
The sound of a car horn somewhere in the distance wrenched Dean from his thoughts, slamming him back into the here and now. Sighing Dean ran a hand down his face wiping away the tears he didn’t remember crying as he looked across at his still sleeping brother. This wasn’t home anymore; it was a cruel mockery of how things ought to be. On the surface it all looked right; it was Sam, Dean and the Impala. But it was little more than a mirage. Nothing Dean could hold onto. This was no more his home than that was his brother sitting next to him. This empty emotionless creature in the passenger seat wasn’t his brother. Just as Dean knew night followed day he knew the pod person he’d been living with this past month wasn’t his Sammy. He was waiting for the punch line, waiting for Donald Sutherland to jump out and scream at him. He was waiting for something, anything that could explain what was wrong.
Dean thought back to when he first saw Sam a little over a month ago. Dean was hurt that Sam had been back from the cage for the last twelve months. All the while Dean had been ignorant of the fact, living in a prison of normalcy, mourning for his lost brother. The knowledge that Sam was trapped in Lucifer’s lock box enduring god knows what had torn Dean apart. For a year he had been a father, a husband, because he made a promise. He had made a promise to Sammy, his little brother who had given his life to save the world and he was damn well going to keep it. He owed Sam that much.
Turns out it was a promise that didn’t need to be kept. Sam had been back practically the whole time; while Dean had grieved for his little brother for a year. Why hadn’t Sam come looking for him as soon as he was free? How had he even escaped? These were all questions that Dean was starting to not like the answers to. So he rang Bobby, quizzed Cas about what was wrong with his brother. It wasn’t Sam it couldn’t be, he held onto that belief because the alternative was so much worse. That his brother simply didn’t care about him anymore. No, he’d rather believe Sam was one of Ronald Reznick’s mandroid’s than that be true. The usually comforting surroundings of his baby felt oppressive, the air suddenly too thick. Everything Dean held solid was crumbling around him, his world was an alien place. With no anchor, no Sam to hold onto Dean was lost, beyond lost. Dean was terrified. Sam, his conscience, his compass, his annoying geek brother, his Sasquatch, his Sammy was gone.
Breathing heavily Dean cracked open the window, the evening air cool on his clammy skin. Dean became aware of Sam moving beside him. The increased road noise rousing his brother from sleep.
Dean sighed, time to put his game face on.
“Hey Sammy, sleep well?”
It wasn’t real, it wasn’t home but it was all he had.
chapter 2
Sam was riding shotgun, dozing, his soft breaths the only sound above the engine’s low purr. It should have felt like home. It was Sam, warm safe and alive everything Dean thought he’d lost forever. It should have felt comforting. It should have felt right. Should have.
Dean’s hands tightened on the wheel. This place, sitting in his baby with his little brother next to him was as close to home as it got for Dean. As long as he had a full tank of gas and Sammy by his side all was right with the world. Well it used to be that way, now it just feels off, wrong. Dean glances in the rear-view mirror at the empty backseat. He can see Sammy aged eight, his head buried in a Spiderman comic, his child eyes wide with wonder. He sees two brothers, the eldest no more than nine as they play with the Lego Dean had spent his allowance on earlier that day. His dad had said it was a waste of money, that Dean should have left such childish things behind him by now.
Dean smiles as he remembers the look on Sammy’s face as his little brother showed him the car he had made, holding the little coloured bricks up for his big brother’s approval. He remembers the big dimpled smile five year old Sammy had given him when Dean told him it looked just like the Impala. Right then Dean knew the Lego had been worth every penny.
He remembers a crying one year old Sam, all damp rosy cheeks and pudgy limbs, he’s cutting another tooth. He remembers his dad groaning behind the wheel as the sound of Sam’s cries grow ever louder in the small space. Dean was five years old; too old to still have a security blanket, besides Sammy needed it more than him. So he had given Sam the well loved wash worn square of pale blue cloth, his little brother’s cries dwindling as he snuggled into Dean’s blanky. Well, now it was Sam’s blanky Dean supposed but if it helped Sammy feel better Dean was ok with that.
The sound of a car horn somewhere in the distance wrenched Dean from his thoughts, slamming him back into the here and now. Sighing Dean ran a hand down his face wiping away the tears he didn’t remember crying as he looked across at his still sleeping brother. This wasn’t home anymore; it was a cruel mockery of how things ought to be. On the surface it all looked right; it was Sam, Dean and the Impala. But it was little more than a mirage. Nothing Dean could hold onto. This was no more his home than that was his brother sitting next to him. This empty emotionless creature in the passenger seat wasn’t his brother. Just as Dean knew night followed day he knew the pod person he’d been living with this past month wasn’t his Sammy. He was waiting for the punch line, waiting for Donald Sutherland to jump out and scream at him. He was waiting for something, anything that could explain what was wrong.
Dean thought back to when he first saw Sam a little over a month ago. Dean was hurt that Sam had been back from the cage for the last twelve months. All the while Dean had been ignorant of the fact, living in a prison of normalcy, mourning for his lost brother. The knowledge that Sam was trapped in Lucifer’s lock box enduring god knows what had torn Dean apart. For a year he had been a father, a husband, because he made a promise. He had made a promise to Sammy, his little brother who had given his life to save the world and he was damn well going to keep it. He owed Sam that much.
Turns out it was a promise that didn’t need to be kept. Sam had been back practically the whole time; while Dean had grieved for his little brother for a year. Why hadn’t Sam come looking for him as soon as he was free? How had he even escaped? These were all questions that Dean was starting to not like the answers to. So he rang Bobby, quizzed Cas about what was wrong with his brother. It wasn’t Sam it couldn’t be, he held onto that belief because the alternative was so much worse. That his brother simply didn’t care about him anymore. No, he’d rather believe Sam was one of Ronald Reznick’s mandroid’s than that be true. The usually comforting surroundings of his baby felt oppressive, the air suddenly too thick. Everything Dean held solid was crumbling around him, his world was an alien place. With no anchor, no Sam to hold onto Dean was lost, beyond lost. Dean was terrified. Sam, his conscience, his compass, his annoying geek brother, his Sasquatch, his Sammy was gone.
Breathing heavily Dean cracked open the window, the evening air cool on his clammy skin. Dean became aware of Sam moving beside him. The increased road noise rousing his brother from sleep.
Dean sighed, time to put his game face on.
“Hey Sammy, sleep well?”
It wasn’t real, it wasn’t home but it was all he had.
chapter 2
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Date: 2010-11-07 02:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-07 07:09 pm (UTC)