When It's All Over
Chapter 1 of 1
Summary: "When it's all over, you're going to have to let me go, Dean."
Rating: PG13, T
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way shape or form, and I don't get any money for this, this is purely entertainment…hopefully:)
AN: I wrote and typed this at lunch time, well because the other one's I'm working on are not quite work safe—you know? But my classes are killing me and I was dying to let the creative juices flow, so here's a little short. Hope you like it.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Dean moaned distractedly, too focused on his methodical cleaning to pay head to Sam's declaration.
"I'm not kidding, Dean," Sam uttered, his face stonily set with determination. "When this is all over, you're going to have to let me go."
The first time Dean Winchester had heard the statement, it had stuck in his throat, and he had a hard time swallowing it. He braced himself against the dresser in the shabby motel room, because if he didn't, he knew that his legs would have given out on him. He had tried to mask the look of hurt and betrayal that he knew had crossed his features in that moment, but the raw pain that could only be caused by family--was inescapable. He was glad when his brother didn't seem to notice.
But then, that was typical for the youngest Winchester. Sam could at times be so completely self absorbed that he saw only what he needed or desired. Having grown up the baby of the family, he had been spoiled and catered to for most of his life. Though the two boys had very little, Sam had still been far better off than Dean. And that was because Dean always gave his share to his younger brother. Dean never could stand the thought of not giving Sam whatever he wanted.
Which is why Sam's statement had cut him so deeply. Sam wanted to leave. If that was really what he wanted, how could he suddenly start denying him now? But therein lies Dean Winchester's biggest problem.
Dean should have learned at an early age that saying 'No' to Sam would have saved him a lot of heartache over the years. John always told him that he was too soft on the boy and coddled him too much, but it was always his theory that someone had to since Mary wasn't around to do it.
If he had learned that, maybe his baby would still be around. Back when his dad first gave him the Impala, it had been all his. It wasn't something that needed to be shared, John had said. Not even when Sam was old enough to drive. But as soon as he turned 16, Sam had pleaded with him and those big green puppy-dog eyes, working his evil little brother magic and begging to take her for a spin.
Every bone in his body screamed at him to say no to the boy, to just be selfish for once. But his big brother tendencies spoke up and muttered a reluctant 'ok' before he could stop it.
And the kid had done all right. He only missed three stop signs and one red light. Since Sam had missed so many obstacles, Dean felt certain that he would have missed that little skunk that decided to play chicken with the Impala. His nostrils told him otherwise. It took months to get the smell out...
Dean thought with a disgruntled sigh that may have been the only time he ever had homicidal thoughts towards the little whelp. But then again...
Long after the smell had cleared, Dean decided that Sam hadn't really done terribly bad. Well, maybe he had. But surely he had gotten better as an adult? So he reluctantly gave in each and every time Sam held his hand out for the keys. Including the one time when Sam was 24.
Dean had given his brother the car keys to drive the few miles down the road to get them both dinner. Hours later, the young man had yet to arrive and produce any food, so he hurried off in search of him. It shouldn't have taken that long, but Dean didn't trust his very own walking, talking, trouble magnet not to have found any.
So naturally, Dean panicked when he saw the flashing lights up ahead just as the fire engine roared past him. He ran even faster, his boots flitting across the pavement painfully. His lungs burning, Dean only slowed when he noticed his brother nervously biting his nails, looking for all the world like a lost puppy.
"What happ--" he started, but was soon drowned out by the heavy machinery's wining struggle as it wrenched something out of the water. Oh that had better not be...my car. That's it! I'm gonna' kill him.
After such a devastating loss that not only included his most prized possession, but all of their weapons and supplies, Dean was almost disheartened enough to want to give up hunting.
That's it, he remembered thinking angrily, Sam can just go and have his nice normal, hunt-free life now. "Go on Sammy, you're free to go!" he griped.
What really surprised Dean though, was the emphatic way that Sam denied doing it all on purpose. After all to hear Sammy tell it, "that deer—which was no where to be found after the accident—came out of nowhere!"
Well, Sam shrugging off the blame wasn't surprising, but the way he worked so hard to replace everything they had lost—certainly was.
So as a result of his efforts, exactly 13 months, 11 days, and 7 hours since Dean's brother had murdered his baby, the Winchester brothers were back in the demon hunting business.
Sam had even managed to find his brother a 1969 Chevy Impala—not as classy as a 1967, Dean would remark wistfully. But it was close enough in his eyes. It was the thought that counted.
Till this day, he'll never understand how his baby ended up at the bottom of that lake, while his brother stood bone-dry and otherwise fine.
One of the only good things to come out of that night was that it got just a bit easier to say no to the boy. Actually, Dean was quite fond of saying it now, especially in irritation as the pillow thumped him in the back of the head.
"Dean, are you listening to me?"
"Not really, no. But it's kinda' hard to tune you out completely with that incessant yapping you keep doing."
Sam blew up, pulling at his hair in frustration. "For like the gazillionth time jerk! My name is SAM!"
"Gazillionth isn't a word college boy," Dean mumbled smugly, then shot him a quirky smile. "Yeah, that never gets old. Alright, alright—yes, I heard some of your bitchin. When it's all over, you're leaving…I got it, so don't get your panties all in a bunch."
Dean stifled a bout of laughter. Sam's declaration had long since caused the man to look on them with dread.
Sam nodded and appeared satisfied. "Good. Now that that's settled, let's go get some grub." He pounded his cane on the floor and pulled himself up slowly, his aching bones shuffling to the doorway before he realized that his older brother wasn't following. "Let's go, man. Put your damn teeth in already, I'm starving."
"I'm coming, I'm coming. Had to get 'em really clean—gotta look good for the ladies, you know."
Sam snorted, "Dean, you're 87 years old. I think that's way past the point of looking good for the ladies."
Looking mildly offended, Dean scoffed before he smiled with a familiar gleam in his eyes. "Oh please, you didn't see the way Beth was all over me when her granddaughter dropped her off last week."
"Dean, she's half blind and can barely stand on her own—she was probably just leaning on you to hold her up."
"Naah. Hey Sammy?"
"Do you think the nurses will let us hunt tonight?
"Yeah Dean. But only if we make it back before lights out. And after which, they'll order you back to your bed and tuck you in."
"Ya think?" he asked hopefully, earning him an exasperated grin.