Late Nights and Early Mornings
This is just a one shot I wrote using the prompt word 'snore' from a prompt table created by myself and my sister DocRock06.
We have created a fanfiction prompt community over on Live journal and if anyone is interested in joining and taking part they can find the link on my profile page; the community is called d2_prompts.
Summary: Dean's says he's never drinking again. Sam doubts that very much.
Word count: 2,505
They had just finished a hunt. A poltergeist had been hunting the Harris family home in the suburb of a small town in Tennessee.
In terms of fatalities it was successful; the family which consisted of a father, mother and two small children had made it through the ordeal relatively unscathed. Except for the little girl.
Sam had been placing the bags with "hoodoo" as Dean called it, in the four corners of the basement while Dean had been herding the family out of the house and to the safety of their next door neighbors' house. In the panic induced from flying objects and flickering lights no one had noticed that the young girl was missing until it was too late.
The scream that tore through the house would forever be ingrained in both Winchester's memories. Sheer terror, laden so thick they could almost feel it a floor below.
Before the cry for help had even ended Dean was rushing back up the stairs, no regard for his own safety, his only objective to save the small child.
By the time he made it to the door of the room where the girl was the cry had cut off and the poltergeist was upping the ante. Lights were flickering at an alarming rate, furniture being tossed about the rooms as doors crashed open only to be slammed shut by an invisible force mere seconds later.
Dean's hand had been in the doorway just as it had been forced shut with enough force to steal the breath from his lungs and make his vision go white. A moment of numbness and shock was followed in quick succession by a nauseating pain that radiating from the gash that had opened up on both the inside and outside of his palm, an angry purple bruise already starting to form.
Biting back his own cry of pain Dean swung the door open with all the strength he could muster, thanking whoever was out there that it was his left hand that was damaged and not his right, as he entered the room, gun aimed in front of him.
His steps were stealthy and quick as he made his way to the girl's fallen form. Her small body was crumpled against the wall, his limbs limp as a rag dolls as Dean slid his left arm under her body and lifted her into his arms, bracing himself against the pain the movement caused yet at the same time tightening his grip on the fragile body pressed against his chest in order to shield her and offer whatever meager protection he could against the flying objects.
While Dean had been upstairs looking for the girl Sam had finished cleansing the house of the angry spirit. As Dean made it to the bottom of the stairs he was met by one final crash as the poltergeist was banished from the house.
Seconds later Sam appeared from the basement and met Dean at the stairs before they both went out to tell the family that the poltergeist was gone and would not be causing them any more trouble.
Dean still had the girl cradled in his arms. When he had found her in the room she had been unconscious and had yet to wake up. A bloody gash adorned the pale flesh just under her hairline, the blood oozing down her face creating a macabre image on a child so young.
After handing the child over to her parents Dean and Sam both made apologies for anything that may have been broken in the house and giving the family a contact number in case anything happened and they needed them to come back, before making a hasty retreat. The sounds of crashing and smashing thanks to the resident poltergeist would not have gone unnoticed and the police would be turning up soon – and that was something that the Winchesters did not need.
They had barely made it out of the street before the sirens were blaring past them. Dean stepped on the gas to hasten their getaway but not so fast that it would appear suspicious.
"Well that was close" Sam stated as he craned in his seat to watch the police cars pulling up outside the Harris' home and getting out of their vehicles.
"Yeah" Dean's voice was rough with worry as he steered the Impala in the direction of their motel.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked, his brow furrowed with confusion. They had got rid of the poltergeist and the family was safe, a little banged up, but safe. Dean should be celebrating like he normally did.
"Nothing" Dean said, his eyes fixed ahead, resolutely not looking at Sam, knowing he would force the answer out of him with his damn puppy dog eyes.
"Then why aren't you happy, man?" Sam exclaimed, wondering what had Dean in this mood.
"What?" his voice quite and persuading.
"Nothing," Dean said, glancing over at Sam before staring ahead once again, "Forget I said anything" a forced cheerfulness in his tone as he plastered on a grin.
"Dean…" Sam started before he was cut off by Dean,
"Wanna grab a beer?" Dean said as if Sam hadn't said anything. Sam sighed. Dean was as stubborn as a mule and if he didn't want to talk about something, he wasn't going to talk about it.
"Nah, I think I'm just gonna hit the hay after I take a shower" Sam replied as he discreetly took a sniff of his shirt. Yep, defiantly taking that shower.
"Well after me – I'm hitting the town tonight and not smelling of stink," Dean said with a grimace after he sniffed his own scent.
The drive was finished in silence, the Impala pulling up in front of the motel room just in time for the first few drops of rain to begin falling.
Climbing out of the car and closing doors at the same time; synchronization honed over many years; the brothers gathered their things before quickly escaping into the shelter of their motel room.
Dean quickly shed himself of his jacket and boots, grabbed a clean set of clothes and headed for the bathroom. Sam sat down on the edge of his bed, weary from a long night, wanting to fall back onto the soft mattress beneath him and fall in the welcoming arms of sleep.
Reclining against the pillows, his feet pulled up onto the bed, Sam was willing to smell for a few more hours and let sleep claim him. Just as he let his eyes slip closed the bathroom door opened, revealing Dean in his jeans, no shirt, his hair dripping onto his bare shoulders and a steamed up bathroom.
"You better have left me some hot water," Sam said as he grabbed his own clothes and as he walked past Dean.
"Sure thing, Samantha," Dean grinned, "I even left enough so you could wash those girly locks" Dean said with a laugh before moving quickly out of the way of Sam's punch.
Dean got dressed, adorning a fresh t-shirt and his leather jacket just in time for Sam to finish in the bathroom, coming out already dressed for bed.
"Jeez," Dean said with a shake of the head, "You sure know how to party hard grandma" Dean stated in a sarcastic voice, grinning as Sam pasted on his patented Bitch-face.
"Very funny Dean" was all Sam could say as he dropped down onto the side of his bed, "We've had a long night"
"Don't I know it," Dean muttered, the grin gone and now his face was pulled into a frown, his eyes cast downwards.
"Well I'm headed out," Dean interrupted, "Don't wait up" grabbing a door key he flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and was out the door.
It was until hours later, when the moon was high in the sky, shining down on the parking lot that was drenched in a rain that was increasing as the night went on that a lone figure made its way across the black tarmac, boots beating out an unsteady rhythm, making its way towards the motel room.
The figure belonged to no other than Dean Winchester who had spent the last few hours drinking steadily at the bar before seeking companionship in a willing bed, stumbling out before the first rays of dawn.
Dean was drenched through but he seemed to pay it no attention as he meandered to the room, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his stance casual but the dark gleam in his eye showing to anyone that looked that he was troubled.
Dean walked past the Impala, reaching out his hand and stroking it along the smooth metal, a lazy smile on his face.
Walking the last steps to the door Dean tripped over his own feet and fell against the door, a laugh barking out and echoing through the empty parking lot.
Just as Dean pushed himself to his feet the door was opened abruptly to reveal a pissed looking Sam, his hair standing in all directions, looking as if he had just been roused from a deep slumber.
Deep slumber it may have been but Sam was still a hunter and prepared, the Colt .45 he held in his right hand proof of that.
"Make a bit more noise why don't ya' Dean, I don't think you woke everyone up yet," Sam declared as he placed the gun back into the duffel bag at the end of his bed, sitting down on the side as he watched Dean struggle out of his jacket.
Only now that Sam could see Dean in the light of the room and not shadowed by the night, did he notice the glazed look to his eyes.
"Are you drunk?" Sam asked, incredulous. Dean rarely got drunk. Yes, he went out and drank, a lot, but he liked to be in control and surrendering that control was not something he did often.
"And…" Dean slurred, dropping onto his own bed, his shoes only half off as he couldn't seem to coordinate to get them off.
"Why?" Sam asked with an innocence in his tone that cut through Dean.
"Hmmm?" Dean's eyes were half mast, his breathing deep and slow.
Sam shook his head. Dean was obviously content to sprawl on his bed, fully dressed and just let himself fall into a drink-induced slumber. Well his clothes were soaked through and they didn't need Dean catching a cold; although right now he doubted Dean would notice if a bowling ball fell on him let alone Sam helping him out of his clothes.
"I asked why'd you get so trashed?" He said after he finished stripping Dean of his soaked clothes and down to his boxers, pulling the covers over Dean who had started to shiver slightly.
"She was only a little kid…" Dean's voice was full of pain, rough from spending the night in a bar drinking whiskey shots and breathing in smoke.
Sam was confused for a second, thinking his brother was talking about another one of his sexual endeavors but then quickly remember the family and the little girl that had gotten hurt.
Sam let out a sigh as he perched on Dean's bed near his hip. He should have known that Dean was going to blame himself for this.
"Come on Dean, you can't seriously think this is your fault," Sam replied in earnest, but the look that Dean's green eyes shot him told him that Dean did, "You were getting that family outta that house Dean, protecting them – it was just an accident that she got left behind" Sam tried to placate him.
"Yeah, bang up job I did," Slurred words full of disgust and self loathing that his actions had got an innocent child injured.
"Dean you weren't the only one in that room; her mother or father didn't notice she was missing until it was too late. They made a mistake, you made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes"
"Yeah, but…" Dean tried to argue but this time Sam cut him off mid-sentence.
"Dean, you can't blame yourself for everything that happens. You can't carry all that guilt. The little girl is fine, just a small cut that won't even leave a scar,"
"How…?" Dean's eyes opened wider, as if he was forcing himself to stay awake by the simple act.
"Family called after you left" Sam supplied the answer that he knew Dean wanted before he had even finished his question. Dean only nodded in response.
The brothers were quite for a few moments. Sam thought Dean had fell asleep and was about to retire to his own bed when Dean's voice penetrated the silence.
"It's jus' hard…not takin' all that guilt," Dean's voice was quiet, his eyes sliding shut even as he willed them open.
"I know Dean, but you gotta stop it, okay?" Sam declared, reaching out his hand and giving Dean's shoulder a brief squeeze.
"Sure…Sammy" Dean blinked once more, his eyelids falling shut and not opening again.
Sam sat for a few moments, watching Dean sleep, the sound of his rhythmic breathing filling the room and reminding Sam of childhoods spent in motel rooms just like the one tonight.
Looking at Dean when he was sleeping Sam noticed how much younger his brother looked in sleep, peaceful; a look that vanished once his brother opened his eyes and pulled up his walls, and adapting the stoic mask that he had perfected over the years.
Dean used his cockiness, his drinking and his women as a way of escaping the pain; tonight was just another night were that pain was bearing down on Dean and he needed the release but come morning he wouldn't talk about it, pretend it never happened. He would move on, but he would never forget.
"No you won't" Sam said with a small, sad smile. He knew Dean would never stop feeling guilty when someone got hurt or died as a result of a hunt. It was a part of Dean; that caring part of him that Sam loved and hated at the same time.
Climbing into his own bed Sam, the soft sounds of Dean's snores his lullaby as he drifted to sleep.
The next morning Sam woke early to find Dean still slumbering away. After showering and dressing he quietly left and grabbed coffee, walking back into the room and letting the rich aroma from his cup waft across the room to Dean.
Sam gave a small smile of amusement as Dean began shifting before finally opening his eyes.
"Arggh…" Dean pushed himself up onto elbows, his eye mere slits, his hair standing out every which way, before letting himself fall back onto the bed, throwing his arm across his eyes.
"I am never drinking again" Dean declared, the hangover the punishment he would have to suffer after his night of hard drinking.
"Sure Dean" Sam said, though he truly doubted it.