I wound up making J for Justified. AHBL was re-running on TNT and then I was like... I'm sure there were more arguements. Sam never lets anything drop. Ever. And I then I was like, Dean must have just been a lighter shade of broken whenever Sam was at school. And then... Well, and then this happened.
Somehow they've come back to his. It seems like no matter what the conversation, they always wind up right back here. It's a vicious cycle they've fallen into in the week since dean had struck his deal and Sam had woken up alone for the first time since Stanford. Dean is convinced that his actions are perfectly justified and all Sam wants in some sort of understanding. "You know what it feels like, Dean, to know that because of you someone's dead."
"Not dead yet, Sammy," Dean interjects with his typical indifference, staring sightlessly at the infomercial dancing across the motel room's grainy TV.
"Dammit, Dean!" Anger spiking at his continual nonchalance Sam shoot forward and rips the cord for the television from the wall, "This isn't some joke!"
Dean looks up at him earnestly, by parts both tired and genuinely confused. "I know that, Sam. I just… what do you want from me?"
Sam's voice lowers, his anger quickly fades leaving him hollowed and burnt out. "I just want to know why."
Dean opens his mouth to respond but seems to think better of it and quickly snaps it shut again. He doesn't answer, but sits unmoving and Sam assumes he's getting the silent treatment now but instead Dean reaches into his pocked and pulls his phone out, deftly pressing a few buttons as though he's done it so many times he's memorized the action. He sits it on the bed beside him as a voice starts crackling through.
It takes Sam a moment to realize that it's his own voice coming from the tiny speaker, low and slurred the way it gets when he's been drinking to forget and failing miserably.
Dean, the voice mumbles, static rattling through the speaker as he sighs heavily, Dean. Just that for a moment and Sam looks up quizzically, but Dean's eyes haven't moved from the cell, so clearly it's not finished. I uh… I got your postcard today, a small, clumsy chuckle, Robert Paige, cute. And… and I got my courses all lined up for next semester, and, y'know…. It was so weird today; I thought I saw someone that looked like you, but it wasn't. Y'know; you. Another long pause, then the words come out in a rush, garbled together as though they hurt too much if allowed to linger. I wanted it to be though, Dean. I miss you man, followed by yet another pause long enough for him to think the voicemail had ended but Dean still hasn't moved. Then simply, It is fucking crazy how much I miss you. There were a few scuffing noises as the phone was drunk-handled and eventually hung up.
Sam remains still, struck dumb as Dean slowly sits forward, idly running his fingers over the phone. He locks eyes with his brother, face twisted into a sad half-smile. "Four years, Sammy," he says quietly. "That was all I had of you for four years and it nearly killed me." He casts his eyes down, placing the phone back in his pocket." There's no way that could've been enough for however many years I'd've had left."
And so now, I'm stuck. I had an idea for K, then it exploded into a WIP that I'm currently working on, but I have a few others done (because I never do anything in order) and if you like you can go to my Livejournal and read them. The link is on my profile. Hopefully I'll have the in-betweens so I can get them up here soon. Thanks again! Now let's go watch the SEASON 6 PREMIER! OMG!