Named after the Led Zeppelin song ;) So I made a little challenge for myself :) Turned my media player onto shuffle and instead of doing little drabbles to do with the song, I chose some lyrics from it, that I thought I could make fit Supernatural :)
Some of my songs are… bizarre to be honest lol, but don't judge me ;)
"Well if that's your road then take it, but it's not the road for me…" – 'Photosynthesise' by Frank Turner
Sam looked down at his suitcase in shock. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. How long had he wanted it though? Early teens? To finally get away from this awful life… Dad's obsessive need to protect his sons and find the thing that killed his wife? And Dean's obsessive need to protect his brother and obey Dad's orders to the letter?
He wanted to get away so badly.
"So…" Sam whipped around and saw Dean resting in the doorway, his arms crossed, his face unreadable, but his tone… icy.
It cut through Sam like a knife.
He didn't know what to say. What could he say, really? He had spent his entire life sharing motel rooms, car seats, hell even a few beds on occasion with his brother. Now he was just leaving? To study pre-law no less?
"I can't…" he paused, not knowing how to word what he assumed would be his leaving statement, his goodbye to his big brother. "Dean, I need to get out. I can't stay in this life. It's…" he waved his arms as if in some way that would help him express himself better.
"No, I get it. You want out," Dean replied, now moving from the doorway but still keeping his distance and his tone chilly. "You want a normal, apple pie life, right? Away from things that go bump in the night – from saving hundreds of people. Away from your family."
"Dad wants me gone," Sam said, trying not to make his voice waver when he said it. "He wants me gone, and doesn't intend to keep in touch either."
"He doesn't want you gone," Dean tried to defend their father. "He just gets… stressed. You're not the easiest person to live with."
"Neither's he," Sam replied. "He just expects us to follow his instructions precisely? And what do we get in return? We don't get thanked, paid – we just get injured and bloody, and can't always save people. And I don't want to be the cause of someone's death, Dean," his brother's face stayed stony, and Sam knew that whatever he said now, he couldn't explain his actions to Dean. His brother and father were too alike. "I'm going." He said softly, and picked up his bag.
"I love you. I swear it. I would never lie... But I fear for our lives and I fear your closed eyes..." – 'War Sweater' by Wakey!Wakey
Dean shook his head and closed his eyes tight, before opening them again; feeling like a character in a cartoon who has to rub their eyes because they don't believe what they're seeing.
Sammy wasn't dead. Of course he wasn't. Because he had Dean as his big brother. Dean wouldn't let anything happen to his little brother.
But he had.
He'd failed him.
Sam's face – so pale now in death; no, not death… sleep. So pale now in sleep that Dean felt the need to rub at his eyes.
There was also the fact that the tears were pricking there again. Persistent bastards.
How many times had his father said, 'Watch out for Sammy.'? He couldn't count them, but he knew if his father's mouth had a count of his orders, that one would probably be one of the top ones.
Every time Dad had said those words, Dean felt a small tingle of fear in his spine. What if something happened to Sammy on his watch? He wouldn't be able to forgive himself, and the countless nightmares he had had over the years regarding something bad (Like death) happening to his little brother had given him more than a few sleepless nights.
Maybe he should have been more understanding of Sam's need to get out of the life.
"It was the heat of the moment… telling you what your heart meant…" – 'Heat of the moment' by Asia
Sam leapt out of bed in a panic. So fast that he nearly tumbled head first and into his brother, who was currently rummaging under his bed for one of his shoes.
"Sam, what in the…"
"What day is it?" Sam croaked, his eyes wide and glistening with terrified tears.
"Friday. All day, dude." Dean frowned, not liking the… interesting colour Sam had gone.
Shaking, Sam whispered, "Turn the radio off."
Quirking his eyebrows, Dean turned to the radio, and froze. Now he got it. Seriously – how many stations played Asia now? There'd been that time in California, that time in Minnesota… and that particularly memorable time in New York.
Every time the same thing happened. He would have to make a mad dash for wherever the song was playing from, while Sam would start shaking and pale and once; in the aforementioned time in New York, he threw up.
If they'd ever driven out of dodge so quickly, he couldn't remember…
Snapping back, he pulled the plug out of the radio and watched as Sam tried to catch his breath. He'd seemed to have held it until the radio was off, and was only just starting to breathe normally.
"You okay?" Dean asked, eyes flickering between his shoelace and Sam's face.
"Yeah, yeah I'm…" he paused, swallowing (And Dean hoped to God it wouldn't turn out like that time in New York), before collecting himself and asking, "Just do me a favour… don't lace your boots up right now."
Used to the strange requests his brother came out with when having flashbacks to Groundhog Day, he simply took his shoes off and grabbed the TV remote instead.
"I think there's a double bill of 'Dr. Sexy M.D' somewhere…" Dean muttered, flicking through channels.
He grinned when he heard Sam groan but chuckle.
"Hush, hush, hush, here comes the Bogeyman - don't let him come too close to you, he'll catch you if he can. Just pretend your teddy bear's a dog, then shout out, 'Fetch him, Teddy!' and he'll hop off like a frog…"– 'Here comes the Bogeyman' by Henry Hall
"Dean…" the boy in question groaned and rolled over in his bed, squeezing his eyes tight.
"Dean…" he now felt small, chubby hands tugging at his duvet and only reacted when they went to reach for his hair.
He simply turned over in his bed to look at Sammy, wondering what he wanted now.
"Sammy, you've had a glass of water, you've been to the toilet, you haven't given it time to fall asleep yet and Dad won't be back till tomorrow."
"I know," the small boy whined, before trying to crawl into his big brother's bed. Dean shivered slightly when he felt cold, toddler appendages touch his own, but helped pull Sam up anyway. "Dean…" he repeated, looking up at the older boy with his lip stuck out a mile.
"What, Sammy?" Dean sighed exasperatedly.
"There's something by the door…" he whispered, dragging Dean's duvet up to his eyes and away from Dean's cold feet.
"What?" Dean glanced over and didn't think he saw anything – but Dad said the dark can play tricks with your mind, and sometimes when you see something, it isn't there, and other times when you can't see something it is.
"What did it look like?" he asked, debating whether to turn the light on or not.
"I don't know!" Sam whined. "'S just there! Dean," he started, looking at his brother with wide, scared eyes, "do you think it's the 'Oogeyman? Daddy said it isn't real, but what if it is?"
Dean relaxed significantly. He remembered the old horror film he'd been watching that night. Old as in black and white, so he didn't think that it would scare Sammy. His little brother hadn't said anything to indicate that he was scared, but still – Dad would kill him if he knew he'd shown Sam a scary film.
"It's okay, Sammy. I know a small fact about Boogeymen. I know how to make them go away."
"You do?" Sam gasped, gazing up at him adoringly.
"Yup," he replied, a small, smug smile on his face to add to his air of confidence. "You just need a toy. You got one somewhere?" He knew full well that the smaller boy did. He'd been dragging that stupid bear around with him for weeks. It was getting all sticky and raggedy, but Sam had kept a grim hold of it when both Dean and John had tried to take it away.
"Ahuh! I got Teddy!" his happy smile quickly dispersed and his lip wobbled again, and his thumb threatened to enter his mouth (A habit they'd been trying to break, to no avail). "He's in my bed," he whispered. "I don't wanna go get him. What if the 'Oogeyman gets me?"
"I'll get it then. Just stay here and I'll be right back." Dean told him. There was no argument – clearly Sam was quite sure the "Oogeyman" wouldn't dare try to get Dean.
He found the worn and tatty bear under Sam's covers, and tried to avoid touching the slobbery bits. He quickly got back into his own bed and passed the toy to his little brother.
After quickly hugging the bear, Sam asked, "So what do we do?"
"Boogeymen don't like bears," Dean told him, quickly coming up with an excuse. "They're scared of them."
Sam giggled, "But Teddy isn't scary!"
"Boogeymen are wimps, Sammy. All you need to do is keep Teddy with you and he won't come near you."
"Promise?" Sam whispered, his eyes already looking away from the door (And Dean knew there wasn't anything in – the salt lines were untouched) and looking up at his brother instead.
"Promise." Dean smiled, before pulling a face as he was forced to endure a 'hug' from Teddy.
"Cause' I'm a picker, I'm a grinner, I'm a lover and I'm a sinner: I play my music in the sun…" – 'The Joker' by Steve Miller
Dean was in a good mood. Actually – that was an understatement. They'd just finished a job which was quite simple, they had been thanked, neither of them had been injured, there was miles of road ahead of them, the Impala was positively purring, not to mention there was that waitress at the bar, the one that…
He came out of his fantasy and looked over to the passenger side. "What's up?"
Sam pulled a face, "Could you try and stop drooling and focus on the road instead, please?"
Dean grinned at him, "C'mon, Sammy – you know you're happy too. Nice, relaxing country drive, a rock radio station…"
"Yeah, I get that – but why the drooling?"
Dean was pretty sure he hadn't been drooling, and decided to just ignore his brother and crank up the volume of the radio.
Some people call me the space cowboy…
Dean grinned, and looked over at Sam, who was doing his best not to smile as his brother started to sing along, "Some call me the gangster of love…"
Sam was given a sharp elbow in his ribs which always indicated that Dean needed backing vocals.
"Some people call me Maurice…"
Sam had never quite figured out how to roll his R's, and Dean always did it so easily. Nevertheless, the happy mood got to him and he found himself being the instrumental, "Wooo, wooooh…"
Dean beamed – you'd have thought the Impala had announced it never needed fuel ever again - and continued, "Cause' I speak of the pompatus of love…People talk about me baby…" At this point he started drumming on the steering wheel, "Say I'm doin' you wrong, doin' you wrong, but don't you worry, baby, don't worry… Cause' I'm right here right here right here right here at home…"
As he got to the chorus, Sam started grinning and joining in, not just as the instrumental anymore.
"Cause' I'm a picker,
I'm a grinner,
I'm a lover,
And I'm a sinner,
I play my music in the sun,
I'm a joker,
I'm a smoker,
I'm a midnight toker,
I get my lovin' on the run…"
Sam shook his head when they got to the second verse. "I can't believe I acted as the instrumental for you."
Dean chuckled, "Well, you know I always complain about your singing anyway. A slide guitar's probably the safest thing for you to be, Sammy." He winked and laughed some more when Sam punched him in the shoulder.
I kinda wanted a weird ending after the angst I was planning on adding in lol. The first two were angsty, but I kinda lost the spark after that XD Don't suppose you lovely people would review? :)