Disclaimer: Oh snap. I don't own Supernatural. Please don't sue. I hardly have the money to pay for tuition and books. Let alone a lawsuit. Especially against Kripke.
Warning: Wincest is present. Light, but definitely present. Oh and cursing. But that's nothing new
A/N: Another Wincest piece. Oh, if only my boyfriend knew. He'd ban Supernatural fridays and probably make fun of me. I'll keep it a secret if you guys will. :)
Nothing ever went according to plan when the Winchesters were involved. Not that the boys really ever had a plan to begin with. The two men just sort of went into situations swinging away and praying to God that they managed to hit a target; any target.
Death, on the other hand, was a guy who had a plan all of his own and went by it, regardless of what anyone else had to say about the matter. This included the Winchesters, though he gave them points on being two very brave and very stupid souls. When Bobby Singer's time was up, it was up, and nothing, not even all the screaming, cursing and tears in the world could refute this.
And so that left Sam and Dean very much alone in the world. The two gazed at each other every so often, memorizing the features of the sibling, just in case. They shouldn't say they were alone in the world when they had the person who knew them the best still around, but even with a best friend, brother and may Hell freeze over and Lucifer rise again, lover, the two still felt empty. Like they were still hunting for something more.
For a while they stuck to hunting, especially when it came to that sonofabitch Dick Roman. They couldn't just not try and avenge Bobby's death, for that was not the Winchester way. Rage, adrenaline and a whole lot of bursting into a room with a foot who had a date with the inside of some monster's ass. Now that, that was the Winchester way. So Sam and Dean both be damned, and they were, if they weren't going to track Mr. Dick down and drown his ass in all the Borax they could pile into the trunk of the car they picked up.
Eventually though, the trail went cold. Every step the Winchesters took forward, Dick and the Leviathans were two steps ahead and the jumbled numbers that turned out to be coordinates was a dead end road. So Sam prompted that Dean and him start a different life. One that made more sense that the hunting. Dean scoffed at first, then realized Sam was being absolutely serious, then became angry, cursing and belittling Sam as much as possible in the hopes that Sam still wanted to get revenge. To Dean's annoyance, he didn't.
One night, while the two brothers were trying to fall asleep in the car Sam started crying. Out of instinct from the years of raising Sam, Dean raised himself off the door and turned around to the backseat. He smiled a little as he saw his gigantic brother cramped up in the small backseat, but the smile faded as the tears hit him.
"Sammy." He spoke softly, afraid he'd startle the younger man.
"What Dean?" Sam's voice was a little cold and Dean flinched. He hated when Sam had that tone with him. It made Dean feel like the most insignificant piece of crap this shithole of a planet had to offer.
"Why you crying?" He rested his chin on his arm as he looked down at his younger brother, while the other one stretched out to stroke the brown mess of hair out of his face.
"Don't worry about it."
"It's my job to worry Sammy. You're my little brother. It doesn't matter if we're little kids or if we're old men. I'm always going to worry about you." Sam shifted his body so he could sit up, Dean noticing the small smile on his face and his inner brother beamed at the reaction. The smile was short lived though and Sam sighed, his shoulders slumping visibly.
"I need to get out of this life Dean. I don't want- I can't- hunt anymore."
"Oh, this again." Dean sighed himself. He didn't want to have this conversation again. He was so very tired of having this conversation.
"Yeah, this again. Dean, we couldn't get out of this life before. But what about now? There isn't going to be another apocalypse so our destinies are finally ours. Something was always pulling us back into the life, but not now. Now we're thrusting ourselves back into the life. Dean, please. I just want to find an actual home to live out the rest of my damn days in peace. Please." The last word tore at Dean, the begging very audible in Sam's tone. The younger Winchester had a point. Nothing was pulling them back into the hunting life. They were hunting every monster down because it was habit. They hadn't come across angels in almost a year nor had they sighted a demon since Sam's little marriage scandal. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe they should find a place to live out the rest of their days, until a reaper came for them.
"Okay Sam." Dean consented, weakly smiling and nodding.
"Wait, what?" Even though Sam was glad to hear agreeing words, he was confused by them, used to putting up a fight to get Dean to agree.
"You're right. With all this stupid shit that's happened to us, I agree with you. We deserve more than sleeping in a car every night or a shitty motel. I'm going to give you what you never had before; a home." Sam leaned forward and kissed Dean, keeping it short and sweet. Dean smirked at the thank you and settled back down against the door, reassured that Sam's fit had been settled.
The next morning the brothers drove aimlessly, discussing where they should set up a new home.
"Nooo, I can't do cold Dean." Sam whined, his head falling back against the seat in exasperation. This hours-on-end conversation had been getting them nowhere fast and Dean was starting to become aggravated. Living in a car and motels was so much easier than this.
"Well I'm not doing the suburbs again. That sucked major ass. Nosy neighbors everywhere."
"So country then? I can do country. Texas?"
"What are you, a hick?"
"What the hell is there in Oklahoma?"
"Damnit Dean!" Sam threw his long arms into the air, letting out a small frustrated scream at his older brother, before falling silent, body sliding down the seat, slumping uncomfortably.
"South Dakota?" Dean suggested, an idea formulating in his brain. Sam, instinctively in tune with his brother's thinking pattern, perked up.
"How'd you feel about being in the construction business for a couple months Sammy?" The two exchanged shit-eating grins as Dean gassed it towards South Dakota.
Over the next year the Winchester brothers built the Singer salvage from the ground up, starting with the house, then moving on to the workshop afterwards. During the first couple weeks of construction Dean and Sam had pitched a tent to sleep in the yard that still held a lot of ash. While in complete darkness they had talked about what they wanted for the house and what Bobby perhaps would have wanted given the new opportunity.
Sam spoke of wanting a huge master's bedroom, complete with a walk in shower big enough for the both of them. He also added that maybe they should install a bench for those mornings when Dean didn't feel like waking up. Dean figured it was a good idea as any. The first born listened to his baby boy go on for what seemed hours about the perfect home and Dean didn't realize that Sam had had these ideas trapped in his noggin at all. The details that Sammy laid out for him gave Dean a pretty good idea that he had been thinking about a house for quite some time.
Lying on his back, his hands behind his head, a goofy grin on his face, Sam asked what Dean wanted in their home and Dean beamed at those two words.
He'd never thought of something to really want out of a house. He was fine with the bare minimum a cheap motel provided him. It never occurred to him that he would get the option to choose floor styles, countertops or fixtures to put in the bathroom. Dean had always been fine trucking along from city to city, motel to motel, place to place.
When Sam prodded Dean in the side and rolled over to see his older brother's face better, Dean looked up at him, tears forming in his eyes. Immediately Sam went to work, fixing and soothing the situation, leaving small kisses here and there, in hopes that they would bring forth Dean's loving side, cramming the tears back into their small little box.
"Sorry Sammy. I don't mean to spring this chick moment on you." Sam's reply was a roll of his eyes and snort, taking his older brother into his arms. Dean didn't say anything more and for once Sam didn't try to pry any words out of him. He'd grown comfortable with the silences the two of them shared and cherished the atmosphere the grand quiet made. Eventually the two fell asleep, holding each other, though throughout the night they drifted off and rolled in separate directions. Every couple hours Dean would instinctively wake up to listen to the world outside the tent and make sure Sam was still okay, before laying back down, closer to his brother than he had woken up and falling back into slumber.
In the sixth month of construction on the Singer land, the house was officially finished. The boys kept almost everything they had retained in their memory the same, changing only a few things here and there. They had always been comfortable at Bobby's place, so why change what already made them feel at home. Sam got his master bedroom, including the huge walk-in shower he had been itching for, though in Dean's opinion that was hardest part of the entire house.
"First night in the house." Sam beamed, sharing the same grin his brother had on his face.
"About damn time. That tent sucks. Last one in has to cook dinner!" Dean yelled suddenly, pushing his moose of a brother over.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, falling right on his ass. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as his long, deer-like legs would allow him, jumping over the steps of the porch, sticking his foot out to trip Dean.
"Ah, shit!" Dean cursed, hitting the wooden floor with a loud thud. Sammy laughed and leaped over his crumpled brother blocking the doorway.
"You're cooking bro!" Sam yelled over his shoulder, giggling up the stairs. The eldest Winchester slowly pushed himself off the floor, groaning as his joints and bones creaked in anger at their misuse. He was getting too old for this. "Oh, damn. Uhh, hey Dean!" Dean looked towards the stairs and saw his brother's kicked puppy face.
"What?" Dean went on alert, confused.
"So, we didn't buy a bed." Sam's eyes wandered around the house for a minute before looking back at Dean. "Or any furniture for that matter. Dude." Dean frowned and looked around himself, seeing that Sam was right. They'd been so busy building the house and getting excited that it was finally finished that they didn't think about furnishing the stupid project.
"Dude." Dean copied, running a hand through his hair, laughing slightly. Sam slowly made his way down the stairs and stopped in front of his brother.
"Want to bring the tent inside?" The brothers glanced at each, those twin shit-eating grins slowly broadening on their faces.
"Oh, definitely. Hello, home sweet home."
I believe Dean and Sam have found home. What do you guys think? Reviews por favor.