Yes, I did just write a fic based on Season 1. This hiatus is unbearable, so I went back to watch the old episodes. It's actually horribly depressing because the boys seem so happy and (relatively) innocent back then. Daww. Okay, enough rambling! (Dean's POV.)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Afraid of Flying
"You're joking right?"
"Does it look like I'm joking?" I spit back at the incredulous face of my little brother. "Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?"
God I just want him to stop looking at me like that. Of course I'm not fucking joking. Tons of people are afraid of flying. Tons of people won't set foot anywhere near an airplane. It's a rational fear. So why do I suddenly feel so goddamn pathetic? I wish I could take back the stupid confession and just get on the damn plane, but apparently Sam's already moved past it.
"Alright, uh, I'll go," he replies.
"What?" I ask. He can't be that stupid, can he?
"I'll do this one on my own." Yes. Yes he can.
"What are you, nuts?" I reply, "You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash."
I barely hear his argument about our limited options; our limited time. I barely even register my own grumbling response. I know I sound like a child. I know I sound pitiful. But Sam doesn't understand.
If you can control of the situation, you can control the outcome. You can get out alive. It's one of the first lessons Dad taught me. One of the most important.
There's no way I can possibly factor an airplane into that philosophy. There's absolutely no level of control that can be gained when it comes to planes. I don't know a thing about aviation, don't know a damn thing about keeping a fifty thousand pound hunk of metal in the air.
The Impala, sure. I know everything I could possibly know about my car. I know she pulls slightly to the left, I know how you have to turn the key just right if you want to avoid the stutter of the engine. I always know what to expect. So when it's me behind the wheel, I know I can keep everyone safe. I can keep Sammy safe.
But an airplane? Hell no.
There are so many factors, so many little variables that make it impossible to know if my little brother will make it back alive.
And that's not acceptable. That's not an option for me.
I'm about to tell him this. I'm about to tell him to forget it, that it's time to pack up and go home. But one look in his eyes tells me that'll never happen. Not when there are this many innocent lives at stake. His expression is pure determination- looks just like Dad. And he's twice as stubborn. I know for a fact that he's getting on that plane, no matter what I say. And I also know there's no way he's doing it alone.
"Flight attendants please cross check cabin for departure."
Thanks for reading! Review if you have a minute =)