Fic: Fear The Sunless Lands (Sam/Dean) 6/6
Chapter Five
It’s a grey, windy day, rain a threat that may not ever be made good on if the swirling dust is anything to go by. It gets in Sam’s eyes and crunches in his teeth. His hair whips wildly, promising knots and somehow it all seems fitting. None of them has ever been particularly good at easy, ending it that way would have felt like a lie.
Bobby’s sitting in the same rusted out red truck he’s owned since before Sam was born, hands on the wheel, staring out into the miles of open, flat land on every side. Sam had hated the mistrust inherent in asking to meet like this, but not enough to take the risk. Bobby loves them both like sons, but the man is still a hunter.
He’s out of the cab by the time Sam’s crunched to the halfway mark between the truck and the Impala, Dean flanking him close enough to feel the tension bleeding off of him in waves.
“Boys,” Bobby tips his head to them. Lasts all of four seconds of Sam floundering for the right words to say before closing the gap and wrapping him in a backslapping hug. Sam finds himself hanging on harder than he would have thought, throat gone tight.
There’s an awkward moment of hesitation before he moves on to Dean but if anything, the embrace is more fierce.
The space between them is no less anxious when it’s done, but it’s a different kind of pressure in the air, weighing on Sam’s chest instead of raising the hairs on his neck.
“Do you have a plan?” Bobby asks gruffly, fiddling with the fit of his hat. He jams his hands into his pocket as soon as he catches it, pulling a small smile out of Sam.
“We do.”
A pause as if Bobby’s waiting for details before he seems to think better of it. “Well good. Somebody here oughta.”
“You do what you gotta do,” Dean shrugs, leaning just that much too far into Sam’s space. “We’ll do what we gotta do.”
Bobby’s been in this game for longer than either of them has been alive and Sam’s sure he hasn’t forgotten that night in the Council room, so that might be enough for him to see the writing on the wall or it might just be that he doesn’t want to look at it too closely. Either way he casts a look between them and nods, tight lipped. It’s not exactly a subject Sam’s keen on discussing with his erstwhile father figure either.
Unfolding the bundle of papers from the inside of his jacket, Sam hands them over, a photocopy of his own notes paperclipped to the top of the redacted information from Lenore. “For what it’s worth. Somebody should work on this. There’s still a lot left to learn.”
Bobby leafs through the pages briefly, eyes narrowing at the name-blacked medical files. “You got all of this by yourself?”
“Yep,” Sam smiles tightly, “Just little old me.”
Bobby doesn’t buy it for a second, but it doesn’t matter. If Lenore and Ruby have been at this for as long as they say, Sam doubts anybody’s getting close to them if they don’t want it.
“Well alright then. I’ll-” whatever else he’s going to say drags out into nothing, the pretense wearing thin. Bobby casts a look at the rocky dirt road beneath their feet and breathes deep like it pains him. “Take care of your brother.”
“I will,” Sam nods just as Dean says the same. They catch each other’s eye, smiles flickering like it’s junior high all over again. Sam feels completely ridiculous and bumping his knuckles against Dean’s doesn’t really help it any more than how one of Dean’s finger snags on Sam’s and holds there, but he’s not sure he minds it either. It’s going to take time before that starts to feel normal, but then again, time’s all they’ve got.
Bobby lingers uncomfortably, looking for something to say, Sam’s sure, because it’s exactly what he’s doing too. He wants to say something about how they’ll understand if the Guild has to send someone after them or denounce them or all of the above. Tell him that they know he’ll understand too, if they have to spill blood to keep each other safe, that he’d never begrudge it of them even if they’re coming at the job from the other side now. He wants to say thank you, and they love him, and they’re sorry. But Bobby knows it all, same as they do, and those aren’t the kind of words any of them was bred for.
So he forces a weak grin when the wind whips at Dean’s, “See ya around,” because they won’t. Turns toward the car, and bumps his arm against Dean’s, does Bobby the service of not checking over his shoulder as he walks away.
They settle in the car, silent, and pretend they’re not both watching the dust cloud of Bobby’s truck driving away. Around them, farm land stretches out in every direction, long stretches of open plain cut through by slim, unmaintained roads. They can go anywhere from here, choices wide open for the first time in their lives.
Sam looks at his brother as Dean cranks the engine, familiar roar trembling to life beneath them. He smiles, genuine this time, and Dean gives it back to him, Ride the Lightning like a low soundtrack to everything out in front of them they haven’t gotten to yet and everything long behind them.
“Drive,” Sam commands, fitting back into the familiar pattern with a roll of his eyes, slotting into something new when he leans back and rests the nape of his neck against Dean’s arm draped possessively across the bench seat.
Dirt kicks up under the rear wheels, gravel pinging quietly at the undercarriage as they bump down the pitted road. On, to whatever comes next.
The End
“When the first living thing existed, I was there, waiting. When the last living thing dies, my job is finished. I'll put the chairs on tables, turn out the lights and lock the universe behind me when I leave.” - Death, in Sandman #20: "Façade"
