Supernatural FIC: Just a Little Lullaby
Title: Just a Little Lullaby
Fandom: Supernatural
Category: Genangst
Rating: Gen
Date: Dec 2005
Summary: Things were different after that night.
Notes: Thanks to stone_princess for the quick and dirty beta.
Disclaimers: Don’t own them. How terribly sad for me.
Just a Little Lullaby
Things were different after that night. Dean was gone and Sam didn't know that he'd ever see him again. Was convinced, in fact, that he wouldn't. Sam stopped talking to people when he didn't have to, would sometimes go for weeks without saying a word.
He continued hunting, because what else was there?
So it was something of a surprise the day he stepped outside of the motel he was staying in and Dean was sitting there in the Impala like he'd never left. Like nothing had changed, even though everything was different.
Sam drove and Dean stared out the window. They still listened to Dean's tapes, though, because it made Dean happy and Sam feel normal. Dean sometimes watched while Sam hustled pool, but most of the time he stayed in the car.
When pretty women walked by, Dean looked, but didn't say anything, which actually wasn't too different. Dean had always been more talk than action because the Winchester boys knew that when women said that they were 'to die for', they didn't mean it literally.
"I don't think we're going to find Dad," Dean said one night out of nowhere.
Sam had to stop himself from the sarcastic reply that leapt to his tongue. "I know," he said instead.
"I tried. When I was gone. I thought maybe..." Dean trailed off and shook his head. "He's gone, Sam."
"I know," Sam said again. "But you came back."
Dean studied Sam for a moment, then shrugged. "I couldn't leave you for good."
"You tried." It wasn't a question.
"I tried."
"But you came back."
Dean nodded.
They didn't talk much at first, after Dean came back. The prolonged silence didn't bother Sam too much, though, because Dean's presence was enough. Sam remembered being told a long time ago by the thing wearing Dean's face that he should appreciate his brother more.
Sam hadn't learned that lesson for years, until after Dean was gone.
"Tell me the story," Dean whispers after they've stopped for the evening. Another dive motel, another run-down town. "About that night."
Which is why Sam never refuses this request, no matter how much it hurts him, because almost his entire life had found Sam so focused on his own pain that he hadn't realized Dean's existed.
"Tell me," Dean says again. He sounds so young when he asks, like the little kid Sam had never known him to be.
Sam nods and takes a deep breath. He can't figure out the pattern to this particular request. Just whatever whims rule Dean's mind.
"It was after what we thought was a successful exorcism in Mississippi." Sam always starts the same. "You weren't sure, but I told you it was clean. I thought it was."
"It was an honest mistake." Dean always replies the same way.
"So we went back to the motel to try and catch some sleep. I fell asleep right away. Which was weird. I don't usually." Sam takes a deep breath. "When I woke up, I couldn't breathe, move, couldn't see or hear anything. The room was completely dark, and I thought you were gone." No matter how many times he tells the story, it doesn't get easier.
"But I wasn't."
"No, you weren't." Sam closes his eyes. "Everything was so confusing. All of the sudden there was noise and light, I could move and you were telling me to run. So I--" He swallows around the lump in his throat and looks over at Dean, who is curled on his side, just watching. "I ran."
"I wanted you to be safe," Dean whispers.
Sam nods. "And you made sure I was. I don't know what you did, how you did it. I don't even know what you were fighting." He looks over at Dean, but Dean shakes his head.
"I don't remember, Sammy."
"There was a flash of light and noise." Sam closes his eyes because he can't look at Dean for this part. "It was so loud. And then it was quiet. Still. And you--"
"And I was dead." Dean always has to finish the story.
Sam nods, and there are tears streaming down his cheeks now, but Dean never gives him shit about it. Never blames him.
"It's not your fault, Sam." Dean sounds so serious. "The only way I would have blamed you is if you hadn't left when I told you to." He smiles. "You know how much I hate it when you don't follow orders."
Sam laughs just a little. "I know. But that doesn't change the fact that you're dead."
"Sammy." Dean sounds exasperated. "I died protecting the one thing left in my life that I give a damn about."
"And the one thing in my life I give a damn about died protecting me," Sam retorts.
"Yeah, well." Dean turns on his back and looks at the ceiling. "Thank you for taking such good care of the Impala."
Sam nods. He never says, "I need you to forgive me." Dean never blamed him, which may be worse. The truth is, Sam needs to forgive himself, and that will never happen.
Sometimes Sam wakes up in the middle of the night, and Dean isn't next to him. He panicked the first time it happened, but he's since learned that Dean will come back.
He always comes back.
Sometimes Sam wonders if it's all in his head. If Dean's death was what it took to finally push him over the edge. He's sure there's a clinical term for it. A fractured psyche, fractured soul, which is true because without Dean, Sam's broken. So maybe Dean is just in his head, because it's what Sam needs to survive.
Sam doesn’t ask why Dean came back, but Dean answers him, anyway.
"It is what it is, Sammy. I'm here because we're a team."
"For how long?" Sam asks, then, because he doesn't want to be caught off-guard the day Dean disappears for good.
"For as long as you need me."
"I'll always need you," Sam whispers, and it makes Dean smile.
"Then I'll always come back."
Fandom: Supernatural
Category: Genangst
Rating: Gen
Date: Dec 2005
Summary: Things were different after that night.
Notes: Thanks to stone_princess for the quick and dirty beta.
Disclaimers: Don’t own them. How terribly sad for me.
Just a Little Lullaby
Things were different after that night. Dean was gone and Sam didn't know that he'd ever see him again. Was convinced, in fact, that he wouldn't. Sam stopped talking to people when he didn't have to, would sometimes go for weeks without saying a word.
He continued hunting, because what else was there?
So it was something of a surprise the day he stepped outside of the motel he was staying in and Dean was sitting there in the Impala like he'd never left. Like nothing had changed, even though everything was different.
Sam drove and Dean stared out the window. They still listened to Dean's tapes, though, because it made Dean happy and Sam feel normal. Dean sometimes watched while Sam hustled pool, but most of the time he stayed in the car.
When pretty women walked by, Dean looked, but didn't say anything, which actually wasn't too different. Dean had always been more talk than action because the Winchester boys knew that when women said that they were 'to die for', they didn't mean it literally.
"I don't think we're going to find Dad," Dean said one night out of nowhere.
Sam had to stop himself from the sarcastic reply that leapt to his tongue. "I know," he said instead.
"I tried. When I was gone. I thought maybe..." Dean trailed off and shook his head. "He's gone, Sam."
"I know," Sam said again. "But you came back."
Dean studied Sam for a moment, then shrugged. "I couldn't leave you for good."
"You tried." It wasn't a question.
"I tried."
"But you came back."
Dean nodded.
They didn't talk much at first, after Dean came back. The prolonged silence didn't bother Sam too much, though, because Dean's presence was enough. Sam remembered being told a long time ago by the thing wearing Dean's face that he should appreciate his brother more.
Sam hadn't learned that lesson for years, until after Dean was gone.
"Tell me the story," Dean whispers after they've stopped for the evening. Another dive motel, another run-down town. "About that night."
Which is why Sam never refuses this request, no matter how much it hurts him, because almost his entire life had found Sam so focused on his own pain that he hadn't realized Dean's existed.
"Tell me," Dean says again. He sounds so young when he asks, like the little kid Sam had never known him to be.
Sam nods and takes a deep breath. He can't figure out the pattern to this particular request. Just whatever whims rule Dean's mind.
"It was after what we thought was a successful exorcism in Mississippi." Sam always starts the same. "You weren't sure, but I told you it was clean. I thought it was."
"It was an honest mistake." Dean always replies the same way.
"So we went back to the motel to try and catch some sleep. I fell asleep right away. Which was weird. I don't usually." Sam takes a deep breath. "When I woke up, I couldn't breathe, move, couldn't see or hear anything. The room was completely dark, and I thought you were gone." No matter how many times he tells the story, it doesn't get easier.
"But I wasn't."
"No, you weren't." Sam closes his eyes. "Everything was so confusing. All of the sudden there was noise and light, I could move and you were telling me to run. So I--" He swallows around the lump in his throat and looks over at Dean, who is curled on his side, just watching. "I ran."
"I wanted you to be safe," Dean whispers.
Sam nods. "And you made sure I was. I don't know what you did, how you did it. I don't even know what you were fighting." He looks over at Dean, but Dean shakes his head.
"I don't remember, Sammy."
"There was a flash of light and noise." Sam closes his eyes because he can't look at Dean for this part. "It was so loud. And then it was quiet. Still. And you--"
"And I was dead." Dean always has to finish the story.
Sam nods, and there are tears streaming down his cheeks now, but Dean never gives him shit about it. Never blames him.
"It's not your fault, Sam." Dean sounds so serious. "The only way I would have blamed you is if you hadn't left when I told you to." He smiles. "You know how much I hate it when you don't follow orders."
Sam laughs just a little. "I know. But that doesn't change the fact that you're dead."
"Sammy." Dean sounds exasperated. "I died protecting the one thing left in my life that I give a damn about."
"And the one thing in my life I give a damn about died protecting me," Sam retorts.
"Yeah, well." Dean turns on his back and looks at the ceiling. "Thank you for taking such good care of the Impala."
Sam nods. He never says, "I need you to forgive me." Dean never blamed him, which may be worse. The truth is, Sam needs to forgive himself, and that will never happen.
Sometimes Sam wakes up in the middle of the night, and Dean isn't next to him. He panicked the first time it happened, but he's since learned that Dean will come back.
He always comes back.
Sometimes Sam wonders if it's all in his head. If Dean's death was what it took to finally push him over the edge. He's sure there's a clinical term for it. A fractured psyche, fractured soul, which is true because without Dean, Sam's broken. So maybe Dean is just in his head, because it's what Sam needs to survive.
Sam doesn’t ask why Dean came back, but Dean answers him, anyway.
"It is what it is, Sammy. I'm here because we're a team."
"For how long?" Sam asks, then, because he doesn't want to be caught off-guard the day Dean disappears for good.
"For as long as you need me."
"I'll always need you," Sam whispers, and it makes Dean smile.
"Then I'll always come back."