Fic: On Hold
Title: On Hold
Author: Nativestar
Pairing/Character: Dean and Sam. No pairings.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just playing.
Rating: PG, gen
Word Count: 1,165
Warnings/Spoilers: None.
Author Notes: Episode tag for Skin, written for spn_epific’s ficathon using the prompt “Did Dean call his father and leave him a message that he was still alive?”
Summary: Dean waits for that one phone call he knows is never coming.
Dean doesn't think about calling anyone at first. It's been just him and Sammy for a few months now. His most dialled number is Sam, his inbox is full of texts from Sam and its Sam who worries if he's late. Hell, Sam even makes Dean text him when he's not going to be returning to the motel room.
There are few people in their line of work, and even fewer that Dean trusts. So it’s only when they’re an hour out of St Louis and he jokes with Sam about missing his own funeral that he thinks who would actually go?
It’s a sobering small number.
Sam would go (if he wasn’t sitting next to a perfectly healthy, un-dead Dean) and Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim maybe even Joshua and of course, Dad. Assuming their Dad was even still alive and that he’d take a break from the hunt. After all, you can’t save the dead so if it was a choice between his son’s funeral and a hunt, Dean’s pretty sure he knows which one his dad would choose.
He guesses there’d be maybe a handful of other hunters too, but they don’t really count. They’d only be there to pay their respects.
He should call them, he thinks, the ones that matter anyway. He should let them know he’s okay.
But he doesn’t. A part of him wants to wait, see who calls him first in a twisted game of who loves me the most. It’s pathetic he thinks, but he wants someone to reach out to him first. But he doesn’t think about it any further, because then he might realise that he doesn’t really care who calls first, he’s just waiting for the one phone call.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It's not until they're crossing into Illinois and a news report comes over the radio that Dean remembers just how far and quickly news travels, especially bad news.
"St Louis Police announced today that the man responsible for torturing and killing two women and attacking a third over the last three weeks was shot dead last night when he returned to the house of his latest victim. The man has been identified as Dean Winchester, from Lawrence, Kansas...."
Dean switches the radio to another station.
Dad.
He must have heard about it by now. All hunters follow the news closely, looking for anything written off as unexplained that could be supernatural. Surely the death of your eldest son requires something more than silence? His phone will probably ring any moment now. Or Sam's. One of them. Dean glances down at his phone resting on the seat between them. Any. Minute. Now.
He thinks about what he’d say.
"Hey Dad, rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated. Hope you're okay too."
The phone stays silent.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Bobby calls not three hours after they leave Missouri. He's shouting and although it's Dean on the receiving end, Sam still flinches in the passenger seat. The conversation is full of “you eejit” and “dammit Dean” and Bobby makes Dean promise that he won't have to call him to find out if he's dead or alive next time.
He sounds angry, but Dean gets the message.
Afterwards when they stop for gas, Dean gets his phone out and calls everyone in his phone book that’s more than just a contact. He hears genuine relief in more than one voice and when Sam goes to use the restroom and doesn’t come back again for a half hour, Dean’s glad.
~~~~~~~~~~~
They eat dinner in a small family diner. It’s cheap, good food and quiet, with just a family and an elderly couple sharing the place with them.
The family has a couple of kids. A baby girl and a boy, either four or five years old, or maybe even six; Dean’s never been that good at guessing the ages of kids. The parents are clearly tired, too tired to run around after their energetic son who is making racing car noises as he bombs around the floor dodging tables.
It doesn’t take long before the little kid falls over, hands slapping loudly against the hard lino floor, and he starts crying. Dean’s pretty sure it’s from the shock of it rather than any actual injury but only seconds later the kid is swung into the air by his father who quickly checks him over before giving him a hug. He speaks quietly into his son’s ear but Dean can still hear what he’s saying.
“You’re alright, you’re okay, son. Hush now, come on.”
Dean doesn’t need a hug. He doesn’t need reassurances and he’s not needy. Not in the slightest, but it really wouldn’t kill his father to let him know he cares.
He’s not really hungry anymore and he leaves his blueberry pie half-eaten, telling Sam he’ll see him back at the car.
Sam thinks he’s the good son, never questioning or doubting their dad. But Dean knows the man isn’t perfect and sometimes, just sometimes… The anger burns sharp and hot and it bleeds through to his voice as Dean thinks about what he’d like to say to his father right now.
"I would have thought hearing about your son's death was enough to warrant a phone call. If you actually care, obviously I'm not dead."
His finger hovers over the call button. It stays there for a full minute before the phone is thrown onto the back seat and he snaps at Sam when he joins him in the car moments later.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Two days pass and they’re heading to Iowa with a new hunt. Dean’s phone has been ringing on and off as the news of his ‘death’ trickles through to old friends and contacts. Sam’s even fielded a few concerned calls himself. However, there’s nothing but silence from John and Dean’s starting to realize that’s not going to change. Unless--
"Hey, Sam. You got any missed calls or anything?"
"No, why?"
Dean doesn't say anything, and it doesn’t take long before a knowing look passes over Sam's face. Dean’s expecting sympathy and pity, maybe even a pep talk ‘it’s okay…probably bad signal…he’d call if he could’, but Sam’s quiet and Dean’s grateful.
He thinks about leaving a message, maybe his Dad can’t call him, but Dean doesn’t have that problem.
"Dad, despite what you may have heard, I'm fine. So's Sammy. We're both fine and...uh...call me when you get this, okay?"
Unless Sam had already done that?
"D'you call Dad? Leave a message?"
"No."
He sees Sam nod out the corner of his eye and he knows that Sam won't call their father and for once it won’t be out of Winchester stubbornness and a refusal to see eye-to-eye.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Five days after he was pronounced dead Dean tells Sam he’s going to hit the head when they stop for gas, but instead ducks around behind the building and fishes his phone out of his pocket.
"Dad. I'm okay."
He snaps the phone shut.
~~~~~~~~~~~
This fic was difficult to bring together and took some perseverance to finish, especially one section. So I really hope you enjoyed it but I'd love to hear from you either way. :)
Author: Nativestar
Pairing/Character: Dean and Sam. No pairings.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just playing.
Rating: PG, gen
Word Count: 1,165
Warnings/Spoilers: None.
Author Notes: Episode tag for Skin, written for spn_epific’s ficathon using the prompt “Did Dean call his father and leave him a message that he was still alive?”
Summary: Dean waits for that one phone call he knows is never coming.
Dean doesn't think about calling anyone at first. It's been just him and Sammy for a few months now. His most dialled number is Sam, his inbox is full of texts from Sam and its Sam who worries if he's late. Hell, Sam even makes Dean text him when he's not going to be returning to the motel room.
There are few people in their line of work, and even fewer that Dean trusts. So it’s only when they’re an hour out of St Louis and he jokes with Sam about missing his own funeral that he thinks who would actually go?
It’s a sobering small number.
Sam would go (if he wasn’t sitting next to a perfectly healthy, un-dead Dean) and Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim maybe even Joshua and of course, Dad. Assuming their Dad was even still alive and that he’d take a break from the hunt. After all, you can’t save the dead so if it was a choice between his son’s funeral and a hunt, Dean’s pretty sure he knows which one his dad would choose.
He guesses there’d be maybe a handful of other hunters too, but they don’t really count. They’d only be there to pay their respects.
He should call them, he thinks, the ones that matter anyway. He should let them know he’s okay.
But he doesn’t. A part of him wants to wait, see who calls him first in a twisted game of who loves me the most. It’s pathetic he thinks, but he wants someone to reach out to him first. But he doesn’t think about it any further, because then he might realise that he doesn’t really care who calls first, he’s just waiting for the one phone call.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It's not until they're crossing into Illinois and a news report comes over the radio that Dean remembers just how far and quickly news travels, especially bad news.
"St Louis Police announced today that the man responsible for torturing and killing two women and attacking a third over the last three weeks was shot dead last night when he returned to the house of his latest victim. The man has been identified as Dean Winchester, from Lawrence, Kansas...."
Dean switches the radio to another station.
Dad.
He must have heard about it by now. All hunters follow the news closely, looking for anything written off as unexplained that could be supernatural. Surely the death of your eldest son requires something more than silence? His phone will probably ring any moment now. Or Sam's. One of them. Dean glances down at his phone resting on the seat between them. Any. Minute. Now.
He thinks about what he’d say.
"Hey Dad, rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated. Hope you're okay too."
The phone stays silent.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Bobby calls not three hours after they leave Missouri. He's shouting and although it's Dean on the receiving end, Sam still flinches in the passenger seat. The conversation is full of “you eejit” and “dammit Dean” and Bobby makes Dean promise that he won't have to call him to find out if he's dead or alive next time.
He sounds angry, but Dean gets the message.
Afterwards when they stop for gas, Dean gets his phone out and calls everyone in his phone book that’s more than just a contact. He hears genuine relief in more than one voice and when Sam goes to use the restroom and doesn’t come back again for a half hour, Dean’s glad.
~~~~~~~~~~~
They eat dinner in a small family diner. It’s cheap, good food and quiet, with just a family and an elderly couple sharing the place with them.
The family has a couple of kids. A baby girl and a boy, either four or five years old, or maybe even six; Dean’s never been that good at guessing the ages of kids. The parents are clearly tired, too tired to run around after their energetic son who is making racing car noises as he bombs around the floor dodging tables.
It doesn’t take long before the little kid falls over, hands slapping loudly against the hard lino floor, and he starts crying. Dean’s pretty sure it’s from the shock of it rather than any actual injury but only seconds later the kid is swung into the air by his father who quickly checks him over before giving him a hug. He speaks quietly into his son’s ear but Dean can still hear what he’s saying.
“You’re alright, you’re okay, son. Hush now, come on.”
Dean doesn’t need a hug. He doesn’t need reassurances and he’s not needy. Not in the slightest, but it really wouldn’t kill his father to let him know he cares.
He’s not really hungry anymore and he leaves his blueberry pie half-eaten, telling Sam he’ll see him back at the car.
Sam thinks he’s the good son, never questioning or doubting their dad. But Dean knows the man isn’t perfect and sometimes, just sometimes… The anger burns sharp and hot and it bleeds through to his voice as Dean thinks about what he’d like to say to his father right now.
"I would have thought hearing about your son's death was enough to warrant a phone call. If you actually care, obviously I'm not dead."
His finger hovers over the call button. It stays there for a full minute before the phone is thrown onto the back seat and he snaps at Sam when he joins him in the car moments later.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Two days pass and they’re heading to Iowa with a new hunt. Dean’s phone has been ringing on and off as the news of his ‘death’ trickles through to old friends and contacts. Sam’s even fielded a few concerned calls himself. However, there’s nothing but silence from John and Dean’s starting to realize that’s not going to change. Unless--
"Hey, Sam. You got any missed calls or anything?"
"No, why?"
Dean doesn't say anything, and it doesn’t take long before a knowing look passes over Sam's face. Dean’s expecting sympathy and pity, maybe even a pep talk ‘it’s okay…probably bad signal…he’d call if he could’, but Sam’s quiet and Dean’s grateful.
He thinks about leaving a message, maybe his Dad can’t call him, but Dean doesn’t have that problem.
"Dad, despite what you may have heard, I'm fine. So's Sammy. We're both fine and...uh...call me when you get this, okay?"
Unless Sam had already done that?
"D'you call Dad? Leave a message?"
"No."
He sees Sam nod out the corner of his eye and he knows that Sam won't call their father and for once it won’t be out of Winchester stubbornness and a refusal to see eye-to-eye.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Five days after he was pronounced dead Dean tells Sam he’s going to hit the head when they stop for gas, but instead ducks around behind the building and fishes his phone out of his pocket.
"Dad. I'm okay."
He snaps the phone shut.
~~~~~~~~~~~
This fic was difficult to bring together and took some perseverance to finish, especially one section. So I really hope you enjoyed it but I'd love to hear from you either way. :)