8 Days of Wincest: Day 3
Day 3:
Dean learned to light up a ghost at age eight, drop a werewolf at age eleven, and exorcise at demon by age fifteen. Sometimes he thinks there isn’t an evil he hasn’t faced. But Sam hasn’t left his bed since Dean dragged him back to the bunker after the third trial, and all the rock salt in the world can’t fix it. Sam can barely keep himself upright most of the time, and the dark circles under his eyes are starting to swallow his pupils until his whole face looks like two empty sockets.
Dean hasn’t managed an apology yet, but Sam is still smiling at him anyway, in between bouts of vomiting blood. The only thing he’s managed to keep down is, miraculously, a few spoonfuls of the orange-powder mac ‘n cheese Dean dug out of the pantry last night.
He went to the local mini-mart and bought the whole shelf at three in the morning, and butter and milk as well. Sam eats it, slowly and painfully, but he keeps it down. Dean’s not a healer - he’s never managed to save Sam without losing himself in the process, and there’s not a single angel or demon left that owes the Winchesters any favors.
So Dean makes mac ‘n cheese. He watches the bites disappear into Sam’s mouth until Sam gives him a faint look of annoyance. Dean makes some quip, some joke that makes Sam’s mouth twitch, and then he walks back down the stairs. He rips his way through books and websites and anything that might teach him how to fight this new enemy. In the meantime, he makes mac ‘n cheese, and waits for the next meal time, and knows that at least for a few minutes, he can make things right.
Dean learned to light up a ghost at age eight, drop a werewolf at age eleven, and exorcise at demon by age fifteen. Sometimes he thinks there isn’t an evil he hasn’t faced. But Sam hasn’t left his bed since Dean dragged him back to the bunker after the third trial, and all the rock salt in the world can’t fix it. Sam can barely keep himself upright most of the time, and the dark circles under his eyes are starting to swallow his pupils until his whole face looks like two empty sockets.
Dean hasn’t managed an apology yet, but Sam is still smiling at him anyway, in between bouts of vomiting blood. The only thing he’s managed to keep down is, miraculously, a few spoonfuls of the orange-powder mac ‘n cheese Dean dug out of the pantry last night.
He went to the local mini-mart and bought the whole shelf at three in the morning, and butter and milk as well. Sam eats it, slowly and painfully, but he keeps it down. Dean’s not a healer - he’s never managed to save Sam without losing himself in the process, and there’s not a single angel or demon left that owes the Winchesters any favors.
So Dean makes mac ‘n cheese. He watches the bites disappear into Sam’s mouth until Sam gives him a faint look of annoyance. Dean makes some quip, some joke that makes Sam’s mouth twitch, and then he walks back down the stairs. He rips his way through books and websites and anything that might teach him how to fight this new enemy. In the meantime, he makes mac ‘n cheese, and waits for the next meal time, and knows that at least for a few minutes, he can make things right.