SPN Fic: Smoke Drifting By - Epilogue
See masterpost for summary and further information.
Epilogue
It the realization came to Dean only three days later, when they were in some cabin in Whitefish, Montana, and Bobby was gone, leaving them alone for the first time since they got here.
They hadn’t taken much from Dean’s house. Sam’s medication, Dean’s working clothes. Stuff that fit in the trunk of the Impala. Dean resigned his job in a phone call and never gave Gina on the other end of the line a chance to answer.
Now the Impala was parked outside the cabin and Bobby was taking the ambulance, stripped of anything they might need, somewhere far away from here. Too conspicuous, too easy to track. Sam was sitting on the couch, his wheelchair in reaching distance and they would have to figure this out, would have to come up with a plan of how to save the world from the disgusting things that made Cas explode with one team member who would never walk again.
Hobble, perhaps. Limp a little on crutches. Not walk. Not on those legs.
Someone who was crazy. Whose way of dealing seriously, seriously sucked.
Someone who was sane right now, and looking at Dean with a bit of a smile; an expression that Dean couldn’t read. Perhaps it was sad, perhaps not. Perhaps he would look different if he knew that Dean wanted to kiss him. That to him it wasn’t over, and to him it hadn’t started when he pulled Sam out of a fire for the third time.
That he didn’t mourn the loss of his job and his house and his friends but he mourned the loss of this.
Sam looked a little flushed from the fever that was still plaguing him. He was so thin, a far cry from the strong young man that had outgrown his older brother so long ago, but even further from the little boy who worshipped the ground Dean stood on. Those times were so far away, much further than fifteen or twenty years, for both of them. Now Sam was thin and trembling softly and Dean couldn’t read him.
“Hey,” he said, putting a hand to Sam’s forehead to check his temperature, just to do that. Like the big brother he was. ‘How are you?’ he had meant to ask, and maybe tell Sam that they would fix this because the world was full of magic and powers that weren’t all bad if they were used to get him walking again. He hadn’t meant for his hand to run don’t Sam’s face and cub his cheek.
Sam leaned into this touch and closed his eyes. That was when Dean finally got it.
Sam had remembered before him. When he kissed Dean in the Hospital, he had already known.
So Dean stood with his hand on Sam’s cheek and Sam opened his eyes and looked at him in a way that said everything, everything. And there were a million things to say, two million reasons why this was wrong and three million reasons why it would cause more problems than it solved, but Dean didn’t think of any of that, because it was okay to feel this way. It was okay with Sammy. It would be okay to kiss, here, as brothers and lovers and soul mates who might go to Heaven or to Hell, but would go there together.
So Dean kissed Sam. It felt like sealing a deal that would sell his soul forever. And that was okay, too.
December 2, 2011
MASTERPOST
Epilogue
It the realization came to Dean only three days later, when they were in some cabin in Whitefish, Montana, and Bobby was gone, leaving them alone for the first time since they got here.
They hadn’t taken much from Dean’s house. Sam’s medication, Dean’s working clothes. Stuff that fit in the trunk of the Impala. Dean resigned his job in a phone call and never gave Gina on the other end of the line a chance to answer.
Now the Impala was parked outside the cabin and Bobby was taking the ambulance, stripped of anything they might need, somewhere far away from here. Too conspicuous, too easy to track. Sam was sitting on the couch, his wheelchair in reaching distance and they would have to figure this out, would have to come up with a plan of how to save the world from the disgusting things that made Cas explode with one team member who would never walk again.
Hobble, perhaps. Limp a little on crutches. Not walk. Not on those legs.
Someone who was crazy. Whose way of dealing seriously, seriously sucked.
Someone who was sane right now, and looking at Dean with a bit of a smile; an expression that Dean couldn’t read. Perhaps it was sad, perhaps not. Perhaps he would look different if he knew that Dean wanted to kiss him. That to him it wasn’t over, and to him it hadn’t started when he pulled Sam out of a fire for the third time.
That he didn’t mourn the loss of his job and his house and his friends but he mourned the loss of this.
Sam looked a little flushed from the fever that was still plaguing him. He was so thin, a far cry from the strong young man that had outgrown his older brother so long ago, but even further from the little boy who worshipped the ground Dean stood on. Those times were so far away, much further than fifteen or twenty years, for both of them. Now Sam was thin and trembling softly and Dean couldn’t read him.
“Hey,” he said, putting a hand to Sam’s forehead to check his temperature, just to do that. Like the big brother he was. ‘How are you?’ he had meant to ask, and maybe tell Sam that they would fix this because the world was full of magic and powers that weren’t all bad if they were used to get him walking again. He hadn’t meant for his hand to run don’t Sam’s face and cub his cheek.
Sam leaned into this touch and closed his eyes. That was when Dean finally got it.
Sam had remembered before him. When he kissed Dean in the Hospital, he had already known.
So Dean stood with his hand on Sam’s cheek and Sam opened his eyes and looked at him in a way that said everything, everything. And there were a million things to say, two million reasons why this was wrong and three million reasons why it would cause more problems than it solved, but Dean didn’t think of any of that, because it was okay to feel this way. It was okay with Sammy. It would be okay to kiss, here, as brothers and lovers and soul mates who might go to Heaven or to Hell, but would go there together.
So Dean kissed Sam. It felt like sealing a deal that would sell his soul forever. And that was okay, too.
December 2, 2011
MASTERPOST