![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: These Days
Rating: T
Genre: Angst, family, h/c
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 3.16. AU after that.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: This is the sequel to "One Hundred Nine Hours and Thirteen Minutes." I'd recommend reading that first if you haven't. Also, this was written in the summer and was completed before Season 4 ever aired. (Also written without ever looking at any spoilers for Season 4.) Partly journal, partly third person POV.
Summary: The path to recovery is more like a winding mountain road. Post 3.16, AU Season 4.
( Day 1 )
Dean’s working on the Impala.
Not for very long, I would imagine. He’s still pretty worn out, and his body isn’t healing very fast. Doesn’t help that he keeps tearing the stitches in his sleep, but that’s not really something he can control.
The one time he consented to taking one of Bobby’s sleeping pills – on the third day – turned out really bad. The drugs didn’t stop the nightmares from coming – they just prevented his body from letting me know what was going on.
Needless to say, no more sleeping aids for Dean… at least, for now.
But he finally went outside today for the first time since he woke up. I think it’s doing him some good, too – not just working on the car, but leaving Bobby’s place. I mean, we both love the guy like a second father, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has demon wards, occult books, and a million other reminders of the dark side of hunting. The demon wards have been especially hard on Dean, I think.
That makes me slightly worried. I talked with Bobby last night, after Dean had fallen asleep, and he kind of agrees with me… Dean’s soul might be tainted. Which means he could be affected by the wards.
Which really isn’t surprising. I don’t think it will have too much of an impact – at least, not physically. He hasn’t reacted at all to the Devil’s Trap still tattooed on his chest. (The Hellhounds couldn’t touch that when they were attacking him, thank God.) And I don’t think his eyes are going to go all black any time soon or anything. I’m more worried about that happening to me.
No, the thing I’m worried about with Dean is the long-term impact on his psyche. If our run-in with the vampires up in Montana was enough to make Dean start questioning his black-and-white view of hunting, then this is going to blow everything out of the water.
I mean, I figured we wouldn’t be hunting any time soon… actually, I would adjust if we never hunted again. But I know that’s not practical. There’s still stuff out there that needs to be hunted. Innocent people are still getting hurt.
But as much as I want to help those innocent people, I want to help my brother more.
Not that I’m doing such a great job right now, mind you. At least, it doesn’t feel like it. Dean and I don’t talk a whole lot… although it is more than after Dad died. And we actually haven’t had a fight yet – which is a record compared to a couple years ago. There’s still a lot of silence. But this time, the silence is marginally more comfortable. Not like it was before, but a little better than after Dad died.
That’s why I’m relieved that Dean started showing interest in his car again – even if I sort of prodded him to do it. It lets me know that my big brother is somewhere inside that broken shell. And I don’t care how long it takes – I’m going to get as much of that big brother back as I can.
Sam flicked carelessly through the two-day old newspaper that had been sitting on Bobby’s kitchen table. He glanced through a few of the articles, chewing his way through a bowl of mushy cornflakes and milk.
His eyes shot up to the ceiling when he heard the soft creaking of footsteps shuffling overhead. He paused, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth as he inwardly battled his desire to rush upstairs and check on his brother. He knew Dean had been up for awhile – he’d been there when Dean had awakened – so he figured Dean wouldn’t be panicking without Sam near.
Actually, Dean had progressed in that area much quicker than expected – he could almost go a full hour without having to see even a glimpse of his younger brother.
Sam wished he could say the same for himself.
As it was, it had been forty-three minutes since he had seen Dean while grabbing a clean shirt before showering (not that Sam was counting or anything), and he was already starting to freak out.
He shoved the spoon in his mouth, eyebrows knitting in confusion when he found there were no flakes on the metal.
As footsteps echoed down the old stairwell, Sam forced his eyes back down to the newspaper and took another bite of cornflakes, trying not to choke on the sludgy cereal as it clung to his throat. He swallowed thickly, eyes flicking up as Dean finally shuffled his way into the kitchen, leaning against the wall. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Dean murmured back. Sam didn’t miss the flicker of relief that passed through Dean’s eyes, and he smiled faintly. Maybe Dean still needed to be reassured of Sam’s presence more than Sam had thought.
Good to know they were on the same page in that category, anyway.
“Did you want something to eat?”
Dean eyed the bowl of soggy cornflakes. “As appealing as those look, I think I’ll pass for the moment,” he said wryly. His eyes flicked around the kitchen again. “Where’s Bobby?”
“He went to town to get some supplies,” Sam replied. “There’s a reason I’m stuck eating cornflakes.”
Dean chuckled softly, his eyes still roaming the room. Sam cocked his head slightly when he saw a slight shudder run through Dean’s frame as his eyes landed on something for a brief moment before they were moving again. A quick glance out of the corner of his eye revealed that Dean had caught sight of a protective ward over the doorway of the kitchen. Sam frowned faintly, debating on whether or not to speak up.
“The Impala’s out back.”
Dean blinked in surprise, his eyes moving back to Sam’s. “What?”
Sam shrugged. “I thought you might like to get outside for awhile. The car’s out back, if you want to take a look at it.”
Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes searching Sam’s face for a moment. Finally, a hint of smirk creased his face. “Yeah, maybe I better. If you’ve screwed up my car-”
Sam couldn’t hold back a short laugh as he grinned, glad to see a little of his old brother showing through. “I know, I know – you’ll kill me.” He paused briefly as a faint flicker of darkness passed over Dean’s eyes at the remark. He scrambled to make the air a little less tense. “You better go find your baby. I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without her.”
Dean snorted, moving towards the kitchen door. “Knew I’d get through to you someday, Sammy.”
Sam looked slightly confused. “What do you mean?”
Dean glanced over his shoulder from his spot in the doorway. “You just called her a ‘her’. Finally got you to see the light.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man.”
He watched as Dean made his way outside. The older Winchester took a deep breath of the sunny South Dakota air before making his way to where the black Chevy was parked. Nudging the paper aside, he grabbed his journal and flipped it open to where a pen was marking his current page.
Dean’s working on the Impala.
( Day 15 )
Rating: T
Genre: Angst, family, h/c
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 3.16. AU after that.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: This is the sequel to "One Hundred Nine Hours and Thirteen Minutes." I'd recommend reading that first if you haven't. Also, this was written in the summer and was completed before Season 4 ever aired. (Also written without ever looking at any spoilers for Season 4.) Partly journal, partly third person POV.
Summary: The path to recovery is more like a winding mountain road. Post 3.16, AU Season 4.
( Day 1 )
Day 6
Dean’s working on the Impala.
Not for very long, I would imagine. He’s still pretty worn out, and his body isn’t healing very fast. Doesn’t help that he keeps tearing the stitches in his sleep, but that’s not really something he can control.
The one time he consented to taking one of Bobby’s sleeping pills – on the third day – turned out really bad. The drugs didn’t stop the nightmares from coming – they just prevented his body from letting me know what was going on.
Needless to say, no more sleeping aids for Dean… at least, for now.
But he finally went outside today for the first time since he woke up. I think it’s doing him some good, too – not just working on the car, but leaving Bobby’s place. I mean, we both love the guy like a second father, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has demon wards, occult books, and a million other reminders of the dark side of hunting. The demon wards have been especially hard on Dean, I think.
That makes me slightly worried. I talked with Bobby last night, after Dean had fallen asleep, and he kind of agrees with me… Dean’s soul might be tainted. Which means he could be affected by the wards.
Which really isn’t surprising. I don’t think it will have too much of an impact – at least, not physically. He hasn’t reacted at all to the Devil’s Trap still tattooed on his chest. (The Hellhounds couldn’t touch that when they were attacking him, thank God.) And I don’t think his eyes are going to go all black any time soon or anything. I’m more worried about that happening to me.
No, the thing I’m worried about with Dean is the long-term impact on his psyche. If our run-in with the vampires up in Montana was enough to make Dean start questioning his black-and-white view of hunting, then this is going to blow everything out of the water.
I mean, I figured we wouldn’t be hunting any time soon… actually, I would adjust if we never hunted again. But I know that’s not practical. There’s still stuff out there that needs to be hunted. Innocent people are still getting hurt.
But as much as I want to help those innocent people, I want to help my brother more.
Not that I’m doing such a great job right now, mind you. At least, it doesn’t feel like it. Dean and I don’t talk a whole lot… although it is more than after Dad died. And we actually haven’t had a fight yet – which is a record compared to a couple years ago. There’s still a lot of silence. But this time, the silence is marginally more comfortable. Not like it was before, but a little better than after Dad died.
That’s why I’m relieved that Dean started showing interest in his car again – even if I sort of prodded him to do it. It lets me know that my big brother is somewhere inside that broken shell. And I don’t care how long it takes – I’m going to get as much of that big brother back as I can.
Sam flicked carelessly through the two-day old newspaper that had been sitting on Bobby’s kitchen table. He glanced through a few of the articles, chewing his way through a bowl of mushy cornflakes and milk.
His eyes shot up to the ceiling when he heard the soft creaking of footsteps shuffling overhead. He paused, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth as he inwardly battled his desire to rush upstairs and check on his brother. He knew Dean had been up for awhile – he’d been there when Dean had awakened – so he figured Dean wouldn’t be panicking without Sam near.
Actually, Dean had progressed in that area much quicker than expected – he could almost go a full hour without having to see even a glimpse of his younger brother.
Sam wished he could say the same for himself.
As it was, it had been forty-three minutes since he had seen Dean while grabbing a clean shirt before showering (not that Sam was counting or anything), and he was already starting to freak out.
He shoved the spoon in his mouth, eyebrows knitting in confusion when he found there were no flakes on the metal.
As footsteps echoed down the old stairwell, Sam forced his eyes back down to the newspaper and took another bite of cornflakes, trying not to choke on the sludgy cereal as it clung to his throat. He swallowed thickly, eyes flicking up as Dean finally shuffled his way into the kitchen, leaning against the wall. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Dean murmured back. Sam didn’t miss the flicker of relief that passed through Dean’s eyes, and he smiled faintly. Maybe Dean still needed to be reassured of Sam’s presence more than Sam had thought.
Good to know they were on the same page in that category, anyway.
“Did you want something to eat?”
Dean eyed the bowl of soggy cornflakes. “As appealing as those look, I think I’ll pass for the moment,” he said wryly. His eyes flicked around the kitchen again. “Where’s Bobby?”
“He went to town to get some supplies,” Sam replied. “There’s a reason I’m stuck eating cornflakes.”
Dean chuckled softly, his eyes still roaming the room. Sam cocked his head slightly when he saw a slight shudder run through Dean’s frame as his eyes landed on something for a brief moment before they were moving again. A quick glance out of the corner of his eye revealed that Dean had caught sight of a protective ward over the doorway of the kitchen. Sam frowned faintly, debating on whether or not to speak up.
“The Impala’s out back.”
Dean blinked in surprise, his eyes moving back to Sam’s. “What?”
Sam shrugged. “I thought you might like to get outside for awhile. The car’s out back, if you want to take a look at it.”
Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes searching Sam’s face for a moment. Finally, a hint of smirk creased his face. “Yeah, maybe I better. If you’ve screwed up my car-”
Sam couldn’t hold back a short laugh as he grinned, glad to see a little of his old brother showing through. “I know, I know – you’ll kill me.” He paused briefly as a faint flicker of darkness passed over Dean’s eyes at the remark. He scrambled to make the air a little less tense. “You better go find your baby. I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without her.”
Dean snorted, moving towards the kitchen door. “Knew I’d get through to you someday, Sammy.”
Sam looked slightly confused. “What do you mean?”
Dean glanced over his shoulder from his spot in the doorway. “You just called her a ‘her’. Finally got you to see the light.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man.”
He watched as Dean made his way outside. The older Winchester took a deep breath of the sunny South Dakota air before making his way to where the black Chevy was parked. Nudging the paper aside, he grabbed his journal and flipped it open to where a pen was marking his current page.
Dean’s working on the Impala.
( Day 15 )
Tags: