Season Two Finale |
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Season Two Finale |
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SN-I'm Buring For You:E1:The Woman in Question-Part Two |
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SN-I'm Buring For You:E1:The Woman in Question-Part Two |
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usmc75 |
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SN-I'm Buring For You:E1:The Woman in Question-Part One |
usmc75 |
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My Generation-Chapter Four |
Title: My Generation 4/?
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Words: 4382
Rating: PG
Warnings:NONE! This is an actual story, no perv or porn here. Just Winchester goodness. Not that there is anything wrong with porn, I love me some good porn, this just isn't it.
A/N: The start of a Weechester story about Dean and Sam and their time growing up. I posted a small part of this for a Christmas present and found that there was so much more to tell.
Prelude/Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Chapter Four
There was a man watching Dean.
Dean was walking through a playground and there was a man watching him.
He had been here before, to this playground hat didn't exist. It was a mixture of the one that was at his old school in Lawrence, the one that was in Selma they found during that hunt with Bobby and the one from Terminator Two where it explodes. That movie was rad. Dean had walked this playground before, sometimes he found food lying on the ground everywhere, sometimes it was cassette tapes. Other times there were kids here, kids he knew and that liked him. He would play baseball and tag with them, and he would find himself watching himself play with them, and somehow that was when he knew he was dreaming. He had been here before, and so had the man.
The man looked about dad’s age, maybe a little younger. Black hair and a narrow face he wore a crumpled brown trench coat that reminded Dean of Colombo in a way. He was standing on the other side of the fence, watching Dean. Dean had seen the man before, but he had never actually given him any thought. But here Dean was, walking the empty playground and the man was watching him. For some reason the man didn’t have a pervy feeling, didn’t give off a scary vibe. For some reason Dean felt like he knew him somehow.
As Dean walked towards the fence and the fence began to move away from him. Dean began to run towards the fence and the fence began to run away from him. Dean screamed and extended an arm out towards the fence and the fence stayed out of reach no matter how fast he ran at it. Dean called out to the man, not knowing why he had to get to him, just knowing he needed to. As the fence and the man fled to the distance, he swore he could see a pair of huge wings spread out behind the man and he vanished.
And Dean screamed for him to stay.
And then tasted floor.
Dean laid on the floor for a few seconds, fully absorbing the dull thud of the ungiving surface against his all too giving face. The dream evaporated in the daylight, leaving Dean a dull ache he had lost something he couldn’t name. The phone rang and Dean realized it had been ringing for a while. He looked over and saw Sam comatose in that little kid way, looking like he had been a victim of a hate crime the way his limbs were all twisted and spread out across the bed. Sam slept like a tornado most of the time, spinning and turning like he was trying out for the preschool Romanian gymnastics team. Dean had sported bruises all over his side when they had shared a bed years ago, making him wonder what the hell did his younger brother dream about?
The phone rang again and Dean realized he had almost fallen asleep on the floor while his mind wandered off. Getting up he padded over to the night stand between the beds and picked up the phone.
“Morning Bobby” he said trying not to sound tired.
“Morning?” Bobby’s gruff voice asked “It’s past noon you chucklehead. You and your brother alright?”
Dean looked over to Sam’s slobbering face and nodded “Yes sir, just a long night.”
“You need anything? You guys going to be ok by yourself?” he asked just like every other time John was out of reach. Bobby was like the designated hitter in baseball, when John couldn’t swing, Bobby came up to the plate for him. Every morning, because no matter what a clock said when you woke up it was morning, Bobby would call and check in with the boys, making sure they were alive, healthy and not killing each other from boredom. It was worse when they were younger, but as Dean got older, he could tell Bobby was starting to trust him more.
“Nah dad left us a new card and I got the keys Just. In. Case.” Dean explained mimicking John’s voice.
Bobby chuckled and said “Don’t even think it boy.”
“Think what?” Dean asked in the most innocent voice he possessed.
There was a silence as Bobby shook his head and said “Ok, your funeral. Just checking in, both Jim and I checking the other areas for that thing, I won’t be back in for another two days, so I wanna make sure now you boys are ok casue we are gonna be out of reach.”
Dean rolled his eyes “We’re fine Bobby, we aren’t babies.”
Bobby’s voice got a little stern “Didn’t say you were Dean, but you are still a kid. And kids get in trouble.”
“I don’t get in trouble.” Dean said defiantly.
“Sell that on the other side of the street kiddo.” Bobby said before sighing “Just watch out for your brother and we’ll be back in two days. Can you handle it for two days?”
“Yes sir.” Dean said trying not to sound offended.
“Ok, well leave that car alone or your dad will kill ya.” he said as he hung up.
Dean made a hissing sound into the phone “Breaking up Bobby, what was..” and he hung up the phone. He laughed to himself as he patted himself on the back for being so damn clever. Grown ups were so gullible.
Realizing he was awake and bored, he looked over to Sam’s sleeping form and smiled as he thought of Winchester Code 41: He who sleeps in is fair game. He walked into the bathroom and began to prepare.
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John hated the car.
It was boxy, it was cramped and it had a CD player which was useless since John didn’t even know what a CD was. It was plastic, it was shiny and it was everything his car wasn’t. But he had gotten the extra insurance on it so he was going to drive it into the ground. Once he had made it outside of town he had followed the road until it turned off to a trail. The trail became a path and the path became nothing. As the car went off road and he felt his kidneys begin to liquefy from the shocks, he was once again glad he didn’t bring the Impala.
This thing had been all over the area. Reports of disappearances, mutilations and a dozen other signs that something no so nice was hunting the area. The three of them had maneuvered it back to that area, but now that it took off, it could have gone in any direction. But it had haunts, and the hunters had decided to check them out. That thing was going to go back to one of them, and when it did, it would find a hunter waiting for it. John tried to think of the hunt as he continued driving but his mind was with his kids. And the fact Sammy wasn't going to make a hunter.
And John wasn't sure what that meant for his family.
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The search had been called off on account of school.
They had walked around the town, looking in all the familiar haunts that Charlie might have gone off to for whatever reason. Though the concept of Charlie running away from home to spend the night behind the bowling alley just didn’t compute to the gang. Charlie was the biggest wimp of them all, including Tubbs. And to miss a night in his warm and cozy bed meant he had met the owner of Nintendo or something bad had happened.
They were really hoping he had met the owner of Nintendo.
By third period the whole school was talking about it. Bart had held court during lunch dispensing the information on the search like he was his father’s press agent. Adam and the gang watched the group of students listen to the jock enraptured, like it was an episode of a bad TV show instead of a real person missing. Adam looked away before he got any madder, he found his sister’s eyes staring back at him.
“What?” he asked with a little more emotion than he intended.
“It’s not your fault.” she said as if she was spouting Jedi wisdom or some crap.
He knew it wasn’t his fault, but didn’t mean he could stop feeling that way. “He always goes home after school.” he said again. Adam had walked them through Charlie’s virtual route home almost four times now, each time had came up blank.
“No he goes by Lou’s and then home.” Tubbs said between bites. Tubbs was the only person they knew who not only ate the school lunch, but enjoyed it. Adam had once wondered if they switched the food out with plastic replicas he would notice.
Amanda said she wouldn’t take that bet.
Adam looked over to Tubbs with unveiled shock “You knew that?”
Tubbs nodded without looking up “He always does, goes and drools over the Gameboy.” Realizing that both siblings were looking at him he paused mid bite and looked up. “What?”
“Tubbs” Amanda said in the calmest tone she could muster “Why didn’t you say something this morning when we were walking around?”
Tubbs sat there stunned with a load of fries hanging out of his mouth “I thought you knew.”
She continued to glare at him for several seconds until he swallowed the fries whole.
“If we were in a real city they might have those new cameras on the traffic lights I read about.” Adam wished a lot they were in a real city, any real city. He once said Nowhere was like some little town out of a Tom Sawyer novel, full of ignorant people doing absolutely nothing. Amanda said she thought it more like a Stephen King book, with the whole town being filled with monsters that were unexplainable.
He had to admit her description fit better.
“We may not have traffic light cameras” Amanda said thinking “But we have something those big cities don’t.”
“Cow that wander the street?” Tubbs suggested.
“Lou!” she said brightly.
“Same thing” he muttered under his breath.
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Dean’s views on practical jokes were simple.
The messier the better.
Sam’s views were equally as simple.
He hated them.
The Great Joke War of 89 was a war for the ages to the brothers. A massive campaign fought over several states that ended up with Dean having to buy a new pair of shoes and Sammy had to have what was left of his hair cut off so he could walk out in public. John had decreed no more. Actually he had declared you two idiot retards knock it off before he found a ditch big enough to dump their bodies in and leave them there. A peace had been declared, an uneasy peace at best.
There were skirmishes when John wasn’t around. Sam had taken Dean’s Out of The Cellar tape and replaced the actual tape with Bananarama and then placed it back with the other tapes. He had almost forgotten it when one night in the back seat Dean let loose a scream from under his walkman like he was being burned alive. In response Dean had gone out and bought some Mint chocolate chip, Sammy’s favorite, and laced it liberally with Exlax and left it in the freezer. Was hilarious for almost a week as Sam would eat and then run to the bathroom in stark fear, never guessing the ice cream was the culprit. Would have been perfect if John hadn’t came home from a hunt a few days early and decided for a late night snack while the boys slept.
He spanked both of them for good measure.
The war was always there, just simmering under the surface. Waiting, plotting, hiding. Dean walked back into the room and saw Sam still dead to the world, just asking for it in Dean’s mind. He had found the bucket in the bathroom, housekeeping must have left it when mopping the floor. The ice he found at the end of the hall, he found a full bucket with water was heavy. As he crept towards Sam he struggled to lift the bucket over his head, he wanted the ice water to fall down over Sammy’s body like it was a waterfall of icey cold agony. The water sloshed around the rim of the bucket as Dean snuck up on Sam, drops fell on Dean’s head which made him snicker even harder. As he got to the edge of the bed he looked down in anticipation…
And saw Sam looking up at him with a smile.
Sam’s small but powerful foot lashed out in a blur. Dean felt the breath leave his chest as he coughed and stumbled back on his heels. The bucket was quick to follow. The howl that came from Dean’s mouth made Sam bust out laughing as his big brother was doused in freezing cold water from head to toe. Dean looked completely miserable as Sam grinned and made a mad dash to the bathroom.
“Called it!” Sam said as he slammed the door and locked it. Invoking Winchester Code 3: Whoever calls the bathroom first gets it. A code when traveling with two boys and one bathroom is necessary. Dean looked at the bathroom door and wished for heat vision as he began to pull off his soaking clothes.
Stupid little brother.
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They skipped 5th period and headed to Lou’s Livestock and Electronic Store, Amanda being the lookout in case of Enis the truancy officer was around. Odds were he was out with the other six members of the law enforcement community searching Nowhere in all the wrong places for Charlie. When the coast looked clear they made their way across the street to Lou’s.
“I don’t get it, why would Lou know anything?” Tubbs asked as he gunned his chair to keep up with them.
“Don’t wanna talk to Lou.” Amanda said running up to the front window display of the shop. Adam joined her and saw six Adam’s looking back at him in curiosity. Lou had a video camera set up with a variety of TV’s displaying the video feed. “I wanna talk to that!” she said pointing to the box under the largest TV.
It was a VCR, and its record light was on.
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Sam walked out of the bathroom like a sheik. Towel wrapped around his head, one around his waist. His chest was bruised and discolored from the previous day’s activities but his smile went ear to ear. “All yours.” he said moving by Dean, daring him to complain. Dean saw the huge cloud of steam coming from the bathroom and he knew, he just knew.
There was no hot water.
Perfectly fair according to the Code, there was nothing saying you had to leave hot water for the other guy, just who called it got it. Dean glowered as he knew there went his shower for the day. He had shrugged on the last set of clean clothes he possessed, which he had hoped would last till the end of the week.
Dean threw his hands over his eyes as Sammy walked by “Ahh! Albino retard walking!” he screamed as Sammy made a face at him.
“Whatever” he said as he searched through his bag for whatever he had clean left. He stuck his hand in and heard the slosh. He looked down and found his duffel bag filled with water and his clothes floating in it. If looked could kill Dean would be dead on the floor, instead he was rolling on the carpet holding his sides as he watched his brother work out the math. The only clothes he had left were the disgusting ones he had just taken off and were soaked from all the water Sam usually spilled on the floor while taking a shower, meaning all he had was a pair of towels and Dean’s mercy.
Which left him with a pair of towels.
“You’re a jerk!” he shouted.
“You’re an albino bitch!” Dean shot back still laughing. Sammy was always covered up, so he didn’t even have the farmer’s tan Dean possessed, his skin was pale as sin and with his wet dark hair, he looked like a drowned goth.
“What am I supposed to wear?” Sam said, bordering on a whine.
“I got a bag for your face.” Dean offered getting off the floor.
“Shut up!” Sam yelled, his face turning red.
Dean wagged a finger in Sam’s face “You might want to be nicer to me.” he said with a lordly smile.
“Not likely!” Sam said with his hands on his side.
“Oh you will.”, Dean said walking over to the table with his pie.
“Why would I?” he said grabbing the towel as it began to slip.
Dean stuck a finger in the pie and sucked his finger. Taking it out he looked at Sammy “Cause it’s your turn to do laundry.”
And Sam’s face went from red to pale white in no time flat.
No one liked laundry. No one. Dean had been saddled with laundry duty for forever, until Sam was old enough to figure the machine out himself. Now, the laundry schedule was a gospel that was not upset. By asking the other one to do your turn, you were just asking to be fleeced in return since no one wanted the job. Handling the other guys dirty underwear was just not worth it. You had to make it worth the other ones while. And he knew Dean, that jerk would make him go to the laundry mat in the stupid towel before he’d help him out.
The thought of doing laundry in a towel in the middle of a strange town made Sammy’s stomach drop.
“Dean!” Sam started, no longer trying to hide the whine.
“No” Dean said sitting down and starting into the pie.
“DEAN!” he said, more whine that actual words.
“Can’t hear you!” Dean said stuffing his mouth with the entire slice.
Sighing like a man condemned Sam’s shoulders slumped and head dropped “What do you want?”
Dean looked up and smiled a grin that was pure evil.
“Let’s talk about it.” Dean said, sounding like the devil himself.
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The plan was simple.
They knew Lou was a paranoid bastard. He had cameras all through the store including the ones at the window that all fed back to the same system. The VCR. Lou had long ago reasoned if some drunk jackass was going to break his window and steal something, he would have them on tape. Of course everyone in town knew about the cameras, which pretty much nullified their effectiveness, but no one had told Lou to save his feelings. So the cameras rolled, and the VCR taped.
If nothing happened, Lou would let the VCR rewind itself and record over the previous day again. If something did happen he pulled the tape and put in a new one. Since no one had connected Charlie with Lou’s, the tape had been rewound and was starting over. Amanda had figured that the tape had been on since 10 when he opened, it was now almost two. Charlie would have been here yesterday after three, which meant they needed to get that tape out before it taped over Charlie’s actions yesterday.
Even Tubbs admitted it was a good idea.
So Tubbs, being a known blow hard that had money, would roll in and distract Lou. Lou, being the kiss up everyone knew he was, would cater to Tubbs like he was the goose who laid the golden whatever. Egg offered Amanda. Adam would look over by the pants, which were by the window, while Amanda went in the window display and grabbed the tape. If Tubbs couldn’t keep Lou occupied, Adam would let Amanda know. If everything worked out, they would be in and out in less than five minutes.
Amanda reminded Adam this wasn’t A-Team and Lou wasn’t an evil mob boss.
They made their checks, went over the plan again, and then deployed. Walk across the street and into the store, Amanda corrected.
“Deploy!” Adam said.
Amanda rolled her eyes “Stupid older brothers.”
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The deal was harsh.
Shotgun forever. Cereal choice for a year. Dishes for two months. Cool bed next three hunts. And Sammy couldn’t use any ‘Jerk’ this entire trip. Dean wanted more but Sammy was about ready to go out in the towel.
“Ok ok. Hold your horses you tiny little albino, we have a deal?” Dean stuck out his hand to shake on it. Sam eyed it like it was a snake. Dean pushed the hand out again “Come on, shake on it.” Sam slowly held out his hand to grab Dean’s.
Dean’s went out to grab the towel.
Sammy shrieked as he covered his privates as Dean tossed the towel into the soaking bag and doused it. Dean grabbed his clothes along with Sammy’s and proclaimed “Have fun streaking bitch boy!” and headed out towards the door.
Sam’s mouth began to open and Dean spun and dared him to say Jerk.
Sam sat there, one hand on his privates and one on his mouth as he slammed a hand over his mouth to stop himself.
Dean shook his head and said with a smile “That hand was on your nards. You’re gay.”
He walked out and slammed the door, leaving Sammy slightly nauseated.
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Lou’s face brightened as Tubbs rolled in.
As far as Lou was concerned the fat kid in the chair was a walking gold mine. As a child he had suffered a horrible accident that left everything below his knees completely useless. As far as Lou was concerned the kid was completely useless from head to toe, but he had bucks. His parents weren’t any richer than the rest of the town, just felt more guilt at the plight of their child. So they gave him everything he wanted. If Tubbs decided he wanted anything in the store, it was a foregone conclusion that his parents would buy it for him right away. So putting his normal ‘Screw off kids’ way of customer service aside he adopted a “Kiss up to the cripple who has money” way of thinking.
“Tubbs!” Lou said holing out his arms as if to hug someone “How are you today my friend?”
“My name is Lawrence and I am not your friend Lou.” The youth said purposely running over Lou’s toe with his chair. Though he loathed the name Lawrence, he hated adults calling him Tubbs even more.
Lou bit his bottom lip from screaming as his toes sang an opera of pain and suffering from the total tonnage that had just passed over them. Lou was in so much pain he didn’t even notice Adam and Amanda sneak in the door and towards the window.
“My modem is getting kind of slow Lou, I need more speed!” Tubbs said ‘accidentally’ slamming his chair into the counter hard. Dozens of half naked hula dolls began to quiver as Lou helped Tubbs back his chair out of the display. “Frighteningly slippery floor here Lou, I could hurt myself and then where would you be?” He was calling out as Lou struggled to pull Tubb’s chair back. The task would have been a ton easier of the brakes weren’t already applied.
“Go” Adam whispered to Amanda as he watched the scene like a hawk.
Amanda slipped behind the display and crept up past the TV’s. She clamped her hand over her mouth as the dust all around her threatened to make her sneeze. Didn’t that jackass ever clean back here? She reached over and ejected the tape, all the time hearing Tubbs and Lou squawking at each other. She reached for the tape like it was a golden idol and she had snuck past the cannibalistic savage lardass who protected it.
When she looked up and saw the guy from the diner looking at him.
He was holding two hands of dirty laundry in his hand and was watching her with a huge grin on his face. If he didn’t look like such a perv she would have thought he was cute. Instead he was watching her like she was giving a private dance for him or something. She scowled at him and waved him off with is hand.
He smiled wider and nodded his head in hello.
Men.
She shooed him away from the window again he his smile just got wider and wider, no matter what she did made him think it was a come on. She scowled even deeper and tried to mouth for him to get lost.
He mouthed back a question, ‘I’m hot?”
She shook her head no and mouthed even slower ‘Get. Lost’
He smiled and nodded pointing at her, ‘You’re hot!’
She put her head on the glass and sighed. She heard him tap on the glass lightly. She looked up, expecting him to be panting on the glass like a dog, instead he was pointing behind her. She turned around to see Lou glaring at her, holding Adam’s shirt with one hand.
“Balls” Amanda said under her breath.
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The wheels fell off the wagon pretty early.
Tubbs had Lou completely distracted and Adam watched Lou like a hawk.
It was Paul, Lou’s clerk that screwed the pooch.
Noticing Adam standing by the pants, not buying pants, Paul walked over to tell the kid to leave. But half way there he saw something move in the window, ignoring the boy he moved towards the window, and saw a girl in there waving at some boy. In the orderly world of Paul and the small shop he worked in, this was chaos. Chaos I tell you. He ran over to Lou and whispered quickly in his ear. Lou, being no fool looked to Tubbs, to Adam, to the window and back to Tubbs. He glared at the girth impaired boy and Tubbs just kinda stuttered and said “I don’t know them.”
That was when Lou knew he had been had.
Charging towards Adam like a bull, the boy froze as he saw his whole life flash before his eyes. It was a pathetic excuse for a life and Adam couldn’t help but be a little depressed when it was over. Lou grabbed the boy by his shirt and pulled him towards the window where Amanda was kneeling there, while a boy on the other side was tapping on it to her. She turned around and saw Lou glaring at her.
“Get out of there right now!” he growled, sounding like a grizzly bear that was turned into a human being.
Amanda started shuffling towards the man slowly, the tape was just sitting there, waiting for her to grab it. No way she could do it while Lou the beached whale was watching. She was busted and Charlie was hosed, appealing to Lou’s sense of decency was like counting on the ground’s mercy when falling from a great height. Might make you feel better on the way down, but you knew the truth at the end. Her mind raced as she thought a way to grab the tape…
When the door burst open and someone started bellowing “Service! Service I say!!” at the top of their lungs.
Amanda saw Lou’s head jerk to the door, sure that this was just another part of these kid’s plan to do something to his shop in some way. Since he hated kids, it couldn’t be good. Amanda saw him turn his head and grabbed the tape in a flash. She slipped it in her waist behind her shirt and got out of the display. She saw the creep kid from outside making a scene in the middle of the store.
“Service! I said I wanted service!” he said banging his fist on the counter. He was looking around the shop in an exaggerated pantomime of looking, making sure never to peer over towards the window.
“What the hell are you going on about?”
The kid spun around as if he had no idea Lou was there, still holding Adam in one hand. “You sir, are you the owner of this establishment?”
Slowly, as if digesting each word for a trap “I am.”
“And do you sell electronics and farm supplies like the sign outside says?”
Again even slower “I do.”
The kid smiled “Excellent, I am looking for a computer of some kind, the most expensive one you have.”
Lou’s eyebrow raised up slightly. The words most and expensive used in the same sentence was a turn on to the shop owner. “I got one, but it’s over a grand kid. You have that?”
The kid’s face never wavered Amanda noticed, if he was scared or worried, there was nothing to indicate it in his body language. With a devilish smile he said “No. No I don’t.” and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card “But I do have this.”
Lou’s eyes shone with greed and his hand slipped away from Adam’s shirt out of reflex.
Adam and Amanda knew when it was time to run.
“Move it Tubbs!” Adam screamed as they made a beeline to the door. Lou, being of a girth that made pursuit impossible, watched as the two kids ran and Tubbs wheeled towards the door.
“Paul get em!” he bellowed as his assistant followed like a rabid dog.
Rabid dogs Dean could handle.
In a move that was pure poetry, Dean moved forward and intersected Paul’s path completely. The clerk had no time to dodge and found himself going end over end, tangled with the kid. Lou screamed as the kids raced out of his store, letting loose a string of profanities that would have made a sailor blush.
Dean crawled out from under Paul, who had suffered the worst of the fall, because that was exactly what Dean wanted him to do. Patting himself down he said “I can see you’re busy committing crimes against little kids. I will take my business elsewhere.”
He began to walk out of the shop and Lou half jogged more jiggled to the door and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder “Hold it kid.”
Which was all Lou could recall.
There was a flash of movement and he felt the kid slip out of his grasp and his vision exploded with light as he fell backwards to the floor. By the time he had recovered his wits, the boy was gone. He laid there staring up at the ceiling for a moment, “How did those stains get up there?”
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Amanda and Adam ran as Tubbs kept up best as he could. They heard a terrible thud and seconds later the boy ran out, picked up his laundry and ran the other way. Perv or not, Amanda had to admit, the boy had style.
They took off to Tubb’s house, where they could go over the tape in relative peace. And maybe find a lead on Charlie.
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My Generation-Chapter Three |
Chapter Three
The lady was eying Sam like he was packing heat.
She had wandered by the table four times in the past ten minutes, each time making a new excuse to check up on him like he wouldn’t notice her or something. First was for coffee, which he wasn’t drinking cause every time John made coffee it was Marine coffee which tasted like burnt ashes and soot with just a light bouquet of ass. And one time Sam saw him putting salt into the filter and that was about that for coffee. The second time was if he needed more orange juice which was just stupid because she had brought him a big gulp worth of orange juice and the only way he could have finished in that time would have been to use his finger like Mork used so that brought up a flag in his head. The third time was to see if he needed something to eat, which was perfectly acceptable for a waitress to ask except he had clearly said he wanted a glass of orange juice only. Sam wasn’t fluent in grown-up, but he was pretty sure that only meant the same thing to them as it did to kids. The fourth time Sam almost lost it, because she wanted to make REALLY sure he wasn’t hungry and could she get him something to eat which set off a 2nd flag from the way she had asked.
Like he was some Dickens kid with fingerless gloves and one of those gay hats on, asking for more please. She thought he was a runaway or something and was asking if she could kick him down some food. Which was pathetic because did he look like some homeless scamp in need of a meal? Was he sitting there staring at the food with begging eyes and a quivering bottom lip? The nerve of some grownups, can’t a kid sit and drown his misery over an orange juice?
“Could I get some toast?” he asked with big eyes and a slightly pouting bottom lip. The waitress practically raced to the kitchen to get him some food.
Free food was free food, Sam was no fool.
He sat and waited for his food when Dean walked in, he had his jacket on and though his hands were in the pockets, Sam knew they were balled into fists. He met Sam’s eyes from across the diner and he knew that silent message very well.
You are so dead.
Sam took a huge gulp of his juice to steady his nerves as his big brother walked to the booth and slid in the other side. He sat across from him in silence and Sam didn’t know what exactly the Stare of Death was about, the nards or the running away. Sam said nothing, wiping the orange juice mustache off his lip and setting the empty glass down. They sat across from each other just staring.
Finally under his breath Dean said “You are so dead.”
Duh.
Sam said nothing, but looked away from the Stare of Death and examined his napkin. Dean leaned forward slightly “You have any idea how screwed up wandering the streets in the middle of the night is? Do you know how much trouble I would get in if something happened to you?”
Sam’s head shot up and growled “Well if I did get deducted you wouldn’t have to look after me.”
“Abducted retard, funds get deducted, idiot brothers get abducted. And I would be dead.” Dean said, still keeping his voice down.
“Well so would I so what do I care?” Sam went to grab for the juice again but of course Intrusive Iris the wandering waitress hadn’t been back.
“Sam this isn’t a freakin joke. You could have been hurt…”
“…and you would have gotten in trouble. I got it Dean.” the bitterness and anger in his small voice was weighty, carrying far more emotion than simple drama or overreacting would produce. Dean went to open his mouth when Intrusive Iris came back with a plate filled with more than toast.
“Oh” she said holding what looked like the motherload platter filled with one of everything “Now there’s two of you.” She looked Dean over and the concern was beginning to shift into confusion and Dean knew, within a few minutes it would be suspicion. Which meant, it was time for the Dean Winchester charm.
Dean flashed her one of his thousand watt smile and said in a tone that was too cheery to ever come out of his mouth on a regular basis “I’m Jon and this is my brother Richie, we’re waiting to do our paper route.” he stuck out his hand to shake hers, which prompted her to return the gesture automatically, but couldn’t since she was holding a plate that would have fed Jason and about 43,000 Argonauts easily. Placing the plate on the table she wiped her hands off on her apron and returned the handshake.
“Thought Adam and his sister delivered the papers ‘round here.” she said thinking more than Dean usually liked in a grown up or a girl.
The smile never wavered as Dean continued “Special supplement, we’re not from around here. You know coupons.”
Her eyes lit up “I love coupons!” she exclaimed.
God damnit.
“Well then I will find you some.” Dean lied letting go of her hand.
“Did you want something to eat?” she asked Dean, not understanding there as enough food on that plate for an entire school of kids to eat much less Sam.
“We can share that.” Dean said still smiling.
She nodded and said “Well holler if you all need anything.”
“I could use...” Sam started reaching for his glass but the sudden and immediate thump that came from under the table stopped his sentence cold. Sam cried out an ouch as Dean glared quickly at his brother.
Intrusive Iris turned and asked “You say something honey?”
The smile slid back onto Dean’s face “Nope, just a cough.”
She smiled back “You boys eat up.” and she wandered away.
“What you kick me for?” Sam whispered as soon as she was gone.
“We don’t need her wondering why in the hell two kids are up at o’dark early sitting in a diner by themselves. The less we deal with her the better.” He reached out and grabbed some bacon from the plate “What you do to rate this spread?”
Sam shrugged, not wanting to admit using his puppy face to beg for food. He started to gnaw on some bacon as the two brothers demolished the food. No matter how different they seemed in looks, temperament, likes and hobbies, the Winchesters brothers always agreed on one thing.
Food.
Any food, anywhere. Good food, bad food, cold food, half warm food, gas station food, diner food, McFood, didn’t matter. Both of them could shovel food in their mouth like a pair of human garbage disposals John would always say, though the senior Winchester was known to chow down himself from time to time. No matter how upset they were at each other, no matter how pissed they seemed, they could always find time to shove food into their piehole before continuing a fight. Within minutes the plate was empty as they used the slices of toast to wipe the plate clean, literally. As they swallowed and savored the last bite they sat there, warm in the glow of a meal well devoured. Sam wondered when Dean would start up again. Dean wondered if they had pie.
“I’m sorry for the thing.” Sam finally said, barely above a squeak. Dean nodded as he looked around for pie, which meant he had accepted the apology for the nard hit by invoking Winchester Code 4: Apologies should be long enough to be real, short enough to not be gay. And once given, you had to accept it because belaboring a point was something only girls and talk show hosts did. And with the exception of that Jerry Springer, neither brother wanted to be a girl or a talk show host. With the nard issue resolved Sam knew what was next. Dean was going to give him The Talk. There had been a few variations of The Talk since Sam had become aware of their dad’s real job, and none of them went well. There was the first Talk that Dean had last Christmas, where dad never showed up and he gave Dean that necklace. He had found the journal and that had lead to questions and led to Dean’s version of The Talk.
Then John had come home and Dean had made him aware of Sam’s discovery which led to John’s version of The Talk. That one was excruciating. Everything that had been laid out in plain and simple kid talk by Dean had been revised and confused in grown up speak and ended up with Sam being scared of the dark and John handing him a pistol to sleep with.
Sam had to note, Dean was way jealous he got a gun since all he had was that stupid knife.
That Talk led to a follow up Talk from Dean after John had left, as the big brother tried to disentangle everything John had screwed up. During that Talk Sam had let something slip that had prompted every other Talk since then.
He didn’t want to be a hunter.
Though it was said in the heat of the moment and off the top of his head, the declaration had all the qualities of an ugly truth, the kind of truth that kids rarely said out loud. Like wow that shirt is gay or if you had the courage for them to give you that haircut how much harder was going bald or you’re fat or you’re ugly or the one that came up the most in the Winchester household, dude your feet smell. These things were just not shared in common conversation, if you were going to bring up a brother’s foot smell, make sure you were bonding in another type of conversation before because no one wants to hear that out of the blue.
So every Talk since then had been about Sam’s slip of the tongue that he wouldn’t take back. Dean had tried every tactic on Sam. From give it a chance to it gets better to if you use both hands it won’t go flying out of your hand to if you lock your elbows the kick will knock you on your ass to dude you can’t be scared of it to just give me the damn thing before you kill someone to finally, fine go ahead and cry in the corner you big girl.
The Talks had not gone well so far.
So this latest fiasco Sam was sure was going to bring some new version of the it, no doubt the reason he had mistaken shells with rounds was because he didn’t want to be a hunter. And the fact they had collided was because Sam was secretly trying to find a way to prove he shouldn’t be in the field as a hunter. And the running and bawling in the backseat was just a ploy to somehow get out of the family business. He knew it was coming, he just wished Dean would get it over with. But instead he looked around the diner like a blood hound looking for…do blood hounds actually look for blood cause that would be gross. They tracked by other smell and using blood would just be easy to find cause it’s an easy liquid to follow and who can’t find a blood trail so why would they be named that anyways? Another topic to look up at the library.
“What’s your problem?” Dean asked as Sammy’s head whipped up from his stupor.
Sam looked around and realized somewhere Intrusive Iris had brought him a plate of pie and a glass of milk larger than Dean’s head and that in typical Dean Winchester fashion had devoured the pie in the same way a termite devours wood. Not that Sam had ever seen a termite except on cartoons, but every time he saw the tiny little big mouthed creeps chowing down on a tree, his brother always came to mind.
“Nothing” Sam said, already moving to Defcon Whatever in preparation of the Talk. Sam had developed four defcon’s in response to it so far. Defcon Whatever consisted of a shrug and an eye roll that easily expressed whatever as his mental feeling of The Talk.
“You’ve been moody since…” Dean looked up and mentally counted “…forever. So what’s up?”
“Nothing”, Sam said moving to Defcon Apathetic which was looking around the room as if the Talk meant absolutely nothing and in fact there might be a chance Sam wasn’t even aware Dean was initiating a Talk.
“Yeah whatever bitch. You’ve been sulking since you found out you weren’t perfect and it’s killing you.” Dean began to pick up crumbs of the recently deceased pie with his fingertips and licking them clean “Poor little Sammy can’t be the best at everything.”
“Shut up Jerk!” Sam shot out moving to Defcon Shut Up Jerk. That one was kind of self explanatory.
“You shut up bitch boy. Poor Sammy Winchester can’t win at everything.” Dean’s sing song teasing drove a nail across Sam’s mental chalkboard.
“It’s not about that” Sam said through clenched teeth.
“What’s it about then?” Dean asked, challenging Sam to put up or sit there and be a bitch some more.
“It’s not about being the best!” he repeated, struggling with his last defcon.
“Sure it is.” Dean said in that older brother tone that made everything sound like a Chuck Heston commandment. So instead Sammy head “Sure. It. Is.” all in fiery letters with Dean in a white robe and ratty beard.
“No it isn’t.” Sam was growling now, his arms were crossed, shoulders slumped and face in a scowl that would have made him the world’s smallest gargoyle easily.
“Yes. It. Is.” Dean said, matching Sammy’s scowl with his own.
“Shut up Jerk.”
“Make me Bitch.”
They glared at each other for several minutes in silence, two tiny cowboys locked in a mental face-off, hands on their imaginary guns, daring the other to draw first. They might have sat there forever if it wasn’t for Intrusive Iris exclaiming “Well you swallowed that pie whole didn’t you!”
Dean’s head spun around, the fact a loopy waitress could get that close without him knowing just meant he had a long way to go to ever play in his dad’s league when it came to being a hunter. He threw his smile back on his face as fast as possible, but it had been too late, she had seen the cunning and intelligence that no child should possess in his eyes and her surprise turned to doubt right in front of his eyes.
“It was delicious.” Dean said, hoping to draw her back under his spell.
“You kids are in town delivering special papers, by yourself?” she asked, her eyes narrowed in the universal sign for adult mistrust.
Damnit.
“Our dad is here helping us, we kinda work for him.” Dean said, still smiling.
“Where is he now?” she asked cocking her head.
“Sleeping in.” Sam said his smile and innocent eyes changing Dean’s uncomfortable lie into a simple and embarrassing truth, “He drove all night so he is still dead alseep, we slept in the back seat so we’re wide awake.”
It was far too complicated a tale to be a lie from someone Sam’s age. It was the one tool the brother’s used against adults all the time, the plain and simple act that grownups just didn’t think kids could lie with purpose. And no one lied with purpose better than the Winchester Brothers.
Lies fell under Winchester Code 28: Lie enough to deceive, but keep it simple enough to remember. It was one of the ones they had learned the hard way and over the years, they had grown to be a pretty proficient team at it. They actually started practicing the time they were in Nowhere, Arizona and Dean had introduced himself as Eddie and Sam as Alex Hagar and Sam let loose with a “I wanted to be Eddie!”
They had worked on it big time since then.
The rules were simple, whoever makes up the names sets the tone and the other needs to support and back the other one up no matter what. Since Dean had named them it was his job to answer her question and for Sammy to back him up and supplement his story, no matter how stupid it may be. The problem was, Sam was better than Dean at it. Something about the way Sammy cocked his head and smiled that put people at ease, an empathy that made people want to trust and believe him, no matter what came out of his mouth.
Dean would so use that to get girls.
So as soon as Sammy chimed in with his little addition, Intrusive Iris was instantly calmed and went back to being a waitress. Begging off another slice of pie, which was bad news as far as Sam was concerned, Dean asked for the bill so they could get going. As she walked off to tally it up Dean turned to Sam and said “We’re going back to the hotel to Talk.”
Sam sighed to himself as Dean handed her the credit card John had left and grabbed a few extra slices to go. Here he thought he had avoided The Talk, instead they were going to have it behind closed doors.
Even worse.
As they walked out they passed two kids their age walking in. A boy and a girl with blond hair that looked like the very definition of normal to Sam. Dean’s neck almost broke craning around to watch the girl walk by, Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, some things never changed.
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Adam and Amanda walked into the diner as they did every morning.
They were responsible for the paper delivery for Nowhere, a job that Adam and Amanda took seriously. Well Adam did, but he took everything serious. Their mom worked nights at the local hospital and the extra money from the route gave the siblings some extra money for themselves, so they didn’t have to ask their mother for pocket money. Normally it would have been a route for an adult with a vehicle or something, but Adam had been determined to do it himself, himself meaning without adult help.
Since Amanda couldn’t stay at home alone, she was corralled to help instantly, which she didn’t mind since any money was better than no money. Charlie had agreed since any money was more money towards his Gameboy account that ended up bottoming out every time a new movie came to town or the group decided for a round of midnight bowling. Tubbs, no one was sure why Tubbs showed up since he didn’t need the money at all, Adam thought it was because Tubbs didn’t have any friends and he felt it as his way of being part of the gang. Which it would have if he didn’t spend the entire morning bitching about it.
As Adam and Amanda were walking in, two weird kids were walking out. Weird was defined two ways in Nowhere, Montana. One, weird was anyone you didn’t know. After all there were only like 6 people in the whole town, by the time you were 6 years old you knew every single one of them, whether you wanted to or not. Walking down First Street you’d always get some shop keeper waving and asking you stuff that was none of their business. Which was crap cause you couldn’t just yell at them to mind their business, instead you had to smile, wave back and answer their nosey asses. And they would ask seriously personal questions like, “How’s your mom?” and “She still single?” which of course was just small town code for “She still a single mom raising you two brats cause her the good for nothing creep that knocked her up left town?”
It was a subtle code but Adam had sussed it out.
The second criteria to be weird in Nowhere, Montana was to be different than everyone else. Be it in the way you dressed or your mood or attitude to most. To others it was your desire not to chew tobacco constantly or wear the same tight pair of Wranglers all the time to not wanting that same brown leather jacket with a wool collar every single teenage boy was issued in high school. Anything that made you stand out from the herd, and in this case herd was the correct term for it, made you weird. Adam and his friends had been weird forever, so seeing another pair of weird kids sent up signals.
The pair had to be friends, since they looked nothing alike to be brothers. The older one had short, light hair and a solid build, not enough to be a jock, but he could pass as one if he wanted. The way he gaped at Amanda as she walked past made Adam’s eyes squint in anger and confirm the weird boy was a typical straight boy. The younger one looked nothing like him, with a shaggy mop of hair that was dark and unkempt and a pair of brooding eyes, he looked like he wished he was anywhere but here.
Adam knew the feeling.
As they walked out and down the street, Adam watched them go, making sure they were long gone and away from his sister. When he looked back he found Amanda’s accusing eyes on him.
“Did you want to go sniff their butts or something?” she said her hands on her hips “Isn’t that how dogs do it?”
Adam rolled his eyes and waved to Iris as they sat down and waited for the others. Sisters were so stupid sometimes.
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Dean and Sam walked back to the hotel in silence, each one lost in thought and not wanting to broach The Talk first. As they walked up to their room Sam let out a huge yawn that crept up on him from nowhere. Dean scowled, thinking it was a fake yawn to get out of The Talk when he yawned himself. As they walked in the door they both realized, they were dead tired. As with most kids going to sleep was akin to admitting defeat to the world. There was always something going on somewhere and to drift off to sleep meant you didn’t want to have anything to do with it. It was unfair that kids were sent off to bed so early and Dean and Sam had taken to staying awake until they passed out, since the times John was with them were few and far between. But tired was tired and once you got started to stumble towards sleep’s hostile and completely unfair embrace, there was no stopping it for any reason.
By the time Sam had closed the door they had yawned another three times between them and Dean tossed the pie onto the table. Between yawns Dean croaked out “Talk tomorrow” and began to stumble towards the very cool bed while Sam made the same zombie walk towards the AIDS bed. As they collapsed onto the soft surface all of the days fights and problems vanished away, packed away for another day to fight.
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After about ten minutes Tubbs rolled in.
Adam had held the door open in the normal ballet it took to squeeze the chair into the diner’s doorway. It was always a thing, and it always put Tubbs in a bad mood.
“Jesus Iris, I’m gonna sue this place someday!” he shouted once inside the establishment.
Iris waved at him in her normal morning ‘Shut up I’m coming!’ gesture and then went back to ignoring him.
“I’m serious, it’s against the law to not have wheelchair access.” He said to Adam and Amanda as he pulled up to the table.
Amanda smiled and went back to reading her book, which was the politest way Tubbs had seen anyone ignore anyone else in his life. Adam shook his head as he sat down, “Calm down, you’re in already. Why do you have to make a deal every morning?”
“Cause it’s not right!” he said even louder.
“Shut up” Amanda said never once taking her eyes off the book.
“Ok” he said lowering his voice instantly.
“Charlie isn’t coming.” Adam said gravely.
“They find him?” Tubbs asked in more of a tell me the gruesome details than actual concern. Adam chalked most of it up that nothing happens in Nowhere, but still, Charlie was a friend.
“His mom is beside herself.” Adam said, meaning no one had found him yet “Bart’s dad is out looking for him. Bart was one of Nowhere’s celebrity high school residents being on the varsity football team and all state baseball. His father was the local sheriff and all around jerk. Believing all kids should be the same, anyone who was not even close to being what his perfect Bart was, he considered them to be a malcontent and a trouble maker. And since junior high, Adam and his friends had fallen into that category. The loser pack or geek squad, the four of them were pretty much persona non grata at school by the Attack of the Clones that wandered the hallways daily. Adam had as much hope Bart’s dad would be serous in looking for Charlie that Tubbs was serious in looking for low fat alternatives.
Which meant it fell to them. At least in Adam’s mind.
“We need to do something.” he declared as Tubbs looked over the menu.
“Christ here we go again.” Tubbs said slamming the menu down “What is your malfunction?”
“You are!” Adam shot back, his eyes burning in anger “One of our friends is missing and you…”
“…I want to acknowledge we are fourteen years old and probably can’t do a damn thing more than the police can.”
Adam leaned over to Tubbs “Know where Bart’s dad is looking for Charlie? Down by the creek!”
“The creek?” Tubbs shot back “Charlie hates the creek, reminds him of Friday the 13th movies too much.”
“That’s my point! He thinks we are all like precious Bart and have cars and girls that want to drool over us down by Hammerman’s lane.” Amanda looked up “And boys too.” He amended as she went back to reading. “He doesn’t know Charlie and he doesn’t want to. We have to look for him!” And as always, Adam had a way with words. It wasn’t his voice and it wasn’t his words, it was his heart. It was the conviction he said that made you believe he was right, that you could do it. Tubbs hated it because he spent most of his life trapped in a shell that he filled with food and random distractions. And Adam came along and stirred something in him that made him…feel. And that sucked.
And it was what made Adam the coolest guy Tubbs knew.
“Ok where do we start?” Tubbs asked with a sigh. Adam’s smile could have lit the room with its brilliance he looked so happy.
“After breakfast I hope.” Iris said only catching the last of the conversation “Whatcha kids have?”
Tubbs picked up the menu and looked over it again “What's the special?” he asked.
Iris rolled her eyes and waited for their order.
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My Generation-Prelude and Chapter One |
Title: My Generation
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Words: 5423
Rating: PG
Warnings:NONE! This is an actual story, no perv or porn here. Just Winchester goodness. Not that there is anything wrong with porn, I love me some good porn, this just isn't it.
A/N: The start of a Weechester story about Dean and Sam and their time growing up. I posted a small part of this for a Christmas present and found that there was so much more to tell. So here is the prelude and the first Chapter...this is unbeta'd so beware wild and untamed typos.
As always, this is for
oatmeal_queen , whose artwork makes me want to see more of young Dean and Sam.
Prelude
Charles “Charlie” Barstow was having a bad day.
If you asked Charlie he would tell you he had had 4111 bad days in a row. But being 11 years, 3 months, 6 days old, Charlie was prone to exaggeration. Charlie felt he had two strikes against him in life. One, he had been born in Nowhere, Montana. The town had a real name of course, most likely chosen in the stone ages by some old guys wearing dead raccoons on their head who did something boring. But the kids who were interned to live their sentence out in it, called it Nowhere. A series of city blocks connected by two lane roads and street lights that swayed on wires, it was a small little town of very little importance. Charlie and his friends hated it, and felt the town hated them back just as much.
The second strike perceived by Charlie was his startling lack of fundage. He wasn’t poor, no one in Nowhere was poor per say. No one in Nowhere was rich either though. With the exception of Tubb’s family, Charlie didn’t know anyone who was better or worse off than he was. Every kid in Nowhere suffered in the same meritocracy that everyone else did, but it didn’t make the suffering any less because it was shared. It just gave them something to complain about as a group. An outside observer would have commented that Charlie seemed anything but lacking. He had good clothes, a full belly and a roof over his head. To Charlie he was one step away from sitting next to that fat chick on TV that sold kids in the middle of the night and told you that only a dollar a day could make a difference in their life. There were nights Charlie practiced his best sad face in case it ever came to that. Food, clothes and shelter were way down on Charlie’s lists of needs. In fact they barely registered next to his real wants. The one thing that kept him awake at night, that hole in the center of his being that drove him to distraction at school. The one, small thing that would complete him as a human being and make his sentence in Nowhere, almost bearable.
He wanted, nay, needed a Gameboy.
He sat outside on the curb facing the only electronic store in Nowhere. Little more than a generic Radio Shack, Lou’s Electronic and Tackle Shop was the only place, save driving four hours to Billing, to get a Gameboy. Three had been sent to Nowhere. One had been bought by Tubbs, a fact he liked to lord over the rest of them at least once a day. The second had been bought by some adult passing through town, no doubt to appease some lucky child that was bolted in the back seat. Which left one more. One lone Gameboy left in the entire town to buy.
And Charlie was suffering from a startling lack of fundage.
That was the phrase Lou, the owner of Lou’s Electronic, Tackle and Hunting Shop had told him when he had inquired about the current store inventory. Charlie did this every day after school without fail. After walking Amanda home with her brother Adam, he would then ditch Tubbs and make his way to Lou’s. Where he would walk around the store endlessly until he was asked if he needed help by the clerk who was sure he was there to lift something, if he needed help. Then, doing his best paying customer impersonation, Charlie would then ask if they had any Gameboys in stock.
Which of course the answer was always, One left.
This had lasted for about two weeks before the clerk told Lou and Lou confronted Charlie.
“Look kid, I am trying to run an electronic and poultry feed store here, not a museum. So what are you looking to buy because you are done wandering out looking at stuff.”
Charlie swallowed hard, realizing his paying customer impersonation might be enough for a clerk, but Lou was a real business man. Gathering all the courage he possessed into a ball he mentally threw it at Lou by saying, “I’m looking for a Gameboy.”
The courage hit Lou firmly in the eyebrow, which raised slightly in an expression that could lean towards either surprise or disbelief depending on the wind. The expression teetered silently for a moment and Charlie was certain it was going to crash on the disbelief side. Figures the fat pig had a saving throw against financial bamboozlement.
After about a year and half, which Charlie thought was more than enough time to go and deposit a penny in a bank account and have the interest pay for the stupid Gameboy by now, Lou walked around the counter and unlocked the sliding door. He reached in past the display of hunting knives and just to the left of authentic Indian totems (Made in China) he grabbed the rectangle box that held Charlie’s heart and soul. As the man pulled it out it glowed with inner power, casting shadows throughout the store as the clerk shielded his eyes from such perfection.
Or Charlie could be imagining things.
Lou put the box down on the counter, but did not remove his beefy hand from it. He looked to Charlie and made a face that plainly expressed he had produced his part of the bargain and it was now time for the boy to do the same. With as much confidence he could muster, not a lot since he had thrown most of it with his courage, he reached into his pocket and grabbed a fist full of money. With the gesture of the world’s smallest gunslinger, he slammed the funds down on the counter, daring Lou to count it.
A dare Lou answered almost instantly.
Charlie was sure the man was some kind of robot covered in fat with the speed he answered, “You have three dollars and forty seven cents. You are short only one hundred and forty six dollars and fifty two cents.” he slid the money back towards Charlie, “Do you have hundred and forty six dollars and fifty two cents on you?”
Charlie swallowed again and looked for any courage or confidence that might have been lost or misplaced when he threw the last two at Lou. But with a heavy sigh and a slumping of shoulders he had to admit defeat and sounded a gloomy, “No.”
“Then you young sir are suffering from a startling lack of fundage.”, and he put the box back on the shelf, “Good day to you.” Charlie was forced to make a hasty retreat to the curb across the street where he presently was sulking. Sulking and thinking.
Charlie was having a bad day, and if you asked him, it had been a bad 11 years. But as the wind picked up and howled down the street it was about to get much worse. Huddling against the chill that late afternoon brings in November he hadn’t even noticed the piece of paper clinging to the side of his leg. It wasn’t until the wind settled down and he tried to shake some life back into his limbs that he noticed the white papery stowaway wrapped around his jeans.
He pulled it off, his hands so numb by the cold he didn’t even notice the slight moisture that seemed to coat its surface. Opening it up he was doubly confused as it appeared to be blank, his eyes reporting nothing back to his brain. But after a few seconds and a slight wave of dizziness he realized he had been wrong, completely wrong. There was something written on the paper, something wonderful.
Been dying for a Gameboy but suffering from a startling lack of fundage?
You a good kid but whose parents suck and are really mean?
Then we have the deal for you!
We are looking for one kid to do light yard work and chores around a small house that is really clean to begin with.
We are paying one shiny new
GAMEBOY!!
First to arrive gets the job, so hurry!!
129 capon road
Big yellow house right off the road
Hurry!
Charlie could not believe his luck. Tossing the paper away he took off down the road, not even giving a look back in fear someone might be heading to get his job.
The distressing part is if he did look back, he would have seen the piece of blank paper moving down the sidewalk, looking like it was being pushed away by the wind. If he had thought about it, he would have noticed there wasn’t a gust of wind to be found.
People try to put us down
Just because we get around
Things they do look awful cold
I hope I die before I get old
The Who
My Generation-Chapter One
November 11, 1992
The Impala was silent as it pulled into town.
That wasn’t quite true. With an engine like that, the Impala was never quiet if it was running. A constant purr of sound that could indicate anything from it was time to move when they were in danger or a soothing melody that sang to them as they drifted off in the back seat. The Impala was not silent was they pulled into town.
The Winchesters were.
The fight had begun as they left Idaho. John had just finished a long hunt involving something that looked and acted like a werewolf, but fought like a damned demon. It had been a grueling task, tracking down what should have been a mindless beast and discovering the thing had a mind for tactics. In the end he had needed to call in Bobby and Jim, and actually had Dean and Sam help out with munitions distribution. Which was John talk for run around and make sure everyone had extra clips.
The fight had started during the fight.
Pastor Jim had called for more shells. They had pinned the thing back in its lair, a dingy cave connected on the outskirts of a sprawling abandoned mine system left behind before Hitler had died. The three hunters had already booby trapped the cave, collapsing the creatures access to the larger escape route with explosives. So now the thing was stuck, and the three of them had him in a crossfire. If the thing extended even one nasty, inhuman toe out of his cave, he would find said digit in the middle of a frighteningly efficient kill zone. They had already put a few dozen rounds into the things center mass, making it retreat back to its now drastically smaller living space. The last few hours had been spent taking turns pinning the thing down. Sooner or later it would need to venture out to feed, and when it did it would die.
This paranormal standoff had been in its third hour when Jim had called out for shells. Dean was in the middle of stripping his father’s 9mm down, the last barrage of fire had caused the normally reliable firearm to jam. John could have done it himself of course, actually it was more prudent to toss it aside and move on to another. But he was silently judging his son’s technique and expertise as he stripped it down faster than most ten year veterans he knew. So the task of shells fell to Sam, which was right before the fight started.
Sam, who had been hypnotized by his older brother’s hand taking the pistol apart, was shook out of his daze by John’s commanding voice screaming, “Sam! Shells!”
If he had thrown a ball of fire at Sam he would have received the same instant reaction of complete shock and fear and then immediate movement. The small boy lost his footing as he raced to Jim’s side. At nine closing the corner on ten, his legs were growing faster than his body, making his movements lately seem more like a new born colt than any of them desired. By the time he had gotten to Jim the knees of his jeans were scuffed and dirty and his face was red with frustration. He reached into his windbreaker (the ones with the huge pockets) with both hands and pulled out a handful of bullets in a scoop. He moved to transfer his collection of projectiles to Jim, and found the man staring at him in confusion. In that one second Sam took the entire scene in and realized what he had just done. He saw the shotgun in Jim’s hand and looked at the bullets in his hands.
Shells meant shotgun, rounds meant pistol.
Cursing under his breath he dropped the bullets and sped back towards the camp. By the time the silver casings hit the ground Sam was already halfway back. But as he saw the look on John’s face, he knew he was too late. He had screwed up.
The fight had started then.
“Damnit Sammy I need you to pay attention!”, he thundered, “Dean get Jim shells now!”
Dropping the 9mm Dean grabbed a box of shells and took off without thought. He sprinted as fast as his long legs would carry him and collided with his brother at full force. The two boys slammed against each other hard, the impact knocking the breath out of both of them. They fell to the ground with an audible thud, the box of shells hitting the ground, scattering everywhere. Both boys heard John roar something at them, no doubt berating them for their accidental impact, but the world is a muted place after being knocked silly. The sounds are lower, the colors less vibrant and father’s curses aren’t as stinging. The world just spins in a daze around you, while your mind tries to process what just happened.
Jim saw the boys go down and moved away from his post towards them. John, his mouth open in a barrage of expletives froze as the creature began to make a break for it in the confusion. John reached for his gun, looking down at the variety of pieces it was still in and winced. He spun back towards the Impala, reaching to grab any weapon from the trunk in a mad dash to shoot the creature. But even as he moved he knew, he was going to be too late; the thing was just too fast. He heard Bobby open fire from his position with his own rifle. He hit the beast every time but the creature had already shown itself capable of withstanding gunfire which was why a more concentrated way of delivery was needed. The bushes rustled as it dashed off into the night, leaving three hunters and two boys very, very upset.
The resulting explosion from John was not tempered by Bobby or Jim trying to deflect the man’s anger by pointing out it was just a mistake. John had responded with Sam it’s always a mistake. Sam’s face had grown hot with shame as he threw himself into the back seat, slamming the door as hard as he could. He buried his face into the backseat in the same manner he would if it was his mother. Since Sam had absolutely no recollection of his mother, the stale and slightly stained backseat had always been enough. He tried to drown out the sounds of the others as he berated himself in his thoughts. He heard Montana, disappearances, and deal with it.
The car shook with both John and Dean getting climbing into the front seat in silence. As John turned the car over the radio blasted two seconds of Rush before John snapped it off and allowed the car to warm up. Sam saw his brother’s head look back over the seat to check on him, it was too dark and Sam couldn’t see the look on his face. But he would have bet all the money in the world, it wasn’t a good look.
They pulled back onto the interstate in silence and drove into the dark night. They made their way towards Montana and no one talked. Out loud.
From the Journal of John Winchester:
Screwed up. I knew I should have never brought the boys on this hunt, at the very least Sam. He is so different from Dean, hard to believe they are brothers sometimes. Where Dean loves this kind of thing, Sam is so damn…indifferent. He is always a million miles away, lost in some daydream or thought, never where the mission is, never where I need him. What would you have done if you knew how would raise our boys Mary? Would you hate and curse me for making them hunters? Or would you understand I am a stupid old man, doing my best to keep them safe. I need to get through to Sam or he is going to end up dead. Or worse, he is going to end up getting someone killed.
From the journal of Dean Winchester
Sam screwed up and you know who's gonna pay for it? Me. Stupid little baby turd locks up in the middle of a hunt and I know how this is gonna play out. I am gonna get the, ‘Sam can’t be alone and you are his big brother’ speech and you know he isn’t ready to hunt yet. So please put more of your life on hold so you can look after the world’s stupidest little brother. All he had to do was bring Jim a box of shotgun shells, I mean how hard is that? I swear sometimes that kid doesn’t even seem to be from the same family.
From the journal of SamWinchester
My family sucks and I cannot wait to get out.
The Impala was silent as it pulled into town, but it wasn’t going to stay that way.
“Dean when we find a place go in and check us in, Sam you help me unload the trunk.” they were the first words any of them had spoken in two hours, and both brothers knew what it meant.
To Dean, it meant”Hey cool son, go in and find us a place to set up our batcave while I ream your emospawn little brother a new one.”
To Sam it meant “You are so dead.”
“Yes sir.” Dean said looking out the passenger window. At the same time Sam sat in the back with his arms crossed and mimed Dean's words with a scowl.
“Sam!” John growled watching him in the mirror. Sam shrank even smaller in anger.
“There’s one!” Dean called out, pointing to a large, four story building that proclaimed itself, Henny’s Hotel. Dean laughed and said, “Don’t look like much a hotel to me.” He turned around and looked at Sam “Total motel with delusions to me.”
Sam glared at him and said nothing back, they had long ago made up a series of codes for the various places they ended up staying. They usually fell into four types. A true hotel was a place that you didn’t mind staying at for over a month, they had room service, fresh towels and usually a pool which could be used for various sibling related blood sports and grudge resolution. A motel with delusions was a place that called itself a hotel because they didn’t rent rooms by the hour, so it thought itself more than a motel. But when you had spent as much time as the Winchesters had in extended lodgings, you knew the difference. There were also Motels and Rat holes, the main difference being bodily fluids from the previous occupants still present and or pay per view porn. Seeing that Sam was not going to play along Dean muttered a low ball bitch, which was calling someone a bitch at a tone just beyond the limits of dad hearing, thrown only when you want the other guy to swing at it so you can deny and then turn the accusation around.
But Sammy wasn’t swinging tonight.
Dean turned around and was rewarded by a solid slap to the back of his head, “Don’t call your brother a bitch.” John said as he pulled into the driveway. John pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it over to his son, “We’re going to be here for at least a week, make sure they have something for that long.”
Dean took the card and asked, “Should I find two rooms connected?” which was not a question about rooms at all but a question about the hunt. Now that both boys were quickly approaching the neighborhood of men, John had started renting two adjoining rooms when they stopped for a hunt. He had found the bickering and fighting the brothers went through in a normal twenty four hour period was enough to drive a, grieving man who lost his wife to a yellow eyed demon and was spending the rest of his life tracking the son of a bitch down in a blaze of unholy vengeance, to drink. Not that John minded drinking, he just liked to do it alone. If he wanted two rooms, the hunt was close enough for John to stay and he had no intention of staying in the room with his increasingly insane children. That meant Dean could help. If he wanted one room, it meant he was leaving and that Dean was on turd duty.
“One room.” John said.
Turd duty it was.
“Great!” Dean huffed getting out of the car and slamming it hard.
“HEY!” John yelled but Dean paid it no mind. Just what he needed, an additional pouting son. Backing into the parking space John put the trunk as close as he could to the hotel’s side door, as no one wants to explain why they were carrying a small arsenal upstairs in the middle of the night. Shifting the car into park John turned the car off and killed the lights, him and Sam sat there in silence for a few seconds and stared at each other in the rear view mirror.
Sam refused to talk first. There was no way he was going to feel bad about what happened with the bullets and there was no way John could make him. He kept his arms crossed and glared ahead with the defiance that made him look like the world’s smallest POW. Seeing a shrunken version of his own stubbornness made John bark out a laugh against his will. Mary had always talked about the Winchester scowl, the look she got when John was mad and had no intention even talking about whatever he had done wrong. He had always denied its existence, claiming Mary was making it up to make John smile…looks like he owed her an apology.
Whenever he saw her again.
Sighing deeply John looked back and saw the look of confusion mixed with anger now as Sam pondered what the laughing was all about. Did dads laugh before they started beatings? Was it funny? Was there a way to make it less funny? Was the crying or th beating the funny part? He so hated his family.
“Let’s get the trunk.” He said getting out of the car. Sam sat there for a few seconds in confusion before following his dad out.
He watched as the older man took a variety of weapons out of the trunk and began to pack them into a large duffel bag. Sam began to check each rifle and pistol before he handed them to John to make sure they were unloaded, they worked with silent efficiency, neither one knowing what to say next.
Sam reached down and picked up another box of shotgun shells and froze. Just at the sight of the red box he felt his eyes begin to water as he clenched his fist in anger. John looked over and saw Sam’s hand shaking in a silent scream, shells fell out of the box like popcorn kernels. John felt his heart ache as he saw the rock of his recent failure and the hard place of a life that forced him to grow up too fast play out on Sam’s face. It had been less than a year since Dean had told Sam the family secret, and John was still wondering if it was a good thing or not.
The boy needed to be trained, Dean could shoot both guns and bows by the time he was Sam's age. Dean he had no worries about, if it was the end of the world, he wanted his oldest son by his side. But Sammy...Sammy was another story altogether.
For the millionth time today John hated himself for making his sons lead this kind of life.
Placing his giant paw of a hand over Sam’s he grabbed the box and held it steady. With a calmness and empathy that stunned Sam, John said “It was an accident. Just try harder next time ok?”
It was the kindness that killed him.
Sam dropped the box and threw his arms around John’s waist in a hug borne out of a lifetime of believing himself not good enough and bellowed he was sorry, Sam bawled into his father’s shirt for over five minutes. John put the weapons down gently and pulled his youngest song into an embrace. He looked down with a chuckle and said, “You are one softy of a POW.” He squeezed his son tight and relished the feeling of his son's hug. After today, they both needed one.
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Dean looked down from the not hotel room with a scowl. Sammy always got away with murder and it wasn’t fair. Throwing his bag across the room Dean screamed in anger, knowing if he had screwed up that bad, he would never hear the end of it. It wasn’t freakin fair!!
Plopping down on the bed Dean sat there and tried to calm down. His dad was going to be out of here soon enough, and when he did…
Sam was toast.
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By the time John and Sam made it in the room Dean had gotten it together.
He smiled as he saw Sam crack a frown at Dean’s bag on the bed closet to the window. As everyone knew the bed by the window was always better since the monster always came through the front door. The guy by the window got to live while the one nearest the door got to be monster kibble and bought time for the cool one to escape. Dean had placed his bag on the bed, which cited Winchester Code 12: If My underwear is on it, it’s mine. One of a list of rules the brothers had worked out over the years, that particular one being first used by Dean a few years back when they had rented a room with two vastly different beds. One bed had been normal with pillows and a bedspread, the other looked like it had some weird form of AIDS only lethal if you were a piece of furniture on which to sleep, usually consisting of a rectangular frame with a mattress on top. Neither boy had wanted to touch the AIDS bed, as it quickly became to be known, and the race to the other bed was on. And since Sam was closer to the normal bed, Dean decided to improvise.
Tossing his bag over his head and towards the bed, the bag had landed on the bed and spilled it contents everywhere. Being the end of a rather extended trip, it had been full of his dirty clothes. The bag itself rolled to the floor but as it did, one pair of used underwear had fallen out and spread itself out across the bed. Both boys had slid to a halt, the wrinkled pair of undergarments, striking fear into the hearts of both boys. And then Dean’s mind flashed in victory as he remembered.
It was his underwear!
He jumped on the bed, and subsequently the underwear and smiled, “My underwear are on it, it’s mine.” And since Sammy couldn’t refute it, the rule was made. Looking at the bag, Sam scowled at Dean as he took the kibble bed.
John as usual was completely oblivious to the entire exchange. “Ok I am going to split this up, take what I need. The rest stow away, but not make sure it’s within reach.” Both boys had their back to their father and was miming the words as he spoke, since it was the same speech every hunt. As John pulled out his weapons of choice he also pulled his keys out of his pocket, “Dean, catch!” and tossed them across the room.
Dean caught them with the same expression one might catch a live hand grenade. Stunned and unbelieving, he held them with the same reverence he would the holy grail. The real one from Indiana Jones, not that stupid one from Monty Python.
“I’m gonna rent a truck for this, I don’t trust her out there in the boondocks. Last thing I want to do is bust an axle in the middle of…”, he looked around, “…where are we anyways?”
“Nowhere”, Sam said sarcastically, sitting on the corner of his stupid kibble bed.
“Shut up”, Dean said smacking the back of Sammy’s head.
“Don’t hit your brother.” John said automatically as he searched the bag. Sam flashed Dean a grin that was little brother for, Haha, can’t touch me. Dean smiled back with a fist that was big brother for, Wait.
Sam’s smile dropped first.
“Ok, I saw a rental car place a block away, you keep that card and get some supplies.” John said speaking to Dean as he packed his own smaller bag of weapons. Stopping he looked at his older son, “That means food for BOTH of you!” he said glaring at them for a moment. Sam’s smile came back as Dean’s dropped. “I will try to make it back to a phone every chance I can, but you know this how this thing is, I could be out of touch for a while. If something happens..”
Dean finished for him, “…call Bobby or Jim and get out of town.”
Sam added, “We should get one of those cell phones.” Dean looked over to him and scowled but Sam ignored him, “Like the feds have.”
Dean shot back, “Those things give you brain cancer!”
Sam retorted with, “Need a brain jerk!”
Dean got up with fists clenched, “Got one, bitch!”
“Prove it!”, Sam shot back standing up himself.
Before Dean could answer John simply barked one syllable, “DOWN!” Both boys dropped to the bed instantly. John closed his mouth and tried not to smile at the look on their faces. Boys were boys, and this was something they were going to have to work through.
Or kill each other over.
“I am leaving the Impala just in case.”, he leaned in at Dean, “Just. In. Case.”
Dean nodded, “Yes sir.”
They stared at each other for several seconds before John shook his head, “Take care of…”
“I’ll be fine.” Sam said, interrupting John himself.
John stopped and regarded his youngest for a moment as well. “Ok then, stay out of trouble and remember, kids here are in school so don’t be wandering the street like some stray tom cats looking for scraps. Stay out of sight and keep your head down.” And he picked up his bag, “Dean’s in charge.”
“Dad!” Sam whined as Dean pumped his fist with a victory, YES!
“You heard me Sammy, listen to your brother.” He opened the door and looked at the two of them and his throat swelled in pride. They were great kids, and he knew he had nothing to do with it. “Be good.” He said and walked out.
Dean ran to the window and watched his father walk up the block and out of sight. He waited another two minutes in case he had forgotten something. Finally, sure he his father was gone, Dean turned around and smiled at Sammy and in his best Jack Nicholson said, “Here’s Johnny!”
Sam screamed like a girl as his older brother flew across the room and began to beat him.
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Happy V Day....J and J Style |
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New Episode Tomorrow Night! |
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Feel Like A Lazy Asshole... |
Many of you probably don't know me, but I started this livejournal community forever ago, and never devoted enough time to it.
That's all going to change.
I'm very impressed with how many people post on this journal, considering I never kept it up.
It's motivated me to make this the best damn Supernatural communtiy on LiveJounral.
Hopefully, we will get a season three (from what I'm hearing it sounds very promising) and I will deck this site out over the summer to get everyone pumped for Season Three.
Changes to come soon.
Your Moderator,
Alex
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Kristen's Save our show... |
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Happy Heart Day |
leeloocat who loves the boys a little too much :) I thought I would share for all of those who wanted a Winchester Valentine's Day |
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Áåç çàãîëîâêà |
All cuts lead back to my graphics journal.
I made some icons of Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles. They're all up for grabs.
Teasers:
×èòàòü äàëåå
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picture request |
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Áåç çàãîëîâêà |
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Áåç çàãîëîâêà |
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SN Fic-Path not Taken 1-5 |
usmc75|
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| Ñòðàíèöû: [1] Êàëåíäàðü |
