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smalltrolvenTitle: 8 Conversations That Never Happened, (But really really should have) ~ Season 8
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
smalltrolven
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 1,300
Rating: G
Author’s Note: Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 Days of Wincest. Set after "Taxi Driver" 8.19. Last in this series
Can also be read over on AO3 right here.
~~~~~~
A couple hundred miles away from the 100 mile wilderness, Sam and Dean are finishing up breakfast in a diner. Nothing special, although the coffee’s better than the kind they usually expect in these places. Dean can’t take his eyes off of Sam across the table, can’t believe that he’s back, like it was no big deal traveling to Hell and Purgatory all in the space of twenty-four hours. Sam’s not saying much yet, just reading the local paper, pushing the remains of his omelet around on his plate.
Finally Dean breaks the silence. “So, uh, I had a visit from that angel chick Naomi, on Garth’s boat. She said you were in Purgatory.”
Sam’s head comes up sharply, eyes meeting Dean’s. “That’s how you knew I needed help. Benny, uh, he didn’t know how you knew I was there. Just said you called him and said your brother needed saving.”
“Yeah, he came right away when I called him.” Dean trails off, unable to say any more about what happened with Benny, not in this sunlit diner, where nothing bad has ever happened and his brother sits whole and complete across from him.
“He said to tell you goodbye and that he was never any good up here.” Sam says, in the hopes that it will help Dean feel better about what he had to do to his friend.
“I figured he’d do somethin’ like that.” Dean says, looking down at the swirls of ketchup remaining on his plate, remembering the blood when he’d had to take Benny’s head off. He plays with the dull table knife, spinning it on its point on the Formica table with one hand.
Sam reaches across the table and replaces the knife with his own hand, squeezing Dean’s tightly. “Listen, I still don’t know the whole thing that was between you and Benny. I know you went through a lot with him. But, you should know, he saved me Dean. He made sure I got out. That I got back to you.”
Dean looks at Sam’s giant hand engulfing his, so solid and real, anchoring him here, with just those warm fingers and earnest words. He’s suddenly filled with gratitude for his friend’s sacrifice, that he gets to sit here and have his hand held by the person who means everything to him, just because Benny set things right. He looks up at Sam, holds his gaze for a long, quiet moment. “I knew he would. That’s why I sent him in after you.”
Sam’s eyes cloud up with unshed tears at the look on his brother’s face. Dean’s pain and loss unmistakable, impossible to ignore. “I’m sorry you had to do that. To your friend. So thank you.”
Dean shrugs, and pulls his hand out of Sam’s grasp, holding on to his own hand in his lap to keep himself from reaching out again for the comfort of touching Sam. “Sounds like he didn’t have too much of a problem with it.”
“He really seemed decided on staying there.” Sam says carefully, like he’s not sure how much of this Dean really wants to hear.
Dean gets a far-away look in his eyes. “Kind of like Cas wanted to.”
“He did?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, I remembered it differently when I first got back. But he showed me how it really was. He felt like he was supposed to stay there, to do penance or some bull like that.” Dean says, remembering how he felt so stupid for having insisted that Cas try and get out with them if he didn’t even want to go in the first place. Taking all that extra risk for nothing.
“He didn’t think he deserved to get out with you?” Sam asks.
“No, that’s why it was so weird when he just showed up like he did. I mean before we knew about Naomi.” Dean says.
“What is it with Purgatory, all the monsters want to stay there? Except for me.” Sam observes.
Now it’s Dean’s turn to reach across the table. Quick as a snake, grasping at Sam’s wrist to get his full attention. “Now you’re calling yourself a monster?”
“Why not? You have before Dean. I figure that’s what this trial stuff is doing, purifying me, maybe I won’t be one anymore.” Sam says, not looking at Dean, just at his brother’s hand circling his wrist, the skin going white under Dean’s thick, sturdy fingers.
Dean lets go of Sam’s wrist, and slides his hand down to put their palms together, interlacing their fingers. “Sammy c’mon.”
Sam presses his hand into Dean’s, then raises his eyes up to meet Dean’s, so green in the morning light coming through the diner windows. “No really. That’s what it feels like. And maybe it’s a good thing, finally being clean.”
Dean’s so glad that Sam’s looking at him, really looking, those hazel eyes gone almost green-blue in the sunlight, unblinking with the truth Sam believes he’s saying about himself. But he’s wrong, so wrong. “You are. You’re good. You always have been.”
“No, that’s not true. I’ve always felt this way inside, and the things I’ve done, you were right Dean to call me that back then. But that’s why I want to keep going, doing these trials, maybe it’ll fix me somehow.”
“You don’t need fixing.” Dean insists.
“You’ve been holding me together for so long, it’s like you’ve forgotten you’re even doing’ it Dean.” Sam half-smiles at him across the table, looks down at their hands still woven together.
Dean squeezes his brother’s hand. “It’s my job.”
Sam looks up at the familiar refrain. “Yeah, I know. And I’m glad you keep doing’ it instead of givin’ up on me.”
Dean’s face goes serious as he remembers one of his least favorite times. “I made that mistake once Sammy. I swore I never would again.”
“I remember.” Sam nods solemnly, like he’s taking on the weight of his brother’s expectations to be worth that much of Dean’s faith.
“Listen, I know the hits have been comin’ for you since you were six months old, but that’s not your fault, just fate or whatever. But you’ve lived a good life as a good person for your whole life anyways. You saved the world Sam once already, and now you’re tryin’ to close the gates of Hell.”
Sam sighs, just hearing Dean have to say all that makes it even clearer to him that he needs to finish these trials. “I wouldn’t be doing’ this without you.”
“Damn straight.” Dean agrees, finally letting go of Sam’s hand.
“I’ve got this feeling that I’ve gotta get this done, and soon.” Sam admits for the first time out loud to himself and Dean.
“We’re gettin’ there, you just have to hold on and then it’ll be over and done. Miller time.” Dean drains the rest of his coffee.
Sam makes a yuck face worthy of a five-year old. “Bleah, at least get me something’ good to drink.”
Dean grins at that face, one he’s used to seeing for a whole lot of years by now. “Alright, you got it, one of those dark beer things you can float a cookie on top of.”
“Sounds good. And a pot pie, with the beef and carrots and crust. Can you figure out how to make one of those?” Sam asks, like he knows Dean will love the challenge.
“And here I thought you’d never ask for a pie.” Dean laughs, pulling some cash out of his wallet and leaving it with the bill under his water glass. Happy that his brother is thinking ahead past the finish line when this will all be done.
“Still have a few surprises left for you I guess.” Sam stands up to leave, unfolding his long body from the diner seat, stretching a little above Dean.
Dean looks up and up and up at his brother, standing so tall and strong above him. “Good, you know I don’t do boring.”
~FIN~
Author:
smalltrolvenPairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 1,300
Rating: G
Author’s Note: Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 Days of Wincest. Set after "Taxi Driver" 8.19. Last in this series
Can also be read over on AO3 right here.
~~~~~~
A couple hundred miles away from the 100 mile wilderness, Sam and Dean are finishing up breakfast in a diner. Nothing special, although the coffee’s better than the kind they usually expect in these places. Dean can’t take his eyes off of Sam across the table, can’t believe that he’s back, like it was no big deal traveling to Hell and Purgatory all in the space of twenty-four hours. Sam’s not saying much yet, just reading the local paper, pushing the remains of his omelet around on his plate.
Finally Dean breaks the silence. “So, uh, I had a visit from that angel chick Naomi, on Garth’s boat. She said you were in Purgatory.”
Sam’s head comes up sharply, eyes meeting Dean’s. “That’s how you knew I needed help. Benny, uh, he didn’t know how you knew I was there. Just said you called him and said your brother needed saving.”
“Yeah, he came right away when I called him.” Dean trails off, unable to say any more about what happened with Benny, not in this sunlit diner, where nothing bad has ever happened and his brother sits whole and complete across from him.
“He said to tell you goodbye and that he was never any good up here.” Sam says, in the hopes that it will help Dean feel better about what he had to do to his friend.
“I figured he’d do somethin’ like that.” Dean says, looking down at the swirls of ketchup remaining on his plate, remembering the blood when he’d had to take Benny’s head off. He plays with the dull table knife, spinning it on its point on the Formica table with one hand.
Sam reaches across the table and replaces the knife with his own hand, squeezing Dean’s tightly. “Listen, I still don’t know the whole thing that was between you and Benny. I know you went through a lot with him. But, you should know, he saved me Dean. He made sure I got out. That I got back to you.”
Dean looks at Sam’s giant hand engulfing his, so solid and real, anchoring him here, with just those warm fingers and earnest words. He’s suddenly filled with gratitude for his friend’s sacrifice, that he gets to sit here and have his hand held by the person who means everything to him, just because Benny set things right. He looks up at Sam, holds his gaze for a long, quiet moment. “I knew he would. That’s why I sent him in after you.”
Sam’s eyes cloud up with unshed tears at the look on his brother’s face. Dean’s pain and loss unmistakable, impossible to ignore. “I’m sorry you had to do that. To your friend. So thank you.”
Dean shrugs, and pulls his hand out of Sam’s grasp, holding on to his own hand in his lap to keep himself from reaching out again for the comfort of touching Sam. “Sounds like he didn’t have too much of a problem with it.”
“He really seemed decided on staying there.” Sam says carefully, like he’s not sure how much of this Dean really wants to hear.
Dean gets a far-away look in his eyes. “Kind of like Cas wanted to.”
“He did?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, I remembered it differently when I first got back. But he showed me how it really was. He felt like he was supposed to stay there, to do penance or some bull like that.” Dean says, remembering how he felt so stupid for having insisted that Cas try and get out with them if he didn’t even want to go in the first place. Taking all that extra risk for nothing.
“He didn’t think he deserved to get out with you?” Sam asks.
“No, that’s why it was so weird when he just showed up like he did. I mean before we knew about Naomi.” Dean says.
“What is it with Purgatory, all the monsters want to stay there? Except for me.” Sam observes.
Now it’s Dean’s turn to reach across the table. Quick as a snake, grasping at Sam’s wrist to get his full attention. “Now you’re calling yourself a monster?”
“Why not? You have before Dean. I figure that’s what this trial stuff is doing, purifying me, maybe I won’t be one anymore.” Sam says, not looking at Dean, just at his brother’s hand circling his wrist, the skin going white under Dean’s thick, sturdy fingers.
Dean lets go of Sam’s wrist, and slides his hand down to put their palms together, interlacing their fingers. “Sammy c’mon.”
Sam presses his hand into Dean’s, then raises his eyes up to meet Dean’s, so green in the morning light coming through the diner windows. “No really. That’s what it feels like. And maybe it’s a good thing, finally being clean.”
Dean’s so glad that Sam’s looking at him, really looking, those hazel eyes gone almost green-blue in the sunlight, unblinking with the truth Sam believes he’s saying about himself. But he’s wrong, so wrong. “You are. You’re good. You always have been.”
“No, that’s not true. I’ve always felt this way inside, and the things I’ve done, you were right Dean to call me that back then. But that’s why I want to keep going, doing these trials, maybe it’ll fix me somehow.”
“You don’t need fixing.” Dean insists.
“You’ve been holding me together for so long, it’s like you’ve forgotten you’re even doing’ it Dean.” Sam half-smiles at him across the table, looks down at their hands still woven together.
Dean squeezes his brother’s hand. “It’s my job.”
Sam looks up at the familiar refrain. “Yeah, I know. And I’m glad you keep doing’ it instead of givin’ up on me.”
Dean’s face goes serious as he remembers one of his least favorite times. “I made that mistake once Sammy. I swore I never would again.”
“I remember.” Sam nods solemnly, like he’s taking on the weight of his brother’s expectations to be worth that much of Dean’s faith.
“Listen, I know the hits have been comin’ for you since you were six months old, but that’s not your fault, just fate or whatever. But you’ve lived a good life as a good person for your whole life anyways. You saved the world Sam once already, and now you’re tryin’ to close the gates of Hell.”
Sam sighs, just hearing Dean have to say all that makes it even clearer to him that he needs to finish these trials. “I wouldn’t be doing’ this without you.”
“Damn straight.” Dean agrees, finally letting go of Sam’s hand.
“I’ve got this feeling that I’ve gotta get this done, and soon.” Sam admits for the first time out loud to himself and Dean.
“We’re gettin’ there, you just have to hold on and then it’ll be over and done. Miller time.” Dean drains the rest of his coffee.
Sam makes a yuck face worthy of a five-year old. “Bleah, at least get me something’ good to drink.”
Dean grins at that face, one he’s used to seeing for a whole lot of years by now. “Alright, you got it, one of those dark beer things you can float a cookie on top of.”
“Sounds good. And a pot pie, with the beef and carrots and crust. Can you figure out how to make one of those?” Sam asks, like he knows Dean will love the challenge.
“And here I thought you’d never ask for a pie.” Dean laughs, pulling some cash out of his wallet and leaving it with the bill under his water glass. Happy that his brother is thinking ahead past the finish line when this will all be done.
“Still have a few surprises left for you I guess.” Sam stands up to leave, unfolding his long body from the diner seat, stretching a little above Dean.
Dean looks up and up and up at his brother, standing so tall and strong above him. “Good, you know I don’t do boring.”
~FIN~
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no subject
Date: 2013-10-02 07:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-02 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-02 06:57 pm (UTC)Thank you for this fantastic series, I've enjoyed every word of it!
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Date: 2013-10-04 06:47 pm (UTC)