Supernatural Magnificent Seven Coda
Dec. 5th, 2007 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rahmiEven though she hasn't seen 3.01 yet. *coughs* Um. I wanted angst. And I wanted more angst. So, I wrote angst. Um. *coughs*
Title: Selfish Prudence
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam'n'Dean Winchester
Warnings: Total and complete spoilers for 3.01. You've been warned, yo.
Sam's face is buried in a book again.
Dean tosses his keys in the air twice, fumbles the second catch on purpose to see if Sam's even paying the slightest bit of attention to him. He's not. Dean bends over and retrieves his keys with a grimace.
Sam's been on this holy crusade since the Big 7; Dean's not going to feel guilty for it, dammit. He'd said what needed to be said and he's not going to let Sam drop down dead just because he thinks Dean isn't entitled to be selfish every now and again.
"Sammy, come on, man, let's go do something. Enjoy the time I've got left, huh?" That would have gotten a smile out of Sam less than a week ago, even if it would have been something slightly sickly and wobbly around the edges. Now Sam just wedges himself more firmly into the corner his bed makes with the wall and shakes his shaggy head.
"You go ahead. I'm gonna," Sam doesn't even look up, doesn't even finish his sentence. He doesn't have to.
"Dude, I'm not gone yet!" Dean finally says, face twisting in serious annoyance. He liked it better when Sam was being overly solicitous to him. At least then he'd been able to get laid while knowing exactly where his little brother was if he'd wanted to look out the window and check.
"No," Sam retorts. For a second, Dean thinks he's just telling him no, he's not gonna go out tonight, and for the record? He's totally prepared to throw Sam over his shoulder and force him to have fun if he's just going to be a bitch about it.
He steps forward to do just that.
Sam's fingers go white on the edges of the book the instant he gets even slightly closer, and Dean stops and really looks at him for the first time since. Since a lifetime ago (Sam's lifetime). He looks worse than he had laid out on that threadbare mattress in Cold Oak; he's grey tinged, dark circles under his eyes and his cheekbones are starting to stick out enough that Dean vaguely thinks he's gonna end up slicing his pillows to ribbons. Dean starts to get a terrible feeling in his gut.
"Just. Go away, alright? You're right, you've got 348 days left," of course Sam knows how many days he's got, he probably knows the hours too, and the only reason he doesn't know the seconds is because his watch doesn't display them, "Live your life, go screw a hooker, have bad cholesterol, be selfish, whatever."
Sam's nostrils flare when he looks back down at the book. Dean blinks at him, wants to smile and make a joke, but can't. "I told you what would happen if you--"
"You're entitled to be selfish, right, Dean?" Sam interrupts, turns his page and doesn't look up. Dean thinks he looks like he's wasting away, like there's a succubus feeding on him and he needs to purify his brother, only there's nothing in there but the information Dean gave him, eating away at him like Dad's secret had eaten away at him. He fucking well refuses to feel guilty for Sam being alive.
"Yeah, that's what I said, wasn't it?" Dean says. He scrubs a hand across his face, tries to keep the sick feeling from showing. "So sit back, relax, let's go get a beer."
Sam draws his knees up, rests the book against them and doesn't look at Dean again. "Don't expect me to be selfless if you're not going to be."
Title: Selfish Prudence
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam'n'Dean Winchester
Warnings: Total and complete spoilers for 3.01. You've been warned, yo.
Sam's face is buried in a book again.
Dean tosses his keys in the air twice, fumbles the second catch on purpose to see if Sam's even paying the slightest bit of attention to him. He's not. Dean bends over and retrieves his keys with a grimace.
Sam's been on this holy crusade since the Big 7; Dean's not going to feel guilty for it, dammit. He'd said what needed to be said and he's not going to let Sam drop down dead just because he thinks Dean isn't entitled to be selfish every now and again.
"Sammy, come on, man, let's go do something. Enjoy the time I've got left, huh?" That would have gotten a smile out of Sam less than a week ago, even if it would have been something slightly sickly and wobbly around the edges. Now Sam just wedges himself more firmly into the corner his bed makes with the wall and shakes his shaggy head.
"You go ahead. I'm gonna," Sam doesn't even look up, doesn't even finish his sentence. He doesn't have to.
"Dude, I'm not gone yet!" Dean finally says, face twisting in serious annoyance. He liked it better when Sam was being overly solicitous to him. At least then he'd been able to get laid while knowing exactly where his little brother was if he'd wanted to look out the window and check.
"No," Sam retorts. For a second, Dean thinks he's just telling him no, he's not gonna go out tonight, and for the record? He's totally prepared to throw Sam over his shoulder and force him to have fun if he's just going to be a bitch about it.
He steps forward to do just that.
Sam's fingers go white on the edges of the book the instant he gets even slightly closer, and Dean stops and really looks at him for the first time since. Since a lifetime ago (Sam's lifetime). He looks worse than he had laid out on that threadbare mattress in Cold Oak; he's grey tinged, dark circles under his eyes and his cheekbones are starting to stick out enough that Dean vaguely thinks he's gonna end up slicing his pillows to ribbons. Dean starts to get a terrible feeling in his gut.
"Just. Go away, alright? You're right, you've got 348 days left," of course Sam knows how many days he's got, he probably knows the hours too, and the only reason he doesn't know the seconds is because his watch doesn't display them, "Live your life, go screw a hooker, have bad cholesterol, be selfish, whatever."
Sam's nostrils flare when he looks back down at the book. Dean blinks at him, wants to smile and make a joke, but can't. "I told you what would happen if you--"
"You're entitled to be selfish, right, Dean?" Sam interrupts, turns his page and doesn't look up. Dean thinks he looks like he's wasting away, like there's a succubus feeding on him and he needs to purify his brother, only there's nothing in there but the information Dean gave him, eating away at him like Dad's secret had eaten away at him. He fucking well refuses to feel guilty for Sam being alive.
"Yeah, that's what I said, wasn't it?" Dean says. He scrubs a hand across his face, tries to keep the sick feeling from showing. "So sit back, relax, let's go get a beer."
Sam draws his knees up, rests the book against them and doesn't look at Dean again. "Don't expect me to be selfless if you're not going to be."
