Fic: Hold Me Up (Sam and Dean - Gen) PG
Nov. 13th, 2007 11:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blue_icy_roseA little (oh fine, it's been days) late but better late than never, right? So, here you go, Sarah! It probably would've been posted sooner but then I got this idea to combine Supernatural with another one of your loves - Goo Goo Dolls! Before you is a series of drabbles, each one based off the title of a GGD song, ranging from 1987 up to 2006. Not all of the drabbles are connected and they're not in any particular order either - hope you like it! :D
*sings* Happy late biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirthday dear Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarah! Happy birthday to you! *throws confetti*
Livin’ In A Hut
It’s rare that they get to live in an actual house. Usually, it’s a small apartment where nosy neighbors are their biggest worry.
Not this time though. This time, they get a house and their own rooms. It’ll be the first time Sam and Dean haven’t shared a room in years. The newness of it all causes both to get excited over the idea. Dean won’t have to try and fall asleep with the light on because Sam’s getting to the good part of his latest book and please, Dean, just a couple more chapters, and Sam won’t have to find ways to block out the sounds of Metallica and Black Sabbath or worry about having to knock before entering his own room because Dean brought a date home.
A new town, a new house, and now it seems like a new life.
Of course, they never expected to miss the old one.
Messed Up
Sam sighed and turned onto his side, punching his pillow. He’d thought having his own room would be the best thing to ever happen to him. Instead, he kind of misses the way Dean used to bitch about the light keeping him from falling asleep.
And he’ll never admit it, but he kind of misses falling asleep to Dean’s music.
~*~*~
Dean stared at the ceiling, eyes tracking each crack he could find. It was too quiet. He’d gotten used to the sound of Sam’s breathing helping him to fall asleep at night, at having that last bit of reassurance that his brother was okay. And the way Sam sometimes muttered to himself or snorted at something while he was reading and the way he sighed and grumbled about Dean’s crap (whatever, like a band called Goo Goo Dolls was so much better than AC/DC) music.
Damn, but he sort of missed sharing a room with Sammy.
No Way Out
He gasped for air, the action nothing more than instinct despite the fact that he knew doing so wouldn’t allow him to breathe easier. Instead the walls around him seemed to get closer, making the space seem impossibly small. He closed his eyes and hoped that doing so would help.
It didn’t.
Above him, he could hear the sounds of digging and beyond that, the sound of his brother’s voice shouting his name.
Almost there, don’t worry, hang on.
Part of him wanted to panic and shout back that almost there wasn’t good enough, that he needed out now but he didn’t.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to take slow, deep breaths until he heard the telltale thunk of metal meeting wood and smiled.
He knew he could count on his brother.
Out of Sight
Dean had a girl in every city they went through it seemed. Sam didn’t understand how or why, he just knew that that was the way it was. It was the way things had always been and he wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how things were five, ten, twenty years from now.
What Sam didn’t know was that there was one girl that stood out above the rest. There was one girl that mattered to Dean more than all the others. He didn’t know that Dean called her in secret, that they shared a sense of humor, or that he’d told her the truth and she’d looked him straight in the eye and said, “I believe you.”
Sam didn’t know because Dean never talked about her. She was his and his alone.
Know My Name
The worst moment of Dean’s life had been the moment Sam had looked him in the eye and said, “Who are you?”
He hadn’t been prepared for it but then who would be? He’d just been happy that his brother was waking up after being tossed through a wall. His first thought had been making sure Sam was okay but then the look of confusion on Sam’s face as Dean had talked to him had sunk in and his stomach had knotted.
Saying Sam’s name had done nothing more than earn him a blank look and he’d had to fight back the panic as he’d asked again if Sam was okay.
Then Sam had spoken and Dean’s world turned upside down.
22 Seconds
Sam never told Dean how he managed to break the deal and Dean never asked. In Sam’s mind, he’d cut it a bit too close for comfort. In Dean’s mind, Sam was the stupidest, most loyal, idiotic brother in the world for risking himself without even telling anyone.
But he had.
The hounds had been there, ready to go for Dean, had been mere inches away from him when Sam had whispered the last words of a ritual that Dean didn’t even know he’d been doing. And suddenly, the hounds were gone and both Sam and Dean were still standing.
Dean knew that the ritual wasn’t the only thing Sam had done, that it was only one step of many that Sam had taken but the one time Bobby had said something about it, Sam’s eyes had gone dark and haunted before he’d hidden it behind a smile.
So Dean never asked. They were Winchesters after all.
Another Second Time Around
“So how many lives do you think I got?”
Sam frowned. “What?”
“Seriously, man, I’ve almost died how many times now? I’ve got to be on life number five or something by now.” Dean glanced at him, lips twitching at the look on his brother’s face. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re an idiot.”
“You’re just jealous.”
Sam snorted. “Yes, that’s it. I’m jealous that I don’t have nine lives.”
“Dude, did you just imply that I’m a cat?” Dean paused. “That’d be kind of cool.”
Rather than bother with a reply, Sam rolled his eyes. Only his brother.
We Are The Normal
Sam had once thought that when the demon was dead, he’d go back to school and leave hunting behind again. Not Dean, no, this time he fully intended to keep in touch with his brother. He’d try normal again.
But as the days went by, Sam started to realize something. He wouldn’t feel comfortable just walking away again. He’d tried it once and he’d still gotten pulled back in.
It just wouldn’t work.
Not that it mattered because Sam realized that his idea of normal had changed. Normal wasn’t Stanford and a law degree, a wife and three kids and maybe a dog or two. Normal was him, Dean, the Impala, and the next hunt. It was meals in a diner, Dean blasting his music just a little too loud, and Sam always getting the bed furthest from the door because if anything was getting into the room then Dean wanted to be the one it had to go through first. It was Sam on the laptop while Dean cleaned the weapons and Bobby calling to not so subtly check up on them.
That was normal.
Name
“When I was five, you punched Jimmy Morgan in the nose for making me cry.”
Dean froze and slowly turned to Sam. He didn’t say anything, just waited to see what else Sam would say because for the first time in over a month, there was a look of recognizition in Sam’s eyes that said he didn’t just know Dean’s name or his habits from the road. He knew Dean, knew him because there wasn’t a possibility that he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t, know him.
“And for my seventh birthday, you took me to the beach because I’d been wanting to go since we’d moved to Santa Cruz. Dad got me a truck and we watched a movie.”
The memory caused Dean to close his eyes as he thought back to the way Sam had laughed that day.
“When I graduated from high school, you were right there in the front row and shouting my name and whistling. We went out to dinner and you flirted with the waitress until she looked the other way when you ordered a second beer and then gave it to me. You said it was to celebrate.”
Dean forced himself to open his eyes and really look at his brother. “Sam?”
This time when Dean said his name, Sam nodded. “Yeah.”
Burnin Up
Sam had come to the conclusion that Dean was the biggest baby in the world when he was sick. And he was also the worst patient ever.
“I’m not sick, Sam, so you better give me the keys right the hell now,” Dean demanded. His voice was low, not because he was trying to sound intimidating but because he couldn’t actually bring himself to talk any louder.
“Right. You’ve only got a fever that’s causing you to sweat so much that it looks like you’ve been running outside for a couple of miles. Earlier you demanded that the second me stand behind the first me because it was too confusing trying to keep track of us and this is the first time you’ve been able to sit up all day. But you’re not sick.”
Dean narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to probably make some smart ass remark, and sneezed instead.
“Just go get me some Gatorade, damn it.”
Hate This Place
Being locked inside yourself wasn’t something that Sam would recommend. It certainly hadn’t been something that he’d ever expected to go through himself.
But one minute, he and Dean had been stopping for burgers in Texas and the next, all he felt was pain. There was the feeling of being smothered and then he heard the laughter and he’d opened his eyes to find himself in a room with a view.
He’d watched as Meg in his body had ditched Dean, watched as his hands killed another hunter who’d only let him in because of his father’s reputation, watched as he’d tied up Jo and played with her, watched as he shot his brother.
He didn’t know if he’d remember any of it when he got out—and he had to get out because if he didn’t, he’d go insane—but he knew that he’d do whatever he could to stop this one from happening again.
For Sam, this was hell.
Bullet Proof
If anyone had asked Sam what he thought bullet proof was when he was six, he’d have said Dean. In his mind, there was nothing that Dean couldn’t do. If Dean said he was going to track down Santa and make sure he knew that they’d moved a week before Christmas, then there would be gifts from Santa waiting for Sam on Christmas morning (and there had been).
And if Dean said that the monsters in the closet were gone, that they were never going to come back, then that meant he didn’t have to worry about making sure the closet door was shut all the way anymore.
To Sam, Dean was the one that made the nightmares go away.
At the age of twenty-three, that, at least, hadn’t changed.
Think About Me
The first Christmas that Sam spent away from his family, he had stayed at the dorms. Part of him had wanted to call up Dean so he could find out where he and Dad were and ask if he could join them. But that last conversation had kept replaying in his mind, over and over, until he’d shaken his head and put his phone down.
Instead, he’d waited to open the few presents he had waiting for him from his friends until Christmas morning. Later, he’d gone out to dinner, noting that the only other people there besides lone college students were a few families and rather than cheer him up, it had only reminded him of the years when John had given up on trying to cook a Christmas meal and taken them out instead.
He’d walked into his room to find a couple of boxes sitting on his bed, a note on top of them.
Merry Christmas, Sammy.
Tucked Away
Dean had caught Sam staring at something in his wallet a few times, though he’d never said anything. Each time that it happened, Sam snapped his wallet shut and shoved it in his pocket, avoiding Dean’s eyes.
Normally Dean was all about not invading someone’s personal space. He insisted that he and Sam not get into any deep conversations about their lives, not because he didn’t care but because he didn’t know how to handle that. His dad had never asked for details and so Dean had never offered them. It was just the way they did things with Sam being the exception.
But the look on Sam’s face had gotten Dean curious, so he waited until Sam was asleep, his breathing deep and even, before going to the table where Sam had left his wallet. One last look had confirmed that Sam wasn’t waking up so he’d flipped the wallet open and flipped through it.
One flip had frozen him as he’d stared down at the two pictures, side by side.
Their parents, arms around each other and happy in a way that Dean only vaguely remembered. And on the other side, Sam and Jess, laughing at the camera as he gave her a piggy back ride.
Dean couldn’t remember when he’d seen his brother laugh like that.
He stared for a few more moments, memorizing the happiness on his brother’s face, on his parents’ faces, and then quietly closed the wallet.
Can’t Let It Go
“Drop it, Sam.”
“No.”
They’d been arguing over this every day for the last two weeks. Dean couldn’t understand why Sam wouldn’t just drop the idea of trying to break the deal and Sam couldn’t understand how Dean could even think of asking him to.
“You just have to keep pushing it, don’t you?” Dean asked. “Stop trying, Sam. You don’t and that bitch is going to kill you.”
Even though he heard the way Dean practically strangled over that last part, Sam let out a breath and said the very thing he knew Dean didn’t want to hear. “I can’t.”
“Damn it, Sam! Let it go!”
“Like you did?” Sam snapped. Dean stopped, looking as if he’d been punched in the stomach and Sam shook his head. “Don’t ask me to let you go when you couldn’t do the same. You’re my brother.” He paused, swallowing, and then said the same thing Dean had said months ago. “Don’t you get mad at me. Don’t.” He glanced at the ground and then back up at Dean. “I have to do this. I have to, Dean.”
They stared at each other, the silence stretching between them, neither making an effort to break it.
Better Days
Vacation wasn’t a word that was usually in their vocabulary. But it’d been a hell of a year and all Dean wanted to do was rest. Sam couldn’t argue with him. Sighing, he leaned back against the seat and tilted his head so he could stare out the passenger window.
“Where are we going now?” he asked.
Dean paused and glanced at Sam, noting the fact that he was practically asleep against the window. He thought back over everything that had happened in the past two days and he couldn’t blame Sam for wanting to sleep.
“Dean?”
He blinked and realized that he still hadn’t answered Sam’s question. Grinning, Dean started the car. “We’re going to the beach, Sammy.”
*sings* Happy late biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirthday dear Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarah! Happy birthday to you! *throws confetti*
Livin’ In A Hut
It’s rare that they get to live in an actual house. Usually, it’s a small apartment where nosy neighbors are their biggest worry.
Not this time though. This time, they get a house and their own rooms. It’ll be the first time Sam and Dean haven’t shared a room in years. The newness of it all causes both to get excited over the idea. Dean won’t have to try and fall asleep with the light on because Sam’s getting to the good part of his latest book and please, Dean, just a couple more chapters, and Sam won’t have to find ways to block out the sounds of Metallica and Black Sabbath or worry about having to knock before entering his own room because Dean brought a date home.
A new town, a new house, and now it seems like a new life.
Of course, they never expected to miss the old one.
Messed Up
Sam sighed and turned onto his side, punching his pillow. He’d thought having his own room would be the best thing to ever happen to him. Instead, he kind of misses the way Dean used to bitch about the light keeping him from falling asleep.
And he’ll never admit it, but he kind of misses falling asleep to Dean’s music.
Dean stared at the ceiling, eyes tracking each crack he could find. It was too quiet. He’d gotten used to the sound of Sam’s breathing helping him to fall asleep at night, at having that last bit of reassurance that his brother was okay. And the way Sam sometimes muttered to himself or snorted at something while he was reading and the way he sighed and grumbled about Dean’s crap (whatever, like a band called Goo Goo Dolls was so much better than AC/DC) music.
Damn, but he sort of missed sharing a room with Sammy.
No Way Out
He gasped for air, the action nothing more than instinct despite the fact that he knew doing so wouldn’t allow him to breathe easier. Instead the walls around him seemed to get closer, making the space seem impossibly small. He closed his eyes and hoped that doing so would help.
It didn’t.
Above him, he could hear the sounds of digging and beyond that, the sound of his brother’s voice shouting his name.
Almost there, don’t worry, hang on.
Part of him wanted to panic and shout back that almost there wasn’t good enough, that he needed out now but he didn’t.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to take slow, deep breaths until he heard the telltale thunk of metal meeting wood and smiled.
He knew he could count on his brother.
Out of Sight
Dean had a girl in every city they went through it seemed. Sam didn’t understand how or why, he just knew that that was the way it was. It was the way things had always been and he wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how things were five, ten, twenty years from now.
What Sam didn’t know was that there was one girl that stood out above the rest. There was one girl that mattered to Dean more than all the others. He didn’t know that Dean called her in secret, that they shared a sense of humor, or that he’d told her the truth and she’d looked him straight in the eye and said, “I believe you.”
Sam didn’t know because Dean never talked about her. She was his and his alone.
Know My Name
The worst moment of Dean’s life had been the moment Sam had looked him in the eye and said, “Who are you?”
He hadn’t been prepared for it but then who would be? He’d just been happy that his brother was waking up after being tossed through a wall. His first thought had been making sure Sam was okay but then the look of confusion on Sam’s face as Dean had talked to him had sunk in and his stomach had knotted.
Saying Sam’s name had done nothing more than earn him a blank look and he’d had to fight back the panic as he’d asked again if Sam was okay.
Then Sam had spoken and Dean’s world turned upside down.
22 Seconds
Sam never told Dean how he managed to break the deal and Dean never asked. In Sam’s mind, he’d cut it a bit too close for comfort. In Dean’s mind, Sam was the stupidest, most loyal, idiotic brother in the world for risking himself without even telling anyone.
But he had.
The hounds had been there, ready to go for Dean, had been mere inches away from him when Sam had whispered the last words of a ritual that Dean didn’t even know he’d been doing. And suddenly, the hounds were gone and both Sam and Dean were still standing.
Dean knew that the ritual wasn’t the only thing Sam had done, that it was only one step of many that Sam had taken but the one time Bobby had said something about it, Sam’s eyes had gone dark and haunted before he’d hidden it behind a smile.
So Dean never asked. They were Winchesters after all.
Another Second Time Around
“So how many lives do you think I got?”
Sam frowned. “What?”
“Seriously, man, I’ve almost died how many times now? I’ve got to be on life number five or something by now.” Dean glanced at him, lips twitching at the look on his brother’s face. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re an idiot.”
“You’re just jealous.”
Sam snorted. “Yes, that’s it. I’m jealous that I don’t have nine lives.”
“Dude, did you just imply that I’m a cat?” Dean paused. “That’d be kind of cool.”
Rather than bother with a reply, Sam rolled his eyes. Only his brother.
We Are The Normal
Sam had once thought that when the demon was dead, he’d go back to school and leave hunting behind again. Not Dean, no, this time he fully intended to keep in touch with his brother. He’d try normal again.
But as the days went by, Sam started to realize something. He wouldn’t feel comfortable just walking away again. He’d tried it once and he’d still gotten pulled back in.
It just wouldn’t work.
Not that it mattered because Sam realized that his idea of normal had changed. Normal wasn’t Stanford and a law degree, a wife and three kids and maybe a dog or two. Normal was him, Dean, the Impala, and the next hunt. It was meals in a diner, Dean blasting his music just a little too loud, and Sam always getting the bed furthest from the door because if anything was getting into the room then Dean wanted to be the one it had to go through first. It was Sam on the laptop while Dean cleaned the weapons and Bobby calling to not so subtly check up on them.
That was normal.
Name
“When I was five, you punched Jimmy Morgan in the nose for making me cry.”
Dean froze and slowly turned to Sam. He didn’t say anything, just waited to see what else Sam would say because for the first time in over a month, there was a look of recognizition in Sam’s eyes that said he didn’t just know Dean’s name or his habits from the road. He knew Dean, knew him because there wasn’t a possibility that he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t, know him.
“And for my seventh birthday, you took me to the beach because I’d been wanting to go since we’d moved to Santa Cruz. Dad got me a truck and we watched a movie.”
The memory caused Dean to close his eyes as he thought back to the way Sam had laughed that day.
“When I graduated from high school, you were right there in the front row and shouting my name and whistling. We went out to dinner and you flirted with the waitress until she looked the other way when you ordered a second beer and then gave it to me. You said it was to celebrate.”
Dean forced himself to open his eyes and really look at his brother. “Sam?”
This time when Dean said his name, Sam nodded. “Yeah.”
Burnin Up
Sam had come to the conclusion that Dean was the biggest baby in the world when he was sick. And he was also the worst patient ever.
“I’m not sick, Sam, so you better give me the keys right the hell now,” Dean demanded. His voice was low, not because he was trying to sound intimidating but because he couldn’t actually bring himself to talk any louder.
“Right. You’ve only got a fever that’s causing you to sweat so much that it looks like you’ve been running outside for a couple of miles. Earlier you demanded that the second me stand behind the first me because it was too confusing trying to keep track of us and this is the first time you’ve been able to sit up all day. But you’re not sick.”
Dean narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to probably make some smart ass remark, and sneezed instead.
“Just go get me some Gatorade, damn it.”
Hate This Place
Being locked inside yourself wasn’t something that Sam would recommend. It certainly hadn’t been something that he’d ever expected to go through himself.
But one minute, he and Dean had been stopping for burgers in Texas and the next, all he felt was pain. There was the feeling of being smothered and then he heard the laughter and he’d opened his eyes to find himself in a room with a view.
He’d watched as Meg in his body had ditched Dean, watched as his hands killed another hunter who’d only let him in because of his father’s reputation, watched as he’d tied up Jo and played with her, watched as he shot his brother.
He didn’t know if he’d remember any of it when he got out—and he had to get out because if he didn’t, he’d go insane—but he knew that he’d do whatever he could to stop this one from happening again.
For Sam, this was hell.
Bullet Proof
If anyone had asked Sam what he thought bullet proof was when he was six, he’d have said Dean. In his mind, there was nothing that Dean couldn’t do. If Dean said he was going to track down Santa and make sure he knew that they’d moved a week before Christmas, then there would be gifts from Santa waiting for Sam on Christmas morning (and there had been).
And if Dean said that the monsters in the closet were gone, that they were never going to come back, then that meant he didn’t have to worry about making sure the closet door was shut all the way anymore.
To Sam, Dean was the one that made the nightmares go away.
At the age of twenty-three, that, at least, hadn’t changed.
Think About Me
The first Christmas that Sam spent away from his family, he had stayed at the dorms. Part of him had wanted to call up Dean so he could find out where he and Dad were and ask if he could join them. But that last conversation had kept replaying in his mind, over and over, until he’d shaken his head and put his phone down.
Instead, he’d waited to open the few presents he had waiting for him from his friends until Christmas morning. Later, he’d gone out to dinner, noting that the only other people there besides lone college students were a few families and rather than cheer him up, it had only reminded him of the years when John had given up on trying to cook a Christmas meal and taken them out instead.
He’d walked into his room to find a couple of boxes sitting on his bed, a note on top of them.
Merry Christmas, Sammy.
Tucked Away
Dean had caught Sam staring at something in his wallet a few times, though he’d never said anything. Each time that it happened, Sam snapped his wallet shut and shoved it in his pocket, avoiding Dean’s eyes.
Normally Dean was all about not invading someone’s personal space. He insisted that he and Sam not get into any deep conversations about their lives, not because he didn’t care but because he didn’t know how to handle that. His dad had never asked for details and so Dean had never offered them. It was just the way they did things with Sam being the exception.
But the look on Sam’s face had gotten Dean curious, so he waited until Sam was asleep, his breathing deep and even, before going to the table where Sam had left his wallet. One last look had confirmed that Sam wasn’t waking up so he’d flipped the wallet open and flipped through it.
One flip had frozen him as he’d stared down at the two pictures, side by side.
Their parents, arms around each other and happy in a way that Dean only vaguely remembered. And on the other side, Sam and Jess, laughing at the camera as he gave her a piggy back ride.
Dean couldn’t remember when he’d seen his brother laugh like that.
He stared for a few more moments, memorizing the happiness on his brother’s face, on his parents’ faces, and then quietly closed the wallet.
Can’t Let It Go
“Drop it, Sam.”
“No.”
They’d been arguing over this every day for the last two weeks. Dean couldn’t understand why Sam wouldn’t just drop the idea of trying to break the deal and Sam couldn’t understand how Dean could even think of asking him to.
“You just have to keep pushing it, don’t you?” Dean asked. “Stop trying, Sam. You don’t and that bitch is going to kill you.”
Even though he heard the way Dean practically strangled over that last part, Sam let out a breath and said the very thing he knew Dean didn’t want to hear. “I can’t.”
“Damn it, Sam! Let it go!”
“Like you did?” Sam snapped. Dean stopped, looking as if he’d been punched in the stomach and Sam shook his head. “Don’t ask me to let you go when you couldn’t do the same. You’re my brother.” He paused, swallowing, and then said the same thing Dean had said months ago. “Don’t you get mad at me. Don’t.” He glanced at the ground and then back up at Dean. “I have to do this. I have to, Dean.”
They stared at each other, the silence stretching between them, neither making an effort to break it.
Better Days
Vacation wasn’t a word that was usually in their vocabulary. But it’d been a hell of a year and all Dean wanted to do was rest. Sam couldn’t argue with him. Sighing, he leaned back against the seat and tilted his head so he could stare out the passenger window.
“Where are we going now?” he asked.
Dean paused and glanced at Sam, noting the fact that he was practically asleep against the window. He thought back over everything that had happened in the past two days and he couldn’t blame Sam for wanting to sleep.
“Dean?”
He blinked and realized that he still hadn’t answered Sam’s question. Grinning, Dean started the car. “We’re going to the beach, Sammy.”
