InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Robble robble."

Sam Winchester (_bitch) wrote,
@ 2009-11-13 12:53:00

Current location:	Some crappy motel
Current mood:	annoyed
Entry tags:	character:dean, character:sam, time:prestanford, type:scene

Well wait, what's today's date? There's plenty of time left to procrastinate - or plan my escape;

As far as papers go, even Sam thinks this one is stupid. He’s supposed to argue a point he doesn’t even agree with, which is annoying and stupid in the first place, and makes the actual writing of it feel like pulling teeth, or stitching a wound, or some other tedious and painful task. And then he's had Dad bugging him about everything up until he left yesterday, and Dean being Dean and acting like Sam accomplishing good grades is pointless and stupid, or like he just doesn’t get that Sam can’t think while his brother is acting like a bored six year old (how he managed to be the mature one of the two of them is beyond him; you'd think Dean being older would actually mean something other than that he thinks it's his brotherly duty to make Sam miserable). And this is a huge chunk of his grade on top of that, and if his GPA drops much, he won’t be able to keep his scholarships, and he needs those. This paper's been assigned for a week, it's due tomorrow, and he's only just managed to get it started today.

So he's not exactly in the best of moods right now.

But still, he’s gotten a few minutes while Dean went out for food (knowing his brother, he’s going to come back with something grease laden and completely unhealthy, and he’ll have conveniently forgotten that Sam asked for a salad, and Sam will have to end up eating whatever he brings because he’s not going to waste the time to go get something he actually wants to eat, never mind that getting the credit card they’re using this month from Dean would be impossibly hard), and he's going to make the best of it - he’s ready to kick this paper’s ass. Seriously. As soon as he figures out how he’s supposed to give reasons why this stupid opinion is valid when he doesn’t really think it is, anyway.

He’s gotten maybe two hundred of the required thousand words done when the motel room door swings open, loud creak of hinges and then the slam of it hitting the wall, and his brother comes inside, door banged closed after him. Sam sighs and glares in his direction at the interruption.

“Could you maybe try to be a little louder? I don’t think the entire complex knows you’re here yet.”

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_jerk
2009-11-14 03:29 am UTC (link)

< Yeah, I know

Sam's snarl takes him aback (though it really shouldn't, because he's been like a bear with a sore head these last few jobs - pissy enough that Dad's noticed, even, which worries Dean more because he doesn't get why it doesn't matter to Sam whether Dad notices or not any more) and things escalate the way they inevitably do between siblings, so he hardly notices that his response isn't exactly the careful neutral he's supposed to be going for. More the weary exasperation of someone who's fed up making the same damn point every turn-around only to find that it's still failed to sink in.

“Yeah, well. I don't get why you waste your time on papers if you 'know', 's all. Sitting here sulking and doing homework you're never going to hand in? It's not healthy, Sam.”

It's pointless arguing, of course. But that doesn't mean that he's not going to, just that he's not going to sit here while Sam whines about being uprooted and wanting to be normal and blah blah freakin' blah. Dean gets to his feet, heads back over to his bed huffily, retrieving his .45 from the nightstand and disassembling it expertly. There's something comforting about the gun-cleaning routine, something that helps him get his mind straight. Maybe he can't put words together or keep up a decent GPA but he can do this, and on Planet Winchester it's probably far more useful. Sooner or later Sammy'll realise that.

< Jikininki

“Right.” Dean glances down the barrel of the semi-assembled Colt, framing up some imagined enemy to check the alignment is right (which it is, of course, because he could do this blindfolded, but checking is part of the routine and it's been drilled into him over the years with military precision). “Them. I only need to know one thing” (hell yes, he's quoting Aliens, because nothing breaks up moments of undue levity like movie references... and sure, Vasquez is a girl, but she's badass and smoking hot so it's okay) “Where they a-”

< Why don't you do it? Or Dad?

… dude, not cool. Interrupting him mid-flow. Especially to come out with a stupid suggestion like that. He looks at Sammy sidelong, across the dingy motel room, raising an eyebrow while keeping the rest of his face deadpan in an Are you seriously asking me that? way.

< ... more important things to do

... okay, that? Is freakin' hillarious, and his schooled sarcastic deadpan dissolves into a laugh.

"Yeah right. Good one, Sammy. 'More important things'. Hah... seriously. How do we kill them?"

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_bitch
2009-11-18 10:43 pm UTC (link)

He gets that Dean’s tired of the constant argument that never seems to end (it stops, sometimes, or maybe pauses is a better word, because it always comes back, and maybe that’s his fault, but he isn’t ready to let it go until it’s resolved properly - and in this family, that’s never going to happen). He does. Same way he gets that Dean’s not going to change his mind about any of it, and Dad’s never going to change anything about the way they do things, and that both of them really do think his schooling is mostly pointless.

He gets it, but that doesn’t mean he has to accept it.

Maybe it’s stubbornness, maybe it’s some kind of wishful thinking that makes him keep trying, maybe it’s the financial aid and scholarship applications hiding in his book bag (in his AP Psychology book, because that’s one schoolbook he’s completely sure Dean isn’t going to ever look in - not that he’d look in the others, either, more likely than not, but Dean seems to have a natural aversion to anything Psychology related in the first place, and a class marked as AP is probably nothing he’s going to touch either) that he’s itching to fill out and send in, just to see what could happen...

>“Yeah, well. I don't get why you waste your time on papers if you 'know', 's all. Sitting here sulking and doing homework you're never going to hand in? It's not healthy, Sam.”

“Dad might not get back tomorrow,” he responds as evenly as he can manage, gritting his teeth and staring fixedly at the laptop screen, not really seeing it, distractedly listening to the sound of the weapon being taken apart, reassembled, metal on metal, solid and familiar, trying to pretend he can’t see it clearly in his mind as if he were doing it. Normal people can’t tell what parts of a gun are being removed or replaced by sound. Hell, most people don’t know how to do what Dean’s doing in the first place, or have ever even held a gun. One more normal thing he can’t ever have, because you can’t undo that sort of thing, can’t unlearn it once it’s in your head, once it’s become muscle memory.

“He may take longer to get the job done, stay the night over there... I could still go to class and get this turned in,” he continues, waves a hand at the laptop, “Could even get withdrawn from the school properly for once, maybe.”

Turns out, Sam picked up on withering sarcasm from his brother, and mastered his own version of their father’s stony expressions forever ago.

...continued in next post!

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_bitch
2009-11-18 10:43 pm UTC (link)

>“Right. Them. I only need to know one thing... Where they a-”

Sam’s glad he cut that off, rolls his eyes even though Dean doesn’t ever get to finish, because, seriously? For all that his brother calls him a dork all the time, he’s the one making the stupid movie references all the time. At least the things Sam makes references to require half a brain to understand most of the time (and the ones that don’t are totally Dean’s fault anyway, ‘cause he’s a bad influence; Sam’s sort of grown up on crappy tv and stupid movies). He ignores the look shot his way - it’s not an unreasonable suggestion, not really. Sure, Dean sucks at sitting still long enough to do any sort of research thoroughly, but he’s not incapable. He just likes to make them think he is so he can get out of the work and pile it all on Sam. As if he doesn’t have enough to do.

Dean’s laughing at him, then, and, okay, that sort of pisses him off. It shouldn’t - he should know by now not to expect Dean to ever take him seriously about this sort of thing, about anything - "Yeah right. Good one, Sammy. 'More important things'. Hah,” - but it does, and he shuts the laptop with a little more force than necessary (though still being careful not to damage it, because they won’t get another one if it breaks, probably), sliding off the bed and unplugging the computer, shoving it in his book bag. The library’s still open for another three or four hours - and at least there he’ll have some peace and quiet, because there’s no way Dean’s going to follow him there just to bother him. Even if he tries, he’d have to be quiet, and he’d probably end up going stir crazy or being kicked out in five minutes flat.

>...seriously. How do we kill them?"

He grabs his textbook and shoves it in the book bag, too. “I don’t know,” he lies (they can’t be killed, not really, it takes some kind of prayer ritual, an offering of some kind, by someone who hasn’t ever dishonored their family - that’s never going to be him, and he’s still not sure how screwed up they are that the fact that he values his academic career and his future more than shooting things in the face makes him the rebellious child, the one who’s ‘dishonorable’ in comparison), “And I don’t care.” That’s not a lie, not really. He doesn’t care - especially not right now.

Right now, he just wants out. Out of this room, out of this life, maybe even out of this family.

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_jerk
2009-12-03 08:48 pm UTC (link)

It's yet another thing he's never got, and is never going to; when exactly it was that Sam stopped being a little kid who was happy with his brother's answers and became a petulant teenager who asks too many questions and isn't ever satisfied. Maybe it had been building for months, years, whatever. Maybe it was inevitable – he vaguely remembers something in some weighty tome on 'single parenting' some vapid do-gooder had seen fit to lend John way back when, something about dealing with your little darling realising parents aren't gods and your word isn't gospel truth, but he'd flicked past it trying to get to the page on what to do when said darling sticks a pea up their nose or traps their finger in a door-hinge or any of the other million-and-one domestic dramas he'd been the nearest thing to a responsible adult for. Or maybe it just happened overnight. Whatever. Point is, not seeing it coming doesn't exactly make him any more enamoured of it because a good hunter's not supposed to let himself be taken by surprise. They're supposed to be prepared, and to know what to do in any eventuality, and not having some clear-cut plan of action on how to kill whatever's making Sam act this way's left him floundering.

There's also the possibility – which is looking far too close to certain for comfort, close enough that he knows full well he's deluding himself by still referring to it as possibility and not something definite – that it's not the result of some external influence but something that just is, something in Sam which he can't hope to change, and that's far scarier.

He finds himself wishing dad was here, because then at least it would just be Sam and John yelling at each other and he could turn the music up and pretend not to be listening, or put himself in the peacemaker role and let the pair of them say all the things he's thinking but not letting himself give voice to. Dad's much better at explaining why things have to be the way they are, after all, and it saves him having to come up with reasons why Sam can't do things like a 'normal kid' beyond that it's the way things are, and what they've been told – orders are orders, after all.

Besides, then he wouldn't have to deal with this selfish streak he's caught sneaking in, like a shadow that disappears when you spot it on the corner of your vision – the sense that he shouldn't have to deal with Sam when he's like this, that it's not a brother's responsibility. It's wrong, he knows, because he's only got the one job to do and it's much easier than fighting demons or chasing werewolves or whatever. All he has to do is keep Sam safe. It's a fair deal.

Then again, it's probably better dad isn't here, because then it would just become a fight again and it's tiring him the hell out trying to keep up with that. Swings and roundabouts.

< and I don't care

“Don't give me that crap, Sam.” The last few components of the gun are slid back into place a little more forcibly than necessary, Dean not even bothering to count to ten before responding the way he probably should because they've done this dance to death and he can slide into disapproving-and-so-totally-tired-of-this-whole-conversation like turning on a switch by now. “This thing's eating people, and.... wait, where do you think you're going?”

... yeah, this dance is getting boring.

"No. We're staying here, remember?"

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_bitch
2009-12-03 09:13 pm UTC (link)

>“Don't give me that crap, Sam. This thing's eating people, and.... wait, where do you think you're going?”

Sam’s glad the subject has changed from whether Sam cares about a monster that’s eating people or not, because it makes his insides squirm a little to realize that he really, genuinely, doesn’t care right now, even though he knows he should, and knows he would most of the time, even in a passive way that still wished he didn’t have to be a part of it. He used to care, whether he wanted to or not. Now, he can’t remember the last time he really cared more than just arbitrarily, more than just because he was supposed to.

Sure, he feels bad that people are suffering. And, okay, he thinks someone should be taking care of it, yeah. Letting those things live isn’t an option. He gets that, he really does. But... why does it have to be their responsibility to save people from these things? Why does it have to be his? He never asked to do this, never asked for this life at all, and maybe none of them did, Dean or Dad or most hunters, but probably none of them ever asked to be let out, either, not like he has.

So, yeah, he’s glad Dean’s focusing in on his preparations to leave, even though ithat’s not going to end pretty, either, because Dean never wants him to go anywhere by himself - never mind that Sam’s practically an adult now, and that this town is safe, and that the library is close by. Never mind that it won’t be dark for a couple of hours, or that he’s got a knife and a gun and holy water and enough Latin bouncing around in his brain to keep him safe from almost anything, supernatural or otherwise.

>"No. We're staying here, remember?"

“You just went out.” Probably not the best way to get what he wants, snapping like that, zipping the bag closed like it’s personally offended him or something. He does that thing Dad always said they were supposed to do, deep breath and tries to calm down, and it sort of works. Mostly. Okay, no, it really doesn’t, but he at least has his tone under control when he speaks again, batting hair out of his eyes (it’s getting too long, but he won’t cut it on principle - yeah, okay, his rebellions are pathetic, he knows that already, thanks).

“We don’t have to stay in the room, Dean. Just... around.” He picks his bag up, slings it over one shoulder (it’s heavy, loaded down with practically everything academic-related that he owns, but it’s not too bad. He’s carried worse in training alone). “I’m just gonna go to the library for a while,” he doesn’t even think he needs to be telling Dean that much, but maybe if his brother knows what he’s planning (like he’d assume it was anything different anyway? Where else is there to go in this stupid town?), Dean will calm down and let him go.

He needs to get out.

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_jerk
2009-12-03 11:14 pm UTC (link)

“I went to get food because I don't need dad tearing strips off me when he comes home and finds you've starved to death. There's a difference between that and throwing all my toys out of the pram over some stupid piece of homework no one really gives a damn about.”

… well, that was quick. Things escalate, as they inevitably do, from pointed discussion to argument proper, Dean never having gotten the 'obey me, boy' voice quite right and so ends up firing accusations rather than orders (probably because he's trying to command Sam and rationalise with him at the same time instead of picking one or the other like he should, and not that it would do much good if he had mastered that tone, he suspects, because Sam doesn't respect that the way he's meant to - the way they've been raised to - anyway) and bristling because he doesn't understand why it has to be so difficult. They do what they're told, the job gets done, they move on. Sure, it's far from perfect – he hates sitting here waiting just as much as Sam, albeit for completely different reasons – but it's not their place to question.

"Dad said we're to stay here, so we're staying here... what the hell do you need more books for anyway?"

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_bitch
2009-12-04 02:30 am UTC (link)

>“I went to get food because I don't need dad tearing strips off me when he comes home and finds you've starved to death. There's a difference between that and throwing all my toys out of the pram over some stupid piece of homework no one really gives a damn about.”

Sam wants to say several things there, things like that wasn’t even food or maybe my teachers, maybe I, give a damn about it or a million other things, but he can’t figure out how to make his voice work because he’s just that angry. And it’s different when he’s mad at Dean, because when it’s Dad he has so many things to be angry about, and with Dean all there is is the you’re doing what he tells you to and that means really it’s Dad’s fault, not Dean’s, so there’s no real way to express exactly what the problem is when the problem isn’t even here. So he just glares, instead, like he can maybe stare down his brother until he gets his own way (even though that never works, not with the glaring, anyway, not with Dean and not with Dad).

>"Dad said we're to stay here, so we're staying here...

“Then you stay here. I’m sick of this.” Of the stupid, stuffy motel rooms and the moving around so much, of the rules that never make sense, of the ongoing argument about it, of Dean’s insistence on following orders. Of all of it, everything.

>“...what the hell do you need more books for anyway?"

“For reading,” yeah, okay, obvious, “And learning. And maybe I could get more done if I'm somewhere that's quiet, instead of this,” and he waves a hand to encompass the whole room, with it’s buzzing air conditioner and it’s squeaking fan and the music playing and Dean, who’s apparently incapable of leaving him be for a freaking hour or two so he can write his stupid paper that he’ll probably never get to turn in.

He starts for the door, glare still in place and practically daring his brother to do something to prevent his exit.

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_jerk
2009-12-04 02:58 am UTC (link)

Sam's not the only one who can glare; once the words run out, as they inevitably do either due to his lack of eloquence or to neither of them wanting to make the transition from unspoken to direct there comes the staring contest. It's been this way since back in the dim distant days where Dean was the tall as well as the big brother – Sam crossing his arms and pouting, petulant and sulky and stopping just sort of saying something, Dean looking at him sidelong, wry and weary and daring him to go there. As he is now, having slid the gun into his trousers and gotten to his feet. Except back then he'd have ended up laughing and telling Sam to stop being an idiot and promising things would stop being lame, and now he's pretty damn sure grinning and promising his kid brother an ice-cream if he stops acting up isn't going to count for squat. So they'll stick to the glaring and let the argument keep simmering until one or other reaches boiling point.

… except today it's not just Sam who's sick of this, although Dean's 'this' is probably a different manner of beast. Because he's okay with the motel rooms and the moving around, with following orders and running scams and never going to college or holding down a job or anything solid. He's fine with that, because the things that matter stay the same. The bit that's wearing him thin is knowing that's going to change because Sam can't allow himself to be content with that. And so he's the one who backs down first, shaking his head, clearing his throat and gritting his teeth before speaking because he shouldn't have to ask; Dad's given him this one lousy job – hold the fort, keep Sam safe – and he can't even do that without having to ask for help. Pathetic, really. No wonder he's not allowed to go hunting yet.

“... seriously, would it kill you not to act like a whiny bitch for one freakin' day? I'm the one who's going to get it in the neck when this is all over and the old man finds out that you're disobeying orders again. Just... call it a personal favour or whatever. I'd appreciate it.”

He stops short of saying 'please', but doesn't feel any less gay for the ommission.

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_bitch
2009-12-04 03:31 am UTC (link)

Sam’s at the door when Dean speaks, ready to throw it open, storm outside, and slam it closed behind him (slamming doors is a very satisfying feeling, okay? It’s not his fault he’s been trained to be a slightly more violent than average person since even before his teenage years began), but he pauses to hear what his brother’s going to say, because maybe he’s itching for a fight, alright? Maybe he wants this to be something to turn the frustratingly stifled flame of anger into something more closely resembling a blaze so he can actually do something about it.

>“... seriously, would it kill you not to act like a whiny bitch for one freakin' day? I'm the one who's going to get it in the neck when this is all over and the old man finds out that you're disobeying orders again. Just... call it a personal favour or whatever. I'd appreciate it.”

“He won’t ever even know if you don’t say anything, anyway,” he growls automatically, turns to look at his brother, can tell it’s a last ditch effort to get him to stay, but he doesn’t understand why. Why Dean and Dad think he can’t be setting foot outside a motel room without supervision. He’s not a kid anymore, and he’s not helpless, and it’s not like millions of other people do it every day or anything. Very few end up victims of random supernatural attacks, and even the more mundane things out there aren’t that big a risk. Especially when you think about how every other person ever has to deal with these things.

But he’s not allowed to go anywhere, and it just sucks. So, no, he’s not going to calm down and accept Dean’s plea, and he’s not going to feel guilty about it, either (or maybe he will, but he’ll pretend he doesn’t).

“It’s just the library. It’s not like I’m going to get mauled to death between the bookshelves, Dean.” He pauses, shrugs his shoulders, "And I have my gun." And a knife, and knowledge, and he's seriously not helpless.

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_jerk
2009-12-04 05:33 pm UTC (link)

< “He won’t ever even know if you don’t say anything, anyway,”

“Oh, great. So you want me to lie to him now, is that it?”

In the grand scheme of things, sure, it's a tiny little white lie – hell, it shouldn't even be an issue, because what normal family gets this worked up over someone going to the library to study? - but it's still Lying To Dad. More pertinently, it's Playing Piggy-In-The-Middle again, being tugged in both directions at once and having to weigh up loyalties against each other. Which he shouldn't be having to do, right? They shouldn't be making him choose one or the other, his father or his kid brother. They're supposed to be one cohesive unit. That's what family is, after all.

And maybe he never actually expected the plea to work, because it was lame and Sam's got a point, he's old enough and ugly enough to look after himself (well, when it's something simple like this at least; walking to the library is one thing, their sphere of things another). But still. It's another thing that's worming its way under his skin about this whole affair, the fact that Sam's apparently stopped caring about doing things to give anyone other than himself an easy ride.

"Are you listening to yourself, Sam? Because... shit, man, you're being a dick."

Again, it's not exactly the greatest comeback ever, but whatever. Nothing about this situation - the way Sam's acting, the fact that he has to keep having this stupid fight, the stupid crummy motel room they're both stuck in - is anything other than lame anyway.

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_bitch
2009-12-04 06:43 pm UTC (link)

>“Oh, great. So you want me to lie to him now, is that it?”

“It’s not lying. It’s just not telling him everything. Which isn’t going to hurt anything, anyway!” Yes, Sam is well aware that he sounds like a stupid teenager right now, thanks. There’s really just no other way to go with this conversation right now, and maybe if they were more normal they wouldn’t even have to be having it, because it wouldn’t even be an issue.

Brothers are supposed to cover for each other; he’d cover for Dean if Dean would ever get over this whole creepy worship thing he’s got going on for Dad and just do something for once. Something Dad didn’t tell him to do, or, hell, maybe something Dad told him not to do. Just something that isn’t an order he has to follow. Because Sam’s tired of being the only one tired of following orders.

>"Are you listening to yourself, Sam? Because... shit, man, you're being a dick."

“At least I’m not just Dad’s puppet,” is probably the wrong response, there, because he’s not supposed to say things like that. He can think them, and he does, and he’s pretty sure he’s completely right in thinking it, but saying it is different, because he loves his brother, he does, but his words are never going to not be like daggers when he’s this pissed off.

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_jerk
2009-12-04 07:33 pm UTC (link)

“That's not the point!”

If Sam's sounding like a whiny teenager then Dean's not doing much better, because at least Sam's argument has something like logic, however biased, behind it. Dean's just running on loyalty and duty which, fair enough, serve him pretty well as fuel 99% of the time. Here in that other 1%, though, they leave him sounding equally stupid, though in an 'old and dogmatic' sort of way, and while ordinarily he'd be flattered to think he was turning out even a little bit like Dad? Right now, not so much.

< At least I'm not just Dad's puppet

… totally the wrong response, yeah. Because crossing that line flips the switch from just standing and yelling worn-out platitudes at each other; for a moment it's like Dean's just going to laugh it off and turn away, except that anyone who knows him would never be fooled by the hissing smirk and the way he shakes his head and turns away. Then it's a second or two later and he's barrelled across the room and set to giving Sam a hasty and vigorous introduction to the stretch of wall next to the door.

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_bitch
2009-12-04 08:12 pm UTC (link)

>“That's not the point!”

“Then what is the point, Dean?” He’s half just responding with whatever comes out, and half genuinely asking, because for the life of him, he has no idea what the point of this, of any of this, even is. From what he’s seen, none of it makes any sense at all. It’s just stupid.

And, yeah, he wishes he’d kept his mouth shut a few seconds longer, because as soon as the words are out he knows what they’re going to do, he knows coming. He knows his brother, and he’s tensed and waiting for the inevitable snap. It’s sort of rare that they ever come to blows over things (him and Dean, that is - he and Dad get to that point almost every time they’re together; every time Dean doesn’t step between them, that is), but it’s not completely unheard of.

Knowing it’s coming doesn’t mean it doesn’t startle him a little, or send his breath out in a “Hnnph,” sound at the impact with the wall, because he doesn’t dodge out of the way before his brother’s on him. He shoves at Dean with one hand as soon as his instincts kick back in, before he’s even actually caught his breath or thought about it, getting ready to throw a punch with the other hand because he’s still pissed off, sort of itching for a proper fight right now, and just because he said something stupid didn’t mean he didn’t mean it, and all of this is just getting to be too much to deal with.

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_jerk
2009-12-04 08:29 pm UTC (link)

It's true, they don't fight that often (training bouts don't count, because then it's all about technique and not about making your opponent admit they're in the wrong, and even if he can hear dad somewhere in the background yelling out advice on the proper technique, the optimum hold or the best place to connect with to send a man sprawling it's a different matter entirely). Maybe because they're both too damn good at it – it's not a case of flailing at each other for a while before giving up, the way most fights would be. There's tactics, and the fact they actually know what they're doing beyond just hitting each other. He lets the shove send him back a pace or two, almost stumble, before coming back in on a slightly different trajectory – Sam's height gives him too much of an advantage at arm's length, so it's much better to get in close where gangly-ness will make his accuracy suffer and rain in as many blows as possible from there – slamming one elbow upwards to try and pin his brother at the throat while the other hand concentrates on getting a good solid punch in on the ribs or guts.

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