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

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
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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[info]_bitch
2009-12-08 04:56 pm UTC (link)
>“Yeah, well... Someone has to knock some sense into you. Bitch.”

Small half-smile, slight cringe when Dean jostles at him, makes the soreness in his ribs flare back up as if the pain thinks maybe he forgot it was there already, and Sam just stays where he is while Dean goes over and drops down onto one of the beds.

He wonders if he could get away with just going. He’s between Dean and the door, and by the time his brother realized he was escaping, he’d already be outside, at least... but his bag got tossed down during the scuffle, and it’s over there near Dean’s bed, and so he’d have to go all the way over there and then to the door, and Dean would notice that. And Sam isn’t really up for the inevitable Round Two that would probably cause, right now.

He’s trying to figure out how to continue the debate, to convince Dean to let him leave in a way that won’t turn into another fistfight, when his brother speaks, “I'll tell him I got myself banned from the diner and you had to take over the supply runs,” and it takes a second for Sam to understand the words - they’re too fast for him to process immediately, and then it just sounds so random, because, seriously, what? And then he gets it, he gets what Dean’s offering - giving him an excuse to leave the room, offering to take the blame for him disobeying orders.

He still doesn’t understand why his brother thinks they even need an excuse, why they can’t leave the room except for school and runs to get food, why Dad thinks that’s unsafe when the motel they’re staying in is probably overrun with criminals and hookers and millions of germs and things, and probably mutant roaches - it’s probably more dangerous in here than it is walking to the library, or going out and seeing a movie, or almost anything they might want to do. Never mind that the two of them stuck in a small space together for more than a day or two always ends up in bad moods and tension you could shoot in the face and sometimes prank wars to break the monotony while they both go stir crazy.

He moves forward to get his bag, swings it up and onto his shoulder, shifting the strap until it settles comfortably enough, doesn’t press on any of his sore spots. Clears his throat, swallows. “How is that any less a lie than not saying anything at all?”

He’s not going to complain about it if Dean wants to throw himself under the bus, though. It’s his own choice. It’s just, you know, completely illogical and more than a little stupid. But other than that, Sam’s perfectly fine with it, if that's what his brother wants to do.

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[info]_jerk
2009-12-10 08:34 pm UTC (link)
… why is Sam even still here? Hasn't he just gotten what he wanted? Dean considers passing Sam his bag as if to underline the point, but Sam gets there first and hitches it onto his shoulder and Dean settles back, fully expecting him to just sod off already.

< ”How is that any less a lie than not saying anything at all?”

It's... really not, is it? Curse Sam for being the intelligent one (Dean knows his place in that regard), or for not being smart enough to know when to stop, or for somehow being enough of a freak to be intelligent and not-smart-enough at the same time because how does that even work aside from that Fate's laughing her ass off at him for having to put up with that hellish combination? If he had his way he wouldn't have to think about it, it would just be a Thing That Happened and the world would move on, but Sam has to stop and analyse, has to twist the knife whenever he gains that little bit of ground which comes from getting Dean to defy John even slightly. He's probably chalking this up as a victory, and...

… and Dean should stop over-thinking it while he's still just the safe side of bitter, right? Because it's not a big deal, not some giant betrayal of trust or anything. It's just brothers doing what brothers should, right?

He sighs again, his tone skirting back into that dangerous dude, seriously, don't go there variant on unamused. “Can you not just go already? Fucking hell.”

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[info]_bitch
2009-12-10 08:54 pm UTC (link)
>“Can you not just go already? Fucking hell.”

“Fine,” he snaps, because leave it to Dean to completely ignore logic if it means any sort of self-examination and figuring out why he does stupid things. It’s not Sam’s fault if he wants to keep doing it, though, so he’ll just go, and when Dean manages to get himself in trouble for something he didn’t do and had no valid reason to even be lying about, well, then maybe next time he’ll think about it before he does it again. Probably not, though.

Maybe he slams the door behind him a little harder than he needed to, and maybe he’s still fuming a little the whole way to the library. But that’s not his fault, because Dean’s the one being stupid and stubborn and acting like Dad’s God or something, someone worth fear and awe and undying devotion when all he does is drag them around, order them around, and never sticks around.

-

He’s not aware of consciously making the decision, but somewhere between staring blankly into the reference section and the corner table he settles at with his computer and a newly selected stack of books, he knows he’s going to fill out those papers tucked between the pages of his text book, forms he’d gotten in a moment of rebellious bravery and then hidden when he’d realized just how unlikely it is he’d ever be able to do anything with them, even if he tried. Now, it’s back to that rebellion, coiled tight inside like a spring, like it’s ready to burst free.

When he fills out the applications, he writes Sam Winchester in black ink and puts Pastor Jim’s address down in place of his own (he can’t send it to any of the postal boxes they keep, because anything relating to college is going to set Dad off and make Dean start going on about family loyalty and he doesn’t want to deal with any of that, and he knows Pastor Jim won’t say anything to Dad or to Dean; he’ll understand where they never would).

He feels a little like a prisoner scraping away at the cement wall with a plastic spoon - it’s not going to work, it won’t be enough, but he’s got no other choice. This is it - if this doesn’t work, he’ll spend the rest of his life stuck in the ‘family business’ and probably get killed before he’s thirty, or watch his father and his brother die, or probably both. If it does, he’ll have a normal life - an education and a job and maybe a family of his own that he won’t drag all over the continental US; he’ll have a home and a future.

When the library closes he’s only about half done with the paper, but he’s filled out three financial aid applications, two scholarship forms, and checked out a pile of books on Japanese mythology that might have the things he’s supposed to research in them - which was an afterthought, but he thinks it might serve as some kind of apology in his weird family.

On the way home he stops and mails the forms, feels twitchy and nervous as soon as the envelopes are in the bin, wondering if he did it right if they’re going to accept him if this is going to work how he’s going to tell Dean and Dad.

If he stops on the way back and buys some chicken sandwiches (a compromise between salad and burgers) and pie with the ten bucks he has left after postage (his own money, rare as that is, so he can do what he wants with it), that has nothing to do with guilt. It’s just that he hasn’t eaten, and he’s pretty sure even Dean didn’t really like the burgers much, and it’s been hours anyway, so Dean’s probably hungry again because Dean’s always hungry.

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[info]_jerk
2009-12-10 10:59 pm UTC (link)
Dean probably wouldn't appreciate the comparison, were anyone around and foolish enough to make it, but there's more than a little of the harried parent about him once Sam's left. Not immediately, because there's scowling at the walls, and adding to the eclectic viewing habits of Mr. R. Palmer (because dude, that statement's going to have a seriously weird Pay-Per-View record between the things Sam grudgingly consents to watch, and the things he watches when Sam's close enough to be weirded out by overhearing them, and the things he watches when no one else around... not that that's anything new, of course), and risking another beer (because Dad's not going to miss one more, right?). But as time wears on there's worrying. Both the abstract concern that something might happen, that constant threat most parents worry is out there but can't place as something specific except for them it's always been worse because they know full well what's out there, and the more specific one that Sam's not going to get back before Dad does and all hell will break lose again and he's seriously not in the mood to deal with any of that right now.

And maybe thinking about it is like some primal invocation sort-of shit, because Dad lands back early wanting to know what Sam found out about the Jikininkis and how best to dispatch them, because he's on a time limit here and wants the job done tonight, and Dean's left explaining why there's only one Winchester boy and no pile of notes waiting for him, and Sam's right, it really isn't much less of a lie, which makes it all the harder not to stray into making Sam's arguments for him no matter how wrong they feel in the mouth, and Sam lands back just in time to hear that this isn't about that, and Dean should know when to hold his tongue because he's been raised better than to question his father, and anyway what's so damned difficult about just keeping an eye on Sam? He gets one easy job, just one, can't he just do it without screwing up? And Dean's so fucking tired of it all, and maybe they've lost how to talk without arguing anyway since it's all they seem to do these days but he tries anyway, tries to make it sound like a reasonable suggestion and not a gripe or an accusation.

"I don't know, Dad. Maybe if you treated him like an adult instead of..."

... and John's off again, and Dean shoots Sam a look as the door creaks open. He's got every right to make it an accusing glare, but instead it's almost a warning. If he's really lucky he can just click the door back shut and maybe John won't notice?

And maybe pigs will fly, but hey. Weirder stuff happens, right?

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[info]_bitch
2009-12-10 11:27 pm UTC (link)
Seeing his father’s black truck sitting in the parking lot in front of their motel room sort of crushes the almost-decent mood he’d been building up to, because he knows exactly what he’s going to be walking in to, and he’d thought Dad was a day off yet, maybe at least six hours out, but apparently he wasn’t, or maybe he broke every speed limit known to man to get back, but now he’s going to be pissed off.

Sam shifts the bag of food in his arms a little to get his key from his pocket, listening to the sound of Dad’s voice yelling through the walls. He can’t hear most of the words, though some of it gets through clear enough - what's so damned difficult about just keeping an eye on Sam? - and by the time he’s got the door open it’s his brother speaking and there’s already a boiling fury starting to rise.

>"I don't know, Dad. Maybe if you treated him like an adult instead of..." Okay, sometimes Dean’s a pain in the ass, yeah, but he’s also still really awesome, other times. It doesn’t matter so much that Dad doesn’t listen to what he’s saying (it does matter, actually, just not in this way), it’s the fact that he even tries that makes Sam glad he decided to stop and get the dessert because once the oncoming fight ends, probably in John storming out like he always does, he’s totally going to have to thank his brother for that.

The fact that dad doesn’t listen, that he just talks over whatever Dean was going to keep going with and basically telling Dean how much he’s not living up to John’s impossible standards - that just makes him even more angry.

He ignores the warning look sent his way - when was he ever going to just stay quiet and hope John didn’t notice him? That’s not how Sam operates, so instead it’s him shoving the door open, stepping in and kicking it closed behind him, brushing past his father like he’s not even there except for the glare shot to the side in his direction, and dropping his armload of books that hadn’t fit in his backpack, setting the food down slightly more carefully, sliding the bag off his shoulders and down to the floor between the beds before he turns around.

Probably his entire posture is making it completely clear that he’s pissed off and ready to fight if it comes to that, even though he really sort of hopes it doesn’t go past the yelling ‘cause he’s already had enough of the fistfighting for one day.

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[info]_dadsjournal
2009-12-19 08:02 pm UTC (link)
John didn't get to be the Best Damn Hunter In The World by failing to notice things about his targets, and so given that Dean's currently in the firing line it would take a minor miracle for him to miss the desperate glance past his shoulder towards the doorway, or the way his son's face falls slightly when Sam decides not to heed the unspoken warning.

Dean starts talking again - “Okay. You're back. You got the food, then? Great” - and tries to move past to Sam's side of the room (and that's the terms the engagement is being discussed in now, make no mistake; lines being drawn, territory decided, both sides bracing themselves for a protracted campaign of attrition. It's a battle, because it never ends up as anything else) but John's there first, blocking his path and stopping him in his tracks with a glare, turning slowly to face Sam, and Dean trails off with something about him getting back sooner than expected, which is good, right? which dissolves into a low mumble as he buries his hands hopelessly in his pockets, dropping his gaze to the one remaining neutral zone (the floor) and bracing for impact.

John doesn't start by shouting, though. He's from the old school, after all, the one where you didn't need to yell to make your kids respect you, where just the correct application of The Tone was enough. “Sam” he says, measured and weary and disappointed, fixing him with the same Look he used to give him when he wasn't quick enough around an obstacle course or precise enough with a ward, the look that says he's wise to the boy's game and knows full well he's just being awkward to make things more difficult for his father despite said father not needing anything else on his plate right now. “Did I or did I not tell you to Stay. In. The. Motel?”

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[info]_bitch
2009-12-20 02:33 am UTC (link)
Something about the way his father steps in front of Dean, like he’s cutting him off from his brother, has Sam gritting his teeth, feeling almost caged in and a little more uneasy than he was before, but he does his best not to show it, meeting his father’s eyes evenly as possible and practically glaring him down.

>>“Sam. Did I or did I not tell you to Stay. In. The. Motel?”

“No, you didn't, actually...” There’s no humor, nothing but ice in the smirk he offers, “You weren’t that specific.” Because he wasn’t - he just said stay put, which, given that staying put didn’t include him going to school, or Dean going out for food, why should it include the library or the post office? Especially given that his father wanted research done, anyway - and he brought back the books he needs, so he should really just drop it. He won't, but he should.

He shifts, not quite turning away from his father (not turning his back on him, especially), but just angling away just enough that it’s almost like he’s done with the conversation. “Hey Dean, I brought pie,” flashing a little smile and changing the subject even though he knows it won’t really stay changed - it’s almost an apology, like I brought pie means Thanks and I’m sorry all at once, laced through with defiance that’s not aimed at Dean at all but at John instead, you can’t really split us up.

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[info]_jerk
2009-12-20 02:47 am UTC (link)
> Hey Dean, I brought pie

“That's... that's great, Sam” is all Dean manages to get out before John cuts him off again, reaching out to physically turn Sam back to face him when he shifts away towards Dean because this isn't over, not by a long shot.

“Don't change the subject, and don't try and be cute either. You had orders, boy.”

“Dad, maybe...” Dean tries again, though why he's bothering he doesn't really know – probably because Sam at least tried to apologise, if that's what that was (Dean really hopes that's what it was, that he's not migrated from keeping the peace to being used as a token in whatever game the other Winchesters are playing, to having them tug at his loyalty and try to score points by making him betray the other to their face. Because that's not going to happen, not if he can help it, but this is one of those 'rock and a hard place' situations)? - and again John cuts him off without looking away from Sam.

“No, Dean. I've had it Up. To. Here with your brother's attitude. He was supposed to stay put and keep researching."

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[info]_bitch
2009-12-20 03:36 am UTC (link)
>“That's... that's great, Sam.” and then Dad’s cutting Dean off, again, grabbing at him and twisting him back to face him.

>>“Don't change the subject, and don't try and be cute either. You had orders, boy.”

Sam shrugs his father’s hands off him, practically snarling as he takes a step back (not much more room to go any further, though, because there’s the bed there and the nightstand between the two beds just to the side of him, and he wishes he’d thought to get himself out of the corner before this actually started, because the last thing he wants is for this to turn properly physical with him pinned back here like this).

>“Dad, maybe...”
>>“No, Dean. I've had it Up. To. Here with your brother's attitude. He was supposed to stay put and keep researching."

And Sam’s had it up to whatever vague height is being indicated with the way Dad keeps cutting Dean off and acting like he’s not even hearing him there and with the constant stupid orders like they’re soldiers and not sons, and the unending research when nine times out of ten he’s got other things to be working on and nine times out of ten all he gets for his work is another collection of vivid imagery for his nightmares.

“I did your stupid research, okay?” He grabs one of the books and sort of waves it at his dad a little, like making him see it’s there, “I needed more books, anyway. I went to the diner, and to the library, it’s not like I was off wandering around in the woods like some idiot kid or anything!” And, okay, the post office, but he’s not mentioning that. It doesn’t matter, anyway - that was on the way to the diner from the library, and he only stopped for like a minute. Whatever.

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[info]_dadsjournal
2009-12-20 04:25 pm UTC (link)
“You hear this, Dean?” John laughs, low and hoarse like walking across spilled salt in bare feet, a wordless this is unbelievable... and it's clear where Dean learned the 'I'm laughing, but I'm really not fucking amused' laugh from, copying that the way he copies everything else about Dad. “Stupid research.”

Dean mumbles something, and John, ever the Drill Sergeant in their little platoon, barks at him to speak up and gets a “Yes, sir.”

“Research isn't stupid, is it?”

“No, sir.” Parrot-fashion, empty words. No one can see how his hands are fisting uncomfortably in the bottom of his pockets because okay, now he knows he's just a strategically placed piece of terrain they're fighting over.

“Right.” Smiling now, though it's more a sneer in Sam's direction, a triumphant and mocking distortion of a grin. “Because if the research doesn't get done then someone else is going to die. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. But sometime, definitely. Because I won't be able to stop this thing.”

His words are consciously pointed, each one a little stab at Sam, a what's wrong with you that you don't give a damn about this? because it's easier to just be angry than to face the other issue, the real reason he's so damn fussy about them staying put. Because if he doesn't know exactly where they are, isn't certain they're either in his line of sight or else out of harm's way, then he can't do this job and he has to be able to do it because somewhere out there is the thing that killed Mary and that son of a bitch has to die. And sure, Sam isn't an idiot child any more, and Dean's an honest-to-god adult (or should be, though that doesn't stop John seeing a boy in a too-big leather jacket that wasn't always his) but that doesn't stop him worrying because they're his sons and even if he's a shit dad in all other respects worrying about his children is the one bit he always got downbat.

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[info]_bitch
2009-12-20 05:43 pm UTC (link)
>>“You hear this, Dean? Stupid research.”
>“Yes, sir.”
>>“Research isn't stupid, is it?”
>“No, sir.”

The way Dean’s just responding robotically makes Sam feel a little sick with anger, and he isn’t even sure where that anger is - or should be - directed anymore. Because, yeah, it is Dad doing the directing, always Dad ordering them around and expecting them to obey and acting like they’re incapable of independent thought - but it’s Dean going along with it like he always does. The good little soldier, how high? to Dad’s jump and Sam’s tired of it, tired of being the only one who seems to think this isn’t the way a family is supposed to operate.

>>“Right. Because if the research doesn't get done then someone else is going to die. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. But sometime, definitely. Because I won't be able to stop this thing.”

“Why don’t you just do it yourself, then? At least that way when you get-” when you get Dean killed almost comes out, images from his nightmares rearing up behind his eyes, and he aborts that before it manages to slip free, because he knows Dad isn’t going to take that like it’s meant, he’s going to think it’s him saying something about his parenting or his protecting them or something, which isn’t what this is about even if he sort of thinks that’s true sometimes, “-yourself killed it won’t be my fault.”

Sooner or later they’re going to die anyway, whether he devotes the rest of his entire life to researching to keep them safe or not, because just because you know what the books say doesn’t mean you won’t get hurt, get killed. Sometimes the books don’t tell everything you’ll need, sometimes the lore is wrong or the internet articles were edited because some idiot who didn’t know the first thing about anything thought it would sound more “spooky” this way; sometimes you’re not even dealing with what you think you’re dealing with, and someone’s going to die anyway. Sometimes it doesn’t matter if you do research and get every hunt perfect, because it doesn’t always take a hunt to kill you.

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[info]_dadsjournal
2009-12-20 05:59 pm UTC (link)
> At least that way when you get yourself killed it won't be my fault

Somehow Sam always knows the wrong thing to say, and Dean's wince has barely broken ground across his increasingly poorly-hidden pained features before John's on Sam, has him pinned to the wall at the shoulders, is up in his face and yelling. “No one's going to die, got that? I didn't raise you boys, train you up to...”

He trails off, and Dean's moved around to the side and his hand's on John's arm, and manages a “It's okay, Dad, we...” before John shrugs him off and he stumbles a pace or two back, looking a little like a kicked puppy for the second or so before training kicks back in. Showing weakness is bad. But John lets go of Sam too, and steps back himself, shaking his head and hanging it slightly, turning away from the boys and running a hand over his face wearily.

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[info]_bitch
2009-12-20 06:43 pm UTC (link)
The surprise impact with the wall hurts a little more than it probably would have in the first place, his bruises from fighting with Dean earlier protesting the harsh treatment, and he makes a sound somewhere between a yelp and the huff of air being pushed out of his lungs abruptly, eyes going a little wide ‘cause he wasn’t exactly expecting that - and because, um, ow - before narrowing into a glare.

>>“No one's going to die, got that? I didn't raise you boys, train you up to...”

Dean materializes nearby, always there to try to break the fighting up, as frustrated as they are except split between them instead of focused on one.

>“It's okay, Dad, we...” and then he’s shoved away, and Sam bristles on his brother’s behalf but he lets it drop when he’s released because the last thing he needs to do is start adding things to what this fight is really about, and if Dean ever wanted to, he could stick up for himself (but he never will, he never will even if sometimes, lots of times, Sam wishes he would).

When his father turns away, Sam lifts a hand to press to his shoulder where his father’s hand was just a moment ago, tries to rub away the throbbing there, and scowls. He doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say, if he’s supposed to say anything, or if he even wants to do what he’s supposed to.

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[info]_jerk
2009-12-20 07:03 pm UTC (link)
Dean's glance at Sam is equal parts you okay? and Sorry and you're a dick sometimes and also none of those things, and he pointedly doesn't rub at where John shoved him back, just rolls his shoulders slightly as if rebalancing himself, settling less awkwardly in his shoes.

“Right.” And the word is more of a sigh than an actual word, and Dean pinches at the brow of his nose like he's got a headache (which he has by this point, but that's moot; it's more born of frustration and weariness and just wanting tonight to be over already so John can go hunt something else and he and Sam can stop tearing chunks off each other... which is horrible, because he doesn't want Dad to go, not at all really, not when he's only just got here and there's debriefings and possibly a new hunt and maybe him getting to do something useful for once rather than just babysitting Sam; in an ideal world it would be the three of them, but compromises have to be made before things get bloody). Things are not back to okay, not by a long shot, and he gets the sense that they never really will be, but they're settled enough for everyone to bury their heads in the sand and carry on as if nothing's wrong.

“Okay” - he clears his throat - “Sam, you said you found something at the library?” He honestly doesn't remember whether Sam said that or not, but hey, focusing everyone back on the matter at hand can't hurt, can it? That seems to be when they're at their most functional, when there's something undeniably evil they can lash out as a united front rather than turning on each other, after all. Dad should be proud of him, taking charge like this. "How do we kill Fugly?"

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[info]_bitch
2009-12-20 07:38 pm UTC (link)
The look he directs back at his brother when he catches Dean glancing his way is somewhere between an apology of his own and an I’m fine and a thank you and something closer to a frustrated why can’t you just... that doesn’t have a clear ending because there’s so many thing he can’t say and won’t say that could fit there but can’t carry across clearly in their silent language, either.

Dad’s moved far enough away, and Sam slips away from the wall and drops onto his bed (it probably won’t be his much longer, not if Dad stays here tonight; he’ll get the pull-out and this will be Dean’s and Dean’s will be Dad’s), kicking his shoes off and trying not to look sullen or sulky or sore or exhausted or frustrated or anything but collected and calm when he’s everything but that right now.

>“Okay - Sam, you said you found something at the library? How do we kill Fugly?"

Ever the mediator, Dean’s changing the subject, and Sam sighs a little, shrugs one shoulder (the one that isn’t aching) slightly. “You can’t kill them, but you can banish them. There’s this whole big prayer ritual thing, has to be done by a ‘righteous man’ or something,” he grabs for one of the books and flips through the pages to find the right one.

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[info]_jerk
2009-12-20 08:13 pm UTC (link)
Like he said, not exactly back to normal... well, okay, back to what passes for normal with them; John drops into the threadbare chair by the crappy black-and-white TV, back to the action but still paying more attention than should be possible from a man past his prime, head in his hands, and Dean diplomatically doesn't look at him because nobody, not even his son, is supposed to see 'John Winchester: Monster Slayer' like that (and John is so very tired – they all are, really, but him more than most, because looking at Sam is more like seeing himself than he's entirely comfortable with – Dean might be a good impersonation of the obvious, but Sam's got the nuances even as he rages and tries to feel different - and nothing saps a man's vitality like watching someone else walk down your path, living your life twice over and knowing how the story ends). And Sam drops onto the bed, and even if the tension still hangs in the air like mist over a shallow grave they're moving on with the case, which is a good thing, right?

Dean readies himself for round 2 when Sam says they can't be killed, because that news never goes over well – Dad's firmly of the opinion that anything can be killed (because he has to believe that, because when the time comes and he has his hands around that yellow eyed bastard's throat, he has to know the heart will stop and the light will fade and it will all be over) – and breathes a silent sigh of relief when he mentions the ritual.

“That's... something.” It comes off a little lame, the fake enthusiasm, as Dean sits himself on the bed next to Sam – he can't pretend he knows what he's looking for, but he's looking anyway, following where Sam points on the page and trying to make sense of what he's seeing. It's good, being involved in part of the hunt even if it's not the business end he'd like to be on.

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[info]_bitch
2009-12-27 06:53 pm UTC (link)
>“That's... something.”

Sam nods a little, eyes down on the book he’s scanning for relevant information he can pass along, and he ignores the falsity in the tone because forced enthusiasm is far better than what’s been going on lately. He pointedly isn’t looking anywhere near the direction of his father. Yeah, he’s pretending to be agreeable, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make it look like he’s enjoying it.

He glances up when Dean sits next to him, then goes back to trying to find the right page in the book, the page where it tells them what they need and how to do this. If they're going to be doing this - which apparently they are, and apparently tonight or something, which is stupid, but whatever, not like he'll be doing anything, anyway - they need to do it right.

"There," he points, and his finger stops half down one of the pages, on a block of text under a rough sketch someone did of one of these things, nightmarish face in thin black lines, and he lets his eyes skim past that, doesn't want to see, taps his finger a little on the old paper.

"There's instructions on a basic ritual here. Set up, requirements, process - everything." He looks back over at his brother and shrugs, "Unless this one is special somehow, it shouldn't be hard." Even though his words are optimistic, his tone is sullen, more a just get it over with already than anything.

They're going to go out and risk their necks again, and then they'll leave town, and he doesn't want either. He just wants them to stop this and stay somewhere, and they never will so he'll never be able to stay with them, if they even survive one more hunt one more month one more year. There's nothing he can do about it, and he's so, so tired of having to realize that over and over again.

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