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Fic: Of Smoke Screens and What Used to Be
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Title: Of Smokes Screens and What Used to Be
Characters: Dean (Sam)
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 443
Spoilers: post 6.03
Summary: "When Dean was in Hell they would come to him with Sam's face, making him believe, making him hope. This is worse."
A/N: Yes, I wrote fic! Turns out if I open a word doc and really, really want to avoid my research review SPN magically comes out instead.

~

When the adrenaline kicks in and the bad guy goes buh-bye everything is okay.

Because they have twenty years of practice, because they are that good, because they are partners, it runs like clockwork.

Dean lobs a gun in Sam's direction, Sam lifts it from the air with effortless ease. With a neat kick to the stomach Dean pushes fugly into Sam's sights, Sam takes the shot.  Sam grins at his brother, Dean's lips twitch up in response.

But unfortunately any variant of that magic comes for only a few minutes in every case.

When the euphoria settles within them and they realise they have grime on their jeans, a dead body to deal with and a hike back to the car - then everything is empty again.

They do it all in silence. Words have never been necessary because, yeah, they are that good.

But just because they don't have to speak doesn't mean that they shouldn't.

Sam smiles when Dean lights the match. They watch it burn, standing together side by side and with a sudden myriad of horrid emotion tugging him in every which direction Dean realizes in that very instant that he'd rather be somewhere else.

Sure, muck and bodies and treks through dense bush are not and never will be his idea of a good time and, true, this is the first time in his life he has somewhere else to escape to, an actual honest to god home.

But none of that is what throbs with notright.

Yes, as of late Dean would, more often than not, rather be back home with Lisa and Ben than out on the road. While it is a bizarre new concept it is understandable. He can accept the desire at face value.

What he has trouble coming to terms with is that he would simply rather be out on the road without Sam.  Short of someone having his back, he'd rather be hunting anything else, anywhere else as long as it was not with Sam.

And it is utter misery to realize all this.

“You want first shower?” Sam asks him when they get back to the motel.

It is a simple question.

When Dean was in Hell they would come to him with Sam's face, making him believe, making him hope.

This is worse, this is a three sixty.

This is Sam.

“Nah, go for it. You need it more than me, mudman.”

Its supposed to be brotherly teasing, a tad half-hearted admittedly but Dean was the one sliding across the forest floor an hour before, Sam looks relatively pristine in comparison.

Yet Sam nods, shrugs off his jacket, grabs some new clothes and closes the door between them.

Everything is fine, everything is normal.

Dean doesn't know who he's trying to convince anymore.

~

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  • 1
Oh, this feels like it is right now...

Damn.

I'm not sure what Dean's thinking at the mo but if I were him I think this would scare me in a way nothing has before...which is saying something.

Its not right and its not good.

Thanks for the comm, xo

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