And apparently, clowns kill!

30 Days and 30 Ages, Day 20 - Age 18 (Sam)

Thu, 21 Aug 2008 21:21:37 GMT

Day 20 - Age 18 (Sam)

PG, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

Sam looks at the phone in his hand. It’s been nine months since the big fight and eight since he arrived in Palo Alto. Dean called more times than he can remember, and every single time Sam stared at his name on the display until the phone stopped ringing. Dad told him to go and stay gone, and Sam knows he can’t afford to look back.

Tonight, though, it’s even harder than usual. Sam sits on the floor, back against his bed and knees drawn up. It’s dark but he doesn’t feel like turning on the lights. The alarm clock on his roommate's bedside table glows red. Sam knows that in a minute, Dean will call, and still he jumps when the phone starts playing “Nothing else matters”.

He swallows hard and puts his head on his knees. He makes it through the refrain once before he flips open the phone and holds it to his ear. “Hi Dean,” he says, and if it sounds a little teary that might just be because he’s crying.

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, as if Dean is surprised that he picked up. Which he probably is, all things considered. “Hey squirt,” he finally says, gently.

Sam sobs. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he says, “I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh,” Dean says, “no time for that now, Sammy. There’s reason to celebrate. So I hope you got what we need.” Sam sniffles and smiles. “And I hope you didn’t go for the cheap kind,” Dean continues, “cause you only turn eighteen once.”

Sam snorts. “Right, Dean,” he says, “because the one we had for yours was premium quality.”

“'Course it was,” Dean dismisses, “the best there is. Besides the scenery more than made up for it.”

Sam nods even though Dean can’t see him. He thinks back to them sprawled on the hood of the Impala in the middle of the Arizona desert, looking at the milky way in wonder. Even though Dean had argued that Sam was way too young they had shared a bottle of tequila and talked through the night, and Sam can’t remember ever having felt more at home. When they drove back to the motel in the morning, Dean looked at him and said, “Gonna do the same once it’s your turn, squirt”. Sam remembers that he punched Dean in the shoulder and told him not to call him squirt but he had looked forward to turning eighteen already.

He just hadn’t thought it would quite go this way.

Sam hears the sound of a bottle cap being unscrewed on the other end of the line and then Dean swallowing. “One up, Sammy,” he says, “your turn.” Sam grins, reaches for the bottle standing next to him and takes a mouthful. “Bottoms up,” he says.

“Damn right, little brother.” And then, more quietly. “Happy birthday, Sammy. I hope things are going to work out for you over there.”

today's word count: 483

9,071 / 10,000 words. 90% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

30 Days and 30 Ages, Day 19 - Age 9 (Sam)

Thu, 21 Aug 2008 07:23:49 GMT

Day 19 - Age 9 (Sam)

PG, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

Sam rolls his eyes. Dean is talking to that girl again. Or at least he’s trying to because as far as Sam can see she’s just as impressed by Dean as she was yesterday. Which is not at all. It’s a mystery to Sam why Dean cares about girls at all, but whatever the reason, quite a few of them seem just as interested in him. But of course Dean can’t pick one of those girls. No, he has to go for the one who will barely even acknowledge he exists - Kristen Lewis, pretty, popular and a good year older than him.

Sam watches as Dean’s next attempt at initiating conversation is shot down and sighs. He might not know why Dean wants to talk to her so badly but it’s enough for him that he does. Whenever Sam wants something, Dean does his best to get it, be it a book, grilled cheese sandwiches or those triple chocolate cookies. So really, it’s only fair that Sam tries to help him out with this. Jimmy Boulder has told him how his older brother enlists his help to hit on girls, and it doesn’t sound that hard. Besides, from the way things are going Dean doesn’t have much to lose.

So Sam grabs his backpack and runs towards Dean, calling out his name excitedly. Dean turns halfway round to look at him, and that’s when Sam uses all of Dad’s training to stage a truly spectacular fall. He cries out in fake pain and curls up on his side.

Within seconds, Dean drops to his knees at his side and runs his hands all over Sam frantically. “Shh, Sammy,” he whispers, “are you ok? Where are you hurt?” He checks Sam’s elbows and palms for scraping and frowns, confused, when he doesn’t find anything. He looks at Sam questioningly and is just about to speak, when somebody steps up next to them. Sam can barely hold back a grin. This so worked.

“Is he ok?” Kristen asks. “That looked like a bad fall.”

Dean looks up, surprised. “Yeah,” he says, “I think he’ll be fine. Must have tripped over something.”

Sam goes for the expression that gets him free cake at every diner and looks up at her, too. He even sniffles a little for effect which earns him another confused glance from Dean. “’t was my shoelace,” he says, “it always unties itself. But Dean knows this extra-special knot that never opens if you don’t want it to, and he says he’s gonna teach me. You will, Dean, right?”

Dean only nods, completely baffled. Sam can’t blame him, they both know that Sam can do at least two dozen knots which are hard to untie even if you try. Sam grins at him widely before he turns back to Kristen. “Dean is the best big brother ever,” he says earnestly. And then, as if it had only just occurred to him, “Hey, we are going to the ice cream parlor after school. Do you wanna come?”

Dean’s eyes widen in alarm, but before he can say anything Kristen smiles at Sam. “Sure,” she says, “can’t miss having ice cream with the best big brother ever, right?”

today's word count: 530

8,588 / 10,000 words. 85% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

30 Days and 30 Ages, Day 18 - Age 23 (Dean)

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 15:30:03 GMT

Day 18 - Age 23 (Dean)

PG, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

A few days ago Dad called and told him to take care of a witch in Great Falls, Montana. Dean was in North Dakota, anyway, so it didn’t take very long, and now he is waiting for new orders. He has scouted around on his own, but Great Falls appears to be the least supernatural place in the continental US. He has tried calling Dad but as usual he only gets voicemail. Their contact is getting less and less frequent, and Dean knows it could be days until he hears from Dad.

He drives around aimlessly and when he sees the sign for the interstate he impulsively takes a turn. He’s pretty sure they crossed the country at least half a dozen times before he turned eighteen but for some reason they have never been to Canada. It’s probably too cold there even for the bad guys.

Dean tries to think of nothing at all and concentrates on driving only. He stops to sleep when he feels his eyes closing against his will and eats once in a roadside diner that is just like any other he has ever been to.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been driving but when he looks at the mileage he’s more than 2,000 miles away from where he started. He takes the next exit and then a few more random turns that lead him up into mountains. The road climbs steeply and the snow is closing in on it from both sides. When Dean is close to the top, he stops and gets out of the car. It’s cold but he clambers up the last bit in the snow, anyway, for some reason wanting to be on foot when seeing what’s behind. When he does, he stops and stares at the wide band of silver moving far below him, smaller streams splitting off here and there, all of them surrounded by pristine, crystalline whiteness.

He feels smaller than he ever has and at the same time, much greater. As far as he can tell he’s the only person around for miles and here, suddenly, feeling alone is exhilarating. He spreads his arms wide and whoops as loud as he can, his head thrown back and grinning wildly.

today's word count: 372

8,058 / 10,000 words. 80% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

30 Ages in 30 Days, Day 17 - Age 15 (Sam)

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 05:56:27 GMT

Day 17 - Age 15 (Sam)

PG, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

Sam isn’t sure when it started. Maybe that night when he was thirteen and alone, waiting for Dad and Dean to come home. They had eventually, Dean’s blood all over both of them and Dad white as a sheet but insisting that they could take care of this on their own. They could, but it was touch and go for a moment, and Sam knew Dad was wrong, that they should have taken Dean to the hospital. It was the first time he realized that Dad wasn’t as infallible as he thought, that he didn’t know everything.

Sam paid special attention from then on, and suddenly, there were all kinds of decisions he was sure were based on guesswork and not knowledge. And sure, in their business sometimes guessing was the best you could do, because nobody knew for sure - that wasn’t what irked Sam. What did was that Dad never admitted to it. He always gave his orders as if he knew every single thing in the world. And the things he really did know he didn’t share with the. He simply expected them to do as he said and stumble around in the dark as to why they were doing it.

So Sam began asking for reasons, and it turned out that few things made Dad as mad as being second-guessed on orders. Because of course that was how he saw it. Dean had tried to mediate, tried to make Dad see that Sam only wanted to learn but in the end, he believed in following orders if they were given and didn’t think Dad was wrong the way Sam did.

Sam can feel how the lines are drawn clearer every day. With every question he asks Dad is less willing to explain, and with every explanation Dad refuses to give Sam is less willing to follow orders blindly. There are few days when this stalemate doesn’t end in a shouting match that’s eventually only broken up by Dean refereeing. In Dad’s eyes Sam is guilty of insubordination, and he reacts accordingly. He takes away Sam’s privileges, the few after-school activities he was allowed to attend, the one afternoon a week in the library. He makes him train longer and harder than ever before. And yes, it does affect Sam. It does make him want to give up and simply follow Dad’s orders. The thing is - he can’t. He has tried and found out that he can’t not ask why, and he knows Dad will never understand that. Dean doesn’t understand, either, but he realizes that Sam will always question things and sometimes, while he and Dad are shouting at each other, Sam glances at Dean and sees the hopelessness of the situation in his eyes.

Sam isn’t sure when it started and he doesn’t really know how it can end. All he knows is that it feels like Dad is controlling his whole life, like Sam can’t take a single step on his own, and he can’t breathe.

today's word count: 499

7,686 / 10,000 words. 76% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

30 Ages in 30 Days, Day 16

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 18:07:04 GMT

Day 16 - Age 35 (Sam)

PG, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

It’s different, there being three of them in the Impala again, but it’s good. It makes Sam think of how it used to be when he was little, how they used to drive through the night, Dean and him curled up on the backseat, safe and warm.

Now Dad's gone and it’s them up front, them who are the older Winchester generation. Sam looks over at Dean who’s driving just the same as always - a little too fast and tapping out the beat of the music on the steering wheel. Dean feels him looking and glances over, grinning brightly. It’s the exact same grin he wore after Sam’s first hunt, happy and proud.

„Damn fine hunt, right, Sammy?“ he says, and Sam nods, because yes, it was. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this scared in the last ten years, and a few times he was afraid Dean’s heart might give out, but in the end, it was indeed a damn fine hunt.

Although they should probably stop at a gas station on the way and get cleaned up some more. It’s not bad, it was just a poltergeist after all, but they got tossed around a bit and Sam’s pretty sure that the less blood is on Ben when Lisa gets to see him the better. He distinctly remembers her yelling after the Impala that they better go into witness protection if they let anything happen to her ‘baby’.

She never wanted Ben to follow in his father’s and uncle’s footsteps, but it was clear to all of them that it was a lost cause. Ever since Dean saved him from the changelings, Ben has known what’s out there and has wanted to do something about it. There were some pretty spectacular fights, but in the end, Ben and Lisa made a deal: no hunting until Ben turned eighteen.

Three days ago he did, and so two days ago, they packed up the Impala, Ben hugged his mom goodbye and they were off to West Virginia. Sam still can’t believe time has gone by so quickly - it feels like yesterday that he dropped Ben off for his first day at middle school.

He checks the backseat again and smiles. Ben is still curled up on his side, fast asleep. When they take a left, the shine of a streetlight hits his face and for a moment he looks so much like Dean at eighteen that Sam has to blink.

today's word count: 406

7,187 / 10,000 words. 71% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

30 Ages in 30 Days, Day 15 - Age 1 (Sam)

Sat, 16 Aug 2008 20:14:34 GMT

Day 15 - Age 1 (Sam)

PG, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

Dean watches his little brother pull himself to a stand using the stained coffee table. He hovers anxiously as Sam lets go of the table and takes a few tottering steps towards the TV, ready to catch him if he falls. Sam only sways slightly, though, before plopping down less than gracefully. He grins widely at Dean and waves his arms. Dean smiles at him and sits down next to Sam, who promptly clambers into his lap and starts climbing all over him. He grabs a handful of Dean's hair in a little fist and Dean winces before carefully untangling Sam's fingers. He looks at Sam sternly and shakes his head but Sam only laughs and points at the toy car in the corner before crawling off towards it, looking back over his shoulder.

It's obvious that he wants Dean to come, too, and Dean frowns unvoluntarily. Sam is a year and a half, and so far hasn't even attempted to say a single word. Dean really isn't sure when babies usually start speaking but he feels as if it's time.

Last week Dean spent a painful hour trying to convey his concerns to Dad, and, many frustrated questions later, after Dad finally understood he looked at him for a moment before telling him that he was very important to Sam and that maybe Sam was simply copying him. Dean cried in the bathroom afterwards.

It's not like he doesn't talk out of spite. For the first few weeks, he was shocked into silence. After, while he tried to make sense of this new life, he simply didn't know what to say. And finally, for a long time there just wasn't anything he wanted to say. And now, it's become habit.

In the beginning, Dad tried to pull him out of it but after a while he just accepted it. He still talks to Dean like he expects him to answer but none of them is waiting for Dean to speak anymore. Instead, Dad always faces him when he asks questions so he can see him shake his head yes or no.

It's a routine, and Dean feels comfortable being quiet. He just never considered that it might have an impact on Sam. What if Dad is right and he doesn't speak because Dean doesn't?

There really is only one way to find out, and so Dean swallows hard and clears his throat twice before whispering into his brother's ear "Car, Sammy, it's a car. Do you want us to play with the car?"

today's word count: 418

6,781 / 10,000 words. 67% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

30 Ages in 30 Days, Day Fourteen

Thu, 14 Aug 2008 21:26:15 GMT

Day Fourteen - Nine (Dean)

PG, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

After Sammy has gone to bed, Dad sits him down and looks at him silently. Dean fidgets a little, wondering if he has done something wrong. But then Dad starts speaking, and Dean learns the truth.

Learns that monsters are real and that his mother didn’t die in a house fire. Learns what Dad is really doing when he leaves at night. And yeah, Dean already figured some of that out on his own, but hearing it out loud makes it a lot more real than ever before.

Dad tells him because he’s hunting something important. It’s close but it’s moving fast, and Dad doesn’t want to lose its trail. There’s no time to drop them off with Caleb or Pastor Jim, as Dad usually does when a job will take more than a night.

Dad looks him in the eye and asks him if he can count on him. If he will be okay taking care of Sammy for a few days.

Dean nods, wide-eyed. Whenever Dad leaves them with other people it feels like a really long time until he comes back and that scares him a little. But Dad thinks he’s big enough now, thinks that he can do this, and Dean doesn’t want to disappoint him.

And so the next evening Dad ruffles Sammy’s hair, squeezes Dean’s shoulder and drives off, the familiar rumbling of the Impala slowly fading into the night.

For a moment Dean feels like crying but then Sammy asks for dinner and Dean can pretend it’s just like any other night and that Dad will be back in the morning.

He isn’t, of course, but things go okay. Dad has explained to him that nobody can know they are on their own, so Dean makes sure Sammy doesn’t make too much noise. They don’t go outside, and when somebody knocks at the door, they are as quiet as they can be until whoever it is goes away. Things are under control, but Dean really wishes Dad would hurry.

It's another two days, though, until Dad finally comes back and when he does, Dean learns how to do stitches.

today's word count: 348

6,363 / 10,000 words. 63% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

30 Ages in 30 Days, Day Eleven

Mon, 11 Aug 2008 21:32:23 GMT

Day Eleven - 86 (Dean)

PG, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

Dean sits on the porch, sipping his coffee. The air is fresh and sharp and still carrying a bit of frost in it. The days are getting warmer, though, and the grass is already turning that bright green color that’s telling of spring.

Dean gets up and walks down the few steps to the ground. He isn’t young anymore and he probably wouldn’t be very fast if he had to run down these stairs but he is doing okay. Turns out that Dad’s strict training regimen had more advantages than just helping to kill things better.

He walks past the trees they planted when Ben’s kids were born, an apple tree for Michael, a pear tree for Charlotte and a plum tree for John. He touches the stem of Michael’s tree for a moment and marvels how much it has grown.

He moves on towards the back of the garden, through the little gate and down the winding path to a small stream. A row of gravestones is situated next to it, the rough granite not quite warmed by the February sun. They are all here with him, safe on consecrated ground, ashes in their jars. There’s Bobby, long gone, and next to him Ellen. Then Jo. And the ones whose ashes are elsewhere but who Dean wishes he could have buried here: his mom, Dad, there’s even a gravestone for Jess.

And then, the hardest one for Dean to look at. He crouches down slowly and rests his hand on the rough stone, tracing Lisa’s name with his index finger. He finally straightens slowly and says a quiet goodbye before he turns and walks back to the house. Sam is standing at the kitchen window, watching him approach.

He steps through the back door and Sam smiles at him, offering more coffee. Dean nods and holds out his cup wordlessly. Apart from the kids visiting now and then it’s been just the two of them for a while and they’ve fallen back into familiar routines.

“So,” Sam says, “I’ve been thinking.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Hurt yourself, Sammy?” he quips. Sam rolls his eyes and ignores Dean’s jibe. “So, I’ve been thinking,” he repeats, “that we never did make it to the Grand Canyon.”

Dean takes another sip from his mug, then nods. “Yeah,” he says, grinning. “All right.”

Years of practice come back to them easily and it takes them less than ten minutes to pack. Gas has become pretty rare these days and frankly, the car is positively ancient by now, but there really is only one way to do this, and within the hour the road hums under the Impala’s tires. When Sam switches on the stereo and the opening chords of BTO’s “You ain’t seen nothing yet” start playing, Dean looks over at his brother, eyes bright and hair tousled, and Sam is all of twentythree again and they’re together and the world is just waiting for them.

today's word count: 487

5,327 / 10,000 words. 53% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

30 Ages in 30 Days, Day 10, PG-13

Sun, 10 Aug 2008 22:36:09 GMT

Day Ten - Fourteen (Dean)

PG-13, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

Dean really wishes Dad were a bit more forthcoming in telling them what’s going on. Maybe if he actually knew what Dad was hunting these days, he wouldn’t feel quite so helpless. Then again, it’s entirely possible Dad doesn’t know too much about it, either. Dean is pretty sure he didn’t expect it to come after them while they were training.

It did, though, and now they are stuck in an abandoned warehouse by the docks, cowering behind some crates. Dean has wrapped himself around Sammy as best as he can but they are way too open for attack. Dad is crouching nearby, slotting bullets into his gun. Dean can’t quite see if they are silver, iron or just plain metal but he hopes Dad knows what he’s doing.

He jumps when he hears a creaking sound from their right and whirls around, pushing Sam behind him. Dad signs at him to stay put and moves towards the sound. Dean shoves Sam deeper into the shadows, in between two crates and stands guard above him, listening to Dad getting further and further away from them.

Suddenly, something rustles right in front of them and a figure emerges from behind a crate. Dean stares, uncomprehending.

“Dean?” it says, sounding hesitant and scared.

Dean blinks. It’s a girl. In fact, it’s the girl. Mary Ann Welton, blonde, pretty, popular, and starring regularly in Dean’s dreams. He has no idea what she’s doing here but she must be on her way home from practice, she’s still wearing her cheerleading outfit.

“Dean, what’s going on here? I heard something and then there was this - this thing, and it -“ She falters, her eyes wide and panicked.

Dean feels Sam trying to look around him and it wakes him from his daze. He takes a few steps forward and grips her wrist, pulling her towards their hiding place.

“Shh,” he says. “It’s gonna hear us. Don’t worry, we’re gonna be okay. Our dad is here, he’s going to get it. Just sit tight and be quiet, okay? Can you do that?”

She nods, her eyes still wide, and folds herself up to sit next to Sam. Dean tries not to look where her skirt slides up, wholly aware of how inappropriate this is right now. He turns away resolutely and squints into the dusty twilight, trying to see where Dad is without being seen himself.

“Dean,” he hears her whisper.

“What?” he looks over his shoulder.

“I’m scared, Dean,” she whispers.

He sighs and squats down next to her. “It’s gonna be okay,” he repeats, comfortingly. He freezes in surprise for a moment when she wraps her arms around his waist and burrows her head against his chest, but then wraps his arms around her in return. “There, there,” he says, feeling helpless and, worse, a tad bit aroused. He tries to suppress the tingling in his stomach and pats her back carefully. “It’s all gonna be okay, you’ll see,” he says for a third time because he’s not quite sure what else to say.

Her face comes up, her eyes shining with tears and then she suddenly surges forward and her lips mash against his. It’s not very artful but to Dean, it’s perfect. He feels like the world is swaying, and there’s a pleasant buzz inside his head.

The next moment something collides heavily with his back and he is knocked off balance. He lets go of Mary Ann to catch himself and tries to turn to see what hit him. He realizes it’s Sam at the same time he hears Dad shouting to stay down. There’s gunfire, and Dean throws himself on top of Sam without thinking.

Only belatedly it occurs to him that Mary Ann is still there, and he twists to check she’s staying low as well. Only she isn’t there anymore. Instead, there’s something horrible, its skin green-gray and slick with slime and pus, its mouth a gaping hole with double rows of sharp teeth, its eyes wide and purple and staring intently. It’s still wearing the white-and-yellow skirt and the vest with the red R emblazoned on it, and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more hideous. He retches dryly at the thought that that thing’s tongue has been in his mouth only a minute ago.

The thing rushes at them and Dean prepares for claws and teeth and pain but they never come. Instead, more shots are fired and then Dad is there, there’s a flash of silver, and a head rolls to a stop next to them. The eyes blink once more and turn into Mary Ann’s blue irises for a long moment before they go back to purple and all movement stills.

Dean stays on the floor, staring at the head until Dad yanks him to his feet, hands patting him up and down, frantic. Dean distantly realizes he’s worried and shakes free of his grip impatiently. “I’m fine,” he says and looks at Sam who’s looking back at him earnestly.

today's word count: 833

4,840 / 10,000 words. 48% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

30 Ages in 30 Days, Day Seven

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 19:46:35 GMT

Day Seven - Fiftysix (Sam)

PG, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

It’s pandemonium. There’s no other word for it, Sam thinks as he twists sideways to avoid being run over by a horde of little bodies and at the same time tries to catch the vase they upend. Whose idea was it anyway to have a huge family reunion? It isn’t even really Dean’s birthday, it’s the middle of summer and Dean has been sixty for almost six months. But Lisa had insisted that it would be much nicer this way and Sam learned long ago to simply step aside when Lisa is planning a party. And he does have to admit that she did a great job. Party streamers and balloons decorate the house, paper lanterns are hanging in the trees, waiting to be lit, and a steady procession of people is carrying bowls and bowls of food past him to the positively gigantic table set outside.

Everybody is there. For as long as Sam can remember, ‘family’ has been Dean and Dad, and then Dean only. He never would have thought that one day he would have so many people. Sure, technically they are only related to him via Dean but Sam has never felt left out. It’s Sam'n'Dean and nobody has ever questioned it. He doesn’t live here all the time, but whenever he’s not on the road he comes back, to smiles and flowers in his room.

These days his stays are getting longer and longer. He’s in good shape but he isn’t twentyfive anymore and hunting is a dangerous occupation. Besides, he's itching to get some kind of order into his research. To organize the journals they have kept over the years, to finally translate some of these rituals they have never quite gotten the hang of. Dean jokes that Sam is still the only person he knows who gets excited about cross-referencing. He does admit, though, that it would be useful, with hunters knocking at their door constantly asking for advice. If the Winchester’s don’t know how to kill it, it probably can’t be killed, the saying goes.

Sam is interrupted in his musings when a small hand jabs at his side playfully. He looks down and grins at Jo. She’s family as well. You don’t have to be related for that. She tilts her head towards the door in silent invitation, and Sam nods and follows her outside to the table where most everybody is already sitting down.

A few hours later he is standing on the porch, looking out over the gentle slope of green grass. The sound of voices in the house is quieting down. It’s late, whoever hasn’t left yet is settling down for the night. Sam breathes the rich, sweet air and thinks about visiting Sarah. It’s been a while.

The screen door behind him opens, and he smiles but doesn’t turn around. Dean leans against the railing next to him, beers clinking against each other in his grip as he holds them out. Sam takes one and twists the cap off. They both drink deeply, and Dean bumps his shoulder against Sam’s, smirking, as they watch the stars appear one by one.

today's word count: 519

3,185 / 10,000 words. 31% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

30 Ages in 30 Days, Day 1 - Age 12 (Sam)

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 21:44:49 GMT

Day 1 - Age 12 (Sam)

PG, Gen, Disclaimer on main page

It's not that Sam particulary likes Butler, Idaho per se. In fact, it's a lot less interesting than most of the towns they've lived in. No, the reason he likes it is Lisa Annabelle Turner. Sam is beginning to think that maybe Dean is right when he says girls aren't icky. He spends entire periods surreptitiously watching her scribble, smile, whisper, giggle. He has never found hair particularly fascinating, but for some reason he really wants to touch her long, golden curls. Just to see if they are as soft as they look.

Only it will never come to that because Sam can't even bring himself to say a single word to her. He really wishes he knew how Dean does it. There is nobody Dean cannot charm if he wants to. He simply starts smiling and talking and everybody is smiling back before they even know they want to. Not like Sam will ever ask him, though. He can only imagine what kind of embarrassing things Dean would come up with if Sam ever asked him for advice about girls. The things he tells Sam without him ever asking are bad enough.

That he will probably never talk to her doesn't mean he cannot spend the rest of the year happily watching her, though. Well, okay, maybe longingly, but also happily. So when Dad tells Dean and him that they'll be moving at the end of the week, Sam puts up a fuss like seldom before. There's lots of doorslamming and yelling involved, but in the end Sam knows that it won't change a thing.

So he figures he has nothing to lose, really, and he does something he otherwise never ever would have done: he asks her to this Friday's school dance.

Only when he does, it turns out he did have something to lose after all. Sam isn't even sure what it is but when she takes one look at his worn sneakers and second-hand clothes and tells him she doesn't date people like him before turning around and laughing with her friends about him, something in him just ... goes and he knows it's not gonna come back.

Less than two days later, Sam sits in the back of the Impala as they speed out of town.

Dad simply seems glad that Sam stopped complaining about the move and doesn't seem to care about the reasons, but Dean looks at him sideways and puts his arm around him without a word, and it's ... not okay, not at all, but it's better.

today's word count: 420

420 / 10000 words. 4% done!

Note: This is part of the 30 Ages in 30 Days series.

Lazy hazy days

Fri, 02 May 2008 09:08:14 GMT

I have today off, so it's going to be a long weekend which is just awesome. Plus the sun is shining like crazy. Hopefully Roomie 2 is going to bring breakfast when he gets back from the registration office and then I might think about getting up for some shopping. Then sun, then my favorite instructor's step aerobics and workout class, then meeting up with friends for drinks. I love days off from work! Hope your days are going well, too!

Thu, 01 May 2008 01:05:55 GMT

Alright, I really think I need to get a sign for the door to my room saying 'Private' or something. I totally embrace our open door-policy, only not so much when it's 2 am and guys I've never even seen before, but who hopefully are friends of my roommates, are stumbling into my bedroom, staring at me drunkenly for a few seconds before saying, So sorry, thought this was the bathroom. Especially since it has become a biweekly occurrence. *grumbles*

Also, I was greatly amused today by the following conversation between Roomie 1 and Roomie 2, both male:
Roomie 1 picks up a small plastic cup with a lid and peers at some screws that are in it. Asks, 'What are those for, and why do you keep them in a container for urine samples?'
Roomie 2: To finally fix the kitchen cabinet, and actually, it is a container for semen samples.
Roomie 1 drops the container.
Roomie 2: It isn't used!
Roomie 1: Yeah, you know, I'll go wash my hands anyway.
I heart them so.x

Um, I was lost on an island?

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 22:59:18 GMT

So I've been gone for AGES and I have no real excuse for it but life in general. I have recently found time to read again, though, and figured I'd do some recs.

Daisy Daisy by guard_the_cards
Author Summary: Set in Austin Texas in 1977, Jared and Jensen are both homeless, Jensen making money as a hustler and Jared just existing for the two years it will take for him to turn 18, the two meet up and this is their story.
Author Warnings: Character Death, mainly Gen, dirty old men.
Author Rating: R/NC-17 for non graphic sexual contact and themes
What I have to say: I found this accidentally while browsing spnstoryfinders and it broke my heart a little. I liked this for how subtle it is and for how it doesn't spell everything out for you. Also for how it doesn't at all go like you would expect it to. And does anybody else think it's funny that the author lists 'mainly gen' as a warning? :)

not yet by ultraviolet9a
Author Summary: Set right after 3.12. Can’t say anything without giving spoilers.
Author Warnings: none
Author Rating: PG13
What I have to say: It's about somebody I had just gotten to like when he left and for this alone, I would recommend this. It also adds quite a unique twist to the ending of 3.12. And to top it off, it quotes Democritus: Nothing exists except atoms and empty space; everything else is opinion.

Sat, 14 Jul 2007 08:19:10 GMT

I just read a book in which one character accused another one of being 'one of those intellectuals'. The other says: Well, if being an intellectual means that you try to learn something new every day as you go through life, that you try to go to bed each night a little less stupid, then yes, I am.

It had never really occurred to me that you do indeed learn things you didn't know each and every day and just for fun I'll post what I learn. Just so you know what's up with all the randomness that's going to be here for a few weeks.

Alright, what I learned on Friday the 13th:

Strawberry syrup is good for ages, even if the bottle's opened.
They make black sanitary pads.
Harleys are a lot louder than you would expect when their engines are revved.
It's surprisingly hard to glue seashells onto glass.

Sun, 08 Jul 2007 17:48:30 GMT

Man, am I glad it's Monday tomorrow. Did I actually just say that? Yes, I did indeed and wanna know why? Cause that's when the million and one friends my one roommate is having over for the weekend are leaving! They are all nice and pretty good-looking guys but a tad bit annoying when they're drunk. Which they have been pretty much all weekend. I don't think I have ever been asked so many inappropriate questions in an hour as I have last night. No, guys, I really didn't want to guess your penis sizes. And I really, really didn't want you to take off your pants to show me. (Even if it was pretty funny that you took each other's pants off - while dancing. Again, why were you so surprised when my friend thought you were gay?) And did you really think I would be up for a pity fuck for your adorable, but oh-so-unlucky-with-women friend?
I can't believe how much stuff is waiting to be done at work. Sigh. I need to repress quickly. Work thoughts belong to Mondays, Sundays are for nice, fluffy cloud thoughts.
Not much beats being able to lay on your bed and have the sun shining on your face. Well, having ice cream at the same time does. Lucky me on all three counts.
I went to that place between heaven and hell yesterday, otherwise known as Ikea. I did not know the person I was going with was there to shop for an entire new set of furniture. I also didn't know that it was gonna take us an hour to get there. By public transportation. Still, I have almost recovered by now and came out of it with very nice bed sheets and this awesome self-adhesive tapestry which now has pale-golden, baroque flowers twining up my wall.
I usually have my curtains closed because they're white and translucent and three meters long and I like how they blow in the wind when the windows are open. However, since I had to open them for the whole sunshine on my face while laying on the bed thing to work, I can now tell you that you can look into fifteen different rooms from here. Yes, that is how many nooks and crannies this house has. It's beyond awesome. Even if it does also mean that fifteen different rooms have a view of my bedroom.

Fri, 06 Jul 2007 20:15:13 GMT

Heh. So one of my roommates has some of his friends over. The guys have been highly entertaining me all evening by emptying six-packs, drunkenly shouting along to songs like 'We don't need no education' and by just in general being as macho as they can. And then one of them goes to the bathroom and I'm not even sure I want to know how they knew but when he comes back they all rebuke him for standing up while tinkling. I kid you not, they actually said tinkling. And then looked at me as if I was crazy when I couldn't stop laughing.

Sun, 01 Jul 2007 15:39:02 GMT

Another Sunday post ... this seems to become routine.

1. The kitchen cabinet has finally been assembled and put up. At half past twelve last night. By six half-drunk men. It's a wonder that a) nobody broke anything and b) our neighbours didn't complain about the noise.

2. I think at no point during this weekend have there been less than eight people in our apartment, either eating or drinking. Fun times, though.

3. Less fun that we discovered the pipes in one of our bathrooms are leaking. So all of the above mentioned people had to make do with one shower which runs out of hot water after about three quick showers.

4. If I was paranoid I'd be mildly alarmed. There's this guy I used to date about a year and a half ago, in a foreign city in a foreign country. We live in different cities in different countries now and I haven't seen or talked to him in a year. And just now, when I have to go on a business trip to the city he lives in he emails me, all 'haven't heard from you in a while, how are you'. There are odd coincidences sometimes.

5. Of today's 17 hours and 35 minutes I have spent approximately 14 hours in bed.

6. I had way too much banoffee pie. It is therefore unlikely that I'll leave the bed in the near future. Instead, I think I'll watch some Bones episodes. The least it does is teach me a few new words every episode. Now if I'll ever use them is another thing.

7. I hope all of you are having a great weekend!

Sun, 24 Jun 2007 08:51:11 GMT

Well, it's only been a week, so I'm definitely getting better. Maybe I'll have to resort to weekly Sunday posts as work is so crazy at the moment that I merely go home to sleep. I didn't even get around to read anything much less post anything myself.
I ~~was snooping around~~ had to look up something important in zelost_mind's live journal and it came to my attention that she had a a birthday! And I didn't know! Therefore
A very happy belated birthday!!!
I saw you celebrated in style, well done! To lots more years and pina coladas to come! *clinks glasses*
(I wanted to make this sparkle but I don't know how to ... just pretend it does? *blinks hopefully*)
In regard to the inefficacy of men I posted about last week: the kitchen cabinet has finally made its way into our apartment but is still cluttering the hallway in all its glorious disassembly.
Remember how I said it was nice to stay in one place for an extended period of time? Well, l apparently spoke too soon - work is wanting me to spend six and a half of the next nine weeks abroad. In three different countries no less. And yeah, traveling and seeing places is nice but right now I'd rather be a couch potato. We'll see.
I got asked what my New Year's Eve plans were yesterday. We live in an insane society.
On that note, last week I was asked what my Christmas Eve plans were.
Hmmmm, it's almost eleven. I'm starting to get kind of breakfast-hungry. I do however not want to be the one to go to the creepy cornerstore and get breakfast rolls. Again. And all the roommates are still asleep. I think it's time to listen to some music, preferably rock and loud. *smiles angelically*

Sun, 17 Jun 2007 14:55:44 GMT

Well, well, the nifty start page just informed me that it has been five weeks since I last updated my journal .... and wow, didn't feel that long. Then again I'm slowly falling into a routine here which makes weeks blend into one another. Real nice, though, I had all but forgotten what it's like to live in one place for an extended period of time.
I've decided I'm too random for structured posts so I'll employ bullet points from now on.
It's one of those perfect Sundays - weather like you'd expect in late spring or early autumn, windy and overcast with occasional bright bursts of sunlight and warmth, just enough to make sitting outside comfortable; hot, fresh-ground coffee with lots of milk; a good book; being lazy. Awesome.
I ate my own body weight in sushi last night - or at least close to. We went to one of those assembly belt sushi places and we just. couldn't. stop. So much good stuff floating by in front of our eyes. At one point one of us actually got up and got plates from the other belt across the room. I think even the waiter was amused by how much us four girls could eat. We then rolled home and laid draped over various couches, occasionally rousing to utter an 'I'm so stuffed' or to down a shot of cognac.
Men can be so amusingly inefficient sometimes. Two of my roommates talking after breakfast this morning:
Man 1: So we need to go pick up the kitchen cabinet today.
Man 2: Yeah, we do.
Man 1: It's probably gonna take us an hour.
Man 2: Sounds about right.
Man 1: I have to be at work in an hour and a half.
Man 2: We should leave soon then.
Man 1: Yeah, we should.
Five second pause.
Man 2: Maybe we should go now.
Man 1: Sounds like a good idea.
Both remain seated.
Special Topics in Calamity Physics. Good book. Go read it. Open ended, though, just a warning in case you don't like that kind of thing.
The roommate's making cake ... delicious smells wafting from the kitchen ... I think I've got to go investigate.

Mon, 14 May 2007 18:10:02 GMT

I have a cold and was a total grannie this weekend. When the roommates went out to party around one am on Saturday night I went to bed, slept close to nine hours and was still the most tired of us in the morning. And then I was back in bed again at half past ten.

So I went to see this guy today. We used to have some of the same classes way back and we also worked together for a while. He’s the sweetest thing, cute, athletic, really tall (like 6’3) and has these huge, pretty hands (kinda like Sam-hands - I so have a thing for big hands). My life would be much easier if I could just fall in love with this guy. And I don’t even know why I don’t. Sigh.

Sat, 12 May 2007 15:09:16 GMT

OMFG, I knew I should have waited till next week to watch this so I wouldn't have to wait for the second part. I mean, they can't kill Sam, right? RIGHT? OMFG. Just an hour ago I commented somewhere and said if one of them had to go I would want it to be Dean cause Sam has already proven that he can live his life without Dean whereas family and protecting Sam is everything Dean has ever had.

I'm sure they won't kill Sam. Well, reasonably sure. He's just unconscious and they're gonna patch him up. Or the demon's gonna revive him cause Sam is his favorite. Or it was just a vision. Or something. Damn it.

And I can't believe he got stabbed right in front of Dean's eyes. Why didn't Dean shoot the guy? Why? Gah.

I'll say it again, holy. fucking. shit.

Next week, please go by quickly.

And show, thank you for airing again next week and not having a hiatus now.

Sat, 12 May 2007 12:43:52 GMT

So I saw this floating around and it sounded like fun so I thought I'd do it, too (huh, story of my life, there :D).

I'm not quite sure if this is limited to things I have established in my stories or if it also entails things that I assume but that have never been verified by the show per se, so I'll go with the latter.

1. John's parents are either dead or he didn't get along with them. Same goes for Mary's parents.

2. Pastor Jim and John served together at some point.

3. John killed Bill Harvelle and he didn't tell Ellen what really happened.

4. Dean was generally well-liked in highschool and could even have been popular but never cared to be.

5. Both Dean and Sam went to a lot of different schools.

6. Jess was the one who made the first move, not the other way around, because Sam was too shy.

7. Jess was Sam's first real girlfriend.

8. Dean kept tabs on Sam while he was at Stanford.

9. Sam could have lived his life without ever seeing Dean or John again if Jess hadn't died.

10. Dean and Cassie's thing happened while John was away on a hunt or so preoccupied that he didn't really notice.

Ok, yeah, I do realize that this is only 10 things but I'm out of things for now. More to follow later.

Sun, 06 May 2007 12:14:07 GMT

Title: Five Times Sam Deviated from Canon (1/1)
Author: braveinnewworld</a>
Characters: Sam, Dean, John, a tiny bit of Jessica
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Just playing with another boy's toys.
Spoilers: for the Pilot, Scarecrow, Devil's Trap and Croatoan
Warnings: some deaths here and there
Words: 3,022
Summary: The title says it all.
Notes: As always betaed by the wonderful quellefromage!

And here's the rest of my stuff.

One … Pre-Series

‘If you walk through this door, you’re on your own, Sam. You leave now, you don’t need to bother coming back,’ his father says, and Sam knows he’s serious.

He hasn’t had any delusions about hugs and toasts and celebrations as would take place in other families if their children got accepted to a top university with a full ride, but he hasn’t expected things to go this bad. He has never considered that his father might simply erase him from the family. Try to knock those stupid college plans out of his head, yes. Tie him up and keep him in the trunk for a few weeks until he promises not to leave for college, yes. But simply telling him to stay or go and stay gone, that’s not something Sam had foreseen.

He is so angry that he almost turns around and leaves the second the words come out of his father’s mouth, just on principle.

But a tiny piece of him is still rational, and truthfully, Sam isn’t sure if never seeing his tattered, dysfunctional family again is a price he’s willing to pay for his dreams of normalcy.

He casts a look at Dean who has backed up against the far wall while the fight between Sam and their father has been escalating. Sam told him about Stanford the night he got the acceptance letter, and he knows that Dean would rather be anywhere but here, but he has stayed to make sure he could step in if things got out of hand. He’s got his back, as always.

Even now.

‘Dad,’ Dean says, his voice colored with disbelief. ‘You can’t-‘

‘Shut up,’ their father snaps. ‘You’re either with this family or against it, Dean. If you don’t like the way I run things, then you can pack up your stuff and get your ass out, too.’

For a moment desperate hope wells up in Sam. They could leave together, him and Dean. Go to California, have a home, have a life. Dean could find a job or even go to college if he wanted to. They would make it work somehow.

But one look at the panic in Dean’s face tells him it’s not gonna happen. Sam feels trapped by the way their father rules their lives but Dean feels secure, protected. While Sam sees all the things he loses out on by living the way they do, Dean sees all the people they save, all the good things they do.

Sam doesn’t know if that makes Dean the better or worse person but the result is the same. There is no way Dean is going to walk out that door, and their father knows it just as well as they do. It’s just another cruel little trick in the never-ending war between the two of them. And as usual Dean is the casualty.

And just like that, Sam decides he can’t do this anymore. As long as he can remember Dean has always been there for him, has always done anything for him, sacrificed things he wanted countless times just so that Sam could have things he wanted. Sam knows that Dean wants him to stay more than anything but he hasn’t said a word about it, has simply helped Sam organize his escape and even bought him a leather notebook-bag as a goodbye present.

For years Sam has wanted his father to treat him like a grown-up.

It’s time to be a grown-up.

He takes a deep breath and knows that both Dean and his father expect him to say something vicious, to jumpstart the fight to new life. Instead, he turns around and opens the fridge, pulling out things to start dinner.

He can feel Dean’s eyes on his back but simply continues slicing carrots.

From the corner of his eye he catches his father nodding in satisfaction before returning to cleaning the guns spread out on the table, as if nothing had ever happened. Just another glitch in daily life, a minor insubordination taken care of. It has only taken him a few simple sentences to make sure that Sam’s dreams of happiness, his way out would cost him dearly, would leave him just as unhappy as he is here.

Sam has never hated his father more than in this moment, but when Dean steps up next to him and jostles his shoulder, he knows he couldn’t have given this up no matter what.

Two … Pilot

‚I can’t do this alone,’ Dean says.

‚Yes you can,’ Sam replies.

‚Yeah. Well, I don’t want to,’ Dean mutters, looking aside.

Sam studies his brother across the hood of the car. He can’t remember the last time Dean asked him for something. It is unlike Dean to admit to his feelings like this, and that alone makes Sam want to say he’ll come along.

But there’s a reason why things are the way they are. It had been their father who made the choice absolute when Sam left, but once it was made, Sam hadn’t fought it.

He hasn’t seen Dean in four years, hasn’t talked to him in two.

It’s selfish and it’s unfair but he knew that the only way to be normal was to make a clean break. He has a life here now, Jessica, and happiness, and he’s not going to be dragged back into this.

He is certain their father simply has lost track of time on a hunt, the same way he has so many times before, mindless of his two scared and hungry sons tucked away in a motel room somewhere.

Sam thinks about offering Dean a place on the couch for the night, wishes with all his heart that he would say yes, would stay and find an apartment, would become a fireman or paramedic, would come by in the evenings to have a cold beer on warm summer nights, would sit and laugh with him.

But he knows it’s never going to happen. Dean has never seen their father as Sam sees him, and he’s never going to let this go.

Dean is Dean, and Sam is Sam, and what they want is never going to fit into the same life. Sam isn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He spent eighteen miserable years trying to fit into his family’s idea of normal. That’s got to be enough.

‘You’ll have to do it alone, Dean,’ he says softly. ‘I’m sorry.’

Dean’s eyes flick up to him, and the utter hurt and resignation Sam sees there make him want to get into the car as fast as he can.
Instead, he turns around and walks away.

On the second landing he stops and looks out the window, just in time to see Dean lowering himself into the Impala. He watches as the black car slowly makes its way down the street, turning the corner at the end, and then Dean is gone.

Somehow Sam knows that this time Dean is not going to keep calling him, is not going to keep sending unsigned postcards from crappy motels.

This is it. Sam has his very own life now. It’s what he’s always wanted.

He really should feel better about it.

The rest of the weekend passes in a blur of concerned questions, preparing for the interview and repressed regrets.

On Sunday night, though, as every week, Sam goes for a beer with a few of the guys, and when he comes home he can hear the shower running, and Jessica has left cookies out for him. And he knows that it’s all worth it. This is where he wants to be, this is what he always pictured when their father uprooted them in the middle of the night. A place that is his, a place to stay, a home.

And just like that Sam realizes that even with everything he had to sacrifice for this, he is happy. He can’t imagine leaving this behind.

So when he lays back on the bed and opens his eyes to see Jessica bleeding from the ceiling, the thought to get up and leave before the fire consumes him doesn’t even cross his mind.

Three … Scarecrow

The phone keeps ringing and ringing.

‘Hey,’ Meg says. ‘Our bus came in.’

Sam hangs up and shakes his head. The last thing he needs is Dean pulling a Dad and not answering his phone.

Maybe this is Dean’s fucked up way of making things easier for Sam. Easier to go back to a nice, normal life. After all, Sam had employed the same technique years ago. He doesn’t even know how many times he rejected Dean’s calls during the first two years at Stanford. Until he had stopped calling at all.

Sam doesn’t want things to be like this again, though.

Yes, he wants a normal life.

But he also wants Dean in it.

He’ll just have to wear him down. He’ll call again in a bit. And again. And again. It’s a long bus ride to California after all, and he’ll have time on his hands. Dean will cave.

Grinning, Sam grabs his bag and follows Meg onto the bus.

Six hundred miles and twenty unanswered phone calls later Sam is getting worried. Dean is not the most patient person. At this point he should have either picked up and griped at Sam to stop being such a girl or shut off the phone entirely. Instead, it rings and rings.

When they stop at some gas station in the middle of nowhere, Sam takes his bag with him and tells Meg he can’t come with her after all. She doesn’t understand but he doesn’t care.

He waits for the first car to pull into the station after the bus has left and hotwires it the moment the door to the restrooms has closed behind its owner. The sun set a couple of hours ago and even if he pushes it he’s at least a seven-hour-drive away from Burkitsville.

Sam really hopes that Dean is simply being a jerk.

He actually makes it in just under six hours and finds the Impala deserted next to an orchard. He grabs some weapons from the trunk and makes his way into the trees, his whole body tense. The only thing he finds, though, are some remnants of rope that look as if somebody had been tied to a tree. His heart skips a beat when he spots the scarecrow on its stand but it’s just as motionless as a scarecrow should be, its tattered clothing fluttering occasionally in the breeze.

This is wrong. Why would Dean leave the Impala behind? Sam combs through the orchard once more but there isn’t anybody here.

He heads back to town and hits a wall of silence. He’s got pointers from Dean, though, and it doesn’t take him long to figure it out.

When he does, he freezes.

Last night was the last night of the cycle.

He can’t even spot a dying leaf in sight.

Dean would have stopped the sacrifice by any means.

There’s really only one reason why he wouldn’t have.

Sam knows but refuses to believe it until he’s face to face with the scarecrow and pushes up the remains of the familiar leather jacket to find the long, jagged scar a ghost with a scythe gave Dean when he was seventeen.

Four … Devil’s Trap

It’s all chaos, and Sam really doesn’t know how they got here.

‘You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son!’ John shouts.

His mind is a jumble of fragmented thoughts but his hands are steady as he raises the gun and cocks it.

‘Do it, now!’ John commands in a voice Sam has been trained to obey.

‘Sam, don’t you do it. Don’t you do it,’ he hears Dean grind out in the background.

Sam hesitates. He doesn’t want to do this, wants it as little as Dean - it’s their father, after all - but this might be their only chance. They gave up twenty-two years of their lives, gave up their lives to hunt this thing that killed Mom, killed Jessica, would finish killing Dean if it had the chance.

It’s stronger than them, much stronger, and the only reason they have it at gunpoint now is that they took it by surprise. It will prepare better from now on, and there might not be a next time.

They can be rid of it now, and it’s only going to cost them the last living parent they have.

Deep down, though, Sam knows their father stopped being alive a long time ago, when he saw his wife burn to ashes, and since then everything has just been a dogged, stubborn struggle for revenge.

This is everything his father has ever wanted after Mary burned, and he has never really expected to survive. In fact, Sam can’t imagine his father without this inner need for the demon’s blood driving him.

‘You’ve got to hurry! I can’t hold on to it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me!’

They’re running out of time. Sam is running out of time, and it’s the hardest decision he has ever had to make.

‘Son, I’m beggin’ you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!’

The sound of the gunshot drowns out Dean’s cry of ‘Sam, no’, and then it’s all over. Blinding light fills the room, and then only darkness is left behind.

Sam stands frozen, the gun still clutched in his hand, and he numbly stares at the trail of blood Dean leaves behind as he crawls across the floor to their father’s still form, putting a hand on his chest and shaking him desperately, as if that would bring him back.

After Sam drops Dean off at the hospital he goes back to the cabin and takes care of their father’s body. He stays until the fire has burned down, and imagines the demon’s mocking yellow eyes in the flames.

When he returns to the hospital, Dean has checked himself out.

Sam doesn’t think Dean will go far without his clothes, his weapons, the Impala, without him, but after four days of waiting as Jim Rockford at the first motel in the yellow pages and sixty-eight unanswered messages left on Dean’s phone, he begins to worry.

He drives around aimlessly, checks every motel in town, covers ground in bigger and bigger circles but there’s no sign of Dean.

After a week he caves and calls everyone they know but nobody has heard from Dean.

Sam impersonates at least a dozen officials and shows Dean’s picture around far more than is smart while trying to get information about where his brother might have gone but there simply isn’t anything to find out.

In the end, Sam packs up the Impala and randomly criss-crosses the country, following up on supernatural happening after supernatural happening, hoping to pick up Dean’s trail somewhere. He refuses to let things end this way.

Time goes by, though, and Sam doesn’t think he has ever even been close to finding Dean. He’s simply gone.

Sam never thought that though it was his father he killed, it was Dean he would lose.

It’s exactly what happened, though, and it’s in a random motel in Iowa that he finally admits this to himself and gives up, after more than two years on the road.

He spends another four months trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his life, truly without back-up now, and eventually he reverts to old plans and goes back to Stanford, finishing up his law degree. And if it hurts to be back there with all the memories of Jessica that’s just as well.

Five … Croatoan

‘What about you?’ Mark asks Dean.

It takes a moment for Sam to realize what Dean is saying by remaining silent, and it chills him to the core.

‘Dean, no,’ he says. ‘No. Go with them. This is your only chance!’

It isn’t supposed to be like this. Sam never thought he’d die in a doctor’s office in Rivergrove, victim to a case of demonic rabies. He never thought he would die a slow death, one that would involve waiting and helplessness, he’s always seen himself go out in a burst of violence and blood.

And he has always been certain that Dean would be right there with him, because he knows his big brother, and he knows that nothing could kill him without going through Dean first.

And that is exactly the problem.

There is absolutely nothing Dean could do now but he still refuses to stop protecting Sam.

He isn’t going to leave Sam, he’s going to stay and wait and watch. And die.

Best-case scenario? He’s going to shoot Sam as soon as he turns, and then he’s going to shoot himself because he’s unable to live with what he’s done.

Sam’s a realist, though, and he knows it’s far more likely that Dean isn’t going to be able to shoot his baby brother no matter what kind of monster he turns into, and that he is going to be ripped to shreds by whatever it is Sam is becoming.

Chances are that Dean knows it just as well but of course, he’s stubborn as usual.

‘You’re not gonna get rid of me that easy,’ he says.

Sam has always known that one way or the other he will be the reason Dean dies - be it because of Dean jumping in front of him or because he’s away at college and doesn’t have Dean’s back - but not once had he thought he would be the one killing him.

And he refuses to let it come to that.

Just this once, he wants to save Dean.

He knows he’ll have to be fast and he is, grabs the gun from Mark’s hand and brings it up to his temple in one fluid motion. The last thing he feels are Dean’s fingers closing around his wrist, yanking his arm down just a split-second too late.

Sun, 06 May 2007 07:38:26 GMT

Yesterday was one of those perfect weekend days with the BFF - got up at ten and went swimming. Which, actually wasn't that great of an idea cause apparently it was the women's only time slot and the whole pool was PACKED. I mean, seriously, why would you go swimming during that slot on purpose? There are no half-naked, wet men to look at!

We then went to the beach (and yes, we COULD have swum there, too, but the water's like freaking 12 degrees) and lay in the sun for a few hours. I finally got to continue reading 'Until I find you' by John Irving which is turning out to be a pretty good book. Of course, a fight had to break out right next to us, but fortunately they stopped short of coming to actual blows. I was totally on the one guy's side, though, the other one was a total asshole and started the whole thing by threatening to bash in the first guy's kid's face if the ball the kid was playing with would come anywhere near him. Although, getting into a fight and calling other people cunts in front of your kid is probably not class A father behaviour, either.

Anyway, after cooking and having dinner the BFF and I then went to see

It was quite the experience because it turned out that there weren't any actors or stage or anything. The audience was the play! Each of us got some kind of radio transmitter and earplugs and a red plastic bag with various things in it and then we were sent outside and had to follow the instructions given to us. So, so funny. We must have been so creepy, 80 people carrying identical bags and moving absolutely silently yet doing the same things at the same time (the radio transmitters were so mall that nobody who didn't know we had them would have seen them).
Best things that happened:

1. We had to line up at a railing to overlook the river and listen to some text. Two guys (not involved in the play) were standing on the opposite site and were trying to make us do a wave or something. We were then instructed to shout lines like 'strike, strike' or 'fight the system' and other things that fit in with the story but would seem totally lunatic to outsiders. It's probably no surprise that the two guys looked at us and made the 'crazy-gesture'.

2. Still at the river. The story tells of a big boat coming up the river and at exactly the same moment one of these little things appears that you propel forward by pedaling, with three people in it who are clearly not part of the play. Everybody starts laughing which surprisingly makes them kinda self-conscious. The boat in the story is full of strike-breakers so we're instructed to shout at them, 'stay on the boat', louder and louder. The people on the boat are getting kinda scared with 80 obviously clinically insane people shouting at them for no apparent reason. Especially as they had clearly not been planning on getting OFF the boat in the middle of the river. At this point we were instructed to ball up a piece of paper we had in the red bags and to throw it at the boat. Which was supposed to be imaginary. These poor people really had bad timing. So the next thing that happens to them is paper balls raining down next to them. I'm reasonably sure they won't be taking another boat trip in the near future.

3. We all had to hide in a parking garage so none of the other audience members could see us and then we had to practice secret gestures. Since there were around 80 of us this resulted in somebody with a red beg and doing crazy-looking things being hidden behind practically every corner. This clearly irritated the people who were driving around looking for a free parking space - by the time they came around to my corner they all looked pretty worried and drove right past the many free spaces in my row.

4. We had to press up close to everybody and jump up and down in the middle of a driveway, practically on the street. We then had to shout things like 'We are on strike, we are on strike' and 'Nobody knows where this is going' in chorus, still jumping up and down. Just when we had drawn quite the audience ourselves we were told to run away and regroup at a certain place as fast as we could. I would love to know what people were thinking of us.

5. We were sent to a place and champagne and glasses were waiting for us because the strike was going pretty well. They played Charleston music over the transmitters and we were all instructed to dance. Must have looked priceless as well - 80 people dancing on the street in absolute silence but all to the same rhythm.

It's quite astonishing what you will do as soon as you're not the only one doing it but part of a group. Usually plays that you have to participate in aren't really my thing but this was a LOT of fun. I should probably venture out of my comfort zone more often.