sweetondean

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Like me, this is blog is dedicated to the TV show Supernatural. Here you'll find my previews and reviews of episodes, all my convention reports and anything else I feel compelled to write about our Show. I also write canon(ish) based fan-fiction. I post lots of pretties...primarily Dean...because, well yeah, I'm sweet on him. I also run sweetonjensen...because, you guessed it, I'm sweet on him too.

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Dean Winchester and the Bunny Slippers - A Supernatural (crack) fan fiction - by sweetondean

This story actually came about because of a conversation on twitter that started with a photo of a bunny wearing bunny slippers and like most things in my life, somehow made its way around to Dean. It was also about 2am…so I blame sleep deprivation, cute bunny photos and of course Dean Winchester…

This story actually came about because of a conversation on twitter that started with a photo of a bunny wearing bunny slippers and like most things in my life, somehow made its way around to Dean. It was also about 2am…so I blame sleep deprivation, cute bunny photos and of course Dean Winchester for what follows!

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“Stop laughing, Sam”

“I’m sorry, Dean but…” Sam dissolved into laughter again.

“Just. Just figure out a way to get them off.”

Sam wiped the tears from his eyes and cleared his throat, “I’m looking Dean, but…well…that will teach you to be more careful when you’re poking around the storeroom.” Sam was trying desperately to contain a giggle.

“Yeah, thanks for your support. There were no warnings or sigils on the box, I just thought…”

“That’s where the Men of Letters kept their bunny slippers?”

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Dean stood outside Sam’s room, listening. He could hear his brother breathing. Now that they had their own rooms, it was something Dean missed. Sam’s noises. Sure, it was great to have his own space, but he’d grown up with Sam in the bed just over from him. He’d got used to Sam’s noises. The restless rustling of sheets, the soft breaths, the small snores.

Dean put his hand on the doorknob and quietly turned it. He slowly pushed the door open just a crack, just enough for him to see inside. Just enough for him to see Sam. His brother was a mess of tangled sheets and legs. Big feet hanging over the end of the bed frame. Arm’s spilling out everywhere. He looked like a giant 5 year old. He looked peaceful.
Dean smiled to himself, taking one more moment to breathe in the life force of his baby brother, before quietly pulling the door closed. He didn’t move. He stood perfectly still, listening for just a little longer. Just a tiny bit longer. Just to hold on to the memory. Then he closed his eyes, swallowed hard, touched the door and whispered, “Bye Sammy.”
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Dean stood outside Sam’s room, listening. He could hear his brother breathing. Now that they had their own rooms, it was something Dean missed. Sam’s noises. Sure, it was great to have his own space, but he’d grown up with Sam in the bed just over from him. He’d got used to Sam’s noises. The restless rustling of sheets, the soft breaths, the small snores.

Dean put his hand on the doorknob and quietly turned it. He slowly pushed the door open just a crack, just enough for him to see inside. Just enough for him to see Sam. His brother was a mess of tangled sheets and legs. Big feet hanging over the end of the bed frame. Arm’s spilling out everywhere. He looked like a giant 5 year old. He looked peaceful.

Dean smiled to himself, taking one more moment to breathe in the life force of his baby brother, before quietly pulling the door closed. He didn’t move. He stood perfectly still, listening for just a little longer. Just a tiny bit longer. Just to hold on to the memory. Then he closed his eyes, swallowed hard, touched the door and whispered, “Bye Sammy.”

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Author has written 20 stories for Supernatural
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Brothers who LARP together….
A Supernatural Fanfiction
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Sam and Dean stood in front of the basins of the public restroom in the park behind ‘Moondoor’. Swords casually propped up against the wall.
"Those nerds didn’t know what hit ‘em" Dean chuckled as he turned on the tap and ran his hands under the cool water. "Think I got blisters from that damn sword though."
"Awww princess" teased Sam, "The nasty sword too rough for your delicate handsies?"
Dean looked up. “Hey I beat the snot out of those Orcs” he said, “And I’ve got a bunch of ears to prove it.” He reached into the leather pouch hanging off his belt and pulled out a handful of fake ears, proffering them to his brother.
Sam just laughed. “Yeah man, you’re the hero of Moondoor.”
"Damn straight." said Dean. "Anyway, I saw you clipping a few Orcs and Elves around the head yourself."
Sam laughed again. “Yeah, I got me a few” he chuckled.
Dean looked at his brother and smiled, it’d been a while since he’d seen Sam laugh. Damn, it’d been a long while. He liked it. He liked to see his baby brother enjoying himself for a change….
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Brothers who LARP together….

A Supernatural Fanfiction

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Sam and Dean stood in front of the basins of the public restroom in the park behind ‘Moondoor’. Swords casually propped up against the wall.

"Those nerds didn’t know what hit ‘em" Dean chuckled as he turned on the tap and ran his hands under the cool water. "Think I got blisters from that damn sword though."

"Awww princess" teased Sam, "The nasty sword too rough for your delicate handsies?"

Dean looked up. “Hey I beat the snot out of those Orcs” he said, “And I’ve got a bunch of ears to prove it.” He reached into the leather pouch hanging off his belt and pulled out a handful of fake ears, proffering them to his brother.

Sam just laughed. “Yeah man, you’re the hero of Moondoor.”

"Damn straight." said Dean. "Anyway, I saw you clipping a few Orcs and Elves around the head yourself."

Sam laughed again. “Yeah, I got me a few” he chuckled.

Dean looked at his brother and smiled, it’d been a while since he’d seen Sam laugh. Damn, it’d been a long while. He liked it. He liked to see his baby brother enjoying himself for a change….

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Now that Sam and Dean know that Bobby decided to stick around and not go with his Reaper, they face a tough decision. Keep Bobby with them? Or help him move on for good?

Post episode scene for 7.19.

"Do you think this is far enough?" Dean indicated a sign ahead that said ‘Bar’.

Sam nodded, “Yeah, I’d say we’re out of range.”

Dean swung the car into a parking space and got out.

"This ain’t right Sam. I feel bad."

"I know. Me too. But we’ve gotta talk and we can’t do it with him around."

"Yeah but leaving him behind like that…."

They’d entered the bar and were making their way to a booth in the back.

"We told him we were going out. We’ll explain later. He’ll understand."

"Hmm maybe…" Dean mumbled as he slid across the seat. "Don’t make me feel any better though."

Sam simply shrugged.

A waitress came to take their order. “What can I get you two?”

"Just a couple of beers sweetheart." Dean said, flashing her a weary smile.

"You got it," she said and Dean absentmindedly watched her sashay away.

"So, what are we gonna do?" Sam asked.

Dean turned to his brother and sighed. “I don’t know Sammy, I don’t know. What can we do? I mean, short of burn the flask, which obviously we are not going to do.”

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My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys - a Supernatural Fan Fiction by sweetondean.

 Dean was excited. Really excited. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this excited. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. It’d been a while. Now he felt giddy, giddy like a little boy. The whole idea of going back to the old west had him grinning from ear to ear. Sam was looking at him like he was an idiot, but he didn’t care. Cowboys, real cowboys and saloon girls, real ones in petticoats and corsets. Damn. This was a great idea and it was all his. Time travel back to 1861 and grab some Phoenix ash. Not only that meet Colt. Samuel Colt. The Samuel Colt. Yep, Dean sure was excited. Sam? Not so much. He’d never understood Dean’s love of all things western. From the moment Dean suggested the idea, Sam had had his nose in a book. Researching the Phoenix, reading Colt’s journal, trying to gather as much information as he could before Cas zapped them back in time. All that was great, it was going to be helpful, but Dean knew what they really needed. Yup, Dean knew exactly. So while Sam and Bobby were paying him no mind, Dean snuck out.

 Ever since he was a kid, Dean loved cowboys. In particular, he loved Clint Eastwood. Clint could do no wrong as far as Dean was concerned. His love affair with the lanky actor started back when Dean was 10. They were staying at Pastor Jim’s for a while and Dean had been going to school like a regular kid. He came home one afternoon proud as punch with his report card clutched in his little hand. John took it off him expecting to see the usual mixed bag of low marks, the usual comments about his smart mouth in class, but instead the report card was glowing. Dean had passed all his subjects and not only that the teacher seemed to really like him. John looked down at his eldest son, a wide smile spreading across his face. He was so proud of the kid. With everything going on around him, with being dragged from one town to the next, with being in 4 different schools in the past year, somehow Dean had still managed get half decent grades. John ruffled his eldest son’s head “Good work Dean, how about you and me do something to celebrate.” John was thinking the something was like go out back and shoot a few bottles off the fence but Dean looked up at his dad, green eyes wide and asked, “Can we go to a movie dad?” John blinked. The kid literally never asked for anything. It didn’t matter what John asked for, Dean would do it no questions, but he never asked for anything in return. Sam, on the other hand, was already starting to assert his will, but not Dean. John looked down at Dean’s expectant face. How could he refuse? “Ahhh sure kid, I mean if there’s something on.” Dean ran into Pastor Jim’s kitchen and came back with the newspaper. “Dad, there’s an old Clint Eastwood movie playing in town, I don’t know what it’s called, but some of the kids at school were talking about it. It’s a cowboy movie. Could we go to that?” Dean shoved the newspaper into his father’s hands. John quirked an eyebrow, took the paper and flicked through. Sure enough, A Fistful Of Dollars was playing at the local cinema. John looked down as his eldest son beamed up at him, “Hey Jim,” John called out, “Would you mind watching Sammy for a couple of hours while Dean and I have some man time?” John winked at Dean. “Sure,” Jim said, “Sammy and I can think up something to entertain ourselves, right kid?” Sam looked up from his colouring book and nodded. “OK, thanks, I owe you one, well I owe you about a dozen, but….we’ll be back in a bit.” John grabbed his keys, “You ready Dean?” but before John could even finish the sentence Dean was out the door and in the car.

 A Fistful Of Dollars was everything Dean had hoped it would be. The ticket seller had looked a John a bit funny when he bought a ticket for a kid obviously too young for the movie. If he only knew the kid could shoot a gun better than most adults and could drive a car in a pinch. Dean had wanted popcorn but John didn’t have enough money for tickets and snacks. Dean patted his Dad’s arm and told him it was ok. It broke John’s heart. John watched Dean, his eyes glued to the screen as the movie started and Clint’s character drifted into town. A name-less stranger. A hero. But not in the typical sense. He did what he had to do. He killed when he had to kill. He saved the girl. He saved the family. He did it all with a quiet authority and then he was gone. Dean…was…hooked. From that day on, Dean wanted to be a cowboy. He watched every western that came on TV. When dad was out on a hunt, Dean would sit up late, watching Eastwood, Wayne, Cooper. When on his eleventh birthday he got his own gun, he practiced for hours drawing and shooting like his wild-west heroes. He practised Clint’s steely-eyed look of determination. The cool he didn’t have to practice, the cool came naturally. Now all these years later, he couldn’t believe he was actually going to get to put it all to good use.

Every time Sam and Dean headed out to Bobby’s they drove past Wally’s Western World and every time Dean thought to himself, one day I’m gonna go buy myself something from that damn shop. As Dean started up the Impala he grinned, today was that day. He already knew what he wanted, he wanted to look like Eastwood, but he’d have to get something for Sam too. He couldn’t go back to 1861 looking the part while his gigantor brother looked like a spaceman. There was part of Dean that wanted to buy something really, really horrible for Sam, just to pay him back for rolling his eyes over this whole western deal, but it’d been a long time since he bought anything for Sam, a long time since they’d brought each other presents, so Dean decided he’d get something he thought Sam would like, as much as he was tempted to do otherwise.

How long had it been since he’d bought Sammy clothes? He remembered when they were growing up dad had sent him off with a pocketful of money to get him and Sam some clothes from the thrift shop. Their dad always made sure they had clothes on their backs. They never really wanted for anything like that, but it was seldom new. Dean thought back to one time when dad was away on a long hunt and Dean had to take Sammy to his first day at a new school. Sam had shot up over the summer and was getting to be as tall as Dean. Consequently, his jeans were now halfway up his legs. There was no way Dean was letting his little brother go to school looking like that. There was no way Dean was letting his little brother get picked on for being the poor kid, even though he knew Sam could defend himself. So Dean went shopping. He didn’t have any money other than what dad had left them for food, but when had that ever stopped Dean. He’d been swiping things for as long as he could remember. Dean went into one of the larger department stores in the neighbourhood they were staying in and tried on some jeans. He tried on four. He put back two. The other two he wore, under his own. He walked straight out of the store, wearing three pairs of jeans. It was the first-time in a long time either Sam or him had anything new. When dad came home he looked over their crisp new Levis suspiciously, but he never said anything. Even now Dean seldom had new jeans. Most of his jeans had holes in the knees or a tear somewhere from some fight or another. He only bothered to get himself something new if his clothes were so torn they were unwearable or so covered in blood they were unwashable. Sam was less hard on his clothes and took a bit more pride in what he wore. So Dean wanted to make sure he got Sammy something nice.

Dean walked into Wally’s Western World and felt like he was in Heaven. In fact it felt better than Heaven and Dean would know. All around him were cowboy hats, boots, shirts, coats. A guy could go crazy in here if he had enough money. Dean didn’t. He had a few hundred bucks he picked up the other night hustling a game of pool. It wouldn’t get him very far. Dean saw a pretty girl in the corner hanging some waistcoats and made his way over to her. She turned and looked at him. It always caught Dean off guard the way girls looked at him. Most of the time their jaw dropped. He was always slightly startled by it. Not that he wasn’t well aware he was above average in the looks department, Lord knows he’d used them often enough, but still, it never ceased to surprise him. “Can, can I help you?” the girl stammered slightly. Dean looked down at her nametag. “Ah yes, Jeanie,” he emphasised her name and smiled. He thought he heard her inhale. “I’m looking for an outfit, something traditional, something for me and I’ve also got to get something for my brother.” Jeanie put down the clothes she was holding. “Traditional? What are you wanting the clothes for, day wear or….line-dancing…or….?” Dean laughed. “No, no. Christ no. Not line-dancing. Day wear, but proper western day wear, like cowboys would wear, like they wore in the old west.” Jeanie nodded. “Ok, do you need a whole outfit?” “Well, probably just a couple of shirts and a couple of hats, boots I guess and…” Dean drifted off as he saw what was hanging on the wall, “and that.” He pointed. Jeanie turned and looked. “The sarape?” she looked at him her eyebrows raised. “Yep. The sarape.” Dean beamed.

After about an hour Dean had everything he thought they needed. He’d got himself a black shirt, with white piping and buttons on the cuffs. He thought maybe it was a bit fancy but Jeanie said he looked nice in it. He also bought himself a waistcoat, a bolo tie and new belt with a shiny silver buckle. He grabbed himself a hat and of course, the sarape. For Sam he got a belt with a huge buckle to go with his huge body, a hat and a shirt. The shirt wasn’t easy. Everything was a bit fancier than Sam usually liked. Sam’s tastes were pretty simple and he tended not to wear too many colours. After deliberating longer than he was comfortable with, Dean settled on a white shirt with a little bit of embroidery on the shoulders. Admittedly the embroidery was of yellow roses, but it was subtle and it was the least fussy white shirt in the place. He hoped Sam would like it. The size was a bit of a wild guess. He figured if he was a XL Sam must be a XXXL at least. Lastly he grabbed them both a pair of boots. Jeanie asked if he needed new pants as they didn’t wear jeans in the old west, but the boots had tapped Dean out, so they were just going to have to go in their jeans. As he headed to the cash register he grabbed one last thing, a Marshall’s badge. Sure it said Marshall of Olde Western Town, but he figured no one would get close enough to read it.

Jeanie boxed everything up and handed Dean his purchases in 3 brown paper bags proudly emblazoned with the Wally’s Western World logo. Jeanie then handed Dean her phone number. Dean smiled and politely said something about calling her as he shoved it in his pocket….if he had a dollar…. Back in the Impala he put his parcels on the front seat next to him and sighed happily. That was a lot of fun. Dean had actually had fun. He shook his head. It’d been a while. Starting up the car he laughed, hells, he was off to the old west today, the wild west, he was off to 1861, he was going to go to a saloon, he was going to meet saloon girls, he was going to meet Samuel Colt, Sam and him were going to meet Colt! Dean grinned and thought, damn, this is going to be a good day, I really hope Sam likes his shirt….

So that was my latest fan fiction! Let me know what you think. - Amy

You can read more of my work here: http://www.fanfiction.net/~sweetondean

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After Sam throws himself into Hell, Dean tries to live a normal life. This is about that year. That year without Sam.
 
Day 1
Dean woke up. He felt disorientated. He didn’t know where he was. For a split second he forgot what had happened. He thought everything was ok. Then he remembered. Then it crashed in on him. Sam. He was at Lisa’s. He was in her spare room. Sam was in Hell. Sam was gone. He closed his eyes and felt a rush of emotion well up inside him. Running a hand down his face he rolled out of bed. He dressed without thinking and wandered down the hall to the kitchen. There was a note on the bench. It was from Lisa. She’d left for work, she’d be home after 4 with Ben, he could help himself to anything and please call her if he needed to, she’d left her cell phone number. Dean put the note back on the kitchen counter and wandered over to the fridge, opened the door and looked inside. Sighing he closed it again. He couldn’t eat. He wasn’t hungry. There was an emptiness inside him but food wasn’t going to fill it. He opened cupboard after cupboard looking for something that would. He finally found a bottle of scotch and put it on the counter. He looked at the clock. It was 11am. Man, he was tired, so tired, tired like he hadn’t slept for a week tired. Everything ached, every bone, every muscle throbbed with pain. He grabbed the scotch and walked back to the bedroom.
2pm. Dean woke up. The bottle was still on the bedside table, unopened. He grabbed it and walked out to the lounge room. Sitting on the couch he cracked open the bottle of scotch and took a swig. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he lay back against the cushions and closed his eyes. Putting the bottle back to his lips he took another belt. He could feel it warming him from the inside out. He could feel it starting to numb the throbbing ache. He could feel it starting to numb his mind. He could feel it starting to numb everything….
Time unknown. Dean woke up with a gentle shaking of his shoulders. 
“Dean, Dean wake up.”
“Sam?” Dean sat up groggily.
“It’s Lisa.”
Dean focused on the face in front of him. A sob escaped. “Sam.”
Lisa took Dean’s arm. “Dean, come on you need to go to bed.”
Dean let her help him up. The empty scotch bottle rolled off the couch and onto the floor with a clatter. Dean looked up and saw Ben staring at him, mouth agape. Dean closed his eyes as he stumbled passed the boy. He’d apologise later, he thought, he’d apologise to Ben later…..later.
 
Day 3
Lisa suggested they watch a movie. Dean said sure. He didn’t care. Ben said he’d pick one. Lisa and Ben went to the store. Dean drank. They came back with the latest Indiana Jones movie.
At the dinner table, Ben asked brightly, “Have you seen it?” The kid obviously liked Dean.
“What is it?”
“The latest Indiana Jones movie, I never got to see it.” Ben said. “Have you seen it? Because if you have we can watch something else.”
Dean frowned. “Nah, I never saw it. I ahhh, I wasn’t around when it came out.” He picked up his glass and took a slug.
“Cool” said Ben, oblivious.
Lisa came over with the food. Looking at Dean as he stared into space she asked, “You ok?” 
“Yeah I’m good,” Dean lied.
 
Day 4
Dean woke up screaming. “Sam no!” He was fighting an unseen force. “It’s me, it’s me, I’m here Sammy!”
“Dean!” 
Dean looked up shocked as a light came on. Lisa rushed towards him. “Dean, you’re having a nightmare, it’s just a nightmare, it’s ok, it’s ok.”
Dean blinked. “What?” He looked around the room. Realising where he was he sank back into the pillow. Tears streamed down his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.” Lisa wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to someone who wasn’t there.
“It’s ok Dean,” she whispered back as she crawled into the bed beside him. “Just go to sleep, I’ll be here.” She laid her arm across his chest. Her touch felt good. Dean allowed himself to relax into her body. He closed his eyes. He slept.
 
Day 7
1 week. It’d been 1 week. 1 week since Sam had thrown himself into the pit. Dean had been drunk most days, or at least, for a good portion of most days. He’d started sleeping in Lisa’s bed. The proximity of another human being seemed to calm his dreams, but not completely. Most nights he woke in a cold sweat, panic gripping his heart. He’d barely been out of the house, he hadn’t shaved, he only ate when forced to. He shook his head. Enough. He took a shower and shaved off the stubble that was threatening to become a beard. He pulled on his boots and walked down the hall. Looking out the window at the garden he noticed the leaves had fallen. It was nearly winter. Going outback to the shed, he found a rake and a bag and started clearing up the dead leaves. It felt good to do something, to be useful, to focus on something other than….. He filled one bag and went and got another. As he started to work on the second bag he had the strangest sensation, like he was being watched. He looked up at the house. There was no-one home, no-one looking out the window, but still…. He glanced over his shoulder, his hunter instincts quickly kicking back in. Nothing. The yard was empty. Turning around he frowned and shook his head. At least he was still feeling that hunter paranoia, he thought. He grabbed the two bags of leaves and headed to the incinerator. Casting a keen eye around the empty garden one more time, he returned to the house.
Back inside, Dean went into the small office. He fired up Lisa’s computer. He’d intended to look at the positions vacant. He didn’t. Instead he found himself searching the net for spells, books, charms, anything that might give him a clue as to how to bring Sam back. He’d promised he wouldn’t. He’d kept his promise for a whole week. Dean thought that was pretty good going. Doing the research made him feel alive, made him feel like himself again, made him feel like he was doing something. He hadn’t realised what the time was until he heard Lisa and Ben come through the front door arguing. He looked up and quickly covered his notes.
“Dean?”
“In here” he yelled back. “Hey. What’s going on? You and Ben have a fight?”
“He was just giving me lip, he’s been kind of weird lately.” Lisa blanched, realising what she’d said.
Dean looked down. “Lisa, if I’m causing problems, I’m just gonna go.”
“No Dean, you’re not, you’re not causing problems, if you were I’d be the first one to toss you out, it’s just, well he’s at that age or whatever they say.”
Dean laughed, “Yeah. I remember when Sammy……..” He stopped. “Never mind” he mumbled. He looked back at the computer screen trying to erase the thought.
Lisa broke the silence. “Ummm, what are you looking for?” she asked.
“Oh, want ads, thought it was time I started pulling my weight around here. You know I was thinking, what’s that guy next door called, Sid? He’s in construction right? I was thinking I’d see if he knew of any crews who might be looking for a spare hand.” Dean looked up at Lisa and saw relief flood across her face.
“We could ask them over?”
“No it’s cool. I’ll go over myself a bit later, see what he says.” Dean forced a smile.
“Ok, well I better go get started on dinner, you ok here?”
“Yeah I’m good.” Dean lied.
 
Day 11
Work. 2 days earlier Dean had gone out and bought himself a truck. Turns out they were short handed on the construction site and he could start straight away. He bought a truck and some tools. He bought them with a fake credit card. It’d be the last time he’d need to do that, he thought. He’d driven the truck back to the house and pulled into the drive. He’d got out and gone into the garage. He’d run his hand over the Impala. He’d rested his forehead against her metal body. “Sam” he breathed. He stood up, grabbed a tarp from the shelf and covered her up, patting his baby one last time. Next he went into the house, got his leather jacket….dad’s jacket, dad’s journal, his fake credit cards, his fake ids and he locked them all in a safe box. He went to walk out, but stopped. Turning back he looked at his past life, all covered up and locked away and wondered, who the hell was he trying to fool. 
 
Day 38, 45, 63, 78, 92, 104, 146…..
Dean functioned. He went to work. He did his job. He helped around the house. He went to Ben’s baseball games. He bought groceries. He hosted barbeques. He had beers with his neighbour, Sid. He did all the right things. He said all the right things. He was a good friend. A good partner. A good father figure. A damn good liar. He got up in the middle of the night and searched the internet for answers. He drove out of his way to visit bookshops and libraries. He thought of little else but saving Sam. He drank from the minute he got home until the minute he could finally sleep. He faked his way through each and every second of each and every day. Day after day after day………..
 
Day 182
Ben asked Dean to go to parent teacher night. What could he say? He really cared for the kid. A lot. It was the one part of his life that really felt right, felt like it could mean something again. Ben. If he could save Ben from the kind of life he and Sam had lived, maybe everything that happened before this could come to some good. Lisa was excited that he’d agreed to go. They sat in the classroom and listened to the teacher discuss Ben’s grades and aptitude in class. Dean looked over at Ben and a memory flashed through his mind. A memory of sitting in for his dad when it was Sam who’d asked him. A memory of lying to the teachers and saying their dad got caught up at work, when really he was in another state hunting a Wendigo or something. A memory of Sam’s sorrowful eyes, looking up at him from under his always too long fringe and smiling warmly at Dean. Dean’s breath hitched. When was this gonna stop? When was this empty, aching, pain gonna stop? He had a great woman who loved him, a kid who adored him, a good job, friends for the first time in his life, a normal existence, no blood, no violence, no killing…..no brother. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. He could do this, he had to do this. When he opened his eyes again Lisa was looking at him, her brows knitted.
“You ok?” she whispered.
“Yeah I’m good” Dean lied.
 But he could tell she no longer believed him.
 
Day 243
Dean rang Bobby. It’d been a few months since they’d spoken. He hadn’t seen Bobby, but every so often one or the other would call and check in.
“Hey Bobby, how you doing?”
“I’m ok, you?”
“Yeah I’m good. How’s things, you know, been keepin’ busy?”
“Yup, had a bit on, how’re Lisa and the kid doing?”
“Yeah they’re doing good. Ben’s little league team won.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
“You ahh, you found out anything interesting Bobby?” Dean asked without asking.
“No…. ahh sorry Dean.”
“Yeah, me neither…”
Silence.
“Well Dean, I gotta go, you keep in touch, you look after that family of yours.”
“Yeah, sure. Be careful out there ok Bobby?” Dean replied.
“You bet.” Bobby said, a little too brightly.
They hung up. Neither one of them could ever bring themselves to say goodbye.
 
Day 300
Barbeque. It wasn’t the first barbeque Dean had thrown and this one was no different. His neighbours were all there, laughing, talking, comparing notes on their kids. Dean smiled, nodded, laughed at all the right times and in all the right places, but as he flipped the burgers he wondered, how much longer could he keep doing this? Every book, every lead, everything had been a dead end. Sam was rotting in Hell and Dean couldn’t do a damn thing about it. As each day went by it got harder to fake it because as each day went by he felt more guilt. Guilt about Lisa. Guilt about Ben. But mostly guilt about Sam. Sam was suffering God knows what and here he was cooking barbeque and talking about the game over a couple of beers. His stomach churned. The whole thing made him feel sick. He glanced around at his new friends, if only they knew, he thought. He looked up and saw Lisa. She smiled. He smiled. He flipped another burger….
When everyone had gone home to their warm beds and normal lives Dean checked the house. The devils trap under the rug. The salt lines on the window. The holy water under the bed. The sawn-off in the hall closet. He poured himself a scotch, he put his head in his hands and sighed.
 
About a year
The alarm went off. Bob Seger’s Beautiful Loser filled the air. As usual Dean was already awake. As usual his first thought had been of Sam. His second thought had been what the hell am I doing. Dean turned off the buzzing, ran his hand over his face and back through his hair. He felt the bed move. Lisa rolled over and touched him. He looked at her. She loved him he could tell and he cared for her, he did, she was beautiful and strong and everything he should want, but he couldn’t really love her, not the way she needed, because he wasn’t whole. It’d been about a year and the pain was still there. The dull, empty, ache only seemed to get worse. The longer Sam suffered in Hell the worse Dean felt. He knew he was going through the motions and he knew Lisa knew it. He took her hand.
“You ok?” Lisa asked.
“Yeah I’m good.” Dean lied. He barely even put effort into the words anymore.
She leaned in and kissed his hand before getting out of bed to start her day.
Dean lay there looking at the ceiling. This is a good life, he thought, why doesn’t it make me happy, why can’t I just be happy. But he knew why. All he wanted was his brother alive. All of this, all this good life, he’d throw it away in a heartbeat if it would just bring Sam back. But Sam was gone. It’d been about a year. Sam was gone. This was it. Maybe it was time to accept it. Dean sighed deeply and got out of bed. Maybe this was it, because this was his life now and nothing was going to change…..

You can read more of my work here: http://www.fanfiction.net/~sweetondean 

After Sam throws himself into Hell, Dean tries to live a normal life. This is about that year. That year without Sam.

 

Day 1

Dean woke up. He felt disorientated. He didn’t know where he was. For a split second he forgot what had happened. He thought everything was ok. Then he remembered. Then it crashed in on him. Sam. He was at Lisa’s. He was in her spare room. Sam was in Hell. Sam was gone. He closed his eyes and felt a rush of emotion well up inside him. Running a hand down his face he rolled out of bed. He dressed without thinking and wandered down the hall to the kitchen. There was a note on the bench. It was from Lisa. She’d left for work, she’d be home after 4 with Ben, he could help himself to anything and please call her if he needed to, she’d left her cell phone number. Dean put the note back on the kitchen counter and wandered over to the fridge, opened the door and looked inside. Sighing he closed it again. He couldn’t eat. He wasn’t hungry. There was an emptiness inside him but food wasn’t going to fill it. He opened cupboard after cupboard looking for something that would. He finally found a bottle of scotch and put it on the counter. He looked at the clock. It was 11am. Man, he was tired, so tired, tired like he hadn’t slept for a week tired. Everything ached, every bone, every muscle throbbed with pain. He grabbed the scotch and walked back to the bedroom.

2pm. Dean woke up. The bottle was still on the bedside table, unopened. He grabbed it and walked out to the lounge room. Sitting on the couch he cracked open the bottle of scotch and took a swig. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he lay back against the cushions and closed his eyes. Putting the bottle back to his lips he took another belt. He could feel it warming him from the inside out. He could feel it starting to numb the throbbing ache. He could feel it starting to numb his mind. He could feel it starting to numb everything….

Time unknown. Dean woke up with a gentle shaking of his shoulders.

“Dean, Dean wake up.”

“Sam?” Dean sat up groggily.

“It’s Lisa.”

Dean focused on the face in front of him. A sob escaped. “Sam.”

Lisa took Dean’s arm. “Dean, come on you need to go to bed.”

Dean let her help him up. The empty scotch bottle rolled off the couch and onto the floor with a clatter. Dean looked up and saw Ben staring at him, mouth agape. Dean closed his eyes as he stumbled passed the boy. He’d apologise later, he thought, he’d apologise to Ben later…..later.

 

Day 3

Lisa suggested they watch a movie. Dean said sure. He didn’t care. Ben said he’d pick one. Lisa and Ben went to the store. Dean drank. They came back with the latest Indiana Jones movie.

At the dinner table, Ben asked brightly, “Have you seen it?” The kid obviously liked Dean.

“What is it?”

“The latest Indiana Jones movie, I never got to see it.” Ben said. “Have you seen it? Because if you have we can watch something else.”

Dean frowned. “Nah, I never saw it. I ahhh, I wasn’t around when it came out.” He picked up his glass and took a slug.

“Cool” said Ben, oblivious.

Lisa came over with the food. Looking at Dean as he stared into space she asked, “You ok?”

“Yeah I’m good,” Dean lied.

 

Day 4

Dean woke up screaming. “Sam no!” He was fighting an unseen force. “It’s me, it’s me, I’m here Sammy!”

“Dean!”

Dean looked up shocked as a light came on. Lisa rushed towards him. “Dean, you’re having a nightmare, it’s just a nightmare, it’s ok, it’s ok.”

Dean blinked. “What?” He looked around the room. Realising where he was he sank back into the pillow. Tears streamed down his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.” Lisa wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to someone who wasn’t there.

“It’s ok Dean,” she whispered back as she crawled into the bed beside him. “Just go to sleep, I’ll be here.” She laid her arm across his chest. Her touch felt good. Dean allowed himself to relax into her body. He closed his eyes. He slept.

 

Day 7

1 week. It’d been 1 week. 1 week since Sam had thrown himself into the pit. Dean had been drunk most days, or at least, for a good portion of most days. He’d started sleeping in Lisa’s bed. The proximity of another human being seemed to calm his dreams, but not completely. Most nights he woke in a cold sweat, panic gripping his heart. He’d barely been out of the house, he hadn’t shaved, he only ate when forced to. He shook his head. Enough. He took a shower and shaved off the stubble that was threatening to become a beard. He pulled on his boots and walked down the hall. Looking out the window at the garden he noticed the leaves had fallen. It was nearly winter. Going outback to the shed, he found a rake and a bag and started clearing up the dead leaves. It felt good to do something, to be useful, to focus on something other than….. He filled one bag and went and got another. As he started to work on the second bag he had the strangest sensation, like he was being watched. He looked up at the house. There was no-one home, no-one looking out the window, but still…. He glanced over his shoulder, his hunter instincts quickly kicking back in. Nothing. The yard was empty. Turning around he frowned and shook his head. At least he was still feeling that hunter paranoia, he thought. He grabbed the two bags of leaves and headed to the incinerator. Casting a keen eye around the empty garden one more time, he returned to the house.

Back inside, Dean went into the small office. He fired up Lisa’s computer. He’d intended to look at the positions vacant. He didn’t. Instead he found himself searching the net for spells, books, charms, anything that might give him a clue as to how to bring Sam back. He’d promised he wouldn’t. He’d kept his promise for a whole week. Dean thought that was pretty good going. Doing the research made him feel alive, made him feel like himself again, made him feel like he was doing something. He hadn’t realised what the time was until he heard Lisa and Ben come through the front door arguing. He looked up and quickly covered his notes.

“Dean?”

“In here” he yelled back. “Hey. What’s going on? You and Ben have a fight?”

“He was just giving me lip, he’s been kind of weird lately.” Lisa blanched, realising what she’d said.

Dean looked down. “Lisa, if I’m causing problems, I’m just gonna go.”

“No Dean, you’re not, you’re not causing problems, if you were I’d be the first one to toss you out, it’s just, well he’s at that age or whatever they say.”

Dean laughed, “Yeah. I remember when Sammy……..” He stopped. “Never mind” he mumbled. He looked back at the computer screen trying to erase the thought.

Lisa broke the silence. “Ummm, what are you looking for?” she asked.

“Oh, want ads, thought it was time I started pulling my weight around here. You know I was thinking, what’s that guy next door called, Sid? He’s in construction right? I was thinking I’d see if he knew of any crews who might be looking for a spare hand.” Dean looked up at Lisa and saw relief flood across her face.

“We could ask them over?”

“No it’s cool. I’ll go over myself a bit later, see what he says.” Dean forced a smile.

“Ok, well I better go get started on dinner, you ok here?”

“Yeah I’m good.” Dean lied.

 

Day 11

Work. 2 days earlier Dean had gone out and bought himself a truck. Turns out they were short handed on the construction site and he could start straight away. He bought a truck and some tools. He bought them with a fake credit card. It’d be the last time he’d need to do that, he thought. He’d driven the truck back to the house and pulled into the drive. He’d got out and gone into the garage. He’d run his hand over the Impala. He’d rested his forehead against her metal body. “Sam” he breathed. He stood up, grabbed a tarp from the shelf and covered her up, patting his baby one last time. Next he went into the house, got his leather jacket….dad’s jacket, dad’s journal, his fake credit cards, his fake ids and he locked them all in a safe box. He went to walk out, but stopped. Turning back he looked at his past life, all covered up and locked away and wondered, who the hell was he trying to fool.

 

Day 38, 45, 63, 78, 92, 104, 146…..

Dean functioned. He went to work. He did his job. He helped around the house. He went to Ben’s baseball games. He bought groceries. He hosted barbeques. He had beers with his neighbour, Sid. He did all the right things. He said all the right things. He was a good friend. A good partner. A good father figure. A damn good liar. He got up in the middle of the night and searched the internet for answers. He drove out of his way to visit bookshops and libraries. He thought of little else but saving Sam. He drank from the minute he got home until the minute he could finally sleep. He faked his way through each and every second of each and every day. Day after day after day………..

 

Day 182

Ben asked Dean to go to parent teacher night. What could he say? He really cared for the kid. A lot. It was the one part of his life that really felt right, felt like it could mean something again. Ben. If he could save Ben from the kind of life he and Sam had lived, maybe everything that happened before this could come to some good. Lisa was excited that he’d agreed to go. They sat in the classroom and listened to the teacher discuss Ben’s grades and aptitude in class. Dean looked over at Ben and a memory flashed through his mind. A memory of sitting in for his dad when it was Sam who’d asked him. A memory of lying to the teachers and saying their dad got caught up at work, when really he was in another state hunting a Wendigo or something. A memory of Sam’s sorrowful eyes, looking up at him from under his always too long fringe and smiling warmly at Dean. Dean’s breath hitched. When was this gonna stop? When was this empty, aching, pain gonna stop? He had a great woman who loved him, a kid who adored him, a good job, friends for the first time in his life, a normal existence, no blood, no violence, no killing…..no brother. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. He could do this, he had to do this. When he opened his eyes again Lisa was looking at him, her brows knitted.

“You ok?” she whispered.

“Yeah I’m good” Dean lied.

 But he could tell she no longer believed him.

 

Day 243

Dean rang Bobby. It’d been a few months since they’d spoken. He hadn’t seen Bobby, but every so often one or the other would call and check in.

“Hey Bobby, how you doing?”

“I’m ok, you?”

“Yeah I’m good. How’s things, you know, been keepin’ busy?”

“Yup, had a bit on, how’re Lisa and the kid doing?”

“Yeah they’re doing good. Ben’s little league team won.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“You ahh, you found out anything interesting Bobby?” Dean asked without asking.

“No…. ahh sorry Dean.”

“Yeah, me neither…”

Silence.

“Well Dean, I gotta go, you keep in touch, you look after that family of yours.”

“Yeah, sure. Be careful out there ok Bobby?” Dean replied.

“You bet.” Bobby said, a little too brightly.

They hung up. Neither one of them could ever bring themselves to say goodbye.

 

Day 300

Barbeque. It wasn’t the first barbeque Dean had thrown and this one was no different. His neighbours were all there, laughing, talking, comparing notes on their kids. Dean smiled, nodded, laughed at all the right times and in all the right places, but as he flipped the burgers he wondered, how much longer could he keep doing this? Every book, every lead, everything had been a dead end. Sam was rotting in Hell and Dean couldn’t do a damn thing about it. As each day went by it got harder to fake it because as each day went by he felt more guilt. Guilt about Lisa. Guilt about Ben. But mostly guilt about Sam. Sam was suffering God knows what and here he was cooking barbeque and talking about the game over a couple of beers. His stomach churned. The whole thing made him feel sick. He glanced around at his new friends, if only they knew, he thought. He looked up and saw Lisa. She smiled. He smiled. He flipped another burger….

When everyone had gone home to their warm beds and normal lives Dean checked the house. The devils trap under the rug. The salt lines on the window. The holy water under the bed. The sawn-off in the hall closet. He poured himself a scotch, he put his head in his hands and sighed.

 

About a year

The alarm went off. Bob Seger’s Beautiful Loser filled the air. As usual Dean was already awake. As usual his first thought had been of Sam. His second thought had been what the hell am I doing. Dean turned off the buzzing, ran his hand over his face and back through his hair. He felt the bed move. Lisa rolled over and touched him. He looked at her. She loved him he could tell and he cared for her, he did, she was beautiful and strong and everything he should want, but he couldn’t really love her, not the way she needed, because he wasn’t whole. It’d been about a year and the pain was still there. The dull, empty, ache only seemed to get worse. The longer Sam suffered in Hell the worse Dean felt. He knew he was going through the motions and he knew Lisa knew it. He took her hand.

“You ok?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah I’m good.” Dean lied. He barely even put effort into the words anymore.

She leaned in and kissed his hand before getting out of bed to start her day.

Dean lay there looking at the ceiling. This is a good life, he thought, why doesn’t it make me happy, why can’t I just be happy. But he knew why. All he wanted was his brother alive. All of this, all this good life, he’d throw it away in a heartbeat if it would just bring Sam back. But Sam was gone. It’d been about a year. Sam was gone. This was it. Maybe it was time to accept it. Dean sighed deeply and got out of bed. Maybe this was it, because this was his life now and nothing was going to change…..


You can read more of my work here: http://www.fanfiction.net/~sweetondean 

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It all flashed before him, every moment in reverse, right back to the instant he was turned and there, in those final seconds he saw it, he saw his brother, standing still, not running to him, not trying to help him, not calling out his name, just watching, just watching and smiling. While the vampire pinned Dean down and wiped blood across his mouth Sam had simply watched and smiled. He saw it.
As Dean came round from the antidote that flushed the vampire blood from his body, his brother was there beside him, grinning and patting his back. Sam helped Dean stand and Dean let him. Sam hugged Dean and Dean let him. Sam smiled and asked, “How do you feel?” “What?” Dean couldn’t register the words, he couldn’t hear for the roaring of his own blood in his ears, he couldn’t think for the image of that smile searing into his brain. “How do you feel Dean?” “I dunno Sam, tired, dirty, I’m covered in blood and I just spewed up God knows what, I dunno how I feel.” He ran his hand through his hair trying to focus, trying to think, he saw what he saw, he knows it, he’s sure of it, isn’t he? “Sit down Dean, take a moment.” Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and Dean flinched, he couldn’t help it. As he looked up into his brother’s eyes, those eyes he knew so well, those eyes which had always looked at him with love he saw nothing, there was nothing looking back at him, just a cold, empty, nothing. A shiver crawled down his spine. “Sam, I’m filthy and I really need to brush my teeth, I’m gonna go take a shower ok? We can talk when I’m clean.” “Sure thing Dean, take your time” the person who looked like Sam said. Dean shut his eyes, he was exhausted, his bones ached, his head ached, he was confused and angry and he didn’t know what. He rummaged through his duffel for clean clothes as Sam and his grandfather talked behind him, but he couldn’t hear them, he couldn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat, racing, pounding as he replayed it over and over in his mind’s eye, that moment, that look, Sam. 
Dean closed the bathroom door behind him and leant back against it. He took in a deep shaky breath, “Come on man, keep it together,” he whispered to himself. Throwing his clean clothes on the edge of the bath and his toilet bag on the edge of the sink, he peeled off his shirt and jeans. He really did feel disgusting. He was caked in blood from head to toe. It was under his nails, on his face, in his hair. That’s what you get when you slaughter a nest of vamps he thought. He chuffed to himself and smiled but then Sam’s face flashed through his mind and his smile dropped. Turning on the taps he stepped into the shower and let the almost too hot water run over his body. It felt good on his aching muscles. He grabbed the soap and started to scrub trying desperately not to think, but as he pushed the soap up through his hair his hands began to shake, then his legs and then before he realised what was happening, he was sliding down the wall and onto the tiles of the shower floor. A shuddering sob wracked through his body. Jesus Christ he thought, you are not gonna cry, you are not gonna fucking cry, but as he closed his eyes and tried to fend off the emotion threatening to overwhelm him he saw Sam just standing, watching, smiling. His Sam he raised, his Sam he died for, his Sam he loved above all others, his Sam who let him get turned by a vampire. There was no stopping it, the sobs shook through his body and hot tears streamed down his cheeks. With his hands over his head and his arms covering his face, he let the emotion of the last day, the last hour, the last memory claim him. Banging his head back against the wall he spat out “FUCK”. Why can’t it ever be easy for them, why is there never a time when they’re not at odds, why after everything they’ve gone through after everything they’ve sacrificed must there always be more pain. He let his head drop to his knees, curled his arms around his legs and cried bitter, angry tears.
After a few moments Dean looked up, water pouring down onto his face. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, steadied himself and pushed off the floor, sliding up the wall. He washed his body, ran his fingers through his hair, turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower. He saw himself in the mirror, man when’d I get so old he thought, his eyes were red and he just looked plain tired. Towelling off he slipped into his clean clothes, they felt better at least and he brushed his teeth. Splashing cold water on his face, he grabbed his toilet bag and walked towards the bathroom door. He stopped, his hand closing around the doorknob as he shut his eyes and sighed. Steeling himself he lifted his head, drew in a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out to face his grandfather, his grandfather and the Sam that wasn’t his.

It all flashed before him, every moment in reverse, right back to the instant he was turned and there, in those final seconds he saw it, he saw his brother, standing still, not running to him, not trying to help him, not calling out his name, just watching, just watching and smiling. While the vampire pinned Dean down and wiped blood across his mouth Sam had simply watched and smiled. He saw it.

As Dean came round from the antidote that flushed the vampire blood from his body, his brother was there beside him, grinning and patting his back. Sam helped Dean stand and Dean let him. Sam hugged Dean and Dean let him. Sam smiled and asked, “How do you feel?” “What?” Dean couldn’t register the words, he couldn’t hear for the roaring of his own blood in his ears, he couldn’t think for the image of that smile searing into his brain. “How do you feel Dean?” “I dunno Sam, tired, dirty, I’m covered in blood and I just spewed up God knows what, I dunno how I feel.” He ran his hand through his hair trying to focus, trying to think, he saw what he saw, he knows it, he’s sure of it, isn’t he? “Sit down Dean, take a moment.” Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and Dean flinched, he couldn’t help it. As he looked up into his brother’s eyes, those eyes he knew so well, those eyes which had always looked at him with love he saw nothing, there was nothing looking back at him, just a cold, empty, nothing. A shiver crawled down his spine. “Sam, I’m filthy and I really need to brush my teeth, I’m gonna go take a shower ok? We can talk when I’m clean.” “Sure thing Dean, take your time” the person who looked like Sam said. Dean shut his eyes, he was exhausted, his bones ached, his head ached, he was confused and angry and he didn’t know what. He rummaged through his duffel for clean clothes as Sam and his grandfather talked behind him, but he couldn’t hear them, he couldn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat, racing, pounding as he replayed it over and over in his mind’s eye, that moment, that look, Sam.

Dean closed the bathroom door behind him and leant back against it. He took in a deep shaky breath, “Come on man, keep it together,” he whispered to himself. Throwing his clean clothes on the edge of the bath and his toilet bag on the edge of the sink, he peeled off his shirt and jeans. He really did feel disgusting. He was caked in blood from head to toe. It was under his nails, on his face, in his hair. That’s what you get when you slaughter a nest of vamps he thought. He chuffed to himself and smiled but then Sam’s face flashed through his mind and his smile dropped. Turning on the taps he stepped into the shower and let the almost too hot water run over his body. It felt good on his aching muscles. He grabbed the soap and started to scrub trying desperately not to think, but as he pushed the soap up through his hair his hands began to shake, then his legs and then before he realised what was happening, he was sliding down the wall and onto the tiles of the shower floor. A shuddering sob wracked through his body. Jesus Christ he thought, you are not gonna cry, you are not gonna fucking cry, but as he closed his eyes and tried to fend off the emotion threatening to overwhelm him he saw Sam just standing, watching, smiling. His Sam he raised, his Sam he died for, his Sam he loved above all others, his Sam who let him get turned by a vampire. There was no stopping it, the sobs shook through his body and hot tears streamed down his cheeks. With his hands over his head and his arms covering his face, he let the emotion of the last day, the last hour, the last memory claim him. Banging his head back against the wall he spat out “FUCK”. Why can’t it ever be easy for them, why is there never a time when they’re not at odds, why after everything they’ve gone through after everything they’ve sacrificed must there always be more pain. He let his head drop to his knees, curled his arms around his legs and cried bitter, angry tears.

After a few moments Dean looked up, water pouring down onto his face. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, steadied himself and pushed off the floor, sliding up the wall. He washed his body, ran his fingers through his hair, turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower. He saw himself in the mirror, man when’d I get so old he thought, his eyes were red and he just looked plain tired. Towelling off he slipped into his clean clothes, they felt better at least and he brushed his teeth. Splashing cold water on his face, he grabbed his toilet bag and walked towards the bathroom door. He stopped, his hand closing around the doorknob as he shut his eyes and sighed. Steeling himself he lifted his head, drew in a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out to face his grandfather, his grandfather and the Sam that wasn’t his.

Comments
I’ve written a new fan fiction. It’s just a little comedy one-shot all about Dean.
Click on the banner to take you there
Let me know what you think!
You can read more of my work here: http://www.fanfiction.net/~sweetondean

I’ve written a new fan fiction. It’s just a little comedy one-shot all about Dean.

Click on the banner to take you there

Let me know what you think!

You can read more of my work here: http://www.fanfiction.net/~sweetondean

Comments

The Amulet. A short Supernatural fan fiction by sweetondean.

Dean cocked his shotgun and fired a salt round into the Demon closest to him. It would slow it up, but not for long. He put his hand in his pocket and grabbed another couple of shells.

“Sam” Dean yelled, “I’m running low here, where the hell’s Ruby’s knife”?

Sam lunged forward and splashed holy water across the face of a second Demon. It screamed, turning to snarl at Sam as the flesh of its meat-suit sizzled and burned.

“I don’t have it”, Sam yelled over his shoulder, “It must be in my duffle”.

“Christ”, growled Dean, “I’m gonna to have to go get it”

Turning to his brother, Dean tossed his shotgun across the room, “You got this”?

Sam caught the gun easily in one hand, cocking and firing it in a single movement. “Yep” he yelled, as the shots blasted the third Demon rushing towards him, “But hurry Dean”. Three against one were still bad odds.

Dean turned and ran into the bedroom.

Shit. “Where is it, Sam”?

“Under the bed” yelled Sam, as he cocked and fired the gun again.

Dropping to his knees, Dean felt around under the bed. ”Tidy freak” he grumbled, as his hand touched canvas. “OK, I got it” he yelled and quickly hauled Sam’s duffle onto the mattress.

After a moment of frantic rummaging, Dean was relieved when his hand found the hilt of the blade, but as he pulled Ruby’s knife free from the tangle of t-shirts and dirty underwear, something else caught in his fingers 

Looking down Dean was startled to see a familiar piece of thin black leather. Hanging from his fingertips was his amulet. The amulet Sam gave him when they were kids. The amulet Dean tossed in the bin after their unpleasant trip to Heaven. The amulet he thought was long gone 

Dean stared at the tiny piece of gold now in the palm of his hand. “The kid must have saved it from the bin”, he thought, “Stashed it in his bag”. He let out a low chuckle. “Well I’ll be damned”.

“Anytime you’re ready Dean”, Sam yelled from the other room.

Dean jumped and chuckled again shaking his head. Smiling to himself he dropped the amulet back into the bag, covering it with Sam’s gigantic clothes. “Hold your horses Sammy”, he yelled, “I’m coming”, and with that he grabbed Ruby’s knife and ran to help his little brother.

The End

This story is dedicated to my friend Sarah, who really loves the amulet!

This is only my second fan fiction, so I’d love to hear your comments. Please feel free to leave feedback. Thanks for reading!

You can read more of my work here: http://www.fanfiction.net/~sweetondean

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