sweetondean

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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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 

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.

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

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Let me know what you think!

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