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Literature Text
Watch the night go up in smoke
Dean forgets the tape’s sitting in the deck until it blasts through the speakers and startles Sam back into consciousness. His hands reach up to clench around nothing as he gives a shocked cry that probably sounded more like an elephant having a conniption and Dean is once again socked in the gut with the realization that his brother is not totally, one-hundred percent there.
He curses and the Impala swerves minutely, churning up gravel at the side of the road and then spitting up dirt by the time he manages to force it onto the shoulder. They end up parked haphazardly and he would’ve been more concerned with the idea of someone swinging around the bend and rear-ending him, but he has half-broken little brother to worry about for the time being.
Besides, it’s four in the morning and they were on the back roads in between Where the Hell Did We Just Come From and Where the Hell are We Going.
Jesus H. Christ, Sam. His breathing is ragged, hitched sound bordering on hysterics and Dean’s swearing again because right now they’re gearing toward a scary-ass breakdown and he’s sure as hell not about to let that happen. As far as he knows Lucifer could be in the backseat trying to braid his brother’s hair and that is definitely not a-okay.
He’s trying to shut the radio off when Sam suddenly latches onto his wrist.
“Sam, what—”
“Wait,” he forces out, swallowing and reminding himself to control his breathing. He allows Dean to crank the volume down until it’s a rock ‘n’ roll hum in the background before he releases his grip. Dean shifts his to his brother’s shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze.
Sam’s lips quiver around words he can’t form and Dean’s three seconds away from calling Bobby and telling him to expect them at his front door.
His gaze flickers between Sam and the dash.
“I…” He finally manages, hand that isn’t lingering in the air between him bunching around the cuff of his sleeve. “This…this song. I remember it.”
Dean eyes him for a second and frowns because they’ve practically had this tape since the dawn of time and he can remember blasting it on Sam’s birthday while they cruised down a nameless highway, his baby brother punch-drunk and giggling shotgun. “Uh, yeah. Okay.”
“No,” Sam shakes his head, swallowing again. “No, I mean, I mean…back in Lawrence, and…with Lucifer and Micheal and…” His brow puckers and he blinks rapidly a few times and Dean’s not sure if he likes where this is going. “I just…I just remember.”
“Hey boys, am I interrupting something?”
Def Leppard crones on and oh shit now Dean gets it.
Dean can remember popping the tape in, can remember pulling up to a cemetery with his brother and a half prepared to square off with a pair of archangels, and that sick feeling of fear that had pooled in his gut when Sam had turned to face him and it wasn’t Sam. Dean can remember the words and punches and the blows and the sense of pride and failure when neither of them could be saved and “It’s okay, Dean. It’s gonna be okay.”
He wonders how much Sam actually remembers.
“Oh.”
Sam’s chuckle is wet. “Yeah.”
They wait a few beats. His voice is small when he speaks again.
“I’m sorry.”
Dean wants to punch something but tries not to look too annoyed at everything ever when his brother shifts his gaze away from the dashboard to look at him.
“Don’t.”
Sam doesn’t get it—he can remember the feeling of his fist connecting with the side of Dean’s face, can remember screaming and pleading and being powerless while Lucifer laughs at him because we’re gonna break all of his bones, Sammy, won’t that be fun you’re going to enjoy this and meanwhile Dean’s telling him “It’s okay. I’m here, I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you” even as Bobby’s neck snaps and Castiel turns into a bloody pile of mush and there’s a green army man in the ashtray.
“Dean…”
“Sam…” The hand on his shoulder shifts to the back of his neck and offers the same comfort it did he when he was five and scraped his knee.
Dean nods. Sam sniffs.
They sit in silence after the song ends, listening to the growl of the engine that signifies home and safety and Sam leans back into his seat and the fingers tugging at his hair. His other fingers drum against the steering wheel in a steady, reassuring beat.
“Did Cas really say 'assbutt?'"
Dean laughs by means of response and soon he has Sam joining in, albeit perhaps without the same gusto.
There’s another wait before Dean pops the tape out and puts it back to start the song over again. He waits until the guitar picks up to finally remove his hand to shift gears and put them back on the road.
His grip makes it back to Sam’s sleeve.
Neither say anything about it.
Lucifer sits in the backseat mocks them.
Sam turns the volume back up to drown him out.
He waits a minute or two before joining his brother in shouting the lyrics instead of singing.
Dean forgets the tape’s sitting in the deck until it blasts through the speakers and startles Sam back into consciousness. His hands reach up to clench around nothing as he gives a shocked cry that probably sounded more like an elephant having a conniption and Dean is once again socked in the gut with the realization that his brother is not totally, one-hundred percent there.
He curses and the Impala swerves minutely, churning up gravel at the side of the road and then spitting up dirt by the time he manages to force it onto the shoulder. They end up parked haphazardly and he would’ve been more concerned with the idea of someone swinging around the bend and rear-ending him, but he has half-broken little brother to worry about for the time being.
Besides, it’s four in the morning and they were on the back roads in between Where the Hell Did We Just Come From and Where the Hell are We Going.
Jesus H. Christ, Sam. His breathing is ragged, hitched sound bordering on hysterics and Dean’s swearing again because right now they’re gearing toward a scary-ass breakdown and he’s sure as hell not about to let that happen. As far as he knows Lucifer could be in the backseat trying to braid his brother’s hair and that is definitely not a-okay.
He’s trying to shut the radio off when Sam suddenly latches onto his wrist.
“Sam, what—”
“Wait,” he forces out, swallowing and reminding himself to control his breathing. He allows Dean to crank the volume down until it’s a rock ‘n’ roll hum in the background before he releases his grip. Dean shifts his to his brother’s shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze.
Sam’s lips quiver around words he can’t form and Dean’s three seconds away from calling Bobby and telling him to expect them at his front door.
His gaze flickers between Sam and the dash.
“I…” He finally manages, hand that isn’t lingering in the air between him bunching around the cuff of his sleeve. “This…this song. I remember it.”
Dean eyes him for a second and frowns because they’ve practically had this tape since the dawn of time and he can remember blasting it on Sam’s birthday while they cruised down a nameless highway, his baby brother punch-drunk and giggling shotgun. “Uh, yeah. Okay.”
“No,” Sam shakes his head, swallowing again. “No, I mean, I mean…back in Lawrence, and…with Lucifer and Micheal and…” His brow puckers and he blinks rapidly a few times and Dean’s not sure if he likes where this is going. “I just…I just remember.”
“Hey boys, am I interrupting something?”
Def Leppard crones on and oh shit now Dean gets it.
Dean can remember popping the tape in, can remember pulling up to a cemetery with his brother and a half prepared to square off with a pair of archangels, and that sick feeling of fear that had pooled in his gut when Sam had turned to face him and it wasn’t Sam. Dean can remember the words and punches and the blows and the sense of pride and failure when neither of them could be saved and “It’s okay, Dean. It’s gonna be okay.”
He wonders how much Sam actually remembers.
“Oh.”
Sam’s chuckle is wet. “Yeah.”
They wait a few beats. His voice is small when he speaks again.
“I’m sorry.”
Dean wants to punch something but tries not to look too annoyed at everything ever when his brother shifts his gaze away from the dashboard to look at him.
“Don’t.”
Sam doesn’t get it—he can remember the feeling of his fist connecting with the side of Dean’s face, can remember screaming and pleading and being powerless while Lucifer laughs at him because we’re gonna break all of his bones, Sammy, won’t that be fun you’re going to enjoy this and meanwhile Dean’s telling him “It’s okay. I’m here, I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you” even as Bobby’s neck snaps and Castiel turns into a bloody pile of mush and there’s a green army man in the ashtray.
“Dean…”
“Sam…” The hand on his shoulder shifts to the back of his neck and offers the same comfort it did he when he was five and scraped his knee.
Dean nods. Sam sniffs.
They sit in silence after the song ends, listening to the growl of the engine that signifies home and safety and Sam leans back into his seat and the fingers tugging at his hair. His other fingers drum against the steering wheel in a steady, reassuring beat.
“Did Cas really say 'assbutt?'"
Dean laughs by means of response and soon he has Sam joining in, albeit perhaps without the same gusto.
There’s another wait before Dean pops the tape out and puts it back to start the song over again. He waits until the guitar picks up to finally remove his hand to shift gears and put them back on the road.
His grip makes it back to Sam’s sleeve.
Neither say anything about it.
Lucifer sits in the backseat mocks them.
Sam turns the volume back up to drown him out.
He waits a minute or two before joining his brother in shouting the lyrics instead of singing.
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wow I actually kind of forgot about this site
and to think, I haven't written too much in a while. I think that's sad.
→sort of a tag to 5.22 Swan Song but set sometime during the beginning of the seventh season
title comes from the Def Leppard song "Rock of Ages," which Dean played before the showdown scene of the finale
tumblr | a03
and to think, I haven't written too much in a while. I think that's sad.
→sort of a tag to 5.22 Swan Song but set sometime during the beginning of the seventh season
title comes from the Def Leppard song "Rock of Ages," which Dean played before the showdown scene of the finale
tumblr | a03
© 2013 - 2024 jinx-lin
Comments1
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If you listen closely, you can pick up the sound of the Captain sobbing quietly in the distance whilst also singing Def Leppard though the tears.
What have you done to me.
Also I hate that I can never give you proper feedback on Tumblr anymore, so please keep posting things here and on FF because you deserve more than that 500-character count, woman.
Anyways, I'd just like to say that I've always kind of wondered how much of Sam was really there throughout the whole Lucifer ordeal? Because we saw their little mirror conversations, but it wasn't quite the same, and we certainly didn't see anything regarding what was going on with Sam at the cemetery until "It's okay Dean, I've got him". So basically A+ for getting out a scene I've always wanted. And as always I really love the style of this one, and your style has definitely changed a bit to fit the new personalities, and it's great! I like the simplistic little one-line paragraphs, and the voices are really great. I mean I don't say it coherently often enough, but you should know by now that you're an amazing writer and don't ever let anybody ever tell you otherwise, darling.
~Michelle
What have you done to me.
Also I hate that I can never give you proper feedback on Tumblr anymore, so please keep posting things here and on FF because you deserve more than that 500-character count, woman.
Anyways, I'd just like to say that I've always kind of wondered how much of Sam was really there throughout the whole Lucifer ordeal? Because we saw their little mirror conversations, but it wasn't quite the same, and we certainly didn't see anything regarding what was going on with Sam at the cemetery until "It's okay Dean, I've got him". So basically A+ for getting out a scene I've always wanted. And as always I really love the style of this one, and your style has definitely changed a bit to fit the new personalities, and it's great! I like the simplistic little one-line paragraphs, and the voices are really great. I mean I don't say it coherently often enough, but you should know by now that you're an amazing writer and don't ever let anybody ever tell you otherwise, darling.
~Michelle