fleshflutter (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} fleshflutter) wrote,@ 2007-07-05 18:07:00 |
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Precious Maybe (gen-fic Sam/Dean, 715 words, G)
(Strange what one comes up with when one doesn't work at work. Title is, of course, from the song by Beth Orton.)
Precious Maybe
(gen-fic with hints of Sam/Dean and meta, 716 words, G, warning for the potential to make you sick of the word 'maybe', tiny spoiler for AHBL)
There are millions of maybes, but only one real certainty.
This is a story about Sam and Dean.
:::
Maybes
Maybe they’re just arriving in a town and Dean’s staring out the window at the college coeds in their short skirts and skinny jeans, maybe they’re just leaving and Sam’s sulking because he’s been dragged out of school again and his friends won't even get a goodbye. Maybe their Dad is in Michigan/the shower/Hell.
Maybe John's left them with Pastor Jim and they're sitting in the back row of church, one of them thinking of angels and the other thinking about demons. Maybe they're staying with Bobby and Dean's taking an engine apart for the first time while Sam conjugates verbs in Latin. Maybe they're on their own in a cabin, first day in this temporary home, and Dean's trying to figure out how to use the oven and Sam's given up bothering to unpack.
Maybe Sam's not gone to Stanford yet, or maybe he's living with Jess, safe but not normal, salting the doors and windows before he settles in to write an essay while Jess tries to make him choose between pizza and Chinese for dinner. Maybe Dean's on a hunt all alone, throwing punches or trying to stitch his own wounds, maybe he's taking a second in the shadows to wonder how Sam's doing.
Maybe Dean's a rentboy, standing on a street corner wearing his bruises like make-up. Maybe Sam's the virgin sacrifice for some cult, shivering on an altar and eyes lit up with flame. Maybe Sam's evil, mad, possessed. Maybe Dean's drunk, stupid, desperate.
Maybe they're hunting a will o' the wisp, a werewolf, a wendigo. Maybe Sam's hitting the books while Dean sharpens his knives, doesn't know what he's killing and doesn't much care. Maybe Sam's loading a gun while Dean says something he hopes will pass as strategy. Maybe Sam's helping a would-be victim from the scene – some pretty girl, probably in a white nightdress – and Dean's firing shots off at some shapeless evil in the dark.
Maybe Dean gets hurt and bleeds out while pretending that it's about as painful as a hangover. Maybe Sam gets knocked out cold, pale and still on snow/grass/sand, and Dean finds himself praying to a god he didn't think he believed in any more that Sam will open his eyes.
Maybe they've been separated and Sam's waiting in a motel room, staring at the ugly wallpaper, while Dean races across states, wondering if he can get to him tonight, in an hour, in ten minutes, in a heartbeat.
Maybe Dean has wings/tentacles/awesome hitherto unrevealed superpowers. Maybe Sam has the flu. Maybe Sam's the Second Coming or the antichrist - maybe Dean's holding a gun to Sam's head, maybe he's holding it to his own. Maybe Dean's pregnant and Sam doesn't know whether he's the father. Maybe Sam's become a small white west highland terrier and Dean's choosing a collar for him.
Maybe Dean's a police officer or a marine, taking orders and saving lives. Maybe Sam's an engineer or a doctor, dismantling machines or hearts to see how they work, how they can be made better. Maybe Sam's a lawyer with a reputation that makes grown men cry. Maybe Dean's a fireman. Maybe they're doing what they always wanted, maybe they know it could have been different.
Maybe Mary was too tired to care about a flickering bulb and went back to bed, never giving another thought to the figure at her baby's cribside. Maybe John's need for justice (or revenge, depending on how you look at it) drowned in liquor. Maybe there were Winchester sisters instead of brothers. Maybe it's a nightmare or an LSD trip. Maybe it actually happened in wartime London or the Wild West.
Maybe Dean dies and Sam twist-turns back inside himself, eating away at old memories as stale as paper. Maybe Sam dies and Dean has nothing left to sell to bring him back.
Maybe they're brothers, lovers, best friends, all or none or some of the above.
:::
Definitely
Dean would ding up the Impala's suspension for Sam. Sam wouldn't want him to.
Sam would die for Dean. Dean would go to hell for Sam.
Dean loves Sam loves Dean loves Sam.
:::
Because this is a story about Sam and Dean and some things are always true.
~end
(Strange what one comes up with when one doesn't work at work. Title is, of course, from the song by Beth Orton.)
Precious Maybe
(gen-fic with hints of Sam/Dean and meta, 716 words, G, warning for the potential to make you sick of the word 'maybe', tiny spoiler for AHBL)
There are millions of maybes, but only one real certainty.
This is a story about Sam and Dean.
:::
Maybes
Maybe they’re just arriving in a town and Dean’s staring out the window at the college coeds in their short skirts and skinny jeans, maybe they’re just leaving and Sam’s sulking because he’s been dragged out of school again and his friends won't even get a goodbye. Maybe their Dad is in Michigan/the shower/Hell.
Maybe John's left them with Pastor Jim and they're sitting in the back row of church, one of them thinking of angels and the other thinking about demons. Maybe they're staying with Bobby and Dean's taking an engine apart for the first time while Sam conjugates verbs in Latin. Maybe they're on their own in a cabin, first day in this temporary home, and Dean's trying to figure out how to use the oven and Sam's given up bothering to unpack.
Maybe Sam's not gone to Stanford yet, or maybe he's living with Jess, safe but not normal, salting the doors and windows before he settles in to write an essay while Jess tries to make him choose between pizza and Chinese for dinner. Maybe Dean's on a hunt all alone, throwing punches or trying to stitch his own wounds, maybe he's taking a second in the shadows to wonder how Sam's doing.
Maybe Dean's a rentboy, standing on a street corner wearing his bruises like make-up. Maybe Sam's the virgin sacrifice for some cult, shivering on an altar and eyes lit up with flame. Maybe Sam's evil, mad, possessed. Maybe Dean's drunk, stupid, desperate.
Maybe they're hunting a will o' the wisp, a werewolf, a wendigo. Maybe Sam's hitting the books while Dean sharpens his knives, doesn't know what he's killing and doesn't much care. Maybe Sam's loading a gun while Dean says something he hopes will pass as strategy. Maybe Sam's helping a would-be victim from the scene – some pretty girl, probably in a white nightdress – and Dean's firing shots off at some shapeless evil in the dark.
Maybe Dean gets hurt and bleeds out while pretending that it's about as painful as a hangover. Maybe Sam gets knocked out cold, pale and still on snow/grass/sand, and Dean finds himself praying to a god he didn't think he believed in any more that Sam will open his eyes.
Maybe they've been separated and Sam's waiting in a motel room, staring at the ugly wallpaper, while Dean races across states, wondering if he can get to him tonight, in an hour, in ten minutes, in a heartbeat.
Maybe Dean has wings/tentacles/awesome hitherto unrevealed superpowers. Maybe Sam has the flu. Maybe Sam's the Second Coming or the antichrist - maybe Dean's holding a gun to Sam's head, maybe he's holding it to his own. Maybe Dean's pregnant and Sam doesn't know whether he's the father. Maybe Sam's become a small white west highland terrier and Dean's choosing a collar for him.
Maybe Dean's a police officer or a marine, taking orders and saving lives. Maybe Sam's an engineer or a doctor, dismantling machines or hearts to see how they work, how they can be made better. Maybe Sam's a lawyer with a reputation that makes grown men cry. Maybe Dean's a fireman. Maybe they're doing what they always wanted, maybe they know it could have been different.
Maybe Mary was too tired to care about a flickering bulb and went back to bed, never giving another thought to the figure at her baby's cribside. Maybe John's need for justice (or revenge, depending on how you look at it) drowned in liquor. Maybe there were Winchester sisters instead of brothers. Maybe it's a nightmare or an LSD trip. Maybe it actually happened in wartime London or the Wild West.
Maybe Dean dies and Sam twist-turns back inside himself, eating away at old memories as stale as paper. Maybe Sam dies and Dean has nothing left to sell to bring him back.
Maybe they're brothers, lovers, best friends, all or none or some of the above.
:::
Definitely
Dean would ding up the Impala's suspension for Sam. Sam wouldn't want him to.
Sam would die for Dean. Dean would go to hell for Sam.
Dean loves Sam loves Dean loves Sam.
:::
Because this is a story about Sam and Dean and some things are always true.
~end
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