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jadedmusingsTitle: "Just One Call"
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: #219 - Rune Stone
Warnings: Major spoilers for end of season five and minor ones for 6x01: "Exile on Main Street." Angsty Sam.
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam wants to call Dean even though he knows Dean's better off thinking Sam is dead.
Word Count: 823
Notes: Written in a couple of hours while suffering from a pretty bad cold and a sore throat. Also, I don't write fanfic...well, yeah, I suck at this in general. :p
Sam sat on the steps of Bobby’s back porch, a beer in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He stared at the small LCD screen, its light giving his face a sickly sort of pallor. For the hundredth time that night his thumb hovered over one name on his contact list and he wondered what the voice on the other end of the line would say if he just reached out and said hello.
After several heartbeats, Sam lowered his hand and took a long drink from his beer bottle. The bitter tasting liquid did little to decrease the size of the lump in his throat. He glanced down at his phone again and felt that familiar tug of temptation.
Just call him.
No. He couldn’t do it, not after everything. Not when he finally had the one thing he’d always wanted. For once his brother had listened to and honored his request. The least Sam could do was leave him in peace.
But still the faceless icon taunted him from the screen, daring him to push the call button.
“Don’t do it.” The storm door banged shut behind Bobby as he stepped out onto the porch.
Sam managed not to drop his cell phone, though it was a close call. He slipped it into a convenient pocket and turned around to look back at the older man. “Do what?”
“Call your brother, you idgit.” He handed Sam another cold beer fresh from the refrigerator. “Thought you could use a refill.”
Sam accepted the beer with a nod of thanks. “How’d you know?”
“You’ve been out here for nearly forty minutes. Not even you can nurse a beer that long.”
Sam chuckled and shook his head. “I meant how did you know who I was going to call.”
“Oh, I cast some bones, consulted a rune stone.”
“Really?”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “No, not really. You’d think by now you boys...you’d realize I know you like the back of my hand.”
The slip of the tongue made Sam wince. They weren’t “the boys” any longer. It was just Sam – well, Sam, Samuel, and a couple of distant cousins from the Campbell side of the family. Bobby helped too on occasion, just like in the good old days before Lilith, archangels, and the Apocalypse.
“I wasn’t going to call him, Bobby. I was…reminiscing.”
Bobby made a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat. “Sure, and just what were you reminiscing about? The gay old days of sunshine and unicorn farts? Dean got out, Sam. He’s got a family, a chance at being happy, everything he always wanted.”
“Do you really think he can be happy, Bobby? Do you honestly believe that after everything – everything we’ve been through he could settle into the life of a suburban husband and father?”
“No, but he’s a damned sight closer to it than we’ll ever be.”
“Right and I guess that’s good enough.” Sam tilted his head back and took another swig of beer.
“Jesus Sam, you were the one who sent him back to Lisa. He’s living his life according to what was your dying wish. Can’t you just let him have that?”
“Yeah, I can, but damnit, it hurts, Bobby. I miss him. I came back out of that pit and there’s like, like there’s a piece of me that’s missing. Whenever I’m out on a hunt, I feel it the most, and it doesn’t ever go away. It doesn’t ever get better. I can’t feel whole. If he were dead like before, I might be able to soldier on, but knowing he’s out there, that he’s alive and that he misses me and grieves for me…I can’t stand it.”
Bobby put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed. “Yeah, I know. It wasn’t just you I lost last year. I lost Dean too, but knowing what he’d have to give up to come back into our lives, Sam, it’s too much to ask of anyone. You two boys have been through hell and back – literally, and I just don’t see the sense in heaping more of that crap on either of your shoulders.”
Sam looked skyward, his dark eyes shimmering somewhat. “I just wish I knew why I was sent back. What? To cause more pain? To feel more pain? Hell wasn’t enough?”
“Yeah, everyone wishes they knew what the hell was going on, but we don’t. The best I can offer is cold beer and a warm couch whenever you need it.” Bobby patted Sam’s back and turned toward the door.
“Hey, Bobby?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
A seldom seen smile formed on Bobby’s face. “Anytime, kid. Don’t stay up all night moping. You’ve got work to do in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
Later that night, before he finally passed out from sheer exhaustion, Sam took out his cell phone and deleted Dean’s number.
He was better off thinking Sam was dead.
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: #219 - Rune Stone
Warnings: Major spoilers for end of season five and minor ones for 6x01: "Exile on Main Street." Angsty Sam.
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam wants to call Dean even though he knows Dean's better off thinking Sam is dead.
Word Count: 823
Notes: Written in a couple of hours while suffering from a pretty bad cold and a sore throat. Also, I don't write fanfic...well, yeah, I suck at this in general. :p
Sam sat on the steps of Bobby’s back porch, a beer in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He stared at the small LCD screen, its light giving his face a sickly sort of pallor. For the hundredth time that night his thumb hovered over one name on his contact list and he wondered what the voice on the other end of the line would say if he just reached out and said hello.
After several heartbeats, Sam lowered his hand and took a long drink from his beer bottle. The bitter tasting liquid did little to decrease the size of the lump in his throat. He glanced down at his phone again and felt that familiar tug of temptation.
Just call him.
No. He couldn’t do it, not after everything. Not when he finally had the one thing he’d always wanted. For once his brother had listened to and honored his request. The least Sam could do was leave him in peace.
But still the faceless icon taunted him from the screen, daring him to push the call button.
“Don’t do it.” The storm door banged shut behind Bobby as he stepped out onto the porch.
Sam managed not to drop his cell phone, though it was a close call. He slipped it into a convenient pocket and turned around to look back at the older man. “Do what?”
“Call your brother, you idgit.” He handed Sam another cold beer fresh from the refrigerator. “Thought you could use a refill.”
Sam accepted the beer with a nod of thanks. “How’d you know?”
“You’ve been out here for nearly forty minutes. Not even you can nurse a beer that long.”
Sam chuckled and shook his head. “I meant how did you know who I was going to call.”
“Oh, I cast some bones, consulted a rune stone.”
“Really?”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “No, not really. You’d think by now you boys...you’d realize I know you like the back of my hand.”
The slip of the tongue made Sam wince. They weren’t “the boys” any longer. It was just Sam – well, Sam, Samuel, and a couple of distant cousins from the Campbell side of the family. Bobby helped too on occasion, just like in the good old days before Lilith, archangels, and the Apocalypse.
“I wasn’t going to call him, Bobby. I was…reminiscing.”
Bobby made a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat. “Sure, and just what were you reminiscing about? The gay old days of sunshine and unicorn farts? Dean got out, Sam. He’s got a family, a chance at being happy, everything he always wanted.”
“Do you really think he can be happy, Bobby? Do you honestly believe that after everything – everything we’ve been through he could settle into the life of a suburban husband and father?”
“No, but he’s a damned sight closer to it than we’ll ever be.”
“Right and I guess that’s good enough.” Sam tilted his head back and took another swig of beer.
“Jesus Sam, you were the one who sent him back to Lisa. He’s living his life according to what was your dying wish. Can’t you just let him have that?”
“Yeah, I can, but damnit, it hurts, Bobby. I miss him. I came back out of that pit and there’s like, like there’s a piece of me that’s missing. Whenever I’m out on a hunt, I feel it the most, and it doesn’t ever go away. It doesn’t ever get better. I can’t feel whole. If he were dead like before, I might be able to soldier on, but knowing he’s out there, that he’s alive and that he misses me and grieves for me…I can’t stand it.”
Bobby put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed. “Yeah, I know. It wasn’t just you I lost last year. I lost Dean too, but knowing what he’d have to give up to come back into our lives, Sam, it’s too much to ask of anyone. You two boys have been through hell and back – literally, and I just don’t see the sense in heaping more of that crap on either of your shoulders.”
Sam looked skyward, his dark eyes shimmering somewhat. “I just wish I knew why I was sent back. What? To cause more pain? To feel more pain? Hell wasn’t enough?”
“Yeah, everyone wishes they knew what the hell was going on, but we don’t. The best I can offer is cold beer and a warm couch whenever you need it.” Bobby patted Sam’s back and turned toward the door.
“Hey, Bobby?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
A seldom seen smile formed on Bobby’s face. “Anytime, kid. Don’t stay up all night moping. You’ve got work to do in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
Later that night, before he finally passed out from sheer exhaustion, Sam took out his cell phone and deleted Dean’s number.
He was better off thinking Sam was dead.
