Short Story Saturday: Home has four wheels

So this week it’s a piece of  Supernatural fanfiction again. I wasn’t going to post the whole thing because it’s kind of long, but why not.  I hope you enjoy it. I’ll stick a link to my AO3 profile at the bottom if you are interested in reading more of my fan fiction. I’m working on a brand new piece for next week. We’ll see how it goes.


The first night they spent in the Impala John felt like the absolute worst father in the world. As he pulled into the park and ride on their way from Kansas to West Virginia on the tail of something that seemed a little bit off, something like the thing that took Mary. He looked into the back seat at his two boys sound asleep not knowing anything was wrong. Sam had been asleep for hours in his car seat, there was a decent chance he was going to wake up soon, hungry, wet or both and demand attention. Dean, however, looked so uncomfortable in his booster seat it was almost funny. His cheek pressed tightly against the window, his little firefighter’s helmet askew on his head. John shut the car off in the darkest part of the park and ride. Dark car in the shadows was hard to see. It didn’t feel safe, but it felt safe enough with all the doors locked. He’d get a motel room when they got to West Virginia. Give Dean an actual bed with blankets and pillows. But for tonight this was the best he could do, and man did he feel so awful for doing it.
As it became more frequent, Dean started to ask questions. Sam didn’t seem to mind, but he was ten months old, and nothing really seemed to bother him as long as he had Dean within grabbing range and his dirty stuffed cow close in his hand.

“Daddy,” Dean whined as John unbuckled Dean from his booster seat so the little boy could lay down on the seat, at least it was a little more comfortable. “Why don’t we have a house anymore? I miss the apartment at the top of the stairs. Why can’t we go back there? I know we can’t go back to the big house because the fire ate it, but how come we have no house?”

“Because Daddy has work to do,” John explained. “You’ll understand when you’re a little bit bigger.”

“How much bigger?” Dean yawned.

“Not much bigger,” John smiled.

He watched Dean place a pillow stolen from one of the motels they’d stayed at against Sam’s car seat and arrange himself, then placed a blanket over the boy. After wishing his boys a good night, he closed the door and climbed into the front.

“Daddy,” Dean said softly. “If I get much bigger, I’m not gotta fit back here no more.”

“We’ll figure it out when we get there kiddo,” John said, balling up a sweatshirt and placing it against the passenger’s side door. “Everything will work out. I promise.”

“Are we looking for Momma?” Dean asked sleepily.

He asked the same question every night, and every night John had the same answer: “Yeah, Buddy, we’re still looking for what took Momma.”

“I hope you find it soon,” Dean mumbled. “I miss my bed.”

“Good night, Dean,” John replied.

He didn’t know how much more of Dean saying things like that he could take. He was driven in two very different directions. On the one hand, he had boys to raise, make sure they grow up protected and happy. On the other hand, he had the image of the love of his life, on fire, cut open, dead and pinned to the ceiling by an unknown force, a demon, that psychic had said. If he kept on the path he was on, if he kept searching for what put Mary up there, he was protecting his boys. It was a doubled edged sword he was playing with. It had no right answer. He stared at the ceiling until he heard Dean’s breath start to even out, then closed his own eyes to grab a couple hours before Sammy needed attention.

As the boys got bigger, it got a little easier. Dean had figured out exactly what John was doing on accident right before his seventh birthday while John and Bobby talked strategy at Bobby’s kitchen table. He’d taken it pretty well considering, thought of John as a kind of superhero. John chalked it up to the little boy already knowing that there were bad things out there. There had to be if something took away his mom.

When they left Bobby’s after Dean finished first grade, heading off to hunt a ghoul in Oklahoma, the routine of sleeping in the car started up again. Dean jumped right back into it, almost like he was more used to sleeping in the car than a real bed. If that didn’t break John’s heart, there were few things that ever would.

Sam was much more reluctant. He liked having his space. He liked sharing a bed with his big brother. He liked being able to sleep with his face pressed right up against Dean’s side, but he also liked being able to take up a good two-thirds of a full sized bed with his tiny frame. Squishing the two of them into the backseat was touchy.

Outside of Nebraska, John found a nice safe looking parking lot to crash for the night and told Dean to get Sammy ready for bed. John laid down across the front, head on a sweatshirt and was out in a matter of seconds. Dean helped Sammy into his pajamas and got a bottle of water out of a cooler in the foot well under Sam’s booster seat and helped his brother with his toothbrush before changing himself and brushing his teeth.

“How come, we can’t go to a place with the bed?” Sam started. He held his toothbrush out to Dean to put away while clutching his dirty stuffed cow, Moocha, close to his chest.

“Because Dad stopped here,” Dean explained. “So we have to sleep in the car.”

“I don’t want to,” Sam pouted.

“Then you can sleep outside,” Dean nodded. “More room for me.”

“I don’t want to,” Sam said shaking his head. “I’ll be boy napped. Moocha get cow-napped!”

“You’re too annoying to get kidnapped, Sammy,” Dean said seriously. “They’ll return you before too long.”

“Not funny, De,” Sam said.

Dean shrugged and laid down with his head by the driver’s side door. He balled up one of John’s shirts as a pillow and pulled at Sam who was standing in the foot well down to lay against him.

“You tell me a story?” Sam whispered.

“Too dark,” Dean said. “Just go to sleep. I’ll read you a story when we get to a motel.”

“Promise?” Sam asked, pressing a bony elbow into Dean’s ribcage as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“Yes, Sammy, I promise,” Dean replied.

“You’re the best big brother in the world,” Sam yawned.

“I know,” Dean smiled, wrapping an arm around Sam’s back to make sure that he didn’t fall off the seat in the middle of the night.

Dean lay there listening to Sammy breathe and his dad snore for a while until he started to drift himself. Just as he was reaching a place where sleep was within reach, Sam started to shiver.

“Dean,” a tiny voice said. “I’m very cold.”

Dean took the shirt from against the door and draped it over the two of them.

“But now you gots no pillow,” Sam yawned.

“It’ll be okay Sammy,” Dean assured. “It’ll be okay for now. Everything will be better someday. I’m going to make everything better for you.”

“Promise,” Sam said sleepily, his body getting heavy again against Dean’s side.

“Even if it kills me, Sammy,” Dean promised. “Everything’s gonna be better for you.”


Dean stole a couple pillows and one of the blankets from the next motel they were stuck in a while his Dad took down a vampire nest. It was much easier to get Sammy to sleep when he was warm. It seemed weird since the kid was a walking radiator, but Sam need blankets to sleep, and Dad wasn’t stopping at Kmart because Sammy was whining about being cold. So Dean did the only thing he knew how. There was only so much he could work with being seven and barely tall enough to reach the stove to make decent spaghetti-O’s let alone walk around a store by himself.

It was a little bit more comfortable in the car with those things, but Dad wasn’t too happy about it.

“Where did you get that, Dean?” John sighed when Dean pulled the blanket out his duffle in a parking lot near an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere Iowa.

“I got them from the motel,” Dean confessed. “Sam’s always cold, and it’s hard to sleep when you don’t have a pillow. And there’s only so many clean shirts that I can use as a pillow, and my neck hurts in the morning.”

“Don’t steal anything ever again,” John said sternly, doing his best not to raise his voice. “You know what happens when you steal things, Dean? You go to jail. Do you want to go to jail?”

“No, sir,” Dean replied shaking his head, wide-eyed. “But what if Sammy needs something?”

“Then tell me, and I’ll get it,” John answered.

“What if you don’t get it?”

“I’ll get it,” John said.

“I told you Sam wanted a blanket to sleep and you didn’t do nothing about it,” Dean said. “And you told me that Sam is my job and I’m supposed to take care of him.”

“Don’t talk back to me,” John said seriously, having no counter argument for his seven-year-old son. “Get ready for bed.”

Dean tucked Sammy in the best way he could, pulling out a flashlight to read a couple King Arthur tales in the kid’s magazine her nicked from the last doctor’s office they were in. Sam fell asleep against his shoulder with a very soft snore before Dean shut off his light and places the side of his face against Sam’s hair and allowed himself to fall asleep.

After Dean broke his arm during his misstep on a werewolf hunt when he was eleven, living in the car got very difficult. The poor kid’s arm was trapped with his elbow bent for weeks. When he had room to move around in his sleep, he wasn’t comfortable, let alone when he was stuck with his needy seven-year-old brother who couldn’t decide if he wanted to be next to Dean or have his own half of the back seat to himself.

“You’re going to sleep over there when you sit,” Dean decided for him. “I’m going to sleep over here on my side. I can’t sleep when you’re in the way. And when I hit you in the face with my cast you cry. So just give me space.”

“I don’t want to give you space,” Sam said sticking out his tongue.

“Dad!” Dean whined. “Make Sam stay away from me.”

“Boys!” John’s voice echoed and seemed just that much scarier when it was confined to the car his eyes never leaving the road. They had to be back in Delaware by tomorrow afternoon if Dean was going to make it back to school for Monday. “If you don’t knock it off, I’m dropping the two of you off at the next fire station I see.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Sam said. “That only works for babies.”

“Then he’ll have no problem getting rid of you,” Dean spat.

“The next person to talk gets left of the side of the road,” John said seriously. “Both of you go to sleep so I can get us where we gotta be.”

The boys started to settle for a moment, not wanting to get in trouble. But the problem with keeping two young boys in the backseat of a car for long periods of time was that the only thing they had to entertain themselves was each other. After a few minutes of settling, Sam started to fidget and kicked Dean’s feet away from him.

“Stop it, Sam,” Dean hissed through his teeth.

Sammy started to laugh. “Looks like you’re getting left on the side of the road.”

Suddenly the car slammed to a stop, gravel kicking up on both sides as John maneuvered it on to the shoulder. Dean looked over at Sam with his eyes wide. Neither little boy had ever imagined that John would make good on his threats.

“Samuel, get your ass up here now,” John said, low and angry.

Sam popped the door and made it to the front seat as fast as he could.

“I got a lot of driving to do,” John said. “If the two of you can’t behave for a few hours, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“You can leave us a Bobby’s,” Dean said softly.

“I have a very important job,” John continued like he didn’t hear Dean. “I don’t think either of you understands how important that job is. I can’t do it with the two of you acting like children all the time.”

“We are children,” Sam said seriously.

“You know what I mean,” John growled. “Now the two of you are going to go to sleep because that’s what I told you to do to. And hopefully when you wake up, we’ll be back at the duplex, and you can have your space for a little bit. Because you both are grounded and spending time in the separate room with nothing but homework for the next week. If you don’t knock it off, you’re both going to be in even bigger trouble. Do you understand?”

An echo of “yes, sir” came from both boys very quickly.

Sam curled up in the passenger’s seat, and Dean spread out in the back, his broken are up against the back of the seat in the most comfortable way he could.

John drove, eyes straight ahead. He’d never regret his choice to live his life this way. He was doing his best. Could he have stayed in the little one bedroom apartment in Lawrence and just let things be? Of course, he could have, but he took a trip to see that psychic and that changed everything. This was what was best for his boys. And if he ended this, if he found that thing that put Mary on that ceiling, his boys would never have to live like this. His boys would go to school, have lives, families. He was doing this for the greater good. He was raising his boys the only way he thought was right. He was protecting them. Making sure that everything would be okay.

The bigger the boys got, the more uncomfortable the car became. Dean took to riding shotgun most of the time by the time he was fourteen (he’d been driving the car on and off since he was twelve, so riding shot gun most of the time was a small step), but come night it was still John in the front, and the two boys jammed in the back seat. The decided that the best way to both fits was to lay so that each of their heads was against a door, old pillows or sweatshirts keeping the armrest from digging into their necks. Sam had to sleep with his head against the passenger’s door: he shoved that army man in the ash tray, he could have it stab in the head at night. The biggest problem was that the boys were much too big to fit on half a seat. Sam was still small for a ten-year-old, hadn’t started his never ending growth spirts yet, but Dean was well over five foot at fourteen and cramming into such a small space was awful, especially when his little brother complained when Dean went even a millimeter over the half way mark of the seat.

It was worse than when Sam was little because he uses to invade all of Dean’s space and not care. Even when Dean was Sam’s age, Sam would be all up in his business and Dean had to pretend he didn’t care because he loved his brother. Now he had to deal with Sam being a huge brat one hundred percent of the time and even worse in the car.

“When are we stopping?” Sam whined around one in the morning in the middle of nowhere somewhere in the Midwest.

“See any place to stop?” John replied seriously. “You want to sleep, you got a big bench seat right there. Lay down. You’ve done it a million times.”

“I don’t want to,” Sam continued to whine.

“I’m not listening to you be a bitch for hours,” Dean sighed. “Just lay down and go to sleep.”

“Stop being such a jerk and stop calling me the b-word,” Sam cried. “I don’t want to sleep in the car like a homeless person. Kids at school are going to find out, and it’s going to be awful. I get made fun of enough already.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean said. “It’s not that bad. Stop caring about what other people think and maybe you’ll be able to relax.”

“How can you not care what people think?” Sam asked.

“Because I don’t,” Dean smirked. He pulled his legs up on the seat and folded up a sweatshirt to press against the cold window.

“Keep your feet on your side this time,” Sam grumbled. He slammed his book shut and clicked off his flashlight, finally giving up that there would be a magical motel that popped up in the middle of the soybean fields.

“I’ll my best, Sammy,” Dean promised.

“Just do it. I don’t want to be kicked,” Sam said.

“You’ve spent most of your miserable life shafting me in the ribs with your boney elbows and sticking your ice feet against my thighs,” Dean replied. “You can deal with being kicked because I’m taller than you.”

Sam rolled his eyes and curled up into the smallest ball he could under a blanket that was probably stolen from a motel a million years before.

Dean slept with his face toward the seat and his knees pressed up against the seat back while Sam slept the other way. Dean figured it was easiest, less chance of kicking Sam and more chance of kicking the front seat if he got too cramped up. Inevitably, however, since he was a good foot and a half taller than his brother Dean’s leg crossed into Sam’s territory and if that’d didn’t make John want to leave the two of them to hitchhike to Bobby’s from where ever they were, nothing ever would. The high pitched squeal from Sam was animal, obnoxious and one hundred percent unnecessary.


“I didn’t even freaking’ touch you!” Dean yelled back. “Stop being a freakin’ drama queen for two freakin’ seconds.”

“Watch your Goddamn mouth,” John yelled pulling the car to the shoulder with lightning reflexes, with as loud as Sam screamed it was a miracle that John didn’t steer the car into oncoming traffic. “Whatever the two of you are doing, knock it off. We’ve got a long way to drive ahead of us, and I’m sick of the two of you fighting constantly.”

“Then act like a parent and give an actual place to sleep,” Sam sighed.

This time Dean kicked him for real, hard. Sam started to complain again, but he looked over a Dean to see his very serious “knock it off” face.

“If you don’t like the way I do things,” John said in that scary warning tone that always shook both boys down to their bones. “You’re welcome to get out of this car and be on your own for the rest of your life.”

“Dad, he’s ten,” Dean said.

“Well,” John said turning around, extending one of his arms across the back of the seat. “He likes to talk like he’s grown. If he wants to act grown he can start doing it for real.”
Sam looked to his brother to defend him.

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled. “I won’t cross into his half of the back seat again. It would be way easier if we stopped at motels more often. Or if you left us back at the base sometimes. I’m big enough to take care of Sam for a couple days, maybe a week by myself. It’ll stop the fighting. We’re just way too big for this.”

John let his face relax. Dean had a point, as much as he hated to admit it. This life had given John a bit of a warped sense of how to protect his boys. They’d be fine by themselves. Dean had been taking care of Sammy by himself for close to ten years in short bursts. John could figure out how to keep them safe. Right now it looked like the only thing they needed to be kept safe from was each other.

“I’m willing to consider it,” John said, blood pressure falling. “But Sam has to understand that he’s not in charge. Anywhere. He’s just a kid. I got a job to do. A very important job.”

“We know,” Sam sighed. “The fate of the world doesn’t seem to care that you have kids to take care of. And Wendigoes don’t take breaks because we’re in school.”

“Sam,” Dean said softly before their dad had a chance to start yelling.

The younger boys rolled his eyes as hard as he could.

“This is the last time I’m warning you,” John said. “It’s close to three in the morning. You both need to go to sleep. When you wake up, we should be in Arizona. I got a contact that might be able to hook us up with a rental for a couple months. Might even have cable.”

Sam opened his mouth, but Dean kicked him again before he could think of saying something rude. This kid was never going to stop being a huge pain in everyone’s ass.

“Just go to sleep,” John continued. “Go to sleep, and I’ll do what I can make it better. You boys are most important. You’ve always been the most important.”

“Yeah,” Dean said sarcasm thick in his voice as he tried to find a comfortable spot again.


Before turning back onto the road, John took a long look in the rear view mirror. He wondered what happened. It felt like a couple days ago he was looking back there to see two car seats and a little boy with firefighter’s helmet. Now he had a teenager and a middle schooler that might as well be one with the attitude on him. His boys lay twisted together like a pretzel, both giving up precious space to the other one. He would second guess his choices all the time looking into those faces, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He was saving people. He was making sure that no one else had to what they were doing.


At seventeen in South Carolina, Dean Winchester was arrested for vandalism in a cemetery, but John and Dean had a Rawhead to hunt, which made Dean miss a court date, and now Dean had a warrant for jumping bail. This left little time for finding a new place, at least not in this state, so John took the boys on the road, again.
He’d kept good on his promise, let Dean take care of Sam at some makeshift homestead for a little bit while John took on one man hunts. It made Sam complain less, which was a miracle within itself. However, this was a do or die situation, and those boys were going to have to share a backseat for a night.

“Can’t Dean just sleep up front?” Sam begged. “Or we can get a hotel.”

“Well,” John explained. “We’re only an hour outta town, and you’re brother can’t read a calendar, so I don’t got a lot of choices since five-oh is out looking for him.”

“Don’t pin this all on me,” Dean sighed.

“Then I’ll sleep in the front while you drive,” Sam suggested. “Not enough room for two people.”

“Nope,” John said pulling off the highway at a rest stop and driving the car to the back. “I need my six to keep the car on the road. We’re all crashing in the car.”

“Can I go sleep in the truck stop bathroom,” Sam asked.

“Do you have a death wish?” John asked. He climbed out of the car to grab the duffle bags and bottled water out of the trunk. When he leaned back in, he said: “You’ll be fine for a night.”

“This is not okay,” Sam mumbled. “How are we going to do this?”

“Whatever it is you decide, keep it down,” John called from the front seat as he laid down and within a matter of minutes started snoring.

“It’s annoying how quickly he can just fall asleep,” Sam said rolling his eyes.

“Something about being in Nam I think,” Dean replied. “He can sleep in puddles and all sorts of shit.”

“I was thinking we could try sleeping back to back,” Sam said, getting to the task at hand.

“We should probably cuddle,” Dean said seriously. “This is basically half a twin bed. The only way we’re going to fit is if you play little spoon.”

“No,” Sam answered. He shoved Dean aside and laid down with his face toward the seat.

“This is dumb,” Dean mumbled, and he did his best to fit on what was left of the seat.

As he expected there wasn’t enough room this way. Sam was pressed so close to the seat that he almost could breathe and Dean was holding himself up on the seat with an arm extended down into the foot well. Very quickly Dean’s arm started to cramp and fall asleep.

“Kid,” Dean sighed. “This isn’t going to work. I know you want it to, but I’m telling ya, it’s not gonna work.”

“I’m not cuddling with you, Dean,” Sam huffed.

“Then you can sleep with my feet if your face,” Dean said. “Because little spoon or face full of feet are your choices.”

“You’d get a face full of my feet too,” Sam said.

“No,” Dean smirked. “You’re still too short, but I know you don’t want socks in my face. It’s one night Sammy. You’ll live. I won’t tell your friends.”

Sam grunted an “It’s Sam” under his breath as he sat up. This was truly ridiculous. “Never get arrested again. I need a bed.”

“I’ll do my best, kiddo,” Dean promised. “This ain’t all my fault, though. Hunt took longer than Dad thought it would. I didn’t skip bail on purpose.”

“Whatever, just lay down I’m tired.”

Dean switched places and laid down with his back against the seat. He pulled Sam down next to him, his little brother’s back to his chest.

“Just like old times,” Dean joked. “Only way more awkward.”

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled. “Only I’m not quite as bony, and I have socks on so my feet aren’t cold.”

“You could still benefit from a little muscle,” Dean said. “But you’ll get there. Still a kid. You’d look weird as a super buff thirteen-year-old.”

“Boys,” a sleepy voice came from the front seat. “Go to sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” the boys echoed.

They both let the darkness of the night encompass them and their tiredness from the day wash over, and they fell into a rhythmic sleep.



After John bought his truck, he almost always stopped at a place with a bed to sleep. If he didn’t, Dean would because he hated to listen to Sam complain and using a fake credit card to keep the kid from whining for twelve hours was money well spent.

When Sam went off to school, and Dean and John went their separate ways, Dean became a frequenter of YMCA showers and spent most of his nights alone in his car. Unless he was lucky enough to find a lady. Then he had a warm bed to sleep in. It didn’t really seem worth it to get a room if it was just him. When John was around, they two got a motel room, usually at a table and did all things that functioning humans did.

Dean did enjoy working alone, he just hated being alone. He found himself listening to top forty stations because he missed his brother. Sleeping alone in the car was awkward and weird. It was too quiet. There was no snoring from his father or Sam’s mindless talking. Just the sounds of the road. It was horrible, but he did it. He managed for almost three years until he pulled Sam from that burning apartment.

He could tell Sam hated being back, hated the road, the kid always had. Dean liked having his passenger’s seat full, no matter how grumpy that passenger was.
Somewhere between Wisconsin and Pennsylvania the boys needed to sleep.

“I’m dying Sammy, I gotta pull off,” Dean said. Sam had his face placed against the window. He sat up with a jerk as Dean pulled off the road.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“I know you hate it,” Dean said seriously. “I know you hate this whole thing, but I’m exhausted, and who the hell knows where there’s a motel, so I’m crashing. You should too.” Dean reached down and pulled off his shoes before turning in the seat and sticking is toes under Sam’s legs.

“We’re not cuddling are we?” Sam sighed.

“You got the whole back seat, dude,” Dean smirked. “Plenty of space.”

“Not enough for two grown men,” Sam complained as he popped the door and climbed into the back.

“It’s better than it used to be,” Dean said once Sam got situated. “I know you hate it. I don’t need to hear about it. We’re both too damn exhausted to keep driving. We’ll get a hotel after we talk to dad’s contact in Pennsylvania. It’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t going to complain, Dean,” Sam yawned. “I’m in this. I gotta be now.”

The boys settled, and it felt like they were going to enter sleep when Sam’s voice, soft as it used to be when he was little came from the back.

“Dean, can you tell me about her? What you remember? What happened?”

“To Mom?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “All I got is what Dad said, which is nothing. I just, what are up against?”

“I never saw her,” Dean said. “I didn’t… I wasn’t in the room when the fire… you know. But the way Dad says it, it was just what happened to your girl. Up on the ceiling, cut open. I just got outta there as fast I could. Did what dad told me to.”

“What was she like?” Sam asked. “If we’re going to hunt this thing, I want to know everything it took from me.”

“Sammy,” Dean sighed. “I was four years old. I remember a mom. She stayed a home with us. She taught me to read, tie my shoes. We used to color together. I remember making tapes with her from her records. I can’t tell ya much more.”

“Just tell me something,” Sam begged.

Tell me a story, Dean thought. All of a sudden Sam was two again. Sharp elbows digging into him in the dark begging for him to tell a story while Dad slept in the front.

“Not too long before you were born,” Dean started. “I want to say it was Thanksgiving, but I was three, so I don’t really remember all the details. I remember her cooking, and then Dad’s parents were over, and I had to dress nice. But I remember her, in this light green dress, dancing to the radio. She let me help her, standing on a step stool so I could reach the stove. I got to stir the vegetables. I just remember being really, really happy.”

“We were normal,” Sam said.

“For a little bit, yeah,” Dean said. “I miss her, Sam, I do. I’ve fought my whole life fix what happened to us. And I think we are. We’re doing something good. I said it in Colorado, and I’ll say it million times, it’s the family business, saving people. We’re doing this for her. Maybe you’re doing for Jess. You had normal with her, I had normal with Mom. Maybe that’s what this thing wanted.”

“Maybe,” Sam said softly. “We have to find it Dad, get this thing outta here, kill it, whatever.”

“We will Sammy,” Dean promised. “We gotta be close if it’s striking back at us. We’ll find a pattern. You’re good at that. We’ll fix it.”

“It hurts, Dean,” Sam whispered.

“I know bud,” Dean nodded. “I wish I could fix it. I’d do anything to fix it. You know that. But if we keep doing what we’re doing, we’ll heal.”

“I hope so,” Sam replied. “Thanks, Jerk.”

“Goodnight, Bitch.”

Dean listened until Sam’s breath evened out, knowing he only had a few hours before the kid woke up screaming. Maybe his little brother would sleep through the night tonight. Dean hoped that he would, Sam deserved better than what he was given. Dean had worked his whole life to make sure Sam got better, and he was still in the back seat of his Dad’s car.

Someday this wouldn’t be their life. Dean would make it right for his brother if it was the last thing he ever did.


Archive of Our Own

Until next time Internet,


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