I am become a name - SN fic - PG13
Oct. 18th, 2007 05:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tigriswolfTitle: I am become a name
Fandom: "Supernatural"
Disclaimer: only the characters I thought up belong to me. Title from Tennyson.
Disclaimer: only the characters I thought up belong to me. Title from Tennyson.
Warnings: slash; incest; AU
Pairings: Dean/Sam, Dean/OMC
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 1050
Point of view: third
Notes: written forspn_remix, based off “Breathing Out” by obsessedmuch
Point of view: third
Notes: written for
spn_remix, based off “Breathing Out” by obsessedmuch Dean walks out with no thought of where he’s going—he just needs to get away, far away, before all the secrets come spilling out, staining the air between them. Sam won’t—can’t—understand, Dean knows that, and anyway, Dean can’t explain. Not to anyone’s satisfaction, even his own.
Definitely not his own.
And once he’s started running, it’s easier to just never stop.
He lets Sam know he’s alive by sending postcards. He never answers Sam’s calls. He doesn’t talk to Bobby or Missouri or Ellen—too bad for Sammy that Pastor Jim’s dead, because Dean would’ve talked to him. Wouldn’t have ignored him, turned away from the phone whenever he called.
Dean wants to hear Sam’s voice, but he never answers the phone. He can’t. If Sammy asks him to go back, he will, and he can’t do that. Sam’s safer without him.
He heads north first, all the way to Canada. Next, he goes east, to skinny-dip in the Atlantic. He spends three months in Florida, driving along the coast.
Annalisa Fernandez takes him in free of charge; he putters around her house, repairing breakdowns of her home. Annalisa is just this side of ninety, having outlived all of her great-grandkids. She knows all of Dean’s tricks before he tries them and doesn’t let him get away with anything.
The fifth month after leaving Sam, Annalisa sits Dean down on the couch beside her and says, “You should call whoever you left behind, boy. You’re dyin’ here.”
Dean chuckles sadly. “I can’t, Ms. Anna. He’s better off without me.”
She sighs, leaning forward to stare into his eyes. “Dean.” He meets her in the middle, bringing his arms up to hold her; she’s so frail in his grip it’s almost frightening. “You’re wrong, but nothin’ I say’ll change your stubborn mind.”
Dean leaves Annalisa on a warm spring day. He’s been gone from Sam for half a year and the gaping wound in his soul keeps growing.
Dean tip-toes into Mexico for a week and tries to lose himself in bodies, tries to forget Sammy. But everyone looks like Sam and Dean can’t escape.
He flees Mexico without a glance back and heads for Washington State, bypassing California all together.
And he wanders. He turns around in a small store one day, somewhere in Idaho, and realizes he hasn’t seen Sam in a year. Hasn’t heard Sam in a year. The need to track down his brother, make sure he’s alright, is nearly overwhelming, but he fights it back.
It’s better this way. Sam is safer without him. Sam can be normal without him.
He meets Micah in a bar down in New Orleans, where he spends six months getting wasted. He couldn’t drown Sam’s memory in bodies, but maybe he can in booze. Micah is no more than five eight, dyed blue hair and dark brown eyes—looks nothing like Sammy. Sounds nothing like Sammy. And he begs Dean to fuck him completely differently.
Dean still imagines Sammy when he comes.
When Dean leaves the Big Easy, Micah goes with him. It’s not the same as Sam—not even close—but it’s nice to have someone else to talk to. And talk they do.
Micah tells Dean everything he knows about dinosaurs: every scrap of information ever published or theorized about. He goes on about prehistoric oceans for hours. Dean listens because it’s a nice distraction. Because it doesn’t remind him of Sammy… except that it does.
Everything reminds him of Sammy.
Dean still hunts. Micah follows him one time to the graveyard and freaks when the ghost shows up. When he’s done hyperventilating, he demands Dean tell him everything.
So Dean does. It’s more than he’s said in one go in a year and half, but Micah doesn’t interrupt, just listens with a look on his face like Dean hasn’t seen since Sammy. When he’s done, Micah nods.
It’s not the same, but it’s familiar, having a partner again. For almost two years, Dean hunts with Micah. He dodges police and FBI and any contacts of Sam. Every time he turns around, a part of him expects to see Sam. But Sam’s never there, and he’s relieved.
He keeps up with Sam, though. Sam’s making a life for himself, going back to school. He seems happy.
Dean’s glad. Really he is.
And then Micah dies.
Dean wakes up in a hospital bed, Annalisa Fernandez in the seat next to him.
“Oh, you poor boy,” she says tearfully, a raggedy tissue clenched in her fist.
“What day?” he rasps, trying to ignore the ache all over.
“The eighteenth,” she answers, dabbing at her eyes.
Dean knows.
Annalisa takes him home. She bustles around the kitchen, baking cookies and pies—which, even for her, he can’t force down—and fixing elaborate dinners he’d expect from a woman a third her age.
He never asks why the hospital called her. He doesn’t care.
And another year passes. Soon it’s been half a decade since Dean walked away, since he didn’t answer his phone or go back.
Annalisa doesn’t pressure him, and he figures it’s like what having a grandma would’ve been. She’s got a wicked sense of humor and a filthy mouth, and if she were even forty years younger, he might’ve considered trying something with her.
As it is, though, she provides the stability he needs to heal. He really did love Micah, and the kid went and got himself dead—which seems to happen a lot to people Dean loves.
As the half-year mark draws close, though, Annalisa starts dropping hints. He gets it—she thinks it’s time he return to wherever he came from, go back to whoever he left behind. But he can’t. He can’t just drop back into Sam’s life after five years, not like last time. Sam’s happy again, a real person, with a life and dreams and a future.
He wakes early in January with dread forming a pit in his stomach. He’d always thought it was Sam with the shining, but now he’s not so sure—that dream was more than a dream. Maybe not a vision, but a possibility.
Sam, bleedingcryingbeggingdying—dead.
Six years, and he hasn’t dialed the number once.
But, natural as breathing, he sends a text.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-19 01:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-19 02:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-20 06:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-20 11:00 pm (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 02:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 02:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 02:16 am (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 02:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 07:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 11:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 12:10 pm (UTC)Gosh, hon. I want to see their reunion. :(
Thanks for sharing.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 12:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 12:56 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 12:56 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 12:57 pm (UTC)Now, where's that video your icon is about?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 08:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-23 10:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 12:59 am (UTC)Link is below, let me know what you think if you check it out. :)The vid is embedded at the bottom of the story.
Thanks
Z
xx
http://community.livejournal.com/no_candle_mom/20353.html#cutid1
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 06:13 am (UTC)~supernaturalgrl
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 06:15 am (UTC)SNIFS, PULLS OUT SAMMY'S PUPPYDOG EYES....*
~supernaturalgrl
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 12:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 01:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 01:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 01:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-31 09:08 pm (UTC)I'm sorry I didnt' read this before. Haven't been really in that phase. :)
And oh, how hurting this is. Getting away, trying to forget, fighting himself as much as everything else... Dean.
It's a wonder it took six years for anything to threaten Sam's life. For whenever the boys are separated, something monumental and terrible happens. Though usually it's Dean.
Oh, Dean.
This is an angsty fic, no doubt about it, but still it contains some sort of thread of hope, too. Even if... oh, Dean...
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-31 09:29 pm (UTC)Nice, icon, by the by.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-31 09:32 pm (UTC)That screencap from Everybody Loves A Clown was just made to feature in an icon appropriate for
That icon I've seen you using is also one of the best to come out of 3x03. *adores*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-01 02:52 am (UTC)I don't remember that scene in ELaC. When was it?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-01 07:46 am (UTC)