SN drabbles - PG, gen

[tigriswolf]

Title: the sound of angels dancing

Fandom: “Supernatural”

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: spoilers for 4.16--takes place right after

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 300

Point of view: third

 

 

 

 

“Castiel,” Dean says hoarsely. He winces at the sound of his voice. “Alistair?”

 

Bowing his head, Castiel answers, “Your brother killed him.”

 

Dean breathes, aching everywhere he feels through the medication-fog. “The knife doesn’t work on him,” he mumbles, tongue tripping on the words. He’s exhausted, fighting sleep.

 

“No,” Castiel says, almost sounding sad.

 

“How?” Dean blinks, trying to turn his head. Castiel is just out of his sight.

 

“Your brother used his abilities, Dean.” Castiel reaches out and gently touches his arm. “Rest.”

 

Dean has questions and doesn’t want to sleep, but the fog claims him anyway.

 

---

 

He next wakes to a nurse and once ascertaining no threat, he lets himself sleep again.

 

---

 

The third time is again Castiel and Dean asks his questions. He does not like the answers.

 

---

 

“Dean,” Sam calls. “Dean.”

 

“Sammy,” Dean mutters, slitting his eyes. “Shut up.”

 

Sam looks relieved when Dean’s eyes focus. “I was gettin’ worried, Dean,” Sam says.

 

Dean assesses his injuries. “Sam,” he asks, “why don’t I hurt?”

 

Sam smiles. “Castiel healed beneath the skin.”

 

Dean blinks. “What?”

 

“He left the superficial wounds to keep the doctors happy, but you can check out anytime you want.”

 

“Well, let’s get out of here,” Dean says, sitting up.

 

---

 

Sam stays in Dean’s personal space all the way to the car. It’s like after the heart attack and Broward County again. Dean grumbles, but isn’t serious about it.

 

“You killed Alistair,” he says once he’s settled shotgun.

 

Sam pauses in the act of turning the key. “I did,” he admits.

 

“Did it hurt?” Dean asks, fingers tracing the edges of his amulet.

 

“Yes.” Sam starts the car. “I promise, Dean. He died screaming.”

 

Nothing is better—thinking back to Castiel’s confirmation of Alistair’s claim, Dean knows things have actually gotten worse. But, still…

 

“Good,” he says. “That’s good.”

 

 

 

 

Title: who we’re meant to be

Fandom: “Supernatural”

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: spoilers and AU for 4.17

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 440

Point of view: third

 

 

Dean Smith has never fired a gun. His father is a mechanic, his mother manages a diner, and, last he heard, his baby sister ran off with a wanna-be rockstar.

 

Dean Smith is a people-person. He’s a charmer. He worked his way up from the bottom and he’s less than a dozen years from the top.

 

But he’s not happy. He hates his job, his car, his apartment, his clothes. He hates the food he forces himself to eat and the flavored water he makes himself drink.

 

So when Sam Wesson shows up, asking questions with those puppy-dog eyes, Dean welcomes the interruption into his life. Hunting that creepy-ass ghost, defeating it—he felt alive for the first time he could remember.

 

“We should keep doing this,” Sam says earnestly. “I know you feel it, too.”

 

Dean looks at him, weighing and measuring—the security of this life he has against the sheer rightness of working at Sam’s side.

 

“No,” he replies. “I can’t.”

 

Sam goes, slumped down, and Dean suppresses the guilt. Yeah, they clicked, and yeah, he’d never felt more alive. But he can’t just throw away everything he’s worked for.

 

He sits at his desk, looking over the day’s schedule, and he can’t forget hunting, fighting, Sam with him all the way.

 

Dean met him less than a week ago, but something had been missing, and now it’s not, except he doesn’t know where Sam is and that’s wrong.

 

He stands and walks out of his office, leaving everything but his wallet. He sees his boss in the hall and as he goes, he calls over his shoulder, “I quit.” He doesn’t wait for the reaction. He needs to find Sam before the kid does something stupid, like leaving town to hunt alone.

 

Sam’s in the elevator and he keeps his gaze down, like all that fight’s gone out of him.

 

“You were right,” Dean tells him.

 

Sam’s head shoots up. “I—I was?”

 

Dean nods and amends, “You are right.” Sam looks at him like a beaten puppy, like maybe things are finally turning around, but he just doesn’t have the strength to hope. Dean asks, “So, what’s the plan?”

 

Sam stays silent all the way to the first floor and just as the elevator opens, he says, “I talked to a woman in Kansas who told me to come see her.”

 

“Okay,” Dean says. “Let’s go.”

 

Sam’s grin is brilliant and Dean can’t help smiling in return. This is the craziest thing he’s ever done, including that waitress in Florida during Spring Break, but he’s never been more excited.

 

Everything finally feels right.

 

 

Title: what we’re meant to do

Fandom: “Supernatural”

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: spoilers and AU for 4.17

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 205

Point of view: third

 

 

After Sam has quit, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Get out of the building before being arrested for destruction of private property seems like a good idea, but then what? And go where? Back to the craphole apartment that’s never felt like home? Pack up and leave town, start hunting? But Dean had been right to poke holes in that plan. Sam has no idea what to do. Or even who he is.

 

And that Dean in his dreams, his friend, his brother—that’s not the man who threw him out of the office.

 

Sam takes the stairs down to the lobby and shuffles out, shoulders hunched, eyes on the floor.

 

“Hey, Sam!”

 

He stops and turns, hope rising in him. Dean stomps up to him, but Sam sees the smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.

 

“Wesson, I just turned down a five-thousand dollar bonus and walked out of the best job I ever had, so this hunting thing had better be worth it.” Dean raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

 

Sam grins.

 

Dean ducks his head, full smile blooming. “C’mon, Sammy,” he says. “Let’s get outta here.” 

 

He strides out and Sam follows. They have work to do.