tigriswolf | you came to know me well - SN fic

Title: you came to know me well

Fandom: “Supernatural”

Disclaimer: not my characters just for fun. Title and lyrics from Cyndi Thomson’s “I Always Liked That Best”

Warnings: none, really.

Pairings: light Dean/Sam wincest

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 370
Point of view: second

Notes: So ‘rightest’ isn’t a word. What of it?

I like the way you came to know me
Ya came to know me well, well, well
I could go on
So many things I miss now that you're gone
Your love, oh yes
I always liked that best

One day, you’ll turn around and he’ll be gone. And it’ll be right. It’ll be the rightest thing since November and flames.

He won’t say goodbye, but that’s right, too. He’ll never call, but you’ll send him postcards, now and again. Letting him know you’re alive.

He’s said he won’t leave again, promised, assured you there’s nothing left for him away from you. You just nodded and tried smiling, just reached out to grasp his shoulder and stayed silent.

You’ll let him keep the lie. But you know. This isn’t his life, no matter what he says. This isn’t his life and never has been.

Oh, he’s good at pretending—he should be, since you taught him. He’s good. But you’re better.

This is his war, he says. So he can’t leave. Even after Jessica’s killer, Mom’s murderer, Dad’s demon—after the bastard is dead and gone, Sammy swears, he’ll stay.

And you just smile, because you know the lie for a lie.

One day, you know, you’ll turn around and he’ll be gone. He’ll leave a note, stained with teardrops, and he’ll take a couple of weapons. He’ll call once, maybe twice, to let you know where he’s headed, where he ended up. And that’ll be that.

Twice, his life was interrupted in November. And slipping back into it will be as easy as breathing.

He promises, with words and touches, with feathersoft kisses, that he’ll stay with you forever. That he’s been yours since the beginning. And you never tell him that you’ve held him in waiting, that he’s always been meant for more than you’ll ever have to give.

And one day, you don’t tell him, he’ll be gone. He won’t say goodbye, and neither will you, and you’ll send postcards, dial his number, you’ll swing by to watch his wife and kids, and you’ll wonder if he regrets what he left behind—

But you’ll never ask. You’ll never approach him after he leaves.

You did once before and only pain came of it. Only death, blood—fire.

And he swears he’ll never leave you. Never again. You just smile and move towards the next hunt, content to keep him while you can.