kellifer | "Interlude In W Minor"

Just a little writing exercise, story in 20 minutes.

Title: Interlude In W Minor
Category: Gen
Rating: PG (Language)
Fandom: SPN
By:

kellifer_fic
Spoilers: S4
Words: 1,272
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.

"So, if you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?"

Sam looks across the bench seat at his brother and raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I asked-"

"I know what you asked," Sam huffs, still studying Dean's profile who is staring straight ahead at the blacktop unfurled before them. It's baking out there and not too pleasant inside the car either. Sam had almost gotten air conditioning installed.

Almost.

He'd been desperate and if anything would have brought Dean back from the dead...

"Well?"

"Well what?" Sam blinks and wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, or more accurately, he moves the sweat from his forehead to the back of his hand.

"If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?" Dean doggedly persists and now there's a tiny edge of something in his tone that's either annoyance, exasperation or Dean really wanting Sam to read between the lines which is the most likely.

"Why are you asking?"

"Oh my god, just forget it," Dean snaps, thumping the wheel and now Sam turns on the bench seat so he can hook one knee up and give Dean his undivided attention. It gets the response he's expecting. Dean hitches the shoulder closest to Sam up higher like he can hide behind it and scowls at the road.

"Why are you asking?" Sam repeats, because he can be as much a persistent pain in the ass as Dean.

"You said you wanted to talk."

"I said... Dean. That was days ago."

"Yeah, so? It takes me a little while to work up to it," Dean says, and now he's looking vaguely embarrassed and his shoulder is going higher.

"And I wanted to talk about the whole angels versus demons thing and how mad you are at me and... not what tree I want to be!" Sam can't help it, he's getting angry and he knows it's fuelled more by frustration than anything else but he's finding his moods and feelings these days harder to reign in than a cat on a leash.

"This was just my opening gambit. I have to work up to stuff like that," Dean says, now sounding put-out like Sam had just stomped all over his perfect plans which Sam supposes he has. "I was going to laugh at whatever sissy-ass tree you picked and then you would roll your eyes when I said that I'd be one of those ginormous oaks that could take down buildings with really persistent root systems and from there we'd get to... y'know." Dean swallows hard and winces like it hurts him to say, "Feelings."

"You're completely dysfunctional," Sam says in wonder but he can't help feeling a little touched.

"Yeah, well, you're a douche," Dean rejoinders. "You can't say I didn't try."

Sam narrows his eyes and watches Dean in silence for a while, watching the pink flush spread up Dean's neck and behind his ears. "You knew this would happen," Sam accuses.

"Knew what would happen?" Dean says but it sounds so strangled that Sam just leans forward and pokes Dean hard in the joint between arm and pectoral. "Ow, Christ!" Dean flounders for a second because his natural instinct was to jerk away from Sam but he was driving so it didn't really work.

"You knew saying something so random would lead to us arguing about talking but not actually talking and you'd get out of it by being the hurt party!"

"That's a little passive-aggressive for me don't you think?" Dean asks but he's still resolutely not meeting Sam's gaze.

"You can be angry with me."

"I am angry at you. I don't need your permission."

"I think you do," Sam says in almost wonder. "I think you don't feel like you deserve to be angry at me and so you're feeling guilty and that makes you more angry."

"Don't try to shrink me," Dean snaps.

"I'm not giving you permission, I just want you to know that you can be angry at me. I'm angry at you."

"What? Why? What the hell did I do?"

"I'm relieved and pissed and hurt and grateful and angry. I'm allowed to be those things because you being my brother didn't stop because you... stopped."

"Christ Sammy," Dean sighs and everything in him seems to slump.

"I'm also scared. No, I'm terrified that I'm going to have to do all this by myself because you never came back."

"What are you talking about, 'm right here."

Sam leans across the space between them and pokes Dean again, a lot gentler this time. "Physically, sure. But I don't think you ever came back."

"What do you want me to say to that?" Dean asks.

"I don't know," Sam says, sounding defeated. "Nothing I guess. I know things can't go back to normal and that's not just because I don't know what our baseline for normal is. I just want you to stop waiting for me to... I don't know, fail you."

"You're talking out of your ass now."

"Oh really? You can't tell me that some part of you, way down deep, wasn't at all surprised to see me force a demon out of some poor schmuck just with my brain? You were furious and indignant but you weren't really surprised."

"I don't think I'm the only one who went somewhere and didn't come back when I was down two-steppin' over hot coals and pitchforks."

"Yeah, well, I understand the term hell on earth a lot more intimately now."

They drive in silence for a while, each stealing glances when they think the other isn't looking. Sam knows intellectually that picking at these very particular scabs might not help the healing process but instead spread whatever poison is underneath, simmering just below the surface but there's some things you don't do half-measure.

Dean is just starting to squint in a way that Sam knows means he's tired and about to start looking for somewhere to turn off when Sam says, "I don't know how to not disappoint you."

Dean winces like Sam has jabbed him again. "You were always so sure about who you were, right from the get-go. I was always going to be a washed out photocopy of Dad but you..." Dean waves one hand in Sam's general direction. "I just... sometimes I can still see my little brother still. When you looked so damn pleased to meet angels and man, I could'a kicked Castiel's ass for ruining that for you. I like that you have faith and I don't want you to lose that. No matter what kind of asshole-ish things I did in my life, it was okay because you were always good enough for both of us."

"I'm just starting to have trouble seeing a happy ending in this for you," Dean adds, like it's an afterthought, like Sam can't see how much it kills him that he can't protect him anymore, not like he wants to. "I kinda hate that I'm not sure when I stopped seeing you going back to Stanford and having the lawyer life and the two point three kids and the wife who hates me."

"Whoever I married wouldn't hate you. She'd just hate that you sleep on our couch and eat all our food," Sam says and they both laugh, just for a moment.

Just for a moment they're both going in the same direction and Sam's not sure either, doesn't know exactly when his and Dean's paths diverged.

"I'm just tired, is all," Dean says and Sam nods.

"Yeah, me to."