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"Masquerading As A Man of Reason"
Title: Masquerading As A Man Of Reason - Part 2/4
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Fandom: SPN
Rating: PG (language/adult themes)
Category: Dean,Sam (gen)
Words: 1,628
Disclaimer:, Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: Set after 2.01
Notes: Thanks to my beta *superfox*
First part here.
Missouri looked pointedly at an ugly green vinyl chair at her kitchen table and Dean sat, swivelling so he could track her pottering around her kitchen.
“You haven’t been eating,” she tutted as she leant into the fridge and re-emerged with cold meats and cheese and then tucked those under her arm as she opened her bread bin.
“I-“
“Dean Winchester, twinkies are not food,” she cut him off and Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. When she set a sandwich down in front of him, he dutifully picked it up and started eating and his stomach seemed to wake up. He devoured the majority of it in three huge bites and then looked longingly at the leftover fixings still on the counter. Missouri was pouring coffee though and Dean instantly forgot about the food when the smell hit him, but she only poured one cup before reaching back into her fridge and coming out with a juice box that she handed over to him, taking a sip of the coffee herself.
Dean scowled at her but very carefully didn’t mentally curse because he knew how far that got him.
Instead, he stabbed the straw into the juice box a little more viciously than actually necessary.
“Now, I have an idea why you’re here but how about you fill me in on the specifics?” Missouri prompted, pulling out the chair opposite Dean and sitting.
Dean opened his mouth and then frowned, not really sure what he wanted to say. Mostly he was back in Missouri’s house because the last time he saw her, she grabbed his elbow and said, You watch him in a voice that made Dean feel a little cold. He crushed the empty juice box in a fist and canted his head. “How about you tell me what you know?” he asked instead, because when it came to Sam, he was tired of people being cryptic.
Missouri smiled, giving him a satisfied little nod of the head and he knew he’d passed some kind of test although Lord knew what.
“Most people with power, it sits within them, like a part of them. It’s about as much of them as their arms or legs, just an extra appendage they grew.” Dean pulled a face and Missouri smacked his hand lightly. “If you want me to explain you’ll let me do it my way.”
Dean nodded, holding up his hands as if in surrender.
“I’ve met some powerful people in my time, and not all of them knew how to use their gifts, or even that they had them, but it was always the same.”
“Sam’s different?” Dean hazarded and Missouri nodded again, something sad flitting across her features.
“I don’t know why, but the power in your brother grates, like it doesn’t belong.”
“Tell me Sam’s not Harry Potter,” Dean groaned and Missouri frowned at him in confusion. “Gets some of the power off the evil guy who kills his mom,” Dean elaborated.
“No, the gift is certainly your brother’s, through and through. It just doesn’t sit easy.”
“Maybe ‘cause he’s resisting,” Dean said, pulling the straw out of his demolished juice and carefully folding the plastic until it formed a triangle, tucking one open end into the other.
“Assuming is a dangerous business,” Missouri intoned. “But that’s neither here nor there. You’re here because you saw him do something. Something you weren’t expecting.”
Dean had the small plastic triangle on the table and he twirled it with a finger. “I’m not really sure what I saw,” Dean admitted because he wasn’t, not really. He and Sam had been looking a little worse for wear and maybe the motel clerk had taken pity on them out of the goodness of his heart and Sam did stare intently at everything, not just at motel clerks that were trying to give them the bum’s rush one minute and handing over the keys the next. He sighed. He could make excuses all he liked, but there was something that had passed from Sam to that man, Dean had felt it.
“I think he… pushed someone,” Dean said, not sure how else to describe it. A few weeks before he’d been watching the movie Firestarter with a very young Drew Barrymore and for the first time in the hundreds of times he’d seen that movie, he’d noticed the Dad.
The Dad who could make people do things with his mind and had terrible headaches afterward.
Dean saw Missouri’s hands grip the mug she’d been holding harder and her face tighten up. “Do you think he knew he was doing it?”
Dean tugged at his bottom lip with his fingers. “I don’t… I really don’t know. He almost looked like he was in some kind of trance. Why?”
A frown had etched itself deeply along Missouri’s features. “Dean, with the kind of gifts your brother has, it takes control not to hurt someone. I’m afraid without any kind of training, it would be like him using a crowbar where a scalpel is needed.”
“Sam wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Dean protested.
“Not intentionally, no. But boy, the kind of power he has, the way it sits uneasy, it’s like it’s too big for his skin to hold. It’s likely to spill out and burn anyone it touches.”
“Why are you telling me this now? Why didn’t you warn us when we were here before?” Dean demanded, anger flaring. Missouri looked at him, patience in her countenance.
“I needed you to be worried enough,” she said simply. “He was telling you what was happening and you were treating it like some kind of obstacle you could both just work your way around. Sam wasn’t ready and neither were you.”
“Maybe Sam still isn’t ready,” Dean said.
“Well, unfortunately that’s probably true, but he’d do anything for you, even this.”
“Even what?” Dean asked, not liking where their conversation was heading.
“There’s someone he should go see, someone who’ll teach him the control he needs,” Missouri said.
000
When Dean gets back to their room, Sam has his back to the door, lying on the bed, spine straight and pissed off which Dean always thought was a pretty neat trick. He threw himself down on his own bed and just stared at Sam’s back, knowing his brother could feel it but also mostly too wired to stop. Sam lost the battle of wills, always a fifty-fifty competition with them, and slid into sleep first.
While Sam was sleeping, Dean carefully tied his sneaker laces together because Sam never undid them, just kinda stepped into them and jigged around till his feet were settled which drove Dean crazy. He went into the bathroom and squeezed all the toothpaste out of Sam’s tube, leaving nothing but a curled up husk behind and then superglued the last three pages of the book Sam was currently reading together, glued them to the inside back cover and glued that to the bedside table.
Dean could work through Sam being angry at him. The other expression though from earlier that day before he left was something that put cold sweat on Dean’s back. The confusion because Sam sensed that he should be angry with Dean but can’t quite put his finger on the why. Dean could deal with revenge-Sam but he wasn’t quite ready for figuring-it-all-out Sam.
000
Sam knows something is up when Dean is awake before him the next morning. He stumbled towards the bathroom, keeping an eye on Dean, noticed the carcass of toothpaste straight away because teeth brushing was always the first thing he did and also he was just expecting something.
When he emerged from the bathroom and stepped into his sneakers doing the patented Sammy ankle twist that always made Dean’s eyes water to watch, he’s saying something like, pretty juvenile even for you when he goes to take a giant step and pitches face first onto the nearest bed and then rolls off.
When Dean didn’t laugh, Sam glared at Dean from the floor. “What did you do?” he asked.
Dean tried for a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Tied the laces together. I would’ve thought that was-“
“Not this,” Sam snapped, tone exasperated. “You’re torturing me and you aren’t even enjoying it.”
“I went and saw Missouri,” Dean admitted. A darker place part of his mind reared its ugly head and asked, Did Sam just make me admit that?, but Dean shook it off, knowing that when it came to Sam, blurting truth came naturally.
“Why?” Sam asked, coming up onto his elbows. When Dean offered him a hand, Sam shook his head. “I seem to be safer on the floor, thanks. Now, why Dean?”
Dean lowered himself onto the bed Sam had just rolled off and scrubbed a hand over his face. He really didn’t want to have this conversation but there would be no other way to get Sam in the car. When their Father had said, we have somewhere to be, Dean had always said, Yes, Sir but it was Sam who asked, where are we going?.
“Because I’m worried about you, man. There’s something going on and we’re in over our heads. We need help.”
“You asked for help?” Sam asked, incredulous.
“Yeah well, when it comes to you, I seem to be doing a lot of stuff I don’t normally,” Dean sighed but when Sam’s eyes darkened, he regretted his outburst. “I wouldn’t… look, I wouldn’t normally do this either but I want you to just try this place Missouri said would be good for you.”
Dean took a breath, knowing it was completely unfair, a dirty low tactic, but desperate times and all that.
“For me Sammy, can you do this for me?”
Part Three
By:
kellifer_ficFandom: SPN
Rating: PG (language/adult themes)
Category: Dean,Sam (gen)
Words: 1,628
Disclaimer:, Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: Set after 2.01
Notes: Thanks to my beta *superfox*
First part here.
Missouri looked pointedly at an ugly green vinyl chair at her kitchen table and Dean sat, swivelling so he could track her pottering around her kitchen.
“You haven’t been eating,” she tutted as she leant into the fridge and re-emerged with cold meats and cheese and then tucked those under her arm as she opened her bread bin.
“I-“
“Dean Winchester, twinkies are not food,” she cut him off and Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. When she set a sandwich down in front of him, he dutifully picked it up and started eating and his stomach seemed to wake up. He devoured the majority of it in three huge bites and then looked longingly at the leftover fixings still on the counter. Missouri was pouring coffee though and Dean instantly forgot about the food when the smell hit him, but she only poured one cup before reaching back into her fridge and coming out with a juice box that she handed over to him, taking a sip of the coffee herself.
Dean scowled at her but very carefully didn’t mentally curse because he knew how far that got him.
Instead, he stabbed the straw into the juice box a little more viciously than actually necessary.
“Now, I have an idea why you’re here but how about you fill me in on the specifics?” Missouri prompted, pulling out the chair opposite Dean and sitting.
Dean opened his mouth and then frowned, not really sure what he wanted to say. Mostly he was back in Missouri’s house because the last time he saw her, she grabbed his elbow and said, You watch him in a voice that made Dean feel a little cold. He crushed the empty juice box in a fist and canted his head. “How about you tell me what you know?” he asked instead, because when it came to Sam, he was tired of people being cryptic.
Missouri smiled, giving him a satisfied little nod of the head and he knew he’d passed some kind of test although Lord knew what.
“Most people with power, it sits within them, like a part of them. It’s about as much of them as their arms or legs, just an extra appendage they grew.” Dean pulled a face and Missouri smacked his hand lightly. “If you want me to explain you’ll let me do it my way.”
Dean nodded, holding up his hands as if in surrender.
“I’ve met some powerful people in my time, and not all of them knew how to use their gifts, or even that they had them, but it was always the same.”
“Sam’s different?” Dean hazarded and Missouri nodded again, something sad flitting across her features.
“I don’t know why, but the power in your brother grates, like it doesn’t belong.”
“Tell me Sam’s not Harry Potter,” Dean groaned and Missouri frowned at him in confusion. “Gets some of the power off the evil guy who kills his mom,” Dean elaborated.
“No, the gift is certainly your brother’s, through and through. It just doesn’t sit easy.”
“Maybe ‘cause he’s resisting,” Dean said, pulling the straw out of his demolished juice and carefully folding the plastic until it formed a triangle, tucking one open end into the other.
“Assuming is a dangerous business,” Missouri intoned. “But that’s neither here nor there. You’re here because you saw him do something. Something you weren’t expecting.”
Dean had the small plastic triangle on the table and he twirled it with a finger. “I’m not really sure what I saw,” Dean admitted because he wasn’t, not really. He and Sam had been looking a little worse for wear and maybe the motel clerk had taken pity on them out of the goodness of his heart and Sam did stare intently at everything, not just at motel clerks that were trying to give them the bum’s rush one minute and handing over the keys the next. He sighed. He could make excuses all he liked, but there was something that had passed from Sam to that man, Dean had felt it.
“I think he… pushed someone,” Dean said, not sure how else to describe it. A few weeks before he’d been watching the movie Firestarter with a very young Drew Barrymore and for the first time in the hundreds of times he’d seen that movie, he’d noticed the Dad.
The Dad who could make people do things with his mind and had terrible headaches afterward.
Dean saw Missouri’s hands grip the mug she’d been holding harder and her face tighten up. “Do you think he knew he was doing it?”
Dean tugged at his bottom lip with his fingers. “I don’t… I really don’t know. He almost looked like he was in some kind of trance. Why?”
A frown had etched itself deeply along Missouri’s features. “Dean, with the kind of gifts your brother has, it takes control not to hurt someone. I’m afraid without any kind of training, it would be like him using a crowbar where a scalpel is needed.”
“Sam wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Dean protested.
“Not intentionally, no. But boy, the kind of power he has, the way it sits uneasy, it’s like it’s too big for his skin to hold. It’s likely to spill out and burn anyone it touches.”
“Why are you telling me this now? Why didn’t you warn us when we were here before?” Dean demanded, anger flaring. Missouri looked at him, patience in her countenance.
“I needed you to be worried enough,” she said simply. “He was telling you what was happening and you were treating it like some kind of obstacle you could both just work your way around. Sam wasn’t ready and neither were you.”
“Maybe Sam still isn’t ready,” Dean said.
“Well, unfortunately that’s probably true, but he’d do anything for you, even this.”
“Even what?” Dean asked, not liking where their conversation was heading.
“There’s someone he should go see, someone who’ll teach him the control he needs,” Missouri said.
When Dean gets back to their room, Sam has his back to the door, lying on the bed, spine straight and pissed off which Dean always thought was a pretty neat trick. He threw himself down on his own bed and just stared at Sam’s back, knowing his brother could feel it but also mostly too wired to stop. Sam lost the battle of wills, always a fifty-fifty competition with them, and slid into sleep first.
While Sam was sleeping, Dean carefully tied his sneaker laces together because Sam never undid them, just kinda stepped into them and jigged around till his feet were settled which drove Dean crazy. He went into the bathroom and squeezed all the toothpaste out of Sam’s tube, leaving nothing but a curled up husk behind and then superglued the last three pages of the book Sam was currently reading together, glued them to the inside back cover and glued that to the bedside table.
Dean could work through Sam being angry at him. The other expression though from earlier that day before he left was something that put cold sweat on Dean’s back. The confusion because Sam sensed that he should be angry with Dean but can’t quite put his finger on the why. Dean could deal with revenge-Sam but he wasn’t quite ready for figuring-it-all-out Sam.
Sam knows something is up when Dean is awake before him the next morning. He stumbled towards the bathroom, keeping an eye on Dean, noticed the carcass of toothpaste straight away because teeth brushing was always the first thing he did and also he was just expecting something.
When he emerged from the bathroom and stepped into his sneakers doing the patented Sammy ankle twist that always made Dean’s eyes water to watch, he’s saying something like, pretty juvenile even for you when he goes to take a giant step and pitches face first onto the nearest bed and then rolls off.
When Dean didn’t laugh, Sam glared at Dean from the floor. “What did you do?” he asked.
Dean tried for a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Tied the laces together. I would’ve thought that was-“
“Not this,” Sam snapped, tone exasperated. “You’re torturing me and you aren’t even enjoying it.”
“I went and saw Missouri,” Dean admitted. A darker place part of his mind reared its ugly head and asked, Did Sam just make me admit that?, but Dean shook it off, knowing that when it came to Sam, blurting truth came naturally.
“Why?” Sam asked, coming up onto his elbows. When Dean offered him a hand, Sam shook his head. “I seem to be safer on the floor, thanks. Now, why Dean?”
Dean lowered himself onto the bed Sam had just rolled off and scrubbed a hand over his face. He really didn’t want to have this conversation but there would be no other way to get Sam in the car. When their Father had said, we have somewhere to be, Dean had always said, Yes, Sir but it was Sam who asked, where are we going?.
“Because I’m worried about you, man. There’s something going on and we’re in over our heads. We need help.”
“You asked for help?” Sam asked, incredulous.
“Yeah well, when it comes to you, I seem to be doing a lot of stuff I don’t normally,” Dean sighed but when Sam’s eyes darkened, he regretted his outburst. “I wouldn’t… look, I wouldn’t normally do this either but I want you to just try this place Missouri said would be good for you.”
Dean took a breath, knowing it was completely unfair, a dirty low tactic, but desperate times and all that.
“For me Sammy, can you do this for me?”
Part Three
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Did Sam really put the whammy on the counter guy? Is he using his powers for evil and not good? Will Rocky tell Bullwinkle... wait....
And Dean is evil, gluing the last pages of the book together.
More please! Thank you!
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Hmm... nothing up my sleeve... ;)
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This is an awesome story, and I can't wait to read the rest!
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Lovely chapter!
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And I'm shocked about glueing the book. Shocked.
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Yeah, more! I'm really loving where this is going. I've been craving some gen Supernatural fic. You write the boys so wonderfully.
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Favorite lines:
“How about you tell me what you know?” he asked instead, because when it came to Sam, he was tired of people being cryptic.
I like this, because I can definitely imagine Dean getting pissed at too many cryptic messages.
“Maybe ‘cause he’s resisting,” Dean said, pulling the straw out of his demolished juice and carefully folding the plastic until it formed a triangle, tucking one open end into the other.
Love this detail about him playing with the straw. I’ve done that a few times myself.
“He was telling you what was happening and you were treating it like some kind of obstacle you could both just work your way around. Sam wasn’t ready and neither were you.”
Great dialogue, and Missouri’s exactly right.
When their Father had said, we have somewhere to be, Dean had always said, Yes, Sir but it was Sam who asked, where are we going?.
Love that little insight into their past. It would’ve been just like that.