Who: Dean and Sam Winchester What: Bro-Bonding Time When: A quiet moment after those crazy TW kiddos are back and safe Where: Super Secret hideout in Cellblock G Warnings: FEEEELS? Yes, plz. I want some mooore.
Dean felt like there was something he should be doing with his hands; working gun oil over hard steel or putting something back together again that he’d purposefully taken apart. Pieces manageable and organized, every sharp edge and line having its exact place, unlike the raw emotions he struggled to breathe through every day. The how’s and why’s about them usually a mystery as he felt the tug of one invisible heart string or another. Finding as the months slowly passed that he was less and less like the man who’d first walked through those prison gates. Each foot fall heavy with pent up anger and the desire to fix the one mistake he kept on making; letting Sammy out of his sight. Determined to find his brother and stay wherever the younger man decided to call home, unconcerned with the rest.
Half convinced proximity and sheer will might fix all the problems between them the apocalypse had interrupted. And wasting the days after with stale beer and not-so-cheap whiskey when it became all too apparent just how foolish that hope had been. Letting Sam fuckin go, disappear; resigned to fade into the background and become another forgettable fixed point while the rest struggled on. Unwilling to be a leader and uninterested in friendship until the day people stopped taking ‘no’ and his endless list of excuses for an answer. Dragging him to prison parties, asking him what he knew about demons, acting like he mattered when he damn well knew better. But by the time Sam was back and they were working hard on fixing what was left broken between them Dean was different.
He’d actually started caring about this place and some of the people in it. Suddenly protective over kids that reminded him too much of Sammy and himself at that age; young, but stubborn and brave as hell. Heart turning as he found a small measure of peace in the cool blue eyes of a woman that could nearly drink him under the table. Opening himself up in small ways, one door after the other, until Colleen was dead and Dean realized there was no going back. No one may have known him better than Sam, but there were other people now that cared about whether or not he took care of himself. The weight of that consideration uncomfortable at first and then damn near gutting when he failed them somehow. Saying the wrong thing or letting them get hurt; mind flashing briefly to Krissy and her possession, Robin and the leviathan that had tortured them both, and unexpectedly Kurt, so small and quiet on his bed in his infirmary bed.
He shook his head against the image, trying to block out all the ‘what ifs’ that tried to haunt him. Most of them circling around their near recent losses; Allison, Lydia, Stiles and Scott declared missing just hours ago after shots were reported in the wilderness. His hollow assurances to Mr. Argent proving false as they went out and searched for the kids, training keeping his emotions in check as he scoured the Earth with a hunter’s eyes. Stomach dropping when they had come up short and all Dean could do was look at Sam and think traitorously that he was glad it wasn’t one of them before the guilt had washed in. Another one of those invisible strings tugging sharp and tight as he considered the worse before finally a message had come through. The kids were alright, or as close to it as they could be and all Dean could feel after that was a hollow relief.
Offering Mr. Argent the proper congratulations once they were back at the prison before slipping away. Lungs briefly too tight as he wrestled for the next breath; long, slow and deep. Feet taking him away as a family was reunited and finding himself back in cellblock G. Their temporary headquarters during the leviathan threat, but even after all of that was said and done they’d never cleaned up the place. Half of Dean’s things strewn across one side of the cell and Sam’s on the other. Taking a small comfort in the sight now as he left his shotgun on a side table and sat on his bunk. Letting the silence take over and seep into his bones as he’d stared down into the empty cradle of his hands. Fingers seeming detached, numb and as useless as they'd been out there searching for those crazy fuckin kids.
Lips a hard line as his mind took him back to that first moment and the barely reigned in fear in Mr. Argent’s eyes. Knowing all too well what that felt like first hand because friends were important, but family was what made everything matter. Promising himself again in this quiet room that he’d never willing let Sam get too far out of reach that he couldn’t pull his ass out of the fire if need be. Right hand lifting up absently to rub at the lines across his forehead as he let out sigh. Absently missing the days when it was just him and his brother against the world, killing off the next monster of the week. Just them and the impala, music cranked up so loud Sam made them roll the windows down as they ate up miles of road. Just two brothers in a car trying to make the world a safer place. Those had been been the days.