Characters: Sam and Dean (Gen)
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Summary: Post Croatoan, the answers to Sam's questions just create more questions in turn.
Author's Notes: For super_summer, where I claimed "Croatoan." This one wanted to be second-person, which surprised me since I almost never write that. Also for my Switch_25 table, this is "Explanation."
"Right before he died… Dad told me something. He told me something about you."
Wherever those words lead next, it won't be good; you can tell by the sound of Dean's voice. This is so incredibly typical, Dean and Dad with their secrets and their struggles while you're stuck in the middle or standing completely outside everything.
Dean's going to leave you hanging, no doubt. Took him two months to say this much, and he regrets it already.
Someone's in trouble-- could be you or maybe just Dean. Dad is dead, but this reminds you of so many other times: Dean giving with one hand and Dad taking away with the other, and it always seemed like it was your fault underneath.
For once, you'd just like some fucking answers—not "Because it's what we do" or "This isn't a debate" or "Now, Sammy" or "Do as you're told." Answers that actually listen to what you're asking…
How about the bigger questions, like what the hell all these visions are for? You're seeing people die but what's the point if you can't prevent it— it seems like you're always going to arrive just a little too late.
Dr. Jennings died anyway in Oklahoma, so you changed the moment but not the result. Today you saved Duane Tanner from Dean (or maybe saved Dean from himself), so was that a fluke or misinterpretation? Or are you finally getting a handle on how the visions work? The thought that they're simply echoes of something that hasn't happened yet is frustrating and depressing. That's useless, and it's hard enough dealing with them already.
Based on that vision of Dean with the gun, you rushed all the way to River Grove and you wonder if that was a mistake. Why didn't you do the opposite and avoid tempting fate?
If you'd conquered the demon/virus/curse—god, you don't even know what it was you actually faced—you'd feel some justification. It's hard to say even now if that was victory, when you didn't find the source. In the end, only a handful of people survived.
You thought you were going to die yourself today—really die—and the reprieve was unexpected. Good thing Dean didn't leave you behind with the company of your gun. You haven't thanked him and you probably really should, but Dean's edgy enough already and maybe you are too.
The air feels heavy now and your mouth is sour with the taste of beer, because this moment of winding-down by the river is no longer what it started out to be.
Dean—Dean of all people—was talking about going to the Grand Canyon, and suddenly the world felt like it was turning on its head. Everything was wrong becoming wronger, and you pressed for an explanation and somehow made things worse.
He told me something about you.
The words haven’t left. They're right in front of you, still shaped by the fear in your brother's voice.
You can't help pushing, always pushing, because there's a basic part of you that will always need to know:
"What? Dean. What did he tell you?" Now that you've said it, it's too late to unring that bell.
Dean's eyes are wet and he looks so sad, but he'd have carried this burden forever just to keep you from knowing.
His mouth is trembling as he takes a deep breath, preparing his response.
In that brief, silent second you suddenly wonder if this is an answer that you really want to hear.
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