Category: Sam/Dean (Genfic, Drabbles)
Summary: Four Gen Drabbles on “Questions and Answers,” written for the supernatural100 challenge during S1. Slash drabbles for this same challenge are here.
A Path Divided
Dean strips his gun. “If you could change one thing that's happened, what would it be?”
“That’s easy,” Sam says. “Mom getting killed by that demon. We’d have had a normal childhood with her and done what kids do. We wouldn’t be living in sorry-ass motels, chasing monsters while other people have lives.
“What about you?” he asks.
“The same,” Dean says, but he means something different.
If their mother were alive, she’d be right there beside them—fierce as a warrior princess. They’d hunt and scheme, battle and conquer. A family united.
Her clear heart would guide them all.
“Why do you like this crap?"
Dean glares across the car. “You can’t be serious. ‘Boston’? It’s classic.”
“That boiling guitar sound hurts my ears! Not to mention the double-wide backup vocals.”
“You’ve gotten soft. You’ve forgotten how to listen to man-music.”
“You’re stuck on Jack Johnson—acoustic guitars, for cryin’ out loud! And the girly-pop. God. I’d nail Gwen Stefani in a second, but don’t make me listen to her sing.”
“You seem to know who she is,” Sam says wryly.
“My choices are based on quality, not ignorance.”
Smug… fat-headed… “I’m driving next hour.”
“Why do you spend so much time in the shower?”
“Dude—kind of personal!”
“I mean besides that.” Sam loves making Dean blush. He’s a surprisingly easy target. “What do you do in there all that time?”
“Why do you read books?”
“Huh?” Nice non-sequitur, Dean.
“I like to think about different things. Stretch my brain. Escape.”
Dean sees that look, the one that says, Stupid question. Why does anyone read books? “Well I like to clear my brain and think less. And whatever that next thought is, you’d better keep it to yourself.”
Sam’s mouth snaps shut. Jerkwad.
“Do you think we’ll ever find it?”
More than twenty years lie behind that question. They have traded themselves for the Hunt, given up comfort, continuity… their future.
Childhoods lost for themselves, they granted to others. They’ve restored safety to entire towns while having only the illusion of it themselves.
This thing has marked them, sometimes broken them-- changed the fabric of their lives.
Will they win when they find it? Or does it win by making them search for it?
“Maybe someday,” Dean answers. What he does is reason enough alone.
Never, Sam thinks. But we’ll kill ourselves trying.
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