My debut into Supernatural fanfiction, loves. U know Dean/Sam is pretty much the bottle of the barrel when it comes to things that will send you to hell, but I'm pretty damn close anyway, so I said, fk it, and wrote this little tidbit. Tell me what you think.
Title: This Is Your Life (1/2)
Author: Miaka Kennyuuki
Rated: PG-13
Pairing: pre-Wincest, suggestion of Dean/Sam feelings
Summary: Songfic. Switchfoot's "This Is Your Life". Two-parts so far. Dean and Sam reflect on what they have become over the years.
Note: Made a lot of stuff up to fit this story, including the hospitality at Stanford, Dean's meeting Jess before John Winchester disappeared, etc.
blah song
"blah" past
"blah" present
Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead
Dean Winchester sat in his black Chevy Impala, a 64oz coke from a random gas station clutched in his hand. His remaining hand was on the ignition, preparing to start the car, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. For some reason, it seemed like too much trouble.
Yesterday is a promise that you've broken
Dean looked at the empty seat beside him, his mind automatically superimposing the image of his younger brother into it. The mental picture was of Sam from nearly three years ago, just turned eighteen and eager to do something, anything but hunt.
"I can't wait 'til class starts, Dean! Can you believe I got into Stanford?" Sam said that day, grinning at Dean, unaware of the heart he was crushing.
"Yeah, Sammy. I believe it," Dean whispered, turning away to stare out the window and bite back his tears. He was twenty-two.
Don't close your eyes
Don't close your eyes
Dean blinked and Sammy was gone, nothing to hold on to but old memories. Dean looked down at the drink in his hand and frowned. Maybe it was the carbonated soda that was causing these "chick flick" reminiscing moments.
This is your life and today is all you've got now
Dean remembered the day he went to visit Sam in college. He'd been a little dusty and a little wrinkled and a lot tired, but he drove through six states to make it to Sam's visitation day.
Dean had always thought of Stanford as a jail, not only for his resentment of the place, but it's actual appearance. But when he arrived on campus, he wasn't expecting the stronghold he entered. Stanford Law School was a very controlled environment, designed to keep their preppy little collegiate students protected from unsavory characters, i.e.; the rest of the world.
With very little sleep and experiencing a clawing hunger for a Big Mac and a side of fries, Dean was stopped at Stanford's main gate. The security guards didn't believe that the scruffy man could possibly be the brother of one of their esteemed students. It took three forms of identification and an embarrassing childhood picture to get past the first gate. The FIRST.
And today is all you'll ever have
When Dean finally saw Sam, he could admit that he was a little embarrassing. A twenty-four year old man giddy to see his kid brother. When Dean saw Sam, he took off at a dead run across the campus quad, past the curious students, and into the arms of his not-so-little-anymore brother.
Don't close your eyes
"Sammy," Dean breathed into his brother's brunette locks, squeezing Sam harder than he ever had. Sam simply returned the bordering-on-painful hug. Law students stared as both brothers started to tear up slightly.
"Hi, Dean," Sam said, when they finally parted. A wide smile split the handsome planes of the younger ?xml:namespace prefix st1 ns "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" / Winchester's face. Dean could only smile goofily back. He was with Sam. Seeing his Sammy.
Don't close your eyes
"Who's this, Sam?" a feminine voice asked. Dean started, which was strange enough, being that he was usually more alert. He turned to the source of the sound and tried hard not to glare without provocation. Standing next to his brother now, slipping her slim hand in his, was some textbook-more-than-a-little-pretty blonde. She had the big baby blues, the red pouty lips and the slim figure. She was as close to being normal as one could get in a girlfriend.
And she was holding onto his Sammy.
"This is my older brother, Dean," Sam said, scanning Dean up and down surreptitiously, his young face pinching. Dean guessed Sam had finally realized what his older brother must look like to other people. Dusty and wrinkled, eyes bloodshot, watery and a little wild. Dean looked like a psycho. And from this girl's point of view, he probably looked like a psycho that had just hugged her boyfriend.
Dean had looked down at himself, then turned away, hiding fresh tears of pain, hurt and hopelessness from Sam and his perfect girlfriend. There were moments when Dean wished he had finished high school and gone to college. Moments when he wished he dressed in polo shirts and Chinos instead of dirt and slime. Moments when he wished he could be what Sam needed. A normal brother. A normal family.
"Yo," Dean said, raising a dirt-covered hand and shooting the girl his trademark – yet artificial – lady killer grin. "Dean Winchester. Nice to meetcha." Inwardly, Dean groaned. He sounded so pathetic, and in front of Sammy, no less.
Truthfully, he had felt a little intimidated. Here was Sammy, looking all smart and confident and well-adjusted, beside his matching smart, confident and well-adjusted girlfriend. Then there was Dean, bogged down by nightmares and the knowledge that the boogeyman was real, chasing after the mother that Sam didn't even remember.
This is your life
Is it everything you've dreamed it would be
"Jessica," the blonde said slowly, perfectly waxed eyebrows furrowed. "Sam hasn't spoken about you much." Dagger number one. "In fact, I don't recall him really speaking of you at all." Dagger number two. "He must not think much of you." And death.
"Jessica!" Sam cried, not really defending his brother, more like trying to stop his perfect girlfriend from sounding rude and uncouth. Like Dean.
Jessica turned to Sam and smiled. "Sorry, Sammy. I was just pointing some things out."
Dean staggered back slightly, unnoticeable to some people. But not Sammy. Sammy. She had called him Sammy. Dean's name for him. Sammy was his little brother. His Sammy.
"I can see you're busy, Sam. I'll just go. It was nice seeing you and stuff. I'll…call you or somethin'. Try to pick up this time, eh?" With that, Dean spun around and stiffly walked away.
When the world was younger
And you had everything to lose
Sam never did pick up.
END Part 1