Lonesome Day:
Sam's face in the sunlight through the diner window is all shades of burnished gold, heavy darkness and other such romantic crap. Shadowed brown eyes look out through the dusty, never been washed cause this ain't New York kid, it's just a diner, order what you want and get the hell outta Dodge. He drummed his fingers on the counter top one over the other until Dean wanted to slam the none too clean glass down on his brothers' fingers. It took about three seconds.
"The hell is wrong with you? You're twitching like a cat in heat" Dean cracked, sipping whatever was in the glass, could have been orange juice, could have been cats piss. Sure tasted like it. His eyes watched his brother. Sam was all kinds of jumpy and he didn't like it. Kid was a lawyer after all, he should be able to hold together a poker face a lot longer than this. "Nothing. Nothings wrong Dean. Eat your dinner". Dean waved a forkful of something indescribable at him, narrowing golden eyebrows. "Do I look like I'm blind, Sam, you have a face like the ass of a buss and you're telling me nothings wrong?" Sam steepled his fingers together on the table, looked out once more at the fading afternoon sunlight, back at his brother. Dean was eyeing the glass suspiciously, looking around the diner, winking at a pretty redhead easily, then back to him with intense eyes that wanted an answer now. "You'll laugh" he said after a moment, glancing back out the window once more. The Impala rested in the red dirt, its tyres stained with the stuff. Dean would chuck a fit.
His brother slammed his fork down a little too loudly, making the old ladies from table seven look over with all kinds of reprimand in their eyes. Punk ass kids these days. Dean smiled, all Heaven and light, face wreathed in smiles and the baby blues twinkling like his dimples. Sweet kid , that. The two little old ladies settled, charmed. Sam shook his head. There hadn't been a problem yet Dean hadn't been able to charm his way out of. Sometimes he wondered what it'd be like if Dean ever met a succubus, wondered which one of them would win? "I'm not gonna laugh Sam, how immature do you think I am?" Dean replied, offended. Sam looked at him mistrustfully, wrinkling his lips. Dean was going to laugh and he'd bet his bottom dollar on it.
"I have this feeling..." he started and Dean tried so hard not to laugh he almost choked on his bottom lip. After a few moments of valiant struggle he gave up, snorting loudly with laughter. "You have a feeling huh Sam?" he asked, pointing a knife his brothers' way. "You wanna go on Oprah and talk about those feelings?". Sam rolled his eyes. "This is just what I mean" Dean calmed down enough to lay a hand on the table, outstretched in his brothers' direction. "Nah. Hey man, I'm sorry. Far be it from me to stop you being all new age about your feelings" saying the last two words in quotation marks. Sheesh. Sam had turned into a bonafide bleeding heart. Leave the kid alone for two minutes in law school and this is what happens. The brilliant blues darkened for a moment as he glanced away from his brother, eyeing the dirt stains on the Impala with disgust. Sam was altogether too soft, too much of a conchie to be doing this line of work. A Hunter didn't feel anything, didn't hold with anything. Sam was the only one he knew who'd discuss cases for hours afterwards, debating their merits, the philosophical leanings of each. Dean just wanted them over and done with, hands on the wheel and Metallica playing so loud it drowned out the nightmares behind his eyes. Dammit.
Sam was watching him too, laying down his cutlery and looking at Dean. "You okay?" he asked. Dean nodded, clicked his fingers at the waitress for the bill. "Sure. I'm always okay. What's this feeling you have then Sammy boy?" winking at the blonde , stacked waitress when she came their way. Dean took the bill with a flourish, signed a false name and handed it back, slipping a fake credit card to the woman.
"My feeling" he started again, watching Dean's mouth twitch. "Asshole. Is that somethings' about to happen" he said. Dean arched an eyebrow. "Seriously? We're Hunters Sammy. Somethings always about to happen". Sam sighed, nodding at the waitress as they left their table, jeans catching on the too warm pleather they'd been sat on. "No. Something on top of that I mean. More than just vampires and bad guys" he said, following Dean out into the afternoon. Dean snorted, "Yeah, maybe we'll run across a werewolf" he quipped, sliding in behind the wheel of the Impala. "No!" Sam exclaimed, "Something. I don't know, you're not getting it Dean. Something big is going to happen" "No I get it Sammy. You think somethings gonna happen. As well as the somethings that happen all the time. Its like a mega something right? Tell me, did you hit your head when you went to the little boys room or what?" Sam shut his mouth. It was no good talking to Dean. It'd be better to wait until the something actually happened and then shove it in his face. Dean watched him for a few moments as he gunned the engine, letting the revs kick over. Sam was silent, staring out the window with a fixed gaze. He sighed, "Listen Sammy, I know you got your.." he snorted, "Feelings right? But what are we gonna do about this one? Does your subconscious tell us whether we bring guns to this something?" he asked.
The noise of Dean's mobile cut through Sam's obstinate silence, startling them both. It was a special ringtone that hadn't rung in...hadnt rung since...Dean stared at him, wide eyed and his mouth open. "Is this your something?" he asked, staring down at his ringing pocket. Hell, he wasn't afraid to touch the thing, he just didnt want to. Didn't want to give the hope suddenly bubbling in his heart time to reach his eyes, cause if he checked and it wasn't who he thought it was, then Dean didnt think he could stand that sorrow again. Mourning again. It had been a long time. "I don't know" Sam lied, meeting his brothers' eyes. He knew exactly. The phone, the person on the end of the phone, it hit him now that this, was the something he'd been talking about. Vampires, succubi, animated humongous teddy bears, those they could run from, those they could take down.
Daddy Winchester was a whole other ball game.
Dean drew the phone out, stared at it like it might jump up and bite off the end of his nose. In a very un Dean like manner he shook his head, tossed the phone to Sam. "You answer it". He couldnt take not hearing the voice he wanted to hear on the end of the phone. Sam snapped it open, listened to the call connect slowly. "Sam Winchester" he heard himself say, waiting for his voice to travel down the crackle of the line.
Reaching out beyond the grave.
"Sammy? Dean there?"
Sam almost dropped the phone. It was. Dean read his shocked expression and swallowed. "Dad?" he asked. Sam nodded slowly.
John Winchester. The late John Winchester.
