Four Seasons

Season I

Patterns

Word Count: 137

The old car makes Sam squirm. It's the night and day difference between where his legs used to reach compared to now; how the bench seat used to swallow him up like a wolf in a story.

Now everything's too small and he gets cramps on top of the cramps he gets from fighting and killing the things his brother calls evil. That's what Dean does: Kills evil things, fucks, sleeps, fucks and kills some more.

And Sam doesn't know how he fits in that pattern. Just like the barely there legroom, just like the too-low dash, Sam's out of place. He's certain Dean notices, but appreciates how he keeps it to himself.

If Dean can't place him in the pattern either—somewhere between the killing and the fucking—then he really doesn't have a place to go.

Season II

All These Words I Just Don't Say

Word Count: 134

They talk about the hunt and the car. Sometimes Dean says I miss dad—or looks like he wants to say as much—but mostly he's silent.

And they drive.

There's nothing good in Missouri and Kansas is worse. Dean knows all the words to all the songs on all ten tapes he owns and he sings them off-key when the silence makes him squirm. Sam's glad for it because if Dean's singing Metallica, he's not asking Sam awkward questions.

And Sam's lonely and he misses Jessica and he feels…strange. Like he doesn't know what he is or where he's going. But he has no choice but to stick with Dean because he's with Dean and Dean's going, maybe even knows where he's going.

Which is better than being alone, even if there's not much difference.

Season III

And Taxes

Word Count: 155

Sam's thinks it's trite. Dean acts like he thinks he's already dead and Sam can't wrap his brain around that. He's too stubborn to admit that he just doesn't want to.

Because he's been lying to himself. He's told himself that Dean clings to life, fights for it. But with two razor's edge close brushes with death under his belt and one looming just six months away, Sam has to rethink death.

Rethink Dean.

Nighttime brings clarity and honesty and Sam realizes that Dean's been chasing death like a dog since they were kids. He guesses they're old friends now, Dean and Death.

And he wishes they'd both stop lying to themselves and each other. He wishes Dean would admit that it's all an act; that he is afraid to die. And he wishes he could reconcile the part of himself that wants Dean gone with the one who knows he can't live without him.

Season IV

In His Darker Moments

Word Count: 177

They're both pretty tired by now. Of the road of the hunts of the war that seems to be all about them until it's not anymore and they're abandoned by heaven and hell and everything in between. Left to rot on the same highways and back roads and truck stops they've been calling a life for so long, Sam forgets what he used to think about white picket fences and trophy wives.

Dean seems like a junkyard dog on a short choke chain, ready to snap at any minute for anything. He's not the same and Sam shouldn't be surprised because, well, hell is bound to change a man. No, Dean is not the same.

But neither is Sam. The weight of all his secrets is crushing him and he thinks its best that way. He can't share with Dean, crush him too when he's already beaten.

In his darker moments, he's pretty sure his brother's just going to go get himself killed (again), maybe come back (again), maybe become even emptier, even more broken than ever.