Father's hands are lined with dirt
From long days in the fields
Daddy is sleeping. Sammy is, too, hard and deep in the twin bed across from Dean's. Daddy is in the chair, in front of the TV turned down too low to hear. Dean creeps quietly over to Daddy, careful not to wake Sammy. He doesn't remember Daddy coming in, so he must've been out on a hunt until after Dean fell asleep. Dean chides himself for sleeping - Daddy said he should always watch Sammy.
Daddy's stirring. Dean takes a few hurried steps back as Daddy rubs his face with one hand, leaving long streaks of blood in the stubble.
"Daddy?" Dean touches Daddy's arm lightly. Daddy won't sleep very well in the chair, and Dean can sleep anywhere. Daddy says he'll grow out of it, but right now Dean's only six and the floor is as comfortable as a bed.
Daddy's eyes open, but only a little. "Dean? What're you doin' up?" Daddy grumbles.
"Get in bed, Daddy. Sammy's asleep. You need to go to bed," Dean urges, tugging at Daddy's arm.
Daddy obeys mutely, shuffling to Dean's bed and falling on it. Before Dean can even drag the covers over his father, Daddy's snoring. Dean glances at the dirt on the sheets. Daddy's hands are always covered with dirt after a hunt.
Mother's hands are serving meals
In a cafe on Main Street
With mouths to feed
Just tryin' to keep clothing on our backs
And all I hear about
Is how it's so bad, it's so bad
"C'mon, Sam. It's not that bad."
Sam glares up at Dean. "It's soggy, Dean. I'm not eating it," he says firmly, pushing away the plate of tater tots and chicken nuggets.
Dean bites his lip hard to keep from yelling. Mom never yelled when Sammy didn't eat; she just coaxed him into eating it no matter how awful. Dean isn't like Mom. He can't make Sam eat, any more than Dad can. But he has to feed his little brother: that's part of his job, part of keeping Sammy safe is making sure he doesn't keel over from hunger.
So he gives up and digs the last ham sandwich out of the little motel fridge. "Here. Eat this," he says roughly, tossing it on a paper plate and handing it to Sam.
Sam picks the sandwich up gingerly, takes a bite, and chews thoughtfully for a moment. Dean resists the urge to rolls his eyes. Sometimes, he just doesn't understand his little brother. Even though Sam's bigger and easier to handle now at five than he was at three, that doesn't make him any less stubborn.
Finally he smiles, and Dean sighs in relief. "Eat up, Sammy. It's almost bedtime," he says absently, not realizing until the words are out that those are the same words Mom always said to him at dinner. Sam doesn't remember; he just keeps eating, quiet now.
Dean remembers. Dean knows, and it hurts. He closes his eyes and turns from his brother, pretending like he's going to wash dishes. Dean's had to explain a lot about Mom being in heaven, and every time Sam acts like he gets it. Still, the questions never cease to arise, and every time Dean has to remember all over again. He tries to think of Mom the way she was, making dinner and laughing. He tries to think that maybe, wherever she is now, she's making dinner for her new family. Maybe she's serving dinner to angels.
It's too bad
It's too bad
Too late
So wrong
So long
It's too bad
And we had no time
To rewind
Let's walk
Let's talk
You left without saying goodbye
Although I'm sure you tried
You call the house from time to time
To make sure we're alive
But you weren't there
Right when I needed you the most
And now I dream about it
And how it's so bad, it's so bad
Dean stares at the phone. He hasn't hurt this bad in a long time - not since Sam left. Every time he tries to think, images of Cassie invade any thoughts that might struggle to the surface. He doesn't sleep, doesn't eat. Dad pretends he doesn't notice, but Dean can't help but see the extra ten minutes driving the Impala, large milkshakes, and car magazines as some sort of apology. It's not Dad's fault, really. There was a hunt to be done, and while Dean still suspects Dad purposefully found it to drag Dean away from her, Dean made the decision to tell Cassie. He decided that if he really did love her like he said he did, he'd tell her the truth, and look where it got him.
"Son of a bitch." Dean scowls even deeper and shoves the phone in his pocket. Sam isn't going to call, and Dean'll be damned if he's calling. Sam does call, sometimes, on Dean's phone - never Dad's. But sometimes, in the middle of the night, Dean's phone will ring, and it'll be Sam, asking in a worried voice how everything is, how Dean is, how Dad is, what they're hunting...stuff he would know if he were around.
Dean fights the urge to blame Sam. He knows his brother's just being Sammy, the same stubborn kid he's always been. But he doesn't want to sleep, and anger keeps away the pain. So he stays awake all night, trying to find someone to blame for this damn heartache. He'd never imagined he'd need Sam as much as he does that night.
It's too bad
It's too bad
Too late
So wrong
So long
It's too bad
And we had no time
To rewind
Let's walk
Let's talk
It's so bad
It's too bad
It's too bad
Too late
So wrong
So long
It's too bad
And we had no time
To rewind
Let's walk
Let's talk
Father's hands are lined with guilt
For tearing us apart
Guess it turned out in the end
Just look at where we are
We made it out
Still got clothing on our backs
And now I scream about it
And how it's so bad, it's so bad, it's so bad
Dean stares at his father. Sam's sleeping in a corner, his jacket over his head. They've fought again, and Sam's trying to pretend John doesn't exist. John's just gazing out the window, his face creased with worry and sorrow. Dean tries to slam his fist into the wall, but it slides through. He's never felt so helpless. Dad glances at Sam, then out into the hallway. Dean wonders if he's thinking about the last time John and Sam were together for this long. They'd argued, same as now, and Sam had left. Dean knows Dad's wondering if Sam will leave again.
Dean wants to hit him. Sam won't leave, not now. He knows his brother better than to think that. Dad doesn't. Dad's never known Sam as well as Dean does, never seen that the reason they can't be in the same room is that they're exactly alike. Dean's not stupid; he's known that since Sam was four. But Dad thinks it's all his fault that Sam left, and he's wondering if his being there will push Sam away again.
"We're better now," Dean says to no one. "Not so easy to get us apart anymore." And it's true. There was a time when Dean was detached from his brother, when he stuck around just to keep Sammy from getting himself killed. Now Dean stays because he can't be anywhere else. He doesn't know how to exist without Sam. Even after everything they'd been through, they were still around, the Winchesters. They'd made it out. They were alive, and they were together.
It's too bad
It's too bad
Too late
So wrong
So long
It's too bad
And we had no time
To rewind
Let's walk
Let's talk
A/N: Yeah, yeah. All right, had this bopping around in my head ever since I found a Supernatural wallpaper that had these lyrics on them. The first verse was a bit tricky to get around, but I think it worked.
...I think. 0.o
Anyway. Reviews appreciated, etc. Oh, and the last paragraph is from "In My Time of Dying", by the way. In case you didn't catch that. :3