Green
by Riama
*
*
*
A/N: I wrote this story this morning in 45 minutes and without a beta. Constructive criticism is more than welcome ;-)
Green.
Sparkling deep green with a trace of brown is the color of the forests surrounding the old house in the middle of South Dakota. Almost exactly the same color as their observer's curious eyes. Eyes that are watching the wilderness through the window, from the safety of a home.
It's pouring rain outside and it's dark although it's barely midday. The house seems empty and grey and cold, and the overwhelming silence makes it look bigger and scarier than a house should be.
It's September and school's just started, but all Dean can think about is that it's only a few more hours til his brother's back.
He would never admit it to Sammy, but he's bored to death without him around.
He's noisy, and he talks nonstop, and he's always following him around like a lost puppy. He asks too many questions, and Dean knows he does because he's smart. Sammy is smarter than any other 8 year-old. Hell, he's smarter than Dean himself.
And he's noisy, and he talks nonstop, and he's always following him around… But he's his Sammy and he misses him.
A noise inside the house startles him. He turns and sees Bobby on the doorway. Arms crossed over his chest, hat on. Worry written on his features.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?"
Dean simply shrugs and resumes watching the rain.
Singer sighs and approaches the boy. Standing next to him in front of the window he takes in Dean's appearance. He looks exhausted, dark circles under too bright eyes, too pale skin, ragged breathing. And he looks so small and fragile wrapped up in that blanket that he has to remind himself that this is the same boy that killed a werewolf by himself a few weeks before.
"He'll be back at 4."
The boy looks up, surprised that he's so easy to read. But he puts a frown in place in a I-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about mode.
He's being doing that a lot lately. Giving him looks. Scowls, frowns, innocent expressions… Using those instead of words. He's been quieter than usual, worrying the elder hunter. He had never seen Dean sick before. He'd always been healthy as a horse in the few years he had known him. Always moving, obeying his dad's orders, looking after his brother, cleaning guns, packing and unpacking. He would've to ask John about this unnerving state of quietness.
His thoughts are interrupted by a coughing fit that has Dean doubled over himself in seconds. Wet painful coughs that make Bobby wince in sympathy. He rubs Dean's back, trying to sooth him, and he can't help but notice the heat coming from the too thin body.
The kid has been sick with an bad case of pneumonia for two weeks, being pretty out of it for at least a week. John had refused to take him to the hospital, not wanting to call the CPS attention.
But worse than the sickness and the fever, than the cough, than the boredom … was knowing that his dad had left him behind because of it. Because he was weak and useless for him at the moment. He could no longer help his dad, he couldn't take care of Sammy, who was he without his responsibilities?
"Okay. That's it kiddo. Let's take you back to bed."
"No", he rasps weakly, shaking his head. "No."
Bobby sighs at the boy's stubbornness.
Just like his daddy. Damned Winchesters…
"Okay. No bed then. Then you'll have to help me."
Dean glances at him suspiciously and nods, urging him to keep talking.
"I need you to help me with some research. Sit here while I find the books you need."
Five minutes later Dean is comfortably lying on the couch, wrapped up warmly with an extra blanket and surrounded by books. A mug of tea had been placed on the coffee table within his reach.
When Sam arrives, Dean it's been sleeping for a couple of hours. And it's like Sammy knows that. Instead of running into the house like a tornado like he usually does, babbling nonstop about school, he's quiet. He soberly nods to Bobby instead of giving him the usual loud "Hey Bobby! You know what?"
He enters the living room, leaves his bag on the floor and lies down with his sleeping brother. He rests his head on Dean's chest and wraps his arm around his stomach, as the elder brother puts a protecting arm around Sammy's shoulder without opening his eyes.
Bobby watches from the doorway with a lump in his throat.
Damned Winchesters…
*
*
*
THE END
*