Summary: He just stepped on the gas peddle with more force than necessary and wondered if he got to where he was going faster, would he have more time in the end?
A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic. I don't know if I'm crazy or what for posting this. I hope it makes sense, and I'd appreciate any and all feedback!
There were three kinds of days.
There were the days when he wouldn't think about it at all, or at least until he was so exhausted that he could only give it so much thought before he passed out on some stiff motel bed or wherever it was they were staying that night. Those were the days he was thankful for because then it never really bothered him. He wouldn't dwell on it, therefore it wouldn't affect him. But then, when he thought about not thinking about it, he wondered if maybe he was going about it the wrong way.
Then, there were those other days where he could think about it, and it wouldn't bother him because he was living his life to the fullest and nothing could possibly hold him back now. He wasn't afraid to say what was on his mind anymore - but that wasn't any different from before, really; he had always been a firm believer in 'say what you mean and mean what you say - and he had a newfound appreciation for life. The Philly cheese steak sandwiches, the beautiful women he passed by on the streets, even the very air he breathed, they all held more of a meaning to him. On these days, he only concerned himself with the present because he wasn't sure how tomorrow would turn out, or if there would even be a tomorrow.
And finally, there were the days when he was so guilt-ridden, full of this all-encompassing sense of wrongdoing by his brother. These were the worst days of all. He could imagine what Sammy was going through, the emotions he was experiencing because he had been there himself. He knew firsthand what it felt like to know someone had willingly traded their soul to save your life. He knew the shock that came first, and the anger and grief that followed shortly thereafter. For Sam, though, there was a chance of resolve. He couldn't let himself believe in that resolve, for fear of the crippling disappointment that might ensue, but he could let Sammy believe. He knew it was the only thing holding his baby brother together at the moment. He liked to think that if his father had gotten the same deal he had, he would have been right where his brother is now, trying to find a way out of this mess. But that wasn't the case. He was the one in middle of this insanely fucked up situation. He was the one with only a year left to live, the one with the clock above his head, slowly counting down the months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds, until his time was out.
The days swirled around him, creating a sort of kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings and moods. He would be all happy-go-lucky for a few days, and then would suddenly do nothing but stare morosely out of the car window and pass up every chance his brother would present to stop somewhere for a bite to eat for the next few days, until it would all change again. Sam learned when it was okay to act as though nothing had ever happened and when he should just flat out ignore Dean's existence. Dean learned how to fake a smile, then learned that his brother could never possibly buy into one, so he gave up trying.
A car horn sounded and snapped Dean back to the present. He wasn't sure what kind of day is was yet, but he guessed it wasn't going to be a good one because they had only been up for twenty minutes so far and already the idiots where out on the road and getting pissy.
"You waiting on an invitation or what, Dean? The light's green." His brother asked from the passenger seat, a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes sparkled with amusement, but only barely covered the concern underneath.
Dean didn't bother to answer, nor did he bother to look up at the light to check that it was green for himself. He just stepped on the gas peddle with more force than necessary and wondered if he got to where he was going faster, would he have more time in the end?