Disclaimer: This is a transformative work of fiction based on the original characters of E. Kripke. Still not making any money…
A/N: This story is based on a chapter in Merisha's Give Me a Hand which is part of the E/O Challenge. It's amazing what a talented writer can do with a hundred words. If you aren't checking out the challenge every Sunday, you should…
My thanks to Merisha for giving me permission to run with this little plot bunny – the image she created in those hundred words was just too good and wouldn't let me be…
A/N2: Are we still warning spoilers for 4.22? If so, this is at least partially a tag to the season finale…
"Books are the quietest and most constant of friends and the most patient of teachers."
Charles W. Eliot
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Sam had always loved books. He'd loved the smell of them; the smell of old books from second hand stores; dusty books from the bottom or very top shelves at Bobby's; brand new books with expensive paper; paperbacks and hardbacks. He'd loved the texture of them. The feel of a raised pattern on a hardback book; the feel of the pages flipping under his fingers.
Sam had loved curling up with a book: under the covers, in an old armchair, in the backseat of the Impala. Sam had loved looking at the pictures. Sam had loved losing himself in the words, being transported to a different world, a different life. Later he had loved the knowledge that he could find in books. Knowledge that could help keep his family safe. He'd felt betrayed when books hadn't solved Dean's deal.
Books had always made Sam feel safe. The books at Bobby's were the first thing that Sam had noticed. Actually, the books at Bobby's were about the first thing everybody noticed at Bobby's, but for Sam, they made him feel at home right away. They'd told him that Bobby would be a good friend, that Bobby would always be a home for them.
When Sam was little, he liked looking at the pictures in books, but he was frustrated by the words before he could read. Daddy never seemed to have time to read to him, so as with so many things, Sam relied on Dean. Luckily, Dean was just old enough to be able to read the types of books that appealed to someone Sam's age. It was actually helpful for Dean who struggled at the beginning of school, it coming so closely on the heels of losing Mom. So the extra practice was good for him too.
Dean would curl up in Sam's bed and read the captions while Sam would look at the pictures until he fell asleep, lulled by his brother's voice.
Sam, like all children, had had a favourite book. They had few possessions that they could really call their own, that remained a constant in their lives, but for Sam it was that book. He insisted on Dean's reading it at least once a day. Sam was too young to read the words, but he'd heard it often enough to know when Dean tried to pull a fast one and change something. He adored it when Dean used funny voices, however, and those Dean was allowed to change. Inevitably the book started to fall apart. And then tragedy struck when the book was left behind. John flatly refusing to go back for it.
It was hardly surprising that it was Bobby who had completely understood why Sam was devastated (and Dean because Sam was), and who came to their rescue by taking Dean out to find a new copy of the book. In the end, they had had to steal it from the local library, but Bobby had taken Dean to every bookstore in town first.
And of course, that copy eventually fell apart too. But by then, Dean knew the words completely by heart. He knew all about Jack and his bunny and his duck and the place where they all lived. And Sam could picture it all perfectly in his head, so it was ok when the book physically wasn't there anymore, because between them, Dean and Sam could recreate it perfectly.
Sam had almost forgotten about the story by the time he was 16 and getting restless with his existence. When books started to mean escape in a real, physical way and not just an imaginative way. But then he and Dean were trapped by a cave in when they were all hunting the spirit of a miner. Dean needed to keep Sam awake because Sam had a head injury. When the endless stream of useless information started to dry up, Dean dragged out the story of Jack. He still knew it perfectly by heart. It did the job. It kept Sam awake and totally focused on his brother until John swooped in to rescue them and Dean passed out cold.
It wasn't surprising then, that Sam turned to books now for solace. But the withdrawal, psychosomatic or real, wouldn't give him that comfort. The words swam sickeningly on the pages. So Dean read to him. It was a way to pass the time, but mostly it was a way for Dean's voice to ground his brother. Sometimes Dean chose the book, sometimes it was whatever Bobby brought down to them in the panic room, and sometimes Sam would ask for something specific.
The night the symptoms, real or imagined, were the worst, Sam surprised Dean with his request. Dean had insisted that Sam take the bed. Sam's muscles were sore from the convulsions and the tremors and the spasms. Dean had laid down on the floor. The cold, hard cement floor. And insisted he'd had worse and he was fine. It was impossible to argue against the "I've had worse" line anymore.
They were lying in the dark, trying to sleep and both failing miserably. They were trying to distract each other with inane small talk and even Dean's seemingly inexhaustible supply of amazing trivia was being stretched thin.
"Dean?" Sam asked tentatively.
"Yeah? What'd'ya need Sammy?" Dean's rich voice replied immediately.
"Can you do me a favour?"
"You know you just gotta ask, dude."
"Could you tell me the story about Jack?"
There was silence. Sam didn't have to be able to see his brother to be able to know exactly what expression was on his face. Sam smiled.
"The one about the duck and the rabbit?"
"That's the one…" Dean could hear the smile in his brother's words.
"Uh… sure… ok…"
And Sam wasn't the least bit surprised when Dean could recite the story perfectly from memory. Not even forty years or all the demons in hell or all the angels in heaven, could erase that memory for either of them.
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"The pleasure of reading is doubled when one lives with another who shares the same books."
Katherine Mansfield
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A/N: the title "Medicine for the soul" is the unattributed quote that appears over the door to the ancient library at Thebes.
