"Sam, you don't understand, this is important!" Dean ran his hands through his hair, and then grasped at Sam's elbow to make him keep up, eyes gazing wildly at the huge line in front of the autograph table.
Sam personally didn't see why this was so important. Sure, the guy was in Star Trek, and sure, Star Trek was a great show. But Dean's hopeless enthusiasm over it was getting out of hand, and Sam was worried. This was the only nice city hotel they'd ever stayed in, and by the looks of it, probably the last. John had ordered them not to leave the room – they could get room service for food and watch HBO or of course clean weapons. However, the hotel was also the site of a small but admirable Star Trek convention. And there was no force, be it supernatural or John Winchester's will, that could prevent Dean from meeting one of his favorite actors. So after John had left for his hunt, Dean talked Sam into wandering down into the lobby and buying day passes to the convention. At first, it was an adventure, and both the boys tried not to gape at the fantastic array of costumes. Now, though, Sam was worried, but Dean was only just warming up.
"Dean, come on, we shouldn't be here."
"Sammy, if you think I'm missing the chance to shake Leonard Nimoy's hand, you are wrong. I'll never meet him otherwise." Dean was dead set, but he couldn't help but glance down and notice how desperately his hands were shaking. Of course, he agreed with Sam, and hated himself a little for doing something so selfish: what if Dad discovered that they weren't in the room? What if he or Sam got hurt while they were out? But above the constant stream of warm worry that was Dean Winchester's consciousness was the insignia of Starfleet and vision of shaking Spock's hand.
Dean shook his head and strode boldly to join the long line, finally letting go of Sam's arm. Sam realized to his chagrin that his big brother was shaking. Dean, who had killed a ghost just a month ago almost by himself, was afraid of meeting a man who played an alien on TV. Sam gave a little smile at Dean, wished him luck, and stole out of the line. He didn't need to wait.
The next half an hour was a blur to Dean, who faced the line alone in a vague haze, trying to force away the nervous lump in his throat. He was ushered to shake Nimoy's hand, his own clammy, and somehow a signed photograph of Spock was pressed at him and he was sent away from the line. He shook his head in disbelief. "Sam! Sammy, look, I got it! I actually met him!" Dean's paralysis fell away and he and Sam fell into their comfortable walk, headed back to their room.
Just before Sam hit the button for the elevator, Dean paused. "Since we're already out, we might as well enjoy it, right? Let's go get some ice cream!"
A pit of fear fell into Sam's stomach at the thought of missing John back at the room, but the prospect of ice cream was too much. He grinned and they both got root beer floats and enjoyed them beyond belief.
Xxx
They traipsed upstairs, a pleasant tiredness settling on both. Dean was in the midst of a joke as he opened the door, when suddenly his face fell. John was sitting in the narrow room's single chair. "Where the hell have you boys been?" he demanded, voice dangerously low.
Sam opened his mouth, something bold and defiant poised on his lips, when Dean interrupted. "Dad, look, I'm sorry, it's my fault. I really wanted to see the convention, and I made Sam come with me to look around."
John stood up. "I told you to stay in your room. Damn it, I said do anything but leave this room. And what did you do? You damned left. I expected better from you, at least, Dean. Do you think what we do out there doesn't matter? Like that convention you just endangered with your presence is real life? It's not. It's fucking fantasy. None of it is real. What's real is what killed your mother and what will kill us, if we don't do our jobs proper." He paused a moment, eyes still flashing. Dean hung his head, but something dark and cruel flickered in Sam and he kept staring and his cowed brother and furious father. He was so angry. At John for ruining the one innocent thing Dean cared about, and ultimately at himself for letting Dean talk him into leaving the room in the first place.
John had caught sight of the photograph Dean was still clutching. He snatched it up and shook his head derisively. "None. Of. This. Shit. Matters." He tore the picture in half, and looked at Dean once more. "And get that damned ring thing off your neck." It was another of Dean's favorite memorabilia: the One Ring that he wore around his neck since he'd stolen it from a dentist office's copy of Lord of the Rings Risk. John yanked the chain savagely, and the ring fell into his hand. He crossed the room to the window and tossed it out. "We leave in ten minutes."
After John left the room, Dean sat down on his bed and choked back sobs. Sam didn't dare say anything. Finally, when Dean had calmed down, he stood and slunk out of the room himself.
Sam stared at the rent photograph. He picked up the pieces and puzzled them together, and rifled through his backpack until he found tape. The picture successfully patched, Sam headed downstairs to the car.
Xxx
The boys sat in the back seat of the Impala, on the road again. Dean looked morosely out the window until it was too dark to see anything, and then he turned to stare at his hands as he twiddled his thumbs. Sam checked to make sure John was concentrating on the road, and then opened his pack. "Look, Dean, I saved it for you!" Dean's eyes flicked to the photograph and he barely suppressed as gasp.
"Thank you, Sammy!" he said aloud, too thrilled to be quiet. John looked back. Dean quickly made up an explanation for his outburst, and when their father had turned back around, he hugged his brother. "Thank you."
As John drove into the night, Dean murmured for Sam's ears only, "The supernatural: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Chevy Impala, her on-going mission to gank monsters and explore strange new hotels, to boldly go where no hunters have gone before." Sam giggled, and Dean tousled his hair as the car accelerated. "Punch it." And for a moment, the empty road seemed like space, and the Impala felt like family.