I've been watching Supernatural for a year or longer and I finally decided I need to get in on the fic action. Let me first declare myself as an unapologetic Dean girl! I'm an older sibling so I relate to him more than Sam. Not to mention, Dean is so much more adorable: with all his self-worth issues and over-protectiveness ect.
Also, I have a soft spot for preseries stories. I'm addicted to reading them and now I want to write them ;)
It's February and the Impala is parked on a dirt road in South Dakota, keeping company with a rusty tow truck in front of a dusty looking house. Sam and Dean sit at the table they were ushered to when Bobby opened the door to them and their father. John's getting ready for a hunt in North Dakota. It's practically the same state, right? It's still got Dakota in the name. At least, that's the rationalization in Dean's recently-turned-ten-years-old mind.
After John leaves his kids behind with a 'listen to your brother' and 'watch out for Sammy' respectively, Bobby hands out plates for the sandwiches Dean prepared before the older man had a chance to. The boys eat like they haven't seen food in years and want to get reacquainted as soon as possible. When Bobby offers them second helpings, Sammy's eyes widen in please, yes please, while Dean's squint as he tries to figure out the catch. But there are no strings attached to four more pieces of bread.
The next morning, Bobby rolls out of bed at seven, thinking that'll give him time to get a cup of joe before he's gotta chase the Winchester boys around all day. But the kitchen is already occupied by said boys. Sam grins at him, milk trickling down his chin and Dean grunts something that might be good morning but the cheerios stuffing his cheeks make him difficult to understand.
Bobby doesn't know why he was dreading their visit. The boys occupy themselves just fine, sometimes to the point where Bobby forgets they're even staying over. For as long as the sun is shining, they're out in the yard playing tag or hide'n'seek or piggyback or catch (Bobby smiles with pride when he thinks of who taught Dean to throw the ball like that) or leapfrog or some strange game involving stacks of gravel that they made up all by themselves that Bobby hasn't figured out the rules to yet but that keeps the boys quiet for hours.
When it gets dark, the boys pound up the stairs and lie belly down on the old mattress in the guest room with a Reader's Digest spread between them, Dean pointing out the words and Sam repeating them in his high childish voice. Some nights Bobby makes dinner but some nights Dean does. Either way, the boys always clean up afterwards. Dean washes and Sam dries and the suds end up everywhere. It doesn't help that Dean enjoys dolloping them onto Sam's hair just because it makes the younger boy giggle.
The two weeks fly by and before long, the Impala purrs up the drive and heavy footsteps precede the loud knock and then Dean's got all his and Sam's things back into their duffel before Sam's even stopped crying about how he doesn't want to go. Dean clatters back down the stairs and, while John tries to calm Sam, Bobby draws Dean aside and presses a five dollar bill into his hand, whispering that it's a birthday present for Dean to buy himself something he really likes. Dean's eyes widen in please, yes please and it doesn't matter that it's a month after his actual birthday. The crumpled green paper gets crammed into his pocket, next to the stick of chewing gum, a specially shaped rock and his swiss army knife.
In the car, Dean leans over to Sam, who isn't crying anymore, to discover that his brother also has a five dollar bill fisted in his snotty fingers. He got just as much as Dean, even though it wasn't Sam's birthday. But that doesn't matter to Dean-as long as Sam's not crying anymore. Dean passes the majority of the ride to Michigan turning his own money over and over in his hands. Bobby said it was his. His. Dean's. He doesn't have to share. Or buy food. Or pay the lunch lady at school. Or anything but what he wants. He tries to decide what that is. He wonders how much he can get with it. He can tell you how many loaves of bread five dollars can buy. How many cans of Spaghetti O's. How much milk. But he can't say how much candy it'll buy.
When they roll into the new town, he pays close attention to where the nearest grocery store is in relation to their motel. He counts the blocks. One, two….seven. Not very far at all. His father stops the car and Dean instinctively shoves the bill into his pocket. Now it's secret. Safe. He doesn't know if his father would take it if he saw it. He's never had his own money before so it's never come up. But he'd rather not risk it. After all, he can nearly taste the candy already.
His dad tells him he'll be back in four days, there's bread in the cupboard and soup by the stove. Dean nods and fingers the five in his pocket. At dinner, Sam whines about only having one sandwich, not two like at Uncle Bobby's. And Dean almost offers his money, almost tells Sam that they can spend his five on more bread. But then he remembers what Bobby said about it being his and asks instead about Sam's own gift from Bobby. Sam's whole body leans across the table to Dean's seat as he whispers that he's saving it for something special. Dean rolls his eyes and gives his brother the last quarter of his own sandwich.
The next day is Saturday and Dean elects to miss his favorite cartoon in favor of walking to the local mini mart. He has to shake Sam awake and it takes several minutes of cajoling before Sam is convinced that a trip to the store is going to be more fun than watching cartoons. The motion sensor doors roll back for Dean and he feels like a king on a red carpet, every gleaming display in every aisle clamoring for his attention. It's almost overwhelming, the sudden opening of endless possibilities. But he has a sort of idea in his head and he sort of knows where he wants to go and what he wants to buy.
His feet carry him unerringly to the correct location in the store and his eyes nearly pop as he stares at row upon row of boxed, bagged and packaged candies. He distracts Sam by asking him to read the back of a cereal box he snagged from the previous aisle. As Sam struggles through the literature, Dean's fingers track over chocolate bars, mints, gummies. Sour candies. Sweet candies. Hard candies. Soft candies. Big, little, and colorful candies. Shiny wrapping and crinkly plastic. His mouth fills with saliva, his stomach growling for a bit of everything. Sam nears the end and Dean knows he has to act fast. He grabs a fistfull of gummies, a package of hard candies and a couple of chocolate bars.
They go to the check out, Dean's excitement nearly uncontrollable as he waits his turn. When the bored girl at the cash register tallies it all up, Dean proudly hands over his five and accepts the nickel and two pennies in return. Sam has to put the cereal box down, since they aren't buying it. Sam wants to know what they did buy then. Dean clutches the bag to his chest and says it's boring stuff. Just boring stuff, Sammy.
Once the dishes have been washed and Sam's been washed, and is now laid out in bed snoring softly, Dean pulls out the grocery bag from beneath his bed. It's a treasure trove of sweets and he indulges in one, unwrapping a gummi hot dog as quietly as the transparent plastic will allow. It tastes amazing, nothing like a real hot dog of course but still really good. Dean eyes the gummi hamburger in the sack resting at his knee. He wonders if it will taste the same as the hot dog or if they have different flavors. There's only one way to find out. It tastes the same, but that's not a bad thing. Dean nearly falls asleep with his precious stash out in the open. In fact, he does. But he wakes a few minutes later in a panic, just long enough to hide the bag again before he returns to sleep.
Over the next couple of days, Dean stealthily dips into his horde after Sam goes to bed. He's discovering his tastes in candy. He likes gummies. And most of the hard candies, except for the cinnamon flavor. Even when he's not eating them, just the memory of the ones he did, and the knowledge of the ones still waiting for him, sends a thrill through him. They are his. All his. Bought and paid for with his very own money. He only lets Sam have half a chocolate bar. And that's only because Sam tripped over the raised door frame and scraped his knee in the motel parking lot.
Day five comes and goes. His dad isn't back yet and the bread bag only has the crusts in it. There are no more soup cans. Dean makes a single sandwich out of the two ends of the loaf and Sam complains that he doesn't like the crusts. Dean knows he doesn't like crusts. He asks Sam to eat his dinner anyway and Sam flips the plate over, crosses his arms and refuses. There are no dishes to wash that night. After Sam's asleep, Dean nibbles on the crust sandwich but the empty parking space in front of their room steals his appetite.
Sam's not that great at counting the days yet but even he knows Dad is supposed to be back by now. He's not thrilled by the fact that Dad's late. But he's even less thrilled when Dean tries to suggest that they wait breakfast until he gets back. Sam shouts and cries and argues. Dean deflects and counters and lies. Until finally he has to tell Sam that they don't have any breakfast. This only makes Sam cry harder.
The walk to the store seems longer than Dean remembers it being. With a disdainful groan, the automatic doors grudgingly allow them in. The price tags laugh at Dean, piercing him with numbers and decimal points and dollar signs. He lets Sam pick out the cereal, but that's nothing new. Sam wants to get lots of other things too. The normal things that aren't new either, like spaghetti O's and potato chips and mac 'n' cheese. Dean sadly shakes his head and tugs Sam into line at the checkout.
It's almost their turn and Dean's sweating, palm moist where he's gripping Sam's wrist. Without looking at his brother's face, Dean asks him if he's got his five from Bobby. Sam affirms and Dean asks to see it. Guileless and unsuspecting, Sam retrieves the bill from his pants pocket and hands it to his brother. Before Sam can stop him, Dean passes it to the bored girl behind the register. Sam's mouth drops open and he screams his indignant protest. The people in line behind them and the people leaving the store in front of them and the people shopping all around them stare disapprovingly and Dean fights to drag Sam outside.
Sam digs his heels in as soon as his sneakers touch the asphalt parking lot of the grocery store and he wants to know why Dean did what he just did. Dean starts to give the explanation but Sam won't let him finish. Didn't Dean know that he was saving his money for something special? Dean did know, because Sam told him so. Sam demands why Dean couldn't have just used his own money from Bobby. Dean thinks of the empty candy wrappers stashed under the bed in the motel room and feels a kind of discomfort under his skin when he's forced to admit to Sam that he already spent his. Sam's indignation rises. Dean didn't even share? Yes, he did-the chocolate bar when Sam scraped his knee, remember? But that wasn't nearly as much candy as Dean had, and now Sam doesn't have any of his money and why does Dean always have to be such a meanie?
Walking back takes the longest of all and Dean wishes his stomach would stop twisting and turning. It feels like all of a sudden, all that candy he ate is back. And it's just in there, in his belly, pressing up against the sides and wiggling around uncomfortably as he walks. Sam stomps ahead of Dean and won't talk to him. They get inside the room and he still won't. Dean pours him a bowl of cereal, dry because there's no milk, and Sam smacks it out of his hand, sending toasted oat pieces and multi-colored marshmallows skittering across the table. They bounce around a couple times before falling onto the floor and bouncing on that for a few more times before falling still. Sam leaves his chair, throws himself across the couch in despair and leaves Dean to clean up the generic breakfast food.
It's January and the Impala is parked on a dirt road in South Dakota, keeping company with a rusty tow truck in front of a dusty looking house. Sam and Dean sit at the table they were ushered to when Bobby opened the door to them and their father. John's getting ready for a hunt in West Virginia. That's nowhere near Dakota. After John leaves his kids behind with a 'listen to your brother' and 'watch out for Sammy' respectively, Bobby comes into the kitchen and claps his hands together once. He leans close to Dean's chair, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a crumpled five dollar bill. How would Dean like a birthday present? Dean's eyes close and his recently-turned-twelve-years-old mouth dips into a frown. No thank you.