Just an innoculous little thing that came into my head.
Set in the early seasons.
Hope you enjoy!
I do not own Sam, Dean or Supernatural, not even the Impala :-(
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_An Unscheduled Stop_
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The music pounding out from the loudspeakers, the sun's rays warming him through the
car window, the buzz from his last successful hunt still circulating through his veins, his
pockets filled with cash hustled from some really dumb country hicks at pool last night...!
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Yeah, all in all it should have been a tip-top moment for Dean Winchester, one of those
rare calm interludes in the tempestuous sea of horror and blood that was his life, and it was,
until he let his gaze alight on his little brother slumped down in the passenger seat next to him.
Sam's head was pressed against the window, his chest rising and falling imperceptibly, lost in
the realms of dreams, or as more often was the case, nightmares.
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His little brother was out for the count, looking no older than an over grown six-year old, his
floppy hair tousled and messy.
Dean felt a pang of anguish grip him.
He took in the figure of his sibling in his pair of worn, frayed, washed nearly to tatters, jeans,
his threadbare shirt and his old jacket, permanently spotted with unknown monster-secreted
fluids that no amount of washing had managed to eliminate.
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He wondered what life would have been like for Sam if his had been a normal family, with
parents able to provide at least the basic necessities of life for their children, who could have
given Sam that which he deserved, love, security and no hunting!
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He could imagine him happy, babbling on about school, soccer, girls, making him and his
mum and dad proud with his grades at school.
A bitter-sweet smile came over Dean's face, he couldn't give Sam any of that, but he could
give him something.
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He passed a sign-post for the next big town and before long he was pulling into the parking
lot of a huge Mall where he deftly manoeuvred the Impala into a space shadowed by an
enormous tree.
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With the roar of the engine dulled, the rock music was even louder and Dean knew that
Sam would soon re-surface from sleep.
Sure enough Sam stirred and tried in vain to stretch his limbs to his gigantor length, knowing the
impossibility of that in the restricted space of the car.
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"Dean..he slurred, "How long did I sleep...where are we?"
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"We, my little brother are parked in the comfortable shade of a friendly tree, belonging to the
Desert Rose Mall, where we are going to leave my baby until we totally stake out this joint
and fit you out."
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Sam stared at him as if he had grown antlers and turned into a reindeer, his big soft eyes
in "What the Hell" mode.
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"What on Earth! Dean... Just... What is that supposed to mean?"
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"It means bro, three new pairs of jeans, ever assuming we find ones to fit those prolonged
appendages you call legs, some new shirts and a couple of jackets...and no bitching!"
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" What...No way, I don't need anything, we haven't got the extra money to throw away
on clothes."
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"That's where your wrong, Sammy-boy!
Last night I really cashed in big-style, and you bro are gonna get a new wardrobe, courtesy
of the two hick..., I mean nice guys who supplied the cash.
Maybe that's why you don't get your full supply of chicks, Sammy, 'cos if even I reckon you
look like a shabby hobo, what must they think!"
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He exited the car knowing that Sam would follow.
"Come on, Sam, we haven't got all day and you're worse than a prissy girl when you're
picking out stuff!"
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" Dean..!"
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"I said no bitching dude!"
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"Dean, I... Thanks, man. "
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"It's no big Sammy, it's the least you deserve," replied Dean, his gaze meeting Sam's.
Any other words would have been superfluous, their silent communication conveying
more than mere words ever could.
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