Hey! Me again. ;) I love Supernatural and I enjoyed writing this a great deal. This fanfic isn't very heavy on the storyline. It much more explores the bond between two brothers who have lived together for their whole lives. It takes place when Sam is eleven and Dean is fifteen. Thanks for reading! :D
Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine.
Oh, also, this story will have three chapters. They will be up till the end of the week.
This one was a good one. She was blond and she was skinny. Beautiful in her own way, but just flawed enough to be gently insecure. Insecure enough to blush at every compliment Dean whispered into her ear. Her cheeks hot. Her lips soft and full against his skin.
He grinned down on her, her blue eyes the sparkling shade of melted iron. There was a single lamp burning in the room and she'd long ago offered to turn it off, but he hadn't let her. That was exactly why. He wanted to see her twinkling eyes, how they stared into his, how they shared thoughts and words and feelings.
She was intelligent. He knew that. He hadn't spent a lot of time with her, not as much as he wanted to, but that he did know. She was the kind of person who knew a great deal of things, so many in fact that she didn't have to brag about it anymore. She stayed silent, and her silence conveyed her wisdom.
Dean leaned closer. He pressed his lips against hers, gently at first but quickly intensifying the light touch. He knew what he was doing, of course. But he also didn't. Not exactly. This one was special. He actually liked her. He'd spent two weeks just talking to her before trying anything beyond the limits that separated acquaintances from … well, more.
He'd spent six weeks doing more with her before he'd finally invited her over at a time carefully predicted to see their motel room empty and forsaken. John was on a hunt. Sammy was at soccer practice.
Sammy.
Dean sighed. He pushed himself off the bed and looked at Nelly regretfully.
»I'm sorry,« he said, his voice raspy. »I wish we could do this longer.«
She smiled shyly. She was so adorably unsure that Dean had to catch his breath. She was perfect. Innocent. Good and beautiful in every meaning of the word. »Me, too,« she admitted.
He grinned at her cheekily. »We can always repeat it, you know. Just say the word.«
»We will,« she agreed with such determination that it was hard to argue. Fortunately, Dean didn't want to in the least.
»Where's this brother of yours at, anyway?«
»Oh, it's just around the corner.« Dean put on a fresh T-shirt, then looked around the room, unsure of where his right sock had landed. Was it possible it had somehow got behind his shelf?
»And he can't walk home alone?« Nelly was regarding him with risen eyebrows, sitting in the middle of the bed as if she had all the time in the world.
Dean smiled sourly. »It's dangerous.«
»It's a few blocks.«
»And if something happens to him? I could never …«
She sighed, resigned. »Yeah, yeah. I get it. I have a sister, too. It's just … I don't want it to be over yet.«
Dean jumped to his feet, giving up on the idea of finding his sock, and crawled to the bed. He leaned in close to her ear. »It's not over. We're just taking a little break, is all.«
She blushed. Her cheeks were fair and smooth and warm.
»I wanna come with you.«
Dean pursed his lips. »I don't know –«
»Please, let me come with you. We'll only be seeing each other tomorrow.«
»Fine. But hurry. We really need to go.«
Sam had already been waiting when they arrived, sweaty and hot and out of breath. The eleven-year-old looked at Nelly sceptically, then turned pointedly to his older brother. »And who is this?«
»Oh, come on, Sassy-Pants. Show a little respect for your brother's friend, will you?«
Sam rolled his eyes. »I'm not sassy.«
»Of course not.«
»Jerk.«
»Bitch.«
»Dean,« Nelly cut in.
»What?«
»You can't call your brother 'bitch'!«
»It wasn't meant like that …« Dean tried to clarify, but Sam stepped up, his imposing figure immediately building a wall between his brother and the girl. Admittedly, a pretty low wall, but it was a low wall made of determination and relentlessness. Nothing was getting through it.
»Why not?« he asked, and Nelly frowned at him, unsure of what exactly to say. She looked at Dean pleadingly and he rolled his eyes, dropping an appeasing hand on Sam's shoulder.
»Sam, cut it. It's okay.«
»No, Dean, I wanna know what right a girl has to tell you what you can and can't do.«
»Sam –«
Nelly cleared her throat and crouched a bit to be able to look Sam in the yes. She didn't have to lower her face much, though. Since when was Sam so big? Had he grown, again? Was he going to overgrow his own brother?
Nelly tried to smile reassuringly and Dean closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. This was going to go South.
»Older siblings shouldn't call younger siblings bad names. It's not nice,« she said in a voice a mother would probably use on her child. Dean groaned on the inside. He felt Sam tense under his hand and he felt his pulse quicken. He knew his brother's heartbeat better than his own; at the moment, it was only slightly elevated, but that still meant that Sammy had to be pretty pissed. The eleven-year-old wasn't someone to get worked up easily.
»Do you want to know something?« Sam's voice was chillingly low, cool and collected. He fixed the girl with a glare Dean had learned to evade in the past. That right there was the look that promised trouble.
»Sure.«
»Do you know who raised me? Huh? Do you know who sleeps with me every night and who gets up when I have nightmares and who gets food into me every morning and every evening? Do you know who's always there for me?«
Nelly blinked. »Your parents?«
Sam chuckled humourlessly. He looked back at Dean, who shrugged.
»I guess he hasn't told you much about us,« Sam concluded. »Doesn't matter. Our mom's dead. Our dad –«
»Sam.«
»What, Dean, what? We have to tell her. Or she'll keep telling you what to do. Our dad isn't around much. It's mostly me and my brother. My brother who had raised me. Do you get that? So he can do to me whatever he wants. He can say to me whatever he wants. Okay? He's made me all that I am. So don't you ever, ever try to protect me from him. It's more than unnecessary and uncalled for, and it makes him feel like a bad brother and it makes me feel pissed.«
He said it all matter-of-factly, without as much as a twitch of the brow, but someone like Dean, someone who'd known him for all his life, could see the raw emotion bubbling underneath the surface. It wasn't hard to spot once you knew where to look. Sammy was an open book, really, or more like an open bottle; letting all his emotions explode into the air whenever they boiled over.
But Nelly didn't seem to notice what was so obvious; that Sam was protecting his brother because that was all they both knew how to do; that Sam had understood immediately what the simple comment had caused with Dean and that the boy had stepped up to show his older brother he still believed in him; that Sam was the best little brother anyone could wish for, a little brother who would never betray him for anything or anyone.
Maybe Sam was only an open bottle to Dean. Maybe they were living in in their own little bubble, the world spinning around them in varying rhythms, none of them their own. Maybe that was what family was all about.
Dean looked at Nelly and saw that her beautiful, beautiful blue eyes were misty. He hadn't wanted for this to happen. But Sam wasn't just any kid she could play around with. And if it came down to it, he knew who he would choose in the end. He'd known that the second his father had placed the baby in his arms and screamed at him to freaking leave the burning house! This was what he did. This was who he lived for.
»Nelly,« he said weakly, but the girl had already turned around. She ran a quick hand down her face. »Nelly, he's not mad at you –«
»Yes, I am, Dean.«
Dean groaned. »Well, he is mad at you, but it has nothing to do with you. He's like that with everyone.«
Nelly's shoulders tensed. »You're … complicated,« she breathed. She turned around, her cheeks mat from the dried tears. She tried to smile. »I'm sorry.«
And off she went.
Dean sighed and held his brother by the shoulders as they watched her go. He wasn't mad, not really, but he was a little disappointed. Nelly had been a good girl. But good enough to want him back after this? Well …
»Thanks, Sam.«
»No problem, man.«
»That was sarcasm, if you haven't guessed.«
»Wow, I'm surprised you even know what the word means.«
»I do and I'm trying to tell you that this wasn't cool.«
Sam smiled cheekily, craning his neck to look up at his brother. »Oh, so you're saying I wasn't supposed to get rid of her? You should have mentioned that before, man. The last one you invited over I had to scare away so that you wouldn't have to dump her, remember?«
»Come on, Sam. I'm serious.«
»So am I, Dean,« Sam said, still looking into his brother's eyes. His gaze was different now; softer and warmer. He wasn't angry anymore. »I won't let people hurt you, not even if you think it's what you want.«
Dean chuckled. »She wasn't hurting me.«
»She was. I know you. And that's all there is to say.« He paused for a few seconds. »Can we go now? I'm starving and it's kind of freezing.«
»Sure. But you're doing the dishes tonight.«
»Hey! Why?«
Dean grinned. »Oh, well, I remember a wise man once saying that I can do and say whatever I want to you. And right now I'm saying you're doing the dishes.«
Sam huffed. »Jerk.«
»Love you, too, bitch.«
