Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. Spoilers about for each and every episode so far released in the USA.
Disclaimer: The only thing concerning the Winchesterverse that I own is a bad, mad crush.


COGITATIONS
101: Pilot

by Sade Lyrate

He saw them get back. Sam had hardly changed. Except for the hot nurse he held hands with. Their steps were light, lively, the brief kiss gentle before they disappeared through the front door, laughing. He watched as the apartment lit up, their silhouettes in the windows.

His fingers tapped to the rhythm of Enter Sandman nervously, forgotten.

Sam had looked happy.

And he remembered the last time he'd talked with the younger man, two years or so ago. And he wasn't sure he was doing the right thing now.

"Just leave me alone."

And he had. After all the phone calls that went unanswered...he had. Sure, he'd seen Sam, once in a while, from a distance. Shadows, him and Dad, shut off from Sam's dream.

"It's not my problem anymore."

Two years, and Sam had still been playing that old record. His voice had been steadier, stronger, lacking the rage Dean remembered from that final showdown with their father. Would he have learned any new words afterwards?

The house went dark. The night eased the neighbourhood into silence and sleep, or at least something as close to that as possible. He waited still, thinking, wanting to make sure he wouldn't at least barge in on Sam's life while he was being...treated.

He wasn't sure this was the right decision, but...

Last time he'd seen their father, they'd exchanged normal goodbyes, see-you-soons, good-lucks. A quick, easy gig in New Orleans; Dad in Jericho. Check up on Sam again in a couple of whiles.

And ever since he'd received that voicemail from the elder man, he'd been driving from New Orleans to Stanford, something cold wrapped tightly around his heart.

"We're all in danger"?

They were always in danger. Nothing new with that. Every hunt bore its risks, every instance between they were attuned to the going-ons of paranormal kind.
'Danger' was their life.

But this time... He had had the distinct feeling that Dad didn't mean just the two of them, those who helped them, the other hunters. This time there was heaviness to the voice he'd learnt to obey that made him press the pedal in a mad need to see Sam. He wanted his family together again, standing beside him.
Together they could beat whatever shit got thrown their way, they'd be safe. And then everything would return to the way it was before...before everything fell apart.

Find Sam. Find Dad. Face the evil son-of-a-bitch.
Sounded like a rather good plan.

So he let the Impala roll closer, killing the quiet music with the engine. Then he reached for his bag in the backseat, fingers closing around a small, black package. Casting a final glance at his target apartment, he slid out of the car.

The gate presented no difficulties. The stairs were equally silent, the door to Sam's apartment hardly indistinguishable from the rest.
Flexing his fingers, he tested the door. Final chance to turn tail, leave Sam without a fight to cling to his dream.
He hesitated, lockpicks in hand.

Final chance to leave, let Sam face all the dangers alone, unwarned?

Flawlessly, the lock clicked, the door cracked open.
Cautiously, he ventured into the dark, silent apartment, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness in the apartment as he took a step. And toppled something over.

Shit.

Well, if that didn't wake up Sam...

The room around him was filled with stuff. Furniture, books, just...stuff. No wonder something had tumbled down. Carefully he made his way into another room. Still nothing. Except more stuff. And not even the kitchen. Continuing mapping out the place, the glass door obeyed noiselessly his touch.

Someone grabbed his shoulder.