Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with the boys, playing around with Eric Kripke's sandbox.
NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION
By: Vanessa Sgroi
The muffled boom of fireworks sounded and Sam Winchester sighed, looking up from his perch on the trunk of the car. His gaze traveled upward to the distant sparkle of the light show then sideways toward his older sibling.
"So—it's a new year." He raised a bottle of beer to his lips, slowly swallowing a sip of the mellow, yeasty brew.
"Yeah. Imagine that." Dean raised his own bottle, one containing a deep amber whiskey rather than beer. His swallow was far more than a sip.
"I'm worried about you."
Dean raised the bottle, pausing before it reached his lips. "Oh? Why?"
Sam's fingers closed around Dean's wrist and he tugged downward. "Because of this." He tapped the bottle with his fingernail.
Dean pulled out of his younger brother's grip, shrugged, and raised the bottle, taking another long pull. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he muttered, "Don't be. I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Sam looked to the sky again, his gaze locking on the far-flung fireworks. "Maybe it'll be a better year," he mused absently.
"Oh, it will be." Dean's statement was abundantly confident.
"Will it?"
"Yep. Because I am going to hunt down that asshole—Dick Roman—and I am going to destroy him for what he did to Bobby." He paused to drink. "That alone will make it a good year."
"If we can find a way to do it."
"Oh, I will find a way."
"We. Remember me? We'll find a way, Dean."
The distant rumble of revelry and celebration crescendoed then drew to a close. Sam's attention turned toward the shack they in which they were currently squatting. It was shabby and rundown but miraculously it had electricity and water and was completely isolated. A stiff wind kicked up, rattling a loose shutter or two. "It's cold out here. Why don't we go inside?"
Dean shrugged. "I'm not cold."
"No, but you should be." Sam waggled the empty beer bottle to and fro.
For a few minutes only the sound of the fitful wind could be heard then Dean cleared his throat. "You doin' okay?"
The younger Winchester ran his thumb in circles over the scar on his palm. "I'm…I'm doin'…all right."
"I mean really okay, Sam." Tiny snowflakes began their random, roaming journey from the dark sky.
"Really okay, Dean. As okay as can be expected under the circumstances. Sanity is still my co-pilot."
Dean reached over and patted Sam's knee. "Good."
The corner of Sam's mouth tilted upward.
"We have anymore potato chips around?"
Sam shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. There might be some candy bars left though." He saw a shudder work its way down Dean's spine. "I thought you weren't cold."
"I'm not."
"Uh huh. Why don't we go inside and check to see if there's anything worth eating in there?"
"I suppose. Lemme just grab another bottle."
"Or not."
"Ahhhh, Sam…"
"Please…"
Dean huffed. "Fine."
"Thank you."
"Whatever. Let's just go inside before I freeze off my fingers and toes. After you, ya big pain in my ass."
FIN
