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One Of A Thousand Arguments (230)

Title: One of a Thousand Arguments (230)
Series: Sure…#230
Rating: R for language
Characters: Dean and Sam
Disclaimers: Don’t own them.
Summary: Opening old wounds with new forks.

I’m also getting tired of the argument so I thought I would stick a fork in it and be done with it. Moving on to a new topic after this.


Sam jerked away from the monster cradling his face, its long talon peeling back his lips. A wandering pus-yellow eye rolled around in the socket of its draconian head, long strands of milky hair barely covering the scars raked through the wrinkled flesh of its blinded side. The creature’s breath was faintly sweet, a butterscotch kissed with cream. Hunched over a mound of backbone, it carefully slid its claws into Sam’s moist mouth, prying his jaw down as it inspected the cavern around his tongue.

“Cab’t youb juft shoop ip?” Sam pleaded with his older brother. Dean leaned against the door frame of the rental they’d scored for the week, watching the scramble-boned creature with interest. His long legs were crossed at the ankle, worn jeans hugged down over his hips. He’d been nodding off when the creature finally crawled in through the window, a shifting tinkle of a noise shaking the night loose from his green eyes.

“Nope, no can do, Sammy.” Dean smirked and shook his head as the creature slid off of Sam’s prone body, no longer interested in the lanky young man stretched out on the low twin bed. “That’s not what we’re looking for. Besides, it’s harmless.”

Sam sat up, spitting the taste of the monster out of his mouth. The creature took one glance at Dean, assessing his long body with a steady eye. Sniffing, it shambled closer, running its long nose over the exposed inner seam of Dean’s leg.

“Hey now, let’s not cross over into that line.” Dean shoved at the thing’s low head, feeling the spittle on its head cling to his palm. “There’s even some things I won’t do.”

Snorting in response, the creature shuffled back towards the window, barely tall enough to see over the sill. Gripping the window frame, it heaved itself up and slid outside, landing in a wet plop on the moist grass below. The pouch at its side crackled as it moved, a soft rattling sound when its bent leg plodded forward. Once on the ground, it moved swiftly, losing itself in the rising fog, a squat mound of flesh and bone swallowed up by swirls of grey.

“That was disgusting.” Sam spat again, not caring if he left strings of spit on the bed. “Why did I have to be bait?”

“Cause the thing we’re after goes after college boys. You probably still got some of that stink on you.” Dean shrugged, not even trying to keep the wide grin off of his pretty face. “How was I supposed to know you didn’t have your wisdom teeth out?”

“I still say you should have shot that thing.” The younger Winchester struggled to get the sickly sweet smell of the creature’s breath out of his nose, blowing hard and wiping at his face.

“Dude, shooting the tooth fairy?” His older brother slapped him across the shoulder, nearly dislodging him from the side of the bed. “You’re one sick puppy. Next you’d want to go Bunny Hunting.”

“That creature was the farthest thing from what a fairy should look like that I’ve ever seen.” Sam stood, still shaking his head.

“Hey, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Dean picked up the sawed off shotgun he’d brought with him in the room. “With that kind of logic, I should shoot you. Having to drag around something as fugly as you are with me seriously isn’t what God had in mind when He made me.”

“You wanna know why that tooth fairy left you alone?” Sam said, a glower creasing his face. “It couldn’t reach far enough back into that big head of yours.”

“Dude, you call that a slam?” Dean puffed out his breath in disgust. “Maybe if you tossed in a swear word. Put some heat behind hit. That was like lobbing a softball at me. You throw like a fricking girl.”

“I can’t believe I spent all night waiting for a tooth fairy.” The younger Wincester followed his brother outside, the air chilled and frosted with his breath.

The Impala sat silent in the parking lot, a mute reminder of the road waiting for them. Dawn was a few hours off, the horizon still pitch with night. Slinging his bag into the backseat, Sam stood and watched his brother lock up the room behind them, tossing the key into the slot in the office door. It was a sight he’d seen too many times to count, first his father and now, his older brother…each leaving the small space they’d used for squatting after a few nights.

“Hey…” Sam cocked his head at his brother. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…where are you and Dad storing our stuff?”

“What stuff?” Dean’s puzzled look hit on Sam’s face before he slid into the car, bringing the keys up to slide them into the ignition. Sam jerked straight and reached in, grabbing the keys from his brother’s hands. Dean turned, staring at his younger brother. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“Dean, what do you mean what stuff? Our stuff. The stuff from when we were kids. Our things.” Sam held the keys out of his brother’s reaching grasp.

“I think Bobby’s got some of your boxes… him or Sally down in St. Louis.” Dean shrugged off the question. “Now give me the keys. I need some coffee, man and you’re seriously interfering with that plan.”

“You guys don’t keep a house anymore? A home base?”

“Didn’t seem like it was really necessary. Just money spent on nothing.” Dean’s wide shoulders barely twitched. “Dude, it’s cold and I need some coffee…”

“Fuck the coffee.” Sam slid into the car, slamming the door behind him.

“Watch the door, Sammy. You break that window, it’s coming out of your ass.” Dean warned him off. “Now quit fucking around and give me the keys.”

“Nah-uh.” Sam refused. “Where’s your stuff if mine’s over at Bobby’s or Sally’s?”

“Didn’t see the need to keep anything.” Dean’s offhand dismissal of his life rankled in Sam’s gut. “Look, all the crap that you boxed up before you left is safe… I just don’t know where exactly. One of a couple of places. Probably at Sally’s because Bobby’s dogs would probably pee all over your pussy stuff if they could even smell past the girly on it.”

“Dean, that was your stuff too. Your life.” Sam pushed his brother’s hands off of his chest, holding Dean’s shoulders in a strong grip.

“Dude, you’re the only one of us who feels like he needs to leave a mark on the world.” Dean replied flatly. “Me, I’m fine the way I am.”

“That’s wrong.”

“Why? Cause you said so?” Dean felt his temper get up, a raw burr in his throat. “Leave off, Sammy.”

“Dude, I just think… it’s sad. Everyone needs something…” Sam stopped short. “Hell, I think of everything I lost in that fire, not just Jess but everything that I had… it was my life and now it’s all gone.”

“You got different needs, Sammy, remember? You packed up the shit you wanted and split. We packed up the shit we carried for you from town to town and figured we’d put it someplace in case you wanted it again. But for me, I didn’t need any more crap to haul around. Everything I own is in this car.” Dean’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles stretched white. “It was going okay. And then I went and picked up your sorry ass.”

“You should have kept something… anything…”

“What? Something to remind me …of what?” Dean practically spat out his words. “You left. Dad decided life would be better off if he didn’t have me around him all the time. What the fuck could I drag with me to make up for that? A fucking teddy bear that says I love you Dean when ever I squeezed it?”

Dean jerked free of his brother’s hands and slammed open the driver’s door, swinging his long legs out. He was out of the car before Sam could respond, leaving the door open behind him. A few strides distanced him from the argument, hot anger tensing the older Wincester’s body until his bones nearly cracked under the heat of his temper.

“You know what the fuck’s wrong with you, Sammy?” Dean turned, watching his brother unfold from the Impala. “You gotta push and push until you get some sort of reaction out of people. Anything until you feel like you’ve finally pried something loose. You’re like that fucking tooth fairy, looking for something that caused a little bit of pain so you can pat me on the head and leave me some fucking coin of comfort.”

“It’s not like that.” Sam protested, rounding the car’s trunk, hand on the cool metal. “Listen to me, Dean. It’s just not right that you don’t have anything from when we were younger…”

“What the hell do I need from when we were younger?” Dean stretched out his arms. “I got everything I need. Or better yet, I got everything that was left behind. You ever think of that, college boy? Every time I turn around I get less and less when you and Dad make decisions. You decide that you are too good for what we do and then a couple of years later, Dad decides he really could do better all by himself in a hunt and sends me off on my own.”

“Yeah, tell me little brother, what the hell do you think I could drag along with me could make up for that?” Dean covered the distance between him and his brother in a few short strides. “You got all the answers, you fucking tell me what I can do to make that all go away?”

“Dean…” Sam pulled up short, unsure of what to do under the glare of his brother’s anger. His initial gut reaction was to spit back in Dean’s face, defend his need to leave for Stanford. He’d fought to gain that scholarship. In normal families, he would have been lauded but standing in the empty parking lot of a nameless motel, Sam heard only the creaking pain of his brother’s loneliness.

“Get in the car, Sammy.” Dean stepped back, clamping down on the pissed off nerve that throbbed in his throat. “I need some fucking coffee and if your ass isn’t on that seat by the time I turn the key, I’m leaving it here.”

Sam gently closed the door behind him, resting his temple against the cold glass as the Impala’s powerful engine rumbled open. He could feel his brother’s anger rolling off of him, searing waves that threatened to choke the air. Turning until he could see Dean’s set face, Sam stared at his older brother.

“Sam, I was serious when I told you to leave it alone.” Quiet and not without heat, Dean sounded like a slice of their father.

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t…” Sam looked away, unsure of how to spackle close the chasm that he seemed to hit every time he opened his mouth. “Why do we keep fighting?”

“Because you’re an asshole.”

“Come on, I’m serious.”

“I am too. You are a fucking asshole. Always have been.” Dean kept his eyes on the road, negotiating through the empty streets of the small town. “You are one angry son of a bitch. You’re never happy with what you’ve got and always gotta go poking around until everything is your way. You’ve always been like that, Sammy. And Dad, he’s always let you just get your way.”

“Yeah, he was so supportive of me going off to college.”

“You ever think that it was because if you were that far away, he couldn’t watch you?” Dean sighed, tired of going over the same graveled arguments from the past. “Look, we’ve stepped in some serious shit over the years. Having you someplace…having you in one place for very long means that something can come sniffing up your ass and we wouldn’t be able to get there in time.”

“I was fine…”

“You weren’t fine, asswipe.” Dean glanced at his brother. “Dad went by every once in a while to make sure you were doing okay. He came back more than once with bruises and stitches from clearing out the area you lived in. You became some place he had to go all the time instead of being someone we could depend on to watch our backs.”

Dean found a drive-thru open for truckers and swung in, buying two large cups of coffee and with a sweet smile and a flirt, a half a dozen donuts tucked into a white paper bag. Peeling back the small drink opening, he took a deep breath before sipping carefully. Handing his brother the other cup, Dean pulled back onto the main road, a glazed yeast donut laying on a napkin beside him.

“You really think that?” Sam whispered after a few miles, cupping his hands around the warm coffee. The first sip he took barely touched the chill in his belly, Dean’s words sitting hard against his gut. “You really think you couldn’t count on me to watch your back?”

“No man. I don’t. But Sammy, I understand you had things you wanted to do.” The anger that was eating at him washed away under the tender hurt in his brother’s words. “I love you, man but sometimes…well, a lot of times, I just want to fucking smack you up side your head.

“I spent most of my life stepping in between the two of you.” Dean pointed out. “Both of you are so much alike it kills me sometimes. You argue and you gotta push until everyone is doing things exactly how you like it.”

“You do everything he says.” Sam pointed out, ignoring the bag Dean pushed at him. “You were always his golden boy.”

“It’s easier that way.” Dean shrugged, watching the sun crest over a distant hill. He reached for his sunglasses, tucking them into the neck of his shirt for when he needed them. “I used to think that if I did everything you guys wanted… made sure everything you wanted was right there… you’d be okay. Turns out, that was as much of a piece of shit as anything else.”

“’Sides, I was never Dad’s golden boy. I was just his right arm.” Dean bit down into his donut, careful with the specks of sugar on his chin. “I wasn’t the one he bragged about. Shit, all of his friends can fight and shoot but how many of them can do calculus? Me, I’m just one of the guys. You…you’re his son.”

“He’s always been proud of you.” Sam reached over, about to touch his brother’s shoulder before Dean’s look stopped him.

“Not looking for a hug there, Mary Sue. You just stay on your side of the car.” Dean snorted. “Dad can get on me. He understands me and what I can do. You, he can’t really guide you where you want to go. That pisses him off. And then you get pissed off. It’s like a huge fucking circle… like that snake that eats its own ass. Me? I’m just holding on for the ride.”

“Why don’t you let go?”

“Cause where else am I gonna be, Sammy?” Dean shoved the bag at his brother again. “I’m sick of having this argument, man. It’s not getting us anywhere and it just pisses us off. I’m not here because you don’t have Dad to argue with. I’m not going to step in for him.”

“No, I don’t want that.” Sam finally dug around the bag, trying to find something that wasn’t drenched in sugar. “You’re my brother, Dean. I…”

“Good to know that. Wouldn’t have been able to figure that out without you telling me.” Dean took another long gulp of his coffee, cutting his brother off. “That shit of yours on my hand from your diapers wasn’t a clue.”

“You changed my diapers?”

“Dude, Dad was off places sometimes. If I didn’t change your diapers, who the hell was going to?” Dean wrinkled his nose. “Because man, you reeked donkey ass sometimes. I swear to god, you shit exorcised peas just to piss me off.”

“Thanks for sharing.” Sam gagged at the thought.

“What, you think your baby shit didn’t stink?” Dean looked incredulous. “Have you been in the bathroom on Sundays? You still reek donkey ass.”

“Like yours is sweet.” Sam shot back, finally coming up with a crueler. “I can’t believe we’ve dropped down to talking about shit.”

“Compared to some of the things we’ve been in, shit is the least of our worries.”

They sat in silence for a few bends in the highway, letting the sun’s ray soak into their tired bodies. Sam drank nearly all of the bitter coffee in his cup, listening to his brother drum on the steering wheel to some song in his head. Clearing his throat, Sam finally spoke.

“So, we okay?”

“We were never not okay.” Dean said.

“Good.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not an asshole. Cause I’m not taking that back.” Dean’s grin was wide across his face.

“Never expected you to.” Sighing, Sam slid back into the comfort of the Impala’s seat, listening to the road pass under them. “Nice to know things don’t change.”

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
sanguinepen
Sep. 4th, 2006 05:48 pm (UTC)
damn that was sweet.
ponponpanda
Mar. 27th, 2013 09:51 am (UTC)
“Not looking for a hug there, Mary Sue. You just stay on your side of the car.” Dean snorted.

So Dean, so love him *laugh*

And when the discussion about shit started, I laughed so hard... was a good idea to read your old stuff... you always were so talented? o.O
*envious*

pon ~♥
wedspawn
Mar. 27th, 2013 02:12 pm (UTC)
smoooooches.... aw thank you.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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