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SPN: It's Not Just Anything
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: None
Warnings: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: John's been away on a hunt for a long time, and Dean's run out of money.
Note: Only seen S1 at this point.
"It's just a car," Dean says. His voice cracks, and he coughs. "I think I'm gettin' a cold."
Sam says nothing. He looks up at Dean with big solemn eyes, and says nothing, but when Dean takes the money and someone else drives off in the Impala, his eyes burn. "I hate Dad," he says, tightly.
"It's just a car," Dean says again, and claps him on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's go shopping. Pizza for dinner?"
"I'm not hungry," Sam says, quietly, but his stomach rumbles loud enough to cover his words. He follows Dean, reluctant, scowling.
---
"Yes, sir," Dean says, in answer to some question that Sam didn't catch. Their father is back, making the apartment suddenly seem too small, too crowded, giving Dean approving looks and Sam appraising ones, pushing his way back into their lives like he never left. Sam hates him more than ever.
"You didn't notice that the Impala was gone," he says, too loudly. Dean turns away, suddenly.
John's eyes focus sharp, all of a sudden. "The Impala?"
"It's just a car," Dean says, quietly, into the thick tension.
Sam clenches his fists. "He had to sell her."
John says nothing.
---
They've stayed in this place longer than Sam's imagined possible. Every day he's been getting more desperate to leave -- not that he wants to, but it's like pulling a bandaid off: better to do it in one swift yank. When he tumbles out of the house and sees the Impala, his breath stops. This is why.
"Dad?" he says, and he hears his dad's heavy tread, and behind him, Dean's lighter steps.
"It's just a car," John says, quietly.
Sam's throat closes. "No," he says, putting a hand on it. "It's not."
Dean can't seem to speak at all.
Pairing: None
Warnings: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: John's been away on a hunt for a long time, and Dean's run out of money.
Note: Only seen S1 at this point.
"It's just a car," Dean says. His voice cracks, and he coughs. "I think I'm gettin' a cold."
Sam says nothing. He looks up at Dean with big solemn eyes, and says nothing, but when Dean takes the money and someone else drives off in the Impala, his eyes burn. "I hate Dad," he says, tightly.
"It's just a car," Dean says again, and claps him on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's go shopping. Pizza for dinner?"
"I'm not hungry," Sam says, quietly, but his stomach rumbles loud enough to cover his words. He follows Dean, reluctant, scowling.
"Yes, sir," Dean says, in answer to some question that Sam didn't catch. Their father is back, making the apartment suddenly seem too small, too crowded, giving Dean approving looks and Sam appraising ones, pushing his way back into their lives like he never left. Sam hates him more than ever.
"You didn't notice that the Impala was gone," he says, too loudly. Dean turns away, suddenly.
John's eyes focus sharp, all of a sudden. "The Impala?"
"It's just a car," Dean says, quietly, into the thick tension.
Sam clenches his fists. "He had to sell her."
John says nothing.
They've stayed in this place longer than Sam's imagined possible. Every day he's been getting more desperate to leave -- not that he wants to, but it's like pulling a bandaid off: better to do it in one swift yank. When he tumbles out of the house and sees the Impala, his breath stops. This is why.
"Dad?" he says, and he hears his dad's heavy tread, and behind him, Dean's lighter steps.
"It's just a car," John says, quietly.
Sam's throat closes. "No," he says, putting a hand on it. "It's not."
Dean can't seem to speak at all.