Category: Gen (Wee! to current Winchesters)
Miss Andrews was nice enough but Dean didn’t like her, not one bit. He especially didn’t like the way she kept looking at them, he and Sam, like they were fragile puppies. He hunkered down in a sleeping bag in her living room and Sam was just a mop of hair poking out of a roll of blankets pressed up against his side. Miss Andrews had tried to separate them but Dean learnt long ago that screaming for extended periods could get you whatever you wanted from adults that weren’t Dad.
Dean was mostly angry at himself though for not noticing she was following them until too late. She saw them walk to the motel by themselves and then how their dad hadn’t come home and she’d forced the motel manager to open the door for her.
Dean was lowering Sammy out the bathroom window when she caught them.
“Not right, it’s just not right,” she had kept muttering while casting sad eyes at them and Dean was getting angry at that too. He didn’t want someone looking at him and Sammy with pity because they were just fine and as soon as their dad came back she would see.
Dean tugged Sammy closer and tried very hard not to let it get to him. She’d said they were neglected but Dean knew what neglected kids look like and he certainly didn’t think he and Sammy qualified
“Soon,” he whispered into the mop of Sammy’s hair. “Dad will be here soon.”
Bobby always let them build a fort to sleep in whenever they stayed over and even gave them tips on how to make it stronger. He would always give them the good pillows that were meant for people with bad backs and therefore were sturdier that the squishy pillows they have to put up with in motels.
Dean does most of the construction and Sam is usually relegated to a supervisory role when he knocks down the fort the fifth or sixth time in his exuberance. Then he is allowed to decorate the inside and both Bobby and John give each other weird looks when Sammy announced that he loved decorating the best.
Usually there was a preponderance of tinfoil and sometimes treasures that both boys scavenge from boxes that other people have pitched over Bobby’s back fence, mistaking it for a junk yard. One time there had been a whole box full of old Christmas decorations and Dean had watched Sammy tinsel their fort with glee in bright green and red.
“Can we live here forever?” Sammy had asked, stepping back to admire his handiwork.
“Nah, but think of the one we can make next time,” Dean reassured, not wanting Sammy to know how much it hurt to watch Bobby and their father dismantle yet another fort when they’re ready to hit the road.
The werewolf had circled back and around, a little smarter than they had been expecting. Dean lay in the footwell in the back of the Impala, Sammy under him and a blanket over them. It wasn’t much protection but it was something.
“Dean,” Sammy’s little voice whispered and Dean pressed a hand over his mouth.
“We’re playing hide and go seek,” Dean whispered back with his lips pressed to Sammy’s ear.
Sammy has his face pressed against the front doors.
“How did they not know we were here?” he grumbled and there was a squeak as he ran his palms down the glass. He gave a half-hearted tug but the doors were locked fast.
“Maybe if you hadn’t needed to go to the bathroom right when they were closing and then took hours,” Dean snarked right back.
“Maybe if you hadn’t needed one particular type of hair gel,” Sam grumbled, scowling over his shoulder. “I didn’t realise I had a sister.”
“Hey, I’m the one that calls you a girl,” Dean snapped, truly offended. Sam had turned eleven and had discovered a nasty mouth that Dean wasn’t particularly enjoying because it was usually directed at him. He was having enough trouble at fifteen without a little brat of a brother turning his insults around on him.
“Well, what are we going to do? It’s after ten,” Sam implored, throwing his arms wide.
“We’ll sleep here. Someone will open up in the morning.”
Sam dropped to his butt on the floor and crossed his arms over his thin chest. “Oh this is going to be real comfortable,” he said, slapping the cold tile on either side of him.
“We’ve had worse,” Dean said, grinning. “Remember Ontario and that hotel that smelled?”
“Like bacon and feet,” Sam said, returning Dean’s grin. “Dad wouldn’t let us change rooms and we stayed there for four days and that smell just wouldn’t go away.”
“Or Chicago and the rats.”
“Illinois and the roaches as big as my hand.”
“Florida and the broken heater? I wanted to climb into the oven when it was on because it would be cooler!”
Both boys laughed and Dean dropped down next to Sam. “You can put your head on here and sleep, I’ll keep watch,” he said, tapping his shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
Dean looked up into Sam’s face and realised he was flat on his back. Sam’s head was haloed by the overhead fluorescents and he was wearing an expression that was half frown, half grin like he couldn’t decide.
“You got your ass handed to you is what happened,” Sam replied, offering Dean a hand up. “Man, you bounced.”
“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, letting Sam yank him to his feet.
“I mean you were-“
“Not another word.”
“Sammy, I swear to God. Just leave it alone.”
“Maybe that’s what you should have done,” Sam remarked and Dean grimaced. “I mean c’mon man, a goblin?”
“I mean he was three foot tall and had curly shoes.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
Dean opened one eye and saw a woman hunkered down beside him, balancing on her toes. “Did something happen?” Dean asked, jerking upright and using the palm of his hand to swipe at his chin because he was pretty sure he’d been drooling on his makeshift pillow.
“No,” she reassured, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I was just going to offer to bring you in a cot.”
“Nah, I’m okay,” Dean said, getting to his feet and wincing when his knees popped. The woman’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he remembered her from the night before. She had a kind face and she let him stay even though the doctor had given her a dirty look when she’d deflected him.
Dean’s gaze skipped over to the other occupant of the room. Sam was lying in the hospital bed, still pale and with purple bruising under his eyes. His leg was in traction and there was bandaging around his ribs.
They’d been lucky.
“The floor’s fine.”