Scars
A little Winchester brothers drabble for you today! Based off a quote from Criminal Minds (third rewatch but who’s counting?). My first one back in a while, by kind to my gentle soul!!
Word count: just shy of 1k
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Dean swung his duffel off of his shoulder and onto the table, turned on his heel and flung open the refrigerator door with a dramatic flourish.
“Two cold ones and one cold pizza, Sammy boy,” he announced.
Sam set his brother’s duffel on the floor beside his own and took a beer from his brother, screwing his face up as he watched Dean shove a whole pizza slice in his mouth.
“Classy,” he scoffed under his breath. He took a long drink, savouring both it and finally having enough room to stretch out his legs properly. It had been a lengthy car trip back to the bunker after this last job. Sam was sore, tired and ready for some R&R at home.
“So,” Dean started, through a mouthful of half chewed cheesy dough. “I had a bit of a look while we were stopped at that last gas station and I think I found us another case.”
Sam paused mid sip, his beer frozen in mid air at his lips.
“How could you possibly have found another case already? We barely even stopped at the gas station.”
Dean dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
“You were in the bathroom for ages, Sammy. Besides, I reached out to some other hunters and told them to hit us up if they had anything for us to check out. And they did. I had a quick look and it seems legit.”
Dean paused to offer Sam the last piece of pizza and Sam shook his head slowly. Missing his brother’s look of concern completely, Dean took a massive bite and continued.
“A couple of hours of shut eye…” Dean stopped to sniff at himself. “Uhh yep and a shower, or two, and we can be on the road again.”
Sam watched his older brother lean back in his chair, prop his boots up on the table and turn his full attention to his pizza and beer. The case they had just wrapped up had been long and rough. More bodies had dropped than usual and they were both sporting more than the regular bruises and scrapes. From the way Dean was nursing his left arm, there was probably more to his injuries than he was admitting. Baby had taken a couple of hits as well and the fact that Dean wasn’t itching to get her fixed up was more than telling that something was up.
“Um… you know, Dean, I was actually thinking we would take a few days around the bunker before heading out again. It’s been back to back lately and this case…” Sam trailed off with raised eyebrows, hoping Dean would catch on to his meaning.
“Is over,” Dean finished for him. “This case is over. We got ‘em. Now we move on to the next one, same as always.”
“Dean,” Sam sighed.
“What, Sam? What do you want me to say?” Dean sat up straight and set his beer down on the table. “Do you want me to say that this was a bad one? That we lost too many out there? Because we did. And if we were there sooner, we wouldn’t have.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Sam interjected.
Dean slammed his palm on the table and stood up, pushing his chair over and kicking it backwards.
“I do know that every day spent lounging about the bunker is a day less that we are out there saving people. The things we hunt don’t take days off, Sammy!”
Dean paced back and forth, pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand, his left held gingerly against his body.
“De-“
“No,” he cut Sam off. “This is who we are.”
“It’s what we do,” Sam said quietly.
“What?”
“Hunting is what we do, but we are still human. We need rest - you need rest. Especially because we do this, because we lose people.”
Dean lifted his t-shirt and gestured at the patchwork of scars across his torso. A macabre scrapbook of sorts to commemorate years and years of the job.
“This is what I am. What we are.”
Sam gave Dean a pleading look, hoping to get through to him. He had suspected something was up lately, since Dean was usually the first one to suggest a couple days in the bunker. Sam hadn’t minded the faster pace at first, but they weren’t in their 20’s anymore and the more hectic jobs took a larger toll. Physically and mentally. He cursed himself for not saying anything sooner, but then again, his brother was a force of nature once he set his mind to something.
“Your scars are a reminder of where you have been, but they don’t have to dictate where you are going. Dean, we can’t keep going at this pace. You’re getting reckless - you’ll get yourself killed, or someone else,” Sam said.
He wished he could take back the words as soon as he said them. Not that they were wrong, he had every reason to be worried, but because he knew that Dean was beating himself up over the death of one of the victims. Nobody could have known there was one last vamp left in the nest, but Dean hadn’t finished the final sweep before celebrating prematurely. That had cost a woman her life.
The dark look that spread over Dean’s face said it all and he lashed out, kicking his already overturned chair. The movement strained his body and he clutched his hurt arm tightly to his body with a grunt. Flashing Sam a thunderous look, he stormed out of the kitchen.
Sam exhaled slowly and pressed his thumb to the aching spot right between his eyes. He needed a shower and at least a few hours of sleep before he inevitably hit the road with Dean in the morning.
