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@endfaith
she feels like a super proud mama right now, watching her boy take his first steps without falling and busting his ass. and it’s not too far off, honestly. it’s his first real d e m o n p u l l all without the assistance of her trusty little pig sticker. ‘ so? how did it feel? ’
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“you’re new here.” either that or the stranger standing below him on the stairwell was only visiting. nobody else who lived in the building regularly would have batted an eye at jess’s bruised-up, dirty face, small and skinny though he was. “you lookin’ for somebody?” // @endfaith / ♥’d ; open
❝ okay , but ... if velma was right all along , why do you && dean keep so many weapons in the trunk ?? i'm not judging but that’s c r e e p y ... ❞
( @endfaith / ♡ for scn!daphne )
* & → @endfaith .
“ HEY ... ” and he immediately starts laughing for no apparent reason. takes him three more attempts at ‘ HEY ’ to get any further. he’s only had two or three drinks ! but already coherency is slipping away from him. hand touches briefly on the other’s arm as he GRINS in his own idea. “ we should get shots. you wanna do some shots ? ”
WRING YOUR HANDS, FOLD THEM IN YOUR LAP. squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until a little colour reaches your frozen fingertips. you feel the knot in your chest drop into your stomach, and when you close your eyes to imagine it, you see it like a flip - book animation of a scribble that grows and grows until it covers the page. “ but how can you ... walk away from something, and still come back ... to it ? ”
` i . @endfaith / ♡
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“this can’t be goodbye.”
sure it can. why not? what makes tonight different than any other night? he’s over welcomed his stay, and even if sam say’s he hasn’t—- they both know the truth. there isn’t room here anymore. the spaces dean used to take up are suddenly overshadowed ... and he can’t make himself fit. and hell. he’d sure been trying the last few days.
the kid’s got friends here, and whether they know it or not, they look at him like they can’t believe he’s sam’s older brother. the conversations are short, never getting past the point where he explains he takes up unwanted part time jobs here and there—- and the looks he gets are coated in pity and mock respect. these kids have never worked a hard days work in their life. never held a gun loaded with silver bullets, pointed dead center at a werewolf’s chest. they don’t know the sound of a wendigo stalking your scent on a trail. how it feels to not only hear the sound of your own bones snapping, but the way it’s worse when it’s coming from someone you love.
no. they know safe world things. what they want for dinner and flashcards for tests they’re cramming for the next day. what’s worse. sam wants to be that too. blind to the world he knows is only a step away. dad was right. it’s better to just ... let his brother go. he heaves the duffel bag more securely on his shoulder, stares at the ground where sam’s socked feet are a strikingly stark comparison of his own mud caked boots. ❝ good a’night as any. ❞ he shrugs.
❝ you can’t really be out until i stop comin’ round. so i‘m gonna stop. ... plus, dad called. so. ❞
first things first ---- dean loves his brother. when there’s nothing left in the world, as long as it’s the two of them, everything is good, everything has purpose. trust is a little harder to come by, running in short supply these days; but it’s there too, buried though it may be. despite these solid facts ... that dean would kill for his brother, bleed for his brother, die for his brother, he’s also TERRIFIED of the boy. most of the time he’s convinced he’s got the part down pat, hiding the features of his face as concern rather than d i s g u s t when one of his ... powers pops into play. but every now and again, dean can’t help but feel sick by the idea. waking up from NIGHTMARES, the image of a brother with blinking hollowed yellow eyes at him, laughing, blood dripping from his lips ---- it leaves him unnerved. on edge. there simply is something not right about the fact, no matter how hard his brother urges him to see the good side of it all. he can find none.
there is no good side.
if it were anyone else besides his BROTHER saying such things, he’d have probably put them down already. as it were, that’s the ONLY thought more frightening to him than the one where sam can kill demons with his mother fucking mind.
so when they get a call from bobby, the both of them the closest ones to memphis, dean can’t help the twisted feeling in his gut when it’s clear to him the case involves demons. no wonder sam seems so ... springy. he’d rather hunt anything else at this point. even a fucking rawhead would be preferable; keep his brother far away from those black eye sons of bitches as he can. but sam’s the one who took the call. and now they’re in the car, and he’s only got about 300 miles to convince the guy to drop the case.
❝ haven’t you had enough of demons yet ?? we just got off a case, i can call bobby back ---- say we need some time off. i don’t want us to ... burn out, or anything. ❞
💬
“You make me feel like I’m not good enough.”
