han_solo | (no subject)

(no subject)

Dean is waiting.

They seem to spend a lot of time doing that, lately.

At least here in Hippie Hollow there's plenty to eat while you wait. And he can mess with Sam's car.

As long as Sam doesn't catch him at it.

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"It's not what you think."

It's amazing how calm and patient that came out, with Dean looking at him like that.

"It's exactly what I think," Dean snarls, pushing away from the table and standing up, glaring at Sam.

"I made a deal. To keep you safe. That means sane too! You don't go fucking raising zombies, even if they're me!"

"It's not what you think," Sam repeats firmly, glaring back, jaw set and serious. "It isn't 'reanimating a corpse,' it's not like an old monster movie. I was trying to figure out how to do exactly what you're trying to do here, put a soul back in its body."

"Sam, my body was dead!"

"Only because there wasn't a soul in it!"

"No!" Dean slams his hand down on the table, furious. "This is not up for discussion! I die, you live, that's the deal!"

"No!" Sam yells in return, jumping to his feet with both hands flat to the table. "No, Dean, the deal was that I die and you live! You lasted forty-eight hours before you made a deal that I never wanted you to make! I went without you for four months!

"What makes you think we're so different?! What did you think I would do when I couldn't save you?!"

"I thought you'd live, not find a way to bring me back as a fucking zombie!" Dean snarls. "I'm your brother! I look after you! You're off the deep end, Sam!"

Sam scoffs, harsh and angry and disbelieving. "Right, I'm off the deep-end! Trying to save my brother through magic and ritual, that's fucking crazy, but selling your soul to a demon, that's perfectly sane!

"You're my brother, Dean, but I'm yours, too, and I wasn't going to let you follow in Dad's footsteps!"

Dean's fists clench, sharply. His voice is low and furious.

"That was out of line."

"Why? Because it was true?" Sam spits back. His hands are still flat on the table and he glares with sharply narrowed eyes.

"When I died... you could have told yourself I was better off, I was in a better place. You were in Hell because of me. I don't care why you did it, I wasn't leaving you there."

"Enough!" Dean lifts his fist sharply. "Stop it. My deal - that was supposed to be the end. No more! No more stupid deaths! That included you!"

Shaking his head, Sam straightens. It's such a Dean argument, he has to look away, run a hand through his hair, because the simultaneous urge to smile and scream is giving him a headache.

"It doesn't work that way," he grumbles a moment later. "It doesn't stop just because you want it to. You're my brother, Dean. That means as much as you won't give up on me, I won't give up on you. So you keep throwing you life away all you want, I'll just keep trying to save it."

Dean's knuckles are white.

"No!"

He may be running out of arguments.

Sam is fairly certain he ran out a while ago.

He shakes his head again, quickly, negating any other argument Dean could possibly think of. As much as he could act like John sometimes, Sam was going to make sure that Dean thought before acting.

He reaches across the table to grab the journal back. "I've got work to do."

Dean glares at him, keeping a tight grip on the journal.

"I don't want you doing it. Take a break."

He grabs hold of the journal anyway, though Sam responds with a glare and a tight, "Fine."

But he's not leaving his notes with Dean.

Dean grips it for a second longer before sharply letting go.

"Fine."

Sam pulls it back sharply, tucks it safely away into the lining of his jacket.

His eyes don't move from Dean's.

What did you think I would do?

Dean is still glaring right back at him.

I hoped you'd be sensible.

Winchestertelepathy ftw!

Glaring intently is a Winchester trait!

Shaking his head, Sam starts gathering his books.

Dean can never just leave it.

"You're an idiot."

"No, Dean," Sam sighs, exasperated and tired and amused in the only way he can be - sick and sarcastic and accusing when he lifts his head to smile wanly.

"I'm a Winchester."

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