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Published:
2021-02-04
Completed:
2021-02-04
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1,741
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3/3
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Venn Diagrams

Summary:

Prompt responses spread out from pre-series to season 13. The prompts are all different but one thing remains the constant at the center: the brotherhood of Dean and Sam Winchester.

Notes:

So many moons ago, I received several wonderful prompts from several wonderful readers. I cannot thank y'all enough for your support and am just sorry that these have sat, lying in wait, until now! I also said I'd make them like 100 words which, um. They're not. Sorry not sorry. I hope you enjoy them.

Prompts will be posted at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers. First up: Lissa's!

Chapter 1: Lissa: Pre-Series

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“What’s the rush, Losechester?”

Sam just rolled his eyes and kept moving. For once, he was going to look forward to leaving this particular town. Sometimes, the smaller the town, the harder it was to try and fit in. Everyone else was already friends, and he inevitably got shunted to the fringes.

Which made him the perfect target for the popular kid to kick him further outside of the social sphere.

Behind him, Ken kept following him with his three buddies, still laughing. “Aww, c’mon, Losechester, are you dumb on top of everything else? Dumb in all sorts of senses.”

He was closer now, from the sound of it. Sam tightened his fingers around his backpack. They were still going to be here for a little while longer and he couldn’t afford to get into a fight, but if he had to defend himself, he would.

“Hey, Sammy, where you going?”

“Don’t call me that,” Sam said without thinking. He winced, already knowing what was coming.

Sure enough: “Oh, you don’t like that, Sammy? How come, Sammy? Is that what your mommy calls you, Sammy?”

Suddenly Sam found himself face down on the ground. One of Ken’s buddies had gotten close when Ken had been mouthing off. When Sam rolled over, Ken stood over him, smirking down at him. “Poor little Sammy,” he crooned. “Don’t like your nickname, huh? How come?”

“Because you’re not his big brother, ass for brains.”

Sometimes, Sam figured that his big brother had a superpower of being able to show up just when Sam needed him. Sam just worked on standing up as Ken stupidly rushed Dean.

By the time he’d gotten his bag back together and dusted himself off, it was all over. Dean spit on one of them for good measure, which Sam thought was a little over the top. “Really, Dean?” he asked.

“Bastard had a switchblade in his hands while they were tailing you,” Dean said, fire in his eyes. “Something I’ll be reporting to the school.”

Like Dean didn’t come to school armed to the teeth, but he’d never pulled one out with the intent to hurt Sam. That made all the difference, as far as Dean was concerned. “Thanks,” Sam said.

Dean just grinned at him. “Anytime, Sammy.” The name didn’t rankle as they headed on towards home for the month.

Notes:

Prompt: Weechesters? Protective Dean and wee!Sam

Chapter 2: Sakarrie - Season 5

Summary:

Prompt from Sakarrie.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Sam wasn’t exactly sure when he’d last slept. Enough that the room was starting to slide out of focus. Time to hit the hay.

Dean groaned in front of him and peeled his coat off. “First shower?” he offered magnanimously, and crap, Sam couldn’t say no to that. First because, well, hot shower after being out all night in the cold and wet had sunk into his bones. Second because they were still trying to get back to being brothers, being a team after the whole Ruby and demon blood stuff. To turn Dean down now would be to shove the olive branch in his face. Even if Sam felt like tumbling into bed instead.

“Thanks,” he said, feeling every inch of weariness in his tone, but Dean didn’t seem to hear it. Probably just as tired as Sam, even though he’d managed to sleep a little bit in their hunt. Wasn’t Dean’s fault that they’d spotted the creature right before they’d been about to change shifts.

“Well?”

Oh, he’d just been standing there. “Sorry,” he said, his tenth apology of the day, and Dean just rolled his eyes and turned back to sifting for clean clothes himself. It felt like all Sam did was apologize. It wasn’t going to be enough.

Slow steps. That was all. Getting Dean to want him around was a step he couldn’t afford to backtrack on.

He stumbled into the bathroom and then stood there, trying to figure out what to do next. Oh, clothes, right. Clothes off. He struggled to pull things off and get to the stage where he could step in. Once he got in, however, it took a minute for him to realize that he needed to turn the water on.

Cold water hit him, jolting him awake briefly, but when the warm water finally got going, the lethargy just came in ten times harder. The edges of his vision darkened dangerously. Okay, he’d gotten warm and wet, sort of clean, time to get out.

He couldn’t seem to remember how to move his feet, though, and then everything went blessedly dark.

When he opened his eyes, his head hurt. His arm felt tingly underneath his ear, and his one knee was bent over the other and pressing against the cold toilet. Eyes, eyes would help. Slowly he managed to pry them open.

Crouched above him, impossibly so in the small confines of the bathroom, was Dean. Dean didn’t look wary or tired or resigned or irritated. Dean looked freaked. “Can you hear me?” Dean asked, voice shaking.

Slowly Sam nodded. “Can you sit up?”

That was probably the hardest question Dean had asked in a while. “Yeah,” Sam said all the same, because he’d try just about anything if it meant doing what Dean asked of him. He tried to push himself up from the weird position he’d been in (rescue position, which meant he’d been out long enough for Dean to rearrange him) and nearly got to sitting. Exhaustion weighed on him again like a physical pile of bricks and his arm trembled beneath him.

Strong hands caught his shoulders and hauled him up like they had since Sam could remember. “I got you,” Dean told him. “Just take your time.”

“Tired,” Sam mumbled. “D’n’t mean t’fall asleep.”

“That’s what happened? Sam? You fell asleep standing up?”

Maybe. He hadn’t exactly been around for the fall.

Somehow, they were back in the hotel room, and Sam was on his bed. The pillow tugged at him like a siren call, drawing him down, but Dean insisted on keeping him upright. “You’ve got a gash on the side of your head where you hit the counter,” Dean told him. “Just stay awake for a little longer, all right? And next time, if you need to sleep more than you need to shower, tell me.”

“Y’offered,” Sam whispered. Dean paused, hand almost to the first aid kit. “D’n’t wanna…”

He couldn’t find words. Dean couldn’t seem to find words either, but he delicately dressed Sam’s wound, checked his eyes for a concussion, and then carefully set him down in a thankfully horizontal position. Sam’s entire being sighed with relief.

Hands rested on his shoulders, making Sam force his eyes open. Dean’s face was open and brutally honest in its worry. “Don’t do that again,” Dean said. “The sound you made going down, I—” and then he snapped his lips shut. He swallowed hard, voice rough when he spoke again. “I need you to stick around so no more sleeping in the shower, all right?”

He could stick around. For Dean, he’d try just about anything. “Promise.”

The worry eased, but only a little. “Don’t leave that bed until you’ve actually got rest,” Dean told him, but Sam was already drifting. He was out by the time a hand gently brushed hair from his face, other hand on the pulse at his wrist. Only after Dean had felt it pump assuredly for three whole minutes did he leave Sam to rest.

Notes:

Prompt: Sam passing out without obvious cause (dehydration, internal bleeding, exhaustion, poison, whatever you'd like!) and Dean being freaked out.

Chapter 3: Jribbing - Season 13

Summary:

Prompt from jribbing.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“I told him the truth.” Dean narrowed his gaze. “See, you think you can use this freak, but I know how this ends, and it ends bad.”

Sam began to cut in before Dean could really keep going. Too late. “I’m not surprised you’d defend him, even after he got Cas killed, even after he got Mom lost—”

“Dean, I—”

“—because all you see is a freak like you that needs saving like you couldn’t be.”

Sam froze. There was instant regret in Dean’s eyes, evidence that he hadn’t really meant to say it, and it was just like a million other times in their lives where Dean’s mouth had spit out the truth before his brain could hold it back. Blank slate, sure. Brothers before anything else, right.

And the truth kept sliding out, even all these years later, reminding Sam of what he was and how things would never be right again.

He wasn’t interested in fighting Dean for Jack anymore. He turned and left, heading for his own room. He even managed to pretend that Dean’s silence didn’t hurt.

Well. Mostly.

Two hours later, he couldn’t really pretend anymore. His stomach kept churning and he hated it because honestly, he should be used to it at this point. Dean’s thoughts weren’t exactly news. Nothing had changed.

But he’d thought that it had. He’d really thought that it had. They’d grown closer after the Mark had been removed and then they’d banded together dealing with Mom, talking things through and they’d been better than ever before.

Guess they really hadn’t been.

A knock was all the warning he got before Dean came in. “You’ve been in here a while,” Dean said in lieu of a greeting.

Sam blinked. His watch read…oh. More than two hours. Whatever. He gave a nod but nothing else.

Dean leaned against the wall for a minute, then sighed and moved to sit on the side of Sam’s bed, next to him. Sam found he wasn’t tense, wasn’t preparing for a fight. Just…resigned. Done. He waited.

“I still don’t trust him.”

At least he was honest. This time, Sam didn’t try to interrupt him.

Thankfully, Sam didn’t have to wait long. “But I do trust you.”

Sam did turn then, glancing at Dean in equal amounts of confusion and surprise. Dean pursed his lips. “I was wrong. You couldn’t be saved because you didn’t need saving. And if you’re a freak, well. So am I.”

He gave a sigh. “If you trust him, then I’ll try. Because I trust you.”

Something warm moved through Sam’s chest. “Thanks,” he finally said.

Dean nodded and rose to leave. When he reached the door, however, he looked back and met Sam’s gaze. “I’ve lost Cas. I’ve lost Mom. But I wouldn’t trade you to get them back. Not ever.”

He left then, and the warmth grew. Maybe everything they’d built hadn’t been lost after all.

“Quit thinking and come help me eat the pizza I ordered!”

Smile growing, Sam rose and followed his brother out.

Notes:

Prompt: The argument at the end of 13.03 (Patience) takes a turn when Dean says something stupid and immediately regrettable.