Hell's Half Acre (hells_half_acre) wrote,
Hell's Half Acre

Thanksgiving Fic Prompts!

My celebration of (Canadian) Thanksgiving continues, with completely forgetting to log-into my American job and instead writing fic instead.

Here are my responses to the first two prompts I received from my previous post:

Prompt 1: It's mid-late season one and for some reason the boys start talking about close calls they've had.
[No, I know, it’s just – close calls. Though, I guess we’ve had way worse than that – least I wasn’t bleeding from the eyes this time.]
“Man, you got that doll just in time – that was a close one,” Sam said, as they drove away from the auction house. “Thanks, man.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Last I checked, it’s what we do – no thanks necessary.”

“No, I know, it’s just – close calls. Though, I guess we’ve had way worse than that – least I wasn’t bleeding from the eyes this time.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah, and no one was tied to an apple tree waiting for a fugly god to eat ‘em.”

“And neither of us was possessed by a ghost, or whatever the heck happened to me in that stupid asylum,” Sam countered.

“A that guy just messed up your noggin’, it was hardly noticeable.” Dean shrugged.

“Har har.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m serious though, Dean – you always have my back, and I appreciate it.”

Dean winced in discomfort. “Yeah, well, same. Dad too.”

“I’ve never helped Dad,” Sam countered, confused.

“No, I meant that Dad’s save me from a few close calls,” Dean clarified. “You remember that time in Ohio – when I got jumped by that Skinwalker? I was uh, eighteen, so you were-“

“Fourteen, yeah, I remember,” Sam said. “You left me in Indiana for school.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “That’s right – we thought it’d be a simple in and out, hunt – until that thing got the drop on me-“

“And you ended up in the hospital,” Sam finished. “And I had to hitchhike out, because Dad wouldn’t come pick me up.”

“Ugh, I know that tone,” Dean grumbled. “I just meant that Dad’s saved us both too – I don’t want to start another bitchfest about-“

“Did it ever occur to you that we wouldn’t need saving if Dad wasn’t always dragging us everywhere, hunting monsters?” Sam countered.

“Did it ever occur to you that you’d be dead too if Dad hadn’t pulled you out of your crib that night?” Dean shot back.

The silence that followed as oppressive and awkward.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean finally said. “Like, you should be grateful or something – I just meant… Dad didn’t know what was happening, and-”

“And he didn’t know if it was still after us,” Sam all but sighed. “And… and it was, he was right.”

“Hey, no-“

“It killed Jess, Dean,” Sam said. “It… there’s something different about me, and-”

“We’ll figure it out, Sammy,” Dean replied.

“Thanks,” Sam said.

Dean reached over and patted him on the leg, turned up the tunes, and they drove west.

Prompt 2: Wee!Sam starts school and Wee!Dean worries all day.
[“Does he have a pocket knife?” Dean asked, as John back into the car.]
“Does he have a pocket knife?” Dean asked, as John got back into the car.

“He’s five, Dean,” John answered.

“He can have mine,” Dean reached for his school bag to get the knife. Sam didn’t own his own pocket knife, because he hadn’t been taught to use one well yet. “You can bring it back in for him. It’s still early, they haven’t started.”

“Dean,” John said, ruffling Dean’s hair. “Sam will be fine. Don’t let anyone see that I let you bring a knife to fifth Grade, okay?”

“Yes, Dad, I know,” Dean muttered. He looked back at the window to Sam’s kindergarten class. You could hardly see through the brightly coloured decorations stuck onto the window to catch the light, and even where you could, the windows mostly just reflected the bright morning sun outside. Dean thought, perhaps, he saw a little movement of Sam’s teacher at the front of the room.

“Did you-”

“She checks out,” John replied. “We’re only in this town ‘til Christmas, Dean. But it’ll be easier with both you in school. I can’t keep asking Bobby and Jim to babysit.”

Dean thought of Bobby’s books and gun cases. He thought of Pastor Jim’s secret weapon vault and the thick stone walls of both the church and the manse. He wanted to know why John couldn’t just keep asking them to babysit.

“Go to school, Dean, you’ll be late,” John said.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replied, and only then did he leave the car to walk to the elementary school next door. The kindergarten kids got their own little playground, separate from the big kids. They also had their recess at a different time of day. Dean knew all this from when John had registered them at the school. Dean wasn’t going to be able to see Sam until the end of the day when it was time to go home.

Before, when just Dean was in school, Dean couldn’t see Sam until the end of the day either – but at least then he knew that Sam was with a hunter, or their dad. Now, Sam was in another building, with strangers, in SCHOOL. Despite being concerned that Sam didn’t have a knife, Dean was only slightly worried about monsters – there were also other kids to consider.

It was probably a good thing that the kindies didn’t have recess with the big kids, but what if Sam didn’t get along with the other kids? What if they made fun of his hand-me-downs, or the fact that he didn’t have a mom. What if the lunch Dean had made for him wasn’t enough food, and no one would share…
Dean spent his own recess standing pressed up against the fence that separated the elementary school from the kindergarten yard. Were they eating lunch now? Or had they already finished? Their recess was earlier, did that mean they’d already eaten lunch? Were they now listening to a story, sitting in a little circle with their legs crisscrossed. Was Sam sitting alone or had he already made friends? Was the story good or was it for babies? Sam liked Dean’s stories best, Dean knew - was Sam miserable?

“Dean, are you listening?” The teacher asked, later, when Dean was staring out the window in class. He could just see the edge of the roof of the kindergarten – really, he couldn’t tell anything from the edge of a roof, besides the building was still standing and nothing was on fire.

“Does the kindergarten building have a sprinkler system?” Dean asked.

The teacher blinked at him. The class laughed.

“Yes, Dean,” the teacher replied. “Now, can you please tell me what the next step in this long-division problem is?”

Dean looked at the board. Had he learned long-division at the old school? He could see the pattern though, the way they’d only used some of the numbers so far – you had to use all numbers in math, you couldn’t just ignore them.

“Bring down the next number,” Dean guessed, but made sure to make it sound confidence.

“Very good,” the teacher replied, and followed Dean’s instruction. “And then?”

Dean walked the teacher through solving the problem. He didn’t know long division was done this way, but it made a weird sort of sense, and for a brief moment, he relaxed into numbers and process and the grip of worry around his heart eased.

“Thank you, Dean,” the teacher said. “Jeremiah, you’ll do the next one…”

The kid beside Dean groaned, and Dean smiled for a moment, before his eyes shot back out the window to check on the roof of the kindergarten. Still there. Still not on fire.

When the bell rang, Dean practically ran to the front doors. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to leave the school grounds without an adult, but what he was allowed to do was go and wait with his brother, so he ran to the kindergarten building. Sam was sitting outside talking to two other little kids, they were even smaller than Sam.

“Sam!” Dean called, and Sam’s head shot up and he beamed at Dean.

“Dean!” he called back, then he said something to the two little kids, and stood up, and ran over. Hugging Dean round the middle.

“Was your day okay, did anything happen? Did you have enough for lunch?”

Sam immediately launched into an excited retelling of his day, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. There were no tears, no horror stories, Sam wasn’t hungry, or hurt, or bullied.

“What was your day like, Dean?” Sam asked, when he was done. “Did you make friends at your new school too?”

Dean stared blankly at Sam for a moment. He couldn’t remember speaking to a single person all day, except for the teachers when they called on him in class. He remembered some kids giving him odd looks at recess, when they saw him pressed up against the fence. At one point, a ball had landed at his feet, and he’d picked it up and tossed it back to the game going on behind him, to a few muffled “thanks kid!” from some of the older children.

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean replied, and ruffled Sam’s hair. “Loads. Come on, let’s go home.”

One day down. 179 to go.

Hope you enjoyed! I'll work on the others too, but these two might actually be the only ones that I get done today - given that I spent half of it sleeping, and I'm having dinner with friends tonight. :)
Tags: fic, wee!chesters

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