So far I have read (on my blackberry, which hurts my feeble eyes :( ) as much fic as I could find, which is great. HOWEVER this is the fanfic I want to write myself/want somebody else to write so I can read it.
*Dean on Atlantis. Okay. You know what, the only reason I put this on the list is because I'm 3/4 of the way done this fic.
*A fic where Dean doesn't get pulled out for like, 10 years, and comes back to Sam about to bring about the apocalypse to get him back. AND IT'S TOO LATE TO STOP. OH NO.
*Dean comes back from hell as a demon! And follows Sam around and Sam can't bear to exorcise him, because he's not all evil yet, he's just kinda Ruby-esque.
*The whole thing is a hallucination and the FBI was *right*. They were brainwashed by their Dad when they were younger, and the whole time they've just been crazy mass murders. This will be a light hearted comedy, I'm sure.
*Okay. I'm kinda horrible for wanting this, but I would like to see Dean as a paraplegic. Like, I know I can't write this, because I would just fill it with stupid wheelchair jokes where Dean goes to attack something and falls off of his wheelchair. But no! I think a well done fic (not by me) would be really cool. And like deep and showing I don't know, essence or whatever.
OKAY. And one more, but I actually wrote six pages of this one and it's just one scene of a larger fic, but I don't know how it ends yet. So. Here it is, because it's awesome. Make up and ending and tell me about it, people.
Fic: It's been twenty years since Sam left for Stanford and he has a good job, a non-midlife crisis car, no matter what anyone says, and a wife and kids.
The kids were asleep, Jess was snuffling softly beside him, but Sam felt uneasy in a way that he hadn’t felt for near on twenty years. And then he heard it. The floorboard on the first floor landing, hidden by a run, the one that cracked like a breaking bone if you stepped on it just right.
He grabbed the bat, cursing for the first time in a while the fact that he had insisted on absolutely no guns in the house. He’d figured out the way to get down the stairs without creaking the second day he and a hugely pregnant Jess had moved in. The day he’d ripped up the window sill and the door stops to lay a permanent, hidden line of salt, and hopefully no one would ever pull up the carpets and reveal the devil’s trap marked on the hardwood floor of every room.
The intruder was lurking by Jess’ mom’s china cabinet, and Sam worried once again that the fact that the only workout he got these days was coaching softball twice a week, along with the occasional sports day refereeing. But he had a bat. And surprise.
But the guy jumped and almost pinned him, knocking the craft table over with a crash. Sam twisted and rolled out from under the guy, landing a knee to the gut as he scrambled to his feet. But sonofabitch, the guy was fast to his feet and managed to shove him up against the wall with a hard hand on both of his shoulder.
“Hey, Sammy,” the guy said. “It’s been a while.”
“Dean?” Sam asked, squinting in the dark. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Dean was a little broader around the shoulders than he had been the last time Sam had seen him, when Sam had been18 years old and watching Dean try to smile from the bus window as it pulled away to Palo Alto. But god, it was still his brother, even if it had been twenty years. Dean smiled, the long twisting scar cutting across his face curling up with his mouth. Fuck. He had to get Dean out of the house, before-
“Dad?” said a tremulous, terrified out of her wits Mollie.
Dean let go all of a sudden, letting Sam slump against the wall, almost knocking off a picture of the kids holding brand new baby Jimmy for the first time.
“Hey there,” Dean said, licking his lips and turning towards Mollie.
Mollie whimpered, pulling back from the stair rail she had been leaning on.
“Who are you?” Dean said gently, in the way Sam could remember from when he was sick and Dad hadn’t come home for a few days. Whenever any of the kids got sick, Sam stayed home, no matter how big a case he was working on.
“That’s Mary.” Sam said, stepping forward to show Molls that everything was okay. “Mollie for short. My oldest.”
Dean looked at him, his face lighting up. “Yah? My niece?”
Sam cleared his throat and stepped toward Mollie, wanting to usher her back into her pink princess bedroom that she was complaining was too babyish, even if she was only nine last June.
Dean was staring hard at Mollie and Sam was suddenly glad that the lights were off so that Dean wouldn’t see her blonde hair and green eyes. But Dean still stepped towards her, and Mollie, damn her smart little heart, screamed in the way she’d been taught too if a strange man came too close.
“But I’m your uncle Dean!” Dean said, jumping back, stung. “Your Dad’s big brother.”
“I don’t have an Uncle Dean!” Mollie screamed. Sam flinched at the look on Dean’s face as he scooped Mollie up. But it was too late, because he could already Jess pounding her way down the stairs, followed by a sleepy Robbie.
“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Sam soothed, passing Mollie to Jess. Jess’ mouth was set in a white line as she grabbed Robbie and shoved him behind her.
“And this is Jess. My wife.” Sam said, stepping back towards Dean. “Now that you’ve met the family, will you be on your way?” He could see the bulge of a gun in Dean’s pocket.
“I need to talk to you,” Dean said, ripping his eyes away from his family. “About Dad.”
“What about Dad,” Sam said, snorting. “What, trying to decide what old folk’s home to put him in?”
Dean laughed roughly. “You know Dad, Sam. He’d never step foot in one of those hellholes.” He threw a wink at Jess. “And I know you know I mean that literally.”
“Sam,” Jess said breaking in. “What is going on. Who is this and how did he get in?”
“This,” Sam said, sighing deeply. “Is my brother Dean.”
“Your brother?” Jess said, shocked. “I thought your whole family was dead!”
“What?” Dean said, whirling towards Sam, looking betrayed. “It was only for what, ten minutes and you weren’t even there.”
“I didn’t know,” Sam said defensively to Dean’s chest, because he didn’t want to look up. “I didn’t know, you could have been for all I’ve seen of you.”
“Bobby would have told you!” Dean said, offended. “Bobby knew that you would want to know.”
“My name is Robbie.” Robbie said irritably, still sucking on his thumb and ring finger. “Bobby is what they called me when I was a baby. But now we have a new baby.”
“You named the kid after Bobby?” Dean said, furrowing his brow, scar standing out white against the tan of his skin. “I’ll have to tell –“
“Robbie’s named after his favourite uncle,” Sam snapped, unthinking. “Not after –“
But crap. Dean was really upset. Sam might be out of practice, but he still remembered the stiffness of Dean’s posture and the angry jut of his lip.
“Mollie, Robbie,” Sam said, irritated at himself. “Get upstairs and back to bed. Don’t wake your brother.”
“But I can’t,” Robbie whined. “There’s a monster hiding under my bed.”
“You know there’s no such thing. Just go.”
Dean bugged his eyes at Sam. “That’s what you’re teaching them? After everything?”
“Shut the hell up, Dean.”
“Here you go,” Dean said pulling out a silvery-looking knife and stepping forward to give in to Robbie. “A monster killing weapon from your new favourite uncle.”
“Dean,” Sam yelled, giving up. “No knives to the six year olds.”
Jimmy started to cry upstairs.
“Well crap, Dean, you woke up Jimmy,” Sam said, ignoring his kids’ scandalized eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“You named a kid after Pastor Jim?”
“He was the closest thing I had to a normal father, Dean. You were great, but you were just a kid, and well, Dad-“
“Don’t say,” Dean said, stepping closer to Dean. “Anything about Dad to me after you ran away for all this time –“
Jess gasped and Dean stepped back again, shaking his head a little.
“I’m here about Dad.” Dean said firmly. “Can I talk to you? Without the hangers on?”
“Just spit it out Dean.”
“Dad’s been gone on a hunting trip,” Dean said meaningfully. “And he hasn’t been home for a while.”
“My Dad says that hunting is only for people who aren’t smart enough to do anything but kill.” Mollie said, apparently getting a little of herself back. “It’s a waste of time to go tracking down what you don’t need to find.”
Dean looked wounded. “It wasn’t too bad.”
“Dad’s still hunting?” Sam said incredulously. “He’s over sixty by now.”
“Yah,” Dean said, looking at him like he was an idiot child. “And he’s been gone for a couple of weeks.”
“Come on guys,” Jess said, looking at Sam in the way that meant they were going to have very long talk soon. “Let’s go check on your brother and then we can go up to bed.”
Sam waited until they had gone upstairs and the light flicked on in the nursery before speaking again.
“Does it matter?” Sam said. “He used to always go away for weeks.”
“Yah, but this time he’s not answering his –“
And the door burst in, knocking down the front table and putting hole in the wall. In ran a man who bolted up the stairs, shoving Sam aside.
He heard Jess scream and he was moving faster than he ever had up the stairs.
She was standing over the crib with a crying Jimmy in her arms and someone was pointing a gun at her. Sam burst through the room and tackled the guy, praying to God that Jess would take the kids and run far, far away. Dean could get them out and take care of them. Maybe at least Mollie would remember him.
“Christo!” Something wet splashed into his face.
“Dad!” someone yelled, too deep to be either of his own.
“Shoot it, get the Colt, Dean!” the guy – holy fuck, that was Dad – said. Dean shook his head and was yelling something, but all Sam could hear was a buzzing in his ears and the sound of his babies crying. “That’s an order!”
“Dad! Dad!” Dean was leaning down to stare at Dad’s face. “It’s okay, it’s not the demon.”
Dad tensed and then relaxed suddenly. “Get off of me, Sammy. I’m trying to take care of you, here.”
Sam rolled over and sat up, looking over at his shocked and terrified family while Dad and Dean conferred together. He heard snatches of “six month birthday today!” and “no, no I don’t think she’s the one, Sam would’ve known.”
Sam stood up shakily, walking over to put his arm around Jess and to take Jimmie out of her death-grip.
“Okay.” Sam said. “What are you doing here? What’s going on? Why the hell did you break down my fucking door at who knows what time in the night?”
“I’ve been watching you for weeks, Sammy,” Dad said, easing up and grimacing over the audible pop of his joints. “You’ve lost your training. It’s the kid’s sixth month birthday and I wanted to make sure nothing happened.”
“Fine, whatever,” Sam said, not sure whether he should punch or hug Dad. “Thanks. But as you can see, we’re all fine.”
“You’re the pedophile!” Jess said bursting into hysterical giggles all of a sudden. “The one the school wrote home about. You’re the one lurking around the schools.”
“That’s right,” Dad said, one corner of his mouth tilting up. “That’s me.”
Jess kept laughing, wiping her eyes and trembling.
“And,” Dad said, moving over to Mollie and Robbie who were cowering in the doorway, and crouching down, “I’m your grandpa.”
“No you’re not!” Robbie cried, bursting into tears. “My grandpa is fat and reads me stories about a talking horse.”