And the Highway Lines Pass By by philalethia


31,000 words of pure slashy goodness, with a plot and everything. I think this is one of the stories I was looking for, with the whole eyelashes against the neck thing, but I read it so fast the second time, enjoying it so much, I really couldn’t find that bit. But I liked it anyway. It tells the story of two brothers, how they are different, how they are alike, and the writer, you can tell, has got a grip on what makes these characters tick. Unfortunately, this is also a “last year” story but ups the angst by miles and miles.  

 Some good lines:

“It was kind of hard to miss, honestly. Growing up and passing through small town after small town to and from hunts, and Sam always said things like, “It must be nice to live here,” in a tone like Dean used to say things like, “Look at the ass on that waitress.” It was never any secret that Sam jerked off fantasizing about walking down the block to the grocery store for milk and being greeted by name—his real one—and invited to bake sales and shit.”


“Dean’s seen so much of Sam and no one else lately he’s starting to get a little delirious over it. Sam split his knuckles on the Satanist kid’s nose and dripped blood on Dean’s jeans, which Dean picks at when Sam’s not looking just to watch the flakes get lodged under his nails, and Sam hasn’t showered for two days and the smell makes Dean dizzy and half-hard.

Yeah, Dean thinks, way too much Sam.”

and, I love this reference to “Heart.”

“If he tells Sam, Sam’ll insist that they hightail it to Chicago, and he’ll spend the whole drive on the phone with every person whose number is in his address book and who might know how to cure lycanthropy. He’ll tell himself and Dean that this time will be different, this time they’ll save the poor fucker who’s eating people every full moon. Sam’ll meet the werewolf, see a little bit of Madison in them, fall a little bit in love again with or without the fucking, and Dean will have to wipe the splatters of blood and tears off Sam’s face when he has to admit for the second time that you can’t save a werewolf.

Dean clears the internet history and closes out of the browser window. He’s breaking a rule, one of the biggest rules there is, one Dad taught them and made them swear they’d always follow: you don’t turn your back on a hunt, and sure as hell not for personal reasons. But this, this is different. You can turn your back if you know for certain you can’t handle it, if you’re damn sure it’ll take more than you’ve got.”

Now that, my friends, is love.