Right Up There: For My Next Trick
Fanfiction, Right Up There, Supernatural December 30th. 2007, 9:42pmFor My Next Trick by nutkin.
Slash.
Just about the saddest coming of age story ever. Sam is seaching for normal, not just searching but desperately so. Every avenue, every coffee mug, every small town and he wants it. He’s so wanting it, and yet he knows what getting it will mean. Leaving Dean behind. Makes me want to cry. Hard.
Sad.
“They pull out of Gillespie on a Thursday, one week before the students of GHS are released for Christmas vacation. Sam cleans out his locker carelessly, dumping crumpled bits of paper and chewed-up pens into a cardboard box that finds its way to the trash before he even leaves the premises; he cleans out his bedroom methodically, slowly, tempted to tuck some bits of it into his duffel bag to remember Molly’s carefully organized life. He doesn’t; that’s not the kind of person he is. He just runs his fingers over the spines of her books, admires the line of spelling bee trophies, and climbs into the passenger seat of the car.
When he was a kid, there was this air of temporary to everything they did. It was like they were all waiting for the end to come in sight. Maybe next year, they’d have found the thing – maybe next year they could buy a little house, get back in school regular. Maybe next year the mission would be over with, Mom would be vindicated, and everything could go back to normal.
Now they don’t even pretend; Dad plants a pile of documents down on a flimsy motel room table, explaining that the Lee Nelson estate is haunted once a year, and a grizzly death is guaranteed for anyone to spends the night. There’s not even the pretense of it being something more, of having a connection to what they’re actually looking for, what they beat the pavement in search of every day.
Dean perks up when they’re on the road, like the places between power lines are the places he feels the most at home. He doesn’t even dose himself with No-Doz like their dad does; he just powers through, endless hours parked behind the steering wheel.
They stop for makeshift breakfasts at convenience stores – donuts and orange juice from a can. Soon they will have weaned themselves completely from the normalcy of a morning with newspapers and beverages that wake you up, ease you into your day. Soon they will drink Mountain Dew – Surge, where Dean can find it – and chew on potato chips, M&Ms, laugh at how they don’t have to eat cereal and bagels like everyone else. For now they’re close enough to the memories of Caleb’s sun-dappled kitchen that it’s not much of a stretch, and Sam gets a single-serving carton of milk.”
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