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therapeutic thump

i like your moxie, sassafras!


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Mini-NaNo (SPN Fic): 13
the arch of the eyebrows gives it away
innie_darling
Bobby and the boys on the road.




"Hold up a second, Sammy," Bobby says, and Sam stops talking, abruptly aware of Dean's soft breaths near his ear and the grit kicking out from under the wheels of the truck. He hadn't even noticed it while he was speaking, but a quiet rain has started to fall, clouding the landscape with a dull sheen. The whole world looks gentle from here, and he shifts so that his shoulder can be a better pillow for Dean's heavy head. He waits, hearing the little grunts Bobby makes as he thinks everything through.

Bobby’s voice, when it cuts through the relative quiet, still comes as a surprise. "You think Dean woke up when the Demon jumped back in your daddy?"

He can't nod without disturbing Dean, so he just says, "Yeah," at once stating the obvious and making it a question with a lift in his voice, wondering where Bobby is going with this train of thought.

"What makes you think it had somethin’ to do with the Demon? You said you put the amulet down on Dean and less than a minute later he was breathin' on his own again."

That's an angle he never considered, and put like that, it sounds so simple and clear; he feels his face go hot with embarrassment at not making the connection. Now he knows why Bobby had insisted on cutting the old knot in the cord free and retying the amulet around Dean's white throat before any of them set foot outside the hospital room. His heavy, blunt fingers had looked curiously gentle wielding a knife and strangely nimble knotting thin black cord.

"Course, the Demon theory makes sense too," Bobby says without pause, generously keeping his eyes on the road instead of letting them stray to Sam's pink face. "Either way, I'm just glad you boys are safe."

*

The truck eats up the miles of road like it’s starving for it. Sam looks out the window, cracking his neck, and thinks they must have been driving for at least twice or thrice the time it had taken Bobby to get to the hospital in the first place. But he could be wrong about that. The hospital messed up his internal clock, made him count in breaths rather than minutes. And anyway, he's never had Dean's uncanny sense of direction, the ability to look once and just know where he is, where he needs to go, and what he'll find just down the road.

Still, he can’t quite shake the feeling that they’re going the wrong way, that Bobby has an entirely different destination in mind. His heart slams into his throat when Bobby taps out a tattoo on the steering wheel, windshield wipers laying down a syncopated rhythm, and begins to speak, his voice low and determined. “Sammy,” he says, looking as calm as ever, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead, “I’m not taking you boys home with me.”

Sam feels the burn of betrayal hit him sharp and fast. He’s beyond glad that Dean isn’t awake to hear this, though part of him wants to hold up Dean’s lolling head and shame Bobby into submission. “I’m not gonna hurt Dean that way,” Bobby continues, and Sam has a hard time finding the words he needs; body language would be the way to go here, if only Dean weren’t lying helplessly between them. “Look, Sammy, I take you boys home with me, and then what? Dean’ll be worried about trying to find your Dad, fixin’ his car, going through every book in my house for ways to kill that damn Demon. And all the while not giving himself time to rest or recover. You know it and I know it and I bet even Dean knows it, but that’s the way the boy is built. So let’s not give him the option.” Bobby shifts in his seat and flips on the headlights.

The illumination dazzles Sam’s eyes for a moment and he shuts them tightly. “Where do you think we can go that Dean won’t push himself? There’s no such place, Bobby.”

“Maybe so,” Bobby allows, turning to face him directly. “I guess you’d know best, Sam. So you tell me what you want for him.”

*

Dean starts to shift restlessly in his sleep when dawn breaks. The first rays of light shine on his frowning face and Sam rubs the sleep out of his eyes and smiles at Dean’s disgruntled expression. He surveys the flat land, the empty lots bare of houses and trees, and wants to shiver at the lack of cover. But when he looks at it again, all he can think is fresh start.

Dean is fully awake by the time Bobby cracks a window to let in a little fresh morning air, and he looks straight ahead at the road they’re on and says, “Nebraska.”

Sam looks at Bobby for confirmation, and Bobby says to Dean, in a voice equally scratchy from an early morning without coffee, “Yeah. Caleb’s.”

Dean just nods and leans back in his seat between them, the long line of his leg blurring into Sam’s at the hip.



Still gen, still R-ish.
Word count (today): 858
Word count (total): 13,537 (45.12%)

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(Deleted comment)
Trust me, that's all I need to hear - I'm just glad this story is actually working for you, because I think it's kind of a mess right now, though I am still fond of it.

The hospital messed up his internal clock, made him count in breaths rather than minutes. And anyway, he's never had Dean's uncanny sense of direction, the ability to look once and just know where he is, where he needs to go, and what he'll find just down the road.

Love that. Ooh, Bobby - smart man!

*sniffle*
*luffs*

Why must you hurt me with your icon? Why?

I LOVE Bobby. And I love that he loves Dean.

Thank you again for your constant support. You totally rock.

Um.
It's a good icon!
*pets it*

Here, is this better?
*fangrrrls all over you*

Much better! Awww, lookit crankypants not-a-morning-person Dean!

The whole world looks gentle from here, and he shifts so that his shoulder can be a better pillow for Dean's heavy head. aww

And Bobby makes the amulet connection, very nice. and I am glad you are bringing that in and giving it a greater significance.

I have just caught up with this - enjoying it very much, it's intriguing seeing all three strands carrying on and I'm interested to see when they interesect. You say above you think it's a bit of a mess right now and I don't think so at all. I have no idea whether you are working to a specific or vague plan, but either way, I do think writing bit by bit like this is difficult, myself, because you end up feeling like it's 'bitty'. (And well, I think mine was/I'm not pleased with it but that's another story). Like you end up feeling disjointed with it when you're not, it's just how you are writing it. And you can't go back and look at the piece as a whole and maybe change earlier bits.

That's my two pence anyway, for what it is worth.

I hope you enjoyed your office party - fun? And good news? Nosily, I want to know what it is, one must ALWAYS share good news. But if it's personal, well, I'm glad there are good things happening for you!

The office party was surprisingly fun, and I'm not really sharing the good news simply because I don't want to jinx myself.

You are too kind, really. The problem I'm having with this story is keeping the three strands abreast - I feel like the Kathleen stuff is moving so slowly and the Sam stuff is zipping along, and the John stuff is so erratic as to be laughable. And yeah, not being able to revise is KILLING me - I don't like sending my words out into the world without considering them for HOURS, if not days or weeks. I suspect this experiment will be good for me, but I can't say I'm really enjoying it.

I hope the good news comes....well, good, then!

And I know how you feel. It is an interesting experiment. It is good (for me) to consider small portions of words carefully because I normally write all at once, but I feel very disjointed with it. Still, every experiment you can take something away from blah blah etc etc....

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