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therapeutic thump

i like your moxie, sassafras!

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NaNo: 1a
the arch of the eyebrows gives it away
Hi, everybody!

I left work early (got home at 7), but still managed not to get any trick-or-treaters last night, even though I totally bought the good stuff - Snickers and Milky Ways. Man, I feel a "Fight the Future" coming up, and even though I see the danger clearly, I don't know if I'll be able to resist. Curses!

So, I'm doing NaNo this year, and I'm posting the first snippet here. This story will eventually be NC-17 and involve both het and slash (but not Wincest).

Also, for purposes of the next snippet, can anyone tell me when exactly Dean made the deal in AHBL II? I mean, month and day, if possible?

Sam doesn't exactly wake up, but he kind of regains focus, and just a couple of minutes before Dean slides back into consciousness for the first time in three days. Sam had planned it all precisely, but he hadn't counted on Dean's protests, on having to silence Dean and subdue him, and there'd been a lingering, horrifying doubt somewhere in the back of his mind that Dean was faking, was laying low just until he could roll from his possum-belly to his back the moment Sam's attention was caught by something else, and take to his feet to wander off to the crossroads to honor his deal. But Dean apparently really hadn't been expecting Sam to do more than say a few pretty words, and he'd gone down, obligingly, like a ton of bricks when Sam hit him with everything he could muster.

Dean's eyes flutter open slowly, and after one sweeping look all around at the panorama of the desert landscape and a quick check of the time and date on the cell phone pulled from his pocket, Dean fixes his gaze on a spot somewhere in the vicinity of Sam's left shoulder. "Toss me the keys," Dean says, leaving off the "and don't touch me," but Sam hears it anyway and obliges him by launching them in a silver arc. Dean's fingers tighten briefly around them, knuckles white, and he hauls himself to his feet, cracks his necks from side to side, and walks stiffly to the car, boots obliterating the soft lines in the sand from where Sam had dragged his limp body out there.

The sight of Dean stomping determinedly along cracks the tight bands of iron that have bound Sam down for a year, ever since Dean made his deal like the only consequence of importance was getting Sam's eyes to open. He lets out a whoop, a roar of savage triumph, and trails his brother back to the car, watching with a frighteningly intense pride Dean's fiercely upright form. He did that, saved his brother from death and hell, and now nothing can take him away.


It's a little anti-climactic that Dean's destination of choice is a dollar store. Not surprising, though, not when he really thinks about it. Dollar stores seem to spring up wherever Dean needs one, cheap fixes, places to find toiletries and snacks, little things he can MacGuyver into weapons or amusements. He trails Dean through the store, watching as Dean scoops up a tiny bottle of mouthwash, a box of Cheez-Its, and a king-size Reese's peanut butter cup sleeve; all standard choices for breaking a three-day fast, all guaranteed to turn Dean's tongue green and then orange. He's not expecting Dean to detour into the stationery aisle and stand quizzically in front of the journals and packets of loose-leaf refills, all wide-ruled and not college-ruled. "Dean?" he starts to ask, concerned that Dean's zoning out in front of pens and paper instead of tearing open the food and bringing the empty packets up to the counter with an apologetic, orange smile and a couple of dollar bills in his hand. Dean ignores him, or maybe doesn't even hear him, and starts forward when he finally finds what he's been looking for. Quick as a flash, it goes under his arm, and then Dean's heading for the counter, already unscrewing the ribbed plastic top off the little bottle of mouthwash, slamming it back and gargling while the dark-eyed girl behind the counter laughs and fishes out a plastic bag for his purchases. Dean holds up a finger, runs outside to spit, and comes back, pulling the last item from under his arm; the girl's already scooped up and thrown out the bottle and cap, has bagged the snacks. Finally Sam can see what Dean was looking for, the thickness of a one-subject notebook, black pebbly cover and no ornamentation, just numbers and letters picked out in gold; it's a five-year planner.

It's a little weird, frankly, for Dean not to share, not to put the snacks somewhere they could both reach them, but Sam's stomach is rebelling anyway, too used to being tied up in knots to crave anything solid. Water, maybe, alcohol definitely, but nothing else is going to go down and stay down. Dean's hunched over the Impala's closed trunk, one hand on Dad's journal and a pen in the other; he's chewing absent-mindedly at his lower lip while he jots things down in the planner. After each entry he makes, he takes a second to snag some food, popping peanut butter cups into his mouth whole and tossing and catching little sharp crackers with ease.

Sam feels like his brain has come unstuck when he finally figures out what Dean is up to. Every entry that Dad made in his journal that came with a timeline - "every seven years," "only appears on blue moon nights," "April of leap years" - is being entered into the new planner, filling little white squares with neat rows of black ink, making them look like patchwork whenever Dean flips pages forwards or backwards. This is different than the vague plans Dean's been throwing out all year, the false bravado of "after the Grand Canyon, and after the hellhounds, Sammy, you could go anywhere - California, an Ivy, whatever, just finish school. You're not a dropout." This is Dean believing that he has a future, that Sam has restored the years he desperately traded away. Sam's blood sings at the thought of the hunt, days and weeks of being in the car beside his brother, and he only wishes that Dean had found a ten-year planner instead.

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Sam gives his age as 23 to the other psychics in Cold Iron(?), so it must be before may. That's the best I can do

Thank you! Not even Sam would forget his own birthday, right?

I love that you used MacGuyver as a verb.

Really enjoyed this smippet.

This is Dean believing that he has a future, that Sam has restored the years he desperately traded away. Sam's blood sings at the thought of the hunt, days and weeks of being in the car beside his brother, and he only wishes that Dean had found a ten-year planner instead.
Lovely phrasing here!

Dude, wouldn't Dean use MacGuyver as a verb?

Glad you liked! The bit you quoted was one of the only parts that came easily. Huh.

Dean would totally use MacGuyver as a verb. He'd watch that show and take mental notes too!

HMM, that's interesting isnt it? The bits that come easy and which bits work. I liked the whole thing but the phrasing of that part just...was smooth I felt. Clicked into place like the barrel of a gun! Or something.

Oh, wow! This is an awesome start; I love the dollar store! As far as I know, there's nothing definitive on the date when Dean made the deal. I've always considered it to be the very end of April, as Sam says he's 23 in AHBL1 and really, I think too much happens in the season for it to be any earlier in the year. There's a timeline here that's somewhat helpful, and I tend to think it's probably pretty accurate through 2.17 or so, and then everything that goes on past April just needs to be squished in before Sam's birthday. Unfortunately, I can't see a way where it works out flawlessly, but you'd probably be okay making a reasonable estimate.

The dollar store was a really fun idea that popped into my head unexpectedly.

And thank you SO MUCH for that link - I knew I'd seen this before, but couldn't remember where. I might be a little vaguer than I thought, since it's all so messy and contradictory, but it's good to know I've got options.

Yay, glad you liked!

Oh man, I ADORE this. I love Sam's triumph, and I adore Dean and his five-year planner. Put a lump in my throat -- he couldn't have one before, and now he CAN.

::rushes off to read next update::

I admit, I adore the five-year planner too. Oh, Dean!

Awesome. I can't wait for this! I love the five year planner.

Thank you so much! I'm glad you're around for this!

*sniffles* Too bad this could not be a continuation of your Dean/OMC ... I think I anticipate that fic practically more than the actual episodes of the show!

Aw, that's nice to hear! Scene eleven will most likely be put off until December; I tried to start writing it but only ended up with disjointed notes. I'll take another crack at it once this project is done.

I can, however, say that something from that AU 'verse will be posted very shortly, for a birthday. Hope that helps!


He lets out a whoop, a roar of savage triumph

Oh I really like that. Great Sam pov here. And Dean filling out the planner.

I worked damn hard today, and will be working damn hard tomorrow, and so I have finally broken down and allowed myself to read this instead of waiting so I could swallow it all in long, sweet gulps.

I have to say that the five-year planner is just one of those amazing in-character "caught moments" that I want to keep inside my heart always.

I hope your damn hard days are over now?

And you always leave such lovely feedback - thank you so much.

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