Family Orientation - Supernatural (2/?)
Jul. 31st, 2008 10:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jebbypalTitle: Family orientation (2/?)
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jebbypal
rating: everyone
Summary: Everyone else had family at Stanford's convocation. Sam never expected anyone to show up for him.
Part 1
She follows him back to his dorm room. His burned chafed legs prevent him from outdistancing her, but he’s not so sure he could even if he wasn’t hampered by the coffee-melted polyester. She has the look of someone used to keeping up with long-legged (freaks) assholes. If what she says is true anyways.
“I’ll wait here – are you sure you don’t need to see someone for that?” she asks at the dorm entrance.
All the anger that’s roiled in his chest since leaving Dad and Dean waits for release, but he bites down on it and swallows the acid in his throat. “Look, Miss- Mrs. Winchester. I don’t know what you want me to say or do. It’s a nice story, but really, if my grandparents had been alive,” then maybe I wouldn’t have been left alone for days at a time with a babysitter with just four years on me. Or there wouldn’t have been birthdays when the gift money had to go to groceries. Or I wouldn’t have seen my Dad drink himself stupid every anniversary, “I think it might have been mentioned.”
Resolve and a little bit of hurt pass over the lady’s face as she nods. “Of course. I know this is a lot to take in. Here.” She hands over a cloth covered album. “They’re all copies, so you can keep that one. It has my contact info in case you change your mind.” She zips her purse shut and turns to leave before stopping and putting a hand on his arm. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’m so proud of you, Sam. Don’t lose sight of your goals – I know first-hand that a determined Winchester is a Winchester that gets what they want.”
He watches as she turns and goes. When he can no longer see her distinctive gray and silver perm, he finally opens the door to the dorm and goes to his room to clean up. The burns aren’t too bad, but they’ll be uncomfortable for a few days. The pants are a total loss, but he’s hopeful that he’ll be able to save the stained shirt.
The album sits on his desk by the laptop that he spent most of his savings on. A knock on the door aborts his mission to toss the album in the trash. It only takes two strides for Sam to cover the distance in the small room to the door. He half expects to see the lady, Sheila, standing in front of it. Instead, it’s Dom, one of the football players from Texas that didn’t have anywhere to go today either. “Delivery guy said this was yours.”
A large pizza box juts out from Dom’s hands. “I didn’t order anything.”
Dom shrugs, clearly more interested in getting back to the six pack he’s carrying in his other hand. “The dude said it was paid for. If you don’t want it-“
“No, no, that’s okay. Thanks for bringing it up.”
The receipt is still stuck to the top of the box. Sam glances at it as he shuts the door. Sorry you didn’t get your bear claw. Hope you don’t hate the toppings. –SW. Laughter bubbles out of his chest. If he had any doubt to the fact that she was a Winchester, even by marriage, this definitely erased it. Somehow, he’s unsurprised to find the pizza covered in pepperoni and pineapple when he opens it. It had been Dean’s favorite when they were kids.
If he’s going to eat her pizza, he supposes he might as well take a look at the album. It’s strange how little he wants to open it. After having seen only a handful of photos over the years, one would think he’d be desperate to see any connection to family.
Yet he mostly feels resentful instead. Sheila knew about them. She knew enough to look for him now. Why didn’t she ever look before?
Really, dude, charity? Dad’s never going to go for that. I’m doing you a favor by tossing it.
Then again, it would be pretty hard to find them. Sam can count on one hand the number of times they actually lived under their real names. He had to pitch a fit to enroll under his real name during his senior year. Colleges have a poor outlook on identity theft during admissions.
Two pieces of pizza devoured, he opens the album to the first page. It’s a wedding photo of Dad and Mom. He almost shuts the cover then. Dad with a very pregnant Mom sitting next to a Christmas tree. The next photo must have been taken just a few months later, Sam never would have believed his big brother could be so small. The idea of Dean as kid, let alone a baby, is hard to wrap his head around. Dean holding up a very red hand while a “1” candle burns brightly in front of him.
A pyro even before he could walk. Figures.
Dean sitting atop Dad’s shoulders as they play keep away from Mom. Dean sitting on someone else’s lap. Dean smiling like he’s eaten a canary while holding a baby swathed in blue.
Everything about his brother changes in the next photo. He’s not looking at the camera and his face doesn’t seem to know what a smile is. He’s still holding a baby though, still holding Sam. None of the later of the photos include Dad, and very few of them capture Dean so much as smirking.
Stomach roiling, Sam closes the album.
Part 3
author:
jebbypalrating: everyone
Summary: Everyone else had family at Stanford's convocation. Sam never expected anyone to show up for him.
Part 1
She follows him back to his dorm room. His burned chafed legs prevent him from outdistancing her, but he’s not so sure he could even if he wasn’t hampered by the coffee-melted polyester. She has the look of someone used to keeping up with long-legged (freaks) assholes. If what she says is true anyways.
“I’ll wait here – are you sure you don’t need to see someone for that?” she asks at the dorm entrance.
All the anger that’s roiled in his chest since leaving Dad and Dean waits for release, but he bites down on it and swallows the acid in his throat. “Look, Miss- Mrs. Winchester. I don’t know what you want me to say or do. It’s a nice story, but really, if my grandparents had been alive,” then maybe I wouldn’t have been left alone for days at a time with a babysitter with just four years on me. Or there wouldn’t have been birthdays when the gift money had to go to groceries. Or I wouldn’t have seen my Dad drink himself stupid every anniversary, “I think it might have been mentioned.”
Resolve and a little bit of hurt pass over the lady’s face as she nods. “Of course. I know this is a lot to take in. Here.” She hands over a cloth covered album. “They’re all copies, so you can keep that one. It has my contact info in case you change your mind.” She zips her purse shut and turns to leave before stopping and putting a hand on his arm. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’m so proud of you, Sam. Don’t lose sight of your goals – I know first-hand that a determined Winchester is a Winchester that gets what they want.”
He watches as she turns and goes. When he can no longer see her distinctive gray and silver perm, he finally opens the door to the dorm and goes to his room to clean up. The burns aren’t too bad, but they’ll be uncomfortable for a few days. The pants are a total loss, but he’s hopeful that he’ll be able to save the stained shirt.
The album sits on his desk by the laptop that he spent most of his savings on. A knock on the door aborts his mission to toss the album in the trash. It only takes two strides for Sam to cover the distance in the small room to the door. He half expects to see the lady, Sheila, standing in front of it. Instead, it’s Dom, one of the football players from Texas that didn’t have anywhere to go today either. “Delivery guy said this was yours.”
A large pizza box juts out from Dom’s hands. “I didn’t order anything.”
Dom shrugs, clearly more interested in getting back to the six pack he’s carrying in his other hand. “The dude said it was paid for. If you don’t want it-“
“No, no, that’s okay. Thanks for bringing it up.”
The receipt is still stuck to the top of the box. Sam glances at it as he shuts the door. Sorry you didn’t get your bear claw. Hope you don’t hate the toppings. –SW. Laughter bubbles out of his chest. If he had any doubt to the fact that she was a Winchester, even by marriage, this definitely erased it. Somehow, he’s unsurprised to find the pizza covered in pepperoni and pineapple when he opens it. It had been Dean’s favorite when they were kids.
If he’s going to eat her pizza, he supposes he might as well take a look at the album. It’s strange how little he wants to open it. After having seen only a handful of photos over the years, one would think he’d be desperate to see any connection to family.
Yet he mostly feels resentful instead. Sheila knew about them. She knew enough to look for him now. Why didn’t she ever look before?
Really, dude, charity? Dad’s never going to go for that. I’m doing you a favor by tossing it.
Then again, it would be pretty hard to find them. Sam can count on one hand the number of times they actually lived under their real names. He had to pitch a fit to enroll under his real name during his senior year. Colleges have a poor outlook on identity theft during admissions.
Two pieces of pizza devoured, he opens the album to the first page. It’s a wedding photo of Dad and Mom. He almost shuts the cover then. Dad with a very pregnant Mom sitting next to a Christmas tree. The next photo must have been taken just a few months later, Sam never would have believed his big brother could be so small. The idea of Dean as kid, let alone a baby, is hard to wrap his head around. Dean holding up a very red hand while a “1” candle burns brightly in front of him.
A pyro even before he could walk. Figures.
Dean sitting atop Dad’s shoulders as they play keep away from Mom. Dean sitting on someone else’s lap. Dean smiling like he’s eaten a canary while holding a baby swathed in blue.
Everything about his brother changes in the next photo. He’s not looking at the camera and his face doesn’t seem to know what a smile is. He’s still holding a baby though, still holding Sam. None of the later of the photos include Dad, and very few of them capture Dean so much as smirking.
Stomach roiling, Sam closes the album.
Part 3