Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hasperkynipples) wrote2009-09-29 02:16 pm
hasperkynipples) wrote2009-09-29 02:16 pm
Entry tags:
[MAL] Jessamyn West quote
“It is very easy to forgive others their mistakes; it takes more grit to forgive them for having witnessed your own.”
Sam always left.
Dean came to the conclusion at a very early age that there were some things you just did for family. If you wanted to keep them, there were some things you just had to let them do. Fighting them on it was always going to push them further away, and while what they may need may suck for you, in the end you got what you needed and that was what mattered, and what Dean needed was to not be alone. So he figured that between Sam and Dad, he never would be. He took care of Sam, and he took care of Dad, and even when Dad was gone, Dean knew that things would be okay. Dad always left, but it wasn’t in the same way that Sam did.
Dad left, but he always came back too.
When Sam left, there was always the promise of him not coming back, and that cut deeper than any time he had to listen to Dad’s car rumble off into the distance. Dad always left, Dean knew when he was, and always got the chance to say goodbye. Sam didn’t just leave—he ran. Away from their life, away from whatever was too hard for him, away from Dean. He spooked easier than a rabbit did, had ever since he was a kid, and despite the few times Dean actually did get to say goodbye, Sam tended to sneak off more often than not. Dean would wake in the middle of the night to find his brother gone, and after the sick feeling of panic, that someone had taken what was his, there was the dull realization that no one had taken anything. Sam just didn’t want to be there. Sam didn’t want him. Frankly, Dean was starting to get sick of it.
Ruby had been the final straw. It was more than just Sam choosing a demon over him, or even a girl for that matter. It was the fact that he was tired, the kind of tired that ached deep in his bones. He was tired of the worrying, the fighting, whatever it was their relationship had become, and while he loved his brother, and he always would, he had bigger things he needed to worry about. He didn’t want to worry about whether or not Sam was going to bolt on him again. He was tired of being the kind of man that measured his worth on whether or not he could manage to hold on to his family. It was the way he’d been his whole life. His family was the important thing, the best thing, and all he ever seemed to do was lose it. And when Sam had picked Ruby, that was when he knew that he was done with worrying about if Sam was going to leave him again. It just wasn’t fair to have that weight resting on his shoulders anymore.
He knew what Bobby said, about family being family, even when they’re idiots, and Dean had to bite back the urge to snap that he knew that. He’d been saying that his whole life. It was Sam that didn’t seem to understand. Dean sold his soul to give his brother his life back, and Sam hooked up with a demon of all people. A demon who led him on, strung him out, and was so under his skin that she got him to jumpstart the end of the world, all the while Dean was there, telling him not to listen. Not to trust. And in the end, Sam did what he always did. Sam left, just like he always does, and there was no promise of him coming back. In fact, Dean told him to stay gone, because he was done.
And weeks later, after him coming in to save Sam’s ass, as per usual, Dean was still done. Still tired of being left, still tired of having that feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was never going to be what his brother needed. But the feeling was less this time around. This time, the feeling was more of an afterthought, an idea that should probably feel worse than it did, but managed to surprise him by barely being there. He didn’t need quite so badly anymore. It didn’t ache when the passenger seat of the Impala was empty, or there wasn’t someone in the motel room when he woke up in the morning. He worked a gig with Cas, and they managed to bounce off each other just fine—a few hiccups aside. It wasn’t Sam, but it wasn’t bad either. He wasn’t sloppy, needy, messy Dean, the man who was so codependent on his family that he sold his own soul to bring his brother back. He’d grown a little. Most shrinks would probably call that a good thing.
And hey, at least this time, Sam had said goodbye.
824 words
Sam always left.
Dean came to the conclusion at a very early age that there were some things you just did for family. If you wanted to keep them, there were some things you just had to let them do. Fighting them on it was always going to push them further away, and while what they may need may suck for you, in the end you got what you needed and that was what mattered, and what Dean needed was to not be alone. So he figured that between Sam and Dad, he never would be. He took care of Sam, and he took care of Dad, and even when Dad was gone, Dean knew that things would be okay. Dad always left, but it wasn’t in the same way that Sam did.
Dad left, but he always came back too.
When Sam left, there was always the promise of him not coming back, and that cut deeper than any time he had to listen to Dad’s car rumble off into the distance. Dad always left, Dean knew when he was, and always got the chance to say goodbye. Sam didn’t just leave—he ran. Away from their life, away from whatever was too hard for him, away from Dean. He spooked easier than a rabbit did, had ever since he was a kid, and despite the few times Dean actually did get to say goodbye, Sam tended to sneak off more often than not. Dean would wake in the middle of the night to find his brother gone, and after the sick feeling of panic, that someone had taken what was his, there was the dull realization that no one had taken anything. Sam just didn’t want to be there. Sam didn’t want him. Frankly, Dean was starting to get sick of it.
Ruby had been the final straw. It was more than just Sam choosing a demon over him, or even a girl for that matter. It was the fact that he was tired, the kind of tired that ached deep in his bones. He was tired of the worrying, the fighting, whatever it was their relationship had become, and while he loved his brother, and he always would, he had bigger things he needed to worry about. He didn’t want to worry about whether or not Sam was going to bolt on him again. He was tired of being the kind of man that measured his worth on whether or not he could manage to hold on to his family. It was the way he’d been his whole life. His family was the important thing, the best thing, and all he ever seemed to do was lose it. And when Sam had picked Ruby, that was when he knew that he was done with worrying about if Sam was going to leave him again. It just wasn’t fair to have that weight resting on his shoulders anymore.
He knew what Bobby said, about family being family, even when they’re idiots, and Dean had to bite back the urge to snap that he knew that. He’d been saying that his whole life. It was Sam that didn’t seem to understand. Dean sold his soul to give his brother his life back, and Sam hooked up with a demon of all people. A demon who led him on, strung him out, and was so under his skin that she got him to jumpstart the end of the world, all the while Dean was there, telling him not to listen. Not to trust. And in the end, Sam did what he always did. Sam left, just like he always does, and there was no promise of him coming back. In fact, Dean told him to stay gone, because he was done.
And weeks later, after him coming in to save Sam’s ass, as per usual, Dean was still done. Still tired of being left, still tired of having that feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was never going to be what his brother needed. But the feeling was less this time around. This time, the feeling was more of an afterthought, an idea that should probably feel worse than it did, but managed to surprise him by barely being there. He didn’t need quite so badly anymore. It didn’t ache when the passenger seat of the Impala was empty, or there wasn’t someone in the motel room when he woke up in the morning. He worked a gig with Cas, and they managed to bounce off each other just fine—a few hiccups aside. It wasn’t Sam, but it wasn’t bad either. He wasn’t sloppy, needy, messy Dean, the man who was so codependent on his family that he sold his own soul to bring his brother back. He’d grown a little. Most shrinks would probably call that a good thing.
And hey, at least this time, Sam had said goodbye.
824 words
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