Status: Active!
The Oldest Son
We don't always get what we deserve.
"I'm the oldest and I'm always right," Dean said to the upturned face of his little brother. "Even when I'm wrong, I'm right. When I say the sky is green and the grass is blue, you don't question it, Sammy. I'm just right."
"The sky isn't really any colour. Science says the sky is nothing, the blue is just sunlight filtering through the atmosphere."
"Oh shut up, you little punk," Dean ruffled his younger brother's hair in a rough but affectionate way, "that's exactly what I'm talking about. You're supposed to just go with it, Sammy. D'you see all the normal kids around here?" -- he gestured to the emptying school yard -- "D'you think they question their big brothers? No way, kid."
"We're not normal, Dean," Sam looked down, his young voice suddenly dark and filled with pain - almost as if the schoolbag he had slung on his shoulder was a massive weight upon his back.
Dean almost let out a sigh. This kid deserved a real life, living in the suburbs, with a pool in the backyard. He deserved real friends - the type he could keep forever. He deserved to go to college; he deserved to settle down, get married, and have kids. This kid was smarter than he was and he knew it. This kid could do anything. Or at least he could've done anything, before that fire; before a certain yellow-eyed demon came along.
Dean was the oldest. He was supposed to be brave and face the world, shielding his little brother from harm's way. He was supposed to protect Sammy. It's what his mother would've wanted.
Dean reached down and took the bag off Sam's back, slinging it over his own shoulder instead. It felt like the only thing he could do.
"Nobody wants to be normal anyway, kid."
"The sky isn't really any colour. Science says the sky is nothing, the blue is just sunlight filtering through the atmosphere."
"Oh shut up, you little punk," Dean ruffled his younger brother's hair in a rough but affectionate way, "that's exactly what I'm talking about. You're supposed to just go with it, Sammy. D'you see all the normal kids around here?" -- he gestured to the emptying school yard -- "D'you think they question their big brothers? No way, kid."
"We're not normal, Dean," Sam looked down, his young voice suddenly dark and filled with pain - almost as if the schoolbag he had slung on his shoulder was a massive weight upon his back.
Dean almost let out a sigh. This kid deserved a real life, living in the suburbs, with a pool in the backyard. He deserved real friends - the type he could keep forever. He deserved to go to college; he deserved to settle down, get married, and have kids. This kid was smarter than he was and he knew it. This kid could do anything. Or at least he could've done anything, before that fire; before a certain yellow-eyed demon came along.
Dean was the oldest. He was supposed to be brave and face the world, shielding his little brother from harm's way. He was supposed to protect Sammy. It's what his mother would've wanted.
Dean reached down and took the bag off Sam's back, slinging it over his own shoulder instead. It felt like the only thing he could do.
"Nobody wants to be normal anyway, kid."
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I don't have a proper layout, and the paragraphs aren't arranged very well, but it's the best I can do on my phone. I hate not having internet on my computer!