THE ADVENTURES OF JARED WINCHESTER???
Some time ago I found an old notebook of mine full of bits of fic, and it's so weird reading it, like when did I even write this? I barely have a recollection. There's Smith/Wesson on the road, post-5x22 Dean&Cas, Arthur/Morgana SPN AU in modern Britain, et cetera. Also I found an old flash drive that needs excavating and God only knows what's on that.
But instead of posting things that make sense, have a snippet of the AU where Sam and Jared are brothers. THAT'S RIGHT, Sam, Dean, and Jared are brothers who save people and hunt things. When Sam went to Stanford, Jared stuck around with Dean. This fic is set after the hypothetical pilot. Because sometimes (most times) when it's late at night and I'm chatting with![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
callowyn and zempasuchil, things spiral out of control.
The Impala isn't big enough for three sometimes, and these times Jared says they ought to trade it in for a minivan, just to piss Dean off. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. "We'd have more room," Jared'd say. "For us, for the weapons. For whatever."
This time Dean pats the dashboard and says, "You just ignore him, babe. It's not your fault my brothers are a pair of Godzillas."
Jared says, "We should get something with better mileage."
"Don't you start."
"Gas money doesn't grow on trees, dude."
Dean looks at the rearview mirror and says, "Sam, you gonna back me up or what? You love this car."
But Sam is miles away. He's stretched out on the backseat watching the trees blur by, his hair falling over his eyes. It's growing out again, and Sam looks almost exactly as he did at sixteen - unkempt, focused elsewhere, and sinking into some deeper agitation that Jared has no access to. Sam's been on cruise control since they left Jericho, and Jared wonders if he has ever felt so far from his brother as he does now, or if it's just a trick of memory. All of Jared's memories of Sam are steeped in intimacy - warm and crumpled and creased with much use.
Before Dean can ask if Sam's okay, Jared says, "He hates this car."
"He can speak for himself," Dean shrugs, and smirks to cover up concern. "Ain't that right, Sammy?"
Sam says, "The car is fine," and that's all he says. Jared declares they should get the minivan in green, and Dean falls into the rhythm of the argument, which they have perfected over the past four years. It's a rhythm for two, but now Sam's back.
It's a good thing, Jared thinks to himself.
+
They stop for lunch at a diner in some lonely desert town, and argue about whether they've been here before. Dean says no way, he knows this corner of Arizona like the back of his hand, and he has no recollection of this place. Jared pipes up weren't they here for that werewolf in '99? Sam thinks that may have been New Mexico, and Dean and Jared reply with equal conviction that they have never hunted werewolves in New Mexico.
"Last werewolf we did was up in Montana," Jared says.
"Last werewolf we did with you," Dean says, looking at Sam, "was in Georgia."
Sam smiles and shakes his head at them. It looks genuine, so Jared smiles back, and Dean orders them all coffee.
When Dean goes to the bathroom, Sam lowers his voice and leans forward, and Jared realizes that Sam, too, has been waiting for a minute alone. The thought makes something in Jared's chest constrict. Sam's been real quiet, and Jared has respected what he knows is an unspoken wish to be ignored. Jared had assumed he was being ignored in return, but he should've known better. He should know Sam better than that.
Sam says, "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you... Do you ever... see things? Or visions? Like, dreams?"
Jared tries to keep his face neutral, waiting for Sam to reveal himself. His heart is pounding, or twisted, he can't tell. Can Sam still read him so well? He can read Sam. He hopes he can read Sam - the worry lines in his forehead, his eyes already fearing the worst.
"Dreams about what?" Jared asks.
Sam hesitates, and this is a warning sign. Jared raises his eyebrows and Sam deflates, smiling resignedly. Then he just says, "Don't tell Dean."
"So tell me," Jared says.
Sam looks into his eyes. He opens his mouth, and then Dean comes back, and Sam closes his mouth again. The silence is palpable and therefore awkward when Dean slides in beside Jared. He looks from one twin to another, then rolls his eyes like it isn't a big deal and sips his coffee, talking about a potential hunt over in Utah.
+
Half past one in the morning. Dean is asleep in the backseat.
"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" Jared asks. Dean would never ask this question, so averse is he to the potential 'yes'. He may have appointed himself their guardian long ago, but it often falls to Jared to kick people in the nuts, as it were.
In the passenger seat, Sam is immediate with his reply. "No," he murmurs. "Even if I wanted to stay, I couldn't--like..."
The pause weighs on him; it makes him tired. He resolves to stop at the next motel they comes across.
Sam says, "The life follows you, and then people get hurt. You can't shake some things."
"'Cos if you're having second thoughts--"
"I said I wasn't having second thoughts."
"Good. 'Cos don't draw this shit out if you're gonna bail."
"Dude, I'm not going anywhere." Sam manages to sound both disgusted and panicked. He glares at Jared, but Jared keeps his eyes on the road. A sign says there's a motel at the next exit.
He exhales the breath he's been holding, and signals to turn.
*
To conclude, It Usually Washes Off is a NC17 Cas/Meg fic by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fossarian that I really enjoyed, so I rec it to you!
But instead of posting things that make sense, have a snippet of the AU where Sam and Jared are brothers. THAT'S RIGHT, Sam, Dean, and Jared are brothers who save people and hunt things. When Sam went to Stanford, Jared stuck around with Dean. This fic is set after the hypothetical pilot. Because sometimes (most times) when it's late at night and I'm chatting with
callowyn and zempasuchil, things spiral out of control.The Impala isn't big enough for three sometimes, and these times Jared says they ought to trade it in for a minivan, just to piss Dean off. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. "We'd have more room," Jared'd say. "For us, for the weapons. For whatever."
This time Dean pats the dashboard and says, "You just ignore him, babe. It's not your fault my brothers are a pair of Godzillas."
Jared says, "We should get something with better mileage."
"Don't you start."
"Gas money doesn't grow on trees, dude."
Dean looks at the rearview mirror and says, "Sam, you gonna back me up or what? You love this car."
But Sam is miles away. He's stretched out on the backseat watching the trees blur by, his hair falling over his eyes. It's growing out again, and Sam looks almost exactly as he did at sixteen - unkempt, focused elsewhere, and sinking into some deeper agitation that Jared has no access to. Sam's been on cruise control since they left Jericho, and Jared wonders if he has ever felt so far from his brother as he does now, or if it's just a trick of memory. All of Jared's memories of Sam are steeped in intimacy - warm and crumpled and creased with much use.
Before Dean can ask if Sam's okay, Jared says, "He hates this car."
"He can speak for himself," Dean shrugs, and smirks to cover up concern. "Ain't that right, Sammy?"
Sam says, "The car is fine," and that's all he says. Jared declares they should get the minivan in green, and Dean falls into the rhythm of the argument, which they have perfected over the past four years. It's a rhythm for two, but now Sam's back.
It's a good thing, Jared thinks to himself.
+
They stop for lunch at a diner in some lonely desert town, and argue about whether they've been here before. Dean says no way, he knows this corner of Arizona like the back of his hand, and he has no recollection of this place. Jared pipes up weren't they here for that werewolf in '99? Sam thinks that may have been New Mexico, and Dean and Jared reply with equal conviction that they have never hunted werewolves in New Mexico.
"Last werewolf we did was up in Montana," Jared says.
"Last werewolf we did with you," Dean says, looking at Sam, "was in Georgia."
Sam smiles and shakes his head at them. It looks genuine, so Jared smiles back, and Dean orders them all coffee.
When Dean goes to the bathroom, Sam lowers his voice and leans forward, and Jared realizes that Sam, too, has been waiting for a minute alone. The thought makes something in Jared's chest constrict. Sam's been real quiet, and Jared has respected what he knows is an unspoken wish to be ignored. Jared had assumed he was being ignored in return, but he should've known better. He should know Sam better than that.
Sam says, "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you... Do you ever... see things? Or visions? Like, dreams?"
Jared tries to keep his face neutral, waiting for Sam to reveal himself. His heart is pounding, or twisted, he can't tell. Can Sam still read him so well? He can read Sam. He hopes he can read Sam - the worry lines in his forehead, his eyes already fearing the worst.
"Dreams about what?" Jared asks.
Sam hesitates, and this is a warning sign. Jared raises his eyebrows and Sam deflates, smiling resignedly. Then he just says, "Don't tell Dean."
"So tell me," Jared says.
Sam looks into his eyes. He opens his mouth, and then Dean comes back, and Sam closes his mouth again. The silence is palpable and therefore awkward when Dean slides in beside Jared. He looks from one twin to another, then rolls his eyes like it isn't a big deal and sips his coffee, talking about a potential hunt over in Utah.
+
Half past one in the morning. Dean is asleep in the backseat.
"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" Jared asks. Dean would never ask this question, so averse is he to the potential 'yes'. He may have appointed himself their guardian long ago, but it often falls to Jared to kick people in the nuts, as it were.
In the passenger seat, Sam is immediate with his reply. "No," he murmurs. "Even if I wanted to stay, I couldn't--like..."
The pause weighs on him; it makes him tired. He resolves to stop at the next motel they comes across.
Sam says, "The life follows you, and then people get hurt. You can't shake some things."
"'Cos if you're having second thoughts--"
"I said I wasn't having second thoughts."
"Good. 'Cos don't draw this shit out if you're gonna bail."
"Dude, I'm not going anywhere." Sam manages to sound both disgusted and panicked. He glares at Jared, but Jared keeps his eyes on the road. A sign says there's a motel at the next exit.
He exhales the breath he's been holding, and signals to turn.
*
To conclude, It Usually Washes Off is a NC17 Cas/Meg fic by
fossarian that I really enjoyed, so I rec it to you!