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kasihyaI really like the idea of capitalizing on the creepy codependent serial-killer vibe that Sam and Dean have going on sometimes. However, it's late, and I don't have the time to do more than this, or to give the scene justice. If I continue, it would be to take the second part and write the scene with Sam killing Brody in fairly graphic detail, while Dean looks on proudly, and there are creepy borderline-emotionally-incestuous vibes going on. The third part would be more ruminating in the style of the first, with a pleased, contented feeling to it, like "things are the way they should be, and we're a happy functional family who doesn't need anyone else".
*************
That’s the thing about family: they stick together. It’s taken Sam long enough to realize that. It’s taken a childhood’s worth of struggle for independence, for friendships and outside connections that he fights to maintain long past their expiration date, and their expiration date? Is when Dad says it’s time to move on.
Dean’s never had any trouble with the rules. Maybe he did, when he was younger, but by the time he was old enough to have more than scattered memories of things going bump in the night, he’d burned it out of him. No more of the longing for boys with whom he can have inside jokes, laughing memories of scrapes in the past; no more of the desire for girls who will talk to him and cry on his shoulder and warble along with him to soft, heart-wrenching music he will never admit he will listen to; they can’t happen. They don’t matter because they can’t stay, not like Dad stays, and not like Sam stays.
Well, stayed. Sam stayed until one day, he didn’t. Dean had beat himself black and blue inside over that. Family is everything, family is the glue that holds him together, and Sam hadn’t understood. He thought that family was something you could recreate with other people. He thought that he could find a family with people who hadn’t bled alongside him and stitched his wounds into the scars that wound around his arms and shoulders. And to Dean’s horror, he had nearly succeeded.
No matter. He’d been wrong. Sam had been wrong, and Dean had been right, and maybe one day he would be able to forget there was ever a time when he’d thought that maybe, just maybe, Sam had been on to something.
&
It comes down to this, then: Brody. Brody is the sum of everything that has ever been wrong with the world outside of their solid unit of three and then two: he was a member of Sam’s shiny new family at Stanford, he was a demon who wanted to be the one to control Sam, and he was going to come back to take Sam away from Dean once again. Just his presence had been enough to drive a wedge between them.
*************
That’s the thing about family: they stick together. It’s taken Sam long enough to realize that. It’s taken a childhood’s worth of struggle for independence, for friendships and outside connections that he fights to maintain long past their expiration date, and their expiration date? Is when Dad says it’s time to move on.
Dean’s never had any trouble with the rules. Maybe he did, when he was younger, but by the time he was old enough to have more than scattered memories of things going bump in the night, he’d burned it out of him. No more of the longing for boys with whom he can have inside jokes, laughing memories of scrapes in the past; no more of the desire for girls who will talk to him and cry on his shoulder and warble along with him to soft, heart-wrenching music he will never admit he will listen to; they can’t happen. They don’t matter because they can’t stay, not like Dad stays, and not like Sam stays.
Well, stayed. Sam stayed until one day, he didn’t. Dean had beat himself black and blue inside over that. Family is everything, family is the glue that holds him together, and Sam hadn’t understood. He thought that family was something you could recreate with other people. He thought that he could find a family with people who hadn’t bled alongside him and stitched his wounds into the scars that wound around his arms and shoulders. And to Dean’s horror, he had nearly succeeded.
No matter. He’d been wrong. Sam had been wrong, and Dean had been right, and maybe one day he would be able to forget there was ever a time when he’d thought that maybe, just maybe, Sam had been on to something.
&
It comes down to this, then: Brody. Brody is the sum of everything that has ever been wrong with the world outside of their solid unit of three and then two: he was a member of Sam’s shiny new family at Stanford, he was a demon who wanted to be the one to control Sam, and he was going to come back to take Sam away from Dean once again. Just his presence had been enough to drive a wedge between them.
