Dude, I'm batman

[Triangle]


Connect the dots. One, two, three and he knows that’s one too many. His thoughts are fuzzy around the edges, separated by oceans of morphine and continents of pain. Maybe that’s why he notices for the first time, they’re a triangle. Sam’s on his right side, elbows on his knees and he’s got that same worried look he had the night he had to go play a tree or some shit in the school play. Brooke is on his left side, her back curved against a chair like she’s been there forever. Maybe she has. He can’t remember anymore.

As soon as they see his eyelids flutter, they both push forward, weight teetering on the edge of the chairs. Sam moves forward so quickly, his chair grates against the tile floor.

“Relax, Hell’s already tossed me out and Heaven’s too damn afraid I’d take over. I’m gonna live forever, Kiddos.” He wishes it sounded more like the joke it is but funny thing about being choked nearly to death. It fucks with your voice and everything sounds James Earl Jones serious.

“Do you want me to call the nurse?” That’s worry wart Sammy, hovering like a first time mother while Brooke hangs back letting him.

Dean forces a smile and really it’s a twitch at the corners of his lips. “No, she’ll just give me some of that shit that puts me in lala land.” Not that lala land sounds so bad right now. His throat feels like Alistair iss shoving hot pokers down it. Oh wait, he knows what that feels like and this isn’t quite it but almost.

He’s still watching Sammy, looking for signs of what the hell happened out there in the kid’s eyes. He knows it wasn’t good because he can see the way the weight curves his baby brother’s spine and hunches his shoulders, like Atlas after a bad day—yeah he knows who Atlas is, as he’s constantly reminding people, he’s not stupid.

Brooke’s hand is cool on his forehead, skirting along his hairline and drawing his attention to her. She’s been crying, he can see the red in her eyes. He has to look away because that quiet fear threatens to break him. He brought this into her life; a normal life with the fence and the kid and the not-yet-but-soon dog. He can’t apologize because a part of him isn’t sorry—and this seems to be a theme with the Winchesters. It’s not fair to her and its not fair to him but then he stopped caring about fair to him when he was four years old and Sammy was crying in his arms. She’s trapped in this triangle; him and Sam and her and it cycles around and around like some lopsided and broken circle.

“I’ll…go tell the doctor you’re awake,” Sam says, his gaze flicking to Brooke and then back to Dean one last time. There are tears in his eyes and Dean wonders what the fuck happened once again. He’s pretty sure that whipped puppy look isn’t because he found out big brother tortured a demon. Or maybe it is and Dean’s just fooling himself.

“He alright?” Dean asks when Sam is gone but he’s still there in that room—always there, part of the broken, lopsided circle that is DeanBrookeSam. Or maybe it’s SamDeanBrooke—SamBrookeDean. He’s not sure anymore and he doesn’t know if it even matters. Or maybe it’s like a tide, and that’s all that matters. The way it washes up and then away, up and then away. Reverse it—away and then up—the world goes askew but then his would is already askew. He’ll have to talk to Castiel about changing the tide again.

Brooke squeezes his hand in hers, lightly, lightly because if he’s ever been fragile it’s right now. “He’s fine. Worry about you. “

But worrying about Sammy is what makes Dean’s world go round and Brooke’s along for the ride; oh what a bumpy ride.

“I’m sorry.” There’s the tears he’s been struggling with and where the hell is the nurse with the morphine that he didn’t want a few minutes ago.

Brooke shakes her head and moves closer to the bed, curling over him the way she does Matthew when she kisses his forehead at night. “Take it back. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

If it were so easy. Take it all back. Back to Mom and back to Dad. Back to 1973 before the tide changed and the world went askew. Take back the fire and the way Dad was always gone. Take back Jess and Sam dying in his arms. Take it back. Take it back. Take it back and maybe there wouldn’t be a stupid lopsided, broken circle--triangle, his kindergarten teacher reminds him and Dean thinks he needs to remember so he can teach Sammy someday—Just Dean and Brooke—DeanBrooke; BrookeDean—but that feels wrong and weird so maybe he can just take back Sammy dying in his arms because that’s when the tide changed for him. That’s when up and away became away and up. The shortest distance between A and B is always a straight line but doesn’t the journey trump the destination and what fun is a straight line anyway? Besides, he doesn’t know what he is without Sam and he’s not sure BrookeDean would ever make it at all. Funny how he’s got more faith in something infinitely more broken and desperately more dysfunctional: SamBrookeDean.

“Can’t take it back.”

["Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive. But to be young was very heaven." - William Blake]

Things were shitty with Sam. They barely talked anymore and neither one of them could look the other in the eye. As a result, there was very little that made Dean smile these days. However, that very little did not include Matthew. He couldn’t help grinning at the kid, especially when said kid recognized that his dad was pretty down and did things specifically to make him grin.

Right now, Matthew was regaling him with Guitar Hero antics. He was playing ‘Rock You Like A Hurricane’ by the Scorpions. He wasn’t getting all the notes right but he was having a lot of fun doing it. Right now he was trying to play behind his back and headbang at the same time; semi-unsuccessfully. It didn’t matter, the whole point of the exercise was to make Dean smile and that part was wholly successful.

Part of it was that Matthew was so earnest about wanting Dean to be happy. Part of it was just the kid was funny. When he finished the song (just barely) he handed the guitar to Dean.

“Your turn, Dad,” he told him, a toothy, little kid grin on his face.

“Okay, you gonna stay and cheer me on?” Dean asked Matthew, one eyebrow quirking up at the little boy.

“Uh huh,” Matthew nodded as he bounced on the couch twice before plopping down next to Dean. “Kay, here it comes,” he warned him.

Dean really wanted to get out his lighter and teach Matthew how to hold up the lighter but he knew Brooke would kill him. Also, Matthew was five. He was a little young to be playing with fire. Instead, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Go turn off the lights then stand over there with the phone up in the air.”

“Why?” Matthew asked but he was already scrambling off the couch to do as Dean had told him to.

“Just what you do at a concert,” Dean responded.

“Can I go to one?” Matthew asked as he climbed up on a chair to turn the lights out and then ran back over to the spot Dean had told him to stand, arm raised high in the air.

“Yeah, when you get a little older I’ll take you to see someone awesome,” Dean told him as he started to play the opening notes of the song.

“Who?” Matthew continues to question him.

“Don’t know who’ll be awesome and alive when you’re old enough. We gotta wait and see,” Dean told him. He looked up at Matthew and grinned. “Right now, you’re slackin’ on your cheering duties.”

Matthew giggled and let out a high pitched whooo sound.

“Now we just gotta get your Mom in here and my rockstar fantasy will be fulfilled.” So he’d altered his fantasies a bit since finding out about Matthew. They more often included Brooke and the five year old than twins.

“Momma! Dad needs a groupie!”

Dean nearly choked laughing. “I did not teach him that word!” he hollered back at the home office Brooke was working in. He could see Brooke walking into the living room with a smile on her face out of the corner of his eye. Yeah, his fantasies had changed some but he was pretty damn sure he liked them better this way.

[Getaway]

Related to this thread and regarding Matthew’s verse

He’s not going to look back.

He’s not going to look back.

He’s not going to look back.

But he can still see the house in the rear view. There’s a faint light coming from Matthew’s window. The little boy likes to sleep with a night light. His little boy. The rest of the house is dark; she’s made certain to turn off the outside light. He knows she’s pissed and that’s alright. He’d like to say it doesn’t hurt. There’s nothing about this that isn’t as raw as a new wound not so carefully sewn up by Sam. He’ll come back though. No matter how much it hurts. He’ll come back and he’ll suffer all the pain. Personally though, he thinks Hell could have used Brooke Davis. She’s not cruel and he doesn’t even think she does it on purpose. It wouldn’t hurt nearly as damn much if that was the case.

She’s got a hero and it’s not him. The bitch of the whole deal is he lets her hurt him. He’s given her the power and he can’t undo it. He’s not even sure he would because there’s Matthew and he’ll happily tromp through Hell again just to get a little more time with his kid.

Right now, he’s got to let go of all that or he’s got to turn it inside and use it. There’s a job and he’s got a son to get back to but sometimes he wonders if he’d have wanted a life so much if he’d known it hurt. It doesn’t matter now because

He’s not going to look back.

Muse: Dean Winchester
Fandom: Supernatural
Gift recipient: Matthew Davis dude_imawesome
Prompt: 5.1 Teach

Set in matthew!PTA!Dean verse. Matthew is used with permission.

Brooke was in the house working on new designs and Dean was outside spending some time with Matthew and the medium sized, black and white dog named Hendrix that he’d gotten for Christmas. The Impala was sitting in the driveway, shiny from the wash Dean had given her earlier.

“Come here,” Dean said to Matthew, walking over to the Impala. He unlocked the driver’s side door and let Matthew slid in, over to the passenger seat then he got into the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition halfway so that the radio came on. He grabbed the shoe box full of tapes and picked one, put it in the cassette player but kept the volume low. It was Kansas, one of his Dad’s favorite bands. His fingertips bumped over the tops of the cassettes, stopping at one. He pulled it out and held it up to Matthew.

“See this one?” he handed it to Matthew who held it with a reverence that he’d picked up somehow from seeing it in Dean’s hand for a moment. The little boy nodded in answer.

“This one, we don’t ever play,” Dean told him.

“Why not?” Matthew asked, eyes wide like he was about to be told some sacred secret.

“It’s called Stairway to Heaven and it’s probably Zeppelin’s greatest piece. It’s about a lady who’s in Heaven and she’s up there, turning everything to gold, making everything perfect. The rest of her family is still here, on Earth,” Dean explained the song, perhaps letting his own situation imprint a little on it. “When my Mom died, Dad kinda let this song be hers. We don’t ever play it ‘cause it’s hers and it’s sorta how we remember her.”

“She’s an angel now?” Matthew asked.

Dean half grinned and nodded. He dug out John’s journal and got a picture of John and Mary out to show to Matthew. “She was always an angel…but yeah. She’s an angel now.”

He put the tape, the picture and the journal back then looked at Matthew hard. The little boy was a little quiet. “You doin’ okay?”

Matthew nodded earnestly and grinned. That made Dean grin and continue on with his ‘lesson’.

“Alright. This is my seat. Even when Sam is driving, it’s still my seat. It used to be my Dad’s and he was sitting right here in this seat when he proposed to my Mom,” Dean told the little boy. “Now where you’re sitting, that’s Sam’s place. When he was real little he rode in a basket in that seat. When he got older he’d sit in the backseat and sometimes me and him would play soldiers back there. Set up battalions of those green and brown army men and let ‘em go to war. Now he's a giant and he's too big for the backseat so that's his seat again.”

They both turned and looked in the backseat; Matthew on his knees, his stomach pressed against the back of the seat, Dean half turned, right arm hooked over the seat back.

“It’s dirty,” Matthew said.

“Nah, I’ve scrubbed it so much I don’t think it can get any cleaner,” Dean responded. “Sammich was about five when he spilled grape juice back there. We weren’t supposed to have purple grape juice in the back seat but the lady next door had given him one of those juice boxes and he’d snuck it into the backseat. Dad about blew a gasket-“

“What’s a gasket?” Matthew interrupted.

“Part to a car that if you blow it’ll literally shoot up to sky. I’ll show you those later,” Dean answered. “Anyway, Dad was pissed and Sammy was in tears ‘cause no one wanted Dad to take off his belt and whoop you. So I told him I did. He leaned me over the back of the car and spanked me good. I never cried ‘cause Sammy was in the backseat bawling his eyes out. Stain never came out.”

“What’s the other one?” Matthew asked, pointing to a brownish stain on the passenger side of the backseat.

“One time Sam got hurt really bad and I had to put him in the backseat until I could save him.”

Matthew looked at him, surprise on his face turning to awe. “So that’s Sam’s blood?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. It’d be a few years before he could tell Matthew what really happened so that he could appreciate the sacredness of that blood stain.

“Cool,” Matthew grinned. Dean chuckled in response. In a few years, he’d show Matthew the false trunk in the Impala but for now he was showing him just a few of the important things about being a Winchester.

“Okay, Little Dude, we’re gonna change the Impala’s oil,” Dean said as he slipped out of the car. He grabbed a couple of bottles of oil out of the trunk and an aluminum roasting pan he’d bought for that purpose. He popped the hood on the Impala then walked around and picked Matthew up. He sat him down on the edge of the car so he could look at the engine. He pointed out things like the carburetor cap, the air filter and the cylinders on the engine. He pulled the dipstick out and wiped it across the hem of his tee shirt, showing Matthew how it was dirty and low.

“Now we have to get under the car and drain the old oil out,” Dean said as he put Matthew back on his feet and walked around to sit down on the ground. He laid down and grabbed the frame of the car and pulled himself underneath the car. “Get under here,” he told the little boy.

Matthew giggled and mimicked Dean, pulling himself under the car until he was lying shoulder to shoulder with him. Dean showed him how to unscrew the valve and catch all the oil in the pan. Once that was done, they slid out from underneath the Impala and walked back around to the front of the car. He showed him how the oil was a golden color when they poured it in and how to gauge how much was in it. When the oil was changed, Dean changed the air filter and closed the hood.

“Only one thing left to do,” Dean told him.

“Wash our hands?” Matthew asked, holding up his grimy, oily hands.

“Okay, two more things,” Dean chuckled. He looked at the houses on both sides of Brooke’s and the ones across the street. “Which neighbor does your mom like the least?”

Matthew pointed to the house to the left of them. “Her. She says ugly things about Mom.”

Dean grinned in response and picked up the half full roasting pan. “Okay, follow me and this is secret guy stuff. We don’t tell anyone else,” he said as the crossed over to the neighbor’s yard, oil pan in both hands. He paused, checked out to make sure no one was watching and poured the oil in the flower bed, making sure he spread it around evenly. Matthew giggled as he watched Dean. Once the pan was crumpled up and put in the trash can, he picked Matthew up, oily hands and all.

“Now we go wash our hands,” Dean told him.

“When do we get to change oil again?” Matthew asked.

“In three thousand miles,” Dean responded. “Probably in another month or so.”

“Awesome,” Matthew declared, grinning from ear to ear. When Dean opened the door, Matthew wiggled out of his arms and ran toward Brooke’s office.

“Mooooooom! Dean told me why the Impala is dirty!”

Because Dean has a couple and I'm not real sure what I'm going to do with them prompt wise.

Canon Obviously this is canon. Strictly canon. Absolutely canon

I screwed up This is one that I'm not entirely sure is going to be active but I've enjoyed writing things for him in it before so I'm going to put it here. Basically Dean screwed up. Sam is evil, Dean is still hunting. It's been a few years since Sam went evil and he can't bring himself to kill his brother so he goes around the country cleaning up Sam's messes as best as he can. He's with Ruby, sort of, here. Sort of as in sometimes she's there and sometimes she's not. Sometimes he stabs her with a butter knife and sometimes she stabs him with fork but sometimes she shaves him and it's almost sweet. Ruby is ourslutty_yoda

I got Brooked Uhm...well here's the story thus far. When Dean was pulled out of Hell, turns out he was near Tree Hill, North Carolina. He wandered into Tree Hill, chased off the guy beating the hell out of this pretty brunette and had amnesia. Pretty Brunette took him home and a couple of months later Sam showed up, along with Dean's memory. Right now, Brooke is traveling with them but she's not hunting. She's motel waiting. Brooke in both these verses is giveandforgive

Go Brooke Yourself Remember the episode with Lisa and Ben? Right. Okay well insert Brooke and a little boy named Matthew (who happens to be played by the same kid who plays Jamie. He's cute) Matthew IS Dean's and Dean just found out. Basically the Winchester boys are going to do a home base type thing, place they go between jobs and when things slow down so that Dean can play daddy. Matthew is dude_imawesome


Okay that's it. Things will be tagged with verses.