Normal?
Air rushed fast in and out of his lungs as he ran quickly down the sidewalk. His legs burned as his feet thumped hard against the pavement. Though his body was screaming for him to stop, Sam Winchester kept on pushing. He was use to running from things that wanted to kill him, so this was nothing new! Except for the fact it was nothing but the wind chasing him. After a few more quick sprints, Sam finally gave into his bodies needs and headed home.
Home being yet another sticky and smelly motel.
When Sam stepped into the room, petting at his sweaty face. He couldn't help but smile as he looked to his brother. Feet resting up on the headboard and head hanging off the other end of the bed, Dean Winchester stared lazily at the small junker T.V before him. Based on the small grin on his face, Sam was certain he was watching Dr. Sexy.
"Sammy." Sam waved as Dean quickly pointed towards the mini fridge sitting in the corner. "Beer. Now!" He snapped, emphasizing his demand.
Sam chuckled softly and did as his brother told. When it came to Dr. Sexy, Dean would stay glued to the T.V until a hunt called or the episode ended. If something else came up, Dean often resorted to throwing near objects. Sam rubbed the back of his head absentmindedly as he opened the fridge. He swore he could still feel it throbbing, remembering a remote becoming friendly with it once. All because he told Dean to get off his lazy ass to fetch his own beer.
He took a can to his brother. Holding it out, he mirrored his smile. He'd never make that mistake again. Dean took the beer happily and rolled to his knees. After settling, he let the excess blood rush out of his head. When his head felt lighter, he cracked the beer open and took a well needed drink.
When done, he pulled it away with a satisfying gasp. He passed a quick glance to his brother. Eyes otherwise occupied with the T.V. "Is this seriously what we're reduced to? ..You running from nothing and me waiting for you to get back home to feed me?" He shook his head sighing then took another drink.
Sam laughed, sitting down beside him. "No one told you to lock yourself up, Dean. I invite you to run with me everyday! I'm pretty sure Benny's tired of waiting for you to fish with him too." He furrowed his brows. "..Also, you're very capable of feeding yourself."
Dean only replied with a bitch face. It was aimed at the T.V, but Sam didn't need to be looked at to feel it's effect. After the Slenderman episode, Sam thought it best to drop the "hunting Slenderman" act and finally let Dean's mentality carve it's own path.
When a few weeks passed and no Dean relapsing back into "Is this Purgatory, is this Earth?" or "Where the hell is Cas?" occurred. Sam forced Dean into a month of normalcy.
It was of course rough.
Dean's hero complex constantly poked at the need to forget normal and help those in need. But after Sam got Garth to assure Dean other hunters had things under control, Dean finally caved. It was nearing the end of the month now and Sam was stuck between ecstatic and disappointed.
As soon as the credits rolled onto the screen, Dean clicked off the T.V. Silence filled the room as he then placed his beer on the desk between the beds. He planted his feet on the floor, turning his back to the taller man.
Sam gave him a slow once over, smiling softly. "Can you feel your trigger finger itching yet?.."
Dean couldn't see it, but he could hear the sadness in his brother's voice. "Still stuck in that fenced yard..." "..Been feeling it for a month, Sam..." He turned his head, eyeing his brother from the corner of his eye. "You know I don't do normal!"
Sam gave a soft nod and looked over the room. He had grown comfortable with the place, despite it's state. It was their first home in years! ..Not counting the burnt cabin and/or the hotel during the Slenderman scare.
Sure it took a lot of money to stay in one place, but it was worth it for sometime without monsters, paranormal beings and/or the undead breathing down your neck.
He sighed, slumping his body slightly. "..I know. It's a nice feeling though."
Silence again filled the room. Neither brother knew what to say to the other. A typical reaction to life outside of hunting. When it became too much and each knew the other was done. Sam stood and went into the bathroom, leaving Dean to his beer and thoughts.
By night time, the boys had forgotten their talk about normal and returned to said life. When the two settled in for another night of actual sleep, they were again able to have the lives they dreamt of most. Something they had done every night that month. A dream, never occupied with tense bodies and hands grasping at hidden weapons.
Tonight was different though, at least for Dean anyway.
While Sam lay with his arms and legs spread across the bed, not a care in the whole world. Dean lay curled in on himself in his own, hands clutched tight into fists. He lay, facing his brother, as if curling over him and protecting him from said world.
The days edging closer to his life had woken the sleeping hunter from within. Dean was no longer relaxed when he lay to rest, senses on full! At the moment, his ears were on for all sounds to be heard. His main sound, that of his brother.
Sam may not be ready to get back into gear, but Dean was ready enough for the both of them!
So while Sam slept at peace, dreaming of a wife and kids. Dean lay at the ready. Ready to punch the daylights out of anything that knew Dean Winchester was back in action.
Minutes later, when the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up, he knew that time was now.
Eyes shooting open, he quickly launched into action. Ignoring any and all protests of his somewhat, let go and tired body.
Quickly rolling onto his back, he ripped the hidden pistol out from under his pillow. When he stopped his roll, he fired.
