Log in

No account? Create an account
May Robinson [userpic]

New Fic: Bitter Pill

October 29th, 2007 (02:21 pm)

where i am: Not at work (and it's Monday)
how i am: chipper
accompanied by: Ian Thomas, Painted Ladies

Summary: Pre-series. Sam's counting down the months toward freedom, Dean's starting to face harsh reality and John, for once, is a relatively innocent bystander in this mess they call their lives. Unhappiness abounds.
Rating: PG13, T (language)
Wordcount: 3,424
Pairing/Characters: Genfic. Sam, Dean, John Winchester
Spoilers: None
Disclaimers: See my profile page
A/N: A response to ficwriter1966's "first lines" challenge wherein one takes the first line of a participant's fic and writes a drabble using that line as the first line of their drabble. Far from a drabble, I still think I should score points for "Bitter Pill" being the shortest fic I've ever written ;). In this case, I borrowed from her marvelous "Dean and the Company Picnic". Beta credits, plus inspiration credits, must go to the splendid pdragon76</lj>, whose wonderful "Bean Town Rising" put thinky thoughts in my head about Sam, particularly during the impending-Stanford time period and hence gave me the courage to finally step into that gorgeous mug and do some wading around. I've tweaked it since getting it back though so, as always, the mistakes are all mine.

It occurred to Sam that Dean, right there and then, was the epitome of coiled like a snake and maybe, just maybe, Sam didn't want to be in the line of fire if he struck.

Bitter Pill
by May Robinson

They roared into town on the raw edge of attracting law enforcement attention. Sam wasn't worried about getting into a wreck. No, the idea of Dean losing control of the Impala, even when they were this short of hydroplaning, was as ludicrous as the concept of having a civil conversation with Dad.


Okay, that light was totally red and, really, getting pulled over by the cops wasn't going to help them get to Dad any sooner. "Dean," Sam pressed, releasing his grasp on the dash.

"I know."    

Apparently Dean's right foot didn't though and the engine revved louder, responding to a none-too-subtle increase in pounds per square inch.


"I know, Sam. I know."

"No, apparently, you don't." He knew Dean hated what he called Sam's pomp-ass voice, damn near as much as Dad did. Still, sometimes it's all he could use to be heard.

"Give it a rest, Sam, I know what I'm doing." Dean was using Dad's deep brook no argument voice, which was precariously close to Dad's shut up and do what I say. Somehow, coming from Dean, it didn't irritate Sam half as much. Still, he couldn't help but get his back up when Dean followed up with, "Now keep your trap shut and your eyes peeled for the truck, he didn't say where he was."

The slight break in Dean's voice was enough to remind Sam his brother was worried though, so he bit his tongue, or rather the inside of his cheek, and let it go. Dean's back was ramrod straight, had been almost the entire two plus hours getting here. Hands that normally held lightly to the steering wheel were undoubtedly going to have imprints of its grips in response to Dean's white-knuckled hold.

It wasn't the weather or the darkness. No, it was Dad's phone call.

The one Sam still wasn't privy to any details about. Of course. The two of them and their fucking need to know bullshit. Aside from, "Get your ass in gear, Dad's in trouble," Sam was once again in the dark.

Okay, so Sam had been able to infer a bit more from Dean's side of the call. His somewhat higher pitch when he asked if Dad was okay, the hushed "How bad?" as he turned his back to Sam, headed for their room and started grabbing the gear they'd already packed in preparation for tomorrow morning.

He might've even heard a "just don't fall asleep" but when Dean had purposely kicked at the World History books Sam had been gathering into his backpack, Sam had forgotten his concern and let fly with a few choice words about Dean's lack of respect for anything Sam deemed important.

Like Sam ever treated what was most important to Dean with anything less than respect.

Dean had been as tight-lipped as their father ever was once they'd hit the road, and Sam had given up asking questions fifteen minutes into their drive. Contrary to the mighty John Winchester's opinion, Sam actually did know when to let up. When his so-called inquisitions were pointless, albeit warranted.

Hell, aside from the brief "I know/No, you don't" exchange they'd just had, Dean hadn't said a word in two hours. One of Dean's mix-tapes, this one made for Dad come to think of it, had blanketed Dean's silence but when Side Two had ended with Dickie Betts' playing "Jessica", Dean hadn't bothered to replace it. It wasn't Sam's place to do so -- he'd learned hands off  the hard way almost the moment the Chevy had been bequeathed to Dean -- so it was left to the rain, the wipers and the engine to be their only soundtrack as they exited the highway and practically blew into town.

Dean's near whisper of "C'mon, c'mon, where are you?" came as a surprise to Sam. Then again, Dean was talking to himself, or rather, imaginary Dad. Still not Sam, though. Typical. 

"You know he's fine, Dean," Sam placated, recognizing once again that Dean was worried. But then Dean was always worried. When he wasn't being a prick. In contrast to their race to get here though, big brother was driving ridiculously slow now, crawling past every cheap-ass motel in sight. "He's always fine," Sam added when Dean's only response had been a grunt as he suddenly picked up speed turning into the Shady Lane's entrance.

Leave it to his brother to speed up as he was pulling into a motel.

The building's frontage was practically non-existent which meant parking in the rear, a five-star worthy feature according to the John Winchester scale of ideal accommodations for covert getaways. Sam had no doubt Dean's gut was telling him Dad was here, and that his gut would be right.

Nothing out of the ordinary then, right? At least the Winchester kind of ordinary. 

Besides, just how much trouble could Dad have gotten into if he'd been able to call them? And order them to hit the road half a day early? That they were even here, trolling through motel row, meant their father was safe.

Hell, Sam knew Dean was pissed about being left behind but, it was hardly Sam's fault Mr. Bothwell had scheduled his U.S. Government exam the Friday before exam week. The man had to go in for some non emergency type surgery next week so his classes had to write their exams today. No way could Sam have bailed, any more than he was willing to skip his exams next week either. He was a Junior now, damn it. Every grade counted, especially if he wanted a chance in hell of getting a scholarship in a year's time. So what if Dean had to stay behind so they could follow in the morning. Dad was only going to be doing some research and reconnaissance today, anyway. They'd take out the poltergeist tomorrow, be back by nightfall and Sam could study his brains out for the balance of the weekend while Dad and Dean toasted each other's hunting prowess over a six-pack of PBRs.

Or, better yet, they could go shoot some pool and leave Sam and his textbooks back at the house.

Dean's whispered, "Oh, fuck," threw Sam out of his internal rant and he blinked in bemusement at the sight of the Sierra. It was parked diagonally across two parking spots, its front wheel on the driver side raised up above its counterparts as it sat off-kilter on the walk in front of a row of identical gun-metal grey doors.

Dean pulled into the nearest intact spot on the truck's far side, threw open his door and started issuing orders before Sam had time to think. "Straighten out the truck and make sure it's locked up tight," he barked, tossing his keys to Sam over the roof of the Impala and sounding even more like Dad. "We don't need the manager nosing around," Dean added, like Sam needed to be told the obvious.

Still, Sam knew when Dean was not in the mood to be fucked around with and he was definitely at that point right now.

Making his way over to the truck, Sam watched as Dean -- his big-ass first aid kit teetering precariously out of the duffle over his shoulder -- attempted to open the door to room 29. How he could be sure this was Dad's room Sam didn't know. Typical of Dad and his wild goose chases, Dean clearly hadn't even been told which motel he'd booked into. And now, the way the truck was situated, he could've been in any one of three rooms.

"For fuck's sake," Dean blurted, dropping his bag to the ground, the door apparently not yielding to his wishes. Sam detoured from the Sierra's driver side door, already reaching into his back pocket for his wallet so he could pull out his lock-pick. He was so much better at this than Dean.

"Here, let me," he offered as he approached his brother who was crouched down in front of the door now, his own pick in hand, fiddling with the lock.

Dean's head snapped around hard enough to give him whiplash and Sam froze at the intensity of the hard gaze drilling into him. "Did I ask for your help?" He practically snarled. "Why can't you just follow a simple instruction for once, huh?"

Seemingly as surprised by his own ire as Sam, Dean swallowed hard, nostrils flaring before his features softened with eyes almost pleading now under the rain-muted orange glow of the motel's exterior lighting. But Sam's hackles were already up so, when Dean resignedly asked him to just straighten out the truck like he'd asked and bring in the gear from both vehicles, Sam could only utter what he was more than willing to admit was a very pissy, "Fine."

Minutes later, the truck expertly parked dead-center between the lines, Sam tried the door to the room, only to find it locked again. Dean wouldn't have done that, so it was more than likely an automatic thing. Dumping all their bags at his feet, not wanting to annoy his brother further or disturb the goings on inside by knocking, he gathered up his pick once again and lowered himself to the lock imbedded in the door handle. Immediately he noticed, with ever increasing alarm, the bloody fingerprints around the mechanism and, for that matter, those on the door-frame to the left and slightly above it. Nudging the bags at his feet, he couldn't prevent the groan from crossing his lips as he realized the action had smeared what had been drops of blood into streaks along the wet walkway.

Dad's blood.

The abrupt realization spurring him on, Sam quickly worked his magic on the lock, stepping into the room far enough to close the door behind him. He didn't dare step further though, the scene before him stopping him in his tracks.

Dad was in the only bed, propped up slightly by a couple of pillows. His face, neck, hell, the bedding, were all caked in blood. He was conscious though, thank God, intently focused on Dean who was seated beside him on the edge of the bed, facing him. The big first aid kit was already open, laid out on Dad's other side so Dean had to reach across him to grab what he needed, but it didn't seem to hinder him in the slightest. Not even breaking eye contact as he reached for the Hibitane antiseptic, pouring it into a cloth already in the same hand, then dabbing it high against Dad's temple, right along his hair-line. All with the well-practiced fluidity that Sam both marveled at and abhorred.

When Dad flinched, so did Sam, breaking him out of his trance and he almost moved forward then. Almost.

Dad had hissed at the same moment he'd flinched though and it was then that Sam saw the reason behind Dean's one handed ministrations. . .

Dad's right hand was firmly clasped in Dean's left, their fingers entwined. With Dad's arm bent up at the elbow like it was, that vice-like hold they had on each other looked like it could rival any two world class arm-wrestlers. Hell, knowing his father and brother, they probably could.

Between the intensity of their gazes, that grasp that looked like a lifeline between them, and the tenderness of Dean's touch as he wiped away the blood from their dad's face, Sam felt a familiar bone deep longing creep into him. He remembered how witnessing his brother and dad so totally and completely in sync with each other used to fill Sam with pride and awe. When those feelings had morphed into jealousy and resentment, he had no idea. But, as he watched the two of them whispering words of encouragement, accolades, stories, secrets -- hell, how was Sam to know? -- there was one thing he was certain of. He was an outsider here.

He was still Sam Winchester though. Had to be heard. Had to get to the bottom of what had happened.

Had to know that this wasn't his fault.

Clearing his throat, he dropped the bags he'd forgotten he was still carrying to the floor. Quietly he called out to them, his family, feeling as though the few feet between them was a canyon sized gap. "Dad? What happened? Are you okay?"

Dad slowly rolled his head against the pillow toward Sam, the right side of his face looking not nearly as bad as the left. He still looked like road-kill though.

"Hey, Sammy," he said quietly, a half-assed attempt at a smile overtaken by a frown as he batted away the cloth Dean was trying to dab on the cut just under Dad's eye.

Sam finally approached. Made it as far as the near side of the bed before he stopped again. Dean hadn't made eye contact yet but Dad seemed okay enough to talk, so Sam continued to address him. "Jesus, Dad, what happened? I mean. . . the poltergeist didn't do this, right? You weren't--"

Anything else he was going to say was cut off by Dean. "Of course the fucking poltergeist did this, Sam," he snapped, glaring at him over a tense shoulder. "What? You think Dad did this shaving?"

Sam could understand why Dean was pissed. Really. Dad looked like hell. Probably had a concussion. It was Dad he should've been mad at though, not Sam. If John Winchester was stupid enough to take on the thing when he knew back-up was coming the next day, he got what he deserved and they were all damn lucky he didn't get himself killed. It was a rookie mistake that either of his sons would've gotten their asses reamed for if they'd ever pulled it themselves.

Feeling the heat of defensiveness race up his spine, he tried to quell the accusations from his voice even as he uttered, "But you were supposed to wait for us. Just check out the lay of the land."

Before Dad could answer, Dean threw the bottle of Hibitane into the first aid kit. Drilled it, actually. It wasn't until then that Sam had noticed they'd released their earlier hold on each other but, now that Dad had grabbed firmly onto Dean's other wrist -- the one belonging to his throwing arm -- Sam couldn't miss it.

"Easy, dude," Dad told him, then fixed his gaze on Sam. "That's all I was doing, kiddo," he said, exhaustion slurring his words. "This poltergeist was a mean sum' bitch but, until I showed up, it never acted up during the day." Smirking, which looked a hell of a lot more like a grimace given the state of Dad's face, he half shrugged at Dean before adding, "Didn't expect it to change its M.O."

"You should've had back-up," Dean said softly and, though Sam would normally pounce on the ever-present self recrimination he could hear in Dean's statement, defend Dean even against himself, the guilt Sam could feel churning in his own gut fused with the accusation he heard in the words and erupted out of his throat in bitter indignation.

"So this is my fault?"

"I didn't say that."

"He didn't say that."

Great, John and Dean Winchester, hunters extraordinaire, coming at him now, in fucking stereo.

"No one's laying blame here, son," Dad continued, sounding awfully rough. But Sam's focus was  all on Dean. Big brother Dean, who'd been pissed all day and who'd been alternately giving Sam the silent treatment or treating him like shit since even before Dad's phone call.

"I had an exam, Dean. An exam. God! Do you even know what that means?"

"Sammy that's enough." The warning came from Dad but it was Dean who'd effectively shut Sam up. He'd sprung up from the bed but was just standing there now, eyes seemingly focused on the one fist he had tightly clenched around a bloodstained rag, the other raking through his short-cropped hair. It occurred to Sam that Dean, right there and then, was the epitome of coiled like a snake and maybe, just maybe, Sam didn't want to be in the line of fire if he struck.

Backing up a step or two, he could still feel his brother's intensity, sense the anger rippling through him.

"Let it go, sport," Dad said quietly, though his words were laced with the hard edge of one of his commands.

Dean's shoulders dropped then as his whole body seemed to deflate, until once again he was sitting next to Dad. Sam released the breath he'd been holding, let it out so unsteadily he had to ask Dean to repeat himself once he realized his brother had actually spoken to him.

"I can't do this, Sam."

"Can't do what?" Sam suddenly looked at Dad, wondered if he was hurt somewhere else. Hurt bad enough to warrant the inexplicable helplessness he could hear in Dean's voice. The broken expression on his face.

"Can't deal with--" He cut off his own words, shook himself. "I gotta look after Dad, Sammy," he said, resolutely now and sending an apologetic look to their father. "He's lost too much blood, he's dehydrated and I still gotta patch him up."

Suddenly realizing how tightly stretched Dean's nerves had to be, Sam decided to extend an olive branch. "I could pick up some Gatorade. Some water?" Turning to Dad, he asked. "You eaten, Dad?"

"I could eat," he responded, sounding like he'd be out cold long before Sam returned.

"Okay then," Sam replied, uncertainty coloring his response as he recognized the dismissal for what it was. Already feeling as if on shaky ground, his footing rocked even further when Dean softly called out to him again. Apology in his voice, sincerity in those eyes. And something else. Something that Sam couldn't quite identify but knew instinctively was a close relative of pain.

Lightly tossing his wallet to Sam, he said, "Just pick up some soup for Dad, okay? I don't wanna be cleaning up chunks if all he's gonna do is hurl it up again, all right?"

Sam couldn't help but laugh then, if a little halfheartedly. "Sure thing, bro."

"And, Sam?"


Sam watched as Dean reached for one of the suture kits they'd made off with during their last trip to an E/R, watched Dean use his teeth to tear open its sterile packaging, all the while still waiting for Dean to finish whatever he had to say. Dean bit his upper lip before speaking, eyes averted, looking at the needle in his hand until he finally met Sam's gaze. He looked awfully sad but, when he spoke, his tone sounded carefully neutral.

"When you get back here... Dad booked us another room." Cocking his head toward the wall to his right, Dean continued. "Right next door. Twenty-eight. You can use it if you wanna study. The key's on top of the TV."


"Sammy, just let me patch up Dad, okay? I can't--" Dean cut himself off again but this time the I can't deal with you implication was crystal clear.

If Dean's, "Just do whatever it is you hafta do," was meant to lessen the blow, it fell well short of its mark.

Dean wasn't being mean, though. Wasn't being a prick. Sam knew that. And maybe that's why his words hurt so bad.

Sam was used to fighting with Dad. Hell, it was a regular occurrence. But, unfair or not, he was equally used to Dean trying to stop it. Stop them. Fighting twice as hard to bring them back together. It was something Sam could count on in a life that had too few constants.

But Dean had that same look in his eyes right now, the one Sam couldn't quite put a finger on just minutes before. He could see it now though for what it was. Resignation. Defeat.

He was starting to let Sam go.


As Sam stepped out of the room, he looked back to Dad and Dean, both now thoroughly engrossed in their roles of patient and medic. They were the picture of mentor and student. Father and son. It was no wonder Dean couldn't deal with him. Sam didn't fit in the frame. Hadn't in a long time.

He wasn't an outsider. He was an intruder.

But he had less than eighteen months. Less than eighteen months and then that wouldn't be a problem for any of them ever again.

Cross-posted to:


Page 1 of 2[1][2]
Posted by: Late Night Drops of Random (moondropz)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 07:09 pm (UTC)
Dean made me emo

Oh god. I am just gutted. I felt ofr all three of them. But poor Sam. *Sniffles* I need tissue now-lol!

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 07:19 pm (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

Damn, girl, you're fast! I know... this isn't really my usual style. I prefer to leave them with hope, especially if I've beaten them up emotionally or physically but, we know this period ended with the break-up of the family so I couldn't really end it with sunshine and roses.

Just re-read chapters 8 & 9 of Armistice and hopefully that'll make you feel better ;)

Posted by: Late Night Drops of Random (moondropz)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 07:25 pm (UTC)

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 07:34 pm (UTC)

Posted by: Late Night Drops of Random (moondropz)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 07:43 pm (UTC)

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 08:00 pm (UTC)

Posted by: Late Night Drops of Random (moondropz)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 08:06 pm (UTC)

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 08:09 pm (UTC)

Posted by: Late Night Drops of Random (moondropz)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 08:14 pm (UTC)

Posted by: saberivojo (saberivojo)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 07:17 pm (UTC)

What an interesting thought, that Dean is the one pissed at Sam. Flipping tables for Sam who is used to Dean running interference with Dad. Great job on that by the way. Dean's anger feels justified, he is scared and worried. He knows Dad well enough to know that things must be bad. The hurt that Sam feels, always being excluded from Dean and Dad, even though it is at his insistance. This is a wonderful but hard look at Winchester family dynamics. I loved it - really loved it. Jus great. Thanks for writing.

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 07:25 pm (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

Thank-you! I wasn't really kind to either of the brothers here and imagine there were times when the reality Dean lived in brought out his frustrations/anger with Sam. That Sam sees it as 'letting go willingly' is just Sam, being teenage Sam. Dean is neither letting go, nor doing so willingly... he just needs a break from the b.s. for a little while.

Thanks for reading and for sharing your thoughts.

Posted by: saberivojo (saberivojo)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 07:36 pm (UTC)

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 08:06 pm (UTC)

Posted by: minx999 (minx999)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 08:33 pm (UTC)

Oh man, this just tore me up. Wow. You captured the emotions so well in this - Dean's fears and frustrations, Sam's hollow ache and feelings of not fitting in...

I could so see Dean taking his anger out on Sam. It's so reminiscent of how John did the same thing in Dead Man's Blood when he yelled at Dean about the Impala but was really angry with Sam. Like father like son.

Beautifully written angst. I felt everything they felt because of your descriptions here. Well done.

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 08:42 pm (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

Aw, thanks so much. All 3 are so messed up and are far from the most rational characters we've ever seen on TV ;/. We've seen tempers flare as you've mentioned and, at this time in their lives, sadly things would have been ugly, especially after the fallout of one of them getting hurt.
I'm glad you enjoyed this - thanks for reading and letting me know!

(Deleted comment)
Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 09:56 pm (UTC)
Re: very nicely written
Burgundy Dean

Thank-you. Sam must have struggled so hard with his place in his family during this time. I'm glad you enjoyed this slice of their complicated lives.

(Deleted comment)
Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 12:15 am (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

Thank-you! Nothing makes me feel warm and fuzzy like positive feedback about my characterization :). I'm so glad you enjoyed this and I truly appreciate you reading and taking the time to let me know you enjoyed.

Posted by: a rearranger of the proverbial bookshelf (embroiderama)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 10:13 pm (UTC)
Winchesters - family again

Wow, this is gorgeous and so bitingly sad. That moment of Sam realizing that Dean was holding John's hand just really got me.

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 12:26 am (UTC)

Thank-you so much. It had to have been such a tough, tough time for them... not that the Winchesters have ever had it easy.

I'm so glad the 'hand-holding' scene worked for you. I desperately wanted to keep it as real as possible, without falling into sappy or, even worse, cheesy, so I'm really glad it worked in the way I'd intended.

I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read this and also letting me know you enjoyed it.

Posted by: ErinRua (erinrua)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 10:15 pm (UTC)

Oh, my dog, this is one of the hurtiest, and sadly truest-sounding fics. I never really thought about Sam feeling left out, mostly just of him wanting out, but this? Seems tragically plausible, and it is certainly gorgeously told. Makes me hurt for the Winchesters all over again, so much love and yet so much pain ...

Thanks for sharing this. Now I'm going to go hug my dog so I feel less empty. *gulp ... sniffle*
Cheers ~


Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 12:36 am (UTC)

You know, I don't think I realized just how very sad this was until I read it with a non-critiquing eye after uploading it today. It really must have been a horribly tough time for all 3 Winchesters and my heart aches for all of them when I think about it. Going into this piece, I honestly had no idea I'd have this much sympathy for Sam but, when you think about it, just like his brother, he was stuck between an awfully difficult rock and hard place too.

Thank-you for your reading and for sharing your thoughts. Give your dog a hug for me too... they can never have too many :).

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 9th, 2007 07:54 am (UTC)
SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: ErinRua (erinrua)
Posted at: November 9th, 2007 08:26 am (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 9th, 2007 12:28 pm (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: ErinRua (erinrua)
Posted at: November 10th, 2007 11:34 pm (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: ErinRua (erinrua)
Posted at: November 11th, 2007 07:42 pm (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 11th, 2007 08:02 pm (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: ErinRua (erinrua)
Posted at: November 11th, 2007 09:46 pm (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 12th, 2007 01:54 am (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: ErinRua (erinrua)
Posted at: November 15th, 2007 04:14 am (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 15th, 2007 04:21 pm (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: ErinRua (erinrua)
Posted at: November 15th, 2007 05:17 pm (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 16th, 2007 02:03 am (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: ErinRua (erinrua)
Posted at: November 19th, 2007 01:58 am (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 19th, 2007 02:47 am (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: ErinRua (erinrua)
Posted at: November 19th, 2007 02:58 am (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 19th, 2007 03:07 am (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: ErinRua (erinrua)
Posted at: November 11th, 2007 09:59 pm (UTC)
Re: SPN gun question for a fic

Posted by: smilla (smilla02)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 11:11 pm (UTC)

This is arsh and painful, but I love it very much. that time right before Sam left for Stanford, I can see it being so difficult for everybody. Lovely job!

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 12:45 am (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

Thank-you so much, I really appreciate your feedback. That pre-Stanford period must have been hell for the 3 of them. I'm so glad you enjoyed my little slice of that time.

Posted by: schlachthof fünf (icymorning)
Posted at: October 29th, 2007 11:54 pm (UTC)
irish mist

hi ! rushed over here after moondropz sang your praises.

and boy, was she right. this is extremely well-written. concise, powerful, straightforward, and emotional beyond measure despite the sharp thinking that characterizes the Winchester family. you should be hired by the CW. it's good ! made for a good bedtime story !!

keep on writing !!!

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 12:50 am (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

Alas, I don't seem to work well under the pressure of deadlines so the CW definitely doesn't want me ;).

I've already thanked moondropz for the rec, she's such an awesome cheerleader! I'm so glad you popped over here and that it was worth the trip ;). I greatly appreciate your feedback and lovely praise. Thanks a bunch.

Posted by: arrenall (arrenall)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 12:23 am (UTC)

Beautifully written and evocative. Your use of the language is superb. Thank you.

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 01:00 am (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

And thank you for such lovely praise. I tend to agonize over every word (hence why I'm not very prolific), so feedback such as yours is truly gratifying. I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read the story and for letting me know what you liked.

Posted by: nonniemous (ex_nonniemou154)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 02:07 am (UTC)

Dean can't deal with the studying because he knows, oh he knows what Sammy's up to. Ouch, ouch, ouch. I want to slap Sam and tell him to stop putting himself in the middle of everything and try to understand--but then he wouldn't be a teenager, would he?

John and Dean connecting on that level, the hands, the wrist...GUH.

LOVED this, just loved it.

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 02:27 am (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

Aw, damn, I live for getting a GUH out of someone (g). It's so gratifying! I was worried that the hand clasp scene might not work but it felt right to me, so I went with it and I do think it paid off. Managed to stay real, which is what I was shooting for, especially in a fic like this. I'm so pleased you enjoyed this. Thanks so much for letting me know.

Posted by: iamstealthyone (iamstealthyone)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 03:27 am (UTC)

Oh, boys.

Good job establishing a world of tension and angst in this piece. It hurt to read, to see Dean start putting up a wall that wasn’t there before, and to see Sam feeling so out of place in Dean and John’s world.

*hugs the boys*

Favorite lines:

what he called Sam's pomp-ass voice,


He could see it now though for what it was. Resignation. Defeat.

He was starting to let Sam go.


Oh, Dean.

He wasn't an outsider. He was an intruder.

Oh, Sam.

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 10:30 pm (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

What lovely feedback! It's wonderful to see the lines that hit the spot for different readers. Your choice for "oh, Sam" was in particular one I felt pretty pleased with when it magically appeared from my fingers to the screen (g). I'm so glad the story touched you and I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read and review.

Posted by: Killing threads since 2000 CE (gwendolyngrace)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 06:41 pm (UTC)

It's so rare to see a pre-Stanford fic in which Dean is at least as angry with Sam as John, and I really think it's an overlooked piece of the equation. Dean has so many abandonment issues, coupled with his hero-worship of John, that hell yeah, Sam not getting with the program would set off his buttons. Really nicely done.

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 10:27 pm (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

Thanks so much for your thoughtful feedback, I'm so glad you enjoyed the story. I'm in total agreement with what you have to say about Dean above, which is why I'm sure his frustrations/worry/angst/fear would have to present itself on occasion. Certainly, on the occasion of a member of his family getting hurt, he'd have a tough time keeping everything in... especially at 20/21 as he is here in my fic.

Thanks again for reading!

Posted by: ficwriter1966 (ficwriter1966)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 11:08 pm (UTC)

Nicely done! I'm glad my first line could serve as inspiration for you. It's true, we don't often see a fic where Dean has let out some of his anger at Sam for daring to want something other than family and the job. We can definitely sympathize with Sam here, because he hasn't done anything WRONG, he's just tried to follow his own path.

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 30th, 2007 11:38 pm (UTC)
Mumpy Icon-legs

Thank-you! I'm so glad my use of your intro line hasn't made you duck and run (g). I actually surprised myself while writing this in terms of how I became more and more sympathetic to Sammy's plight as the story progressed. He's self-centered throughout but, working from his POV, it actually opened *my* eyes a bit more to the isolation he must have felt as his own interests/desires became more and more removed from the family business. I'm really quite pleased with how this turned out and, even better, struck a chord with people. I'm glad you enjoyed it and, once again, appreciate you letting me run with that line.

Posted by: leelust (leelust)
Posted at: October 31st, 2007 02:27 am (UTC)

Here via dear Moondropz rec. Awesome job. The voice of teenage Sam is so clear with all that arrogant sureness (sometimes) and bitter realisations what part of the family he is. It's sad to read cos we know how wrong he is but it's the period all teens pass.

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: October 31st, 2007 02:34 am (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

Thank-you! It is sad because he was really stuck in a catch-22... isolated because of his different wants and becoming more so no doubt as a defense mechanism. In the mean time he has a brother and father who adore him and who will break when he leaves. I'm so glad you enjoyed this little foray into Sam angst (to go along with my Dean and/or John angst).

Thanks for dropping in and for leaving such lovely feedback.

Posted by: leelust (leelust)
Posted at: November 4th, 2007 05:09 am (UTC)

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 4th, 2007 01:04 pm (UTC)

Posted by: leelust (leelust)
Posted at: November 5th, 2007 06:26 am (UTC)

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 5th, 2007 05:24 pm (UTC)

Posted by: leelust (leelust)
Posted at: November 6th, 2007 04:31 am (UTC)

Page 1 of 2[1][2]