“True North”
by Ridley C. James
Chapter 3.
“You did good, Sammy.” Dean held the lighter up. “The importance of
a fire
is one of the first things Dad taught us about survival. He’ll like it.”
“Was that when he was teaching us how to light a human corpse on
fire, I
can’t quite recall.”
Dean snorted. “So, you found it at that shop on the corner. The one
with all
the old clothes hanging in the windows?”
“Yeah, Merleen said it belonged to a real Vietnam Vet,” Sam told the
other
teen, as he sat on the corner of his bed.
“Merleen?” Dean raised a brow. “You meet a girl while you were gone
and not
tell me, Sammy?”
Sam rolled his eyes. He wasn’t about to tell Dean that the girl was
old enough to be their grandmother, and reminded him a whole lot of a
female
version of Pastor Jim, without the good manners. “Maybe.”
“Would I have thought she was hot?”
“Probably. But she was in to smart guys.”
It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “Was she blind and did she have
a good
sense of humor, too? ‘Cause that would make her the perfect girl for
you, little
brother.”
Sam chose to ignore the comment, instead nudging his brother over so
he
could actually recline on the bed and stretch his long legs out. “So,
did the
doctor come around yet?” He asked with a wide yawn. He’d never admit
it, but he
hadn’t slept very much in the nights that Dean had been away.
Dean put the lighter on the table by the bed and rested back, his
good arm
behind his head, and his cast-encased one across his chest. “Not yet,
but you
said yesterday that Maria told you I was getting sprung today. Right?”
Sam glanced up at the clock. It was almost two. “That’s what she
said.”
Dean noticed his brother look up. “What time did Dad say he‘d be
here when
he dropped you off this morning?”
The fifteen-year-old shrugged. “Around five.”
Dean snatched the remote from his brother’s hand. “Then catch up on
your
beauty rest, cupcake. I’ll wake you up before then.”
Sam started to refuse, as his brother shot him a smirk and began flipping channels, but the complete sense of safety that had blanketed him since returning to his brother’s room, was quickly lulling him to sleep.
As he heard his brother laugh and make some rude comment about whatever he’d opted to watch, Sam sighed and felt at home for the first time since the accident. His eyes drifted open and he cut his gaze to Dean, before letting them slide shut again, knowing he was safe to let his guard down. Merle was right. Home was definitely not a set of co-ordinates.
Uploaded by: Etta