Title: Object Lessons
Author: scy
Feedback: scynneh@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: None. Dean pov
Spoilers: Vague ones for the series
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam thinks that he can see the answers, but Dean knows what to do. 
Author's Notes: Ethrosdemon told me to 'come on over,' so I did. 
February 2006

Map.

Numbers and time had different meanings to everyone even when there wasn't something hidden in them. Ever since he'd learned that a place was more than just a tourist trap, and that each trip had a purpose, maps seemed to make Sam a little unhappy. He looked up coordinates and tried to find meaning in where four digits placed them, even when there were other things to do. Dean didn't wonder about where they were going, so long as he knew the direction and had enough weapons stashed in the trunk.

Glancing over at Sam while he frowned and tried to look past landmarks and highway markers, Dean almost told him that the numbers didn't matter, but he knew Sam didn't want to hear about what he couldn't confirm or deny with research or footwork. It was Dean who went on one hunt after another and still let himself notice what happened in the space between each one. 

When Sam saw how many pages there were in Dad's journal, he didn't say anything about caution or obsessions. It was a good thing he didn't, because Dean knew the exact page that signaled Sam's departure for school. Dad had gone hunting and he hadn't let Dean come along. That time, Dean had listened and not followed him. He knew his dad would come home, he had two sons. When he'd walked in the door, his Dad had dropped his duffel back on the table and looked past it to where Dean was sacked out on the couch, newspapers with rumors and strange appearances printed for the oblivious public spread out on the floor. Dean had been awake, but he hadn't moved as he heard footsteps approach him. His Dad didn't reach out to pat his shoulder; he'd trained Dean and knew what would happen, but he did separate one article from the rest and left it on top so that when he walked out this time, Dean would know where to find him. Now he watched as Sam traced the unfamiliar twists and slants of their father's words and tried to figure out why he hadn't come home this time. 

Dream.

In the bed next to him, Sam twitched and flinched from nothing. He always woke himself up and denied that there was anything going on. Dean knew he was dreaming about Jessica, and that he didn't want to talk about her right away, but he wondered if Sam might not want to share because he thought Dean was mad about the secrets he kept. If he'd wanted to have a moment, Dean would have asked, but he knew better. That stuff never solved anything and usually led to miles of uncomfortable silences. So instead he kept a mental tally of how many times Sam woke up, and what he let slip in the seconds before his eyes opened. 

Dad had dreamed the same way, and Dean hadn't been able to keep him from shutting his sons out. The only time he talked about what he was thinking was when it was necessary or if the plan wasn't going right and they were truly screwed. Sam took it to another level, as if having feelings was weak or contagious and he didn't want Dean to have to deal with it. Like Dean hadn't been handling Sam's weirdness for years already. 

He wasn't going to let Sam take his freaky brain and do something stupid because he thought he knew how to stop what was going to happen. Because even though Sam thought that he'd learned a lot at college, Dean knew that death haunted people without them being tangled up with a spirit, but guilt could open you up to worse things. Luckily Sam had Dean to watch out for him and he knew what to look for and when to step in. 

-end