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phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Sleep...Or Something Like it
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG
Table: #1
Prompt: 001 Tired
Summary: The boys are tired
Warnings: None that I can think of.
This is my first ficlet for my Supernatural claim on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_situations. Clicky for table
The road in front of them seemed to run forever, out of one dark place and into another. Days blurred, nights faded and towns all felt the same. Demon after monster after boogieman…in an unending parade of the foul, evil and insane.
It made a man tired.
Not just your average kind of tired. The kind where you lay down at night, sleep a solid 8 and get up feeling refreshed and ready to roll. No, this was the kind of tired that settled in the bones and wasn’t being chased away by something as common as sleep.
Sleep wasn’t even all that common any more. Dean glanced aside at Sam, sitting in the half asleep, half catatonic state that passed as sleep most days for either of them, slumped a little against the seat, his eyes mostly closed, but not quite. Anyone else might think he was sleeping, but Dean knew better.
He knew the aches and pains that kept him from pleasant dreams. He knew the nightmares…maybe not all of them, what with the whole visions thing going on in that head…but enough of them, that kept him from wanting to sleep and chased him out whenever he dared slip past the border. Sometimes the nightmares were worse than the crap they chased when they were awake. Sometimes they hurt.
Dean rubbed a hand over his face, stifling a yawn and reaching for the coffee that would fuel the drive until the road coughed up another town. Three girls were missing in Davenport. Sam had a theory and Dean was just happy to have Sam back in his life, in his car. Even like this. Even bone tired and in desperate need of sleep…or something like it.
A broken down neon sign hailed him, rising up out of the asphalt declaring a motel with HBO and a swimming pool…and really, if he wasn’t going to be sleeping anyway, what more could a man ask for?
Title: Sleep...Or Something Like it
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG
Table: #1
Prompt: 001 Tired
Summary: The boys are tired
Warnings: None that I can think of.
This is my first ficlet for my Supernatural claim on
100_situations. Clicky for tableThe road in front of them seemed to run forever, out of one dark place and into another. Days blurred, nights faded and towns all felt the same. Demon after monster after boogieman…in an unending parade of the foul, evil and insane.
It made a man tired.
Not just your average kind of tired. The kind where you lay down at night, sleep a solid 8 and get up feeling refreshed and ready to roll. No, this was the kind of tired that settled in the bones and wasn’t being chased away by something as common as sleep.
Sleep wasn’t even all that common any more. Dean glanced aside at Sam, sitting in the half asleep, half catatonic state that passed as sleep most days for either of them, slumped a little against the seat, his eyes mostly closed, but not quite. Anyone else might think he was sleeping, but Dean knew better.
He knew the aches and pains that kept him from pleasant dreams. He knew the nightmares…maybe not all of them, what with the whole visions thing going on in that head…but enough of them, that kept him from wanting to sleep and chased him out whenever he dared slip past the border. Sometimes the nightmares were worse than the crap they chased when they were awake. Sometimes they hurt.
Dean rubbed a hand over his face, stifling a yawn and reaching for the coffee that would fuel the drive until the road coughed up another town. Three girls were missing in Davenport. Sam had a theory and Dean was just happy to have Sam back in his life, in his car. Even like this. Even bone tired and in desperate need of sleep…or something like it.
A broken down neon sign hailed him, rising up out of the asphalt declaring a motel with HBO and a swimming pool…and really, if he wasn’t going to be sleeping anyway, what more could a man ask for?
