(no subject)

[elinorwise]

unsunk costs by hellhoundsprey, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Criminal Winchesters, Complicated Relationships, Jealousy, Unreliable Narrator

Sun’s cruel out here. Sam wheels the dirt to the dunghill. He upturns the wheelbarrow and sweats and thinks about the barely-aged Mustang in box eleven. How gently Jack’s hand had grazed her downy-looking nose, like they’re good friends, and they might be. Lonely, out here, with a grumpy old man like Cas. Bibles. Crucifixes in every room; all their shoes and boots lined up neatly by the door.
“He is very smart. Too smart for his own good, at times.” Cas’ eyes narrow as Jack and Dean emerge from the barn on horseback. But he stays in the shadows with Sam and their cigarettes and doesn’t interfere. A pause, though, before he can continue talking. Gotta center himself, hold himself from it. Yeah, Sam’s been there. “I have been looking after him since he was a small child. It wasn’t always—” the fifteen hands Morgan flinches to the left under Jack but doesn’t rear; goes back to her slow trot instead “—easy.”
“Sounds tough.”
“You have any kids, Sam?”
Sam jokes, “None that I know of,” but Cas doesn’t laugh. Sam clears his throat. Smokes.
It’s worse today, the sun. As if it’s attempting to dry them out. A magnifier over an anthill. Cas is right, they shouldn’t be smoking. The Klines won’t be delighted about arson. Or, well, who knows? Surely, there’s insurance running on that shit as well.
Sam tries, “Isn’t it lonely? Out here?” and Cas smokes and glances after Jack and Dean. Follows the slow, small rounds they complete around the too-big court. No plants. No nothing. Sam tries to see what Cas sees: the most precious thing in his life, always just one thoughtlessness away from injury. From being taken away from him.
Cas says, finally, “It is,” and Sam hums, and nods, and doesn’t feel like inquiring further.

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