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Entry tags:
Ficpost, The Meaning of a Name
Title: The Meaning of a Name
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam, mentions of Dean and John
Disclaimer: You know, I keep checking, and somehow Kripke still owns Supernatural, not me.
Summary: Sam gets philosophical about things.
“It’s Sam, not Sammy.”
He’d lost track of how many times he’d tried telling Dad or Dean that when he was a teenager, much less how many times he’d yelled it at Dean after Stanford. It never really seemed to stick for long with them. Half the time, he wondered why he even bothered correcting them. It wasn’t like they listened for very long. Most people wouldn’t even understand why he cared so much about it. It was just a nickname, wasn’t it?
But there was a difference there, a key one for Sam. His name was a distinction between who he was now, and who he had been before.
Sammy was an eight-year-old convinced that his father knew everything. A ten-year-old convinced his brother was really a superhero in disguise. A twelve-year-old who wanted nothing but to join in on the hunts with his father and brother. Sammy was the kid who couldn’t imagine a life outside of hunting, and couldn’t see why anyone wouldn’t want to be like Dean or John Winchester.
Sammy was a boy who still had his illusions about the world. And he was frozen in time at that point.
Sam was the thirteen-year-old boy who had gagged at the stench of human flesh as it burned the first time he joined his father and brother on a hunt. He was the fourteen-year-old who’d screamed at the sight of his older brother’s leg gushing blood from an encounter with a possessed mountain lion. He was the fifteen-year-old who had realized almost too late that if he’d followed Dad’s instructions unthinkingly he’d have gotten himself killed facing a chubracabra when they thought they’d dealt with all of them. Sam was the sixteen-year-old who’d realized that school wasn’t just a place to learn at, it was a way out of their lifestyle, and he was the eighteen-year-old who had finally left.
Sam was the man who spent four years on his own away from his family. He was the man who had learned that he could survive on his own, who had finally gotten a chance to grow up and take care of himself instead of counting on Dean to do it for him.
He was the man who had fallen in love with a woman more amazing than he’d possibly imagined, and the man who had experienced loss he’d never dreamed of before then. He was the man who finally returned to hunting and accepted his place in that shadow world. Sam was the man who now understood himself and his mission in life.
Sammy had been a boy, protected, sheltered, and dependent on those around him for everything. Sammy had needed Dean and Dad to look out for him and save him. Sammy was a child, and he couldn’t afford to be a child anymore.
Sam was finally a man, able to look out for those around him. And Sam could be the one to save Dean, for once in his life.
For Sam, there wasn’t any other option.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam, mentions of Dean and John
Disclaimer: You know, I keep checking, and somehow Kripke still owns Supernatural, not me.
Summary: Sam gets philosophical about things.
“It’s Sam, not Sammy.”
He’d lost track of how many times he’d tried telling Dad or Dean that when he was a teenager, much less how many times he’d yelled it at Dean after Stanford. It never really seemed to stick for long with them. Half the time, he wondered why he even bothered correcting them. It wasn’t like they listened for very long. Most people wouldn’t even understand why he cared so much about it. It was just a nickname, wasn’t it?
But there was a difference there, a key one for Sam. His name was a distinction between who he was now, and who he had been before.
Sammy was an eight-year-old convinced that his father knew everything. A ten-year-old convinced his brother was really a superhero in disguise. A twelve-year-old who wanted nothing but to join in on the hunts with his father and brother. Sammy was the kid who couldn’t imagine a life outside of hunting, and couldn’t see why anyone wouldn’t want to be like Dean or John Winchester.
Sammy was a boy who still had his illusions about the world. And he was frozen in time at that point.
Sam was the thirteen-year-old boy who had gagged at the stench of human flesh as it burned the first time he joined his father and brother on a hunt. He was the fourteen-year-old who’d screamed at the sight of his older brother’s leg gushing blood from an encounter with a possessed mountain lion. He was the fifteen-year-old who had realized almost too late that if he’d followed Dad’s instructions unthinkingly he’d have gotten himself killed facing a chubracabra when they thought they’d dealt with all of them. Sam was the sixteen-year-old who’d realized that school wasn’t just a place to learn at, it was a way out of their lifestyle, and he was the eighteen-year-old who had finally left.
Sam was the man who spent four years on his own away from his family. He was the man who had learned that he could survive on his own, who had finally gotten a chance to grow up and take care of himself instead of counting on Dean to do it for him.
He was the man who had fallen in love with a woman more amazing than he’d possibly imagined, and the man who had experienced loss he’d never dreamed of before then. He was the man who finally returned to hunting and accepted his place in that shadow world. Sam was the man who now understood himself and his mission in life.
Sammy had been a boy, protected, sheltered, and dependent on those around him for everything. Sammy had needed Dean and Dad to look out for him and save him. Sammy was a child, and he couldn’t afford to be a child anymore.
Sam was finally a man, able to look out for those around him. And Sam could be the one to save Dean, for once in his life.
For Sam, there wasn’t any other option.