Dean counted his money again. It wasn't possible. There was no way he had enough. There'd never be enough. "Twenty-three, twenty-four..." Dean set bills down one after the other, staring in disbelief. He screamed, loud and clear and loud. Sam burst into his room, gun in hand, only to find Dean dancing around his room. "I have enough, Sam! I'm going to be a real, true man!" He grasped Sam's hands, flinging Sam with him as he jumped all across the floor, leaping into his bed. He kicked and screamed into his pillow, and practically launched himself back to the floor, repeating the actions at least ten times. Sam didn't have a care in the world. He couldn't. He happily flew around the room with Dean, knocking things over and joining in with his shrieks. Dean, after a while, couldn't breathe. He sat on his bed. It was all there. He couldn't believe his eyes. Twenty-three thousand dollars. He screamed ever louder, slamming hard into his bed, smile never leaving for a single second. Dean laid there for a long time, catching his breath, staring at the money as if it would disappear. Something seemed to dawn on Sam, and he frowned. "Dean...where did this money come from?" He asked softly. Dean's eyes snapped open. "I don't know." He said. "Was it Bobby?" Sam suggested. Dean's face grew slightly angry. "I told him not to give me more money! That old bat." Dean sighed. "Hand me my phone." He told Sam. Sam grabbed his brother's phone off the nightstand and tossed it to Dean. "Bobby, you son of a gun." He spoke into the mic. "I don't know what you're talking about." Bobby replied. The line clicked off, and Dean could only grin. "The old bat." He repeated.
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
The Name's Dean
ФанфікиDean is...different. He is trapped in a never-ending hell with his brother, as John abuses his children. Sam has always had that easy masculinity and Dean would die for him. Sam probably felt the same way, but what if Dean spoke up about his persona...
