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tamingthemuseTitle: road maps, like veins
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: 358 – cartography
Warnings: Pre-series.
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~580
Summary: Sam's spent all of his life on the road and every map reads like his biography and his future.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
oxoxo
Sam wakes as the car slows, his dad throwing on the blinker as he turns onto the exit with a sign for a gas station. Dean's still sprawled out across the backseat sleeping off the Vicodin he downed with a couple slugs of whiskey before Sam carefully stitched up the gashes one of the werewolves they were hunting clawed into Dean's side.
John parks the Impala at the pump furthest from the door and turns to Sam. “Grab the Illinois map outta the glove box,” he says before climbing out of the car.
Sam sits in his seat, listening to the ticking of the cooling engine and Dean's heavy, even breathing, watching his father through the side mirror as he lifts the nozzle from the pump. In the insufficient light from the security lamps posted above each of the four gas pumps, Sam opens the glove box and digs through their collection of state maps. Not for the first time, Sam wonders what it would be like to unfold one of these maps for something other than plotting the quickest way to get to the next hunt. He thinks about graduating high school and college acceptance letters, planning a roadtrip with Dean to New York or Texas or California, traveling miles of interstates and stopping off at random road-side attractions like the largest ball of twine and the Grand Canyon. It's nothing more than a dream, he knows, but he can't help but hope and imagine. A life after all of this, their father's mission.
Some days, Sam can't envision a future different than his current reality, but every time he picks up a map, he remembers. Tracing lines like veins, as much a map of the country as it is of his life; highways, byways, cities, and rivers, his past and future laid out in ink.
Sam separates the Illinois map from the rest, opens it to the southern tip of the state because, last he knew, they were still in Kentucky. He watches the sunrise brighten the sky behind the gas station, watches his father pay for the gas and two cups of coffee, one of which he passes off to Sam.
“See if you can find Taylorville,” John tells him, buckling his seatbelt and turning the key in the ignition. “Should be near Springfield.”
“Next job?” Sam asks, opening the map further to study the area around the capital until he finds where 48 and 29 intersect southeast of the city.
John shrugs. “Just something Jim called me about. Could be nothing.”
Sam nods. “Where are we at now?”
“Eldorado.”
Sam easily finds the town, uses his hand to measure the distance, guesses, “Looks like a few hours at least.”
John glances at the map, where Sam points to their current location and where Taylorville is further north, then out the windshield at the brightening sky. “Might as well just keep going.”
Sam nods again, gives his father directions to get onto 142 before folding the map down to something more manageable.
In the backseat, Dean grunts as the motion of the car jostles him.
Sam can't wait until the day they can escape this, when they don't have to worry about werewolves and poltergeists and all the other monsters they've faced over the past however many years. He can't wait until they're safe and settled down somewhere.
Until that day comes, Sam has his maps that not only lay out his past, but his future, too.
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: 358 – cartography
Warnings: Pre-series.
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~580
Summary: Sam's spent all of his life on the road and every map reads like his biography and his future.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
Sam wakes as the car slows, his dad throwing on the blinker as he turns onto the exit with a sign for a gas station. Dean's still sprawled out across the backseat sleeping off the Vicodin he downed with a couple slugs of whiskey before Sam carefully stitched up the gashes one of the werewolves they were hunting clawed into Dean's side.
John parks the Impala at the pump furthest from the door and turns to Sam. “Grab the Illinois map outta the glove box,” he says before climbing out of the car.
Sam sits in his seat, listening to the ticking of the cooling engine and Dean's heavy, even breathing, watching his father through the side mirror as he lifts the nozzle from the pump. In the insufficient light from the security lamps posted above each of the four gas pumps, Sam opens the glove box and digs through their collection of state maps. Not for the first time, Sam wonders what it would be like to unfold one of these maps for something other than plotting the quickest way to get to the next hunt. He thinks about graduating high school and college acceptance letters, planning a roadtrip with Dean to New York or Texas or California, traveling miles of interstates and stopping off at random road-side attractions like the largest ball of twine and the Grand Canyon. It's nothing more than a dream, he knows, but he can't help but hope and imagine. A life after all of this, their father's mission.
Some days, Sam can't envision a future different than his current reality, but every time he picks up a map, he remembers. Tracing lines like veins, as much a map of the country as it is of his life; highways, byways, cities, and rivers, his past and future laid out in ink.
Sam separates the Illinois map from the rest, opens it to the southern tip of the state because, last he knew, they were still in Kentucky. He watches the sunrise brighten the sky behind the gas station, watches his father pay for the gas and two cups of coffee, one of which he passes off to Sam.
“See if you can find Taylorville,” John tells him, buckling his seatbelt and turning the key in the ignition. “Should be near Springfield.”
“Next job?” Sam asks, opening the map further to study the area around the capital until he finds where 48 and 29 intersect southeast of the city.
John shrugs. “Just something Jim called me about. Could be nothing.”
Sam nods. “Where are we at now?”
“Eldorado.”
Sam easily finds the town, uses his hand to measure the distance, guesses, “Looks like a few hours at least.”
John glances at the map, where Sam points to their current location and where Taylorville is further north, then out the windshield at the brightening sky. “Might as well just keep going.”
Sam nods again, gives his father directions to get onto 142 before folding the map down to something more manageable.
In the backseat, Dean grunts as the motion of the car jostles him.
Sam can't wait until the day they can escape this, when they don't have to worry about werewolves and poltergeists and all the other monsters they've faced over the past however many years. He can't wait until they're safe and settled down somewhere.
Until that day comes, Sam has his maps that not only lay out his past, but his future, too.
