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shallowzTitle: Sometimes You Don’t Know The Whole Story – Most Times You Never Will
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Nothing damaging
Characters: John
Warnings/spoilers: Dark Side Of The Moon
Word count: 600ish
Disclaimer: Supernatural is so not mine. No profit is being made … etc.
Thanks go to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mags_205 for the beta and credit for the idea goes to vanillafluffy and jdsgirlbev. They just didn’t know anything about it.:)
Dean was goofing around. A happy kid, he tended to do that. Pretending to be an airplane zooming around the yard with his arms held out wide, little legs pumping like crazy. There were sound effects; as close as an almost four-year-old could make them.
John thought it was cute; he had no problems admitting that Dean was one cute kid. Mary’s genes played more into it than his and that was only to the good. Kid was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up.
Just like his mom.
Dean staggered, jerked, and went into his version of a tailspin -- arms flung out wide – chug-chugging like an engine in trouble.
And John’s world went into a tailspin of its own.
He saw another little boy. Brown skinny limbs and hair so black it shone blue in the sun. Eyes dark, filled with a look of incomprehension, as he fell back, arms flung wide.
All that blood covering the little boy’s chest, and him lying so still in the long grasses that swayed in the wind.
It was dark outside when John returned to the here and now. He fought the urge to vomit and failed. Sliding his forearm over his mouth he looked up at the lit house. He could hear Mary talking and Dean’s giggles in reply.
John leaned over and dry heaved again.
Later, John didn’t know what started the argument, but it was a nasty one -- as theirs tended to be when they really tore into it. Neither of them knew how to back off when they should, and John was punchy -- stupid. Couldn’t concentrate. Said all the wrong things. Knew they were the wrong things as he said them. Couldn’t stop it. Kept flashing to a small body laying in green and gold.
He realized he was at the car only when he fumbled his way inside. Putting the key in the ignition was a challenge with hands shaking so hard metal rattled on metal. But manage it he did.
He had his wallet. Couldn’t recall when he snapped that up, but he was grateful for it when he hit the liquor store. John flashed an easy grin that wasn’t easy at all, but the clerk bought it. He paid for the Jack Daniels and returned to the car. John headed for the motel on the outskirts of Lawrence.
The shaking worsened after John entered the room filled with a stale smell of cigarettes. Alone and hidden away, he let it come, ignoring how glass trembled against glass while he poured a generous amount of whiskey.
Nothing broke.
The burn was a welcome one sliding down his throat into his stomach. As far as self- medicating went, whiskey was his drug of choice. Numbness would soon follow. These days he only drank the occasional beer, and it made the harder liquor hit that much faster. Not a bad thing when he was doing his best not to fall apart at the seams.
He did call when he could count on his voice being steady, but he still said all the wrong things.
You have two boys at home.
Mary, there’s a little boy that didn’t go home.
How do I tell you that?
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Nothing damaging
Characters: John
Warnings/spoilers: Dark Side Of The Moon
Word count: 600ish
Disclaimer: Supernatural is so not mine. No profit is being made … etc.
Thanks go to
mags_205 for the beta and credit for the idea goes to vanillafluffy and jdsgirlbev. They just didn’t know anything about it.:)Dean was goofing around. A happy kid, he tended to do that. Pretending to be an airplane zooming around the yard with his arms held out wide, little legs pumping like crazy. There were sound effects; as close as an almost four-year-old could make them.
John thought it was cute; he had no problems admitting that Dean was one cute kid. Mary’s genes played more into it than his and that was only to the good. Kid was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up.
Just like his mom.
Dean staggered, jerked, and went into his version of a tailspin -- arms flung out wide – chug-chugging like an engine in trouble.
And John’s world went into a tailspin of its own.
He saw another little boy. Brown skinny limbs and hair so black it shone blue in the sun. Eyes dark, filled with a look of incomprehension, as he fell back, arms flung wide.
All that blood covering the little boy’s chest, and him lying so still in the long grasses that swayed in the wind.
It was dark outside when John returned to the here and now. He fought the urge to vomit and failed. Sliding his forearm over his mouth he looked up at the lit house. He could hear Mary talking and Dean’s giggles in reply.
John leaned over and dry heaved again.
Later, John didn’t know what started the argument, but it was a nasty one -- as theirs tended to be when they really tore into it. Neither of them knew how to back off when they should, and John was punchy -- stupid. Couldn’t concentrate. Said all the wrong things. Knew they were the wrong things as he said them. Couldn’t stop it. Kept flashing to a small body laying in green and gold.
He realized he was at the car only when he fumbled his way inside. Putting the key in the ignition was a challenge with hands shaking so hard metal rattled on metal. But manage it he did.
He had his wallet. Couldn’t recall when he snapped that up, but he was grateful for it when he hit the liquor store. John flashed an easy grin that wasn’t easy at all, but the clerk bought it. He paid for the Jack Daniels and returned to the car. John headed for the motel on the outskirts of Lawrence.
The shaking worsened after John entered the room filled with a stale smell of cigarettes. Alone and hidden away, he let it come, ignoring how glass trembled against glass while he poured a generous amount of whiskey.
Nothing broke.
The burn was a welcome one sliding down his throat into his stomach. As far as self- medicating went, whiskey was his drug of choice. Numbness would soon follow. These days he only drank the occasional beer, and it made the harder liquor hit that much faster. Not a bad thing when he was doing his best not to fall apart at the seams.
He did call when he could count on his voice being steady, but he still said all the wrong things.
You have two boys at home.
Mary, there’s a little boy that didn’t go home.
How do I tell you that?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-04-16 05:18 am (UTC)And thankee, :D but girl, this is all yours.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-16 01:15 pm (UTC)I do appreciate the jump start you both gave me. A little cathartic writing never hurts.:)
no subject
Date: 2010-04-16 05:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-16 07:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-17 03:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-17 02:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-22 04:12 am (UTC)This is canon to me until Kripke (or worse yet, Sera) shows me otherwise.
This was damn good too, you know. Glad to see you back in SPN-land even as I look forward to more Lancer from you too ;).
no subject
Date: 2010-04-23 03:12 am (UTC)Thank you! Fun to dip the toes into SPN-land again.:)