FIC: sorrow on my tongue
title: sorrow on my tongue
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own the Winchesters or the awesome postcard prompt. all credit goes to the creators of each.
rating: pg-13, for language
word count: 515
summary: what happens if there's no one for Dean to protect?
characters: John, Dean
notes: so, as if I didn't have enough AU ideas flitting around in my head, I had to write this one. One of several claims for spn_secretfic. This was my secret. Lyrics from Three Days Grace.
You're not the only one
Refusing to back down
You're not the only one
So get up
After the fire takes Mary and the baby, John nearly loses his mind.
Every time he closes his eyes, all he can see are the flames licking out of the nursery; he can still feel the slight weight of Dean in his arms as he carried his son out into the night. He spends months trying to kill himself in a bottle. By the time he hauls himself out, Dean is almost too far gone to get back.
The loss of his mother and little brother has ripped something out of Dean. Something John doesn’t know how to fix. Hell, he doesn’t know how to fix himself. So John falls back on the one thing he knew -- what brought him through the mud and jungles of Vietnam.
He starts training the boy and retraining himself.
When John goes to Missouri, he’s almost glad to find out it was something big and nasty that took his family from him. The woman doesn’t like him much, doesn’t act like she cares for Dean all that well either. John is only grateful that she opened his eyes. Now every supernatural son of a bitch out there better watch its back, because John is bringing the war to each and every damn one of them he can find. And he isn't coming alone.
Dean learns to shoot by the time he’s seven; by the time he’s ten, he can strip every gun they have down to the bare bones and put them back together perfectly. John takes his son along on his first hunt when Dean is twelve.
Dean kills the werewolf with something close to satisfaction in his eyes.
John rarely has to ask where Dean is, because nine times out of ten, his son is exactly where he needs to be. It is only those times that he isn't that John realises it’s like Dean expects someone else to be there. Like Sammy.
It hurts to think that his son has walked around for most of his life missing a part of himself, but that’s exactly what keeps Dean off balance just enough. Dean’s been denied the one thing that could have made a difference; John knows the training he used to put his son back together doesn’t come close.
He still remembers the first words he said to Dean when they brought the baby home: "This is Sam, Deano. You’re gonna be his big brother and help up look out for him right?"
At twenty-six, Dean is damn near perfect. He can move cat-silent and put a bullet between a man's eyes or a knife under the ribs before anyone is aware he's moved. He uses a shotgun like it's another part of his body; he can recite Latin as easy as breathing. John knows how some of the other hunters look at him, look at Dean, but John did what he had to in order to survive. Twenty two years ago, he made a call that he never should've been forced to make, but he did.
Most of the time, he doesn’t regret it.
- end
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own the Winchesters or the awesome postcard prompt. all credit goes to the creators of each.
rating: pg-13, for language
word count: 515
summary: what happens if there's no one for Dean to protect?
characters: John, Dean
notes: so, as if I didn't have enough AU ideas flitting around in my head, I had to write this one. One of several claims for spn_secretfic. This was my secret. Lyrics from Three Days Grace.
You're not the only one
Refusing to back down
You're not the only one
So get up
After the fire takes Mary and the baby, John nearly loses his mind.
Every time he closes his eyes, all he can see are the flames licking out of the nursery; he can still feel the slight weight of Dean in his arms as he carried his son out into the night. He spends months trying to kill himself in a bottle. By the time he hauls himself out, Dean is almost too far gone to get back.
The loss of his mother and little brother has ripped something out of Dean. Something John doesn’t know how to fix. Hell, he doesn’t know how to fix himself. So John falls back on the one thing he knew -- what brought him through the mud and jungles of Vietnam.
He starts training the boy and retraining himself.
When John goes to Missouri, he’s almost glad to find out it was something big and nasty that took his family from him. The woman doesn’t like him much, doesn’t act like she cares for Dean all that well either. John is only grateful that she opened his eyes. Now every supernatural son of a bitch out there better watch its back, because John is bringing the war to each and every damn one of them he can find. And he isn't coming alone.
Dean learns to shoot by the time he’s seven; by the time he’s ten, he can strip every gun they have down to the bare bones and put them back together perfectly. John takes his son along on his first hunt when Dean is twelve.
Dean kills the werewolf with something close to satisfaction in his eyes.
John rarely has to ask where Dean is, because nine times out of ten, his son is exactly where he needs to be. It is only those times that he isn't that John realises it’s like Dean expects someone else to be there. Like Sammy.
It hurts to think that his son has walked around for most of his life missing a part of himself, but that’s exactly what keeps Dean off balance just enough. Dean’s been denied the one thing that could have made a difference; John knows the training he used to put his son back together doesn’t come close.
He still remembers the first words he said to Dean when they brought the baby home: "This is Sam, Deano. You’re gonna be his big brother and help up look out for him right?"
At twenty-six, Dean is damn near perfect. He can move cat-silent and put a bullet between a man's eyes or a knife under the ribs before anyone is aware he's moved. He uses a shotgun like it's another part of his body; he can recite Latin as easy as breathing. John knows how some of the other hunters look at him, look at Dean, but John did what he had to in order to survive. Twenty two years ago, he made a call that he never should've been forced to make, but he did.
Most of the time, he doesn’t regret it.
- end