fic: shadows of falsehood
title: shadows of falsehood
rating: r
characters/pairing: dean/sam, john
warning: underage (sam is 15)
summary: You believe you can do anything, when Dean says you can.
notes: ~1300 words. From gypsy_sunday's prompt in the Fall Fandom Free For All: "Sam/Dean, AU - The boys are raised hunting monsters that only exist in their father's head. Open to any interpretation, as long as there's a strong focus on codependent!boys." I interpreted...this.
There are shadows in the dark, your father says. Creatures of hell roaming around, hiding in the dark corners of the world, waiting for the right moment to strike, to kill, to survive and corrupt the world.
They won't stop unless we stop them, he says, his eyes dull and tired, and you don't believe him at first.
Then your brother convinces you.
You watch as he follows in your father's footsteps: the 'yessir no sir' of sharpening the knives and cleaning the guns, what weapon to use and where to aim, all the ins and outs of the family business. You watch as Dean learns each and every one of your father's tics by heart.
You don't trust your father, his mind half-gone on whiskey eighty percent of the time, but you trust your brother, so when the time comes that Dad says it's you're old enough to learn, you look at Dean and say - only if he's the one teaching me.
Dean's happy to oblige.
~
Your father comes home early from work one day - not that he actually works much anymore, unless sitting around drinking beer and maybe tinkering with an engine or two in the shop down the street. You don't ask where the money comes from anymore, learned that lesson one night watching Dean clean his new gun, the way the pearl handle stands out against the tan of his hands. You have your suspicions, though. (there's always more money right after a hunt.)
There's a hunt in Omaha, he says, pack up ASAP. He looks at you, already bracing for the inevitable argument the two of you are perpetually wrapped up in, and yeah, you're pissed - there's only three weeks of school left and you're pulling straight A's - but Dean says yessir from the other room and starts scooping his stuff into his duffel. He looks at you like he knows what you're thinking, and you look at him the same. (you start packing.)
~
Omaha becomes your first hunt. You learned quick, your father says, your brother taught you well. Let's see what you're like in the field.
It's a wraith, Dean says, his face all scrunched up like a five year old on Christmas. You know he wants to show Dad how good you are, how you can hit any target you aim for, how you know exactly where and when to strike. He wants your father to be proud of you, thinks that if Dad sees how good you are you'll both stop fighting all the time.
You can do it, he says. You believe you can do anything, when Dean says you can.
Dad barks out orders - stay here unless I shout, you hear me Sam - and you nod, say yessir, but the adrenaline's thrumming through your veins like a freight train and you have tunnel vision, eyes glued to the back of Dean's head.
It's quiet and dark in the house your father brought you to, and for a while you wonder if maybe he was wrong about this hunt, that maybe he dragged you away from a 4.0 and a cozy apartment for nothing, but then Dean stops suddenly and you tumble into his back.
Hey Dean, why don't you check the other rooms, your father says. You wait for orders and receive none.
When the wraith springs up behind Dad, you shout a moment too late, eyes too focused on Dean walking away from you to notice the creature in your peripheral vision. Your first mistake. Dad swears as he's knocked to the ground, and you hear a loud pop as she falls on top of him and cringe.
Dean! - your father shouts even though you're standing right there.
Your father swings at the wraith with his knife and she screams at him, loud and guttural and to you it sounds like she's saying 'go away' but you can't really be sure because suddenly Dean's there pulling her off your father, and you're just standing there like a lost cub in a lion's den.
Dean throws her across the room and helps Dad stand up, and both of them are oblivious to you but you're not oblivious to the wraith as she stumbles her way back towards them, one leg bending in an awkward way as she walks. She doesn't even notice you standing the corner, doesn't notice when you sneak up behind her and slide the silver knife Dean had given you two days earlier as a present into her spine. She spasms once, then falls to the floor at your feet. Blood spreads onto the floor, red and startlingly human. Monsters are real, you repeat to yourself, your eyes fixed on the corpse and the knife (your knife) in her back. You bend over and pull it out and when you look up, you find Dean propping your father up as best he can with a wide-eyed expression of shock. For a moment you wonder if you've done something wrong.
Dean, you ask, but he doesn't say anything, his eyes firmly fixed on your father.
You did good, Sammy, Dad finally says, and it's all a lie, funny look on his face, confusion and pain all in one, his shoulder obviously out of socket and his head concussed. Not good enough, you want to say, knowing once he's recovered he'll scold you like a child for not paying more attention to your surroundings. Never good enough for you, Dad.
~
Dean shows you how proud he is of you in other ways - you did good, Sammy, he says, his hands gripping your hips as he gives you your first blowjob, pressed up against the bathroom door with Dad on the other side. You can't control the sounds coming out of your mouth, and you hope to god your father finally passed out on booze and pain pills as moans and a litany of 'Dean' tumble out. (dean always takes care of you.)
So fucking proud of you, Dean says before he swallows you back down, his breath on your dick sending shivers down your spine. He chokes a bit when you come, your world blurring at the edges as you sag against the door for support. You want to pull back and apologize but he holds you firm, swallows all you have to give, then pulls off and smiles up at you, lips red and shiny and you want to freeze this moment in time forever. (it won't last.)
~
I'm leaving, you say one day to your father, dozens of hunts after your very first, hundreds of hotel rooms and miscellaneous aliases later. Soon you'll be leaving for college, your mind made up to leave them both behind, leave hunting behind. Dean's angry at you right now, not even speaking to you, his whole world wrapped up in you just like yours is in his, but you know he understands you need to get out and away before it kills you.
Dean always understands you.
You push on, even when your father doesn't answer, his gaze decades away. The question's been on your mind since you were fifteen, feeling the blood of another living thing run down your arms, since you were sixteen and felt the snap of a neck for the first time.
Monsters aren't real, are they?
His head swivels around slowly and his eyes settle on you, hard and devoid of warmth, the same as he's looked at you your entire life.
You wait for him to take a breath, to start yelling, but he doesn't. He looks at you and his face transforms, anger and hatred and a million dark emotions all wrapped up in one, all aimed at you.
He looks at you and says, Tell that to your mother.
~
- To the extent that you entertain lies and deceit, you are held prisoner in a world cut off from reality. The truth you hide from yourself, prevents you from growth and fulfillment. The truth you hide from others, keeps you distantly apart. The truth shines a bright light on life, so you can clearly see the way to go. Truth and honesty are often difficult, yet never more difficult, in the end, than deceit. To think otherwise, is to deceive even yourself. Hiding in the shadows of falsehood, makes it impossible to move forward. - Ralph Marston
rating: r
characters/pairing: dean/sam, john
warning: underage (sam is 15)
summary: You believe you can do anything, when Dean says you can.
notes: ~1300 words. From gypsy_sunday's prompt in the Fall Fandom Free For All: "Sam/Dean, AU - The boys are raised hunting monsters that only exist in their father's head. Open to any interpretation, as long as there's a strong focus on codependent!boys." I interpreted...this.
There are shadows in the dark, your father says. Creatures of hell roaming around, hiding in the dark corners of the world, waiting for the right moment to strike, to kill, to survive and corrupt the world.
They won't stop unless we stop them, he says, his eyes dull and tired, and you don't believe him at first.
Then your brother convinces you.
You watch as he follows in your father's footsteps: the 'yessir no sir' of sharpening the knives and cleaning the guns, what weapon to use and where to aim, all the ins and outs of the family business. You watch as Dean learns each and every one of your father's tics by heart.
You don't trust your father, his mind half-gone on whiskey eighty percent of the time, but you trust your brother, so when the time comes that Dad says it's you're old enough to learn, you look at Dean and say - only if he's the one teaching me.
Dean's happy to oblige.
~
Your father comes home early from work one day - not that he actually works much anymore, unless sitting around drinking beer and maybe tinkering with an engine or two in the shop down the street. You don't ask where the money comes from anymore, learned that lesson one night watching Dean clean his new gun, the way the pearl handle stands out against the tan of his hands. You have your suspicions, though. (there's always more money right after a hunt.)
There's a hunt in Omaha, he says, pack up ASAP. He looks at you, already bracing for the inevitable argument the two of you are perpetually wrapped up in, and yeah, you're pissed - there's only three weeks of school left and you're pulling straight A's - but Dean says yessir from the other room and starts scooping his stuff into his duffel. He looks at you like he knows what you're thinking, and you look at him the same. (you start packing.)
~
Omaha becomes your first hunt. You learned quick, your father says, your brother taught you well. Let's see what you're like in the field.
It's a wraith, Dean says, his face all scrunched up like a five year old on Christmas. You know he wants to show Dad how good you are, how you can hit any target you aim for, how you know exactly where and when to strike. He wants your father to be proud of you, thinks that if Dad sees how good you are you'll both stop fighting all the time.
You can do it, he says. You believe you can do anything, when Dean says you can.
Dad barks out orders - stay here unless I shout, you hear me Sam - and you nod, say yessir, but the adrenaline's thrumming through your veins like a freight train and you have tunnel vision, eyes glued to the back of Dean's head.
It's quiet and dark in the house your father brought you to, and for a while you wonder if maybe he was wrong about this hunt, that maybe he dragged you away from a 4.0 and a cozy apartment for nothing, but then Dean stops suddenly and you tumble into his back.
Hey Dean, why don't you check the other rooms, your father says. You wait for orders and receive none.
When the wraith springs up behind Dad, you shout a moment too late, eyes too focused on Dean walking away from you to notice the creature in your peripheral vision. Your first mistake. Dad swears as he's knocked to the ground, and you hear a loud pop as she falls on top of him and cringe.
Dean! - your father shouts even though you're standing right there.
Your father swings at the wraith with his knife and she screams at him, loud and guttural and to you it sounds like she's saying 'go away' but you can't really be sure because suddenly Dean's there pulling her off your father, and you're just standing there like a lost cub in a lion's den.
Dean throws her across the room and helps Dad stand up, and both of them are oblivious to you but you're not oblivious to the wraith as she stumbles her way back towards them, one leg bending in an awkward way as she walks. She doesn't even notice you standing the corner, doesn't notice when you sneak up behind her and slide the silver knife Dean had given you two days earlier as a present into her spine. She spasms once, then falls to the floor at your feet. Blood spreads onto the floor, red and startlingly human. Monsters are real, you repeat to yourself, your eyes fixed on the corpse and the knife (your knife) in her back. You bend over and pull it out and when you look up, you find Dean propping your father up as best he can with a wide-eyed expression of shock. For a moment you wonder if you've done something wrong.
Dean, you ask, but he doesn't say anything, his eyes firmly fixed on your father.
You did good, Sammy, Dad finally says, and it's all a lie, funny look on his face, confusion and pain all in one, his shoulder obviously out of socket and his head concussed. Not good enough, you want to say, knowing once he's recovered he'll scold you like a child for not paying more attention to your surroundings. Never good enough for you, Dad.
~
Dean shows you how proud he is of you in other ways - you did good, Sammy, he says, his hands gripping your hips as he gives you your first blowjob, pressed up against the bathroom door with Dad on the other side. You can't control the sounds coming out of your mouth, and you hope to god your father finally passed out on booze and pain pills as moans and a litany of 'Dean' tumble out. (dean always takes care of you.)
So fucking proud of you, Dean says before he swallows you back down, his breath on your dick sending shivers down your spine. He chokes a bit when you come, your world blurring at the edges as you sag against the door for support. You want to pull back and apologize but he holds you firm, swallows all you have to give, then pulls off and smiles up at you, lips red and shiny and you want to freeze this moment in time forever. (it won't last.)
~
I'm leaving, you say one day to your father, dozens of hunts after your very first, hundreds of hotel rooms and miscellaneous aliases later. Soon you'll be leaving for college, your mind made up to leave them both behind, leave hunting behind. Dean's angry at you right now, not even speaking to you, his whole world wrapped up in you just like yours is in his, but you know he understands you need to get out and away before it kills you.
Dean always understands you.
You push on, even when your father doesn't answer, his gaze decades away. The question's been on your mind since you were fifteen, feeling the blood of another living thing run down your arms, since you were sixteen and felt the snap of a neck for the first time.
Monsters aren't real, are they?
His head swivels around slowly and his eyes settle on you, hard and devoid of warmth, the same as he's looked at you your entire life.
You wait for him to take a breath, to start yelling, but he doesn't. He looks at you and his face transforms, anger and hatred and a million dark emotions all wrapped up in one, all aimed at you.
He looks at you and says, Tell that to your mother.
~
- To the extent that you entertain lies and deceit, you are held prisoner in a world cut off from reality. The truth you hide from yourself, prevents you from growth and fulfillment. The truth you hide from others, keeps you distantly apart. The truth shines a bright light on life, so you can clearly see the way to go. Truth and honesty are often difficult, yet never more difficult, in the end, than deceit. To think otherwise, is to deceive even yourself. Hiding in the shadows of falsehood, makes it impossible to move forward. - Ralph Marston