Birds Fly Backwards (4/?)
Author: Buiochas_le_dia
Title: Birds Fly Backwards (4/?)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Summary what johhny sees in the closet changes everything.
author’s note: i told myself I wouldn’t do this, but a good, if new, friend of mine, dared me. And if you’re irish you’re irish unless you’re texan and either way you can’t renick on a dare.
Feedback: is money. where oh where have the commenters gone? where oh where could they be?
What Sam sees is a man in tatters.
What Sam sees is his brother breaking down.
Dean is on his knees, on the lawn, his baby girl is clutched, crying, in his arms, Johnny is clinging to his leg. Sam stands inches away, together they watch their house, their home burn. Sam can’t hear but he thinks Dean is whispering “Not again, not again.”
The fire chief asks routine questions, but its clear this isn’t arson. He says again and again, lucky you got her out, pointing to Nina, you know it started in her room. He shakes his head and Sam nods, beneath all this, Dean’s tear streaked face keeps catching Sam’s eye. He wants nothing more than to go to his brother, curl him close and never, ever let go.
“Your alarm never went off?”
“No. My, our, son woke us up.”
“Good kid.”
“Yeah.”
From a neighbor Sam is able to borrow a crib to set up in the motel room. Too late, now, to do much of anything about anything. When he gets Johnny settled down in the bed farthest from the window, and has soothed Nina’s sobs, and has salted and re-salted and drawn protection runes and muttered prayers and incantations, when he’s done all this he moves to lay next to Dean and is unable to stop the shudder that runs through him.
Dean is curled on his side, facing away from the kids, eyes ever on the door. In this light there’s no way to tell if he’s breathing, save for a hitching gasp now and again. His eyes don’t blink.
“Dean?”
“I killed him.” The whisper rolls like gravel and sounds nothing like the brother Sam knew. It sounds like defeat.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“I killed him, and I put all those things back to where they belonged, I saw Dad crawl out of hell and I buried you. I was done. I was supposed to be done. This was supposed to be done.”
“They’re okay.”
“No. Sam, don’t you see? This is how it started for us. Johnny and Nina, they don’t deserve to grow up terrified, terrified of every shadow that flickers strange, I can’t have them staying up at night waiting for us, thinking, with every minute they don’t hear the Impala’s engine that we’re never coming home.”
“Dean, you and me, we’re a team, we’ve still got each other. Okay? You and me.”
“I don’t have any energy left. I gave that battle everything in me. I just got you back, Sam. Do I get no peace?”
Sam sits next to his brother on the bed, rubs his thumb along the skin behind Dean’s ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, to no one in particular.
Sam jolts awake, sunlight in his eyes, shoulders stiff from tension held too close, too long. “Dean?”
“Here.” Dean is up, Nina bouncing on his knee, last nights fear and exhaustion all but gone from his face, held still in the wrinkles bordering his eyes. Johnny sits next to him at the rickety table slurping down corn flakes with chocolate milk.
“That’s bad for you.” Sam mutters ruffling his kids hair, shaking his head, smiling, at Dean.
“Dad said.”
“Yeah, yeah. Dean?”
Dean laughs and throws his hands up. “Innocent.”
“We should. . . we should call Ellen, and Bobby, and whoever else we can think of.”
“Later. We should go by the house, see if we can salvage anything. Pictures, clothes maybe.”
“Yeah. Oh. Yeah.” Sam nods, angry with himself for forgetting, but not used to having anything to go back for when all hell breaks loose. “We should.”
“Koch?”
“Yeah, Johnny?”
“Did I make the fire?”
“No.” Sam startles himself with the harshness of his voice.
“No, baby, you didn’t.” Dean adds softer and pads his fingers along Johnny’s cheek.
“The man. . . the yellow-eyed man. He said, he said if I told you he would burn everything. But, I didn’t want him to hurt Nina.” Johnny hangs his head a little and Dean stands to put Nina in her crib, coming back and pulling Johnny into his arms. Sam is struck by how much of Dean there is in Johnny, and after such a short time.
“You did the right thing. You’re a good boy, Johnny, a real good boy.” Dean hugs Johnny as tight as he can and whispers over and over into his ear: “The right thing.”
“Ellen? Sam Winchester here.”
“Sam? Well, Jesus. How are you?”
“I’m-- I’m okay, considering.” Sam smiles to ease the words.
“When Dean called to say, I had to talk to Missouri myself, couldn’t half believe it. I hear you’ve got your self a littlun too? When do I meet the hell raiser?”
“Sooner then you’d think.”
“Sam? What’s wrong?” Sam swallows a ball of tears, Ellen’s motherly instinct something he grew up without, something he can’t help missing even as he hears it over the phone.
“We think -- uh. Well, our house burned down.”
“The demon?” Ellen sounds both furious and in awe.
“Johnny, that’s my boy, he says he saw a ‘yellow-eyed man’ in the closet. And the thing is, Ellen, I haven’t told him about all that yet. So. Unless he’s been reading our minds, there’s no way he’d know--”
“So you’re saying it’s not a nightmare.”
“Right.”
“We’re in Wyoming now, me an’ Jo an’ Bobby. Come on by.”
“Okay, let me get a pen for your address.”
Title: Birds Fly Backwards (4/?)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Summary what johhny sees in the closet changes everything.
author’s note: i told myself I wouldn’t do this, but a good, if new, friend of mine, dared me. And if you’re irish you’re irish unless you’re texan and either way you can’t renick on a dare.
Feedback: is money. where oh where have the commenters gone? where oh where could they be?
What Sam sees is a man in tatters.
What Sam sees is his brother breaking down.
Dean is on his knees, on the lawn, his baby girl is clutched, crying, in his arms, Johnny is clinging to his leg. Sam stands inches away, together they watch their house, their home burn. Sam can’t hear but he thinks Dean is whispering “Not again, not again.”
The fire chief asks routine questions, but its clear this isn’t arson. He says again and again, lucky you got her out, pointing to Nina, you know it started in her room. He shakes his head and Sam nods, beneath all this, Dean’s tear streaked face keeps catching Sam’s eye. He wants nothing more than to go to his brother, curl him close and never, ever let go.
“Your alarm never went off?”
“No. My, our, son woke us up.”
“Good kid.”
“Yeah.”
From a neighbor Sam is able to borrow a crib to set up in the motel room. Too late, now, to do much of anything about anything. When he gets Johnny settled down in the bed farthest from the window, and has soothed Nina’s sobs, and has salted and re-salted and drawn protection runes and muttered prayers and incantations, when he’s done all this he moves to lay next to Dean and is unable to stop the shudder that runs through him.
Dean is curled on his side, facing away from the kids, eyes ever on the door. In this light there’s no way to tell if he’s breathing, save for a hitching gasp now and again. His eyes don’t blink.
“Dean?”
“I killed him.” The whisper rolls like gravel and sounds nothing like the brother Sam knew. It sounds like defeat.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“I killed him, and I put all those things back to where they belonged, I saw Dad crawl out of hell and I buried you. I was done. I was supposed to be done. This was supposed to be done.”
“They’re okay.”
“No. Sam, don’t you see? This is how it started for us. Johnny and Nina, they don’t deserve to grow up terrified, terrified of every shadow that flickers strange, I can’t have them staying up at night waiting for us, thinking, with every minute they don’t hear the Impala’s engine that we’re never coming home.”
“Dean, you and me, we’re a team, we’ve still got each other. Okay? You and me.”
“I don’t have any energy left. I gave that battle everything in me. I just got you back, Sam. Do I get no peace?”
Sam sits next to his brother on the bed, rubs his thumb along the skin behind Dean’s ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, to no one in particular.
Sam jolts awake, sunlight in his eyes, shoulders stiff from tension held too close, too long. “Dean?”
“Here.” Dean is up, Nina bouncing on his knee, last nights fear and exhaustion all but gone from his face, held still in the wrinkles bordering his eyes. Johnny sits next to him at the rickety table slurping down corn flakes with chocolate milk.
“That’s bad for you.” Sam mutters ruffling his kids hair, shaking his head, smiling, at Dean.
“Dad said.”
“Yeah, yeah. Dean?”
Dean laughs and throws his hands up. “Innocent.”
“We should. . . we should call Ellen, and Bobby, and whoever else we can think of.”
“Later. We should go by the house, see if we can salvage anything. Pictures, clothes maybe.”
“Yeah. Oh. Yeah.” Sam nods, angry with himself for forgetting, but not used to having anything to go back for when all hell breaks loose. “We should.”
“Koch?”
“Yeah, Johnny?”
“Did I make the fire?”
“No.” Sam startles himself with the harshness of his voice.
“No, baby, you didn’t.” Dean adds softer and pads his fingers along Johnny’s cheek.
“The man. . . the yellow-eyed man. He said, he said if I told you he would burn everything. But, I didn’t want him to hurt Nina.” Johnny hangs his head a little and Dean stands to put Nina in her crib, coming back and pulling Johnny into his arms. Sam is struck by how much of Dean there is in Johnny, and after such a short time.
“You did the right thing. You’re a good boy, Johnny, a real good boy.” Dean hugs Johnny as tight as he can and whispers over and over into his ear: “The right thing.”
“Ellen? Sam Winchester here.”
“Sam? Well, Jesus. How are you?”
“I’m-- I’m okay, considering.” Sam smiles to ease the words.
“When Dean called to say, I had to talk to Missouri myself, couldn’t half believe it. I hear you’ve got your self a littlun too? When do I meet the hell raiser?”
“Sooner then you’d think.”
“Sam? What’s wrong?” Sam swallows a ball of tears, Ellen’s motherly instinct something he grew up without, something he can’t help missing even as he hears it over the phone.
“We think -- uh. Well, our house burned down.”
“The demon?” Ellen sounds both furious and in awe.
“Johnny, that’s my boy, he says he saw a ‘yellow-eyed man’ in the closet. And the thing is, Ellen, I haven’t told him about all that yet. So. Unless he’s been reading our minds, there’s no way he’d know--”
“So you’re saying it’s not a nightmare.”
“Right.”
“We’re in Wyoming now, me an’ Jo an’ Bobby. Come on by.”
“Okay, let me get a pen for your address.”