SPN FIC(let): A World of Possibilities PG-13 - SPOILERS for Season 3 so far.
Title: A World of Possibilities
Author: Ducks, theantijoss
Pairing/Character: Dean, Gumby Girl
Word Count: ~960
Rating: PG-13 for language
Prompt: Week 10: What if Ben really was Dean's kid?
Summary: When an old lover tells Dean the truth about her son, what will happen to his carefully maintained denial about his impending demise?
Spoilers: For everything up to 3x02 "The Kids Are Alright"
Warnings: WAAAAANGST. Dean says "fuck" a lot.
Disclaimer: Yeah, really not mine.
A World of Possibilities
By Ducks
"Dean... I have to tell you the truth. I mean, after what you did tonight, I owe you at least that. Ben... Ben is your son."
Okay, to be honest, for a second he had a flash of Darth Vader breathing, "LUKE, I AM YOUR FAAAATHAAAAH," in his head. But after that, a sort of quiet descended. Not a scared shitless HOLY FUCK! buzzing noise like when he first did the math out in the yard at Ben's party, but something more... peaceful. The possibilities -- the impossibilities -- flooded through him in a matter of seconds.
"I'm a... dad?" He turned slowly to look at the kid... Ben... his fucking son. Then the terror hit him: how close he'd come to losing him without ever getting to know the boy. How he might never have known about Ben at all if not for...
Yeah. Then he remembered the rest. He knew it showed on his face when he saw it reflected back at him through the regret and apology in Lisa's.
"Dean? Oh... God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just sprung it on you like that."
"No. No... I'm glad you did." He tore his eyes away from his son to look at the mother of his child. Was it just him, or had the news just made her more heartbreakingly beautiful than she'd been a minute ago? Was he really falling into some kind of endless pit that drilled right through the middle of the freaking world, making his stomach lurch, his heart pound and a sour sweat break out all over his body? "More glad than you can ever know."
He took a step toward her, reached out to touch her arm. Flashes of the weekend they spent together hit him like blows, each hot moment striking a new nerve, taking on a whole new meaning, setting him on fire, filling him with equal parts desire and agony. Suddenly, he was crushed under conflicting urges -- to scream. To fall down to his knees and cling to her as he cried. To go out and drink himself to death Right. Now. So he wouldn't have to feel all of this, realize all of this. To carry this ten ton stone on his back on top of the four or five already there.
He didn't realize how hard he was staring at her until fear crossed her dark eyes. "Are you okay?"
The part of his brain that had already snapped; started a loud, evilstoned cackling. The part that stepped forward to take over kicked the other part in the nuts and made it fall, still snorting with fucking batshit mirth, to the ground.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Beat, is all. It's... a lot, with the son and the monster fighting."
She chuckled, but it wasn't really a happy sound. More sympathetic, a little bitter, and his heart raced faster. An understanding partner. The coolest kid not on television. What the hell was this?
"I can imagine. Look, why don't you... stay the night? I can put you up in the guest room, and we can talk more tomorrow."
His eyes jerked of their own accord -- the hot, smart chick; the cool-ass kid that was his kid; the comfy house, easy, normal, ordinary life. For all of five seconds, he was about to say "Hell yes!"
Then the rest came back again. If he was here when his time was up. How much more would it hurt, how many more would it hurt for him to go when the demon dogs came.
He shook his head, too fast, a little panicky, stepping back toward the door, crossing his arms over his chest in self defense, like she was attacking him. The part that had snapped started screaming, "THIS IS YOUR FAMILY! YOU'RE GONNA DIE AND LEAVE THEM ALONE! THAT'S YOUR FLESH AND BLOOD YOU FUCKING MORON! WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WHERE CAN YOU GO TO ESCAPE THIS?"
Dean swallowed hard, with an audible click. Forced himself to grimace and hoped it looked something like a smile, flashed it at Ben, then at Lisa.
"I can't. Business. Lotta work to do. But... thanks."
The disappointment, the "oh, that figures, loser," in her face hurt like a knife to the balls. It was even harder now to back away, but he had to do it. Better she hate him. Better Ben ((MYSONMYSONMYSON)) forget he was ever here. Better. Better. Better.
"Right. Business," she said.
"I'll uh... I can send money... do you guys need...anything?" He glanced around at the beautiful house at the same time he swung open the door. "Yeah. Probably not. So...okay. Thanks for telling me. I'm... sorry I can't stay. Or help. I'd like to, I would, it's just..."
"Yeah, I got it. Business," she snarled, and he saw just one last moment's flash of dark hair, cut high and tight on a small head, before the door slammed in his face.
"Fuck," he moaned, dragging himself to the car. Starting the engine and driving, driving, automatic, unconscious, motions as natural as breathing, but not nearly as hard right now, as he tore into the night. A life he would never have, never had, never even wanted before half an hour ago playing in his head like the most terrifying of horror movies. Technicolor. Surround Sound. Smell-o-vision.
Making love to a pregnant Lisa in the dark. A baby crying. A dog, a pool. No fucking minivan, fuck that. Maybe an SUV. Picnics and graduations and weddings and getting old together. Ben calling him "Dad." Ben telling his friends, "Not me, man. My dad is fucking cool." Grandchildren.
Love like nothing he'd ever dreamed of, never knew could exist in this world of shadows and blood and hate. Love everywhere, like oxygen.
Like death. Like evil. Oh, god, was this Hell?
Better this way. Better. Better. Better, his broken part kept sobbing all the way back to the hotel.
Author: Ducks, theantijoss
Pairing/Character: Dean, Gumby Girl
Word Count: ~960
Rating: PG-13 for language
Prompt: Week 10: What if Ben really was Dean's kid?
Summary: When an old lover tells Dean the truth about her son, what will happen to his carefully maintained denial about his impending demise?
Spoilers: For everything up to 3x02 "The Kids Are Alright"
Warnings: WAAAAANGST. Dean says "fuck" a lot.
Disclaimer: Yeah, really not mine.
A World of Possibilities
By Ducks
"Dean... I have to tell you the truth. I mean, after what you did tonight, I owe you at least that. Ben... Ben is your son."
Okay, to be honest, for a second he had a flash of Darth Vader breathing, "LUKE, I AM YOUR FAAAATHAAAAH," in his head. But after that, a sort of quiet descended. Not a scared shitless HOLY FUCK! buzzing noise like when he first did the math out in the yard at Ben's party, but something more... peaceful. The possibilities -- the impossibilities -- flooded through him in a matter of seconds.
"I'm a... dad?" He turned slowly to look at the kid... Ben... his fucking son. Then the terror hit him: how close he'd come to losing him without ever getting to know the boy. How he might never have known about Ben at all if not for...
Yeah. Then he remembered the rest. He knew it showed on his face when he saw it reflected back at him through the regret and apology in Lisa's.
"Dean? Oh... God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just sprung it on you like that."
"No. No... I'm glad you did." He tore his eyes away from his son to look at the mother of his child. Was it just him, or had the news just made her more heartbreakingly beautiful than she'd been a minute ago? Was he really falling into some kind of endless pit that drilled right through the middle of the freaking world, making his stomach lurch, his heart pound and a sour sweat break out all over his body? "More glad than you can ever know."
He took a step toward her, reached out to touch her arm. Flashes of the weekend they spent together hit him like blows, each hot moment striking a new nerve, taking on a whole new meaning, setting him on fire, filling him with equal parts desire and agony. Suddenly, he was crushed under conflicting urges -- to scream. To fall down to his knees and cling to her as he cried. To go out and drink himself to death Right. Now. So he wouldn't have to feel all of this, realize all of this. To carry this ten ton stone on his back on top of the four or five already there.
He didn't realize how hard he was staring at her until fear crossed her dark eyes. "Are you okay?"
The part of his brain that had already snapped; started a loud, evilstoned cackling. The part that stepped forward to take over kicked the other part in the nuts and made it fall, still snorting with fucking batshit mirth, to the ground.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Beat, is all. It's... a lot, with the son and the monster fighting."
She chuckled, but it wasn't really a happy sound. More sympathetic, a little bitter, and his heart raced faster. An understanding partner. The coolest kid not on television. What the hell was this?
"I can imagine. Look, why don't you... stay the night? I can put you up in the guest room, and we can talk more tomorrow."
His eyes jerked of their own accord -- the hot, smart chick; the cool-ass kid that was his kid; the comfy house, easy, normal, ordinary life. For all of five seconds, he was about to say "Hell yes!"
Then the rest came back again. If he was here when his time was up. How much more would it hurt, how many more would it hurt for him to go when the demon dogs came.
He shook his head, too fast, a little panicky, stepping back toward the door, crossing his arms over his chest in self defense, like she was attacking him. The part that had snapped started screaming, "THIS IS YOUR FAMILY! YOU'RE GONNA DIE AND LEAVE THEM ALONE! THAT'S YOUR FLESH AND BLOOD YOU FUCKING MORON! WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WHERE CAN YOU GO TO ESCAPE THIS?"
Dean swallowed hard, with an audible click. Forced himself to grimace and hoped it looked something like a smile, flashed it at Ben, then at Lisa.
"I can't. Business. Lotta work to do. But... thanks."
The disappointment, the "oh, that figures, loser," in her face hurt like a knife to the balls. It was even harder now to back away, but he had to do it. Better she hate him. Better Ben ((MYSONMYSONMYSON)) forget he was ever here. Better. Better. Better.
"Right. Business," she said.
"I'll uh... I can send money... do you guys need...anything?" He glanced around at the beautiful house at the same time he swung open the door. "Yeah. Probably not. So...okay. Thanks for telling me. I'm... sorry I can't stay. Or help. I'd like to, I would, it's just..."
"Yeah, I got it. Business," she snarled, and he saw just one last moment's flash of dark hair, cut high and tight on a small head, before the door slammed in his face.
"Fuck," he moaned, dragging himself to the car. Starting the engine and driving, driving, automatic, unconscious, motions as natural as breathing, but not nearly as hard right now, as he tore into the night. A life he would never have, never had, never even wanted before half an hour ago playing in his head like the most terrifying of horror movies. Technicolor. Surround Sound. Smell-o-vision.
Making love to a pregnant Lisa in the dark. A baby crying. A dog, a pool. No fucking minivan, fuck that. Maybe an SUV. Picnics and graduations and weddings and getting old together. Ben calling him "Dad." Ben telling his friends, "Not me, man. My dad is fucking cool." Grandchildren.
Love like nothing he'd ever dreamed of, never knew could exist in this world of shadows and blood and hate. Love everywhere, like oxygen.
Like death. Like evil. Oh, god, was this Hell?
Better this way. Better. Better. Better, his broken part kept sobbing all the way back to the hotel.