SPN Fic: Collateral Damage (Gen, PG, Super_Summer)
Okay, here's the other one I wanted to write for the Super Summer challenge. I wanted something a little more deep-guilt oriented, and this is what turned up.
Title: Collateral Damage
Author: dodger_winslow
Challenge: super_summer Week 6: Playthings/Nightshifter Extra: law enforcement/guilt
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 930
Spoilers: Nightshifter
John Winchester Warning: There is no John Winchester in this story.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, I'm just stalking them for a while.
Summary: "Yeah," Dean said into the mirror, watching his own eyes as he spoke but seeing someone else in their reflection. "That’s me, baby. One of the good guys."
Collateral Damage
Dean woke hard and fast, his heart slamming against his sternum, his skin ice cold and his body drenched it sweat. It took him a moment to get his bearings, a moment to pull himself out of the dream and remember where in the hell he was.
More importantly, to remember where in the hell he wasn’t.
He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, dropped his face into his hands to catch his breath.
"You okay?" Sam asked from the dark.
"Yeah," Dean grunted. "Just fucking peachy." He took refuge in the bathroom, stared at himself in the mirror for almost ten minutes before he could face the idea of sleeping again, face the idea of a dark room and a quiet bed and nothing to occupy his mind but exhaustion.
What he needed was a good, hard fuck. Somebody to take the edge off. Somebody to put him in a better state of mind. Or no state of mind, maybe. Just a state of body.
He could still feel the way her skin peeled off in his hand; still feel it slough off under his fingers like a fucking snake or something. He could still feel the warm rush of her blood as he shoved the letter opener in, gutted her like a fish; could still feel the weight of the condemnation in her eyes as she died, looking right at him as he did her, thinking he’d have mercy and surprised, then terrified, when he didn’t.
He could still hear her voice in his head as she died: "And here I thought you were one of the good guys."
He knew it wasn’t really her, but that didn’t matter. It seemed like it was really her. It felt like it was really her.
"Yeah," he said into the mirror, watching his own eyes as he spoke but seeing someone else in their reflection. "That’s me, baby. One of the good guys."
He was hoping Sam would be asleep again by the time he slipped out of the bathroom, padded back across the motel room on bare feet and slid back into bed. He might as well have hoped for the moon.
"Same dream?" Sam asked quietly.
Dean grunted rather than answer.
"Who was it this time?"
"Wonder Woman," Dean said.
"Jo?" Sam pressed.
Dean closed his eyes, counted to ten in his head. "No," he said finally. "Ellen."
"You want to talk about it?" Sam asked after several seconds.
"What’s to talk about, Sammy? I didn’t kill Ellen. Didn’t kill Jo. Hell I didn’t even kill Sherri. It’s was just a shapeshifter. It’s just a dream."
"Okay," Sam said quietly. "You change your mind …" He let the rest of the sentiment hang.
Dean lasted another two hours before he sat up, pulled on his jeans, shoved his feet into his shoes and jerked a tee-shirt on over his head. Sam opened one eye, watched him blearily from across the room as he grabbed the weapon’s duffel in one hand and slung Sam’s duffel at him with the other. "Get dressed," he said. "We’re out of here in five."
He stalked outside to stow the weapons in the trunk. Sam was up and dressed by the time he came back.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Where do you think?" Dean grunted.
They were on the road and headed back to Milwaukee when Sam finally said what he was thinking so loud Dean could have heard it from three states away: "Probably won’t help. I’ve never heard of a shapeshifter haunting someone before."
"Worth a shot," Dean said. He kept his eyes on the road rather than facing his brother’s level gaze.
"If it doesn’t work?" Sam asked after several seconds.
"Then it doesn’t work," Dean said. "Won’t be the first time. Probably won’t be the last."
Sam sighed. It was his "I’m going to talk some sense into Dean" sigh, and it made Dean want to pull over and beat the shit out of him.
"There’s nothing wrong with feeling guilty, Dean," Sam said. "It’s a pretty human reaction to something like this."
"Something like what, Sammy? Killing a shapeshifter?"
"Killing somebody who looked like a regular girl," Sam said quietly.
"She wasn’t a regular girl," Dean told him matter-of-factly. "She was a shapeshifter. No, scratch that. It was a shapeshifter."
"Still," Sam said.
"Whatever," Dean grunted.
Neither of them spoke again for almost twenty miles. "What’s the plan if we run into one of the local cops?" Sam asked suddenly. "We’re a bit notorious in Wisconsin right now. Bet half the state has your mug shot up on their bulletin board."
"You want to wait for me at the border, just say the word, and I’ll drop you at the next town."
Sam flicked him a glance full-up on pissed off. "Don’t be a jerk," he said. "I’m just pointing out the pros and cons."
"Well pros and cons this, bitch: You sleep with these dreams for a while. Then we’ll talk."
Sam studied him for several moments in silence. Dean pretended like he didn’t notice.
"Who was it really?" Sam said finally.
"Ellen," Dean said again.
"It wasn’t Ellen."
"No, it was a shapeshifter. But it sure looked like Ellen."
Sam didn’t believe him. He could tell by the way Sam was still watching him.
"Was it mom?" Sam asked finally.
Dean’s hand turned white where it clenched the steering wheel. He stared harder at the road as he drove. "Shut up, Sam," he said.
Sam shut up.
finis
Title: Collateral Damage
Author: dodger_winslow
Challenge: super_summer Week 6: Playthings/Nightshifter Extra: law enforcement/guilt
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 930
Spoilers: Nightshifter
John Winchester Warning: There is no John Winchester in this story.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, I'm just stalking them for a while.
Summary: "Yeah," Dean said into the mirror, watching his own eyes as he spoke but seeing someone else in their reflection. "That’s me, baby. One of the good guys."
Collateral Damage
Dean woke hard and fast, his heart slamming against his sternum, his skin ice cold and his body drenched it sweat. It took him a moment to get his bearings, a moment to pull himself out of the dream and remember where in the hell he was.
More importantly, to remember where in the hell he wasn’t.
He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, dropped his face into his hands to catch his breath.
"You okay?" Sam asked from the dark.
"Yeah," Dean grunted. "Just fucking peachy." He took refuge in the bathroom, stared at himself in the mirror for almost ten minutes before he could face the idea of sleeping again, face the idea of a dark room and a quiet bed and nothing to occupy his mind but exhaustion.
What he needed was a good, hard fuck. Somebody to take the edge off. Somebody to put him in a better state of mind. Or no state of mind, maybe. Just a state of body.
He could still feel the way her skin peeled off in his hand; still feel it slough off under his fingers like a fucking snake or something. He could still feel the warm rush of her blood as he shoved the letter opener in, gutted her like a fish; could still feel the weight of the condemnation in her eyes as she died, looking right at him as he did her, thinking he’d have mercy and surprised, then terrified, when he didn’t.
He could still hear her voice in his head as she died: "And here I thought you were one of the good guys."
He knew it wasn’t really her, but that didn’t matter. It seemed like it was really her. It felt like it was really her.
"Yeah," he said into the mirror, watching his own eyes as he spoke but seeing someone else in their reflection. "That’s me, baby. One of the good guys."
He was hoping Sam would be asleep again by the time he slipped out of the bathroom, padded back across the motel room on bare feet and slid back into bed. He might as well have hoped for the moon.
"Same dream?" Sam asked quietly.
Dean grunted rather than answer.
"Who was it this time?"
"Wonder Woman," Dean said.
"Jo?" Sam pressed.
Dean closed his eyes, counted to ten in his head. "No," he said finally. "Ellen."
"You want to talk about it?" Sam asked after several seconds.
"What’s to talk about, Sammy? I didn’t kill Ellen. Didn’t kill Jo. Hell I didn’t even kill Sherri. It’s was just a shapeshifter. It’s just a dream."
"Okay," Sam said quietly. "You change your mind …" He let the rest of the sentiment hang.
Dean lasted another two hours before he sat up, pulled on his jeans, shoved his feet into his shoes and jerked a tee-shirt on over his head. Sam opened one eye, watched him blearily from across the room as he grabbed the weapon’s duffel in one hand and slung Sam’s duffel at him with the other. "Get dressed," he said. "We’re out of here in five."
He stalked outside to stow the weapons in the trunk. Sam was up and dressed by the time he came back.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Where do you think?" Dean grunted.
They were on the road and headed back to Milwaukee when Sam finally said what he was thinking so loud Dean could have heard it from three states away: "Probably won’t help. I’ve never heard of a shapeshifter haunting someone before."
"Worth a shot," Dean said. He kept his eyes on the road rather than facing his brother’s level gaze.
"If it doesn’t work?" Sam asked after several seconds.
"Then it doesn’t work," Dean said. "Won’t be the first time. Probably won’t be the last."
Sam sighed. It was his "I’m going to talk some sense into Dean" sigh, and it made Dean want to pull over and beat the shit out of him.
"There’s nothing wrong with feeling guilty, Dean," Sam said. "It’s a pretty human reaction to something like this."
"Something like what, Sammy? Killing a shapeshifter?"
"Killing somebody who looked like a regular girl," Sam said quietly.
"She wasn’t a regular girl," Dean told him matter-of-factly. "She was a shapeshifter. No, scratch that. It was a shapeshifter."
"Still," Sam said.
"Whatever," Dean grunted.
Neither of them spoke again for almost twenty miles. "What’s the plan if we run into one of the local cops?" Sam asked suddenly. "We’re a bit notorious in Wisconsin right now. Bet half the state has your mug shot up on their bulletin board."
"You want to wait for me at the border, just say the word, and I’ll drop you at the next town."
Sam flicked him a glance full-up on pissed off. "Don’t be a jerk," he said. "I’m just pointing out the pros and cons."
"Well pros and cons this, bitch: You sleep with these dreams for a while. Then we’ll talk."
Sam studied him for several moments in silence. Dean pretended like he didn’t notice.
"Who was it really?" Sam said finally.
"Ellen," Dean said again.
"It wasn’t Ellen."
"No, it was a shapeshifter. But it sure looked like Ellen."
Sam didn’t believe him. He could tell by the way Sam was still watching him.
"Was it mom?" Sam asked finally.
Dean’s hand turned white where it clenched the steering wheel. He stared harder at the road as he drove. "Shut up, Sam," he said.
Sam shut up.
finis