Supernatural gen ficlet - Unfinished Business
Okay, I'm trying to write the bunny that lonelybrit handed me a couple of nights ago, but damn, it's making me cry. It's like writing goodbye. My keyboard keeps shorting out from tears. *g*
So, I took a break, and did a piece for 15minuteficlets. This one took me exactly 15 minutes, so I can actually link it for a change. *is ridiculously pleased with self*
TITLE: Unfinished Business
RATING: PG (gen)
CHARACTERS: Dean, Pastor Jim, John. Mention of wee!Sam.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not ever.
SPOILERs: pre-series
NOTES: 400 words. Pastor Jim brings Dean home after a successful kill.
Jim switches off the engine, turns his head to give Dean the full benefit of the sternest glare he can muster.
Dean’s still bouncing on adrenaline overload in the back seat. “Did you see? Did you?”
“Dean, if I were you, I’d start toning it down before we head inside.”
There’s enough warning in his tone to quell the boy’s enthusiasm just a little. “Dad knows?”
“Son, your Daddy was the one who figured out where’d you gone.”
John knew the boy too well. Knew that Dean would take off after the lamia after he learned how it had opened up his Dad’s arm and knocked him cold onto the wet earth.
John had frowned deeply and muttered something that sounded like unfinished business.
“How mad is he?” Dean squirms in the seat, and Jim feels a pang of sympathy for the boy.
“He’s not going to be breaking out his belt, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Jim raises his eyebrow. “Not till his arm heals, anyway.”
Dean’s half-hearted grin is more of a grimace. “But I’m in trouble, right?”
“A world of it.” Jim looks at him, man to man, nods once. “Go on in, son. Your Dad’s waiting.”
Jim gets out and locks the car, gives it a few minutes before he follows inside. He hears John’s voice, heavy and stern, Dean’s quiet halting apology. Then the stairs creak, and Dean heads up to the bedroom, where Sammy’s dozing fitfully, unable to sleep sound till his big brother’s home safe.
Jim opens the door to the spare room, and John’s settled back against the pillows, the mask of paternal austerity slipping from his face when he sees Jim.
“He’s okay?”
“Not a scratch on him. Can’t say the same for the lamia.”
“Damn.” John breathes the word, and Jim’s not sure if it’s anger or awe. “Don’t know what I’m going to do with that boy.”
“You need to speak to him, John. He can’t be going off chasing these things on his own. He’s barely thirteen.” He speaks quietly, sincerely, needing John to see, to understand what this life is doing to his son.
John nods, curtly. “You’re right. I’ll get after him.”
But his face gives lie to his words, and Jim sees the pride shining in John’s eyes, full of the wonder and admiration that he won’t ever show to his son’s face.
This is written for Prompt #159 - Independence.
So, I took a break, and did a piece for 15minuteficlets. This one took me exactly 15 minutes, so I can actually link it for a change. *is ridiculously pleased with self*
TITLE: Unfinished Business
RATING: PG (gen)
CHARACTERS: Dean, Pastor Jim, John. Mention of wee!Sam.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not ever.
SPOILERs: pre-series
NOTES: 400 words. Pastor Jim brings Dean home after a successful kill.
Jim switches off the engine, turns his head to give Dean the full benefit of the sternest glare he can muster.
Dean’s still bouncing on adrenaline overload in the back seat. “Did you see? Did you?”
“Dean, if I were you, I’d start toning it down before we head inside.”
There’s enough warning in his tone to quell the boy’s enthusiasm just a little. “Dad knows?”
“Son, your Daddy was the one who figured out where’d you gone.”
John knew the boy too well. Knew that Dean would take off after the lamia after he learned how it had opened up his Dad’s arm and knocked him cold onto the wet earth.
John had frowned deeply and muttered something that sounded like unfinished business.
“How mad is he?” Dean squirms in the seat, and Jim feels a pang of sympathy for the boy.
“He’s not going to be breaking out his belt, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Jim raises his eyebrow. “Not till his arm heals, anyway.”
Dean’s half-hearted grin is more of a grimace. “But I’m in trouble, right?”
“A world of it.” Jim looks at him, man to man, nods once. “Go on in, son. Your Dad’s waiting.”
Jim gets out and locks the car, gives it a few minutes before he follows inside. He hears John’s voice, heavy and stern, Dean’s quiet halting apology. Then the stairs creak, and Dean heads up to the bedroom, where Sammy’s dozing fitfully, unable to sleep sound till his big brother’s home safe.
Jim opens the door to the spare room, and John’s settled back against the pillows, the mask of paternal austerity slipping from his face when he sees Jim.
“He’s okay?”
“Not a scratch on him. Can’t say the same for the lamia.”
“Damn.” John breathes the word, and Jim’s not sure if it’s anger or awe. “Don’t know what I’m going to do with that boy.”
“You need to speak to him, John. He can’t be going off chasing these things on his own. He’s barely thirteen.” He speaks quietly, sincerely, needing John to see, to understand what this life is doing to his son.
John nods, curtly. “You’re right. I’ll get after him.”
But his face gives lie to his words, and Jim sees the pride shining in John’s eyes, full of the wonder and admiration that he won’t ever show to his son’s face.
This is written for Prompt #159 - Independence.