9 SPN drabbles - Sight
I have now officially started four different fics for the fanzine. Damn, I cannot get even one of them finished. Also, to distract myself - I wrote nine drabbles for the prompt sight at supernatural100.
TITLE: Sight
RATING: PG13
CHARACTERS: variously-aged Dean and Sam, John and Mary
DISCLAIMER: They were broken before I touched them, Mr Kripke
NOTES: 9x100 word drabbles. Three wee!Winchesters, three pre-series Winchesters, three Season 1 Winchesters. Spoilers for The Benders, Nightmare and Devil's Trap.
1
“Dean!” Mary looks out into the yard, but Dean’s bike lies abandoned, his baseball bat and glove discarded on the lawn.
She sighs, and Sammy copies, blowing a raspberry, then shrieking with delight at the sound. She scoops him up out of his highchair, nestles him against her hip.
“Come on, let’s go find your big brother.”
John’s under the car, and Dean’s his daddy’s shadow, keeping watch at the tool box, waiting for instructions.
Sam gurgles at the sight of Dean and John, reaches chubby fists out, and Mary sighs again. John doesn’t need another little shadow just yet.
2
His eyes hurt.
His throat too, but his eyes most of all.
It’s real scary going down the stairs -
careful with the baby’s head, Dean, you’ve got to support it
- with Sammy all wriggling and squirmy, so Dean holds him tight. Sammy rubs at his eyes, and he smashes his little fists against Dean -
not so tight, Dean, gently, so Sammy can see you. See? He likes looking at his big brother
He gets to outside, and he wants to go back and help Mommy and Daddy, but Daddy said -
don’t look back
So he looks after Sammy instead.
3
His daddy’s shadow.
Mary used to call him that.
He’s a shadow, but not John’s anymore. He’s Sammy’s shadow.
Dean’s awake before John is when Sammy cries, over beside the crib before John’s thrown the comforter off, lifting Sam, cradling him, watching him.
When John comes back to the bedroom with warmed formula, he settles Sam in the crook of his left arm, and lifts his right for Dean to scoot in, nestles him there as Sam’s hiccupping cries grow more frantic.
Sam settles only when he sees Dean, then gurgles softly, nuzzling the nipple as he begins to drink.
4
Daddy only gives orders when it’s hunting. It’s important to follow orders or they could get hurt. Sammy, especially, because he’s still pretty little, even if he is a dork sometimes.
Sammy’s not so good at following orders. Daddy told them to stay in the car, but Sam’s had too much candy and wants to run around. He’s a mean little dork sometimes, like now, when he gets out of the car and runs off.
“Can’t catch me!”
Dean knows they’ll both be in trouble, but Daddy said not to let Sammy out of his sight. So he chases Sam.
5
He’s lost count of how many times he’s shown Sam what to do. The boy won’t listen, or he’s got his mind on one of those damned storybooks instead of training.
“Sammy, your aim’s way off. Did you sight it like I showed you?”
Sam just looks at him as if he’s speaking Chinese. “Huh?”
Dean steps in and whaps the back of Sam’s head lightly.
“The bead, dumbass.” He crouches beside his brother, runs his finger along the barrel. “See?”
Sam nods vigorously. “Oh, right. That’s what he meant.”
John sighs as Sam hits the centre of the target.
6
He doesn’t remember it being like this with Dean.
Dean understands about chain of command, knows how to follow orders, and when to challenge them.
Sam - doesn’t. Everything’s an argument, a fight; screaming tantrums that he never had as a toddler are a weekly occurrence now.
Kid knows how to push his buttons, knows the things to say to make his blood boil, force him to say words he wishes he could call back into his mouth the moment they leave his lips.
Get out of my sight! I don’t want to see your face again today!
Then one day, Sam takes him at his word.
7
“You’d think I could let you out of my sight for five minutes without you getting kidnapped by a bunch of slack-jawed yokels - Jesus!” Sam’s a little too vigorous with the Neosporin. “Watch what you’re doing!”
Sam grins and starts strapping. “The great Dean Winchester, taken down by a little girlie.”
“Fucking psycho mini-bitch.”
Sam snaps off the end of the tape, sits back. “Okay, I’m getting takeout. What d’you want?”
Dean figures ‘To take you to the vet and get you electronically tagged’ will probably get him a punch in the mouth.
8
Dean sits against the headboard, watching his little brother falling into a gentle sleep.
Usually when he sleeps, it’s not rest; it’s a replay of somebody else’s movie of the week. Sam sucks the guilt up; like he doesn’t have enough of his own already, has to take responsibility for that kid offing himself.
It hurts to see him like this; terrified, lost in the pain of visions he’s condemned to bear alone.
The gift of second sight - that’s a joke. It’s a fucking curse.
All Dean can do is stay awake and watch him, so that Sam can sleep.
9
Can’t not look at him.
He tries, focuses on individual injuries and not on the sight of his brother falling apart on the floor in front of him.
It doesn’t work, especially when he lifts Dean, and he’s fucking weightless, Jesus how much blood has he lost to be so light?
Gets him into the car, and Dad’s beside him, his leg all fucked up, and the things he said to Dean - Jesus, focus!
Start the car, gear, mirror, Dean in the back - broken like he never is-
Sam can’t stop looking; he never even sees the truck coming.
TITLE: Sight
RATING: PG13
CHARACTERS: variously-aged Dean and Sam, John and Mary
DISCLAIMER: They were broken before I touched them, Mr Kripke
NOTES: 9x100 word drabbles. Three wee!Winchesters, three pre-series Winchesters, three Season 1 Winchesters. Spoilers for The Benders, Nightmare and Devil's Trap.
1
“Dean!” Mary looks out into the yard, but Dean’s bike lies abandoned, his baseball bat and glove discarded on the lawn.
She sighs, and Sammy copies, blowing a raspberry, then shrieking with delight at the sound. She scoops him up out of his highchair, nestles him against her hip.
“Come on, let’s go find your big brother.”
John’s under the car, and Dean’s his daddy’s shadow, keeping watch at the tool box, waiting for instructions.
Sam gurgles at the sight of Dean and John, reaches chubby fists out, and Mary sighs again. John doesn’t need another little shadow just yet.
2
His eyes hurt.
His throat too, but his eyes most of all.
It’s real scary going down the stairs -
careful with the baby’s head, Dean, you’ve got to support it
- with Sammy all wriggling and squirmy, so Dean holds him tight. Sammy rubs at his eyes, and he smashes his little fists against Dean -
not so tight, Dean, gently, so Sammy can see you. See? He likes looking at his big brother
He gets to outside, and he wants to go back and help Mommy and Daddy, but Daddy said -
don’t look back
So he looks after Sammy instead.
3
His daddy’s shadow.
Mary used to call him that.
He’s a shadow, but not John’s anymore. He’s Sammy’s shadow.
Dean’s awake before John is when Sammy cries, over beside the crib before John’s thrown the comforter off, lifting Sam, cradling him, watching him.
When John comes back to the bedroom with warmed formula, he settles Sam in the crook of his left arm, and lifts his right for Dean to scoot in, nestles him there as Sam’s hiccupping cries grow more frantic.
Sam settles only when he sees Dean, then gurgles softly, nuzzling the nipple as he begins to drink.
4
Daddy only gives orders when it’s hunting. It’s important to follow orders or they could get hurt. Sammy, especially, because he’s still pretty little, even if he is a dork sometimes.
Sammy’s not so good at following orders. Daddy told them to stay in the car, but Sam’s had too much candy and wants to run around. He’s a mean little dork sometimes, like now, when he gets out of the car and runs off.
“Can’t catch me!”
Dean knows they’ll both be in trouble, but Daddy said not to let Sammy out of his sight. So he chases Sam.
5
He’s lost count of how many times he’s shown Sam what to do. The boy won’t listen, or he’s got his mind on one of those damned storybooks instead of training.
“Sammy, your aim’s way off. Did you sight it like I showed you?”
Sam just looks at him as if he’s speaking Chinese. “Huh?”
Dean steps in and whaps the back of Sam’s head lightly.
“The bead, dumbass.” He crouches beside his brother, runs his finger along the barrel. “See?”
Sam nods vigorously. “Oh, right. That’s what he meant.”
John sighs as Sam hits the centre of the target.
6
He doesn’t remember it being like this with Dean.
Dean understands about chain of command, knows how to follow orders, and when to challenge them.
Sam - doesn’t. Everything’s an argument, a fight; screaming tantrums that he never had as a toddler are a weekly occurrence now.
Kid knows how to push his buttons, knows the things to say to make his blood boil, force him to say words he wishes he could call back into his mouth the moment they leave his lips.
Get out of my sight! I don’t want to see your face again today!
Then one day, Sam takes him at his word.
7
“You’d think I could let you out of my sight for five minutes without you getting kidnapped by a bunch of slack-jawed yokels - Jesus!” Sam’s a little too vigorous with the Neosporin. “Watch what you’re doing!”
Sam grins and starts strapping. “The great Dean Winchester, taken down by a little girlie.”
“Fucking psycho mini-bitch.”
Sam snaps off the end of the tape, sits back. “Okay, I’m getting takeout. What d’you want?”
Dean figures ‘To take you to the vet and get you electronically tagged’ will probably get him a punch in the mouth.
8
Dean sits against the headboard, watching his little brother falling into a gentle sleep.
Usually when he sleeps, it’s not rest; it’s a replay of somebody else’s movie of the week. Sam sucks the guilt up; like he doesn’t have enough of his own already, has to take responsibility for that kid offing himself.
It hurts to see him like this; terrified, lost in the pain of visions he’s condemned to bear alone.
The gift of second sight - that’s a joke. It’s a fucking curse.
All Dean can do is stay awake and watch him, so that Sam can sleep.
9
Can’t not look at him.
He tries, focuses on individual injuries and not on the sight of his brother falling apart on the floor in front of him.
It doesn’t work, especially when he lifts Dean, and he’s fucking weightless, Jesus how much blood has he lost to be so light?
Gets him into the car, and Dad’s beside him, his leg all fucked up, and the things he said to Dean - Jesus, focus!
Start the car, gear, mirror, Dean in the back - broken like he never is-
Sam can’t stop looking; he never even sees the truck coming.