Blood on the Walls
John Winchester is an angry son of a bitch.
John Winchester was damn sure he was on the far side of crazy at this point.
He's on that precipice, that terrible place that most men fear. Not for themselves, no, but that they'll face someone in that place, living on that edge. Someone who's lost just enough to do whatever the fuck he has to, and still has enough left that he'll fight like a cornered dog to protect it.
He was on that precipice. It was like he couldn't tip over into madness, like that kind of safety was denied to the damned.
But he's got something. He and the boys're staying with Julie. Julie's a good woman, a good friend. She was Mary's best friend, in fact, and when the whole world treated him like he was crazy, well, she at least treated him decent. She put her money where her mouth was and let them stay with her. He didn't know if it was wise, but he's so damn tired and sometimes you just need a home, someplace lived in. You need something more than a motel room not just for the money's sake. Just because it's someplace you know you're welcome.
He was watching through his own eyes as 'he' walked away. And he knew what he'd be coming back to.
Maybe he just needed to feel like the boys were safe, that there was someone looking out for them other than him. They needed a woman in their lives now that Mary was gone, and while he wasn't thinking of leaning on Julie for longer than he needed to, she'd be a good influence. A good, steady influence for the boys because he knows he's flying apart at the seams in some ways, as he delves into all this craziness, all this darkness.
He's still got the message spelled out in her blood right there, in his memories. Fresh enough he can smell it.
It was a whole new world, a whole new place that he hadn't seen lurking under his white picket fence, slipping between the blades of the well-mowed grass, hiding in his son's nursery. This whole new, terrifying world that he's seeing on his own. That he's seeing alone. That he knows, without a doubt, without a question is after all he has left.
But they'd be there. He's all right. Because his boys will be there when he gets back, just fine.
So he's taking the fight to them. The demons, the darkness, those fuckers who'd looked at everything he'd made, everything he'd built, and'd decided to piss on it.
He's all right. The boys'll be all right. His boys will survive this night.
He wasn't ready, no, but he was no stranger to learning the hard way. He'd make sure he was ready soon enough; he'd put the blood, the sweat, and the tears into it because what the fuck else could he do?
Julie wouldn't.
No, he was a Marine. He was a fighter. More importantly, he was a father.
So why was he all right? WHY WAS HE ALL RIGHT? HE SHOULD CARE! HE KNEW HE SHOULD CARE!
Here I go he says to himself as they head out.
...fuck me. I was already damned.
John Winchester was damn sure he was on the far side of crazy at this point.
He's on that precipice, that terrible place that most men fear. Not for themselves, no, but that they'll face someone in that place, living on that edge. Someone who's lost just enough to do whatever the fuck he has to, and still has enough left that he'll fight like a cornered dog to protect it.
He was on that precipice. It was like he couldn't tip over into madness, like that kind of safety was denied to the damned.
But he's got something. He and the boys're staying with Julie. Julie's a good woman, a good friend. She was Mary's best friend, in fact, and when the whole world treated him like he was crazy, well, she at least treated him decent. She put her money where her mouth was and let them stay with her. He didn't know if it was wise, but he's so damn tired and sometimes you just need a home, someplace lived in. You need something more than a motel room not just for the money's sake. Just because it's someplace you know you're welcome.
He was watching through his own eyes as 'he' walked away. And he knew what he'd be coming back to.
Maybe he just needed to feel like the boys were safe, that there was someone looking out for them other than him. They needed a woman in their lives now that Mary was gone, and while he wasn't thinking of leaning on Julie for longer than he needed to, she'd be a good influence. A good, steady influence for the boys because he knows he's flying apart at the seams in some ways, as he delves into all this craziness, all this darkness.
He's still got the message spelled out in her blood right there, in his memories. Fresh enough he can smell it.
It was a whole new world, a whole new place that he hadn't seen lurking under his white picket fence, slipping between the blades of the well-mowed grass, hiding in his son's nursery. This whole new, terrifying world that he's seeing on his own. That he's seeing alone. That he knows, without a doubt, without a question is after all he has left.
But they'd be there. He's all right. Because his boys will be there when he gets back, just fine.
So he's taking the fight to them. The demons, the darkness, those fuckers who'd looked at everything he'd made, everything he'd built, and'd decided to piss on it.
He's all right. The boys'll be all right. His boys will survive this night.
He wasn't ready, no, but he was no stranger to learning the hard way. He'd make sure he was ready soon enough; he'd put the blood, the sweat, and the tears into it because what the fuck else could he do?
Julie wouldn't.
No, he was a Marine. He was a fighter. More importantly, he was a father.
So why was he all right? WHY WAS HE ALL RIGHT? HE SHOULD CARE! HE KNEW HE SHOULD CARE!
Here I go he says to himself as they head out.
...fuck me. I was already damned.