Fic: Guess That's Why They Call It Window Pane
Title: Guess That’s Why They Call It Window Pane
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Nick, Nick/Sarah
Summary: Not all monsters are evil, and not all prejudices are borne from the same place.
A/N: Getting close to the end of the schmoop_bingo ‘verse. This one was written for the “Kidfic - Vacation” prompt. The title is from Love The Way You Lie by Eminem.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the originals. And I never will.
Previous Chapters: You think this is cool? You should check out the Master Post.
“Remember a couple of weeks ago, when you asked if I would have taken you in if I’d known?”
Dean blinked in the dark, coming out of a light doze, and turned his gaze to Nick. “Huh?”
“You asked me, if I’d known about you and your brother, if we would have taken you in. If we would have raised you.”
“Yeah? So?”
Nick frowned, anchoring the younger man to the bed by wrapping an arm around his waist. “You don’t remember?”
“Remember what? What time is it?”
Nick sighed and pulled Dean closer. “I’m sorry.”
-.-
There was one basic rule in the hunting community: you didn’t bring monsters into the fold. There were some good ones out there, a nest of vamps that fed on cattle, a werewolf who locked himself up for one week every month, a ghost or two that were more of a help than a hindrance. But shapeshifters were crazy. Hunters didn’t tend to associate with them past the silver bullet in the heart.
People tended to avoid Nick’s regular table at Harvelle’s. He’d been popular once, a cocky kid with a decent face and a lineage that everyone respected. Then he’d met Sarah, and suddenly he was a loner. Billy still talked to him, even though his parents frowned on the interaction. Bill’s girlfriend gave them free drinks sometimes, talked to Sarah about girl things, joked that it might be nice to be able to change gender at will.
So it was a little surprising when the new guy approached them, hauling a toddler and infant behind him. Nick had heard whisperings about him, gotten a call or two from Missouri telling him to be on the lookout, to offer a hand when it was needed. The man’s name was John and he had lost his wife to something. Nobody had any answers or the guy, and Nick felt for him. That kind of grief and mystery could drive a man crazy.
“Can we help you?” he asked.
“Name’s John,” the man said. “This is Sam,” he nodded down at the infant, “and Dean,” the toddler. Nick smiled up at him, at how obviously new he was to the game, giving valuable information like that before he even really knew who he was talking to. “You Nick Campbell and Sarah Burke?”
“That we are,” Sarah replied, sending a bright smile to the little boy hiding behind John’s legs. “Any reason you want to know?”
“They said you were stable,” John said, eyeing Sarah nervously.
“We are,” she said. “I am.”
“I need someone to watch my kids,” he admitted. “Preferably someone who has all of their limbs and major organs.”
“Sounds like a pretty good description of us,” Nick said. “But you do know…”
“Billy told me,” John said. “Yeah. But he thinks you’re all right, and you’re the least-scary-looking people here, so…”
“Of course we’ll look after them,” Sarah said. “We’re squatting at an old apartment in town. Bring them by before you leave.” She jotted the address down on a napkin and slid it across the table to him. He took it and didn’t even flinch when his hand brushed hers. Nick counted it as a small victory.
-.-
Sarah had already put Sam to bed in the crib they’d bought for him the day John had dropped the kids off almost a week before, and it was Dean’s turn. She watched him brush his teeth, helped him into his pajamas, and tucked him in.
“Miss Burke?” a small, hoarse voice asked as she was leaving the room. Sarah stopped in her tracks. John had said the boy wasn’t talking, hadn’t spoken since the fire that had killed his mother. He’d been quiet all week.
“Yes, Dean?”
Tiny fingers curled in a fraying blanket as scared eyes glanced at anything in the room but the hunter. “Can you be my mom?”
Sarah smiled and approached the bed. “I know you must miss her. I miss my mom, too.”
“They said you were a monster,” he said, hands shaking a bit, as if he thought she would eat him for outting her. “They said you can be different people. Can you be my mom?” The little boy reached beneath the covers and pulled out a tattered picture with charred edges. He held it out toward her, suddenly meeting her eyes.
Sarah sighed, choked out something that could have been a laugh, and pushed the photo back toward the child. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said. “I don’t do that anymore. It’s wrong.”
“Please,” he said. “I just want my mom. Just for tonight.”
She sat down on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t be right, Dean. I’m not her. I could never be her. You understand that, right? It wouldn’t be the same.”
“But,” the little boy sniffled, “you smell like her.”
“I can’t.”
Dean frowned and shoved the photo back under the covers. He rolled over, angling himself away from her, struggling under the covers until their bodies were no longer touching. “I don’t like monsters,” he whispered.
Sarah felt a tear slip down her face as she stood and headed silently to the room she was sharing with her partner.
-.-
“She told me everything,” Nick said, making sure his grip on the younger hunter was firm and reassuring, hoping that Dean would understand. “And I’m glad I finally figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” Dean asked, voice too steady, too practiced, too contained.
“Your dad came back the next day to pick you guys up. He carried you out kicking and screaming. And we didn’t get it. That’s probably why I remember it, why I can go back and think about it and see it so clearly.”
“Because I was screaming?”
“Because of what you were screaming. That you were sorry. You didn’t mean it. You were so, so sorry, and we weren’t sure what you were talking about. Do you even remember that?”
He felt Dean shrug. “Maybe. Some of it. I remember ruining it. I remember a house with a yard and people who took care of us so I didn’t have to. I remember doing something wrong, but I forgot what it was. How old was I?”
“You were five.”
The hunter frowned. “I wasn’t talking. Not ‘til I was six.”
“You talked to Sarah.”
Dean started to squirm against his grip. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“She’s not a monster.”
Nick smiled. “I know. Kids say stupid things.”
Dean made a noise of acceptance. “So, would you?”
“Would I?”
The hunter squirmed a bit more, trying to get out of the older man’s grip. “Have taken us in? If I hadn’t been stupid? If you’d known?”
Nick nodded. “Of course. And nothing you say now or have ever said before would change that. We would have helped if we’d known.”
“Good.” Dean relaxed, rolling over to face him and smiling. “I love you.”
It was the first time he’d said it since Sam’s visit almost as month earlier. Nick relished the words, the feel of them being spoken against his skin. “I love you, too.”
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Nick, Nick/Sarah
Summary: Not all monsters are evil, and not all prejudices are borne from the same place.
A/N: Getting close to the end of the schmoop_bingo ‘verse. This one was written for the “Kidfic - Vacation” prompt. The title is from Love The Way You Lie by Eminem.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the originals. And I never will.
Previous Chapters: You think this is cool? You should check out the Master Post.
“Remember a couple of weeks ago, when you asked if I would have taken you in if I’d known?”
Dean blinked in the dark, coming out of a light doze, and turned his gaze to Nick. “Huh?”
“You asked me, if I’d known about you and your brother, if we would have taken you in. If we would have raised you.”
“Yeah? So?”
Nick frowned, anchoring the younger man to the bed by wrapping an arm around his waist. “You don’t remember?”
“Remember what? What time is it?”
Nick sighed and pulled Dean closer. “I’m sorry.”
-.-
There was one basic rule in the hunting community: you didn’t bring monsters into the fold. There were some good ones out there, a nest of vamps that fed on cattle, a werewolf who locked himself up for one week every month, a ghost or two that were more of a help than a hindrance. But shapeshifters were crazy. Hunters didn’t tend to associate with them past the silver bullet in the heart.
People tended to avoid Nick’s regular table at Harvelle’s. He’d been popular once, a cocky kid with a decent face and a lineage that everyone respected. Then he’d met Sarah, and suddenly he was a loner. Billy still talked to him, even though his parents frowned on the interaction. Bill’s girlfriend gave them free drinks sometimes, talked to Sarah about girl things, joked that it might be nice to be able to change gender at will.
So it was a little surprising when the new guy approached them, hauling a toddler and infant behind him. Nick had heard whisperings about him, gotten a call or two from Missouri telling him to be on the lookout, to offer a hand when it was needed. The man’s name was John and he had lost his wife to something. Nobody had any answers or the guy, and Nick felt for him. That kind of grief and mystery could drive a man crazy.
“Can we help you?” he asked.
“Name’s John,” the man said. “This is Sam,” he nodded down at the infant, “and Dean,” the toddler. Nick smiled up at him, at how obviously new he was to the game, giving valuable information like that before he even really knew who he was talking to. “You Nick Campbell and Sarah Burke?”
“That we are,” Sarah replied, sending a bright smile to the little boy hiding behind John’s legs. “Any reason you want to know?”
“They said you were stable,” John said, eyeing Sarah nervously.
“We are,” she said. “I am.”
“I need someone to watch my kids,” he admitted. “Preferably someone who has all of their limbs and major organs.”
“Sounds like a pretty good description of us,” Nick said. “But you do know…”
“Billy told me,” John said. “Yeah. But he thinks you’re all right, and you’re the least-scary-looking people here, so…”
“Of course we’ll look after them,” Sarah said. “We’re squatting at an old apartment in town. Bring them by before you leave.” She jotted the address down on a napkin and slid it across the table to him. He took it and didn’t even flinch when his hand brushed hers. Nick counted it as a small victory.
-.-
Sarah had already put Sam to bed in the crib they’d bought for him the day John had dropped the kids off almost a week before, and it was Dean’s turn. She watched him brush his teeth, helped him into his pajamas, and tucked him in.
“Miss Burke?” a small, hoarse voice asked as she was leaving the room. Sarah stopped in her tracks. John had said the boy wasn’t talking, hadn’t spoken since the fire that had killed his mother. He’d been quiet all week.
“Yes, Dean?”
Tiny fingers curled in a fraying blanket as scared eyes glanced at anything in the room but the hunter. “Can you be my mom?”
Sarah smiled and approached the bed. “I know you must miss her. I miss my mom, too.”
“They said you were a monster,” he said, hands shaking a bit, as if he thought she would eat him for outting her. “They said you can be different people. Can you be my mom?” The little boy reached beneath the covers and pulled out a tattered picture with charred edges. He held it out toward her, suddenly meeting her eyes.
Sarah sighed, choked out something that could have been a laugh, and pushed the photo back toward the child. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said. “I don’t do that anymore. It’s wrong.”
“Please,” he said. “I just want my mom. Just for tonight.”
She sat down on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t be right, Dean. I’m not her. I could never be her. You understand that, right? It wouldn’t be the same.”
“But,” the little boy sniffled, “you smell like her.”
“I can’t.”
Dean frowned and shoved the photo back under the covers. He rolled over, angling himself away from her, struggling under the covers until their bodies were no longer touching. “I don’t like monsters,” he whispered.
Sarah felt a tear slip down her face as she stood and headed silently to the room she was sharing with her partner.
-.-
“She told me everything,” Nick said, making sure his grip on the younger hunter was firm and reassuring, hoping that Dean would understand. “And I’m glad I finally figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” Dean asked, voice too steady, too practiced, too contained.
“Your dad came back the next day to pick you guys up. He carried you out kicking and screaming. And we didn’t get it. That’s probably why I remember it, why I can go back and think about it and see it so clearly.”
“Because I was screaming?”
“Because of what you were screaming. That you were sorry. You didn’t mean it. You were so, so sorry, and we weren’t sure what you were talking about. Do you even remember that?”
He felt Dean shrug. “Maybe. Some of it. I remember ruining it. I remember a house with a yard and people who took care of us so I didn’t have to. I remember doing something wrong, but I forgot what it was. How old was I?”
“You were five.”
The hunter frowned. “I wasn’t talking. Not ‘til I was six.”
“You talked to Sarah.”
Dean started to squirm against his grip. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“She’s not a monster.”
Nick smiled. “I know. Kids say stupid things.”
Dean made a noise of acceptance. “So, would you?”
“Would I?”
The hunter squirmed a bit more, trying to get out of the older man’s grip. “Have taken us in? If I hadn’t been stupid? If you’d known?”
Nick nodded. “Of course. And nothing you say now or have ever said before would change that. We would have helped if we’d known.”
“Good.” Dean relaxed, rolling over to face him and smiling. “I love you.”
It was the first time he’d said it since Sam’s visit almost as month earlier. Nick relished the words, the feel of them being spoken against his skin. “I love you, too.”