One-Shot: Constant: SPN
Title: Constant
Author: patriciatepes
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: John's Journal, with mentions of Henry Winchester, John Winchester, and Sam and Dean
Length: ~520
Rating: G
Spoilers: Light spoilers for the Winchester's general family history
Warnings: None, really
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or any related characters. Images were found both in a google search and on the Supernatural Wiki. Texture is a texture not by iPeace-zxc (I don't know, that's just what the description says for this texture).
A/N: Written for spnspiration bingo square, Inanimate Object POV. This may read as a bit repetitive, but that was a conscious decision. I hope everyone enjoys!
Summary: I have always been there for them, even when my owner hasn't. And so I will continue to be.
I think I am a comfort, above all. A security blanket that could never warm my owners, unless I was destroyed, of course. But I have never feared such destruction. I am well used, and well kept. I am loved as a memento for two generations. Perhaps I should say three generations, though the first owner never got to hold my leathery bindings in their original, pristine condition. His marks are still with me, though. The H. W. embossed on my inside cover serves as an eternal reminder of what was and what could be.
I am a Winchester, every bit as much as the men who have owned me. I have been hugged tightly to chests that heaved with sobs of the deepest sorrow, and leafed through with great fervor as hope always seemed to fill my pages. I was bought for the grandfather, filled by the son, and cherished by the grandsons. I have answered many questions, and posed a great many more. And once, just once, I was a breadcrumb, leading the grandsons on a trail left by their father.
I am important. A great statement that sadly few get to make, but I am just that. I am important. I will never be left behind (never again). I am forever here to remind, to comfort, to be there for the grandsons who have lost-and continue to lose. I have grown old over these great many years, but I remain. The eldest, the one named Dean, especially keeps me near. And the youngest, Sam, visits me often, even though the resources in their family business have grown in leaps and bounds.
I am the ghost of their father, of their grandfather, and I serve to remind them of the men they are and of the men they should be. And even of the men they will never be. I am both the best and the worst of them all. I am all that remains of two fathers who have vanished.
But I am complete. There is no more room to add any more to my pages. I am a relic, something to be shelved, left to gather dust and yellowed age. But I am well used, well kept, and my place is not on a shelf, but with Sam and Dean, who still carry me along despite my uses growing fewer and fewer as their world grows larger and larger. I am constant. I am theirs. I am their father's memories, written not in stone but in ink. I am personal and close and bits of the spirit of the men long passed live on in the scribbles of notes and entries between my covers. The words within me are true comfort for nights and days spent with hope growing thin. I am the love they need to be reminded of, because they know that is all I am now.
I am the proof of their father's love… because he left me behind in a motel room in Jericho, California. Because of this small but great act, I know I will never be left behind again.
I am constant.