The Song That Was Forgotten
Title: The Song That Was Forgotten.
Author: Rednikjow.
Rating: Gen.
Characters: Dean, Sam and Mary Winchester.
Genre: Hurt.
Word count: 1165.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of the character, songs or anything else mentioned in this fic beside the fic itself.
Summary: Dean only has five cassette tapes in the Impala. He knows all the songs by heart, has played them more times than what might seem healthy. But there is one particular song that Dean Winchester has never played.
One couldn’t exactly describe Dean’s taste in music as varied. The Impala had a total of five cassette tapes in her glove box, the same five unchanging albums that had always been stuck in there. It wasn’t like Dean didn’t enjoy different music than Metallica, AC/DC and Creedence Clearwater Revival and it wasn’t like he wouldn’t occasionally let the radio decide what he and Sam would be listening to on many of the hour-long drives they had. But these songs, these five albums of utter goodness and musical brilliance, had evolved into what Dean Winchester described as the soundtrack of his life.
Back in Black always got his gears cranking and Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap had led to more than a handful of dirty deeds on the backseat, front seat and the hood of the Impala. Highway to Hell hadn’t quite been the same since his trip downstairs and For Whom the Bells Tolls had gotten an ominous tune to it during the years and more than often left the blonde Winchester edgy and more anxious than he should be. The five cassettes were filled with songs that had followed him since he was six years old, songs that had been playing in the back of his mind for what seemed like an eternity. He knew them by heart, knew every word and every tune played on the instrument, knew where the vocal would rise and fall and what tone it should be sung in. Who cared if neither he nor Sam could sing for their life? Because whenever Bang Your Head blasted through the Impala’s speakers they would sing off-key and loudly along to the well-known tune as if they didn’t have a care in the world. And that even though Sam would swear to his dying breath that he did not enjoy the brilliancy of Quiet Riot.
The tapes were arranged meticulously, even though Sam couldn’t understand how Dean could keep score of what was on the tape and why they had to be placed a certain way. Dean knew exactly what songs were on each tape, when they were there and what kind of mood he would have to be in to listen to said song. There were songs he didn’t listen to unless he was depressed, unless he needed to drown something out with a heavyset drum beat and aggressive guitar solo mixed with spitting lyrics that made your eardrums pound. Walk and Mouth for War would be pressed more than aggressively into the tape recorder then and Dean would rape the speakers to their maximum, leave the windows in the Impala rattling and his foot itching on the gas pedal. Other songs were played when Dean was in a good mood, usually in the company of Sam, and were usually accompanied by off-key singing and the occasional head-banging. T.N.T and Cat Scratch Fever always brought his good mood to a higher notch, and especially the last one brought a smile from his younger brother who constantly teased Dean for inspiring the writer of said tune. Damn Sam.
There were songs for every Dean imaginable, and he also had songs on those tapes exclusively for Sam. Back when they were younger Dean would play soft-rock tunes to his younger brother. Songs like Peace of Mind, Lodi and Over the Hills and Far Away would always knock his brother right out. Even on the coldest and darkest of nights where sleep seemed like a foreign concept to both of them. Even now they still made the much taller Sam Winchester nod off every now and again. These tunes were soothing to Dean, comforting him and letting him now that Sammy was right here with him still. That he was still Sam and no-one else.
But despite the fact that these five tapes were the soundtrack of Dean’s life, that they contained every single song that had ever meant something to him, there was one particular track that Dean hadn’t listened to for more than 24 years. This particular song was the first song he had ever heard. It was the song that had lulled him to sleep on countless nights, a song that he had never in fact heard the original recording of, because the version he heard could never do the original justice. It had never been accompanied by guitars, bass, drums or choir. There were only vocals, sung in a sweet and loving voice to him and him alone. It was his special song, a song that harnessed many wonderful but distant memories to him and a song that held nothing but positive vibes and feelings. The song told him of positive thinking, love and forgiveness. It was a happy song, a song that never failed to calm him down and put a smile on his face before he would doze off in the evening.
That song had been all that to Dean 24 years ago, but now it was the exact opposite. The mere reminder of the well-known lyrics made his gut clench uncomfortably and his heart accelerate like a mad racing horse. This song was the tune that had followed him through those first six years. Those first six years were Dean was a normal boy who was going to have a normal life ahead of him with soccer, school and friends to play with. A life without monsters, demons and angels had lain ahead of him - a life of blissful ignorance to what lured in the night and just what it could do. That song represented the life that never had and the life that he dared not remember, a life where he had a mother, who would sing him to sleep every night, and where Sam and him had the complete family and a real life ahead of them. But most importantly it represented his mother. It represented the woman who had meant the most to Dean, who had shaped him into the man he was today despite the short amount of time he got to spend with her. She wasn’t just John’s drive but Dean’s as well, he wanted to avenge his mother’s death and the fact that Sam never truly got to meet her. The song was her, she was that song and Dean couldn’t bear listening to it if it wasn’t sung in her voice. At least not now, not when the time wasn’t right.
Hey Jude was on the very back of the very last cassette tape in his collection. It had never been played in the Impala, and Dean knew it would linger there, hidden and unloved until the day where Sam and he would go out in a blaze of glory. That day he would put it on, listen to the song as it actually was and let the Impala drive him and Sam into certain death. But it would be okay for Mary would come to them, beckoned by the old familiar tune, and bring her boys home.
Author: Rednikjow.
Rating: Gen.
Characters: Dean, Sam and Mary Winchester.
Genre: Hurt.
Word count: 1165.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of the character, songs or anything else mentioned in this fic beside the fic itself.
Summary: Dean only has five cassette tapes in the Impala. He knows all the songs by heart, has played them more times than what might seem healthy. But there is one particular song that Dean Winchester has never played.
One couldn’t exactly describe Dean’s taste in music as varied. The Impala had a total of five cassette tapes in her glove box, the same five unchanging albums that had always been stuck in there. It wasn’t like Dean didn’t enjoy different music than Metallica, AC/DC and Creedence Clearwater Revival and it wasn’t like he wouldn’t occasionally let the radio decide what he and Sam would be listening to on many of the hour-long drives they had. But these songs, these five albums of utter goodness and musical brilliance, had evolved into what Dean Winchester described as the soundtrack of his life.
Back in Black always got his gears cranking and Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap had led to more than a handful of dirty deeds on the backseat, front seat and the hood of the Impala. Highway to Hell hadn’t quite been the same since his trip downstairs and For Whom the Bells Tolls had gotten an ominous tune to it during the years and more than often left the blonde Winchester edgy and more anxious than he should be. The five cassettes were filled with songs that had followed him since he was six years old, songs that had been playing in the back of his mind for what seemed like an eternity. He knew them by heart, knew every word and every tune played on the instrument, knew where the vocal would rise and fall and what tone it should be sung in. Who cared if neither he nor Sam could sing for their life? Because whenever Bang Your Head blasted through the Impala’s speakers they would sing off-key and loudly along to the well-known tune as if they didn’t have a care in the world. And that even though Sam would swear to his dying breath that he did not enjoy the brilliancy of Quiet Riot.
The tapes were arranged meticulously, even though Sam couldn’t understand how Dean could keep score of what was on the tape and why they had to be placed a certain way. Dean knew exactly what songs were on each tape, when they were there and what kind of mood he would have to be in to listen to said song. There were songs he didn’t listen to unless he was depressed, unless he needed to drown something out with a heavyset drum beat and aggressive guitar solo mixed with spitting lyrics that made your eardrums pound. Walk and Mouth for War would be pressed more than aggressively into the tape recorder then and Dean would rape the speakers to their maximum, leave the windows in the Impala rattling and his foot itching on the gas pedal. Other songs were played when Dean was in a good mood, usually in the company of Sam, and were usually accompanied by off-key singing and the occasional head-banging. T.N.T and Cat Scratch Fever always brought his good mood to a higher notch, and especially the last one brought a smile from his younger brother who constantly teased Dean for inspiring the writer of said tune. Damn Sam.
There were songs for every Dean imaginable, and he also had songs on those tapes exclusively for Sam. Back when they were younger Dean would play soft-rock tunes to his younger brother. Songs like Peace of Mind, Lodi and Over the Hills and Far Away would always knock his brother right out. Even on the coldest and darkest of nights where sleep seemed like a foreign concept to both of them. Even now they still made the much taller Sam Winchester nod off every now and again. These tunes were soothing to Dean, comforting him and letting him now that Sammy was right here with him still. That he was still Sam and no-one else.
But despite the fact that these five tapes were the soundtrack of Dean’s life, that they contained every single song that had ever meant something to him, there was one particular track that Dean hadn’t listened to for more than 24 years. This particular song was the first song he had ever heard. It was the song that had lulled him to sleep on countless nights, a song that he had never in fact heard the original recording of, because the version he heard could never do the original justice. It had never been accompanied by guitars, bass, drums or choir. There were only vocals, sung in a sweet and loving voice to him and him alone. It was his special song, a song that harnessed many wonderful but distant memories to him and a song that held nothing but positive vibes and feelings. The song told him of positive thinking, love and forgiveness. It was a happy song, a song that never failed to calm him down and put a smile on his face before he would doze off in the evening.
That song had been all that to Dean 24 years ago, but now it was the exact opposite. The mere reminder of the well-known lyrics made his gut clench uncomfortably and his heart accelerate like a mad racing horse. This song was the tune that had followed him through those first six years. Those first six years were Dean was a normal boy who was going to have a normal life ahead of him with soccer, school and friends to play with. A life without monsters, demons and angels had lain ahead of him - a life of blissful ignorance to what lured in the night and just what it could do. That song represented the life that never had and the life that he dared not remember, a life where he had a mother, who would sing him to sleep every night, and where Sam and him had the complete family and a real life ahead of them. But most importantly it represented his mother. It represented the woman who had meant the most to Dean, who had shaped him into the man he was today despite the short amount of time he got to spend with her. She wasn’t just John’s drive but Dean’s as well, he wanted to avenge his mother’s death and the fact that Sam never truly got to meet her. The song was her, she was that song and Dean couldn’t bear listening to it if it wasn’t sung in her voice. At least not now, not when the time wasn’t right.
Hey Jude was on the very back of the very last cassette tape in his collection. It had never been played in the Impala, and Dean knew it would linger there, hidden and unloved until the day where Sam and he would go out in a blaze of glory. That day he would put it on, listen to the song as it actually was and let the Impala drive him and Sam into certain death. But it would be okay for Mary would come to them, beckoned by the old familiar tune, and bring her boys home.