Revelation AU: Feel This Damn Old
Title: Feel This Damn Old
AU: Weird West aka Revelation
Rating: PG
Pairings: John/Pam
Author’s Note: Well, I just started writing and got this. I’ve been secretly obsessed with the idea of Adam as John and Pam’s son in the AU since I first wrote John/Pam. This is a lot more John centric than ship centric but it felt good to write and establish yet more history for this AU. As well as a lot of future stuff too. It kinda spans a lot of time.
---
All my cards are on the table with no ace left in the hole
I'm much too young to feel this damn old
~Garth Brooks, “Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old”
---
No one can dispel a curse. When magic with ill intent is released into the world, it first goes to its intended target and then floats on to find another victim, then another and another. Revelation made curses into living things, like spirits or ghosts. No one knows why blessings don’t travel the same way. It was curse originally intended to kill a banker in Lubbock that ended up ruining the life of a simple rancher in Lawrence Kansas.
John Winchester was a simple man, just like every other soul in Lawrence. He had a beautiful wife, one energetic son who was proving to have magic of his own and a brand new baby boy who the town had cooed over a few days before when Mary had shown him off. He had just quit the big ranch where he had worked for most of his life because the Army liked his mustang-thoroughbred crosses and wanted them for the western forts. When the money came in, John had plans to build an addition onto their little home. They were going to make it, out in the west, they were going to make it but the Yellow Eyes Curse came in first.
It took over the body of the grocer, a freed Negro named Rufus. He wasn’t an unfamiliar sight on the Winchester ranch as he had often delivered their orders while Mary had been pregnant with Sam and John paid no mind when he came strolling up at dusk, a sack of grain tossed over a shoulder. The order was earlier than expected, but it was foaling season soon and he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Mary offered to show Rufus where to put it since John had his arms full of Sam, giggling and thumping his fists against John’s chest. They argued a little, but like always Mary had looked at him and he’d given in. He was a fool for his wife. With her victory in hand, Mary led the way to the barn without John caring a bit and then the wind shifted.
Bobby lifted his head from playing with Dean and sniffed, then he roared. John!
He didn’t know what his spirit guide was reacting to, but he knew it was bad. Bobby never overreacted to anything. He rushed over to Dean and shoved Sam in his arms. “You look after your brother, you hear me?”
Dean nodded and John took off towards the barn with Bobby thundering ahead of him, hundreds of pounds of angry, magical grizzly. The horses were screaming, the ones he left outside kicking up dust and thundering around in their paddocks. The ones in the barn were the loudest, kicking at their stalls and creating a God awful racket. John could see Rufus standing in the center, looking up. He couldn’t see Mary.
Bobby roared again and charged. John caught a glimpse of yellow eyes when the grizzly took Rufus down. When savagely shook his prey, a billowing cloud of black smoke raced from the man’s mouth and shot out the open door of the barn.
“Where’s Mary?” he yelled. “Mary!”
The first drops of Mary’s blood sparked the fire. He rushed in as the hay caught, looking up to see his wife pinned to the roof of the barn, stomach cut wide open, eyes wide and horrified.
“John,” she mouthed and then her innards tumbled down to the floor and the fire spread. He was forced back, forced out by Bobby and the flames. He screamed himself hoarse that night, Bobby holding him back as his wife, his horses and his life burned down.
---
A little more than twenty years later, John Winchester drove the Mystic’s knife through the throat of a man with bright yellow eyes. They sparked, turned black and then returned to normal. No billowing cloud of smoke escaped the gaping mouth, the body just fell to the ground and laid there looking very much human.
He stepped back and stared, waiting, just waiting for the body to twitch and the smoke to rise. You couldn’t dispel a curse, but you could kill one. He licked his lips, tasting blood from the fight and waited until the sun rose. Bobby sat a silent vigil with him all night, watching the body with the same intensity.
It’s over, the grizzly said when the sun touched them.
The knife slipped from John’s hand and he dropped to his knees. He’d done it. Years and years of riding the trails, chasing signs and failed attempts he had finally killed the curse that killed his wife. There was no sense of relief, no weight lifted from his shoulders. His grief didn’t ease one little bit. There was no comfort. Mary was still dead and he had nothing to his name except a horse and a saddle.
We need to burn the body. Bobby nudged his shoulder with his broad, flat head. Come on, son, we gotta head home.
He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and hauled himself back to his feet. If there was one thing he knew how to do it was to keep going. He got matches and sacred oil from his saddle bags, doused the body and lit it up. He swung into the saddle and stared at the flames while his stocky mustang shifted nervously underneath him.
“Hope you rest easy now, Mary,” John whispered.
He kicked his spurs in and wheeled his horse around. The gelding snorted in annoying, tossed his head a few times but took off. He rode as hard as he could to get away from the flames.
---
It took him a month to get from northern California to Lawrence. It was the only place he knew where he might be able to find Dean. He didn’t know if Sam was still with the Mystics or not, but his eldest would know. Dean always looked after his brother. The town had changed some since he was last there, growing because of the rail line that came through on its way to Texas for cattle. The crowds parted somewhat for him and his spirit guide, but most people paid him no mind. John Winchester wasn’t an important man in Lawrence anymore.
The Roadhouse was now a boarding house as well as a saloon with a stable of its own. John left his horse tied up outside. If Ellen knew where his son was, he wasn’t going to be staying long. He walked in, scanning the place for friendly or hostile faces but when something bumped into his legs he looked down.
A young boy, maybe not more than five or so, stared back with a curious and somewhat annoyed look on his face.
“Watch where you’re going!” he huffed, glaring at him like Dean used to when he was young. The expressions were so similar it was uncanny.
“My apologies little fella,” he said, getting ready to step back.
“Adam! I told you, no playing inside. You go out back for that.”
His head jerked up in surprise and he stared as a pair of pale white eyes stared back at him. Pamela Barnes was in Lawrence.
“Joanna, why don’t you take the troublemaker outside?” Ellen’s voice broke through the stunned silence. “Pam, you can use the office to talk.”
There was something going on, an undercurrent to the conversation that John sensed but couldn’t quite make sense of. He watched Joanna sweep in, looking much older than he remembered and pick up the boy at his feet.
“Good to see you Mr. Winchester,” she said before stepping around him. The young boy stuck his tongue out at him over Joanna’s shoulder. He looked down again when something brushed his duster and was even more surprised to see a silvery coyote pup trail after them.
Oh, you idjit.
“Come on, John. I’ll bring a whiskey back for you.” Ellen put a hand on his arm and led him through the crowd and the kitchen to a small office in the back. Bobby had to wait in the kitchen as there wasn’t enough room for him inside. When Ellen closed the door he was left alone with Pamela, who put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“And just where the hell have you been? You rode out of the Black Hills without sayin’ a word to me or your son!”
He had never heard Pamela swear before, it shocked him for a second before she narrowed her eyes.
“Well?”
“The Mystic Missouri told me to go,” he said, drawing the knife he’d gotten from her out of his belt. “She put this in my hand and said I was to ride west. You don’t tell a Mystic no.”
No one argued with the Mystics, not even Angels. They were living, breathing magic. They were a force, stronger than earthquakes, steady like the oldest rivers and more dangerous than a brush fire. When he had stood face to face with one John had actually felt just how insignificant and foolish he was.
“You could’ve written.”
“Doesn’t seem like you would’ve gotten my letter anyway.” He slid the knife back and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doin’ in Lawrence?”
“I wasn’t raising your son on my own.”
His arms dropped and he felt the world tilt underneath his feet.
“That’s right, John Winchester, that boy out there Adam is your son.”
He had slept with Pamela once, the night before the show down with the last remaining sect of Blood Mages. They had taken Sam to free Lucifer’s Key from him. They had both recognized what they were about to do was most likely suicide and taken a night of comfort in each other’s arms. There were some lonely nights over the years since then that the memory of that night eased.
“Pamela…”
“Don’t apologize. If the Mystics sent you away, they had a reason and I can’t really argue with a Mystic.” Pamela sat down in a chair and let out a breath. “Explains why even when I searched for Bobby I couldn’t find him.”
“You searched for us?”
“Of course I did. Did you think this was how I wanted you to find out about our son?”
“Hell,” he sighed heavily and closed his eyes.
His plans for riding off had just vanished. He had never been the greatest father after Mary’s death, always searching for the latest sign of the Yellow Eyes Curse, dragging his boy across the vast west hunting anything they came across. They had rarely settled for longer than a few months, especially after Sam was old enough to spend all day in the saddle and then he’d just ridden away one day and told them they were grown men, capable of taking care of themselves.
Revenge had driven him and driven away everything left of his family.
“My boys know?”
“Dean suspects something. He and his Angel ride through now and again but they never stay long. Seems he’s inherited your restless spirit. He ain’t asked about it yet. Sam… well Sam’s something else now. He knows but he don’t say anything.”
“The Mystics let him go?”
Pamela shrugged. “Like Dean he just shows up in town sometimes and then he’s gone again. He doesn’t talk about what he’s doing, what happened to him or anything, but looking at him… John it’s like looking into new magic.”
Now he felt like sitting. He grabbed the desk to keep himself steady. The Yellow Eyes Curse was dead, a woman who stirred feelings in him had his child, and both his sons were getting on fine without him. John felt like Revelation was happening all over again.
“You gonna tell him who I am?” He looked over at Pamela, expression closed off.
“He knows his father is out hunting bad things. He doesn’t think too highly of you though, no matter what I tell him.” She smiled with loving affection. “He’s got his own mind, Adam.”
John curled a hand into a fist and then straightened up. “Ellen know if anyone bought the old ranch?”
“I don’t think so. People around here say Winchester land is cursed. Someone tried to make a living out there, but strange things went on and they packed up. No one’s tried since.”
“Guess I’ve got one last job before fixin’ the place up.”
Pamela blinked at him. “You’re staying?”
“The Curse is dead.” He let out a long breath. “Don’t got a reason to ride anymore. Figure if you let me, I’ll try and get to know my son and my town again.”
She swallowed. “I can’t order you to go, John.”
“Could. I never could refuse a beautiful woman.”
“Oh, John.” Pamela was on her feet and hugging him before he fully knew what was going on. To his surprise a little of the grief eased and a little of the weight was lifted. He held her gently and remembered there were other things to life than revenge.
AU: Weird West aka Revelation
Rating: PG
Pairings: John/Pam
Author’s Note: Well, I just started writing and got this. I’ve been secretly obsessed with the idea of Adam as John and Pam’s son in the AU since I first wrote John/Pam. This is a lot more John centric than ship centric but it felt good to write and establish yet more history for this AU. As well as a lot of future stuff too. It kinda spans a lot of time.
---
All my cards are on the table with no ace left in the hole
I'm much too young to feel this damn old
~Garth Brooks, “Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old”
---
No one can dispel a curse. When magic with ill intent is released into the world, it first goes to its intended target and then floats on to find another victim, then another and another. Revelation made curses into living things, like spirits or ghosts. No one knows why blessings don’t travel the same way. It was curse originally intended to kill a banker in Lubbock that ended up ruining the life of a simple rancher in Lawrence Kansas.
John Winchester was a simple man, just like every other soul in Lawrence. He had a beautiful wife, one energetic son who was proving to have magic of his own and a brand new baby boy who the town had cooed over a few days before when Mary had shown him off. He had just quit the big ranch where he had worked for most of his life because the Army liked his mustang-thoroughbred crosses and wanted them for the western forts. When the money came in, John had plans to build an addition onto their little home. They were going to make it, out in the west, they were going to make it but the Yellow Eyes Curse came in first.
It took over the body of the grocer, a freed Negro named Rufus. He wasn’t an unfamiliar sight on the Winchester ranch as he had often delivered their orders while Mary had been pregnant with Sam and John paid no mind when he came strolling up at dusk, a sack of grain tossed over a shoulder. The order was earlier than expected, but it was foaling season soon and he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Mary offered to show Rufus where to put it since John had his arms full of Sam, giggling and thumping his fists against John’s chest. They argued a little, but like always Mary had looked at him and he’d given in. He was a fool for his wife. With her victory in hand, Mary led the way to the barn without John caring a bit and then the wind shifted.
Bobby lifted his head from playing with Dean and sniffed, then he roared. John!
He didn’t know what his spirit guide was reacting to, but he knew it was bad. Bobby never overreacted to anything. He rushed over to Dean and shoved Sam in his arms. “You look after your brother, you hear me?”
Dean nodded and John took off towards the barn with Bobby thundering ahead of him, hundreds of pounds of angry, magical grizzly. The horses were screaming, the ones he left outside kicking up dust and thundering around in their paddocks. The ones in the barn were the loudest, kicking at their stalls and creating a God awful racket. John could see Rufus standing in the center, looking up. He couldn’t see Mary.
Bobby roared again and charged. John caught a glimpse of yellow eyes when the grizzly took Rufus down. When savagely shook his prey, a billowing cloud of black smoke raced from the man’s mouth and shot out the open door of the barn.
“Where’s Mary?” he yelled. “Mary!”
The first drops of Mary’s blood sparked the fire. He rushed in as the hay caught, looking up to see his wife pinned to the roof of the barn, stomach cut wide open, eyes wide and horrified.
“John,” she mouthed and then her innards tumbled down to the floor and the fire spread. He was forced back, forced out by Bobby and the flames. He screamed himself hoarse that night, Bobby holding him back as his wife, his horses and his life burned down.
---
A little more than twenty years later, John Winchester drove the Mystic’s knife through the throat of a man with bright yellow eyes. They sparked, turned black and then returned to normal. No billowing cloud of smoke escaped the gaping mouth, the body just fell to the ground and laid there looking very much human.
He stepped back and stared, waiting, just waiting for the body to twitch and the smoke to rise. You couldn’t dispel a curse, but you could kill one. He licked his lips, tasting blood from the fight and waited until the sun rose. Bobby sat a silent vigil with him all night, watching the body with the same intensity.
It’s over, the grizzly said when the sun touched them.
The knife slipped from John’s hand and he dropped to his knees. He’d done it. Years and years of riding the trails, chasing signs and failed attempts he had finally killed the curse that killed his wife. There was no sense of relief, no weight lifted from his shoulders. His grief didn’t ease one little bit. There was no comfort. Mary was still dead and he had nothing to his name except a horse and a saddle.
We need to burn the body. Bobby nudged his shoulder with his broad, flat head. Come on, son, we gotta head home.
He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and hauled himself back to his feet. If there was one thing he knew how to do it was to keep going. He got matches and sacred oil from his saddle bags, doused the body and lit it up. He swung into the saddle and stared at the flames while his stocky mustang shifted nervously underneath him.
“Hope you rest easy now, Mary,” John whispered.
He kicked his spurs in and wheeled his horse around. The gelding snorted in annoying, tossed his head a few times but took off. He rode as hard as he could to get away from the flames.
---
It took him a month to get from northern California to Lawrence. It was the only place he knew where he might be able to find Dean. He didn’t know if Sam was still with the Mystics or not, but his eldest would know. Dean always looked after his brother. The town had changed some since he was last there, growing because of the rail line that came through on its way to Texas for cattle. The crowds parted somewhat for him and his spirit guide, but most people paid him no mind. John Winchester wasn’t an important man in Lawrence anymore.
The Roadhouse was now a boarding house as well as a saloon with a stable of its own. John left his horse tied up outside. If Ellen knew where his son was, he wasn’t going to be staying long. He walked in, scanning the place for friendly or hostile faces but when something bumped into his legs he looked down.
A young boy, maybe not more than five or so, stared back with a curious and somewhat annoyed look on his face.
“Watch where you’re going!” he huffed, glaring at him like Dean used to when he was young. The expressions were so similar it was uncanny.
“My apologies little fella,” he said, getting ready to step back.
“Adam! I told you, no playing inside. You go out back for that.”
His head jerked up in surprise and he stared as a pair of pale white eyes stared back at him. Pamela Barnes was in Lawrence.
“Joanna, why don’t you take the troublemaker outside?” Ellen’s voice broke through the stunned silence. “Pam, you can use the office to talk.”
There was something going on, an undercurrent to the conversation that John sensed but couldn’t quite make sense of. He watched Joanna sweep in, looking much older than he remembered and pick up the boy at his feet.
“Good to see you Mr. Winchester,” she said before stepping around him. The young boy stuck his tongue out at him over Joanna’s shoulder. He looked down again when something brushed his duster and was even more surprised to see a silvery coyote pup trail after them.
Oh, you idjit.
“Come on, John. I’ll bring a whiskey back for you.” Ellen put a hand on his arm and led him through the crowd and the kitchen to a small office in the back. Bobby had to wait in the kitchen as there wasn’t enough room for him inside. When Ellen closed the door he was left alone with Pamela, who put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“And just where the hell have you been? You rode out of the Black Hills without sayin’ a word to me or your son!”
He had never heard Pamela swear before, it shocked him for a second before she narrowed her eyes.
“Well?”
“The Mystic Missouri told me to go,” he said, drawing the knife he’d gotten from her out of his belt. “She put this in my hand and said I was to ride west. You don’t tell a Mystic no.”
No one argued with the Mystics, not even Angels. They were living, breathing magic. They were a force, stronger than earthquakes, steady like the oldest rivers and more dangerous than a brush fire. When he had stood face to face with one John had actually felt just how insignificant and foolish he was.
“You could’ve written.”
“Doesn’t seem like you would’ve gotten my letter anyway.” He slid the knife back and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doin’ in Lawrence?”
“I wasn’t raising your son on my own.”
His arms dropped and he felt the world tilt underneath his feet.
“That’s right, John Winchester, that boy out there Adam is your son.”
He had slept with Pamela once, the night before the show down with the last remaining sect of Blood Mages. They had taken Sam to free Lucifer’s Key from him. They had both recognized what they were about to do was most likely suicide and taken a night of comfort in each other’s arms. There were some lonely nights over the years since then that the memory of that night eased.
“Pamela…”
“Don’t apologize. If the Mystics sent you away, they had a reason and I can’t really argue with a Mystic.” Pamela sat down in a chair and let out a breath. “Explains why even when I searched for Bobby I couldn’t find him.”
“You searched for us?”
“Of course I did. Did you think this was how I wanted you to find out about our son?”
“Hell,” he sighed heavily and closed his eyes.
His plans for riding off had just vanished. He had never been the greatest father after Mary’s death, always searching for the latest sign of the Yellow Eyes Curse, dragging his boy across the vast west hunting anything they came across. They had rarely settled for longer than a few months, especially after Sam was old enough to spend all day in the saddle and then he’d just ridden away one day and told them they were grown men, capable of taking care of themselves.
Revenge had driven him and driven away everything left of his family.
“My boys know?”
“Dean suspects something. He and his Angel ride through now and again but they never stay long. Seems he’s inherited your restless spirit. He ain’t asked about it yet. Sam… well Sam’s something else now. He knows but he don’t say anything.”
“The Mystics let him go?”
Pamela shrugged. “Like Dean he just shows up in town sometimes and then he’s gone again. He doesn’t talk about what he’s doing, what happened to him or anything, but looking at him… John it’s like looking into new magic.”
Now he felt like sitting. He grabbed the desk to keep himself steady. The Yellow Eyes Curse was dead, a woman who stirred feelings in him had his child, and both his sons were getting on fine without him. John felt like Revelation was happening all over again.
“You gonna tell him who I am?” He looked over at Pamela, expression closed off.
“He knows his father is out hunting bad things. He doesn’t think too highly of you though, no matter what I tell him.” She smiled with loving affection. “He’s got his own mind, Adam.”
John curled a hand into a fist and then straightened up. “Ellen know if anyone bought the old ranch?”
“I don’t think so. People around here say Winchester land is cursed. Someone tried to make a living out there, but strange things went on and they packed up. No one’s tried since.”
“Guess I’ve got one last job before fixin’ the place up.”
Pamela blinked at him. “You’re staying?”
“The Curse is dead.” He let out a long breath. “Don’t got a reason to ride anymore. Figure if you let me, I’ll try and get to know my son and my town again.”
She swallowed. “I can’t order you to go, John.”
“Could. I never could refuse a beautiful woman.”
“Oh, John.” Pamela was on her feet and hugging him before he fully knew what was going on. To his surprise a little of the grief eased and a little of the weight was lifted. He held her gently and remembered there were other things to life than revenge.