Filled: Truth From Liesqueeneve_84April 13 2011, 04:27:17 UTC
"My heart is torn, just in knowing, you'll someday see the truth from lies." - Plumb, In my Arms.
The sound woke him, the soft light from the bathroom brought him out of sleep. As carefully as he could, Dean pulled his arm out from under his brother’s neck. Sammy shuddered and sighed, but stayed asleep. He stumbled into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
She was there, perched on the closed toilet lid, sewing a bloody gash in her leg shut with a length of black thread. It used to bother him, the first time he saw her bleeding, he nearly fainted. But she was strong; the pain didn’t seem to bother her much.
“Mommy?”
Her wince melted into a smile when she saw him. “Dean, baby, go back to sleep.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.” He lied, “Sammy had a nightmare. He thought there was a monster under the bed.”
“There isn’t, I checked.”
Dean shook his head. “I didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t sleep, he cried and cried.”
“You did fine, you took care of him. You’re such a good brother.”
She went back to closing the wound, as casually as if she were mending a pair of pants.
“Mommy, why do you have to go?”
She sighed. “You know why.”
Dean shrank back. “Because there are monsters.”
“That’s right.”
“But I don’t want you to fight, I want to go home-“
“We can’t go home.” Her face was stern, the same as that night one year ago, when she placed Sammy in his arms.
“Dean.” Her voice was painfully soft. “You know why we have to do what we do. There are monsters; they’ll hurt people if we don’t stop them. I do it to protect you, and Sammy too.” She looked over Dean’s head at were the toddler lay sleeping, ignorant of it all.
He inched closer. “And to find the thing that hurt Daddy?”
She sighed again. “yes.”
He thought of her again, their last night in the house. Her face was like stone. Take care of Sammy, she had said, and it felt like goodbye. Then she went back into the flames. “I don’t want you to die, Mommy.” He said softly.
“Dean,” she repeated. She reached for his cheek, but stopped just short of touching him. He could smell the blood that soaked her fingers. “I can’t promise that. But I will do everything I can to stay with you, okay? But for right now, we’re safe, and we’re together.”
He threw himself against her side and cried. He hadn’t cried since the fire, hadn’t allowed himself. His brother needed him, his mother needed a brave little solider. But now he just a little boy who needed his mother. They stayed like that, and after awhile he felt heard her crying too. “I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry.” She whispered.
He felt her hands go around him, touching his hair, his arms, and finally rubbing small circles on his back. He didn’t care if the blood stained his pajamas, in fact, he wanted it to. He wanted the mark, the memory of a mother who once held him close.
- Plumb, In my Arms.
The sound woke him, the soft light from the bathroom brought him out of sleep. As carefully as he could, Dean pulled his arm out from under his brother’s neck. Sammy shuddered and sighed, but stayed asleep. He stumbled into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
She was there, perched on the closed toilet lid, sewing a bloody gash in her leg shut with a length of black thread. It used to bother him, the first time he saw her bleeding, he nearly fainted. But she was strong; the pain didn’t seem to bother her much.
“Mommy?”
Her wince melted into a smile when she saw him. “Dean, baby, go back to sleep.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.” He lied, “Sammy had a nightmare. He thought there was a monster under the bed.”
“There isn’t, I checked.”
Dean shook his head. “I didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t sleep, he cried and cried.”
“You did fine, you took care of him. You’re such a good brother.”
She went back to closing the wound, as casually as if she were mending a pair of pants.
“Mommy, why do you have to go?”
She sighed. “You know why.”
Dean shrank back. “Because there are monsters.”
“That’s right.”
“But I don’t want you to fight, I want to go home-“
“We can’t go home.” Her face was stern, the same as that night one year ago, when she placed Sammy in his arms.
“Dean.” Her voice was painfully soft. “You know why we have to do what we do. There are monsters; they’ll hurt people if we don’t stop them. I do it to protect you, and Sammy too.” She looked over Dean’s head at were the toddler lay sleeping, ignorant of it all.
He inched closer. “And to find the thing that hurt Daddy?”
She sighed again. “yes.”
He thought of her again, their last night in the house. Her face was like stone. Take care of Sammy, she had said, and it felt like goodbye. Then she went back into the flames. “I don’t want you to die, Mommy.” He said softly.
“Dean,” she repeated. She reached for his cheek, but stopped just short of touching him. He could smell the blood that soaked her fingers. “I can’t promise that. But I will do everything I can to stay with you, okay? But for right now, we’re safe, and we’re together.”
He threw himself against her side and cried. He hadn’t cried since the fire, hadn’t allowed himself. His brother needed him, his mother needed a brave little solider. But now he just a little boy who needed his mother. They stayed like that, and after awhile he felt heard her crying too. “I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry.” She whispered.
He felt her hands go around him, touching his hair, his arms, and finally rubbing small circles on his back. He didn’t care if the blood stained his pajamas, in fact, he wanted it to. He wanted the mark, the memory of a mother who once held him close.
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