(no subject)
Title: In a Way a Winchester is Wont to Do
Author: ssstevie
Genre: Angst
Characters: Winchester men
Rating: PG
--
John drops into his familiar stance--hiding and waiting until the thing attacks him first. He rolls his wrist down and to the left and then swings his knife in a smooth arc. He shouldn’t twirl a knife. He knows better, but feeling the weight of it in his hand as he rocks it back and forth, readying the blade makes him feel better. He twists it around once more so his elbow is bent at the perfect angle, and the length of the blade is ready for impact.
And he waits.
Dean drops his fork in favor of his spoon. Can’t eat ice cream with a fork. While he waits, he runs the cold silver through his fingers and over his knuckles. He swings the spoon between his thumb and forefinger like a pendulum and then flicks it back over his hand to land between his fingers again. He turns the spoon around and around watching it glint off the hard light in the diner.
Where is his ice cream?
Sam flips his pen over his thumb once, twice. He writes down two words and weaves the stolen pen back through his fingers-over and under. He taps it against the side of his notebook as he waits. He doesn’t have a single reason to be waiting there, and yet he is, twirling a pen end over end across his thumb and middle finger. He sets it spinning on the flat of his hand.
Waiting is the easy part.
-
John knew. In the front of his mind, he always knew. Not since Mary had he ever thought he’d die normally, old and frail, telling those stories to the youngsters of his glory days. Before he said the last words of his ritual, he closed his eyes and ignored the aches in his body. He brought up that one perfect memory nothing could ever take from him--watching his oldest son gather up his new baby brother while his wife and the only woman he’d ever loved that deeply asked him to make her the best spaghetti ever. He just stood in the doorway for long, giddy minutes admiring the family he’d made. The family he’d now do anything to protect.
He lit the match and watched the sparks come to life.
They’d forgive him one day.
Dean realized the magnitude of what he’d done the minute she clamped her dirty mouth on his. He couldn’t go back now, not that he wanted to. The best person he’d ever met was not going to be dead, not when he could do something about it. This might not be the only way, but it was the way he knew. He wouldn’t let anyone tell him that it wasn’t worth it. His only family left was lying on a table damning Dean with his silence more than this bitch ever would with her deals. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have as long as other people. Nothing mattered but having his family back. If that made him stupid, if it made him the biggest jackass in the world, he didn’t care. He didn’t want the last time he held his brother to be while he was bleeding to death in a road. Maybe his brother would realize one day that Dean knew he wasn’t worthless, just doing his job.
Protecting his baby brother.
Sam stood in front of the thing that offered his brother Sam’s life at the highest price she could think of. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to just kill her; he wanted to rip her limb from limb and let her beg, but he knew that would only hurt the girl she had taken over. He wasn’t listening to her drone on. He was thinking of Dean-when Dean came to get him, how Dean needed him when he was tied to a tree, how just riding beside him after he’d fixed the Impala after that semi hit them was just about the best thing ever. He wanted to force her to tell him who her boss was. He wanted to shake out Dean’s contract and watch it burn. Because Dean?
He was the best person Sam knew.
And he deserved more than to live with him for a year.
Author: ssstevie
Genre: Angst
Characters: Winchester men
Rating: PG
--
John drops into his familiar stance--hiding and waiting until the thing attacks him first. He rolls his wrist down and to the left and then swings his knife in a smooth arc. He shouldn’t twirl a knife. He knows better, but feeling the weight of it in his hand as he rocks it back and forth, readying the blade makes him feel better. He twists it around once more so his elbow is bent at the perfect angle, and the length of the blade is ready for impact.
And he waits.
Dean drops his fork in favor of his spoon. Can’t eat ice cream with a fork. While he waits, he runs the cold silver through his fingers and over his knuckles. He swings the spoon between his thumb and forefinger like a pendulum and then flicks it back over his hand to land between his fingers again. He turns the spoon around and around watching it glint off the hard light in the diner.
Where is his ice cream?
Sam flips his pen over his thumb once, twice. He writes down two words and weaves the stolen pen back through his fingers-over and under. He taps it against the side of his notebook as he waits. He doesn’t have a single reason to be waiting there, and yet he is, twirling a pen end over end across his thumb and middle finger. He sets it spinning on the flat of his hand.
Waiting is the easy part.
-
John knew. In the front of his mind, he always knew. Not since Mary had he ever thought he’d die normally, old and frail, telling those stories to the youngsters of his glory days. Before he said the last words of his ritual, he closed his eyes and ignored the aches in his body. He brought up that one perfect memory nothing could ever take from him--watching his oldest son gather up his new baby brother while his wife and the only woman he’d ever loved that deeply asked him to make her the best spaghetti ever. He just stood in the doorway for long, giddy minutes admiring the family he’d made. The family he’d now do anything to protect.
He lit the match and watched the sparks come to life.
They’d forgive him one day.
Dean realized the magnitude of what he’d done the minute she clamped her dirty mouth on his. He couldn’t go back now, not that he wanted to. The best person he’d ever met was not going to be dead, not when he could do something about it. This might not be the only way, but it was the way he knew. He wouldn’t let anyone tell him that it wasn’t worth it. His only family left was lying on a table damning Dean with his silence more than this bitch ever would with her deals. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have as long as other people. Nothing mattered but having his family back. If that made him stupid, if it made him the biggest jackass in the world, he didn’t care. He didn’t want the last time he held his brother to be while he was bleeding to death in a road. Maybe his brother would realize one day that Dean knew he wasn’t worthless, just doing his job.
Protecting his baby brother.
Sam stood in front of the thing that offered his brother Sam’s life at the highest price she could think of. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to just kill her; he wanted to rip her limb from limb and let her beg, but he knew that would only hurt the girl she had taken over. He wasn’t listening to her drone on. He was thinking of Dean-when Dean came to get him, how Dean needed him when he was tied to a tree, how just riding beside him after he’d fixed the Impala after that semi hit them was just about the best thing ever. He wanted to force her to tell him who her boss was. He wanted to shake out Dean’s contract and watch it burn. Because Dean?
He was the best person Sam knew.
And he deserved more than to live with him for a year.