[Fic] DCBB - Round Came the Magpie - Prologue
Prologue
January 24th, 1992
The boy ran from the room, face flushed, eyes and throat aching as he tried to valiantly hold back tears. He had promised this year, had promised, but the boy should have known better by now than to trust his father’s promises.
When Sammy asked, he always had a ready excuse on his tongue, dismissing their father’s behaviour for a good reason that he made up and that was probably far, far from the truth. He just hoped, this time, that it really was a good reason and that John Winchester wasn’t face down in a ditch somewhere drunk off his ass.
For the next twenty-three and a half minutes, it was Dean Winchester’s thirteenth birthday. He had finally made that transition from child to teenager and his father had promised to be there so they could celebrate properly.
When Dean got to the edge of the wood surrounding their cabin, he gave up his charade and collapsed on a precariously balanced fallen tree. He dug his short nails in the rough bark and finally let the tears fall. Just once he wanted something special. Just once after all this time, he wanted a good day. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted a cake or presents or anything unusual. He just wanted his dad there with an extra-large pepperoni pizza and a lame action flick on motel cable. Dad, he and Sammy would just laugh and eat their pizza, criticise how crappy the stunts were, and go to bed happy.
“Was it really too much to ask?” Dean muttered out loud, voice choked and rough, cracking with approaching puberty.
Unexpectedly, everything stopped - the crickets, birds, rustling of animals and even the trees.
Dean heard a rustle and groan from behind him. He tensed, twisting his head slowly as he peered into the dark wood, cursing himself for leaving flashlight and gun back at the cabin. God, he was such a moron.
Dean waited for the sound again, sitting very still to hopefully pinpoint where it was coming from and plot the best escape route. He never got that far because suddenly out of nowhere he found himself tumbling to the ground, his chest screaming, as if someone had just punched it and then he heard a great, groaning crash, followed by searing pain to his left thigh and right knee. He cried out, unable to stop the involuntary reaction. He had fallen backwards and somehow the log he had been perched on had fallen on top of him - he was trapped.
With false bravado, and unable to do anything else while he tried to think of a plan, Dean breathed through the pain and shouted, “You better run now you bastard! My dad’s one of the best fucking hunters around and he’s gonna be real pissed when he sees what you did to me!” It was a lie, a bald-faced one. John Winchester was God knew where and wasn’t going to come looking for Dean. Dean would die here, alone, trapped like a rat. He may not even be discovered for days in this secluded spot with only his baby brother nearby. His baby brother, Sammy, would be left alone without protection, without help, without someone to take care of him. Dean why did you have to be such a fucking crybaby and an idiot? Sammy might die and it would be all his fault.
The most curious thing of the entire event, however, was that Dean still had yet to see the creature that did this to him and it had to be a creature. His chest was still throbbing from when the thing forced him off the log. He was in a perfect position for attack but the wood was eerily silent save for the sound of Dean’s own panted breath and pained whimpers that he tried vainly to bite back.
But suddenly a low buzzing began to fill his ears, growing rapidly louder with each passing second. Dean threw his dirty hands over his ears as the sound quickly became unbearable and the forest itself seemed to quiver and shake. Next was even more peculiar, for a bright, pure white light suddenly filled the edge of the wood and Dean gasped before he slammed his eyes shut, wishing he could turn away.
He could still see the glow behind his eyelids, back lit and orange-red, bright and painful. Almost as soon as it began, he heard an inhuman shriek and a strange fluttering sound, then all went dark and quiet once more. He dared not open his eyes though, or remove his hands even as he felt the wood on his legs shift, sending a whole new spark of pain through damaged appendages.
It wasn’t until he felt gentle hands on his wrists slowly prying his hands away from his ears and a quiet voice say his name that he opened his eyes. There, kneeling before him in the dirt, was a boy seemingly untouched by their surroundings. He had a kind face, dark hair and blue eyes that were almost too large for his young face. He was smiling at Dean and was older by four or five years. Dean looked down to where their hands were joined and saw his own palms were bloody.
Then as if travelling through water, he heard the boy say, “Dean Winchester, you are saved.” The boy pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s forehead and warmth swept over his entire body, a comfortable floating sensation with no more pain.
And Dean slept.
Masterpost | Next
January 24th, 1992
The boy ran from the room, face flushed, eyes and throat aching as he tried to valiantly hold back tears. He had promised this year, had promised, but the boy should have known better by now than to trust his father’s promises.
When Sammy asked, he always had a ready excuse on his tongue, dismissing their father’s behaviour for a good reason that he made up and that was probably far, far from the truth. He just hoped, this time, that it really was a good reason and that John Winchester wasn’t face down in a ditch somewhere drunk off his ass.
For the next twenty-three and a half minutes, it was Dean Winchester’s thirteenth birthday. He had finally made that transition from child to teenager and his father had promised to be there so they could celebrate properly.
When Dean got to the edge of the wood surrounding their cabin, he gave up his charade and collapsed on a precariously balanced fallen tree. He dug his short nails in the rough bark and finally let the tears fall. Just once he wanted something special. Just once after all this time, he wanted a good day. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted a cake or presents or anything unusual. He just wanted his dad there with an extra-large pepperoni pizza and a lame action flick on motel cable. Dad, he and Sammy would just laugh and eat their pizza, criticise how crappy the stunts were, and go to bed happy.
“Was it really too much to ask?” Dean muttered out loud, voice choked and rough, cracking with approaching puberty.
Unexpectedly, everything stopped - the crickets, birds, rustling of animals and even the trees.
Dean heard a rustle and groan from behind him. He tensed, twisting his head slowly as he peered into the dark wood, cursing himself for leaving flashlight and gun back at the cabin. God, he was such a moron.
Dean waited for the sound again, sitting very still to hopefully pinpoint where it was coming from and plot the best escape route. He never got that far because suddenly out of nowhere he found himself tumbling to the ground, his chest screaming, as if someone had just punched it and then he heard a great, groaning crash, followed by searing pain to his left thigh and right knee. He cried out, unable to stop the involuntary reaction. He had fallen backwards and somehow the log he had been perched on had fallen on top of him - he was trapped.
With false bravado, and unable to do anything else while he tried to think of a plan, Dean breathed through the pain and shouted, “You better run now you bastard! My dad’s one of the best fucking hunters around and he’s gonna be real pissed when he sees what you did to me!” It was a lie, a bald-faced one. John Winchester was God knew where and wasn’t going to come looking for Dean. Dean would die here, alone, trapped like a rat. He may not even be discovered for days in this secluded spot with only his baby brother nearby. His baby brother, Sammy, would be left alone without protection, without help, without someone to take care of him. Dean why did you have to be such a fucking crybaby and an idiot? Sammy might die and it would be all his fault.
The most curious thing of the entire event, however, was that Dean still had yet to see the creature that did this to him and it had to be a creature. His chest was still throbbing from when the thing forced him off the log. He was in a perfect position for attack but the wood was eerily silent save for the sound of Dean’s own panted breath and pained whimpers that he tried vainly to bite back.
But suddenly a low buzzing began to fill his ears, growing rapidly louder with each passing second. Dean threw his dirty hands over his ears as the sound quickly became unbearable and the forest itself seemed to quiver and shake. Next was even more peculiar, for a bright, pure white light suddenly filled the edge of the wood and Dean gasped before he slammed his eyes shut, wishing he could turn away.
He could still see the glow behind his eyelids, back lit and orange-red, bright and painful. Almost as soon as it began, he heard an inhuman shriek and a strange fluttering sound, then all went dark and quiet once more. He dared not open his eyes though, or remove his hands even as he felt the wood on his legs shift, sending a whole new spark of pain through damaged appendages.
It wasn’t until he felt gentle hands on his wrists slowly prying his hands away from his ears and a quiet voice say his name that he opened his eyes. There, kneeling before him in the dirt, was a boy seemingly untouched by their surroundings. He had a kind face, dark hair and blue eyes that were almost too large for his young face. He was smiling at Dean and was older by four or five years. Dean looked down to where their hands were joined and saw his own palms were bloody.
Then as if travelling through water, he heard the boy say, “Dean Winchester, you are saved.” The boy pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s forehead and warmth swept over his entire body, a comfortable floating sensation with no more pain.
And Dean slept.
Masterpost | Next