SN drabbles - PG, PG13
Title: from an apple golden
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: the young woman in the Rockies is mine. that’s all.
Warnings: spoilers for up to “In My Time Of Dying.” AU?
Pairings: John/Mary
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 645
Point of view: third
Her eyes burn gold in the sunlight. John blinks and they’re hazel again. She laughs, a sound he loves, and beckons for him to join her in the meadow.
This is the day of Dean’s conception.
-
Her eyes shimmer gold in the candlelight. “I love you, Johnny,” she whispers, nuzzling close, threading her fingers in his dark hair. “Promise to never leave me.”
“I swear,” he murmurs back, the easiest oath he’s ever made.
Dean is still just a bump on her belly.
-
Her eyes are golden, the pupils gone. “Hello, love,” she says, stepping close.
John glances around; he does not recognize the room. “Where are we?” he asks.
She smiles. “You’ll be in this cabin again one day. You’ll understand everything then, John.”
He wakes; she’s curled up on his chest, peacefully sleeping. He slips back under. When he wakes again at sunrise, the dream is forgotten.
-
Her eyes are clear hazel as she screams, begs for Dean to slide from her womb.
The first time John holds his son, Dean’s eyes are golden. John blinks and they’re hazel, just like Mary’s.
-
Sam is conceived as a storm rages outside. Dean sleeps curled up in his sheets and John looks into Mary’s hazel eyes.
-
Mary dies when John’s second boy is six months old. John holds their sons, huddled on the Impala’s hood, and remembers a dream of four years ago, when Mary had golden eyes.
“Daddy,” Dean whispers.
John meets his firstborn’s gaze; in the reflected fire, his eyes appear golden.
“I want Mommy,” Dean tells him.
“I want her, too,” John responds.
Sammy sobs.
-
Over the years, Sam’s eyes are always green. But Dean’s are sometimes golden, whenever intense emotions swirl in him.
And John, as he learns about the shadow-world that stole his Mary, begins to wonder. He remembers that handful of times where Mary’s eyes were the color of sunlight.
But John never speaks to her boys about it.
-
John finds a young woman high in the Rockies who tells him shadows cling to his younger child.
He replies that it’s not Sammy he’s worried about.
She laughs. “Fire surrounds your firstborn, hunter. Be wary of him.”
John nods and leaves, going to ground.
-
He wakes a prisoner in his own body, Dean held to the wall before him.
We’ve been here before, Johnny, a dark voice whispers, echoing through him. Remember? When I wore your pretty little wife.
Dean says, “Yeah, I bet you’re real proud of your kids, too, huh?” He smirks. “Oh, wait-I wasted ‘em.”
John can do nothing as the demon begins shredding Dean’s chest, digging deep. Please, stop, he begs. Let him go.
No, Johnny, the demon says gently. He is mine.
John reaches into his soul and body, pulling up all his will-for an instant, he halts the demon, long enough for Sammy to act.
You think you’ll beat me, you and Mary’s boys? The demon laughs. Mine prove true, Johnny. Sammy is shadowed, powerful, but Dean-the demon streams out of him.
John collapses, everything aching.
-
“Mary,” he asks, alone in his hospital room. “What happened? Were you… were you you when we had Dean?”
He hears her laughter echo.
-
He trades himself for Dean, hoping the demon will let his son go. He tells Dean goodbye and part of the truth, not believing it’ll be enough.
Maybe if Dean has Sam to care for, it’ll keep him right.
The demon smirks with its host’s mouth. “Be happy, John,” it says. “You’ll see your love soon. You can ask her.”
It laughs.
-
John wakes in the cabin he’s been in twice before. Mary crouches next to him, in her white nightgown; her eyes are their beautiful hazel.
“I’m sorry, John,” she sobs. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t strong enough.”
He pulls her close and buries his face in her hair.
Title: murder, redefined
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for “The Benders”
Pairings: none
Rating; PG13
Wordcount: 200
Point of view: third
Dean wandered through the sick-fuck hillbilly house in shock and disgust. Out of everything he’d ever hunted, nothing’d struck him like this before. To think, they were just people, human beings-so twisted they hunted their own, kept trophies to mark their triumph-
And they took Sam. That was a sin he could never, would never, forgive. They took Sam, wanted to hurt him, hunt him, kill him. Wanted to carve up his body like Christmas roast.
Dean stalked the house, listing the crimes that the sick-fuck freaks needed to be punished for. Over a hundred murders that he could see, and the planned killing of Sammy-
Just people, Sammy said. But Dean knew better. No person could do what those freaks had over the years. They were no better than wendigos now. And wendigos could be hunted, no problem.
They were killers, monsters. He had a responsibility to put them down. They’d just keep killing.
They wanted to kill Sammy.
Dean isn’t a killer, not like them. But he’d never shied away from any necessity.
They wanted to hurt Sammy, to take him away forever. So Dean paced the sick-fuck halls silently, planning a little murder of his own.