SN drabbles - PG, G - gen, het
Title: andesite
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for season two
Pairings: John/Mary
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 280
Point of view: third
John isn’t sure when he realized the truth. He’s fairly certain he didn’t wake up one day knowing, but that’s all.
His beloved Mary wasn’t quite human. She was part something else, part Other. But he doesn’t know part what, and that not-knowing is killing him.
Looking back, he discovers that he’s suspected for a long time. That he knew she wasn’t fully right from almost the beginning.
But she was so funny, so kind, so beautiful-he just didn’t care.
And Sam is his mother’s son, with abilities beyond a human’s.
But so is Dean. And that’s something Mary’s killer doesn’t seem to comprehend.
It offers John hope, the demon’s blindspot when it comes to Dean-the bastard won’t be prepared when the final sun dawns. The demon won’t be ready when It goes after Sam, and John’s spent a lifetime conditioning Dean.
He loves Mary. And he loves his sons. He knows Sam thinks he only ever saw them as soldiers, but that’s not true. They’re his boys, Dean and Sam, his babies.
But they’re also more than that. They’re the final defense in a war they didn’t know they were fighting until almost the end.
And for that, John regrets.
Mary… even on the last day of his life, John doesn’t know what she was.
But it doesn’t matter. He loves her. Always has.
He knows the truth about Sam, about the demon’s plans. But he also knows something that the demon doesn’t-Dean won’t give up. Ever. He won’t let Sam go.
John’s saving more than Dean when he trades himself and a gun-he’s saving Sam, too.
And by saving Mary’s boys, he’s saving the world.
Title: card shark
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: “Donavan” and his tall shadow aren’t mine. Just for fun.
Warnings: none
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 400
Point of view: third
Notes: I asked my cousin for a word. He said “shark.” He wanted a story about a shark eating some people. This is not that story.
Kid thinks he’s slick like meltin’ butter, but Jeffrey Harding’s been around the block half a dozen times and these pups are all the same. He’s charmin’, no doubt’a that, but charm ain’t worth much nowadays, and it shore don’t hide that giant shadow in the corner, tryin’ to sink outta sight.
Kid says his name’s Donavan with a rogue’s grin, the kind that would’a melted Bethany in half’a heartbeat. But Jeff’s nearly a quarter century too old and has a few extra parts that keep him from bein’ completely taken in. Even so, it’s a near thing.
Men just shouldn’t be as pretty as this Donavan.
The kid laughs when Jeff deals the cards, tells some story ain’t got a hope of bein’ true, involvin’ a band of gypsies and the ghost of grizzly. He’s got a honey-smooth voice and descriptive hands, drawin’ even Jeff in, though he knew better long before Donavan was born. He listens with a smile, keepin’ close watch on the pup’s quicksilver fingers: kid’s a pro. So good, in fact, that Jeff doesn’t call him on it.
The shadow rises when Mick gets loud, demandin’ Donavan give up his hand. Donavan’s hazel eyes flash the shadow a quick look, before he soothes Mick’s ruffled feathers with a few calm words, in a tone that Jeff remembers from his horse wrangler days. It works and Mick subsides. The shadow sinks back down; Jeff’s relieved. Ain’t a barfight he’s been in that he’s lost, but against these two, pretty Donavan and his giant shadow? Jeff wouldn’t ever take that bet.
Donavan wins, o’course. Jeff ain’t a bit surprised. Half the moves were so good Jeff didn’t even see ‘em, and he was lookin’ real careful. Mick’s mad, but he’s no fool, despite his temper. Donavan is far more dangerous than he appears, and he seems mighty dangerous, despite his pretty face. Factor in that shadow? Well, Jeff would have to take Mick’s side, so he shore is glad Mick doesn’t press his luck.
The kid thanks them both for the game, tuckin’ his winnin’s away. Jeff recognizes the shape of a gun beneath Donavan’s jacket, but he keeps quiet, just congratulatin’ the kid again. Donavan nods and meets up with his shadow by the bar and grabs a beer to go. Jeff watches them walk out the door, the tall shadow half a step behind, laughin’.
Title: Rest your head close to my heart
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from “Baby Mine,” which I neither wrote nor own.
Warnings: spoilers for pilot
Parings: mentions of John/Mary
Rating: G
Wordcount: 270
Point of view: third
Four months after the fire, John wakes to Dean screaming “Mama!” It’s the first word Dean has said since that night, and the pain is sharp in John’s gut. John rushes to Dean, who’s curled around Sam and sobbing, whimpering “Mama” over and over and over again.
John scoops Dean up and cradles him, trying to soothe him. Dean wraps his arms around John’s neck, trying to burrow beneath his skin. “Mama” is replaced with “Daddy” and John steels himself against tears. Dean does not need to see his father breakdown. Dean needs him strong.
“It’ll be alright, baby,” John says, holding onto Dean gently, rubbing circles on his back. “It’s alright.”
Dean’s five, now. Been five for over two months, and Mary wasn’t there. Won’t be there when Sammy turns a year old.
John closes his eyes, clutching Dean, burying his face in Dean’s too-long hair. He doesn’t remember Dean being this small, this fragile, before the fire.
Dean quiets, settling against John, grip loosening. John shifts to hold him with one arm and gently picks up Sam. He carries them back to his bed and settles Dean, then slides next to him, still holding Sammy on his chest.
It’s Mary looking at him when John meets Dean’s eyes. “Go to sleep, baby,” John tells him. “We’ll get ice cream tomorrow.”
Dean doesn’t smile. He hasn’t since the fire. John misses Dean’s grin fiercely. He wonders if he’ll ever see it again.
Sam snuffles and Dean reaches up to touch his back, then leaves his hand there. John lays awake for a long time, just holding Sammy, watching Dean.
Title: garnet run
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for season two
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 165
Point of view: third
They caught Sam first, at a Walgreens picking up bandages. He said nothing, and a search of his pockets offered no clues to whatever hotel they were staying at. He kept his face expressionless all the way to the station.
It’d been a year since the Winchester’s last run-in with the law, their jailbreak in Arkansas. Victor Hendrickson took the red eye from Washington.
“No one talks to him before me, understood?” he commanded. So no one did.
“Where’s your brother, Sam?” Victor asked, slouched across from Dean Winchester’s baby brother. It was the first contact he’d had with one of the only two people Dean cared about.
Sam didn’t answer.
“We know the two of you are never far from each other.” Victor kept his tone soft. “So, if we have to, we’ll tear this town apart.”
Sam met his eyes and still said nothing.
“Put out the word,” Victor ordered. “Dangerous fugitive Sam Winchester apprehended. Dean’ll come for him.”
But Dean never did.