Mockingbird [12/13]
Almost there, folks.
Rating: R
Pairing: Sam/John
Word Count:~1,300
Disclaimer: Lies, Theft and Deceit.
Warnings: Daddycest. AU beyond belief.
Spoilers: Devil's Trap and beyond.
Summary: The storm hits.
Part I
Part XI
+++
Mockingbird
Chapter XII
+++
Hush little baby, don't you cry
Within your dreams, you can touch the sky
With you in my arms, I feel whole
Because you are my heart and my soul.
+++
John snatched the coffee mug with the motel’s logo from the bedside table and hurled it across the room, but watching it shatter against the wall and rain down on the carpet only seemed to make him angrier. God damn that kid and his unstable little mind. John was going to kill him. He was going to find that boy and he was going to beat him stupid, and then he was going to kiss the life out of him right there, no matter who was watching.
+++
It took John less than twenty minutes to pack up and check out. A quick call to the phone company confirmed the location of his autistic son Sammy who tragically snuck out of the house last night to hang around with “the wrong crowd.” The extremely sympathetic lady at the other end directed him to South Dakota. The GPS said it would take a day, John made it in fifteen hours.
+++
When he stopped by Bobby’s for a drink and an oil change, Bobby handed him a FedEx overnight delivery envelope, addressed to Mr. J. Winchester, that held Sam’s phone.
+++
Three stiff drinks and a couple of broken dishes later, John sat at the kitchen table while Bobby called a friend who called an acquaintance who called a relative who did a locating spell on John’s boy.
Via loudspeaker, the man rattled off an address in Texas and said, “By the way, are you sure that kid of yours is completely human-?”
Bobby hung up on him.
+++
John was already on the 34, barreling along fields of drooping plants, when he reached for his cell phone and dialed. “I want you to get rid of her,” he said.
Bobby, bless his heart, only needed a few seconds to catch on. “You want what? John, have you gone nuts?”
John smiled grimly. “Just do it. I want that thing gone by the time I get back.”
“John! What are you-“
He hung up and tossed the phone in the driver’s seat. When it began to ring a few moments later, he turned the radio up as high as it would go and pretended not to hear it.
+++
The house was ducked down next to a small grove of trees, some miles from the nearest town. Whatever paint job it might have had, had long since faded to a murky brown with age and weather. The roof drooped slightly, and the porch steps were worn out, but the shutters and doors looked sturdy enough.
John allowed himself a bitter smile when he remembered another deserted cabin, not so long ago. He eased the truck off the road and got out. In the fading light, he crouched down in front of door to pick the lock, sent a brief prayer up to a God he didn’t believe in, and swung open the door.
It was dark inside. Dark and silent. Against all instincts, John flicked the light switch, but nothing happened.
He held the Colt at the ready in one hand, his other resting on the knife strapped to his hip, and edged into the building. The lower floor was one single room as far as he could see, with a kitchen tucked into one corner and a narrow staircase leading to the second floor. He turned right, edging along the wall. The shutters didn’t budge when he pushed on them. Then his slowly adjusting vision came across a dark pile stacked against the back wall. He had barely taken two steps towards it when he recognized it for what it was, the rag doll limbs, the crooked necks, tossed aside like broken toys.
He crouched down in front of the bodies, reaching out to push the top one aside. Blonde hair, knotted with dried blood, spilled over his fingers. He took a moment to mourn Ellen’s loss before he pushed the girl aside. He uncovered a tiny brunette with a ring on her finger, curled around a tall man as if for protection, and a man he recognized as a fellow hunter. Steve Wandell, if his memory served him right. The girl next to him looked like she could be his daughter.
Towards the bottom of the stack was a man in army fatigues. His chest had been sliced open from his collar bones to his belly button, almost neatly, as if someone had tried to dissect him with a very blunt knife. John tried not to look too closely. He had seen almost everything, but things like this brought back bad memories.
“He tried to kill me,” Sam said from directly behind him.
John whirled around, bringing up the gun, but his boy barely even seemed to see it.
He gazed down at the man almost curiously, the corners of his mouth tilted upwards. “He tried to cut my spine so I cut his. From the front.” He smiled at John. “I had to look for it for a bit. There are a lot of intestines and organs and such inside a person, you know?”
“Sammy,” John began.
“His name is Jake.” Sam tilted his head at the body. “He’s on leave from Afghanistan, visiting his baby sister.” He blinked. “I think he actually liked me before he found out who I was.”
Despite decades of training, John let the gun sink with a sigh. “God, Sammy,” he murmured, “What did you do?”
To his surprise, Sam hunched his shoulders, curling in on himself. “Are you mad at me?” he asked. His eyes were wide and desperate.
John swallowed and looked away. “No, Sam. I’m not mad.”
He could see in Sam’s face that he hadn’t been convincing. “Did I do something wrong?” the kid asked quietly.
John sighed. “I’m not mad. Just tired.”
Sam bit his lip. “Is it because of me? Because I know I can never be like Dean, but I can try, you know? I can be your soldier boy.”
John could scarcely believe it, but in that moment, he realized that he didn’t want Sam to be his soldier boy. Trying to force him to be would only break him. And wasn’t that just poetic justice, that he finally realized what Sam had known all along when the boy was already slipping from his grasp?
“Sammy…” he began, but then the kid gasped and pressed his hands to his temples. John caught his shoulders when he swayed and held him through the vision. It was short, so much shorter than the others, infinitely less painful. John cringed at how well his son took it, at how far the boy had strayed already, how far he had gotten away.
“Dean,” his son gasped. “Dean.”
“Dean isn’t here,” John murmured, hoping to sound reassuring, but Sam shook his head.
“He is,” he protested. “He’s here. He wants me to go with him.”
John swallowed back a sob. He slid his fingers along Sam’s scalp, cupping the back of his head, and leaned in to steal a dry kiss that the boy didn’t even seem to notice.
“He wants to show me something,” Sam said, glazed-eyed and bewildered. “He wants me to follow him.”
The barrel of the Colt fit against Sam’s temple as if it had been made to rest there. The boy didn’t react to the cool metal pressed against his skin. He was lost in a world that John couldn’t reach, his hands clenched in John’s shirt as if he would simply lose himself and disappear if he let go.
“No, Sam,” John whispered, sure that his baby could hear his heart breaking, “That’s just you, walking away.”
+++
Epilogue
Feel free to kick my ass in your comments. *cringes*
Rating: R
Pairing: Sam/John
Word Count:~1,300
Disclaimer: Lies, Theft and Deceit.
Warnings: Daddycest. AU beyond belief.
Spoilers: Devil's Trap and beyond.
Summary: The storm hits.
Part I
Part XI
+++
Mockingbird
Chapter XII
+++
Hush little baby, don't you cry
Within your dreams, you can touch the sky
With you in my arms, I feel whole
Because you are my heart and my soul.
+++
John snatched the coffee mug with the motel’s logo from the bedside table and hurled it across the room, but watching it shatter against the wall and rain down on the carpet only seemed to make him angrier. God damn that kid and his unstable little mind. John was going to kill him. He was going to find that boy and he was going to beat him stupid, and then he was going to kiss the life out of him right there, no matter who was watching.
+++
It took John less than twenty minutes to pack up and check out. A quick call to the phone company confirmed the location of his autistic son Sammy who tragically snuck out of the house last night to hang around with “the wrong crowd.” The extremely sympathetic lady at the other end directed him to South Dakota. The GPS said it would take a day, John made it in fifteen hours.
+++
When he stopped by Bobby’s for a drink and an oil change, Bobby handed him a FedEx overnight delivery envelope, addressed to Mr. J. Winchester, that held Sam’s phone.
+++
Three stiff drinks and a couple of broken dishes later, John sat at the kitchen table while Bobby called a friend who called an acquaintance who called a relative who did a locating spell on John’s boy.
Via loudspeaker, the man rattled off an address in Texas and said, “By the way, are you sure that kid of yours is completely human-?”
Bobby hung up on him.
+++
John was already on the 34, barreling along fields of drooping plants, when he reached for his cell phone and dialed. “I want you to get rid of her,” he said.
Bobby, bless his heart, only needed a few seconds to catch on. “You want what? John, have you gone nuts?”
John smiled grimly. “Just do it. I want that thing gone by the time I get back.”
“John! What are you-“
He hung up and tossed the phone in the driver’s seat. When it began to ring a few moments later, he turned the radio up as high as it would go and pretended not to hear it.
+++
The house was ducked down next to a small grove of trees, some miles from the nearest town. Whatever paint job it might have had, had long since faded to a murky brown with age and weather. The roof drooped slightly, and the porch steps were worn out, but the shutters and doors looked sturdy enough.
John allowed himself a bitter smile when he remembered another deserted cabin, not so long ago. He eased the truck off the road and got out. In the fading light, he crouched down in front of door to pick the lock, sent a brief prayer up to a God he didn’t believe in, and swung open the door.
It was dark inside. Dark and silent. Against all instincts, John flicked the light switch, but nothing happened.
He held the Colt at the ready in one hand, his other resting on the knife strapped to his hip, and edged into the building. The lower floor was one single room as far as he could see, with a kitchen tucked into one corner and a narrow staircase leading to the second floor. He turned right, edging along the wall. The shutters didn’t budge when he pushed on them. Then his slowly adjusting vision came across a dark pile stacked against the back wall. He had barely taken two steps towards it when he recognized it for what it was, the rag doll limbs, the crooked necks, tossed aside like broken toys.
He crouched down in front of the bodies, reaching out to push the top one aside. Blonde hair, knotted with dried blood, spilled over his fingers. He took a moment to mourn Ellen’s loss before he pushed the girl aside. He uncovered a tiny brunette with a ring on her finger, curled around a tall man as if for protection, and a man he recognized as a fellow hunter. Steve Wandell, if his memory served him right. The girl next to him looked like she could be his daughter.
Towards the bottom of the stack was a man in army fatigues. His chest had been sliced open from his collar bones to his belly button, almost neatly, as if someone had tried to dissect him with a very blunt knife. John tried not to look too closely. He had seen almost everything, but things like this brought back bad memories.
“He tried to kill me,” Sam said from directly behind him.
John whirled around, bringing up the gun, but his boy barely even seemed to see it.
He gazed down at the man almost curiously, the corners of his mouth tilted upwards. “He tried to cut my spine so I cut his. From the front.” He smiled at John. “I had to look for it for a bit. There are a lot of intestines and organs and such inside a person, you know?”
“Sammy,” John began.
“His name is Jake.” Sam tilted his head at the body. “He’s on leave from Afghanistan, visiting his baby sister.” He blinked. “I think he actually liked me before he found out who I was.”
Despite decades of training, John let the gun sink with a sigh. “God, Sammy,” he murmured, “What did you do?”
To his surprise, Sam hunched his shoulders, curling in on himself. “Are you mad at me?” he asked. His eyes were wide and desperate.
John swallowed and looked away. “No, Sam. I’m not mad.”
He could see in Sam’s face that he hadn’t been convincing. “Did I do something wrong?” the kid asked quietly.
John sighed. “I’m not mad. Just tired.”
Sam bit his lip. “Is it because of me? Because I know I can never be like Dean, but I can try, you know? I can be your soldier boy.”
John could scarcely believe it, but in that moment, he realized that he didn’t want Sam to be his soldier boy. Trying to force him to be would only break him. And wasn’t that just poetic justice, that he finally realized what Sam had known all along when the boy was already slipping from his grasp?
“Sammy…” he began, but then the kid gasped and pressed his hands to his temples. John caught his shoulders when he swayed and held him through the vision. It was short, so much shorter than the others, infinitely less painful. John cringed at how well his son took it, at how far the boy had strayed already, how far he had gotten away.
“Dean,” his son gasped. “Dean.”
“Dean isn’t here,” John murmured, hoping to sound reassuring, but Sam shook his head.
“He is,” he protested. “He’s here. He wants me to go with him.”
John swallowed back a sob. He slid his fingers along Sam’s scalp, cupping the back of his head, and leaned in to steal a dry kiss that the boy didn’t even seem to notice.
“He wants to show me something,” Sam said, glazed-eyed and bewildered. “He wants me to follow him.”
The barrel of the Colt fit against Sam’s temple as if it had been made to rest there. The boy didn’t react to the cool metal pressed against his skin. He was lost in a world that John couldn’t reach, his hands clenched in John’s shirt as if he would simply lose himself and disappear if he let go.
“No, Sam,” John whispered, sure that his baby could hear his heart breaking, “That’s just you, walking away.”
+++
Epilogue
Feel free to kick my ass in your comments. *cringes*