(no subject)
He couldn't turn it off.
The room had fluttered between darkness and hazy, screenglow blue for the last few minutes before finally closing in darkness.
But he couldn't stop looking at it. At the darkness. The black.
It wasn't like closing his eyes. He supposed he didn't have eyes anymore. Instead, he had this blackness. This never ending blackness inside his own pastsleeping mind. This never ending blackness that he knew would end in drops of Mary's blood and flames and his wife's face in a rictus that would flash in front of whatever happy memory he'd try to pull up to keep himself sane.
Like it came through a cheap speaker, he heard a scream.
"Mary?" Stupid son of a bitch. "Mary?" Oh God, not again. Please no.
The eyes opened again and then there was the moving, the vision as blurred and hurried as it'd been that night but without the pumping heart, without the clenching of muscles or the adrenaline. Just a shaking 'camera' bounding up the steps that made him think of the independent film tripe he'd catch in the hotel rooms late at night when he couldn't sleep.
Except it was his life. The most terrible, important day of his life.
The dark room from every nightmare he's ever had and the crib and he wanted to look up, break the spell, change something, except that he can't. He had to look at Sam as his vision wobbled (hard breathing right probably goddammit) and he didn't scream. Because he couldn't.
"Hey Sammy," and right then, it's before the fights and before the lies and before college. "Okay?"
Which is when the drops fell warm onto his hand.
He looked up.
And the world exploded all over again.
He wished he could feel the heat, feel the burn in his eyes from how bright the fires are, but he can't. He just felt a phantom stomach heave as the view ducks down and he knew that he had Sammy in his arms only he can't know because he can't feel him, can't smell him fuck it and it was the biggest relief to pass him off to Dean since they're both in his view.
"Daddy!"
I'm so sorry.
"Take your brother outside as fast as you can!" You can't do anything now, John. There's nothing you can do now. Go with them. Go now. "Don’t look back! Now Dean, go!"
There was a last view as Dean practically flew and then nothing but fire.
"Mary!" You stupid son of a bitch she's dead. She's dead and you have no idea what's coming and there's nothing I can do. Nothing I can fucking do. "No!"
Yes.
Flashes of brightness from the fire and spots of darkness because none of the lights were on now. The house was dark other than the silhouette in the front door of a little boy holding something. It's gone as he went by.
"I gotcha."
Thank God.
The window explodes.
And the sirens start.
There were parts now that he didn't remember. Questions that the paramedics asked him, the firemen, the police. He hadn't heard them before and he didn't hear John answer them but he could hear them and John
John
just desperately wanted to see his kids. He wanted to see that Sam and Dean were both okay, but he couldn't see them. John was staring out in to the distance and all he could see was a few blond hairs at the edge of his vision, the only indication that Dean was there. That what little of his life that had survived this night was there.
It was all that kept him from breaking.
The room had fluttered between darkness and hazy, screenglow blue for the last few minutes before finally closing in darkness.
But he couldn't stop looking at it. At the darkness. The black.
It wasn't like closing his eyes. He supposed he didn't have eyes anymore. Instead, he had this blackness. This never ending blackness inside his own pastsleeping mind. This never ending blackness that he knew would end in drops of Mary's blood and flames and his wife's face in a rictus that would flash in front of whatever happy memory he'd try to pull up to keep himself sane.
Like it came through a cheap speaker, he heard a scream.
"Mary?" Stupid son of a bitch. "Mary?" Oh God, not again. Please no.
The eyes opened again and then there was the moving, the vision as blurred and hurried as it'd been that night but without the pumping heart, without the clenching of muscles or the adrenaline. Just a shaking 'camera' bounding up the steps that made him think of the independent film tripe he'd catch in the hotel rooms late at night when he couldn't sleep.
Except it was his life. The most terrible, important day of his life.
The dark room from every nightmare he's ever had and the crib and he wanted to look up, break the spell, change something, except that he can't. He had to look at Sam as his vision wobbled (hard breathing right probably goddammit) and he didn't scream. Because he couldn't.
"Hey Sammy," and right then, it's before the fights and before the lies and before college. "Okay?"
Which is when the drops fell warm onto his hand.
He looked up.
And the world exploded all over again.
He wished he could feel the heat, feel the burn in his eyes from how bright the fires are, but he can't. He just felt a phantom stomach heave as the view ducks down and he knew that he had Sammy in his arms only he can't know because he can't feel him, can't smell him fuck it and it was the biggest relief to pass him off to Dean since they're both in his view.
"Daddy!"
I'm so sorry.
"Take your brother outside as fast as you can!" You can't do anything now, John. There's nothing you can do now. Go with them. Go now. "Don’t look back! Now Dean, go!"
There was a last view as Dean practically flew and then nothing but fire.
"Mary!" You stupid son of a bitch she's dead. She's dead and you have no idea what's coming and there's nothing I can do. Nothing I can fucking do. "No!"
Yes.
Flashes of brightness from the fire and spots of darkness because none of the lights were on now. The house was dark other than the silhouette in the front door of a little boy holding something. It's gone as he went by.
"I gotcha."
Thank God.
The window explodes.
And the sirens start.
There were parts now that he didn't remember. Questions that the paramedics asked him, the firemen, the police. He hadn't heard them before and he didn't hear John answer them but he could hear them and John
John
just desperately wanted to see his kids. He wanted to see that Sam and Dean were both okay, but he couldn't see them. John was staring out in to the distance and all he could see was a few blond hairs at the edge of his vision, the only indication that Dean was there. That what little of his life that had survived this night was there.
It was all that kept him from breaking.