If I lost you
I've been toying with this idea for a while for the
spn_het_lovechallenge Then She Appeared, but left it behind when my first attempt sucked. Then I turned to David Gray for inspiration again, and thanks to Flame Turns Blue, I think this one is fit to post.
Title : If I lost you
Rating : PG
Paring : Dean/OFC, John/OFC
Wordcount : approx 1200 (my longest fic to date!)
Prompt : Written for
spn_het_lovechallenge Then She Appeared. If I lost you, don't know what I'd do. Burn forever where the flame turns blue.
At first he’s annoyed with Sam for turning down the radio, but then he hears it too. The town is silent, deathly silent. No dogs are barking, no children laughing, absolutely nothing. How many times have they pulled into towns just like this one? They may look different, but they all feel the same. They feel wrong. All doubts they may have had about the cryptic message in Dad’s journal sending them here swiftly disappear. Slowly they grumble to a stop in front of the old redbrick post office. Sam stays behind while he quickly goes inside to enter the combination that would unlock the box left for them God only knows how many years before. Retrieving the single brown envelope, he takes a moment to look at his name printed in his Dad’s bold handwriting. As he clenches his jaw and starts heading back to the car, he notices the woman behind the counter watching him intently and for a moment their eyes lock. He can see the recognition is her eyes and it throws him off balance for a second before he purposefully walks out.
He hands the envelope to Sam, who quickly opens it and starts reading aloud, but he can’t seem to concentrate on what he’s hearing. His thoughts keep going back to the woman inside who knew him. He knows for certain he has never met her before. For one thing, Dad’s letter is dated 1986, which means he would only have been about 7 years old the last time they were here in Judea Hills, Maine. And he’s almost sure this is one of the trips they didn’t make with Dad, being left behind with Pastor Jim or Caleb instead. For another, the way she was looking at him, it’s the way some of his past conquests have looked at him when he happened to run into them again somewhere. Which isn’t that strange, but this pretty lady looks to be about fifty and he’s definitely never swung that way before. Finally Sam catches his attention again and they head off to find a motel for the night.
It’s about five o’clock and freezing cold. He dozes fitfully on the narrow, hard, single bed while Sam tries to gather more info on the internet. Every time he almost falls asleep, a pair of clear blue eyes startle him awake, looking at him, looking through him. At last he opens his eyes and just lays there a second longer before he jumps up, starts striding towards the door pulling on his jacket as he goes, telling Sam he’s going for a drive. It’s not a long drive, just a few short blocks until he stops in front of the post office once more. He’s just in time to see her closing up and start walking down the street. So he waits until she rounds the corner and then slowly follows her home.
He’s been sitting in front of the small, single story gray house for almost two hours, slow heat and soft rock surrounding him in the dark when he sees a light come on in her bedroom. She walks past the window, the light reflecting off her brown and silver locks. She looks so different from the woman with the tight bun and dull brown dress that the followed that he barely recognizes her. Then something else catches his eye and before he knows it, he’s pounding on her front door, anxiously waiting to be let in. She opens the door wearing an old faded workman’s shirt over a pair of equally faded jeans and a voice he barely recognizes as his own asks her about his Dad’s shirt.
Any other woman would have been startled out of her wits to have some strange young man burst into her house in the middle of the night, but not Anne. She’s been through a hell of a lot worse to let something like this upset her. Besides, she’s been expecting him. So she lets him in and as they sit around her kitchen table with steaming cups of strong black coffee, she tells him what he came to hear.
John came rolling into town in that black Impala like he owned the town. At first everyone was suspicious of this gruff, handsome stranger that just happened to arrive in town just when all the children started disappearing. But they ended up following his orders to the letter with an unshakeable blind faith that he would stop it, he would save them. It was his last stop before leaving town, dropping off a letter at the post office to be read by his sons almost twenty years in the future. He was sure he’d be back himself just to check, to make sure it was really finished, but in this line of work you couldn’t be too sure, couldn’t take any chances. It was as he was reaching for the door when he heard someone talking behind him and it froze his blood. He knew it was impossible, but it was Mary’s voice. As he spun round all he could see was a chubby young woman with soft brown curls speaking into a telephone. He was about to turn around again, cursing his imagination for running away with him, when she looked right at him with hazy blue eyes and laughed at something the person at the other end of the line had said. That person probably thought the laugh sounded genuine enough, but he saw her eyes and they were crying. They were sad and lonely and desperate and mirrored the ones he saw staring back at him from the bathroom mirror almost exactly. So he followed her to the pub she went to after work and at separate ends of the bar they sat pouring their sad lives into cold beers and stranger’s ears. Then he followed her home and they let their souls pour into each other. In the morning all he left her was his shirt which she had put on sometime in the night and still lay sleeping in. She washed it, ironed it and for the first time since the funeral, opened her Tom’s closet to hang it inside. She ended up wearing it every now and again, when it hurt too much and nothing else would fill up the empty hole inside.
Dean’s a little surprised himself when he pushes her cup to the side and takes her hand. She wants to pull away but when he leans in to kiss her, they taste the salt and neither knows if it’s her tears or his. Then there are no more words between them, only their sobs and muffled cries that finally tear through the shroud of silence. In the morning, all he leaves with is the faded old workman’s shirt that gets tucked in quickly and secretly to the bottom of his bag when they pack up to leave a couple of days later with the job done. If the Impala slows a little when they pass the post office on the way out of town, Sam pretends not to notice, pretends to be smiling at a couple of kids noisily playing in the park across the street . He doesn’t comment on how quiet his brother is, either. Instead he opens his laptop and starts looking for the next town that needs their help.
Hope it was worth the read and comments are most welcome!
spn_het_lovechallenge Then She Appeared, but left it behind when my first attempt sucked. Then I turned to David Gray for inspiration again, and thanks to Flame Turns Blue, I think this one is fit to post.
Title : If I lost you
Rating : PG
Paring : Dean/OFC, John/OFC
Wordcount : approx 1200 (my longest fic to date!)
Prompt : Written for
spn_het_lovechallenge Then She Appeared. If I lost you, don't know what I'd do. Burn forever where the flame turns blue.
At first he’s annoyed with Sam for turning down the radio, but then he hears it too. The town is silent, deathly silent. No dogs are barking, no children laughing, absolutely nothing. How many times have they pulled into towns just like this one? They may look different, but they all feel the same. They feel wrong. All doubts they may have had about the cryptic message in Dad’s journal sending them here swiftly disappear. Slowly they grumble to a stop in front of the old redbrick post office. Sam stays behind while he quickly goes inside to enter the combination that would unlock the box left for them God only knows how many years before. Retrieving the single brown envelope, he takes a moment to look at his name printed in his Dad’s bold handwriting. As he clenches his jaw and starts heading back to the car, he notices the woman behind the counter watching him intently and for a moment their eyes lock. He can see the recognition is her eyes and it throws him off balance for a second before he purposefully walks out.
He hands the envelope to Sam, who quickly opens it and starts reading aloud, but he can’t seem to concentrate on what he’s hearing. His thoughts keep going back to the woman inside who knew him. He knows for certain he has never met her before. For one thing, Dad’s letter is dated 1986, which means he would only have been about 7 years old the last time they were here in Judea Hills, Maine. And he’s almost sure this is one of the trips they didn’t make with Dad, being left behind with Pastor Jim or Caleb instead. For another, the way she was looking at him, it’s the way some of his past conquests have looked at him when he happened to run into them again somewhere. Which isn’t that strange, but this pretty lady looks to be about fifty and he’s definitely never swung that way before. Finally Sam catches his attention again and they head off to find a motel for the night.
It’s about five o’clock and freezing cold. He dozes fitfully on the narrow, hard, single bed while Sam tries to gather more info on the internet. Every time he almost falls asleep, a pair of clear blue eyes startle him awake, looking at him, looking through him. At last he opens his eyes and just lays there a second longer before he jumps up, starts striding towards the door pulling on his jacket as he goes, telling Sam he’s going for a drive. It’s not a long drive, just a few short blocks until he stops in front of the post office once more. He’s just in time to see her closing up and start walking down the street. So he waits until she rounds the corner and then slowly follows her home.
He’s been sitting in front of the small, single story gray house for almost two hours, slow heat and soft rock surrounding him in the dark when he sees a light come on in her bedroom. She walks past the window, the light reflecting off her brown and silver locks. She looks so different from the woman with the tight bun and dull brown dress that the followed that he barely recognizes her. Then something else catches his eye and before he knows it, he’s pounding on her front door, anxiously waiting to be let in. She opens the door wearing an old faded workman’s shirt over a pair of equally faded jeans and a voice he barely recognizes as his own asks her about his Dad’s shirt.
Any other woman would have been startled out of her wits to have some strange young man burst into her house in the middle of the night, but not Anne. She’s been through a hell of a lot worse to let something like this upset her. Besides, she’s been expecting him. So she lets him in and as they sit around her kitchen table with steaming cups of strong black coffee, she tells him what he came to hear.
John came rolling into town in that black Impala like he owned the town. At first everyone was suspicious of this gruff, handsome stranger that just happened to arrive in town just when all the children started disappearing. But they ended up following his orders to the letter with an unshakeable blind faith that he would stop it, he would save them. It was his last stop before leaving town, dropping off a letter at the post office to be read by his sons almost twenty years in the future. He was sure he’d be back himself just to check, to make sure it was really finished, but in this line of work you couldn’t be too sure, couldn’t take any chances. It was as he was reaching for the door when he heard someone talking behind him and it froze his blood. He knew it was impossible, but it was Mary’s voice. As he spun round all he could see was a chubby young woman with soft brown curls speaking into a telephone. He was about to turn around again, cursing his imagination for running away with him, when she looked right at him with hazy blue eyes and laughed at something the person at the other end of the line had said. That person probably thought the laugh sounded genuine enough, but he saw her eyes and they were crying. They were sad and lonely and desperate and mirrored the ones he saw staring back at him from the bathroom mirror almost exactly. So he followed her to the pub she went to after work and at separate ends of the bar they sat pouring their sad lives into cold beers and stranger’s ears. Then he followed her home and they let their souls pour into each other. In the morning all he left her was his shirt which she had put on sometime in the night and still lay sleeping in. She washed it, ironed it and for the first time since the funeral, opened her Tom’s closet to hang it inside. She ended up wearing it every now and again, when it hurt too much and nothing else would fill up the empty hole inside.
Dean’s a little surprised himself when he pushes her cup to the side and takes her hand. She wants to pull away but when he leans in to kiss her, they taste the salt and neither knows if it’s her tears or his. Then there are no more words between them, only their sobs and muffled cries that finally tear through the shroud of silence. In the morning, all he leaves with is the faded old workman’s shirt that gets tucked in quickly and secretly to the bottom of his bag when they pack up to leave a couple of days later with the job done. If the Impala slows a little when they pass the post office on the way out of town, Sam pretends not to notice, pretends to be smiling at a couple of kids noisily playing in the park across the street . He doesn’t comment on how quiet his brother is, either. Instead he opens his laptop and starts looking for the next town that needs their help.
Hope it was worth the read and comments are most welcome!