Fic: War Drums: Dean, Sam (PG-13)
Title: War Drums
Author: mgbutterfly
Rating: PG-13 (there's some cussin')
Characters: Dean, Sam
Spoilers: Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things
Disclaimer: The Winchester boys, sadly, are not mine. Although, in my dreams....
Summary: Lay your head down, child. I won't let the boogyman come.
Beta!Bitch: barkeep (because she is made of awesome.)
Author's Notes: I wrote this a long time ago. I guess just after CSPWDT. I posted it on another site, and then... and then... I discovered all y'all.
Sammy was eight.
He stood by the window of the dingy hotel room they were renting this week and just stared. He was eight. And it wasn’t fair. No eight-year-old should know the things he knew. No eight-year-old should be able to recite the Latin to banish the monster that really was in the closet, or under the bed, or lurking in the woods. He wanted to cry, to scream... but he couldn’t. Couldn’t let Dad and Dean know how much he hated this. Hated hunting. Hated being afraid. Hated the guns and the knives and the bows. They needed him... just as much as he needed them.
Without realizing it, Sammy let out a little sob. A moment later, John was at his side, with a big hand on his shoulder.
“I’m here, Sammy. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”
Sammy didn’t move. He couldn’t. There was too much going through his mind. He couldn’t even look at his father.
“Sammy, we’re here. Come away from the window. Go back to sleep, son.”
Hesitantly, Sammy returned to the bed he had to share with Dean. He curled up on his side and closed his eyes and hoped the nightmares wouldn’t come.
~ -|- ~
Sam was fifteen. Fifteen and tied to a tree.
He sat in the darkness. It was cold and wet and Jesus Christ did it stink.
Dean had left him tied to a tree somewhere in the middle of the woods.
He was bait. Fucking bait
This wouldn’t end well.
At least Dean had left him a knife. That was Dean for you, always thinking about others... while he left them tied to a fucking tree.
Sam caught a noise out of the distance. Leaves moving under... what... feet? Paws? Something.
“Great. Virgin sacrifice. Fucking great,” he mumbled under his breath.
Before he knew it, the thing was on him. All teeth and claws and fur and god what was that smell?
Sam fumbled around his waistband for the sheathed knife. The elemental, Dean’s guess turned out to be right after all, jumped onto Sam with enough force to knock the wind out of him. And, because Sam’s night wasn’t going badly enough already, fuck you very much, it also managed to knock the knife away from his still bound hands.
Elementals were pissy little creatures when conjured and then ignored. Not given a purpose, they tended to go all feral and maverick and crazy. Just like this one. It was taking out all its misplaced anger on unsuspecting victims. It was attacking hikers, kids, dogs, whatever it could get its paws on. Expending all of its vindictive rage on oblivious passers-by. Dean had decided it was time for he and Sam to kill the thing. Fix the problem once and for all.
Sam struggled to regain his breath, and the knife, while the vicious little thing scratched at his chest and arms.
Where was Dean? What the hell was taking him so long?
“Dean DEAN C’mon man. The thing’s right on top of me.”
“Keep your pants on, Samantha.” Dean came sauntering out of the bushes with shotgun at the ready. Uncertain if the creature they were hunting really was an elemental, he had loaded it with the rock salt rounds, but had some blessed iron rounds in the .45 tucked into his jeans.
Dean fired two quick shotgun blasts straight into the thing’s chest. It flew off of Sam’s lap and landed dead on the ground.
Dean walked over to it and picked up a stick to poke it. You know, just to be sure it was dead.
He turned back to Sam, who was still tied to a tree and bleeding like a stuck pig from where the elemental had been clawing him.
“Dude, are you okay? Why didn’t you use the knife?”
Sam looked incredulous. “I did But my hands are tied behind my back. I couldn’t hold onto it when that thing pounced.”
Dean cut the ropes and helped Sam up. “Let’s get back to the room. Get you cleaned up.”
~ * ~
Dean was asleep within five minutes of his head hitting the pillow. His breathing was deep and comforting.
Sam’s arms and chest were burning where the thing had ripped into him. Despite the wonders of Tylenol, it was hard to sleep when your body hurt like this. Besides, if he went to sleep, he’d just dream.
He got up and went over to the window. Dad would be back tomorrow. And probably pissed that Dean had taken it upon himself to rid the world of one more freaky creature without his knowledge. Oh yeah, and accidentally put his brother in danger in the process. By not-so-accidentally tying him to a tree.
It wasn’t real danger though. The thing wasn’t even really strong enough to do more that scratch Sam up pretty bad. But still, dad would be mad. They’d get an earful. Well, Dean would get an earful, Sam would just walk out. He wasn’t going to do this forever. To hell with the lectures.
Without realizing it, Sam started crying. What the hell? He was fine, Dean was fine. Dad was fine. Probably. Wherever he was.
Stress. That had to be it. It’s just the stress of being tied to a tree and pounded on by something with claws.
Sam tried to stifle the crying but only succeed in making a pitiful choking sound in the back of his throat. Suddenly, Dean was there behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. The weight of it was like a warm blanket. The scent of Dean like leather and gunpowder and earth and Dean.
“Dude, it’s okay. I’m here. Go back to sleep.”
Sam couldn’t move. Didn’t want Dean to see him crying. He was fifteen for God’s sake. Too old for this shit.
“Sammy, I’m here. It’s okay. Come away from the window. Go back to sleep.”
Sam turned away from the cold light creeping in. His eyes met Dean’s and there was a silent understanding there.
As long as Dean was around, he wouldn’t let anything happen to Sam. Anything.
And as much as he hated this, they needed him just as much as he needed them... maybe even more.
Sam crept back to his bed, curled up on his side, and hoped to God that the nightmares wouldn’t come.
~ -|- ~
Sam was twenty-three.
Fucking zombies.
No, wait. Fucking girl zombies.
Sam had a broken wrist because of a fucking girl zombie.
Dean had taken him to the emergency room that night. After the running and the digging, Sam’s wrist had swollen to something like twenty-eight times its normal size. Otherwise, Sam’s not sure they would have even bothered with a hospital. The doctor had given him a prescription for some pretty fabulous pain medication, but Sam decided he’d rather have all his faculties about him. You know, just in case.
The pain was keeping him awake though. Well, the pain or the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about what Dean had said.
You and Dad... you're the most important people in my life. And now... I never should have come back, Sam. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead.
Sam looked over at Dean, breathing evenly in his sleep. An artificial glare from the arc-sodium lights in the parking lot was seeping through a crack in the curtains. It cast Dean in a halo of false light. Sam let the vision of his brother, alive and sleeping soundly, overtake the memory. He clung to that as he drifted off into sleep.
~ * ~
Sam came out of an easy sleep and turned over to look at the clock. His still-blurry eyes found Dean standing at the window.
Sam rose quietly from the bed and walked over to Dean, resting a hand on his shoulder.
“Dean? It’s okay. I’m here. Go back to sleep.”
Dean didn’t move. Sam could feel Dean’s body shudder, trying to hold back a sob.
“Dean. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Come away from the window. Go back to sleep.”
Hesitantly, Dean turned from the window. He took Sam in. Took in the sleepy look in his eyes. The gentle hand on his shoulder. He could do this. He could be strong. He’d do it for Sammy.
Maybe Sam needed Dean... not as much as Dean needed him, but he needed him and maybe that was enough.
Dean walked back to the bed. He curled up on his side and closed his eyes and hoped the nightmares wouldn’t come.
End
~ -|- ~
Don't fret precious I'm here, step away from the window
Go back to sleep
Lay your head down child
I won't let the boogeyman come
Counting bodies like sheep
To the rhythm of the war drums
Pay no mind to the rabble
Head down, go to sleep
To the rhythm of the war drums
Pay no mind what other voices say
They don't care about you, like I do, like I do
Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils,
See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do.
Just stay with me, safe and ignorant,
Go back to sleep
Go back to sleep
I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and all your demons
I'll be the one to protect you from
A will to survive and a voice of reason
I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and your choices son
They're one in the same
I must isolate you
Isolate and save you from yourself
Swayin’ to the rhythm of the new world order and
Count the bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums
The boogeymen are coming
The boogeymen are coming
Keep yur head down, go to sleep, to the rhythm of a war drums
Stay with me
Safe and ignorant
Just stay with me
Hold you and protect you from the other ones
The evil ones
Don't love you son,
Go back to sleep
A Perfect Circle: Pet
Author: mgbutterfly
Rating: PG-13 (there's some cussin')
Characters: Dean, Sam
Spoilers: Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things
Disclaimer: The Winchester boys, sadly, are not mine. Although, in my dreams....
Summary: Lay your head down, child. I won't let the boogyman come.
Beta!Bitch: barkeep (because she is made of awesome.)
Author's Notes: I wrote this a long time ago. I guess just after CSPWDT. I posted it on another site, and then... and then... I discovered all y'all.
Sammy was eight.
He stood by the window of the dingy hotel room they were renting this week and just stared. He was eight. And it wasn’t fair. No eight-year-old should know the things he knew. No eight-year-old should be able to recite the Latin to banish the monster that really was in the closet, or under the bed, or lurking in the woods. He wanted to cry, to scream... but he couldn’t. Couldn’t let Dad and Dean know how much he hated this. Hated hunting. Hated being afraid. Hated the guns and the knives and the bows. They needed him... just as much as he needed them.
Without realizing it, Sammy let out a little sob. A moment later, John was at his side, with a big hand on his shoulder.
“I’m here, Sammy. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”
Sammy didn’t move. He couldn’t. There was too much going through his mind. He couldn’t even look at his father.
“Sammy, we’re here. Come away from the window. Go back to sleep, son.”
Hesitantly, Sammy returned to the bed he had to share with Dean. He curled up on his side and closed his eyes and hoped the nightmares wouldn’t come.
~ -|- ~
Sam was fifteen. Fifteen and tied to a tree.
He sat in the darkness. It was cold and wet and Jesus Christ did it stink.
Dean had left him tied to a tree somewhere in the middle of the woods.
He was bait. Fucking bait
This wouldn’t end well.
At least Dean had left him a knife. That was Dean for you, always thinking about others... while he left them tied to a fucking tree.
Sam caught a noise out of the distance. Leaves moving under... what... feet? Paws? Something.
“Great. Virgin sacrifice. Fucking great,” he mumbled under his breath.
Before he knew it, the thing was on him. All teeth and claws and fur and god what was that smell?
Sam fumbled around his waistband for the sheathed knife. The elemental, Dean’s guess turned out to be right after all, jumped onto Sam with enough force to knock the wind out of him. And, because Sam’s night wasn’t going badly enough already, fuck you very much, it also managed to knock the knife away from his still bound hands.
Elementals were pissy little creatures when conjured and then ignored. Not given a purpose, they tended to go all feral and maverick and crazy. Just like this one. It was taking out all its misplaced anger on unsuspecting victims. It was attacking hikers, kids, dogs, whatever it could get its paws on. Expending all of its vindictive rage on oblivious passers-by. Dean had decided it was time for he and Sam to kill the thing. Fix the problem once and for all.
Sam struggled to regain his breath, and the knife, while the vicious little thing scratched at his chest and arms.
Where was Dean? What the hell was taking him so long?
“Dean DEAN C’mon man. The thing’s right on top of me.”
“Keep your pants on, Samantha.” Dean came sauntering out of the bushes with shotgun at the ready. Uncertain if the creature they were hunting really was an elemental, he had loaded it with the rock salt rounds, but had some blessed iron rounds in the .45 tucked into his jeans.
Dean fired two quick shotgun blasts straight into the thing’s chest. It flew off of Sam’s lap and landed dead on the ground.
Dean walked over to it and picked up a stick to poke it. You know, just to be sure it was dead.
He turned back to Sam, who was still tied to a tree and bleeding like a stuck pig from where the elemental had been clawing him.
“Dude, are you okay? Why didn’t you use the knife?”
Sam looked incredulous. “I did But my hands are tied behind my back. I couldn’t hold onto it when that thing pounced.”
Dean cut the ropes and helped Sam up. “Let’s get back to the room. Get you cleaned up.”
~ * ~
Dean was asleep within five minutes of his head hitting the pillow. His breathing was deep and comforting.
Sam’s arms and chest were burning where the thing had ripped into him. Despite the wonders of Tylenol, it was hard to sleep when your body hurt like this. Besides, if he went to sleep, he’d just dream.
He got up and went over to the window. Dad would be back tomorrow. And probably pissed that Dean had taken it upon himself to rid the world of one more freaky creature without his knowledge. Oh yeah, and accidentally put his brother in danger in the process. By not-so-accidentally tying him to a tree.
It wasn’t real danger though. The thing wasn’t even really strong enough to do more that scratch Sam up pretty bad. But still, dad would be mad. They’d get an earful. Well, Dean would get an earful, Sam would just walk out. He wasn’t going to do this forever. To hell with the lectures.
Without realizing it, Sam started crying. What the hell? He was fine, Dean was fine. Dad was fine. Probably. Wherever he was.
Stress. That had to be it. It’s just the stress of being tied to a tree and pounded on by something with claws.
Sam tried to stifle the crying but only succeed in making a pitiful choking sound in the back of his throat. Suddenly, Dean was there behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. The weight of it was like a warm blanket. The scent of Dean like leather and gunpowder and earth and Dean.
“Dude, it’s okay. I’m here. Go back to sleep.”
Sam couldn’t move. Didn’t want Dean to see him crying. He was fifteen for God’s sake. Too old for this shit.
“Sammy, I’m here. It’s okay. Come away from the window. Go back to sleep.”
Sam turned away from the cold light creeping in. His eyes met Dean’s and there was a silent understanding there.
As long as Dean was around, he wouldn’t let anything happen to Sam. Anything.
And as much as he hated this, they needed him just as much as he needed them... maybe even more.
Sam crept back to his bed, curled up on his side, and hoped to God that the nightmares wouldn’t come.
~ -|- ~
Sam was twenty-three.
Fucking zombies.
No, wait. Fucking girl zombies.
Sam had a broken wrist because of a fucking girl zombie.
Dean had taken him to the emergency room that night. After the running and the digging, Sam’s wrist had swollen to something like twenty-eight times its normal size. Otherwise, Sam’s not sure they would have even bothered with a hospital. The doctor had given him a prescription for some pretty fabulous pain medication, but Sam decided he’d rather have all his faculties about him. You know, just in case.
The pain was keeping him awake though. Well, the pain or the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about what Dean had said.
You and Dad... you're the most important people in my life. And now... I never should have come back, Sam. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead.
Sam looked over at Dean, breathing evenly in his sleep. An artificial glare from the arc-sodium lights in the parking lot was seeping through a crack in the curtains. It cast Dean in a halo of false light. Sam let the vision of his brother, alive and sleeping soundly, overtake the memory. He clung to that as he drifted off into sleep.
~ * ~
Sam came out of an easy sleep and turned over to look at the clock. His still-blurry eyes found Dean standing at the window.
Sam rose quietly from the bed and walked over to Dean, resting a hand on his shoulder.
“Dean? It’s okay. I’m here. Go back to sleep.”
Dean didn’t move. Sam could feel Dean’s body shudder, trying to hold back a sob.
“Dean. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Come away from the window. Go back to sleep.”
Hesitantly, Dean turned from the window. He took Sam in. Took in the sleepy look in his eyes. The gentle hand on his shoulder. He could do this. He could be strong. He’d do it for Sammy.
Maybe Sam needed Dean... not as much as Dean needed him, but he needed him and maybe that was enough.
Dean walked back to the bed. He curled up on his side and closed his eyes and hoped the nightmares wouldn’t come.
End
~ -|- ~
Don't fret precious I'm here, step away from the window
Go back to sleep
Lay your head down child
I won't let the boogeyman come
Counting bodies like sheep
To the rhythm of the war drums
Pay no mind to the rabble
Head down, go to sleep
To the rhythm of the war drums
Pay no mind what other voices say
They don't care about you, like I do, like I do
Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils,
See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do.
Just stay with me, safe and ignorant,
Go back to sleep
Go back to sleep
I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and all your demons
I'll be the one to protect you from
A will to survive and a voice of reason
I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and your choices son
They're one in the same
I must isolate you
Isolate and save you from yourself
Swayin’ to the rhythm of the new world order and
Count the bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums
The boogeymen are coming
The boogeymen are coming
Keep yur head down, go to sleep, to the rhythm of a war drums
Stay with me
Safe and ignorant
Just stay with me
Hold you and protect you from the other ones
The evil ones
Don't love you son,
Go back to sleep
A Perfect Circle: Pet