One Man and Then Some (Gen, R)
Title: One Man and Then Some
Rating: R
Category: Small bit of Dean/OFC, but gen otherwise. Oneshot.
Word Count: 1146
Characters: Dean, Sam, John
Spoilers: None
Author’s Note: Written for “Prompt 5: Multiple Personality” for the
psych_30 challenge.
Disclaimer: The following characters and situations are used without permission of the creators, owners, and further affiliates of the Warner Bros television show, Supernatural, to whom they rightly belong. I claim only what is mine, and I make no money off what is theirs.
He looks at himself in the mirror.
He has seen himself everyday for as long as he can remember. No matter the state or the year, the scars on his cheeks or the age on his face, he cannot remember a day when he has not looked at himself.
Yet, he knows it is one thing to see just a man.
It is another to see yourself.
- - - - -
Brian Hawkins walks into a police station.
His badge is gold and his belt buckle tarnished. He talks in short sentences, punctuated by an edge that makes the new secretary uncomfortable. His questions are odd, although the older cops know they could be odder. Back in the day, Officer Radley roomed with a forensic detective who was so odd that he talked to the dead in his sleep, so this new guy can’t be too bad.
After awhile, Radley comes out of the office to see Brian still sorting through the heap of files they gave him over two hours ago. Radley’s a bit suspicious now. When he asks the kid what’s taking him so long, Brian smiles faintly and says he’s just a slow reader.
- - - - -
John Winchester’s oldest son walks into a restaurant.
John’s already there, seated in a booth with his back to the door. He’s got the laminated menu opened in front of him, and his journal’s closed beside him, but there’s no mistaking which one is more important to him. His boy slides in across from him and asks how he’s been.
John nods with his eyes downcast; he’s been okay. He’s just gotten back from California, and his boy asks about the trip, but certain subjects-people-are avoided. The two men talk and eat-end up ordering the same meal, how ‘bout that?
The conversation is distant, but it’s all they have right now, and for that, it’s enough. Then John slides the journal, now open, across the table and taps at a page with the ink still damp. New case. New story. New life. Family ends when business begins.
- - - - -
Jack-he needs no last name-walks into a bar.
His coat’s too big, and his car’s too old, but his looks are good enough. She buys him a drink, and he can see that she’s just out of a relationship and is looking for a rebound. Even when she asks him to come home with her, he’s hesitant; he will never have a commitment. Ever. She agrees eagerly-no strings attached.
So, he fucks her. She calls him another man’s name from the last three years of her life, and Jack only gasps. And she asks him to stay when they’re finished. She’s desperate and needy, trying to fill the void left in her life from an old boyfriend. Something about her makes him cringe. But, she asks him one more time to stay, and so they fuck until noon.
- - - - -
He looks at himself in the mirror.
He has just gotten up in the middle of the night to use the toilet, and the world is wrapped in the silken tendrils of the silent night. As he washes his hands in the sink, he looks up at his reflection in the mirror. He lifts his hand to the glass, and his wet fingers touch his reflection. Twin beads of water run down his glassy cheeks, and like the water, his identity is fluid and changing with its surroundings. In the sink, the soap bubbles pop and die.
- - - - -
Dr. Williams walks into a hospital.
He smiles at the nurses when he passes and says, “Good morning, ladies” to make them all giggle like schoolgirls. He goes right to the pediatric ward and asks the kids questions. They trust him instantly and share their secrets. When time has passed, he leans forward and whispers to the kids, “Let’s keep this between us-okay?” They nod, and he gives them a pat on the shoulder as he stands to leave.
By the time the parents come back, Dr. Williams is gone, and the children are spouting stories about ghosts that walk among them.
- - - - -
Sam Winchester’s brother walks into a motel room.
Sam’s right behind him, both hands loaded with bags of clothes and weapons. Sam takes the bed closest to the door; his brother takes the one closest to the bathroom. They unload their limited belongings silently, and Sam glances over at his only sibling.
A comment about the last hunt passes between them. Something about how dangerous it was, and boy, they shouldn’t do that again unless they’re asking for an early death, y’know? Sarcasm. Just trying to take the edge off the scars. But, Sam’s brother rebuts that such a hunt was too dangerous. Sam could’ve died, doesn’t he realize that?
Sam tells him it’s not his brother’s job to keep him safe.
His brother looks up from a crumpled pair of jeans and raises an eyebrow. There’s a sting in his tone that’s mixed with pain and anger when he asks, “If it’s not mine, then whose is it?”
- - - - -
Simon Melville walks into a funeral home.
He’s in a suit, not name brand but still clean, and when he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes. He says he’s a cousin of the deceased, but Grandma has her doubts. But, Simon, in pants that are a bit too long, smiles that close-lipped smile of his, and suddenly Grandma remembers this one time at the family reunion Simon bet Brandon that he could eat more watermelon and-oh, wasn’t that fun? She looks around and waits for the nostalgic laughter. “Brandon, did you have fun, too?”
No one bothers to tell Grandma that Brandon’s dead. Not even Simon.
- - - - -
He looks at himself in the mirror.
It’s early in the morning, and the day is still gray and young, untainted by the world’s claws. He does not yet have a name, and the possibilities are infinite for his identity. He stares in the mirror until it flickers and swims and until the face that looks back is one that he can claim as his.
Not just for today. But for a lifetime without lies.
When he turns to leave and go out into the world, he hears something give way, and the mirror slips from the wall. He glances behind him just in time to see it fall to the tile and erupt in a glassy crash. From the floor, he sees his face dancing a thousand times over in the shattered pieces. A thousand different views of who he really is and a thousand different angles to his life. Nevertheless, he is still the same man in them all.
Then, he turns back around and closes the door behind him. He says nothing and only smiles to himself at something that he is just beginning to understand.
End