New Fic: Events in Sun and Shadows, 1/?
Title: Events in Sun and Shadows, 1/?
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: reading_is_in
Characters: Ben, Adam
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All recognized characters from ‘Supernatural’ are property of Eric Kripke/CW. This fan fiction is not for profit.
Summary: Adam and Ben have a hard legacy to live up to.
A/N: Set in an alternative S6 where Sam never returned from the Cage, Adam is alive, and Dean remained with Ben and Lisa until the events of this story begin. Contains mild core, character death, and confused adolescent feelings.
A/N 2: Omg, I killed everyone. Seriously, this is more (!) depressing than my usual fare, and is Inspired by a most wonderful Blake’s 7 fic, many years old now. I’ll credit the author properly if I can find it again.
For to him that is joined to all the living there is hope: for a living dog is better than a dead lion. For the living know that they shall die: but the dead know not any thing, neither have they any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten. Also their love, and their hatred, and their envy, is now perished; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any [thing] that is done under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 9, 4-6.
Events in Sun and Shadows, 1/?
2017.
After his mother and Dean died, Ben sat in the warehouse for twenty-four hours. He supposed it was some sort of shock; it certainly wasn’t normal, sitting surrounded by blood and the remains of their bodies. He was supposed to stay in the car, and he had: stayed to hear the sounds the demon made when it was killing them, watched as the warehouse lit up and heard the noise of earth cracking, and seen it stream away as a cloud of smoke. He’d sat there for a long time afterwards, hoping for no reason that they’d come out anyway. When the sun began to glow red-pink and gold above the cloud horizon, he went and sat amongst the ruins. Half-dried blood and splinters scratched his legs through the rips in his jeans. His mom hated those jeans, but Dean would stick up for him.
If the police came now, he thought, they would have to arrest him. Then at least he would know what to do. Someone would tell him where to go. He had never handled a gun - Dean had had his way on that matter. He never usually came on hunts either. It was only because the demon had broken in, late last night, defeating the traps and salt that his mother didn’t want to leave him alone.
“Then I’ll go alone,” Dean had said, “You stay with Ben.”
“Like hell,” his mom had said. “He’s my son. If anyone is killing this thing that wants him, it’ll be me.”
But it hadn’t been. It had killed her instead. Killed both of them, in ways he could not understand or begin to imagine until it came for him too, which right now seemed the only comphrensible thing to happen in his future.
Eventually Ben began to cry, and only stopped when it felt like there was no water left in him. Then he crawled, snivelling, towards the remains, extracted the gun still intact from what remained of his mother’s hand, and slipped it into the waistband of his jeans. He didn’t even know how to check the safety, but he didn’t care either. Then he stumbled towards the sunlight.
***
He went home - to his house, he supposed. Was 17 old enough to inherit? He was very thirsty, so he drank some water from the tap in the kitchen, then went and lay on their bed. He breathed in his mother’s scent, and felt like a lost child. He breathed in his scent, and felt confused shameful angry love and hero worship. They were both still so present. Still suffused in the air, and one day soon it would be cold and empty and their room blank and scentless, never to be brought alive again.
Possibly he cried again, and slept. An indeterminate time later - long enough for him to have to use the bathroom a few times, drink water, and affirm that though days were probably passing, the thought of ingesting food made bile rise in his throat - there was a knock at the door. Ben raised his head. Then he lowered it again. So what? He had no business with anyone. Nowhere to go. Nothing.
A second knock. Harder this time, insistent. Then someone rang the doorbell.
“Ben?” Someone called.
Not knowing what else to do, Ben stood up and the world tilted weirdly - pressing a hand to the doorframe to steady himself, he meant to call, ‘Coming’, but nothing came out of his mouth except a rasp. The person was still ringing the doorbell. Ben opened the door.
On the step was a young man, older than him, in his early twenties perhaps. He had wide, sombre blue eyes, a downturned mouth, and dark blonde hair cut raggedly in no particular style. He was dressed - like a hunter. Ben knew that by now. Jeans with lots of pockets, sturdy boots, layers for concealing weapons and artefacts, and a rucksack.
“I’m sorry,” said the stranger. “I heard about what happened.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Ben asked, which was completely unlike him, but he felt that his personality had vanished in the warehouse however many days ago, and now he was merely a blank outline, the appearance of a person existing from moment to moment . He had no idea what would happen.
“My name is Adam,” the stranger stepped cautiously forward, offering his hand. “I’m
...Dean Winchester was my brother.”
“Dean’s brother died seven years ago,” Ben said flatly.
“No I’m....another one. Half-brother, really. We shared the same father. I’m a hunter too.”
“Dean never mentioned you.”
“There was no reason for him to. He didn’t want me to get into hunting and....we were never that close. I think Sam understood me a lot better. But, after he died.....” Adam shrugged. “I guess we just never had a lot to say to each other. I had my life, he had his.” Adam winced when he heard what he’d just said. “I’m sorry. Anyway, news travels fast through the hunting grapevine. I just wanted you to know...that I know. And that I exist, I guess. If you need anything.” Adam half-smiled ruefully.
Ben didn’t say anything, just stood there holding the door open.
“Are you okay? Is anyone here with you?”
Ben said nothing.
“Well...I’m gonna be sticking around for a while. That demon is still in the
vicinity. I’ll come check on you tomorrow, okay? Ben narrowed his eyes at the stranger and asked,
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Because...we’re the only ones left, I guess.” Adam shrugged. “They were great, but they’re gone. I guess Dean felt like a father to you.”
Something roiled in Ben’s stomach at that, and he thought he might vomit despite its emptiness. The intensity of feeling he’d had towards Dean...it wasn’t that of a son. ‘You were in love with him,’ whispered his hard voice, relentless.‘You still are, and you always will be. He was the best thing in your life, everything you wanted. He treated you like his own kid, and that’s how you repaid him. You’re sick, and this is your punishment’.
“So I figure he’d want me to help you.” Adam held his gaze for a moment, piercing.
“Anything you want me to bring when I come tomorrow? Food?”
“Do whatever you want,” Ben told him, and closed the door in his face.
Part Two
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: reading_is_in
Characters: Ben, Adam
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All recognized characters from ‘Supernatural’ are property of Eric Kripke/CW. This fan fiction is not for profit.
Summary: Adam and Ben have a hard legacy to live up to.
A/N: Set in an alternative S6 where Sam never returned from the Cage, Adam is alive, and Dean remained with Ben and Lisa until the events of this story begin. Contains mild core, character death, and confused adolescent feelings.
A/N 2: Omg, I killed everyone. Seriously, this is more (!) depressing than my usual fare, and is Inspired by a most wonderful Blake’s 7 fic, many years old now. I’ll credit the author properly if I can find it again.
For to him that is joined to all the living there is hope: for a living dog is better than a dead lion. For the living know that they shall die: but the dead know not any thing, neither have they any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten. Also their love, and their hatred, and their envy, is now perished; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any [thing] that is done under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 9, 4-6.
Events in Sun and Shadows, 1/?
2017.
After his mother and Dean died, Ben sat in the warehouse for twenty-four hours. He supposed it was some sort of shock; it certainly wasn’t normal, sitting surrounded by blood and the remains of their bodies. He was supposed to stay in the car, and he had: stayed to hear the sounds the demon made when it was killing them, watched as the warehouse lit up and heard the noise of earth cracking, and seen it stream away as a cloud of smoke. He’d sat there for a long time afterwards, hoping for no reason that they’d come out anyway. When the sun began to glow red-pink and gold above the cloud horizon, he went and sat amongst the ruins. Half-dried blood and splinters scratched his legs through the rips in his jeans. His mom hated those jeans, but Dean would stick up for him.
If the police came now, he thought, they would have to arrest him. Then at least he would know what to do. Someone would tell him where to go. He had never handled a gun - Dean had had his way on that matter. He never usually came on hunts either. It was only because the demon had broken in, late last night, defeating the traps and salt that his mother didn’t want to leave him alone.
“Then I’ll go alone,” Dean had said, “You stay with Ben.”
“Like hell,” his mom had said. “He’s my son. If anyone is killing this thing that wants him, it’ll be me.”
But it hadn’t been. It had killed her instead. Killed both of them, in ways he could not understand or begin to imagine until it came for him too, which right now seemed the only comphrensible thing to happen in his future.
Eventually Ben began to cry, and only stopped when it felt like there was no water left in him. Then he crawled, snivelling, towards the remains, extracted the gun still intact from what remained of his mother’s hand, and slipped it into the waistband of his jeans. He didn’t even know how to check the safety, but he didn’t care either. Then he stumbled towards the sunlight.
***
He went home - to his house, he supposed. Was 17 old enough to inherit? He was very thirsty, so he drank some water from the tap in the kitchen, then went and lay on their bed. He breathed in his mother’s scent, and felt like a lost child. He breathed in his scent, and felt confused shameful angry love and hero worship. They were both still so present. Still suffused in the air, and one day soon it would be cold and empty and their room blank and scentless, never to be brought alive again.
Possibly he cried again, and slept. An indeterminate time later - long enough for him to have to use the bathroom a few times, drink water, and affirm that though days were probably passing, the thought of ingesting food made bile rise in his throat - there was a knock at the door. Ben raised his head. Then he lowered it again. So what? He had no business with anyone. Nowhere to go. Nothing.
A second knock. Harder this time, insistent. Then someone rang the doorbell.
“Ben?” Someone called.
Not knowing what else to do, Ben stood up and the world tilted weirdly - pressing a hand to the doorframe to steady himself, he meant to call, ‘Coming’, but nothing came out of his mouth except a rasp. The person was still ringing the doorbell. Ben opened the door.
On the step was a young man, older than him, in his early twenties perhaps. He had wide, sombre blue eyes, a downturned mouth, and dark blonde hair cut raggedly in no particular style. He was dressed - like a hunter. Ben knew that by now. Jeans with lots of pockets, sturdy boots, layers for concealing weapons and artefacts, and a rucksack.
“I’m sorry,” said the stranger. “I heard about what happened.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Ben asked, which was completely unlike him, but he felt that his personality had vanished in the warehouse however many days ago, and now he was merely a blank outline, the appearance of a person existing from moment to moment . He had no idea what would happen.
“My name is Adam,” the stranger stepped cautiously forward, offering his hand. “I’m
...Dean Winchester was my brother.”
“Dean’s brother died seven years ago,” Ben said flatly.
“No I’m....another one. Half-brother, really. We shared the same father. I’m a hunter too.”
“Dean never mentioned you.”
“There was no reason for him to. He didn’t want me to get into hunting and....we were never that close. I think Sam understood me a lot better. But, after he died.....” Adam shrugged. “I guess we just never had a lot to say to each other. I had my life, he had his.” Adam winced when he heard what he’d just said. “I’m sorry. Anyway, news travels fast through the hunting grapevine. I just wanted you to know...that I know. And that I exist, I guess. If you need anything.” Adam half-smiled ruefully.
Ben didn’t say anything, just stood there holding the door open.
“Are you okay? Is anyone here with you?”
Ben said nothing.
“Well...I’m gonna be sticking around for a while. That demon is still in the
vicinity. I’ll come check on you tomorrow, okay? Ben narrowed his eyes at the stranger and asked,
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Because...we’re the only ones left, I guess.” Adam shrugged. “They were great, but they’re gone. I guess Dean felt like a father to you.”
Something roiled in Ben’s stomach at that, and he thought he might vomit despite its emptiness. The intensity of feeling he’d had towards Dean...it wasn’t that of a son. ‘You were in love with him,’ whispered his hard voice, relentless.‘You still are, and you always will be. He was the best thing in your life, everything you wanted. He treated you like his own kid, and that’s how you repaid him. You’re sick, and this is your punishment’.
“So I figure he’d want me to help you.” Adam held his gaze for a moment, piercing.
“Anything you want me to bring when I come tomorrow? Food?”
“Do whatever you want,” Ben told him, and closed the door in his face.
Part Two