The Only Light
Title: The Only Light
Characters: Dean, John, Sam, mention of Pastor Jim
Genre: wee!chesters
Written for the hoodie_time Dean focused schmoopfest. Not sure it's either Dean focused or schmoopy enough, but there you go.
Rating: G
Dean followed on his father's heels as John carried Sammy into the boys shared bedroom at Pastor Jim's comfortable home. As John laid Sammy down in the crib that one of the Pastor's parishoners had generously loaned him he let an unaccustomed wave of gratitude wash over him. Missouri had sent him to Jim, telling him that, as both a man of faith and a hunter, the pastor was the ideal first teacher for a grieving man with two small children. Of course she hadn't put it quite that way.
"John Winchester, what are you planning on doing with those boys while you go get an education in the ways of evil?" were her exact words. John. who had had no intention of leaving his boys with anyone, had jumped on the psychic's suggestion of a well educated man of the cloth in a rural setting. He had hoped the quiet would be good for the boys, especially Dean, who was still a pale, silent shadow of his former self.
John stared down at Sam, sleeping in his crib with his baby soft hair falling over his eyes. His father sighed and brushed it back out of Sam's face. He'd have to give Sammy a haircut soon. Dean too, his hair was growing at an alarming rate. Mary had always taken care of it, but now it was another thing John was going to have to learn for his boys. Dean moved to his father's side and wrapped one arm around John's leg. John looked down and solemn green eyes stared back. Dean's eyes moved from his father to Sam and back, and John could read the question in them.
"No, tiger. You have your own bed and you need to sleep there. Sammy will be fine where he is." John closed his eyes and sighed at the panic that flared through his oldest's eyes. "He will, Dean. We're safe here." John stopped short of saying, I promise, because he knew he could promise no such thing. Not until he knew more about what was out there, about what had killed his Mary. John swung Dean up into his arms and carried him out into the living room, but he knew Dean's eyes were glued on his brother until he was out of sight.
John settled down in Jim's overstuffed easy chair and Dean shifted so he faced the door to the bedroom before snuggling against his father's chest, small head tucked beneath John's chin. John stroked Dean's back as he listened to his boy's quiet breaths.
"Did you have a good day today, Dean?" John hoped for a spoken answer, but didn't really expect one. He occasionally heard Dean murmur to Sam, but Dean wasn't ready to talk to anyone else yet. Dean shook his head and gripped his father's shirt tightly. John could feel the boy's body trembling. "Did something happen, Dean? You need to tell me if something happened." John kept his voice soft and continued to gently rub Dean's back. The words were so softly spoken that John almost missed them.
"I miss Mommy."
John's heart didn't know quite what to do with that. It wanted to leap with joy that Dean had spoken, while at the same time it was crushed by the sadness in his little boy's voice. "I know, baby. I miss her too." He sat with Dean in his arms until the boy fell asleep but Dean had said all he had to say for today.
John carried Dean to the bedroom and laid him down on his bed, hoping that tonight he'd stay there. Usually, on one of John's multiple nightly checks, Dean would have climbed into his brother's crib and would be sleeping with his arms tightly wrapped around Sammy. John would have thought a baby would object to being confined like that, but if Sammy did he showed no sign of it. John kissed Dean softly on the top of his head and pulled the covers up to his chin. "Sleep well, tiger."
Jim was out for the evening, visiting a sick parishoner, so John occupied the next few hours by studying some of the books Jim had left out for him, copying notes into a leather journal the Pastor had given him. By eleven he was rubbing his eyes, in need of a break. Jim lived in the country and John liked to go out at night and look at the stars blazing brightly in the heavens. He'd sit on the porch and stare at the twinkling lights and think of Mary. John went to the chair where he'd hung his leather jacket only to find it missing. He checked the closet in case Jim had hung it up, but it wasn't there either. Maybe he'd left it in the boys room but he didn't think so. He sighed as he walked through the door at the sight of Dean's empty bed. He walked to the crib and had to swallow past a lump in his throat for the second time that night. Dean was in with his brother of course, curled up with Sam's back to his chest. Both were fast asleep, cuddled up under John's jacket.
"Oh, Dean. Baby. I'm not going anywhere." John sat on Dean's bed and watched his boys sleep- the stars forgotten as he stared silently at the only real brightness remaining in his life.
Characters: Dean, John, Sam, mention of Pastor Jim
Genre: wee!chesters
Written for the hoodie_time Dean focused schmoopfest. Not sure it's either Dean focused or schmoopy enough, but there you go.
Rating: G
Dean followed on his father's heels as John carried Sammy into the boys shared bedroom at Pastor Jim's comfortable home. As John laid Sammy down in the crib that one of the Pastor's parishoners had generously loaned him he let an unaccustomed wave of gratitude wash over him. Missouri had sent him to Jim, telling him that, as both a man of faith and a hunter, the pastor was the ideal first teacher for a grieving man with two small children. Of course she hadn't put it quite that way.
"John Winchester, what are you planning on doing with those boys while you go get an education in the ways of evil?" were her exact words. John. who had had no intention of leaving his boys with anyone, had jumped on the psychic's suggestion of a well educated man of the cloth in a rural setting. He had hoped the quiet would be good for the boys, especially Dean, who was still a pale, silent shadow of his former self.
John stared down at Sam, sleeping in his crib with his baby soft hair falling over his eyes. His father sighed and brushed it back out of Sam's face. He'd have to give Sammy a haircut soon. Dean too, his hair was growing at an alarming rate. Mary had always taken care of it, but now it was another thing John was going to have to learn for his boys. Dean moved to his father's side and wrapped one arm around John's leg. John looked down and solemn green eyes stared back. Dean's eyes moved from his father to Sam and back, and John could read the question in them.
"No, tiger. You have your own bed and you need to sleep there. Sammy will be fine where he is." John closed his eyes and sighed at the panic that flared through his oldest's eyes. "He will, Dean. We're safe here." John stopped short of saying, I promise, because he knew he could promise no such thing. Not until he knew more about what was out there, about what had killed his Mary. John swung Dean up into his arms and carried him out into the living room, but he knew Dean's eyes were glued on his brother until he was out of sight.
John settled down in Jim's overstuffed easy chair and Dean shifted so he faced the door to the bedroom before snuggling against his father's chest, small head tucked beneath John's chin. John stroked Dean's back as he listened to his boy's quiet breaths.
"Did you have a good day today, Dean?" John hoped for a spoken answer, but didn't really expect one. He occasionally heard Dean murmur to Sam, but Dean wasn't ready to talk to anyone else yet. Dean shook his head and gripped his father's shirt tightly. John could feel the boy's body trembling. "Did something happen, Dean? You need to tell me if something happened." John kept his voice soft and continued to gently rub Dean's back. The words were so softly spoken that John almost missed them.
"I miss Mommy."
John's heart didn't know quite what to do with that. It wanted to leap with joy that Dean had spoken, while at the same time it was crushed by the sadness in his little boy's voice. "I know, baby. I miss her too." He sat with Dean in his arms until the boy fell asleep but Dean had said all he had to say for today.
John carried Dean to the bedroom and laid him down on his bed, hoping that tonight he'd stay there. Usually, on one of John's multiple nightly checks, Dean would have climbed into his brother's crib and would be sleeping with his arms tightly wrapped around Sammy. John would have thought a baby would object to being confined like that, but if Sammy did he showed no sign of it. John kissed Dean softly on the top of his head and pulled the covers up to his chin. "Sleep well, tiger."
Jim was out for the evening, visiting a sick parishoner, so John occupied the next few hours by studying some of the books Jim had left out for him, copying notes into a leather journal the Pastor had given him. By eleven he was rubbing his eyes, in need of a break. Jim lived in the country and John liked to go out at night and look at the stars blazing brightly in the heavens. He'd sit on the porch and stare at the twinkling lights and think of Mary. John went to the chair where he'd hung his leather jacket only to find it missing. He checked the closet in case Jim had hung it up, but it wasn't there either. Maybe he'd left it in the boys room but he didn't think so. He sighed as he walked through the door at the sight of Dean's empty bed. He walked to the crib and had to swallow past a lump in his throat for the second time that night. Dean was in with his brother of course, curled up with Sam's back to his chest. Both were fast asleep, cuddled up under John's jacket.
"Oh, Dean. Baby. I'm not going anywhere." John sat on Dean's bed and watched his boys sleep- the stars forgotten as he stared silently at the only real brightness remaining in his life.