no man could best me, ever - SN fic - AU - 2/4
Title: no man could best me, ever
Chapter: II
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Sojourner Truth.
Warnings: AU;
Pairings: John/Mary, hints of Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Point of view: third
Wordcount: 1660
part 1
Dean learned how to kill by watching his mother reel in one of the neighborhood widows. She lowered her gaze, hesitantly asking for the old woman’s help in cooking a good supper for her men.
The widow had been gossiping around the block, calling Mama a whore, saying Daddy was too good for her, and that Dean was clearly another man’s bastard.
The old gray-haired harpy came home with them and Dean followed Mama’s motions with wide eyes as she brained the woman with a frying pan and then dragged her to the laundry room.
“Dean,” Mama said, offering him a thin blade. “Family before everythin’, baby. Understand?”
He took the hilt, curled his fingers around it, and Mom’s hand guided him to the evil old biddy’s throat.
Sam learned how to kill at his father’s knee, watching Daddy carve up the mean store-manager who slapped Dean for shoplifting.
“Family before everythin’,” Daddy told him, slicing the man from his Adam’s apple to his belly button. “You understand, Sammy?”
Sam nodded and was about to take the knife when Mama called them to supper.
Family before everything, his parents always said. They hurt us, they insult us, they try to separate us-they die.
Mom and Dad told him to watch out for Sammy, to keep him safe. They’d both been taught to fight, but Sammy was little, younger. And Dean took his responsibility very seriously.
When Dean was seven, a teacher asked about his home life. He had a bruise on his arm where Daddy had pulled him way from the stove. Sammy had a black-eye from falling off a chair. The teacher asked if Mama or Daddy hurt them. He didn’t answer her questions and he couldn’t find Sammy after school.
He met Mama at carpool, sobbing. Mama picked him up even though he was too big and stormed to the preschool. They found Sammy howling for Mama and Daddy and Dean. Mama demanded to know just what the principal thought she was doing and the mean teacher said something about concerns and welfare. Mama scoffed and put Dean down to pick Sam up. She stormed out with Dean at her side.
“Time to go,” she told Daddy at home. “They tried to take Sammy away.”
Daddy packed while Mama comforted Sammy. Dean sat next to Mama, rubbing his hand up and down Sammy’s back.
That mean teacher needed to pay. Mama and Daddy were busy, so Dean snuck out and walked to the bus stop. He’d find her and punish her.
Mama and Daddy always said Family before everything. No one made Sammy cry.
Sam watched Mom and Dad hunt together, kill together-they were beautiful. He wanted someone to be his partner, his equal.
When he was ten, Dean and Mom took out two of the teacher who’d been trying to make trouble, talking about calling the cops and having Dean taken away. Sam made his move while Mom and Dean had everyone’s attention; Coach Colter had been watching Dean with hungry eyes. Sam had seen the plan forming, the desire hardening his cock. Family before everything, and no one would ever touch his brother.
Dad smiled at Sam when they met up again, tousled his hair. “How’d your first solo kill go?” he asked.
Dean crowed, throwing an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “You’re a man now, lil’brother!”
Mom smiled and kissed his forehead. “You pick dinner tonight, baby,” she said.
Satisfaction mingled with pleasure and Sam wanted to kill again-but this time, he wanted Dean to kill with him.
Dean was sixteen when Sam came home and said, “She has to die.”
Dean had skipped that day because of a fever. “Who?” he asked coughing so hard it hurt.
Sam got him a glass of water. “Kate Hapshaw.” He took the empty glass back. “She is such a bitch!”
Trying to place the name, Dean lay back on the couch. ‘The hot senior? What’d she do?”
Sam growled. “She got ahold of my records and accused me of cheating!”
Dean blinked at him. “She did what?” That was just stupid. Sam had always been the smartest person Dean ever met.
“She accused me of cheating!” Sam yelled. “I took a senior math test ’cause I was bored and did better than her.”
“Wait till I’m better, Sammy,” Dean muttered, about to slip back into sleep. “We’ll show that bitch what-for.”
Kate Hapshaw was their first kill together. Mom and Dad took them to a fancy restaurant and let Dean have a glass of wine. Sam got a big piece of red velvet cake.
“I’m so proud of you boys,” Mom said, tears in her eyes. “My babies becoming men.”
Dean shared a smile with Sam. He could barely wait to kill again-with Sammy.
When Sam was fifteen Dean brought home a friend from his work at the garage. The friend was blond and blue-eyed and built-and Sam hated him on sight. Dean and Keith spent all afternoon drinking beer and talking about girls. Dean even invited Keith to supper-his time with Sam, since Mom and Dad were out of town on business.
Sam glowered throughout the meal-Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes he’d made himself, usually a meal he and Dean cooked together-and didn’t say more than two words. Dean didn’t seem to notice; he kept his eyes on Keith, laughing and smiling and flirting.
And then, while Sam was banging around the kitchen cleaning up, he heard Dean say, “Hey, Keith, you ever been to that spot in the woods? They say it’s haunted. I think we should check it out.”
“Okay, man,” Keith said. “Sounds like fun.”
Dean popped into the kitchen to tell Sam, “We’re goin’ to that spot in the woods, Sammy.”
Sam grinned as Dean winked and then led Keith out.
Shit, his brother was twisted. Man, did Sam love him.
Keith was a good-looking guy, handsome enough to catch Dean’s eye. Sam would have fun making him bleed, and beg, and break.
Dean was twenty-one when he realized he wanted to go solo for awhile. Sam was finishing up high-school; Mom and Dad were acting like they were on their second honeymoon. Dean had nothing to do, so he left. He went to New York and played with a whole bushel of women before the police ended his fun.
Agent Henriksen was very earnest and solemn, but he never had a chance of breaking Dean. He asked questions like he expected truth; he only surprised Dean once, when he asked out of left field, “Your parents, they love you?”
“More than life,” he answered, hiding the shock behind a smirk. He sprawled back in the chair, trying to get comfortable in spite of the shackles.
Mom and Dad probably already knew he’d been arrested. He’d give them till he was transferred to get him out and then he’d escape on his own.
“You enjoy killing?” Henriksen asked next.
Dean gave him, “It passes the time.” How could he explain the sheer joy he felt in taking a life, in making others hurt? Henriksen wouldn’t understand.
“You’re wanted in three states, including this one,” Henriksen said. “The lawyers are battling it out. There’s no way you’ll get less than death-row, and no chance of a plea bargain to a lesser charge.” His voice was soft and sure.
Dean wanted to play with him. This straight-laced FBI goon could be a lot of fun. So he flirted, purred, “If you say so, Vic.” He held in his laughter as Henriksen fled the room.
A few hours passed; Dean kept from being bored by listing all his kills in chronological order. He was escorted to solitary and left alone until the FBI came for him.
He offered no resistance and went docilely, waiting to howl with mirth till the station was only a dot in the distance.
“Dean,” Mom scolded, twisting in the seat to glare at him. “You need to be more careful, honey.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” he said meekly.
“Sam’s waiting to tear you a new one,” Dad told him. “He’s pretty pissed at you, son.”
“After he graduates, I’ll take him backpacking in Europe.” Dean had been considering it for a while-him, Sammy, the countryside… all those people to play with.
“How’d the authorities treat you?” Mom demanded.
“Well, the cops roughed me up some, but I was a smart-ass.” He looked out the window. “The agent, Henriksen-he was fun.”
“Do we need to kill any of them?” Dad asked.
Dean shook his head. “It’ll mess with their heads more to let them live.”
After Sam graduated, he and Dean headed for the east coast. They waited in Atlanta for Mom and Dad to catch up; Dean wrote Henriksen a little note to just mark the occasion. Sam wasn’t sure that was so smart, but Dean insisted. Once they were all together, they took a flight to Paris. Mom kissed them both, crying all the while, and Dad pulled them into big bear hugs.
“Take care of each other,” Dad told them. “Family before everything.”
Mom touched their faces. “If you get into any trouble, call,” she said. “We’ll come.”
“We’ll be safe, Mom,” Dean assured her. “I’ll watch out for Sam.”
Sam nodded. “And I’ll keep Dean out of trouble.”
Dean reached up those few precious inches Sam had on him and ruffled his hair.
Mom laughed tearfully and Dad nodded to them before gently pulling her away. Sam watched them go with relief; he loved them fiercely, but he was so very tired of sharing Dean. Now it’d just be the two of them with a whole continent spread before them, no rules, no constraints.
“Let’s shag ass,” Dean said. Sam grinned and followed him.
Europe. Just him and Dean and a world completely unprepared. “Wanna paint the town red?” he asked and Dean laughed.
“Hell yeah.”
part 3
Chapter: II
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Sojourner Truth.
Warnings: AU;
Pairings: John/Mary, hints of Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Point of view: third
Wordcount: 1660
part 1
Dean learned how to kill by watching his mother reel in one of the neighborhood widows. She lowered her gaze, hesitantly asking for the old woman’s help in cooking a good supper for her men.
The widow had been gossiping around the block, calling Mama a whore, saying Daddy was too good for her, and that Dean was clearly another man’s bastard.
The old gray-haired harpy came home with them and Dean followed Mama’s motions with wide eyes as she brained the woman with a frying pan and then dragged her to the laundry room.
“Dean,” Mama said, offering him a thin blade. “Family before everythin’, baby. Understand?”
He took the hilt, curled his fingers around it, and Mom’s hand guided him to the evil old biddy’s throat.
Sam learned how to kill at his father’s knee, watching Daddy carve up the mean store-manager who slapped Dean for shoplifting.
“Family before everythin’,” Daddy told him, slicing the man from his Adam’s apple to his belly button. “You understand, Sammy?”
Sam nodded and was about to take the knife when Mama called them to supper.
Family before everything, his parents always said. They hurt us, they insult us, they try to separate us-they die.
Mom and Dad told him to watch out for Sammy, to keep him safe. They’d both been taught to fight, but Sammy was little, younger. And Dean took his responsibility very seriously.
When Dean was seven, a teacher asked about his home life. He had a bruise on his arm where Daddy had pulled him way from the stove. Sammy had a black-eye from falling off a chair. The teacher asked if Mama or Daddy hurt them. He didn’t answer her questions and he couldn’t find Sammy after school.
He met Mama at carpool, sobbing. Mama picked him up even though he was too big and stormed to the preschool. They found Sammy howling for Mama and Daddy and Dean. Mama demanded to know just what the principal thought she was doing and the mean teacher said something about concerns and welfare. Mama scoffed and put Dean down to pick Sam up. She stormed out with Dean at her side.
“Time to go,” she told Daddy at home. “They tried to take Sammy away.”
Daddy packed while Mama comforted Sammy. Dean sat next to Mama, rubbing his hand up and down Sammy’s back.
That mean teacher needed to pay. Mama and Daddy were busy, so Dean snuck out and walked to the bus stop. He’d find her and punish her.
Mama and Daddy always said Family before everything. No one made Sammy cry.
Sam watched Mom and Dad hunt together, kill together-they were beautiful. He wanted someone to be his partner, his equal.
When he was ten, Dean and Mom took out two of the teacher who’d been trying to make trouble, talking about calling the cops and having Dean taken away. Sam made his move while Mom and Dean had everyone’s attention; Coach Colter had been watching Dean with hungry eyes. Sam had seen the plan forming, the desire hardening his cock. Family before everything, and no one would ever touch his brother.
Dad smiled at Sam when they met up again, tousled his hair. “How’d your first solo kill go?” he asked.
Dean crowed, throwing an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “You’re a man now, lil’brother!”
Mom smiled and kissed his forehead. “You pick dinner tonight, baby,” she said.
Satisfaction mingled with pleasure and Sam wanted to kill again-but this time, he wanted Dean to kill with him.
Dean was sixteen when Sam came home and said, “She has to die.”
Dean had skipped that day because of a fever. “Who?” he asked coughing so hard it hurt.
Sam got him a glass of water. “Kate Hapshaw.” He took the empty glass back. “She is such a bitch!”
Trying to place the name, Dean lay back on the couch. ‘The hot senior? What’d she do?”
Sam growled. “She got ahold of my records and accused me of cheating!”
Dean blinked at him. “She did what?” That was just stupid. Sam had always been the smartest person Dean ever met.
“She accused me of cheating!” Sam yelled. “I took a senior math test ’cause I was bored and did better than her.”
“Wait till I’m better, Sammy,” Dean muttered, about to slip back into sleep. “We’ll show that bitch what-for.”
Kate Hapshaw was their first kill together. Mom and Dad took them to a fancy restaurant and let Dean have a glass of wine. Sam got a big piece of red velvet cake.
“I’m so proud of you boys,” Mom said, tears in her eyes. “My babies becoming men.”
Dean shared a smile with Sam. He could barely wait to kill again-with Sammy.
When Sam was fifteen Dean brought home a friend from his work at the garage. The friend was blond and blue-eyed and built-and Sam hated him on sight. Dean and Keith spent all afternoon drinking beer and talking about girls. Dean even invited Keith to supper-his time with Sam, since Mom and Dad were out of town on business.
Sam glowered throughout the meal-Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes he’d made himself, usually a meal he and Dean cooked together-and didn’t say more than two words. Dean didn’t seem to notice; he kept his eyes on Keith, laughing and smiling and flirting.
And then, while Sam was banging around the kitchen cleaning up, he heard Dean say, “Hey, Keith, you ever been to that spot in the woods? They say it’s haunted. I think we should check it out.”
“Okay, man,” Keith said. “Sounds like fun.”
Dean popped into the kitchen to tell Sam, “We’re goin’ to that spot in the woods, Sammy.”
Sam grinned as Dean winked and then led Keith out.
Shit, his brother was twisted. Man, did Sam love him.
Keith was a good-looking guy, handsome enough to catch Dean’s eye. Sam would have fun making him bleed, and beg, and break.
Dean was twenty-one when he realized he wanted to go solo for awhile. Sam was finishing up high-school; Mom and Dad were acting like they were on their second honeymoon. Dean had nothing to do, so he left. He went to New York and played with a whole bushel of women before the police ended his fun.
Agent Henriksen was very earnest and solemn, but he never had a chance of breaking Dean. He asked questions like he expected truth; he only surprised Dean once, when he asked out of left field, “Your parents, they love you?”
“More than life,” he answered, hiding the shock behind a smirk. He sprawled back in the chair, trying to get comfortable in spite of the shackles.
Mom and Dad probably already knew he’d been arrested. He’d give them till he was transferred to get him out and then he’d escape on his own.
“You enjoy killing?” Henriksen asked next.
Dean gave him, “It passes the time.” How could he explain the sheer joy he felt in taking a life, in making others hurt? Henriksen wouldn’t understand.
“You’re wanted in three states, including this one,” Henriksen said. “The lawyers are battling it out. There’s no way you’ll get less than death-row, and no chance of a plea bargain to a lesser charge.” His voice was soft and sure.
Dean wanted to play with him. This straight-laced FBI goon could be a lot of fun. So he flirted, purred, “If you say so, Vic.” He held in his laughter as Henriksen fled the room.
A few hours passed; Dean kept from being bored by listing all his kills in chronological order. He was escorted to solitary and left alone until the FBI came for him.
He offered no resistance and went docilely, waiting to howl with mirth till the station was only a dot in the distance.
“Dean,” Mom scolded, twisting in the seat to glare at him. “You need to be more careful, honey.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” he said meekly.
“Sam’s waiting to tear you a new one,” Dad told him. “He’s pretty pissed at you, son.”
“After he graduates, I’ll take him backpacking in Europe.” Dean had been considering it for a while-him, Sammy, the countryside… all those people to play with.
“How’d the authorities treat you?” Mom demanded.
“Well, the cops roughed me up some, but I was a smart-ass.” He looked out the window. “The agent, Henriksen-he was fun.”
“Do we need to kill any of them?” Dad asked.
Dean shook his head. “It’ll mess with their heads more to let them live.”
After Sam graduated, he and Dean headed for the east coast. They waited in Atlanta for Mom and Dad to catch up; Dean wrote Henriksen a little note to just mark the occasion. Sam wasn’t sure that was so smart, but Dean insisted. Once they were all together, they took a flight to Paris. Mom kissed them both, crying all the while, and Dad pulled them into big bear hugs.
“Take care of each other,” Dad told them. “Family before everything.”
Mom touched their faces. “If you get into any trouble, call,” she said. “We’ll come.”
“We’ll be safe, Mom,” Dean assured her. “I’ll watch out for Sam.”
Sam nodded. “And I’ll keep Dean out of trouble.”
Dean reached up those few precious inches Sam had on him and ruffled his hair.
Mom laughed tearfully and Dad nodded to them before gently pulling her away. Sam watched them go with relief; he loved them fiercely, but he was so very tired of sharing Dean. Now it’d just be the two of them with a whole continent spread before them, no rules, no constraints.
“Let’s shag ass,” Dean said. Sam grinned and followed him.
Europe. Just him and Dean and a world completely unprepared. “Wanna paint the town red?” he asked and Dean laughed.
“Hell yeah.”
part 3