FIC: Until Morning
Apr. 25th, 2008 07:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Until Morning
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Rating: Gen
A/N: Part of the vet!Dean verse, preceded by Amends to the Dead by me, and Prometheus (Up from Ashes) bypoisontaster.
If John had been asked which son would crack, he'd have said Sam. At the heart of his plans for his own death, for the hunt, for killing the demon, was the assumption that Sam could break. Sam could twist inside, pulled by the demon blood and the hunt and his usefulness as a weapon. Didn't mean that John didn't love his boy like he always had; thinking about Sam fallen, changed, hurt like nothing had since Mary. But the facts were that Sam might break if Dean didn't hold on.
Dean is broken, and John has no plans for it. No tactics. Nothing to kill. Just late nights, his son on the couch with the thousand yard stare John had seen in too many Marines. Too many times, that stare had come just before those grunts got shipped home in a bag. All of them are fucked, soldiers and hunters both, but Dean crossed a line that John can't follow.
Before, barking orders might've helped. Give Dean something to do with his hands, quiet the ticking thoughts in Dean's head. But the guns are clean, the dishes done. Hard words won't reach him, and he won't listen to anything kinder; God knows, Sammy tries. John wants to bind the wound, but it's not there. He wants the 4 year old back to pull on his lap and surround, contain, protect until morning broke.
Dean flinches when John moves too fast. He isn't a child anymore. The demon is dead, and this is as close to morning as any of them will ever get.
Which is why John mutely accepts the cans of kitten formula and mixes it up. It smells like ass, worse than the damned baby formula did, but John still knows the rhythm of feeding small things.
"How old are they, do you think?" Sam asks.
John glances in the window above the sink, checking on his boys. Both are huddled up at the kitchen table, Sam's laptop open as they look for advice on kitten care. Dean is still cradling the kittens in one arm, their heads poking up over as they squirm. "Maybe a month," John says.
Dean doesn't twitch at the sudden noise, just shifts the kittens and looks at him. "That almost done?"
"Yeah, yeah, hold on." John fills the medicine droppers and comes to the table. He can hold them in the palm of his hand, rolling together like ammo.
"They're starving," Dean adds pointedly. Pulling out a chair, he nods John into it and unceremoniously hands him a furball. "Here, take him."
John nearly fumbles. The kitten is a small thing, goddamn precious to Dean, and it's trust for Dean to hand it over. Careful, like the kitten is loaded, John settles it against his chest and gives Dean the other dropper. The kitten snags tiny needle claws in John's shirt and mewls. The second the bottle gets near it, it lunges for the tip. It's an easy feed, sucking the formula in by itself. Its noisy grunts remind John of Sam, all chubby cheeks and feral baby hunger.
When he glances up, checking on his boys again in the sudden quiet, Dean and Sam are both watching intently. Dean shifts the other kitten and gives it the dropper, smudging milk onto its nose. John knows Dean's look: the centered-down focus of a sniper shot.
"If it doesn't take," John tells him, "give the dropper a few taps. Gentle."
Dean nods, settles in. The other kitten is a problem; it struggles to get the dropper, to suck, to swallow. Dean holds steady, rubbing its head, giving it a little at a time. When the kitten burbles and squeaks, Dean's smile is staggering. "Yeah, I know, little dude, but you're okay. There you go."
Sam stops typing to watch Dean, and the look on his face would probably make Dean balk if his attention isn't all on the kitten in his arms. John pushes himself away, back to the noisy little bastard he's holding.
Sam scoots the chair over. Dean starts, forces himself back down, turning to let Sam see the kitten. Sam grins, murmurs something to make Dean scoff, and reaches over to stroke the kitten's head with a broad fingertip.
His boys. He's seen them both kill before. He's seen them both die. Funny how this can still make his heart hurt like he's dying again.
Dean nudges him, pulls him back. Like always. "Hey. You're just as bad. What are you laughing about?"
John says, "Nothing much. Feed the damn cat."
Author:
nilchanceRating: Gen
A/N: Part of the vet!Dean verse, preceded by Amends to the Dead by me, and Prometheus (Up from Ashes) by
poisontaster. If John had been asked which son would crack, he'd have said Sam. At the heart of his plans for his own death, for the hunt, for killing the demon, was the assumption that Sam could break. Sam could twist inside, pulled by the demon blood and the hunt and his usefulness as a weapon. Didn't mean that John didn't love his boy like he always had; thinking about Sam fallen, changed, hurt like nothing had since Mary. But the facts were that Sam might break if Dean didn't hold on.
Dean is broken, and John has no plans for it. No tactics. Nothing to kill. Just late nights, his son on the couch with the thousand yard stare John had seen in too many Marines. Too many times, that stare had come just before those grunts got shipped home in a bag. All of them are fucked, soldiers and hunters both, but Dean crossed a line that John can't follow.
Before, barking orders might've helped. Give Dean something to do with his hands, quiet the ticking thoughts in Dean's head. But the guns are clean, the dishes done. Hard words won't reach him, and he won't listen to anything kinder; God knows, Sammy tries. John wants to bind the wound, but it's not there. He wants the 4 year old back to pull on his lap and surround, contain, protect until morning broke.
Dean flinches when John moves too fast. He isn't a child anymore. The demon is dead, and this is as close to morning as any of them will ever get.
Which is why John mutely accepts the cans of kitten formula and mixes it up. It smells like ass, worse than the damned baby formula did, but John still knows the rhythm of feeding small things.
"How old are they, do you think?" Sam asks.
John glances in the window above the sink, checking on his boys. Both are huddled up at the kitchen table, Sam's laptop open as they look for advice on kitten care. Dean is still cradling the kittens in one arm, their heads poking up over as they squirm. "Maybe a month," John says.
Dean doesn't twitch at the sudden noise, just shifts the kittens and looks at him. "That almost done?"
"Yeah, yeah, hold on." John fills the medicine droppers and comes to the table. He can hold them in the palm of his hand, rolling together like ammo.
"They're starving," Dean adds pointedly. Pulling out a chair, he nods John into it and unceremoniously hands him a furball. "Here, take him."
John nearly fumbles. The kitten is a small thing, goddamn precious to Dean, and it's trust for Dean to hand it over. Careful, like the kitten is loaded, John settles it against his chest and gives Dean the other dropper. The kitten snags tiny needle claws in John's shirt and mewls. The second the bottle gets near it, it lunges for the tip. It's an easy feed, sucking the formula in by itself. Its noisy grunts remind John of Sam, all chubby cheeks and feral baby hunger.
When he glances up, checking on his boys again in the sudden quiet, Dean and Sam are both watching intently. Dean shifts the other kitten and gives it the dropper, smudging milk onto its nose. John knows Dean's look: the centered-down focus of a sniper shot.
"If it doesn't take," John tells him, "give the dropper a few taps. Gentle."
Dean nods, settles in. The other kitten is a problem; it struggles to get the dropper, to suck, to swallow. Dean holds steady, rubbing its head, giving it a little at a time. When the kitten burbles and squeaks, Dean's smile is staggering. "Yeah, I know, little dude, but you're okay. There you go."
Sam stops typing to watch Dean, and the look on his face would probably make Dean balk if his attention isn't all on the kitten in his arms. John pushes himself away, back to the noisy little bastard he's holding.
Sam scoots the chair over. Dean starts, forces himself back down, turning to let Sam see the kitten. Sam grins, murmurs something to make Dean scoff, and reaches over to stroke the kitten's head with a broad fingertip.
His boys. He's seen them both kill before. He's seen them both die. Funny how this can still make his heart hurt like he's dying again.
Dean nudges him, pulls him back. Like always. "Hey. You're just as bad. What are you laughing about?"
John says, "Nothing much. Feed the damn cat."
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no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 01:23 am (UTC)And I know you own stock in kleenex.
*goes to tend my allergies*
no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:14 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 10:45 pm (UTC)I love this and can't wait to see more.
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Date: 2008-04-25 11:11 pm (UTC)Also, the medicine droppers rolled like ammo, not the kittens. I gather that's only for resuscitation purposes. ;)
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Date: 2008-04-25 11:51 pm (UTC)It'll tell you everything you need to know, and is probably were Sam would get most of his intel for Dean :)
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Date: 2008-04-26 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:40 pm (UTC)AWWWWW.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 11:57 pm (UTC)\0/
Do you... do you have plans for more? I always hate to ask that, because it sounds so... pushy and greedy. But I *love* this Dean and his issues and John and Sam and would love to see how they move forward to something different and maybe less broken due to the POWER OF KITTENS!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 12:03 am (UTC)I love how John wants to protect his boys, but doesn't know how to fix the hurt. Sam's just trying to be supportive, and Dean's finally got a mission. For once Dean's not out to kill something to make the world a better place, he's there to save something to make the world a better place. And that's what Dean needs right now.
Wonderful story!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 12:04 am (UTC)This is lovely! Sad but also sweet. Yay kittens!
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Date: 2008-04-26 12:16 am (UTC)I enjoyed the most recent SPN episode, what about you? (Ramon didn't like it much).
no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 12:25 am (UTC):D
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Date: 2008-04-26 12:27 am (UTC)OH JOHN. Worrying about Dean, LOVING his boys till it hurts, and JOHN FEEDING A TINY KITTEN and knowing how to do it and remembering feeding Sammy...I can die happy. HAppier if you'll write more, though.
Gorgeous :D
no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 12:33 am (UTC)*healed!*
Date: 2008-04-26 01:41 am (UTC)Careful, like the kitten is loaded,
Yes. This simile wins FOR ALL TIME.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 01:49 am (UTC)Oh gods, this makes me heart heart, I'm smiling but I'm also frying so very much. John feeding KITTEN is just too ADORABLE, and OMFG! DEAN! SAM! CRIES!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 02:30 am (UTC)Oh damn! Dean holding kittens...that image just makes my whole day better!
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Date: 2008-04-26 02:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 05:11 am (UTC)Winchesters + wee kittehs = ♥♥♥
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Date: 2008-04-26 06:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 07:37 am (UTC)And I can just imagine John's "demons I get, sons-getting-broody-over-kittens are crazy" expression.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 07:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 11:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-26 03:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-27 01:02 am (UTC)awwww *makes googoo eyes*
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Date: 2008-04-27 09:54 am (UTC)*furtively wipes tears*
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Date: 2008-04-28 01:32 pm (UTC)BOYS HOLDING KITTENS!!!!
♥
no subject
Date: 2008-05-01 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-28 10:25 pm (UTC)*hugs them all*
Love it.
no subject
Date: 2008-05-01 02:19 am (UTC)Dead from awwww. *falls over*
I love the family dynamics here, especially John's acknowledgement that Sam *could* go darkside; that it hurts terribly but wouldn't stop him from doing what he had to do. The reliance that both John and Sam have on Dean to keep them balanced, and the efforts they'll go to to help bring him back to himself.
It's nice to see a fic where the family love is an integral part of the story; too often, all we see is the fighting.
no subject
Date: 2008-05-01 04:37 am (UTC)These are lovely.
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Date: 2008-05-22 04:17 am (UTC)Love!