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03 October 2009 @ 12:23 pm
Supernatural Fic: A Cold Wet Tuesday Morning in South Dakota  
Posted to supernaturalfic


Title: A Cold Wet Tuesday Morning in South Dakota
Pairing/Characters: John, Dean, Sam, OCs
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Pilot
Summary: John gets his first glimpse of the strong capable man little Dean's going to become
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ


Conchita's mother told him off in harsh whispers when he came back to the motel at 3:09AM - three hours later than he'd promised to return - saying she wasn't going to let her daughter babysit for a man who couldn't keep his word and who cared so little for his wife's babies, may she rest in peace.

John was exhausted and weary from loss of blood from the angry gash he'd field bandaged beneath his shirt - that ghoul had gotten a few good shots in, he'd been lucky to get out alive - so her words took a few seconds to sting. Somehow he managed whatever apologies she needed to hear to get her to leave and she stormed off, cursing him in not too under her breath Spanish as she returned to the manager's bungalow. John glanced after her and spied Conchita peeking out the window with regretful eyes, fingers plaintive against the glass in mute apology.

It didn't matter, John thought as he carefully pushed open the creaky door, trying to block out the streetlight with his hunched back, they'd be moving on in a day or so - once he felt like he could drive for sure without passing out. He'd gotten lucky and only ended up in a ditch for a couple of hours this time before he came to, slumped over the steering wheel.

Even with the door shut behind him, there was enough streetlight seeping through the thin drapes that he could see. The boys were asleep in the far bed, baby Sammy between the makeshift bumper he'd fashioned to keep him from falling off the side of the bed and little Dean - still small for his age - curled around him as if to cover all the other sides the safety barrier didn't.

Leaning against the wall for support, he stopped to watch them sleep for a moment - this peaceful time his favorite; they didn't need anything from him and he could indulge himself in thoughts of how each boy looked like Mary. Sam liked to sprawl - four limbs out, taking up as much space as possible. He was growing like mad and not for the first time did John imagine this would be the son to outstrip him in height one day. Sam may not have gotten his mother's coloring, but sometimes he'd see a hint of her in the jut of his chin or the tilt of his head. Dean had always been a burrower, nesting in a ton of blankets like he had when his mother curled around him in bed all those days he was sick as a toddler. It had been hardest, at first, for him to look at Dean and not see Mary, but he was finally losing his baby face and becoming more of a young man, even if he was barely school age now.

Plopping down on his own bed, John shucked off his boots and tossed his coat aside before easing himself down to the mattress, wincing at the pain stabbing at his side. He reached into the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of painkillers - wrestling for a second with the child-proof lid - taking two out and swallowing them down without water.

It took a good twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling - watching the ghoul's attack play out over and over until he was sure he wouldn't make those mistakes again - before he began to fade away. Belatedly he realized he'd neglected to set an alarm. Conchita wouldn't be showing up in the morning to change Sam's diaper and help get Dean off to the school bus on time; he'd have to get up and take care of the boys' breakfast and everything himself. His mental to do list fading with his consciousness, the last coherent thought faded away with him: I miss you, Mary... Every single goddamn day...

John woke to Sam's giggle and Dean's whispered shh and fought his way through a haze of pain and the pull of sleep to open his eyes to slits. Sam sat in a t-shirt and diaper, too haphazardly put on to have been done by Conchita or her mother, watching with rapt attention as Dean poured out a bowl of cereal and fed Sam a few of the marshmallows out of it before pouring milk on top and attacking it with gusto, all but shoveling it into his mouth. The microwave let out a quiet ding and Dean got out of his chair and removed a bottle of milk, screwing the nipple on top and shaking it gently before testing it by drinking out of it himself. Content it wasn't too hot, he put the bottle carefully in Sammy's little hands and urged him to drink out of it. He returned to his bowl, devouring the remains and pouring a bit more cereal in the remaining milk - offering Sam more marshmallows when he made a little whine of protest. When he was done he put the bowl and spoon in the sink, put the milk and cereal box away and pulled a blanket off the bed, making it into a cocoon of warmth around Sammy, settled into the easy chair in front of the TV which was turned on with the sound muted.

His Dean, his little trooper, had taken care of all this for him. So maybe today he wouldn't make it to school, but John was still proud of what he'd learned. As he let the tug of healing sleep draw him in, he smiled to himself. That boy was going to be strong, damn strong, and reliable. His little man... Reassured, he slipped into slumber, dreaming of sons tall and taller, standing by his side. The ghouls didn't stand a chance.

Before they left South Dakota two days later John gave Conchita an extra twenty dollars for teaching Dean how to fend for himself. Her eyes flicked over to make sure her mother wasn't watching and accepted the money. She showed up as they were packing to go, knocking timidly at the door, and taught Dean how to make microwave oatmeal. They sat at the kitchen table and made peanut butter sandwiches together for the road, Conchita walking him through each step, then they did one last refresher of changing Sammy's diaper - her reminding him to make sure the sides were tight but not too tight and even.

When it was time to go Dean threw his little arms around her neck and hugged her tight. She cried a little, even as she smiled, and John had to grab Sammy and hoist him up in the air for a giggle before he got sniffley too. She kissed Sammy's fat little baby cheek and kind of hugged them as a unit before walking out with them to the car.

Dean waved as they drove away and she waved back until John couldn't see her anymore in the rear view. Illinois was next and he merged onto the interstate thinking maybe they'd settle down for a little while, let Dean go to school long enough to finish the semester somewhere.

He'd said that when they'd come to South Dakota but maybe, maybe this time, it would work out. It would be hard, but they'd be all right. They'd make it. They were still a family - as messed up as they were, that was one thing the evil sons of bitches couldn't take away from them.

For now the Impala's engine thrummed strong and clean beneath the hood, he had his boys with him, his favorite cassette in the stereo and little Dean singing along, making up his own words as he went with Sammy singing tuneless nonsense alongside him.

~
 
 
 
Emma DeMarais: BlueEyeemmademarais on October 3rd, 2009 07:26 pm (UTC)
Confession
This was written for my friend fhionnuiscetine's birthday - months ago. /hangs head/

In my defense I gave her the fic back then, I just haven't published it until now. I think I thought I'd rewrite it, polish it, try to make it better (perhaps with some actual dialogue), but clearly the fic has resisted all attempts to change it ergo me calling it and putting it up now.

So fhionnuiscetine, sorry it took so long to get this up, but I'm still glad you liked it back in the day. /grins/

Thanks,

Emma DeMarais
Maerhys: √ hand in handmaerhys on October 3rd, 2009 09:16 pm (UTC)
For now the Impala's engine thrummed strong and clean beneath the hood, he had his boys with him, his favorite cassette in the stereo and little Dean singing along, making up his own words as he went with Sammy singing tuneless nonsense alongside him.

This imagery is amazing. This is really beautiful --- weechester fic, there's just never enough of it.
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on October 3rd, 2009 09:24 pm (UTC)
Thanks, hon!

I loves me some John with wee!Dean and wee!Sam. I keep writing wee!chesters even though I probably should be writing Wincest, but it's just so lovely and bittersweet, you know? It's a weird dichotomy to love and write both, but they're both grounded in the insanely intense love that comes from such a torn family. ♥
(Deleted comment)
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on October 3rd, 2009 10:32 pm (UTC)
I started reading this and went... HEY WAIT. :D

HEE! Yeah, that must have come out of left field, huh? /grins/

More wee!=whee! Can't wait to see it! :-)
a rearranger of the proverbial bookshelf: Winchester familyembroiderama on October 5th, 2009 01:45 am (UTC)
Oh, Winchesters! This is lovely.
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on October 5th, 2009 03:01 am (UTC)
Yay! I'm pleased to see you over here reading my SPN. Thank you! :-) I've been remiss in publishing it this year, but I do so ♥ John and the wee! boys.