It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And It's Fine, I Guess) - for googlebrat - SPN
Title: It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And It's Fine, I Guess)
Author: Ragna (afteriwake)
Recipient: googlebrat
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Spoilers (if applicable): None. Set pre-series, when Dean's about eight.
Warnings (if applicable): None
Summary: The end of the world from a child's point of view.
Authors Note: After I put up the fic it was pointed out that the song came out after Mary died. I didn't realize that, and I apologize. It has been edited to reflect that.
---
Dad used to like this song that he said Mom liked. I don't remember what it was called, but I used to like it too. But then the world ended, so we don't play it anymore. But Mom liked it, and I miss Mom, so sometimes when it's just me and Sammy I listen to the radio and hope it's on. There isn't much music on the radio anymore. Mostly it's bad news. Lots of bad news. Dad says this is what happens when the world ends. Fun things stop and people have to take cover, and everything gets really bad. But, he says, at least we have each other. And that's a good thing. It'd be better if we stopped moving all the time, though. And if Dad stopped using fake names for us.
Sometimes it seems normal, though. Or as normal as our lives have been. Sometimes we're in a house instead of a motel room. Dad works jobs to get by, usually at an auto shop. And everything's okay. It me and Dad and Sammy. Sammy's young, so he doesn't notice stuff like I do, but he gets happy when it's the three of us. I know he gets happier when he sees me, anyway. It feels kind of good. And we do things together, sometimes, and it's not just me and Sammy all the time. It's a real family thing, you know? All three of us. I like those times the most.
Other times we're in motel rooms for days at a time. Maybe a week, maybe a little longer than that. And Dad spends most of his time out when that happens. He'll take us to the library and he'll go read stuff while I take care of Sammy in the children's section. Dad reads the old books when he can, and he looks at the local papers and stuff. Sammy and I just read Dr. Suess and the Berenstain Bears, stuff that makes Sammy grin. And then we'll go back to the motel and he'll give me instructions and he'll leave. Sometimes he comes back quickly, like when he's getting food, but sometimes he's gone for hours. Once he went away and didn't come back until really early the next morning. Sammy was scared he wasn't going to come back at all, but I wasn't.
I'm a good big brother. I make him dinner...he loves Spaghetti-Os and macaroni and cheese from the box. Sometimes I make him eat pees just because I can, and he mashes them up between his fingers and makes a big mess, which I have to clean up, and then I get angry and he gets sad, and 'cause I don't like seeing him sad I do it anyway and don't grumble, and then I turn on the TV or something if we have a TV. If not, I turn on the radio and try to find music. But like I said, it's harder to find music these days.
I avoid the stations where all they do is talk. It gets Sammy down. But Dad listens to them for hours and hours sometimes. He says he's listening for stuff. He doesn't tell me what stuff, just says stuff. I think he's listening for stuff on the guy who killed Mom, but I don't ask, because I don't want him mad at me. He says I'm his little man, and I like being his little man. He calls me his little soldier, too, but I don't like that one so much.
And sometimes he listens to it and then goes away for a while. We go to Pastor Jim's or Bobby's or some place like that, to one of his friends. No one says what he's doing, but I heard Dad and Bobby talking one night when I should have been sleeping and they were talking about hunting. But I didn't get the name of what they were talking about hunting. It wasn't deer, though. I'd have remembered that. Bobby took me hunting for deer a few times. He and Dad taught me to shoot a gun. I'm pretty good, Dad says. I can shoot a handgun and a shotgun. He says when I get older he'll teach me how to use other stuff.
I know there's bad things out there. I know it because Dad tells me to put salt at the windows and in front of the door so bad things won't get in. And even though Dad doesn't think I know, those bad things aren't human. I saw his book one night when he was gone. There were all these drawings and strange words. I got kind of scared, but then I figured out that Dad's fighting those things. And he's got to be winning, because he comes home every night. I bet Bobby does, too. He had a book open one time that had stuff in it like Dad's book but he closed it real fast when I snuck a peek. Don't know about Pastor Jim, though. Maybe?
I don't want Sammy to know, not ever. It's okay if I know because I'm bigger, but Sammy's just a little kid. He likes playing and coloring and eating, and he doesn't need to get scared. I'll make sure I never tell him, because I don't want him scared. It's hard when he wakes up at night and there's no one but me around and he wants Dad because he had a nightmare. So I talk to him, get him okay again. Sometimes I sit on his bed until he's asleep again. And sometimes I stay awake longer than that, because I'm kinda afraid I'm going to have a nightmare, too. But then I sleep and I don't and everything's okay.
Anyway, I think I'm going to go make Sammy dinner and see if there's some music on. Maybe I'll get to hear that song tonight. That would be cool. Then maybe I wouldn't miss Mom so much.
Author: Ragna (afteriwake)
Recipient: googlebrat
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Spoilers (if applicable): None. Set pre-series, when Dean's about eight.
Warnings (if applicable): None
Summary: The end of the world from a child's point of view.
Authors Note: After I put up the fic it was pointed out that the song came out after Mary died. I didn't realize that, and I apologize. It has been edited to reflect that.
---
Dad used to like this song that he said Mom liked. I don't remember what it was called, but I used to like it too. But then the world ended, so we don't play it anymore. But Mom liked it, and I miss Mom, so sometimes when it's just me and Sammy I listen to the radio and hope it's on. There isn't much music on the radio anymore. Mostly it's bad news. Lots of bad news. Dad says this is what happens when the world ends. Fun things stop and people have to take cover, and everything gets really bad. But, he says, at least we have each other. And that's a good thing. It'd be better if we stopped moving all the time, though. And if Dad stopped using fake names for us.
Sometimes it seems normal, though. Or as normal as our lives have been. Sometimes we're in a house instead of a motel room. Dad works jobs to get by, usually at an auto shop. And everything's okay. It me and Dad and Sammy. Sammy's young, so he doesn't notice stuff like I do, but he gets happy when it's the three of us. I know he gets happier when he sees me, anyway. It feels kind of good. And we do things together, sometimes, and it's not just me and Sammy all the time. It's a real family thing, you know? All three of us. I like those times the most.
Other times we're in motel rooms for days at a time. Maybe a week, maybe a little longer than that. And Dad spends most of his time out when that happens. He'll take us to the library and he'll go read stuff while I take care of Sammy in the children's section. Dad reads the old books when he can, and he looks at the local papers and stuff. Sammy and I just read Dr. Suess and the Berenstain Bears, stuff that makes Sammy grin. And then we'll go back to the motel and he'll give me instructions and he'll leave. Sometimes he comes back quickly, like when he's getting food, but sometimes he's gone for hours. Once he went away and didn't come back until really early the next morning. Sammy was scared he wasn't going to come back at all, but I wasn't.
I'm a good big brother. I make him dinner...he loves Spaghetti-Os and macaroni and cheese from the box. Sometimes I make him eat pees just because I can, and he mashes them up between his fingers and makes a big mess, which I have to clean up, and then I get angry and he gets sad, and 'cause I don't like seeing him sad I do it anyway and don't grumble, and then I turn on the TV or something if we have a TV. If not, I turn on the radio and try to find music. But like I said, it's harder to find music these days.
I avoid the stations where all they do is talk. It gets Sammy down. But Dad listens to them for hours and hours sometimes. He says he's listening for stuff. He doesn't tell me what stuff, just says stuff. I think he's listening for stuff on the guy who killed Mom, but I don't ask, because I don't want him mad at me. He says I'm his little man, and I like being his little man. He calls me his little soldier, too, but I don't like that one so much.
And sometimes he listens to it and then goes away for a while. We go to Pastor Jim's or Bobby's or some place like that, to one of his friends. No one says what he's doing, but I heard Dad and Bobby talking one night when I should have been sleeping and they were talking about hunting. But I didn't get the name of what they were talking about hunting. It wasn't deer, though. I'd have remembered that. Bobby took me hunting for deer a few times. He and Dad taught me to shoot a gun. I'm pretty good, Dad says. I can shoot a handgun and a shotgun. He says when I get older he'll teach me how to use other stuff.
I know there's bad things out there. I know it because Dad tells me to put salt at the windows and in front of the door so bad things won't get in. And even though Dad doesn't think I know, those bad things aren't human. I saw his book one night when he was gone. There were all these drawings and strange words. I got kind of scared, but then I figured out that Dad's fighting those things. And he's got to be winning, because he comes home every night. I bet Bobby does, too. He had a book open one time that had stuff in it like Dad's book but he closed it real fast when I snuck a peek. Don't know about Pastor Jim, though. Maybe?
I don't want Sammy to know, not ever. It's okay if I know because I'm bigger, but Sammy's just a little kid. He likes playing and coloring and eating, and he doesn't need to get scared. I'll make sure I never tell him, because I don't want him scared. It's hard when he wakes up at night and there's no one but me around and he wants Dad because he had a nightmare. So I talk to him, get him okay again. Sometimes I sit on his bed until he's asleep again. And sometimes I stay awake longer than that, because I'm kinda afraid I'm going to have a nightmare, too. But then I sleep and I don't and everything's okay.
Anyway, I think I'm going to go make Sammy dinner and see if there's some music on. Maybe I'll get to hear that song tonight. That would be cool. Then maybe I wouldn't miss Mom so much.