Fic: Till Human Voices Wake Us
Title: Till Human Voices Wake Us
Author: vorpalblades
Category: Gen
Characters: Dean, with appearances by Sam, John and Mary
Word Count: 1,233
Rating: Strong PG-13, for language and implied violence
Spoilers: Through IMToD
Summary: Sometimes memories are all we have.
Disclaimer: Kripke owns them all. I just played with them for a while. Title comes from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot.
A/N: Oh, the attack of the 11:00 PM plot bunny. This is also my very first SPN fic, so if it’s a total cock-up, don’t be afraid to tell me. I have to learn somehow. Non-betaed because, well, finished at 1:30 AM.
You bitch. You call that a fair fight? Talk about a cheap shot. Seriously, who clubs a man in the back of the head with his own boots? Last time I pick up some random chick in a bar.
Eh, who am I kidding? That’ll never happen.
Just you wait. These knots aren’t that tight. I’ll slip out of these in no ti - why are they getting tighter as I move? Okay, you have rope skills, I’ll give you that.
So, what’s the plan? Keep me down here as your own personal sex slave? Not that I’d mind, you’re hot and all, but I got places to go and…
Sammy. I’ve got Sam out there, and he’ll find your kidnapping, albeit sexy, ass, and then you’re in for a world of hurt.
He remembered the sharp sting of the splinters the old shovel left in his hands. He remembered the sound of the salt pouring from its spout and the glug of the gas can. He remembered the scratch of the match and the heat on his face and the comforting presence of Sam by his side. He remembered that night they brought one of many uneasy spirits to rest, and then the memory was gone.
Way to go, Winchester. You just had to go and get yourself abducted by a fucking memory eater, didn’t you? Okay, calm down. No damage done. She couldn’t have taken anything that important, right?
But now she knows what she’s dealing with, and it’s terrifying, isn’t it, bitch? You know what’s in store for you once Sam gets here and cuts me loose. Quit smiling like that!
The salt and burn was different that time. No revelry, no wise-cracks. Just a final duty - order - to carry out. Together, they watched the flames grow higher. He spared one glance away from the pyre to see the firelight play on the tears streaming down Sam’s face, and his father’s final words flashed through his mind again and one last time.
Yeah, thanks for the water. So very kind of you, after - how long have I been here? It’s all a blur.
Huh.
You just wait, because we Winchesters are a force to be reckoned with. By now, Sam’s called Dad, and they’ve put aside their stubbornness to focus on hunting you down. They’ll be here soon.
Wait, something’s not right about that. Something about Dad…
He looked at his watch just as the second hand stopped moving. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and knew. The door gave way easily as he kicked it in, and he made it to the bedroom just in time to see Sam’s girlfriend become engulfed in flames. It took every ounce of strength he had to pull Sam from the bed and push his struggling brother out the door to somewhere safe.
Hey lady, it’s nice that you’re feeding me soup and all, but really, if you untied my hands, I could do it myself.
Why am I tied up? Is she that kinky - bondage then motherly attention? Or is this something I should be worried about? I don’t feel worried…
Maybe once the fun and games are over, I’ll give Sammy a call. Haven’t spoken to the bitch in a while. Wonder if he took his nose out of his books long enough to chase a little tail. He is a Winchester after all, and a natural gift with the ladies is part of the family package.
Speaking of the ladies…
His eyes went wide when he realized just what the dangling keys in his father’s hand meant. Slowly, he reached up, afraid it was all a joke and his father was going to pull them away and laugh. As he closed his fist around them, his father let go, smiled. “Happy birthday, son.” He whooped, grabbed Sammy’s arm, and ran out the door. The seats of the Impala were welcoming - his - and the car felt as close to home as possible for someone with his life. He grabbed the first tape within arm’s distance, shoved it into the player, and started the car with a roar. He was laughing as they drove off, windows open and AC/DC trailing in their wake.
He had the beast in his sight. Dad had put him at a distance, confident and trusting in his oldest son’s accuracy. He shifted slightly, waiting for his father’s signal. There! The bang echoed throughout the woods, and he winced as the recoil jarred his shoulder. His father came jogging up, grinning from ear to ear. “Great job, son. First werewolf kill is the big one” and he could almost burst from the happiness caused by his father’s praise.
I’m tired. Feel like I’ve been up for days. Have I? I don’t…no, Dad won’t let us go that long without sleep.
Where am I? Where’s Sammy? Who are you, lady, and why are you smiling? Did I say something funny?
He found the ten bucks in the alleyway behind the theater and took it as a sign. He nodded to Sammy, a quick study for such a young kid, and they both fell in step with a large group entering the building. He spent all of the money on popcorn, candy, and a soda to split. Then, he and Sammy snuck into the scariest movie the theater was playing, laughing the whole time at how fake the ghosts looked.
The whole carnival had been fantastic, with the rides and the junk food and the rare smiles lighting up Dad’s face. Now, as they passed the fun house, Sammy tensed up and started whimpering under his breath. He did his best to shield his five-year-old brother from the piercing gaze of the giant clown above the doorway.
Sammy had pulled himself to his feet, using the threadbare couch as a support to steady his untrained legs. He held his hands open, encouraging - willing - his younger brother to move slowly toward him. He called to Dad to watch, and his father looked up in time to watch Sammy take those first five steps and fall into trustworthy arms.
Hi. Do I know you?
What do you mean, do I know my name? Of course, it’s…give me a minute. I know it starts with a D. Doesn’t it?
It’s almost over? What’s almost over? Mind helping me out, I’m a little confused. I’d like to see Sammy, if I could.
The fireman wrapped a blanket around him and asked if he was okay. He didn’t say a word - couldn’t. He just nudged into Dad’s side, desperate to feel something normal - familiar - beside him. He looked at Sammy in Dad’s arms, finally silent after all his crying, and was glad he still had his baby brother.
The hospital was too white and smelled funny. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to see over the mattress. His mother smiled, took pity on him. Slowly, she lowered a squirming mass of blankets into his arms. “You’re a big brother now. This is Sam.”
Sammy.
Wow, that tall guy looks really angry. The lady over there had better look out or - oh, too late. I think that knife would be sharp enough to cut these ropes too.
Yeah, I’m fine, if you would just…
Why is he looking at me like that? Does he know me?
Do I know him?
Author: vorpalblades
Category: Gen
Characters: Dean, with appearances by Sam, John and Mary
Word Count: 1,233
Rating: Strong PG-13, for language and implied violence
Spoilers: Through IMToD
Summary: Sometimes memories are all we have.
Disclaimer: Kripke owns them all. I just played with them for a while. Title comes from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot.
A/N: Oh, the attack of the 11:00 PM plot bunny. This is also my very first SPN fic, so if it’s a total cock-up, don’t be afraid to tell me. I have to learn somehow. Non-betaed because, well, finished at 1:30 AM.
You bitch. You call that a fair fight? Talk about a cheap shot. Seriously, who clubs a man in the back of the head with his own boots? Last time I pick up some random chick in a bar.
Eh, who am I kidding? That’ll never happen.
Just you wait. These knots aren’t that tight. I’ll slip out of these in no ti - why are they getting tighter as I move? Okay, you have rope skills, I’ll give you that.
So, what’s the plan? Keep me down here as your own personal sex slave? Not that I’d mind, you’re hot and all, but I got places to go and…
Sammy. I’ve got Sam out there, and he’ll find your kidnapping, albeit sexy, ass, and then you’re in for a world of hurt.
He remembered the sharp sting of the splinters the old shovel left in his hands. He remembered the sound of the salt pouring from its spout and the glug of the gas can. He remembered the scratch of the match and the heat on his face and the comforting presence of Sam by his side. He remembered that night they brought one of many uneasy spirits to rest, and then the memory was gone.
Way to go, Winchester. You just had to go and get yourself abducted by a fucking memory eater, didn’t you? Okay, calm down. No damage done. She couldn’t have taken anything that important, right?
But now she knows what she’s dealing with, and it’s terrifying, isn’t it, bitch? You know what’s in store for you once Sam gets here and cuts me loose. Quit smiling like that!
The salt and burn was different that time. No revelry, no wise-cracks. Just a final duty - order - to carry out. Together, they watched the flames grow higher. He spared one glance away from the pyre to see the firelight play on the tears streaming down Sam’s face, and his father’s final words flashed through his mind again and one last time.
Yeah, thanks for the water. So very kind of you, after - how long have I been here? It’s all a blur.
Huh.
You just wait, because we Winchesters are a force to be reckoned with. By now, Sam’s called Dad, and they’ve put aside their stubbornness to focus on hunting you down. They’ll be here soon.
Wait, something’s not right about that. Something about Dad…
He looked at his watch just as the second hand stopped moving. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and knew. The door gave way easily as he kicked it in, and he made it to the bedroom just in time to see Sam’s girlfriend become engulfed in flames. It took every ounce of strength he had to pull Sam from the bed and push his struggling brother out the door to somewhere safe.
Hey lady, it’s nice that you’re feeding me soup and all, but really, if you untied my hands, I could do it myself.
Why am I tied up? Is she that kinky - bondage then motherly attention? Or is this something I should be worried about? I don’t feel worried…
Maybe once the fun and games are over, I’ll give Sammy a call. Haven’t spoken to the bitch in a while. Wonder if he took his nose out of his books long enough to chase a little tail. He is a Winchester after all, and a natural gift with the ladies is part of the family package.
Speaking of the ladies…
His eyes went wide when he realized just what the dangling keys in his father’s hand meant. Slowly, he reached up, afraid it was all a joke and his father was going to pull them away and laugh. As he closed his fist around them, his father let go, smiled. “Happy birthday, son.” He whooped, grabbed Sammy’s arm, and ran out the door. The seats of the Impala were welcoming - his - and the car felt as close to home as possible for someone with his life. He grabbed the first tape within arm’s distance, shoved it into the player, and started the car with a roar. He was laughing as they drove off, windows open and AC/DC trailing in their wake.
He had the beast in his sight. Dad had put him at a distance, confident and trusting in his oldest son’s accuracy. He shifted slightly, waiting for his father’s signal. There! The bang echoed throughout the woods, and he winced as the recoil jarred his shoulder. His father came jogging up, grinning from ear to ear. “Great job, son. First werewolf kill is the big one” and he could almost burst from the happiness caused by his father’s praise.
I’m tired. Feel like I’ve been up for days. Have I? I don’t…no, Dad won’t let us go that long without sleep.
Where am I? Where’s Sammy? Who are you, lady, and why are you smiling? Did I say something funny?
He found the ten bucks in the alleyway behind the theater and took it as a sign. He nodded to Sammy, a quick study for such a young kid, and they both fell in step with a large group entering the building. He spent all of the money on popcorn, candy, and a soda to split. Then, he and Sammy snuck into the scariest movie the theater was playing, laughing the whole time at how fake the ghosts looked.
The whole carnival had been fantastic, with the rides and the junk food and the rare smiles lighting up Dad’s face. Now, as they passed the fun house, Sammy tensed up and started whimpering under his breath. He did his best to shield his five-year-old brother from the piercing gaze of the giant clown above the doorway.
Sammy had pulled himself to his feet, using the threadbare couch as a support to steady his untrained legs. He held his hands open, encouraging - willing - his younger brother to move slowly toward him. He called to Dad to watch, and his father looked up in time to watch Sammy take those first five steps and fall into trustworthy arms.
Hi. Do I know you?
What do you mean, do I know my name? Of course, it’s…give me a minute. I know it starts with a D. Doesn’t it?
It’s almost over? What’s almost over? Mind helping me out, I’m a little confused. I’d like to see Sammy, if I could.
The fireman wrapped a blanket around him and asked if he was okay. He didn’t say a word - couldn’t. He just nudged into Dad’s side, desperate to feel something normal - familiar - beside him. He looked at Sammy in Dad’s arms, finally silent after all his crying, and was glad he still had his baby brother.
The hospital was too white and smelled funny. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to see over the mattress. His mother smiled, took pity on him. Slowly, she lowered a squirming mass of blankets into his arms. “You’re a big brother now. This is Sam.”
Sammy.
Wow, that tall guy looks really angry. The lady over there had better look out or - oh, too late. I think that knife would be sharp enough to cut these ropes too.
Yeah, I’m fine, if you would just…
Why is he looking at me like that? Does he know me?
Do I know him?