The Winchester Calendar
Rating: G
Genre: WeeWinchester
Summary: The different ways Sammy and Dean view each month.
Author's Notes: Beta'd by
kuronue. I still don't own The Boys!
The Winchester Calendar
November
To Sammy, this time of year smelled like candy apples and cinnamon-spiced cider. To Dean, it smelled of burnt flesh and ashes.
December
To Sammy, this time of year meant listening for Santa sliding down the chimney with brightly wrapped gifts and eating the cookies left out on the table. To Dean, it meant listening for the other things that could slide down the chimney to eat his little brother.
January
To Sammy, this time of year tasted of snowflakes and hot cocoa. To Dean, it tasted of the blood that spattered on him when John killed the shapeshifter.
February
To Sammy, this time of year felt like wind blowing the hair from his face, making him laugh breathlessly as he tried to walk against the gusting air. To Dean, it felt like the wind of a poltergeist throwing him across the room when he tried to salt her bones.
March
To Sammy, this time of year smelled like the fresh flowers he collected to give to his teacher. To Dean, it smelled of the stale air of the basements where ghouls liked to hide.
April
To Sammy, this time of year sounded like raindrops pattering on the windowpane, lulling him to sleep in the back of the Impala. To Dean, it sounded like the pattering of blood as it dripped off the table when they were too late to save the girl.
May
To Sammy, this time of year felt like the prickling of newly mown grass as he rolled across the tiny patch of lawn at the motel. To Dean, it felt like the pricking of sharp claws digging down his back, tearing his skin open as he tried to keep from screaming.
June
To Sammy, this time of year meant summer was just around the corner. To Dean, it meant Sammy wouldn’t be safe in a classroom for at least six hours of the day.
July
To Sammy, this time of year sounded like fireworks. To Dean, it sounded like a gun chamber clicking uselessly again and again after firing all rounds into the body lying on the ground before him.
August
To Sammy, this time of year was the sight of the sun reflecting off the water, sending ripples of light gleaming over his face. To Dean, it was the sight of the headlights of the car reflecting off the Black Dog’s eyes as it growled at them from the trees.
September
To Sammy, this time of year tasted like apples and pencil lead. To Dean, it tasted of the cold bite of metal because the weather made weapons weaken and guns jam.
October
To Sammy, this time of year looked like a party - all the candy he could eat and children wandering freely over the streets. To Dean, it looked like a To Do list of things he would kill, or might kill him.
Genre: WeeWinchester
Summary: The different ways Sammy and Dean view each month.
Author's Notes: Beta'd by
kuronue. I still don't own The Boys!
The Winchester Calendar
November
To Sammy, this time of year smelled like candy apples and cinnamon-spiced cider. To Dean, it smelled of burnt flesh and ashes.
December
To Sammy, this time of year meant listening for Santa sliding down the chimney with brightly wrapped gifts and eating the cookies left out on the table. To Dean, it meant listening for the other things that could slide down the chimney to eat his little brother.
January
To Sammy, this time of year tasted of snowflakes and hot cocoa. To Dean, it tasted of the blood that spattered on him when John killed the shapeshifter.
February
To Sammy, this time of year felt like wind blowing the hair from his face, making him laugh breathlessly as he tried to walk against the gusting air. To Dean, it felt like the wind of a poltergeist throwing him across the room when he tried to salt her bones.
March
To Sammy, this time of year smelled like the fresh flowers he collected to give to his teacher. To Dean, it smelled of the stale air of the basements where ghouls liked to hide.
April
To Sammy, this time of year sounded like raindrops pattering on the windowpane, lulling him to sleep in the back of the Impala. To Dean, it sounded like the pattering of blood as it dripped off the table when they were too late to save the girl.
May
To Sammy, this time of year felt like the prickling of newly mown grass as he rolled across the tiny patch of lawn at the motel. To Dean, it felt like the pricking of sharp claws digging down his back, tearing his skin open as he tried to keep from screaming.
June
To Sammy, this time of year meant summer was just around the corner. To Dean, it meant Sammy wouldn’t be safe in a classroom for at least six hours of the day.
July
To Sammy, this time of year sounded like fireworks. To Dean, it sounded like a gun chamber clicking uselessly again and again after firing all rounds into the body lying on the ground before him.
August
To Sammy, this time of year was the sight of the sun reflecting off the water, sending ripples of light gleaming over his face. To Dean, it was the sight of the headlights of the car reflecting off the Black Dog’s eyes as it growled at them from the trees.
September
To Sammy, this time of year tasted like apples and pencil lead. To Dean, it tasted of the cold bite of metal because the weather made weapons weaken and guns jam.
October
To Sammy, this time of year looked like a party - all the candy he could eat and children wandering freely over the streets. To Dean, it looked like a To Do list of things he would kill, or might kill him.