Author: SpookyClaire PM
Who’s to say if Mary was alive that they would have the perfect life? A look into what could be. [Dean is 16, Sam is 12] oneshotshortfic [rating just incase]Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,623 - Reviews: 18 - Favs: 15 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 04-28-07 - Published: 02-19-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3403439
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Summary: Who's to say if Mary was alive that they would have the perfect life? A look into what could be. (Dean is 16, Sam is 12) shortfic-oneshot
Note: I absolutely adore Loving!John, but he didn't fit into this fic, sorry!
Five more minutes.
Dude, go away!
"Wake up, Dean!"
Ugh, FINE! Dean cracked his eyes open a bit and he looked to the clock. '1:33 am' it read. Did you really need to wake me up, Sammy? But a crash downstairs answered his question. "Aww, fuck." He whispered, knowing full well what was going on.
"They're fighting again." said his brother, tears in his eyes.
Dean smiled weakly at Sam. "What else is new, eh?" Sam's tears seemed to flow harder at that. Damnit. Dean hated to see Sammy cry. "C'mere." Dean slurred tiredly, scooting over so Sam could fit into his bed. Before Dean could blink, Sam was next to him, clinging to him. He's too emotional for his own good. Dean sighed. Then again, who could blame him? Ever since Sam and Dean were little they're parents fought. Sure, they had their moments where they got along, as all couples did, but theirs were always short periods of time.
Dean readjusted his brother so his head was resting on Dean's right shoulder, his ear pressed against Dean's skin. He wrapped his right arm around Sam and covered his free ear in attempts to muffle the fight, as he always did.
A dog was barking loudly "God damnit, shut up you beast!"
"Hey, don't take out your PMS on Butch!"
"God, John! Sometimes I swear you love that dog more than you love me!!"
"Well, sometimes I do!"
There was a short pause before a tearful scream of "You son of a bitch!" A crash "I'm your WIFE damnit! You don't talk to me that way!" This was getting worse than usual, two crashes in less than 5 minutes?
"I'll talk to you any fucking way I want to!"
"No you will not!" his mother screeched
"Then I'm outta here!"
"Oh, sure! Typical John Winchester, 'when the going gets tough, get my ass out!'"
"Don't you call me a coward!"
"I'll call you any fucking name I want to!" she said in a mocking tone
"I'll be back in the morning…maybe." The door slammed, soon followed by the sound of a car starting and screeching away.
Dean let out a shaky sigh and turned to his little brother. He was happy to see that his cover-Sam's-ears trick worked yet again. He, as carefully as possible, pulled himself from his brother. Once free he pulled the blanket up over Sam and kissed his forehead. With one last look at his little brother he made his way out the door and down the stairs.
Once at the bottom of the stairs he could hear soft sobs from the kitchen. He walked through the door to find his mother sitting on the cooking-stool, he head buried in her hands. On the floor were two smashed glasses, one green and one blue. They'd been sitting next to the sink, waiting to be washed.
He carefully walked up to the smashed glass and began to clean it up.
"Oh, Dean." He looked up at his mother "You shouldn't be doing that." She said, wiping her face.
"It's ok, ma. I got it." He assured her, dropping the pieces into the garbage can a foot away from him.
"Did Sammy hear?" she asked. Dean didn't respond, just continued to clean up. "Oh, boys…I'm so sorry." He heard her whisper, more to herself than Dean.
"It's ok, ma. He's asleep now. I'll let him sleep in my bed." He said, dropping more pieces of what used to be his and Sam's favorite glasses into the garbage can.
"I'm sorry I smashed you boys' glasses. We can get you more-"
"They were from our first trip to Disney World, ma. You can't replace them." He sighed.
Mary's lip trembled "I'm sorry." She whispered again.
Dean sighed "Go to sleep, ma. I'll finish cleaning this up." With one last reluctant, tearful look she got up and walked upstairs.
Dean gathered up the last bits of the broken glass and dropped them in the garbage can. He sighed and looked into the can. These weren't just cups, ma. He thought looking at the broken glass. They were memories. He took one last look at the broken shards of a happy memory before straightening up and going back to his sleeping brother.