Author: KANSAS99 PM
Dean knew it was time. He ran away and found home at Santa Cruz. This was the day Priestly was born. He was home, but he was never, in fact, safe.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Angst - Chapters: 3 - Words: 3,982 - Reviews: 26 - Favs: 30 - Follows: 65 - Updated: 10-20-12 - Published: 12-21-11 - id: 7658812
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Wow, it's been a while. So I'm just gonna cut to the chase.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Ten Inch Hero
Warning: Mentions of abuse, but hopefully it's not too depressing…
LAUGUAGE! THERE IS SWEARING, OKAY? DO NOT REPORT THIS FIC OF LAUGUAGE BECAUSE, WELL, I WARNED YOU. LANGUAGE, LANGUAGE, LANGUAGE!
That is all.
Priestly didn't know how long he stood there, frozen in his spot. The dial rang in his ear, telling him that his father had hung up. The next thing he knew, he was sat down on the booth he was cleaning, staring at nothing. Piper was trying to talk to him, but he just couldn't form any words.
The phone buzzed on the table, taunting him and letting him know that his Dad's mocking voice was right on the other end. Jen shook his arm.
"Huh?" He said, the only thing able to come out of his mouth.
"Who was it?"
"It was my dad." He gulped. "Jen, I think he found me."
"You know what?" A voice said at the door way. "I think he found you too." John grinned.
TEN INCH HERO
"D-dad?" Priestly looked at his father standing at the door with the biggest smirk on his face, Priestly hated that smile; he remembers it from his childhood. His father looked at him with amusement and promise of torture. He was dressed in old, ripped jeans, stains visible on the material. The black shirt he wore was joined by the tan coloured flannel shirt and brown jacket over the top.
Priestly didn't even get chance to run anywhere, because his fathers biker boots seemed to appear out of nowhere and get him right in the chest. He felt his vision go white, but straightened out to stand again. But the blows kept coming.
"Girls! Leave!" Dean shouted because even if he was going to get beaten to shit right now, he didn't want the girl to be here to witness it, or get involved. The bell rang to signal that somebody had left the shop, but when Priestly got the chance to look out, accepting his fathers blows, he saw that Piper and Tish was crouched in the corner of the room and Jen had ran to get help.
"I got to hand it to Bobby though. He did a really good job of covering your tracks, but you and I both know that I would have found you anyway." John smirked at the boy laid on the floor, knees up to his chest and mouth slitting blood. "You can take more than this, Dean. Or has the air made you go soft, huh? You used to be such a good punching bag."
Priestly grunted out in pain when another blow went to his chest. He didn't want to be weak anymore, but it hurt, god dammit!
"You dyed your hair, huh? Didn't think I'd notice you. You have your mother's eyes, Dean. I could never forget them."
With a burst of courage, Dean choked out a laugh. "And what would she think now, huh, dad? 'Well done, John. Just what I pictured our life would be like. A son that has more scars than bones and another child who hasn't seen either of his parents for years, what a family'."
"Shut up!" John yelled and kicked Dean in the face, the steel toe shoes cutting his head. Blood dripped down Dean's temple; it's probably not going to be the last drop of the night. Dean went into his head for a couple of minutes, he knew that it was the wrong thing to do, but he couldn't help but retreat into his mind.
He remembers 4th July the first year he was away from his father. Jen, him, Trucker and some old surf buddies all let of fireworks on the shop roof until Zo joined them with some Chinese Lanterns and they watched as they sailed of into the sky (although most of them was burned at the sides, but nobodies perfect, right?).
He remembers Christmas on the 2nd year he was away from his father. Jen, Tish, him and Trucker was sat on the beach, dressed in reds, greens and whites and singing Christmas Carols as loud as they could. People passing by watched them with smiles and grins (a group of jolly drunk came out the pub to join them for an hour and they had a great time).
He remembers when he went to visit Tish at her house because she needed a lift to the shop and he decided to help out a friend… only to walk in on her half naked and wet from the shower. Dean did not scream like a little girl (or stare, he never stared, dammit).
It's the whimper in the corner of the room which takes him out of his head, he opens his eyes and he sees the girls. His girls that are huddled together watching him as he hisses and crawls in pain. Watching as his past haunts him like it always has. Pain.
But he's Dean Fucking Winchester for crying out loud!
So he decides that enough is enough.
Before he knows it, John is on his back and Dean is punching his, hitting his as hard and as fast as he can. So much blood is coming from the man's mouth and his cheeks are bruising already, Dean doesn't even feel bad because of it.
"I did everything for you! I raised Sam to grow up to the man he is today! I was the one who helped you out when you was too drunk to notice that you'd been stabbed or shot, I was the one who at 4 years old changed his brothers nappies, fed him, clothed him and then did it all over again for his dad. Because your just a kid, aren't you? You lost something, so you took it out on somebody else and you made them so broken that they can't even sleep at night without a knife under their pillow. But here it is, Dad. I'm not your punching bag anymore, I'm not your son, I'm not the person that's gonna forgive you or look after you. I'm gonna be the guy that you look at and think, shit, I better run in a different direction. I'm gonna be that person that you look over your shoulder for. And when you die, I'm gonna be the one dancing on your grave, because then at least the world is rid of another sick, twisted dick."
He hits and he hits and he hits. He doesn't know for how long, he doesn't know if he even hit's this man's face. But what he does feel is the hands that wrap around his waist and pull him away, he fights, of course he does, but then he hears Bobby telling him that it's over, that he doesn't need to do it anymore, he doesn't need to fight.
He stands, barely and looks down at the man on the floor; he looks at him with hate and promise of something evil. He's leaning more on Bobby than his own mass, but the look still makes John look at him with… fear, in his eyes.
"I don't want to ever see you in this town. Do you understand me, John?" Dean tells the man and he nods, holding his stomach in pain.
He sees his father stumble out the shop, but he doesn't care.
Because it's over.
It's so over.
And then he blacks out (which he hates because it's so cliché, but it is reasonable. You know, with the face heavier than a ton of bricks).
He wakes up in a bed which is normal. He does that everyday. One thing that doesn't happen is the pain on his rips and the pounding headache which he decides he needs to check out as soon as he can stand opening his eyes to the harsh lights in his room. Yes, he can tell it's his room, in his apartment (unless Trucker has a knife under his pillow too).
So, he makes a list. First, he needs to find the will power to open his eyes and look at his rips, next he needs to pee, then he needs to find out what the fuck happened after he passed out.
He opens his eyes slowly, and the looks at the big stain on his chest (he faintly notices he isn't wearing any clothes except his boxers, but that's not important right now). He could be a fricking rainbow with the colours on his chest and he touched the bruises softly, then wonders why the fuck he did that when a shooting pain goes though his body. He's busted his rips, maybe a few are cracked and maybe a few are broken, he has no idea.
Next step, he sits up as gently as he can, which fails and he wishes he had a bigger bladder, but he gets up none the less and limps to the bathroom. After he's finished, his mirror glares at him. He isn't wearing any of his metal and his hair is flat and dull, most of the colour is out of it and he kind of misses the redness.
But he finds scissors and hair dye remover and tries to become the man he used to be. He likes what he sees in the mirror, he did when he was Priestly too, but he needed this. He needed to be himself again. It was quick and it may have been too soon, but he was ready. He really, really was.
So he cuts his own hair, he makes it brown again and he shaves. He looks in the glass, he looks and he sees… well, he sees his reflection (what? No chick-flick moments, okay? He sees himself, what else would he see? Godzilla?). He looks like he used to, all freckles, green eyes and high cheek bones. And he's ready to go run out and scream that he's free and he's alive (he doesn't because a) he can't run right now and b) people will think he's loopy and give him a nice white jacket and a padded room to match).
He decides to limp out the room and find Bobby instead.