Untitled #6 (Gen, PG)
Nov. 9th, 2007 07:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pixel_0Title: Untitled #6
Rating: PG
Category: AU Gen oneshot
Word Count: 1280
Characters: Dean, Sam, John, and a sorta OMC
Spoilers: Nothing specific revealed, but it would be helpful to have seen up through the end of S2 to better understand things.
Summary: There was a man sitting in class today.
Warnings: None
Author’s Notes: An idea I've had floating around for the last few, erm, months. You've got to read between the lines here, and maybe it's still too confusing. If so, I've left the basic jist, per se, if you don't want to overthink it too much at the end of the story. Just highlight it. (Because sometimes, I read stories and I don't want to overthink it, I just want to understand it, so yeah, I feel your pain if that's the case here.)
Disclaimer: The following characters and situations are used without permission of the creators, owners, and further affiliates of the television show, Supernatural, to whom they rightly belong. I claim only what is mine, and I make no money off what is theirs.
- - - - -
There was a man sitting in class today.
He was in the desk behind Dean's. The one that was usually left empty because there were too many chairs and not enough students. In the blue plastic seat, the man smiled at Dean, who sat down and pulled his books tight to his little chest. Dean didn't say anything to the man because Dad told him never to talk to strangers because they could be bad and bad things could happen. So Dean pulled out his workbook and a pencil, chewed on the end, and started multiplying numbers so that two times two equaled four and four times two equaled eight.
Dean went to lunch and climbed the monkey bars high enough to touch the sky. When Dean came back, the man was gone.
- - - - -
There was a man sitting in class today.
When Dean came into the room, still keeping his books close to him, the man smiled at him, friendly and nice, and said, "Hello, Dean."
Dean swallowed. He didn't want to talk to the man because he remembered exactly what Dad had told him what happened when little boys talked to strangers, but Dean didn't want to be rude. Rude kids are bad kids, so he mumbled, "Hello."
The man asked, "How are you doing today?" He was still smiling. He seemed happy.
"Good," Dean answered.
"That's good."
Dean went to lunch and slid down twisty-turny slides all the way to the graveled ground. When Dean came back, the man was gone.
- - - - -
There was a man sitting in class today.
"Good morning, Dean," the man said and Dean said good morning to him too. He seemed like a nice man. He was always smiling, and he didn't do anything except sit quietly in the seat behind Dean. Sometimes, he read a book with letters all scrambled. Dean could read, but he couldn't read the man's book.
"How is your dad doing?" the man asked. He leaned back in his seat and folded his hands together over his shirt. His long legs stretched out beneath his desk and all the way under Dean's seat.
"Good," Dean replied.
"And your brother? How is he?"
"Good," Dean repeated.
"How old is your brother?"
"He's five."
"Then you must be nine," the man said. "My, you sure are growing up fast."
Dean nodded, grinned. "I'll be double-digits soon." He was looking forward to this.
"Why, that certainly is something to be proud of. I bet you help your dad look out for your brother, don't you?"
"Yep. Dad says to make sure I take care of Sammy."
The man smiled again and said, "I'm sure you do a good job at that."
Dean went to lunch and played football with some kids from his class. When Dean came back, the man was gone.
- - - - -
There was a man sitting in class today.
In the morning, he talked to Dean about Dad and what Sammy liked to do for fun. He asked if Dean could remember his mom and where Dad went when he left so much. Dean couldn't answer the man's last questions. He liked the man. Thought he was nice. But he didn't want to talk about those things with the man.
Dean went to lunch and the man asked if he could join Dean. Dean said yes, and they sat together at the lunchtable, just the two of them because Dean didn't ever eat lunch with any of the other kids. Close to the man with no one else around, Dean thought the man smelled funny. Like smoke when Dad made a fire so they could roast marshmallows or when they burned wood in the winter to keep warm.
"What do you have for lunch?" the man asked.
"Peanut butter and jelly," Dean said, pulling out his sandwich. He looked down at his lunch and then to the man. "Don't you have anything to eat?"
"I forgot to pack mine," the man said. He smiled, not upset.
"Oh. I can share mine if you want."
"No, no, that's okay," the man said. "You'll need it so you can go play outside later."
"Are you sure? You won't be hungry?"
"Don't worry about me, sport. I'll be just fine."
Dean went outside and read a book about scary monsters that lived under the bed. When Dean came back, the man was gone.
- - - - -
There was a man sitting in class today.
He sat with Dean at lunch, and when Dean returned to class, the man was waiting there. He remained in his seat until the end of the day when he asked, "How about I walk you home? Would that be okay?"
Dean shrugged and said, "Yeah, I guess."
They walked down the sidewalk together, and the man was tall and his hair kept falling in front of his face, but he always looked down at Dean to make what Dad called "eye contact." Dad believed in "making eye contact," and Dean knew it was an important thing.
When they reached Dean's house, Dean asked the man if he wanted to come inside.
"Is your dad home?" the man wanted to know. He wasn't making eye contact with Dean anymore. He was looking around the yard, looking at the house and at the windows. Everywhere else.
"Yep, that's his truck in the driveway. He's probably sleeping since he just got home from work."
"Then I shouldn't wake him."
"We could be quiet."
"No, no, that's all right. I don't know if your dad would want me in the house. I'll see you tomorrow, Dean."
"Okay..." He paused, struggling for a name.
The man smiled. "You can call me Sam."
Dean brightened. "Like my brother."
"Yes," the man agreed. "Like your brother." He patted Dean gently on the shoulder and turned to go. Walking away, Dean saw a large stain in the middle of the man's back, and he thought that the man should wash his clothes more.
- - - - -
There was no man sitting in class today.
His seat was empty, and he didn't visit Dean at lunch and he didn't walk Dean home. Without the man, Dean started to feel lonely. He had sort of liked talking to the man because he was nice and smiled and listened to whatever Dean had to say.
That night after dinner, there was a knock at the door. Dad looked up from his newspaper and went to see who was at their house. From his place in the living room, Dean heard a murmur, and Dad sounded angry and confused. There was a curse and a grunt, then nothing.
On the floor, Sammy was playing with his blocks on the floor, building a tower as tall as they could go. When Dean looked up, the man was coming into the living room. His hands were linked behind his back, and his brown boots left wet prints on the carpeting.
"Hello, Dean," he said, smiled that friendly smile of his. He crouched down. "This must be Sammy."
"Like you," Dean replied.
"Yes. Just like me indeed."
"Where's Dad?" Dean asked.
"Your dad had to go outside for a minute. He asked me to keep an eye on you boys while he's gone."
Dean looked down at Sammy's blocks, picked one up and handed it to the man. "Want to play?" he asked.
The man's eyes flashed black, and Dean wondered if the man was sick. When the man took the block from Dean, his fingers were red and sticky. "I'd love to play with you."
End
[Confused? Highlight: Time traveling, evil!Sam :)]
Rating: PG
Category: AU Gen oneshot
Word Count: 1280
Characters: Dean, Sam, John, and a sorta OMC
Spoilers: Nothing specific revealed, but it would be helpful to have seen up through the end of S2 to better understand things.
Summary: There was a man sitting in class today.
Warnings: None
Author’s Notes: An idea I've had floating around for the last few, erm, months. You've got to read between the lines here, and maybe it's still too confusing. If so, I've left the basic jist, per se, if you don't want to overthink it too much at the end of the story. Just highlight it. (Because sometimes, I read stories and I don't want to overthink it, I just want to understand it, so yeah, I feel your pain if that's the case here.)
Disclaimer: The following characters and situations are used without permission of the creators, owners, and further affiliates of the television show, Supernatural, to whom they rightly belong. I claim only what is mine, and I make no money off what is theirs.
There was a man sitting in class today.
He was in the desk behind Dean's. The one that was usually left empty because there were too many chairs and not enough students. In the blue plastic seat, the man smiled at Dean, who sat down and pulled his books tight to his little chest. Dean didn't say anything to the man because Dad told him never to talk to strangers because they could be bad and bad things could happen. So Dean pulled out his workbook and a pencil, chewed on the end, and started multiplying numbers so that two times two equaled four and four times two equaled eight.
Dean went to lunch and climbed the monkey bars high enough to touch the sky. When Dean came back, the man was gone.
There was a man sitting in class today.
When Dean came into the room, still keeping his books close to him, the man smiled at him, friendly and nice, and said, "Hello, Dean."
Dean swallowed. He didn't want to talk to the man because he remembered exactly what Dad had told him what happened when little boys talked to strangers, but Dean didn't want to be rude. Rude kids are bad kids, so he mumbled, "Hello."
The man asked, "How are you doing today?" He was still smiling. He seemed happy.
"Good," Dean answered.
"That's good."
Dean went to lunch and slid down twisty-turny slides all the way to the graveled ground. When Dean came back, the man was gone.
There was a man sitting in class today.
"Good morning, Dean," the man said and Dean said good morning to him too. He seemed like a nice man. He was always smiling, and he didn't do anything except sit quietly in the seat behind Dean. Sometimes, he read a book with letters all scrambled. Dean could read, but he couldn't read the man's book.
"How is your dad doing?" the man asked. He leaned back in his seat and folded his hands together over his shirt. His long legs stretched out beneath his desk and all the way under Dean's seat.
"Good," Dean replied.
"And your brother? How is he?"
"Good," Dean repeated.
"How old is your brother?"
"He's five."
"Then you must be nine," the man said. "My, you sure are growing up fast."
Dean nodded, grinned. "I'll be double-digits soon." He was looking forward to this.
"Why, that certainly is something to be proud of. I bet you help your dad look out for your brother, don't you?"
"Yep. Dad says to make sure I take care of Sammy."
The man smiled again and said, "I'm sure you do a good job at that."
Dean went to lunch and played football with some kids from his class. When Dean came back, the man was gone.
There was a man sitting in class today.
In the morning, he talked to Dean about Dad and what Sammy liked to do for fun. He asked if Dean could remember his mom and where Dad went when he left so much. Dean couldn't answer the man's last questions. He liked the man. Thought he was nice. But he didn't want to talk about those things with the man.
Dean went to lunch and the man asked if he could join Dean. Dean said yes, and they sat together at the lunchtable, just the two of them because Dean didn't ever eat lunch with any of the other kids. Close to the man with no one else around, Dean thought the man smelled funny. Like smoke when Dad made a fire so they could roast marshmallows or when they burned wood in the winter to keep warm.
"What do you have for lunch?" the man asked.
"Peanut butter and jelly," Dean said, pulling out his sandwich. He looked down at his lunch and then to the man. "Don't you have anything to eat?"
"I forgot to pack mine," the man said. He smiled, not upset.
"Oh. I can share mine if you want."
"No, no, that's okay," the man said. "You'll need it so you can go play outside later."
"Are you sure? You won't be hungry?"
"Don't worry about me, sport. I'll be just fine."
Dean went outside and read a book about scary monsters that lived under the bed. When Dean came back, the man was gone.
There was a man sitting in class today.
He sat with Dean at lunch, and when Dean returned to class, the man was waiting there. He remained in his seat until the end of the day when he asked, "How about I walk you home? Would that be okay?"
Dean shrugged and said, "Yeah, I guess."
They walked down the sidewalk together, and the man was tall and his hair kept falling in front of his face, but he always looked down at Dean to make what Dad called "eye contact." Dad believed in "making eye contact," and Dean knew it was an important thing.
When they reached Dean's house, Dean asked the man if he wanted to come inside.
"Is your dad home?" the man wanted to know. He wasn't making eye contact with Dean anymore. He was looking around the yard, looking at the house and at the windows. Everywhere else.
"Yep, that's his truck in the driveway. He's probably sleeping since he just got home from work."
"Then I shouldn't wake him."
"We could be quiet."
"No, no, that's all right. I don't know if your dad would want me in the house. I'll see you tomorrow, Dean."
"Okay..." He paused, struggling for a name.
The man smiled. "You can call me Sam."
Dean brightened. "Like my brother."
"Yes," the man agreed. "Like your brother." He patted Dean gently on the shoulder and turned to go. Walking away, Dean saw a large stain in the middle of the man's back, and he thought that the man should wash his clothes more.
There was no man sitting in class today.
His seat was empty, and he didn't visit Dean at lunch and he didn't walk Dean home. Without the man, Dean started to feel lonely. He had sort of liked talking to the man because he was nice and smiled and listened to whatever Dean had to say.
That night after dinner, there was a knock at the door. Dad looked up from his newspaper and went to see who was at their house. From his place in the living room, Dean heard a murmur, and Dad sounded angry and confused. There was a curse and a grunt, then nothing.
On the floor, Sammy was playing with his blocks on the floor, building a tower as tall as they could go. When Dean looked up, the man was coming into the living room. His hands were linked behind his back, and his brown boots left wet prints on the carpeting.
"Hello, Dean," he said, smiled that friendly smile of his. He crouched down. "This must be Sammy."
"Like you," Dean replied.
"Yes. Just like me indeed."
"Where's Dad?" Dean asked.
"Your dad had to go outside for a minute. He asked me to keep an eye on you boys while he's gone."
Dean looked down at Sammy's blocks, picked one up and handed it to the man. "Want to play?" he asked.
The man's eyes flashed black, and Dean wondered if the man was sick. When the man took the block from Dean, his fingers were red and sticky. "I'd love to play with you."
End
[Confused? Highlight: Time traveling, evil!Sam :)]
no subject
Date: 2007-11-10 02:33 am (UTC)Am I right?
no subject
Date: 2007-11-10 07:45 pm (UTC)Thank you!