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mekachu04SUPERNATURAL FANFIC
Dated: Dec 2009
Genre: Alternate Reality, hurt comfort
Rating: PG-13.. maybe R for safety. there are underage themes to this - but it's mostly kept in
Pairing: non detailed John/Mary
Disclaimer: i stole this idea from a kink meme (kinda....) so i can only lay claim to how it plays out. nothing else is mine.
Warnings: PLEASE SEE MASTER POST FOR ALL WARNINGS BEFORE READING!!!
Haven't posted anything in a while, have i? Blame Supernatural. *headdesk* I've got 5 or six spn fic flouting about, so I figured i should but written them down already so they'll leave me alone
CHAPTER ONE
Sammy knew there was something wrong with his family.
Oh, he'd know this fact since he was little - his life so startlingly different from the fairy-tale worlds that homed his peers.
But when he turned thirteen, and his family was holed up in some small town in south Minnesota, he had an encounter there that would chill him to the bone, and allow all the little wrong pieces of his life to begin to fall in to place - to see Grimm-esk puzzle finally come to the light.
Sam'd always found a strange peace in the House of God, and more often than not, would he allow his feet to wander, those temples of worship were where they led him. In this place - something about it painfully familiar, though Sam had no idea why - what he found would not give him peace - no it would instead claw at the corners of his mind.
There was a gentleman there - a man of the cloth - quietly washing one of the front windows of his church. The man smiled at him though the pristine glass, and met him at the door, holding it open for the teenager. There was a friendly warmth to his face - something about him comforting and familiar, and the the pastor wiped his hand on his rag, before offering it, "Hello, I'm Jim Murphy. How can I help you today ... young man?"
"Sam, " he supplied, shaking the church-man's hand.
Murphy cocked his head to the side, looking into Sam's eyes for a long tense moment, gaze piercing, but soft. Sam frowned, eyebrows knitting, "Wha-?"
"Sam. Sam Winchester?"
His heart lodged itself in his throat and died. Sam pulled his hand away, looking at the man in dread.
Murphy just chuckled, "Easy son. Lord, it's been years. I don't think I've seen you since you where a babe! And look at you now! What are you now, thirteen? Fourteen?"
"Th... thirteen. You knew me? Know me?"
The man laughed - a look that fit him well - and he looked lost in memories, and he spoke, "Used to know your whole family. The lot of you stayed here for a while after... you know, your mother's accident " His smile faded a little, lost it's joy.
Sam blood froze, and his mouth went dry, skin crawling when the good-sir said 'accident.' Mom had an accident? Wha... When was this? What had happened?
"Your father still drops me a line now and then, calls me up for a job every once in a while. The whole thing shook him up really bad. I tried to help him get though it - but it wasn't to be. He threw himself headlong into hunting once he got a feel for it. I was only sorry you boys got drug into it so young." Murphy shook his head, as if the gesture could clear away the trepidation beginning to cloud the room, "How have you been, Sam? You taking care of yourself? How's your brother holding out? Your old man ever get Dean talking again?"
Sam ran.
He turned away right then and there, and bolted from the building, ignoring the surprised voice behind him - ignored Jim Murphy calling out for him to wait. He ignored everything, not slowing up, not heading any particular way, just moving, his heart beat trying to drown out the words spoken that now tore at him, screaming out.
When his motel came in sight, Sam booked it, fleeing into the temporary home that it provided - slamming the door behind him, letting his body hold it closed - as if the battered wood could hold out the wrongness that was settling over him.
His mother stood in the hall, alert and looking at him in surprise. When he offered her no explanation, she moved to the window, cautiously peeking though the curtains - looking for whatever it was that had chased Sam home.
There was no one out there - Sam knew that. But he couldn't muster up the will to move, only remained back plastered to the door. He studied his mother openly while she looked for danger; her green eyes darting back and forth, body tightly wound - ready to strike.
When the Pastors words threatened to deafen him again - rushing back, screaming between each thundering beat of his heart - Sam surged forward, hugging his mother fearsomely. Her warmth quieted those internal fears, and she made a soothing noise, hushing the ill-thoughts when they tried to whisper back. She soothed down his hair when he started to tremble, held him close until all the darkness that was building seemed to fall away, leaving him detached, numb.
Chapter Two
Oh, he'd know this fact since he was little - his life so startlingly different from the fairy-tale worlds that homed his peers.
But when he turned thirteen, and his family was holed up in some small town in south Minnesota, he had an encounter there that would chill him to the bone, and allow all the little wrong pieces of his life to begin to fall in to place - to see Grimm-esk puzzle finally come to the light.
Sam'd always found a strange peace in the House of God, and more often than not, would he allow his feet to wander, those temples of worship were where they led him. In this place - something about it painfully familiar, though Sam had no idea why - what he found would not give him peace - no it would instead claw at the corners of his mind.
There was a gentleman there - a man of the cloth - quietly washing one of the front windows of his church. The man smiled at him though the pristine glass, and met him at the door, holding it open for the teenager. There was a friendly warmth to his face - something about him comforting and familiar, and the the pastor wiped his hand on his rag, before offering it, "Hello, I'm Jim Murphy. How can I help you today ... young man?"
"Sam, " he supplied, shaking the church-man's hand.
Murphy cocked his head to the side, looking into Sam's eyes for a long tense moment, gaze piercing, but soft. Sam frowned, eyebrows knitting, "Wha-?"
"Sam. Sam Winchester?"
His heart lodged itself in his throat and died. Sam pulled his hand away, looking at the man in dread.
Murphy just chuckled, "Easy son. Lord, it's been years. I don't think I've seen you since you where a babe! And look at you now! What are you now, thirteen? Fourteen?"
"Th... thirteen. You knew me? Know me?"
The man laughed - a look that fit him well - and he looked lost in memories, and he spoke, "Used to know your whole family. The lot of you stayed here for a while after... you know, your mother's accident " His smile faded a little, lost it's joy.
Sam blood froze, and his mouth went dry, skin crawling when the good-sir said 'accident.' Mom had an accident? Wha... When was this? What had happened?
"Your father still drops me a line now and then, calls me up for a job every once in a while. The whole thing shook him up really bad. I tried to help him get though it - but it wasn't to be. He threw himself headlong into hunting once he got a feel for it. I was only sorry you boys got drug into it so young." Murphy shook his head, as if the gesture could clear away the trepidation beginning to cloud the room, "How have you been, Sam? You taking care of yourself? How's your brother holding out? Your old man ever get Dean talking again?"
Sam ran.
He turned away right then and there, and bolted from the building, ignoring the surprised voice behind him - ignored Jim Murphy calling out for him to wait. He ignored everything, not slowing up, not heading any particular way, just moving, his heart beat trying to drown out the words spoken that now tore at him, screaming out.
When his motel came in sight, Sam booked it, fleeing into the temporary home that it provided - slamming the door behind him, letting his body hold it closed - as if the battered wood could hold out the wrongness that was settling over him.
His mother stood in the hall, alert and looking at him in surprise. When he offered her no explanation, she moved to the window, cautiously peeking though the curtains - looking for whatever it was that had chased Sam home.
There was no one out there - Sam knew that. But he couldn't muster up the will to move, only remained back plastered to the door. He studied his mother openly while she looked for danger; her green eyes darting back and forth, body tightly wound - ready to strike.
When the Pastors words threatened to deafen him again - rushing back, screaming between each thundering beat of his heart - Sam surged forward, hugging his mother fearsomely. Her warmth quieted those internal fears, and she made a soothing noise, hushing the ill-thoughts when they tried to whisper back. She soothed down his hair when he started to tremble, held him close until all the darkness that was building seemed to fall away, leaving him detached, numb.
Chapter Two
