LAS Challenge #6
Oct. 31st, 2010 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glasslogicStory Title: Collateral Damage (LAS Prompt #6 - X Faces Their Greatest Fear)
Name: glasslogic
Pairing: none
Disclaimer: I have no rights to any of the copyrighted characters/material in this fic, and I make no profit from it.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 986
Warnings/Spoilers: Character Death
This story is for the SPN Last Author Standing challenge, one prompt a week, one story per prompt, one author voted off each cycle until only one is left. Stories must be between 100 - 1000 words. No betas allowed, voting is completely blind.
Smoke stung his eyes and nose as he stood impassively, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face an expressionless mask as the fire crackled and burned in front of him. From a distance he appeared as unconcerned as if waiting for a train, but deep hallows under his eyes gave away sleepless nights, while the rigidity of his stance stood testament to strain almost too great to carry.
John Winchester steeled himself as he watched the inferno feed upon itself. His eyes reflected the glow that consumed the last vestiges of whatever good had been left in his life.
~~~
Earlier that day...
The truck stop diner was surprisingly busy for a Thursday night, a testament to the quality of the food and the friendliness of the staff. John didn’t really care either way. His interest was in the anonymity of the setting and the brightness of the overhead lights. As he chewed absently, he trailed a finger along faded roads on an old map spread out on the table looking for Cane’s Creek. He had swapped a box of silver bullets for the yellowing paper, to an old hunter who swore the creek was on it. If he could find that, then he could find the sprites, and if he found the sprites, he could finally put a stop to the rash of apparent suicides at the local high school.
He needed to get this job done and move on. Dean was growing far to comfortable in his role as the “dangerous” new guy who hung out at the local joints after school. While keeping his ear out for rumors and circulating among the students might be useful for the hunt, at twenty-four he was still too easily distracted by a short skirt and a well-curved figure. He was a smart kid and a damn fine hunter, and John was quietly proud of Dean. For the most part he even trusted the boy both on his own and at his back, but as old as he was and in spite of his experience, Dean was in many ways still innocent of what kind of nightmares really existed in the night; or of just how dark it could get. Those kind of thoughts led John back to Mary and to his other son. He’d been furious when Sam had left, but it hadn’t taken long to realize that it was probably for the best. A college at the far side of the country, with a head filled with dreams of a normal life and a hatred for anything to do with “the job” was probably the safest place Sam could--
“Hey, Dad.”
John startled, and almost dropped the glass he had been drinking from. It had been two years since he had last seen Sam, but those two years had seen a lot of changes. No longer the rail thin awkward youth with a perpetually sullen cast to his features, the twenty-year old in front of him had shoulders that finally matched his height, muscles obvious even through the clinging dark cloth of his shirt, and a confidence and purpose in his demeanor that projected clearly, even just standing beside the table.
Sam slid into the both across from John. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just wanted to say hi.”
“How did you find me? Why aren’t you in school?” John demanded, after the initial shock of Sam’s appearance, John’s mind immediately jumped to thoughts of shapeshifters and other things that could take on another’s form, even fish the image out of his thoughts. The odds of this being his Sam...
Sam smiled and the expression chilled John to his core. “Relax. It’s me. And you wouldn’t want to create a scene now, would you? In the middle of all these nice, innocent, people? That could be messy.”
“Who are you?” John lowered his voice, leaning in to keep the conversation private.
“You know who I am, Dad. You know even better than I did.”
The chill John felt was spreading, joined with a distant chorus in the back in his mind no, no, no, no...
Sam lowered his voice. “Did you think you could keep it from me forever? That I wouldn’t find out? I know what I am now, Dad. I know why we were always on the road, why you wouldn’t answer some questions, why you were always looking at me like I was one of the things you wanted to hunt--”
“I didn’t! I never did,” John hissed.
“You always did. I knew you didn’t love me like you loved Dean, but I never knew why you hated me.”
“Sam--“ John gasped, reaching out to grab Sam’s forearm as his son slid back out of the booth. Sam’s expression was remote and John jerked his hand back when he realized the cloth of Sam’s shirt was sticky and wet. He stared at the deep scarlet stain on his hand, then back at Sam’s face.
“Like I said, I just wanted to see you for a minute. I already stopped in to see Dean.”
He let Sam walk away because anything else would have put innocents at risk, but as he tore his way back to the motel, he already knew what he would find.
~~~
Fire crackled and flared as with a shifting rumble the pyre collapsed into itself. In his hand, he gripped a charm he had taken from his son’s body, the only thing he had claimed before dropping the lighter onto the kerosene soaked wood. A gift between brothers in a happier time, it had never left Dean’s neck in all the time he had owned it. John clenched it tightly in his fist now, until his hand was cut deep and bled.
Name: glasslogic
Pairing: none
Disclaimer: I have no rights to any of the copyrighted characters/material in this fic, and I make no profit from it.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 986
Warnings/Spoilers: Character Death
This story is for the SPN Last Author Standing challenge, one prompt a week, one story per prompt, one author voted off each cycle until only one is left. Stories must be between 100 - 1000 words. No betas allowed, voting is completely blind.
Smoke stung his eyes and nose as he stood impassively, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face an expressionless mask as the fire crackled and burned in front of him. From a distance he appeared as unconcerned as if waiting for a train, but deep hallows under his eyes gave away sleepless nights, while the rigidity of his stance stood testament to strain almost too great to carry.
John Winchester steeled himself as he watched the inferno feed upon itself. His eyes reflected the glow that consumed the last vestiges of whatever good had been left in his life.
Earlier that day...
The truck stop diner was surprisingly busy for a Thursday night, a testament to the quality of the food and the friendliness of the staff. John didn’t really care either way. His interest was in the anonymity of the setting and the brightness of the overhead lights. As he chewed absently, he trailed a finger along faded roads on an old map spread out on the table looking for Cane’s Creek. He had swapped a box of silver bullets for the yellowing paper, to an old hunter who swore the creek was on it. If he could find that, then he could find the sprites, and if he found the sprites, he could finally put a stop to the rash of apparent suicides at the local high school.
He needed to get this job done and move on. Dean was growing far to comfortable in his role as the “dangerous” new guy who hung out at the local joints after school. While keeping his ear out for rumors and circulating among the students might be useful for the hunt, at twenty-four he was still too easily distracted by a short skirt and a well-curved figure. He was a smart kid and a damn fine hunter, and John was quietly proud of Dean. For the most part he even trusted the boy both on his own and at his back, but as old as he was and in spite of his experience, Dean was in many ways still innocent of what kind of nightmares really existed in the night; or of just how dark it could get. Those kind of thoughts led John back to Mary and to his other son. He’d been furious when Sam had left, but it hadn’t taken long to realize that it was probably for the best. A college at the far side of the country, with a head filled with dreams of a normal life and a hatred for anything to do with “the job” was probably the safest place Sam could--
“Hey, Dad.”
John startled, and almost dropped the glass he had been drinking from. It had been two years since he had last seen Sam, but those two years had seen a lot of changes. No longer the rail thin awkward youth with a perpetually sullen cast to his features, the twenty-year old in front of him had shoulders that finally matched his height, muscles obvious even through the clinging dark cloth of his shirt, and a confidence and purpose in his demeanor that projected clearly, even just standing beside the table.
Sam slid into the both across from John. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just wanted to say hi.”
“How did you find me? Why aren’t you in school?” John demanded, after the initial shock of Sam’s appearance, John’s mind immediately jumped to thoughts of shapeshifters and other things that could take on another’s form, even fish the image out of his thoughts. The odds of this being his Sam...
Sam smiled and the expression chilled John to his core. “Relax. It’s me. And you wouldn’t want to create a scene now, would you? In the middle of all these nice, innocent, people? That could be messy.”
“Who are you?” John lowered his voice, leaning in to keep the conversation private.
“You know who I am, Dad. You know even better than I did.”
The chill John felt was spreading, joined with a distant chorus in the back in his mind no, no, no, no...
Sam lowered his voice. “Did you think you could keep it from me forever? That I wouldn’t find out? I know what I am now, Dad. I know why we were always on the road, why you wouldn’t answer some questions, why you were always looking at me like I was one of the things you wanted to hunt--”
“I didn’t! I never did,” John hissed.
“You always did. I knew you didn’t love me like you loved Dean, but I never knew why you hated me.”
“Sam--“ John gasped, reaching out to grab Sam’s forearm as his son slid back out of the booth. Sam’s expression was remote and John jerked his hand back when he realized the cloth of Sam’s shirt was sticky and wet. He stared at the deep scarlet stain on his hand, then back at Sam’s face.
“Like I said, I just wanted to see you for a minute. I already stopped in to see Dean.”
He let Sam walk away because anything else would have put innocents at risk, but as he tore his way back to the motel, he already knew what he would find.
Fire crackled and flared as with a shifting rumble the pyre collapsed into itself. In his hand, he gripped a charm he had taken from his son’s body, the only thing he had claimed before dropping the lighter onto the kerosene soaked wood. A gift between brothers in a happier time, it had never left Dean’s neck in all the time he had owned it. John clenched it tightly in his fist now, until his hand was cut deep and bled.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 02:15 am (UTC)Best Written Story Title: Collateral Damage
Best Written Story Reason: This story gets to the entire heart of the Supernatural universe, doesn't it? Is Sam evil or isn't he? It's obviously John's greatest fear. And of course it has affected all his actions and decisions. You went one step further and threw in the twist of Sam killing Dean too. This made me shiver and it turned the voting in your favor--even though I'm a devout believer that Sam really is an amazing, good person. Great stuff!
no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 02:29 am (UTC)John's greatest fear. That Sam would turn out to be evil. That he would lose his children in this mess the way he lost their mother. And I loved how he was thinking how glad he was that Sam was out, living a normal life, when Sam showed up to prove how wrong he was. Sam killing Dean was a great twist. Amazing story!
no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 02:58 am (UTC)Oh! And your icon reminds me I need to rummage one up for November! I forgot all about that starting tomorrow. I have another BB posting in the morning and an icon for that, but then I'll need a mininamo one to field...
no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 03:25 am (UTC)I hate to admit it, but as good as this story was, I voted for a different one. There were three very well written stories this week (in my humble opinion), so I am glad to see three winners!
You did a marvelous job! It was so imaginative, well written, and used the prompt beautifully. I am thrilled that you won the challenge!
no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 03:31 am (UTC)Thank you for the kind words, I'll try and do as good of a job for next week *grins*
no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 08:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 08:55 am (UTC)