TITLE: 'When he came home'
Fandoms/Characters: OC/John/Dean/Sam {Supernatural}
I do not own any characters besides Mark.
Mark was waving his hand lightly towards a cab, who was slowly pulling over on the gravel. Instantly he latched his fingers onto the door handle and opened the vehicle's side.
"Where are you headed, kid?"
"California, sir." The soldier handed a picture to the cab driver and sighed heavily,"you seen these boys at all?"
The driver leaned closely and inspected the photograph. Two small boys were crammed next to Marcus who was younger than he originally was. Though, he could never really age. He was a werewolf. An American Soldier. To serve is country and to make his boys proud.
"No I haven't. Sorry. Airport?" The withered old man, questioned.
"Yes, please." He returned in gratitude.
His name you ask? Marcus L. Washington. Black hair, milky hazel eyes and a lean body from body building and boot camp training.
"Run! You big punch of pansies. I don't come out here to just see you do a rain dance. RUN!" The general screeched out harshly, as the trainees huffed out carbon-dioxide. Every cold breath they took was painful to their throats. Dog tags clanking together against their chests.
An eighteen year old who had recently joined, collided his knees against the muddy ground,"Please, sir! I need to rest!"
Angrily he replied,"You see me going inside and having a nice cup of Jo?! Keep running, you're in the military now. Not at home playing your stupid video games and eating a meal with your mommy and daddy." Metals stitched at his clothing,"I swear, your parents should a' raised you better."
Mark instantly came to the younger teens side and helped him to his feed. Gliding past the general with him,"Don't worry it gets easier."
"When?" He cried,"The guy is giving us hell out here!"
"What's your name?" The wolf ignored his previous comment.
"Jacob Nicson, sir. Yourself?" He replied.
"Marcus. Pleasure and welcome to the military." They both shook hands as they caught up to the group.
His vision reappeared to the outside of the airport of Louisiana An airplanes engines roared over head. A light smile spread across his face and he moved his feet forward.
He was going home. Home to Dean and Sam.
The gunfire from across the boarders where too loud for his ears to bare.
"We have target's moving inbound!" One of his comrades shouted. Altogether the group moved forward and started to press against one another. Weapons in all directions. Afghanistan he had been staying at ever since 2002. Ever since Sam was nineteen and Dean was twenty three.
- - - - - - - -
Their faces were all red and puffed up. Samuel was leaning against him, crying harshly into his chest,"Mark please don't go! I came all the way from Stanford to tell you this! You know how many people come back, Dead?!" Dean was too hurt to look him straight in the eyes, tell him that he didn't want him to leave. Leave him with his abusive father. John Winchester. Sam left for collage and Marcus was the only one that stood by Dean. Stood up for him when his dad came home drunk and wanted to beat Dean senseless until he was black and blue.
Dean was eighteen, sleeping soundly on Mark's pajama covered thigh. He was sick and he had come home from high-school to rest. Marcus pulled him out, after he was feeling too ill to stand.
The next thing he heard was the sound of the impala pulling up into the drive way. A soft sigh escaped from him, as he saw John open the front door, but the feeling of emptiness and the stench of alcohol filled his nostrils. Canine senses picking up that he had drowned himself in whiskey.
"Why the hell is Dean home so early?" John snapped, black and grey hair mashed together in a cluster. He looked like a trashed mess you would find in the middle of the dumpster. Jacket smelling of booze and women.
"He wasn't feeling well so I brought him home, is that a problem?" His voice almost too harsh.
"Ya' know who raised you, boy? You ain't blood, but I took ya' in?" The eldest Winchester stumbled on his feet,"I took ya' in. Show me some respect."
"I stayed for Dean. That was the only exception and I stayed for the imprinting. Not here to protect you or your filthy little deeds. Just Sam and Dean. Got it?" Marcus snapped back with rebellion.
Instantly, John took Mark a hold by the collar of his shirt and pushed him against the wall, making Dean's head leave the comfort of his thigh. Which sent his head throbbing with pain.
Mark pushed John back. He watched as he fell on his bottom,"Get your nasty hands off of me!"
Dean cried out in pain at the sound of harsh voices and loud noises.
John snarled,"You're a Winchester, boy! Suck it up."
Mark's eyes flashed a bright red and quickly he came to John's side and slashed him across the face,"Don't you dare talk to him, like that! He's been through hell enough, without your damn mockery!"
"Sir, you're at your destination," The flight attendant said softly as she patted his camouflaged shoulder. Eyes bolted open and he got up right away.
"Oh hell!" He hollered,"Sorry. Ma'am." The twenty-eight year old appearance man took is duffel-bag and proceeded on his way. Dean's scent was a few hundred miles from where he was.
His stomach ached for him and his brother.
