John Winchester watches. What else can he do when he got himself caught and tied to a chair for lunch (or is it dinner? He can never seem to keep track of time)? So he watches as Dean, once again, comes to the rescue. His eldest son - his youngest away at college despite his demands (because John Winchester does not beg or plea) - slices and dices, using his experience as a tool and showing no mercy to the hissing victims to his wrath.
What happened to his and Mary's first born?
A bloodcurdling scream of agony echoes off the warehouse walls as the battle ensues and a vampire body crumbles to the ground. Dean is nothing but a concentrated blur of muscle and anger as he spins expertly, dodging fatal blows, dealing out his own. Another body joins the first. And another.
What happened to the joy of their lives?
Dean's face is set to cold stone, no emotion on his face save for a burning rage that was instilled on him since a young age. His lip curls slightly in a small snarl as a head rolls and he narrowly avoids a bite from a hyper-active female. Her demise quickly follows.
What happened to the baby who gazed upon the world with such curiosity, wonder and hope?
Dean's eyes are a deep mix of jade and emerald, sharp and unrelenting as the diamonds it resembles as he stands among the felled bodies, panting and catching his breath. His face still does not soften in any way; it holds its stone brigade steady. He picks up a forgotten knife and wipes it clean dis-respectively on the dead leader's shirt before sheathing it and approaching his father.
What happened to the vivid green-eyed baby?
John gazes at the stream of blood trickling past his foot and at the splattered portions on the walls as Dean works the chains. The eldest Winchester turns his attention from the overwhelming amount of bodily innards to his son's hard working fingers. He sighs as he finds more of what he turned away from all over Dean's body and clothing.
What happened to the vivid green-eyed baby?
He can almost feel the way his eyes glistened over and he feels his self-hate rise another notch as one word, the answer, slips into his mind.
Me.
A/N: Is this me, writing and posting it? WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?! but yeah..so...hey. Sorry for my long absence; I guess I got caught in a writer's block traffic jam cause I just didn't feel inspiration to write anything. For those of you waiting for If Thy Master Wishes, I'm currently working on the next chapter but it might take a while to post. I'm still getting back into the swing of things.
Anyway, this was my first Supernatural fanfic, testing out some characters and whatnot. So, thoughts?