AU: An old LJ prompt, "On December 8, 1991, John Winchester kills his two sons in the backseat of the Impala. Their spirits never leave the car." Flashbacks/thoughts are italic and present day is normal.
DRUGGED STATES OF PARENTAL LOVE
The blonde headed boy looks up from the mass of brown curls that lie on his chest and the face that breathes cool air onto his hands. "Dad, what are we doing here?"
"Getting something for lunch Dean, I'll be right back." John gets out of the car, locks the door, departing with a stern look across his face. The brightly lit diner buzzes with talk that, in his mind, ceases once he steps inside. Get the stuff and get out. He turns his head to the window and sees Sam still sleeping with his head bent on Dean's chest. His eldest is sitting, observing the world with hawk-like eyes and throwing an arm across his brother's body, pulling him in closer as a man walks past. Good job Dean.
"What will it be sir?"
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"John! Why did you do this?! Why are my boys hunting?!" Mary yells.
He looks at her pale form, the fury in her eyes making his heart ache. "I-I need to find who did this to you," he stammers.
"No you don't!" She walks towards him, hand poised to strike him across the cheek. "My boys are not hunters! Damn you John!"
Sam watches from the doorway. His brown eyes watch his father worriedly as he turns his head fast and closes his eyes, rubbing the skin of his cheek. Seeing enough Sam walks startled, into his room and crawls into Dean's bed. "Dean," he whispers on the verge of tears, "Dad's talking to Mommy, but no one's there."
Green eyes open quickly. He turns to Sam and kisses the tearful boy on the head before walking into the corridor where his father's voice is strained. "Dad?" he calls out.
"Mary-" John stops and sees Dean standing curiously in the doorway. "Hey son, go back to bed." Dean nods his head slightly dazed and enters his room hearing, "Fine, they'll stop hunting..."
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"Sir?" the waitress repeats.
"Two specials, two slices of apple pie, one large black coffee and two chocolate milk shakes," he says quickly. His hair stands on the back of his neck. Why are they looking at me?
He turns around and sees everyone staring at him through narrow eyes. Their mouths don't move but he hears them whisper, 'I know what you're going to do.' Sweat forms on the palms of his hands and he stares back at them.
In the car, Dean shifts a little and causes Sam to stir. The brown haired boy blinks and looks up at his brother. "What...where are we?" Sam hops up a little, leaning over Dean and pressing his face on the window. He spots his dad staring at him and waves. John is the one motionless thing in the diner as everyone else moves: some are eating, others laughing; a couple and their daughter walk in with balloons tied to their wrists. He waves again more determinedly until Dean growls at him to sit down.
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"Dad, drive faster! Please Dean, don't die!" Sam sobs.
His frantic eyes dart between the road and his bleeding son.
"Dean! Daddy, make the blood go away!"
"Sam!" he barks. "Stop it! Put pressure on the wound."
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The waitress returns with John's order, placing it on the bench and accepting the crinkled notes. She watches him gently crack the lids of the milkshakes and pour in what seems like an unending amount of white powder. "Um, 'scuse me sir, but what's that you're doing?" she questions in apprehension and her movements slow down as she continues watching.
Looking up from the task at hand he speaks gruffly, "My sons. They're both ill and refuse to take their medicine. This is the only thing that works." The powder continues to be sprinkled into the shakes, the crystalline particles catching the light like dust. As soon as the plastic sachet empties he replaces the lids and tries to smile. It dies on his lips.
She's staring; judging him. 'What kind of father are you?'
Grabbing the food he walks out, muttering darkly.
?_?
"Mary, I miss you so much," he whispers into the night. "We need you. The boys, they can't live this life."
"Shh, baby, I'm here, I'll keep you safe," Mary's soothing words enter his mind, as does the brush of her fingertips against his skin, the smell of her hair dancing in his nose. "I'll keep the boys safe."
?_?
"Dad, this tastes sorta funny," Dean comments. He pulls a face and offers the milkshake to his father.
John smiles. "Sorry tiger. They said they swapped it for cheaper milk or something. It's fine, I promise."
"When do we get to Uncle Bobby's?" Sam asks. "I want to show him my Latin skills!"
Dean snorts. "You don't have any Latin skills," he teases. Sam punches him on the arm and pokes his tongue out.
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"Sam?!" He turns the corner and shakes with anger. There's a knife sticking out from Sam's arm, his little body is covered with blood. "Sam! Please, baby. Wake up! Wake up for Daddy." Knifing through the ropes, he spots the shape-shifter in his peripheral vision and shoots it swiftly while simultaneously checking for a pulse.
It's there.
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Both boys are sleeping now. John turns off at the intersection and follows the stretch of deserted road. Naked trees litter the fields, ice hanging from their bare branches. Sam's sleeping with his head on Dean's stomach.
He gets out of the car and awkwardly approaches the back seat. Standing for a few minutes he taps on the window; neither son moves. Grasping the cold handle, he pulls it towards him and hears the click of the latch undoing. The door opens exposing his sons to the cold winter air. He shifts Sam and Dean a little before sitting at the edge of the back seat with both sons on his chest.
?_?
"Dad, is that you?" Dean walks out of the kitchen and sees him in all his bandaged glory. Not saying anything he slumps into the nearest chair.
Sam comes bounding in with a smile until he sees him. "Daddy!" he gasps, "what happened?"
He motions Sam to leave the room coldly and grabs Dean by the wrist. "Get me the whiskey and then go to bed." Silently obeying, Dean disappears. He removes his shirt quickly and traces a line down the bleeding gash. Movement in the door way causes him to look up and see his youngest trying to muffle sobs of fear. "Sam! Go back to bed!" he yells. Dean races in leaving the bottle – there's no need for a glass – and ushers a tearful Sam out of the room, leaving John with his thoughts. "Mary, you win, they aren't gonna hunt anymore."
"Thank you," she kisses him on the cheek and hands him the whiskey.
?_?
He waits for a while, talking softly, patting blond hair, then brown, then blond again. It's easier this way, he thinks. He revels in the silence for a little while longer, placing quick kisses to Sam and Dean's head and exits the car with tears slipping down his face. Dean's arms are around Sam's body and their heads are bent together.
He climbs back in, turns on the ignition, exits the car and then shuts the door, creating a sealed chamber. Misty air collects in the car slowly rolling over his two sons in waves. Choking back another sob, he turns his back unwilling to watch.
?_?
"Dad, have you been dreaming of Mom?" Dean asks quietly in the car.
"A little bit," he confesses, keeping his eyes on the road.
Sam tears his eyes from the cows that line the paddocks. "What does she talk to you about?" his voice chirps excitedly. "Hey, it's another sheep, Dean!"
"She says that she'll keep you both safe."John turns and pats Dean's shoulder consolingly.
"How?"Sam questions.
John grates his teeth at Sam's question. "Sam, stop asking questions." He bites harshly. He sees Sam jump in the back seat and look down in alarm. Dean turns his head and angrily looks at him.
"Dad-"
"I want to hear nothing out of either of you until we reach the motel." Mary's eyes meets his in the mirror and the smile she hides behind her hand takes him into a trance.
?_?
Dust kicks up behind the wheels of the car and gravel hits its underside. Broken, rusty cars litter the junkyard and the unofficial path leads the Impala up to the house. Stopping the engine, John gets out quietly making his way up the porch steps.
"John! About time you got here," Bobby says gruffly stepping out from behind the door. "Where are the boys?"
"Bobby, I just need the research, then we're going to head off. The boys are in the back seat."
Bobby peers at the car and waves. A sad pair of brown eyes pops up from beneath the window and waves back. Dean's sitting down with an arm around Sam. He looks up, hollow eyes glancing at Bobby and makes Sam sit back down next to him. Bobby uncomfortably walks inside and grabs the research handing it over to the man in front of him.
Accepting the papers, John turns around and climbs into the car, turning the engine on. Bobby stands at the car looking at Sam and Dean. The brothers are speaking intensely. As John departs down the road and signals right Bobby stares in shock. Sam and Dean turn around with sunken eyes and ashen skin, arms still holding each other, bodies slightly translucent in the light of the moon.
They flicker on and off like a faulty light.
AN: Okay so like/hate, was it easy to follow? I'd love it if you check some of my other stories (optional of course :P) Leave reviews, comments, anything. Scare4irony