Title: You Can't Escape Your Memory
Song: Paint Me a Birmingham
Artist: Tracy Lawrence
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Tracy, his song or Supernatural. Sucks doesn't it?
Summary: Dean's just having one of those days when the radio and his memory decide to gang up on him.
A/N: I found this already started today between the pages of Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse (if you haven't read Twilight you're really missing out) and thought I'd type it up see if I couldn't get anywhere with it.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean swore, the grandma in the Oldsmobile had just cut him off only to slow down ten miles under the speed limit. To add to this frustration his tape deck was eating his cassette so he was left to the radio which couldn't keep a station to save its life. It seemed every time the station he wanted to hear faded out country music was waiting on the other side of the static for him. The heartbreak songs about beat up pickups, hound dogs, and women with too much fight who could handle their whiskey had never really bothered him until he lost her. Now it was like a root canal with out anesthetics to hear George Strait. Even the stone hard, weathered hunter he could become couldn't handle the most upbeat of this 'hick' music. Every song reminded him of the redheaded huntress he'd given up. Finally, country won out and he recognized the song immediately; Tracy Lawrence's southern drawl sang the sweet lyrics of Paint Me a Birmingham. Dean wished she'd just leave him alone already. She'd sent him away she shouldn't haunt him. But as it always happened he found himself somewhere in the past.
He was sittin' there, his brush in hand
Paintin' waves as they danced, upon the sand
With every stroke, he brought to life
The deep blue of the ocean, against the morning' sky
I asked him if he only painted ocean scenes
He said for twenty dollars, I'll paint you anything.
Autumn danced out in front of him arms thrown wide, her jean jacket opening and he knew she'd hug it too her again in a moment, it had rained most this afternoon and was chilly walking along the beach. She laughed the way she only laughed when it was the two of them, something too innocent to be the hunter or broken girl everyone else saw. She twirled taking in everything around them as he followed along behind her. He just watched her amused till she ran into the waves, heedless of her jeans she splashed through the knee deep and swept water up in her hands flinging it in his direction easily starting a war.
Well could you Paint Me A Birmingham
Make it look just the way I planned
A little house on the edge of town
Porch goin' all the way around
Put her there in the front yard swing
Cotton dress make it, early spring
For awhile she'll be, mine again
If you can Paint Me A Birmingham.
He looked at me, with knowing eyes
Then took a canvas from a bag there by his side
Picked up a brush, and said to me
Son just in this picture, would you like to me
I said if there s any way you can
Could you paint me back into her arms again.
"I talked with a guy at the publishing agency the other day. I can get in as an editor, its not much money but it'll keep us a float with my savings." Autumn told him. She was curled into his side on the porch swing at Kit and Josh's they hadn't been out of town for more than a day in nearly ten years so Autumn had volunteered them to house sit. The girls were playing in the yard with a little of kittens. Sundresses, braided pigtails, and kool-aide stained lips donning their angels.
"You know you don't have to do that, I can take care of it." He reminded her. He hadn't been aware when they got the girls that she had so much in savings, it was more than most hunters ever saw and hidden under a few different names. But still her lifetime of nickle and dimeing wasn't going to be enough for the house payment they were discussing, on top of all the other bills and little expenses that come with the life of a civilian.
"I know you could, Baby. But I've never let anyone take care of me before and just because we're here now doesn't mean I'm going to start.
Paint Me A Birmingham
Make it look just the way I planned
A little house on the edge of town
Porch goin' all the way around
Put her there in the front yard swing
Cotton dress make it, early spring
For awhile she'll be, mine again
If you can Paint Me A Birmingham.
Put her there in the front yard swing
Cotton dress make it, early spring
For awhile she'll be, mine again
If you can Paint Me A, Birmingham.
Dean shook his head clearing away her memory and concentrated on getting around Granny. He needed to get on open road and push his only companion to her limits, if a cop caught him so be it maybe he'd at least out run his Daemon. He shut off the radio, silence was better. Rolled down the windows choking on the exhaust of the Big Mack in front of Granny. Maybe if he could get out of here he could get away from her too.
