Frère Jacques, Dormez Vous: Brother John, Are You Sleeping?
John Winchester does not sleep at night anymore. "Daddy, I think there's a monster in my closet…" No, he doesn't sleep at night anymore. :Set after mother's death:
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Chapter One: Dean's Monster Problem
This past week I have not been able to rest. Every time I lie down o my bed, I see the ceiling and imagine my wife looking down at me, stomach bleeding and fire erupting around her. I know that whatever killed her was not human. No human could place her on a ceiling and set fire to her before my very eyes.
As I thought this very thing on a Friday night, sitting in front of the computer busy researching, my five-year old son, Dean, came rushing down the stairs, a teddy bear in his arms which he unconsciously squeezed very tightly.
"What's wrong Dean?" I asked as soon as I turned to him, my mind alert.
For a moment, Dean hesitated, choosing instead to suck his thumb nervously. Then, he removed his thumb from his mouth and said, "Daddy, I think there's a monster in my closet."
The very words he said turned my blood cold. Opening up one of the computer desk's drawers, I picked out what I needed. Dean looked at the object in my hand, eyes-wide and thumb slowly creeping to his mouth. I would have to teach him not to suck his thumb. I shuddered for Dean had only taken the hobby up after his mother had died.
Without hesitation, I gestured for Dean to follow me as I lead the way up the stairs to his room. I saw the one closet in Dean's room and quickly turned to Dean. "Now, you must never run away from your fears once you're old enough. Always face your fears." I explained.
Dean looked at me quizzically. "When am I old enough?" he asked.
"When you're seven. Understood? Then, I want you to do what I'm about to do." Dean nodded his little head, thought his eyes said that he did not quite understand. I turned back to the closet and repeatedly shot at it, alarming Dean and waking Sam, his younger brother whom he shared a room with—because I wanted my family to stay close together and had bought an apartment because of my continuous growing fear of the supernatural and the abnormal.
Sam wailed when I had shot the closet for the fifth time. I did not stop until I had shot seven bullets which was when I finally felt satisfied. I looked over at the wide-eyed son of mine who had sucked his thumb that entire time.
I sighed, slightly agitated. "Dean, don't suck your thumb." I ordered, frowning down at him.
"Why?"
Children's minds are too inquisitive. Yet if we, as adults, don't answer their inquisitive minds, they would grow to be ignorant people. "Because your thumb carries bacteria."
"Bactria?"
"No, bac-ter-i-a. It's these really small animals that you can't see that try to get inside your body to make you very sick." I explained as simply as possible.
Dean quickly withdrew his thumb from his mouth, glaring at it accusingly and also shrinking away from it in fear. "Is daddy going to shoot my thumb off too?" Dean asked still glancing nervously at his thumb.
I laughed loudly, realising I hadn't been able to laugh for the past week. Clapping my son on the shoulder, I laughed again and said, "No son. That's not my job. But you're lucky you know." I chuckled, watching Dean frown as if he truly wanted his 'animal'-infested thumb to be blown off.
Walking over to Sam's crib, I attempted to hush him, wanting him to fall asleep. It was in that moment where Sam's breathing was finally evened that my heart picked up speed and my stomach knotted. I could no longer feel Dean's presence in the room. I spun around.
Dean was no longer behind me.
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Could someone tell me if the mother has brown or blue eyes 'cause I really don't remember. So please remember to review people!
