justforspite: (Jenny B&W)
click for part | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

Dean sat in that in-between place. That place between death, life and the afterlife. The place where everything met and converged and diverged and was no more and no less all at once. The sun was setting over him in a bright white and yellow revelation and the clearing expanded before him clear and beautiful and clean and good. He sat on the most verdant green grass he’d ever seen and smelled the freshest air he never thought still existed. Air that was untouched by the advancements of man. Across from him was the little boy. He was looking Dean over. There was something different about him, different about his eyes, his gaze, and the hold of his attention. Dean knew he was supposed to be wary but the differences added up to so much that it was as if looking to a completely different child. It was a mask worn by a new player.

“Where am I?” He asked the child.
Shine 9 . . . )
justforspite: (Jenny B&W)
click for part | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

By the end of the fifth hour the black night began to grey. The sun would be up soon and they would be a quarter through the ritual. The Shine now hovered stationary, four feet above Dean, their eyes parallel. It had faded from its deep black to a dull cinder color. The group of three could see the creature twitching over its invisible shackles. It was an extremely powerful demon and the first quarter had only done so much of the binding. This worried Mel. John and Sam could see it in her eyes.

At five, there seemed to be a ripple effect of iridescent light. Mel held up her hands. It was time to rest.

Silence swallowed the whole of the small clearing. They were all still for a moment. The Shine had stopped twitching and seemed to be in a state of stasis now. Sam looked to Melody and she nodded to him and John. The father and son rushed into the circle as Mel ran to the car for supplies.

“Dean?” Sam said quietly, going to his brother, his voice raw and dry from the five hour chant. It was also stretched taut with emotion. John ducked under the sleeping beast and went to his son. Dean’s wound had stopped bleeding and the brittle grass was painted in a darkening red. His skin had lost all its color and was now a pallid ash. His lips were cracked and a frozen blue. Sam and John looked to each other. They knew, at this stage, a human body would be long dead.
Shine 9 . . .  )
justforspite: (Jenny B&W)
click for part | one | two | three | four | five | six

Francine’s smile was back in full, wide, toothy force. After three days of tests and trials and errors she’d located the cause of Dean’s steadily growing fever and breathing difficulty. She stood with John and Sam just outside his room.

“It’s definitely a lower respiratory tract infection. It’s a non-infectious strain that the CDC’s been tracking out of Asia. That’s why it took so long to pinpoint; non-infectious strains aren’t red flagged so you have to wade through all the higher risk strains before you hit this territory. Whatever attacked Dean must have come into very close blood-to-surface contact with an infected person.” John thought that was a morbidly cute way to say ‘must have ripped an infected person to shreds.’ Shine 9 . . .  )
justforspite: (Jenny B&W)
click for part | one | two | three | four | five

Melody Sweetgrass woke with the dawn. Her body was used to coming up alongside the sun that even though she, John and Sam had taken turns blessing the room that night, she woke feeling fully rested. She took a deep breath and stretched out in her couch. Sam had insisted she have it. He and John had made themselves as comfortable as they could be in their small, hard chairs. She looked just across from her to see John in the corner of the small room doing his morning pushups. She could hear, ‘99’ leave his mouth then one more and he was done. He jumped up quietly and stretched out his chest and arms. She smiled when he caught her gaze.

“I can still only do thirty without dying.” She confessed, her voice low.

He grinned, “I remember.”
Shine 9 . . . )
justforspite: (Jenny B&W)
Click Here For Part 1
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Click Here For Part 3
Click Here For Part 4

Avera’s Diner was located just south of Renid Medical Center on Central Avenue. It was a small and clean place with a 1950’s soda shop theme going. John thought it was a pretty nice set up until he saw the established date. 1956. The décor was authentic and made him appreciate it all the more. He and Mel sat in the back booth, both with their backs to the wall so the entire restaurant was in sight. It was a habit both had acquired from different places. Neither wanted to be snuck up on. Here they had a clear view of the diner.

They waited for their order while the elderly waitress poured them both a cup a coffee. Mel added a long stream of sugar to her cup while John took his straight and black.

“So, first light?” He asked her, still not completely taken with her plan but knowing the other option was to have his son live in fear the rest of his life.
Shine 9 . . . )
justforspite: (Jenny B&W)
Click Here For Part 1
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Sam heard Dean’s voice and something inside of him relaxed and calmed. He felt an ease in his neck and shoulders when he didn’t realize he’d been tense. He inched up closer to his brother’s bed and reached out, holding his forearm.

“Hey.” He said quietly.

Dean looked his brother over, checking for wounds and injuries even though his vision was still dim and slightly blurred. “You okay?” He asked. His throat was dry and his voice was scratchy.

Sam smiled at his brother’s concern, “I’m not the one in the hospital bed.”

Dean frowned, arching his brow, “Point taken.”
Shine 9 . . . )
justforspite: (Jenny B&W)
Click Here For Part 1
Click Here For Part 2

9 Years Ago ~ 12:19 am

John spun the Impala down Route 77 in Portland, Maine. This late April night was pouring rain making the speed he was driving a little more reckless than he was used to. Maybe a lot more. Definitely. He glanced behind him and swerved into the next lane to the right, his eyes fixed on the glowing shield and cross of Mercy Hospital. The red and white sign acted as a beacon burning bright, guiding him.

“Dad?” He heard his seventeen year old son gasp from the passenger’s seat. John glanced over to Dean. His hazel eyes seemed to be losing color fast. Almost as fast as his skin. The front seat of the car was nearly completely covered in his son’s blood. His hands were wrapped around the piece of tablecloth John had torn off to stop the bleeding. He was losing his grip on it. His fingers were becoming slack. “Dad?” Dean whispered again, his focus shifting and his eyes wandering. John snapped his hand to his son’s side and pressed the fabric there.
Shine 9 . . . )
justforspite: (Jenny B&W)

Click Here For Part 1

John Winchester felt his phone vibrate at his side. He flipped it open and saw Sam’s name. Again. John pushed the phone back in his pocket and returned to his maps. He’d check the messages later once he figured out where Donella, Ottawa was. John wasn’t a major fan of Canada. It’s not that he had anything against the people. No. People were people wherever they were from. His issue was with Canada itself. The history of the place. It wasn’t like America with its smorgasbord of fear and rich history of death. See, Canada was ‘cleaner’ so to say. You’d think that would be something that would relax a man like John Winchester but no, damn it to hell it didn’t. See, that meant that when some shit hit the proverbial shitty fan it was from a fucking obscure source. His trips up north were euphemized as ‘educational expeditions’ but he’d prefer a good old gothic cathedral over entering Door #1 blind as a bat.
Shine 9 . . . )

justforspite: (Jenny B&W)


R for Violence/Language

He’s screaming pretty unoriginal things now. At first he was unique. At first he was all about radical new ways to sneak into bedrooms and swallow newborn babies whole. Now he was just yappering on about death and destruction and how invincible he really was. This new bent of histrionics just made Dean say ‘fuck it’ and caused him to slam a lead and copper bullet in his eye. Sam looked at him with that goddamn look that stretched infinite and Dean holstered the gun feeling awkward. Guilty. He was a little too cowboy for his brother. The ‘uncomfortable in his own skin’ feeling lasted a second until he remembered why the hell they were here in Bumfuck, Bumblefuck in the first place.

“What? Should I what Sam? Let it go? Give it my email and hope it stays in touch?”

The thing was now a greasy stain on the wall and it smelled of bad eggs and Johnson’s talcum powder. It reminded them both of their childhood.
Shine 9 . . . )

June 2009

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