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phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: No Sleep for the Wicked
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Table: #1
Prompt: 003 Sunrise
Summary: Dean wrestles with his conscience after a bad night.
Warnings: There is mention of child death.
This is my third ficlet for my Supernatural claim on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_situations. Clicky for table
It wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was because he knew that he could that he didn’t want to.
The hood of the car was still warm. It leaked through his jeans and warmed him. He hadn’t even realized he was cold. The chill had soaked into him and he pressed his body against the warmth under him, staring up at a sky that wasn’t as dark as it had been when they’d pulled off the road.
It would be morning soon. Maybe then he would sleep. When the dark wasn’t stalking him and reminding him of the reasons they ran through the night, escaping not only a town filled with people that would never thank them for their actions, but the very idea of those actions.
A glance over his shoulder told him that Sam was sleeping, or pretending to sleep. He didn’t suppose it mattered. Normally it was Sammie who stayed up obsessing over the twisted things they were sometimes forced to do…Sammie who didn’t sleep to avoid the nightmares.
Tonight was different though. Tonight Dean had killed a child.
Granted, it was a demon dressed in the body of a dead child…in fact, the demon had killed the kid weeks before, Dean only sent the demon packing. It was the right thing to do. It was the only way to spare the town…to keep more children from dying.
He could still feel her blue eyes burning into him; hear her begging him in her little voice. I don’t want to die.
Dean pushed himself up and off the car, stalking a ways into the trees. The sign said this turn out had a vista. It didn’t take him long to find it, a low cement wall protecting the hapless from hurtling over the edge and into a canyon feeding into a valley where a lake nestled between peaks.
The night sky was purpling with the coming dawn. It wouldn’t be long before the sky burned with the rising of the sun.
People shouldn’t be able to sleep after they squeeze a child’s throat until their thumbs pierce the skin.
Dean leaned against the wall, ignoring the vista, ignoring the reds creeping into the sky just above the mountains in front of him. He breathed through a bout of nausea and tried to focus on something other than his hands, but his eyes kept coming back to his thumbs. There was still blood in his nail beds.
They had burned their clothes in the incinerator in the old factory where they’d done it, washed their hands with baby wipes and burned those too. They’d plugged the demon with hollow rounds filled with holy water as soon as he’d gotten it out of the girl, watched it squeal and vaporize. And they’d beat it the hell out of Dodge before the cult that was worshipping the girl woke up to find their icon brutally murdered.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut so that he wouldn’t have to look at his hands anymore. He couldn’t think about it. He knew he should head back to the car and get them on the road again. They need to put more distance between that town and their necks.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice was sleepy, his steps quiet on the gravel. “What are you doing?”
Dean looked up at the sky, oranges and yellows joining the purple and red. “Watching the sunrise, Sammy.”
“You okay?” Sam was beside him, his hands stuck in his pocket to keep them warm. His breath steamed the air.
Dean looked up at him. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“We should probably keep moving.”
Dean nodded, dropping his eyes to his hands as he pushed himself upright. “Yeah, we should.” He tried not to wipe his hands against his jeans and failed, then shook his head. “You drive. I need some sleep.”
He tossed Sam the keys and headed back for the car, his head down. It wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was because he knew that he could that he didn’t really want to.
Title: No Sleep for the Wicked
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Table: #1
Prompt: 003 Sunrise
Summary: Dean wrestles with his conscience after a bad night.
Warnings: There is mention of child death.
This is my third ficlet for my Supernatural claim on
100_situations. Clicky for tableIt wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was because he knew that he could that he didn’t want to.
The hood of the car was still warm. It leaked through his jeans and warmed him. He hadn’t even realized he was cold. The chill had soaked into him and he pressed his body against the warmth under him, staring up at a sky that wasn’t as dark as it had been when they’d pulled off the road.
It would be morning soon. Maybe then he would sleep. When the dark wasn’t stalking him and reminding him of the reasons they ran through the night, escaping not only a town filled with people that would never thank them for their actions, but the very idea of those actions.
A glance over his shoulder told him that Sam was sleeping, or pretending to sleep. He didn’t suppose it mattered. Normally it was Sammie who stayed up obsessing over the twisted things they were sometimes forced to do…Sammie who didn’t sleep to avoid the nightmares.
Tonight was different though. Tonight Dean had killed a child.
Granted, it was a demon dressed in the body of a dead child…in fact, the demon had killed the kid weeks before, Dean only sent the demon packing. It was the right thing to do. It was the only way to spare the town…to keep more children from dying.
He could still feel her blue eyes burning into him; hear her begging him in her little voice. I don’t want to die.
Dean pushed himself up and off the car, stalking a ways into the trees. The sign said this turn out had a vista. It didn’t take him long to find it, a low cement wall protecting the hapless from hurtling over the edge and into a canyon feeding into a valley where a lake nestled between peaks.
The night sky was purpling with the coming dawn. It wouldn’t be long before the sky burned with the rising of the sun.
People shouldn’t be able to sleep after they squeeze a child’s throat until their thumbs pierce the skin.
Dean leaned against the wall, ignoring the vista, ignoring the reds creeping into the sky just above the mountains in front of him. He breathed through a bout of nausea and tried to focus on something other than his hands, but his eyes kept coming back to his thumbs. There was still blood in his nail beds.
They had burned their clothes in the incinerator in the old factory where they’d done it, washed their hands with baby wipes and burned those too. They’d plugged the demon with hollow rounds filled with holy water as soon as he’d gotten it out of the girl, watched it squeal and vaporize. And they’d beat it the hell out of Dodge before the cult that was worshipping the girl woke up to find their icon brutally murdered.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut so that he wouldn’t have to look at his hands anymore. He couldn’t think about it. He knew he should head back to the car and get them on the road again. They need to put more distance between that town and their necks.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice was sleepy, his steps quiet on the gravel. “What are you doing?”
Dean looked up at the sky, oranges and yellows joining the purple and red. “Watching the sunrise, Sammy.”
“You okay?” Sam was beside him, his hands stuck in his pocket to keep them warm. His breath steamed the air.
Dean looked up at him. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“We should probably keep moving.”
Dean nodded, dropping his eyes to his hands as he pushed himself upright. “Yeah, we should.” He tried not to wipe his hands against his jeans and failed, then shook his head. “You drive. I need some sleep.”
He tossed Sam the keys and headed back for the car, his head down. It wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was because he knew that he could that he didn’t really want to.
