![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
"Reading The Fine Print"
Title: Reading The Fine Print
Rating/Warning: G
Wordcount: 254
Spoilers: S2
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Fandom: SPN
Summary: When you make a deal with the devil, you should read between the lines. A retake of Crossroads.
He says yes.
Ten years and your father back, your family together the way you always wanted.
Yes, yes, yes.
He doesn’t stop to think because ten years sounds like forever and hell, Dean wasn’t expecting to live much past that anyway.
Besides, he already figured he was heading down below.
She smiles and touches fingers to his forehead and he can hear her laughing as the world drops out from underneath him.
000
When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is John hunched over a kitchen table scratching away at his journal.
“Dad?” he says and his voice comes out in a strangled whisper. He’s sitting in an armchair and there’s sunlight filtering through the dusty curtains that hang lopsided across the window.
John doesn’t look up. Just says, “Hmm?” in that distracted way that is so familiar that Dean feels the tears well.
Arms reach over the back of his chair and hands grip him around the throat. Dean reacts by instinct, snagging thin wrists and heaving, bringing his attacker over and down to land on his back on the living room floor. There is a wail that rings far too familiar as well.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam protests. “You broke my spiiiiine!” When he stands he is lean and shaggy haired and the top of his head is just under Dean’s chin in height.
“Boys, I’m trying to concentrate,” John scolds from the kitchen. He doesn’t bother to look up.
“Oh God,” Dean chokes out.
Rating/Warning: G
Wordcount: 254
Spoilers: S2
By:
kellifer_ficFandom: SPN
Summary: When you make a deal with the devil, you should read between the lines. A retake of Crossroads.
He says yes.
Ten years and your father back, your family together the way you always wanted.
Yes, yes, yes.
He doesn’t stop to think because ten years sounds like forever and hell, Dean wasn’t expecting to live much past that anyway.
Besides, he already figured he was heading down below.
She smiles and touches fingers to his forehead and he can hear her laughing as the world drops out from underneath him.
When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is John hunched over a kitchen table scratching away at his journal.
“Dad?” he says and his voice comes out in a strangled whisper. He’s sitting in an armchair and there’s sunlight filtering through the dusty curtains that hang lopsided across the window.
John doesn’t look up. Just says, “Hmm?” in that distracted way that is so familiar that Dean feels the tears well.
Arms reach over the back of his chair and hands grip him around the throat. Dean reacts by instinct, snagging thin wrists and heaving, bringing his attacker over and down to land on his back on the living room floor. There is a wail that rings far too familiar as well.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam protests. “You broke my spiiiiine!” When he stands he is lean and shaggy haired and the top of his head is just under Dean’s chin in height.
“Boys, I’m trying to concentrate,” John scolds from the kitchen. He doesn’t bother to look up.
“Oh God,” Dean chokes out.