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Title: Here Be Dragons
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Rating: PG
Category: SPN Gen
Word Count: 551
Spoilers: S2
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no offense, no money.
Summary: The embodiment of Dean's fierce protectiveness - this is what it looks like.
Take your brother outside as fast as you can.
You wake up, sudden and fierce and only have long enough to seat yourself properly on the shoulders of The Boy before he’s running.
Go Dean, NOW!
Your skin flares as red as the fire that touches The Boy’s back as he and the tiny bundle he carries are whisked aloft by The Man. When they are seated across from the burning place on The Car, you lean forward and put paws on the squirming bundle still being held against The Boy’s chest.
You had been insubstantial until this moment, a mere thought or idea.
You look back at The Man and see the large black cat-form on his own shoulders. As you watch it is turning grey, as ash like The Home. You understand that with the loss of The Mother it dies.
You must be the protector now.
888
The Boy cries, but only when no one is watching.
He sits against the bathroom door, knees drawn up to his chest and great sobs wracking his small frame. You curl around his feet and try to offer what solace you can.
Be brave, you whisper.
He takes a large, watery breath and nods.
Be brave, he repeats. For Sammy.
888
You watch The Man holding The Boy, rocking gently back and forth. He only does this when The Boy is sleeping and you don’t know why.
There is something different that rests on his shoulder now, form like a raven but larger. It leans forward and taps at The Boy with a sharp beak and The Boy stirs and grumbles.
You hiss and it looks at you with sharp eyes. It protects but with an edge.
You were born of love, it of grief.
There is a difference.
888
The Sam takes your tail and puts the tip in his mouth, nipping gently with gums and new teeth. You know that as time stretches, The Sam will stop being able to see you but for now it’s okay.
The Boy stirs in sleep, wrapping an arm tighter around The Sam and you look out through the bars of the crib, ever watchful.
888
The Boy drags his feet the first day of school.
But why, Dad? Why can’t I stay with you and Sammy?
The Man’s hand is on The Boy’s shoulder, pushing him forward through the gates. He has The Sam dangling from the crook of one elbow and you feel the tug, the need to be close.
You resettle yourself more firmly across The Boy’s shoulders, curling your tail tighter around his arm.
In the bathroom at lunch he sits in one of the bathroom stalls and cries.
Be brave, you whisper.
Be brave, he repeats. For Dad.
888
You wake, sudden and fierce and watch as The Sam spins in front of a mirror, looking at an ugly wound on his back.
The Boy appears at the door and crosses the room quickly, squeezing The Sam close. When he leaves the room again and you are left behind, you understand what has happened.
When The Sam knows too, understands that a life has been given for a life, he shuts himself in the motel bathroom afterwards and shakes.
Be brave, you say.
Be brave, he repeats. For Dean.
Author:
kellifer_ficRating: PG
Category: SPN Gen
Word Count: 551
Spoilers: S2
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no offense, no money.
Summary: The embodiment of Dean's fierce protectiveness - this is what it looks like.
Take your brother outside as fast as you can.
You wake up, sudden and fierce and only have long enough to seat yourself properly on the shoulders of The Boy before he’s running.
Go Dean, NOW!
Your skin flares as red as the fire that touches The Boy’s back as he and the tiny bundle he carries are whisked aloft by The Man. When they are seated across from the burning place on The Car, you lean forward and put paws on the squirming bundle still being held against The Boy’s chest.
You had been insubstantial until this moment, a mere thought or idea.
You look back at The Man and see the large black cat-form on his own shoulders. As you watch it is turning grey, as ash like The Home. You understand that with the loss of The Mother it dies.
You must be the protector now.
The Boy cries, but only when no one is watching.
He sits against the bathroom door, knees drawn up to his chest and great sobs wracking his small frame. You curl around his feet and try to offer what solace you can.
Be brave, you whisper.
He takes a large, watery breath and nods.
Be brave, he repeats. For Sammy.
You watch The Man holding The Boy, rocking gently back and forth. He only does this when The Boy is sleeping and you don’t know why.
There is something different that rests on his shoulder now, form like a raven but larger. It leans forward and taps at The Boy with a sharp beak and The Boy stirs and grumbles.
You hiss and it looks at you with sharp eyes. It protects but with an edge.
You were born of love, it of grief.
There is a difference.
The Sam takes your tail and puts the tip in his mouth, nipping gently with gums and new teeth. You know that as time stretches, The Sam will stop being able to see you but for now it’s okay.
The Boy stirs in sleep, wrapping an arm tighter around The Sam and you look out through the bars of the crib, ever watchful.
The Boy drags his feet the first day of school.
But why, Dad? Why can’t I stay with you and Sammy?
The Man’s hand is on The Boy’s shoulder, pushing him forward through the gates. He has The Sam dangling from the crook of one elbow and you feel the tug, the need to be close.
You resettle yourself more firmly across The Boy’s shoulders, curling your tail tighter around his arm.
In the bathroom at lunch he sits in one of the bathroom stalls and cries.
Be brave, you whisper.
Be brave, he repeats. For Dad.
You wake, sudden and fierce and watch as The Sam spins in front of a mirror, looking at an ugly wound on his back.
The Boy appears at the door and crosses the room quickly, squeezing The Sam close. When he leaves the room again and you are left behind, you understand what has happened.
When The Sam knows too, understands that a life has been given for a life, he shuts himself in the motel bathroom afterwards and shakes.
Be brave, you say.
Be brave, he repeats. For Dean.
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