spn: non timebo mala 5/?
11/18/09 02:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: Non Timebo Mala
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean/OMCs, Sam/OMCs, Dean/Sam
Rating: this post G, various by chapter
Word Count: 1998
Spoilers: might be considered spoilery for All Hell Breaks Loose
Summary: Sam Winchester is looking for the ultimate weapon, one that will destroy the demon who destroyed his family. Dean Kane was raised to be a maker of weapons. He was just the man Sam needed.
Notes/Warnings: This is my AU version of the Colt's making. Increeeedibly AU. It's completely a child of my wild imaginings. Warnings for sex ( brief het and M/M, incest, rape.) Sections will have individual warnings.
"John…I know a man or two who might be able to help. I've told you all I know and that ain't much, but at least you've got a start. Remember, iron hurts most bad things, salt too. I put some helpful herbs in that sack you got, and soon as you can, you meet up with those men I told you about." She held Sam, and reluctantly gave him up. "John, you can't forget that Sammy is a baby, and needs a baby's care. He'll do everything you want, but don't forget, he's going to be his own man. And what kind of man that is depends on you. And if you need help, ever, I'm here, y'hear me?" So much concern, and maybe, a little fear, creased her face that John felt a cold shiver down his back. Almost she seemed to fear he'd make his little baby wrong in some way. But nothing in this world could make him hurt Sam, the last of his family. All he wanted was to keep him safe and when the time was right, to teach him how to keep himself.
"Damn it, Sam. Don't block the light—Daddy's trying to get this part to heart." John leaned back against the straight, splintery chair back, his hands clamped over the top edges of the old book he was studying. "If I don’t get this Latin just right…" he rubbed both hands over his face, knuckled his burning eyes and blew out a frustrated breath, "…I gotta get it right."
***
"Damn it Sam, be quiet for a little bit, willya? Go sit over there and play with the puppies or something. This man has got some things Daddy needs, and I gotta figure out how to make him settle for half what he wants for'em."
***
"Damn it Sam—stop cryin'! Babies cry, not grown boys! Now, wipe your nose and wait over there 'til I get this fire going so the damn bones'll catch good."
***
"Damn it Sam, just keep quiet, stand on the porch and eat the bread, Dad's got to talk to this fella, all right? We'll try and rustle up some food later, promise…."
***
"Damn it Sam…."
Dean
Sun was setting over the hills; orange and purple bled together in the sky. The hills reflected the colors, deep burnt orange melting into tan and sand, the dusty green of grass stippled through it. Dean leaned on the porch rail, just barely getting his elbows on the top one, and watched the colors shift and change. Behind him, through the open window, he could hear singing, smell dinner cooking—greens, ham, and biscuits, a perfect meal for a summer's evening. He turned to watch Tobe at the stove, grinning at the way his broad body blocked the view of the thing, thick neck bent over a pot—considering. Tobe watched food cook like some strange alchemy was taking place—as if dinner might take wing and fly away. Dean giggled to himself and turned back to the show nature was putting on for him.
A big ginger cat weaved its way through his ankles and he shook his leg, trying to scare it off. Tobe would have a fit if he knew Dean let the cat up on the porch. Couldn't imagine why the darn cat kept coming up on the porch…could be because he fed it, when Tobe wasn't around. Tobe had an iron-clad rule. Anything on his place not edible, had better be working. He had no use for pets. He said animals were animals, and they existed to help men, not to lounge around looking pretty. Sure. Which was why Mr. Kane talked to Gabe like the horse was part of the family, and brought him treats and in general acted like the horse was smarter and more entertaining than most men. Dean smiled. Tobe acted like he had a heart of stone. Him and Gabe knew better.
Dean looked back at the line of trees at the horizon and startled. For a moment, it looked like the trees had doubled—and then the shapes separated out and he could see men on horseback, hear muffled whickering of horses, muted voices, the soft clink of metal—
The ground under Dean tipped and nearly dropped him on his ass. His head was swimming. Fire and ice filled him. He sucked desperately at air filled with smoke, too hot to breathe, too scared to yell until finally, sound tore out of his mouth, a shout of fear that came out of his mouth a whimper, meant to be a call for help. Momma…the men found me. He wasn't sure what that meant but his mind kept shouting it at him—Run, run from the men, Dean.
Tobe charged out of the house—he burst through their front door looking like he was going to kill something. Got even fiercer when he saw Dean sprawled on the porch floor. "What the hell, boy—oh!"
He grabbed Dean up and plopped him into his lap, and Dean didn’t even complain he was too big for that. "It's okay, honey-boy. Look. They're friends, promise—it's okay." Tobe was pointing out to the dark at the end of the yard--the shadows became dark-skinned, black-haired men on painted horses, hands up in greeting, shouting something in a friendly way.
"Arapaho. They come through this way this time of year, they always stop by me for metal to make arrowheads, other things. We trade. I promise, they won’t hurt you." Tobe stared at Dean's too wide eyes, the way his breath came too fast. "Those are *not* the men," Tobe said on a guess, and Dean's head snapped towards him. "Not them, Dean."
Dean stared at him for a long moment before nodding. okay. Trust you. he grimaced and kicked his legs. now put me down Tobe laughed and set him on his feet again, and went out to greet their visitors.
***
Tobe held Dean as he talked to him about the men around the fire. He explained to Dean that this time of year, the Arapaho gathered for the Sun Dance, and this small band was on the way to meet up with a lot of relatives and friends. Dean couldn't imagine having so much family it would take days to gather, wondered what it must feel like.
Dean couldn't keep his eyes off them—they fascinated him. They were beautiful, colorful, he could see they were fierce and strong…it drew him, he felt like there was something he shared with them…maybe the way they loved family.
Tobe was good to him and let him stay up way past his bedtime. After a while, the stories told and translated--mostly for him, the murmuring and the quiet laughter, a belly tight with ham and greens, all led Dean into dozing in and out, content. The warmth of the flames were like hands stroking his skin, soothing him into deep sleep ….
He woke up with a start, to see one of the younger Arapaho men leaning over him. He was older than Dean but not by very much. His hair fell over his shoulder, the ends of his braids brushing Dean's cheek. Dean reached up without thinking and grabbed the loose ends of one of the braids. Most of it was wrapped in a long strip of rawhide dotted with feathers, the strands left loose slipped through his fingers, black and sleek as a crow's wing. "Pretty…soft…" the words fell out and he gasped, as if trying to draw them back. The boy smiled and patted Dean's hand.
"Tired of hiding, little brother? Speak when you want to, you'll be safe." He ruffled the unruly thatch of Dean's hair and walked away.
Dean's heart beat hard, he felt a little dizzy and a little too warm, like he'd just run miles. Something he couldn't understand or put a name to, something like magic, had happened, he felt. He rubbed the fingers that he'd pulled through the boy's hair over and over, still feeling the silky texture, the smell of the grease that had been in it still on his fingers and it smelled odd but good, Dean thought. He lifted his fingers to his nose and drifted back to sleep on the scent, the broad expanse of Tobe behind him as comfortable and safe as his bed….
He had a dream and in the dream he heard, "Speak when you want to, little brother," but he was saying the words, and a little warm hand closed around his. His heart swelled big and warm—it was a good feeling, to look out after his little brother. He looked down to see a head full of jet black hair; big brown eyes, tilted like a cat's, and locked on his. "I'm going to protect you, brother," the little boy said." The little boy wavered a bit in the light of the campfire, stretching taller, thinner, like the flames, looking through the fire at him made the boy's eyes look green, and his hair, the color of mink's fur….
***
Dean woke up in his own bed, missing a brother he didn’t have. He cried, quietly as he could into his blanket, cried for his brother and for his mother and father—he cried a long time, but after he felt better, lighter than he'd had in…he couldn't even remember ever feeling this light.
At the foot of his bed was a loosely wrapped square of cloth—a red bandana, like the one Tobe wore in the forge. Dean picked it up, and it fell open. Inside it was a jumble of things, a piece of dried sage, some dried yellow flowers, a small, gnarled piece of root that smelled nice. Mixed in with them was a little rock shaped like a snail, a nail twisted into a ring, and a shiny piece of blue stone. He wrapped it up again, small and small. He held it to his nose—sighed. Safe. It smelled like safe. Maybe he could get Tobe to make him a little bag…he'd ask after breakfast.
.
1839
"Da—Tobe…I was wondering…"
"Hmm?" Tobe sorted through bars of metal, sizing up what he'd need. He had a horse to shoe later in the day, and figured he might as well start on those pulleys for the Tomich's farm. "What you said, Dean?" Since Dean started talking, Tobe had been pleasantly surprised that he chose his words well, spoke like a preacher, that boy. Just about any time Dean spoke, it was sure to make Tobe think, or smile—sometimes laugh out loud. At eight, Dean was quite the observer of life.
Dean swept the forge floor, and separated out usable pieces of scrap metal as he worked. Slowing down, he leaned on the broom and watched Tobe start the fire. "I want to know, when will I get black? Why am I still white? Do I need to stand close to the flame, or work the iron—" his words came out in a rush, and then trickled to a stop, confusion in his eyes.
Tobe's face was a picture of horrified-amused-shocked, and then the flood of expressions melted into sadness.
Tobe narrowed his eyes, and his lips tightened, he barked, "Never, boy! I ain't never heard such foolishness. You're white, I'm black, that's the way God made it. There ain't no changes coming."
Dean looked at Tobe with the same open, torn look of betrayal he'd had when Tobe made to get rid of him…he was mostly sure Dean didn't remember that day, but it broke his heart to see the boy so *hurt* again.
"But I want to be like you," he wailed and Tobe dropped his tools and knelt down by Dean, wrapped his arms around him.
"Listen to me, honey-boy. You afraid I don’t love you?" Dean shook his head. "Then what're you making a fuss about? I love you no matter what, and you love me too right?" Dean nodded, still balled up in Tobe's leather apron. "Then stop this foolishness, hear? You wipe your face, and help your pa out, okay?"
Dean lifted his head up, his face shining like the sun was under the skin. He grabbed a handful of Tobe's beard and yanked his head down so he was eye level with the boy. "You said pa."
"Wee-ell, long as no-one's around, I guess it's all right. Now, go do what I told you, bring us some coal back here. Gonna need a lot today."
.
Dean skipped off to do as Tobe asked, the emotional storm of a moment before evaporated like morning dew, his hand wrapped around his necklace and beaming like the beginning of the world. Tobe combed fingers through his ruffled beard, trying to smooth it out. He let out a long shaky breath and shook his head. "Dean." That boy was going to be the death of him, him and his crazy notions.
He couldn't stop grinning to himself so after a bit, he just stopped trying.
part 6
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean/OMCs, Sam/OMCs, Dean/Sam
Rating: this post G, various by chapter
Word Count: 1998
Spoilers: might be considered spoilery for All Hell Breaks Loose
Summary: Sam Winchester is looking for the ultimate weapon, one that will destroy the demon who destroyed his family. Dean Kane was raised to be a maker of weapons. He was just the man Sam needed.
Notes/Warnings: This is my AU version of the Colt's making. Increeeedibly AU. It's completely a child of my wild imaginings. Warnings for sex ( brief het and M/M, incest, rape.) Sections will have individual warnings.
"John…I know a man or two who might be able to help. I've told you all I know and that ain't much, but at least you've got a start. Remember, iron hurts most bad things, salt too. I put some helpful herbs in that sack you got, and soon as you can, you meet up with those men I told you about." She held Sam, and reluctantly gave him up. "John, you can't forget that Sammy is a baby, and needs a baby's care. He'll do everything you want, but don't forget, he's going to be his own man. And what kind of man that is depends on you. And if you need help, ever, I'm here, y'hear me?" So much concern, and maybe, a little fear, creased her face that John felt a cold shiver down his back. Almost she seemed to fear he'd make his little baby wrong in some way. But nothing in this world could make him hurt Sam, the last of his family. All he wanted was to keep him safe and when the time was right, to teach him how to keep himself.
"Damn it, Sam. Don't block the light—Daddy's trying to get this part to heart." John leaned back against the straight, splintery chair back, his hands clamped over the top edges of the old book he was studying. "If I don’t get this Latin just right…" he rubbed both hands over his face, knuckled his burning eyes and blew out a frustrated breath, "…I gotta get it right."
"Damn it Sam, be quiet for a little bit, willya? Go sit over there and play with the puppies or something. This man has got some things Daddy needs, and I gotta figure out how to make him settle for half what he wants for'em."
"Damn it Sam—stop cryin'! Babies cry, not grown boys! Now, wipe your nose and wait over there 'til I get this fire going so the damn bones'll catch good."
"Damn it Sam, just keep quiet, stand on the porch and eat the bread, Dad's got to talk to this fella, all right? We'll try and rustle up some food later, promise…."
"Damn it Sam…."
Sun was setting over the hills; orange and purple bled together in the sky. The hills reflected the colors, deep burnt orange melting into tan and sand, the dusty green of grass stippled through it. Dean leaned on the porch rail, just barely getting his elbows on the top one, and watched the colors shift and change. Behind him, through the open window, he could hear singing, smell dinner cooking—greens, ham, and biscuits, a perfect meal for a summer's evening. He turned to watch Tobe at the stove, grinning at the way his broad body blocked the view of the thing, thick neck bent over a pot—considering. Tobe watched food cook like some strange alchemy was taking place—as if dinner might take wing and fly away. Dean giggled to himself and turned back to the show nature was putting on for him.
A big ginger cat weaved its way through his ankles and he shook his leg, trying to scare it off. Tobe would have a fit if he knew Dean let the cat up on the porch. Couldn't imagine why the darn cat kept coming up on the porch…could be because he fed it, when Tobe wasn't around. Tobe had an iron-clad rule. Anything on his place not edible, had better be working. He had no use for pets. He said animals were animals, and they existed to help men, not to lounge around looking pretty. Sure. Which was why Mr. Kane talked to Gabe like the horse was part of the family, and brought him treats and in general acted like the horse was smarter and more entertaining than most men. Dean smiled. Tobe acted like he had a heart of stone. Him and Gabe knew better.
Dean looked back at the line of trees at the horizon and startled. For a moment, it looked like the trees had doubled—and then the shapes separated out and he could see men on horseback, hear muffled whickering of horses, muted voices, the soft clink of metal—
The ground under Dean tipped and nearly dropped him on his ass. His head was swimming. Fire and ice filled him. He sucked desperately at air filled with smoke, too hot to breathe, too scared to yell until finally, sound tore out of his mouth, a shout of fear that came out of his mouth a whimper, meant to be a call for help. Momma…the men found me. He wasn't sure what that meant but his mind kept shouting it at him—Run, run from the men, Dean.
Tobe charged out of the house—he burst through their front door looking like he was going to kill something. Got even fiercer when he saw Dean sprawled on the porch floor. "What the hell, boy—oh!"
He grabbed Dean up and plopped him into his lap, and Dean didn’t even complain he was too big for that. "It's okay, honey-boy. Look. They're friends, promise—it's okay." Tobe was pointing out to the dark at the end of the yard--the shadows became dark-skinned, black-haired men on painted horses, hands up in greeting, shouting something in a friendly way.
"Arapaho. They come through this way this time of year, they always stop by me for metal to make arrowheads, other things. We trade. I promise, they won’t hurt you." Tobe stared at Dean's too wide eyes, the way his breath came too fast. "Those are *not* the men," Tobe said on a guess, and Dean's head snapped towards him. "Not them, Dean."
Dean stared at him for a long moment before nodding. okay. Trust you. he grimaced and kicked his legs. now put me down Tobe laughed and set him on his feet again, and went out to greet their visitors.
Tobe held Dean as he talked to him about the men around the fire. He explained to Dean that this time of year, the Arapaho gathered for the Sun Dance, and this small band was on the way to meet up with a lot of relatives and friends. Dean couldn't imagine having so much family it would take days to gather, wondered what it must feel like.
Dean couldn't keep his eyes off them—they fascinated him. They were beautiful, colorful, he could see they were fierce and strong…it drew him, he felt like there was something he shared with them…maybe the way they loved family.
Tobe was good to him and let him stay up way past his bedtime. After a while, the stories told and translated--mostly for him, the murmuring and the quiet laughter, a belly tight with ham and greens, all led Dean into dozing in and out, content. The warmth of the flames were like hands stroking his skin, soothing him into deep sleep ….
He woke up with a start, to see one of the younger Arapaho men leaning over him. He was older than Dean but not by very much. His hair fell over his shoulder, the ends of his braids brushing Dean's cheek. Dean reached up without thinking and grabbed the loose ends of one of the braids. Most of it was wrapped in a long strip of rawhide dotted with feathers, the strands left loose slipped through his fingers, black and sleek as a crow's wing. "Pretty…soft…" the words fell out and he gasped, as if trying to draw them back. The boy smiled and patted Dean's hand.
"Tired of hiding, little brother? Speak when you want to, you'll be safe." He ruffled the unruly thatch of Dean's hair and walked away.
Dean's heart beat hard, he felt a little dizzy and a little too warm, like he'd just run miles. Something he couldn't understand or put a name to, something like magic, had happened, he felt. He rubbed the fingers that he'd pulled through the boy's hair over and over, still feeling the silky texture, the smell of the grease that had been in it still on his fingers and it smelled odd but good, Dean thought. He lifted his fingers to his nose and drifted back to sleep on the scent, the broad expanse of Tobe behind him as comfortable and safe as his bed….
He had a dream and in the dream he heard, "Speak when you want to, little brother," but he was saying the words, and a little warm hand closed around his. His heart swelled big and warm—it was a good feeling, to look out after his little brother. He looked down to see a head full of jet black hair; big brown eyes, tilted like a cat's, and locked on his. "I'm going to protect you, brother," the little boy said." The little boy wavered a bit in the light of the campfire, stretching taller, thinner, like the flames, looking through the fire at him made the boy's eyes look green, and his hair, the color of mink's fur….
Dean woke up in his own bed, missing a brother he didn’t have. He cried, quietly as he could into his blanket, cried for his brother and for his mother and father—he cried a long time, but after he felt better, lighter than he'd had in…he couldn't even remember ever feeling this light.
At the foot of his bed was a loosely wrapped square of cloth—a red bandana, like the one Tobe wore in the forge. Dean picked it up, and it fell open. Inside it was a jumble of things, a piece of dried sage, some dried yellow flowers, a small, gnarled piece of root that smelled nice. Mixed in with them was a little rock shaped like a snail, a nail twisted into a ring, and a shiny piece of blue stone. He wrapped it up again, small and small. He held it to his nose—sighed. Safe. It smelled like safe. Maybe he could get Tobe to make him a little bag…he'd ask after breakfast.
.
1839
"Da—Tobe…I was wondering…"
"Hmm?" Tobe sorted through bars of metal, sizing up what he'd need. He had a horse to shoe later in the day, and figured he might as well start on those pulleys for the Tomich's farm. "What you said, Dean?" Since Dean started talking, Tobe had been pleasantly surprised that he chose his words well, spoke like a preacher, that boy. Just about any time Dean spoke, it was sure to make Tobe think, or smile—sometimes laugh out loud. At eight, Dean was quite the observer of life.
Dean swept the forge floor, and separated out usable pieces of scrap metal as he worked. Slowing down, he leaned on the broom and watched Tobe start the fire. "I want to know, when will I get black? Why am I still white? Do I need to stand close to the flame, or work the iron—" his words came out in a rush, and then trickled to a stop, confusion in his eyes.
Tobe's face was a picture of horrified-amused-shocked, and then the flood of expressions melted into sadness.
Tobe narrowed his eyes, and his lips tightened, he barked, "Never, boy! I ain't never heard such foolishness. You're white, I'm black, that's the way God made it. There ain't no changes coming."
Dean looked at Tobe with the same open, torn look of betrayal he'd had when Tobe made to get rid of him…he was mostly sure Dean didn't remember that day, but it broke his heart to see the boy so *hurt* again.
"But I want to be like you," he wailed and Tobe dropped his tools and knelt down by Dean, wrapped his arms around him.
"Listen to me, honey-boy. You afraid I don’t love you?" Dean shook his head. "Then what're you making a fuss about? I love you no matter what, and you love me too right?" Dean nodded, still balled up in Tobe's leather apron. "Then stop this foolishness, hear? You wipe your face, and help your pa out, okay?"
Dean lifted his head up, his face shining like the sun was under the skin. He grabbed a handful of Tobe's beard and yanked his head down so he was eye level with the boy. "You said pa."
"Wee-ell, long as no-one's around, I guess it's all right. Now, go do what I told you, bring us some coal back here. Gonna need a lot today."
.
Dean skipped off to do as Tobe asked, the emotional storm of a moment before evaporated like morning dew, his hand wrapped around his necklace and beaming like the beginning of the world. Tobe combed fingers through his ruffled beard, trying to smooth it out. He let out a long shaky breath and shook his head. "Dean." That boy was going to be the death of him, him and his crazy notions.
He couldn't stop grinning to himself so after a bit, he just stopped trying.
part 6
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
11/18/09 07:31 am (UTC)If I'm wrong, let me know. Also, the Arapaho were lovely and I was so happy to see them included. What's a Wild West story without those guys?
(no subject)
11/18/09 07:47 am (UTC)Yup, it was Sam he was dreaming about, but he probably won't dream about him again, and in fact, right now, the story is telling me he won't think about Sam again. And what makes you think I won't answer you? *twirls invisible evol mustache*
(no subject)
11/18/09 11:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
11/19/09 03:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
11/18/09 01:25 pm (UTC)*hands*
*sniffles*
I love 'honey-boy', and Dean wondering when he'll get black like Tobe.
Good stuff, Miss Rose, good, good stuff.
*teeny thing - you didn't close your quotes here:
"Listen to me, honey-boy. You afraid I don’t love you? Dean shook his head. *
(no subject)
11/19/09 03:59 pm (UTC)AWWWWWW!! *SHMISH* even though I was pretty sure I stole honey-boy from you....*GGG*
And thank you omg, I fixed it! You know how it goes--readfixreadfixpost--ohSHIT!
*hugs just because*
(no subject)
11/19/09 05:03 pm (UTC)And i know! No matter how you do it, there's always something.
*hugs back*
(no subject)
11/18/09 02:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
11/19/09 04:00 pm (UTC)See how you just make me be evil? Tsk.
(no subject)
11/18/09 11:40 pm (UTC)fyi "now put me down "
(no subject)
11/19/09 04:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
11/19/09 12:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
11/19/09 04:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
11/19/09 09:38 am (UTC)And Dean's still having flash-backs about what has happened. That's understandable. Poor guy is traumatized and misses his family. But Tobe really makes it better. John should take lessons in parenting from him ...
Dean lifted his head up, his face shining like the sun was under the skin. He grabbed a handful of Tobe's beard and yanked his head down so he was eye level with the boy. "You said pa."
I love this moment so much, wee!Dean is adorable, and I'm looking forward to read more!
(no subject)
11/19/09 04:05 pm (UTC)The line you quoted makes my heart sing because it was one of the ones that gave me the most trouble--thank you a million times! *G*
(no subject)
11/19/09 10:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
11/19/09 04:14 pm (UTC)I see this Dean as searching for family, desperate for it, so Tobe really gave him the best gift he ever could have.
Ach, poor Sammy. roxy always chooses one and it looks like this time out, you're it.
(no subject)
11/20/09 05:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
11/20/09 07:40 am (UTC)I feel like it's been so long since I've been caught up by a story like this. I'm enjoying writing this very much!
(no subject)
12/7/09 05:16 am (UTC)He interaction between Tobe and Dean is so wonderful. I feel so bad for little Sammy - makes me think maybe Dean got the better end of the deal.