SpN: Non Timebo Mala 18/?
1/25/10 12:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: Non Timebo Mala
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean/OCs, Sam/OCs, Dean/Sam
Rating: R
Word Count: 1347
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, thus, expect anachronisms and flagrant display of personal fanon. Warnings for sex ( occasional het and M/M, incest, rape.)
Dean tapped at his door, and when Tobe didn’t answer, pushed it open a crack. "Pa? Say Pa, you ready to get up? We got a lot to do today—" No answer, no snoring. Tobe's room felt cold and…Dean shivered, his heart clenched and skipped…the room felt empty.
He knew. Dean walked into the room and stopped—his throat closed on a sob. He didn’t need to check. He could feel in the air that his father's spirit had flown. He dropped to the floor. "Aw, shit, old man, don’t leave. Don’t leave yet."
He buried Tobias Kane in the rear of their property because the cemetery in town refused to bury a colored man in with white folks, and Dean refused to carry him to the next town that had a colored graveyard, so Tobe went in the ground in the shade of a red oak, facing the hills that once upon a time, the Arapaho used to come down and visit in the summer months. The ground was wet and cold and heavy, but Dean dug the grave himself, and surrounded it with a wrought-iron fence. Was just him and Waller, and Dotty and a friend or two of hers, and Dean spoke the words himself, not having a preacher willing to. Dean prayed for his spirit, and prayed for the strength not to go down to that church and knock every bit of worked metal Tobe had made for it to bits and then burn the place to the ground.
When Dean went into town to pick up his shingles, Mr. Baker took him to the side and told him how he'd always admired Tobe and passed him extra meal and bacon.
Dean felt closed up, bricked up and hard as rock, empty as dry river bed. He had nothing to give, no one to give it to and he wrapped himself in work and prepared to live in that cold and icy place by himself.
* * *
There were piles of thin cut heartwood shingles stacked around the base of the porch. Dean was gathering them into bundles, the easier to bring them up on the roof. He swallowed hard, staring at the roof, chilled at how suddenly it seemed even higher than it had this morning, ridiculously high…he gulped again, shut his eyes and sent a brief prayer into the air…"just don’t let me fall and break something please, don't let me kill my damn self…."
He hoisted a bundle of shingles into his arms, double checked to make sure his hammer and the bag of nails were secure in his belt and trudged up the ladder. He didn't want to have to take any damn unnecessary steps—climbing around up there on the roof was bad enough.
He started in to tearing damaged shingles up, trying not to damage the roof, or its beams or more importantly, himself. Slowly, carefully, one by one the broken shingles came up and after a while, he lost himself in the rhythm of it. His thoughts were empty, blessedly so. For a few hours, he stopped missing Tobe.
* * * *
The morning that had started out cool, slowly became a hot afternoon. He peeled off the thick flannel shirt he'd started with and a while later, took off his undershirt too. He eased himself down to sit on the roof, wiped himself down with it and tied it carefully around his waist by the arms. Looked over towards where the sun was high and hot in the sky. He debated taking a break for lunch, or just working straight on through and getting as much of the sonofa bitch done this day as he could.
Getting it done won out.
He tossed another couple handfuls of broken shingle to the ground. "Tell you what Pa, this is an even more miserable job doin' it by your damn self, believe me. One more course of shingles and then I'm down to the ground, this time for sure…"
The sun was a lot lower in the sky by the time Dean took notice again—the back of his neck was stinging, dried sweat, bits and flakes of shingle had him itching from head to toe. He took a deep breath, flicked a look at the oak, and nodded. "I've done enough today, I figure. You'd agree with me for sure." He wiped at his forehead, and winced when the salty sweat slid into his eyes. "Damn." At the same moment a voice rang out, making him jump a foot. "Jesus!" He staggered, dropped to his knees and froze where he landed, cursing up a storm. His heart hammered wildly in his chest—"Hello, the house!" he heard again. He took a deep breath—a few seconds passed before he could open his eyes again and ease himself to the edge. He looked over, wanting to see what kind of evil ass snuck up on a man when he was about dangerous work and shouted his damn fool head off. The man waved and yelled again, "Hey, hello there." It was altogether too cheerful a shout by far, and the fool smiled wide, a bright, white generous smile, green eyes that Dean could see from his high perch on the roof—could see that they were dancing with laughter. The fellow had seen him jump like a startled fawn, Dean was pretty sure and…green eyes. Tall, dark hair curling out from under a blue cap….
Dean was terrified again, for a different reason.
It…it had to be. The man in his dreams, it had to be him--come out of those strange dreams and into his waking life. His face was to him now, and…it was beautiful. This had to be--God, he hoped it was him. To not be alone again…. "What can I help you with?" he shouted back, proud his voice didn't crack and betray his nerves.
"Well, I've just come into town and I find myself in the embarrassing position of not being able to feed myself, due to my pockets being mostly full of trail dust, actually. A Mr. Waller sent me, said that you needed some help." He smiled impossibly wider.
"Hunh. We—I--could use a hand. Certainly it'd make the difference between a few days and a few weeks of work—if you've truly got any skill," Dean muttered.
It appeared the man had good hearing as well as good looks. "Oh well," he called up. "Skill I have plenty of. If I might be so bold, none have ever complained of me. You could say, I'm a jack of all trades." He winked as he said it and Dean shivered. There seemed to be something else being said as well.
"Just tell me you know your way around a hammer and nails?"
"Certainly do, sir. There's not much I haven't done, trust me." Again, those green locked on his and Dean blushed, but felt an answering grin that threatened to split his cheeks and he tried his hardest to rein it in. If he had a few good days to rest his eyes on something as pleasant as this fellow, he'd count himself damn lucky.
"All right," he called out. "I'll be down directly."
Once on the ground, he waited for the man to say something. He stuck out his hand and said, "You must be Mr. Kane. Mr. Waller sent me—he will vouch for me, I'm certain." he said.
"If Mr. Waller vouched for you, that's good enough for us--me. Can't pay you much…"
"Mostly, I'm seeking food and rest in a dry place." He smiled and Dean's heart skipped a beat. "The barn, your porch…anywhere I'm off the ground some. I've become entirely too familiar with the earth."
Dean nodded. "A dry spot to lay your head and a few good meals I can give you. That, and bit of money, though honestly, not much right now. The business has…fallen off a bit, but I'm sure it'll pick up soon as I—" Dean flushed. Here he was, spilling his guts to a stranger. "A--anyways, if it's okay with you, could use the help."
The fellow inclined his head a bit and met Dean's eyes. His smile this time was a small, kind bow of his lips and he said, "Thanks much, Mr. Kane. My name's Archibald Joseph, but I'd be pleased for you to call me Archie."
"Archie. If we're gonna be on first names, then you can call me Dean."
part 19
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean/OCs, Sam/OCs, Dean/Sam
Rating: R
Word Count: 1347
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, thus, expect anachronisms and flagrant display of personal fanon. Warnings for sex ( occasional het and M/M, incest, rape.)
Dean tapped at his door, and when Tobe didn’t answer, pushed it open a crack. "Pa? Say Pa, you ready to get up? We got a lot to do today—" No answer, no snoring. Tobe's room felt cold and…Dean shivered, his heart clenched and skipped…the room felt empty.
He knew. Dean walked into the room and stopped—his throat closed on a sob. He didn’t need to check. He could feel in the air that his father's spirit had flown. He dropped to the floor. "Aw, shit, old man, don’t leave. Don’t leave yet."
He buried Tobias Kane in the rear of their property because the cemetery in town refused to bury a colored man in with white folks, and Dean refused to carry him to the next town that had a colored graveyard, so Tobe went in the ground in the shade of a red oak, facing the hills that once upon a time, the Arapaho used to come down and visit in the summer months. The ground was wet and cold and heavy, but Dean dug the grave himself, and surrounded it with a wrought-iron fence. Was just him and Waller, and Dotty and a friend or two of hers, and Dean spoke the words himself, not having a preacher willing to. Dean prayed for his spirit, and prayed for the strength not to go down to that church and knock every bit of worked metal Tobe had made for it to bits and then burn the place to the ground.
When Dean went into town to pick up his shingles, Mr. Baker took him to the side and told him how he'd always admired Tobe and passed him extra meal and bacon.
Dean felt closed up, bricked up and hard as rock, empty as dry river bed. He had nothing to give, no one to give it to and he wrapped himself in work and prepared to live in that cold and icy place by himself.
There were piles of thin cut heartwood shingles stacked around the base of the porch. Dean was gathering them into bundles, the easier to bring them up on the roof. He swallowed hard, staring at the roof, chilled at how suddenly it seemed even higher than it had this morning, ridiculously high…he gulped again, shut his eyes and sent a brief prayer into the air…"just don’t let me fall and break something please, don't let me kill my damn self…."
He hoisted a bundle of shingles into his arms, double checked to make sure his hammer and the bag of nails were secure in his belt and trudged up the ladder. He didn't want to have to take any damn unnecessary steps—climbing around up there on the roof was bad enough.
He started in to tearing damaged shingles up, trying not to damage the roof, or its beams or more importantly, himself. Slowly, carefully, one by one the broken shingles came up and after a while, he lost himself in the rhythm of it. His thoughts were empty, blessedly so. For a few hours, he stopped missing Tobe.
The morning that had started out cool, slowly became a hot afternoon. He peeled off the thick flannel shirt he'd started with and a while later, took off his undershirt too. He eased himself down to sit on the roof, wiped himself down with it and tied it carefully around his waist by the arms. Looked over towards where the sun was high and hot in the sky. He debated taking a break for lunch, or just working straight on through and getting as much of the sonofa bitch done this day as he could.
Getting it done won out.
He tossed another couple handfuls of broken shingle to the ground. "Tell you what Pa, this is an even more miserable job doin' it by your damn self, believe me. One more course of shingles and then I'm down to the ground, this time for sure…"
The sun was a lot lower in the sky by the time Dean took notice again—the back of his neck was stinging, dried sweat, bits and flakes of shingle had him itching from head to toe. He took a deep breath, flicked a look at the oak, and nodded. "I've done enough today, I figure. You'd agree with me for sure." He wiped at his forehead, and winced when the salty sweat slid into his eyes. "Damn." At the same moment a voice rang out, making him jump a foot. "Jesus!" He staggered, dropped to his knees and froze where he landed, cursing up a storm. His heart hammered wildly in his chest—"Hello, the house!" he heard again. He took a deep breath—a few seconds passed before he could open his eyes again and ease himself to the edge. He looked over, wanting to see what kind of evil ass snuck up on a man when he was about dangerous work and shouted his damn fool head off. The man waved and yelled again, "Hey, hello there." It was altogether too cheerful a shout by far, and the fool smiled wide, a bright, white generous smile, green eyes that Dean could see from his high perch on the roof—could see that they were dancing with laughter. The fellow had seen him jump like a startled fawn, Dean was pretty sure and…green eyes. Tall, dark hair curling out from under a blue cap….
Dean was terrified again, for a different reason.
It…it had to be. The man in his dreams, it had to be him--come out of those strange dreams and into his waking life. His face was to him now, and…it was beautiful. This had to be--God, he hoped it was him. To not be alone again…. "What can I help you with?" he shouted back, proud his voice didn't crack and betray his nerves.
"Well, I've just come into town and I find myself in the embarrassing position of not being able to feed myself, due to my pockets being mostly full of trail dust, actually. A Mr. Waller sent me, said that you needed some help." He smiled impossibly wider.
"Hunh. We—I--could use a hand. Certainly it'd make the difference between a few days and a few weeks of work—if you've truly got any skill," Dean muttered.
It appeared the man had good hearing as well as good looks. "Oh well," he called up. "Skill I have plenty of. If I might be so bold, none have ever complained of me. You could say, I'm a jack of all trades." He winked as he said it and Dean shivered. There seemed to be something else being said as well.
"Just tell me you know your way around a hammer and nails?"
"Certainly do, sir. There's not much I haven't done, trust me." Again, those green locked on his and Dean blushed, but felt an answering grin that threatened to split his cheeks and he tried his hardest to rein it in. If he had a few good days to rest his eyes on something as pleasant as this fellow, he'd count himself damn lucky.
"All right," he called out. "I'll be down directly."
Once on the ground, he waited for the man to say something. He stuck out his hand and said, "You must be Mr. Kane. Mr. Waller sent me—he will vouch for me, I'm certain." he said.
"If Mr. Waller vouched for you, that's good enough for us--me. Can't pay you much…"
"Mostly, I'm seeking food and rest in a dry place." He smiled and Dean's heart skipped a beat. "The barn, your porch…anywhere I'm off the ground some. I've become entirely too familiar with the earth."
Dean nodded. "A dry spot to lay your head and a few good meals I can give you. That, and bit of money, though honestly, not much right now. The business has…fallen off a bit, but I'm sure it'll pick up soon as I—" Dean flushed. Here he was, spilling his guts to a stranger. "A--anyways, if it's okay with you, could use the help."
The fellow inclined his head a bit and met Dean's eyes. His smile this time was a small, kind bow of his lips and he said, "Thanks much, Mr. Kane. My name's Archibald Joseph, but I'd be pleased for you to call me Archie."
"Archie. If we're gonna be on first names, then you can call me Dean."
part 19
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
1/25/10 05:21 am (UTC)When Dean does that slip and says "us" instead of "me". . . ouch. Yeah, that's always awkward and stings a bit afterward.
You've spoiled us, you realize. Two chapters in one day? *HUG*
(no subject)
1/26/10 03:33 am (UTC)I was on a roll! There's another chapter up and then...oy. Who knows!
(no subject)
1/25/10 01:31 pm (UTC)*hugs him*
I get *no* good feeling from this Archie fella. None at all. Surely that's not Sam...no...no green eyes...you are confusing me! Why are you so evol!!
*flails*
(no subject)
1/26/10 03:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/26/10 03:36 am (UTC)You evol, evol thing.
*cowers*
(no subject)
1/25/10 06:47 pm (UTC)I agree with Red--Dean's little slips are painful. As is him talking to himself on the roof. *siiiiiighhh*
I like Archie. I'm on board for the Archie/Dean show for a while. I expect the next chapter on my screen by midnight. :)
(no subject)
1/26/10 03:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/25/10 08:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/26/10 03:36 am (UTC)ARCHIE THANKS YOU!
:)
Egads!
1/26/10 04:34 am (UTC)--Jessica
Re: Egads!
1/26/10 05:54 am (UTC)Besides, Dean's not Superman--he's Batman. ;)
Re: Egads!
1/26/10 06:15 am (UTC)--Jessica
Re: Egads!
1/26/10 06:30 am (UTC)holy crap....I think you're RIGHT!!!! He *IS* Superman!!!!