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Title: You are not long here
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maharetr
Fandom: Supernatural, pre-series (wee!Winchesters)
Rating: G
Word count: 586
Beta: Much, much love tovegetariansushi
Summary: Sammy's first thought is: demon…
The wind follows them inside. Even after Dean's eased the door to the entryway closed, the breeze sneaks in under the gap and blows leaves across the floor. Outside, bare branches scratch against the stained glass window, and Sammy shivers a little; as much as he loves Pastor Jim's church, being in it late at night is another matter entirely.
"Dean," he whispers, and Dean cuts him off with a: "Shhh!"
"Dean!" Sammy says again, just loud enough to make him turn and glare. "It's not our stuff."
"Hey," Dean's teeth flash pale in the dim light. "Not like that ever stopped us…"
"That's different. We needed that food, and the other things. This is Pastor Jim's stuff. He'd give it to us if he thought we needed it."
"We're not stealing it, we're just looking at it. The cool stuff Dad won't let us see. It's not like eyes leave fingerprints or anything; they won't know."
Sammy's opening his mouth, shaping the word: privacy, when Dean freezes for a millisecond and then lunges forward to press a hand over Sammy's mouth. They stand like that for a long moment, long enough that Sammy starts to squirm because part of Dean's hand is also pressed over Sammy's nose. Dean lets up the pressure just as Sammy hears it too: a creak from within the church itself.
Sammy starts backing up in the same instant Dean starts moving forward, and Sammy has no choice but to stop and follow him, because it's a long dark walk back to the house, and because there's no way he's letting Dean go in there alone.
Dean eases the inner door open, and leaves just enough space for Sammy to slide in under his arm. The candles are lit at the front of the church, as are some of the votive candles in front of the altar, dimly lighting the floor in front of the pews.
There's a human-looking shape hunched in the pew closest to the altar. Sammy's first thought is: demon, and he can tell it's Dean's too, because Dean grabs at the amulet around his neck until Sammy leans over and breathes: "hallowed ground," and Dean relaxes and manages to convey "I knew that, idiot," without saying a word.
The person sighs, a long ragged shudder. Sammy figures nothing evil could make such a noise and he starts backing up, because this moment is far more private than anything stashed in a basement. Dean reaches out blindly for Sammy’s arm as the man breathes in, a slow careful inhalation, the sort of breathing where all the care in the world isn't going to stop the snot or the tears. The sound squeezes something in Sammy's chest, makes his eyes burn, and he’s more than a little relieved when Dean slides an arm around his shoulder.
Sammy's eyes have adjusted to the candlelight now, enough to make out the transfixed horror on Dean's face. Sammy glances back to the pew even as Dean slowly eases back a step. The next exhalation is a sob, a choked down cry that rocks the man forward into the circle of light.
Dean’s hand is over Sammy’s lips before he can even open his mouth this time, and when Sammy twists a little in the grip, Dean shakes his head sharply and keeps moving backwards. Sammy steps back with him as Dad's crying begins in earnest; he lets Dean pull him away and out of the church and into the cold, blustery night.
Author:
maharetrFandom: Supernatural, pre-series (wee!Winchesters)
Rating: G
Word count: 586
Beta: Much, much love to
vegetariansushiSummary: Sammy's first thought is: demon…
The wind follows them inside. Even after Dean's eased the door to the entryway closed, the breeze sneaks in under the gap and blows leaves across the floor. Outside, bare branches scratch against the stained glass window, and Sammy shivers a little; as much as he loves Pastor Jim's church, being in it late at night is another matter entirely.
"Dean," he whispers, and Dean cuts him off with a: "Shhh!"
"Dean!" Sammy says again, just loud enough to make him turn and glare. "It's not our stuff."
"Hey," Dean's teeth flash pale in the dim light. "Not like that ever stopped us…"
"That's different. We needed that food, and the other things. This is Pastor Jim's stuff. He'd give it to us if he thought we needed it."
"We're not stealing it, we're just looking at it. The cool stuff Dad won't let us see. It's not like eyes leave fingerprints or anything; they won't know."
Sammy's opening his mouth, shaping the word: privacy, when Dean freezes for a millisecond and then lunges forward to press a hand over Sammy's mouth. They stand like that for a long moment, long enough that Sammy starts to squirm because part of Dean's hand is also pressed over Sammy's nose. Dean lets up the pressure just as Sammy hears it too: a creak from within the church itself.
Sammy starts backing up in the same instant Dean starts moving forward, and Sammy has no choice but to stop and follow him, because it's a long dark walk back to the house, and because there's no way he's letting Dean go in there alone.
Dean eases the inner door open, and leaves just enough space for Sammy to slide in under his arm. The candles are lit at the front of the church, as are some of the votive candles in front of the altar, dimly lighting the floor in front of the pews.
There's a human-looking shape hunched in the pew closest to the altar. Sammy's first thought is: demon, and he can tell it's Dean's too, because Dean grabs at the amulet around his neck until Sammy leans over and breathes: "hallowed ground," and Dean relaxes and manages to convey "I knew that, idiot," without saying a word.
The person sighs, a long ragged shudder. Sammy figures nothing evil could make such a noise and he starts backing up, because this moment is far more private than anything stashed in a basement. Dean reaches out blindly for Sammy’s arm as the man breathes in, a slow careful inhalation, the sort of breathing where all the care in the world isn't going to stop the snot or the tears. The sound squeezes something in Sammy's chest, makes his eyes burn, and he’s more than a little relieved when Dean slides an arm around his shoulder.
Sammy's eyes have adjusted to the candlelight now, enough to make out the transfixed horror on Dean's face. Sammy glances back to the pew even as Dean slowly eases back a step. The next exhalation is a sob, a choked down cry that rocks the man forward into the circle of light.
Dean’s hand is over Sammy’s lips before he can even open his mouth this time, and when Sammy twists a little in the grip, Dean shakes his head sharply and keeps moving backwards. Sammy steps back with him as Dad's crying begins in earnest; he lets Dean pull him away and out of the church and into the cold, blustery night.
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