Outlaws - SN fic - PG13

[tigriswolf]

Title: Outlaws
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters. just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for “Night Shifter”
Pairings: nada… after a fashion.
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: a smidge over a thousand
Point of view: third
Notes: Apparently, I was a bit premature in stating my SN fic was broken *hee*

 

When Dean was about ten, not too long after Fort Douglas, he went through a phase where he was obsessed with outlaws.

Robin Hood. Jesse James. Billy the Kid. Bonnie and Clyde.

There was a pattern he noticed, which finished his search for information fairly quickly.

In the end, not a single one of them lived happily ever after.

To tell the truth, it was a mite depressing.

 

Bonnie and Clyde.

Damned, but that’s the fucking truth. Dean can’t lie to himself anymore—not that he ever really could.

Jesse James, shot in the back by one of his own gang.

Robin Hood, poisoned by someone he trusted.

Billy the Kid, killed by a man who was once his friend.

Bonnie and Clyde…

Dean jerks his mind back to the job at hand: getting the fuck out of Dodge.

 

“We have to ditch the Impala, Dean,” Sam says, voice soft.

“I know,” Dean answers.

 

They go to ground. Dad had hideouts all over the country. Dean’s probably the only besides Dad who’s been to them all.

They stay gone for months, no communication to anyone. They left the Impala on a lonely stretch of road in Montana.

Sam monitors every government database and Dean throws knives. Sam scours Dad’s journal even though he has the damned thing memorized and Dean scans news sites.

Ellen tries calling both of them for weeks but neither answers.

They rarely talk, move around each other like well-oiled machines. Sam doesn’t get visions and Dean’s coiled tight enough to snap.

He’s always hated waiting.

 

Half a year and Dean thinks it’s maybe enough. Dad dropped off the face of the Earth, except he didn’t—he kept hunting, leaving a trail, minute though it was.

Dean and Sam just vanished.

“You sure no one knows about this place?” Sam asked, the day before they entered the cabin.

“Only Pastor Jim,” Dean replied.

 

The Impala was found, splattered with their combined blood.

They didn’t answer, no matter who called. Finally, the phones were disconnected.

No sighting for half a year—the search was halted.

To everyone, they were dead.

 

When Dean was twenty-eight, he dreamed that he and Sam were outlaws. They stayed one step ahead of the cops for years and finally the FBI stepped in. They had one last showdown in Lawrence, Kansas—in their old house.

The demon was there, and Dad. The demon laughed with its host’s face—Jessica. And Dad was shot by the cops.

Then Mom appeared, Mom as beautiful as the night she died. She looked Dean straight in the eyes and said, “I’m so disappointed, baby.” And she smiled, so sad and gentle, tears pouring down her face.

Dean fell to his knees, pain coursing through his body, and looked up—she held his heart in her hand, fingers clenched around it, that smile still curving her lips.

He heard Sam scream, the gunshots, Sam hitting the floor.

… the Bonnie to your Clyde…

Dean lifted his head, looking for Sam—watch out for Sammy—but all he saw was Mom, staring at the demon in Jessica’s form.

“You wanted his heart?” Mom asked, stepping over his body toward NotJessica.

“Yes,” NotJessica answered, flicking its gaze to Dean.

“If I give this to you, you’ll release John and Sammy?” Mom sounded eager, depraved, and the pain just kept building.

“I give you my word, Mary,” NotJessica said.

Demons lie.

“Don’t, Mom,” Dean rasped, trying to roll over and climb to his feet. “You’re playing right into the plan.”

Mom didn’t even glance his way.

I might have to kill you, Sammy.

Mom held out her fist, opened her fingers, his heart resting on her palm.

NotJessica reached, grabbed, murmured delightedly, “Still warm.” Grinned. 
                Distantly, Dean heard Sam scream again. 
                NotJessica cavorted over, demented grin on its face. It knelt beside him, caressed his face, and laughed, clenching its fingers around his heart.

“You’re mine, Dean,” NotJessica whispered. “You’re the key and you’re mine.” Trailing a finger down his face, it mused, “Not really Bonnie to your Clyde, dear boy. More like the Adam to your Eve.” It laughed, squeezing his heart harder, and blackness beckoned from the corners of his eyes. “Eve was the key, you see,” it continued, stroking his chin with one hand. “She was the weak one and she delivered Paradise to my Majesty’s feet.”

Leaning down, NotJessica pressed its cold lips to Dean’s. “Wake up, boy,” it hissed into his mouth. “The fun is just starting.”

 

Twelve-year-old Sam came home one day with a book he’d checked out from the school library. He flipped through it for hours, pouring over the words, devouring the knowledge.

“What ya got there, Sammy?” Dean asked, deftly pulling apart a rifle at the kitchen table.

Sam looked up, over. “An enclypedia of outlaws,” he answered excitedly. “It’s so awesome, Dean!”

Dean nodded. “I’ll bet it is.”

“You ever want to be an outlaw, Dean?” Sammy asked.

“No,” Dean lied with a gentle smile.

 

… the Bonnie to your Clyde…

 

Twenty-eight-year-old Dean wakes with a gasp and choked cry. Sam’s awake instantly, looks over from the other bed.

“Dean?”

“m’fine,” he answers hesitantly. “Just a bad dream.”

I might have to kill you, Sammy.

“Dean?” Sam’s looking for reassurance, for big brother to swear it’ll all be fine when the sun rises.

But it’s moonlight spilling over the Earth now, and moonlight reveals things for what they are.

I’m tired, Sam.

“Dean?”

Dean closes his eyes, raises his hand to his chest, feels his heart beat. Sees Mom, for just an instant, offering it to the demon.

… you’ll release John and Sammy?

You’re the key and you’re mine.

Demons lie.

“m’fine, Sammy,” Dean lies in a whisper. “Go back to sleep.”

 

… the Bonnie to your Clyde…

 

They left the Impala on a lonely stretch of road in Montana.

They left Dad as ashes, blowing away in the soft night breeze.

They leave the journal on Ellen’s doorstep and Dean’s necklace hanging by Cassie’s bed.

 

This isn’t a war they can possibly win, but that damned FBI agent named them true.

Bonnie and Clyde died fighting, right to the end.

At least… that’s how the legend goes.

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[tigriswolf]

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