Day of Thanks - SN fic - PG

[tigriswolf]

Title: Day of Thanks
Fandom: "Supernatural"
Disclaimer: guess what?  They're all mine. *hee*
Warnings: *shrugs*
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 440
Point of view: second
Notes: not what I'd originally intended, this piece.  Oh, well. 

          

           “Momma,” she asks, walking into the kitchen, “what’re you thankful for?”

            You crouch down, meeting the largest hazel eyes you’ve ever seen. “Why you askin’, baby girl?”

            “I’se readin’ an old book and it talked ‘bout Indians and Pilgrims, and I jus’ wondered.” She blinks up innocently and your heart hurts.

            “I’m thankful for you,” you answer with a smile. “And Davy, Jonah, Victor, Georgia—”

            She cuts you off with a laugh. “You don’t gotta list ‘em all, Momma.”

            You laugh with her, desperately trying to control your urge to sob. She won’t understand. She can’t. You reach out and pull her to you, cradle her in your arms.

            She’s already lived longer than the others, attaining her sixth birthday. She’s the one It wants, and It’ll do anything to get her.

            You’ll do anything to keep It from getting anywhere near her. “I love you, Sammy,” you murmur in her ear and kiss the top of her head. 

            “I know, Momma,” she says, tilting her head back to meet your eyes. Her eyes are expressive, shining with every emotion she feels; you need to teach her to guard herself better.

            But not yet. 

            Not yet.

            “I need get back to cookin’ supper, baby girl,” you tell her, unwrapping your arms. She steps back and you want to pull her close, to shelter her from the coming storm, to stash her somewhere away from pain and fear and war. “Go play with the puppies, teach ‘em how to hunt.”

            She grins impishly and rushes off. You watch her go, move to the doorway so you can watch the first few minutes of rumble’n’tumble.

            The puppies won’t hurt her, can’t—it’s not in their blood. But when they’re grown, when they’re ready—

            The oldest meets your gaze, curls his lip back; most would look at him and think dangerous or angry, would put him down before he's a threat. The puppies are the last of a long-dead breed, legendary in its own right. 

            Instead of looking away or wondering if Sammy’s really safe in their company, you nod to Enkidu. In this house, in this pup’s care, nothing can hurt her, nothing can come for her unless you invite it.

            For a brief second, looking into Enkidu’s blue eyes, you wonder for an instant if Sammy’s father would approve of how you’re fighting his war.

            Enkidu blinks and lets his lip fall back into place; he joins your daughter and the rest of his litter, playing like all young things do.

            Your heart aches and you return to supper. 

            “I’m thankful for peace,” you whisper, knowing you won’t have it for much longer. 

           

Comments

[dairwendan.livejournal.com]

Wow, interesting. Hell hounds?

[tigriswolf]

Possibly. I don't know.

Thank you for reading!