Whispered Words
Warning: Random, pulled out of a hat drabble that makes no sense. Oh and d twice in here.
Summary: A conversation with the dead reveals the monster inside of John Winchester.
Disclaimer: Wish, want, need, but don't own
"I'm sorry, beloved."
His eyes were a tired chocolate brown as he stared desolatly at the grave before him. At the words engraved in them. His averted his eyes to keep the tears from coming and opened his mouth allowing a stream of words to fall from them instead of sobs.
"Your boys, they've grown so much. More that you'd ever imagine. You used to joke about your 'little heart breaker'. Well, he's a heart breaker, but not so little anymore. He has your sky blue eyes and blonde hair and fair looks. Your little baby has grown too. We had our first real 'falling out' a month ago..."
He broke off suddenly, choking on his sobs. But he let out a strangled laugh.
"My solider always warned me about this. I pushed him too hard into something he didn't want to do, and he reacted just like I would. He pushed right back. I was such a stubborn fool that I continued until I lost him."
He paused again. This time to gather his thoughts.
"I watched him as he packed. As he walked out the door. As he took that junk piece of a car he paid for his his own 'earned' money and bought. As he drove away without ever looking back."
This time a tear did escape, but not before he wiped it away angrily.
"Then I watched as my perfect, emotionless solider fell apart from the inside out. He lost it, completelly. I learned that he had become the hunter that he was to protect his younger brother. Now he has nothing to protect or lean on. He was falling apart, dearest, and I didn't know what to do."
He stared out into space before continuing.
"And then a week ago, he just snapped. He stopped mouring and became my soldier again. But he isn't just emotionless when he hunts. He's got that damned poker face on all the damned time. I can't break it. No matter how hard I try. No little word of praise, snide remark, or even pleading can bring him out. He's just going through the motions."
He placed his shaking hands in his pockets before he added on.
"I broke one son and I drove the other away, sweetheart. And I can't feel remorse for it. I am angry for it, but guilty? Not really. Honey, what type of monster have I become to not feel lonely when I am with no one. To not feel guilt when I hurt my own son? To not feel anything but anger?"
Tears began to roll over his cheeks. These, however, were not tears of sadness. These were tears of fear.
Fear for his sons.
Fear for his life.
Fear for who he had become.
"Forgive me, dearest heart."
He turned and walked away from the grave as the moon shone down on the world. He continued forward in life, continuing his mission. But he never forgot what started it all.
Just a simple tombstone.
Just a simple grave.
Just a simple name.
Mary Winchester