The CCR/Cash John Winchester Challenge Community

Born on the Bayou - gen

Thu, 11 Oct 2007 05:30:53 GMT

Title: Born on the Bayou
Author: pushkin666
Pairings: None
Rating: PG
Words: ~ 2850
Spoilers: None
Locations: poorboyshuffle, papawinchester, my LJ

Summary: Futurefic. There were once many creatures living out in the bayou including the Plat-Eye. In the times after the Demon War an old storyteller tells about a man he once met, a hunter called John Winchester.

Author's Notes: Written for poorboyshuffle community.
Song Lyrics – Born on the Bayou by CCR

Many thanks to varkelton for beta’ing this, her insights and for some excellent suggestions regarding the children. There have been amendments since her initial beta so any mistakes are all mine.

Disclaimer: Not mine more’s the pity.

The beast began to circle me. Each time I tried to get past it to safety it would be there again, fast as lighting in front of me, and those eyes ... those unholy eyes bright in the dark. I'd never seen anything like it and it scared me to death.

Papa Winchester!

Sat, 08 Sep 2007 23:34:39 GMT

I meant to post this on August 30, but I was distracted by a Vegas vacation. ;-) But I'm back now! And much more broke, so now I'm going to say a great big THANK YOU to everyone who posted! It was really great to see all the responses and I think several folks had a lot of fun.

I'm also going to encourage folks to post even though we're past the original deadline. The new episodes begin airing October 4, so I'm going to give everyone until OCtober 1st to post. I'm not going to give out new song claims, though. Whatever you've claimed, go ahead and finish up your responses and post! Then we can spend a season not thinking about the fact we might not get to see John Winchester anymore!!! :-(

Weary Soul

Mon, 13 Aug 2007 02:46:07 GMT

Title: Weary Soul

Author: sndreamer

Characters: John, OFC

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything Supernatural, I just borrow the characters every now and again.

Word Count: About 1700

Summary: This was written for the poorboyshuffle challenge. I chose the song ‘Wanted Man’ by Johnny Cash. The lyrics name all the towns he’s in trouble in. It describes how it is to move around so much.

If you ever see me comin' and if you know who I am

Don't you breathe it to nobody cause you know I'm on the lam . . . .

There's somebody set to grab me anywhere that I might be

And wherever you might look tonight you might get a glimpse of me . . . . .

Wherever you might look tonight you might see this wanted man

I saw the man sitting along in the booth. He looked lost and alone. I went over, introduced myself and took his order. I liked the way his voice sounded, even though he called me “m’am”. He had deep brown eyes that looked so sad, even when he smiled and handed me the menu.

When my shift was over, he was still there, staring at the darkness. He’d finished eating long ago. He’d paid the bill and it was like he just needed a place to rest.

“You look tired,” I said sympathetically. “How about you let me take care of you?”

He didn’t exactly look surprised. He just said,” My name is John.”

“My name is Trina.” I stood up from the booth and laid my hand on top of his. He looked up to face me. “Just come with me.”

He nodded and stood.

I led him to my car and there was no conversation on the way to my home. I opened my door and led him to a kitchen chair. He sat down obediently and started to take off his boots. “No,” I stopped him and sat him upright in the chair. “I can do that. Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”

“Not much I can say,” was his reply.

“I figured as much,” I said as I put his boots to the side. “That’s okay with me. Law troubles?”

He slowly nodded. “Should I leave now?”

“Why?” I asked him. “Trouble with the law doesn’t make you a bad man. If you were a dangerous man, I would have sensed it. I figure you been on the road for too long and could use a good rest.”

I helped him out of his coat and hung it in the closet. I happened to see his ring and asked if he was married.

“I was. Mary was killed long ago,” he twisted the ring around his finger.

I stood behind him and started to rub his shoulders. “You’ve been burdened with too much for too long, John. I’m here to listen to whatever you have to say. It all stays right here. Do you want to tell me about Mary?”

Xxxx

“She was so spirited,” he began to let the words flow. “She could be mad as hell as me one minute and madly in love with me the next. She didn’t follow anyone. She was just her.”

His muscles started to relax under my hands. I started to unbutton his flannel shirt. “Just keep talking,” I urged him.

“When she had opinions, they were definite. If she wasn’t sure where she stood on something, she was tolerant of either side. She always cared about others--always. She’d help a stranger on the street and make their day without her even knowing it. I don’t know if she ever knew how easily she touched other people’s lives.”

“Arms up,” I pulled his T-shirt off. After a minute or two of massaging his shoulders and neck in silence, I asked, “She must have known how deeply she touched your life.”

“I think she did,” he got lost in remembering. “We had a good home, a happy home. I remember how excited I was when she told me she was pregnant, seeing my son for the first time, and how I felt the same excitement with my second son, even though we’d been though it before.

It was different, how I saw her after she became a mother. I saw her one way while we were dating, and it changed a little when she became my wife. But, the biggest change came when she became the mother of my children. It was a gift that she gave to me. Something so precious. I don’t know how it is that you can love someone so that your heart feels like it will burst, but that is how I felt.”

“I knew you were a good man, John.”

“Mary brought out the best in me. After she died, well, I felt like I faded.”

I kept moving my hands over his shoulders, upper back and neck. His hair was a little too long. He hadn’t shaven in awhile. I wanted to be able to help him with his sorrows and pain, even though just for a night.

I walked around to face him. “She was a part of you and she was taken away. It’s only natural that you’d have emptiness where she used to be. Memories can only do so much to fill that space.”

His eyes showed that he knew I understood. “Now, just let me take care of you. I’m going to bring you a towel and you’re going to give me your clothes so I can wash them. I’ll run you a bath and help you with your hair. I’m not into peeking, but you can take the towel in the bath if you want. It has been awhile since you’ve been cared for or had the time to take care of yourself.”

I came back with a towel and then went to check on the bathwater. I returned and picked up his laundry. “You really don’t have to--” he seemed ashamed that he was taking the help that I was offering.

“I didn’t have to do any of this,” I interrupted him. “I wanted to. I’m offering a weary soul a place to rest for a night. I plan on sending you back out into the real world in better shape than you came to me in.”

He just nodded.

Xxxx

Once in the bath, I took my time with his hair. He seemed to relax as I did so. I gave him another towel as I left to put the laundry in the dryer.

In the bathroom doorway, he looked cleaner, but just as lost. I took his hand and let him into my bedroom. I turned down the sheets. He sat down on the bed and closed his arms around my waist, thanking me for taking the time to help him. I ran my fingers though his hair, noticing how soft it was. “You are very welcome, John. Now lie down so I can cover you up,”

I pulled the covers up and kissed his forehead like a mom would do. “Are you ready to go to sleep, or do you want to talk some more?”

As I listened to him talk about things I would never understand, I sat in a chair by the bed. My part of the conversation wasn’t much, just a nod here and there. He’d bottled up so much that it all just came pouring out. I didn’t judge him, I just listened. Once he mentioned the yellow-eyed demon, I just accepted it as part of what he was carrying around with him. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t need to understand him totally to listen to him. And, he needed someone to listen.

John told me about his regrets, his sons, and hunts of creatures that I couldn’t even imagine. I just let him talk for a long time.

When he stopped, I asked him when the last time was that he’d talked to his boys. It had been over six months. I encouraged him to call them.

“Right now?” he was shocked at the suggestion.

“Right now,” I replied. “They need to hear that you’re okay. They need the connection you used to have with them, no matter how old they get.”

He dialed his cell phone and I went to make myself some hot chocolate. When I heard talking stop, I went back in.

“How’d it go?” I asked as I entered the room.

“Rough. I couldn’t tell them much about me. I just made sure they were alright. I told Sam I was sorry to hear about his girlfriend getting killed. They were all worried about how I was and where I was. I think I left them frustrated but at least I they know that I’m alive. For now that has to be enough.”

“You’ve done all you can. No one can ask you to do more,” I noticed his eyelids getting droopy.

“I wish I could talk to Mary,” he started to sound sleepy.

“Pretend I’m Mary,” I offered. “Get what you have to say out in the open. It’ll help.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Mary,” tears came to his eyes. “I’m sorry the boys grew up like they did. I tried to do the best I could but I still feel like I failed you. I love you and miss you, Mary. I just hope you can forgive me for my shortcomings.” He broke down in sobs.

“John,” I spoke gently,” Mary would be proud of you and the boys because you did the best you could. She knows you tried to rescue her because that’s the kind of man you are. She knows that you lover her and miss her because those things never change. What you’ve been carrying around as a confession, isn’t. It is what Mary already knew or felt. You can let it go now, John. You did your best.”

I wiped away a tear from his face and told him goodnight.

That night, John didn’t dream of running or chasing or searching. He slept the sleep of the innocent, secure in the knowledge that Mary had always understood.

Home of the Blues

Wed, 08 Aug 2007 05:37:11 GMT

Title: Home of the Blues
Author: Chosenfire
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off of playing with them.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1000 +
Characters: John, Jim, Dean
Spoilers: SPN preseries and “Something Wicked”
Summary: (Set right after the flashback incident in “Something Wicked”) John packed up the boys and ran to Jim’s but even there he can’t escape the demons that chase him and learns that he’s the worst of all.

A/N: This is for the poorboyshuffle Sorry it’s taken me so long usually I only write crossovers so it was fun to try to break out of that mold. Enjoy and let me know what you guys think.

Just around the corner there's heartache
Down the street that losers use
If you can wade in through the teardrops
You'll find me at the Home of the Blues

John dropped them off just as dawn was breaking and he helped them get settled into the bed Jim provided them with not saying a word as he left his boys there closing the door behind him finally. He dragged a hand over his gritty his eyes taking a deep breath as his fists clenched.

“What happened Johnny?” Jim asked his voice flat determined to get answers.

John turned to him wondering whether to glare or to punch him. Jim always pushed, he was self righteous bastard who didn’t have the good sense to back the fuck off and John wasn’t in the mood to fight with him again.

“I lost a demon,” John admitted tonelessly stating the facts “almost lost Sammy.” He moved away from Jim’s imploring eyes searching through the papers scattered on the coffee table his voice harsh as “and don’t call me Johnny.”

He heard Jim snort behind him “I’ll call you whatever the hell I want to,” he felt the other man moved closer to him and he tensed his nerves shoot to hell and he didn’t want to alienate one of the few friends he had but if the bastard kept pushing he was going to take a shoot and the boys needed a place to stay for the night. Not that Jim would ever kick them out, hell he’d throw John’s ass to the curb and he had on an occasion but John didn’t want to have to fight to get his boys back again.

The “I’m fine” shit never seemed to work on the other hunter and while Jim would give him his space he could be a real bitch some time sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, he was always the first to tell John to get his head out of his ass a be a father.

Hell the man had even threatened to take the boys for him and disappear.

“Are you going to hunt it?” Jim asked either’s unaware of how close to the edge John was or not giving a fuck, John figured it was the later and the bastard kept pushing forward.

“No.” John replied flatly as he started going through the papers needing a hunt to take his mind off the one he had failed, his hands were still shaking and he gritted his teeth wondering if Jim would get off his ass long enough for him to find the good Scotch.

He could feel it coming and his good friend didn’t disappoint “John Winchester I’ve never known you to back off a trail once you got the scent.”

John grimaced picking up one of the articles and stuffing it in his pocket. “Watch the boys for me.” He told Jim lightly as he turned to go only to be stopped by a hard grip on his arm keeping him from leaving.

His nostrils flared and he could feel the rage building inside, his voice was low and dangerous as he warned his friend “Let me the fuck go.” It came out somewhere between a snarl and a growl and he really had to get the hell out of there.

The grip tightened for a second almost painfully before it let up and John knew it would just be more bruises on his skin. Jim’s voice was just as firm as his “Fine Johnny boy but once you kill whatever demon crawled up your ass we need to have a talk.”

John snorted reaching for the coat he had discarded on the way in the house “Keep telling yourself that.” He turned to leave hand on the doorknob when he saw Dean standing there outside of the room pajamas worn and faded from too many washing eyes watching him intently.

John locked eyes with his oldest boy and he felt the guilt and the shame reminders of the ways he had failed Mary and had failed the boy in front of him. He didn’t look at Dean as a father would, when he stared at the boy for a split second he didn’t see his son but a soldier who had failed to follow orders and had put the mission in danger, had put his baby brother in danger.

John tried to reign in his emotions schooling his features but it was too late, the look that past between father and son in that moment something had shifted and changed, something he could never take back, he saw the shame in his son’s eyes and the way the boy seemed to dull before him bowing his head and retreating silently back into the room.

In that moment John knew he had fucked up royally and when he turned to Jim the man only confirmed it his gaze cold letting John know that he destroyed something. That he had destroyed his son and that was just another burden for John to shoulder, the knowledge that he would be the one to break the boy.

I walk and cry while my heartbeat
Keeps time with the drag of my shoes
The sun never shines through this window of mine
It's dark at the Home of the Blues

Oh, but the place is filled with the sweetest mem'ries
Mem'ries so sweet that I cry
Dreams that I've had left me feeling so bad
I just want to give up and lay down and die

So if you've just lost your sweetheart
And it seems there's no good way to choose
Come along with me, misery loves company
You're welcome at the Home of the Blues

Just around the corner there's heartache
Down the street that losers use
If you can wade in through the teardrops
You'll find me at the Home of the Blues
Yeah, you're gonna find me at the Home of the Blues

You Got Nothin' on Me

Sun, 05 Aug 2007 21:46:07 GMT

Title: You Got Nothin' On Me
Series: A Chance to Love
Author: sndreamer
Locations: poorboyshuffle, ahd my lj
Characters: John, Ellen, Jo, Other Male, Mentions Mary, Bill, Dean and Sam
Spoilers Born Under a Bad Sign
Ratings: R, AU
Summary: This first part was written for a poorboyshuffle challenge with the CCR song 'You Got Nothin' on Me'. John visits the Roadhouse.
Disclaimers: I don't own anything here but my way with words.
Please leave a comment. I want to know what you think.

I'm hope tell to you that you better stay out of my way
There ain't a man alive to beat me
And that's why I'm here to stay
You may be something but you got nothing on me

You know just for fun I wrassled with a grizzly bear
I even fought with an alligator
I didn't even mess my hair
Well You may be something but you got nothing on me

John sat at a table at the Roadhouse. He had drowned out the surrounding conversation. He had a cold beer in front of him and he was feeling numb.

Another hunter sat down at the table and tried to start a conversation. John tried to be polite but just wanted to brush him off. This hunter was a kid, and he thought he knew it all. He bragged about close-calls that he’d had. (If he’d been careful, they wouldn’t have existed to begin with) He laughed in the face of death, and actually seemed to enjoy challenging it. John could see the kid didn’t have a clue.

Before too long, John’s fatherly instincts got the better of him. This kid was someone’s son. He asked him if he ever wanted to do the usual things in life like getting married, having a family, or staying in one place long enough to have a home. The kid thought he could have it all.

“After all, you’re married. Do you have kids?” he said.

“My wife passed away many years ago. Yes, I do have kids, two grown boys. There was no excuse for the danger I put them in. I drug them all over on hunts. They are still in danger.”

“How come you still wear your wedding ring?” he said thinking he’d caught John in a fib.

“One day, you’ll know,” John responded. His voice was low as he thought of Mary.

“You guys need anything?” Jo approached the table.

“Just you, honey,” the kid smiled and it reminded John of Dean.

“I’ll have to think about that, Cole,” Jo flashed him back a smile. “Anything else I can bring you?”

“No thanks,” John shook his head at the exchange he’d witnessed.

“I’ll have another one,” Cole waved his empty beer.

“Be right back,” Jo turned and Cole made sure to enjoy the way she walked.

“That is the perfect girl for me,” Cole said without realizing that he said it aloud.

“Jo?”

“Yep, didn’t you see how she was checking me out?”

John just lifted his eyebrows and nodded his head as he took another drink, even though he didn’t see how it all would work out for Cole. He just wanted to avoid an argument.

When it got close to closing time, Helen stopped by John’s table. She asked him what he thought about his new friend, Cole. “New friend?” John chuckled. “He was just sitting at my table shooting the breeze.”

“Well, look at who he’s shooting the breeze with now,” Ellen tilted her head toward the bar, where Cole stood a little too close to Jo. “How much time should I give him before I chase him away?”

John shook his head. “He’s determined and uninformed. A dangerous combination”

“Take as long as you want to finish, I’m just getting started at closing now.”

John breathed in the scene of Cole and Jo. His mind drifted back to Jo’s dad, Bill, who had gone hunting with him once. Bill sure loved his family. He’d been severely injured after a botched plan during a hunt. John had promised Bill that he’d keep an eye on Ellen and Jo, keep them from harm. When Bill was in so much pain that he couldn’t stand it anymore, John ended his suffering. It was because of their friendship that he did that last act of kindness. Jo was little then, about the same age as Dean. Ellen was strong and continued to run the Roadhouse. John stopped by and checked in on them when possible. Ellen knew about the supernatural, and she knew that John would come at a moment’s notice to protect them.

He looked a Jo now and realized how quickly she’d grown up. She was no longer the little girl in pigtails. She was a beautiful woman. Ellen had told him that Jo wanted to become a hunter. John didn’t think that Bill would have approved of that for his little girl. He’d wanted so much for her. Just as John had wanted more for Dean and Sam.

He saw Jo in a new light as he looked back at her by the bar. She had a beautiful smile. A beautiful smile was what had attracted John to Mary. He had a feeling in his chest that he hadn’t felt in many, many years. It would take him awhile to come up with a name for it, but it was love. It was more than wanting to protect her, although that was part of it, too. Then, he remembered the age difference and tried to push the thought and feeling aside.

Bittersweet Memories - Gen

Sun, 05 Aug 2007 15:54:16 GMT

Title: Bittersweet Memories
Author: pushkin666
Pairings: None
Rating: PG13
Words: ~1050
Spoilers: Series 1 and In My time of Dying
Locations: poorboyshuffle, my LJ

Summary:Song One Piece at a Time by Johnny Cash John’s thoughts on how important the Impala is to his boys and just what he’s prepared to give up to save Dean.

Author's Notes: Thank you to varkelton for doing an excellent job of beta’ing and for dealing with my comma phobia. Any remaining mistakes are all mine. This is a whole new direction for me as I normally write slash, so writing a gen story about John was a bit of a challenge. Hopefully it's not too awful!

Disclaimer: Not mine more's the pity.

A man's not dead (while his name's still spoken) [fic, gen, pg13]

Tue, 31 Jul 2007 22:46:38 GMT

>>A man’s not dead (while his name’s still spoken)

TITLE: A man’s not dead (while his name’s still spoken)

AUTHOR: ultraviolet9a
SPOILER: ranges from pre-series but has spoilers for IMToD and AHBL.

GENRE: Gen.

CHARACTERS: John, Dean, Sam, Bobby, Ellen, Deacon, YED, Missouri, and other minor ones and OCs.

SUMMARY: Title sums it up and builds up and leads to…eh… a finale. Climax. You name it. Cuz John Winchester left a print in the world.

RATING: PG-13
FEEDBACK: Dude…duh.
DISCLAIMER: Own them? Any of it? Oh I wish. Still, wordweaving’s mine.

NOTE: Written for my second poorboyshufflesong challenge: I won’t back down song (lyrics here) Song by Tom Petty, though I’m having the Johnny Cash version in mind (that was pointed out by omg she’s so awesome hiyacynth, who also caught plenty mistakes and comas in this fic. Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll be sending you lots and lots of pics, you know that, right?). In combo with two facts: I’ve been haunted by a phrase in Going Postal by Terry Pratchett. So I used it as a title and built up a whole fic around it. Best way to salt and burn it I reckon. Now throw some of my cultural background into the mix and here it is.

Well I won't back down, no I won't back down
You can stand me up at the gates of hell
But I won't back down

Deadline Reminder

Mon, 30 Jul 2007 18:06:16 GMT

We'ev had a lot of really fantastic responses to this challenge so far! I wanted to remind everybody that the deadline for posting is August 30, 2007. Which means there's still plenty of time. ;-)

(I say this because I thought it was August 1st and was gonna post a reminder and.. yeah. Wheee, another whole month!)

I Still Miss Someone

Thu, 19 Jul 2007 13:05:35 GMT

Still Miss Someone

Title: I Still Miss Someone
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1177
Characters: John, unnamed woman
Spoilers: Comic books
Summary: John finds some companionship after a particularly rough hunt

Lyrics from Johnny Cash’s I Still Miss Someone
I go out on a party and look for a little fun
But I find a darkened corner cause I still miss someone
Though I never got over those blue eyes I see them everywhere
I miss those arms that held me when all the love was there

John was tired. Oh, so tired. He'd finally killed that evil thing, but it had taken so much out of him. The boys were still safe with Father Jim, and it would be such a long drive to get there. Besides, part of him was pulling him elsewhere .. .

He could recall the details of Mary's face, how her hair smelled on the pillow next to his. Her smile would automatically make him smile. Each time he saw her, that first glance had made his heart stop for a moment. And, her eyes. They were so beautiful and full of sparkle until the end. The last time he saw her, she'd been pinned to the ceiling of Sammy's nursery and her eyes were full of horror and pain. If he tried to remember the good memories, he yearned for the future they never had a chance to have. If he remembered the look in her eyes before she burst into flames, the anger could consume him. There was no painless way to remember his wife and the love they shared.

He drove to the motel he’d first stayed at with the boys after Mary’s death. The lady who owned it had watch the boys for him when he went on his first hunt for a hellhound. He’d been back to the motel several times since then. She’d become a friend, an occasional comfort in his unpredictable life.

She’d woken up when John rang the bell. Her eyes were blurry as she entered the office and looked at her customer. “How long will you be staying this time, John?” She asked.

“One night for sure, maybe two. Do you have a room?”

“There’s always room here for you,” she replied. “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hell. Are you okay?”

“Just in need of a shower and some sleep,” was his answer. “This was a particularly tough one to get rid of. Days like this, I feel so old.”

“You’re not old, John. Just a little peace and quiet and you’ll be back to keeping me on my toes in no time.”

John gave her that smile of his that made her heart melt. “You are always so kind to me. I’m not that much trouble to have around am I?”

“Did you hear me complaining?” she smiled back. She handed him a key, “It’s open for two nights in case you decide to stay.”

“Okay, thank you.”

He got so sleepy standing in the hot shower. He was finally able to relax since the hunt started. Getting the dirt off felt good, too. He toweled off and headed for bed.

There she was. The moonlight and the way she was smiling made her look years younger. She’d been a beautiful woman. Time alone had turned her tough and a little rough around the edges. “I thought you might want some company,” she said in a way that was a question. John could have said he didn’t need any and their friendship wouldn’t have changed.

“I think I’d like that,” his deep voice rumbled and his smile lit up his eyes a little. He walked towards her as she stood up. They met somewhere near the middle of the room. They embraced and each felt the other relax a little. Her robe felt silky against his bare chest. His skin was still a little wet beneath her cheek. To her, he felt solid and protective.

She had her arms around his neck. His hands were on the small of her back. He had hung his head down just to feel a little closer to her. His cheek rested on the top of her head. After a few moments of soaking in the feeling of her body against his, he moved one callused hand to her jaw and tilted her head up toward his. Their eyes met. They both had the warm look of longing in their eyes. Alone for too long. Craving the simple act of being touched by someone. Not daring to crave anything more, just simple human contact.

He gently pressed his lips to hers. Her lips responded and he could not suppress a groan from deep inside. She sighed as their lips ventures to each other’s neck and shoulders. John took a small step back, broke their kiss and put a finger in the tie of the belt of her robe. He looked in her face for any sign of hesitation. If there had been any, he knew he would still be able to sleep holding her robed body. But, here was none. Her robe was easily opened. His rough hands caught on the material as he slipped it off and it fell to the floor.

Her nightgown underneath had been purchased several years before, back when she cared about having a boyfriend. It didn’t fit quite right but John just saw the good heart that he knew was beating underneath the aged material. He pulled her closer to him, away from her robe on the floor. He led her to the bed, where they were caressing and kissing, each of them starting to come alive. Clothing was discarded as they continued on, hungering for more.

Afterwards, she had her head on his chest as they were talking. His strong arm was around her, lazily stroking her arm, sometimes tempting her breast. They fell asleep naked and pressed together, as only two openly honest people can be.

She slipped back down to the office before daylight. John took pleasure watching her wake and dress. He almost asked her to stay longer, but knew that she needed to look respectable when guests came in. She bent over the bed and kissed him once more before leaving. John happened to get a glance and he looked up at her with a smile and mischief in his eyes.

“I see you are already rested. Do I have to watch what I do around you?“ she pretended to be scolding.

“No,“ John’s face didn’t change, “Just appreciating the view.“

She laughed as she left. John decided he could call Father Jim and tell him he’d be on his way tomorrow. John needed that second night at the hotel.

He ached for Mary. Nothing would change that. But, at the motel, he’d found a lady who was also longing for someone from her past--possibly the one she bought the nightgown for. Since each of them was hurting because of someone else, it made it okay to fall together for a night or two, easing the pain temporarily. They could be with a friend who cared but would never ask for love that their own heart was unable to give.

Tags: i still miss someone, john winchester, supernatural

FIC: Fortunate Son, PG-13, 1/1

Tue, 17 Jul 2007 00:05:29 GMT

Title: Fortunate Son
Author: topaz119
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2700 words
Disclaimer: Recognizable names don't belong to me, but I love them dearly regardless.
Notes: Pre-series; general spoilers for the show. I picked CCR's Fortunate Son, because I've had that song in my head for the Winchesters from about 30 seconds after we first met John for real.

Mary had asked him about it once, when she was pregnant with Sam, right when the dedication ceremonies were playing out nightly on the six o'clock news, Tom Brokaw pacing grave and restrained along the length of the black granite wall.

SPN Gen fic: Have you ever seen the rain?

Thu, 12 Jul 2007 13:13:21 GMT

Title: Have you ever seen the rain? (CCR)
author: phantomas
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: GEN, no pairing
Characters: John Winchester, mention of Jim Murphy
Warnings: None
Notes: written for the poorboyshuffle challenge. I chose CCR's "Have you Ever Seen the Rain" as first prompt. This came out more as a Mood Piece floating in and out of time and of John's mind than a story proper. Comments/crit welcome. disanddat betaed this for me, all horrors are mine. Crossposted to my LJ.

Have you ever seen the rain?
by CCR

Someone told me long ago there's a calm before the storm,
I know, it's been comin' for some time.
When it's over, so they say, it'll rain a sunny day,
I know, shinin' down like water.

I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?
I want to know, have you ever seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day?

Yesterday, and days before, sun is cold and rain is hard,
I know; been that way for all my time.
til forever, on it goes through the circle, fast and slow,
I know; it can't stop, I wonder.

I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?
I want to know, have you ever seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day?

Have you ever seen the rain

He walks slowly amongst the still smoking remains. One step after the other, looking down at the destruction. The smoking wood sizzles where the raindrops fall. Bamboo leaves, dried and roasted. Thick mud. The odd empty bowl. A rice sack, in the last standing corner of what was home to someone. The rice is all brown and gone bad, the sackcloth soaked and smelly.
His weapon is heavier in his arms. The sweat on his brow gets mixed up with the raindrops. It runs on his cheeks, on his neck. Under the collar of his dirty t-shirt.

He tries not to step on any bones.

It rains, steadily, slowly. It blurs the soot and ash under his boots. It blurs the back of the fellow Marine in front of him, and the one before him, and the one before… a long, snake-line of broken men moving from jungle to jungle across this destruction.

Mary, he thinks. Mary.

The rain keeps falling, drop after drop after drop. Night and day, day and night. Everything melts away with it.

~~~

He doesn't seem to realize that by now, he's soaked wet. The coffee in his hands has gone cold, the steam lost in mid-air. His head rolls back, eyes closed at the sky, grey, muted, opaque. There's no way to avoid this. He steels himself, throws the coffee away. There's silence waiting for him inside the motel room, Tropical Nights, the motel is called, and it makes him gnaw his teeth, fuck the place, and the name, and the rain.

Sammy is taller than him, now. Not by much.

Dean has his arms crossed across his chest, a tense, tight line to his lips.

Sam yells louder than both of them. Louder than the thunder outside. Louder than the slamming of doors, the slamming of hands flat on the cheap table between them.

He thought…. He's seen it coming. How could he not? The calm before the storm. Now he stares at his son, his child, and all he can see it's destruction, and smoke snaking up in the air, and all he can hear is the sound of the raindrops hitting the windowpanes.

When it's over, he's surprised to see that it's stopped raining.

Sam, he thinks. Sammy.

~~~

Jim's voice is quiet on the phone. He shouldn't drive as he talks on the phone, but he's keeping an eye on the road. No patrols around. With this weather, they're probably hidden someplace dry. The car-wipers swish-swash in front of him, back and forth. They dance with the rain drops.

It'll be okay, Jim says. You should call him, he says. He's just like you, he says. You're lucky he went to college, and not to war, he says.

Is it ever going to end, Jim? John wants to ask. Will it ever end, the rain, and the smoke, and the blood, and the cold?

Dean is in New Orleans. Dean is strong. Dean is a good boy. A good son. A good brother. A good man.

All he wanted for his sons was to have a sunny future.

~~~

He reaches out with his hand. He wants to touch the drops as they fall. It doesn't hurt. He expected it to hurt. Everything is calm around him. He can smell the smoke, though, so he know it's coming. It's been coming for a long time, now, and he's tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of the drops falling, and washing it all away.

Dean, he thinks. Dean.

It's what makes him move. Makes it all worth it.

It figures that it'd be raining. There's a storm coming, and his boys will be right in the middle of it…

He looks around. Sees the mud. The bones sticking out. He tries not to step on them, not to look at the empty eyes staring up at him. He starts walking, but soon, it's hands and knees, broken nails and blood. The wind has picked up, slamming the rain hard in his face. He'll crawl, if he can't walk. He'll scream, if he can't talk. He'll cough the smoke out of his lungs, let them burn his flesh, because the rain won't stop, and all he can do is crawl out of this hell, crawl out of the rain, see the light filtering amongst the raindrops again, claw his way out.

And let the rain keep falling.

fin

Flesh and Blood, slashy fic

Wed, 11 Jul 2007 04:25:43 GMT

Flesh and blood
by Carla Jane

Written for poorboyshuffle, the prompt was Johnny Cash's "Flesh and Blood". The fic is inspired by that, but it's not a perfect match for the song.

Summary: John and Dean get painted up in preparation for a hunt.
Rating: a soft R for daydreams of parental wincest
Warnings: This fic has a slash theme. No physical contact, but clear John/Dean desires.

He had taken his turn. He’d stood quietly, legs apart and arms lifted, for two hours while the witch had painted him. Blood, water, ashes and herbs, had been applied with a series of tip-crushed willow wands. He'd put up with the wet, nearly maddening tickle of the strands, standing without complaint as the symbols were formed. It was needful. The thing they were hunting later tonight was powerful and dangerous, and made more dangerous by its age. Every precaution had to be taken.

Finished with him and ready to start on her next living canvas, Maggie had shoved him out the door with a couple of musty, hand-written books to keep him entertained. She had told him to get out and stay out until she was finished with the other Winchester. He'd had to bite back the urge to complain. They'd both had their chance to stare at him, exposed and forced into stillness. He'd wanted the opportunity to watch the lines take shape on the solid flesh that misted through his dreams more often than not these days. It was a valid reason to stare at exposed skin. A falsely innocent reason. Maybe Maggie sensed that, maybe that's why she chased him out, to foil his attempt at voyeurism.

In warm air of the summer morning, the books had been a fair option to working up a sweat while practicing. If the paint ran before it dried in the right designs, well, then the symbols wouldn’t be much protection. The book about home-made charms turned out to be rather interesting. There were luck spells, money enchantments, small bits of protection, a few minor curses and a variety of love/lust/binding charms. Most of them were worth trying. Certainly that reed whistle that would call cash to their fingers would be damned handy. Still, it was the pages with those last incantations that caused a powerful shiver, a shiver that was equal parts guilt and eagerness. The ingredients for most of the recipes were lying all about the woodland that surrounded the witch’s cottage. A kit from the trunk of the Impala would provide the few tools he needed. He could do it, if he dared.

Just a year ago it would have been unthinkable to use magic to bind the family together, but just a year ago Sammy had been safely tucked in the back seat while the Winchesters crisscrossed the country on dusty back roads. So he settled down under a willow tree that was thicker around than his thigh and set to drilling holes through horse-chestnuts that had been rubbed with a crushed-rose from Maggie's garden. His bare feet dangled in the cold stream that bubbled along behind the cottage, the foam tickling when he stretched and spread his toes. No paint marked his feet. The crawling symbols came to a halt just above his ankle.

The book said to think about how much you wanted to love and safeguard the subject of the charm as it was strung together. One bead at a time. One desperate plea at a time. That part was too simple, dangerously simple. There was only one other person in the world that he wanted to protect as much. He tried to concentrate on just those attributes, pure love and the urge to protect… but keeping his thoughts perfectly disciplined wasn’t easy. It could almost be called accidental if a measure of lust tainted the spell. Almost, if he was willing to pretend. As much as the wider population of the world would disapprove, he couldn’t help it when desire crept into the weaving as well. Magic had a way of pulling things out of person’s thoughts that couldn’t be shared aloud.

On a more practical level, the chant and stringing of the necklace helped to take his mind off the crawling itch of the charmed lines that were drawn on the exposed skin of his body. Dressed in only a pair of shorts, the breezed puffed across the paint on his face, arms, chest, legs and feet. Damn but Sammy would likely be fascinated if he could see the arcane scrawls curving over his skin. That’s the kind of person Sammy was. Sammy and his aptitude for research, his love of books… that thought caused a grimace. They tried not to talk about Sam these days, even if they couldn’t help but think about him.

Dragging his mind back on track, the completed necklace was knotted into a closed loop while one last soft spell was uttered. There was no flash of light, but the necklace did seem to warm in his hands. Satisfied, he walked to the Impala and quietly opened one of the car doors. There was a crack in the leather of the seat that hadn’t been mended yet.

Feeding it carefully in through the small slit in the covering, he stashed the newly created binding charm out of sight, but in a place where it would be able to influence it’s intended target every day. Maybe this was a sneaky trick, but ‘whatever does the job’ had become a part of the Winchester way of life. Ideally, maybe it should have gone in the seat-back, close to where a heart would beat instead of down near the crotch, but the flaw in the leather was where it was. Hopefully it wouldn’t make the seat uncomfortable.

Closing the door, he leaned on the car and let his attention wander. Geese were squawking over-head. The sun was growing hot, but a breeze kept the air fresh. This was a hell of a sweet piece of property the witch lived on. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to give the area up to the invading spirit that they had come to destroy. A twirling gust filled his lungs with the scent of lilies and sage.

Wandering back to the stream to collect the spell book he’d been using, he glanced at the cottage. It FELT like hours had passed. She had to be nearly done the second enchantment. He was more than a little ashamed by how much he wanted to see the way the sigils made of charmed ink crawled over bare, muscled flesh. Most of the time the two of them wore multiple layers of clothing, but not right now. Maggie had insisted on drawing almost everywhere, even if the markings would disappear under denim and cotton later.

Leaves rustled in the wind. A cardinal burst into song before taking off in a whirlwind of beating wings. A beam of sunshine hit the cottage door and … as if on cue… the door opened. The sight that appeared before him was enough to steal his breath away. Wrong though it might be, his eyes locked on and nearly devoured the view. Brownish-black paint outlined muscles even as the designs warded and told a story. One line of paint circled a nipple, dipped down to swirl over a flat stomach and then disappeared under the waistband of faded blue underwear. It was enough to make his fingers tingle with the desire to tug on that elastic and peer inside, in search of the continuation of the swirling pattern.

“It itches.”

“It’ll itch more as it dries.”

They would have to spend a couple more hours hanging around the cottage to be sure the paint wouldn’t smear as they dressed, stripping away the charms’ protective attributes. Hours of looking while pretending not to stare. Hours of seeing what he wanted so badly without being permitted to touch. This was going to be a brutal test of self-control.

The witch edged out of the door. “Best you both sit in the sun. The glyphs will soak up the power of the light.” She collected her books. Her head tipped and she eyed the nearby forest. “I’m grateful John, to you and your boy. The wraith that lives in there wasn’t much of a bother when I first arrived years ago… but something has stirred it up. It’s been coming right up and rattling the windows lately. I can’t keep animals anymore, not even a cat… and there’s been children disappearing lower down the mountain.” She rubbed at reddened, weary eyes. “I need to take a nap or I’m not going to have the strength to watch over you tonight during the hunt.”

“Go, rest… we’ll be fine.”

John walked over to stand by the stream. Legs bent and he crouched down, his attention caught by a flash of silver scales breaking the surface of the water. The pose tightened the thin fabric across his ass. “This is damned nice piece of property, isn’t it? It’s quiet. I doubt anyone visits who doesn’t have business.” He observed. "Wha’cha been up to, Dean, while you were waiting out here?” Looking back over his shoulder, John frowned, likely puzzled by the expression on Dean’s face. “Have you been fretting? You shouldn’t… this won’t be an easy hunt, but so long as we’re careful we’ll be fine.”

A thumb was hooked toward the now-closed door of the cottage. “I was looking through those charm books… there’s some diagrams for warding circles made out of willow switches. It wouldn’t hurt to bend up a few and toss them in the car.” He made himself breathe slow and steady. Placing his feet carefully, Dean padded over to join John on the bank of the stream. He didn’t go barefoot often so watching his feet, well, that gave him a good reason to fight the urge to stare at John. John's body was impossible to ignore once Dean was right beside his father. Still, he could blame the urge to stare on a curiosity about the designs Maggie painted on them. It's not like Dean could look at the ones on his own shoulders and back.

God damn, but Dean wanted to touch. He'd been skirting the edges of attraction toward John for years, but common morality and Sammy's presence had helped to keep the odd feelings Dean experienced within the framework of 'FAMILY'. Now it was just the two of them, a couple of men traveling together, the urges that Dean had to grab and hold onto his father had taken on a more persistently sexual taint.

Dean disguised the desire, brushing a fingertip gently along one of John's shoulder-blades right at a paint marking. "It's drying fast. She start with your back?" He touched again, lower, biting the inside of his cheek to counter-balance the pleasure of feeling his father's warm, exposed skin. The prickle in Dean's fingertip could have been either the witch's spell-work or sexual tension, at least that was a story he could tell himself.

"Nope, she did the one that sneaks down under my belly first so I could pull my shorts up... but the day's heating up. I think I'm drying faster than you." John's head tipped back and he stared up at the sky, seeming oblivious to Dean's lingering touch. "I hope it stays clear. We're going to need the starlight. Maggie says the spirit conks out flashlights... and a torch or a lantern in the woods is a bad idea. In case it gets dropped."

"If we start out at twilight, that'll get us near it's power-base before it's pitch-black." Sucking on his finger doesn't offer Dean anything but the bitter taste of the paint. "Then we could stay in the forest until dawn... I mean once we've taken out the big-bad. It'll be safe enough, safer than trying to pick our way through the woods in the dark." Safely behind his father, Dean stared, his eyes soaking in the line of John's spine.

John grunted, the tone of it suggesting agreement.

One blanket, Dean decided, just because they needed to save space in the packs for the ritual ingredients and weapons, not because he wanted an excuse to lay tight up against his father in the chill of the forest night. It was a decent lie, not a good one, but a fairly decent one.

John stood, stretching his arms high over his head so stiff joints pulled taunt.

It felt like a gut punch, watching the movement. "Fucking beautiful..." The murmur tore out of Dean, without him meaning to give it voice. "This place..." he added quickly when John turned a frown on him. "It's beautiful."

"Watch your language, Dean," John chided. His gaze swept the lush gardens, sunlit clearing and tumbledown cottage. "But, yeah... Maggie's got a fine place here. Pity she wasn't twenty years younger, boy. You could chat her up, maybe have a reason to come visit more often." John chuckled, teasing gently.

"There's something to be said for this place... and for older women with experience.." Dean smirked back. He had expectations to live up to after all. "But I'm not really the nature-boy type so I'll stick with you, the car and the road."

"That's my boy." John ruffled Dean's hair before heading toward the Impala. "Let's set up the packs for tonight, then we'll raid Maggie's cold cellar. It'll be easiest if we go in with full stomachs... so we don't have to haul food in too."

"Yessir," Dean agreed, but he couldn't help but hang back just enough that he could admire the view as his father walked in front of him. There wasn't anything in the clearing, the cottage, the surrounding woods... or even this part of the country that could possibly look better than seeing the figure of John, mostly naked and decorated like a primitive warrior-king, framed by their only real home, a sleek black car.

~ that's it for now. Milk and cookies time.

The song prompt involved was 'Flesh and Blood', by Johnny Cash
It's here if you want to hear the song: http://download.yousendit.com/0715D0096E9E689A

FIC: Hunter, Prey

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 20:28:29 GMT

Title: Hunter, Prey
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: All Ages
Characters: John Winchester, Bill Harvelle (not slash)
Summary: He was under no illusions about who was the hunter and who prey. Every instinct told him to run like Hell. Like Hell. Yeah, that was funny.
Warnings: None
Notes: Inspired by the poorboyshuffle challenge. I picked the Johnny Cash song Greystone Chapel as my prompt. What I originally had in mind was a story very different from this one, but it simply refused to work. This has much less direct connection to my chosen song, though I still feel an emotional resonance between them.

( Hunter, Prey )

I'm The Saddest Ridin' Fool Alive

Sun, 01 Jul 2007 07:45:40 GMT

Title: I'm The Saddest Ridin' Fool Alive (Or 4 Times John Winchester picked up a hitch-hiker, and 1 time he didn't)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable themes belong to Eric Kripke, the CW and others. I am in no way earning money or other profit from this fanfic.
Prompt: Sweet Hitch-Hiker
Characters/Pairing: John Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester; John/Mary
Spoilers: Pre-series; In My Time of Dying (2x01)
Warnings: Mild-angst, slight mention of character death, implied het
A/N: Extensive notes at my LJ.

Fake cut to Insanejournal

CCR -Long as I can see the light/ Fic, gen, pg 13

Sun, 10 Jun 2007 17:54:59 GMT

>> Long as I can see some light (I’ll be coming home)

TITLE: Long as I can see some light (I’ll be coming home)

AUTHOR: ultraviolet9a
SPOILER: none. It’s pre-season.

GENRE: Gen.

CHARACTERS: John Winchester, Dean and Sam (wee to teen), minor players

SUMMARY: It isn’t always a supernatural freak they come up against. Sometimes all it takes is a fire. (Or how I view the bond between Dean and John, Dean and Sam and Sam and John, structured around the four elements. I love the boys in family mode.)

RATING: PG-13
FEEDBACK: Dude…duh.
DISCLAIMER: I could own them I reckon. No, really. Except, I don’t. At all. And make no profit either. (But Mr. Kripke, can you at least let me hug them?)

NOTE: Plot bunny was sitting around, and then I signed up for poorboyshuffle. One of the songs I asked for and got was Long as I can see the Light by CCR. And it all came together.

The Midnight Special FRAO John/Bobby

Sun, 10 Jun 2007 01:00:05 GMT

The Mid-Night Special

Author: Linda Atkinson

Characters, Pairings: John/Bobby, Dean, Sam and some OCs

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: M/M sex, no Wincest, violence, rough language, a little non-explicit het

Summary: John, Bobby and the boys work a case in Texas and end up running afoul of the police. In my little corner of the universes John never made that damn deal, and he’s alive and kicking.

My grateful thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta on the story.

I finally figured out the LJ Cuts thing, (Yay me!)

    Part 1:   http://linda92595.livejournal.com/26220.html

   Part 2:   http://linda92595.livejournal.com/26460.html

   Part 3:   http://linda92595.livejournal.com/26807.html

   Part 4:   http://linda92595.livejournal.com/27090.html

Part 5:   http://linda92595.livejournal.com/27360.html

    Sorry this is in so many sections. The freakin' LJ would not let me post more than a few pages at a time.

FIC: "Ring of Fire(Purgatorio)"

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 23:59:42 GMT

Title: Ring of Fire(Purgatorio)

Author: laguera25

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: FRM/R

Pairing: N/A; gen, mentions of John/Mary

Spoilers: Pre-series; episode 101

Warnings: Explicit gore

Summary: John Winchester has been burning since the put his Mary out.

Disclaimer: All characters, places, and events herein are property of Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, and the CW network. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made. For entertainment only.

A/N: Written for the poorboyshuffle John Winchester Fic and Art Challenge(Prompt: "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash), and for spn13(Prompt 06: Desperation). Link to my table is here.

Ring of Fire(Purgatorio)

SPN fic - Going Without - John and Dean PG13

Thu, 31 May 2007 00:05:08 GMT

TITLE: Going Without
AUTHOR: eloise_bright
RATING: PG13 (gen; mention of canon het)
CHARACTERS: John and Dean, mention of Dean/Cassie
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
PROMPT: Johnny Cash - One
NOTES: 1050 words. Set during Stanford era. John and Dean. After Cassie.

You want me to go without

When the Man Comes Around FRAO Dean/John

Mon, 28 May 2007 15:40:37 GMT

When the Man Comes Around

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean/John and various OCs

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: father/son incest, violence, rough language, blood and gore

Summary: Every man has a moment of doubt. How he lives his life is determined by what he does when the moment passes.

Written for the Poorboy Shuffle Challenge: http://community.livejournal.com/poorboyshuffle/

Many thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the beta and the great suggestions on the story.

Part 1: http://linda92595.livejournal.com/25509.html

Part 2: http://linda92595.livejournal.com/25749.html

Part 3: http://linda92595.livejournal.com/26048.html

CCR fanart: Hey Tonight

Sun, 27 May 2007 18:28:46 GMT

Tombstone Shadow FRT-13

Sun, 27 May 2007 13:58:30 GMT

Tombstone Shadow

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: FRT

Characters: Sam, Dean, John, Bobby, the deal making demon

Warnings: Violence, rough language

Summary: One year after the end of AHBL Sam makes his deal with the demon.

Many thanks t Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta and the great suggestions to the story.

Part 1: http://linda92595.livejournal.com/25063.html

Part 2: http://linda92595.livejournal.com/25244.html

SPN Fic: Someday Never Comes 1/1

Sun, 27 May 2007 10:14:12 GMT

Title: Someday Never Comes
Author: James
Rating: PG
Genres: gen, angst, wee!chesters
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Spoilers: none; pre-series
Word Count: ~1030
Summary: John was a father, a hunter, and a husband. He might have only been good at one of those three.
Notes: written for the poorboyshuffle Challenge. Song used is CCR's Someday Never Comes.
Notes2: I had this song in my head as I was writing it, and went to look up the lyrics and discovered it was a CCR song! Which meant I could make it for this community! I'm pretending I knew it, all along.

Daddy always smiled; took me by the hand, Sayin', "Someday you'll understand."

Song - It Ain't Me, Babe

Thu, 24 May 2007 21:19:31 GMT

Title: Luckless Fools
Pairing: John/Dean
Word Count: 1402
Rating: PG-13
A/N: For poorboyshuffle, 'It Ain't Me, Babe'. Lyrics used are by Johnny Cash. Spoilers for 'In My Time of Dying'.
Summary: John wants too many things to list.

Luckless Fools