Gimme Shelter by Nilchance

[liptonrm.livejournal.com]

Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Gen
Author on LJ: nilchance
Author Website: Nilchance’s SPN fic tag on LJ
Why this must be read: This is an AU that will just rip your heart out, in a good way. It is a truly spectacular story that really captures the things about John and Dean and Sam that make them such wonderful, memorable characters. With bonus Bobby being the biggest BAMF ever.

John leaned against the frame. He smelled like brimstone, smoke and sour sweat. There was no sign of blood, though Bobby looked for it. He looked rougher than usual, leaves in his hair and his beard grown thick. His face was lean and hungry.

John whistled at the dog and held his hand down to be sniffed. When Carter subsided with a grudging noise, John smiled his scary damn smile. There was blood wedged dark under his fingernails.

"Coffee?" Bobby asked.

With a shake of his head, John reached under his jacket. He pulled out his journal, a battered old thing held together by leather and a prayer. "Got a job for you," he said shortly. "Pennsylvania. Might be a poltergeist. Looks like that thing out of Waverly."

"You can't take it?"

John didn't glance up. "It's a state thing. Asylum."

"Far enough from Kansas."

An irritated edge slipped into John's voice at having to explain himself. Man had spent too much time alone in the field. "There's kids."

"Ah." So it was one of those. Bobby felt his attention slide to the band around John's finger, the silver worn dull and too big on his narrow killing hands. He sighed. "John."

John put out his hand, a bit of newspaper folded up between his fingers. He didn't look at Bobby, his eyes in constant restless motion, tracking every twitch and stray sound. "Take it or don't. I've got somewhere else to be."

Of course. It was always someone else to save, another demon to track, another quarry to corner and kill. It didn't help. Every time the man came around, Bobby could see John slipping deeper, and he didn't have any handholds to offer. So Bobby took the paper.

Hands empty now, John flexed his fingers and glanced warily at Bobby's face.

"Stay, you idiot," Bobby murmured, not unkindly. "Have a drink. Get some damned sleep. You look like hell."

John shook his head, twitchy, and backed up a step. "Mother of two in Arizona."

"There's always gonna be a hunt somewhere. Can't save them all."

John's mouth curved, humorless.

Gimme Shelter