kelly_girl | Fic: Reckoning, SPN, Gen

Title: Reckoning
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Gen, Futurefic
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Any recognizable name, not mine, no money earned

Summary: The Winchester's footsteps shook the world

Lucy hummed the scrap of some song as she drew on the cave wall, the wax stick dissolving in her hand as she pressed harder and harder into the hard rock. She drew any and everything, loving the way the colors spread and the figures told a story. No one was around to hear her soft singing, which was a good thing.

They’d lecture her, tell her to hide her joy so as not to draw attention to herself. She knew the rules, the whispers told around the fire as they all tried to keep warm on too cold nights.

Once there was sun and life. Once upon a time there were people that didn’t scurry and hide in caves, or live in the shadows of old half-standing buildings. All of that was before The Winchester, before Samuel, before he awoke and killed as easy as he breathed.

There are people that swore they’d seen him; tall and handsome striding across the land with flames following greedily in his footsteps. The ground had shook while the sky wept acid. They say nothing still grows where he’d walked all those years ago. Others say the sound of his voice drove millions insane.

She can recite the stories and the names that have been passed from parents to children; John, Dean, and Mary. No one gives new babies those names. No one wants to single out their kids or themselves.

She’d learned and recited the tales of demons and blood, revenge and sacrifice along with her letters and numbers. She’d been told the years they all went by were marked as A.W., After Winchester.

This year was sixty-seven years since Sam Winchester had taken the world apart piece by piece. No one’s sure why, but everyone has their opinions. They say he did it because he was born wrong, dirty. Others say he was a warrior that became tired and never saw the line he’d crossed.

A lot of the young girls love the story of his brother, Dean, while others say it was his fault; that the brothers became more and doomed themselves to hell. When demons came for them they were too stubborn and fought until the sky turned black and ash rained down.

Lucy sighed. Every day she picked a story to recite out loud and then think about. Her aunt had taught her that, said it made your mind sharp, to ask questions and examine. She crept down to the small stream and filled her small gourds with water, her brown hair falling into her face. Her aunt had disappeared three days ago.

Ever since Lucy had fallen ill and talked of things that no one knew, her and her aunt lived away from the clan, just the two of them. Her aunt told her how the elders had pushed in and gathered around Lucy’s bed as she’d screamed and shouted about The Winchester.

It didn’t take long for the rumors to start; vicious ones about her mother that said she’d consorted with Samuel, that Lucy must be a child of the beast. Her mother was long dead, unable to defend herself, and Lucy too weak to know what was going on.

A week after Lucy recovered, her aunt dragged her into the woods. The night had been full of fire and she’d heard the anger as the clan members, people she’d known all her life, searched for her so they could kill her. It’d been her twelfth birthday.

Now, seven years later, she and her aunt had survived with a small garden and traps set to catch an animal or two. Sometimes, her aunt would venture near the clan, sneaking food, clothes or medicine. She’d never been gone this long and Lucy knew she was dead.

They’d taken the only person to ever care about her and now she recited the stories with more understanding. She ached in her soul and in her bones. Now she prayed that she really was the child of a man that’d made the world bow before him.

Inside her home, she lit her last candle and lay down to draw. She’d dreamed last night, wonderful, terrifying dreams. In some of them there’d been a tall man she could barely see. He’d pressed cool lips to her forehead and whispered promises in her ear until she’d woken up.

When her eyes grew heavy she blew out the candle and closed her eyes, knowing that in a few nights, everything would change and she’d know the truth about The Winchester. Then she’d visit her old clan.

End