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Let's start...
May. 19th, 2012 01:14 pmMy name is Dean Winchester and I'm a forensic blood splatter analyst. Catchy title, huh?
Anyway, on the surface, you'd see me as any other guy. I wouldn't stand out, not much. If I did, it wouldn't be in the ways you might come to expect when I finish talking.
I was born four years before my brother in Lawrence, Kansas. I think I was normal then... I loved my mom, I loved my dad, and I even loved my baby brother. I had big plans to teach everything to him, be the best big brother ever. Dad was a cop and a damn good one. An amazing one. Mom was beautiful and kind. Always cut the crusts off my PB&J.
It wasn't perfect, but it was the closest I've ever seen to it. Of course, I was a frigging kid, so I didn't know the really bad stuff. I knew Mom and Dad fought sometimes. Usually Dad's fault and I would have to try to cheer Mom up, smooth over the messes. That was the extent of the 'bad' for so those four years though.
It all came to an end six months after Sammy was born though.
For all his smarts as a cop, for all the precautions, someone still had the frigging balls to break in. Can you believe that? Who'd even be stupid enough to break into a cop's house, let alone one of the best?
Anyway, I had been asleep when I heard my mom screaming for help. I realized it was from my brother's room, so I ran the short distance just in time to see this man in black cut her throat. I'd never seen so much blood. It filled the room so damn fast and I felt the warm, stickiness seep under my feet as I scrambled for my brother's crib. He was crying and all I could think was, 'Protect him!', 'Get Sammy!'. I cried for Mom to wake up too.
She didn't. She never did.
The guy made a grab for me as I scrambled up the side of Sammy's crib, desperately tried to get in and get him out. I wasn't the smartest kid then, but then again, this guy wasn't the smartest criminal. I remember I thought, 'This is it, he's going to cut me.', but a gunshot rung out before that could happen. It was loud enough to hurt, to make my ears ring and my sobs even harder. The guy was hit and his blood splattered against me and Sammy. The guy fell over and my little body fell back into a pool of my mother's blood.
It was gross and sticky. It seeped through my clothes and I wanted to wretch, but I didn't. I looked over at the door to see who'd saved me.
Dad was in there, wide-eyed and breathing hard. I can still remember that look on his face... wild, crazy. Like his whole world shattered right in front of him. I guess it kind of did.
Everything sort of froze for awhile, shock settling in.
Eventually, Dad came in the room and pulled me to my feet... I don't remember how long I laid there exactly, how long he let me lay there crying and scared, listening to my baby brother wail. I do remember at some point turning my head to meet my mother's dead gaze, her expression still pinched in terror. I don't think I'll ever forget that.
Anyway, Dad told handed me my brother and told me to get out of the room, get him out and take care of him, and that he'd call 911. The cops and ambulance would be on its way.
There wasn't any saving Mom. She'd bled out almost instantly. Guy knew just where to cut... or maybe it was just dumb luck. I don't know.
Dad was a changed man after that. He was broken and blamed himself, I think. He drank too much, he worked too much. Like he could make it all better if he put more assholes behind bars.
I was changed too.
Or maybe I was just never right, who knows.
I had a fascination with death and blood. A curiosity I couldn't sate or indulge. Not that I had much time... my brother, Sammy was more important than that even. He was a baby and Dad kept telling me to take care of him, watch him. I tried my best... I really did. I think I did alright since he's a good kid.
I don't know how I managed. I can't say I feel much at all, but I can act like I do. It's hard faking sometimes though and I always worry somebody's gonna figure me out, see through my mask.
But you know what? for Sam, I feel everything. I'm proud of the kid. He's aiming for detective now, works hard, he's good to everyone. I like to think that, even though I'm a monster, I did good with Sam. He's the only thing I really love, I think.
Anyway, I know. I'm supposed to be telling you about me. I ain't too good at talking about myself, so hang on.
Anyway, as I grew older, my curiosity was harder to ignore and I gave in sometimes. Not on people. I ain't that stupid. I did it with animals... this one dog was a mean little shit. He bit my brother hard enough he needed stitches one day when he was walking back to school. I was about twelve, I guess.
I waited until night and took care of it. I'll spare you the details... lots of people hate animal torture and I know it's wrong now. Hell, I try not to make a habit of it, but the little bastard should've left Sammy alone.
Anyway, my dad was a sharp one, even when he spent half his life buried in a bottle. I was about fourteen when he took me aside and told me he knew what I'd been up to. I thought he'd take me to some kind of hospital where they'd shove pills down my throat or put me in group therapy. Maybe they'd just lock me in a padded room and I'd never get out again. I begged him not to do that though, because Sammy needed me.
Sam did need me. He was starting to fight with the old man a lot. I was peacekeeper.
Dad assured me he hadn't thought of it though. I was surpried, but that's how all this started. I'm grateful now, so grateful. He taught me right from wrong, how to tell the difference and how to spot someone who truly deserved to be punished.
Truly evil people. Like the guy who killed Mom.
I soaked up the knowledge, I learned how to do what I wanted and not get caught, how and where to hide bodies. I learned it all. Dad was turning me into his perfect little killing machine, I guess. He told me I'd have to try harder at acting normal too... or at least be able to pass as not batshit crazy like I am.
Not that big of a problem... I was good looking enough to get plenty of dates back in school and even when I got out. I like sex and apparently, I am awesome at it. I like working on my car, the one Dad gave me... A '67 Chevy Impala. She's a thing of beauty.
Okay, so maybe I love the car too. The car and my brother.
I respect my dad too, get the way he's broken. In his own way, he's as messed up as I am. Plus, he's the only one who's in on my secret, taught me how to control my dark side. I owe him a lot.
Sammy... I don't think he's ever known there was anything off about me and I don't want him to. He's always been important to me. I feel responsible for making sure he's safe and happy... and he wouldn't be happy if he knew big bro liked to cut people up.
So I keep it to myself. I keep it buried deep under a mask and deny being a monster. I smile, I joke, I watch too much bad TV and drink too much beer. I guess I got my dad's problem with booze, but I like it. It makes me feel relaxed, makes me feel a little more human.
My brother has his own place now, with this cute girl named Jessica. I think he wants to marry her. She'd be good for him. She's got brains, she knows how to crack a joke, and she cares about the guy. Gorgeous too... I joke she's out of his league all the time.
If you want the truth though, I wasn't happy at first and maybe I'm still not. He's off, doing his own thing and I'm down one thing that keeps me human. Acting human, anyway. I'll probably be asked to be the best man at his wedding and I'll have to smile and act happy. I hope I can fake it enough that he won't notice I have no idea how to react in this situation.
But I can't complain too much, I guess. The guys at work like me, the girls love me, and I got my family close by who are both happy... well, Sammy is, anyway. Dad hasn't been happy since Mom died. He's brought obsessed to a whole new level.
Him and Sammy don't talk much either. Huge blowing out over school and some of Sammy's life choices. Sam's never been like me though... he's never just followed along with whatever Dad wanted to do.
Anyway guess I'm happy as long as I can rid the world of one evil bastard at a time. Maybe I'll do some good before I die... or before I'm caught. Probably gonna be the latter first and yeah, if I could really feel afraid of anything, that'd be it.
Not because of what'd happen to me but because I won't be able to stand Sammy's disappointed face. I don't want to let him down... that's why I gotta be careful for as long as I can.
So anyway, that's my story so far.
Anyway, on the surface, you'd see me as any other guy. I wouldn't stand out, not much. If I did, it wouldn't be in the ways you might come to expect when I finish talking.
I was born four years before my brother in Lawrence, Kansas. I think I was normal then... I loved my mom, I loved my dad, and I even loved my baby brother. I had big plans to teach everything to him, be the best big brother ever. Dad was a cop and a damn good one. An amazing one. Mom was beautiful and kind. Always cut the crusts off my PB&J.
It wasn't perfect, but it was the closest I've ever seen to it. Of course, I was a frigging kid, so I didn't know the really bad stuff. I knew Mom and Dad fought sometimes. Usually Dad's fault and I would have to try to cheer Mom up, smooth over the messes. That was the extent of the 'bad' for so those four years though.
It all came to an end six months after Sammy was born though.
For all his smarts as a cop, for all the precautions, someone still had the frigging balls to break in. Can you believe that? Who'd even be stupid enough to break into a cop's house, let alone one of the best?
Anyway, I had been asleep when I heard my mom screaming for help. I realized it was from my brother's room, so I ran the short distance just in time to see this man in black cut her throat. I'd never seen so much blood. It filled the room so damn fast and I felt the warm, stickiness seep under my feet as I scrambled for my brother's crib. He was crying and all I could think was, 'Protect him!', 'Get Sammy!'. I cried for Mom to wake up too.
She didn't. She never did.
The guy made a grab for me as I scrambled up the side of Sammy's crib, desperately tried to get in and get him out. I wasn't the smartest kid then, but then again, this guy wasn't the smartest criminal. I remember I thought, 'This is it, he's going to cut me.', but a gunshot rung out before that could happen. It was loud enough to hurt, to make my ears ring and my sobs even harder. The guy was hit and his blood splattered against me and Sammy. The guy fell over and my little body fell back into a pool of my mother's blood.
It was gross and sticky. It seeped through my clothes and I wanted to wretch, but I didn't. I looked over at the door to see who'd saved me.
Dad was in there, wide-eyed and breathing hard. I can still remember that look on his face... wild, crazy. Like his whole world shattered right in front of him. I guess it kind of did.
Everything sort of froze for awhile, shock settling in.
Eventually, Dad came in the room and pulled me to my feet... I don't remember how long I laid there exactly, how long he let me lay there crying and scared, listening to my baby brother wail. I do remember at some point turning my head to meet my mother's dead gaze, her expression still pinched in terror. I don't think I'll ever forget that.
Anyway, Dad told handed me my brother and told me to get out of the room, get him out and take care of him, and that he'd call 911. The cops and ambulance would be on its way.
There wasn't any saving Mom. She'd bled out almost instantly. Guy knew just where to cut... or maybe it was just dumb luck. I don't know.
Dad was a changed man after that. He was broken and blamed himself, I think. He drank too much, he worked too much. Like he could make it all better if he put more assholes behind bars.
I was changed too.
Or maybe I was just never right, who knows.
I had a fascination with death and blood. A curiosity I couldn't sate or indulge. Not that I had much time... my brother, Sammy was more important than that even. He was a baby and Dad kept telling me to take care of him, watch him. I tried my best... I really did. I think I did alright since he's a good kid.
I don't know how I managed. I can't say I feel much at all, but I can act like I do. It's hard faking sometimes though and I always worry somebody's gonna figure me out, see through my mask.
But you know what? for Sam, I feel everything. I'm proud of the kid. He's aiming for detective now, works hard, he's good to everyone. I like to think that, even though I'm a monster, I did good with Sam. He's the only thing I really love, I think.
Anyway, I know. I'm supposed to be telling you about me. I ain't too good at talking about myself, so hang on.
Anyway, as I grew older, my curiosity was harder to ignore and I gave in sometimes. Not on people. I ain't that stupid. I did it with animals... this one dog was a mean little shit. He bit my brother hard enough he needed stitches one day when he was walking back to school. I was about twelve, I guess.
I waited until night and took care of it. I'll spare you the details... lots of people hate animal torture and I know it's wrong now. Hell, I try not to make a habit of it, but the little bastard should've left Sammy alone.
Anyway, my dad was a sharp one, even when he spent half his life buried in a bottle. I was about fourteen when he took me aside and told me he knew what I'd been up to. I thought he'd take me to some kind of hospital where they'd shove pills down my throat or put me in group therapy. Maybe they'd just lock me in a padded room and I'd never get out again. I begged him not to do that though, because Sammy needed me.
Sam did need me. He was starting to fight with the old man a lot. I was peacekeeper.
Dad assured me he hadn't thought of it though. I was surpried, but that's how all this started. I'm grateful now, so grateful. He taught me right from wrong, how to tell the difference and how to spot someone who truly deserved to be punished.
Truly evil people. Like the guy who killed Mom.
I soaked up the knowledge, I learned how to do what I wanted and not get caught, how and where to hide bodies. I learned it all. Dad was turning me into his perfect little killing machine, I guess. He told me I'd have to try harder at acting normal too... or at least be able to pass as not batshit crazy like I am.
Not that big of a problem... I was good looking enough to get plenty of dates back in school and even when I got out. I like sex and apparently, I am awesome at it. I like working on my car, the one Dad gave me... A '67 Chevy Impala. She's a thing of beauty.
Okay, so maybe I love the car too. The car and my brother.
I respect my dad too, get the way he's broken. In his own way, he's as messed up as I am. Plus, he's the only one who's in on my secret, taught me how to control my dark side. I owe him a lot.
Sammy... I don't think he's ever known there was anything off about me and I don't want him to. He's always been important to me. I feel responsible for making sure he's safe and happy... and he wouldn't be happy if he knew big bro liked to cut people up.
So I keep it to myself. I keep it buried deep under a mask and deny being a monster. I smile, I joke, I watch too much bad TV and drink too much beer. I guess I got my dad's problem with booze, but I like it. It makes me feel relaxed, makes me feel a little more human.
My brother has his own place now, with this cute girl named Jessica. I think he wants to marry her. She'd be good for him. She's got brains, she knows how to crack a joke, and she cares about the guy. Gorgeous too... I joke she's out of his league all the time.
If you want the truth though, I wasn't happy at first and maybe I'm still not. He's off, doing his own thing and I'm down one thing that keeps me human. Acting human, anyway. I'll probably be asked to be the best man at his wedding and I'll have to smile and act happy. I hope I can fake it enough that he won't notice I have no idea how to react in this situation.
But I can't complain too much, I guess. The guys at work like me, the girls love me, and I got my family close by who are both happy... well, Sammy is, anyway. Dad hasn't been happy since Mom died. He's brought obsessed to a whole new level.
Him and Sammy don't talk much either. Huge blowing out over school and some of Sammy's life choices. Sam's never been like me though... he's never just followed along with whatever Dad wanted to do.
Anyway guess I'm happy as long as I can rid the world of one evil bastard at a time. Maybe I'll do some good before I die... or before I'm caught. Probably gonna be the latter first and yeah, if I could really feel afraid of anything, that'd be it.
Not because of what'd happen to me but because I won't be able to stand Sammy's disappointed face. I don't want to let him down... that's why I gotta be careful for as long as I can.
So anyway, that's my story so far.
