[ the car jerks to a stop and jack puts a hand up to keep his face from hitting the dash while he's picking things off the floor of the car. he only watches dean out of the corner of his vision while he struggles, and when he jerks back, evacuates the car leaving the door wide open, and just walks.
jack doesn't follow him. he knows better. dean's one of those 'no, let him deal with it' when someone leaves upset, and he's pretty sure that's the same thing dean wants when it happens to him, so he stays put. it only takes barely a minute to pick up the rest of the food and set the bags down, secure on the unmoving floor of the car.
it takes all of about twenty seconds for the emotion to bubble up to a roar in him after that. jack tries not to look at the empty seat next to him, tries not to check on dean in the rear view mirror, tries not to wonder if this will be when he's told to leave. or if maybe it should. he's all but helpless in this world, which is clearly the best for everyone, but he can hear michael and lucifer's seething voices creeping through the back of his head.
buddy, you killed mary winchester. you cannot come back from that, and you know it.
you're not sam, you're not cas. you're a new burden that he was handed. you're a weak, helpless thing. you think that they care about you? love you? you're a job. a job none of them wanted.
cas, sam, dean... they're never gonna trust you again.
they never loved you. you're nothing to them. you're just a little pet monster, their muscle.
they hate you, okay? they don't even want you for a pet anymore— ]
Shut up, shut up, shut up.
[ jack's muttering through gritted teeth as he pulls his feet up onto the car seat, arms wrapping around his legs and forehead bouncing against the bones of his knees in time with his shut up mantra.
even if it's all true, even if dean would rather throw him off a cliff than have this job that cost him his mother hanging around, michael and lucifer don't help. they never help. but their voices aren't that easy to purge from himself, especially lucifer's. the kid's shoulders shake, and with dean halfway across the parking lot, at least he can let a little bit of it out, so, he cries.
a sob shakes his shoulders, and his fingers bite into the denim over his legs, and he pushes his face against his knees so hard he sees white spots behind his eyelids. this is what it is now, this is the consequences of what stupid choice he made, and all that's left to do is sit, and whimper, and wait for whatever dean decides to do with him. the very least he can do right now is whatever he's told, so he stays put, and he waits. ]
no subject
jack doesn't follow him. he knows better. dean's one of those 'no, let him deal with it' when someone leaves upset, and he's pretty sure that's the same thing dean wants when it happens to him, so he stays put. it only takes barely a minute to pick up the rest of the food and set the bags down, secure on the unmoving floor of the car.
it takes all of about twenty seconds for the emotion to bubble up to a roar in him after that. jack tries not to look at the empty seat next to him, tries not to check on dean in the rear view mirror, tries not to wonder if this will be when he's told to leave. or if maybe it should. he's all but helpless in this world, which is clearly the best for everyone, but he can hear michael and lucifer's seething voices creeping through the back of his head.
Shut up, shut up, shut up.
[ jack's muttering through gritted teeth as he pulls his feet up onto the car seat, arms wrapping around his legs and forehead bouncing against the bones of his knees in time with his shut up mantra.
even if it's all true, even if dean would rather throw him off a cliff than have this job that cost him his mother hanging around, michael and lucifer don't help. they never help. but their voices aren't that easy to purge from himself, especially lucifer's. the kid's shoulders shake, and with dean halfway across the parking lot, at least he can let a little bit of it out, so, he cries.
a sob shakes his shoulders, and his fingers bite into the denim over his legs, and he pushes his face against his knees so hard he sees white spots behind his eyelids. this is what it is now, this is the consequences of what stupid choice he made, and all that's left to do is sit, and whimper, and wait for whatever dean decides to do with him. the very least he can do right now is whatever he's told, so he stays put, and he waits. ]