even landlocked lovers yearn - SN fic - PG13

[tigriswolf]

Title: even landlocked lovers yearn

Fandom: “Supernatural”

Disclaimer: if you recognize them, they’re not mine. title from Death Cab for Cutie. quotes from “Sin City”

Warnings: implied incest; future!fic; creepy and depressing; spoilers for everything aired
Pairings: really?  none.  implied?  het and slash incest.

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 1200

Point of view: second

Notes: um, the narration may get confusing. Sorry.

 

 

 

And that’s how it ends?

No. That’s how it begins.

 

                The fire is bright, warm, a welcome beacon after endless walking, barren night.

                Always night. No one remembers the sun.

                You sink next to it, nodding to the handful of others—old woman, middle-aged couple, young man—boy, really—and a girl. Don’t introduce yourself and neither do they.

                Names have power.

                The moon hangs as a slice in the dark sky, a nasty smirk that frightens those who look up at her. 

                The little girl huddles next to the young man; in the bouncing firelight, they look alike enough to be kin. He looks around with wary eyes, one hand always beneath his jacket.

                Smart kid. This is a dangerous world.

                Sometimes it rains. Not often enough to feed the landscape, but sometimes. It’s always welcome. Few plants grow in the worldwide desert, and those few make barely enough air to feed what life is left.

                The couple murmur softly together; you listen. They aren’t as quiet as they think. They’re heading east—kin beyond the mountains, they hope. Someone who made it through the Purge.

                You could tell them you’ve been there. All that’s left is skeletal buildings, stench of smoke.

                You could tell them they’re wasting their time.

                You could. You stay silent.

                Predators lurk in the continual night. No one has ever seen them, but everybody knows they’re there. Nightmares given flesh, fangs, claws. Beasts that feed on blood. Horrific monsters, worse than anything man could imagine.

                The siblings don’t talk. Also smart. They have the look of survivors.

                The crone sleeps.

                The girl leans her head on the boy’s thigh, sticks her thumb in her mouth. She closes her eyes as he runs his fingers through her hair.

                He stares at you, eyes cold in the firelight. His face is tight, pinched; like everyone, he is hungry.

                The woman-half of the couple offers him a bag of food. He nudges the little girl and she lunges up, grabs it.

                She eats. He watches you.

                But not a woman. One saw it all coming. She tried warning the world, but like Cassandra of Troy, not a soul listened.

                No one likes to hear the end is on the way.

                Hours pass. The couple rise to their feet and nod to you as they go east; the crone continues to sleep.

                More hours pass and you follow, leaving the children and the crone the fire.

                It was swift. That’s what those who lived say. It came from nowhere, killing billions with one blow. Not a virus or a toxin—Nature herself, air turned poisonous. Billions died in the first wave, millions in the second. No government stood, after.

                The man screams. The woman fights. You feast.

                But some survived, a meager thousand. Scavengers flourished, and those creatures built for hardship. A few adapted to endless night; all the rest died.

                You could return to the fire, but the children will be gone and the crone’s flesh tough. The boy—young man—had a look you know well. Besides, you are tired.

                You find a nice patch beneath the sky, far from the fires dotting the night. Fire keeps away the monsters, humans say.

                You love fire, but you need to sleep. Watching the flames always distracts you.

                Sometimes, you see him in them.

                No one knows how it began, or where, or why. No one knows why the sun doesn’t shine anymore, those who think the sun to be more than myth. No one knows how long it’s been. No one knows when it will end. Some think it already has.

                She comes to you as you dream.

                “Have an answer yet?” she asks, eyes golden.

                You shake your head. “Same as always,” you say. “I’ll find him on my own.”

                She sighs. “You really should join me. He’s dead. Dead and gone beyond reach.” She smirks. “Even yours.”

                She, the one who saw it all, knows where it began, and why. But not how.

                It began at a crossroads, when one man sold his soul for another’s life. It began at a crossroads, when one foolish demon made a deal.

                It began when a man rose from the dead, because nothing ever comes back right.

                You didn’t mean to start the Purge. But you were new to your power; you had no idea what you were doing.

                You tore apart the gate to Hell, but he wasn’t there. You ripped open Heaven’s door, but he wasn’t there, either.

                God and Satan both refuse to speak to you, to give you any help. Only she, Azazel’s daughter, offers any advice.

                But she raped you, once. She tried to kill him. Thought she had killed him.

                The more you wander, though, the longer you spend in this landscape of your making, the better her offer sounds.

                She tried telling them. And the small blonde with black eyes slit her throat and laughed.

                You alone can track the time. It’s years later when you see those siblings again, bloodstained and battle-hardened. They’re underfed, ribs showing, eyes hollow and haunted.

                It’d be a mercy to kill them. Ease their suffering, send them on to Heaven, what’s left of it.

                You are not merciful, and you grin at them.

                The boy gets between you and his sister, holding a knife you recognize.

                Azazel had a plan, behind both God and Satan’s backs, and it failed spectacularly.

                Your eyes narrow. You haven’t thought of Ruby in a long time, ever since she vanished after he died.

                “Where’d you get that?” you ask.

                He says nothing. He’s a new breed of hunter, and he isn’t quite sure what to make of you.

                He’ll break, though. They all do.

                Azazel was not around to reap what he’d sowed.

                Lucky demon.

                He’s a new breed of hunter, for this new world. His sister is steel-eyed, holding a knife of her own.

                Even so, they are completely outclassed. You assess them, deciding who offers more meat.

                You pounce. The boy, strong as he is, screams.

                Where the Purge came from, and why, no one living knows. When it will end… no one living can guess.

                The girl tells you everything. You take both knives and slice off her head.

                Virgin blood tastes marvelous. You’re not surprised when her blood is sour.

                So. Ruby’s alive, passing out demon-killing knives.   You scoured Heaven and Hell for your brother. You wandered Earth, searching for him.

                And he’s been with her. This whole time, that bitch has kept him muzzled and chained.

                Next time Azazel’s daughter shows up, you’ll destroy her with the bitch’s knife.

                It’s a new world, one of your making. There are new monsters, beyond a human’s comprehension.

                You are not a human. Haven’t been since God let you fall out of Heaven and back into your corpse.

                The Cheshire cat moon grins down at you and you remember how he looked in sunlight.

                You’ll kill Ruby and you’ll take him back, and you’ll live again.

                It began at a crossroads, and she wishes she’d warned them better. Made them listen. 

                It began at a crossroads, because of pure, undying love… she wishes she’d made them listen.

               

 

Comments

[redheadforever.livejournal.com]

Holy CRAP.

This one makes ya WORK for the meat; so worth it.

Sam the endless wanderer looking for the one he loves, who loved him enough to have his brother pulled out of heaven and condemn himself to hell as the price.

Sam the feral preying on the thousand left, eating them (he would surely have broken Dean's loving heart -- there ARE things much worse than being dead after all) and being a connoisseur about it, even worse (sly wink you gave those who see a Sam/Dean even where there's only a Sam and a Dean).

Sam the survivor of death and of Dean and of the damnation that is being condemned to LIVE in these days.

Incredible. Thank you so much.

*roses and chocolates to the author*

Red
Happy Deanwoman (who would like to request permission to friend you and never miss a goodie) oh, and FIRST!

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so much!

(Of course you can friend me!)

[aja-evenstar.livejournal.com]

This was unbelievable.

I absolutely love the mystery of who exactly is the central character of the fic - it isn't revealed for so long, and then when it is revealed, you have to make sure you read carefully as to catch who it is at first.

I LOVE the narration - its fantastic. And the fact that Sam ripped the world apart looking for his brother is amazing. He even went to Heaven and Hell. And Ruby is stil around!

I can't even explain how much i love it. Awesome work.

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so much!

[goodbyebird]

Very enjoyable read. Thanks for sharing :)

[tigriswolf]

Thank you for reading!

[tularia.livejournal.com]

This is as thirst-quenching as a virgin's blood.

[tigriswolf]

*glee*

[atana-blackfox.livejournal.com]

Wow, very good!

[tigriswolf]

Thank you!