SN canon drabbles: 3.13-3.16

[tigriswolf]

masterlist

previously

 

you die awake

 

                “Hey, listen to my voice. Focus on me. Corbett, c’mon, focus on me!”

                You try, you try, you try so hard, but it’s so so cold, and dark, and what the fuck? Ghosts aren’t real, they’re not, you were just hoping, looking—and if they were, they wouldn’t be evil, wouldn’t kill.

                “Listen to me, Corbett. Listen to me! It’s alright, everything’s going to be alright!”

                This was going to be the best night of your life—you’d prove to Ed how brave you are, and—and—

                “Corbett, listen! No, don’t—Corbett!”

               

if that’s love, it comes at much too high a cost

 

 

                She’s always been curious, and he’s cute. And maybe she really is worried about the calls from Mom. Maybe she thinks she’s losing her mind, finally jumping off the deep end. Maybe she thinks it all just some weird dream and she’ll wake up to Mom making pancakes and they’ll laugh and go shopping and Mom’ll smell like oregano. 

                He’s got a nice voice, soothing and deep, and she could drown in it. And Mom isn’t here to tell about him, to say He’s taller than anybody and so nice, and is it okay if I’m fantasizing about marrying him?

                Mom isn’t here to respond, ‘course it is, lovie. He seems like a nice enough boy.

                She’s always been curious, and it’s not Mom on the phone—can’t be. Because Mom wouldn’t ask her to do those things. 

                Mom would never ever ask her to kill herself. It can’t be Mom. Just can’t be. And he can help. He has to help. 

                Because Mama isn’t here.

 

 

thought I heard a black bell toll

 

 

                She’s been so bloody stupid. So long with only herself, no else to care or worry, and she’s forgotten. Only Bobby, for years and years, and even he’d tossed her aside to the Winchesters.

                The Winchesters. Her one way out of this bloody fucking mess, kill them, the demon bitch said. Kill them and you’re free.

                It hurt, deep inside where she refused to think about it, where Daddy’s touches are buried and a little girl screams, but she shot them. She wanted to live, still wants to live, but the hounds are howling and Dean said—damn him, damn her, he said—

                I’ll see you in Hell.

                They could have helped her. They would have. Because… they’re good. Better than she ever was. 

                I’ll see you in Hell.

                She made her deal because of hate and pain and vengeance. He made his because of despair and love.

                The hounds are howling and she knows he deserves better.

                “Kill the bitch,” she says. “I don’t want to see you there.”

 

I cannot love but one

 

                Bobby can still close his eyes and see Dean cradling his little brother’s body, keening and crying, begging Sam to come back. It’s like no time has passed at all since Cold Oak, except the positions are reversed this time.

                It’s Sam with Dean spread across his lap, bloody and broken; it’s Sam pleading and whimpering, face buried in Dean’s neck. It’s Sam he’s helpless to help—Sam, who a year ago was dead.

                “Sam,” he says softly, slowly and carefully kneeling at Sam’s side. “We hafta go, son.”

                Sam doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move. 

                A year ago the positions were reversed. Bobby still doesn’t know what to do.

                “Sam,” he tries again, reaching out to touch Sam’s shoulder. 

                The last remaining Winchester jerks away, pulling his brother with him. “I promised to save him,” Sam whispers. “I lied. I didn’t—” His voice breaks and he curls over Dean’s body, sobbing.

                Bobby stays kneeling, determined to see this through.

               

 

 

Comments

every one of them

[catdancerz.livejournal.com]

resonates, deeply...

yes...

Re: every one of them

[tigriswolf]

Thank you!

[passions-play.livejournal.com]

As always, these were amazing. Everything you write, no matter how short or long, is really powerful. And, man, that last drabble hurt! You're a very talented writer, missy miss, so keep writing more stuff for me to gush over!

[tigriswolf]

*blushes* *twirls you*

[iamstealthyone.livejournal.com]

Nicely done, all of them. :)

you die awake

Poor Corbett. I like how you used Sam’s frantic dialogue as the backdrop for Corbett’s final thoughts.

if that’s love, it comes at much too high a cost

Good POV here. I especially like this detail:

and Mom’ll smell like oregano.

There’s something nicely poignant about that tidbit.

thought I heard a black bell toll

Interesting Bela POV, going from her anger to her appreciation of the boys and her desire that Dean not suffer, that he get Lilith before she gets him.

I cannot love but one

A year ago the positions were reversed. Bobby still doesn’t know what to do.

Oh, Bobby.

Great look at Bobby’s POV. I really do feel bad for him, because he’s now seen both boys dead, both boys grieve each other, and it’s such a tough spot to be in, trying to help them pick up the pieces when he’s grieving, too.

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so much!

[emeriin.livejournal.com]

I hate to admit it but the last one made me cry. I have never felt so sorry for absolutely everyone on a show before until now - Poor Dean. Poor Sammy. Poor Bobby. Poor Impala :( Hell, even poor Lilith if pretending to have a perfect, innocent family life is her idea of relaxing.

[tigriswolf]

Thank you!

[garnet-words.livejournal.com]

Every one of these was great. Felt like I was rewatching the series. I especially loved John's POV in Shadow and Hendrickson's view of the boys in a cage. Really nicely done!

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so much!

(*is fixed*)

[layne67.livejournal.com]

That last one omg, and Bobby, thank goodness for Bobby.

*whimpers with Sam*

[tigriswolf]

*hugs and snuggles*