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tigriswolfTitle: snapshots of a second chance
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for aired season four
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 400
Point of view: third
Dean never looks in the mirror anymore because he sees Alistair’s prodigy staring back, eyes pure white.
That charm was meant for John, Bobby thinks as Sam returns it to his brother. I wonder… it doesn’t matter now.
It gets easier every time, the power soothing as it strikes out, and if it can get him to Lilith and destroy her completely, he doesn’t care about the cost.
He plays a good game, little Dean-pet does, but Alistair perfected it long ago and the boy is not his equal yet.
Chuck sobs at night, sometimes, unable to look away from his inescapable nightmares-that-are-true, unable to wake up.
She knew how she’d die and she still went to help them save the reapers because it was war and her side couldn’t afford to lose.
Sam recorded every moment of Dean’s second life in his mind, etched deep, and even when they were fighting or not speaking, he thanked God for this chance to make amends.
“It doesn't matter what you tell me,” Dean says. “He's my brother. I'll die for him. I already have.”
Uriel watches with disapproval and disappointment as Castiel slides closer to the edge; he does not warn, merely waits for the moment he can rain down righteous punishment on the mortal that dares tempt his brother.
Dean doesn’t sleep for long, anymore, scant cat-naps here and there, and any time his mind plays those memories, he wills himself awake because he’s not in Hell anymore.
“Hey,” she says softly, small hands on his shoulder. “You’ve trusted me this far. Just trust me a little further, Sam.”
He stares at the horizon, longing to shed his vessel and take flight; but this must be done, Dean Winchester must be shown the way, and he cannot do that if he is soaring in the sky.
Oh, the boy is so very clever, so deft, so precise—Alistair screams for him, so proud of his greatest creation.
“Dude,” Dean says, “let’s take a day off and just drive.” Sam nods.
Sam wakes up, sometimes, still expecting to be alone, but when he sees Dean sacked out in the other bed, barely asleep, or sitting on the floor cleaning the guns and sharpening the knives, or flipping through Dad’s journal, or—just being there, he feels a small thrill of hope shoot through him, chasing away the darkness. And that’s enough.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-25 01:39 pm (UTC)Thank you so much!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-25 07:00 pm (UTC)*hides away grabby hands*