Once Upon A Time [Gen, PG]
The past few days, I've been threatening smilla02 with the coda I'm not writing. This would be that story. It's a rewrite of the last scene from 501, and it's extremely little, because apparently I only had one thing to say. And it's also possibly slightly odd. Because of the way I said it. Warning: 501 spoilers.
Once Upon A Time [Gen, PG]
They’re bookends bracketing a story that never ends.
Once Upon A Time
The world’s been ending for twenty-four hours, and they’re still standing.
They’re secret keepers; they’re sinners. They’re soldiers in no one’s army. They’re bookends bracketing a story that never ends. They’re what broken down heroes become: damned and damaged, bound and gagging, choking on a silence made of words.
They’re still standing; they’re still fighting.
Every ending’s a beginning: the story folds and unfolds; prophecies and histories expand in the space between them, relentless stream of page after page that pushes them apart and proves it’s never over. Not for them.
“Once upon a time,” Dean says. The invisible distance twists the words, grows when they embed into the story, and Dean is sad-eyed and rough-edged, shouldered up against a year’s worth of harsh communion and scraped raw.
Once upon a time. Once upon a time, but not anymore.
Sam pushes against the space between them as though it’s made of more than air and words. He wears his hope like the promise of an epilogue and says, “And they lived happily ever after?”
The answer writes itself on Dean’s face, etches its lines in shades of hurt that cut deeper than anger or disappointment. The words wedge between them, and the distance grows.
The world’s been ending for twenty-four hours.
They’re ending right along with it.
###
(N.B. I'm actually a hell of a lot more optimistic than this might lead you to believe, regarding both Sam and Dean's EPIC LOVE and the fate of the world. I'm just saying.)
Once Upon A Time [Gen, PG]
They’re bookends bracketing a story that never ends.
Once Upon A Time
The world’s been ending for twenty-four hours, and they’re still standing.
They’re secret keepers; they’re sinners. They’re soldiers in no one’s army. They’re bookends bracketing a story that never ends. They’re what broken down heroes become: damned and damaged, bound and gagging, choking on a silence made of words.
They’re still standing; they’re still fighting.
Every ending’s a beginning: the story folds and unfolds; prophecies and histories expand in the space between them, relentless stream of page after page that pushes them apart and proves it’s never over. Not for them.
“Once upon a time,” Dean says. The invisible distance twists the words, grows when they embed into the story, and Dean is sad-eyed and rough-edged, shouldered up against a year’s worth of harsh communion and scraped raw.
Once upon a time. Once upon a time, but not anymore.
Sam pushes against the space between them as though it’s made of more than air and words. He wears his hope like the promise of an epilogue and says, “And they lived happily ever after?”
The answer writes itself on Dean’s face, etches its lines in shades of hurt that cut deeper than anger or disappointment. The words wedge between them, and the distance grows.
The world’s been ending for twenty-four hours.
They’re ending right along with it.
###
(N.B. I'm actually a hell of a lot more optimistic than this might lead you to believe, regarding both Sam and Dean's EPIC LOVE and the fate of the world. I'm just saying.)