Le Chant Des Oiseaux: Epilogue; Notes & Thanks
Years later, when Dean’s mind drifts back to the last night he spent with Lisa and Ben, the memory is faint, almost ephemeral. It rarely solidifies into something tangible. Dean thinks he should feel remorse for how little he remembers that night. But then, when he least expects it, Lisa’s words wash over him, as clear and bright and painful as the morning he and Sam left. She stood in the backyard, Ben at her side, and framed Dean’s face with her hands.
“I don’t regret any of it, Dean. And neither should you. Being here, it’s what you needed, what Sam needed. I don’t regret it. Because -“
“Because you -“
Lisa manages a watery laugh. “Dean, still with the interrupting. Shut up, I swear to God. Listen, I could have kicked your bony ass to the curb any day. Sam’s too.” A tinkling laugh. She smiles. “Well, before he got his head on a little more straight, maybe. But I care about you two because you deserve it. I’m not gonna tell you it was all rainbows and pony rides these last two years, especially these last few days.” Lisa slides her hands down to Dean’s shoulders. She squeezes them affectionately, then takes his hands in hers. lowers them to his hands. “But everyone should get a little kindness in this world, and that’s the least I could do for the two of you.”
Lisa releases his hands, points to where Sam’s sitting in the Impala. The car is already running, the windows down, the gas tank full. Ready and waiting.
“But it’s time for you two to go. You be safe, and stop by when you can. Just don’t come calling when you’re in a million pieces, again. We’ve already done that. And definitely don’t come calling covered in blood. I’m really over bleaching everything in sight. Got it?”
Dean nods. He struggles to find his voice, to tell her how thankful he is, and how sorry. He can’t, so he nods. Sam is the one who’s always had a way with words. Dean pulls Lisa into a crushing hug. He hopes she feels everything he can’t say. When her arms encircle his neck, he thinks maybe she does.
“Cas should be by later today.” Dean tells her, waving a hand at the lopsided, busted remains of her house. “You know, to fix all that.”
Lisa laughs. “Yeah, he said something about needing to research neo-Colonial architecture, first.”
Ben’s been silent this whole time. He was silent most of the previous night. Dean’s not sure, but he thinks Ben’s last word might have been his awe-struck damn when he saw the damage Sam did to his home. Dean kneels down, slaps him on the shoulder. “You gonna be alright, buddy?” he asks.
Ben looks at him, and Dean’s heart breaks a little. The kid looks like he’s aged a hundred years overnight. But then his face breaks into a dazzling smile. “Yup,” he says. “I’ve got the coolest stories to tell now.”
Dean tenses. “Ben -“ he warns
“Don’t worry, Dean.” Ben rolls his eyes. “I’m just gonna say they’re ghost stories at soccer camp. Telling them about how Sam staked a vampire and cut off his head beats the hell out of, ‘I am the ghost of the bloody finger.’ If I do it right, I might even get some of the other kids to pee their pants.”
Ben’s so ridiculously pleased with himself, Dean can only laugh. He gives the kid a hug, whispers in his ear. “You need us, you let us know.” Then pulls away, adds, “Just make sure you don’t let them draw a dick on your face, all right?”
Lisa groans, and mutters Jesus, but when Dean glances up there’s amusement in her eyes.
Dean gives one final wave and settles behind the wheel of the Impala. The seat seems to sigh under his weight, and his hands grip the well-worn steering wheel easily. Beside him, Sam flicks the dangling feather and grins.
“You ready, Sammy?”
“Always, Dean.”
End.
~*~*~*~*~
Rambling Author's Notes and Thanks:
Part of this story started off as a simple fic prompt fill for oh_sam. It was just a series of paragraphs that weren't quite gelling together. Meanwhile, every morning, I sit on my balcony enjoying several cups of coffee and listen to the various song birds that make their nests in the copse of trees behind me. Sometimes they are so loud and insistent, I wonder if they could all just shut up for a moment. Which led me to think - what if that's the only thing some one hears? Would it drive them up a wall? Or would it actually be calming? So I idly started to explore that in another set of random paragraphs that weren't quite gelling together.
Several futile attempts to get either story to work resulted in me deciding that maybe the problem was they belonged together. Thus, this story was born.
Along the way, I pulled heavily from two television shows and several songs. The most obvious influence is Buffy. In particular, the arc of her return from Heaven and how miserable she is back amongst the living. My wink and nod to this is in vampires' last name, Falls (a counterpoint to Summers).
A lot less consciously, I referenced the River Tam character in Firefly insomuch as Sam tends to talk in riddles. He thinks he's being perfectly clear despite everyone else's confusion. Though Dean does understand him once and a while - how could he not? ;)
Songs like Noah's Blood by 10,000 Maniacs, Let Go by Frou Frou, Foolish Games by Jewel, Private Universe by Crowded House, and Sunny Came Home by Shawn Colvin were on high rotation while I wrote this. The influence of the first song is fairly obvious ;) In fact, that was the working title for a while. The songs aren't actually a soundtrack, per se; they merely served as guide posts for me - beats, lines, and concepts I wanted to hit in the story. I'll spare you the endless droning on I could do about that. Suffice to say this was written partially as an homage to them.
The brief Latin Sam speaks was cobbled together as best I could from various internet sources. Hopefully, I didn't completely slaughter it.
A huge thank you to buffyaddict13. She helped me clarify Dean's voice, wrestled my paragraph long sentences into bite-size pieces, staged an intervention on my addiction to adjectives, and didn't laugh too hard at my inability to stay within one verb tense. Thank you, sweetie, you saved my butt. I love you more than my luggage ♥
Thanks, also, to uglyduckling_me She reached through the internet and held my hand for months on end. Her enthusiasm for this story as I sent it to her in bits and pieces kept me chugging onward. And, as always, I am grateful for her last minute eagle eyes. ♥
Any remaining verb errors, blatant grammar mistakes, overwrought prose, and the like is all me.
To my bescarfed ladies: You're amazing and I love you.
chosenfire28's ART! SO IN LOVE! Simply gorgeous, gorgeous work. Thank you for creating such an amazing piece ♥
Lastly, thanks to the spn_j2_bigbang mods. Every zomg e-mail was answered promptly and with aplomb. That meant a lot, thank you :)
And to you, the reader: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story =D
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