Doggy Years (G)
Characters: Miracle the dog, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester (remembered).
Additional Tags: Tag to s15e20 "Carry On"; Drabble, 180 words; written for the SPN100 Challenge on fanfiction.net
Summary: WOW: future, ache, blank..
Characters belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. No copright infringement intended.
I write for love only.
His scent’s all over the bunker still, but it’s fading.
I miss him. I miss his voice, his energy, those great hugs he used to give me, the scraps he used to feed me when Sam wasn’t looking. The place feels empty without him.
I don’t know what happened, but I knew he wasn’t coming back the day Sam came home carrying the smell of his death. I can smell Sam’s grief too; that isn’t fading.
I worry about Sam. I see all the blank hours he spends staring into a future without his brother and - poor humans - they live so long. I hope it helps a little that I’m here, but I don’t know what he’ll do when I’m gone.
He’ll keep answering these phone calls, I suppose, but his heart isn’t in it. I wish I could stay and try to comfort him a while longer, but I’m not a pup anymore. My heart is faltering too, and my bones are starting to ache; these bunker stairs are getting to be a struggle for me now . . .
.
Additional Tags: Tag to s15e20 "Carry On"; Drabble, 180 words; written for the SPN100 Challenge on fanfiction.net
Summary: WOW: future, ache, blank..
Characters belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. No copright infringement intended.
I write for love only.
His scent’s all over the bunker still, but it’s fading.
I miss him. I miss his voice, his energy, those great hugs he used to give me, the scraps he used to feed me when Sam wasn’t looking. The place feels empty without him.
I don’t know what happened, but I knew he wasn’t coming back the day Sam came home carrying the smell of his death. I can smell Sam’s grief too; that isn’t fading.
I worry about Sam. I see all the blank hours he spends staring into a future without his brother and - poor humans - they live so long. I hope it helps a little that I’m here, but I don’t know what he’ll do when I’m gone.
He’ll keep answering these phone calls, I suppose, but his heart isn’t in it. I wish I could stay and try to comfort him a while longer, but I’m not a pup anymore. My heart is faltering too, and my bones are starting to ache; these bunker stairs are getting to be a struggle for me now . . .
.