fic: Suspension (of Belief)
Title: Suspension (of Belief)
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Gen, R for violence and um...apocalypse?
Characters: Dean, Sam
Word Count: ~850, written in an hour! Yay for writing exercises!
Notes: Kind of gory/graphic, and...abstract? I hope not too much so, but I can't always tell.
Summary: Seven snippets, and I don't want to spoil it, so basically, bad things happen.
The first time, they made him say it.
“Mine’s the one that matters.”
They forced him down onto his knees, shoved cold hard metal up against his forehead and demanded it.
He was only too happy to oblige.
It was all blood and violence when he closed his eyes.
*
They’re on the way to a hunt. It’s a poltergeist in Nebraska. Sam’s reading a map with a penlight stuck between his teeth. Pulls it out to turn and look at him.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He slows down for a curve, punches the gas halfway through and they coast out in a rush of centrifugal forces. He feels like his skin is falling away in the spin, but they only go faster.
“I just though, you might be tired. After all that.”
“No. No, I’m fine.”
*
The second time, he didn’t wait for them. No need. He wasn’t in the business of saving people. He was in his own business now.
“Mine’s the one that matters.”
The only one.
They set burning matches against his skin and let them burn out.
*
“You want to stop and grab some dinner?” Sam.
He shrugs his shoulders and the jacket feels tight, chafes a bit. They could use a stop. “Whatever you want.”
“I could really go for some pie. Let’s stop and get some pie.” Sam’s got that tone, slightly whining, slightly cajoling, just a shade too high. The little brother voice.
“Sure. I always like pie.”
Sam nods and it’s serious. Serious business, pie. “Pull off at the next exit.”
They drive for what seems like forever.
Maybe it is.
*
The third time, boredom set in. They weren’t looking for anything anymore. He gave it all away, and they kicked his knees out from behind.
His voice came out in a red shower. He painted them with it.
“Mine’s the one that matters.”
It went black after.
*
“Where’d you go?”
“What?”
“You went away.”
“I’m right here.” He smoothes his hands down the steering wheel, familiar against his skin.
Sam shakes his head. “No, for a moment there, you were somewhere else.”
“Huh.” He brushes a hand against his mouth, and it comes away red. “Did we get pie?”
“You don’t remember?”
*
The fourth time, he pleaded with them. Or tried to, but he only had one thing to say.
“Mine’s the one that matters.”
They held his hand out straight in front of him and brought the hammer down. Then the other one. When they let him go, he stared down at mangled flesh and broken bone.
They grabbed his chin and forced him to look at them, but they faded away.
*
Sam’s driving now. He’s a little nervous, always is, ever since he first handed Sam the wheel with a smile and a Hail Mary.
But Sam’s cool, and calm, and the road is smooth.
“Did you sleep at all?”
He rubs his eyes with the back of his wrist, his hand feels like he must have slept on it, trapped against the window and his skull.
“Yeah, a little. I think.”
“Good, we’re almost there.”
*
The fifth time, they held the poker up to his face and laughed. They had rotten teeth and black, vacant eyes. He thought maybe he knew them, them and all of them like them.
He opened his mouth, and everything spilled out.
“Mine’s the one that matters.”
They stuck the knife in his belly and the poker in his eye. He washed out in a flash of light and color and the slick slide of blood down his chest.
*
Sam’s talking but he doesn’t open his eyes. He must have really slept this time.
“I was thinking, maybe instead of the poltergeist we should head north.”
“Why?” he mumbles.
“Maybe we should stop and see Bobby and Ellen, maybe Jo. We could look up old friends.”
“Nah, we were just there. Let’s do this job, first.”
Sam’s quiet for a while, but eventually he gives in.
“Okay, but after this. I really want to see them.”
*
The sixth time, he lay slumped over on the floor. They poked and prodded and taunted and jeered, but he couldn’t get anything out at all.
The world behind them was on fire; he could feel the heat. He heard the screams, but maybe they were his. He didn’t know.
*
“You awake?”
He didn’t know. Maybe.
“Because it’s just up the road.”
“What is?”
“You know.”
“The hunt?”
“No, not the hunt. Something better.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Sam chuckles, and he smiles. Or thinks he does.
*
The seventh time, they didn’t do anything. They didn’t need to. There was nothing left.
Mine’s the one that matters.
*
“You gave me everything, Dean.”
The car isn’t moving anymore.
“You chose me, and that means so much. It really does.”
Maybe they’re not even in the car. He can’t tell.
“The whole world, Dean. And you chose me.” He’s using the little brother voice again, and it sounds like it’s full of awe.
He smiles for sure this time.