Fill part threesparrow_latelySeptember 1 2012, 02:53:25 UTC
And then there’s a little ping and then Sam is extracting him from the elevator and he’s trying to get his breathing under control, but his heart is pounding in his ears and he’s sweating and shaking and can’t really pick out what Sam’s saying to him.
It’s important that he pull himself together, though, so he takes a big shuddering breath and tugs his arm out of Sam’s grip, says, “I’m fine, Sammy,” and then nods the okay-you-lead-the-way nod, which Sam thankfully recognizes. Dean forces himself to tunnel his vision, to watch Sam and Sam alone, to trail behind him until he can quell the urge to be violently sick, here in this slick upscale office building absolutely surging with people, their sounds and smells and the strange, frightening way they bend and gesture and walk, their cadence and laughter, the way they eat, and, and, and-
Damn it, Winchester. He hears his dad’s voice in his head, tries not to linger on the obvious question (would he even be able to handle looking at his dad right now?) and forces his focus back to Sam, who is strolling confidently forward, always so happy to be normal. Dean squares his shoulders and tries to match Sam’s gait. They’re just people. There’s no need to be afraid of people.
And then a petite lady with little patches of ache on her cheeks flashes him this utterly blinding grin, all square perfect shining teeth, and it feels like something huge and clawed has gathered up Dean’s insides and it’s trying to rip them out. No. No. There is something inside of him and it’s scrambling to get out, and he’s shaking and he might even be talking, but it doesn’t matter because all he can see is her teeth and her eyes and it’s all entirely wrong, so completely fucking wrong and every shape in this office is terrifying and alien and closing in on him, trapping him, and he can’t breathe or speak or think, and the lights are too square and bright like the teeth, everything is measured and exact and horrible, and he can hear people walking so loudly and then running and no, no, no-
“Dean!”
He hears a voice, the voice, Sam’s voice, but as though through a wall, and he can’t get out from under the glaring lights and the smells of all these people, with their gleaming teeth and their rough-smooth skin and their patches of horrible acne and their mutated language and their cold sores like decaying angels-
“Dean, Dean, please-”
Someone is holding him upright, and there is a muffled shuffling and more footsteps, but from farther away. There’s a hand in his hair, on his face. Someone’s talking and someone is making high, keening noises, like an injured animal. He wishes they’d stop. He can smell Sam and pitches forward, desperate, and then his nose is crushed into Sam’s slippery cheap suit but underneath there is Sammy, all scrubbed and perfect, and he burrows as far into his brother as he can, just as the whining noise stops-
Oh. Oh. Oh.
He makes to pull away from Sam, but his brother is holding the back of his head like he’s a child, and it’s better here anyway, pressed into Sam, who is still talking softly, keeping up a string of it’s okay you’re okay I’m here it’s over Dean it’s okay you’re safe I swear with all his painful earnestness, trying so hard to help. It makes Dean’s chest ache and he nestles against his lost-again-found-again brother and listens.
Fill part four, last partsparrow_latelySeptember 1 2012, 02:53:51 UTC
And then dignity catches up to him in a wave of hot shame and he yanks himself away from Sam again. Sam looks at him for a moment, then stands and tugs Dean to his feet as well. With one hand on the small of his back, he leads him to the end of the hallway and to the stairs, which are cool and deserted. Dean feels his heart speeding up as they cut back across the lobby, but Sam keeps his hand on Dean’s back and Dean resists the strong urge to grab Sam’s other arm. They make it to the car and Sam deposits Dean in the front seat as gently as if he were a child.
They don’t speak on the drive back to the motel, through the crowded hot city streets, lined with so many more people Dean can’t look at. They make it back eventually, though, and again Sam helps Dean from the car and into the room and then onto the bed, and the protest rises to his lips-Sam, it is not even happy hour, I do not need to be tucked in-but Sam is already making his way to the kitchenette, probably to make tea. Somewhere along the line, Sam began setting great store in tea. Dean suspects Jody.
He watches his brother bustle around, plays with a comment about Sam being a good little housewife but doesn’t feel like he can really pull it off right now. Sam is pouring the hot water into the mug, and his every movement is fluid and right, as calming as a lullaby. This, this is what he held onto, back in no man’s land, back when he was near-feral and alone. The geometry of the world no longer made any sense to him, but the planes and angles of his awkward, oversized kid brother were exactly right.
The shapes of Earth might do well, he thinks, as Sam lumbers over, holding the brimming, steaming mug with both hands, careful not to spill, to mold themselves around Sam Winchester.
Re: Fill part four, last partmaypolesSeptember 1 2012, 04:05:46 UTC
Well, we are so glad to have you. <333
I think that you definitely did it justice! This is so beautiful, full of emotion and vivid imagery. Also, I just adore the phrase "excruciating gentleness." And the last line, omg.
Re: Fill part four, last partsparrow_latelySeptember 1 2012, 04:34:10 UTC
*incoherent flail* you're all so nice I cannot even.
Thank you so much! I've gotten kind of addicted to this meme...I'm having way, way too much fun, but I'm glad somebody else is getting something from it at least. :)
Re: Fill part four, last partkallielSeptember 1 2012, 05:40:20 UTC
I'm thrilled you're having fun!!! WE ARE HAVING FUN WITH YOU TOO HAHAHA. Does this mean we get to keep you? ;PP /creepy
I adore all the imagery of this, and the way the scene wanders in and out of Purgatory and the here and now. I agree with maypoles--that last line is just killer. J'adore~ Also, slightly tangential but no less awesome, this line: Somewhere along the line, Sam began setting great store in tea. Dean suspects Jody.
Re: Fill part four, last partsparrow_latelySeptember 1 2012, 05:44:55 UTC
*cannot even* *actually my heart is like stuck in my throat you LOVELY PERSON*
Thank you thank you. Aaaaand one more thank you. *glomps you* *I guess this means you can keep me* *mutual creepiness party ahoy*
Edit: I am especially pleased nobody seems to have noticed the missing transition between parts one and two. I swear there was a line or two there...I'm writing too fast. :P
Re: Fill part four, last partprufrock_26September 1 2012, 14:46:54 UTC
OHH MY GOD.
*hugs you and never lets go*
I could not have asked for a better way to start the weekend. This was probably my favorite of the prompts I've left, and you absolutely did it justice. I've had a stressful week full of meetings and people that I couldn't deal with, and THIS is what I needed to make it all better.
The mutilated bodies and the broken wings; the tiny remembered shaving scene; the panic attacks (which are *so* hard to do well, and you made it look easy)....you took my long, awkward, involved prompt and you made it work so well.
Dean's panic is so believable, and so *Dean*, and your Sam is everything I could ever wish for: solid and understanding and caring and tea-making (Jody!) and perfect. Basically, the entire last scene is something I could read over and over again and never get tired of.
I still feel like I've only scratched the surface of how much I loved this. Thank you SO MUCH. (You're staying forever, right? To keep writing amazing fills like this? I am absolutely prepared to enable your habit here.)
Re: Fill part four, last partsparrow_latelySeptember 1 2012, 17:05:06 UTC
GAH thank YOU so much! I'm terribly sorry for your awful week, but I'm so glad if this little story made you feel a bit better!
I have a bit a of thing for cosmic horror, and I always wanted Cthulhu to crop up on Supernatural but alas, he has yet to, so I figured hell for monsters would probably look something like Lovecraft's reject bin. And I've always thought people, particularly naked people or people wearing certain kinds of clothes (read: business casual attire) start looking incredibly fucking weird if you look too long. Therefore...I loved your prompt.
And, yeah, I've had enough of stand-offish Sam. I'm ready for early-days too-sweet-for-his-own-good Sam to make a reappearance, if a little damaged. :P But I like the idea that Jody can mother him while Dean's away, maybe file off a few of his edges.
WELL WOW THIS COMMENT GOT LONG; the point is thank you for this lovely comment and holy crap, yes, I think I'm staying, because this absolutely unhealthy amounts of fun.
It’s important that he pull himself together, though, so he takes a big shuddering breath and tugs his arm out of Sam’s grip, says, “I’m fine, Sammy,” and then nods the okay-you-lead-the-way nod, which Sam thankfully recognizes. Dean forces himself to tunnel his vision, to watch Sam and Sam alone, to trail behind him until he can quell the urge to be violently sick, here in this slick upscale office building absolutely surging with people, their sounds and smells and the strange, frightening way they bend and gesture and walk, their cadence and laughter, the way they eat, and, and, and-
Damn it, Winchester. He hears his dad’s voice in his head, tries not to linger on the obvious question (would he even be able to handle looking at his dad right now?) and forces his focus back to Sam, who is strolling confidently forward, always so happy to be normal. Dean squares his shoulders and tries to match Sam’s gait. They’re just people. There’s no need to be afraid of people.
And then a petite lady with little patches of ache on her cheeks flashes him this utterly blinding grin, all square perfect shining teeth, and it feels like something huge and clawed has gathered up Dean’s insides and it’s trying to rip them out. No. No. There is something inside of him and it’s scrambling to get out, and he’s shaking and he might even be talking, but it doesn’t matter because all he can see is her teeth and her eyes and it’s all entirely wrong, so completely fucking wrong and every shape in this office is terrifying and alien and closing in on him, trapping him, and he can’t breathe or speak or think, and the lights are too square and bright like the teeth, everything is measured and exact and horrible, and he can hear people walking so loudly and then running and no, no, no-
“Dean!”
He hears a voice, the voice, Sam’s voice, but as though through a wall, and he can’t get out from under the glaring lights and the smells of all these people, with their gleaming teeth and their rough-smooth skin and their patches of horrible acne and their mutated language and their cold sores like decaying angels-
“Dean, Dean, please-”
Someone is holding him upright, and there is a muffled shuffling and more footsteps, but from farther away. There’s a hand in his hair, on his face. Someone’s talking and someone is making high, keening noises, like an injured animal. He wishes they’d stop. He can smell Sam and pitches forward, desperate, and then his nose is crushed into Sam’s slippery cheap suit but underneath there is Sammy, all scrubbed and perfect, and he burrows as far into his brother as he can, just as the whining noise stops-
Oh. Oh. Oh.
He makes to pull away from Sam, but his brother is holding the back of his head like he’s a child, and it’s better here anyway, pressed into Sam, who is still talking softly, keeping up a string of it’s okay you’re okay I’m here it’s over Dean it’s okay you’re safe I swear with all his painful earnestness, trying so hard to help. It makes Dean’s chest ache and he nestles against his lost-again-found-again brother and listens.
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They don’t speak on the drive back to the motel, through the crowded hot city streets, lined with so many more people Dean can’t look at. They make it back eventually, though, and again Sam helps Dean from the car and into the room and then onto the bed, and the protest rises to his lips-Sam, it is not even happy hour, I do not need to be tucked in-but Sam is already making his way to the kitchenette, probably to make tea. Somewhere along the line, Sam began setting great store in tea. Dean suspects Jody.
He watches his brother bustle around, plays with a comment about Sam being a good little housewife but doesn’t feel like he can really pull it off right now. Sam is pouring the hot water into the mug, and his every movement is fluid and right, as calming as a lullaby. This, this is what he held onto, back in no man’s land, back when he was near-feral and alone. The geometry of the world no longer made any sense to him, but the planes and angles of his awkward, oversized kid brother were exactly right.
The shapes of Earth might do well, he thinks, as Sam lumbers over, holding the brimming, steaming mug with both hands, careful not to spill, to mold themselves around Sam Winchester.
Reply
I think that you definitely did it justice! This is so beautiful, full of emotion and vivid imagery. Also, I just adore the phrase "excruciating gentleness." And the last line, omg.
Reply
Thank you so much! I've gotten kind of addicted to this meme...I'm having way, way too much fun, but I'm glad somebody else is getting something from it at least. :)
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I adore all the imagery of this, and the way the scene wanders in and out of Purgatory and the here and now. I agree with maypoles--that last line is just killer. J'adore~ Also, slightly tangential but no less awesome, this line: Somewhere along the line, Sam began setting great store in tea. Dean suspects Jody.
D'awwww. <333
Great fill! Thank you for writing~
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Thank you thank you. Aaaaand one more thank you. *glomps you* *I guess this means you can keep me* *mutual creepiness party ahoy*
Edit: I am especially pleased nobody seems to have noticed the missing transition between parts one and two. I swear there was a line or two there...I'm writing too fast. :P
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*hugs you and never lets go*
I could not have asked for a better way to start the weekend. This was probably my favorite of the prompts I've left, and you absolutely did it justice. I've had a stressful week full of meetings and people that I couldn't deal with, and THIS is what I needed to make it all better.
The mutilated bodies and the broken wings; the tiny remembered shaving scene; the panic attacks (which are *so* hard to do well, and you made it look easy)....you took my long, awkward, involved prompt and you made it work so well.
Dean's panic is so believable, and so *Dean*, and your Sam is everything I could ever wish for: solid and understanding and caring and tea-making (Jody!) and perfect. Basically, the entire last scene is something I could read over and over again and never get tired of.
I still feel like I've only scratched the surface of how much I loved this. Thank you SO MUCH. (You're staying forever, right? To keep writing amazing fills like this? I am absolutely prepared to enable your habit here.)
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I have a bit a of thing for cosmic horror, and I always wanted Cthulhu to crop up on Supernatural but alas, he has yet to, so I figured hell for monsters would probably look something like Lovecraft's reject bin. And I've always thought people, particularly naked people or people wearing certain kinds of clothes (read: business casual attire) start looking incredibly fucking weird if you look too long. Therefore...I loved your prompt.
And, yeah, I've had enough of stand-offish Sam. I'm ready for early-days too-sweet-for-his-own-good Sam to make a reappearance, if a little damaged. :P But I like the idea that Jody can mother him while Dean's away, maybe file off a few of his edges.
WELL WOW THIS COMMENT GOT LONG; the point is thank you for this lovely comment and holy crap, yes, I think I'm staying, because this absolutely unhealthy amounts of fun.
Edit: also, if you care, I got annoyed with the missing transition and I fixed it here: http://sparrow-lately.livejournal.com/1120.html *awkwardly shuffles out*
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