Can't Forget Regret (1/1)
Title: Can’t Forget Regret
Author: bluegemeyes
Prompt: 15. Regret for spn_25, it also fits 5. fermata (Italian: past participle of fermare, to stop; Latin: firmāre, to make firm)
hold or pause~goes on and on, stuck for 18coda
Rating: Let’s say PG-but very dark
Word Count: 229
Spoilers: Major spoilers for 3x16, “No Rest For The Wicked”
Author’s Notes/Disclaimer: A little coda for 3x16 that I thought of at 3:30 a.m. I couldn’t go to sleep till I’d written it, so here it is. Feedback, please? It’s greatly appreciated!
Time has no meaning in Hell.
It simply stretches on, endless minuteshoursdays, with no distinction. Even the shocks running through Dean’s body are a random pattern, making it impossible for him to predict the next one, or even use it as some kind of marker.
All around him, he hears the screams of the damned. The evil laughter of the demons. The constant whistle of the burning wind that never ceases blowing.
Dean’s throat is burning with thirst, his muscles ache from being stretched like a starfish, and his lips are cracked and chapped. He starts to think he’d sell his soul for a drink of water, then stops when he realizes that’s what got him IN this mess.
But even as he’s being tortured, knowing that all he has to look forward to is an eternity of this, he can’t bring himself to fully regret it. Through his death, Sam got another chance at life. Another chance to bring down as many evil sons-of-bitches as he possibly could.
And knowing Sam…he’d do it with gusto.
Dean gritted his teeth and tensed as another bolt of electricity shot through him, stronger than anything he’d felt yet.
Just before he blacked out, Dean’s last thought was that he regretted not letting Sam give his misty goodbye speech.
And that he didn’t get to tell Sam he loved him…one last time.
Author: bluegemeyes
Prompt: 15. Regret for spn_25, it also fits 5. fermata (Italian: past participle of fermare, to stop; Latin: firmāre, to make firm)
hold or pause~goes on and on, stuck for 18coda
Rating: Let’s say PG-but very dark
Word Count: 229
Spoilers: Major spoilers for 3x16, “No Rest For The Wicked”
Author’s Notes/Disclaimer: A little coda for 3x16 that I thought of at 3:30 a.m. I couldn’t go to sleep till I’d written it, so here it is. Feedback, please? It’s greatly appreciated!
Time has no meaning in Hell.
It simply stretches on, endless minuteshoursdays, with no distinction. Even the shocks running through Dean’s body are a random pattern, making it impossible for him to predict the next one, or even use it as some kind of marker.
All around him, he hears the screams of the damned. The evil laughter of the demons. The constant whistle of the burning wind that never ceases blowing.
Dean’s throat is burning with thirst, his muscles ache from being stretched like a starfish, and his lips are cracked and chapped. He starts to think he’d sell his soul for a drink of water, then stops when he realizes that’s what got him IN this mess.
But even as he’s being tortured, knowing that all he has to look forward to is an eternity of this, he can’t bring himself to fully regret it. Through his death, Sam got another chance at life. Another chance to bring down as many evil sons-of-bitches as he possibly could.
And knowing Sam…he’d do it with gusto.
Dean gritted his teeth and tensed as another bolt of electricity shot through him, stronger than anything he’d felt yet.
Just before he blacked out, Dean’s last thought was that he regretted not letting Sam give his misty goodbye speech.
And that he didn’t get to tell Sam he loved him…one last time.