Challenge #14 - full moon...
Title: Hunter's Moon
Author: tabaqui
Rating: G
Pairing: Sam'n'Dean
Spoilers:None. Teeny bit of post-finale speculation implied.
Sometimes, Dean thought that Heaven was the road. Endless lanes of blacktop and tar, stretching on and on into an infinite horizon. The sun or the moon overhead, stars spinning like a great wheel - his car at the center of it all, rolling on.
He never said anything about it - he figured Sam would just look at him, that expression of benevolent incredulity that meant 'my big brother is simple, but he probably won't hurt you '. Or laugh at him. But maybe not. Right now, running sure and steady somewhere west of Kansas City, it seemed Sam might actually...get it.
He was sitting at an odd angle, peering up through the windshield at the sky. Looking for Mars or the Pleiades or something - looking at the Milky Way, that blazed like grains of diamante sand from horizon to horizon.
"It's so bright," Sam murmured, and Dean glanced over at him and smiled, risking his own glance up and out. It was bright - glittering and huge and so, so far. Leagues and eternities shining overhead, cold and strange. Dean rubbed a slow, caressing hand over the leather of the car seat. In here it was warm, and safe. In here was everything he needed and wanted - had to have. To live. In here was the last of his family and the only person he'd ever really loved. Here under the endless stars, between the lines.
"Oh, look," Sam said, and Dean followed his pointing finger. The moon was rising, lifting above the horizon in increments, the color of an old penny. It was monumental, hovering there - huge and perfect and so solemn, somehow.
"Hunter's moon," Dean said, remembering something from long ago. Remembering a campfire and a tin cup of hot chocolate and a man with two long, black braids and a scar across his face - empty socket where an eye had been. Camo coat and combat boots and obscure, muttered conversation with Dad, graveyards in that man's glance.
Sam smiled over at him - bit his lip for a moment. "Old moon, Hunger moon, Crow moon..."
Dean took up the soft chant. "Egg moon, Milk moon, Strawberry moon..."
"You always remembered the ones about food best," Sam teased, and Dean laughed. "Thunder moon."
"Green corn moon, Barley moon..."
"Hunter moon," they both said, and then Dean finished it.
"Frost moon, Long nights moon."
Sam sighed, a pleased sound, and they drove in silence while the moon drifted higher, a thin chalk of clouds polishing it to silver as it rose. There were lights ahead - miles distant, but they'd be passing a city soon. Restaurants and gas stations and a Motel Six, probably. Civilization, or what passed for it. "I'm not really tired," Sam said, and Dean grinned in the darkness, reaching along the seat until he found Sam's wrist.
Curled his fingers around tendon and bone and a strip of braided leather, the cuff of Sam's coat brushing his knuckles. "Me either."
"Wanna just - keep driving?"
Dean nodded - squeezed Sam's wrist lightly and then let go, his hand settling back onto the wheel. Sam reached over and turned on the radio, dialing through static to music. The car rolled on, the engine a steady rumble; the tire's rhythmic shush blending with the music that wound out into the air between them. Heaven, Dean thought. Or something very much like it.
"When I was small, I was in love...in love with everything...and now there's only you..."
Full moon names from here. I mixed and matched a little. The last line is the last line of a song called 'Cloudburst at Shingle Street' by Thomas Dolby.
Author: tabaqui
Rating: G
Pairing: Sam'n'Dean
Spoilers:None. Teeny bit of post-finale speculation implied.
Sometimes, Dean thought that Heaven was the road. Endless lanes of blacktop and tar, stretching on and on into an infinite horizon. The sun or the moon overhead, stars spinning like a great wheel - his car at the center of it all, rolling on.
He never said anything about it - he figured Sam would just look at him, that expression of benevolent incredulity that meant 'my big brother is simple, but he probably won't hurt you '. Or laugh at him. But maybe not. Right now, running sure and steady somewhere west of Kansas City, it seemed Sam might actually...get it.
He was sitting at an odd angle, peering up through the windshield at the sky. Looking for Mars or the Pleiades or something - looking at the Milky Way, that blazed like grains of diamante sand from horizon to horizon.
"It's so bright," Sam murmured, and Dean glanced over at him and smiled, risking his own glance up and out. It was bright - glittering and huge and so, so far. Leagues and eternities shining overhead, cold and strange. Dean rubbed a slow, caressing hand over the leather of the car seat. In here it was warm, and safe. In here was everything he needed and wanted - had to have. To live. In here was the last of his family and the only person he'd ever really loved. Here under the endless stars, between the lines.
"Oh, look," Sam said, and Dean followed his pointing finger. The moon was rising, lifting above the horizon in increments, the color of an old penny. It was monumental, hovering there - huge and perfect and so solemn, somehow.
"Hunter's moon," Dean said, remembering something from long ago. Remembering a campfire and a tin cup of hot chocolate and a man with two long, black braids and a scar across his face - empty socket where an eye had been. Camo coat and combat boots and obscure, muttered conversation with Dad, graveyards in that man's glance.
Sam smiled over at him - bit his lip for a moment. "Old moon, Hunger moon, Crow moon..."
Dean took up the soft chant. "Egg moon, Milk moon, Strawberry moon..."
"You always remembered the ones about food best," Sam teased, and Dean laughed. "Thunder moon."
"Green corn moon, Barley moon..."
"Hunter moon," they both said, and then Dean finished it.
"Frost moon, Long nights moon."
Sam sighed, a pleased sound, and they drove in silence while the moon drifted higher, a thin chalk of clouds polishing it to silver as it rose. There were lights ahead - miles distant, but they'd be passing a city soon. Restaurants and gas stations and a Motel Six, probably. Civilization, or what passed for it. "I'm not really tired," Sam said, and Dean grinned in the darkness, reaching along the seat until he found Sam's wrist.
Curled his fingers around tendon and bone and a strip of braided leather, the cuff of Sam's coat brushing his knuckles. "Me either."
"Wanna just - keep driving?"
Dean nodded - squeezed Sam's wrist lightly and then let go, his hand settling back onto the wheel. Sam reached over and turned on the radio, dialing through static to music. The car rolled on, the engine a steady rumble; the tire's rhythmic shush blending with the music that wound out into the air between them. Heaven, Dean thought. Or something very much like it.
"When I was small, I was in love...in love with everything...and now there's only you..."
Full moon names from here. I mixed and matched a little. The last line is the last line of a song called 'Cloudburst at Shingle Street' by Thomas Dolby.