The Tree (PG)
Title:The Tree
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none
Warnings: Major Character Deaths.
Summary: Fic based of this (non spoiler, non fandom) photo going around tumblr.
Bobby leaves the Impala in the field. The hole still in hood. Ash wings spread across it.
There are no bodies to bury. Nothing left to mark that his sons died saving the world one last time. Nothing left of Castiel but those ashy wings.
Bobby - he’s too old for this. He should never had to bury his wife and he doesn’t even have anything to bury of his kids.
John - he thinks John would understand that Bobby loved those boys as much if not more than John could.
Bobby leaves the Impala in the field next to his home. He buys the land so no one will touch it.
He stands out next to her sometimes at night and if he cries, if he pours some of Dean’s favorite whiskey on the ground by her tires, no one is left to see or care.
The tree, Bobby’s not sure when it grows. One day there is a sapling poking out through the hole and he almost rips it out. But he leaves it, liking the idea of something rooting the Impala to the spot.
By the end of the week the tree looks like its been there for ages. Bobby doesn’t chop it down, doesn’t burn it. He just pats the trunk and hopes - not prays - that his boys are upstairs.
Then he walks back alone towards his empty house.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none
Warnings: Major Character Deaths.
Summary: Fic based of this (non spoiler, non fandom) photo going around tumblr.
Bobby leaves the Impala in the field. The hole still in hood. Ash wings spread across it.
There are no bodies to bury. Nothing left to mark that his sons died saving the world one last time. Nothing left of Castiel but those ashy wings.
Bobby - he’s too old for this. He should never had to bury his wife and he doesn’t even have anything to bury of his kids.
John - he thinks John would understand that Bobby loved those boys as much if not more than John could.
Bobby leaves the Impala in the field next to his home. He buys the land so no one will touch it.
He stands out next to her sometimes at night and if he cries, if he pours some of Dean’s favorite whiskey on the ground by her tires, no one is left to see or care.
The tree, Bobby’s not sure when it grows. One day there is a sapling poking out through the hole and he almost rips it out. But he leaves it, liking the idea of something rooting the Impala to the spot.
By the end of the week the tree looks like its been there for ages. Bobby doesn’t chop it down, doesn’t burn it. He just pats the trunk and hopes - not prays - that his boys are upstairs.
Then he walks back alone towards his empty house.