fic: The View From Here
The View From Here
Supernatural; Dean; pg; 210 words
There's no fucking way Jesus did for his sins.
~*~
Dean tries staying at Lisa's, because she does her best to comfort him, and because maybe this time, he can be there for Ben, but after almost a month, he's cleaned her out of all the alcohol in the house, and he's barely spoken.
"Dean," she says, hand a heavy weight on his shoulder, not nearly as heavy as his heart feels. "I know you're...going through a hell of a lot right now, but I think maybe you should take some time for yourself. You're welcome to come back anytime, just get yourself together first. Please." She kisses him, all sorrow and longing, the sour taste of pity rising in the back of her throat.
He drives and drives, doesn't sleep for seventy-two hours, and thinks he's finally gone out of his mind when he sees it. Blinking doesn't clear his vision, and neither does pinching the skin between his thumb and index finger, so he determines he's still sane, and doesn't know if that's a good thing or not. There's a fucking statue of Jesus a few hundred yards away, and isn't that fucking ironic, somehow. His arms are extended, and Dean thinks there's no fucking way Jesus did for his sins. Not his, and not Sam's.
Supernatural; Dean; pg; 210 words
There's no fucking way Jesus did for his sins.
~*~
Dean tries staying at Lisa's, because she does her best to comfort him, and because maybe this time, he can be there for Ben, but after almost a month, he's cleaned her out of all the alcohol in the house, and he's barely spoken.
"Dean," she says, hand a heavy weight on his shoulder, not nearly as heavy as his heart feels. "I know you're...going through a hell of a lot right now, but I think maybe you should take some time for yourself. You're welcome to come back anytime, just get yourself together first. Please." She kisses him, all sorrow and longing, the sour taste of pity rising in the back of her throat.
He drives and drives, doesn't sleep for seventy-two hours, and thinks he's finally gone out of his mind when he sees it. Blinking doesn't clear his vision, and neither does pinching the skin between his thumb and index finger, so he determines he's still sane, and doesn't know if that's a good thing or not. There's a fucking statue of Jesus a few hundred yards away, and isn't that fucking ironic, somehow. His arms are extended, and Dean thinks there's no fucking way Jesus did for his sins. Not his, and not Sam's.