and they pass through the field and it's yellow and gold;

[longerthanwedo]

I wrote a little post-season six, Sam & Dean snapshot. I wanted to write, but I didn't want to write anything long or with substantial plot (do I ever?), so I asked my friend to give me a prompt. She gave me "sunflowers".

And they pass through the field and it’s yellow and gold. Stalks that bend as they whistle by. So bright. Easy to believe.

Dark ghosts in light places.

Serenity.

For Dean it’s flat and it’s distant, beauty irrelevant, lying beyond the windshield, the profile in the passenger seat. It can’t touch him.

For Sam it’s fire and he swallows, blinks and holds it for a second or two. Light color that turns to orange that turns to red in the back of his mind and burns him.

It’s the shadow that matters, not the sun.

Comfort.

It’s days like this when it’s hard to forget.

And they pass through the field and it’s full of flowers. That sun beats down hard and they can only feel the black expanse of Heaven, the bloody wings of fallen (risen) angels.

The warm cage of Hell.

Where do they go from here?

Uncertainty.

For Dean it’s the end and the beginning. An angel destroyed and a brother made whole. Scarred, but whole.

For Sam it’s just pain.

They’re tangible, the memories, thick and a spider’s web.

Entrapment.

And they pass through the field and it’s fleeting and sad. Windows shut against the smell of spring, they can’t afford beauty.

For Dean it’s watching his brother’s mind unravel.

For Sam it’s being unable to keep it together, wrapped up in consciousness.

(In)sanity.

And they pass through the field and they’re breathing and warm. Only a little bit dead. They’re one plus one and the wheels underneath.

Light eyes in dark hours.

Pretending.

For Dean it’s Sam, and for Sam it’s Dean.

Where do they go from here?

Family.