Fic: Legacy - G : no pairing, implied Dean/Sam
Title: Legacy
Author: mgbutterfly
Pairings: Implied Dean/Sam (it's in the touches)
Rating: G
Spoilers: None, really. First season and IMToD are alluded to
Disclaimer: The Boys and their Father are not mine. I merely watch from afar and think of them longingly. *sigh*
Beta!Bitch: sardonicsmiley She is mine, I am hers. She makes my brain do thinky things and my girlie bits tingle.
Summary: The Winchesters.
A/N: I wrote this forever ago and let it steep for a while. It's a little angsty, so you have been warned. It's also pretty damn short. So...
You know what keeps you going. When you want to just lay down, forget, sink. The pages in this book tell you everything you’ll ever need to know. It’s a simple thing, this bible. Words etched deep in paper scented with blood, gunpowder, anger and hope.
You ghost through it unceasingly, your fingers tracing every word. Every day since he left you’ve gone to this book trying to find the answers. As if the more you look at it, the clearer things will become. But just the opposite is true.
You sit hunched over it like some kind of glutton at a feast. Devouring every word, every scent, all the things he left behind. And when he came back, you kept it, because you knew he’d be gone again.
You can hear the sounds of the freeway from where you sit at the crooked table by the window. Lost, lethal, a stone. Your stability is sleeping on the bed. Your hope dreams like madness on the furthest mattress from the door. Your balance is stretched out like a trip line, ready to help free you from the anchor of your thoughts.
And you let your ragged edges bleed through everything.
~ -|- ~
They’ll find a way to get you home. The sky is bruised from the rain and the thunder. With a sky like that, where is there room for Heaven?
The first time you left, you told him it was to cover more ground. And it was partially true. Only, half a lie is still a lie.
This time, it’s different. It’s gonna hurt a hell of a lot more. It’s already like bitter wine on your tongue. The first time, you knew you'd see him, you knew you'd see them again. You didn’t know, but you knew. This time, things will be a bit more permanent.
Bad-ass John Winchester. Demon hunter, vampire slayer, exorcist... bargainer.
This thing? This thing inside you that’s been eating away at your soul since her death? It scratches and smolders and burns away until all you’re left with is the clarity of pain. The realization that they will go on. They will find a way to get you home.
And you pray, to anyone who will listen, that your boys, your flesh and blood, will find a life not this. Will find something in all this darkness, and have light.
~ -|- ~
You’ve been here most of the day. The sky is bleeding out into a sunset of anger and resentment. The book before you an offering of sacrifice.
Full of blessings and curses... just paper. Wandering the pages of your father’s thoughts, you’re lost. And you sit like a stone on the edges of something you know, waiting for the epiphany.
You rake a big hand back through your hair, clear your brain, and go at the book again. The same words you’ve read thousands of time before, and will read thousands of times again. It’s all memory now. Scent, muscle, bone.
You sigh. You stare. Your dreams and regret threaten to swallow you. Then he’s there, your brother, offering you a hand.
And you take it.
Author: mgbutterfly
Pairings: Implied Dean/Sam (it's in the touches)
Rating: G
Spoilers: None, really. First season and IMToD are alluded to
Disclaimer: The Boys and their Father are not mine. I merely watch from afar and think of them longingly. *sigh*
Beta!Bitch: sardonicsmiley She is mine, I am hers. She makes my brain do thinky things and my girlie bits tingle.
Summary: The Winchesters.
A/N: I wrote this forever ago and let it steep for a while. It's a little angsty, so you have been warned. It's also pretty damn short. So...
You know what keeps you going. When you want to just lay down, forget, sink. The pages in this book tell you everything you’ll ever need to know. It’s a simple thing, this bible. Words etched deep in paper scented with blood, gunpowder, anger and hope.
You ghost through it unceasingly, your fingers tracing every word. Every day since he left you’ve gone to this book trying to find the answers. As if the more you look at it, the clearer things will become. But just the opposite is true.
You sit hunched over it like some kind of glutton at a feast. Devouring every word, every scent, all the things he left behind. And when he came back, you kept it, because you knew he’d be gone again.
You can hear the sounds of the freeway from where you sit at the crooked table by the window. Lost, lethal, a stone. Your stability is sleeping on the bed. Your hope dreams like madness on the furthest mattress from the door. Your balance is stretched out like a trip line, ready to help free you from the anchor of your thoughts.
And you let your ragged edges bleed through everything.
~ -|- ~
They’ll find a way to get you home. The sky is bruised from the rain and the thunder. With a sky like that, where is there room for Heaven?
The first time you left, you told him it was to cover more ground. And it was partially true. Only, half a lie is still a lie.
This time, it’s different. It’s gonna hurt a hell of a lot more. It’s already like bitter wine on your tongue. The first time, you knew you'd see him, you knew you'd see them again. You didn’t know, but you knew. This time, things will be a bit more permanent.
Bad-ass John Winchester. Demon hunter, vampire slayer, exorcist... bargainer.
This thing? This thing inside you that’s been eating away at your soul since her death? It scratches and smolders and burns away until all you’re left with is the clarity of pain. The realization that they will go on. They will find a way to get you home.
And you pray, to anyone who will listen, that your boys, your flesh and blood, will find a life not this. Will find something in all this darkness, and have light.
~ -|- ~
You’ve been here most of the day. The sky is bleeding out into a sunset of anger and resentment. The book before you an offering of sacrifice.
Full of blessings and curses... just paper. Wandering the pages of your father’s thoughts, you’re lost. And you sit like a stone on the edges of something you know, waiting for the epiphany.
You rake a big hand back through your hair, clear your brain, and go at the book again. The same words you’ve read thousands of time before, and will read thousands of times again. It’s all memory now. Scent, muscle, bone.
You sigh. You stare. Your dreams and regret threaten to swallow you. Then he’s there, your brother, offering you a hand.
And you take it.