Fic: Sanity is Overrated
Title: Sanity is Overrated
Chapter: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Teen for Swearing and Angst
Pairing: None really, Implied Dean/Lisa
Summary: Dealing with the real world after a lifetime in insanity. Or is it the other way around?
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm TOTALLY fine with what Kripke's done with them actually.
Author's Note: Because I looked up, realized I start classes in less than a week and my summer prompt list had grown instead of shrunk and I needed to write ...So instead I rewatched the Supernatural Season 5 finale and came up with this. Unbeta'ed becausea my usual Beta's still in Season 3.
SPOILERS - For Supernatural Season 5 Finale 5x22 - Swan Song
***
Dean still has the rings.
From the moment he picked them up off the soft, undisturbed, grass covered ground, that was far too solid, too perfect too be real, he was waiting for someone to take them away from him.
For Castiel to spout some holier-than-thou crap he’s too numb to listen too right now and confiscate them in the name of Heaven, disappearing forever into the folds of his perfectly unruffled, (he guesses it must be new) trenchcoat, never to seen or heard from again.
But he just patches them up and goes to stand quietly by the Impala, waiting for Dean and Bobby to pick themselves up off the ground and leave. Nothing is said on the trip back to Bobby’s either. Leave it to Cas to pick now to learn tactful silence.
Bobby doesn’t say anything either. Just treats Dean like he’s a ticking time bomb, walking on eggshells and circling him continuously, trying to give him space while not letting him out of his sight.
So he leaves. He can’t tell if it relieves Bobby or just worries him more. Doesn’t think Bobby can tell either.
Death doesn’t show up to take his ring back. Dean can’t think of why he would when he obviously despises the thing, but it was one last hope that someone else would remove temptation.
The first time he sleeps, maybe two weeks later, for just a couple of hours, he half expects them to have disappeared.
But they’re still there, still stuck together in that innocuous pattern, lying docilely on a cheap motel nightstand.
Life shouldn’t be this fucking normal.
But he promised.
But what did he promise? That he wouldn’t bring Sam back? That he’d live a normal life?
Didn’t say he wouldn’t go after him. That he wouldn’t jump back in the middle of that fight where he obviously no longer belongs, a third wheel that refuses to be shaken off.
And honestly, what’s more normal for him than chasing after Sam?
He’s rationalizing, but he can’t bring himself to give a fuck.
Why not? He’d done it before.
And that had worked out perfectly, hadn’t it.
What would he find if he did?
The two of them locked in never-ending combat? One of them already destroyed, Sam lying dead on the ground with Michael waiting for him? If there was a ground, that is.
Would the rings still work?
What if they didn’t? That would be worse.
So what’s a man to do?
He goes to Lisa.
But they’re still there.
Hell, they’re not even the biggest reminder of his life, or what happened.
They’re just innocuous, lying in a duffle in the back of the Impala, buried beneath a thousand other physical reminders. They’re still too fucking normal.
So he buries them. Fifty miles apart each on the edges of abandoned fields and woods.
As he pulls the first one off, it protests at being separated from its fellows. His muscles ache from the physical pull and his mind rebels, clawing and screeching at the unnatural separation of things that were meant to be.
He relishes it. That’s the right kind of normal.
He puts protective and concealment charms on all of them, forgetting where they are even as he drives h…back to Lisa’s.
Except for one.
He doesn’t know why he kept it.
Maybe he just ran out of willpower. Maybe he’s just a goddamn glutton for punishment.
It rolls around in his pocket, whispering to him about what he’s thrown away, and can now never get back.
He’d make a Lord of the Rings joke, but there’s no one there to care.
He tries to remember which of the Horsemen it belonged to, and the symbolism of each, but abandons it in disgust. Self-analysis will only end at the bottom of a bottle.
Which is exactly where he ends up one night.
Why not?
It’s not like something going to come blasting through the wall to get him this time, much as he might want it to. The world is normal now. Might as well accept it and give in.
When he wakes up the ring is on Lisa’s finger.
***
Comments are love. I don't think I have any friends who read my LJ that actually watch SPN, but I'm posting anyway.
Chapter: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Teen for Swearing and Angst
Pairing: None really, Implied Dean/Lisa
Summary: Dealing with the real world after a lifetime in insanity. Or is it the other way around?
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm TOTALLY fine with what Kripke's done with them actually.
Author's Note: Because I looked up, realized I start classes in less than a week and my summer prompt list had grown instead of shrunk and I needed to write ...So instead I rewatched the Supernatural Season 5 finale and came up with this. Unbeta'ed becausea my usual Beta's still in Season 3.
SPOILERS - For Supernatural Season 5 Finale 5x22 - Swan Song
***
Dean still has the rings.
From the moment he picked them up off the soft, undisturbed, grass covered ground, that was far too solid, too perfect too be real, he was waiting for someone to take them away from him.
For Castiel to spout some holier-than-thou crap he’s too numb to listen too right now and confiscate them in the name of Heaven, disappearing forever into the folds of his perfectly unruffled, (he guesses it must be new) trenchcoat, never to seen or heard from again.
But he just patches them up and goes to stand quietly by the Impala, waiting for Dean and Bobby to pick themselves up off the ground and leave. Nothing is said on the trip back to Bobby’s either. Leave it to Cas to pick now to learn tactful silence.
Bobby doesn’t say anything either. Just treats Dean like he’s a ticking time bomb, walking on eggshells and circling him continuously, trying to give him space while not letting him out of his sight.
So he leaves. He can’t tell if it relieves Bobby or just worries him more. Doesn’t think Bobby can tell either.
Death doesn’t show up to take his ring back. Dean can’t think of why he would when he obviously despises the thing, but it was one last hope that someone else would remove temptation.
The first time he sleeps, maybe two weeks later, for just a couple of hours, he half expects them to have disappeared.
But they’re still there, still stuck together in that innocuous pattern, lying docilely on a cheap motel nightstand.
Life shouldn’t be this fucking normal.
But he promised.
But what did he promise? That he wouldn’t bring Sam back? That he’d live a normal life?
Didn’t say he wouldn’t go after him. That he wouldn’t jump back in the middle of that fight where he obviously no longer belongs, a third wheel that refuses to be shaken off.
And honestly, what’s more normal for him than chasing after Sam?
He’s rationalizing, but he can’t bring himself to give a fuck.
Why not? He’d done it before.
And that had worked out perfectly, hadn’t it.
What would he find if he did?
The two of them locked in never-ending combat? One of them already destroyed, Sam lying dead on the ground with Michael waiting for him? If there was a ground, that is.
Would the rings still work?
What if they didn’t? That would be worse.
So what’s a man to do?
He goes to Lisa.
But they’re still there.
Hell, they’re not even the biggest reminder of his life, or what happened.
They’re just innocuous, lying in a duffle in the back of the Impala, buried beneath a thousand other physical reminders. They’re still too fucking normal.
So he buries them. Fifty miles apart each on the edges of abandoned fields and woods.
As he pulls the first one off, it protests at being separated from its fellows. His muscles ache from the physical pull and his mind rebels, clawing and screeching at the unnatural separation of things that were meant to be.
He relishes it. That’s the right kind of normal.
He puts protective and concealment charms on all of them, forgetting where they are even as he drives h…back to Lisa’s.
Except for one.
He doesn’t know why he kept it.
Maybe he just ran out of willpower. Maybe he’s just a goddamn glutton for punishment.
It rolls around in his pocket, whispering to him about what he’s thrown away, and can now never get back.
He’d make a Lord of the Rings joke, but there’s no one there to care.
He tries to remember which of the Horsemen it belonged to, and the symbolism of each, but abandons it in disgust. Self-analysis will only end at the bottom of a bottle.
Which is exactly where he ends up one night.
Why not?
It’s not like something going to come blasting through the wall to get him this time, much as he might want it to. The world is normal now. Might as well accept it and give in.
When he wakes up the ring is on Lisa’s finger.
***
Comments are love. I don't think I have any friends who read my LJ that actually watch SPN, but I'm posting anyway.