DEW: The Quarantine Diary of Dean Winchester
THE QUARANTINE DIARY OF DEAN WINCHESTER
Rating: K+
Genre: Humour
Characters: Dean and Sam
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Word Count: 400 (sorry, too much of a fun prompt - I just kept going!)
Disclaimer: I don't own them
Dean is a hero and is very pragmatic about enforced quarantine.
"… Our self-isolation continues. It’s getting harder all the time.
I don’t know how much longer I can stand this lockdown before I completely lose my mind. I’m a creature of the open road; a wanderer. This enforced seclusion is torture to a free spirit like me.
The pie ran out this morning, and the beer’s getting low. And that’s just the start of our food shortages.
I’ve got to say, Sam was very unsympathetic when I told him; he said I should be more concerned that we’ve only got one toilet roll left.
The cabin fever’s setting in; I feel like a fumerole waiting to blow. The walls are bearing down on me. Sam and I are getting snippy and irritable with each other; I think it’s only a matter of time before one of us goes stir crazy. I’ve locked the grenade launcher away in the vaults just to be safe.
Sometimes I go down to the garage and talk to Baby. It's a kind of therapy; she keeps me grounded, she’s my rock. I talk about the day sometime when I’ll be able to drive her again. To wind down her window, and feel the breeze on my face.
Damn, how I miss the sunshine. I try not to think of it.
The hunger’s starting to bite, and I’m looking around the bunker trying to figure out what we can eat if things go on for much longer. Sam came back from our last supply run with a load of cans of soup and vegetables - so, yeah, that’s for later down the line when things get really desperate.
There are all sorts of plant and animal parts in the vaults as well, but … well, I don’t know if they’re better than that crap Sam bought or not.
I suppose I could always eat Sam…
It’s the isolation that really plays tricks with the mind; Sam says he’s heard me talking to myself. I feel an urge to take the basketball in my closet and paint a face on it.
But it’s all for the greater good.
The hunger, the solitude, the sacrifice. No-one ever said quarantine would be easy. But I’m a Winchester; I can take it.
I only hope I’m the same man when we come out of the other side of it, whenever that may be…"
xxxxx
"DEAN?"
"Hey Sam, what?"
"Dean, get a freaking grip! It’s only been four hours."
xxxxx
end
Rating: K+
Genre: Humour
Characters: Dean and Sam
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Word Count: 400 (sorry, too much of a fun prompt - I just kept going!)
Disclaimer: I don't own them
Dean is a hero and is very pragmatic about enforced quarantine.
"… Our self-isolation continues. It’s getting harder all the time.
I don’t know how much longer I can stand this lockdown before I completely lose my mind. I’m a creature of the open road; a wanderer. This enforced seclusion is torture to a free spirit like me.
The pie ran out this morning, and the beer’s getting low. And that’s just the start of our food shortages.
I’ve got to say, Sam was very unsympathetic when I told him; he said I should be more concerned that we’ve only got one toilet roll left.
The cabin fever’s setting in; I feel like a fumerole waiting to blow. The walls are bearing down on me. Sam and I are getting snippy and irritable with each other; I think it’s only a matter of time before one of us goes stir crazy. I’ve locked the grenade launcher away in the vaults just to be safe.
Sometimes I go down to the garage and talk to Baby. It's a kind of therapy; she keeps me grounded, she’s my rock. I talk about the day sometime when I’ll be able to drive her again. To wind down her window, and feel the breeze on my face.
Damn, how I miss the sunshine. I try not to think of it.
The hunger’s starting to bite, and I’m looking around the bunker trying to figure out what we can eat if things go on for much longer. Sam came back from our last supply run with a load of cans of soup and vegetables - so, yeah, that’s for later down the line when things get really desperate.
There are all sorts of plant and animal parts in the vaults as well, but … well, I don’t know if they’re better than that crap Sam bought or not.
I suppose I could always eat Sam…
It’s the isolation that really plays tricks with the mind; Sam says he’s heard me talking to myself. I feel an urge to take the basketball in my closet and paint a face on it.
But it’s all for the greater good.
The hunger, the solitude, the sacrifice. No-one ever said quarantine would be easy. But I’m a Winchester; I can take it.
I only hope I’m the same man when we come out of the other side of it, whenever that may be…"
xxxxx
"DEAN?"
"Hey Sam, what?"
"Dean, get a freaking grip! It’s only been four hours."
xxxxx
end