Victim of the Looking Glass
Title: Victim of the Looking Glass
Disclaimer: don't own, not claiming to, not making money off this! so don't sue!
Pairings: vague Dean/Sam, if you really look for it.
Genre: drabble
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Notes: just testing the waters, so to speak. seeing if I can get in character before I try writing anything big. experimenting with style, also.
Summary: just a short coda to "Bloody Mary."
On the way out the door, Dean pauses. Turns. Shivers as he catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror whose frame is intricately carved and coated with a thin film of faded gold paint. Can't help but search the reflection for her.
Bloody Mary.
He'd almost lost Sammy, that day. If those cops had held him back for even a minute longer...
"Dean?"
Sam fills up the doorway, large and blocking the light from outside. "Something wrong?"
Dean shakes off the memories, and brushes past his brother as he steps outside. "No," he says, running a hand along the sleek, clean lines of the Impala. Climbs inside, turns the key in the ignition. Lets the low purr of the engine soothe him as Sam slides into the passenger seat.
"You sure?" Sam asks. Pushing, just like he always does. "You looked-"
"I'm fine, Sam," he says, and pops a Blue Oyster Cult cassette into the player.
Sammy was safe.
That was all that mattered.
Disclaimer: don't own, not claiming to, not making money off this! so don't sue!
Pairings: vague Dean/Sam, if you really look for it.
Genre: drabble
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Notes: just testing the waters, so to speak. seeing if I can get in character before I try writing anything big. experimenting with style, also.
Summary: just a short coda to "Bloody Mary."
On the way out the door, Dean pauses. Turns. Shivers as he catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror whose frame is intricately carved and coated with a thin film of faded gold paint. Can't help but search the reflection for her.
Bloody Mary.
He'd almost lost Sammy, that day. If those cops had held him back for even a minute longer...
"Dean?"
Sam fills up the doorway, large and blocking the light from outside. "Something wrong?"
Dean shakes off the memories, and brushes past his brother as he steps outside. "No," he says, running a hand along the sleek, clean lines of the Impala. Climbs inside, turns the key in the ignition. Lets the low purr of the engine soothe him as Sam slides into the passenger seat.
"You sure?" Sam asks. Pushing, just like he always does. "You looked-"
"I'm fine, Sam," he says, and pops a Blue Oyster Cult cassette into the player.
Sammy was safe.
That was all that mattered.