(fic) Punch Line - SPN
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write
Pairing or Characters Involved: Dean Winchester
Category: General
Rating: R
Warning: Language
Title: Punch Line
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: This was written for the LiveJournal community, spnland_writing - Sunrise challenge. It placed first
This must be what being born feels like - a whirlwind of barely remembered memories. Confusion. Panic. Fear. The first thing a human baby does when it’s born is scream and, of course, cry. And Dean didn’t blame them one little bit. Just the sharp pain of some doctor smacking you on the ass and it’s Welcome to the real world, kiddo. I’d like to say it gets better, but it doesn’t.
How’s that for a punch line?
Gasping and coughing while struggling to fight down his own panic and confusion, Dean fumbled one hand into his jean pocket, searching for his trusty lighter. His fingers closed over it, pressed the red tab as he flicked the metal grinders to produce the spark that would ignite a flame. It took three tries but, as the bible says, Let there be light.
The panic didn’t abate much. Memories of hellhounds and teeth flashed through his mind as he stared around him in helpless horror.
He had died. Been torn to shreds by a hellhound. He remembered the pain, the fear, the rank stink of the thing’s breath. He’d been in Hell. And now he was back. Jesus Christ, he was back.
And buried alive by the looks of things.
Great.
Now seemed like a good time to start screaming.
Welcome back, kiddo. I’d like to say it gets better, but, well, you already know it doesn’t.
How’s that for a fucking punch line?
THE END
Pairing or Characters Involved: Dean Winchester
Category: General
Rating: R
Warning: Language
Title: Punch Line
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: This was written for the LiveJournal community, spnland_writing - Sunrise challenge. It placed first
This must be what being born feels like - a whirlwind of barely remembered memories. Confusion. Panic. Fear. The first thing a human baby does when it’s born is scream and, of course, cry. And Dean didn’t blame them one little bit. Just the sharp pain of some doctor smacking you on the ass and it’s Welcome to the real world, kiddo. I’d like to say it gets better, but it doesn’t.
How’s that for a punch line?
Gasping and coughing while struggling to fight down his own panic and confusion, Dean fumbled one hand into his jean pocket, searching for his trusty lighter. His fingers closed over it, pressed the red tab as he flicked the metal grinders to produce the spark that would ignite a flame. It took three tries but, as the bible says, Let there be light.
The panic didn’t abate much. Memories of hellhounds and teeth flashed through his mind as he stared around him in helpless horror.
He had died. Been torn to shreds by a hellhound. He remembered the pain, the fear, the rank stink of the thing’s breath. He’d been in Hell. And now he was back. Jesus Christ, he was back.
And buried alive by the looks of things.
Great.
Now seemed like a good time to start screaming.
Welcome back, kiddo. I’d like to say it gets better, but, well, you already know it doesn’t.
How’s that for a fucking punch line?
THE END