SPN fic: Grief pauses! // G // gen
Title: Grief Pauses! 
Pairing: None, gen
Rating: G
Words: 296, unbeta'd
Disclaimer: *does not know, means no harm, plz to not be suing*
Summary: This little ficlet plopped out because of this tool that was linked over at the autumnwrites comm (which I am failing at hardcore right now, btw). It's such an interesting little thing that gives you random words, sentences, paragraphs, phrases, etc. Most of the time they make NO sense at all but sometimes a random something will strike you a certain way, like it did here for me tonight.
I have a longer fic I'm going to post Sunday or Monday but the end of the week is never a good time to do that, especially on a week when people are taking off and fleeing for Wincon, which I wish I could be at but this year the stars just didn't align properly for me to make it. NEITHER HERE NOR THERE, however. This little brain fart came about when I had the bit "Grief pauses!" come up on my random generator. And it worked. :D
Two months, three weeks, six days and three hours.
That's the exact moment that Sam realized his every waking thought wasn't about Dean. There'd been other moments since Dean died, of course. But every time Sam always felt the immediate sledgehammer of guilt and sorrow over the loss of his brother, his compatriot.
Even hunting felt like a betrayal at times, during those moments when the exhilaration of killing something evil and nasty would zing through him and make him feel triumphant for three seconds before the crushing remembrance set back in.
So two months, three weeks, six days and three hours later Sam didn't really know what to do with the new discovery that it wasn't all about Dean anymore. It still was, of course in a way, because everything Sam did was to help Dean out of hell, to find a way to save him and bring him back. Sam was okay right then, at that very moment, but for the long haul he wasn't sure how long he'd last on his own. He only had to be strong until.
"Sam?"
Sam's head jerked up and he stared at the unfamiliar brunette, frowning. "Who's asking?"
"It's about time I found you," the girl said with a small smile. She sat down at his table across from him and sat back in her chair casually while Sam scoped out the rest of the bar warily. He reached into his jacket slowly under the table and she rolled her eyes. "Don't even bother. It wouldn't kill me anyway."
Sam cocked his head and looked at her hard, studying her. "Ruby?"
"It's about time I found you," she repeated, her new smile spreading across her lips.
Two months, three weeks, six days and three hours.
And counting.
Pairing: None, gen
Rating: G
Words: 296, unbeta'd
Disclaimer: *does not know, means no harm, plz to not be suing*
Summary: This little ficlet plopped out because of this tool that was linked over at the autumnwrites comm (which I am failing at hardcore right now, btw). It's such an interesting little thing that gives you random words, sentences, paragraphs, phrases, etc. Most of the time they make NO sense at all but sometimes a random something will strike you a certain way, like it did here for me tonight.
I have a longer fic I'm going to post Sunday or Monday but the end of the week is never a good time to do that, especially on a week when people are taking off and fleeing for Wincon, which I wish I could be at but this year the stars just didn't align properly for me to make it. NEITHER HERE NOR THERE, however. This little brain fart came about when I had the bit "Grief pauses!" come up on my random generator. And it worked. :D
Two months, three weeks, six days and three hours.
That's the exact moment that Sam realized his every waking thought wasn't about Dean. There'd been other moments since Dean died, of course. But every time Sam always felt the immediate sledgehammer of guilt and sorrow over the loss of his brother, his compatriot.
Even hunting felt like a betrayal at times, during those moments when the exhilaration of killing something evil and nasty would zing through him and make him feel triumphant for three seconds before the crushing remembrance set back in.
So two months, three weeks, six days and three hours later Sam didn't really know what to do with the new discovery that it wasn't all about Dean anymore. It still was, of course in a way, because everything Sam did was to help Dean out of hell, to find a way to save him and bring him back. Sam was okay right then, at that very moment, but for the long haul he wasn't sure how long he'd last on his own. He only had to be strong until.
"Sam?"
Sam's head jerked up and he stared at the unfamiliar brunette, frowning. "Who's asking?"
"It's about time I found you," the girl said with a small smile. She sat down at his table across from him and sat back in her chair casually while Sam scoped out the rest of the bar warily. He reached into his jacket slowly under the table and she rolled her eyes. "Don't even bother. It wouldn't kill me anyway."
Sam cocked his head and looked at her hard, studying her. "Ruby?"
"It's about time I found you," she repeated, her new smile spreading across her lips.
Two months, three weeks, six days and three hours.
And counting.