FILLED: Somewhere Older Than I Wascrowroad3May 2 2016, 07:35:25 UTC
Cursed: one cake.
It’s got sprinkles, and something that shines; crystals, edible stars.
Sorry, Sammy, Dean says, was the only one they had left.
The candles (33) are arson aboard a snowfield. Too much sugar and shortening. Dean’s eyes crinkle up, and Sam's seen, pre-thirty, pre-twenty probably, maybe too young to know there were monsters.
Blow.
Sam does.
*
There’s whiskey after, and the bunker’s warm library-light, optics and stars. Dean hands over a box, violet-wrapped and bow’d, some sort of retro department store-looking--
Dust-puff inside. Old book. Symbolled cover. Gold leaf and alchemy.
*
Three AM: Sam stumbles sinkward, pukes up cake, sweats out sugar, sweats out a fever in Dean’s bed while his brother mutters just--
Just spill it, Sammy. You’ll feel better.
He does:
I never wanted to come home, from Phoenix, from anywhere.
I wanted kids.
I remember everyone I hurt, soulless. Everyone I killed.
I still feel like a worthless piece of crap.
I’m still not pure. Never will be. Attack of the shakes
( ... )
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Cursed: one cake.
It’s got sprinkles, and something that shines; crystals, edible stars.
Sorry, Sammy, Dean says, was the only one they had left.
The candles (33) are arson aboard a snowfield. Too much sugar and shortening. Dean’s eyes crinkle up, and Sam's seen, pre-thirty, pre-twenty probably, maybe too young to know there were monsters.
Blow.
Sam does.
*
There’s whiskey after, and the bunker’s warm library-light, optics and stars. Dean hands over a box, violet-wrapped and bow’d, some sort of retro department store-looking--
Dust-puff inside. Old book. Symbolled cover. Gold leaf and alchemy.
*
Three AM: Sam stumbles sinkward, pukes up cake, sweats out sugar, sweats out a fever in Dean’s bed while his brother mutters just--
Just spill it, Sammy. You’ll feel better.
He does:
I never wanted to come home, from Phoenix, from anywhere.
I wanted kids.
I remember everyone I hurt, soulless. Everyone I killed.
I still feel like a worthless piece of crap.
I’m still not pure. Never will be.
Attack of the shakes ( ... )
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Gorgeous!
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Thank you for sharing this gorgeous hurty fic! Take care :)
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There’s whiskey after, and the bunker’s warm library-light, optics and stars.
This sentence makes me feel so very happy. Well done!
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