Harbingers
Title: Harbingers
Author: tifaching
Character(s)/Pairing(s):Sam, Dean
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings:PG, semi-dark themes
Word Count:200
Summary: Sam wants his brother back
A/N: Written for this prompt at day_by_drabble Spring is sprung / De grass is riz / I wonder where dem birdies is? / De little birds is on de wing / Ain’t dat absurd? / De little wing is on de bird! (Anonymous, "Spring is Sprung") I'm afraid I didn't quite stick to the spirit of the prompt.
It's not quite dawn when the cacophony of high pitched shrieks begins outside the window. Sam starts to pull his pillow over his head, but a noise from the next bed stops him cold and he's at his brother's side in an instant.
"No. No! Please, stop!" Dean's half awake, curled up with his hands covering his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound.
"Hey," Sam reaches out gently; startling Dean now won't end well for either of them. Dean flinches at the touch and his eyes stare into the distance at horrors Sam can only imagine. Sam murmurs soft reassurances, his hand tracing small circles on Dean's back. Gradually Dean subsides into the tightly wired ball of tension that's as relaxed as he gets these days.
Sam wants to drag his brother into the light of the new day, make him breathe in the scent of freshly sprouted grass, make him see the delicate beauty of blossoming flowers. He wants Dean to hear the birds as harbingers of spring, instead of the screams of tortured souls. He wants his brother back the way he was so badly he can taste it.
It tastes exactly like blood.
Author: tifaching
Character(s)/Pairing(s):Sam, Dean
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings:PG, semi-dark themes
Word Count:200
Summary: Sam wants his brother back
A/N: Written for this prompt at day_by_drabble Spring is sprung / De grass is riz / I wonder where dem birdies is? / De little birds is on de wing / Ain’t dat absurd? / De little wing is on de bird! (Anonymous, "Spring is Sprung") I'm afraid I didn't quite stick to the spirit of the prompt.
It's not quite dawn when the cacophony of high pitched shrieks begins outside the window. Sam starts to pull his pillow over his head, but a noise from the next bed stops him cold and he's at his brother's side in an instant.
"No. No! Please, stop!" Dean's half awake, curled up with his hands covering his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound.
"Hey," Sam reaches out gently; startling Dean now won't end well for either of them. Dean flinches at the touch and his eyes stare into the distance at horrors Sam can only imagine. Sam murmurs soft reassurances, his hand tracing small circles on Dean's back. Gradually Dean subsides into the tightly wired ball of tension that's as relaxed as he gets these days.
Sam wants to drag his brother into the light of the new day, make him breathe in the scent of freshly sprouted grass, make him see the delicate beauty of blossoming flowers. He wants Dean to hear the birds as harbingers of spring, instead of the screams of tortured souls. He wants his brother back the way he was so badly he can taste it.
It tastes exactly like blood.