Home (Destiel)"Dean! There's not going to be any pie left if you keep eating it all!" Mary Winchester admonished. Dean jumped. He had been trying to be subtle.
"Sorry, Mommy. It's just so good."
"I know, I know, but it'll be even better cooked." Mary smiled at him, absolutely radiant. Her hands were wrapped in oven mitts and an oversize apron covered her protruding stomach. She'd been having cravings for baked goods, and Dean was all too happy to help, or hinder, really.
"I love you, Mom," he said.
"Uh, Dean? You okay? you're crying." Dean woke up to Sam's concerned face. He blinked and looked around, taking in the ugly motel room. He was hit very suddenly with homesickness, wanting his mother back. He missed her terribly, more so than he would ever admit to anyone. The fact that most of his memories from that age had dissolved left him with an aching emptiness that he had learned to build up walls against. But when memories came back to him in his sleep, everything hurt anew.
He wanted hi
The Martyred Angel And The Forgotten BrotherSamandriel woke up lying in a field beside an interstate, naked.
The auction. The Winchesters.
He stood up and staggered towards the road, too weak to fly away.
Cars whirled by. Samandriel waited for hours until a beat-up red mini-van stopped on the shoulder of the road to calm a crying toddler.
The torture. Oh, God, the torture.
"Help me," he said. His voice was weak and scratchy.
Castiel. The knife.
"Are you okay?" A mother in her 30s turned around, the child placated with some apple juice.
What if he comes back?
"I'm Sama....Help," he said again, falling to his knees with exhaustion. "He's after me. Going to.... Going to kill me."
The world went dark again.
"He's waking up! Get Dr. Jacobson!" A female voice sounded somewhere at the edge of his consciousness. He found himself being dragged upwards, out of the dark.
More voices. Then, a bit of light, and some shadowy human silhouettes.
"Ah, good to see you awake, Sam."
untitled poemI build invisible towers
on things that never were.
I swim through a waterfall
of thick blue ink.
I'm a dead language.
A bit of graffiti scrawled
under a bridge
twenty years ago
and painted over
"You got a light?" An unshaven man who smells somewhat like a bathroom walks up to me. I toss him the lighter, and he catches it awkwardly. Something about this man makes me sad, and I take a long drag on my cigarette. He finishes lighting his own and holds it out to me.
"Keep it," I say.
"No problem." My American accent makes my voice sound heavy around here. I try to talk as little as possible. The man wanders away and leaves the alley. I watch people walk in the alley, and when I've finished my cigarette I make my way up the fire escape to my grimy apartment. I'm not sure why I bothered to climb down in the first place, and the alley below seems to sway as I look down. Back in my kitchen, I look at the dirty dishes and sigh. Rent's due tomorrow.
I decide that I'll sleep here tonight, pack my bag, and go somewhere else. I didn't give the man in charge of the place my real name. It's easy to escape. Like swimming through a cloudy swimming pool; gliding soundles
Thank You, OwenOwen Harper was wrong.
There was an afterlife.
Susie hadn't seen it, he hadn't seen it, because they were both destined to come back.
It wasn't heaven, no pearly gates and angels, but it was peaceful.
For Owen, it was a gazebo in a park where people he knew occasionally wandered by. His grandparents and parents, a kid in primary school who'd been hit by a car. He saw Susie once or twice. Tosh was around a lot, and they walked the trails of the park, talking and not talking all at once. Then, Ianto; reunited with an old dog and mourning for Jack. He saw Katie occasionally, with her family. He thought it might be awkward, being with Tosh and Katie and the others all at once, but everything was calm and there was no jealousy. He wandered mostly, only able to see the ghosts of people he had known in life.
Plus one more.
He saw her on a playground, sitting on a swing set. She was seventeen, but her face belonged to an old soul. He sat down on the other swing, rocked back and forth as a