SPN: Like Unto My Sorrow

[alexseanchai]

caramelsilver is still hosting the Three-Sentence Ficathon. So I ficced some more.

Title: Like Unto My Sorrow
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Dean thinks of home, he's never there.
Word Count: 500 (it is only three sentences and they are grammatically correct I swear)

When Dean thinks of home, it's always a T-ball bat and a fistful of salt in the pasta water, engine grease and the reassurance that angels are watching over him; the spaghetti never tastes right unsalted (and being ghost-repellent is always a good thing so it can't hurt to oversalt a little, and to hell with his sodium intake, thirty's not old enough to die of a heart attack and older than he'll ever be) and the car always has something needing tinkering, but there's never time for ball games if Sammy can't play too (Sammy's always too little, or Dean too big), and if there really were angels watching, why would they let Mommy die, why would they take away Dean's home?

When Dean thinks of home, it's always drowning and scorching heat, blood and thirst and screams; he won't go back—won't—welcomes his exile though he knows he'll never deserve it, saves everyone he can in hopes of making amends for what he did, what he is (he'll even register to vote, under his own name so there can't be an accusation of voter fraud; his natural inclination would be Republican because gun restrictions are a pain in the ass, but once he was caught by a rusalka and nearly drowned, knew he'd die or Dad would save him and either way it would end, and once he spent a month drowning, knew it'd end only when Alastair got bored of whoever he was substituting for Dean, and come November he'll vote Democrat because waterboarding is just drowning without being permitted to die)—overreacts when he finds out about Sam's new powers because he's afraid he'll see yellow in Sam's eyes or Sam will see black in his own and one of them will have no choice but to send the other straight back home.

When Dean thinks of home, it's always open skies and the open road, short-sheeting and joy buzzers, I hunt, therefore I am and they've got to catch me if they want me to hang and Sammy in shotgun trying to con Dean into changing stations (and okay, the chick who sings don't want to end up like pirate bones, what I thought was precious just a pile of stones is cool, but he won't say that out loud until he's heard Sam admit that "Enter Sandman" is on Sam's iPod for a reason); a casual observer can't tell the difference because Sam is an actor par excellence and Dean is a bullshit artist extraordinaire and sometimes their acting is Emmy-worthy (it must be because sometimes they forget they're acting, they forget Sam trusted a demon and Dean became one, Dean was the beginning of the end and Sam the end of the beginning), but this is about as close to being how it's supposed to be as the lightning bug is to being the lightning, and more than anything, Dean wants to go home.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Wow!

[alexseanchai]

*blush*