Snippets

Nov. 24th, 2012 11:10 pm
seeing_ghosts: (Dean&Sam&Bobby [?])
[personal profile] seeing_ghosts

I missed Thanksgiving! Well, I'm not American, but in case any of you are then I wish you happy belated Thanksgiving and hope you had fun.

Also, please know that I am thankful for live music, fanfiction and Dean Winchester. 

And since we're all going to die in less than a month (unless the end-of-the-world event got cancelled, of course. In case it did, I missed the memo) I decided to post snippets of my current three WIPs so that you can see what you'll never get to read. Please, excuse my grammar and typos. Thank you.



Untitled II.
Sequel to Untitled. I started writing this ages ago and it wouldn't leave me alone; but then I jumped the Dean/Cas bandwagon and probably won't get to finish it until - if - that phase blows over (because Cas is dead in that fic. Why would I even do that, for the love of...?)


Sam murmurs a silent thank-you Dean's way after Dean pushes a generous portion of whisked eggs in front of him. There's a Bad Company tape playing quietly – or at least much quieter than it used to play in the Impala – from the little player Sam bought half broken few weeks after they moved in. Dean fixed it, just like Sam knew he would.

It's something to keep Dean at least a little entertained while Sam is away at work.

Sam peers at Dean as his brother sits down across from him, his own breakfast much smaller – where Sam has eggs and bacon and toast with rich layer of butter, Dean has one piece of dry toast and a slice of the cheap cheese Sam bought the other day.

Sam knows Dean doesn't look healthy and that he's not healthy, either. The deep circles around Dean's eyes, his now much more prominent cheekbones and the way he slouches and hunches when he walks tell Sam as much, but there is only so much he can do.

"You want some eggs?" he asks and Dean glares at him and bites into his dry toast.

"No," he replies and chews for a second, swallows and then continues. "You need your strenght. I just slack around."

Dean talks now – a little. Sam thinks Dean will never talk again the way he used to, careless and loud. Nowadays, Dean measures his words; something Sam has never seen him do before. He says only things he deems necessary and only in short, clipped sentences.

Sam cherishes all those moments, the sound of Dean's voice he's missed for more than a year, even when Dean's snarky and pissy and generally unbearable.

Sam wonders if that's why Dean's always got away with so much badmouthing with Dad, even when Sam didn't. If Dad saw the mute little boy Dean became after Mum's death everytime Dean opened his mouth and was just glad to hear him talk. Just like now Sam sees the broken shell of a man Dean became after they defeated the Leviathans with every word Dean utters.

"I just make coffee," Sam says and Dean glares at him again.

"Sixteen hours a day," he says.

"Only every other day," Sam corrects him and Dean takes another bite of his toast.

"Whatever," he says. "Eat your eggs."

Sam does.


Unnamed Purgatory curtain!fic that kind of got away from me.
Sam gets sucked into Purgatory with Dean and Cas, and they try to deal with it. Dean isn't doing so well. It's for a prompt from the S7 Finale Meme that I have to find again before I link to it or even remember who prompted it in the first place (and what the prompt actually sounded like because... Yeah. It got away from me.)


The shelter Cas found is a little cave, damp and foul-smelling, and Dean hates it; resents it with burning passion and impotent rage and painful despair. He glares at Cas as if it's the angel's fault that they're stuck here now (stuck here for now because Dean is too stubborn to accept that this might be forever), even though he knows that Cas is just as much the victim as he and Sam.

Sam gives Cas a little smile when all Dean has to offer is a cold ignorance and Cas soaks it up and smiles back, uncertain. "I apologize if it's insufficient but it was all I could find in such a short time," he says and Sam shakes his head.

"No, no, it's fine, really. It'll do, we'll... It's fine, Cas."

Dean stands with his back to both of them, touching the cold stone wall.

"I will look for a better place soon," Cas promises and Dean turns around to face him.

"Can't you just zap us out of here? You could always go from Earth to Heaven without a problem, what's the deal now?" he says even when he knows; he knows that Cas can't do much but he just needs to ask this in hopes it will relieve the terrible fury building inside of his chest.

"Purgatory is off-limits to angels," Cas replies without missing a beat, but his face falls when he sees Dean's expression.

"Well, we all know why's that," he growls and Sam grits out Dean's name in a quiet warning.

Dean realizes that neither of them is exactly to blame for this, but he just feels so bitter that it's hard for him to think about anything else. He wants to punch the walls and kick at them and most of all he wants out because he's cold and dirty and miserable.

"I will go look for supplies," Cas says and with a soft rustle of feathers he's gone.


Dog Days.
Yay. My epic Swan Song-based Dean/Cas AU that I've been writing and rewriting for months now. Instead of killing Cas, Lucifer rips out whatever grace he had left right out of him. He and Dean move to Bobby's old house and struggle


The Impala stops and Dean lets go of the steering wheel, leaning back against the seat, closing his eyes.

After a few seconds, maybe even minutes, of silence, Castiel says, "Dean."

Dean clears his throat, then, before saying, "I didn't know where else to go and this has always been the place we would go to if we needed to charge our batteries, if you know what I mean," he says and Castiel nods, even though Dean's eyes are closed and can't see him. Dean doesn't speak for a while, only breathing deeply and Castiel starts to wonder for a moment if he fell asleep, but then Dean says, "Go inside."

"Dean," Castiel says again, softer, and Dean opens his eyes then and turns to him.

"Just get the hell out of the car, Cas," he says, voice edging on dangerous, and Castiel licks his lips and does just that. He opens the door and crawls out, gasping when his legs start aching the moment he straightens them, and slowly walks towards Bobby Singer's old, worn house. He doesn't turn back to see what Dean's doing, and sort of expects to hear the Impala's engine once he steps inside the building, for Dean to drive away in the end and leave Castiel behind.

He didn't realize how much he dreads that possibility until now.

Nothing happens, however, not when the doors bang closed behind Castiel and not minutes later, so he walks further into the house.

It looks just like it did when they left it - despite all four of them expecting not to come back they left as if they were; the fridge is stuffed with food, the books are left open on Bobby's desk. The couch is still set up as a makeshift bed, still unmade, and Castiel gathers the blankets and pillows and carries them into one of the spare bedrooms. He doesn't even know why he tries, because this whole house is an enormous reminder of Dean's lost family.

Castiel doesn't understand why Dean even brought them here, of all places.

He sits down onto the couch, rests his hands on his knees and waits.


Date: 2012-11-24 10:24 pm (UTC)
geckoholic: (SPN Dean+Cas5)
From: [personal profile] geckoholic
Three WIPs? OMG, you're adorable. ;P

Also, obviously, I want to read everything. /nods

Date: 2012-11-24 10:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] seeing-ghosts.livejournal.com
I know! XD I have more but those three keep nagging me, like, "write us, write us!" But yeah, I don't really write all that much, to be honest.

Well, anyway, you're quick! ;D

Date: 2012-11-26 02:35 pm (UTC)
geckoholic: (Dean Sam Impala)
From: [personal profile] geckoholic
Haha, I know that feeling. Demanding little fuckers. XD

Sometimes, I guess. Other times, not so much. Obviously. :P

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