fic(spn) + mix: the end of nothing [aka so i had this nagging ideaaaaa.]
title:the end of nothing
rating: pg-13
characters: sam, dean.
warnings: suicide and lack of coherency
summary: (lifetime after lifetime, pushing, pulling, yet no escaping.)
notes: 830 words. for dauntdraws - this isn't remotely what you described, because i couldn't remember it at all. but this is what stuck with me. perhaps i can do better justice of your idea some other time, if you'd like. to everyone else - idek what this is.
One bright day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight.
Back-to-back they faced one another,
Drew their swords and shot each other.
This is the last time, he says. (finger pulling tight on the trigger of the gun his brother has carried at his side for fifty years, its ivory grips smooth and weathered, molded to Dean's hands.)
They both know it won't be. (it's never the last time, only the beginning of a new end.)
The shot goes off, a loud blast followed by a stunning silence. (down the body falls, splatter of red he's seen a million times before) -
~
"Saaaaaaaaaaam," a tiny scared voice moans. "Where'd you go?" Dean Winchester did NOT lose his littler brother in the women's section of Macy's, not after his mother specifically told them not to leave the shoe department. "I didn't mean it, you sissy," Dean shouts. "Just because you have long hair does NOT mean you should wear makeup, okay?"
The woman in housewares gives Dean a look, the kind that gets followed up with phone calls to child services. He stops yelling, stops looking like a lost puppy, and just feels. (find your brother, dean, just close your eyes and open your head.)
Sam's huddling in the second-floor changing room, thrill of riding the escalator unchaperoned flitting in his mind. When Dean finds him Sam's picking through a stack of bras their mother would probably be embarrassed to be seen with. "Sammy. Please don't do that again." (he has one job, just this one job, and he won't screw it up.)
"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam mumbles."I didn't mean to get lost."
"I know. I'm sorry you're so easy to make fun of. Just don't take it to heart, okay?" Dean cuffs his goofy little brother on the bag of the head, pulls him into a hug - (and it's like electrocution, lifetimes flooding in; 'you're my brother there's nothing i wouldn't do for you.') They jolt away from each other -
~
(Dean always finds Sam. Sam always finds Dean. This is how it always was. This is how it shall always be.)
~
"I can't do this," she says when he appears, her dagger in hand, tip pointed between her small breasts.
"Oh for Christ sakes Sammy, seriously you read too much. Cut the Shakespearean, high school drama shit out. I think we're above that, don't you think?" Dean sighs. "Can we talk about it, at least?"
"There's nothing to talk about, Dean. How many times have we done this? How many lives have passed that we don't remember?"
"Because the ones we do remember are SO awesome," Dean mumbles.
"Exactly." Dean steps closer to her, wraps one of his hands around hers (his hands still larger than her, everything about him still larger than her fragile frame)
"Well, what makes you think this will make any difference?" Dean whispers in her face.
"Something has to change, Dean. We can't keep doing this." Dean feels her grip tighten on the hilt, purpose in every finger. (he doesn't stop her)
~
(Sam is younger. Dean is older. This is how it always was. This is how it shall always be.)
~
Once he knew what to look for, Dean could feel Sam coming from miles away. The gentle scrape of Sam's boots on the weathered desert floor not remotely a warning sign, just simply confirmation of what he already knew. He doesn't turn to greet Sam (goodbyes and hellos are a waste of time)
What used to be Las Vegas spreads out before them, desolate landscape of dust and disaster. Fires burn in the distance. "Place was always a wasteland," Dean mumbles (thinks back to the last time he watched civilization fall). "Remember the last time, Sam?"
"I remember you setting the Bellagio on fire as a distraction so you could disappear. Took me six weeks to find you."
Dean chuckles. "Yeah, well. I was more determined then. (lifetime after lifetime, pushing, pulling, yet no escaping.)
This is their first meeting in this lifetime. "How'd you find me this time?" Dean asks.
"I wasn't trying."
~
Dean's bleeding out on the floor, hellhound claws gashed across his side. Sam stumbles, falls crashing into Dean, his face inches from Dean's when he lands. Tears flood down his face, landing on Dean's. Sam traces them across Dean's lips, glimpses into Dean's glassy eyes, and then (we will always end up here) -
~
A demon walks into a bar. No, that's not the joke. Not when the demon is Dean, and Sam is standing at the door.
"Hey, brother. Long time no see." Dean steps into the devil's trap hidden right inside. (might as well get this show on the road.)
"You know who I am?" Sam asks.
"Seven hundred years in the Pit, fresh out of hell, and I'd still know that goddamned soul anywhere, Sammy. No escaping."
Sam starts the exorcism.
~
- And as Sam's watching Dean's body drop to the floor in the silence left behind, he turns the gun to his own head. (he wonders who they'll be this time.)
~
the soundtrack (in no particular order) -
Kisses Over Babylon - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
Suicide Note - Johnette Napolitino
Kill All Your Friends - My Chemical Romance
Closing Time - Semisonic
The Beginning is the End is the Beginning - Smashing Pumpkins
rating: pg-13
characters: sam, dean.
warnings: suicide and lack of coherency
summary: (lifetime after lifetime, pushing, pulling, yet no escaping.)
notes: 830 words. for dauntdraws - this isn't remotely what you described, because i couldn't remember it at all. but this is what stuck with me. perhaps i can do better justice of your idea some other time, if you'd like. to everyone else - idek what this is.
One bright day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight.
Back-to-back they faced one another,
Drew their swords and shot each other.
This is the last time, he says. (finger pulling tight on the trigger of the gun his brother has carried at his side for fifty years, its ivory grips smooth and weathered, molded to Dean's hands.)
They both know it won't be. (it's never the last time, only the beginning of a new end.)
The shot goes off, a loud blast followed by a stunning silence. (down the body falls, splatter of red he's seen a million times before) -
~
"Saaaaaaaaaaam," a tiny scared voice moans. "Where'd you go?" Dean Winchester did NOT lose his littler brother in the women's section of Macy's, not after his mother specifically told them not to leave the shoe department. "I didn't mean it, you sissy," Dean shouts. "Just because you have long hair does NOT mean you should wear makeup, okay?"
The woman in housewares gives Dean a look, the kind that gets followed up with phone calls to child services. He stops yelling, stops looking like a lost puppy, and just feels. (find your brother, dean, just close your eyes and open your head.)
Sam's huddling in the second-floor changing room, thrill of riding the escalator unchaperoned flitting in his mind. When Dean finds him Sam's picking through a stack of bras their mother would probably be embarrassed to be seen with. "Sammy. Please don't do that again." (he has one job, just this one job, and he won't screw it up.)
"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam mumbles."I didn't mean to get lost."
"I know. I'm sorry you're so easy to make fun of. Just don't take it to heart, okay?" Dean cuffs his goofy little brother on the bag of the head, pulls him into a hug - (and it's like electrocution, lifetimes flooding in; 'you're my brother there's nothing i wouldn't do for you.') They jolt away from each other -
~
(Dean always finds Sam. Sam always finds Dean. This is how it always was. This is how it shall always be.)
~
"I can't do this," she says when he appears, her dagger in hand, tip pointed between her small breasts.
"Oh for Christ sakes Sammy, seriously you read too much. Cut the Shakespearean, high school drama shit out. I think we're above that, don't you think?" Dean sighs. "Can we talk about it, at least?"
"There's nothing to talk about, Dean. How many times have we done this? How many lives have passed that we don't remember?"
"Because the ones we do remember are SO awesome," Dean mumbles.
"Exactly." Dean steps closer to her, wraps one of his hands around hers (his hands still larger than her, everything about him still larger than her fragile frame)
"Well, what makes you think this will make any difference?" Dean whispers in her face.
"Something has to change, Dean. We can't keep doing this." Dean feels her grip tighten on the hilt, purpose in every finger. (he doesn't stop her)
~
(Sam is younger. Dean is older. This is how it always was. This is how it shall always be.)
~
Once he knew what to look for, Dean could feel Sam coming from miles away. The gentle scrape of Sam's boots on the weathered desert floor not remotely a warning sign, just simply confirmation of what he already knew. He doesn't turn to greet Sam (goodbyes and hellos are a waste of time)
What used to be Las Vegas spreads out before them, desolate landscape of dust and disaster. Fires burn in the distance. "Place was always a wasteland," Dean mumbles (thinks back to the last time he watched civilization fall). "Remember the last time, Sam?"
"I remember you setting the Bellagio on fire as a distraction so you could disappear. Took me six weeks to find you."
Dean chuckles. "Yeah, well. I was more determined then. (lifetime after lifetime, pushing, pulling, yet no escaping.)
This is their first meeting in this lifetime. "How'd you find me this time?" Dean asks.
"I wasn't trying."
~
Dean's bleeding out on the floor, hellhound claws gashed across his side. Sam stumbles, falls crashing into Dean, his face inches from Dean's when he lands. Tears flood down his face, landing on Dean's. Sam traces them across Dean's lips, glimpses into Dean's glassy eyes, and then (we will always end up here) -
~
A demon walks into a bar. No, that's not the joke. Not when the demon is Dean, and Sam is standing at the door.
"Hey, brother. Long time no see." Dean steps into the devil's trap hidden right inside. (might as well get this show on the road.)
"You know who I am?" Sam asks.
"Seven hundred years in the Pit, fresh out of hell, and I'd still know that goddamned soul anywhere, Sammy. No escaping."
Sam starts the exorcism.
~
- And as Sam's watching Dean's body drop to the floor in the silence left behind, he turns the gun to his own head. (he wonders who they'll be this time.)
~
the soundtrack (in no particular order) -
Kisses Over Babylon - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
Suicide Note - Johnette Napolitino
Kill All Your Friends - My Chemical Romance
Closing Time - Semisonic
The Beginning is the End is the Beginning - Smashing Pumpkins