Drabble challenge for snarky_blonde
Prompt: Fairytale by Sara Bareilles
Requested By: snarky_blonde
Characters: Dean Winchester, Elle Bishop
Timeline/Verse: Brave New World verse; after this log, before 99 Problems
Location: New York City
Disclaimer: Kripke and Kring own Supernatural & Heroes, not me. Dean is likedillinger and Elle is snarky_blonde who is used with permission and love.
Still accepting requests here!
Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom
Man made up a story said that i should believe him
Go and tell your white knight that he's handsome in hindsight
But i don't want the next best thing
So i sing and hold my head down and i break these walls round me
Can't take no more of your fairytale love
Cause i don't care for you fairytales
You're so worried bout the maiden though you know
She's only waiting on the next best thing
She's only waiting spent the whole life being graded on the sanctity of patience and a dumb
Appreciation
But the story needs some mending and a better happy ending
Cause i don't want the next best thing
He doesn't really think of the damage he's done for a substantial number of blocks, when the cold night air threatens to replace some of his haze with painful impending sobriety. He'd managed to just focus on finding his way back to the hotel, but now, he can see Elle's face, the expression she wore of not recognizing him - of being... disgusted? No. Worse. Disappointed in what had stumbled across her threshold at some odd hour of the early morning. He tries to calculate which one, but the effort sends his head into spirals, and he quickly retracts from the process.
Disappointed. That was the word. He wonders just how much he'd had her fooled - they both had started out down this road towards... whatever they had with all caution lights lit. No real attachments, right? Just harmless fun.
But he knows they'd both veered off that road a long time ago, whatever their intentions had been. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, huddling into the collar of his coat as his eyes trace the weeds bursting out amid the cracks in the pavement. Each one trampled over. Flat. And yet more coming up to replace them in some futile bid for air.
So he'd somehow misled Elle into thinking he was gonna be the hero of the story. No, it wasn't 'somehow' - he'd always played up the role, rolling into town on his eight cylinder white horse, never letting anyone see the weeds breaking through the cracks.
But that facade had slipped now. She'd seen what was underneath. No Prince Charming, no white knight, no fairytale. Just when he'd sworn to himself he wouldn't contribute to being another of those things in the world that were just illusions, like so much of the shit she - and all the Elles - had already had to deal with, he'd fucked it up. And once that illusion is gone, there's no going back to pretending everything's gonna be castles and glass slippers and slaying dragons.
He's not gonna be her hero.
He's not anybody's hero.
He's just one sorry sonuvabitch.
As he nears the crest of a hill, the sun breaks red in the sky beyond the city, and he pauses for a moment, brow furrowed staring up at it with a tightness in his throat.
No sunset to ride off into here.
Just a blood red sunrise.
He hopes it won't end the same way for her.
Requested By: snarky_blonde
Characters: Dean Winchester, Elle Bishop
Timeline/Verse: Brave New World verse; after this log, before 99 Problems
Location: New York City
Disclaimer: Kripke and Kring own Supernatural & Heroes, not me. Dean is likedillinger and Elle is snarky_blonde who is used with permission and love.
Still accepting requests here!
Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom
Man made up a story said that i should believe him
Go and tell your white knight that he's handsome in hindsight
But i don't want the next best thing
So i sing and hold my head down and i break these walls round me
Can't take no more of your fairytale love
Cause i don't care for you fairytales
You're so worried bout the maiden though you know
She's only waiting on the next best thing
She's only waiting spent the whole life being graded on the sanctity of patience and a dumb
Appreciation
But the story needs some mending and a better happy ending
Cause i don't want the next best thing
He doesn't really think of the damage he's done for a substantial number of blocks, when the cold night air threatens to replace some of his haze with painful impending sobriety. He'd managed to just focus on finding his way back to the hotel, but now, he can see Elle's face, the expression she wore of not recognizing him - of being... disgusted? No. Worse. Disappointed in what had stumbled across her threshold at some odd hour of the early morning. He tries to calculate which one, but the effort sends his head into spirals, and he quickly retracts from the process.
Disappointed. That was the word. He wonders just how much he'd had her fooled - they both had started out down this road towards... whatever they had with all caution lights lit. No real attachments, right? Just harmless fun.
But he knows they'd both veered off that road a long time ago, whatever their intentions had been. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, huddling into the collar of his coat as his eyes trace the weeds bursting out amid the cracks in the pavement. Each one trampled over. Flat. And yet more coming up to replace them in some futile bid for air.
So he'd somehow misled Elle into thinking he was gonna be the hero of the story. No, it wasn't 'somehow' - he'd always played up the role, rolling into town on his eight cylinder white horse, never letting anyone see the weeds breaking through the cracks.
But that facade had slipped now. She'd seen what was underneath. No Prince Charming, no white knight, no fairytale. Just when he'd sworn to himself he wouldn't contribute to being another of those things in the world that were just illusions, like so much of the shit she - and all the Elles - had already had to deal with, he'd fucked it up. And once that illusion is gone, there's no going back to pretending everything's gonna be castles and glass slippers and slaying dragons.
He's not gonna be her hero.
He's not anybody's hero.
He's just one sorry sonuvabitch.
As he nears the crest of a hill, the sun breaks red in the sky beyond the city, and he pauses for a moment, brow furrowed staring up at it with a tightness in his throat.
No sunset to ride off into here.
Just a blood red sunrise.
He hopes it won't end the same way for her.