Ficlet: The Light in the Darkness | Supernatural | Singer Salvage Yard | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: The Light in the Darkness
Fandom: Supernatural
Character: Singer Salvage Yard
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 655
Summary: So long ago, there was happiness. (Or: All that remains of her body is her bones.)
Disclaimer: Kripke and CW own everything. I own nothing, darnit.
Author's Notes: Coda to 7.02, "Hello, Cruel World". Because I feel more loss for the house than anyone else that might've left the show.
The Light in the Darkness
Once the flames have died, hot embers cooling in the autumn night air as the ash of her skin takes to the sky, all that remains of the her body is her bones, their broken lengths charred to coal around the edges, her connective tissues melted to slag. She supposes her death has been long overdue, the cancer that's eaten at her for so many years finally taking its toll.
Still, she can't help wishing she had more time, even as the beating of her once vibrant heart stutters and slows. So long ago, there was life here, a soul filling her body with laughter and sunshine. So long ago, there was happiness. Perhaps there could've been again. But--
But that time has long since passed, the life within her never to return to the way it once was, as the horror of a thousand wounds stripped the soul from her flesh as surely as a clock in a once-warm kitchen might have counted away the hours. Too many unwelcome visitors, too many unwelcome gifts. There was death, knocking on her door more times than was polite. There was war, planting seeds in her garden. There was even pestilence, bringing the stench of decay when he came over for tea. There was all that, and more. The things of nightmares plagued her dreams, the lost of the night wandered her halls, even the fallen stopped by to see her on occasion, each one rending her skin anew.
Of course, there were respites from the terror, a stray surge of hope, a moment of peace, a brief spell of calm. There was family here, even when the darkness circled. There was always love, even when hate waited in the wings.
She's seen it all, really, the good and the bad. She saw the woman taken over and the man put her in the ground to save her. She opened her arms when the broken little boys were delivered into her safety every so often. She kept the late hours when the men scoured their tomes for some shred of knowledge to aid them in their fight. She held vigil when the beautiful black chariot was brought slowly back from the dead, one of hundreds she's seen, but this one so special. She celebrated with the hunters on their last night on this Earthly plane. She cradled the sick man when his own soul was torn, holding him close to her chest again and again, even when he brought the stink of evil with him. She was the light in the darkness that the survivors of their battles returned to, so many times. She was the strong one, sheltering them even as the cancer ate at her from the inside out. And now....
Now all that remains is blackened wood, molten iron, and shattered glass. The flayed open cage of her chest, a little crackled skin, a few tiny slivers of her eyes. Maybe they can fix her, the man and the broken little boys. Like the beautiful chariot, risen anew from her own ashes, a phoenix reborn.
But no, that thought is madness, brought on by her shortened time upon this plane. This truly is her end.
It really was just a matter of time. After so long, her disease was bound to attract the wrong sort of attention. Flies to rotting flesh, she reminds herself, even as the breath leaves her. It was only a matter of time, and she has no regrets.
Behind the chain-link fence bearing her name, the house breathes her last, her heart contracting with one final pulse, even as the gleaming chariot carrying the broken little boys, both grown these many years, approaches on the long ribbon of road, returning to her one final time.
If only she could be there to welcome them, to shelter them. If only she could hide them away and ward off the things lurking in her shadows.
If only....
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Supernatural
Character: Singer Salvage Yard
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 655
Summary: So long ago, there was happiness. (Or: All that remains of her body is her bones.)
Disclaimer: Kripke and CW own everything. I own nothing, darnit.
Author's Notes: Coda to 7.02, "Hello, Cruel World". Because I feel more loss for the house than anyone else that might've left the show.
The Light in the Darkness
Once the flames have died, hot embers cooling in the autumn night air as the ash of her skin takes to the sky, all that remains of the her body is her bones, their broken lengths charred to coal around the edges, her connective tissues melted to slag. She supposes her death has been long overdue, the cancer that's eaten at her for so many years finally taking its toll.
Still, she can't help wishing she had more time, even as the beating of her once vibrant heart stutters and slows. So long ago, there was life here, a soul filling her body with laughter and sunshine. So long ago, there was happiness. Perhaps there could've been again. But--
But that time has long since passed, the life within her never to return to the way it once was, as the horror of a thousand wounds stripped the soul from her flesh as surely as a clock in a once-warm kitchen might have counted away the hours. Too many unwelcome visitors, too many unwelcome gifts. There was death, knocking on her door more times than was polite. There was war, planting seeds in her garden. There was even pestilence, bringing the stench of decay when he came over for tea. There was all that, and more. The things of nightmares plagued her dreams, the lost of the night wandered her halls, even the fallen stopped by to see her on occasion, each one rending her skin anew.
Of course, there were respites from the terror, a stray surge of hope, a moment of peace, a brief spell of calm. There was family here, even when the darkness circled. There was always love, even when hate waited in the wings.
She's seen it all, really, the good and the bad. She saw the woman taken over and the man put her in the ground to save her. She opened her arms when the broken little boys were delivered into her safety every so often. She kept the late hours when the men scoured their tomes for some shred of knowledge to aid them in their fight. She held vigil when the beautiful black chariot was brought slowly back from the dead, one of hundreds she's seen, but this one so special. She celebrated with the hunters on their last night on this Earthly plane. She cradled the sick man when his own soul was torn, holding him close to her chest again and again, even when he brought the stink of evil with him. She was the light in the darkness that the survivors of their battles returned to, so many times. She was the strong one, sheltering them even as the cancer ate at her from the inside out. And now....
Now all that remains is blackened wood, molten iron, and shattered glass. The flayed open cage of her chest, a little crackled skin, a few tiny slivers of her eyes. Maybe they can fix her, the man and the broken little boys. Like the beautiful chariot, risen anew from her own ashes, a phoenix reborn.
But no, that thought is madness, brought on by her shortened time upon this plane. This truly is her end.
It really was just a matter of time. After so long, her disease was bound to attract the wrong sort of attention. Flies to rotting flesh, she reminds herself, even as the breath leaves her. It was only a matter of time, and she has no regrets.
Behind the chain-link fence bearing her name, the house breathes her last, her heart contracting with one final pulse, even as the gleaming chariot carrying the broken little boys, both grown these many years, approaches on the long ribbon of road, returning to her one final time.
If only she could be there to welcome them, to shelter them. If only she could hide them away and ward off the things lurking in her shadows.
If only....
~*~*~*~