Grave
Title: Grave
Author: Kirsten Moodie
Characters: Dean Winchester and Dawn Summers
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit.
Warning: Characters death (they have already past and it is already something that happens in both shows)
They worked together to allude the ghosts of the past and all the skeletons that were scratching at their closet door. They had both become well-versed in the coping mechanism that was sarcastic rhetoric. They used quick wit and sometimes heavy humor to push away any close touch with real emotions. It was just easier than trying to heal, because they knew that mending what was broken would be hopeless. So they swept the broken pieces of their souls under the rug and tried their best to pretend everything was “normal”. Whatever the hell normal meant.
Dean Winchester and Dawn Summers had found one another through the demon hunting circuit. They saw a kindred spirit in each other, saw the empty hole inside that was easy to recognize. They found a partner that shared a penchant for the slaughter when it came time to hunt. When it came time to rest they found solace in each others arms. Between them there was a mutual understanding that most people could not grasp. A knowledge of a pain so profound that it could only be understood by bearing its scar. And they both bore the scar. The scar of a lost sibling.
Both Sam Winchester and Buffy Summers lay in a grave that their siblings could not crawl free of.
Dean breathed in the scent of the frail brunette that lay in his arms completely still, accept for the rising and falling of her chest. It was a scent he had memorized from time spent immersed in her. This girl held the only key to escape from the pain of his failure. She understood more than anyone what is meant to truly be inadequate. They had reached the point of judgment, and had been found lacking. They had both let slip through their fingers the only thing that ever really mattered. So what were they even on this earth for? What purpose could they serve? Accept that they were eternally damned for their sins.
Dean peered down at her, as Dawn flickered her blue eyes open. Large azure oracles of hope, dazzled him and pulled him into their ever-engaging trance. She bore a light inside of her that shined through no matter how shattered it had been by the crushing subjection of pain. She was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that truly meant something, he just wasn't sure what that meaning was yet.
When people looked Dean in the eyes, he could see all of his own heartache reflecting back at him. The sympathy oozed from them like an overwhelming wave of the plague. He couldn't be near most people for too long, the weight became too powerful. With Dawn it was much different. He didn't see sympathy in her eyes, he saw promise and adoration. He had never seen anyone look at him quite the way she did and it made him feel almost like he could be redeemed.
“Good morning.” He allowed a smile to twitch at the edge of his lips.
“Mm- Breakfast?” Dawn asked. She reached her hands up to rub the sleep from her eyes.
Dean continued watching her as she stretched her body across the bed. There was an enchanting way in which she moved that kept his eyes glued firmly to her presence. Dawn looked at him now from underneath her long dark eyelashes, and her lips hooked into a bright smile. In her eyes, he saw only the way she looked at him, not the person he knew he truly was. He realized that he could do worse than being pulled into her gravity. He could do much worse than not being alone. For once in a very long time, he truly didn't feel alone.
Together, side by side, they would find a way to drag themselves out of their siblings graves. But the dirt would forever stain their skin.
Author: Kirsten Moodie
Characters: Dean Winchester and Dawn Summers
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit.
Warning: Characters death (they have already past and it is already something that happens in both shows)
They worked together to allude the ghosts of the past and all the skeletons that were scratching at their closet door. They had both become well-versed in the coping mechanism that was sarcastic rhetoric. They used quick wit and sometimes heavy humor to push away any close touch with real emotions. It was just easier than trying to heal, because they knew that mending what was broken would be hopeless. So they swept the broken pieces of their souls under the rug and tried their best to pretend everything was “normal”. Whatever the hell normal meant.
Dean Winchester and Dawn Summers had found one another through the demon hunting circuit. They saw a kindred spirit in each other, saw the empty hole inside that was easy to recognize. They found a partner that shared a penchant for the slaughter when it came time to hunt. When it came time to rest they found solace in each others arms. Between them there was a mutual understanding that most people could not grasp. A knowledge of a pain so profound that it could only be understood by bearing its scar. And they both bore the scar. The scar of a lost sibling.
Both Sam Winchester and Buffy Summers lay in a grave that their siblings could not crawl free of.
Dean breathed in the scent of the frail brunette that lay in his arms completely still, accept for the rising and falling of her chest. It was a scent he had memorized from time spent immersed in her. This girl held the only key to escape from the pain of his failure. She understood more than anyone what is meant to truly be inadequate. They had reached the point of judgment, and had been found lacking. They had both let slip through their fingers the only thing that ever really mattered. So what were they even on this earth for? What purpose could they serve? Accept that they were eternally damned for their sins.
Dean peered down at her, as Dawn flickered her blue eyes open. Large azure oracles of hope, dazzled him and pulled him into their ever-engaging trance. She bore a light inside of her that shined through no matter how shattered it had been by the crushing subjection of pain. She was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that truly meant something, he just wasn't sure what that meaning was yet.
When people looked Dean in the eyes, he could see all of his own heartache reflecting back at him. The sympathy oozed from them like an overwhelming wave of the plague. He couldn't be near most people for too long, the weight became too powerful. With Dawn it was much different. He didn't see sympathy in her eyes, he saw promise and adoration. He had never seen anyone look at him quite the way she did and it made him feel almost like he could be redeemed.
“Good morning.” He allowed a smile to twitch at the edge of his lips.
“Mm- Breakfast?” Dawn asked. She reached her hands up to rub the sleep from her eyes.
Dean continued watching her as she stretched her body across the bed. There was an enchanting way in which she moved that kept his eyes glued firmly to her presence. Dawn looked at him now from underneath her long dark eyelashes, and her lips hooked into a bright smile. In her eyes, he saw only the way she looked at him, not the person he knew he truly was. He realized that he could do worse than being pulled into her gravity. He could do much worse than not being alone. For once in a very long time, he truly didn't feel alone.
Together, side by side, they would find a way to drag themselves out of their siblings graves. But the dirt would forever stain their skin.