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laceymcbain.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2009-09-15 09:48 am
laceymcbain.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-09-15 09:48 am
Entry tags:
Fragments by uselessplayback (PG)
Fandom: SUPERNATURAL
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Length: ~ 11,248 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
uselessplayback
Author Website: unknown
Why this must be read: I found it took me a little longer than usual to get settled into this fic, but it was worth it. The author gives us Dean in a post-apocalyptic setting charged with atmosphere and alarming detail. Dean's alone, and although we get hints that something very wrong has happened, the story unfolds slowly and in pieces. Castiel is Dean's only "human" contact in this landscape, and their interaction is part of what keeps Dean going when nothing else can.
This is a Dean we don't often see: the world-weary hunter who's seen too much death and destruction, who really doesn't know if he wants to face it any more. Yet, there's a hopeful ending, and a cameo appearance by Chuck that is brilliance personified in a single line.
He was going to die, that much was obvious. Unless Castiel showed up or some miracle caused a spring to magically appear. With Dean’s luck, a magical spring would turn out to be a cursed spring and he’d wind up living the last of his days as a girl or a dog or a monkey. He would say no to the cursed spring the way kids said no to drugs in the eighties.
He rationed the last of his water as long as he could but it wouldn’t last very long. It would be ironic or, maybe, really stupid if he’d stopped walking and given up a few miles from some sort of town. Dean was pretty sure he hadn’t
The heat had made him a little delirious, he decided, when he found himself babbling to absolutly nothing at all and maybe praying a little.
“You know, you really gave us a raw deal, you asshole,” Dean told the Almighty in a voice so hoarse it was barely there anymore. Dean held up a finger, pointing savagely. “My life is like a bad country song except, instead of a wife, it’s demons who took the dog and the house and my fucking car and ran over my brother and possessed my friends and angels who swooped down and fucked it up some more.”
Dean licked his lips again and tried to swallow, his throat felt like it was coated in dust.
He babbled and babbled until his voice gave out completely, then he curled up and fell asleep cold, hungry for more than just food.
--
Sometimes Dean thought the isolation was almost worse than Hell. He’d been tortured, yes, but he’d never been left alone. He remembered Ruby telling him how long it had taken to strip away her humanity and wondered how long this walk through an empty nowhere would take to strip away what was left of his.
. . . .
He must have fallen asleep again because the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake but he didn’t really have the energy to do anything but lie there, so he let whoever it was do their thing and hoped they’d leave.
“Dean,” whoever it was said and the voice sounded familiar but the name didn’t come. “Dean Winchester, I know you still breathe. Dean!” The voice had a funny way of talking and was starting to sound kind of scared. “Dean, wake up!” The voice insisted, almost panicked now. “Father, give me strength and please forgive me for what I am about to do if this human does not—“
Dean turned toward the voice. “Cas?” he croaked. “That you?” And was surprised when he found himself pulled into the most awkward embrace he’d ever experienced and he’d experienced a lot of awkward embraces.
“Yes.” Castiel was saying into his hair. “I’m here, Dean.”
Read the story and feedback the author: Fragments
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Length: ~ 11,248 words
Author on LJ:
uselessplaybackAuthor Website: unknown
Why this must be read: I found it took me a little longer than usual to get settled into this fic, but it was worth it. The author gives us Dean in a post-apocalyptic setting charged with atmosphere and alarming detail. Dean's alone, and although we get hints that something very wrong has happened, the story unfolds slowly and in pieces. Castiel is Dean's only "human" contact in this landscape, and their interaction is part of what keeps Dean going when nothing else can.
This is a Dean we don't often see: the world-weary hunter who's seen too much death and destruction, who really doesn't know if he wants to face it any more. Yet, there's a hopeful ending, and a cameo appearance by Chuck that is brilliance personified in a single line.
He was going to die, that much was obvious. Unless Castiel showed up or some miracle caused a spring to magically appear. With Dean’s luck, a magical spring would turn out to be a cursed spring and he’d wind up living the last of his days as a girl or a dog or a monkey. He would say no to the cursed spring the way kids said no to drugs in the eighties.
He rationed the last of his water as long as he could but it wouldn’t last very long. It would be ironic or, maybe, really stupid if he’d stopped walking and given up a few miles from some sort of town. Dean was pretty sure he hadn’t
The heat had made him a little delirious, he decided, when he found himself babbling to absolutly nothing at all and maybe praying a little.
“You know, you really gave us a raw deal, you asshole,” Dean told the Almighty in a voice so hoarse it was barely there anymore. Dean held up a finger, pointing savagely. “My life is like a bad country song except, instead of a wife, it’s demons who took the dog and the house and my fucking car and ran over my brother and possessed my friends and angels who swooped down and fucked it up some more.”
Dean licked his lips again and tried to swallow, his throat felt like it was coated in dust.
He babbled and babbled until his voice gave out completely, then he curled up and fell asleep cold, hungry for more than just food.
--
Sometimes Dean thought the isolation was almost worse than Hell. He’d been tortured, yes, but he’d never been left alone. He remembered Ruby telling him how long it had taken to strip away her humanity and wondered how long this walk through an empty nowhere would take to strip away what was left of his.
. . . .
He must have fallen asleep again because the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake but he didn’t really have the energy to do anything but lie there, so he let whoever it was do their thing and hoped they’d leave.
“Dean,” whoever it was said and the voice sounded familiar but the name didn’t come. “Dean Winchester, I know you still breathe. Dean!” The voice had a funny way of talking and was starting to sound kind of scared. “Dean, wake up!” The voice insisted, almost panicked now. “Father, give me strength and please forgive me for what I am about to do if this human does not—“
Dean turned toward the voice. “Cas?” he croaked. “That you?” And was surprised when he found himself pulled into the most awkward embrace he’d ever experienced and he’d experienced a lot of awkward embraces.
“Yes.” Castiel was saying into his hair. “I’m here, Dean.”
Read the story and feedback the author: Fragments