MF Luder (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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crack_van2011-10-16 01:59 pm
mf_luder_xf) wrote in crack_van2011-10-16 01:59 pm
Entry tags:
Farewell to Everest by aenissesthai (M)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Jimmy/Amelia, Amelia/Castiel
Length: 12,000
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aenissesthai
Author Website: Story Tags
I love the backstory this provides for Jimmy and Amelia. Stories that give backgrounds of periphery characters are always some of my favorites. I love the snark between Jimmy and Amelia, how they fit and fall in love, how things change so dramatically for them. And then to see her pain when he is taken away? It's palpable on the page. I love that it addresses the some undertones we don't get addressed overtly on the show (can a child consent to be a host?) And Jimmy's final moments as himself, when Cas describes it, makes me tear up every time.
The fic is emotional and disturbingly hot considering the amount of sadness and rage it holds. And I also love the small undercurrent of what Cas and Dean are to each other. It's wonderfully written, and a beautiful testament to characters we never saw enough of and how they were just as important, just as real as Dean and Cas.
It’s Dean Winchester who catches her as her knees buckle, leads her to the couch with strong, capable hands, makes her sit. The sensation pressing down on her is shock, she knows, thick and unyielding, wrapping her in dense fog. Rationality is murky, distant, something she reaches for with random, half-formed questions.
“I don’t understand.” Her voice sounds far away even to herself. “I just saw you…him…it’s only been what, two weeks?”
The creature accompanying Dean stands off to one side, shoulders hunched under her husband’s coat, features drawn in grim lines as he stares at the floor.
He looks just like Jimmy.
He looks nothing like Jimmy.
She can’t grasp what’s going on.
It’s not the subject matter. Once upon a time, Dean’s explanations would’ve sounded insane, but she knows better now. Oh yes, she knows infinitely better now.
Demons.
Lucifer. The Apocalypse.
Wrathful archangels.
“So where is he? Jimmy…his soul.” Dean falls silent, so she seeks out the other’s gaze. “You said it before: fields of the Lord, right? Is that heaven—is he in heaven? Can you get him back?”
Those eyes finally lift to meet hers, and she shivers under the weight of that sorrowful gaze. “No. I don’t know where his soul has gone.”
“How can you not know? You’re a –what you are!”
He swallows and looks down. “Heaven has cast me out. I’m no longer…I can’t hear them.”
And suddenly, it’s all too much, too damn much, and rage boils up in her, dark, swift, and ugly like demon possession but not a foreign presence; this time it’s her, all her.
She leaps off the couch, curling her fist and striking him in the face as hard as she can. He staggers back, a red mark appearing on his cheek, and she wants to smash it, smash him, smash that face that mocks her with her loss.
“Stop it!” Hands grab her from behind. “Stop it, Amelia, he’s not to blame! If you want to blame anybody, blame me! I forced him into it, I pushed him—”
“No, Dean. The choice was mine. I stand by my decision.”
Even through the swirling vortex of her rage, she can feel it: a tangible connection between the two men, more profound than friendship, deeper than simple trust. Something that hadn’t existed the last time they’d interacted before her. She’d had that once; she’d had that with a man who no longer—
“What about Jimmy?” She jerks out of Dean Winchester’s grasp. “What was his decision? What did he choose?”
Silence answers her question.
“You never even asked him, did you? You never gave him the chance. His life meant nothing to you!” She’s shouting now, the rage too big, too fierce to be contained; she’s screaming in the angel’s stolen face, her hands fisted in his coat. “You can’t begin to understand what he sacrificed, what he lost, what we all lost! You and your apocalypse—how can you pretend to care about humans when you didn’t give a damn about the one man who— You used him and used him, and you never—once—understood!”
Just like that, her rage loses its heat, its explosive force. Just like that, staring into his sad, uncomprehending gaze, she feels ice crackle through her veins, creep across her heart, shore up her limbs with cold, brittle purpose.
He doesn’t understand Jimmy’s sacrifice.
He will.
She’ll see to it.
Farewell to Everest
Pairing: Jimmy/Amelia, Amelia/Castiel
Length: 12,000
Author on LJ:
aenissesthai Author Website: Story Tags
I love the backstory this provides for Jimmy and Amelia. Stories that give backgrounds of periphery characters are always some of my favorites. I love the snark between Jimmy and Amelia, how they fit and fall in love, how things change so dramatically for them. And then to see her pain when he is taken away? It's palpable on the page. I love that it addresses the some undertones we don't get addressed overtly on the show (can a child consent to be a host?) And Jimmy's final moments as himself, when Cas describes it, makes me tear up every time.
The fic is emotional and disturbingly hot considering the amount of sadness and rage it holds. And I also love the small undercurrent of what Cas and Dean are to each other. It's wonderfully written, and a beautiful testament to characters we never saw enough of and how they were just as important, just as real as Dean and Cas.
It’s Dean Winchester who catches her as her knees buckle, leads her to the couch with strong, capable hands, makes her sit. The sensation pressing down on her is shock, she knows, thick and unyielding, wrapping her in dense fog. Rationality is murky, distant, something she reaches for with random, half-formed questions.
“I don’t understand.” Her voice sounds far away even to herself. “I just saw you…him…it’s only been what, two weeks?”
The creature accompanying Dean stands off to one side, shoulders hunched under her husband’s coat, features drawn in grim lines as he stares at the floor.
He looks just like Jimmy.
He looks nothing like Jimmy.
She can’t grasp what’s going on.
It’s not the subject matter. Once upon a time, Dean’s explanations would’ve sounded insane, but she knows better now. Oh yes, she knows infinitely better now.
Demons.
Lucifer. The Apocalypse.
Wrathful archangels.
“So where is he? Jimmy…his soul.” Dean falls silent, so she seeks out the other’s gaze. “You said it before: fields of the Lord, right? Is that heaven—is he in heaven? Can you get him back?”
Those eyes finally lift to meet hers, and she shivers under the weight of that sorrowful gaze. “No. I don’t know where his soul has gone.”
“How can you not know? You’re a –what you are!”
He swallows and looks down. “Heaven has cast me out. I’m no longer…I can’t hear them.”
And suddenly, it’s all too much, too damn much, and rage boils up in her, dark, swift, and ugly like demon possession but not a foreign presence; this time it’s her, all her.
She leaps off the couch, curling her fist and striking him in the face as hard as she can. He staggers back, a red mark appearing on his cheek, and she wants to smash it, smash him, smash that face that mocks her with her loss.
“Stop it!” Hands grab her from behind. “Stop it, Amelia, he’s not to blame! If you want to blame anybody, blame me! I forced him into it, I pushed him—”
“No, Dean. The choice was mine. I stand by my decision.”
Even through the swirling vortex of her rage, she can feel it: a tangible connection between the two men, more profound than friendship, deeper than simple trust. Something that hadn’t existed the last time they’d interacted before her. She’d had that once; she’d had that with a man who no longer—
“What about Jimmy?” She jerks out of Dean Winchester’s grasp. “What was his decision? What did he choose?”
Silence answers her question.
“You never even asked him, did you? You never gave him the chance. His life meant nothing to you!” She’s shouting now, the rage too big, too fierce to be contained; she’s screaming in the angel’s stolen face, her hands fisted in his coat. “You can’t begin to understand what he sacrificed, what he lost, what we all lost! You and your apocalypse—how can you pretend to care about humans when you didn’t give a damn about the one man who— You used him and used him, and you never—once—understood!”
Just like that, her rage loses its heat, its explosive force. Just like that, staring into his sad, uncomprehending gaze, she feels ice crackle through her veins, creep across her heart, shore up her limbs with cold, brittle purpose.
He doesn’t understand Jimmy’s sacrifice.
He will.
She’ll see to it.
Farewell to Everest