Resting Place - Supernatural
Jun. 23rd, 2006 07:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jebbypalTitle: Resting Place
Fandom: SUPERNATURAL
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jebbypal
rating: E
SPOILERS: Through the finale of season 1.
Umm, I guess I should say death fic as well. Though I'm not saying more cause I don't want to give it away.
Thanks topoisontaster for the beta
Alone. Still. For days.
The ground is rough and much closer than it’s ever been before. Silence echoes on forever.
Then the rain comes.
At first, it feels good to have the mud and dirt and blood washed away, but slowly the gentle rain transforms into pounding sheets and bit by bit, flecks of paint begin to fall off like dead skin. The seats, once crusted with blood, are now waterlogged and dripping red all over the floor mats. Water and gun oil pool in the trunk under the open sky while the lid rests meters away from the body of the Impala.
It stops raining a little after midnight. Nothing else changes. Still alone. Still silent. The asphalt is still missing.
By midday, something new happens. The heat of the sun works a spell on the water clinging to the chipped and scratched paint. The body frame starts to metamorphose under the rays. After several days, deep, dark red rust lines run across the frame like scars that will never heal.
And still, alone.
The oil leaks out slowly. The battery was already smashed and the carburetor completely busted during the crash, but the oil pan and most of the lines somehow remained intact. The elements continue to do their job and eventually eat away at the rubber and tin until every bit of lifeblood leaks out of the car.
Somewhere, something black and evil is laughing. But not here. Here, it’s still silent.
Long after the rust has eaten away at what is left of the paint and started to seriously damage the integrity of the metal frame, after the rubber has eroded away in the wind, after the bird have begun to pick at the seats for nesting material, the silence finally ends. When it does, it’s a sound that hasn’t been heard for years. Not since after the youngest’s voice changed.
Crying.
Sobbing.
“It’s okay, Dean.”
“No, no it’s not.”
“It’s a car, Dean. It did its job. Hell, no one really knows how we survived that night, especially with you not wearing a seatbelt.”
“Fuck you, Sam. It’s more than just a car.”
“Okay.”
The silence returns, but the two men don’t leave. A hand gingerly touches where the driver’s side mirror was once attached before drifting down the hood to where gaping holes sit instead of headlights and plastic covers.
“You had your first stomach flu in the backseat when we were driving from Topeka to Indianapolis. God, that was a miserable twelve hours. I never thought I’d get the reek out of my clothes.”
“Yeah, well I remember when you fell out and got that concussion pretending it was the General Lee.”
A wry snort in answer. “I had my first date in this car. Lost my first tooth when Dad was trying to lose that damn sprite in Montana. It’s not just a car.”
“Okay, you’re right. It’s not just a car.”
“It’s not right to leave her like this.”
“It can’t be fixed, Dean. You heard what the mechanic said.”
“Still, she shouldn’t be left like this.”
The next day, the sounds of the highway return. The asphalt was still far away, and the tires are still missing, but the wind and the sounds and the movement are all back. At least for a little while. Soon enough though, the sounds of the highway fade and are replaced by the familiar barking of Bobby’s dog.
“The mechanic didn’t lie to you boys. That frame is completely-“
“I know, I know. I just couldn’t leave her there.”
“I’m not digging a hole big enough to fit that.”
“Stop talking crazy.” Silence. “Stop looking at me like that.”
The ground is back again. Too close. The dog jumps on the hood, turns three times, and lies down. A hand caresses the top of the cab and rests finally on the driver’s side door.
“Exactly what does he want me to do with it?”
“Dean just didn’t want her to be all alone among strangers. If we can’t keep her with the family, she should at least be with friends.”
“Ahh…did they ever completely rule out brain damage?”
A laugh. It’s been a very long time since that sound has been heard. “None that he hasn’t had all his life, Bobby.”
A/N: I'd like to thankmedicinal_mirth, even though I haven't known her that long. It was her post about structural damage to the Impala that spawned this bunny. So, umm, spread your wailing and flailing over Metallicar-death fic over to her, kay? *puts on running shoes just in case*
Fandom: SUPERNATURAL
author:
jebbypalrating: E
SPOILERS: Through the finale of season 1.
Umm, I guess I should say death fic as well. Though I'm not saying more cause I don't want to give it away.
Thanks to
poisontaster for the betaAlone. Still. For days.
The ground is rough and much closer than it’s ever been before. Silence echoes on forever.
Then the rain comes.
At first, it feels good to have the mud and dirt and blood washed away, but slowly the gentle rain transforms into pounding sheets and bit by bit, flecks of paint begin to fall off like dead skin. The seats, once crusted with blood, are now waterlogged and dripping red all over the floor mats. Water and gun oil pool in the trunk under the open sky while the lid rests meters away from the body of the Impala.
It stops raining a little after midnight. Nothing else changes. Still alone. Still silent. The asphalt is still missing.
By midday, something new happens. The heat of the sun works a spell on the water clinging to the chipped and scratched paint. The body frame starts to metamorphose under the rays. After several days, deep, dark red rust lines run across the frame like scars that will never heal.
And still, alone.
The oil leaks out slowly. The battery was already smashed and the carburetor completely busted during the crash, but the oil pan and most of the lines somehow remained intact. The elements continue to do their job and eventually eat away at the rubber and tin until every bit of lifeblood leaks out of the car.
Somewhere, something black and evil is laughing. But not here. Here, it’s still silent.
Long after the rust has eaten away at what is left of the paint and started to seriously damage the integrity of the metal frame, after the rubber has eroded away in the wind, after the bird have begun to pick at the seats for nesting material, the silence finally ends. When it does, it’s a sound that hasn’t been heard for years. Not since after the youngest’s voice changed.
Crying.
Sobbing.
“It’s okay, Dean.”
“No, no it’s not.”
“It’s a car, Dean. It did its job. Hell, no one really knows how we survived that night, especially with you not wearing a seatbelt.”
“Fuck you, Sam. It’s more than just a car.”
“Okay.”
The silence returns, but the two men don’t leave. A hand gingerly touches where the driver’s side mirror was once attached before drifting down the hood to where gaping holes sit instead of headlights and plastic covers.
“You had your first stomach flu in the backseat when we were driving from Topeka to Indianapolis. God, that was a miserable twelve hours. I never thought I’d get the reek out of my clothes.”
“Yeah, well I remember when you fell out and got that concussion pretending it was the General Lee.”
A wry snort in answer. “I had my first date in this car. Lost my first tooth when Dad was trying to lose that damn sprite in Montana. It’s not just a car.”
“Okay, you’re right. It’s not just a car.”
“It’s not right to leave her like this.”
“It can’t be fixed, Dean. You heard what the mechanic said.”
“Still, she shouldn’t be left like this.”
The next day, the sounds of the highway return. The asphalt was still far away, and the tires are still missing, but the wind and the sounds and the movement are all back. At least for a little while. Soon enough though, the sounds of the highway fade and are replaced by the familiar barking of Bobby’s dog.
“The mechanic didn’t lie to you boys. That frame is completely-“
“I know, I know. I just couldn’t leave her there.”
“I’m not digging a hole big enough to fit that.”
“Stop talking crazy.” Silence. “Stop looking at me like that.”
The ground is back again. Too close. The dog jumps on the hood, turns three times, and lies down. A hand caresses the top of the cab and rests finally on the driver’s side door.
“Exactly what does he want me to do with it?”
“Dean just didn’t want her to be all alone among strangers. If we can’t keep her with the family, she should at least be with friends.”
“Ahh…did they ever completely rule out brain damage?”
A laugh. It’s been a very long time since that sound has been heard. “None that he hasn’t had all his life, Bobby.”
A/N: I'd like to thank
medicinal_mirth, even though I haven't known her that long. It was her post about structural damage to the Impala that spawned this bunny. So, umm, spread your wailing and flailing over Metallicar-death fic over to her, kay? *puts on running shoes just in case*