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kricketsTitle: buried in the white
Fandom, Pairing: Supernatural, Sam/Dean
Rating, Warnings: adult, wincest
Summary: Winter. Stranded. Impala. First.
Notes: My first ever wincest.
So he gives in.
That's how all this happens, anyway.
All these road nights, night roads, whatever, trickling from his cup - the one that's never quite full enough, no matter what (who) he stuffs inside its hollow.
It's winter (fucking snow) as they draw closer to some nameless town, and Sam’s warm next to him in the impala, like normal - like always. But it’s different now. Because now they’re running out of time, and that's never seemed real before.
They're stranded. (Always have been, though.)
The giving in happens in one direction or another – north or south, east or west, sideways or crooked, inside-out or backwards. It doesn't matter except for that it happens, icy wind pounding at the windows, cold leather at their backs. And as this one door opens, all the rest close, because this is the one choice that changes who Dean is, who they are.
It's not like anything ever before, and it's not slow or fast, or even really real. Because words catch inside their throats, trapped in some invisible net that filters out the truth of the thing – the thing that is them, so dark and cold, but warm when wrapped together, lunging and shoving, memories and pain, hips and flesh and scars and limbs, and then sharp grunts and they barely even got started.
So it’s finished. And after it’s done, everything else is like nails on a chalkboard, screaming their disgrace.
They’re no longer a part of this place that they protect - out there buried in the white.
Sun comes again, and they dig out the impala, dust off their weapons, shiny and sharp, and all those still-trapped words are swallowed down and kept, like treasures or secrets or both, and off they go to save another life, another soul, another town, in this very world where they don’t belong.
-fin
Fandom, Pairing: Supernatural, Sam/Dean
Rating, Warnings: adult, wincest
Summary: Winter. Stranded. Impala. First.
Notes: My first ever wincest.
So he gives in.
That's how all this happens, anyway.
All these road nights, night roads, whatever, trickling from his cup - the one that's never quite full enough, no matter what (who) he stuffs inside its hollow.
It's winter (fucking snow) as they draw closer to some nameless town, and Sam’s warm next to him in the impala, like normal - like always. But it’s different now. Because now they’re running out of time, and that's never seemed real before.
They're stranded. (Always have been, though.)
The giving in happens in one direction or another – north or south, east or west, sideways or crooked, inside-out or backwards. It doesn't matter except for that it happens, icy wind pounding at the windows, cold leather at their backs. And as this one door opens, all the rest close, because this is the one choice that changes who Dean is, who they are.
It's not like anything ever before, and it's not slow or fast, or even really real. Because words catch inside their throats, trapped in some invisible net that filters out the truth of the thing – the thing that is them, so dark and cold, but warm when wrapped together, lunging and shoving, memories and pain, hips and flesh and scars and limbs, and then sharp grunts and they barely even got started.
So it’s finished. And after it’s done, everything else is like nails on a chalkboard, screaming their disgrace.
They’re no longer a part of this place that they protect - out there buried in the white.
Sun comes again, and they dig out the impala, dust off their weapons, shiny and sharp, and all those still-trapped words are swallowed down and kept, like treasures or secrets or both, and off they go to save another life, another soul, another town, in this very world where they don’t belong.
-fin
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2007-07-17 08:12 am (UTC)You make me want to throw in the towel when it comes to writing fic, honestly. Just when I think I'm getting somewhere. -sigh-
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Date: 2007-07-17 08:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2007-07-17 08:17 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2007-07-17 08:20 am (UTC)♥
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Date: 2007-07-17 08:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-17 10:01 am (UTC)Anyway, besides getting the characterisation pitch perfect, this ficlet has some gorgeous imagery that I rhink promotes it from a mere 'ficlet' to a bonafide 'piece'. And because even commenters should show and not tell, these are my fav lines:
"And as this one door opens, all the rest close, because this is the one choice that changes who Dean is, who they are."
- this was wicked, made me think of the awesomeness of the door that was opened, but then sucker punched me by slamming shut all the other things they were.
"So it’s finished. And after it’s done, everything else is like nails on a chalkboard, screaming their disgrace."
- simultaneously the best and worst simile ever. Best, because it creatres a really vivid image for the reader; and worst, because that image happens to be butt-ass-nasty-cakes.
"They’re no longer a part of this place that they protect - out there buried in the white."
- this line made me sad, but then totally happy with it's awesomeness. It shows the gravity of what they've done, and the "buried in the white" made me think that the white/snow signified innocence, or maybe ignorance, that the world was buried under, that they can't really be part of that world - they've seen too much and are too tainted by it.
Whoo...sorry, that was long, and a bit freshman-creative-writing-course. I guess the moral of the story here is that you are made of fantastic, both for your kick-ass writing abilities, and for being a top-notch purveyor *cough-pimp-cough* of our lovely Wincest. *g*
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Date: 2007-07-17 12:56 pm (UTC)Spare and poetic and hauntingly beautiful.
Lynsey
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Date: 2007-07-17 12:14 pm (UTC)Such amazing, beautiful imagery! It's just so poetic and graceful and flowy! There's just so much that is being said and being captured, but with so little words, and it's done SO perfectly.
I love the line about the fact that now time is running out, that that's something they never had to worry about before.
I agree, I totally love the fact this is just one more thing they do that separates them and isolates them, keeps them from being a part of the rest of the world.
And this line
So it’s finished. And after it’s done, everything else is like nails on a chalkboard, screaming their disgrace
OMG! Love it! Hurts but it's so true and so them and so wonderful.
I know that there's more I could and should be saying, but I think it might have to wait until an e-mail later, when it's not so early in the morning! :)
But, in short, I have a new favorite Sam/Dean fic.
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Date: 2007-07-17 02:35 pm (UTC)I want to rescue you today. We'd go see Transformers and drool over Shia and Josh. It'd be beautiful.
*squishes*
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Date: 2007-07-17 12:23 pm (UTC)And after it’s done, everything else is like nails on a chalkboard, screaming their disgrace.
(claps)
Keep up :D
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Date: 2007-07-17 02:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-17 12:35 pm (UTC)SO GOOD.The imagery is breathtaking and the pain that Dean has in this is so perfect it hurts like hell!
♥
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Date: 2007-07-17 02:37 pm (UTC)*squishes you*
ILU!
♥!
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Date: 2007-07-17 10:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-17 03:12 pm (UTC)It's not like anything ever before, and it's not slow or fast, or even really real. Because words catch inside their throats, trapped in some invisible net that filters out the truth of the thing – the thing that is them, so dark and cold, but warm when wrapped together, lunging and shoving, memories and pain, hips and flesh and scars and limbs, and then sharp grunts and they barely even got started.
*dies* because you rock, and this rocks. (and forgive the lack of Supernatural icons)
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Date: 2007-07-17 10:27 pm (UTC)I got neosporin!
(PS - I ILU! Thank you!)
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Date: 2007-07-17 03:55 pm (UTC)this is beautiful but oh so sad. so very them. *sigh*
great job! I'm totally saving this.
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Date: 2007-07-17 10:27 pm (UTC)Wow... that sounds dirty. Heh.
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Date: 2007-07-17 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-17 10:28 pm (UTC):D
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Date: 2007-07-17 05:49 pm (UTC)This is so bittersweet. I love how you distinguished that they've entered uncharted territory by making them return to everyday's life instantly after what they've done. Not speaking about such things hurts more than yelling at one another, so yeah, this left me with a sad feeling. Beautiful. :)
*hugs* :)
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Date: 2007-07-17 10:29 pm (UTC)Aw. I don't mean to make you sad!
Wait, I'm evil. Nevermind. I so totally do mean to make you sad! Bwuahahahhaha!
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Date: 2007-07-17 06:24 pm (UTC)trapped in some invisible net that filters out the truth of the thing – the thing that is them, so dark and cold
Just... yes. It's refreshing to see a grittier take on Wincest, one that carries with it the almost-claustrophobic difficulties of this past season.
This is dark-hearted, gorgeous gem of a piece, sharp-edged as a crystal shard and beautiful in its unflinching poetry.
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Date: 2007-07-17 10:31 pm (UTC)*cherishes*
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Date: 2007-07-17 06:44 pm (UTC)*memories*
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Date: 2007-07-17 10:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-17 07:03 pm (UTC)Oh yes, I remember, you're super, that's how!
*loves you, as ever*
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Date: 2007-07-17 10:37 pm (UTC)And I just... DON'T KNOW. I think every story starts with a lot more in my head - there's miles and lifetimes, and then I just cut it down - get straight to the point. Hahaha.
*loves you right back*!
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Date: 2007-07-18 08:03 am (UTC)Awesome Job. :D ♥ Favorited, yes?
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Date: 2007-07-18 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-18 09:34 am (UTC)Incest as a sign of Sam and Dean's difference from normal society is a common trope in Supernatural fanfic, but the quiet lyricism of your prose turned what is usually the writer's justification into a poignant result of the sacrifices they've made to protect others.
I'm awed.
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