Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hasperkynipples) wrote2009-03-02 02:12 pm
hasperkynipples) wrote2009-03-02 02:12 pm
[MM] John Steinbeck quote
[Nancy = ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
havingsomuchsex, Sam = likely_evil, Bobby = maninflannel. Related to THIS and THIS.]
“Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.”
It felt weird—being dead.
He’d been dead before, but this time around he wasn’t torn apart by hellhounds and dragged into Hell. This time he died naturally—from a lung infection of all things—and it was a lot of—waiting. He could do this at his own pace, and that was a bit of a strange feeling. Add to that where he was actually going, and—
“Are you sure that you’re supposed to take me to Heaven?”
Nancy looked over her shoulder at him with a slight sigh. They were stretched out on the motel bed that formerly his, while Sam was out laying him to rest. Dean had spent the past five minutes staring at the ceiling, trying to let it sink in that he really was dead. For good, this time. No coming back, no hail Mary passes.
“You don’t think that after everything you’ve done for them, they wouldn’t let you in?”
He turned back to her with a slight smirk. “Nancy—this is me we’re talking about. You’ve met me before, haven’t you?”
She chuckled slightly, before settling in closer. “You’re a good person, Dean. You fought long and hard.” There was a beat. “Think of it more as Valhalla—but without the virgins and the alcohol.”
“That doesn’t sound like very much fun.”
“It’s better than being tortured every day.”
“Fair point.”
Nancy shifted, crossing one leg in front of the other, and Dean was just quiet for a moment, before looking over at her. “I was always hoping to go down in a blaze of glory, ya know? Like Bobby did. Go down swinging, not—hacking up a lung in a bed like a wuss.”
“You really think Sam was going to let you go down like that? After everything you two had been through?”
Dean just shrugged slightly. His body had taken on something a bit more familiar—not too young, but more loose and limber like he was in his thirties, as oppose to the stiff aching joints that he had in his sixties. “Yeah, probably not.” There was another beat, before he looked over at her. “Do you think he’s going to be okay—Sam, I mean? With everything that’s going on with him? We both changed so much, and I—I dunno.”
Nancy paused for a moment before nodding. “You did good with him, Dean. He’s a good person. Even with how complicated things got—you took good care of him, he took good care of you. He’s your brother. He’s ready this time.”
Dean took a deep breath, nodding slowly, before reaching over and taking her hand. “Okay. How do we do this?”
Nancy smiled slightly, before squeezing his hand slightly. “Just hold on.”
475 words
havingsomuchsex, Sam = likely_evil, Bobby = maninflannel. Related to THIS and THIS.]“Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.”
It felt weird—being dead.
He’d been dead before, but this time around he wasn’t torn apart by hellhounds and dragged into Hell. This time he died naturally—from a lung infection of all things—and it was a lot of—waiting. He could do this at his own pace, and that was a bit of a strange feeling. Add to that where he was actually going, and—
“Are you sure that you’re supposed to take me to Heaven?”
Nancy looked over her shoulder at him with a slight sigh. They were stretched out on the motel bed that formerly his, while Sam was out laying him to rest. Dean had spent the past five minutes staring at the ceiling, trying to let it sink in that he really was dead. For good, this time. No coming back, no hail Mary passes.
“You don’t think that after everything you’ve done for them, they wouldn’t let you in?”
He turned back to her with a slight smirk. “Nancy—this is me we’re talking about. You’ve met me before, haven’t you?”
She chuckled slightly, before settling in closer. “You’re a good person, Dean. You fought long and hard.” There was a beat. “Think of it more as Valhalla—but without the virgins and the alcohol.”
“That doesn’t sound like very much fun.”
“It’s better than being tortured every day.”
“Fair point.”
Nancy shifted, crossing one leg in front of the other, and Dean was just quiet for a moment, before looking over at her. “I was always hoping to go down in a blaze of glory, ya know? Like Bobby did. Go down swinging, not—hacking up a lung in a bed like a wuss.”
“You really think Sam was going to let you go down like that? After everything you two had been through?”
Dean just shrugged slightly. His body had taken on something a bit more familiar—not too young, but more loose and limber like he was in his thirties, as oppose to the stiff aching joints that he had in his sixties. “Yeah, probably not.” There was another beat, before he looked over at her. “Do you think he’s going to be okay—Sam, I mean? With everything that’s going on with him? We both changed so much, and I—I dunno.”
Nancy paused for a moment before nodding. “You did good with him, Dean. He’s a good person. Even with how complicated things got—you took good care of him, he took good care of you. He’s your brother. He’s ready this time.”
Dean took a deep breath, nodding slowly, before reaching over and taking her hand. “Okay. How do we do this?”
Nancy smiled slightly, before squeezing his hand slightly. “Just hold on.”
475 words