SPN Fic: In These Losing Fights
Oct. 13th, 2009 08:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
errant_janeTired like a tired thing. So what I decided to do was write fic. It made sense at the time.
Title: In These Losing Fights
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: For 5x04
Notes: In the same universe as this story, though you don't have to read that for this to make sense.
Summary: Dean's goodbye to Sam is meant to be final and without regret.
***
It's amazing how exhausting the Apocalypse is. Well, maybe not amazing, but still. Dean's tired. Tired of being so malleable, so easily manipulated by both Heaven and Hell, which is reason enough for him and Sam to go their separate ways. There are plenty of other reasons centered around lies and broken trust, plenty that have nothing to do with the smug expression on Ruby's face two seconds before the church doors slammed, shutting Dean out.
But that’s the thing Dean can't forgive. While he spent forty years of torment in Hell, Sam spent four months fucking Ruby. Continued fucking her after Dean got back. Dean would like to say it's about the lies more than the sex, but that isn't true. The sex is a betrayal in a way Dean can't articulate, so he doesn't bother trying. That Sam was grieving and suicidal doesn't negate it.
He asked himself once if it would have been better if he'd come back from Hell to find Sam dead, then shut the thought down before the yes was fully formed. It isn't worth it to contemplate what he would have done had the situations been reversed. If he hadn't made his deal to bring Sam back. If Ruby had come to him promising some sort of relief.
The truth is he most likely would have killed himself before she got the chance.
Dean's goodbye to Sam is meant to be final and without regret. He has enough regrets to last him ten lifetimes, he is filled to capacity which means he can just let Sam go. This is what he tells himself, anyway. Like he hasn't spent his life cataloging and preserving every hurt he and Sam have inflicted on each other.
Family. Can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em.
It's funny because that's actually Dean's dilemma.
***
Sam continues to call at first. There are the professional calls, where he leaves messages about the jobs he's doing, about jobs that he thinks Dean might be in the area for. Then there are the drunk-dials, with messages like, He came again last night. He seems so sure, Dean. I don't— Jesus. I'm sorry, and Jo and Ellen. I tried to get there. I wasn't fast enough.
Dean has his own drink or two after that one.
It doesn't matter that he never actually answers. Every message leaves Dean wrecked and he can't not listen.
He and Bobby don't talk about it, but that doesn't matter either. Bobby knows this like he knows everything else, so when Sam calls one night while Dean's at the house recovering from a leg wound (claw to the thigh, possible infection), Bobby simply takes the phone from him and answers. Dean is now being handled.
"Hello?"
Dean? He can hear Sam's voice. Even thin and tinny his eagerness is clear.
"It's Bobby."
Dean gets up and stumps over to the cabinet to get the bottle of Jack, careful not to put too much pressure on his bad leg.
Oh, he hears Sam say. Is Dean—
"He's fine. Just using a little paper cut as an excuse to take a couple of days off." Bobby watches him sit back down, his expression wary, like any moment Dean's going to start with the teeth gnashing and rending of garments.
Dean, however, will take whiskey over theatrics any day.
Good. That's good, Sam is saying. He should take a break.
"Listen, Sam." Bobby looks like he wishes he were pretty much anywhere else in the world. "It might be a good idea if you stopped calling."
Dean takes another shot. He doesn't want to be here for this either.
Oh. There's a long pause and Dean's not sure any of them are even breathing. Then Sam says, Yeah, sure. You're probably right. Hunters almost got me in North Dakota last week. I should probably just. Stop.
"Hell, kid. You can still call me."
Sure, Bobby. Take care, Sam says like he didn't hear him. Tell Dean...
The rest of the sentence never comes and Bobby shuts the phone slowly, looking as grim as Dean's ever seen him.
By the time Dean sobers up, Sam's gone off the grid completely. Which is probably for the best. Sam is now hidden from angels, demons and hunters alike. The demons are the only ones who don’t want Sam dead.
Once upon a time, Dean would've sworn that he could find Sam again in a heartbeat. Because nobody knows Sam better than Dean. He doesn't try now because he's not sure how well he'd take being wrong on that one.
***
They have a lead on the Colt and Dean is discussing the best way to get to it with Castiel when Zachariah finds them. Castiel has his hand on Dean's shoulder, ready to zap them away to somewhere else, but Zachariah holds his hands up in mock surrender and Dean shakes his head at Castiel. He wants to hear what Zachariah has to say.
"Let me guess, you want my tuna casserole recipe. Sorry, buddy. Family secret."
Zachariah doesn't bother to hide his disdain. "If I thought it'd make a difference, I'd make another bid," he says, then shakes his head. "I simply wanted to let you know it's game over. You're on your own."
Dean's not impressed. "I've been on my own for awhile, so if that's all you have to say..."
"I think you really might be the most idiotic creature in all of creation." He grins. "Luckily, it's no longer my problem."
"So, what? You and your angel pals are fucking off to Mars? And you wanted a goodbye hug."
"I wanted to deliver the news personally." Zachariah's expression is positively gleeful.
It's the first time Dean's actually been afraid of him. "What news?"
"Lucifer has his vessel." He claps his hands and raises his eyebrows. "Your brother said yes. Your time is up."
"Right." Dean snorts. "So this is, what? Some sort of reverse psychology? Some shiny new manipulation? Lucifer has Sam, so I should spread 'em for Michael?"
Zachariah chuckles and turns to Castiel. "I want you to remember, if you can. I want you to remember that you chose this path." Then he's gone.
"That does not sound promising," Castiel says after a moment.
"Sam wouldn't say yes," Dean tells him.
Three days later, Chuck finds them. Says he has information about a showdown in Detroit. News travels slower among hunters than angels. Or maybe it's just that nobody wants to tell Dean, who has become sort of the de facto leader.
Lucifer has Sam, the bad news no one wants to bear.
No one but Zachariah, that is. By then he's long gone.
***
Dean loses some days there. Liquor is involved. Maybe more. He never asks how long and nobody cares to offer up that information. The fact is he comes out of it alive, for better or worse. Alive and facing a war he has no hope of winning. A war where the best possible outcome is the one where his baby brother is dead by his hand.
The last thing Dean remembers before the blackout is Castiel telling him, "Despair is a sin, Dean." Maybe he laughs at that.
They don't realize Castiel is losing his powers until it's too late. That it's been too late for years.
Dean waits until Castiel reaches his breaking point, when all the hurt and anger, all those fresh new human emotions come bubbling to the surface before repeating those words. "Despair is a sin, Cas."
He doesn't expect Castiel to attack him, but it hardly matters. Dean has him on the ground in a matter of seconds. Keeps him there until the fight seeps out of him and all that's left is loathing.
Castiel hates him and it's sort of nice. Different to have that kind of animosity coming from somewhere else. But Castiel is new to this and he will never even come close to hating Dean as much as Dean hates himself.
Still, it's nice. Cas is down in the mud with the rest of them and Dean's the one who knocked him there. Everyone else looks to Dean for salvation and in that moment, he feels closer to Cas than ever. It's their dirty little secret, this hatred. Dean's the world's biggest asshole and they're the only two who know it.
***
There's something inherently fucked-up about talking to a past version of yourself. Dean thinks that much is a given, but in his current context it's almost more than he has patience for. When he brings up the panties thing, Dean wants to laugh. It is exactly the story he would tell himself. Exactly.
It's only then that Dean realizes he can't remember the last time he felt like laughing.
He expects to be profoundly saddened by that, but there's nothing. No twinge of affection or remorse for the man he was. Dean barely remembers being that guy, the loss he should feel simply isn't there.
Which doesn't mean that Dean can't come up with a decent plan. He has no hope for the here and now, but if Zachariah sent the past him here, it's for a reason. Maybe things haven't quite been set in stone, but he doesn't even have hope for the past. Not really. He tried changing it once with little success.
Still, he's got nothing to lose, so he invites himself along to visit Sammy. It should be interesting at any rate.
***
After everything that's happened, after all this time, Dean didn't think that there was anything in him left to hurt. That there was a single part of him undamaged. He'd told himself as much. He was broken.
But the sight of Lucifer in Sam's body is like ripping open every wound he's ever had, making them bleed anew.
He levels the Colt at Lucifer's chest, his finger curling around the trigger and finds he can go no further. Lucifer only smiles.
"Dean," he says gently. "You made it."
"I could hardly not show," Dean manages. "What with the fancy engraved invitation and all."
"You're not going to kill me." Lucifer steps closer until the barrel of the gun is pressed against his body. "Why not put that down?"
"I'd rather not." Which is the truth, anyway.
"You didn't come here to kill me, Dean."
Dean shakes his head. "Really? I kinda think I did."
Lucifer reaches out, strokes his fingers over Dean's cheek, his smile gentle and understanding. "No. You came to surrender. To make your peace with Sam and finally rest. It's been so long, Dean. You deserve to rest."
"Rest." Dean swallows against the lump in his throat and his arm wavers. He knows it's Lucifer talking, but he's looking at Dean through Sam's eyes, expressive with sorrow and Dean's never been able to resist that. Not ever. The gun drops from his fingers as Lucifer's hand moves to grip the back of Dean's neck.
Christ, he's so tired.
"It's okay. You fought well. You fought so well," Lucifer soothes. It should be condescending, it should make him mad. But it sounds for all the world like he does understand. Like he wants nothing more than to relieve Dean of his burden and Dean.
Dean wants to be relieved.
He can see it now, how Sam said yes.
Lucifer nods like he knows. "He thinks of you often. Almost always. He wants you to know how sorry he is, for this. For everything. For what it's worth, I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry it had to be like this. I never wanted to come between you."
"Yeah." Dean has the ridiculous urge to forgive the devil. He blinks his eyes, expecting tears but as it turns out, he has none left. "Can you tell him—"
"Anything. He's here, Dean. He's listening."
"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry and I forgive you." He needs to say both. Needs Sam to hear both.
"Dean." Lucifer presses his lips against Dean's forehead like forgiveness.
Then Dean is on the ground, Lucifer's foot on his neck and it's okay because he's ready. He looks up and knows he can die like this, seeing Sam one more time. But there's a noise and Dean is startled into looking away.
The last thing he sees is his own face, his expression of shocked horror.
Dean doesn't live long enough to appreciate the irony.
Title: In These Losing Fights
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: For 5x04
Notes: In the same universe as this story, though you don't have to read that for this to make sense.
Summary: Dean's goodbye to Sam is meant to be final and without regret.
***
It's amazing how exhausting the Apocalypse is. Well, maybe not amazing, but still. Dean's tired. Tired of being so malleable, so easily manipulated by both Heaven and Hell, which is reason enough for him and Sam to go their separate ways. There are plenty of other reasons centered around lies and broken trust, plenty that have nothing to do with the smug expression on Ruby's face two seconds before the church doors slammed, shutting Dean out.
But that’s the thing Dean can't forgive. While he spent forty years of torment in Hell, Sam spent four months fucking Ruby. Continued fucking her after Dean got back. Dean would like to say it's about the lies more than the sex, but that isn't true. The sex is a betrayal in a way Dean can't articulate, so he doesn't bother trying. That Sam was grieving and suicidal doesn't negate it.
He asked himself once if it would have been better if he'd come back from Hell to find Sam dead, then shut the thought down before the yes was fully formed. It isn't worth it to contemplate what he would have done had the situations been reversed. If he hadn't made his deal to bring Sam back. If Ruby had come to him promising some sort of relief.
The truth is he most likely would have killed himself before she got the chance.
Dean's goodbye to Sam is meant to be final and without regret. He has enough regrets to last him ten lifetimes, he is filled to capacity which means he can just let Sam go. This is what he tells himself, anyway. Like he hasn't spent his life cataloging and preserving every hurt he and Sam have inflicted on each other.
Family. Can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em.
It's funny because that's actually Dean's dilemma.
***
Sam continues to call at first. There are the professional calls, where he leaves messages about the jobs he's doing, about jobs that he thinks Dean might be in the area for. Then there are the drunk-dials, with messages like, He came again last night. He seems so sure, Dean. I don't— Jesus. I'm sorry, and Jo and Ellen. I tried to get there. I wasn't fast enough.
Dean has his own drink or two after that one.
It doesn't matter that he never actually answers. Every message leaves Dean wrecked and he can't not listen.
He and Bobby don't talk about it, but that doesn't matter either. Bobby knows this like he knows everything else, so when Sam calls one night while Dean's at the house recovering from a leg wound (claw to the thigh, possible infection), Bobby simply takes the phone from him and answers. Dean is now being handled.
"Hello?"
Dean? He can hear Sam's voice. Even thin and tinny his eagerness is clear.
"It's Bobby."
Dean gets up and stumps over to the cabinet to get the bottle of Jack, careful not to put too much pressure on his bad leg.
Oh, he hears Sam say. Is Dean—
"He's fine. Just using a little paper cut as an excuse to take a couple of days off." Bobby watches him sit back down, his expression wary, like any moment Dean's going to start with the teeth gnashing and rending of garments.
Dean, however, will take whiskey over theatrics any day.
Good. That's good, Sam is saying. He should take a break.
"Listen, Sam." Bobby looks like he wishes he were pretty much anywhere else in the world. "It might be a good idea if you stopped calling."
Dean takes another shot. He doesn't want to be here for this either.
Oh. There's a long pause and Dean's not sure any of them are even breathing. Then Sam says, Yeah, sure. You're probably right. Hunters almost got me in North Dakota last week. I should probably just. Stop.
"Hell, kid. You can still call me."
Sure, Bobby. Take care, Sam says like he didn't hear him. Tell Dean...
The rest of the sentence never comes and Bobby shuts the phone slowly, looking as grim as Dean's ever seen him.
By the time Dean sobers up, Sam's gone off the grid completely. Which is probably for the best. Sam is now hidden from angels, demons and hunters alike. The demons are the only ones who don’t want Sam dead.
Once upon a time, Dean would've sworn that he could find Sam again in a heartbeat. Because nobody knows Sam better than Dean. He doesn't try now because he's not sure how well he'd take being wrong on that one.
***
They have a lead on the Colt and Dean is discussing the best way to get to it with Castiel when Zachariah finds them. Castiel has his hand on Dean's shoulder, ready to zap them away to somewhere else, but Zachariah holds his hands up in mock surrender and Dean shakes his head at Castiel. He wants to hear what Zachariah has to say.
"Let me guess, you want my tuna casserole recipe. Sorry, buddy. Family secret."
Zachariah doesn't bother to hide his disdain. "If I thought it'd make a difference, I'd make another bid," he says, then shakes his head. "I simply wanted to let you know it's game over. You're on your own."
Dean's not impressed. "I've been on my own for awhile, so if that's all you have to say..."
"I think you really might be the most idiotic creature in all of creation." He grins. "Luckily, it's no longer my problem."
"So, what? You and your angel pals are fucking off to Mars? And you wanted a goodbye hug."
"I wanted to deliver the news personally." Zachariah's expression is positively gleeful.
It's the first time Dean's actually been afraid of him. "What news?"
"Lucifer has his vessel." He claps his hands and raises his eyebrows. "Your brother said yes. Your time is up."
"Right." Dean snorts. "So this is, what? Some sort of reverse psychology? Some shiny new manipulation? Lucifer has Sam, so I should spread 'em for Michael?"
Zachariah chuckles and turns to Castiel. "I want you to remember, if you can. I want you to remember that you chose this path." Then he's gone.
"That does not sound promising," Castiel says after a moment.
"Sam wouldn't say yes," Dean tells him.
Three days later, Chuck finds them. Says he has information about a showdown in Detroit. News travels slower among hunters than angels. Or maybe it's just that nobody wants to tell Dean, who has become sort of the de facto leader.
Lucifer has Sam, the bad news no one wants to bear.
No one but Zachariah, that is. By then he's long gone.
***
Dean loses some days there. Liquor is involved. Maybe more. He never asks how long and nobody cares to offer up that information. The fact is he comes out of it alive, for better or worse. Alive and facing a war he has no hope of winning. A war where the best possible outcome is the one where his baby brother is dead by his hand.
The last thing Dean remembers before the blackout is Castiel telling him, "Despair is a sin, Dean." Maybe he laughs at that.
They don't realize Castiel is losing his powers until it's too late. That it's been too late for years.
Dean waits until Castiel reaches his breaking point, when all the hurt and anger, all those fresh new human emotions come bubbling to the surface before repeating those words. "Despair is a sin, Cas."
He doesn't expect Castiel to attack him, but it hardly matters. Dean has him on the ground in a matter of seconds. Keeps him there until the fight seeps out of him and all that's left is loathing.
Castiel hates him and it's sort of nice. Different to have that kind of animosity coming from somewhere else. But Castiel is new to this and he will never even come close to hating Dean as much as Dean hates himself.
Still, it's nice. Cas is down in the mud with the rest of them and Dean's the one who knocked him there. Everyone else looks to Dean for salvation and in that moment, he feels closer to Cas than ever. It's their dirty little secret, this hatred. Dean's the world's biggest asshole and they're the only two who know it.
***
There's something inherently fucked-up about talking to a past version of yourself. Dean thinks that much is a given, but in his current context it's almost more than he has patience for. When he brings up the panties thing, Dean wants to laugh. It is exactly the story he would tell himself. Exactly.
It's only then that Dean realizes he can't remember the last time he felt like laughing.
He expects to be profoundly saddened by that, but there's nothing. No twinge of affection or remorse for the man he was. Dean barely remembers being that guy, the loss he should feel simply isn't there.
Which doesn't mean that Dean can't come up with a decent plan. He has no hope for the here and now, but if Zachariah sent the past him here, it's for a reason. Maybe things haven't quite been set in stone, but he doesn't even have hope for the past. Not really. He tried changing it once with little success.
Still, he's got nothing to lose, so he invites himself along to visit Sammy. It should be interesting at any rate.
***
After everything that's happened, after all this time, Dean didn't think that there was anything in him left to hurt. That there was a single part of him undamaged. He'd told himself as much. He was broken.
But the sight of Lucifer in Sam's body is like ripping open every wound he's ever had, making them bleed anew.
He levels the Colt at Lucifer's chest, his finger curling around the trigger and finds he can go no further. Lucifer only smiles.
"Dean," he says gently. "You made it."
"I could hardly not show," Dean manages. "What with the fancy engraved invitation and all."
"You're not going to kill me." Lucifer steps closer until the barrel of the gun is pressed against his body. "Why not put that down?"
"I'd rather not." Which is the truth, anyway.
"You didn't come here to kill me, Dean."
Dean shakes his head. "Really? I kinda think I did."
Lucifer reaches out, strokes his fingers over Dean's cheek, his smile gentle and understanding. "No. You came to surrender. To make your peace with Sam and finally rest. It's been so long, Dean. You deserve to rest."
"Rest." Dean swallows against the lump in his throat and his arm wavers. He knows it's Lucifer talking, but he's looking at Dean through Sam's eyes, expressive with sorrow and Dean's never been able to resist that. Not ever. The gun drops from his fingers as Lucifer's hand moves to grip the back of Dean's neck.
Christ, he's so tired.
"It's okay. You fought well. You fought so well," Lucifer soothes. It should be condescending, it should make him mad. But it sounds for all the world like he does understand. Like he wants nothing more than to relieve Dean of his burden and Dean.
Dean wants to be relieved.
He can see it now, how Sam said yes.
Lucifer nods like he knows. "He thinks of you often. Almost always. He wants you to know how sorry he is, for this. For everything. For what it's worth, I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry it had to be like this. I never wanted to come between you."
"Yeah." Dean has the ridiculous urge to forgive the devil. He blinks his eyes, expecting tears but as it turns out, he has none left. "Can you tell him—"
"Anything. He's here, Dean. He's listening."
"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry and I forgive you." He needs to say both. Needs Sam to hear both.
"Dean." Lucifer presses his lips against Dean's forehead like forgiveness.
Then Dean is on the ground, Lucifer's foot on his neck and it's okay because he's ready. He looks up and knows he can die like this, seeing Sam one more time. But there's a noise and Dean is startled into looking away.
The last thing he sees is his own face, his expression of shocked horror.
Dean doesn't live long enough to appreciate the irony.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-15 01:58 am (UTC)And then I figure it out...Well, there was no way to avoid the waterworks, is all I'm saying. T.T
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-16 02:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-15 03:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-16 02:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-15 03:04 am (UTC)Your Lucifer is amazing--that seductive understanding that cuts through the core of both Sam and Dean's resistance.
Wow do I ever want to beat him to death with a hammer. Just as soon as I can stop crying, anyway.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-16 02:39 am (UTC)Thank you so much!!! I really really love how they've done Lucifer! He could have been lame, but instead he is so incredibly, fantastically awesome! Um. Yeah. *grins* Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-15 04:03 am (UTC)"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry and I forgive you."
Like this, it happened exactly like this.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-16 02:41 am (UTC)I love your icon, btw.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-15 04:14 am (UTC)There's so much of the boys tragedy here and yet it's also exactly every day, the way people related to each other all the time, when you look at it from a certain angle. Beautifully phrased on your part.
Family. Can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em.
It's funny because that's actually Dean's dilemma.
This is hilarious and yet WRENCHING, like a rusty knife twisting in my guts.
Dean, however, will take whiskey over theatrics any day.
Oh Bobby! You can just see his face here. In so few words you utterly and completely conjured him in such perfect detail. Also I'm with Dean on the whiskey thing. However the whiskey somehow seems to create it's own theatrics.
You capture Zachariah's smarmy hideousness perfectly. Man, I want to punch that guy.
Brutual. Fucking brutal. Both on Dean's part and your's as the author.
It's soooo wrong, but I imagine this in a Rick Steff sort of way. "Good for you, Dean! Good for you!" Oh the Devil, he's so well meaning.
You captured a lovely and subtle tone through all of this. It's sharp in it's prose and story-telling, yet one can almost feel sort of a grey veil, a curtain between the real universe and this pocket one. It's like a mist filled with regret and nostalgia and sorrow that pours out like blood. Really incredible. Your Dean voice is spot on and rings so true. But it's the tiny captures, Bobby, Satan-in-Sam that make it sparkle. So few words to create such perfect portrayals of our boys.
I officially hand over my crown to you. You are now the princess of well written angst fic. Wear it well, you cruel, cruel girl. I'll be over here, crying in my whiskey.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-16 02:46 am (UTC)However the whiskey somehow seems to create it's own theatrics.
Hmmmm, yeah? IDK that I've ever noticed this...
It's soooo wrong, but I imagine this in a Rick Steff sort of way. "Good for you, Dean! Good for you!"
AHAHAHA!!! ur ruining my angst with hilarity!!!
I officially hand over my crown to you. You are now the princess of well written angst fic. Wear it well, you cruel, cruel girl.
I will accept your sparkly tiara, but only because you are no longer writing angst fic. If you started again, I expect it would be cruelly snatched away from me. As you stomped on my poor heart with your fabulous spiked heels. Don't play like I don't know.
I'll be over here, crying in my whiskey.
I thought the house smelled like liquor and sadness this morning...
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-15 06:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-16 02:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-16 08:17 am (UTC)I read the episode in a very similar way and how--to me--that despite all of his hardness you could still see that Sam was the one sore/soft spot he had left. Or maybe that's just me and read into things entirely too much. This is very possible.
Painful and wrenching in all the right ways and Lucifer/Sam is just... GUH as well as sadmaking what with the bits about how he thinks of Dean all the time and he was there, watching as Lucifer killed Dean... yeah. Just a great piece from start to finish. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-22 12:22 am (UTC)\o/ THANK YOU!!!
that despite all of his hardness you could still see that Sam was the one sore/soft spot he had left.
Yes!! Um, I could go on for awhile about all of the fantastically awesome little ways they showed this. ♥ Because I'm a geek.
Painful and wrenching in all the right ways and Lucifer/Sam is just... GUH as well as sadmaking what with the bits about how he thinks of Dean all the time and he was there, watching as Lucifer killed Dean... yeah. Just a great piece from start to finish. :D
Thank you so so much!!! I'm glad you enjoyed it!!!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-21 01:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-22 12:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-21 03:32 pm (UTC)...And now I'm going to go reread and cry over Dean and Sam some more.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-22 12:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-17 08:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-18 12:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-12 08:27 pm (UTC)