So many birthdays, so little time and I know I've been really bad at gifting lately, but I couldn't miss my
spn_reversebang co-mod's birthday now, could I?
A very small ficlet offering for you, dear
quickreaver. Hope it hits a spot.
A Bang or a Whimper?The world ends on a Wednesday. It does it quietly, and Dean’s the only one who notices. He shrugs, throws his battered duffel into the back seat of the Impala and drives.
That’s how it goes, that’s how Dean goes, every time.
It’s not that he doesn’t care. He cares a lot. About the people he meets and those he doesn’t; he cares that they are going to suffer and die, he hates that there’s nothing he can do about it. But - and here’s the thing that defines Dean Winchester, whatever the universe he’s in – those people, however deserving; the good, bad and the ugly? Those people aren’t Sam. None of them are his brother, and when it comes down to the nitty gritty of his life, that’s all that Dean can focus on.
So when the apocalypse comes Dean leaves, every time, because he hasn’t found Sam yet, and he can’t stop until he does.
~0~0~0~ Sam follows a trail of stars. He eats sparingly, only drinks enough water to maintain functionality; doesn’t waste precious time on anything but the basics that allow him to keep moving. Anything else is insignificant because it isn’t Dean.
Dean’s out there, somewhere, and Sam’s going to find him, worlds be damned.
And they are.
Eternally damned.
~0~0~0~AN: Coincidentally, this also fills a
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genprompt_bingo prompt to end the world in the first paragraph.
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