Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likedillinger) wrote2010-07-30 10:24 pm
likedillinger) wrote2010-07-30 10:24 pm
Entry tags:
Drabble challenge for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blueshocks
Prompt: Our Space by the Cardigans
Characters: Dean Winchester and Elle Bishop
Timeline/Verse: Everybody's Fucked verse, non-binding.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or Heroes. Dean islikedillinger and Elle is blueshocks .
And with that, I have finally conquered this drabble meme! \o/
my dear, please see my dear
how we invented the fear
inside that space
no one could interfere
my dear, please see my dear
how we invented the tears
inside that space
no one could interfere
Hell on earth didn't come in storms of fire - or at least, it didn't stay that way.
It was cold, and it was empty - and the reality of it was in the way it scraped out the survivors from the inside out.
Armageddon came internally.
Maybe he was hoping she'd snap, and he'd go the way of her last Dean. It'd be easier that way, some days.
He didn't go into her arms to feel alive. He went with a death wish.
She never fucking followed through.
He wondered what she was getting out of this some days, but he figured it might be the same thing he got sometimes. Pretending. Or self-loathing. Both were pretty popular hobbies in the post-Apocalyptic era.
He thought he might hate her. But it required an effort of emotion he didn't feel like summoning up.
So they just existed. Shared space. Shared nothing.
It was theirs, at least. That was something.
Characters: Dean Winchester and Elle Bishop
Timeline/Verse: Everybody's Fucked verse, non-binding.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or Heroes. Dean is
likedillinger and Elle is blueshocks . And with that, I have finally conquered this drabble meme! \o/
my dear, please see my dear
how we invented the fear
inside that space
no one could interfere
my dear, please see my dear
how we invented the tears
inside that space
no one could interfere
Hell on earth didn't come in storms of fire - or at least, it didn't stay that way.
It was cold, and it was empty - and the reality of it was in the way it scraped out the survivors from the inside out.
Armageddon came internally.
Maybe he was hoping she'd snap, and he'd go the way of her last Dean. It'd be easier that way, some days.
He didn't go into her arms to feel alive. He went with a death wish.
She never fucking followed through.
He wondered what she was getting out of this some days, but he figured it might be the same thing he got sometimes. Pretending. Or self-loathing. Both were pretty popular hobbies in the post-Apocalyptic era.
He thought he might hate her. But it required an effort of emotion he didn't feel like summoning up.
So they just existed. Shared space. Shared nothing.
It was theirs, at least. That was something.