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Title: Dirt on the Grave 1/1
Author: TempestQuill/Cassie
Characters/Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester, Ellen Harvelle
Rating/Warnings: R, slash (implied), angst, mentions of violence
Word Count: 2,426
Spoilers: From the pilot through “All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2” although it deviates from a crucial plot point in the last episode though ties into it.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, but I wouldn't mind renting them on occassion, alas I'm broke, but boys, Kripke, can we negotiate, seriously?
Summary: The choices you make and the choices that are, When hell is so close and heaven’s so far, Ashes fly ashes burn, Over and over ain't no need to learn...
Notes: This story was written in response to a prompt from
evilsam_spn, and can be found here. This story was written after the season 2 finale of Supernatural. Title from Black Label Society’s “Dirt on the Grave”. Beta'd as always by Lissa, so any mistakes... Salt and burn her ass. LOL.
Food doesn’t taste the same. Everything that he used to love, to savor, or simply shove into his mouth for the texture of it as much as the taste, nothing is right. It’s all ash in his mouth, and drinking isn’t the same. The burn of whiskey brings back the memories of other things burning and being stripped away. Soda fizzes and makes him choke, like brackish, sludgy water, so he’s stuck with stale bread and water now. It doesn’t matter. He’s done with it all.
Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to review! A review helps keep Provenance, happy, healthy, lively and gay!
Author: TempestQuill/Cassie
Characters/Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester, Ellen Harvelle
Rating/Warnings: R, slash (implied), angst, mentions of violence
Word Count: 2,426
Spoilers: From the pilot through “All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2” although it deviates from a crucial plot point in the last episode though ties into it.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, but I wouldn't mind renting them on occassion, alas I'm broke, but boys, Kripke, can we negotiate, seriously?
Summary: The choices you make and the choices that are, When hell is so close and heaven’s so far, Ashes fly ashes burn, Over and over ain't no need to learn...
Notes: This story was written in response to a prompt from
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Food doesn’t taste the same. Everything that he used to love, to savor, or simply shove into his mouth for the texture of it as much as the taste, nothing is right. It’s all ash in his mouth, and drinking isn’t the same. The burn of whiskey brings back the memories of other things burning and being stripped away. Soda fizzes and makes him choke, like brackish, sludgy water, so he’s stuck with stale bread and water now. It doesn’t matter. He’s done with it all.
Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to review! A review helps keep Provenance, happy, healthy, lively and gay!