a happy place to dream about (slice of life horror, multi-chaptered)
Dean's rudderless when he limps ashore in West Cibola. 23, with nobody and nothing but a couple bucks and a broken-down old car to his name. It's October. Nothing's been right for a long time.
He turns 24 in a rundown long-stay motel room with an under the table turned actual job at an washed-up dive barā the only place that'd take him without a real job history or a permanent address. Itās way off the tourist strip and the moneyās terrible, but itās steady.
Two years and some change later, just as the restlessness really starts to seep in, he meets Chuck Shurley for the first time.
That he knows of.
[Read on AO3]
.....................
CHP 2 (and Castiel interlude) is UP!
...
Chuck frowns. He thumbs blood off Deanās cheek with a soft shush.
āYouāre not even the main character,ā Chuck reminds him, gently.
Reminds them both, possibly.
Deanās only response is a wracking cough that dwindles down into miserable, damp wheeze. More blood dribbles down his chin. Chuck shakes his head. He leans in as if to catch Deanās eyes.
āDonāt worry so much. This whole moment, it wonāt exist as soon as I end it. No oneās gone. Thereās no ending. The pain youāre feeling? It isnāt even real, not really.ā
Deanās stare through him is dim and searching. Uncomprehending. Chuck scoffs.
āDonāt look at me like that. Weāve met, I promise.ā
Too many times by now, really.
Chuck doesnāt often enter the narrative, but heās found itās been happening more and more often lately, and all for the same reason. Even right now: Chuckās keeping this very scene going, even though he already knows it's a narrative dead end. Just to focus on Dean Winchester, dying offscreen in a puddle of his own blood andĀ stillĀ distracting. Just for a few more minutes in the same air.
Itās not fair. Itās ruining Chuckās focus on his perfect narrative.
Chuck takes one limp hand. He traces his fingertips lightly over Deanās knuckles, one at a time. Dean almost notices that too, hand jerking against Chuckās touch. Chuck simply tightens his grip.
āIām fixing it,ā he promises Dean. āI have thisā¦Ā versionĀ of you, in the wings. You, but everything youāre justā¦ā, he tsks once, considering, ānot built for.ā
He lifts Deanās bloodied knuckles to his mouth. His teeth test the pressure of his skin, gently, feeling the bone and joint underneath. Dean stares at him, glassy and distant. Opens his mouth like heās trying to respond; nothing comes out but a thin trickle of blood.
Itās like he never runs out of ways to bleed.
