Greetings, here is L-N as promised. I'm incredibly exicted about 'N' because of my lovely angel. Oh yeah, I'm also probably going to be changing this fic's name here to '26 words' like I did on FF.net. I just think it sounds better.
Warning: Dean swears. Bad boy.
It's after the cut....as usual.
Launch-pad: a launch pad, or a launching pad, is the place from which space rockets take off. Okay, that’s the definition that relates to this piece of writing, but honestly I was stuck for a couple of weeks with this one. The only reason it was written, ALL the credit, goes to my friend wolf-steel who gave me this fabulous idea. This one’s dedicated to you deary.
Motel rooms have played many roles for the Winchesters over the years. When they were children, they were home. Later that definition moved to the Impala and each other. More recently the rooms have been used for stitching up, passing out and, occasionally, sleeping. But right now, their motel room is their launch pad, both of them preparing themselves, and their equipment, for the impending hunt.
Sam is flitting between a multitude of rare occult books and the first aid kit. Last minute research, fact checking, and ensuring the kit is properly stocked and organized; both things that could save their lives on this hunt. His movements are hurried but graceful, eyes following lines of text and rows of medical equipment, while he catalogues it all in his head.
Dean is sitting on the bed closest to the door, surrounded by the contents of the Impala’s weapon’s cache, methodically going over every gun and blade. Cleaning, loading, polishing. His eyes are focused on his work, following the sure, steady movements of his hands as they take apart his Colt 1911, clean it and reassemble. Dean takes note of any weapon that seems likely to jam or break, discarding them into a separate pile; faulty weapons one of the more obvious risks to their lives.
Sam and Dean finish at the same time, glancing up to ensure the other is ready to go. With barely a look at the other, in unison they pack up their respective gear. Sam carefully folds a page filled with Latin and tucks it into one of his jacket’s inner pockets. Dean packs the weapons into a duffle bag, leaving two shotguns, several knives, Sam’s pistol and his own gun on the bed spread.
Sam comes over and together they tuck the weapons out of sight; blades into boots and chosen guns into the backs of their jeans. The salt-laden shotguns are rested in the crook of the arm or on a shoulder. Sam holds open the door as Dean grabs the duffle. They lock up and walk to the car, preparation complete and ready to launch the hunt.
Miracle: a wonderful and surprising event, believed to have been caused by God. Oh, come on, like I REALLY need a definition with this word. I kid you not, this is the randomly picked word for ‘m’. And because it’s such a special word, both Sam and Dean get their own special companion pieces for it.
Dean doesn’t believe in God. Not anymore at least. Not since he was four. He doesn’t believe all that bullshit about a ‘higher power’ or that ‘angel’s are watching over him’, because seriously, if his life was being watched over by angels someone need to get fired. Or did they miss the part where his mum was burnt alive and his dad sold his soul? ‘Caus seriously, someone fucked up in the ‘watching over’ category.
God doesn’t exist. Good doesn’t exist, except in people like Sammy, his parents, Bobby and Jim. There is no higher power and certainly not one looking out for mankind. There’s only neutrality and evil…a Hell of a lot of evil.
All of which is why Dean doesn’t expect a miracle right now. There’s simply no such thing. No prissy angel with a harp is gonna swoop down and save the fuckin’ day. Because there’s no such thing. There’s no good and certainly no ‘God-given miracles’. Dean can only count on himself to save the day right now. To create his own miracle.
And as he speeds back to Cold Oak he thinks that ‘God’ might not hand out miracles, but demons sure do.
Sam’s believed in God since he was five. From the first time he heard Pastor Jim talk about God, Sam believed. He wanted to believe. He needed to know that their was some all powerful being watching over his family, protecting them. He did his best to convince his father and Dean that God existed, but failed miserably. Both were adamantly against the idea of God. They believed in a multitude of gods and goddesses; Egyptian, Mayan, Native American, Greek, African, Pagan, any god but the God. They refused to accept the concept of a benevolent god. If it wasn’t evil; it wasn’t supernatural and it didn’t exist. To John and Dean, ‘God’ was shoved into the ‘bullshit file’ along with angels, dragons, mermaids and unicorns.
So Sam was left the only, living, Winchester who openly believed in God. He prayed every night he was physically able to, starting from when Pastor Jim first explained the concept of prayer to him. He prayed for his mother, for his father, for Dean and later for Jessica, Madison and a large number of those they met in their ‘travels’.
And because Sam believed in God, he never doubted that a miracle would occur and he would find a way to save Dean from his deal and subsequent one-way ticket to Hell. As months went by and no reprieve showed, Sam’s faith dimmed but still remained strong. When May 2nd finally rolled around and Dean was ripped apart in front of him, screaming in agony, Sam’s faith shattered. If God really existed, how could He let this happen to the most giving person Sam had ever met? How could He do this to Dean?
So Sam not only prayed to a god he didn’t believe in anymore - just going through the motions - he dabbled in darker methods, no longer trusting God to perform a miracle and rescue his brother, and so turning to demons to do just that.
In September 2008, when Sam laid eyes upon his living, breathing brother, his faith returned. For nothing but a God-given miracle could have returned Dean to him.
Never: at no time in the past, present or future.Yay! I wasn’t expecting it to happen in this challenge – I expected it to be just the boys – but CAS is getting his own word! Woo-hoo! *dances*
In all his countless years of existence, Castiel has never met anyone quite like Dean Winchester. Has never met such a contradictory being.
Castiel has never met someone who could see the smallest sliver of good in a person being overwhelmed by darkness and yet fail to see the light that shines from their own soul.
Castiel has never met someone so pure yet so tainted at the same time. Never seen a soul shine like that despite the extent to which its owner sins and blasphemes. He has seen Dean commit indecent acts in a church, fall to the sins of wrath, lust and gluttony numerous times and has heard him take the Lord’s name in vain so many times that Uriel has lost count. In addition, Dean’s done everything on that list – except the incident in the church – since he was resurrected. Dean surrounds himself in sin, yet he has remained one of the purest souls Castiel has ever seen. He has given everything he has to help others; his dreams, his blood, his life, even his soul. And he has never asked for anything – never wanted anything – except for his family’s safety and happiness; not even including himself in that request.
Castiel has never seen a human as selfless as Dean. Watching him from the time of his birth, – a warrior for God - Dean has given over anything and everything in his attempts to keep his family safe and happy. He gave John his loyalty, obedience and innocence in order to become the soldier he wanted. He gave Sam his love, kindness and childhood in order to be the father he needed. He gave Sam support, encouragement and acceptance that he himself had rarely received since the fire. Dean gave his entire being to his family, always placing himself (not even) second to give them what they wanted.
Castiel looks at Dean and has never seen a being like him. Never seen such a contrasting mix of sin and purity. And Castiel wonders if that is why Dean was chosen by his Father; because he is pure without knowing it, is pure without pride.
Dean Winchester is pure and not, sins and doesn’t. He has given everything of himself without expecting anything for himself in return. He stopped wanting his family’s love when his father’s one expression of love came in the form of a demon-deal that traded his soul for Dean’s life. Dean does not want to love because he’s noticed that anyone he does love ends up either burning alive, going to Hell or collapsing in his arms in the mud.
Castiel sees and knows all of this. Knows what Dean thinks and what he feels. And he knows that Dean never thought this would happen. Had never thought that he could find someone to love and who could love him in return without something bad happening. Without blood raining and ocean’s boiling and Judgement Day nigh. Without his love dying, suffering, like all the others.
And so, Castiel believes that it is very fortunate that the one Dean loves, the one who loves his in return, is an angel.
Wooo! Angel-slash FTW!! That's all I've written for now, I still need to write 'O' - ordnance. I'm having trouble with this one because of too many ideas. Any thoughts?
Comments make my day.
I dedicate this entry to my friends wolfsteel and Veritas for ordering me to get my ass moving and post it on LJ. Thanks guys!