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A SuperWho Story - Change in the AirTwo weeks ago, Dean had said he was going for a drive. He didn’t come back.
Sam knew Dean was torn up about Cas being stuck in purgatory, but he’d never just up and left before; not for this long anyway. Dean went strange whenever something was wrong with Cas. He got quiet and sad. It was obvious that he tried not to show it, but the pain leaked through his eyes – the sadness shone through and Sam knew that Cas wasn’t just a friend to Dean. He had to be more. Sam didn’t know how much hope there was for Cas, but he prayed to him, every night, begging him to come back. He needed to see his brother again.
Sam didn’t even bother trying to sleep anymore. He sipped at his cup of coffee while watching crappy late night TV, when he heard a strange noise from outside. At first he tried to dismiss it as the wind, but it couldn’t be; it just didn’t sound like anything he’d heard before. Sam put down his mug and pulled on his jacket. He opened
Awake - [Destiel OneShot]Hello Dean.
Dean jolted awake. He was breathing heavily as he surveyed the room.
“Cas?” he asked the darkness.
There was no reply, except for the sound of Sam shifting in his sleep. Dean rested his head back on the pillow and sighed. He hadn’t seen Cas since he’d first returned from purgatory. Dean felt uneasy about the whole situation; not that he wasn’t extremely happy that Cas was back, but the whole affair seemed… dodgy. He was worried about the angel. He had a bad feeling that something bad was happening, that something was not right.
Dean shifted around in the uncomfortable hotel bed, trying to get some sleep, but with no luck. He got up and to get a glass of water, and as he leant against the sink, he prayed.
“Castiel… hey man, just… get your ass here, will you?”
A second later, there was a familiar rustle, and there the angel stood.
“Hey Cas.” Dean half-smiled.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More