Sam Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likely_evil) wrote2008-10-03 02:08 pm
likely_evil) wrote2008-10-03 02:08 pm
Entry tags:
He's got eyes that sing to me... remind me of childhood melodies...
Just for Bobby at the moment... others to join later...
They were in North Dakota according to the map that Alec and Dean had been looking at. There was something in the back of Sam's mind that found the town familiar. Little fireflies in his mind, wanting to guide him again.
Why were there fireflies in his mind? He always saw freflies, no matter where they went.
He had sat in the Impala after Dean and Alec went to bed because he was trying to figure this out when one big firefly came by the window, beckoning him to follow it. So he did, walking along the fields quickly as he tried to catch it.
When he was able to catch them, he remembered things. But the things he remembered with them would always fly away again. Out of his mind and into the wind. Not like the memories that Dean gave him.
He had a few now. Memory of a tape measure. Of a necklace. Small things and they were always of him as a kid. There were no adult memories. And Sam wondered why.
Soon, the firefly led him along the path to a junkyard. Sam could see all the magic here, trendils that wove a web in a white light. He was careful as he walked, not wanting to touch a single strand of it until he got to the door where the firefly had landed.
Sam tilted his head, reaching for the insect and wrapping his fingers around it roughly. Which on the other side of the door would sound like someone had knocked.
They were in North Dakota according to the map that Alec and Dean had been looking at. There was something in the back of Sam's mind that found the town familiar. Little fireflies in his mind, wanting to guide him again.
Why were there fireflies in his mind? He always saw freflies, no matter where they went.
He had sat in the Impala after Dean and Alec went to bed because he was trying to figure this out when one big firefly came by the window, beckoning him to follow it. So he did, walking along the fields quickly as he tried to catch it.
When he was able to catch them, he remembered things. But the things he remembered with them would always fly away again. Out of his mind and into the wind. Not like the memories that Dean gave him.
He had a few now. Memory of a tape measure. Of a necklace. Small things and they were always of him as a kid. There were no adult memories. And Sam wondered why.
Soon, the firefly led him along the path to a junkyard. Sam could see all the magic here, trendils that wove a web in a white light. He was careful as he walked, not wanting to touch a single strand of it until he got to the door where the firefly had landed.
Sam tilted his head, reaching for the insect and wrapping his fingers around it roughly. Which on the other side of the door would sound like someone had knocked.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject