Author name: “vampireifurita”
Artist name: “mulanreflection”
Genre: Gen, Wincest
Pairing: Dean/Sam, some background Castiel/Sam, Castiel/Crowley
Word count: 26,732
Warnings: horror, disturbing imagery, violence
Summary: After Sam sacrificed himself to save the world; Dean had gone to Lisa just as he’d been asked. Things had been just fine until he started hearing music that no one else could hear and things just go downhill from there. With no one to turn to, bear witness to man lost at sea, in the throes of grief and unexplainable music that haunts him much like the memories of his brother.
Link to fic:
Link to art: Beautiful Art This way
~It seems three years, or maybe four
Someone drops dead whom I adore
You love someone there will be grief
The kiss of death, lips of a thief. ~
He could barely bear to be there, at this now empty house, the piles of cars stacked in the yard. This used to be a hub for hunters of all creeds, an information center in the middle of the country. He had practically grown up here at times, had spent the summers of his childhood chasing Sam around the yard, playing with the dogs that used to wander the yard. Now there was nothing here. The house was long empty, and it’s resident given a hunter’s funeral. His ashes had been spread over the place where he had lived.
He wandered the yard with a tire iron and a can of gasoline, careful to pick out only the most deserving of cars for his wrath. The music coursing through him wasn’t helping to improve his mood. Fucking God had brought back an angel, but not Bobby? What kind of god was he that he forsook his most precious children? And what the fuck had happened to his soul? Had that bastard Crowley given it back to him? Or was he now burning in hell along with him?
Seeing a pretentious looking Cadillac he walked towards it. Testing out the feel of the tire iron in his hand, he took a swing at the front window. Glass shattered and flew into the air, a sharp and beautiful display of force. He swung at the hood, the doors, and the trunk. When he could no longer swing his arms, he grabbed the gas can and doused the poor thing. Looking on in satisfaction, he struck a match and let it burn.Turning his back to the flames, he made his way out of the yard and to his baby. It was time that he made his way to her house.