Kalliel (kalliel) wrote,
Kalliel
kalliel

[Fic] Beauty II - the Impala, Dean, Sam; psychological horror, logical chaos; 10x06 tag

This is technically the disruptive sequel to a 10x05 tag I haven't finished yet, derpderp. But if we creep through the looking glass, then Beauty II is one of its potential afterwords. But I felt like I should post this first, because idk, I'd rather the 10x05 tag stood alone, without this as its endpoint. It makes me feel better that way. But 10x06 had other ideas that also needed to be engaged, so... fuck chronology! (Please, like this journal made any sense before now, anyway. XP)

Title: Beauty II
Genre: psychological horror, stream of consciousness, logical chaos
Characters: the Impala, Dean, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~550
Notes: Spoilers 10x06.




Clean her out. Strip her down. It's interesting, they say, the sorts of things you find when you do that to a person.

--To a car, you mean.

If you can see someone's soul in their eyes, you wonder about headlights. But hell, you know a little, don't you, a little about a lot of things, isn't that what you used to say? You know how it feels to be hollowed. Speaking of used to's, though, you've been finding some things inside her these last few weeks. (Hollow.) It's all old shit, so no surprises there; she's everything you've left inside her, nine-tenths dust and coagulated grease and crap--and the last tenth is someone else's blessed mercy. She's all big, broad panels, and when she dents she shows it. Her damage rides her hard, though mostly she'll run fine come whatever. Just fine. But she'll collapse if Sam looks at her funny--which you've told him, which is why you're alone out here dreaming her, which is why it's not Sam's job to fix her, it has nothing to do with your self-worth, the burden of you, your fear (no, it's not fear, it's certainty, you can't even name it "your fear of _____ " but of it you are certain). A little secret: She'll collapse if Sam looks at her funny, and she'll collapse if he doesn't. It's kind of like that Zen question thing, with the trees and the falling and the forest, but in the end she breaks, whether Sam is looking or not she breaks, because she's already broken and it has nothing to do with whether Sam's looking. There's a temporal hiccup for you--Lesson One, never trust perceived causality.

Sam hands you a cup of glazed doughnut coffee.

You banter. Back to normal, people might say, if you knew people; back in black, they'd say, if they knew you well (if you knew any people to know you well). But that's a lot of words with not a lot of point, so you know, you know! You know, you've noticed those times--those times when your thoughts skip rungs and your speech stops tracking (dirt NAP you said, team BUILDING--remember those slips and imagine what a full-on landslide feels like). So when it happens again just put a gun in your hand and decide that all that chassis work, she don't need. Because this is about the car, remember. She don't need you to make her beautiful and you don't need beauty. Her engine's running, and that's all that matters, and she'll be fine for the time being. If the brakes go out, well. That's what emergency's for, ain't it. So skip the maintenance, the way you always do. A road is a road and a case is a case and all this, this is the stuff that normal is carved from. So put a gun in your hand and get some work to do. (Put a gun in your hand and pull the trigger one, two… sixseveneight--) And oh my god Sam, why are you even (not) explaining any of this to Sam. Sam looks away. Away through the window and away from the dust and coagulated grease. Look--bright headlights looking out towards sunset. Would you look at that.



she will be fine
she will be fine
she will be fine

 

 

 
Tags: fic: spn
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