#tw drugs
I finally got to ‘The End’ in my spn rewatch and I cant help but wonder, if after everything, Dean confides in Jack that he still regrets not being able to do anything to help Endverse!Cas and Jacks like “oh my dad is sad in another reality???? I’m God!!!!! Lemme just pop on over there and fix that!”
Finally completed another Flash Fiction Friday! Continuing the MOIRAI/returning to ithaca series (which can be found collected here) with a sequel to and miles to go before i sleep.@flashfictionfridayofficial
tw: mentions of violence, drug usage, mentions of substance use issues
FFF: The Big City
–
Holy. Shit. He hates. Cornfields.
He never thought he could hold a grudge against a plant that hard but sure enough, he can and he does- enough so that when he finally sees the sign welcoming him to Pennsylvania, a palpable shudder of relief runs through his shoulders. No one’s fucking heard of a corn field in Pennsylvania. What the fuck do they even grow in Pennsylvania-
Apparently corn.
And after thatstream of curses, his knuckles bone white as he grips the steering wheel like he’s strangling it, he thinks maybe he should stop for the day. He hasn’t been sleeping well. Call it excitement or panic or the beginnings (beginnings?) of a nervous breakdown, but he’s got maybe five minutes over the course of the past twenty-four hours. He needs to calm down. He needs to think through his next moves very carefully, because rushing into things landed him in fucking cornfield hell shitfuck nowhere Iowa and the stakes are alothigher now.
Pull over for the time being. If you can’t sleep, at least take one of your pills and just calm down. He thinks that through and nods and then it’s pulling to the side of an obnoxiously scenic road, his palms pressed hard to his eyes once the car’s off.
Fuck. He can’t act like he doesn’t know what he’s doing at this point, because he does. He’s done exactly one job for the past twenty odd years and he’s doing it here too- making people in his way get out of his way. And, well, he knows exactly who’s in his way here because if it was himwith a six year old daughter, a husband, and some lunatic trying to see them then-
Well, if he had all that, he wouldn’t be in this position first off. But anyways, he’d totally kill that guy.
So that’s that. See your daughter. See your husband. Take care of the hypotenuse to this sick little love triangle. And pray to Christ that whoever the MOIRAI send after you, it’s not someone you trained because that might actually be a problem.
Yeah. Good plan.
And he very pointedly does notthink about what’s next after that because well- he already knows he can’t win. There’s no way out now and no point thinking about that because if he does, he’s going to fall apart entirely. So instead he lets his hands slip down off his eyes, his head pounding, and he thanks god that the asshole he took the car from packed Capri-Suns like a motherfucker because dry swallowing oxy sucks-
One tablet and a sigh and he leans the driver’s seat back. He’s got time. It takes longer by mouth, but there’s no way he wants to fuck up his veins. He lets his mind drift, his eyes shut and the afternoon sun coming through the car’s sun roof, and he considers that it’s a four hour drive from here to there. Maybe five with traffic. Not long at all now.
He should clean up first.
There’s that little piece of him now that wants to make a good impression- that desperate, unhinged voice saying maybe it can work, maybe maybe maybe even as what remains of his logic screams that you can’t fucking kill someone and expect their spouse and kid to love you, even if youare him. Even if you’re a better him. A him who doesn’t bother to hide those little white pills, a him who would be honest because they deserve to know-
A better husband. A better Akihiro, though his birth name barely registers as his own anymore. The man he’s going to kill is Akihiro. And he’s-
He hesitates, because he’s never had the chance to pick his own name. Akihiro. ATROPOS. They were both handed to him by someone else. They both ring hollow now. Neither is him, because he’s-
He is Odysseus. Returning home to Ithaca.
That feels right.
And so Odysseus rests, numbed to sleep, and he dreams about a city and a daughter and a better life waiting for him.
