fanfic

ficbit: Respite (5) [spn]

Here we swing around to the beginning of the piece, because deadlybride asked the very sensible question, why on earth would they take a vacation with Amara on the loose? There's more of this to come, so this is just looking at what got them over to Sturbridge in the first place; later bits will explain why they stuck around. Also, I feel the need to emphasize: rough draft here, folks.

***

They probably would've wound up kicking around Fall River, waiting for the dead bodies to rack up, if not for some newspaper editor's idea of a snappy headline: 'Gypsy Moth Plague of Biblical Proportions'.

"Lead?" Dean suggests, jogging Sam's elbow at just the right moment for him to inhale his coffee instead of drinking it. While everone's distracted by Sam's coughing extravaganza, Dean sleight-of-hand procures his own copy of the paper.

"Probably just some cyclical thing." Once he can breathe again, Sam snags the paper from Dean and flips to the back for the part of the article containing actual details. "Yeah--here's a list of past cases." He slides it back over so Dean can take a look. "It's just been a couple of decades since the last one." But Dean is engrossed in what looks like the police blotter from the lone section of the paper he'd managed to retain, so it's Sam's turn to ask, "Lead?"

"Dunno yet." Dean lays his section of the paper down on top of Sam's. "Check it out--Wells State Park is smack in the middle of the madness."

"So...?"

"So, last night a mysterious fire burned a camper to the ground--with 5 people inside. No signs they even tried to get out, and no one in the surrounding campsites saw or heard anything until everything was up in flames."

"Accidents do happen, Dean." But Sam starts reading the blurb--it's not really long enough to qualify as an article--in question.

"Just like people really are mauled to death by wildlife?" Dean spreads his hands, eyebrows up in a show of skepiticism. "Just finished buffing the Impala's new paint job from our last milk-run."

"Okay, you kind of have a point there," Sam admits, "but what about Amara? I thought you wanted to go canvassing the neighborhood."

"Sturbridge is a two-hour drive, tops. If it's nothing, we can be back here before dinner time."

Posts from This Journal by “fiction fragments” Tag

side-tracked
(Anonymous)
oh - I got side-tracked by those Gypsy Moths….
I have very vivid, still nightmare-inducing memories of the first wave of caterpillars I lived through in the northeast. My siblings and I had to ride our bikes over the backyard daily to squish them, and were under 'orders' to stomp as many as possible every day. Shudder. Whole mountainsides of trees denuded of leaves. and the munching and dripping noise from the poop. Couldn't walk safely in the woods… Ack!

Fast forward a few years to my first few days at college (PA). I was the epitome of wallpaper. Then one morning I was walking with a herd of freshmen, and one spots a beautiful caterpillar ahead on the sidewalk. I go into immediate combat mode and stomp. The group stares at me in confusion, revulsion, and a bit of fear. …it's always the quiet ones…

…so when I started this section of your wonderful story I flashed to the tents that appeared this year in our VT forests, and shouted - ack! Burn it! ((Am I on to something?))

Also. Story worm. There is a family of mechanics in Lebanon, KA who have gotten to know DW and his vintage Impala quite well. They have started stockpiling potential replacement parts, and have made it known in the business that they would like first refusal on any old Chevy bits and pieces. The son and grandson are curious, but the grandfather urges them not to ask questions. He and a few of the old-timers around town have gotten together over the past couple of years to compare notes and refresh the weird drawings that the last inhabitants of that old place outside of town left on most of the public buildings….

e
Re: side-tracked
Oh uck! I must warn you that the next section draws pretty heavily from my experience in Mass. this summer--so descriptions of gypsy moth caterpillar destruction are on their way....


Re: story worm--hm. There's definitely the bones of something there. Anytime you feel like kicking further ideas back and forth, don't hesitate to drop by!
Aha! Excellent. (Sounds like a meth trailer to me, but maybe that's because I watched too much Justified.)

Now: do they stay because they keep an ear on the radio for continual deaths? Or does Sam go out and stand on his special Boulder of Getting Reception and check the local news websites every morning to make sure they're not missing anything?

I'm glad you're working on this so steadily. :) It makes me a little jealous--I work in such fits and starts.

P.S. I don't recall: whose idea is it to stay? Sam's, so that he can have some uninterrupted time to soak in his brother? Dean's, to get away from the Amara problem for a little while?

Edited at 2016-07-29 02:05 am (UTC)
The camper remains a mystery.... I got to poke around the site (still taped off, but completely unguarded) a few weeks after it happened, and the destruction was pretty eerie. The trees surrounding it were heavily charred all down the sides facing the fire and completely untouched on the other. (There weren't any deaths, though--threw that in to catch Dean's eye.)

I'm figuring Sam sets up alerts on his phone (there's decent cell coverage)--so he winds up having to play antenna only when he wants to download something to watch on the laptop. I think it's mostly his idea to stay--or at least, he tells Dean about it being where he was going to vacation with Jess after his interview, and they wind up "lost" and driving past it, and hey, no one's home, want to take a look? And there's really no one home, so Dean picks the lock and Sam sort of trails in after him, and lookee there, the booking calendar is on the kitchen counter and the people who were supposed to be there this week had to cancel. And there's no alerts on Sam's phone, and Dean saw a pulled-pork place on the way in, and ... I don't know who actually suggests it.

It might just sort of be both of them wordlessly agreeing to stay a day or two, because a) canvassing sucks, and b) this might be their last chance for 'sand between our toes'. So they're not turning from their mission so much as gathering themselves for it. Or something. It is, I'll admit, the shakiest part of the whole thing, though pretty important, as it'll color the mood for the entire piece.

As for working steadily--well. Confession time: I actually write it up long-hand in mad fits and starts, and only manage to type it up, scene by scene, by telling myself "you need to post something tomorrow". The bulk of it was written in two days, separated by a month. So there's really nothing to feel envy over. :P