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fic from left field

Title: I protect him
Ficverse: SPN
Series:
SPN comment!fic
Rating: PG
Length: 400 ish
Characters: Dean ... sort of.
Prompted and posted: from 1.13, Route 666
Cassie: Why didn't you tell me?
Mrs. Robinson: I thought I was protecting them. And now there's no one left to protect.

Notes: I do not know where this one came from. Just kind of ambushed me on the way home this evening. I was going to stop at the first three, but it was lacking the point, and then Sam piped up and it all became clear. Thanks, Sam.
Warnings/Spoiler: up to 6.01
Feedback: let's hear it. The good, the bad, the ugly....



I am steel and chrome, rubber and grease, fuel and fire, speed and release.

I carry him where he hunts, cradle him while he sleeps, embrace him when he loves.

I keep faith as home and as fortress. I wrap my frame around the impact. I stand under his blows that rupture and his hands that restore. I give him my shape and shine and tune to tend and forget to worry for a little while, just a little while.

I protect him.



I am leather and thread, sweat and scent, slaughter and tannin, flex and endurance.

I break the wind from his back, slide the rain from his neck, hold the heat of his skin in mine.

I turn claws and fangs. I fold away the pieces of his life, tools of his trade. I serve as pillow or as blanket. I drape him in whispers of yesteryear, odors of the father never truly faded.

I protect him.



I am stainless steel and ivory, spring and hammer, powder and violence, sight and grip.

I join to his hand, bark to his pull, bite upon the line of his eye.

I spit death and purification. I battle furious and relentless at his wielding. I am true and straight, I come at his call. I put down those that come against him. I never jam.

I protect him.



I am lips and eyes, curves and skin, strength and vulnerability, woman and lover.

I welcome him into my home, invite him into my life, draw him into my body.

I feed him and touch him and tell him he is alive. I hold vigil over his sleep and shake him from his nightmares and kiss him in his darkness. I grant him haven in silence and space, a family with no cruel questions. I take him as he is.

I protect him.



I am burden and meaning, cursed and retrieved, hunter and monster, counterpart and brother.

I anchored him in the chaos, drove him through the fight, broke him with my failures.

I killed for him and died for him. I dragged Lucifer into the Pit for him. I gave him a true home on the power of a promise, a family who do not destroy him. I watch his perimeter and prowl the land, accumulate allies and hunt evil. I become what I must to make the world safe for him. I stay away from him.

I protect him.

Comments

( 9 speakses — have a speak )
borgmama1of5
Oct. 18th, 2010 04:56 am (UTC)
Wow!

Awesome--especially the last one!
themonkeytwin
Oct. 18th, 2010 05:24 pm (UTC)
Thanks! It was seriously incomplete without that last one, I think :)
fannishliss
Oct. 18th, 2010 06:02 am (UTC)
this is beautiful. very well done. I love the cadences.

YAY FELLOW FIC-POET!!
themonkeytwin
Oct. 18th, 2010 05:30 pm (UTC)
YAYS!! Thank you :)

I realised some time ago that I'm a percussion person. I LOVE cadences. If I'm not careful, my prose condenses until it's barely accessible!
deepbluemermaid
Oct. 18th, 2010 08:13 am (UTC)
Oh, wow. Powerful and beautiful!
themonkeytwin
Oct. 18th, 2010 05:34 pm (UTC)
Thank you! It all just hit me in the span of about ten minutes, and was all like, How about you write me down? :)
im_ridiculous
Apr. 11th, 2014 02:39 am (UTC)
very public squeeing - comin' atcha
Dude.

... DUDE.

THIS IS SO FREAKIN GOOD. I mean, I actually... this is... Wonderful. This is one of the finest pieces of fanwork I've ever read, by anyone, about anything, anywhere. It's just one of the damn finest pieces of writing. And you KNOW how much I love your stuff anyway, but THIS? This.

The language and the rhythm are just aching, and the imagery!!! Good gracious. And I know I'm speaking from a place of Peak Fangirl right now, but seriously, this has me feeling... quite emotional.

And because I'm all depressing and melancholic, I can't help but hear the first three stanzas almost as an incantation or an invocation or a litany, being said as he places each of those items (well, the Impala's keys anyway) in that box, divesting himself of them. Which makes the final line of each stanza so desperately sad and distressing, because ultimately they couldn't protect him from what he planned to do, and he was deliberately stripping himself of their prote-- NO. SOB. CANNOT.

The final two... I just... OUCH. SO OUCH. And this is no doubt because of where I'm at in the story right now, but the refrain's fooling itself, essentially. It's a plaintive and optimistic and ultimately thwarted expression of intent, rather than accomplishment. Because who or what can protect him, really?

Just excruciatingly and powerfully and completely beautiful. Well done you.

HOLDING BACK TEARS IN PUBLIC TRYING TO LOOK NORMAL NOW, MONKEYTWIN. WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME.

[Edited because in the company of writing like this, using 'ultimately' three times in one paragraph is just embarrassing. :)]

Edited at 2014-04-11 02:42 am (UTC)
themonkeytwin
Apr. 11th, 2014 07:58 am (UTC)
Re: very public squeeing - comin' atcha
DUDE. You, babe. YOU. :D You are so awesome. (Sorry not sorry ;p)

Peak Fangirl is a pretty good boost reading it though, along with where you are in the story; I was somewhere in that vicinity when I wrote it, so you know. It helps.

But yeah, I think Point of No Return was lingering in there somewhere to come out like this, because it's got all the ingredients right there, coming back to Sam as always. (Even if this was written before the progression of season six made it, no, really, no, there is something seriously wrong with Sam NOOOOOO, and got itself quietly Jossed. Oh well.)

Plus I think the Impala has always had her own voice in my head. (And, lbr, we all love Lisa but the woman in Dean's life is always going to be Baby, for better or worse.) Once she piped up, the other two did too, and like I said it went silly-quick from there. The intense loyalty bond that Dean gives and inspires, crossed with his errant knight tools-of-the-trade dependence on his steed/armour/sword, all just ... worked.

See, though, it makes me ridiculously happy (heh) that the last two especially got you right in the ouch, and I agree, they can only protect him to the extent that he'll allow, and that's ... shall we say, limited, or as you said much better,
It's a plaintive and optimistic and ultimately thwarted expression of intent, rather than accomplishment.
Filled with alllllll the issues he brings to it all. But at the same time, in the context of the tragedy that's in the very structure of Show, there was a ... not hopefulness, that's the wrong word, but maybe a warm reverence to the voices as they each spoke their piece? Like, just because they can't protect him perfectly, or even close to forever, there's an honour in their position, in being able to extend what they have to give to one that they love? The honour guard, sort of. And there may not be quantity, but of infinite quality, and anyone would be blessed to have that kind of devotion in their lives. So, yes, painful? But also beautiful, and the quality of beauty outweighs any quantity of pain. Which I guess was the aspects I see in the show that I was trying to give expression to.

Aaaand.... Huh. Well, that's me being all publicly weird for you, in return for your delightful squee and struggling to look normal in public, which as you know is like the highest compliment for fic. :):)
im_ridiculous
Apr. 15th, 2014 08:18 am (UTC)
Re: very public squeeing - comin' atcha
struggling to look normal in public, which as you know is like the highest compliment for fic.
I love this about us, as fangirls, that this is so true.

I think Point of No Return was lingering in there somewhere
Might just be me, but I'm starting to think No Return is going to keep lingering over the whole shebang. It's just... such a high water mark, really. Stuff moves and changes about our characters, and who they are and what they're capable of, and where and how they're weak, and where and how they're strong, that... that lingers, y'know. It casts a long shadow over all that follows. So far for me at least, anyway.

Plus I think the Impala has always had her own voice in my head. (And, lbr, we all love Lisa but the woman in Dean's life is always going to be Baby, for better or worse.)
This is where I need to learn gif-ing, so I can get and use one of the Sesame Street aliens... yiiipyipyipyipyipyip uh-HUH uh-HUH

in the context of the tragedy that's in the very structure of Show, there was a ... not hopefulness, that's the wrong word, but maybe a warm reverence to the voices as they each spoke their piece?
ABSOLUTELY. This is what I love most about this piece, actually. Because you absolutely capture the sense of that warmth, as you say, the honour guard, definitely. I think that's what gives it that incantation-esque quality, for me, in its language and tone. Oh Dean. Because his own devotion engenders devotion, and his loyalty, loyalty. And the beauty of that, the honour in that, is what you capture so beautifully here, I say. :)

OK, going away again now. Just, y'know, nice work here my friend. :DDDDDDD
( 9 speakses — have a speak )

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