Hey! So to celebrate my 50th story on this site, I'm thinking of making this one a kind of random collection of little oneshots. Right now I have several sitting around that I'd like to get posted, but I'll definitely be open to suggestions if you guys have any ideas/preferences for fics. For now, here's the first story (no spoilers for this one):

Brother Brother Brother

Eyes squinted, forehead pulled down like he's always waiting for bad news.

It's more than wrinkles that crawl above his brilliant eyes now. It's a permanent indentation, a testament to all the bad news he's already been subjected to in this life.

But even still, he finds reasons to smile. He embraces the sun that glances off his worn features, grows still when the wind calls his name, making sure he captures every word, memorizes every instruction. He glides over broken glass, won't let the shards dig too deep into his heels, moving too fast to think about the pain. The blood takes a long time to dry, pushing into the fibers of haunted vanilla carpets and the rusty nails of abandoned staircases he finds his way to next. But the story's not over and the pages, though ragged, have not yet run out, their words still spilling onto the ground and pulling apart the fabric of the spaces of the places they loved. He swipes calloused hands over the smattered canvas of this brutal life, sifting through puzzle pieces until he finds the ones enveloped in golden laughter and firm embraces and brother brother brother.

There's a light to these fragments, and he picks them out from the shadows, arranges them in a halo above his own head, though he knows he's no angel. It's just a way to keep the pieces close, just so he can find them when the rest of his mind is shrouded in the darkness he'll never fully escape. It is a constant companion, and he has learned to carry its weight, shoulders strengthened from the load as the years have flown by with little more than a passing glance. Looking back now though, he can see the marks they've left. The story of those years is carved into his skin, wrinkles and scars and callouses that pull at the edges of his eyes, wrap around his bruised torso, press firmly against his fingertips. He holds the sky in those fingertips, fills in the spaces between the clouds with his own mural, a map that leads to reconstructed walls and open arms and brother brother brother.

He'll never cease to move, even when bones turn brittle and hair turns gray. Mostly because he knows he won't last that long. His life is a series of burning stars that disappear with the sun's renewal and have actually been snuffed out a long time ago, now just waiting for the rest of the world to realize that time is up. It just means he has to move a little faster than most, which he does already. It comes with the territory, with the tracking and following and destroying of the evil that won't rest. Sleep is a luxury and a curse, a smattering of nightmare and memory and light and, if he's lucky, brother brother brother.

He doesn't know how much longer the strings of this mission will pull him along, but he hopes for an end in one form or another. When he walks, he scrapes his fingers along the walls of every corridor, drags his feet through the dirt of every graveyard. This is his gift to the world, the evidence of his passing through, and his weary steps leave behind a faint trail of where he's been, all that he has seen. He leaves people behind too; strangers, lovers, friends, family. It is the harsh reality of this life, and he knows the hollow pit of loss better than most. It has burrowed permanently into the center of his stomach, its shadow curling lazily around the glowing heart that rests just out of reach, still pumping scarlet and alive. But he does not wander these roads alone. His fate is sealed with the one who sits beside him, the one who strangles darkness in his fiery fists and calls him brother brother brother.

The world is sinking and this life is ending with the swift cut of a blade and the sharp gasp of what shouldn't be surprise. He knows the way the light fades, has felt the soft, slippery pelt of unconsciousness as she pulls him towards the end, but he has to find something before he lets himself go. It's there, in the back of his layered mind, trying to push through the glowing sparks that flood his vision and seem to circle out from the center of the world. He can still feel the rain on his face and he can still understand the words that fall from trembling lips but nothing else matters except the one who holds him here for just a few more moments. He knows when the halo of light he's erected around himself shatters completely, can understand what all these dancing shadows mean but he won't take the time to count them because the breath that's left is used to utter that one word for this one last time.

Brother brother brother.

Thanks for reading! Also, in terms of suggestions for future stories, I'm open to pretty much anything besides slash or Destiel stuff- it's just not really my style. And a special thank you to all of you who have read and reviewed over the course of my little fanfiction journey haha I really really appreciate it!