A/N: Dean/Luna for Amber
With every passing day you watch her light grow stronger,
illuminating the dark with impossibilities.
She is the moonshine dangling like a windchime in your murky sky,
dancing barefoot along your shoreline,
softening your edges until you don't know where she ends and you begin.
Dean, my dear, go ahead; take the lead,
take her hand and pull her to your chest,
feel her steady, steady breaths,
remind her she's alive.
Dip your toes in cold water and forget
(just for now)
that there's a whole world out there that would rather see you dead
than see you live to kiss a girl that dares to look at the world upside down,
a ToPsY TuRvY girl
who whispers kindness on a breeze
and harsh truths to anyone who will listen
and who dares to ride
on the backs of creatures who only reveal themselves
in the wake of tragedy.
So let her cry into your shoulder,
kiss the spot of blue paint she got in her hair,
remember that her light is but a reflection of something greater,
that as long as the sun still shines you will have her
alive and well.
The mistress of your tide.
Nonsensical nargle-spotting nymph.
Treasure the taste of her lips like honey,
sweet & golden on a summer afternoon.
Savor it and remember it
for the day after all of this is over
and the dust begins to settle like a slow dance
in the shallows on the edge of something dark
and she is the only light you see.