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GH18 — he doesn't have a soul
Published: 2011-03-30 10:16:41 +0000 UTC; Views: 2289; Favourites: 107; Downloads: 0
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I wasn't willing to color it, but the linear art without color just looked so...weak and powerlessRelated content
Comments: 25
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"Whats wrong Dean?" Sam's voice was cold and clinical but sounded honestly curious. He looked down at his older brother with emotionless green eyes that had never looked more foreign to Dean. The knife in his little brother's hand was slicked with red and a slip of flesh but all Dean could see was the similarly crimson spatters that painted his arm and face. "He didn't hurt you," Sam lifted the knife and smiled an empty smile, "I killed him before he could."
Dean couldn't even find it in himself to speak, he just stared. Stared at Sam (not Sammy, never Sammy anymore) and the man lying dead no more then a foot away. He'd come at Dean, with a baseball bat. His swings had been clumsy and inexperienced, it was doubtful that he was even a bit of a threat. Sam apparently hadn't seen it that way.
The worst part of all this was that Dean couldn't even rationalize it. He couldn't pretend that Sam had done it out of love, because he wanted to keep Dean safe. Couldn't pretend it was because Sam even particularly wanted to kill the guy. Sam had killed him because he was a possible threat and killing him was easy. Sam's face pulled into a parody of concern and he knelt down beside Dean, looking him over with critical eyes. "Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"
Dean's mouth worked for a moment and finally he had to duck his head, avoid those soulless green eyes. "I'm fine Sam."
Silence for a moment broken when Sam sighed. "Did I violate your 'moral code' again?" He could practically hear the rolling eyes and air quotes. He grit his teeth against his automatic rebuke and forced himself to his feet. Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "Not talking to me now?"
"Shut up Sam." Dean said but there was no harshness to it. His voice sounded tired, even to his own ears. "Help me wipe our prints."
Sam shrugged and got to his feet in a disturbingly smooth and graceful motion. "Alright." He agreed, ever practical now that his soul had left the building. He stopped halfway through pulling out a cloth to smile at Dean. It was an emotionless smile, creepy on his bloodstained face. "It's okay Dean, it was you or him."
Liar Dean thought but didn't say. Sam didn't care about his safety beyond Dean being a good (the best he'd said once) hunting partner. He doesn't have a soul the older Winchester reminded himself once again but the thought only served to weigh him down with more guilt and anger. He doesn't have a soul, and its all your fault. "I know Sam, I know."
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GOD...
It's so goof that I keep think that you may have a blog or tumblr account where you put all your fanfictions.
if you do plz let me know cuz I really wanna read them.
go ahead shoot me with all your writen stuff!
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I do have a tumblr actually. But most of what I write there is Deancentric and I haven't posted anything in like a month. If you have a tumblr i'd be happy to stalk you there too. :3
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Incredible. I concur; the color makes it so much more. So vivid.
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