Fic: 3 words 3 drabbles (Gen)
by Maygra
killabeez gave me ash, lightning, & guitar
Ash
Usually when they burn the bones, they don't turn to ash. The fire isn't about reducing them to nothing, it's about purifying them, cleansing the lingering darkness from them. Salt does the same thing. So does holy water.
Fire, earth, water. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
"What about air?" Dean asks, watching the bones burn. This one wasn't even particularly evil on purpose. Just lost. Causing pain without knowing. Feeling pain without end.
"There," Sam says quietly, watching the smoke rise. "Or maybe it's in your prayers."
"I don’t pray."
"You believe. It's the same thing."
Maybe it is.
Lightning
Storms in the midwest have a character all their own. You can see them coming for miles, clouds scudding low, rain sweeping across plains with little to impede it. Lightning reaching up to scatter brightness across the sky as if to show the storm where to go next, propelling it forward.
Sometimes Sam will stand in a field when it rains hard and a storm is approaching and just watch, wait. Sometimes he's the tallest thing around for miles.
They say lightning never strikes twice.
His mother, Jess. It's a lousy theory.
Sometimes he wishes it would just hit once.
Guitar
Dean picked up a battered guitar in Topeka. He got new strings for it in Minnesota, and a girl in Clarksville tuned it for him. She was hot and willing and curious.
"Why have a guitar if you don't play?"
"I've always wanted to," he says, but it isn't true.
He picked up a case for it in Nevada and forgot about it.
Sam found it in the bottom of the trunk about three months after Jessica died.
Sam tuned it cautiously and picked out a chord. "You don't play."
Dean shrugs. "I got it for you."
Which is true.