Shine

Shine

A Supernatural story by Jennie @DeanIsntFine

Here's my entry in the second wave of the #SPNWishList fic and art challenge! I responded to the prompt: "Dean's inner monologue during the tap dance." I had the weirdest dream. In it, J2 were doing an old-style livestream, but just for me, and they were close to the screen, saying, "It's a courtship, Jennie. A COURTSHIP." Suddenly, I understood. Pays to let your subconscious chew on these things, doesn't it? Our dreams can be powerful things. -- Jennie

Edits by Sandi @lemondropsonice

He whirled around the empty library, wings on his feet.

Garth had shown him how it was done, then he was gone.

And this act had become a solo.

The freedom... it was exhilarating. Hard to know the true weight of a burden until it’s been left behind.

There it stood, in the corner. A new partner.

He grabbed the lamp, and tipped it in a gentle caress.

Why, hello, my dear.

I didn’t see you there.

Light and man twirled together, tracing glowing arcs across the floor.

Pardon me, what I mean to say is that, maybe, I’ve /never/ seen you. Not really. 

Glimpses, perhaps. But where I normally go, you’re not. You see, I tend to spend my time in the darkness.

He’d courted Death many times, in its many forms. Tap-danced on the edge of the abyss, to the siren song of oblivion. He’d thought that was bravery.

This? This took courage.

The light. It filled him, warmed him. Exposed him. Terrified him.

He embraced it.

With a wink, a kiss, and a click of his heels, he bounded alone up the steps to the top of the map table, gamboling, pirouetting.

Now the light wasn’t a partner, but a white-hot corona over his head. He bathed in its glow.

He was done dancing to another’s tune. From now on, come what may, every step would be his own.

With a final flourish and a tip of his jaunty straw boater, Dean Winchester sang in his mind:

So if despair is in the script, let’s tear it up, dear.

This son is up, dear.

Let’s misbehave.