unikorento: (nobodyunderstands)
[personal profile] unikorento
Title: One More Soldier Down
Author: [personal profile] unikorento
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Word Count: 335
Notes: Set any time after 1x22, Devil's Trap. My eternal gratitude to [personal profile] tinypinkmouse for being awesome and never choosing essay-writing over being my beloved beta.
Summary: It wasn't until later, after the dust had settled, that Bobby understood that he was gone.



It wasn't until later, after the dust had settled, that Bobby understood that he was gone.

He'd sat in his chair and moved his hand down, and expected to meet something warm. It was what they did on quiet nights. Bobby drank his beer in the half-dark, and he sat by him, muzzle leaning on the arm of the chair, while Bobby scratched him behind the ear.

It was that same feeling like when you're walking up a staircase, and you think there's one more step than there actually is. You place your weight on something that isn't there, and it makes you stumble a little.

And now there was only air beside him. The side of the chair where he would lean still had hair on it. (Most places where he'd been had hair on them.)


Bobby put down his beer. He sat a moment longer, and then he walked to the kitchen and poured the beer down the drain.


For the rest of the week, he kept having that same feeling of missing a step.

He'd see something out of the corner of his eye - a black shape on the couch, and he'd snap his fingers at a blanket to tell him to get down.

He'd peel off a corner of his ham-sandwich and glance down, ready to give it to the empty space.

He'd notice the bowl had nothing in it and almost bend to fill it up.

He didn't hear barking. Not at the car that pulled up on the curb (the postman), and not at the lunatic who knocked on his door to hand him a flyer about how 'Jesus loves' him (he left pretty fast).

Nothing followed at his heels when he walked to the shed. Nothing lay by the door when he worked on the truck. Nothing chased the cat that circled the house.

In the mornings he didn't wake up to the sound of paws hurrying back and forth. (It took him days to stop reaching for his gun on instinct, because he thought something was wrong.)

Date: 2011-03-09 09:30 am (UTC)
tinypinkmouse: (Default)
From: [personal profile] tinypinkmouse
Anytime. :D I got the essay written though, I haven't written that much utter bullshit in years. It's three pages of nothing whatsoever.

Date: 2011-04-22 01:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] applegeuse.livejournal.com
Again, listened to tinypinkmouse's podfic of this.

I was really impressed with how much emotion and complex sadness you were able to capture in such a short fic. What I really liked was how loudly (and yet how subtly) you let Bobby's actions and the absences in the fic speak for themselves. Very nicely done.

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