jukebox selection D09 - Bad Morning, Alien Ant Farm

[huntersdaughter]

[Twice, now. Twice she's had to walk past the small memorial for Sam and the others. The dogs can't work out their routine to at least allow her some sort of ease to her day and Eliot insisting that she should rest, just makes her storm past him even more defiantly.

Twice, now. She walks past it and the flames all flicker, threatening to go out but rising back to their usual brightness. It twists her in her stomach and she can't keep doing this every day for two weeks. She can't even do this for another three times.

Small, fucking, bladders.

Her way of coping with loss has never been exactly normal. For a should-be-dead girl, herself, she does as well as could be expected. Winchester men come back; Harvelle women aren't so lucky.

On her way back in, she tells the dogs to sit and stay. They stay obediently as she marches over to the display for Sam and scoops it up. She yanks the name off the basket and tucks it into her back pocket. The entire arrangement is carried into the Lux and dropped into the trash. On her way back, she blows out the candle for Sam and retrieves the dogs. Her journal comes out of her jacket pocket and a new page is dusted off as she cracks the binding to fold it open. She does her best not to let her anger shake her writing.]


In lieu of flowers, you can suck it.

- Joanna Beth Harvelle