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layne67Highway Chile by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
art_savage. Gen. Dean on a solo hunt without his father or his brother. Stanford era.
A heart-wrenching tale of pain and loneliness, this is Dean longing for John and Sam, and how he copes with hunting without anyone to watch his back, no one but himself to clean up his mess. The author's writing is so vivid that you can feel Dean's pain, physical or otherwise, like it's your own.
He pressed his back against the cold cinderblock wall, knees drawn up to his chest. From somewhere down the hall, past the holding cells, sallow fluorescent light leaked in through a small shatterproof window set high in the thick steel door. He could just make out the outline of the stainless steel sink and toilet. The only sounds that reached him were distant, muffled: the murmur of voices, a chuff of a laugh, the occasional rumble of a passing truck. He was the only occupant of the cells tonight, alone in the echoing dark.
art_savage. Gen. Dean on a solo hunt without his father or his brother. Stanford era.A heart-wrenching tale of pain and loneliness, this is Dean longing for John and Sam, and how he copes with hunting without anyone to watch his back, no one but himself to clean up his mess. The author's writing is so vivid that you can feel Dean's pain, physical or otherwise, like it's your own.
He pressed his back against the cold cinderblock wall, knees drawn up to his chest. From somewhere down the hall, past the holding cells, sallow fluorescent light leaked in through a small shatterproof window set high in the thick steel door. He could just make out the outline of the stainless steel sink and toilet. The only sounds that reached him were distant, muffled: the murmur of voices, a chuff of a laugh, the occasional rumble of a passing truck. He was the only occupant of the cells tonight, alone in the echoing dark.
