Taken from just about everyone

[beanside]

Give me one of my own stories, and a timestamp sometime in the future after the end of the story, or sometime in the past before the story started, and I'll write you at least a hundred words of what happened then, whether it's five minutes before the story started or ten years in the future.

I'll expand this to include any of the ones I've written with the lovely nilchance as well.

Comments

[bayleaf.livejournal.com]

:leaps on the offer:

30 seconds after the end of Saint of Me. I must know what happened, dammit!

Uh. By which I meant, if you wouldn't mind, I'd really love to know what happens next. *kof*

[beanside.livejournal.com]

*laugh* That, I can do.


There was no heart monitor, no blinding light. Only the low murmur of Jim’s voice told Andrew that he was still breathing.

Andrew swallowed, wincing as his dry throat burned. After a minute, he managed a bleary, “Dad?”

Jim’s head, bent over his weathered prayer book, came sharply up. He looked like he’d aged a century, dark circles carved under his eyes. Mouth curving on a slow smile, Jim set the book aside and laid his trembling hand on Andrew’s forehead.

“Thank God. It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right. Do you need water?”

“Where-“ Blinking, Andrew took in the dim, cluttered room. There was someone moaning on the other side of the thin wall. “What-?”

“You had a seizure.” Jim’s face wore lines that hadn’t been there before. Bending, Jim reached under his chair and came up with a tin cup. “And we’re in Iowa, just across the border. It wasn’t safe to go to a hospital. They would’ve wanted-“ Frowning, Jim broke off and studied Andrew for a long moment. Then he smoothed Andrew’s hair back, like he hadn’t for years. His hand was cool and steadier now. “It’s been two days. You spent most of them speaking in tongues.”

Hearing the fatigue and the worry in Jim’s voice, Andrew couldn’t breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut and said tightly, “Is this a place for hunters?”

“Yes. It’s one that Mr. Winchester’s told you about. He took Sammy here once, when that bite got infected. They have some funding now, and Dr. Cohen managed to get a secondhand MRI-“

“Tell them to shoot me.”

[bayleaf.livejournal.com]

D'awwwwwwww, Andrew! Sweetie! It'll be okay!

Thank you so much.