Pillow Book

( Phoenix - Chapter Two )

( Phoenix - Chapter One )

( Phoenix - Art and information )

(Sent by text.)





Hate splitting up. Hate
Watching my own back, not yours.
Be careful, Sammy.

(Before a tricky hunt where they went in unarmed and undercover. Tucked into the pocket of Sam's disguise.)




You're biting your lip.
Nervous. Pull you close and bite
It myself. You smile.

Here

(Written on a piece torn from the flimsy disposable shower mat provided with the free toiletries, and tucked into Dean's shaving kit.)




Motel shower: no
Walls. You crowd close and water
Splashes everywhere.

Here

(Written on notepaper from the same motel.)




Daylight shines through thin
Curtains. Collapse on the bed.
Pressed close to fit. Sleep.



Here

(Written on the back of a room receipt from a motel where the only bed left was a single. The rest of the motel was booked out by a conference on 'Sex Over Sixty'.)





Motel bed: too small
Even for one.
Somehow just
Right for
Two.




Here

(Found on a piece of paper tucked under his cheek when Sam woke up the next morning, a blanket over his shoulders. The ink stained his cheek; he could read fragments of backward words in the bathroom mirror.)





You stress too much, Sam -
Homework back then, research now.
Push yourself too hard.

Working through the night.
Passed out, head on the table.
Think I'll let you rest.

Straight As then. No need
To stress now. I trust you to
Find a way, Sam. Sleep.

(On the back of a flattened, empty box of shells.)





Firefight. Race against
Time. You're steady at my back.
Breathe deep. Reload. Go.

(Written on the last in a pack of Kleenex, which is also smeared with a tiny drop of blood. Tucked into Dean's pocket not long after a hunt.)





Copper-bright salt taste
Of a split lip. Stings so good
When I'm kissing you.

(Scribbled in the margin of an old road map while Dean dozed next to Sam.)





Rain on metal roof
Turning road into river.
We wait out the storm.

(Written on the back of a motel receipt and tucked under the pillow of Dean's bed. Sam's bed is piled with notes and weapons; it remains so the whole time they are staying there.)





You sprawl everywhere.
Drool on the pillow. Cling so
Close I can't move. Jerk.

(After a bad case involving children disappearing, Sam drove all day while Dean 'slept'. They stopped for lunch at a diner. Sam found this scribbled on a napkin and tucked into his pocket when they finally checked into a motel late that night.)





Dark shades hide my eyes.
Not really from you. I'm glad
That you still see me.

Here

(On the back of a delivery receipt for a basketball.)





You hum along and
Tap your fingers on the wheel.
Drive into the sun.

(Jotted on the back of a fuel receipt.)





You're driving my girl,
Wind ruffling your hair. Smiling.
I close my eyes, rest.

Here


(Written on the back of a page of doodles Dean did in the library one day, and folded into the pocket of his favourite shirt after Sam did the laundry. The shirt smells suspiciously flowery.)




I sing of arms and the man
By fate a fugitive

Heart jumps the first time I see your face looking out
From a list that says murderer, thief. Lies that make
Me want to sing out. Speak of strong hands steady on
Cold metal. Sure aim. Criminal? Fuck that. Hero.


Not eaves aflame but moonlit marauders
Followed and flanked by carrion callers

Drinking in dark bars, laughing low.
Clasped close in the night
Forgetting dawn danger
Mouth soft skin and hope sunrise is slow.


She was already loosened like long hair
Poured out like fallen rain

White dress blowing free in the wind and I looked back
And let her go. Never turned back when you came slow
And sad from the hospital. Know you thought I should
But I'm not sorry. And you did the same for me.


I sing the body electric...
The strong, sweet, supple quality he has strikes through the cotton and flannel.

Blood sings as we run, pounds heart to heart as we fall
Laughing. Grapple and roll.
Freckle-flushed skin golden in the sun
Makes way more sense than any words I have.


You read our lives in blood and dirt on cloth.
I map our path in ink and paper histories.
Libraries and laundry, Dean.
Two sides of the same face.

(Sent from a table in a dark corner of a bar.)






You think I hate loud
Music and nightclubs, but I
Like to watch you dance.

(Dean was standing at the bar 'interviewing' a cute blonde when Sam sent this message. Instead of his usual tone, it triggered a full-length version of Whitney Houston's 'I Will Always Love You'.)





Senior prom. You set
My phone to play 'Lady in Red'.
Called just when Clare James

Was about to let
Me put my hand up her shirt.
Seems pretty funny now.

Here

(Sam found this tucked under his pillow the evening of the day after it all went down.)




We stopped near daybreak, overlooking the valley.
You jumped up on the hood, settled down beside me,
Your shoulder solid against mine, warm in the dawn chill.

The sun rose in front of us, almost unexpected.
But appropriate somehow - one shadow less.
We let the silence speak for us, watched the world change.

Mid-morning you moved. Thought you'd want to go,
My desperation gone, transferred to you.
It beats in the blood, and I haven't forgotten.

But you just slid lower, stretched out your legs,
And dozed off in the sunshine, hood warm beneath us.
Breathing easy, sleeping easy - can't take it for granted.

I watched you sleep, while the sun climbed higher,
Faint humming behind us, cars on the distant road.
Thought about all we'd lost - and all we hadn't.

You stirred when I shifted, didn't wake all the way,
Just tugged me closer, breath warm on my skin,
Arm slung over my waist. We slept a spell.