Pillow Book

(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.

(Sam found this jotted on a scrap of paper that had been tucked into his pocket while he slept.)





You're sun-warmed, drowsing
On the hood. Tan on black. Here.
Sights don't come better.



Here

Here

(Appeared in Sam's wallet one day. He noticed in the middle of the grocery store while he was trying to pay.)



Hair dragging over
My skin. Mouth kissing lower:
Surrounding. Home. Sam.

(Stuck in Dean's wallet next to the condom he always carries.)





Cold silver and warm
Skin press against my hip. Hot
Breath at my ear. Mine.





Here

Here

(Sam got back from the library one morning to find his clean laundry (minus a pair of socks) folded on his bed. This was scribbled on a piece of cardboard torn from an empty box of detergent, and tucked in with a shirt that was missing a few buttons.)



Jeans. Freakishly long. Yours.
Stained brown with mud and dirt.
Digging in the graveyard.

Olive button-down. Mine.
Stained: maybe barbecue.
Tasted fucking good, though.

Socks. Matching, no holes. Yours.
Steal them or mix them up?
Decisions, decisions.

More jeans. Normal length. Mine.
New hole ripped in one knee
When we were sparring. Bitch.

Blue t-shirt with dog. Yours.
So very yours, you freak.
Remind me to shrink it.

Sock. Singular. Yeah, mine.
You cut off the other
To patch up my ankle.

Shorts. Black, blue, more black. Yours.
Remember the itching
Powder? Fucking priceless.

Pair of overalls. Ours.
Both sweat-stained from running
When they figured us out.

Long-sleeved shirt. Dark grey. Yours.
Bar-smoke clinging. You glared
At chicks smiling at me.

Shirt. Stain - demon gore? Mine.
Thinking holy water
Not softener, in that one.

Shirt. Missing buttons. Yours.
Ripped them off trying to
Rip it off you. Hell yeah.

Shorts. Interesting stain. Yours.
Made you come in your pants.
Oh, wait. Never mind. Mine.

Red t-shirt. Mine. Used to
Be white. Beyond saving?
No, you said. And hold on.

Grey hoodie. Was once yours
Till you shrank it. Mine now.
Both like me wearing it.

Don't know why you prefer
Library to laundry.
It's scenes from our life, Sam.


Here

(Sam found this typed into the laptop, as an entry for a certain date in his calendar software.)





Six.
You'd made lots of friends at school,
And didn't want to leave town again.
I packed up all your things for you
While you screamed like you were three.

Bought you chocolate behind Dad's back,
You dozed off against my shoulder.


Twelve.
You hated all the target practice,
Refused to do PT or spar with me.
Kicked your ass round the room three times
Till you fought back, and fought back good.

Helped you with your homework, after,
You got an A and smiled at me.


Eighteen.
Never seen you that angry before,
Guess it had been a long time coming.
You left, heard nothing but 'Stay gone',
Didn't answer when I called. Didn't blame you.

Wasn't sure I could fix things; took years,
But when I asked for help, you got in the car.


Twenty-four.
You ask me 'How long?' and 'How could you?'
But you've got no idea what it was like
To see you like that, to see - Sammy.
I know you're mad. But I had to, I did.

I can't fix it this time, but I'm not sorry,
Just - don't be mad at me. Please, Sammy.

(Scribbled inside the Dr. Phil book Dean gave Sam as a gag gift.)









Yesterday
You bought me jelly doughnuts,
Had coffee waiting when I got up,
Didn't quite manage to hide your smile
Even though the joke was lame.

Today
You follow me into fire,
Check me for burns with trembling fingers,
Kiss me though we're both soaked to the skin
And let me have first shower.

Tomorrow
You'll listen when I yell stop,
Watch my back with a gun in your hand,
Call me a jerk and curl up with me,
And still be there when I wake.


How can any three words
Hope to live up to that?

(Written on the back of an empty bakery bag and tucked in the side-pocket of Dean's duffel, where he usually hides his candy stash.)



sugar-crystal
sticky lips
kissing
mine