Tomorrow, When The War Began AU (Supernatural AU)

Epilogue

(A/N Hey, uh, I'm no good with Author Notes so I'm just gonna go ahead and say it. This is basically going to be another copy of the Tomorrow Series but with the cast of Supernatural instead! Won't this be fun. I hope there aren't too Manhattan mistakes and you're welcome to point them all put to me. So, uh, let's just move onto the story, shall we?)

It's only half an hours since someone - Anna I think - said we should write everything down, and it's only twenty-nine minutes since I got chosen, and for those twenty-nine minutes I've had everyone crowded around me gazing at the blank page and yelling ideas and advice. Rack off guys! I'll never get this done. I haven't got a clue where to start and I can't concentrate with all this noise.

OK, that's better. I've told them to give me some peace, and Gabriel backed me up, so at last they'd gone and I can think straight.

I don't k ow if I'll be able to do this. I might as Well say so now. I know why they chose me, because I'm meant to be the best writer, but there's a bit more to it than just being able to write. There's a few little things can get in the way. Little things like feelings, emotions.

Well, we'll come to that later. Maybe. We'll have to wait and see.

I'm down at the creek now, sitting on a fallen tree. Nice tree. Not an old rotten one That's been eaten by witchetty grubs but a young one with a smooth reddish truck and the leaves still showing some green. It's hard to tell why it fell - it looks so healthy - but Maybe it grew too close to the creek. It's good here. This pool's only about 10 metres by three but it's surprisingly deep - up to your waist in the middle. There's constant little concentric ripples from insects touching it as they skim across the surface. I wonder if they close their eyes when they sleep, and when. I wonder what their names are. Busy, anonymous, sleepless insects.

To be Honestly I'm only writing about the pool to avoid doing what I'm meant to be doing. That's like Crowley, finding ways to avoid things he doesn't want to do. See: I'm not holding back. I warned them I wouldn't.

I hope Crowley doesn't mind my being chosen to do this instead of him, because he is a really good writer. He did look a bit hurt, a bit jealous even. But he hasn't been in it from the start so it wouldn't have worked.

Well, I'd better stop biting my tongue and start biting the bullet. There's only one way to do this and That's to tell it in order, chronological order. I know writing it down is important to us. That's why we all got so exited when Anna suggested it. It's terribly important. Recording what we've done, in words, on paper, it's got to be our way of telling ourselves that we mean something, that were matter. That the things we've done have made a difference. I don't know how big a difference, but a difference. Writing it down means we might be remembered. And by God that matters to us. None of us want to end up a pile of dead quite bones, unnoticed, unknown, and worst of all, with no one knowing or appreciating the risks we've run.

That makes me think that I should be writing this like a history book, in a very serious language, all formal. But I can't do that. Everyone's got their own way and this is mine. If they don't like my way they'll have to find someone else.

OK, better do it then...

(Leaving it here so people can just start into this story. Will write first chapter soon. Promise.)