Hazel Eyes - SN fic - PG13

[tigriswolf]

Title: Hazel Eyes
Fandom: SN
Disclaimer: Not my characters.  Just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for "The Benders"
Pairings: none
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 540
Point of view: second

You wonder at random times, just a little flash of thought through your head. Where they are, how they are, what they’re doing.

What they are.

Cousins? Probably not.

-

The Bender family is the case that makes your career. Over a hundred missing people’s fates located, some horrific serial killers captured and locked away.

You never mention you had help. No one wants to ask. Everyone is too glad the psychopaths are off the streets, out of the woods, away from people.

You never learn his name. His real name.

The taller was Sam. All you know to call him is ‘Greg’.

-

After, you never look at the world the same way.

You hadn’t killed before. Shot someone, yes, but not killed. You don’t regret it. You can’t.

No—you won’t. You don’t know what that says about you, but he was a monster. A villain of the worst kind.

-

You think about him at night, ‘Greg’. His hazel eyes, the eyes of liar, the eyes of someone desperate. He’d been sincere in his need to find Sam.

It was his responsibility, he told you. Sam was his to watch out for.

From the beginning, you wondered if they were really cousins. After, you wanted to look Sam up, see what else there was on file. Study him, his family.

You never did. You never will.

You prefer to wonder.

-

You do regret not giving them a ride. From the way he was walking, ‘Greg’ had been hurt. Sam himself had been in a cage for two days, and then fought.

You watched him fight. It left you in awe.

Their little conversation after ‘Greg’ walked into the barn left you puzzled, wondering who—what—they were.

“Usual playmates”? Something tells you that you don’t really want to know.

But you can’t help wishing you’d seen ‘Greg’ in action. The way he moved, even before you knew he wasn’t really a cop, spoke of… danger. Violence barely leashed, ready to act at any second.

He moved like a cat, like a fighter.

Sometimes, you wish you were a poet so you could explain better, even if only to yourself.

-

You miss Riley. The ache, the pain, doesn’t fade with time. You miss his smile, his laugh, all the crap he gave you. You miss the way he’d call you up out of the blue to talk about the movie he saw last night or the girl he’d gone out with. You miss the way he’d make you whatever you wanted for your birthday.

You miss him. If that bastard was in front of you again, you’d kill him without a second thought.

-

Sometimes, you dream about that night. Things going a different way. Sam dying, or you, or ‘Greg’.

Something about ‘Greg’ makes you wonder—what would he have done? If Sam had died, that desperate, dangerous man who begged you for help—

What would he have become?

-

You really wish you knew his name, but almost everything has faded from your memory.

Except… he had the most gorgeous hazel eyes. The eyes of a liar. The eyes of danger.

And you just wonder, sometimes—where are they now?

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

What would he have become?

Nice.

I know if I ever saw those eyes of his in real life they'd haunt me forever, assuming of course I ever let him go!

[tigriswolf]

Thank you!