SN drabbles - het, gen - PG, PG13

[tigriswolf]

Title: to thine own self be true

Fandom: “Supernatural”

Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Shakespeare.

Warnings: “All Hell Breaks Loose” never happened. But the boys found the Colt somewhere.

Pairings: light Sam/Dean

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 210

Point of view: third

 

            The demon’s chased them from one ocean to the other, and Sam knows Dean is tired. But Dean never complains, just holds Sam till he falls asleep, just soothes Sam after another nightmare of something they can’t change, just lets Sam kiss and fuck him when Sam wants to feel again.

            Sam knows neither of them can take much more—the demon is always there, in his dreamscape, taunting and goading, and whatever plans it has aren’t that far from starting.

            Dad told Dean he might have to kill Sam. Sam begged Dean to put him down one day, if there was no other way. But Sam knows now that was weak, and cruel.

            So he waits till Dean’s asleep one night and he kisses Dean’s forehead. He says nothing; they’ve never needed words, and words would be cheap now, anyway.

            He leaves everything of importance, taking only one gun and a single bullet.

            Whatever plans Mom’s and Jessica’s and Dad’s killer has, they don’t matter anymore. He watches the sunrise from a hillside; Dean’ll wake soon, will discover he’s gone, and the Colt’s no longer in the trunk.

            Sam smiles as light bathes him with warmth, and then he takes his destiny in his own hands, finally.

 

 

Title: the sounds of long ago

Fandom: “Supernatural”

Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from “Still in Saigon,” which I neither wrote nor own.

Warnings: slight AU for “Born Under A Bad Sign”

Pairings: none

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 200

Point of view: third

 

            It’s a tickle in the back of his mind, what happened that week he wasn’t in control. Sometimes, the knowledge seems within his grasp, but when he stretches for it, it’s gone, danced out of reach. He can see proof of what his body did whenever he looks at Dean—the bruises and cuts on his face, his bandaged and nearly-useless shoulder, the way he flinches when Sam gets too close.

            He wants to ask Dean what he did. He needs to know—the ignorance is an ache inside him. But, also, he doesn’t want to know. If he knows, he’ll know just how weak he really is.

            That week is a blank in his mind. An emptiness in his awareness of the world. It feels like he slept through it, though his body is tired.

            Apparently, demons don’t need sleep. He doubts Meg—what-the-fuck-ever—took the time for a nap between all her—its—actions.

            His voice echoes in a few of his dreams, in the nights just after—you know you can’t save your brother. It’s not his inflection on the words, and it’s a clue—but he can’t ask. He can’t. He’s too frightened of the knowledge.

 

 

Title: Until an hour

Fandom: “Supernatural”

Disclaimer: the hunter isn’t mine. Or his brother. Title from Arthur Miller.

Warnings: futurefic

Pairings: non-incestuous het

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 440

Point of view: third

 

 

           She says her name is Diamond and her eyes are vibrant blue, her hair long and wavy black. He knows what she is, what she’s done, but he’s so weary. He doesn’t want to hunt tonight, just wants to be a man at a nightclub.

            She smiles at him, entices him, asks him if he wants to dance. She pulls him to the floor and leans against him, asks his name. He says “Jonathan” and she calls him Johnny.

            The name doesn’t hurt like he’d once thought it would. The memories don’t burn. He loses himself in Diamond, in the feel of her body against his.

            “Tell me a secret,” she whispers in his ear, twisting her fingers in his too-short hair.

            He smiles and lowers his head to murmur, “I killed a man three nights ago.”

            Diamond laughs. “Me, too.”

 

            She pulls him towards the bathroom and backs him into the wall, runs her hands across his chest. “Johnny,” she breathes.

            He pushes her away. “’m’not in the mood to die tonight,” he says, and her eyes widen. For just a minute, her mask slips.

            “Hunter.” Her voice is cold. He can hear the fear buried deep.

            He kisses her quickly, biting her lip. “You have until tomorrow to get out of town,” he mutters into her mouth.

            She nods, eyes wary. Her gaze trails to the golden charm hanging around his neck, reaches out to touch it.

            He grabs her wrist. “Don’t.”

            She pulls away, slowly, carefully. “I’ll be gone by sunup.”

            He watches her walk away, watches her slip through the crowd. He figures she thinks she knows who he is. She’s wrong.

            He’ll track her. Not tonight, though. Tonight he just wants to feel human again.

            Human. That’s a laugh. He clutches the charm, relishing the slight burn as the edges dig into his skin. He lets it fall and moves back to the main room, letting the beat thrum through him.

            His brother would love this place. 

            Another girl—normal, this time—meanders her way to him. She’s beautiful—dark blond hair, huge hazel eyes—and young, funny and smart, and the top of her head only reaches midway up his chest. He lets her set their speed, not surprised when it’s fast.

            They fuck at her apartment, in her bed. He holds her after, kisses her gently, and lying skin to skin, he feels again. Not whole—never whole. But slightly pieced back together.

            So when he leaves to hunt, he blesses her home. “Be safe, Deanna,” he says, kissing two of his fingertips and pressing them to the doorjamb.

            Then he’s gone.