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tigriswolfTitle: and the kingdom comes
Fandom: “Supernatural”/Greek mythology crossover
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Anne Sexton
Warnings: future!fic; sugary enough to rot your teeth
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 670
Point of view: third
He’s never believed in anything but Dad and Sammy. He’s not expecting much, when the hounds come with no mistress and no master, beyond unending pain. And it’ll be worth it, being torn apart forever. Because Sam’s alive, because Sam will live. He promised Dean to make it worth it.
He promised. And Dean believes in Sam’s word.
He’s not expecting much on the other side. But there is a long stone corridor, and the hounds trot beside him, midnight-black tongues lolling out of their mouths. He follows them, the largest often looking back to make sure. There are entrances, arches hanging above, with golden words in languages he cannot read. Soon, he stops looking; those openings are not for him.
He follows the hounds, and they keep going.
It is not hot, nor is it cold; there is no sun, but bouncing candlelight. The dogs shine silver and black and gray, the leader alone white, and Dean doesn’t understand. Where is the hellfire and torture? He sold his soul to a demon, and this corridor is not Hell, as far as he can tell.
The lead hound looks over her shoulder and grins.
Dean shrugs and keeps following. Better this passageway than Hell. Much better, even if it never ends.
Come, Hunter, a sexless voice murmurs, echoing off the stone. You have earned such a rest as only the greatest receive.
The dogs surge forward, baying in joy and triumph. Dean sprints after them, excitement mounting. This corridor has an end, after all, and it will not be in Hell.
Hunter, soldier, warrior, the voice continues, wolfsong and oceanroar, avalanche and hurricane. Come home.
The arch is golden, warm like sunlight. The dogs stream through it, but Dean pauses. Looking at it, at how welcoming it is, he doesn’t think himself worthy.
The white dog comes back for him, a tall woman at her back. She is blonde and hazel-eyed, familiar, and Dean stares.
“Jessica?” he asks.
She smiles gently, dropping a hand onto the dog’s head. “No,” she answers. “I went by that name once, and many others. But here I am called something else entirely.” In her voice is wolfsong, and Dean’s mythology comes back.
“Huntress,” he says, and she nods.
“Here I am called Artemis, or Diana, or a thousand other variations.” She holds out her hand, palm up. “Come with me, Dean. You have earned this. He will be home, one day. He will join us, here in the warrior’s paradise.”
A man steps through the arch, broad and strong, a mane of brown hair billowing down his back. “Artemis, your brother is looking for you.”
A man steps through the arch, broad and strong, a mane of brown hair billowing down his back. “Artemis, your brother is looking for you.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there, Achilles,” she responds without looking away from Dean.
The man, Achilles, greatest warrior ever born, rolls his eyes and turns. “Errand boy for gods,” he mutters.
Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “Is this real?” he asks.
The white dog noses his hand, whuffling. Come with us, that sexless voice repeats, this time with a feminine tint. You are our son and our brother; you belong to us, with us. Forever.
He hadn’t expected much when he followed the hounds into the abyss. He had never believed in anything but Dad and Sam, and Mommy’s memory.
The white dog has deep green eyes, that shift hazel as he watches. Come home, Dean. The voice is now familiar, loved.
“Mom,” he whispers.
“On the other side,” Jessica-Artemis says, “she has another shape.” The hand has not been lowered, and Dean takes it, grips it hard.
The archway beckons, his fate one step away. But one final thought halts that single step. “Sammy,” he says. “He’ll join us here?”
“Yes.” Jessica-Artemis grins at him. “I doubt anything could keep him away.”
He follows her, the white dog—Mom?—beside him, and Achilles greets him on the other side.
“Welcome, brother,” he says. The white dog shifts, grows taller and changes form, and Dad steps forward.
“Dean,” both whisper.
It is paradise—or will be, when Sam comes home.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-23 02:03 am (UTC)I adore that Artemis is Jess. so good.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-23 01:52 pm (UTC)