drabbles: SN, Suicide Kings, TIH - PG
Mar. 7th, 2009 08:55 amFandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Denise Levertov.
Warnings: spoilers for aired season four
Pairings: none stated; bring your own inferences
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 310
Point of view: third
Azrael’s child, he says. You cannot have this one.
The reaper looks at him, body shimmering. Angel, it replies. Release me from that human and I shall go.
He nods. In a moment, he says, you will be free.
And Sue-Ann’s necklace is shattered.
o0o
Azrael’s child, he says, you cannot have this one.
The reaper looks at him, insubstantial eyes sad. Angel, it replies. If it is his time, I will take him.
No, he says. You cannot have this one.
It smiles, the smile of regret and obedience. I do as I was made to, it tells him gently. And if his soul is ready to go, I shall take him to the otherside, whether you wish it or not.
He turns to look at the broken body, at the two brothers communicating through the veil, and he says, I will fight you.
I am Death, it says simply. You will try.
But John makes a deal and the reaper takes no soul but his, leaving him to the demons with whom he bargained.
o0o
Azrael’s child, he begs, do not take this one.
Blood and pain coat the walls.
Angel, the reaper whispers, I am sorry. But his time is here, and he sold himself. He knew his fate.
Please, he says, wings spread over the still-warm body, sheltering it from further harm. The brother is sobbing, the body in his arms.
I do as I was made to, it explains softly.
It takes a soul to Hell and leaves him at Lilith’s mercy.
o0o
Azrael’s child, he says. Why are you here?
I met that man three times, the reaper replies. He is… astounding, for a mortal. It turns to face him, and he sees its father in its bearing. I can lead you to him.
He smiles. Welcome, then, he says.
And down they plunge into the depths.
Title: the best laid plans
Fandom: Suicide Kings
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for movie
Pairings: Elise/Max
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 300
Point of view: third
It was a stupid fucking plan, Max thinks, and Charlie’s goon pulls the trigger.
o0o
Elise is warm in his arms, sun-kissed and golden, and they’re set for life. He feels bad about betraying the guys, but Elise smiles up at him, licks his neck, whispers, Let’s go below, babe.
They’ll be fine, he’s sure. Charlie seemed like a pretty honorable guy, for a scumbag, so he’ll leave them alone. He’s smart enough to figure out what really happened, so the guys are safe.
o0o
Hey, Elise says, slinking around him and sliding into his lap, unhooking her bikini top. We made it. Quit bein’ so gloomy.
I know, he replies, placing his hands on her back, pulling her close. I just… we should call Avery. Let him know you’re okay.
Elise scoffs, biting his bottom lip. And that’ll lead the poor bastard you tortured right to us.
o0o
It was stupid fucking plan, Max thinks, right from the beginning. It was so goddamned stupid, and we’re all gonna die.
Charlie’s bleeding, and still acting smooth as butter. He’s in complete control of the situation, while taped to a chair and one finger down. Max has no idea how everything got this far—Elise’s dad was supposed to the pay the ransom, and then they’d be gone.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, and Charlie keeps looking at him like he knows.
o0o
Let’s get married, Elise says.
Let’s trick Dad into giving us money, Elise says.
It’ll be easy, Elise says.
Trust me, babe, Elise says.
Max is a fucking moron, but he does.
o0o
They’re so calm. Cold and precise, and he knew back in Ira’s house he was going to die. All these months with Elise—just a gift, and Charlie’s smile is knowing.
Max dies happy, Elise in his arms.
Title: we're neither of us running
Fandom: Ten Inch Hero
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Adrienne Rich
Warnings: spoilers for film
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 570
Point of view: third
After the girls fell asleep in a tangle on the couch, Trucker gestured for Priestly to follow him out.
“I know we all have secrets,” Trucker said. “But I’ve seen you move. You could’ve put that fucker down.”
Priestly ducked his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know—I left it behind seven years ago.” He took a deep breath, slowly let it out. “It’s not my instinct anymore to aim for the weak-spot, to go in for the kill. He caught me off-guard, and I was getting ready, you know?” He darted a glance at Trucker, looking young beneath the tattoos and piercings and crazy-ass hair. “But then you were there.”
Trucker nodded. “Army?” he asked, doubting it.
Priestly laughed. “Nope,” he said. “I’ve never been in any branch of the military, Trucker.”
“So where’d you learn?” Trucker sank back onto the bench, giving the kid space; he looked like he was about to bolt, and Trucker was too old and tired to chase him down.
“My dad, he was veteran.” Priestly raised a hand to rub his shoulder. “Real hard bastard.” He chuckled. “Dad wanted a fighter, someone like him. I never was good enough, but I learned anyway.” He stared at his hands, making fists, and then let his arms fall. “I learned, Trucker, ‘cause he beat it into me, but I never loved it, and finally I ran.”
Trucker let silence build between them, allowing Priestly time to rebuild his defenses. Once Priestly seemed in control again, he asked gently, “You ever killed?”
Priestly closed his eyes. “Yes,” he said softly. “Just the one time. Not too long after I ran.” He met Trucker’s gaze. “I didn’t look like this, then. And I—” He stopped, breathing deep. “Trucker,” he finally said. “I don’t practice anymore. I stopped after I killed that guy. He was bastard, and I don’t know how many boys he’d hurt, but I killed him, Trucker.”
Lowering his head, Priestly rubbed at his eyes, smearing his make-up all to hell. “I killed him,” he repeated softly.
Trucker stood and strode to his very first stray. Priestly was hunched over enough that he had to look up at Trucker, and Trucker pulled the boy into his arms. Priestly tensed, then loosened, and finally rested his head on Trucker’s shoulder, his hands fisted in Trucker’s shirt. “You’re a good boy, Priestly,” Trucker whispered. “Let that guilt go.”
He rubbed Priestly’s back, just holding him, and never mentioned the almost silent sobs.
When the boy pulled away, Trucker looked him in the eye and said, “We’re gonna start practicing again, three times a week.”
Priestly nodded. Trucker quickly ruffled his hair, chuckling as Priestly yelped, and then they went inside. Trucker waited till Priestly had stretched out on the floor in front of the couch and tossed a blanket on him before going to his room.
Trucker knew he’d dream about the blood on his hands, all those men he’d killed, but he didn’t count on the nightmare where Priestly fought desperately and fell anyway. He woke panting to someone making noise in his kitchen. Relief made him sigh.
All his strays were safe. He could breathe easily and ignore the ghosts.
“Yo, Trucker,” Priestly yelled. “Where’s your flour, man?”
“Let him sleep!” Tish said.
“But there’s no system,” Priestly said, then louder, “Trucker!”
Trucker laughed and rolled out of bed, padded down the hall.
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Date: 2009-03-08 06:36 am (UTC)The Supernatural one, though... I want to think you were talking about Castiel and Tessa (for want of giving Dean's reaper a name) and that's just intriguing. I liked that Castiel came to stall the first reaper, so that Dean had enough time for the hold on him to break.
Thanks for these!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 07:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 08:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 08:32 pm (UTC)Yup, that's Castiel and the pale dude in a suit/Tessa.
Thank you for reading!
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Date: 2009-03-08 08:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-03-09 12:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-08 02:06 pm (UTC)ME too!
Wow, that was awesome, I'm currently on the search for some good TIH fic, so thanks for the awesome story.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-08 09:10 pm (UTC)