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tigriswolfTitle: never had
Fandom: Charmed
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: changed future
Pairings: Leo/Piper
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 120
Point of view: third
Prompt: Piper/Leo, our little girl
She'd told Leo, of course. After they got back. But he didn't have any memories of that beautiful little girl. She didn't haunt him.
One son, then two, and never a daughter.
Her boys have children, and then she's a great-grandmother. Wyatt's first granddaughter has Melinda's smile and Melinda's eyes. She’s crying as she holds the tiny girl and grins up at Leo.
“It’s her,” she murmurs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Melinda’s cheek.
Title: the first cut is the deepest
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my character; title from Sheryl Crow
Warnings: slight AU; dark
Pairings: none stated
Rating: R
Point of view: third
Wordcount: 520
Prompt: Dean Winchester, Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
You always remember your first. And the first is always the hardest.
o0o
When he wakes in his coffin, before remembering Sam and Dad and Azazel and his deal, Dean remembers how that nameless soul screamed. Begged and whimpered and sobbed.
And then the second, and the third, and they just kept getting easier. All the way down the line, they got easier and easier.
He slammed the door on Hell, sealing it up tight in a far corner of his mind, and focused on getting out of the coffin.
He had to find Sam.
o0o
Hell visited him in his dreams, with Alistair's voice and Alistair's touch, with Alistair's razor slick and cold in his hand.
The second soul had wept from the first cut, even after he cut out her eyes and tear-ducts.
The third—well, the third never made a sound. Not until the end when he finally sobbed and screamed and begged.
The fourth leered almost as well as Alistair and Dean had the satisfaction of tormenting him until he didn’t know his own name.
Souls five and six were a couple when alive. He didn't know what exactly their sins had been, but it wasn’t long before they turned on each other.
Soul seven had promised him the world, if he'd just lower the blade, swore that he had a ticket to Heaven if he let the poor bastard off the rack.
Souls eight, nine, and ten were monotonous and boring, but soul eleven took some skill to break.
Soul twelve... soul twelve had already been shattered, but Alistair said Lilith especially wanted her to suffer, so Dean spent a long time with that one.
Souls thirteen and fourteen weren’t anything to write home about, though the fifteenth had been some major player on Earth. A tyrant or warlord or something. Alistair helped him with that one.
o0o
“Was it what you expected?” Alistair asks, as Dean examines his toys. “Down below… all those people you destroyed for me?”
Dean listens as Alistair prattles on, in love with the sound of his own voice. It’s not new, almost comfortingly familiar.
If he can just fall back into his mindspace from Hell, maybe this won’t break him completely.
“You were magnificent,” Alistair purrs. “Even I didn’t do so well with my first soul.”
Dean flinches, his back to Alistair.
“You could’ve ruled Hell, boyo,” Alistair says. “Given a few more centuries. The times, they are a-changing.”
“Yeah,” Dean replies, spinning around and stalking to Alistair, a syringe full of holy salt water. “Tormenter being tormented and all.”
Alistair’s smirk reminds him of sulfuric air and bone-handled knives, of flames and flayed skin. “No matter what happens, Dean,” Alistair tells him, “know that I won.”
Not even Alistair’s screams can erase the dread that single sentence wells up in him.
o0o
You never forget your first.
His hand trembled around the handle. The cuts were shallow and quick. He wasn’t crying, because Hell had already burned away all his tears.
The whole time, he whispered Sorry.
Until he didn’t anymore.
o0o
The first is the hardest.
All the rest came easy.
Title: grounds for expulsion
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for season 4
Pairings: implied Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 130
Point of view: third
Prompt: Dean/Castiel, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
He refuses to believe Uriel's claims. God has not left them alone—there is some plan in place, a design greater than his mind can fathom.
When he is pulled back to Heaven and punished for allowing himself to be tempted, he knows there is a purpose. God is good and just and righteous, all-knowing and all-seeing, everywhere and everything. To all things a reason.
When Zachariah captures and imprisons Dean, waiting for the moment of Dean's use, Castiel finally realizes Uriel had been right.
There is no God. No wrath, no will. Maybe there was, once. But no more.
Castiel knows this is his moment. He must choose.
There is no God. But there is Dean Winchester, arrogant and strong and beautiful and broken.
There is Dean Winchester, and Castiel chooses.
Title: to ride a drop of rain
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 425
Point of view: third
Prompt: Dean/Castiel, When I Get Where I'm Goin' (Brad Paisley)
This isn't at all what he expected.
Of course, neither had Hell been.
o0o
It's like a park. With dinosaurs and mammoths and fucking fire-breathing dragons and winged unicorns.
Unicorns. Are real.
He even gets to ride one. It’s awesome.
o0o
A lion shadows him, bigger than anything he’s ever seen before.
“Uh, hey, boy,” he says, swallowing hard. Nothing’s tried to hurt him so far, not the T. rex or that megalodon in the ocean, or the saber-toothed tiger he wrestled with yesterday.
And this lion? Could eat them all and still have room for a brontosaurus. Or a dozen.
Hello, Dean, the lion says without moving his mouth. Whenever you are ready, I can show you the way.
“The way?” he asks. The lion crouches down and Dean can’t resist—he buries his hands in that luxurious mane, threading his fingers in the thick, silky hair.
The lion purrs, even though, if Dean remembers correctly, the big cats can’t.
Spread your wings, Dean, the lion murmurs. He stands and smiles a cat-smile at Dean before leaping up, racing off into the sky.
o0o
He misses Sam. And Dad. Humans in general, actually. If this is Heaven, shouldn’t someone be around somewhere?
Not that all the animals aren’t cool, because they are. Lions laying down with lambs and all that. None of them seem to need to eat, which is awesome.
Shit, does he miss food, though. Pie. Onion rings. Cheeseburgers. He’d even take a glass of tap-water at this point, though he’s not thirsty.
“I’m ready now!” he yells up at the clouds.
Spread your wings, the lion’s voice tells him. They are waiting for you.
Dean glances around, at the herds of horses and unicorns, at the lion pride sunbathing, at the dolphins playing in the water. It’s peaceful.
He takes a deep breath, crouches, and leaps into the air.
o0o
On the far side of the sky, the lion meets him. Leads him through a bustling crowd of people that all shift out of the way without seeming to, to a small neighborhood.
Thank you, Dean, for your service, the lion says, no longer larger than a mountain. He’s now about the size of a Morgan horse. He gently rubs his head against Dean. You are retired. Be well with those you love.
The lion quietly pads off and Dean watches him go with bemusement.
The door of the closest house swings open and his mother steps out. “Dean,” she calls.
He smiles and hurries to her, letting her lead him into the light.
Title: forsaken
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; dark
Pairings: none stated
Rating: R
Point of view: third
Wordcount: 82
Prompt: Sam/Castiel, Ruby's knife
Castiel's vessel used to bleed at the slightest prick of the blade, but his real form—light and feathers and skin of will alone—was impervious to it.
That's no longer the case.
Chained by Sam's word, Castiel kneels, wings spread and stained by blood. Sam lightly traces the tip of the knife along Castiel's shoulder, following his spine down between the wings.
"How's that feel?" he asks.
Castiel shudders, eyes closed.
Sam slashes down, smiling as Castiel opens up for him.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-20 12:48 pm (UTC)(I know, boring comment. *lol* Forgive me.)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-21 12:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-20 04:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-21 12:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-20 07:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-21 12:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-21 04:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-20 09:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-21 12:20 am (UTC)Thank you so much!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-21 02:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-10 05:41 am (UTC)My favorite is the dean cuts souls one, though I also love the last. The way you describe Hell just gets me; I can't explain it.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-10 07:42 am (UTC)