comment_fic 86-90: SN, HP, Heroes

[tigriswolf]

Title: to confound Heaven’s purest light
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton
Warnings: takes place before “On the Head of a Pin”
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Uriel/Castiel
Rating: PG
Wordcount:
Point of view: third
Prompt: "How can you think about letting a human violate you like that?"

 

Uriel refused to look at Castiel, at the human mudmonkey that he wore. These forms they had been ordered to take were weakening Castiel's resistance to temptation. Uriel could see it, wafting around him like demonsmoke.

I do not understand, brother, he said, refusing to use his mudmonkey’s impure voice.

Nor do I, Castiel murmured. “But Uriel, I feel—”

Do not, Uriel interrupted, dare to use that profane thing’s vocal cords. Speak as what we are—the greatest, most powerful of His creations.

Castiel bowed his head, taking a breath that was unnecessarily deep. I feel… I do not… He turned, trying to meet Uriel’s gaze, but Uriel looked past him. Please, Uriel, he said. Tell me what to do.

Stay away from the human unless ordered to be in his presence, Uriel commanded. Deliver messages and leave. Do not linger, and do not touch him. He strode to Castiel and let his mudmonkey’s natural size lend weight to his words. Do not let him touch you, Castiel.

Castiel nodded, lowering his gaze. As you say, Uriel.

Uriel backed away, closing his eyes and listening to Heaven’s Voice. He tried to ignore the wrath and envy swirling in him—they were sins. He was God’s perfect soldier, the Angel of the Sun. To let a flawed, blasphemous mudmonkey—Alistair’s favorite, brother of Azazel’s chosen—cause him to feel…

He glanced at Castiel out of the corner of his mudmonkey’s eyes, and he let his angelic sight show him Castiel’s true form.

Glorious. Heaven’s own light. Too magnificent for a mudmonkey to ever truly comprehend.

How can you think about letting a human violate you like that, he wondered, and never see me?

No matter, though. Soon, Dean would die and Castiel would join Uriel, as they should have done millennia ago when the MorningStar first offered them the chance.

 

Title: charcoal and innocence
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: none
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 102
Point of view: third
Prompt: Harry/Draco, secret meetings before sides are chosen

 

"You know, you're actually not half bad for a mudblood," Draco says, trying to loom over Harry's shoulder.

"My father was a pureblood, not that it matters," Harry tells him without looking up. "Move, please—you're blocking the light."

Draco steps to the side, coming around the chair. "You're in my spot," he says.

Harry still doesn't look up. "You should get here sooner, then."

Grinning, Draco pulls out his own sketchbook and settles down to draw.

(Years later, after everything, they'll still meet sometimes, somewhere secret and away from it all, to exchange sketches of how the world used to be.)

 

Title: what little girl doesn’t dearly love a wolf?
Fandom: Heroes
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Carol Ann Duffy
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: Sylar/Claire
Rating: PGish
Wordcount: 270
Point of view: third
Prompt: Sylar/Claire, I wanna be bad

 

It only takes a hundred years. Looking back later, she'll realize how short a time that is for an immortal. But then, then it felt like every moment dragged.

He never actually touches her. Kills everyone she cares about, Mom and Lyle and Dad. Both dads. Peter. She still tries not to think about that, about what it took for Peter to die.

But she watches the years pass, the changes in society, babies wither to nonagenarians. She never ages, never gets a wrinkle or a scar. Never bleeds for longer than a heartbeat.

He's always there. She can feel him when she can't see him, a puff of air on the back of her neck, a shiver down her spine.

But he never touches her. Never speaks to her. Just always there, the only other one like her in existence.

He kills everyone else. Anyone cursed with that little twist in their genetic code. He finds them and takes their ability and leaves a corpse behind. She never gets there soon enough because she's only a healer.

She used to bring them back, in those first decades, if she got there before the funeral, before the reporters, before the police. That only happened a couple of times.

But after a hundred years, she's tired of being the hero. It's exhausting and she's alone. She misses people who knew, who understood.

He's a monster, but he's the only one left.

He hasn’t touched her in a hundred years and she still shudders at the feel of his skin on hers. But she’ll get used to it.

Eventually, she’ll crave it.
 

 

Title: I will let you down
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from “Hurt”
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 177
Point of view: third
Prompt: Dean/anyone, Hurt
Notes: written pre-5.1

 

Dean is not strong enough for this task. He knows it, Sam knows it—fucking God up in the fucking sky must know it.

But Castiel still looks at him like he’s the one who hung the moon and dotted the cosmos with stars. Like Sammy used to, before puberty and monsters and Stanford and Cold Oak and Hell.

Before Dean let Alistair shatter him into a thousand pieces and put him back together wrong and weak and so bloodthirsty he broke the first Seal, unleashing Hell—and fucking Lucifer—into the world.

He can’t do this. Can’t fix it. He’ll try until his last breath, and probably after, knowing his luck. Even with Sam at his side, finally almost like they were before Cold Oak and Hell, and even with Castiel, fallen but still fighting, he knows they can’t win.

If Zachariah’s right, the dickless bastard, then they aren’t supposed to win.

Dean’s not strong enough, and neither’s Sam or Castiel. He’ll die failing.

But he’ll die trying, and that’s what being human is all about.

 

Title: death, taxes, and pain
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU for “All Hell Breaks Loose” pt2
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 125
Point of view: third
Prompt: Sam, Dean, and anyone else, things go a little differently in the cowboy cemetery

 

Azazel doesn't mess around now; he's tired of Dean Winchester, always there to fuck up plans at the last minute.

No more.

One thought and Dean's neck snaps, his shiny little self-sacrificing soul flying home to Mommy and the angels. Good riddance.

And dear sweet Sammy, brimming with potential just stares, hands at his side and mouth open in shock and pain and—

Azazel shudders, feeling the rage rise in Sam. The hordes swarm out of the Gate and Azazel backs away from Dean’s corpse, eyes on Sam.

He hadn’t expected this, Sam to understand—

“Die,” Sam hisses, fingers clenched into fists. “Die screaming.”

Azazel gasps as he starts to burn, and then he screams.

The last thing he sees is Samuel Winchester’s eyes turn bone-white.

 

Comments

[psi-neko.livejournal.com]

It is always fun to see powerful!revenge-driven!Sam.

I feel sorry for Dean in 'I will always let you down,' but it is like him to believe that. I imagine 'In the End' was really bad for him.

Jealous!Uriel is neat. And you make me want to watch Heroes.

[tigriswolf]

Give "Heroes" a try. It's not the best show in the world, but Sylar is awesomesauce.

Thank you for reading!