comment_fic 386-390: Supernatural

[tigriswolf]

 

Title: all that we might have done
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for season 5; some takes place in Hell
Pairings: implied Dean/Castiel
Rating: PGish
Wordcount:
Point of view: third
Wordcount: 760
Prompt: Meg, The lifetimes it took to get out, the minutes it took to be sent back

 

Hell has no timescale. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, decades, eons... all mean nothing, for all are the same.

The old ones, the true ancients, know how long has passed, but only them.

Her father tells her about then, about Lucifer and Lilith and what was before, what will be again, what they, her father and her, will create anew.

He takes her by the hand and leads her from Hell the first time. On the surface, while she flinches from the sun before steeling herself to its brightness, he shows her how to track Lucifer's Vessel, the beacon that glows in his blood. Across all realities, now, she will be able to find him.

Twice she stood in the Vessel's presence and failed to grasp him beyond a fleeting touch. And once, a horrible terrible once, a failure that will mock her forever, the Vessel's brother, Michael's burning Sword, sent her back to the Pit with a snarl.

The next time they met, she took great pleasure in forcing her way into the Vessel (a betrayal her father may never forgive, and she prays Lucifer never learns about) and then tormenting Michael's Sword.

Of all beings she's met, in and out of Hell, the one she loathes is Dean Winchester.

And yet again, he defeats her. Sends her back to Hell, to her siblings' jeers and Alistair's razor. Lilith is disappointed, and her father is still Above, so there is no one to protect her.

No one who would, maybe, since she forsook her father's plan for vengeance and still fell to the Sword. To Dean. A man.

And then her father is dead. And then Dean Winchester is on the rack, writing beneath Alistair's razor, and a few times, Alistair even lets her carve into his flesh and muscle, all the way down to his soul.

Soon, though, she thinks, an angel comes for Dean Winchester and everything is finally in motion, because Michael's Sword broke the First Seal. And one of Lilith's own favored is at the Vessel's side, so he will break the Last.

After Lucifer rises, she grovels at his feet. He smiles upon her and asks, Did you like my vessel, child?

He is not her father. He was an angel, and Heaven's stink still clings to him-he is obsessed, madly in love with Michael, and it shows. But his gentleness only covers his cruelty, and he has earned his throne as Lord of Hell.

Yes, milord, she says, on her knees.

Before he accepts her, she screams more than she ever did for Alistair.

The Vessel is still marked with her father's brand in his blood, so he is easy to find. And the Sword has tarnished. He is no longer so strong, so vibrant. He is weary. He barely fights. She could kill him now, but Lucifer would not forgive tampering with the plan, so she leaves.

And she meets them again, this time with their own pet angel, the Vessel and the Sword and Castiel.

Lucifer places Castiel in her charge. She has never been so close to a yet-unfallen angel; if he had not abandoned Heaven to be with the Winchesters, she knows his Grace would burn her like the sun, that first time Above. But his Grace is barely there, spluttering like a candle. It will not be long before he falls.

Castiel escapes, of course. He's an honorary Winchester. Dean's stench is all over him.

And Lucifer, her father's beloved and her own lord, he is most displeased. She is grateful that Alistair's already been killed by Sam.

You, child, Lucifer says gently, stroking her true form through their meatsuits, you fail again and again. Tell me, why should I let you remain, leeching off me, when you've yet to succeed at all?

The sun is burning in the sky. Death stands at Lucifer's side, shackled to the Lord of Hell's will.

Sam is beautiful from the inside, she says. The plan was never hers. And Castiel was right, of course Castiel was right, because he's with the Winchesters and they always ruin everything. And you'll know, Lucifer, she hisses, tired and angry, and if this is her last moment, then she will finally make a mark. You'll know until the end that I got there first.

Lucifer's smile is as gentle as his touch, and as sharp as Alistair's razor.

Child, he says. Petulant, insolent child. I see nothing in you that Azazel spoke of, your brilliance and your strength.

Death flicks a hand and there is-

Silence.

i


 

Title: a silence in Heaven
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: implied Jesse Turner/Claire Novak
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 230
Point of view: third
Prompt: Claire Novak & Jesse Turner, Ghost Story

 

Sometimes, if it's been a long week and nothing's gone right and every time she closes her eyes, she sees blood and hears screams and feels people dying beneath her hands, she'll call up Jesse.

She'll think his name and he'll be there instantly, pressing a kiss to her brow and placing his palm against her face, and he'll say, "Tell me."

He can never stay for long, too many obligations, important things only he can do. Since the Winchesters finally died for good, he's the most powerful being, and he needs to do many things. The world might stop turning if he pauses for longer than a few minutes.

But her worst nightmare, the one that has her waking with sobs, the one that has her screaming his name in fear and pain, is when she's standing on Heaven's golden street, just inside the pearly gates, and no one is there. It is utterly silent.

There is blood on the cobblestones. Feathers scattered on the ground.

She wakes sobbing and shrieking, and Jesse is there, wrapped around her, murmuring, "I'm here, I'm here, Claire, I'm here."

He stays almost ten minutes, but then he has to go, and she wants her daddy so much it's a physical ache in her chest.

But that's one thing she'll never ask Jesse for, because what's dead should stay dead.

The Winchesters taught her that.

i


 

Title: illustrator
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; spoilers for season 5
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 320
Point of view: third
Prompt: Lucas Barr (Dead in the Water), The psychic drawings never stopped.

 

Over the years, his childish scribbles become actual works of art. He never thinks much of it--they're just things he draws to pass the time, when he's bored or confused.

Or angry. Some of the best are from when he's pissed at Mom or a teacher or that goddamned bully who won't leave him alone. Eventually, Mom's latest boyfriend always finds the pictures and asks about them.

Usually, that ends with the guy walking out because Mom refuses to get Lucas help. He doesn't need help.

(He remembers wet and cold and terror, so much terror. But there were also hands, warm and strong, and a chest he rested against, arms that held him tight and brought him back to land and to life.)

The drawings aren't clear unless you know what they are. Lucas finally titles them with things that seem random, like deal coming due and the hands that held the world. Or, Hell Rising and Salvation.

When he's twenty-five, he's hired by a writer named Chuck Shurley to illustrate some of his books. The series is being turned into graphic novels.

Lucas has read every single one. He'd showed the one about them to Mom and she freaked for a few hours.

The books never really describe the Winchesters, and Chuck watches with wide eyes as Lucas draws them from the perspective of a six-year-old kid.

He wants to ask Chuck if the Winchesters are still alive. The last thing he saw, Dean and Sam standing side by side against a brilliant, burning light. The books end with Sam going to Hell and Dean sobbing, bleeding and broken, on the ground.

The graphic novels, Chuck tells him, will end with Dean's deal coming due.

"That's not happy, dude," Lucas says.

Chuck shrugs. "Their story so rarely was."

Lucas takes that use of past tense as an answer to a question he doesn't have the courage to ask.

i

 

Title: dreams were all they gave for free
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Janis Ian.
Warnings: very AU; implied past non-con
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 785
Point of view: third
Prompt: Lucifer/Castiel + any, AU wherein the angels are a giant mafia family and Lucifer's helping Castiel with training/gun skills/etc.

 

Castiel never wanted to join the family business. He was angry when Gabriel left because Gabe didn't ask him to go. And now, all of Father's attention is on Castiel, grooming him to take Gabriel's place, whether Castiel wants to or not.

"C'mon, little brother," Lucifer says, one hand low on Castiel's back, the other wrapped around a knife. Lucifer has always been one of Castiel's least favorite brothers, just below Raphael on the list.

"You know," Lucifer continues, moving his free hand to grasp Castiel's right, arranging his fingers around the knife's hilt, "ever since Uriel's betrayal, Father has kept a special eye on you, Cas."

Castiel nods, because he did know that. He followed Uriel around like a puppy, eager for any scraps of attention. Uriel kept him safe from Raphael's grasp, though Uriel didn't know it. But Uriel was so intimidating that even Raphael stayed a safe distance away.

Gabe, Michael, and Lucifer are the only ones who didn't fear Uriel. And when he finally turned on Castiel, only Anna's sudden appearance saved him.

And if Father or Lucifer or even Joshua, the eldest son and Father's heir, knew what Castiel was doing…

"Hold it like this," Lucifer whispers in Castiel's ear; Castiel shudders, wishing desperately he could pull away, angry at Gabriel for not taking him along, and hoping that the Winchester brothers can help him.

"Father thinks you could really be something one day, kid," Lucifer tells him, correcting his grip on the knife. "Balthazar wants you with him, shadowing him for the next few months."

"I'll go wherever Father wants me to," Castiel responds. "I'll do whatever he wants."

His single chance of escaping this life and surviving is if the Winchesters come through. Why didn't Gabriel take him, too?

"Remember, Cas," Lucifer says, "Father's always got eyes on you."

Castiel nods. "I understand." His fingers tighten on the knife and Lucifer smiles.

He was supposed to meet Sam tonight, hand over a few copies of some of Father's more incriminating files. Sam swore that his brother had connections, would be able to help.

Castiel was once Father's favorite, his boy with a sweet grin and laughing eyes. Castiel isn't cut out for this life and everyone knows it. And with Uriel's betrayal a fresh wound… Azazel and Alistair would even enjoy it, if Castiel proved traitor. In Father's grief, he'd most likely give them permission to show Castiel the error of his ways.

"C'mon," Lucifer says. "Throw the knife. If you hit the target in the heart, I'll give you prize."

Castiel doesn't want anything Lucifer would consider a prize. But he imagines Lucifer's smirking face and the knife goes in, straight through the middle. Lucifer whoops and turns Castiel to face him, with that same damnable smirk twisting his lips.

"Little brother," he says, "you really should invest in stealth training. Meg followed you last week." He makes a show of his hands being empty before revealing a driver's license.

"If I give the word," Lucifer says, "she'll strike and your pretty little lawyer is dead."

Castiel's mouth is dry, and he thinks his heart might have skipped a beat or three.

"And Michael," Lucifer continues, so gently Castiel longs to bury a knife in his throat. "Our dear brother wants to taste the lawyer's brother. It's been so long since Father really let him loose… how long do you think it would take, before Special Agent Winchester screamed? He doesn't look that tough to me." Lucifer's eyes are sharp when he adds, "Of course, I never thought you'd betray us."

"I… I haven't yet," Castiel stammers, backing up a step. "I just… Father wouldn't let me go, you know he wouldn't, and I can't stay here, Lucifer. I can't."

Lucifer nods but doesn't speak. "I do understand," he says softly, reaching out to trace his fingers along Castiel's jaw. "And if you do me a favor, Castiel, I'll see to it that Lilith creates a new identity for you. I can even send you to Gabriel, if that's what you want."

Any favor Lucifer could want isn't a favor Castiel wants to do. But… "The Winchesters," he asks. "If I do this for you, you'll get me a new identity and you'll leave them alone."

"Of course," Lucifer murmurs, leaning in. "Don't you trust me, little brother?" he breathes into Castiel's neck before his lips are warm on Castiel's skin and his teeth bite down just enough to feel, but not enough to hurt. Not yet.

No, Castiel doesn't trust him. The only one he's ever trusted was Gabriel, and Gabriel left him behind.

"What's the favor?" Castiel asks.

He already knows he'll do it, whatever it is.

i


 

Title: to build their ruin
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton.
Warnings: AU during season 4
Pairings: pre-Lucifer/Castiel
Rating: PG
Wordcount:335
Point of view: third
Prompt: any; in a universe where Uriel was the loyalist, and Castiel the traitor. (Lucifer/Castiel would be epic bonus, but not necessary.)

 

Heaven has been in chaos since Gabriel stormed out. Michael vanished in the aftermath, Raphael went off the deep end, and Uriel claimed that they must stand strong because Father will return. He will. Heaven must resound with that surety because to doubt is unforgivable.

Sammael doubted and now only Lucifer remains. There is the warning of doubt's price.

Uriel counsels faith, even though he detests humans. Even though he longs to strike down Dean where the smartass mudmonkey stands. Even though his entire being, from the Grace still bright in him to his powerful wings, flinches from Sam's very presence.

Uriel counsels faith. He believes in the goodness of his brothers, even Gabriel and Raphael. He sometimes says they should release Lucifer to invite him back, because surely something of Sammael is still in him or else Father would have destroyed him, not had Michael cast him into a cage.

Uriel has faith. Uriel has hope.

Uriel dies on Castiel's sword, framed for the death of seven angels. Dean Winchester utilizes skills taught in Alistair's workroom and Sam is closer to the edge than ever because no mere man can kill a demon with only the strength of his will.

And Lucifer whispers to Castiel, oh, so well done, my dear.

One day, not long now, Sam Winchester will unlock the cage. Dean already turned the first key. And then, on that glorious morning, when the brightest of all stars shines free again, Castiel will bow before his liege, offering himself fully to the angel he would have followed into Hell, if only Sammael had allowed him the honor.

You are exactly where you need to be, darling, Lucifer whispers, and Castiel pulls close the memory of the one time he ever felt Lucifer's touch.

Soon, Lucifer promises, so very soon.

Yes, Castiel replies with everything in him, everything he has.

Dean is unconscious in a hospital bed and Sam sits, frantic, at his side. Castiel watches from the corner, and says again, Yes.

i





i