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tigriswolfTitle: better as a memory
Fandom: White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: character death
Pairings: Peter/Elizabeth
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 235
Point of view: third
Prompt: White Collar, any, "Just how far would you go for him?"
Neal Caffrey is a pretty boy who doesn't like guns. He's a non-violent offender who bribed his way through prison on his knees. He's a gentleman, master of the paintbrush and ballpoint pen.
In other words, he's easy to write off as no threat.
o0o
Neal Caffrey doesn't exist. Never has. He's a mask. He's a lie.
He went to prison for four years, conned his way around the east coast for six, and spent a couple in Europe for good measure. He's wanted for various (non-violent) crimes in five countries.
Neal Caffrey is a name and a legend.
Neal Caffrey belongs to the FBI only because he allows himself to be leashed, and even then, only so long as Peter Burke holds the leash.
o0o
Elizabeth and Peter Burke were on the way home from their anniversary dinner. Neal Caffrey was at his loft.
Elizabeth spent a week in a coma before waking with no memory of the past five years. Peter was missing.
The motive finally got narrowed down to a case Peter had worked in his first week at the FBI, years before Neal Caffrey was invented.
Neal left his anklet in Elizabeth's hospital room and was no longer Neal by the time he hit the elevator.
o0o
Peter Burke had a lovely funeral. Neal Caffrey didn't attend.
By that point, Neal Caffrey only existed in legend and criminal empires in five countries were toppling down.
Title: rolling a three
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: pre-movie
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 280
Point of view: third
Prompt: Inception, Arthur(/Eames)+ Team, When Arthur was little, the die used to actually belong to a game.
Arthur's uncle, the man who raised him, used to love Trivial Pursuit. They moved around a great deal, though, and so parts of the game got left in a dozen different cities.
(As a kid, Uncle Danny told Arthur they were explorers, adventures, spies. Saving the world, the country, the girl, seeing all there is to see and more, always more. As a man, Arthur knows that Uncle Danny owed some very bad people a large sum of money he didn't have.)
Arthur stole notepads from various teachers' desks and made Trivial Pursuit questions out of dictionaries and encyclopedias. He cannibalized checkers and chess sets for the players' pieces. He cut up plastic ware to make the little containers for the pie slices. The die, though, his uncle already had, and Arthur snuck it into the box the night before his uncle's birthday.
Uncle Danny acted like it was the best present he ever received and they played it every week for the next six months, and neither of them cared they only ever rolled threes.
But then the bad people caught up and Uncle Danny dropped Arthur off at school like it was a normal day, and he promised to take Arthur for ice-cream that afternoon, and Arthur had no idea that was the last time he'd see Uncle Danny.
Arthur walked home because Uncle Danny didn't pick him up. All their belongings were still there and there was no note, no scrap of paper to explain, but Arthur has always been brilliant so he figured it out.
He left everything except a duffle of clothes and a backpack of pictures and a red die that always rolled three.
Title: holding all the cards
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AUish
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 430
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural; Meg/Dean; he's going to hate himself in the morning, but right now he's just so homesick.
Sam's asleep. Wore himself out completely, caught up in guilt. Started the apocalypse, gonna wear Satan to the prom—yeah, he's trying to even the scale. Stupid kid.
Dean still hasn't told him it wasn't entirely his fault. Sam's not ready to listen.
Dean goes for a walk, to a nice little abandoned building he scouted this morning. He's already left all the supplies, and this may be the stupidest thing he's ever done. In both lives.
Alastair's dead. So's Azazel, that old yellow-eyed bastard. The both of them, they were masters, and Dean, Dean learned. Even before he thought he was, he learned from Azazel. And he licked up everything Alistair let slip, every twist, every trick, he watched and he marveled and he screamed, whimpered, howled.
But demons, they don't really have imagination. A million years in the Pit and all of Alastair's methods were things Dean remembered from research. Humans invented torture and demons refined it, and Dean writhed beneath Alistair, and then Alistair handed him a razor and let him loose.
But Alistair's dead now. And Dean's a goddamned moron (God damned him, yes siree Bob), but he sketches out the sigil in his blood and murmurs the summoning.
"What do you want?" Meg demands, wearing a red-head this week. Her hair's in pigtails and she looks about twenty, if that. She stays at the edge of the room, prepared to attack or flee, and Dean smiles at her.
She was acting all brave last time they met, tormenting him with Bobby's body while he was still reeling, but now, now they're on his terms.
"Let me play with you," he says, imbuing the words with a tone he hasn't used since Castiel gripped him tight and raised him from Perdition.
Her flabbergasted reaction is beautiful. He's still smiling.
"Just for a few hours," he continues, "and then I'll let you go. We're old friends, ain't we, Meg?"
Now she's frightened, the scent of fear on the air. Damn, but it's so pretty. He's missed this, more than he'd thought.
He's such a monster, now, Alistair's brightest star. Shouldn't have left Hell.
"If I play with you," Meg says, tone strengthening, "what do I get?"
Thinks she's in control now. Thinks he's crazy and she'll get both Winchesters with one blow. He can see every thought crossing her little demon-smoke mind.
But he's not Sam, and she's not Ruby, and they're sitting at his table while he holds all the cards.
"You get to live, sweetheart," he says, and it might not even be a lie.
Title: and kiddo makes three
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 170
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Ellen + Jo + Claire!Castiel; How things might have gone differently with this Cas.
Whenever they get to a new town, Cas is Jo's little sister, Ellen's younger daughter. They explain, if anyone asks (which is getting rarer, as the days stretch on), that Cas survived an attack, and that's usually enough.
Jo asked Cas once if (s)he would've preferred staying with the boys. Castiel used to have some sort of bond with Dean, after all. Anyone with eyes could see that.
Cas simply looked at her, with those eyes that haven't changed, and said that a possessed alligator was about to attack a fisherman. Jo never asked again.
Ellen doesn't know how to treat an angel clothed as a young girl. It would've been easier, she's sure, if Cas still looked like Castiel, like a grown man, tired and weary. Those, she knew how to deal with. But everything she learned raising Jo doesn't count with Cas.
Jo sighs and hugs Ellen, and Cas keeps watch, invisible wings spread wide.
They will meet War tomorrow, and the Winchesters won't be far behind.
Title: where the wind's like a whetted knife
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: slight AU in season 5; not crack
Pairings: past-Jimmy/Amelia
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 510
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, so a demon, an angel and a human walk into a bar-
She's sitting on a stool and staring at a bottle of water. Gaila's dancing with some pretty man, and Barb is flirting with one of the waitresses. And she's sitting on a stool, staring at a bottle of water.
Claire's at home, reading the Bible, trying to understand. Amelia knows there is nothing to understand—it's like trying to understand a hurricane. Not the air current or the warm water, but the strength behind it, the determination. And there are some things that humans just weren't meant to know.
Amelia understands that. Claire doesn't, not yet.
The song ends and Gaila drags her pretty man over, says his name is Gabe. He smirks at Amelia when Gaila turns to the bartender and orders something fruity. Gaila tells Amelia to look after Gabe, stretches on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and slinks through the crowd to get to the restroom.
"Castiel," Gabe purrs, leaning in so close that Amelia can smell his aftershave.
No, not his aftershave, she realizes with the part of her mind that isn't suddenly terrified or reeling in shock. It's the clear scent that Castiel cloaked Jimmy in. The air after lightning strikes, the first grass that sprouts in volcano ash… angel, her soul whispers, angel, angel, get out of there, run.
Gabe's fingers are gentle on her wrist. "What has my baby brother been up to?" he asks softly, and something shadowy moves on his shoulders. "I shouldn't be able to see you, he's too clever for that." His eyes, green and so dark, study her like she's nothing but a school experiment. "Ah," he murmurs. "Good for you, kiddo. Anyone else, and they couldn't see you."
He drops her hand and steps back as Gaila returns, and Amelia wants to say something, anything, in warning, but… Gaila wouldn't believe her. Nobody would believe her, just like she didn't believe Jimmy.
Gaila sips her drink then leads Gabe back to the dance floor. Amelia closes her eyes and breathes.
"Angels," the woman next to her mutters. "Hate 'em." Amelia looks at her, closely, and the woman meets her eyes for a moment before turning away.
Of course. A demon. Not as powerful as the ones who grabbed her and Claire, but still a demon. Part of her soul recoils, the part Castiel touched. And part of her, the mother in her, wants to rip the demon to shreds.
"Don't worry," the demon mutters, "I'm not here for you. Not like I could touch you, anyway. Just taking a vacation before—" She growls. "Goddamned Winchesters, opening that fucking cage. Hate them, too."
Just like understanding a hurricane, when you're outside your house at the mercy of howling wind and stinging rain. When a tornado roars, and a volcano erupts, and the very ground beneath your feet opens wide to swallow you down. Some things, a human just can't comprehend.
The demon finishes her drink, slightly inclines her head to Amelia, and saunters through the crowd. Amelia wants to hold her daughter, and wishes she still prayed.
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(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-16 05:25 am (UTC)And the Dean/Meg was sooo hot. and true to them
and the Amelia fic was great too. But I really hope you write more of the Ellen and Jo and Cas
(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-16 04:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-16 03:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-16 04:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-16 05:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-16 07:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-11-30 09:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-01 01:12 am (UTC)I really think that Dean&Meg met again in Hell. And they both remember it, even though Dean will keep on denying it.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-01 01:47 am (UTC)And they probably did -- I'll betcha she worked with Alistair.