Drabble: SPN/VM: your worst nightmare: dean/veronica: pg
Title your worst nightmare
Author nightcomes
Pairing/Characters Dean/Veronica, demon!veronica
Fandoms Supernatural, Veronica Mars
Rating pg
Word count 539
Disclaimer I do not own Supernatural or Veronica Mars. Wish I did, but sadly, I do not.
Summary I should tie you down or cut you loose. It's a trap, and I'm sure I should not move.
Notes This is for the drabble prompt meme. Not sure how much I like the ending, but it’s left to interpretation I guess.
I should tie you down or cut you loose. It's a trap, and I'm sure I should not move.
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This is not happening. This is so not happening. Dean repeated in his head over and over again until he wasn’t sure he was thinking in actual English, but in some weird language that sounded like English but only had a few words in the vocabulary. He hadn’t seen the petite, fiery blonde standing before him in well over a year. Probably longer than that. He wasn’t exactly counting the days. Why would he? He had far more important things on his mind - like the little, tiny thing of only having a year to live - than some chick he ran into in some random town he and Sam had been in.
But this chick meant more to Dean than he cared to admit, and apparently the demon corrupting her body knew that.
“Let her go,” Dean snarled, anger level rising and rising. He had the Colt in hand, ready to fire if need be. But could he? No matter how much he wanted to kill the demon that was inside of Veronica Mars he wasn’t sure he could. It was still her body. He could still save her. Right?
The demon smiled at Dean, sending chills down his usually chill-less spine. This whole situation was completely unnerving to him. “Now Dean, you know I can’t, no wait, I actually can… but I won’t do that. Veronica’s body is just way too fun to be in!” she laughed, loud and menacing. For emphasis, the demon ran a hand slowly down the front of her, smiling. She knew damn well she was getting to the eldest Winchester. Her boss would be pleased.
Dean raised the gun at the demon, despite the fact that his heart was heavy and his mind clouded by memories of the un-possessed Veronica. “I don’t think I made myself clear. Get the fuck out of her, bitch.” Dean said, making sure he let no emotion what so ever in his voice.
The demon laughed once again and slowly walked over to Dean, who was staying oh-so-still, like a big stoic statue. This isn’t Veronica, this isn’t Veronica, his mind screamed at him.
“Sweetie, I’m wearing Veronica’s meat. I might as well be her, and that means you won’t be able to shoot me. Because you love,” the demon dragged out the last word just to piss Dean off and make him squirm. “this meat suit.”
The demon placed it’s hand on Dean’s cheek and stroked it with her thumb. Dean gritted his teeth together and said, through clenched teeth. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Her.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last like this, standing there with some demon violating his Veronica.
The demon frowned and sighed. “I thought I told you, I’m not leaving. I hate repeating myself, do not make me say that again.” It said, turning on it’s black, empty eyes that Dean hated so much. Damn demons.
Suddenly, a smile slowly crept across the demon’s face, sending even more chills down Dean’s spine. “I’ll make you a deal…” it began, still running her thumb up and down Dean’s cheek.
END.