011; the puppetmaster.
The Puppetmaster.
yellow light. (stoplight system.)
concerning: Angelique Bouchard, guest-starring Dean Winchester.
942. words; complete. original post date: 08-15-09.
Angelique knew what the implications where when she invited a man to join her alone for a drink. She may have been two-hundred years out of her time, but she certainly wasn't an idiot. And she found Dean amusing and good-looking enough, and she wouldn't rule out the possibility entirely, but these certainly weren't normal circumstances.
She had business to attend to. Angelique could tell that her powers were returning due to little things she'd managed to manipulate here and there: a bug crawling across the ground that she'd managed to stop in its tracks, for instance. But she still didn't have anyone under her control. Inwardly, she rolled her eyes at herself, knowing how stereotypical she was being, but it was a defense mechanism. Ever since finding out that her husband still lived, technicalities aside, Angelique knew that she couldn't take any chances.
She just hadn't expected it to be so awkward. Although Dean was across the room, hands shoved into his pockets as he obliviously looked around her room, Angelique felt as though he were right there behind her, hovering over her shoulder as she poured the wine, mixing one of the glasses with the powder made of ingredients she'd gathered earlier. She made sure it was dissolved completely before pouring her own; the last thing she needed was him to catch even the slightest hint that there was something odd about her motives.
"Here," she finally said, rising from the cabinet and approaching Dean with the two glasses, handing him his. He raised his eyebrows in acknowlegement and took the glass. Angelique took a sip of hers, more focused on him as he drank his down immediately. It wasn't the way she would have done it; if he'd been slower, the whole thing wouldn't have hit him all at once, but he had no way of knowing. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip as it took hold almost instantly. Dean blinked several times, vision going blurry. He tried to walk, but he only stumbled backwards, unable to focus.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered. His hand reached out to grab at the nearest available surface so that he could keep his balance. The wall would do nicely.
"Dean?" Angelique gasped, reaching out to grab his shoulder and steady him. She bit her lip again. "Dean, are you alright?"
The room was spinning. He could barely see and he tried to answer but he couldn't.
"Perhaps you'd better sit down," she suggested as a bit of a test to see exactly how fast it was taking effect.
Dean shook his head as best he could. "No," he said firmly. "No, I've got to -"
Angelique grabbed his chin with one hand, forcing him to look directly into her eyes, hazel meeting bright blue. "Sit down."
And the only response Dean could make was to make a few careful, steady steps backwards before he sank into a chair behind him.
"There." She folded her hands in front of her and gave a slight smirk, but that quickly faded and she drew her brows together. "Are you alright?" Her concern wasn't entirely feigned, and she did like him, but he was the perfect candidate, what with his obvious lack of thinking and whatnot. Besides, he'd said it was his job to kill everything evil. If he was under her command, she was safe for the moment.
Dean looked at her, expression drawn together in a glare before he brought his hand to his forehead as if that would clear everything. "The hell did you do to me?"
"I'm merely taking a precaution," she sighed, and she took another sip of her wine, smirking again. "I know that I would rather be safe than sorry in a situation such as this one."
In an instant, Dean was out of his chair, almost bolting to the door. "I gotta get -"
And with a wave of her hand, Angelique stopped him, and he froze mid-stride.
"No," she commanded. She finshed off her wine and strode toward him, arms crossed. He tried to speak, but his jaw wouldn't open for him to do so, and she continued. "You mustn't leave yet, Dean." And she laughed lightly, "After all, you've only just arrived." Angelique walked around him, crossing her arms and shaking her head, her demeanor suddenly turning serious as she continued to walk around him until she made her way back in front, staring him directly in the eyes once more. "I cannot take the chance that you would speak of this to anyone - not when you might be so useful to me. I've more powers than you can possibly imagine, Dean. I'd hate for them to be the death of you. You are under my control. Do you understand me?" She wasn't sure that her somewhat half-hearted warning would be good enough now, and she knew that she would be foolish to think that he would be as dim-witted as Ben had been, but it would have to do for the time being. Besides, she could always wipe his memory. At least until they both had a few honest drinks in them. She brought her fingertips across his forehead to ease the racing thoughts in his mind and then across his lips to make him speak.
"Yes," Dean replied immediately. Angelique smiled a wicked smile and snapped her fingers, letting him move again.
He raised his hand and turned it over before dropping it and doing the same with his other, and he looked at her, an incredulous expression upon his face. "You're a witch!"
At that, Angelique couldn't help an eyeroll. But she didn't comment on it, making her way back to the liquor cabinet. "Another drink, Dean?"
yellow light. (stoplight system.)
concerning: Angelique Bouchard, guest-starring Dean Winchester.
942. words; complete. original post date: 08-15-09.
Angelique knew what the implications where when she invited a man to join her alone for a drink. She may have been two-hundred years out of her time, but she certainly wasn't an idiot. And she found Dean amusing and good-looking enough, and she wouldn't rule out the possibility entirely, but these certainly weren't normal circumstances.
She had business to attend to. Angelique could tell that her powers were returning due to little things she'd managed to manipulate here and there: a bug crawling across the ground that she'd managed to stop in its tracks, for instance. But she still didn't have anyone under her control. Inwardly, she rolled her eyes at herself, knowing how stereotypical she was being, but it was a defense mechanism. Ever since finding out that her husband still lived, technicalities aside, Angelique knew that she couldn't take any chances.
She just hadn't expected it to be so awkward. Although Dean was across the room, hands shoved into his pockets as he obliviously looked around her room, Angelique felt as though he were right there behind her, hovering over her shoulder as she poured the wine, mixing one of the glasses with the powder made of ingredients she'd gathered earlier. She made sure it was dissolved completely before pouring her own; the last thing she needed was him to catch even the slightest hint that there was something odd about her motives.
"Here," she finally said, rising from the cabinet and approaching Dean with the two glasses, handing him his. He raised his eyebrows in acknowlegement and took the glass. Angelique took a sip of hers, more focused on him as he drank his down immediately. It wasn't the way she would have done it; if he'd been slower, the whole thing wouldn't have hit him all at once, but he had no way of knowing. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip as it took hold almost instantly. Dean blinked several times, vision going blurry. He tried to walk, but he only stumbled backwards, unable to focus.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered. His hand reached out to grab at the nearest available surface so that he could keep his balance. The wall would do nicely.
"Dean?" Angelique gasped, reaching out to grab his shoulder and steady him. She bit her lip again. "Dean, are you alright?"
The room was spinning. He could barely see and he tried to answer but he couldn't.
"Perhaps you'd better sit down," she suggested as a bit of a test to see exactly how fast it was taking effect.
Dean shook his head as best he could. "No," he said firmly. "No, I've got to -"
Angelique grabbed his chin with one hand, forcing him to look directly into her eyes, hazel meeting bright blue. "Sit down."
And the only response Dean could make was to make a few careful, steady steps backwards before he sank into a chair behind him.
"There." She folded her hands in front of her and gave a slight smirk, but that quickly faded and she drew her brows together. "Are you alright?" Her concern wasn't entirely feigned, and she did like him, but he was the perfect candidate, what with his obvious lack of thinking and whatnot. Besides, he'd said it was his job to kill everything evil. If he was under her command, she was safe for the moment.
Dean looked at her, expression drawn together in a glare before he brought his hand to his forehead as if that would clear everything. "The hell did you do to me?"
"I'm merely taking a precaution," she sighed, and she took another sip of her wine, smirking again. "I know that I would rather be safe than sorry in a situation such as this one."
In an instant, Dean was out of his chair, almost bolting to the door. "I gotta get -"
And with a wave of her hand, Angelique stopped him, and he froze mid-stride.
"No," she commanded. She finshed off her wine and strode toward him, arms crossed. He tried to speak, but his jaw wouldn't open for him to do so, and she continued. "You mustn't leave yet, Dean." And she laughed lightly, "After all, you've only just arrived." Angelique walked around him, crossing her arms and shaking her head, her demeanor suddenly turning serious as she continued to walk around him until she made her way back in front, staring him directly in the eyes once more. "I cannot take the chance that you would speak of this to anyone - not when you might be so useful to me. I've more powers than you can possibly imagine, Dean. I'd hate for them to be the death of you. You are under my control. Do you understand me?" She wasn't sure that her somewhat half-hearted warning would be good enough now, and she knew that she would be foolish to think that he would be as dim-witted as Ben had been, but it would have to do for the time being. Besides, she could always wipe his memory. At least until they both had a few honest drinks in them. She brought her fingertips across his forehead to ease the racing thoughts in his mind and then across his lips to make him speak.
"Yes," Dean replied immediately. Angelique smiled a wicked smile and snapped her fingers, letting him move again.
He raised his hand and turned it over before dropping it and doing the same with his other, and he looked at her, an incredulous expression upon his face. "You're a witch!"
At that, Angelique couldn't help an eyeroll. But she didn't comment on it, making her way back to the liquor cabinet. "Another drink, Dean?"