ficlet
More cracktastic crossover of DOOM fun. Although I am still apparently incapable of finishing that initial fic (almost! I swear! Almost!) I find hunter!Yugi too much fun to really leave alone. So, a little something I dashed off for album_mix. To go with track 3: "Animal I Have Become"
Follows the one that came before... although not immediately.
[neither YGO or SPN is mine]
---------------
Yugi doesn't quite mesh into the hunters network. An outcast among outcasts as he has come to think of it, not that he's surprised. It's his own fault really, Dean warned him that he probably shouldn't talk too much about the Other. And how, "A lot of the guys out there that I've met, they're like my dad. And you know, he still considers your little pet ghost to be one of the very few that got away."
"He wasn't my pet," Yugi protested, feeling a twinge of irritation over Dean's complete refusal to even attempt to understand no matter how many times he explained it.
"Yea, and saying that being possessed by a deranged spirit --and yes, I know you said he was good," Dean immediately sighed when Yugi started to speak again. "I'm just saying, when I met him, he was deranged. And telling these people that being possessed made you feel whole will probably get you killed."
It hasn't gotten him killed yet. But news travels fast along the network and ultimately Yugi has always had trouble lying anyway. He's getting better, sure, it's near impossible to hunt without fudging the truth a little. But he always stumbles and flushes a little when he tries and other hunters pick up on it. The odd slip here and there ultimately leaving him ostracized. The ones who Know eying him warily as if he's still possessed, as if he might turn on them.
It doesn't matter. He tells himself that he doesn't need to be a part of anything. That he and the Other did more for the world and its safety than the lot of them put together ever could. Almost believing it when it's him alone, somewhere on the highway between two towns while swills coffee like it's water and chain smokes like mad. Stereo so loud that he can barely hear himself singing along ("So what if you can see, the darkest side of me...") and fingers tipped with chipped black nail varnish drum on the steering wheel in time. He can do this, he's strong enough to be alone now.
Except he isn't, and there will always be that part of him that is desperate to fit even when he quite obviously doesn't.
He's somewhere in Montana when two guys jump him in the parking lot of a bar. Drunk and posturing and they're obviously human (and not demon possessed because god knows he's had to deal with a few of those) and they Know who he is. One swinging a knife at him and he doesn't quite manage to twist away in time. White-hot pain searing along his skin and he can feel the blood start to flow, soaking into the frayed edges of fabric where his shirt has been cut too. His face twisting into a an expression of pain and frustration (and hate? Maybe.) as he slams the heel of his palm into the knife-wielder's nose. The tiniest grunt of satisfaction escaping his lips when the larger man lurches back, bellowing in pain. Not that he hesitates for any more than a moment before turning on the other one.
He fights like a wild thing unleashed, or perhaps, more aptly, one cornered. Breathing raggedly when he finally manages to stumble away from the fray and breaking into a shambling run. One hand pressed firmly against the wound on his side as he makes a beeline for his car. Positive that he broke the nose of one of them and hoping that he didn't hurt either of them any more than that. They already think the worst of him, the last thing he needs is to give them an excuse to come after him.
He's shaking a little by the time he manages to wrench the car's door open. Nauseated and in pain but none of that is important right now. Getting away is all that matters. The stereo blaring to life along with the car's engine and soon enough the parking lot, those men, everything is left behind in a cloud of dust. Yugi knowing that he's going to have to find a rest stop quickly. Or at the very least some place deserted where he can clean up a little and change his shirt before being seen in public again. His hands tightening on the wheel as he attempts to ignore the glimpse of himself that he can just barely see at the edge of the rear view mirror. Wild-eyed and dangerous, face spattered with someone else's blood, and wearing an expression almost reminiscent of the Other about to dole out a Penalty Game.
But he will ignore that. Has to ignore that. Instead fishing in his pocket for his pack of smokes (all the while hoping that they didn't get broken in the fight) Focusing intently on the road in front of him and the blaring music. Thankful that it is loud enough to drown out the fact that his voice, while singing along ("...help me belive, it's not the real me...") is quavering slightly.
Follows the one that came before... although not immediately.
[neither YGO or SPN is mine]
---------------
Yugi doesn't quite mesh into the hunters network. An outcast among outcasts as he has come to think of it, not that he's surprised. It's his own fault really, Dean warned him that he probably shouldn't talk too much about the Other. And how, "A lot of the guys out there that I've met, they're like my dad. And you know, he still considers your little pet ghost to be one of the very few that got away."
"He wasn't my pet," Yugi protested, feeling a twinge of irritation over Dean's complete refusal to even attempt to understand no matter how many times he explained it.
"Yea, and saying that being possessed by a deranged spirit --and yes, I know you said he was good," Dean immediately sighed when Yugi started to speak again. "I'm just saying, when I met him, he was deranged. And telling these people that being possessed made you feel whole will probably get you killed."
It hasn't gotten him killed yet. But news travels fast along the network and ultimately Yugi has always had trouble lying anyway. He's getting better, sure, it's near impossible to hunt without fudging the truth a little. But he always stumbles and flushes a little when he tries and other hunters pick up on it. The odd slip here and there ultimately leaving him ostracized. The ones who Know eying him warily as if he's still possessed, as if he might turn on them.
It doesn't matter. He tells himself that he doesn't need to be a part of anything. That he and the Other did more for the world and its safety than the lot of them put together ever could. Almost believing it when it's him alone, somewhere on the highway between two towns while swills coffee like it's water and chain smokes like mad. Stereo so loud that he can barely hear himself singing along ("So what if you can see, the darkest side of me...") and fingers tipped with chipped black nail varnish drum on the steering wheel in time. He can do this, he's strong enough to be alone now.
Except he isn't, and there will always be that part of him that is desperate to fit even when he quite obviously doesn't.
He's somewhere in Montana when two guys jump him in the parking lot of a bar. Drunk and posturing and they're obviously human (and not demon possessed because god knows he's had to deal with a few of those) and they Know who he is. One swinging a knife at him and he doesn't quite manage to twist away in time. White-hot pain searing along his skin and he can feel the blood start to flow, soaking into the frayed edges of fabric where his shirt has been cut too. His face twisting into a an expression of pain and frustration (and hate? Maybe.) as he slams the heel of his palm into the knife-wielder's nose. The tiniest grunt of satisfaction escaping his lips when the larger man lurches back, bellowing in pain. Not that he hesitates for any more than a moment before turning on the other one.
He fights like a wild thing unleashed, or perhaps, more aptly, one cornered. Breathing raggedly when he finally manages to stumble away from the fray and breaking into a shambling run. One hand pressed firmly against the wound on his side as he makes a beeline for his car. Positive that he broke the nose of one of them and hoping that he didn't hurt either of them any more than that. They already think the worst of him, the last thing he needs is to give them an excuse to come after him.
He's shaking a little by the time he manages to wrench the car's door open. Nauseated and in pain but none of that is important right now. Getting away is all that matters. The stereo blaring to life along with the car's engine and soon enough the parking lot, those men, everything is left behind in a cloud of dust. Yugi knowing that he's going to have to find a rest stop quickly. Or at the very least some place deserted where he can clean up a little and change his shirt before being seen in public again. His hands tightening on the wheel as he attempts to ignore the glimpse of himself that he can just barely see at the edge of the rear view mirror. Wild-eyed and dangerous, face spattered with someone else's blood, and wearing an expression almost reminiscent of the Other about to dole out a Penalty Game.
But he will ignore that. Has to ignore that. Instead fishing in his pocket for his pack of smokes (all the while hoping that they didn't get broken in the fight) Focusing intently on the road in front of him and the blaring music. Thankful that it is loud enough to drown out the fact that his voice, while singing along ("...help me belive, it's not the real me...") is quavering slightly.