Dec04 - 08, SPN, G
Title: Oh Woe Be Unto You, Dean Winchester
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Dec 04
Dean woke in the middle of night. He lay still, not moving a muscle. There was a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the shitty, flea bag excuse of a motel that the Marley Inn was. This was a cold spot, which could only mean one thing: Ghost.
There was shuffling at the foot of his bed, a noise like chains dragging across the floor and an indistinct mumbling that expanded in the room, gobbled up the still air, making Dean's ears ring.
Oh no, he would not take this lying down. Determined, he whirled around.
Dec 05
It was grotesque. Greyish blue flesh was sloughing off it's arms and face, heavy chains dangling from its wrists. Its hooded cloak was billowing, rustled by an intangible wind.
Dean was too busy staring at the apparition to do much about it. It was hard to tell in the dimness of the room, but Dean could have sworn the ghost was patting down his cloak, looking for something. Eventually Dean cleared his throat.
The creature in front of him perked up.
“Ahem. Oh woe be unto you, Jacob Riley, for I am the Ghost of Christmas Past,” it intoned solemnly.
Dec 06
“Umm,” was all Dean managed before the ghost's impressively substantial baritone steamrolled right over his feeble protest.
“Silence!” It boomed, rattling one of its chains for added effect.
“Jacob Riley, I have come to take you - ”
“I'm not Jabob Riley,” Dean hastily threw in as soon as the apparition drew a whistling breath.
The ghost stopped dead in its tracks.
“No?” It asked, cocking its disintegrating head to one side, much in the likeness of an intrigued puppy.
Dean shrugged, gracing the ghost with his most innocent smile. “Nope, sorry. Um, sir?”
Dec 07
Dean wasn't really sure what he expected to happen after contradicting a ghost, but it surely wasn't this.
A rattling sigh escaped the creature, its shoulders slumping in defeat, chains cluttering.
“Are you sure?” It asked in a plaintive tone.
“Positive.”
“Oh man,” the ghost sighed, rummaging through its pockets as it muttered under its breath. Eventually it pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
“It says so right here: Riley, Jacob. Marley Inn, room 21.” It waved the paper at Dean. Considering almost half its face was missing, it still managed to look strangely smug.
Dec 08
“This is room 12, buddy.”
“What the?” The ghost hastily gathered its chains and noiselessly floated towards the door. It poked its head through the wood. An unhappy rumble trembled through the room as the ghost realized it had transposed the numbers.
Dean was just about to poke Sam on the other bed, when the ghost suddenly reappeared at his side. It looked positively contrite.
“So sorry for the mix-up.” It extended a decaying hand awkwardly.
“Nevermind, really.” Dean forced a smile.
“Okay then...umm, good night.” The ghost gave an embarrassed little wave and vanished.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Dec 04
Dean woke in the middle of night. He lay still, not moving a muscle. There was a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the shitty, flea bag excuse of a motel that the Marley Inn was. This was a cold spot, which could only mean one thing: Ghost.
There was shuffling at the foot of his bed, a noise like chains dragging across the floor and an indistinct mumbling that expanded in the room, gobbled up the still air, making Dean's ears ring.
Oh no, he would not take this lying down. Determined, he whirled around.
Dec 05
It was grotesque. Greyish blue flesh was sloughing off it's arms and face, heavy chains dangling from its wrists. Its hooded cloak was billowing, rustled by an intangible wind.
Dean was too busy staring at the apparition to do much about it. It was hard to tell in the dimness of the room, but Dean could have sworn the ghost was patting down his cloak, looking for something. Eventually Dean cleared his throat.
The creature in front of him perked up.
“Ahem. Oh woe be unto you, Jacob Riley, for I am the Ghost of Christmas Past,” it intoned solemnly.
Dec 06
“Umm,” was all Dean managed before the ghost's impressively substantial baritone steamrolled right over his feeble protest.
“Silence!” It boomed, rattling one of its chains for added effect.
“Jacob Riley, I have come to take you - ”
“I'm not Jabob Riley,” Dean hastily threw in as soon as the apparition drew a whistling breath.
The ghost stopped dead in its tracks.
“No?” It asked, cocking its disintegrating head to one side, much in the likeness of an intrigued puppy.
Dean shrugged, gracing the ghost with his most innocent smile. “Nope, sorry. Um, sir?”
Dec 07
Dean wasn't really sure what he expected to happen after contradicting a ghost, but it surely wasn't this.
A rattling sigh escaped the creature, its shoulders slumping in defeat, chains cluttering.
“Are you sure?” It asked in a plaintive tone.
“Positive.”
“Oh man,” the ghost sighed, rummaging through its pockets as it muttered under its breath. Eventually it pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
“It says so right here: Riley, Jacob. Marley Inn, room 21.” It waved the paper at Dean. Considering almost half its face was missing, it still managed to look strangely smug.
Dec 08
“This is room 12, buddy.”
“What the?” The ghost hastily gathered its chains and noiselessly floated towards the door. It poked its head through the wood. An unhappy rumble trembled through the room as the ghost realized it had transposed the numbers.
Dean was just about to poke Sam on the other bed, when the ghost suddenly reappeared at his side. It looked positively contrite.
“So sorry for the mix-up.” It extended a decaying hand awkwardly.
“Nevermind, really.” Dean forced a smile.
“Okay then...umm, good night.” The ghost gave an embarrassed little wave and vanished.