Noesis (Entry Page)
Author: rei_c
Title: Noesis
Pairing: Sam-centric. Gen.
Rating: PG-13, for blood and subtle blasphemy
Word Count: 13,400
Summary: Sam’s stuck with Pastor Jim while Dean and Dad go hunting in Florida. What was meant to be an ordinary baby-sitting turns into Sam’s worst nightmare.
Warnings: S1 spoilers, all the way through. Run-on sentences. Out-of-context use of the Lesser Key of Solomon (Ars Notoria). Any and all errors relative to established SPN-canon, Catholic dogma, and/or the Blue Earth area spoken of herein are mine and mine alone.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the vague elements of spotty-plot, four hundred and four books, and one very demented cat.
Author’s Notes: Dedicated to everyone who has kept up with this ‘verse and read my ramblings and rants and raves about how much damn trouble writing this was. This is the most ambivalent I’ve been about an FI-verse fic, but I’m posting it anyway. Noesis takes place pre-series, when Sam is 15, and belongs in the FI-verse. It can stand alone, though it is a definite pre-series prologue to the rest of FI-verse and functions as exposition (not action!).
Their waitress comes by and tops off Jim’s coffee, lays down a basket of bread, and wanders off again, and Jim takes a sip before he speaks. “In a war,” he says, quietly, with a half-distant look of recollection, “those on the front lines protect everyone else from seeing the depravity and devastation that humanity is capable of. They sacrifice their innocence for others, long before they’re called upon to sacrifice sleep and safety and their lives. Your father never wanted you and your brother to grow up on the front lines of this war, Sam, but it happened.”
Sam draws lines in the condensation on his glass of water and rips a piece of bread apart, and then says, “If he didn’t want us to, how did it happen?” and Jim says, eyes watching Sam tear the bread into tiny shreds and then ball them up, “He loves you.” Sam wants to say that if this is love, he doesn’t want to see hate, but he feels bruised inside and the waitress is coming their way carrying two plates and another glass of water.
Linked to my journal
Title: Noesis
Pairing: Sam-centric. Gen.
Rating: PG-13, for blood and subtle blasphemy
Word Count: 13,400
Summary: Sam’s stuck with Pastor Jim while Dean and Dad go hunting in Florida. What was meant to be an ordinary baby-sitting turns into Sam’s worst nightmare.
Warnings: S1 spoilers, all the way through. Run-on sentences. Out-of-context use of the Lesser Key of Solomon (Ars Notoria). Any and all errors relative to established SPN-canon, Catholic dogma, and/or the Blue Earth area spoken of herein are mine and mine alone.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the vague elements of spotty-plot, four hundred and four books, and one very demented cat.
Author’s Notes: Dedicated to everyone who has kept up with this ‘verse and read my ramblings and rants and raves about how much damn trouble writing this was. This is the most ambivalent I’ve been about an FI-verse fic, but I’m posting it anyway. Noesis takes place pre-series, when Sam is 15, and belongs in the FI-verse. It can stand alone, though it is a definite pre-series prologue to the rest of FI-verse and functions as exposition (not action!).
Their waitress comes by and tops off Jim’s coffee, lays down a basket of bread, and wanders off again, and Jim takes a sip before he speaks. “In a war,” he says, quietly, with a half-distant look of recollection, “those on the front lines protect everyone else from seeing the depravity and devastation that humanity is capable of. They sacrifice their innocence for others, long before they’re called upon to sacrifice sleep and safety and their lives. Your father never wanted you and your brother to grow up on the front lines of this war, Sam, but it happened.”
Sam draws lines in the condensation on his glass of water and rips a piece of bread apart, and then says, “If he didn’t want us to, how did it happen?” and Jim says, eyes watching Sam tear the bread into tiny shreds and then ball them up, “He loves you.” Sam wants to say that if this is love, he doesn’t want to see hate, but he feels bruised inside and the waitress is coming their way carrying two plates and another glass of water.
Linked to my journal