Ficbits.
Janis Joplin - Take Another Little Piece of My Heart and a quartet of little ficbits.
----(The Covenant, pre-Caleb/Reid, 420 words)----
So, yeah, they're the Sons of Ipswich and they're a tight-knit group, but Reid and Tyler have been best friends since forever, and Pogue's been Caleb's right-hand man for about as long. And it's not like Pogue has a problem with that, because Caleb's a good guy, the best of all of them with a conscience as big and annoying as the Atlantic in October. Caleb doesn't act like a Son, not really; he doesn't use Power except when he has to, like when he absolutely has to, which is practically never, or when he's trying to get them out of trouble, which happens more often than not.
Pogue can't help but notice how often Reid's been getting into trouble.
They can feel each other's Power, it's something they've been able to do for a while now, and none of them know if the other generations could or if this is something special to them because they grew up a lot closer to each other than their fathers or grandfathers did. They've agreed not to use Power on each other, because it feels too strange, too invasive, like someone reaching inside and wrapping their hands around hearts and lungs, coaxing fingers up through blood vessels and nerve cells. Pogue doesn't like it, but when it happens, it happens, and he deals with it and moves on.
Reid, though, it's as if he wants to feel like that-not with all of them, just with Caleb, as if he wants Caleb's Power to coast over him, as if he wants Caleb's hands inside of him. So when it starts happening more and more, Pogue notices, exchanges a few glances with Tyler, who, he's relieved to see, has also guessed what might be going on. Reid's using more and more when Caleb's around, trying to coax Caleb into using, and grins at even the faint edges of Caleb's Power directed at no one in particular.
But then there's the fight at Nicky's, and Pogue can only watch as Reid acts all tough, squares off against Caleb, and gets his ass handed to him. Reid doesn't look like he minds, though, so Pogue looks at Tyler, who follows Reid, and then Pogue decides it's time to talk to Caleb, because if Caleb's ignoring this, he's being stupid, and if he hasn't noticed, he's being even more stupid.
--
Reid glances their way the next morning, the first English lecture of the year, and Pogue watches out of the corners of his eyes as Caleb looks back for the first time.
----(Backstory from L'Oiseau de feu, Sam/Jess, 230 words)----
“I want you to watch this movie,” Jess said, rapping Sam’s knuckles with a wooden spoon.
He pulled his hand back, made a show of rubbing the skin, then licked off the vinaigrette to the sound of her laughter. “It’s a chick flick, isn’t it,” he said with a mournful sigh. “Nothing blowing up, no explosions, no gruesome and drawn-out death scenes.”
She turned around and looked at him, raising one eyebrow, and then her lips crinkled and she started laughing.
“Sam, you hate those movies as much as I do, so don’t even try,” she said, turning back to the bowl of salad, mixing everything together.
Sam watched as she reached up on the shelf, picked three marigolds out of the flowerbox, and started sprinkling the petals into the salad, mixing them in slowly, carefully.
When she was done, he moved the bowl to the table, added wooden tongs, and watched her for a minute. She moved to the sink, started washing her hands, scrubbing up with dish-soap that smelled of lemons, and he stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, rested his chin on her shoulder.
“Only if you come with me to the next Almodovar,” he whispered, before nuzzling her ear, breathing in the smell of her soap and shampoo.
She laughed, said, “Deal,” and the doorbell rang before anything more exciting could happen.
----(Backstory from L'Oiseau de feu, gen, 460 words)----
For the first three days, her life is a nightmare of pain. Her fiancé is dead and she can’t get the bloodstains out of her mind or off of her skin. She wants to scrub her hands but they won’t let her. She wants to shower and change clothes and cry for months and scream and run away and try to forget this ever happened, but they won’t let her. She doesn’t know why they’re keeping her, doesn’t really care.
It’s boring at first, sitting alone in a locked room-boring but the smell gets to her, blood and acid, guilt and fear, until she ends up banging on the door and screaming for someone to come and talk to her, tell her what they expect from her.
There’s a man with yellow eyes who comes and talks to her, just for a few minutes at a time, and soon enough she’s looking forward to his visits. There are a few others, who look normal, like her, but there’s something different about them, she can tell.
She has a dream, one week in, and sees Sam. He doesn’t look good, but there’s someone else with him, maybe his brother, the one he talked about. They’re checking something out, something to do with her, and something happens, something not good, something that has her crying and begging.
The man with yellow eyes comes back and listens while she tells him what she dreamt. He frowns, looks at her, says, “That won’t do,” and leaves. She doesn’t dream about Sam again, but it’s like they know, the yellow-eyed man and the others, like they know he means something to her, the first person she told about the dreams, the only other person who knows, who wants answers like she does. They tell her about him and his brother, what kind of people they are and what they’ve done, until she doesn’t know what to think.
And then they tell her other things. They make her do things. They tell her stories and sing her songs and call her their little seer, and her mind spins sideways, slowly, until she doesn’t remember their names, doesn’t remember her own name, just remembers Winchesters.
“And what about the Winchesters, darling?” the yellow-eyed man asks, stroking her hair, holding her tight in his arms.
She tilts her head, stares at the wall, and smiles. “Ours,” she says, voice like broken glass. “Ours by fire, one and one already, one to come, and one who’ll burn and burn and burn forever, plaything for our army, general to gather and lead us all.”
“Very good, Ava. You’ve learned your lessons well, my darling. I’m so proud of you.”
Ava hums, closes her eyes, and sees them coming for her.
----(The Covenant, gen with multiple slashy undertones, 340 words)----
Power bound them together. Its how Caleb knew about Chase from the moment the two clicked eyes-Chase felt like one of them. Caleb didn’t know how or why, because it didn’t make sense, but he knew he had to be careful, knew something was wrong. And Sarah was right there. It was so easy.
They could feel each other, humming in the back of their skulls; nothing serious, nothing psychic, just an awareness. Still, it was an awareness that none of them could ignore. It tied them together; raised as brothers, it made them so much more, until the thought of losing any of the others made Caleb clench his teeth together and step up.
Pogue kept Kate around, Reid got into fights, Tyler played kiss-ass. Caleb was lucky, able to be himself, not pretend, but then he saw Chase and knew it was his turn. He’d do what the rest did, lie and scheme and cheat, whatever it took, to keep them safe.
Sarah was sweet, and he liked her, sure, but he didn’t love her. As much as he said he’d never be like his father, he lied to her and used her, because seeing her in that barn, Power-slain and near to burning was so much easier than seeing Reid or Tyler like that would have been, so much easier than seeing Pogue in the hospital.
Caleb hated himself for it, for being able to use her like that, but Chase believed that he loved her, used her as well. Fighting Chase felt incredible, rush of adrenaline and Power Caleb had never felt before, but he was using Power and Chase was as well, and with both of them Ascended, it connected them, too. Not to the extent that the Sons were, but when the firemen and police were going through the barn, Caleb could feel Chase humming in the back of his mind, knew it wasn’t over, knew it wouldn’t ever be over.
He’s still not sure how he feels about that.
----(The Covenant, pre-Caleb/Reid, 420 words)----
So, yeah, they're the Sons of Ipswich and they're a tight-knit group, but Reid and Tyler have been best friends since forever, and Pogue's been Caleb's right-hand man for about as long. And it's not like Pogue has a problem with that, because Caleb's a good guy, the best of all of them with a conscience as big and annoying as the Atlantic in October. Caleb doesn't act like a Son, not really; he doesn't use Power except when he has to, like when he absolutely has to, which is practically never, or when he's trying to get them out of trouble, which happens more often than not.
Pogue can't help but notice how often Reid's been getting into trouble.
They can feel each other's Power, it's something they've been able to do for a while now, and none of them know if the other generations could or if this is something special to them because they grew up a lot closer to each other than their fathers or grandfathers did. They've agreed not to use Power on each other, because it feels too strange, too invasive, like someone reaching inside and wrapping their hands around hearts and lungs, coaxing fingers up through blood vessels and nerve cells. Pogue doesn't like it, but when it happens, it happens, and he deals with it and moves on.
Reid, though, it's as if he wants to feel like that-not with all of them, just with Caleb, as if he wants Caleb's Power to coast over him, as if he wants Caleb's hands inside of him. So when it starts happening more and more, Pogue notices, exchanges a few glances with Tyler, who, he's relieved to see, has also guessed what might be going on. Reid's using more and more when Caleb's around, trying to coax Caleb into using, and grins at even the faint edges of Caleb's Power directed at no one in particular.
But then there's the fight at Nicky's, and Pogue can only watch as Reid acts all tough, squares off against Caleb, and gets his ass handed to him. Reid doesn't look like he minds, though, so Pogue looks at Tyler, who follows Reid, and then Pogue decides it's time to talk to Caleb, because if Caleb's ignoring this, he's being stupid, and if he hasn't noticed, he's being even more stupid.
--
Reid glances their way the next morning, the first English lecture of the year, and Pogue watches out of the corners of his eyes as Caleb looks back for the first time.
----(Backstory from L'Oiseau de feu, Sam/Jess, 230 words)----
“I want you to watch this movie,” Jess said, rapping Sam’s knuckles with a wooden spoon.
He pulled his hand back, made a show of rubbing the skin, then licked off the vinaigrette to the sound of her laughter. “It’s a chick flick, isn’t it,” he said with a mournful sigh. “Nothing blowing up, no explosions, no gruesome and drawn-out death scenes.”
She turned around and looked at him, raising one eyebrow, and then her lips crinkled and she started laughing.
“Sam, you hate those movies as much as I do, so don’t even try,” she said, turning back to the bowl of salad, mixing everything together.
Sam watched as she reached up on the shelf, picked three marigolds out of the flowerbox, and started sprinkling the petals into the salad, mixing them in slowly, carefully.
When she was done, he moved the bowl to the table, added wooden tongs, and watched her for a minute. She moved to the sink, started washing her hands, scrubbing up with dish-soap that smelled of lemons, and he stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, rested his chin on her shoulder.
“Only if you come with me to the next Almodovar,” he whispered, before nuzzling her ear, breathing in the smell of her soap and shampoo.
She laughed, said, “Deal,” and the doorbell rang before anything more exciting could happen.
----(Backstory from L'Oiseau de feu, gen, 460 words)----
For the first three days, her life is a nightmare of pain. Her fiancé is dead and she can’t get the bloodstains out of her mind or off of her skin. She wants to scrub her hands but they won’t let her. She wants to shower and change clothes and cry for months and scream and run away and try to forget this ever happened, but they won’t let her. She doesn’t know why they’re keeping her, doesn’t really care.
It’s boring at first, sitting alone in a locked room-boring but the smell gets to her, blood and acid, guilt and fear, until she ends up banging on the door and screaming for someone to come and talk to her, tell her what they expect from her.
There’s a man with yellow eyes who comes and talks to her, just for a few minutes at a time, and soon enough she’s looking forward to his visits. There are a few others, who look normal, like her, but there’s something different about them, she can tell.
She has a dream, one week in, and sees Sam. He doesn’t look good, but there’s someone else with him, maybe his brother, the one he talked about. They’re checking something out, something to do with her, and something happens, something not good, something that has her crying and begging.
The man with yellow eyes comes back and listens while she tells him what she dreamt. He frowns, looks at her, says, “That won’t do,” and leaves. She doesn’t dream about Sam again, but it’s like they know, the yellow-eyed man and the others, like they know he means something to her, the first person she told about the dreams, the only other person who knows, who wants answers like she does. They tell her about him and his brother, what kind of people they are and what they’ve done, until she doesn’t know what to think.
And then they tell her other things. They make her do things. They tell her stories and sing her songs and call her their little seer, and her mind spins sideways, slowly, until she doesn’t remember their names, doesn’t remember her own name, just remembers Winchesters.
“And what about the Winchesters, darling?” the yellow-eyed man asks, stroking her hair, holding her tight in his arms.
She tilts her head, stares at the wall, and smiles. “Ours,” she says, voice like broken glass. “Ours by fire, one and one already, one to come, and one who’ll burn and burn and burn forever, plaything for our army, general to gather and lead us all.”
“Very good, Ava. You’ve learned your lessons well, my darling. I’m so proud of you.”
Ava hums, closes her eyes, and sees them coming for her.
----(The Covenant, gen with multiple slashy undertones, 340 words)----
Power bound them together. Its how Caleb knew about Chase from the moment the two clicked eyes-Chase felt like one of them. Caleb didn’t know how or why, because it didn’t make sense, but he knew he had to be careful, knew something was wrong. And Sarah was right there. It was so easy.
They could feel each other, humming in the back of their skulls; nothing serious, nothing psychic, just an awareness. Still, it was an awareness that none of them could ignore. It tied them together; raised as brothers, it made them so much more, until the thought of losing any of the others made Caleb clench his teeth together and step up.
Pogue kept Kate around, Reid got into fights, Tyler played kiss-ass. Caleb was lucky, able to be himself, not pretend, but then he saw Chase and knew it was his turn. He’d do what the rest did, lie and scheme and cheat, whatever it took, to keep them safe.
Sarah was sweet, and he liked her, sure, but he didn’t love her. As much as he said he’d never be like his father, he lied to her and used her, because seeing her in that barn, Power-slain and near to burning was so much easier than seeing Reid or Tyler like that would have been, so much easier than seeing Pogue in the hospital.
Caleb hated himself for it, for being able to use her like that, but Chase believed that he loved her, used her as well. Fighting Chase felt incredible, rush of adrenaline and Power Caleb had never felt before, but he was using Power and Chase was as well, and with both of them Ascended, it connected them, too. Not to the extent that the Sons were, but when the firemen and police were going through the barn, Caleb could feel Chase humming in the back of his mind, knew it wasn’t over, knew it wouldn’t ever be over.
He’s still not sure how he feels about that.