(creative_muses) "Cain heard a cat tumble limp off the rooftop."
Desolate
(Set in a future section of the Wayward verse.)
He could have just asked God he supposed. But he figured that there might be some truth to that old adage 'God helps those who help themselves.'
So that’s what he did.
Ben wasn't answering his phone. Nor was he replying to Alec's text messages. Jinx still couldn't find him. Which led Alec to the inevitable conclusion that he was going to have to do things the hard way.
It took him the most part of a day. Heavy duty magic was like that. The candles had to be bees wax and made under the right conditions. The maps had to be purified. Silk had to cover the coffee table in the apartment he was staying in, because this was so not Alec's emotionally clean work room in Seattle. He had to buy everything new, because he hadn't brought hardly any of his supplies.
It wasn't like he had been thinking all that clearly. And he knew he still had to many moments where everything went sideways into that hazy indifferent that he used to keep himself at least partially functioning. Right now, though he was thinking clearly.
Seeing clearly. The way the silk gave his a clean slate and the salt leached all outside influence from the maps. The way the lit candles bent the elements around him ever so slightly to his will, spiraling. Searching. Just like the lode stone swinging in easy ever widening circles from the end of a small bit of shimmering black string. A little bit of blood crawled down the string towards the stone from Alec's deliberately cut fingertip as he held the end of the string.
Blood made every spell stronger. A willing sacrifice for a brother. Blood called to blood. The black string was made from some of Jinx's donated fur. Nothing outside of Heaven was better at finding people than Hell Hounds. Alec and Jinx sought Ben like the lodestone sought earth.
The stone circled and circled over the maps, and the candles burnt lower and lower as Alec poured ever increasing amounts of power down the blood line to search farther and farther out.
The candles eventually guttered out and Alec lost his composure. His brother was gone. He had tried so hard. To pick himself up one more time. To pull what was left of the family together. To carry on.
But he had failed and lost someone else. He should never have let Ben walk away.
He lay his head down amongst the maps, the melted candle wax, and other spell components and let the tears fall.
Muse: Alec McDowellWinchester/X5-494
'Verse: Wayward: The Time That We Have
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 430
(Set in a future section of the Wayward verse.)
He could have just asked God he supposed. But he figured that there might be some truth to that old adage 'God helps those who help themselves.'
So that’s what he did.
Ben wasn't answering his phone. Nor was he replying to Alec's text messages. Jinx still couldn't find him. Which led Alec to the inevitable conclusion that he was going to have to do things the hard way.
It took him the most part of a day. Heavy duty magic was like that. The candles had to be bees wax and made under the right conditions. The maps had to be purified. Silk had to cover the coffee table in the apartment he was staying in, because this was so not Alec's emotionally clean work room in Seattle. He had to buy everything new, because he hadn't brought hardly any of his supplies.
It wasn't like he had been thinking all that clearly. And he knew he still had to many moments where everything went sideways into that hazy indifferent that he used to keep himself at least partially functioning. Right now, though he was thinking clearly.
Seeing clearly. The way the silk gave his a clean slate and the salt leached all outside influence from the maps. The way the lit candles bent the elements around him ever so slightly to his will, spiraling. Searching. Just like the lode stone swinging in easy ever widening circles from the end of a small bit of shimmering black string. A little bit of blood crawled down the string towards the stone from Alec's deliberately cut fingertip as he held the end of the string.
Blood made every spell stronger. A willing sacrifice for a brother. Blood called to blood. The black string was made from some of Jinx's donated fur. Nothing outside of Heaven was better at finding people than Hell Hounds. Alec and Jinx sought Ben like the lodestone sought earth.
The stone circled and circled over the maps, and the candles burnt lower and lower as Alec poured ever increasing amounts of power down the blood line to search farther and farther out.
The candles eventually guttered out and Alec lost his composure. His brother was gone. He had tried so hard. To pick himself up one more time. To pull what was left of the family together. To carry on.
But he had failed and lost someone else. He should never have let Ben walk away.
He lay his head down amongst the maps, the melted candle wax, and other spell components and let the tears fall.
Muse: Alec McDowellWinchester/X5-494
'Verse: Wayward: The Time That We Have
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 430