SN canon drabbles: 3.1-3.4
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unacquainted with my face, you wore it
It remembers them. It cannot help but remember them; prisoners always remember the guards who escort them to prison, who steal their freedom. It remembers the way the elder hit its host, poured the holy water on the host’s chest, the fire in the elder’s eyes when it told the younger his girlfriend burned.
A lie, of course, but that is the way of things. Demons have no concept of the truth.
It remembers them, those hunters. It remembers them and hungers to claw out of Hell and go for them, punish them. As the time passes in Hell, it clings to revenge, to its hatred for those petty humans who dared send it back into the depths.
And the gate opens, that portal back into the world. As the hordes stream through, it rushes with them, howling.
It is free to hunt them, those humans. It is free and it shrieks their name into the night: Winchester.
You inherit the sins, you inherit the flames
Ryan Humphrey has been bullying you for months. You’ve taken it and taken it, not told Mom or any teachers-it’s not that big a deal. Just some shoves, a few kicks. Nothing you can’t handle.
But Grandma gave you that game for your ninth birthday. She traveled all the way from Paris. You’ve seen her only a couple of times and she placed it directly in your hands herself, with a loving smile. “Your mama told me you’ve been wanting this particular one,” she said. “I hope I got it right.”
You shouldn’t have let Ryan take it. But if you hadn’t, Ryan might have broken it, just to be mean.
So you watch, stewing in your anger and indecision-Mom’s told you not to fight, there’s always another way, but you’re just so tired of being picked on, pushed around.
When the man from your party sits down beside you and tells you what to do, you only hesitate for a moment before getting up to follow his advice. It’s frightening and exhilarating, and Dean gives you an encouraging grin. You don’t want to let him down-and you want your game back.
Ryan looms over you, with his followers at his back. You have one second of thinking better, but then he speaks and your anger takes over.
Dean told you what to do, and you do it. It’s the greatest rush you’ve ever felt.
the metallic rains kept on
He is good at lying, the Adversary, wide eyes, kind face, floppy hair-he looks just like a naïve college student. But Kubrick is not fooled; Gordon Walker warned him of the tricks this “man” would try to pull, of his gifted, silver tongue.
It feels good, slapping the Adversary across his lying face. God sent him on this path, placed this evil in his sight, to deal with, to eradicate for the well-being of all.
And Kubrick will follow Jesus Christ’s command. This man, this monster in man-skin, is a threat, and he will be taken out of this world.
the dead are very close
The savior’s brother is beautiful, the most attractive meat-suit she’s ever seen. Inside, Casey agrees.
She speaks, merely to hear his voice again-such a pleasurable sound. He uses biting sarcasm to mask his fear, cutting words to display anger.
He’s a fun boy, this Dean Winchester. She wants to keep him as a toy, her plaything forever. But he is not hers to own, and the savior would not ever consider sharing this man.
And she would never ask. Such insolence could result in only pain, would deserve only pain.
“Lucifer’s really real?” Dean asks, sounding awed.
She doesn’t say, Yes, and he’s your brother. She can’t be absolutely sure, and lying to the savior’s brother is one sin she’ll never commit.
onwards