Supernatural drabbles - PG, gen, AU
Title: amaranthus blossoming
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for everything aired
Pairings: mentions of John/Mary, Samuel/Deanna
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 125
Point of view: third
It began at night, after blood and death took away two loving parents. It began with a deal, a young woman named Mary signing away something that wasn’t even hers yet. Her lover lay dead in her lap, her mother back at their house, her father’s body held in thrall of the murderer.
It began in fire. It began with fear and pain and the all-encompassing need for justice-vengeance.
It began when a boy walked away from his family, determined to be normal and safe, even though he had no concept of either.
It began with a shared search, with gunpowder and blood, with dying in each other’s arms.
And this is how it ends:
They’re together, of course.
Beyond that, does it matter?
Title: ten for the devil his own self
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; the title is from one version of a children’s nursery rhyme.
Warnings: AU from “Lazarus Rising”
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PGish
Wordcount: 300
Point of view: third
“Last one opens, and?” Dean asked, all wide-eyed innocence and disbelief. He had his doubts, and was wise to do so.
“Lucifer walks free,” Castiel intoned, solemn and righteous, an Angel of the Lord.
A liar, and a traitor, and a desecration to all that was once holy, once pure.
He looked deep into Dean’s soul and smiled a secret, well-hidden smile.
We have work for you, he’d said, giving Dean something he craved and needed-a task. Let Sam have his quest for vengeance; Dean required a purpose. Castiel and Ruby shared glances in passing, pretending to not see each other, and all was so very wrong in the world.
“Last one opens, and?” Dean asked, not wanting to believe but beginning to nonetheless.
“Lucifer walks free,” Castiel answered, guide and guardian, savior, the Angel of the Lord who pulled Dean from the Pit.
Tempter without a fruit, leading astray one of the most important men since Judas Iscariot collected a bag of silver.
Castiel rescued him from Hell. Castiel gave him a task. Castiel offered guidance often rejected, and accepted Dean as a flawed man who still tried his hardest all the same.
And when the final choice came, when Castiel chose Dean over Heaven and helped him against everyone-it was the sweetest victory since Eve bit into that powerless fruit and damned the world.
“Last one opens, and?” Dean asked, still so innocent despite Alistair’s careful ministrations. So young compared to Castiel, to Alistair, to the being whose door he had begun to open when he took that bloody razor from Alistair’s hand.
“Lucifer walks free,” Castiel lied.
Even Ruby, that darling girl, didn’t fully understand, but when she led Sam to Lilith, they all won, and Lucifer’s wings finally stretched completely free of their cage.
Title: midway between the wing and the leg
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place during “Lazarus Rising”
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 230
Point of view: third
i
Dean, the world chants, the air, the ground. Dean, Dean.
He breathes, inhale, exhale, and listens. Wind against his skin, through his hair. Sunlight. Dirt.
Threadbare clothes and tattered shoes, a handmade cross.
Open sky, calling, Dean, Dean. He’s waiting for you.
His whole body hurts and his skin feels tight, stretched and new. His fingers are bloody, a few nails gone. He stumbles at first, hitting his knees when he tries to stand. He has to relearn those motions, fresh from his grave.
Dean, Dean, the trees whisper as wind hurtles through them. It feels like the start of autumn, and he knows he died in the spring.
He’s waiting for you, the dark birds caw-funerals and murders, and this is Alistair’s trick, has to be-and he walks. He walks for minutes and hours and days… time is so different, now. He walks beneath sunlight and he walks beneath stars, tired and hungry and thirsty, and he waits for Alistair to tear back the veil, to smirk and to laugh, to lick a stripe of blood up his side and hiss into his ear, Did you really think I’d let you go, boy? You said yes and you’re mine. Mine forever.
Dean, he hears, in the air and the ground. Dean. You’re alive. You’re alive and you’re free.
He trudges down a highway and doesn’t believe it.