Yet MORE random ficlets
Into the Night
Everyone knew the apocalypse was coming. The Antichrist had risen, pure evil hidden under long brown hair and hazel eyes. The hunters were rousing, and even civilians knew something was wrong.
The Cupids watched in confusion as Heaven and Hell roused themselves. Both sides ignored them. Hunters scoffed them. Azazel completely disregarded them, totally focused on his precious, stolen human.
There was a reason that all the great legends included a love story.
The club was crowded and noisy, and Dean Winchester was more than buzzed. His father was somewhere drinking himself stupid rather than celebrating a triumphant hunt. In the morning, Dean would probably regret not staying beside him and making sure he didn’t kill himself with his drink. Tonight, he was just going to let loose and have fun.
When male hands joined the female ones touching him, Dean pushed aside all of his father’s comments about fags and fairies and just smiled and touched back.
The club was crowded and noisy, and Samuel was more than nervous. His father was somewhere doing things he never told his human son. In the morning, Samuel would regret not staying home, working on his powers and preparing for the end. Tonight, he was just going to let loose and have fun.
When human music and human touches roused him, Samuel pushed aside all of his father’s comments about pathetic humans and mortals and let himself step forward.
A Cupid waited in the shadows, and when Dean looked up and Samuel looked up and their eyes met, arrows flew.
For all of his years of denial, Dean didn’t hesitate to smile at the strange man on the other side of the room. His heart pounded when the stranger smiled back.
For all of his ignorance of other humans and their ways, Samuel didn’t hesitate to return the stranger’s smile. He didn’t understand the heat in his body when the stranger moved toward him.
Cupid watched, smug, as Samuel the Antichrist joined Dean the Hunter on the dance floor. He glowed while they danced the night away.
Weeks later, when they met on the battlefield for the first time, neither could raise their weapons.
Uriel never stopped fuming when the Cupids won the war.
Thresholds
All right, so living with a capo was never my first plan.
I told him he should have that on a t-shirt so everyone was properly warned. Johnny just looked at me and picked some troll bits out of his hair. Hey, I told him from the start that I was a wizard. It wasn’t my fault that most humans laughed at that.
He told me that a couple years ago, and he wasn’t a capo anymore. His position was somewhat higher now. He wouldn’t tell me how high. He just told me that it was going to get higher and I might want to put some more protections on the place. That was about the time he introduced me to some more of his buddies for the first time. He brought Spike over the most. Spike was okay: he let me buy him dog toys and laughed when I first presented him with a collar.
That was also about the time that I looked at my threshold and realized, stars and stones, I had a threshold.
It wasn’t as strong as Michael’s, but Michael’s was hard to match, especially in a country as young as America. Still, it was stronger than it should have been for two supposed bachelors. Cats did nothing for a threshold: if anything, they lived to mock them. Bob wasn’t good for thresholds, either: he was just there for the show between Johnny and me, he claimed.
Which left Johnny and me.
Which made me wonder for the first time if, maybe, there was something to Johnny and me.
I might have mentioned this earlier, but if I didn’t, I was a P.I. I wasn’t the best and still worked for a friend of mine, but I was getting closer to my own business. I had a couple years’ experience under my belt.
After the Threshold Incident, I actually started looking:
How Johnny always had a hand on me.
How Johnny smiled at me and smirked at Spike and them.
How Johnny always told me to be careful when he was the one facing gunfire.
How he said my name, and how it same so much like how Elaine said it years before.
So I had a threshold and a guy who didn’t laugh when I brought a tiny, orphaned kitten to our apartment and who liked to hold my wrist every night before I went to bed.
After Johnny told me that things were about to get really bad and asked about the threshold, I threw everything to the wind and twisted my hand to hold his.
“The threshold’s fine,” I assured him. “No worries there.”
Pride
Seifer Almasy always prided himself on being clever. He knew better than SeeDs who ran the missions. His tactics worked, but since he disobeyed, he failed the test. He always knew better than to accept a Guardian Force, too. He watched what it did to the older SeeDs and had warned Squall about it, too.
Squall knew the risks of the Guardian Forces. It took Seifer a long time to figure out why he accepted them, anyway.
During the Time Compression and the war, Seifer knew what to do, especially when his defeat was in sight. The Time Compression didn’t solve anything: it just began the whole damned affair.
Seifer knew he was clever. He knew how to change the loop. It was fucking easy, so damned easy he made a note to laugh at Squall about it. Squall always caught onto his sense of humor. Squall would get it. Squall understood him and his reasons, even if he didn’t always agree.
That was what Seifer kept telling himself when the Sorceress went after the other gunblader when Seifer refused her offer.
When Squall accepted.
When Seifer killed Squall on the battlefield and finally, finally saw Squall smile at him.
Seifer was always so damned clever.
Like Father
For as long as Dean could remember, he wanted to be like his dad.
John Winchester always towered over him in his mind, strong, confident, untouchable. He was a first generation Hunter whose reputation echoed throughout their world. Even after he died and proved himself human, the mute child in Dean always believed that, if Dad was there, everything would be all right.
Even after Adam, after realizing his father was flawed, after countless nights of wondering if everything could have been different if John Winchester hadn’t been such a secretive bastard, the child who stopped growing at the age of four still looked up and believed.
So Dean always found it bitterly hilarious that Sam was the one who followed in John Winchester’s footsteps.
First it was Jessica. It was like Mary Winchester all over again, fire and death and furious vengeance. Keep going, never stop, find justice at the end of a demon’s life.
Sam’s obsession grew, especially after Dean’s own death. As Sam’s hopes of a normal life faded (and the child in Dean always remember John Winchester when he was Daddy, when everything for them was Normal), his determination and ruthlessness grew. The realization hit Dean over Adam’s burning corpse and it remained a stinging pain forever after.
“Dean? C’mon, man, open the door already. If you don’t open it in thirty seconds, I swear I’m breaking it down.”
Dean licked his lips and stared silently into the bathroom mirror. Bloodshot eyes stared back. His fifth of whiskey trickled into the sink.
Dean always wanted to be like John Winchester, and of all the ways to succeed, he had only succeeded here.
Dean buried his face in his hands, and the amber liquid trickled away.
This entry was originally posted at http://tir-synni.dreamwidth.org/17094.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Everyone knew the apocalypse was coming. The Antichrist had risen, pure evil hidden under long brown hair and hazel eyes. The hunters were rousing, and even civilians knew something was wrong.
The Cupids watched in confusion as Heaven and Hell roused themselves. Both sides ignored them. Hunters scoffed them. Azazel completely disregarded them, totally focused on his precious, stolen human.
There was a reason that all the great legends included a love story.
The club was crowded and noisy, and Dean Winchester was more than buzzed. His father was somewhere drinking himself stupid rather than celebrating a triumphant hunt. In the morning, Dean would probably regret not staying beside him and making sure he didn’t kill himself with his drink. Tonight, he was just going to let loose and have fun.
When male hands joined the female ones touching him, Dean pushed aside all of his father’s comments about fags and fairies and just smiled and touched back.
The club was crowded and noisy, and Samuel was more than nervous. His father was somewhere doing things he never told his human son. In the morning, Samuel would regret not staying home, working on his powers and preparing for the end. Tonight, he was just going to let loose and have fun.
When human music and human touches roused him, Samuel pushed aside all of his father’s comments about pathetic humans and mortals and let himself step forward.
A Cupid waited in the shadows, and when Dean looked up and Samuel looked up and their eyes met, arrows flew.
For all of his years of denial, Dean didn’t hesitate to smile at the strange man on the other side of the room. His heart pounded when the stranger smiled back.
For all of his ignorance of other humans and their ways, Samuel didn’t hesitate to return the stranger’s smile. He didn’t understand the heat in his body when the stranger moved toward him.
Cupid watched, smug, as Samuel the Antichrist joined Dean the Hunter on the dance floor. He glowed while they danced the night away.
Weeks later, when they met on the battlefield for the first time, neither could raise their weapons.
Uriel never stopped fuming when the Cupids won the war.
Thresholds
All right, so living with a capo was never my first plan.
I told him he should have that on a t-shirt so everyone was properly warned. Johnny just looked at me and picked some troll bits out of his hair. Hey, I told him from the start that I was a wizard. It wasn’t my fault that most humans laughed at that.
He told me that a couple years ago, and he wasn’t a capo anymore. His position was somewhat higher now. He wouldn’t tell me how high. He just told me that it was going to get higher and I might want to put some more protections on the place. That was about the time he introduced me to some more of his buddies for the first time. He brought Spike over the most. Spike was okay: he let me buy him dog toys and laughed when I first presented him with a collar.
That was also about the time that I looked at my threshold and realized, stars and stones, I had a threshold.
It wasn’t as strong as Michael’s, but Michael’s was hard to match, especially in a country as young as America. Still, it was stronger than it should have been for two supposed bachelors. Cats did nothing for a threshold: if anything, they lived to mock them. Bob wasn’t good for thresholds, either: he was just there for the show between Johnny and me, he claimed.
Which left Johnny and me.
Which made me wonder for the first time if, maybe, there was something to Johnny and me.
I might have mentioned this earlier, but if I didn’t, I was a P.I. I wasn’t the best and still worked for a friend of mine, but I was getting closer to my own business. I had a couple years’ experience under my belt.
After the Threshold Incident, I actually started looking:
How Johnny always had a hand on me.
How Johnny smiled at me and smirked at Spike and them.
How Johnny always told me to be careful when he was the one facing gunfire.
How he said my name, and how it same so much like how Elaine said it years before.
So I had a threshold and a guy who didn’t laugh when I brought a tiny, orphaned kitten to our apartment and who liked to hold my wrist every night before I went to bed.
After Johnny told me that things were about to get really bad and asked about the threshold, I threw everything to the wind and twisted my hand to hold his.
“The threshold’s fine,” I assured him. “No worries there.”
Pride
Seifer Almasy always prided himself on being clever. He knew better than SeeDs who ran the missions. His tactics worked, but since he disobeyed, he failed the test. He always knew better than to accept a Guardian Force, too. He watched what it did to the older SeeDs and had warned Squall about it, too.
Squall knew the risks of the Guardian Forces. It took Seifer a long time to figure out why he accepted them, anyway.
During the Time Compression and the war, Seifer knew what to do, especially when his defeat was in sight. The Time Compression didn’t solve anything: it just began the whole damned affair.
Seifer knew he was clever. He knew how to change the loop. It was fucking easy, so damned easy he made a note to laugh at Squall about it. Squall always caught onto his sense of humor. Squall would get it. Squall understood him and his reasons, even if he didn’t always agree.
That was what Seifer kept telling himself when the Sorceress went after the other gunblader when Seifer refused her offer.
When Squall accepted.
When Seifer killed Squall on the battlefield and finally, finally saw Squall smile at him.
Seifer was always so damned clever.
Like Father
For as long as Dean could remember, he wanted to be like his dad.
John Winchester always towered over him in his mind, strong, confident, untouchable. He was a first generation Hunter whose reputation echoed throughout their world. Even after he died and proved himself human, the mute child in Dean always believed that, if Dad was there, everything would be all right.
Even after Adam, after realizing his father was flawed, after countless nights of wondering if everything could have been different if John Winchester hadn’t been such a secretive bastard, the child who stopped growing at the age of four still looked up and believed.
So Dean always found it bitterly hilarious that Sam was the one who followed in John Winchester’s footsteps.
First it was Jessica. It was like Mary Winchester all over again, fire and death and furious vengeance. Keep going, never stop, find justice at the end of a demon’s life.
Sam’s obsession grew, especially after Dean’s own death. As Sam’s hopes of a normal life faded (and the child in Dean always remember John Winchester when he was Daddy, when everything for them was Normal), his determination and ruthlessness grew. The realization hit Dean over Adam’s burning corpse and it remained a stinging pain forever after.
“Dean? C’mon, man, open the door already. If you don’t open it in thirty seconds, I swear I’m breaking it down.”
Dean licked his lips and stared silently into the bathroom mirror. Bloodshot eyes stared back. His fifth of whiskey trickled into the sink.
Dean always wanted to be like John Winchester, and of all the ways to succeed, he had only succeeded here.
Dean buried his face in his hands, and the amber liquid trickled away.
This entry was originally posted at http://tir-synni.dreamwidth.org/17094.html. Please comment there using OpenID.