SPN Fic: Some Girl From Cheboygan (Meg's Vessel; R)
Title: Some Girl From Cheboygan
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: Possession/Mind Control (for hc-bingo) and Challenge #17: Red Shirts Unite! (for writerverse)
Medium: Fic
Wordcount: 514
Rating: R
Warnings: Mentions of torture, murder and suicidal/martyr thoughts.
Summary: It’s a host body. Some girl from Cheboygan, moved to LA to be an actress. It’s probably not even the worst thing that ever happened to her.
Some girl from Cheboygan, moved to LA to be an actress. It’s probably not even the worst thing that ever happened to her.
It had been so long; she’d forgotten that’s who she was. She’d forgotten what her dreams had been. If something worse than this had ever happened to her, she couldn’t remember it. It had been so long; all she could think was Meg and all she could be was Meg.
Meg wasn’t her name but then it wasn’t really the demon’s either; it was just a convenient cover to use against people who had never known her real name. No human alive knew the demon’s real name. The demon had never even thought to ask her name. Their names didn’t matter. All that mattered was the body and the two fighting souls inhabiting it. Only one of them could win and it was always the demon, so in the end she stopped trying, letting the demon have her.
She watched as her hands did terrible things to people and people’s hands did terrible things to her. She watched as the knife slid in and out of her body and she screamed even though she didn’t feel a thing.
At the beginning, each kill and each drop of blood made her want to be sick. She couldn’t, of course, she didn’t have the option. Now, it was nothing. She was desensitized to everything, dehumanized. Monsters existed, demons were real, she was a monster, there was a demon inside her. She didn’t care anymore, it didn’t matter, she was stuck along for the ride, no matter how much she desperately wanted to get off.
The demon was a better actress than she could have ever hoped to be. As the thing twisted inside of her, she could feel what it was feeling. Every sassy line or sarcastic come back was a mask for the fear that the demon hid so well. Sometimes they saw through it and she became really scared. In those moments, she considered fighting the demon but it would only be a second and then that defensive mask would slip back into place, covering any hope she had.
The knife sticks in her again and she feels like laughing at the way the demon screams inside her head, with her lungs and with her mouth. She wouldn’t care if the man holding the knife killed her, so long as she could take the demon down with her and drag her back to hell where she belonged.
Her mouth started laughing and for a second she thought she’d won or the demon had died but then she felt it inside her, laughter echoing through her soul and out through her body. One of the hunters had come to rescue her. She wondered, if she truly understood them, why didn’t they rescue her, the real her, trapped inside her body while the demon wore it, stole it from her. They were meant to help people, not demons.
She closed her eyes, backing away from the surface, disappointed that they had survived.
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: Possession/Mind Control (for hc-bingo) and Challenge #17: Red Shirts Unite! (for writerverse)
Medium: Fic
Wordcount: 514
Rating: R
Warnings: Mentions of torture, murder and suicidal/martyr thoughts.
Summary: It’s a host body. Some girl from Cheboygan, moved to LA to be an actress. It’s probably not even the worst thing that ever happened to her.
Some girl from Cheboygan, moved to LA to be an actress. It’s probably not even the worst thing that ever happened to her.
It had been so long; she’d forgotten that’s who she was. She’d forgotten what her dreams had been. If something worse than this had ever happened to her, she couldn’t remember it. It had been so long; all she could think was Meg and all she could be was Meg.
Meg wasn’t her name but then it wasn’t really the demon’s either; it was just a convenient cover to use against people who had never known her real name. No human alive knew the demon’s real name. The demon had never even thought to ask her name. Their names didn’t matter. All that mattered was the body and the two fighting souls inhabiting it. Only one of them could win and it was always the demon, so in the end she stopped trying, letting the demon have her.
She watched as her hands did terrible things to people and people’s hands did terrible things to her. She watched as the knife slid in and out of her body and she screamed even though she didn’t feel a thing.
At the beginning, each kill and each drop of blood made her want to be sick. She couldn’t, of course, she didn’t have the option. Now, it was nothing. She was desensitized to everything, dehumanized. Monsters existed, demons were real, she was a monster, there was a demon inside her. She didn’t care anymore, it didn’t matter, she was stuck along for the ride, no matter how much she desperately wanted to get off.
The demon was a better actress than she could have ever hoped to be. As the thing twisted inside of her, she could feel what it was feeling. Every sassy line or sarcastic come back was a mask for the fear that the demon hid so well. Sometimes they saw through it and she became really scared. In those moments, she considered fighting the demon but it would only be a second and then that defensive mask would slip back into place, covering any hope she had.
The knife sticks in her again and she feels like laughing at the way the demon screams inside her head, with her lungs and with her mouth. She wouldn’t care if the man holding the knife killed her, so long as she could take the demon down with her and drag her back to hell where she belonged.
Her mouth started laughing and for a second she thought she’d won or the demon had died but then she felt it inside her, laughter echoing through her soul and out through her body. One of the hunters had come to rescue her. She wondered, if she truly understood them, why didn’t they rescue her, the real her, trapped inside her body while the demon wore it, stole it from her. They were meant to help people, not demons.
She closed her eyes, backing away from the surface, disappointed that they had survived.