Not what you think (Supernatural, Dean, OFC, PG)
Title: Not what you think
Author: soulswallo
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean Winchester, OFC
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not mine.
Summary: Dean. In the woods. With a girl. Somehow it's not what you think.
Spoilers:
All Hell Breaks Loose.
Written for the lyric prompt:
I said who put all those things in your head,
Things that make me feel that I'm mad.
-She Said She Said
Not what you think
Walk forward.
Stop.
Walk.
Crouch.
Remember to breathe.
In the coolness of the woods on that October day, Dean had to concentrate on what was happening around him.
Well, he didn't really have to concentrate on what was happening around him because nothing was happening. He had to concentrate because every movement, every breath, every moment seemed like such a supreme act.
Also, he had no idea how he'd ended up in the middle of the woods without either the Impala or Sam.
It was baffling.
Time, which had been moving so slowly it hurt, seemed to snap back to normal and breathing became easy again.
Dean pulled himself up from his crouch.
He admitted to himself that he was very, very confused.
Woods?
Sam? (Where was Sam?)
"I expected you before this, Dean."
The voice, coming from right behind him (wasn't there a tree to his back?), startled him more than anything ever had.
Dean spun and stared.
The tree that he'd had his back firmly planted against moments before wasn't there. Instead, a girl stood in it's place.
She wasn't the strangest thing he'd ever seen. The clown-guy held that honor. Sam agreed with him 100% on that. Still, there was something about her that screamed "supernatural being".
She laughed.
"I'm not, really. Not in the way you think."
Dean took a big step back and reached for a weapon (any weapon). He came up empty.
She cocked her head slightly and grinned. "You can't shoot me. You can't stab me. You can't hurt me with any of your weapons. So I made it so you didn't have any. It'll be easier this way, I think."
She was tiny (pixie-like, Dean's mind whispered) with blue eyes, pale skin and twigs and moss caught in the long tangles of her hair. She was dressed (and here Dean blinked and looked twice because he was sure he hadn't seen what he'd seen) in what looked like overlapping butterfly wings.
It wasn't until a section of her dress fluttered and shifted that he realized they were alive.
She stood there, still and silent, as Dean looked her over.
"Do I meet with your approval?" she finally asked.
Dean opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out. He formed the words to question who she was and where they were and what the hell was going on but nothing but his breath crested on the air.
She was still smiling at him. Dean thought he saw more teeth than before.
"I won't keep you long. And what I'm offering might just save your life," She paused a moment, "Or maybe it's your soul." A delicate shrug followed by the ripple and shift of her butterfly dress. "I don't spend much time in your world any more. I'm not sure which holds more value. Either way, I can help you."
She moved closer to him and Dean found himself unable to move, just as he'd been unable to speak moments earlier.
"There will be a price to be paid, I have to tell you."
She was close enough now that she could have reached out and touched him. Instead she cocked her head at him again and grinned.
"Somehow, I don't think you'll mind too much. You of all people know that nothing comes for free."
She was farther away now, drifting on silent feet. Dean shifted slightly in place and heard the leaves crackle. He wondered how it was that she could be so quiet.
"I'm not what you think I am." Her voice was a whisper now, fading away as she walked away from him. "You won't remember all of this. But you'll remember some. You'll remember and you'll come."
Dean couldn't see her at all now.
"Sleep well, Dean Winchester."
...
He woke with a start.
Sam was snoring in the other bed and the sound was somehow comforting.
Dean tried to remember his dream but it slipped away from him. He had a vague memory of butterflies and the dappled sunlight of a wood.
The harder he tried to hold on to it the faster it slipped away.
Dean snorted and rolled over. Butterflies and sunshine? Please. Next thing he knew he'd be dreaming of unicorns and virgins. Or maybe pixie-sized creatures that offered to save his soul.
He frowned at that last thought.
Knowing that he was done sleeping for the night he got out of bed and pulled out a map.
He had a sudden urge to get back to nature.
And with the forfeiture of his soul right around the corner he'd been giving in to a lot of urges lately.
What was one more?
End.
Author: soulswallo
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean Winchester, OFC
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not mine.
Summary: Dean. In the woods. With a girl. Somehow it's not what you think.
Spoilers:
All Hell Breaks Loose.
Written for the lyric prompt:
I said who put all those things in your head,
Things that make me feel that I'm mad.
-She Said She Said
Not what you think
Walk forward.
Stop.
Walk.
Crouch.
Remember to breathe.
In the coolness of the woods on that October day, Dean had to concentrate on what was happening around him.
Well, he didn't really have to concentrate on what was happening around him because nothing was happening. He had to concentrate because every movement, every breath, every moment seemed like such a supreme act.
Also, he had no idea how he'd ended up in the middle of the woods without either the Impala or Sam.
It was baffling.
Time, which had been moving so slowly it hurt, seemed to snap back to normal and breathing became easy again.
Dean pulled himself up from his crouch.
He admitted to himself that he was very, very confused.
Woods?
Sam? (Where was Sam?)
"I expected you before this, Dean."
The voice, coming from right behind him (wasn't there a tree to his back?), startled him more than anything ever had.
Dean spun and stared.
The tree that he'd had his back firmly planted against moments before wasn't there. Instead, a girl stood in it's place.
She wasn't the strangest thing he'd ever seen. The clown-guy held that honor. Sam agreed with him 100% on that. Still, there was something about her that screamed "supernatural being".
She laughed.
"I'm not, really. Not in the way you think."
Dean took a big step back and reached for a weapon (any weapon). He came up empty.
She cocked her head slightly and grinned. "You can't shoot me. You can't stab me. You can't hurt me with any of your weapons. So I made it so you didn't have any. It'll be easier this way, I think."
She was tiny (pixie-like, Dean's mind whispered) with blue eyes, pale skin and twigs and moss caught in the long tangles of her hair. She was dressed (and here Dean blinked and looked twice because he was sure he hadn't seen what he'd seen) in what looked like overlapping butterfly wings.
It wasn't until a section of her dress fluttered and shifted that he realized they were alive.
She stood there, still and silent, as Dean looked her over.
"Do I meet with your approval?" she finally asked.
Dean opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out. He formed the words to question who she was and where they were and what the hell was going on but nothing but his breath crested on the air.
She was still smiling at him. Dean thought he saw more teeth than before.
"I won't keep you long. And what I'm offering might just save your life," She paused a moment, "Or maybe it's your soul." A delicate shrug followed by the ripple and shift of her butterfly dress. "I don't spend much time in your world any more. I'm not sure which holds more value. Either way, I can help you."
She moved closer to him and Dean found himself unable to move, just as he'd been unable to speak moments earlier.
"There will be a price to be paid, I have to tell you."
She was close enough now that she could have reached out and touched him. Instead she cocked her head at him again and grinned.
"Somehow, I don't think you'll mind too much. You of all people know that nothing comes for free."
She was farther away now, drifting on silent feet. Dean shifted slightly in place and heard the leaves crackle. He wondered how it was that she could be so quiet.
"I'm not what you think I am." Her voice was a whisper now, fading away as she walked away from him. "You won't remember all of this. But you'll remember some. You'll remember and you'll come."
Dean couldn't see her at all now.
"Sleep well, Dean Winchester."
...
He woke with a start.
Sam was snoring in the other bed and the sound was somehow comforting.
Dean tried to remember his dream but it slipped away from him. He had a vague memory of butterflies and the dappled sunlight of a wood.
The harder he tried to hold on to it the faster it slipped away.
Dean snorted and rolled over. Butterflies and sunshine? Please. Next thing he knew he'd be dreaming of unicorns and virgins. Or maybe pixie-sized creatures that offered to save his soul.
He frowned at that last thought.
Knowing that he was done sleeping for the night he got out of bed and pulled out a map.
He had a sudden urge to get back to nature.
And with the forfeiture of his soul right around the corner he'd been giving in to a lot of urges lately.
What was one more?
End.