Instruments - Spn/Hp -

[youaredriving]

Title: Instruments
Author: youaredriving  aka Scarletsptember
Fandom: Supernatural/HP - Only named character Sam Winchester, implied character Harry Potter
Rating: G
Word Count: 279
Summary: This is were the possessed go, and they can't go back home. Not without a fight.
Author's Notes: So this is set during 5x22 of Supernatural but you really don't get spoiled and the implied character is Harry Potter, though he is never named. There are a lot of possibilities that I could end up doing with this. My brain kind of took the lets write another fic and do something crazy route and this is what it came up with but I might never get to it but this was what I had to write, and share. No matter what. I may expand at some point.



It was different here, wherever here was. The first thing Sam noticed was how quiet it was. How it reminded him of the nights of just him and Dean getting sick of sitting in the Impala for hours upon hours, so they’d pull over and just sit to stare up at the stars.

It was like nothing could touch him here. There weren’t any furious demons clawing to get out, there weren’t any voices at the back of his mind screaming in desperation. It was just quiet.

“You know, you can see the stars, here.”

The voice was soft and soothing enough that Sam trusted the man to look up at the sky and sure enough, there was a bright blip and twinkle in the sky that had accompanied a long drive and the purr of the Impala over a night drive.

“Where are we?” Sam brushed a hand over the grass and settled next to the lounging man. “Who are you?”

“I think this is where the possessed go.” There was a shrug and dull green eyes connected with Sam’s, the answer elicited a shiver. “You just got here. I’ve been here for a long time and I’m still trying to get home.”

“Can you do that? Get home?”

“You fight against the peace,” Closed eyes, a bob of the Adam’s apple, “You fight with everything you have that’s telling you its okay to stay, because you have to get back.”

“I think I’m supposed to go back.” Sam admitted, “That this place isn’t for me.”

“If you’re not supposed to be here,” Soft fingers pressed against Sam’s forehead before a white-hot pressure blinded him, “Then go back.”