of evil and mario: an epilogue
title: of evil and mario: an epilogue
author:
dev_earl
author’s notes: truly the last installment. so feedback and crits on the overall thing would be lovely.
disclaimer: I would so give away my firstborn to own Dean Winchester, Angel, Spike and Sam Winchester and everything in between. But I don’t. Own them, I mean.
warning:schmoop! - kinda.
summary: Because I really do think Sam needs a haircut. And that Spike knows Angel the most.
wordcount: 903
epilogue.
It was Angel’s idea that they sleep head to toe, to preserve some dignity. Now he regretted it. It had everything to do with the foot that kept knocking him on the jaw. It wasn’t until his jaw was sore that he noticed that the movements of the leg weren’t mechanical or drowsy at all.
“Hey-stop kicking me in the face!” he snapped.
He could feel the vibration of Spike’s chuckle. “I really wasn’t doing it on purpose, you know? Just like you didn’t purposely spill some zombie’s blood all over my favorite shirt.”
“Would you stop?” he screwed his eyes shut, irritated. “You’re such a girl!”
Spike snorted. “I wasn’t the one wearing silk shirts all the time out of free will. We’re living in the 21st century, for heaven’s sake!”
Heaven.
Cordy used to like his choice of dressing. Perhaps he is somewhat womanish. Then he realized that he didn’t really care at all. Because then, as always whenever a notion of Cordelia pays visit, it brings along shards of memories of the time they spent together and always, always reeling the image of the last kiss they had.
And reminded him that love, of any kind, isn’t something he could afford to have. And it pained him.
“Are you still thinking about that?”
He was surprised that Spike had read his mind.
“Let it go, mate. Can’t you see? He hunts demons. And unlike some hunters we know, he’s just uncomfortable of the idea of vampires with souls. Don’t take it personally.”
Spike wasn’t reading his mind at all.
“I’m not thinking about that,” he replied.
“There must be something about him that appeals to you.”
He wasn’t overly concerned about having the intention to share with Spike. He knew then that he was too worn-out to keep everything to himself. Besides, Spike was the only person he knew that would live forever. He liked to think that he’s spilling out his heart and not have his feelings die along in a decade or two - that is, if the Apocalypse could wait. Some more.
“It’s nothing like that, you know?” it sounded like a long sigh.
“Didn’t think so,” Spike shrugged at the ceiling.
“He’s rebellious-somewhat, snarky, brave, passionate. Just reminds me a lot of someone.”
He could feel Spike smiling. “Your kid.”
He silently exhaled, in a way acknowledging that in the end, the one who knows him the most would always be Spike.
///
“Are you sure we’re doing this?”
It had been long since Dean heard that much of hesitation in Sam’s tone. He smiled in spite of it all. Snapping the scissors in his hand, he stared at his brother’s reflection in the mirror like he had been doing this all his life.
“Relax. I need you alive, remember?” he almost winked.
Sam groaned and blew at his own bangs. Dean reached out and raked the bangs back, silently admitting to be relieved to be seeing, really seeing Sam’s eyes for once in a long time.
Sam grabbed his hand. “Not so much.”
He sighed and shook his head, as if he really was going to cut that much of a hair. He liked the way Sam’s hair did that floppy thing, anyway. Makes him want to run his fingers through, to feel the scalp underneath - and touch every fiber of Sam’s being. He did that now, sort of combing his hand through Sam’s hair, snipping here and there like an expert.
“Have you been practicing this instead of bow hunting, Dean?” Sam teased, eyes in the mirror narrowed.
“You’ve got to remember who’s holding the scissors here, Sammy.”
Sam laughed anyway, clear green eyes twinkling. As moments lapsed, gazes were passed through the mirror and it felt different. And everything felt okay - nothing matters that much. Not The Demon, not the accident, not losing Dad. Now and then he looked up from his work to find Sam staring and it felt good. Right, somehow. He wanted so much to smile.
Then Sam had to break the mood.
“So what’s the deal with that Faith chick? I’m pretty sure I could sense a vibe back there.”
“You’re not much of a psychic, really, Sam. So let it go,” his tone was low, brows furrowed and lips puckered as he snip at a lock of hair, engrossed in his task.
“Am I hearing this right? She’s hot, tough, a demon hunter. Shouldn’t she be, like, the woman of your dreams? I mean, you could go hunting together, train your kids to fire shotguns and fling battleaxes.”
He knew Sam was teasing but he didn’t like the sound of it.
“I wouldn’t want that.” Because he have other images of the future. Particularly who he would be hunting with. And he definitely wouldn’t want his children neither Sam’s, for that matter, to have their childhood.
Then he thought of their children - Sam and his - and it freaked him out a little.
“So she’s not really your type?” Sam asked, smirking.
He shook his head.
“You prefer someone like our friend, Lindsey, then?” In the mirror, Sam grinned.
He grinned back. “I would prefer that you shut up so I could actually cut your hair instead of your ear.”
Sam smiled widely, open like never and he couldn’t do anything but smiled widely back - for what they have now is, in lots of way, enough for him.
of evil and mario i of evil and mario ii of evil and mario iii