[TWP] Seven Unforgiven Acts
[Not binding on any canon muses mentioned herein.]
i.
She stares at the two headstones in front of her and wraps her arms around herself, wanting to disappear into herself. This isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t think that when she made the deal that they would wind up dead. She just wanted things to stop.
Now she is all alone.
She waits for some kind of absolution from the cold stone in front of her, even though she knows she’s never going to get it. Not until they meet in some kind of afterlife. The thought haunts her, wondering what exactly she’s done. The gravity of the situation is now in front of her and she has to take it in stride. There’s no absolution from the dead-not here, anyway. Not now. The weight settles onto her chest, where she knows it’ll rest for the rest of her life-however short that life now is.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers as tears start to slip down her face and she reaches up to brush them aside quickly. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She waits, but there’s no response back. There never will be. And now, there’s nothing she could do about it.
ii.
She doesn’t apologize when she shoots Sam and she doesn’t intend to. As far as she’s concerned, he earned it. Or Dean earned it for him, whichever makes things easier. She knows that her buyer wouldn’t have been pleased if she told him that she couldn’t give him what he wanted.
She doesn’t even bother to pretend she did apologize. She knows that it was necessary-she needs to get her job done, no matter who stands in her way. She’s sorry that that had to be Sam Winchester, but that’s not one of the events that weighs heavily on her conscience, or so she claims. Bela’s always been one to think that the ends justify the means. You do what you have to do in order to get what you need.
And apparently, the hole in Sam’s shoulder was something she had to do.
iii.
The leather feels cool against her back as she rubs her thumb over the edge of the money she’d just collected. She feels a little bad about screwing over the Winchesters, but not much. She is sure that they’ll find a way to get rid of the spirit without the help of the hand-Sam and Dean are nothing if not relentless-and she managed to make a lovely little payday in the process.
The wind starts to pick up, and she doesn’t think anything of it at first, yet as it starts to get stronger, she feels her stomach starts to knot that things weren’t going to be that easy. She looks up, eyes filling with dread as she spots the shadows of the ship on the horizon. Of course, that would be the way things happen. Of course she would be the ships next target.
She silently hopes that the Winchesters are the forgiving type, but she knows that when it comes to her, the answer is probably no.
iv.
It’s a bastardly move on her part, sending Gordon after them. She knows that, and she can barely look herself in the mirror afterwards. But eventually she swallows it, knowing that she did the right thing. Dean said it himself-Gordon was psychotic. He would have killed her in an instant if he didn’t get what he wanted, regardless of her point that it wasn’t going to get him any further.
She had six months left. She couldn’t afford to waste them being shot by some idiot with a vendetta against the Winchesters, regardless of whether or not this was the right thing. She knows that this is the final nail in her coffin, but for some reason, she just can’t bring herself to care.
At least, not until Dean’s the one threatening her on the other end of the line.
v.
She is getting desperate and she doesn’t know what else to do. The job itself is easy enough-steal a gun. A gun that can supposedly kill anything. Bring Lilith this gun and she is free and clear. She is desperate, and she will do what she has to to save her life.
Breaking into the safe is a cakewalk. The Winchesters are out cold wandering in dreamland, and the motel safe wasn’t exactly the hardest in the world to crack. She’s in and out in five minutes, and it’s probably one of the easiest jobs she’s ever pulled.
She should know better than to listen to Lilith. She should know better than to trust her, especially after the way things had ended the last time. But she did. She didn’t have any other choice.
vi.
She deserves this. It’s a fitting end to the mockery that has been made of her life, and she knows that there’s nothing that she could do to beg her way out of it. She tries, Lord knows she tries, she begs to Dean till she’s blue in the face, tears in her eyes, but she knows there’s no point. She’s crossed them too many times to ask for this kind of favor. Yet she asks anyway, begs anyway, trying to misplace the fact that she had just made an attempt on their lives and let herself be the scared girl she was for just that moment. Searching for some kind of forgiveness-that she didn’t do anything to deserve this.
But the forgiveness doesn’t come, and there’s nothing she can do. And at the end of it all, she knows she’s just as conflicted as she was when this all began.
vii.
She tears into them, feeling the push-pull of the hook against skin and she ignores the pleas for mercy from those under her. She doesn’t bother to ask to be forgiven, because she knows that she won’t get any. Hell is a place absent of forgiveness and absolution, and she learns quickly that it’s not worth it to bother to ask. Instead she maintains the silent litany inside of her.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
She tries to make it louder than Alastair’s encouragement over her shoulder, and she tries to make it louder than the screams of the person she’s forced to tear apart. Sometimes she succeeds and sometimes she doesn’t. But no matter what she does, it can’t change the fact that she will never be forgiven.
And there’s nothing she can do about it.
1080 words
i.
She stares at the two headstones in front of her and wraps her arms around herself, wanting to disappear into herself. This isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t think that when she made the deal that they would wind up dead. She just wanted things to stop.
Now she is all alone.
She waits for some kind of absolution from the cold stone in front of her, even though she knows she’s never going to get it. Not until they meet in some kind of afterlife. The thought haunts her, wondering what exactly she’s done. The gravity of the situation is now in front of her and she has to take it in stride. There’s no absolution from the dead-not here, anyway. Not now. The weight settles onto her chest, where she knows it’ll rest for the rest of her life-however short that life now is.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers as tears start to slip down her face and she reaches up to brush them aside quickly. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She waits, but there’s no response back. There never will be. And now, there’s nothing she could do about it.
ii.
She doesn’t apologize when she shoots Sam and she doesn’t intend to. As far as she’s concerned, he earned it. Or Dean earned it for him, whichever makes things easier. She knows that her buyer wouldn’t have been pleased if she told him that she couldn’t give him what he wanted.
She doesn’t even bother to pretend she did apologize. She knows that it was necessary-she needs to get her job done, no matter who stands in her way. She’s sorry that that had to be Sam Winchester, but that’s not one of the events that weighs heavily on her conscience, or so she claims. Bela’s always been one to think that the ends justify the means. You do what you have to do in order to get what you need.
And apparently, the hole in Sam’s shoulder was something she had to do.
iii.
The leather feels cool against her back as she rubs her thumb over the edge of the money she’d just collected. She feels a little bad about screwing over the Winchesters, but not much. She is sure that they’ll find a way to get rid of the spirit without the help of the hand-Sam and Dean are nothing if not relentless-and she managed to make a lovely little payday in the process.
The wind starts to pick up, and she doesn’t think anything of it at first, yet as it starts to get stronger, she feels her stomach starts to knot that things weren’t going to be that easy. She looks up, eyes filling with dread as she spots the shadows of the ship on the horizon. Of course, that would be the way things happen. Of course she would be the ships next target.
She silently hopes that the Winchesters are the forgiving type, but she knows that when it comes to her, the answer is probably no.
iv.
It’s a bastardly move on her part, sending Gordon after them. She knows that, and she can barely look herself in the mirror afterwards. But eventually she swallows it, knowing that she did the right thing. Dean said it himself-Gordon was psychotic. He would have killed her in an instant if he didn’t get what he wanted, regardless of her point that it wasn’t going to get him any further.
She had six months left. She couldn’t afford to waste them being shot by some idiot with a vendetta against the Winchesters, regardless of whether or not this was the right thing. She knows that this is the final nail in her coffin, but for some reason, she just can’t bring herself to care.
At least, not until Dean’s the one threatening her on the other end of the line.
v.
She is getting desperate and she doesn’t know what else to do. The job itself is easy enough-steal a gun. A gun that can supposedly kill anything. Bring Lilith this gun and she is free and clear. She is desperate, and she will do what she has to to save her life.
Breaking into the safe is a cakewalk. The Winchesters are out cold wandering in dreamland, and the motel safe wasn’t exactly the hardest in the world to crack. She’s in and out in five minutes, and it’s probably one of the easiest jobs she’s ever pulled.
She should know better than to listen to Lilith. She should know better than to trust her, especially after the way things had ended the last time. But she did. She didn’t have any other choice.
vi.
She deserves this. It’s a fitting end to the mockery that has been made of her life, and she knows that there’s nothing that she could do to beg her way out of it. She tries, Lord knows she tries, she begs to Dean till she’s blue in the face, tears in her eyes, but she knows there’s no point. She’s crossed them too many times to ask for this kind of favor. Yet she asks anyway, begs anyway, trying to misplace the fact that she had just made an attempt on their lives and let herself be the scared girl she was for just that moment. Searching for some kind of forgiveness-that she didn’t do anything to deserve this.
But the forgiveness doesn’t come, and there’s nothing she can do. And at the end of it all, she knows she’s just as conflicted as she was when this all began.
vii.
She tears into them, feeling the push-pull of the hook against skin and she ignores the pleas for mercy from those under her. She doesn’t bother to ask to be forgiven, because she knows that she won’t get any. Hell is a place absent of forgiveness and absolution, and she learns quickly that it’s not worth it to bother to ask. Instead she maintains the silent litany inside of her.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
She tries to make it louder than Alastair’s encouragement over her shoulder, and she tries to make it louder than the screams of the person she’s forced to tear apart. Sometimes she succeeds and sometimes she doesn’t. But no matter what she does, it can’t change the fact that she will never be forgiven.
And there’s nothing she can do about it.
1080 words