SPN Fic: Today's a Birthday
Title: Today’s a Birthday
Author: sylvia_locust
Pairing/Characters: Gen, Bela Talbot
Rating: PG?
Word Count: 500
Warnings: Non-graphic references to child abuse/incest
Note: Based on scarletscarlet's prompt at the supernatural death meme: Young Bela at the funeral for her parents. Also fills the abuse square on my hc_bingo card.
Summary: Abby makes a wish as she blows out her candles. Sometimes birthday wishes do come true.
(AO3)
Abby stares down at the cake, strawberry frosted flowers and glowing white candles.
Fourteen candles.
She looks around the parlor, sees her mom (lips pinched in a thin line) , sees her smiling relatives (stones for eyes, nothing to see) .
Her father gives her a special smile, just for her. Now you’re 14 sweet girl, the smile says, and I’ve so much more to teach you.
She blows out all the candles in a breath.
Make it stop, she wishes. Please just make it stop.
The kiss is dry and chaste, lips pressed together awkwardly, taste of cherry lip gloss and spearmint gum.
I can take care of them for you, she’d said, and Abby didn’t believe the strange new girl but what was a kiss? It cost nothing, meant nothing.
Her father had taught her that.
The church is chilly, ancient stone walls leaching all the warmth from the April afternoon.
Because we are but pilgrims in this life the minister drones, but Abby doesn’t hear him. She stares straight ahead at the closed caskets that contain the charred remains of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Talbot, Beloved Parents.
Her eyes are dry.
This wasn’t what I meant.
She sees a flash of laughing red eyes.
Spring’s turned to summer but she’s always cold, Auntie Beth telling her she looks like a waif wrapped up in three sweaters but Abby doesn’t care. Train to the city, librarian giving her a strange look when he reads over the list of books she’d like to see. Checks her for signs of sticky fingers or dirty hands, but she must pass his inspection and she begins her research.
Abby marches up the lane to the nearest crossroads. Fifteen now and armed with a tin box and a Perrier bottle full of holy water, 500 years of esoteric demon lore rattling around in her head.
“You tricked me,” she says, and the demon looks different but it’s the same, red laughing eyes wrapped in the flesh of another girl.
“It’s what we do.”
“I never summoned you! That’s not fair!”
The demon shrugs. “A wish is a wish.”
Her composure fractures for the first time in months. One of the last times, before the mask settles into place for good.
“I don’t deserve to go to hell!” Abby shouts.
“Maybe not, maybe so. But the contract is airtight, love.”
Abby stomps away, tears prickling her eyes, then turns to ask one last question.
“Is he there?” she cries. “Is he??”
The demon looks skyward with a poison-apple smile. “I think he made it through. He was always so good about tithing, you know.”
Abby flings the holy water in the demon’s face just for spite and runs towards home.
Halfway back, heart hammering, fear or fury she’s not sure, the demon catches up with her.
Twenty-four years and four days, times up, the dogs are barking.
There might be one way it had said nine years ago, and Bela had seized the possibility like a life-raft.
If she were willing to procure unique items for the demon, just from time to time, love, then maybe it would rip up her contract.
So she rolled the dice. She knew demons lied, but then so do people.
Her father had taught her that, too.
Author: sylvia_locust
Pairing/Characters: Gen, Bela Talbot
Rating: PG?
Word Count: 500
Warnings: Non-graphic references to child abuse/incest
Note: Based on scarletscarlet's prompt at the supernatural death meme: Young Bela at the funeral for her parents. Also fills the abuse square on my hc_bingo card.
Summary: Abby makes a wish as she blows out her candles. Sometimes birthday wishes do come true.
(AO3)
Abby stares down at the cake, strawberry frosted flowers and glowing white candles.
Fourteen candles.
She looks around the parlor, sees her mom (lips pinched in a thin line) , sees her smiling relatives (stones for eyes, nothing to see) .
Her father gives her a special smile, just for her. Now you’re 14 sweet girl, the smile says, and I’ve so much more to teach you.
She blows out all the candles in a breath.
Make it stop, she wishes. Please just make it stop.
The kiss is dry and chaste, lips pressed together awkwardly, taste of cherry lip gloss and spearmint gum.
I can take care of them for you, she’d said, and Abby didn’t believe the strange new girl but what was a kiss? It cost nothing, meant nothing.
Her father had taught her that.
The church is chilly, ancient stone walls leaching all the warmth from the April afternoon.
Because we are but pilgrims in this life the minister drones, but Abby doesn’t hear him. She stares straight ahead at the closed caskets that contain the charred remains of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Talbot, Beloved Parents.
Her eyes are dry.
This wasn’t what I meant.
She sees a flash of laughing red eyes.
Spring’s turned to summer but she’s always cold, Auntie Beth telling her she looks like a waif wrapped up in three sweaters but Abby doesn’t care. Train to the city, librarian giving her a strange look when he reads over the list of books she’d like to see. Checks her for signs of sticky fingers or dirty hands, but she must pass his inspection and she begins her research.
Abby marches up the lane to the nearest crossroads. Fifteen now and armed with a tin box and a Perrier bottle full of holy water, 500 years of esoteric demon lore rattling around in her head.
“You tricked me,” she says, and the demon looks different but it’s the same, red laughing eyes wrapped in the flesh of another girl.
“It’s what we do.”
“I never summoned you! That’s not fair!”
The demon shrugs. “A wish is a wish.”
Her composure fractures for the first time in months. One of the last times, before the mask settles into place for good.
“I don’t deserve to go to hell!” Abby shouts.
“Maybe not, maybe so. But the contract is airtight, love.”
Abby stomps away, tears prickling her eyes, then turns to ask one last question.
“Is he there?” she cries. “Is he??”
The demon looks skyward with a poison-apple smile. “I think he made it through. He was always so good about tithing, you know.”
Abby flings the holy water in the demon’s face just for spite and runs towards home.
Halfway back, heart hammering, fear or fury she’s not sure, the demon catches up with her.
Twenty-four years and four days, times up, the dogs are barking.
There might be one way it had said nine years ago, and Bela had seized the possibility like a life-raft.
If she were willing to procure unique items for the demon, just from time to time, love, then maybe it would rip up her contract.
So she rolled the dice. She knew demons lied, but then so do people.
Her father had taught her that, too.