comment_fic 366-370: Supernatural, original, Charmed
Title: the final prayer
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for season 6
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 160
Point of view: third
Prompt: Sam + Lucifer, "But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?" - Mark Twain
He prays that one day Lucifer will reach the point he asks forgiveness. Sometimes, he prays that God will have pity, or reach out his hands to pull Lucifer close, the most prodigal of all sons home at last. In that scenario, Sam almost always thinks of himself as the fatted calf. He's not sure what that says about him.
Sometimes, Sam prays that God does not forgive His most arrogant, hateful child. That's usually because he's been thinking of Dean, and Jessica, and Dad, and Mom, and everyone else he's ever known, everyone Azazel and Lilith killed. The whole world.
And sometimes, when he's feeling particularly spiteful, there in the Pit with Lucifer and a pissed off angel and the shell of a little brother he barely knew, sometimes, Sam prays that Lucifer reaches the point where he asks himself for forgiveness. Sam knows from experience how much that hurts, and that prayer is not for mercy.
Title: I wish I could touch you again
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for 5.22
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 120
Point of view: third
Prompt: Dean/Castiel, Pink - Who Knew
Deep inside, Dean always knew. It always happens-everyone he loves eventually leaves him. Just a matter of time. For awhile there, he'd thought Castiel might be different. His own guardian angel. Saved him from Hell. Kept swooping in to save the day. Chose him over all of Heaven.
And then... restored to his former glory, even took a level in badass, and left.
Shocker. Dean bets there's not a soul in creation who didn't see that coming. Except for him.
Because, for awhile there, he'd let himself believe that someone would stay. But Mama left, and Daddy left, and Sammy left more than once, so, naturally...
Of course Castiel left. It was always only a matter of time.
Title: I praise the fall
Original fiction with mentions of mythology, PG
Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice,"I speak this poem now with grave and level voice/In praise of autumn, of the far-horn-winding fall./I praise the flower-barren fields, the clouds, the tall/Unanswering branches where the wind makes sullen noise./I praise the fall: it is the human season."
If life were a human year, this would be the season of autumn. The weather starts turning cold, leaves drift from the trees to the dirt, and the days lengthen.
The end is approaching, the day when one year becomes another. When life becomes death, and when death becomes life. It is a cycle. And every beginning was once an end.
Persephone ate a pomegranate, Eve bit into an apple, Icarus flew too high, and Sammael walked too proud.
Time has no meaning. Seasons come and go, one after the other, from the beginning to the end-except, those are just words. Time is a human construction, the same as a year.
This would be autumn. This would be autumn, and the leaves fall.
Title: the same magic
Fandom: Charmed
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: changed future
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100ish
Point of view: third
Prompt: Little!Chris and Little!Wyatt, baby talk
They don't talk, not really, not the way grown-ups do. They don't need to talk; they're connected on a level that goes past words and thought all the way into intentions. If Chris thinks it, Wyatt feels it. If Wyatt supposes it, Chris already knows.
They're more than brothers, deeper than friends. They're two halves of the same magic, and they're still toddlers.
Imagine what'll happen when they're grown.
Title: hunting
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: sometime in season 2
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 140
Point of view: third
Prompt: Sam +or/ Dean, deer hunting
Last time they were in these woods, they were prey. Chased by black dogs, Dad shushing them as they ran, trying to load a shotgun and keep track of two kids-Dean's not sure how they survived.
Sometimes, he thinks they didn't.
But this time, this time they're the predators, him and Sammy.
He knows Bobby is trying to find them. He knows he should be worried, that it's a spell of some kind. That this isn't him, this bloodthirsty thing, insatiable and angry, and it doesn't matter. It really doesn't.
Bobby should just be glad he's focused on that herd of deer moving through the trees, because there is a town a few miles away.
Sammy lifts his head, tilted to hear better. He flicks a glance at Dean and Dean nods.
Time to move out. There's hunting to be done.