Fic: Purpose
Title: Purpose
Author:
unikorento
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Word Count: 825
Notes: Set after 2x22, All Hell Breaks Loose: Part II. Assumes knowledge of later occurring characters. Many thanks to
tinypinkmouse and lillannan for the beta and being five kinds of patient. I'm hoping this will be the first in a short series of ficlets, but I'll call it a stand alone until I can prove otherwise.
Summary: Sneaking out while the gate is open doesn't make you someone else's dog.
He'd been staring for a long time now. He'd turn his gaze left, glance at the rickety barn and the fields and the dirt road, and then right, at more fields and the slightly wider road that was paved with asphalt. He hadn't turned around, but he knew there were two more junctures just behind him, two more roads. He knew he was somewhere close to home, and he was afraid to move.
"You're predictable," Crowley said, also behind him. He hadn't been there a moment ago.
"I am?" John whispered. No actual sound came out, but he knew Crowley heard him anyway.
"You came to Kansas. It's about as obvious as it gets."
He walked up next to John, hands in his black suit pockets and stood there, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet as he surveyed the landscape. Like he was waiting for a bus. John didn't say anything. A wind moved some of the dust on the road.
"You're going to need a body," Crowley added conversationally. "And there's some things you ought to learn now that you're out."
John frowned.
"A body?"
"You can't really do much without one. Gets boring," Crowley shrugged. "You should go into town, possess someone there."
John shook his head, feeling dizzy and very, very cold.
"I killed the yellow-eyed demon," John said. It was hard to form the words, to say i killed instead of i will kill. "It should be over."
He remembered he'd stood in the graveyard, and he'd seen his boys. He'd seen they were alright, and then he'd known that he couldn't stay. Before that, there was black and red and pain, and Crowley's voice in his ear, saying climb, and John had almost said no, because that was the only thing he knew how to say, but the chains had loosened, the hooks had pulled back, and everyone had been rushing forward. Had that just happened now, or had it been longer?
"You're miffed you're still around," Crowley said, sounding astonished. "What, you thought you'd be on your way upstairs now?"
He chuckled, and then made an abrupt, mock-sad face at him. "Aww, sweetheart. You made a deal, remember? Sneaking out while the gate is open doesn't make you someone else's dog. The contract still stands. And heaven wouldn't take you anymore, you really should know that."
"I won't go back down" John hissed, anger being the closest emotion at hand. It warmed him. The wind picked up a little.
Crowley grinned.
"And I'm not here to make you," he said.
The anger flared hotter, it felt good.
"I killed the yellow-eyed demon," he shouted, and it sounded like a howl. "It should be over."
"But it's not," Crowley said evenly. "It's just starting. And you know what, John? You could still have a part to play in all of this."
The wind died down. John took a step back from Crowley, and it didn't feel like walking.
"I want it to be over now," he said.
"Really?" Crowley cocked an eyebrow. "You're telling me you hung on the rack all this time because you didn't care what happened to the world?"
"My boys," John started to whisper, but he didn't know how to finish it. His boys.
"Exactly," Crowley pressed, voice low and intense. "They listen to you in everything. Even if you're talking with someone else's mouth."
John blinked.
Crowley rolled his eyes.
"You're not quite getting it, are you?" he sighed. "Do you remember what it's like talking to someone who isn't me or Alastair?"
John flickered, and felt cold. He hated Alastair.
"It's not picking up the knife that makes the demon, John. It's hell. You just crawled out of Hell. Do you think there's anything left of the original John Winchester?"
"I'm not like you," John said, and it felt like a solid, true thing.
"You're not a man anymore," Crowley told him, almost softly.
"I'm not a demon," John said, and it came out a little choked. The fear slid around inside him like it was living thing.
"You're standing at a crossroads," Crowley grinned, holding out his arms. "Doesn't that tell you anything?
John turned his head away, but didn't dare step back. Crowley stepped closer, and John felt the warmth of the body he was wearing.
"No one cares about you anymore," Crowley explained softly. "No one's taking you into account. Except me. I watched you down there, and I followed you up here. Everyone knows the Winchesters are special, but John... you're something else. And you can affect people. You'll know what needs to be said, and when, and to who. John, you know the players here better than anyone. You're a goldmine. We can make this all end the way we want to."
"My boys," John told him, quietly. He knew their faces.
"That's right, John," Crowley said. "Come with me now. There's still time to save them."
(>>>> Second Wind >>>>)
Author:
unikorento
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Word Count: 825
Notes: Set after 2x22, All Hell Breaks Loose: Part II. Assumes knowledge of later occurring characters. Many thanks to
tinypinkmouse and lillannan for the beta and being five kinds of patient. I'm hoping this will be the first in a short series of ficlets, but I'll call it a stand alone until I can prove otherwise.
Summary: Sneaking out while the gate is open doesn't make you someone else's dog.
He'd been staring for a long time now. He'd turn his gaze left, glance at the rickety barn and the fields and the dirt road, and then right, at more fields and the slightly wider road that was paved with asphalt. He hadn't turned around, but he knew there were two more junctures just behind him, two more roads. He knew he was somewhere close to home, and he was afraid to move.
"You're predictable," Crowley said, also behind him. He hadn't been there a moment ago.
"I am?" John whispered. No actual sound came out, but he knew Crowley heard him anyway.
"You came to Kansas. It's about as obvious as it gets."
He walked up next to John, hands in his black suit pockets and stood there, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet as he surveyed the landscape. Like he was waiting for a bus. John didn't say anything. A wind moved some of the dust on the road.
"You're going to need a body," Crowley added conversationally. "And there's some things you ought to learn now that you're out."
John frowned.
"A body?"
"You can't really do much without one. Gets boring," Crowley shrugged. "You should go into town, possess someone there."
John shook his head, feeling dizzy and very, very cold.
"I killed the yellow-eyed demon," John said. It was hard to form the words, to say i killed instead of i will kill. "It should be over."
He remembered he'd stood in the graveyard, and he'd seen his boys. He'd seen they were alright, and then he'd known that he couldn't stay. Before that, there was black and red and pain, and Crowley's voice in his ear, saying climb, and John had almost said no, because that was the only thing he knew how to say, but the chains had loosened, the hooks had pulled back, and everyone had been rushing forward. Had that just happened now, or had it been longer?
"You're miffed you're still around," Crowley said, sounding astonished. "What, you thought you'd be on your way upstairs now?"
He chuckled, and then made an abrupt, mock-sad face at him. "Aww, sweetheart. You made a deal, remember? Sneaking out while the gate is open doesn't make you someone else's dog. The contract still stands. And heaven wouldn't take you anymore, you really should know that."
"I won't go back down" John hissed, anger being the closest emotion at hand. It warmed him. The wind picked up a little.
Crowley grinned.
"And I'm not here to make you," he said.
The anger flared hotter, it felt good.
"I killed the yellow-eyed demon," he shouted, and it sounded like a howl. "It should be over."
"But it's not," Crowley said evenly. "It's just starting. And you know what, John? You could still have a part to play in all of this."
The wind died down. John took a step back from Crowley, and it didn't feel like walking.
"I want it to be over now," he said.
"Really?" Crowley cocked an eyebrow. "You're telling me you hung on the rack all this time because you didn't care what happened to the world?"
"My boys," John started to whisper, but he didn't know how to finish it. His boys.
"Exactly," Crowley pressed, voice low and intense. "They listen to you in everything. Even if you're talking with someone else's mouth."
John blinked.
Crowley rolled his eyes.
"You're not quite getting it, are you?" he sighed. "Do you remember what it's like talking to someone who isn't me or Alastair?"
John flickered, and felt cold. He hated Alastair.
"It's not picking up the knife that makes the demon, John. It's hell. You just crawled out of Hell. Do you think there's anything left of the original John Winchester?"
"I'm not like you," John said, and it felt like a solid, true thing.
"You're not a man anymore," Crowley told him, almost softly.
"I'm not a demon," John said, and it came out a little choked. The fear slid around inside him like it was living thing.
"You're standing at a crossroads," Crowley grinned, holding out his arms. "Doesn't that tell you anything?
John turned his head away, but didn't dare step back. Crowley stepped closer, and John felt the warmth of the body he was wearing.
"No one cares about you anymore," Crowley explained softly. "No one's taking you into account. Except me. I watched you down there, and I followed you up here. Everyone knows the Winchesters are special, but John... you're something else. And you can affect people. You'll know what needs to be said, and when, and to who. John, you know the players here better than anyone. You're a goldmine. We can make this all end the way we want to."
"My boys," John told him, quietly. He knew their faces.
"That's right, John," Crowley said. "Come with me now. There's still time to save them."
(>>>> Second Wind >>>>)