Spinny Roses Fanfic

[Non fic] Announcement

2007-08-19T06:15:30Z

If you have read bleedingsand, you may have already realized I jumped ship at the beginning of this clusterfuck. I have seen precious few LJ staffers that put my fears to ease, as well as precious few that apologize for the shit that is going on. Those that do apologize, that don't say incredibly stupid things like "Anorexia is only aspiring to be thin" (A close family member of mine almost died from it, idiots), do get my eternal respect, but when it comes down to it, I do not feel LiveJournal is a place I wish to be associated with.

If you are still interested in keeping up with my writings, my InsaneJournal is located at http://dirtysaviour.insanejournal.com/ . But when it does come down to it, I write what I will. I like the audience reaction.

Just Diaries of Empty Pages (D.Gray-man, Lavi/Allen, one-sided Allen/Lenalee, PG-13) 1/1

2007-07-11T16:44:01Z

Title: Just Diaries of Empty Pages
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: D.Gray-man
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Yaoi (Lavi/Allen), one-sided het (Allen/Lenalee)
Spoilers: Manga - chapter 124, speculation there after
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Everything Burns" by Ben Moody feat. Anastacia.
Summary: Her last memory of the Ark was surrounded by still bodies of her friends, her family, with Lavi whispering the same plea over and over in Allen's ear, his voice breaking with each word.

Just Diaries of Empty Pages
By Spinny Roses

Her legs weren't the only casualty of the Ark. Hauling what appeared at the time to be lifeless bodies of Kanda, Krory, and Allen wrecked her body. Her hands were raw, bleeding freely from the countless scrapes from climbing, her legs dangling uselessly after overexerting them. Lavi had tried to pull her to her feet as the world built by the Ark crumbled around them, only to be attacked suddenly by a dying Jasdebi. She hadn't seen anything like it, the psychotic Noah falling apart into two, four, countless bits of ash as Lavi lowered his hammer, laughing bitterly. She had grabbed him, using already raw hands to pull both the boy and her own useless body towards the last, hidden gate.

She didn't know what happened after that. Her last memory of the Ark was surrounded by still bodies of her friends, her family, with Lavi whispering the same plea over and over in Allen's ear, his voice breaking with each word.

---

Komui hadn't left her side, she heard later. At the time, it had been confusing to wake and hear her brother give frantic orders that seemed to have nothing to do with one another. He had broken off when she opened her mouth with a dry click, a glass of lukewarm water already coming gently towards her lips. She had sipped it gratefully, looking blearily up at Komui's painfully relieved face. She tried to ask about her comrades, but her voice betrayed her, coming out as a weak whisper. But even like that, he watched her lips form her friends' names, face going more and more still with each one.

She was crying at the end, at the guilt and deep sorrow etched in her brother's face, at the implications that face meant for Allen. Komui pushed back strands of her hair, running comforting fingers through her too-short hair as she sobbed, too weak to even turn her head into the pillow.

She crashed into dreamless unconsciousness, the last thing echoing in her ears was a quiet command to go to Allen Walker's room

---

Kanda had been there the second time she woke. Relief had crashed through her at the sound of his rough voice reporting his battle against Skin Boric. His words were interrupted as Komui noticed his sister's eyes opening, and the joyful proclamation to the entire medical ward thereafter. As Komui stood up to tell everyone in earshot that she was awake, again, Kanda settled back into his wheelchair, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to run the man through. Something behind the ever-present anger relaxed as he looked over at her, heedless of the seemingly uncomfortable position his left foot had twisted itself into.

---

By the time she was allowed to leave her bed, she had heard the casualty list several times over. Lavi was taken off active duty, and there was talk that Bookman was going to formally drop the boy as his successor. Krory had never been able to rejoin his body. And every day, she saw her own injuries as the medical staff unwrapped her hands and legs.

But the one she wanted to hear never came up, and she never had the heart to ask how Allen was doing.

When the nurse finally came in with a wheelchair, brightly asking her where she wanted to go, it didn't come as a surprise that the first words out of her mouth were the numbers to Allen's room. What was the surprise was the redhead slumped over Allen's bed, seemingly relaxed as his single eye snapped open at the creaking door hinges.

He was almost hostile as he lifted his head, ignoring Allen's soft, confused murmur. She sat, rooted in her spot, as the hostility faded bit by bit, to be replaced with recognition and a warm smile. Nothing about the relief that peppered Lavi's speech felt nearly as real as the hatred when they first entered.

---

She used to have a diary. First written in so if anyone found it, they would know what sort of hell she resided in, it turned into a log of her life, her struggles in the Order. Pages and pages of her world, first narrow then wider as she saw more, traveled more with the Boots on her feet.

Now the pages had only a date. Line after line, a date and empty space as she struggled to find her thoughts, the proper words to express herself. In the end, the space was only filled by another date, carefully written in both her native tongue and the language of those around her.

---

Her legs healed. Her Innocence, however, was a different story. She knew it was still there - the Dark Boots still wrapped around her feet, the shackles weighing her down. But time after time, she tried to invoke it with the same lack of success. It wasn't as if it had rejected her, not in the least, but it barely reacted to her commands.

Allen tried to speak with her, to cheer her up. He tried to relate his own experiences with Innocence, trying to invoke his own claw and watching it disperse back into mist the instant it formed. It worked, at first. She smiled at him, more at his presence than his words, when he first came down to speak with her.

Lavi didn't accompany Allen at first. But more and more, the more and more the words rang hollow, he would aid the younger boy into her room and sit, watching her warily. When she refused to see Allen the last time, it hurt more to watch Lavi's hands grip his hip than the confused sorrow crossing his face.

---

The world around her was burning. To her left was Kanda, hair stuck to his face by copious amounts of blood, broken pieces of the chair littering the ground around him. To her right was her own brother, still clutching the controls to his most recent robot. Something crashed behind her, sending a new wave of heat across her back. Allen and Lavi were before her, fighting. She tried to lift her legs, to invoke her weapon, but something held her feet still. Allen took a hit from behind, slamming into a wall, and her own cry was masked by Lavi's irate scream, attacking and leaving himself wide open...

The only thing that kept her together was the scene disappeared when her eyes opened, showing a whole ceiling and quiet chaos.

---

Bookman's official story was mental trauma left from the Ark left Lavi unable to continue the lineage. The true story was the way Lavi never left Allen's presence, the way he tracked the boy's movement with his single eye, the way he was visibly panicked when Allen couldn't be seen.

There was truth in the official story, she knew. The way Lavi clung to Allen, as if the boy was the last bit of stability left in his life, spoke of the truth in that statement. But the untold story was said in the touches, the looks.

---

Hell could never be told in written words, she reasoned with herself as the pages flared and crackled in the fireplace.

No. Hell had to be lived.

---

When her dream finally intruded on the real world, there was relief in it. Now the world would finally look the same as the fiery depths of Hell that it was.

The End

Redeem us from our solemn hour (D.Gray-man, Kanda/Allen, NC-17) 1/1

2007-07-07T05:59:16Z

Title: Redeem us from our solemn hour
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: D.Gray-man
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Yaoi (Kanda/Allen)
Spoilers: General Allen past
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title and lyric snippet from "Our Solemn Hour" by Within Temptation.
Summary: It was a "Sin," sex without a single thought of procreation, of simply finding pleasure with another man, but even "Sin" could heal a part of his heart that "Innocence" could not.

Redeem us from our solemn hour
By Spinny Roses

Sanctus espiritus redeem us from our solemn hour
Sanctus espiritus insanity is all around us
Sanctus espiritus is this what we deserve
Can we break free from the chains of never-ending agony?

One would start to wonder what "Innocence" and "Sin" truly is out of battle, Allen thought hazily. It wasn't as if he didn't know what was happening to his own body - hauling Cross out of enough businesses of ill repute and having those who worked there speak frankly to the wide-eyed boy kept him from being completely ignorant of the act - but this was the first time such knowledge had a chance to be put to practical use. He hissed as teeth scraped down the tender skin of his throat, a pain on the ragged edge of pleasure. In return, he sank his teeth into the pale shoulder before him, rocking into the elder man as a half-groan escaped Kanda's throat.

It wasn't Kanda's first time, that much he could tell. Kanda's hands moved with unerring precision, forcibly tilting Allen's head to one side, baring the too-soft skin of his throat to the world. A warm tongue traced the same path sharp teeth had, causing Allen's hands to convulse on his upper arms. One of Kanda's hands moved downward, snaking its way into the younger Exorcist's pants.

It was said that it was a "Sin" to have sexual relations like this out of marriage, without love. That it was a "Sin" to open one's legs like Allen was for someone like Kanda, especially given the genders between the two. Even Allen knew "Sin" could feel incredibly good, the memory of joy before knowing what he had brought back in the grotesque metal skeleton, but this... could reminding one's self that this blood that quickens through the veins is real, alive, be a "Sin"? Could allowing one's self to be entered with brutal efficiency and relishing in the pain and pleasure as knowledge that one's heart still beats be evil enough to be condemned?

If Kanda entertained the same thoughts, he didn't allow it to be shown. He simply snapped his hips forward, rolling them enough for this act to be more than taking his own pleasure. Allen writhed under the relentless motions, shifting his legs to a more comfortable position and grabbing muscular forearms with a frantic grip. If it was a "Sin," Allen thought, muddled, then he didn't ever want it to end. It was a "Sin," sex without a single thought of procreation, of simply finding pleasure with another man, but even "Sin" could heal a part of his heart that "Innocence" could not.

The release was less than perfect, more than needed. It rolled through his entire body as slick seed splattered between them, entirely satisfying and not enough. Kanda shuddered over him as his body tightened, his thrusts losing all pretenses of thinking of his partner as he slammed hard, unceasingly, into the younger's smaller body. Allen groaned, the motions on the raw edge of pain, when Kanda paused, then released the bonds to his own climax, his breath huffing out as he relaxed.

Allen wasn't "Innocent" enough to believe that what happened between them had emotion beyond a selfish need. His hands stroked through the hair that had loosened from the usual ponytail due to their activities, the strands falling differently over each hand. He wasn't "Innocent" enough to believe love existed between the two of them, but his heart held enough to wish for the emotion.

Or perhaps it was the body, the "Sin," that wished for more.

The End

Without the Innocence (Tales of the Abyss, Asch/Luke, NC-17) 1/1

2007-06-06T17:39:58Z

Title: Without the Innocence
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Yaoi (Asch/Luke)
Spoilers: Tower of Rem
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title and lyric snippet from "Bless the Child" by Nightwish
Summary: Who the partner happened to be was unimportant - the pounding in their chest and feel of heated flesh against molten skin was the key.

Without the Innocence
By Spinny Roses

Remember my child, without the innocence the cross is only iron
Hope is only an illusion, and Ocean's Soul's nothing but a name
The child? Bless thee and keep thee forever

It could've possible to chalk it up to how close he came to death. The shaking hands of the dreck and needy, sloppy kisses proved that without a doubt. The way both of them stripped their mirror of unneeded clothing could easily be explained as a need to prove they were still alive. Who the partner happened to be was unimportant - the pounding in their chest and feel of heated flesh against molten skin was the key.

There were very little words spoken through pleased sighs and pained grunts. Red hair, crimson blood... it mixed and blurred until the lines were no longer visible. The replica squirmed as his original harshly prepped him, his pleasure an afterthought to the whole process. Slick skin slid across the floor - the bed seemed only to be a holder for their clothing - and bolted upward as the original Luke took the last bit of virginity with spiteful vigor.

He didn't wait for his replica to get used to the feeling, but rather started thrusting as fast as he could. The dreck's hand crept towards his own groin, and while he smirked at this he let his successor grope and jerk himself off as the original focused on his own pleasure. They continued like this, locked in an animalistic rite. One pale hand grabbed short red hair, yanking the attached head back at an almost uncomfortable angle.

Somehow, despite the rough treatment and awkward positioning, the replica shuddered and moaned, each sound laced with pleasure. His hand moved with blurring speed, coaxing out a loud groaning climax. The clenching caught the original by surprise, following his replica quickly and violently.

Both of them laid there for a few minutes, minds resting comfortably in the aftermath. Asch soon broke the quiet rest, pushing off the younger Luke with a grunt. He reached down for his pants, surprised when numbed fingers wrapped around his wrist. "What do you think you're doing?" was the rough response.

"Why are you leaving?" Luke asked quietly, tugging at the wrist caught in his grasp. "Stay."

The original scoffed, yanking his arm free. "Why should I stay? It was just sex."

Luke blinked, sitting up. "It was sex... shouldn't you stay a little longer? I mean-"

"You're overthinking it, dreck." Asch pulled on his clothing, not looking at the innocent sadness on Luke's face. "It meant nothing."

"But, Asch..."

"Shut up." He was angry. That was why his hands shook at the hurt tone in his replica's voice. That's why he refused to stop and finish dressing, to try and not see the purity crumple into common realization.

It was why it hurt to hear someone believe that was more than a physical release.

A mirror locked in a room/You wonder what it did (TotA, gen, PG-13) 1/1

2007-04-30T04:47:07Z

Title: A mirror locked in a room/You wonder what it did
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU, gen
Spoilers: Who Asch really is
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Fear's in the Water" by The Vincent Black Shadow
Summary: But the most interesting thing dove off the bed with a small gasp, watching him over the edge of the mattress with vibrant green eyes.

A mirror locked in a room/You wonder what it did
By Spinny Roses

There was a room Luke wasn't allowed to go into. It was an empty guest room - he remembered that from before the... from before. But after his return, after stumbling to the courtyard and into his mother's arms, the room had been tightly locked. Servants, from his mother's Maria to his own Guy, had keys to get in, but each time they entered the room they locked it behind them.

It was, Luke reflected later, a good thing that his desperate flight from that hellish lab taught him a few underhanded and, quite honestly, common sleight-of-hand tricks. He held the keys he had pulled off Guy so tightly his bones ached. The door loomed over him, promising a truth that gave Luke an uneasy feeling. Perhaps it wasn't the best of ideas, he could just tell Guy he had left his keys in his room and what a poor servant he was to leave property just lying about...

No. He had to know why this room was off-limits. The key was raised, shaking... only to be too small for the hole. With a snarl, Luke switched keys, going through the ring faster and faster. The keys slammed against the hole, improperly sized, until one slid in. He blinked, his chest heaving as his body slowed down at this surprise. Then, meekly, he unlocked the door.

If it wasn't for a lone lamp, affixed to the wall too high up for Luke to replace the weak flame, the room would be completely dark. There was little in the way of furniture; in fact, most of the dressers and all of the mirrors from before had been removed. There was a wooden tray laying on the floor by the door, the old, chipped dishes on the tray caked in the dried remains of a meal. The window was covered, boarded over. But the most interesting thing dove off the bed with a small gasp, watching him over the edge of the mattress with vibrant green eyes.

Luke took a small step in the wrong direction, entering past the threshold. The unruly mop of crimson hair ducked lower and closer to the wall at that, watching him warily.

"Who...?" Luke started, wincing as the word sounded louder than any scream in that quiet room. The... thing behind the bed winced as well, making a soft, wordless whine. He stepped forward again, letting go of the knob as he moved towards the side of the bed.

The thing... looked exactly like him. It looked up at him with a scared mirror of his own eyes, clung to the bed with hands shaped exactly like his. He had to swallow quickly as the bile rose, watching as this copy of him pressed harder into the wall. "Who are you?" he asked, this time lowering his voice to a near whisper.

The copy whined again, pressing his hands to his ears. He babbled something in a low tone, almost too soft to be heard. With a sudden rush of anger, Luke reached out with his empty and and grabbed a shoulder that wasn't his, was too bony and underfed to be his. The copy went still at this, looking up at him with only the barest unconscious shaking of his muscles. He babbled something again, the tone almost like conversation.

"Speak clearly," Luke instructed. "Who are you? Why do you look like me?"

The copy blinked, the lack of comprehension clear.

"Who are you?!"

"Master Luke!"

Guy's voice cut between them, causing another whine from the copy. The manservant grabbed Luke's shoulders roughly, pulling him away from the suddenly panicking copy. It wasn't until they were near the door that Luke dug in his heels, resisting. "Who is that? What is that? Guy, I demand that you answer me!"

The older boy turned to him, angry. "I have orders from the Duke himself that supersede yours, Master Luke. Where are my keys?"

"Who is that?!"

Guy grabbed the wrist holding the key chain, yanking it up over Luke's head. "I'll only say this one more time. Where are my keys?" At the defiant look, he tugged the arm further. "Your father will not be as kind as I am. Hand them over."

Luke growled, but opened his hand to let the keys drop. Guy tossed him - tossed him - to one side, scooping up the ring and locking the door deftly. He turned back to his young master, holding the keys tightly in his hand. "You're not to go back in there," he started. "You're not to have any contact with that, and I have full authority from your father to say this so don't give me that look! I won't tell the Duke this time, but Lorelei help you if I find you in there again."

Luke glared as Guy turned to leave, rubbing his wrist spitefully.

On the other side of the door, the copy scratched at the wood. The only sound that managed to squeeze between the cracks was a low, needy whine.

Save You From a Voice So Soft (Tales of the Abyss, Legretta/Tear, R) 1/1

2007-02-01T19:00:59Z

Title: Save You From a Voice So Soft
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Rating: R
Warnings: Yuri (Legretta/Tear)
Spoilers: Their past together
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Save You" by Emilie Autumn
Summary: Someday she would forgive the Major for what she did.

Save You From a Voice So Soft
By Spinny Roses

Someday she would forgive the Major for what she did. There would be a day in the future where she would forgive her for the kiss, and the confident fingers stroking down her trembling skin. Those same fingers that curved over a trigger right before a bullet pierced flesh hesitated over her breasts. Her hands, usually filled with a deadly weapon, had soothed the careless words the hormonal boys made about her rapid growth.

Maybe someday she would be able to forget the way the Major toyed with the tops of her garters, or the way she pushed her skirt up high enough to slide fingers under the hem of her underwear. She hadn't pulled them off right away, but rather teased her by running her fingers back and forth. The Major had hesitated as she ran those fingers across her pubic hair, extending the torture.

Perhaps forgiveness would be possible if she could forget the Major's fingers pulling down her panties, how they teased her clit. How the Major held her up as her fingers relentlessly fucked her, her hard voice whispering words of softness. How those fingers curved the same way as they did on her guns, bringing immense pleasure instead of death. How her voice when husky as she coaxed an orgasm out of her young charge and how soft her lips were.

Someday Tear would forgive the Major for what she did. Someday, when the memories didn't cause her hands to hesitate in throwing her daggers against the Major herself.

When Your Laughter Starts to Fade Away (TotA, Arietta/Mieu, R) 1/1

2007-01-31T19:55:48Z

I highly doubt I'll actually crosspost this. But kill_me_faster? Take back the Arietta and Mieu muses NOW.

Title: When Your Laughter Starts to Fade Away
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Rating: R
Warnings: Bestiality (Arietta/Mieu), torture
Spoilers: Arietta's past and Hod
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Waltz" by Amanda Rogers.
Note: All blame goes to kill_me_faster. I hope this fulfills the "serious and bloody Mieu!pairing" prompt.
Summary: "But you made them paths and you let them to Mommy." Her hand shook, and she threw the Sorcerer's Ring down. "You killed Mommy!"

When Your Laughter Starts to Fade Away
By Spinny Roses

She smelled like ligars.

Mieu looked up mournfully, watching the girl study the Sorcerer's Ring. Her fingers traced one of the fonic symbols, her eyes narrowing. He mieued pitifully, one blood caked ear moving painfully. The girl, Arietta the Wild, just lifted her eyes from the Ring.

"It hurts?" she asked, her gaze studying the cuts she had inflicted. "Good. You killed Mommy."

"Mieeeeu," he whined, unconsciously trying to wash the blood off one paw. "Mieu, mieu mieu mieu."

She shook her head, one hand gripping her stained doll. "You led them to Mommy's lair. They wouldn't have been able to make it there, not humans. But you made them paths and you let them to Mommy." Her hand shook, and she threw the Sorcerer's Ring down. "You killed Mommy!"

Mieu shrank away, eyes flicking to the closed door. The others, his Master and his friends, had been taken away by the one that looked like Master. But they were going to break out soon and rescue him. They always did. They'd come.

Arietta grabbed him by one ear, tightening her grasp as he mieued frantically. "Look at me! You look at me when I'm talking! You killed Mommy, don't you understand that? You killed my family. My last family!" She shook him, then threw him across the room.

With a sick sounding thump, his little back hit the wall. Another thump, and he was staring at floorboards. Little black shoes, human casings over an inhuman scent, filled his vision. Wiggling slightly, he managed to roll over far enough to see her face. One hand reached down, scooping him up with frightening gentleness. Her fingers traced each cut, and she took joy in each pained mieu he made.

Joy, and something else. His nose twitched at the new underlying scent, and he sneezed when she tapped it gently. Her fingers drew long and frightening lines down his belly. Mieu tried to shrink away from the touch, or at least keep her deadly fingers away from delicate skin. But instead, her fingers went lower, until they hovered over his developing genitalia. "M-mieu!"

She was in heat. Mieu tried to get up, to get away from this girl. She grabbed his head instead, grip a little too hard. "Wouldn't you do anything to make up for it? You've killed a lot of my friends, you and your cheagle fire. Don't you want to make up for it?"

"M-m-mieu... Mieu, mieu mieu mieu!"

She ignored that and picked him up by his head. "You want to make up for it." Her claws dug deeper, fresh blood winding its way through his fur. "No one else here knows. They won't."

There was a crash, another one. Mieu had lost count of how many times he had heard that, hoping it was Master coming to rescue him. His hopes stirred slightly, but remained down. This girl, this ligar in a human body, would tear him apart if she tried to mate with him. And by the little smile on her face, by the clawed touches across his lips and down his body, she knew it too.

Simple Excuse for a Complex Crime (Tales of the Abyss, Guy/Luke, PG-13) 1/1

2007-01-28T07:11:50Z

Title: Simple Excuse for a Complex Crime
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Yaoi (Guy/Luke)
Spoilers: Guy's past, takes place pre-game
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Let the Record Show" by Emilie Autumn
Summary: "I heard the maids talking about it. On your eighteenth birthday, you're supposed to have eighteen kisses or you get a bad Score for the rest of your life."

Simple Excuse for a Complex Crime
By Spinny Roses

On the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Guy snapped awake. Half-buried memories of Hod burned at the back of his mind, and all he thought was "I'm going to kill Luke today." Pere would smack him around with the flat of his blade, but it didn't matter. It would make a great coming of age present, tossing the broken and bloodied body in the face of the man that caused his home to die.

Pere had a dagger hidden away. It wasn't one of things that was questioned, but it definitely came in handy today. Without thinking about it, Guy hid the blade in his boot, and looked up at the window.

And with an eighteen-year-old's conviction and hatred, he climbed out of the window before Pere woke up.

---

Somehow, Luke had gotten it in his head to sneak out of his room and hide somewhere in the manor. Duke and Madame Fabre were hysterical, and Guy felt a slight pang for Madame Fabre. She stood tall, worthy of her rank, but it was thinly hiding a need for a breakdown. The Duke didn't have such guises and was frantically ordering the servants to search everywhere, anywhere, for his son.

Before the Duke even saw him standing there, Guy turned on his heel and strode away. He didn't need the interrogation, the suspicion that he only became close to the duke's son to kidnap him yet again (ha. What was the point when killing him got the point across better?), and the eventual order to just find Luke.

Besides, at fourteen, there were fewer spots the boy could hide.

Guy slowed his steps as he walked by some shrubs, casually hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. One shrub shook slightly as he walked by, and he fought a smile. Luke could never stay still when someone walked by his hiding spot. It didn't matter when he was inside and folded up in some of the strangest positions, but he just could not hide outside.

"Boo!" Luke popped up from inside the shrubbery, grinning widely. "Ohh, I didn't scare you?" He started to fight his way out, heedless of the damage he was doing to the plant. Guy winced inwardly, knowing Pere would be furious at this. "You were supposed to be scared."

"Your parents are upset with you," Guy told him sternly. "Madame Fabre's almost in tears."

Luke's face fell a little. For as self-absorbed as the little shit was, he did care a bit about his own mother. Then he waved his hand, picking a twig out of his hair. "Mother will be okay. Besides, it's your eighteenth birthday and I won't be allowed to give you your eighteen kisses if I go back."

Guy just blinked at this. "What do you mean by eighteen kisses?"

The boy beamed. "I heard the maids talking about it. On your eighteenth birthday, you're supposed to have eighteen kisses or you get a bad Score for the rest of your life." He nodded firmly, and Guy had to fight laughter at how serious he was.

"I think girls are supposed to be the one giving the kisses," he started when Luke shook his head.

"No no no. You don't like girls and it's supposed to be from someone you like, so I'll do it!"

That was cause for blinking. "Uh, you do know I do like girls, right?"

Luke waved a hand, bored. "You run from them, so you wouldn't get your kisses anyway." And without waiting for Guy to respond to that, he stepped forward and pressed his lips awkwardly against Guy's.

An eighteen-year-old's hatred dropped straight into the yawning pit of an eighteen-year-old's need and lust. Guy's hands dropped out the ever-so-casual position on his belt as the urge to grab the boy and kiss him proper took over him. In response, Luke broke the kiss and stepped back. "One!" he chirped. Then, "C'mon, let's play. I don't wanna go back and go to my lessons."

Guy just watched, stunned, as Luke started to run back into the bushes. Then, "Slow down, you're going to-"

There was a thud.

"Fall. Sheesh." Guy carefully waded in, trying not to cause the bushes more damage. Luke was looking at his knee, trying not to wail and give away his position to the others. It wasn't that bad, actually; a little water and a bandage and he'd be up and running around like a hyperactive four year old again. "It's not too bad. Let's go get you patched up." He held out one hand, the other curling for the hilt of the dagger. This was going to be so easy.

Luke scrunched up his face, then shook his head. "Carry me."

Another fit of blinking. "What?"

"You heard me. My knee hurts. So carry me."

Guy looked down at him, then sighed and bent down, back to him. "Climb on."

Without a single sound of pain, Luke scrambled on to his back. He kissed Guy's cheek, and snuggled into him. "Thank you! And, two!"

---

Quite honestly, both Guy and Luke knew those tree branches wouldn't hold Luke's weight. "Hey, get down from oof!"

Luke beamed at him, and leaned in to peck his cheek. "Hi, Guy! Five!"

---

"Your mother is really worried. Let's go back."

"I still owe you six kisses. We're not going back until then. Oh, here come the guards, let's hide!"

---

It wasn't until after seventeen kisses that Guy managed to get Luke in sight of his parents. Madame Fabre held onto her son, her facade cracking around her. She wasn't crying, not yet. Luke was grumbling, barely putting up with her tight hug and frantic kisses. Duke Fabre was watching Guy warily, almost not believing his relaxed posture against the wall.

"Mother," Luke whined, not pushing her away. "I'm okay. Really. Guy kept me safe." He squirmed a bit. "Mother!"

Guy pushed himself off the wall. "Madame, it's been a long and tiring day for all of us." And your brat of a son is still alive, he added silently, almost forcing the thought.

"Of course, of course." She looked up at him, eyes shining with tears. "Thank you for taking care of my son. Thank you so much."

Guy nodded, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. "It's nothing." A small smile made its way traitorously to his lips before he stomped down hard on the feeling. The Duke frowned at that, stepping closer to his son. "If m'lady will allow, Pere needs help with the flower beds."

Madame Fabre nodded, still holding back tears. "Of course. Dismissed. Oh Luke, my son..."

Luke twisted around, looking at Guy pleadingly. "Mother," he said, pushing the whine up another notch. "I want to go to bed. And I want Guy to tuck me in!"

That caused both Guy and the Duke to flinch. Madame Fabre pulled back slightly, looking at her son. "Luke...?"

"I want Guy to tuck me in." The boy crossed his arms, pouting like a child ten years younger. "I didn't get to do anything fun today because Guy kept trying to get me back here. I want this." He stared steadily at his mother, pout not budging an inch.

She looked at him, studying his face, then nodded. "Certainly."

"Susanne!"

Madame Fabre shook her head, looking at her husband. The Duke glared at her, then nodded. "I see. Guy, take care of him."

If the threat was more obvious, there would have been one more causality from Hod. Guy just nodded, and stepped closer to Luke. "Come on. Time to go to bed."

The dagger burned in his boot.

---

"I liked today." Luke nodded, climbing into bed. "I got to play with you on your birthday." He pulled the covers up to his waist, and looked up expectantly.

Guy bent down by the side of the bed instead, and looked at him. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Luke tilted his head, and starting ticking things off on his fingers. "Brushed my teeth, washed my face, pajamas..."

Carefully, Guy pushed back a lock of Luke's hair. "You stopped at seventeen."

"Oh!" Luke blinked at him. "That's right, you're eight-" His words were cut off as Guy kissed him, hard. He opened his mouth slightly, probably to complain, and Guy responded to that by flicking his tongue in. Slowly, Luke responded, his hands coming up to grab Guy's vest. His head hit the pillow and he grunted slightly, not expecting that. Luke wasn't aware of anything else except Guy and his desperate kiss.

Not even the dagger in Guy's free hand, hovering over Luke's stomach.

Guy pulled away, looking down at the boy as he lowered his arm to his side. Luke just licked his lips, glancing away. "What was that about?" he whispered, studying his shoulder intently.

He forced a wide grin on his face, carefully tucking the dagger away. "It's the eighteenth one. Should be special, right?" Guy pulled the sheets up, tucking him in. "Goodnight, Luke."

"... night, Guy." Luke just turned on his side, still processing what had happened.

---

Pere was waiting for him in their room. Without a word, he opened his hand.

"I couldn't do it," Guy whispered, giving the man back his weapon. "Pere, he was vulnerable and I couldn't..." His fingers shook now that they were empty, and he stared at them in horror.

"Master," Pere said softly, gripping his shoulder. "Master Gailardia."

"I can't kill him!"

Both of them froze, the words echoing in their room. Silently, Pere dropped his arm and just looked at Guy, sadly. Guy looked up from his hand, and swallowed. "Pere... what's happening to me?"

"... you should get some sleep," Pere said, tucking the dagger back in its hiding spot.

"But-"

"Guy." Pere looked at him, sternly. "You went against our promise. Don't make me have to punish you more for not listening to me."

Guy hesitated, then nodded. "Y-yeah. I'll be better in the morning. Right?"

Pere didn't answer.

Crimson Glass (Tales of the Abyss, Jade/Guy, Guy/Luke, NC-17) 1/1

2007-01-23T17:55:19Z

Title: Crimson Glass
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Yaoi (Jade/Guy. Guy/Luke)
Spoilers: When Guy remembers about his past
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: The shaking doesn't stop.

Crimson Glass
By Spinny Roses

The shaking doesn't stop. Not even the gentle gloved hand soothes the fine trembling, and he grips hard to shoulders. The memories of all the bodies, the scent, the overwhelming pressure and deafening screams invade his muscles. His mouth opens to try to explain and cannot. Instead, he just sags, shaking even harder. There is only the briefest flash of red before his mouth is covered, a warm and wet tongue forcing its way past his teeth.

He holds tightly, arms dropping to circle the body ravaging his body. A hand slips into his pants and he breaks the kiss, softly gasping. There is a name, barely recognizable in the breath, that causes the hand to pause before cupping him quite firmly. He tilts his head back as teeth scrape down his neck, and opens his eyes slightly as the colored light washes over his face. It is more than sacrilege to perform this act here, it is damning. But the trembling melds with the blood scorching through his veins, the beautiful colors fading as red becomes the dominant hue in this room.

The hand that pulls his erection free isn't soft, but callused in all the wrong spots. It strokes him firmly as teeth snag his ear, pulling the flesh slightly. It's pain, it's pleasure. It's distracting, which is more than he could ask for at this moment. His fingers tangle in hair much too long, holding the head right where he needs it. The hand below tightens briefly, warningly.

He is kissed one more time before the body moves, changing position to behind him as he gasps out his young master's name, now audible behind the aroused breaths. His body shakes, this time poised on the edge of release, and a free arm comes up to hold him close. The release hits him as a soft kiss is pressed behind his ear, the fluid splattering onto holy ground. He opens his eyes, looking up eyes as hard as and the same color as the red stained glass above.

Don't You Mess With a Little Girl's Dream/'Cause She's Liable to Grow Up Mean (TotA, gen, PG) 1/1

2007-01-10T04:00:57Z

Title: Don't You Mess With a Little Girl's Dream
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Rating: PG
Warnings: Violence
Spoilers: General Anise/Arietta spoilers
Notes: This is a two-part character study between Anise and Arietta. "Don't You Mess With A Little Girl's Dream" is Anise's, "'Cause She's Liable to Grow Up Mean" is Arietta's.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Titles are from "Control" by Poe.
Summary: She used to dream that someone would come to rescue her.

Don't You Mess With a Little Girl's Dream
By Spinny Roses

She used to dream that someone would come to rescue her. When she was little, before becoming an Oracle Knight, she dreamt of princes and white horses. Some day a prince would ride by and rescue her from this drab life. Instead of slightly scratchy clothes and beds hard and lumpy, she'd had clothes of the finest silk and the softest, most comfortable bedding ever.

She used to dream the church would compensate her. She was more than willing to give her life for the Fon Master. Wouldn't that be more than enough for her family to start living on more than handouts? She was one of the strongest guardians, and she should be able to visit her own mother and know she wasn't scrounging for her daily offerings.

She used to dream that she could marry rich. A nice, rich man. Someone that would treat her right and give her all the money she could ever want. Her parents would be comfortable, she would have the clothes and beds she wanted, and he would be the nicest person ever. Not just a match for money, no, love.

The reality was a boy with red hair and the worst temperament ever, and a mace colliding with a sickening thud against the monster, its blood mixing with the shattered remains of her dreams.

Title: 'Cause She's Liable to Grow Up Mean
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Rating: PG
Warnings: Violence
Spoilers: General Anise/Arietta spoilers
Notes: This is a two-part character study between Anise and Arietta. "Don't You Mess With A Little Girl's Dream" is Anise's, "'Cause She's Liable to Grow Up Mean" is Arietta's.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Titles are from "Control" by Poe.
Summary: Her mother didn't look anything like her.

'Cause She's Liable to Grow Up Mean
By Spinny Roses

Her mother didn't look anything like her. But it didn't matter. It never matter when Mommy loved her as much as she loved her other children. She'd get the same treatment, same food, same care as her siblings.

She never knew why those other things looked like her, but didn't care for her the same. Wouldn't they treat her even better if she belonged with them? They cared for her enough... more than enough, but it wasn't like Mommy. Nothing could ever replace Mommy.

Visiting Mommy and her family became harder and harder as those other people taught her how to communicate with them, how to live among them. When they found out she could fight, it was the hardest thing ever to visit them. She finally went out, clutching her doll, glad to see Mommy again.

But she saw the broken eggs, she only felt cold.

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be (Supernatural/Dark Angel, gen, R) 5/?

2006-12-22T16:26:21Z

[ Prologue ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 3 ] [ Chapter 4 ] [ Chapter 5 ]

Title: Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural/Dark Angel
Rating: R
Warnings: Gen, violence
Spoilers: "In My Time of Dying" for Supernatural, up to "Love in Vein" for Dark Angel
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Stray" by Yoko Kanno.
Summary: In 2009, children with special gifts stopped losing their mothers six months after they were born. Ten years later, people start disappearing six months after their fortieth birthday.

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
By Spinny Roses

Chapter 5

Dean swallowed, and licked his lips, a thin line of blood running down his temple. The Colt was held steadily in Sam's hand, confused eyes behind the smoking weapon.

"262, what the hell are you doing?"

Sam's hand tightened slightly, his breathing starting to speed up. His hand shook a bit as his thumb rose to pull the hammer back again.

"Sam, you don't want to do this," Alec said steadily. "Put the gun down."

The hammer clicked back.

"Sammy, put it down. That was the last bullet," Dean said slowly. He looked at his brother, feeling the tension build between them. Something was wrong inside Sam, broken into and twisted. Quietly, he spoke, trying to smooth the edges. "Sam, it's Dean. Put the gun down, it's okay."

"262!"

"Shut the fuck up," Dean snapped. "Sammy." He felt something twitch at that, a part of him listening hard to the barely tolerated nickname.

Sam's face twisted, and he released the hammer, gun pointing at the ground. He didn't let go the gun, shaking as he warred with himself, between Dean and the demon. Out of the corner of Dean's eye, he saw Alec standing, slowly. He moved one hand slightly, the resistance making it feel like he was moving through water. "Dean," Sam whispered, voice barely audible.

"I'm here, Sammy." He kept up he softly murmured words, trying not to watch Alec as he moved around the small room. Dean blinked as his twin suddenly blurred, and the demon ended up on the ground. He stood as quickly as he could, fighting the psychic resistance the best he could. The Colt was pulled out of Sam's unresisting hands and Dean moved to check the chambers. There was a click of a gun, and Dean just lifted the Colt to bear down on Alec. Who was aiming at Sam.

"... what do you think you're doing?"

"I could ask the same thing," Alec snapped back. "Your brother just shot you!"

"And you just turned your back on a demon possessed psychotic asshole!"

The new realization and old denial crossed Alec's face and he turned just in time for the demon to hit him solidly in the head. Dean winced as Alec landed hard on the table, turning it into little splinters. He moved the barrel to hover over the demon, thumbing back the hammer. "Get out of him right now and leave."

The demon just had the nerve to laugh. "If I could I would," it taunted. "And didn't you say it yourself? That was the last bullet."

"Gun doesn't feel empty to me," Dean said, matter-of-factly. "Leave."

The thing just smiled, winked, and backed up. "You must play poker wonderfully," it tossed out before leaving. Dean heaved a sigh of relief, uncocking the gun.

Alec stood slowly, looking at him. "... it's empty, isn't it."

"Oh yeah."

---

Sam had conked out the instant his brother had led him to a bed. Alec watched the two with narrowed eyes, pacing back and forth. Out of the corner of Dean's eye, he could almost see a large caged panther, watching something that could be prey or predator.

"So that was the... thing that's been haunting you."

Dean nodded, not taking his eyes from Sam's still form. "Yeah."

Alec stopped, rubbed his eyes, hard. "A demon. A real fucking demon."

"Yeah."

"All this time, demons have been real. You've really been hunting demons and werewolves and trolls and ghosts all this time." Alec blinked a few times. "That thing back at Manticore, that was really a poltergeist and not what Lydecker said. A psychic X5 that slipped through the cracks."

"A little from column A, a little from column B. I want to talk to Lydecker."

"Not to mention the... you want to what now?"

Dean didn't look away from Sam, checking his pulse again. "I want to talk to him. The bastard knew more about this shit than he let on. I'm going to get some real information from him."

"Yeah, about that... he's kinda dead."

Finally, Dean looked up, his hand coming up to rub at his neck. "What."

Alec nodded. "Back when White started making trouble for us, we found Lydecker's car crashed in the lake. Pretty certain he's in the boot camp in the sky, making things hell for the new recruits."

Dean snorted, turning back to Sam. "That'd be the bastard himself. We need more ice."

"Then go get some? Fuck, do I look like a maid?"

"Well, we'd be pretty enough in the outfit," Dean drawled.

"Well, maybe me. Wrinkly old bits don't really turn girls on."

"Just get the goddamn ice."

---

Sam snapped awake, sitting up suddenly. He looked around wildly, noting the unfamiliar settings (which was almost familiar in itself), and a very familiar face. "Dean," he croaked. "I... vision. Bad one."

And there was a gun in Dean's hand. "Really. What was it?"

There was something desperately wrong here. He felt wrong, off. It wasn't Dean. "Who the hell are you?"

"We already went through this, Sam. Man, did that thing fuck up your memory too?"

Oh. "Alec?"

Dean - Alec - snorted, flicking the safety back on. "At least you're no longer all trigger happy. Dean's taking a shower." He got up, not really taking the gun off Sam's body. "So. Am I too soon in welcoming you back to the land of the sane?"

Sam gave a ghost of a smile. "I'll let you know."

Alec returned the smile, leaning up against the wall. It was the same deceptive lean Dean would do, making Sam close his eyes. He only opened them again as Dean, the real, scarred, and aged one, came in, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. The scrape and resulting burn on his temple drew Sam's eye, guilt twisting his gut for some reason.

"Sammy."

And there was the guilt again. "Some day you'll stop calling me that," he groused, starting to stand up.

"And you'll whine and bitch how I never call you Sammy. Dude, stay there. You were out for two days."

Sam just froze. "... two days. Dean, what the hell happened?"

Dean looked at Alec, then nodded to the door. Alec raised an eyebrow, and Dean just shook his head. With a shrug, the younger version shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans and started out. "Don't say I didn't offer," Sam heard as Alec closed the door behind him.

"Okay, now, what the fuck is so secretive you couldn't even let Alec know?"

Dean just sat down next to him. "You promise to let me get through it all before interrupting?"

Sam just looked at Dean. "Dean, just say it."

He rubbed the back of his neck, hard. "Manticore didn't start with putting animal DNA in humans. They started with what the called the 'psi series,' a series of people with psychic powers. Sammy, let me finish. Mom didn't conceive really well, so Dad pulled a few strings with his ex-Marine buddies and got her into the program. They just forgot to tell her that she was the mother of two genetically altered psychic wonders. Well, one wonder, one psychically blocked sociopathic demon hunter."

Sam was blinking, eyes blank. "... we're transgenics?"

"Hell no! They didn't actually inject anything non-human into us. They just played with us. We're human." Dean sighed, jamming a thumb against his uninjured temple. "And the demon's been after psi series. It made it sound like it was part of the creation process but I..." Dean sighed. "And fucking Lydecker managed to get himself killed, so our only way of getting inside Manticore information is dead, dead, dead."

"... Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?" Dean asked, tired.

"... I shot you, didn't I."

"Yeah dude. Your aim sucks."

"Sorry. Kinda wasted that bullet, didn't I."

Dean shrugged. "We've managed for years without that thing. We'll manage for years more." He stood up, painfully. "Fuck. Okay. If you're going to do the mopey emo thing, cut it short. We need to get out of town soon. Something's going to happen, and we need to get away from the civvies first."

Sam paused, then nodded. "Yeah, I feel it too. Hey, Dean?"

"You start apologizing and I will make you regret it, Samantha."

"I hate you sometimes. The... neck thing, or whatever. Is that...?"

"Because of the transgenics, yeah. Enough psychic in me to tell when my family's in trouble and when a science project is walking next to me." Dean started packing, quickly. "And if Alec would stop listening in, and I know a cat's ears you freak, we could get out of here in record time."

Alec just cursed, the walls muffling his words so only the tone and the occasional "monkey balled fuck" came through.

"Transgenics." Dean shook his head. "I'll bring you your girly mocha latte or whatever you drink now. You just..." He hesitated. "Sammy."

"I know, Dean."

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be (Supernatural/Dark Angel, gen, R) 4/?

2006-12-19T16:53:07Z

[ Prologue ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 3 ] [ Chapter 4 ] [ Chapter 5 ]

Title: Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural/Dark Angel
Rating: R
Warnings: Gen, violence
Spoilers: "In My Time of Dying" for Supernatural, up to "Love in Vein" for Dark Angel
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Stray" by Yoko Kanno.
Summary: In 2009, children with special gifts stopped losing their mothers six months after they were born. Ten years later, people start disappearing six months after their fortieth birthday.

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
By Spinny Roses

Chapter 4

Max knew something was wrong when Normal pushed a package in her hands meant for a certain smart alec transgenic. Alec showing up late was just part of the job. They all did that, just to fuck with Normal. But three days in a row where he just didn't show up? That wasn't like him, and even Normal had limits concerning his golden boy.

"And when you see him, let him know he's on serious probation. Let's get moving people, bip bip bip!"

Max rolled her eyes and shoved the package into a safe place. Okay, so Normal's limits with Alec were insanely elastic. The question still remained though. Where the hell was that guy?

---

"Hey. Haven't seen you for a whoa." Alec paused in the doorway, looking around the trashed motel room. "Dean?" He didn't carry a gun (it was kinda useless when he could kill an enemy faster and quieter barehanded), but for some reason his hands itched for the weight. Must be the Winchester base, he mused as he came up to the threshold to the bathroom, putting his back against the wall. "Sam?"

There was a muffled grunt, and a pained sigh as someone stood up. If he focused, he could hear someone nearly as quiet as a transgenic putting his back to the wall between them and drawing a gun. Alec tensed, crouching down so his head was much, much lower. In a rush of movement, the door was pushed open and Alec had his hand wrapped around Dean's gun hand. He just looked at him, then let out a disbelieving snort as he let go. "Shit. Mind answering next time you decide to lock yourself in the bathroom?"

"Sam's missing," Dean replied shortly, uncocking the gun and setting the safety. "And the EMP meter isn't working."

"So you trashed the room? Dude, ever think that your brother finally got fed up with your demon shit and just left?" Dean spun on his heel and the next thing Alec knew, he was slammed against the nearest wall, barcode first.

"I've put up with you bitching about hunting and how things like this don't exist for most of your goddamned freakish life, but Sammy... Sam saw his girlfriend pinned to the ceiling by nothing, stomach cut open, and watched her catch on fire. I was tied up and left in a field for a scarecrow. We saw a Colt almost fry a vampire and possessed guy and we watched Dad spit out the fucking demon that's been haunting us. This shit is real, you fucking freak of nature, and if you ever got out of your goddamned comfort zone you'd see the shit we've been fighting our whole. Fucking. Life."

Alec just smirked at his older counterpart. "'Freak of nature'? Dude, glass houses, stones, own genetic fucking with courtesy of our own US government?" He nearly swallowed the grin as Dean's grip tightened.

"At least ours just made us better at protecting people," Dean spat back. "And I don't have time to dick around with a twenty year old idiot version of myself. They took the wrong brother and I sure as fucking hell not going to let them keep Sammy." He let go, tucking the gun away as he started picking through the mess.

"What the hell do you mean by wrong brother?" Alec asked, idly picking up a shotgun and checking to see if it was loaded. "Rock salt?"

"Ghosts," Dean said shortly. "Works on some demons. He went missing three days ago."

Alec blinked. "That's six months from your birthday. Shit, did someone get their information wrong or something?"

"Probably."

"Have you ever even thought of a mundane reason behind it all?" When Dean glared at him, he held up his empty hands. "Whoa, down boy. I mean this: There's this asshole named White that's after us transgenics. I've had a bomb put up against my spinal cord by this jerk and only Max managed to pony up enough money to get it taken out. If he knows about transies, I'd bet he knows about the psychic series as well, and it'd be up his sick, twisted alley to kidnap psygenics as well."

Dean stopped, taking in this information. "And you just thought about telling me this now? Especially since you know what Sam is?"

"Dean, I'm pretty damn certain you wouldn't have taken me seriously before today." Alec told him steadily. "Besides, despite all the shit he's done, White's human."

"Fine. Whatever. Besides, some of the craziest shit we've taken care of have been humans." Dean checked the magazine, then switched it out. "Regular bullets will take care of him."

Alec did a double take, not really believing this. "You're going to go kill a human? Seriously, dude, what the fuck?"

He looked at Alec, and the transgenic shivered. There was something there, an echo of when Dean's soul had been missing and he was nothing more than a killing machine. He had seen other X5s that have come back from Psy-Ops retraining that looked more human than his genetic twin did at the moment. "He's my family," was all Dean would say, quietly.

"Okey-dokey then."

---

When Max walked into Alec's apartment, he was looking up at the door with a deceptively amused look. Underneath, she saw the same wary look all the government science projects wore constantly melt into guarded relief. "Max," he drawled, looking over a grey-streaked brunet head.

It was minute, but the person in front of Alec relaxed as well. "Alec," she acknowledged. "You been hanging out around here with your friend for the last few days?"

"Not really. Normal riding your ass?"

"Could say that. So who's this?"

Alec's eyes narrowed, but nothing about his behavior screamed distress. In response, the older man in front of him tensed enough for even a perspective normal person to see. "Just an old friend," Alec said, eyes flicking to the man.

Max shrugged, hiding her alarmed response in the motions. "Whatever. Normal's gonna boot your ass if you keep this up." She relaxed her arms, legs tensing slightly.

Alec looked between the two of them quickly, then snorted. "Aw, screw this. This has to be the stupidest face-off ever. Dean, Max. Max, Dean. Dude, you explain to her. I'm going to get that map."

There was a long sigh, then a hand ran through the short hair only to scratch at the back of his neck. "Wimp," came a too familiar voice, only much older. "So, Max. X5?"

"Don't know what you're talking about. Who the hell are you?"

The man, Dean, stood slowly and faced her. "Dean Winchester, babe. And don't try to hide it; my neck's about to crawl off and hide."

Max just stood there, blinking. If Dean had looked exactly like Alec, that would be okay. It was pretty obvious Manticore was too happy to create clones of their soldiers in the hopes one would be molded perfectly. A forty year old version of Alec, not exactly the most normal thing. "What the hell are you?"

"Two questions in a row, not exactly fair." He smirked. "And you didn't answer mine. You look a little too old to be an X6, and way too young to be a psi series."

"Looks like you know more than I do about Manticore. And what the hell is a psi series?"

"Psychic series," Alec answered, coming back with a printout of a map. "I don't see any sort of pattern, and Sam's disappearance looks just as random as the rest of them."

"Oh for fuck's... like you know any demon signs. Gimme."

Max looked over at Alec, mouthing demon? with incredulity. He just shrugged, looking bored. "Whatever." The map was handed over with little trouble. Within a few second, Dean had out push pins, string, and a pencil.

Then, "Damn it. It's random."

"I told you." Alec threw himself onto the couch, getting comfortable. "Let me know when you're ready to get kicked out."

"That's great and all," Max started, "but mind explaining what the hell is a psychic series?"

"Pretty much as it says, Maxie," Alec drawled, closing his eyes. "Dear Manticore tried to make psychics first, whole bunch of weird shit happened, so they added animal DNA to the mix and came up with Joshua."

Dean looked up, string in hand. "Who the what now?"

"Never mind," Max snapped, throwing a warning glare to Alec. "That doesn't explain why he looks like you, only older."

Dean snorted. "That's because I am him, only older. There's probably an older, psychic version of you out there, if she didn't go insane and kill herself already." He made a few sketches, then frowned. "Nothing. Damn it!"

"That a threat, pretty boy?" Max asked, looking him over. Alleged psychic powers or not, she'd take him.

"Get in my way of getting my brother back and it'll be more than a threat. We're missing something. Someone, a place, something. This... something about this isn't right." Dean poked at one pin, circling the immediate area. "This one. The last place Ysandre was seen, but she wasn't taken here. Her route to work, what was it?"

Alec opened one eye. "Dude, you're grasping at straws."

"No, I'm not." Dean rifled through the papers. "Down by the vendors, someone saw a woman that looked like Ysandre, but the description wasn't close enough for the police to investigate." Dean made a circle around the area and slid the pin in.

"That's a big discrepancy," Max said doubtfully, looking at the two circles.

"Makes more sense, though. So if we... fuck."

Max jerked her head back. "Not in your wildest dreams, old man."

"You're too young, anyway. No, look at this." Dean grabbed a spare piece of paper, quickly sketching. "It's not complete. But almost." He dropped the paper down, spinning it to her. There were two V's, one inverted, intersecting, with a single line through the intersecting vertices. Circles graced the ends of each line, and Dean had thoughtfully added names to each. "I've seen this before. I don't... somewhere, Dad's journal, or something. But this is a summoning sign. Demonic."

"Yeah, about that..."

Dean snatched the paper back. "I don't fucking care if you believe me or not, but as long as you don't get in my way, we're cool. But if it's..." He sat up straighter, then started making lines on the map. "You were saying there was this guy after transgenics, right?"

"Alec!"

"What?" he said defensively. "White's probably not our problem alone. Besides, you have Eyes Only in on it."

"Speaking of, I need you to get me that info," Dean said distractedly. "If I'm right, and hell, I know I am, this guy's somewhere around... here." He made a circle on the map. "... and Sammy would be there, or at least we'd find the other people."

Max looked at Alec, who just shrugged. "Don't look at me. I don't follow his leaps of logic either." He got up from the couch, looking down. "Hey. Hey, Maxie, he has a point. Look."

Max came over as well, causing Dean to get up and walk away, scratching furiously at his neck. "I know that warehouse. White's used it before. How the hell did you know that?"

Dean took a deep breath. "I kinda... sorta... know things when it comes to my family. Like when they're in trouble. Plus, makes sense. Most of the time, symbols like this have the hiding spot in the symbol. Makes for easier sacrificing." He pointed to the map. "You got an access pass that would get us there?"

Max snorted, lifting her head. "Maybe. You gonna make it all 'You helped me, now help me defeat all the bad guys'?"

"Fuck no. I can barely stand being around Alec."

"Okay then." She shrugged a little. "Might even be kinda fun, not having to work for the greater good and all that shit."

Dean nodded. "Well then."

---

"Alec and I should probably go first."

Dean just gave Max an exasperated look. "Yeah, see, that's not your brother in there." He thumbed the safety off his gun only to have it taken away. "Dude."

"Except we're not really here to kill anything that crosses our paths," Alec said steadily, ejecting the magazine and checking to see if a bullet had been chambered. The safety was clicked back on, and the empty gun was handed back. "You gonna be sane while we're here?"

"You know I'm older than you, right?"

"Don't care. If you're going to be a threat to the mission, I will personally lay your ass out on the ground and carry you back. You understand me, Winchester?"

Max rolled her eyes. "If you two are done with the macho shit, way looks clear. Stay here, wait for my signal."

"Oh come on."

Alec watched Max descend, focusing on a little more than a safe landing. "You're being pretty twitchy, even for a Winchester."

"The back of my neck is trying to flee for Canada, my brother is in trouble, and have I mentioned the only help I can get are two transgenics?" Dean watched Max land soundlessly on the ground. "I haven't felt this bad since..."

"Since?"

"Dad died," Dean muttered. "And before, when Jess died and Sam was caught in the fire. Whatever it is, this... I think it has to do with the de... what's been haunting us."

"Yeah, sure." Alec leaned closer to the window, seeing Max's hand come up in an "all's clear" motion. "Look's like we've got a clear path. Ready to go, old man?"

Dean just smirked. "Always." He slipped in front of Alec, and started to lower himself down. In return, Alec just jumped down, landing silently on his feet. The two just glared at each other for a moment, then Dean lowered himself down. "Fucking feline DNA."

Alec grinned. "You're just too old. So let's-"

Dean grabbed his arm. "If your red alert alarms aren't going off right now, you are no clone of mine."

"What are you talking about? It's all qui-" Alec stopped. "Too quiet. Max?"

"Yeah." Max slid up slightly, looking around. "I don't see anything, but that..."

"Doesn't mean a thing," came the smooth voice, followed by the click of a gun hammer pulling back. "I didn't think you were terminally stupid, 452."

"Hey, what about me?" Alec complained, looking around. Dean nodded sharply at a shadow and quickly ducked behind a crate as Alec caught what Dean had seen.

"Do you want me to answer that, 494?"

Dean just barely kept from laughing. Alec tried not to glare at his genetic twin. "Very funny." He reached for the magazine in his pocket.

"Hands where I can see them, 494," a man said, stepping out of the shadows.

"Okey-dokey!" Alec said sarcastically, putting his hands behind his head. "So, White, mind telling us what you did with the missing people?"

White blinked. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Yeah. Sure." Max snapped back. The gun swung towards her.

"I could probably get a shot off if you took another step," he said conversationally. "And I'm not that bad of a shot. Hands on your head, on your knees."

"You wish."

White didn't have time to do more than sight on Max's knee when something grabbed him from behind, twisting his arms in one smooth motion. "Where's my brother, asshole?" Dean growled, relieving White of his gun.

With pressure applied expertly to his nerves, White just grunted, raising up on his toes. "Who the hell are you?"

"Don't start this bullshit. I'm low on sleep, my brother is missing, and I haven't been allowed to burn anything for the last month, at least. Where is he?"

White turned his head, rolling his eyes as far as they'd go. "What the fuc-"

"Winchester, you shoot him, you clean up the mess."

The name didn't register recognition on his face. "I don't care if you're Sandeman himself. Though, I think I can guess the base for 494." He swallowed the rest of the words as Dean applied more pressure.

The butt of the gun came out of no where for Alec and Max, and Dean just grunted as he slammed it into White's skull. "Let's look around. He doesn't know a thing."

"Whoa, man, how do you know?" Alec asked, not moving from his spot.

"Just trust me for fucking once," Dean snapped. "And Sammy is still-"

"For fuck's sake, psi series 235, stand the fuck down." Alec hesitated as Dean's spine snapped up, responding to the genetically engineered command in his voice. "Stop and think for once. For one, let's get the hell out of here before the rest of the crazies show up."

Max came to stand next to Alec. "Agreed. Put that ass in gear, soldier."

"Sir," Dean muttered, automatically. "And never do that again."

---

"It doesn't make sense," Dean muttered, looking at the map. "Are you sure this Eyes Only will be able to figure things out?"

"Max is over there now, picking up the information," Alec replied, looking down at the marks. "And you're right. That's just dead space over there. Not even transgenics live there. Dean, you might have to face it."

"Sam didn't leave," he growled. "He was in the bathroom and something happened. After what happened and... he didn't leave."

"Again," Alec pointed out. "You do realize he has left before."

Dean stood, smoothly, hiding all hint of his age in the deadly grace. "Don't talk about things you don't know," he said, hands twitching.

"I know that he-" Alec was interrupted by the chirp of his cell phone. Without looking at the display, he tossed it to Dean. "Here's your answer."

Dean glared at him, then flipped the phone open. "Yes?"

"Hey. We just cracked the code. Lo.... this isn't Alec."

"Hi to you too, Max. What'd you get?"

Max cleared her throat a little. "Eyes Only managed to get the family files."

Dean just looked at the ground. "Family files."

"Yeah. Looks like most of them had moms that died in a fire when they were six months old. That mean-"

The phone snapped shut, and Dean just looked at it numbly. Alec snapped his fingers inches from his face, and Dean just sat down heavily. "... that was the missing piece," was all he said.

Alec threw himself into a chair. "Yeah, and what piece was that?"

"That rat-fucking flea cock sucking demon!" Dean dropped the phone onto the table, rubbing his forehead. "The damned thing visited the psi series. And if... fuck. It doesn't do thing according to the book for Sammy. Most of them just get the visit once. He got it several fucking times. And... shit." He sat back, face grim with horror. "It said it had plans for Sam and all the kids like him. I think it's putting it into effect."

Alec just looked at him. "... that's a stretch."

"Only if you don't believe in demons. We need to find Sammy soon, before it gets whatever it wants from him."

"Like the total obedience of psi series 262?" came the cold voice, a smirk in the voice as both Dean and Alec tried to stand up. "No, don't try 494, 235."

Alec just glared at Dean. "Thought you said he knew nothing."

"That's not White."

Ames White came into view, smirking. "John at least knew faster than you did, boy."

"Don't you fucking talk about my father," Dean snarled, fighting against the telekinetic bonds. "Considering you killed him."

"Took what he offered," White - no, the demon - corrected. He looked over at Alec, eyes colored an unnatural yellow. "What a waste. So much potential, and it's only usable for your family. And the transgenics, a pure waste of research. Sandeman certainly had some insane hopes, thinking to combat my army with regular humans." He shook his head.

"So, what, are you just going to blab at me?" Dean and Alec said together. "That was creepy."

"I could pistol whip you a few times," the demon said calmly. "Payback for earlier. But I'm on a tight timeline here. 262, take care of it."

Dean just froze as he looked down the barrel of a familiar Colt into empty seyes. "... Sam?" The eyes didn't even blink as the hammer was pulled back. "Sammy!"

The gun shot resounded through the air.

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be (Supernatural/Dark Angel, gen, R) 3/?

2006-12-17T05:32:09Z

[ Prologue ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 3 ] [ Chapter 4 ] [ Chapter 5 ]

Title: Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural/Dark Angel
Rating: R
Warnings: Gen, violence
Spoilers: "In My Time of Dying" for Supernatural, up to "Love in Vein" for Dark Angel
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Stray" by Yoko Kanno.
Summary: In 2009, children with special gifts stopped losing their mothers six months after they were born. Ten years later, people start disappearing six months after their fortieth birthday.

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
By Spinny Roses

Chapter 3

"Max!" Alec swung off his bike, and waved at her. Max just rolled her eyes, fitting the package better on her back. "Aw, don't be like that. I'm only... thirty minutes late on a double run."

"Yeah, which means Normal's going to dock my pay because I had to wait for your lazy ass instead of working." Max grabbed her bike and passed one package to him. "Come on."

"What, nothing for me? A hello, maybe a kiss?"

Max let out an explosive sigh, mounting her bike. "A foot up your ass if we don't get these packages to their owner. Let's get moving. Normal was about to fire me for your lack of punctuality."

Alec just snorted. "Normal knows people aren't exactly climbing over him to get a job here. Just the freaks and geeks. Who's the package for?"

"Does it matter? Ass in gear, now."

---

"Mind explaining about that?" Sam demanded, putting his gun down. "X5-494? Who the hell was that?"

Dean just sighed in relief, locking the door. "You heard him. Alec."

"Yeah, see, that's not going to fly. He said he was one of my brothers, and he looks exactly like you did when you were twenty. Start explaining."

Dean sat down slowly, knees popping as he lowered himself down. "You're not going to go ballistic if I explain, will you?" At Sam's shake of the head, he continued, "he's a transgenic."

"A what? One of those chimeras?"

"Not exactly. They have some special enhancements, and feline DNA for extra specialness, but they're essentially human."

Sam snorted. "See, now, normally you'd be calling that a monster."

Dean groaned, rubbing his forehead. "They're not monsters. You really haven't dealt with a transgenic before?" He didn't have to look up to see Sam shaking his head. "The supersoldiers that the government had been messing with and the papers went nuts over?"

"Dean..."

"Yeah, yeah." He took a deep breath. "The government didn't build them out of nothing. Most of them were leftover fertilized eggs from in vitro. Government bought them and started playing with the DNA, making it better and adding a few extra surprises."

Sam just blinked. "Like the feline DNA you mentioned before."

"Now you're getting it. Dad didn't really mention it until after you left for school, but as long as the company that did in vitro for Mom had the rights to mess with the leftover ones. Found out when there was this poltergeist in Wyoming and Dad and I went to take care of it."

Sam lifted an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Just one question, Dean. Why didn't you say all this first?"

---

When it was all said and done, Alec even acted like Dean at twenty. The only thing that was different was that he didn't act like he had just figured out the wonders of sex and had to share it with every female alive. Just every other female.

"And that's all we have so far," he concluded. "Getting pre-Pulse info is pretty tough going, even for me." Alec scratched just under the Jam Pony hat on his head. "But with the age and-"

Dean's chin came up sharply. "Most demons have a set pattern. Virgins on the full moon, people six months after their fortieth birthday, little grandmothers with pink hair, rocker shirt, and peg leg... we just have to figure out what sort of demon wants older humans."

Sam and Alec gave Dean a look, but Sam looked over the papers one last time. "Thing is, there's not enough in common with the victims. We're missing something."

"I know." Dean reached up to his neck, then lowered his hand. "Whatever it is, it has something to do with the family. That one thing we're missing."

Alec rolled his eyes, turning away. "If you guys are going to continue to talk about mythical beings and demons and shit, I'm going to have to get back to, you know, my job?"

Dean just looked at his genetic twin, then let out a disgusted snort. "Fine, whatever. Hey, Sam, put on your geekboy hat or whatever and find what I'm missing. Dumbshit and I need to talk."

There was a snorting laugh, then Sam waved his hand. "Sure thing, old man."

"Bitch."

Alec shifted his backpack, reaching for his bike. "When you two are done with the disgusting display of obvious brotherly love, I'll be out there. Nice seeing you in whoa hey hey hands off the goods, Dean." He didn't fight on the way out, just grinning the entire time. "Damn, I know we're good looking but I didn't think you couldn't keep your hands off me."

Dean shook his head, closing the door firmly. "Alec, listen. Sam doesn't know anything about transgenics or the psi series. He doesn't know a damn thing about why he would have such strong psychic abilities or why anyone would breed for it. And I don't think it's something he needs to know."

"You don't think he needs to know that someone messed with his DNA like they did with someone like me?" Alec said skeptically. "Dean, I hope I didn't get my brains from you because that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Yeah, I know, it'll come back and bite me in the ass sometime." Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "But if he knew he was built in a lab before being put into Mom? He did this stupid-ass emo thing after his girlfriend died back in college. He might have grown out of it but I put nothing by Sammy."

Alec just laughed. "Somehow I can believe that."

Dean let out another snort. "I'll ease him into it. Go, tell your boss stupid shit."

"Yes sir," Alec said mockingly, swinging himself onto the bike. "Oh, by the way. You might want to be careful. There's this insane asshole out there that wants to capture or kill or whatever us transgenics. You don't have any transgenic signals but still." He raised one hand as he started away. "Have fun with your imaginary demon stuff."

He didn't manage more than to open his mouth by the time Alec had pedaled away. "Jerk," Dean muttered, yanking the door open again. Sam wasn't by the research information, but the bathroom door was closed and there was sound of occupancy. He rubbed at one gritty eye, trying not to yawn. "Yo, Sam. Wake me up in two hours, okay?"

There was a sound of assent and running water from the bathroom, and Dean grunted back as he laid down. It really did suck getting old.

---

Something was wrong.

It was dark, which was definitely the first problem. It had been early afternoon before the nap, and now it was firmly in a summer night. Dean looked over, the research papers still in the same place and Sam missing. The keys were still there and the truck, yep still outside. And since the truck didn't look like the Impala after Sam drove it last, it had been left there and...

Shit. Shit!

Dean scrambled for the phone, punching in the number he knew by heart, only to toss the phone across the room as he heard the familiar ring tone chirp on the table. He stood there for the next few minutes, panting at the phone before he finally closed his mouth.

"Goddamn it, at least get the right brother," he muttered, closing his eyes.

It was 12:45 AM on July 24th, 2019.

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be (Supernatural/Dark Angel, gen, R) 2/?

2006-12-14T19:17:13Z

[ Prologue ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 3 ] [ Chapter 4 ] [ Chapter 5 ]

Title: Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural/Dark Angel
Rating: R
Warnings: Gen, violence
Spoilers: "In My Time of Dying" for Supernatural, up to "Love in Vein" for Dark Angel
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Stray" by Yoko Kanno.
Summary: In 2009, children with special gifts stopped losing their mothers six months after they were born. Ten years later, people start disappearing six months after their fortieth birthday.

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
By Spinny Roses

Chapter 2

"What do we know about the missing people?"

Logan just gave Alec a nasty look. "Normal, solid citizens. Eyes Only wasn't interested in normals. And what the hell are you doing here?"

"Someone I know has an interest in them," Alec responded easily, avoiding the issue. "Nothing in their past? Nothing military, weird occurrences?"

Logan glared at him, then started up a new search. "I'll send it with Max."

Alec grinned, and slapped the man solidly on the back. "There we go!" At Logan's exasperated look, he backed off. "Have fun with Maxie," he said as he backed up, giving him a kissy-face as he left.

It was probably good that Logan wasn't a transgenic, Alec reflected. The fight that would have resulted... and that would have just been Max pounding sense into the both of them.

---

"Sam! My man! Did you get it?"

The youngest Winchester held up the coffee and bag. "One cup of swill and one heart attack in a bun, just for you."

"You're the best brother," Dean said sincerely, and gulped down some of the bitter liquid. "Or not. Did they filter this with old socks?"

"I think so," Sam said innocently. "At least, that's what I think I saw."

Dean grumbled, taking another swig. "Okay, I've been going over the papers and what we can get from my contact. All the people that have disappeared have been completely normal. Kinda sickeningly so."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "We, Dean? You've been sitting here on your ass, only going out when you're meeting your 'contact' with Terminal City."

"I don't like transgenics," Dean muttered, going through the piles. "The lights went out last night, so I didn't get a lot done, but it looks like they went out of their way to stay away from the sectors that had high transgenic sightings. Issac was freakishly lucky; doesn't have a single automotive accident. Or any sort of accident. My contact doesn't have anything else yet."

Sam went over his brother's notes, occasionally throwing out a comment about Dean's handwriting when he noticed something. "Birth records. They're missing."

"Yeah. I'm got someone on it."

"And who would that be, Dean?"

"Just someone I know," Dean snapped back. "Drop it."

"You only go out when I'm asleep. Who the hell do you think you're fooling, Dean? You don't normally blow off collecting information but ever since you suddenly changed your mind about staying... what the hell is here that you're running from?"

"Nothing!" Dean rubbed his neck. "Nothing. Transgenics just make my skin crawl."

Sam opened his mouth, then dropped it. "Whatever. Tell me what your contact comes up with next."

---

"Anything?"

"Eyes Only is working on it. And Dean? This dream shit has got to go."

---

Sam just looked down at his sleeping brother's form, shaking his head. He was supposed to go out and meet this "contact," and instead was snoring away. With an annoyed sound, he grabbed his gun and bag. While the old man was sleeping, he had work to do.

---

"Crap. Need to get going. I'll see you later, or not. Hopefully not."

"Hey, I'm the one giving up on my beauty sleep here, dude."

---

Sam nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Thanks," he muttered, making a slight face. The coffee really was gross. But before complaining about it...

He pulled out a map, looking at the plots he made. Red were the last known location, green were their homes. No matter how many lines he made, they still didn't make sense. And they weren't patterned or grouped. It was... random.

They didn't even have the same last day. Issac had gotten a package from... Jam Pony. Ysandre had gone to work and home, no record of visitors except from her family when they realized she didn't come in to work the next day. Ralph had gone to a strip club, and Nalia...

Coffee spilled all over his shirt and papers as he walked into a pole, completely engrossed in what he was reading. Behind him, a bicycle came to a screeching halt.

"Nice. Here, let me help." Sam froze at the voice, listening to whoever, whatever was behind him pause briefly, then bend down. "It works better if you don't... why the fuck are you looking up the missing people?"

Sam reached for his gun, only to get his wrist caught in an inhuman grip. "Bastard," he grunted as he was slammed face first into a wall.

"Could say the same," came the casual, younger version of Dean's voice. "What do you have to do with them? You from Manticore?"

"What?" Okay, this one was pretty good at pinning. Sam couldn't even wiggle his fingers. "The demon, manticore?"

There was a scoffing sound. "You too, huh? Demons everywhere?" The grip on his wrist tightened. "Mind telling me why you look like 675?"

"Who? While we're here, mind telling me why you look like my brother?"

"Your br-" It hesitated. "Oh hell. Mid-thirties, Caucasian, bad hair... talks about demons, yeah, that sounds about right."

"Nice to know the monsters know me," Sam grunted, trying to push himself off the wall. "Try it next time without my brother's face. It's just old now."

"Dude, believe me, I am your brother. Or at least one of the still living, sane ones."

Sam craned his head around. "No offense, but I've dealt with skin-shifters before."

"And if that meant something to me, I'd say. Name's Alec."

"Or X5-494," came an older Dean voice. "Alec, as in "Smart Alec"? Finally admitted to your smart ass-ness?"

"Hey, if a pretty girl names me that, who am I to tell her no? By the way, Sammy, nice to meet you." The guy let him go, backing up with Sam's gun dangled between his fingers. "Nice piece, too. Old... but it looks like you keep it in good condition."

"Thanks?" Sam looked between Dean and this... Alec. He wasn't the spitting image of Dean at twenty, he was Dean at twenty. "... what the hell?"

Dean was rubbing furiously at his neck. "It never gets easier being around you freaks," he complained to Alec, ignoring his baby brother. He held out his hand, and Alec flipped the gun around to slap the grip into Dean's palm. "And aren't you late?"

"Eh, Normal will believe whatever crap I come up with. Oh, Eyes Only should have the information about their families soon, though it looks like a lot of it's sealed or missing. And tell your brother that isn't a flattering look." Alec climbed back onto his bike, waving lazily as he pedaled away

Dean eyed Sam, taking in the dumbfounded look and gaping mouth. "Yeah, he's right. C'mon, Sammy, let's get out of the streets before you start demanding to know what's going on."

Sam was looking at Alec's retreating back, then at Dean, back and forth. Finally, only one word came out.

"...what?"

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be (Supernatural/Dark Angel, gen, R) 1/?

2006-12-13T07:35:57Z

[ Prologue ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 3 ] [ Chapter 4 ] [ Chapter 5 ]

Title: Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural/Dark Angel
Rating: R
Warnings: Gen, violence
Spoilers: "In My Time of Dying" for Supernatural, up to "Love in Vein" for Dark Angel
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Stray" by Yoko Kanno.
Summary: In 2009, children with special gifts stopped losing their mothers six months after they were born. Ten years later, people start disappearing six months after their fortieth birthday.

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
By Spinny Roses

Chapter 1

July, 2019

"Hunting used to be much easier before the Pulse," Sam groused, looking through newspapers. "Another missing person in Seattle. Forty year old Issac Peterson disappeared, and it's probably also six months from his birthday. Dean, we can't keep ignoring this."

"There's a hunter based out of Seattle," Dean answered, distractedly. "Sam, am I really going gray?"

Exasperated, Sam looked up to Dean's brown-and-white hair. "You went gray a long time ago. And this isn't the first person in Seattle to go missing six months after their fortieth birhtday. Nalia, Ralph, Ysandre... Look, we know the demon's still out there, and with Dad-"

"We're not going to Seattle." Dean shoved the Los Angeles Times at him. "Let's look in California. Maybe we can find something that's not a transgenic gone wild."

"Dean! Don't you think that maybe it could be the demon? I mean, there haven't been occurrences of weird fires and mothers dying in them since 2009, but the six month from the birthday thing, you have to admit..."

Dean gave his baby brother a nasty look. "Ophelia can take care of it. Drop it, Sammy."

Sam studied Dean's face, then nodded. "It's the transgenics. Every time there's a job and it looks like transgenics are involved, you don't want to go. Look, dude, if you're afraid of them, you should have just-"

Dean stood suddenly, the chair he was sitting on clattering to the ground. "What was that, Sammy?" he hissed, dangerously. "Have you ever messed with a transgenic before? Seattle... Terminal City... haven for those fuckers. Ophelia likes the freaks, let her deal with them."

"... you are afraid."

Dean just glared, rubbing the back of his neck unconsciously. "Fuck you, dude."

---

"Dean, if your neck hurts that damn much, I'll drive."

"... Sammy, the last time you drove, you scraped the passenger side up against a wall."

"There was a troll on the roof!"

"You dented the door. That doesn't even begin to say what you did to my baby."

"I keep telling you, the Impala wasn't my fault."

"Hmph."

"Hey, what are... you're really going to try to get to Seattle by nightfall."

"Shut the fuck up, Sam."

---

"Alec? Hey, dumbass? What the hell is so interesting?"

Alec shook his head. "Nothing, Maxie." Just the dead coming back to life and aging two years for every one which was impossible anyway. Not even X5-675 would have let his hair grow out that long, anyway. Not even to cover a barcode.

Max rolled her eyes, and tossed a package at him. "Then get your ass in gear. We need to get this package to its destination yesterday."

---

"Well, it looks normal to me," was the first thing out of Sam's mouth as he closed the door to the motel. Then, "Dude. Did you really draw a Devil's Trap on the door?"

"Better safe than sorry," Dean said easily, pushing himself up. "All normal, so let's go. There's a werewolf in Nebraska-"

"Dean." Sam fixed his elder brother with a glare. "One, no there isn't. We already took care of it. Two, it was six months to the fucking day from his birthday. And three, Dean, you've been jumpy since we got here. What the fuck is wrong?"

Dean's hand rose to rub at his neck.

"And you can't stop touching your neck, dude. Dean..."

"Drop it, Sammy. Ignorance really is bliss here."

"Dean!"

The elder Winchester rubbed harshly at his neck, then lowered his hand. "I mean it. Let's get out of here, and soon. Too many transgenics for my liking."

Sam raised a hand, then lowered it. "Whatever. Is there still hot water?"

"Go for it." Dean carefully lowered himself back into the chair. "Sam, don't grow old. It just sucks."

On his way to the shower, Sam snapped his eyes down to Dean's neck. Against the freckles and tanned skin was a rectangular rash, the reddened skin in a strange pattern. Almost like...

"Dude, stop looking at my neck and take your damn shower."

"Sorry."

---

"What are you doing here?"

"Passing through. Don't worry, we'll be gone soon."

"Good."

"... what can you tell me about Issac Peterson?"

"I hate it when you decide to use dreams to ask me shit like this. Not much. Didn't really have anything to do with transies, but he did know when we were coming. Usually sat out waiting for us and knew what package he'd get, so I'm assuming psi series, like you."

"What about Ysandre Smith?"

"Actively avoided transgenics. Only transgenics."

"Two psi series. Nalia?"

"And Ralph."

"All of them went missing six months after their fortieth birthday. Shit. Shit!"

"Yeah, old man. Glad you got it. Mind if I get back to my normal life now?"

"Yeah. Sure. Thanks, 494."

---

"Sam, we're staying."

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be (Supernatural/Dark Angel, gen, R) 0/?

2006-12-12T03:15:48Z

[ Prologue ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 3 ] [ Chapter 4 ] [ Chapter 5 ]

Title: Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural/Dark Angel
Rating: R
Warnings: Gen, violence
Spoilers: "In My Time of Dying" for Supernatural, up to "Love in Vein" for Dark Angel
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Stray" by Yoko Kanno.
Summary: In 2009, children with special gifts stopped losing their mothers six months after they were born. Ten years later, people start disappearing six months after their fortieth birthday.

Staring Up At Where the Moon Should Be
By Spinny Roses

Prologue

Late October, 2005

When X5-494 was six, he had his one and only unannounced visitor. It wasn't until he heard Lydecker raising his voice that he realized one of his normal visitors was busting his way through. X5-494 looked up, bored, as the sound of leather/denim/testosterone stopped by his bed. "Oh, damn, it's you."

"Hey, dude." The man reached down, shaking 494's leg. "Need your help."

"And I'd like a dog."

"Punk," he muttered. "Look, Dad's missing."

494 didn't even lift his head. "So what does that have to do with me?"

"Dad's missing," he said again, stressing the words. One hand reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. "And he was hunting something. Something big, and something's just wrong. I need-"

"My help finding him?" The transgenic just snorted. "Lydecker isn't going to let you take me. And even if you managed to get me out... what? It'd be 'Dean Winchester and his little brother that looks exactly like him only younger, X5-494'?"

"Smart ass." Dean rolled his eyes, and slapped his foot. "Get moving."

"You know Lydecker isn't going to let one of his X5s go out on a stupid ghost hunt. Don't you have a little brother? Go get him, drag him out."

"Sammy's at college," Dean started, anger smoldering under his words.

"Learning something important like I would be here at Manticore." 494 just smirked at the long-suffering look on Dean's face. "Besides, Sammy believes in all that creepy crawly shit. Go bother him."

"Whatever." Dean just ran a hand through his hair, leaving his dorm. 494 smirked, settling back and closing his eyes. Damn, but he hated meeting his sperm donor and genetic twin. All that stupid shit about monsters and demons and crap. Who the fuck believes in that shit?

---

"He didn't agree to it."

Dean shot the colonel a dark look, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you already knew that." Before Lydecker could do more than look smug, he shot back with, "So, how's the poltergeist problem?"

Lydecker didn't even hesitate. "Activity has decreased."

Dean just let his lips curl in the smile the colonel didn't use. "Nice to know." He started out of the compound, throwing out over his shoulder, "Thanks for letting me see him, at least."

"No more unauthorized visits, 235" was all Lydecker could say before Dean Winchester closed the door.

I'll take a deep deep breath/But I'll come back to haunt you if I drown (SPN, PG) 1/1

2006-11-25T03:19:59Z

Title: I'll take a deep deep breath/But I'll come back to haunt you if I drown
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural/Sandman
Rating: PG
Warnings: Death, both action and person
Spoilers: "In My Time of Dying" for Supernatural, general Death knowledge from Sandman
Disclaimer: Don't own. Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, Death belongs to Neil Gaiman, title from "Swallow" by Emilie Autumn
Summary: Dean's met her a few times. She's different each time; different, yet the same.

I'll take a deep deep breath/But I'll come back to haunt you if I drown
By Spinny Roses

Dean's met her a few times. She's different each time; different, yet the same. She smiles at him this time, pushing her sunglasses up over her hair. "Hey Dean."

It doesn't matter how many times he sees her, but he's always startled at first. But this time it relaxes into familiarity. "I haven't see you before. I like the necklace. Nice touch." He can't help the slightly mocking tone.

"I like it too." She sits down next to Sam, stroking his hair. Dean bristles at this, stepping in next to her.

"You can't do this." He gets angry, about ready to throw down with this slip of a girl. "Not him. Not Sammy."

She shakes her head. "No, it's not his time. But your brother is cute, Dean. Sweet. It's rare to see a human with a soul this pure."

"Yeah, him and puppies and kittens," Dean mumbles. "So, what? It's me? The fight's over, blah blah, it's nothing to fear?"

She looks at him, just waiting.

"Is that it?" Dean demands. "I can't leave Sam. Not now, not after..."

"I know." She kisses Sam's forehead and his face relaxes into peace. "Your time should be up, Dean. But your father..." She shakes her head. "The love humans feel for each other always amazes me."

Dean swallows. "Dad... is he...?"

She smiles sadly at him. "It's not your story. I can't tell it."

"I know. Just figured I'd try." Dean sits down, looking at his brother. "If I die, will Sam still be okay? I mean, it's Sammy. I'm certain he'll be okay but..."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"I know." He just smiles up at her. "Can I say goodbye? I mean, just one more day."

"I can't put it off any longer. I'm sorry." She holds out her hand. "But I can let you say goodbye."

He looks up at her, surprised. "Really?"

She nods. "Yes. You're saying it now."

Dean swallows hard, then stands up. "Then I... Goodbye. I... Goodbye, Sammy. I... just don't let yourself get into that deep emo funk you got into after Jess died. That just sucked. Keep hunting or go back to New York and see Sarah or... but don't go all woe is me, dude." He looks at her. "Will he get that?"

"I'll make sure he does." Her hand is still out. "It's time."

"I know."

Sam wakes up before he takes her hand. He blinks a few times, wondering who that girl was, then looks over at the other bed. "Dean?" The lump doesn't move. "Dean? Dean!"

Outside the Scent of Death (Supernatural, Dean/Sam, R) 1/1

2006-10-20T16:23:39Z

Title: Outside the Scent of Death
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Warnings: Wingfic, incest (Dean/Sam)
Spoilers: "Bloodlust," takes place after Underneath Touches of the Damned
Notes: Part of Angels Without Wings Series
Disclaimer: Don't own
Summary: Even fallen angels have white wings.

Outside the Scent of Death
By Spinny Roses

Sam's on his back, dagger to his throat.

This isn't a new position for Sam. Granted, it's better than being strangled, but looking up and seeing only his brother's emotionless face is what freezes his blood. Dean always looks inhuman when his wings ride him, but this ruthlessness transcends any form of humanity. Sam is just barely keeping his brother from shoving the dagger cleanly through his neck, not even having the breath to say anything. "Dean," he mouthes, hoping his face holds all the confusion, betrayal, love he feels at this and knowing it doesn't when the blade bears down further.

The incense has nearly burned out, a thick musk that muddles Sam's brain. He tries not to sneeze and only manages that when Dean lifts his hips, the rustle of feathers distracting him. One hand is pinned down, the other is grasping wildly to Dean's wrist. Sam tries to lift the one hand, only to have it viciously slammed onto the wood floor. He tries wrenching his body back and forth, but Dean rides it like a pro. He even tries to push him off mentally, but his brain is too fogged to manage that.

His back hurts, not from Dean slamming his around, but the deep gouges from the dagger currently splitting the skin on his neck. But unlike Dean, what was revealed were not beautiful white wings nor even hated demonic leather wings, but ruined muscle and bloodstained bone. Sam closes his eyes, the loss of blood starting to overcome his sight.

The incense changes, becoming a light scent that causes Sam's eyes to snap open. Dean is looking down at him, confused. The first emotion he showed since starting the ritual is overpowering his face and he pulls back ever so slightly. Sam looks around wildly, everything the same yet... he knows. There is no more smoke rising from the burner; the incense has burned out. But Sam's gaze returns to the slowly becoming frantic Dean, watching as his wings pull in close to his body, and he knows.

"Dad did this," he whispers, the first sound since Dean threw him to the floor. His brother flinches, breathing heavily as he refuses to meet Sam's eyes. Sam can see it, as clearly as it was happening now. John, speaking the same words Dean had to reverse a different curse, and the scream as wings burst free. Their father's surprised look, and the knowledge. "You're not supposed to have them."

Dean's arm trembles, and Sam eases the dagger further from his neck. He still refuses to look down, as if he knows what will be reflected in his brother's eyes. Sam pulls his other arm free, and reaches up to only have his fingers hover next to Dean's chin.

"Dad did this," he repeats. "Dean, how? Let me see."

Dean shakes his head. "No," he whispers, unsteadily. "You didn't... I won't let a..."

Sam's fingers connect with Dean and he flinches, as if the touch would burn him. "I'm not," he insisted. "Dean."

Demon. The word is caught in both of their throats. Dean slowly turns his head to look at Sam, wings trembling as he stares down at his human, too human brother.

And Sam knows.

"You can't become that," Sam says, starting to sit up. Dean lets him, his wings turning grayish and dying before his eyes. "Dean, it's impossible. Let them go."

"No," he whispers, his wings falling to the floor in disgusting dead clumps. "Get out of my head, Sammy. Get out. This is what I am, who-"

Sam is this close to decking him. "That's what Dad thought you were. Let go of them, or it'll kill you." He's not sure about that. He doesn't know that, but it's a likely event. The blood loss from the mature wings bursting out would be enough on its own to cause a serious problem and nearly has several times. "Dad's dead, Dean. You don't have to hold onto them anymore."

The feathers are dropping, making Sam's stomach clench. They are still beautiful, still so Dean. But the representation, the idea that John could force his image of his sons onto his eldest in such a fashion taint the beauty. Dean licks his lips, not looking away from the bright mirror in Sam's eyes. "I can't," he finally says. "They're all I have of him now."

Sam closes his mouth. He knows, knows just as well as Dean. He tries to say one more thing when the blood loss and pain hits him, the knowledge born of his own abilities coming fully to leaving him as painfully as Dean's wings dying. "What was that?" he gasps, trying not to black out.

Dean just shrugs. "We haven't earned it yet," he says with a familiar, human quirk to his lips. Sam looks at him, confused. He had understood it all, his powers had been at their peak and now...

"We're not supposed to force it," he manages to get out right before he passes out.

Underneath Touches of the Damned (Supernatural, Dean/Sam, NC-17) 1/1

2006-10-19T03:22:03Z

Title: Underneath Touches of the Damned
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wingfic, incest (Dean/Sam)
Spoilers: Takes place after Beyond the Sight of Angels
Notes: Part of Angels Without Wings series
Disclaimer: Don't own
Summary: His eyes are only open a crack, only open enough to see the blurred figure of a muscular god with beautiful white wings riding his pathetic mortal body.

Underneath Touches of the Damned
By Spinny Roses

The rustle of wings echoes the gasps and groans. It doesn't quite amplify it, doesn't quite cover it up. The wings are half unfurled, twitching in attempt to balance Dean's body as he writhes over his brother's body. Sam's hands stroke Dean's back and over soft white feathers, still living after an hour and furious bathing. Dean gasps against Sam's skin as his hand drops, fingers going straight to and gripping harder and harder into his biceps.

Their copulation remains quiet, remains soft. Dean's skin is barely slick with sweat, while Sam's is soaking. The bed retains the dampness and scent of their activities, proof of the sin between them. Dean fluffs his wings, and moans as Sam traces a protection rune against his feathers. Skin almost splits under his nails, and Sam only moans harder, pulling Dean down furiously.

Sam's fingers curve around, desperately grabbing and jerking his brother's cock. His other hand falls from the wings, holding onto his hips, as he drives desperately into Dean's body. Dean leans back, hands slipping off Sam's arms as he moans. Sam's eyes are only open a crack, only open enough to see the blurred figure of a muscular god with beautiful white wings riding his pathetic mortal body.

Dean's back arches, and his wings extend as far as they can go. Desperate, he rocks his hips, gripping onto the wrist on his hips. Finally, now, he can see Dean climbing that final crest. It was too much to stay at the plateau, too much for him to simply fuck his brother forever under this dirty ceiling and ugly walls.

He falls onto his brother at orgasm, wings relaxing. Dean pulls his wings in around Sam as he relaxes against him, licking lazily at Sam's drenched neck as he whimpers, driving harder and harder into the warmth. It's more than perfect - it's enough. Sam gasps as he comes, gripping onto Dean's back.

Feathers and dead skin fall around him, barely noticed as they relax in a post-orgasmic haze. Dean grins into Sam's neck, propping himself unsteadily on one elbow. He rolls his one shoulder, readjusting to the lack of weight attached to his back.

"So there's this werewolf in Arizona," he starts, breaking off into laughter when Sam hits him.

Beyond the Sight of Angels (Supernatural, wingfic, PG-13) 1/1

2006-10-14T04:40:14Z

Title: Beyond the Sight of Angels
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Wingfic
Spoilers: "Everybody Loves a Clown," sequel to Under Sounds of Feathers
Notes: Part of Angels Without Wings series
Disclaimer: Don't own
Summary: Finally, the fire peters out, leaving only salted ash of a legend behind.

Beyond the Sight of Angels
Spinny Roses

His heart beats quieter now.

It doesn't worry him. His father is burning to nothing but ash before him, his brother is desperately attempting to pick up the shattered pieces of himself, and his eyes are stinging from smoke and repressed tears. A slow, quiet heartbeat isn't as important as what's before him.

His back itches, though it means nothing. Just a memory of wings, ripping suddenly for the first time when his father tried to reverse a curse on him and ended up taking out all magical blocks. They don't come in a regular cycle, nor do they stick around the same time. Sometimes it takes one month, sometimes half a year. He remembers when they burst out every week, leaving him useless until they stopped a month later.

They should be almost fully grown by now. The wings hadn't appeared since the coma, since he almost died. They had never taken this long before, and he wonders when they'll finally break free. They tend to wait when his brother is around, maturing fully instead of randomly busting out, sometimes dying before the skin is broken. The amount of times his father had to cut his back open to pull dead flesh and feathers were too many.

He wonders if this has something to do with what his father told him. They both have great potential, which yeah, makes sense for his brother. His brother, who could be easily swayed and he shouldn't hesitate if that happens. He won't - he can't - harm his own and only brother and how dare his father say that.

The beats continue, regular and soft, even as the lie spills from his lips. The itching gets worse, and he fights the urge to contort his upper body in attempt to scratch right over the thinned skin and slight bumps of newly growing wings. He rolls his shoulders in lieu of scratching, and notices his brother sneaking glances at his back.

He never meant for his brother to see them. Not when he couldn't keep them around. He hadn't earned them, hadn't figured how to balance himself enough to keep something so inhuman attached to the flight muscles he had been born with. His brother had, though, and now he keeps trying to stop him from manhandling his wings the rare times they appear.

A hesitant hand touches his back, rolling over the thin skin that barely holds back immature wings, and he shudders. The touch is too much, almost as painful as serious sucking after orgasm. His brother doesn't take away his hand but rather keeps touching him as if he wants that brief loss of control to continue. His hand rubs, trying to be comforting in a way, and his back itches worse. His wings flutter under the skin and his brother takes a deep, needy breath.

Finally, the fire peters out, leaving only salted ash of a legend behind. The hand slides off reluctantly to help scoop the remains up and he follows, quietly.

He doesn't hear his heart beat once until he stops moving.

Learned Behavior (Supernatural, Dean/Sam, NC-17) 1/1

2006-10-09T01:13:03Z

Title: Learned Behavior
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest (Dean/Sam), vampires
Spoilers: AU after Dead Man's Blood
Disclaimer: Don't own
Notes: This is an alternate ending of Instinct, so instead of a tragic ending, there is a darker one.
Summary: If he just ignored how the light reflected off his eyes, Sam could pretend that it was his brother in front of him and not a monster he couldn't kill.

Learned Behavior
By Spinny Roses

The scent of dying blood and stale sex made Dean stir, only to freeze as the cold, sharp thing against his throat pressed in closer. One eye slit open, watching as Sam swallowed. The knife shook against his neck, drawing blood in annoying stinging lines. He opened his eyes completely, and Sam sucked in a desperate breath. "I thought Dad trained us better than this," Dean drawled. "Fucking a vampire and not even able to kill it in the morning? Speaking of, dude, close the blinds."

Sam let out the breath shakily, not removing the knife. "I should have killed you when I saw you. I should have-"

"Sammy, shut up. I'm tired."

Sam jerked, knife pulling back. "I could poison you and cut your head off while you sleep."

Dean yawned, stretching. "You don't have any dead man's blood. Besides, you're not going to kill me." He smirked, closing his eyes. "So shut up and let a man sleep in peace."

The blade was still sitting lightly, shaking, against the sensitive skin on his neck. "You're not..." Sam started, trailing off helplessly. "Dean, you're one of the monsters now and..."

With a grunt, Dean flipped Sam over and straddled him. Fingers snagged a large wrist and forced it down so the knife was against Sam's throat. "And what, Sammy? I'm not your brother? I'm not the same guy that changed your diapers when Dad was on a hunt, fed you, kept you alive?" Man, but Sam looked hot like that: Terrified, with a weapon digging into his bloodstained neck. Dean bent down, lapping at the dried blood. "I'm not going to kill you," he whispered, arching into him. "Or change you. Jesus, Sam. Don't you get that?"

Sam gulped, breathing harsh as Dean casually cleaned his neck with a too warm, too wet tongue. "Dad's going to find out," he finally said, voice a touch too loud.

"No, he won't," Dean breathed in his ear, arching into the heat between Sam's legs. "We're not going to stop hunting things. He won't care."

Sam moaned, free hand coming up to grip Dean's hip unthinkingly. Dean just grinned, and swirled his tongue around the healing rip in his neck. "Now that I'm up," he continued, not letting Sam say anything, "how about we take care of a few things? Like the sudden urge I have to suck your dick until I can't taste anything but your come?"

"Dean." The broken moan filled the room.

---

The pattern was familiar. Dean always used to get up, sleepily banging around in the shower until fully awake, and shout back muffled curses at Sam as he scrubbed his teeth clean. It was like he had never left, had never-

Sam gulped, touching his neck. It was bruising badly, not just from Dean ripping a chunk out of him but the frantic bites from flat teeth in the middle of sex. Incestual sex with his big brother and God. Maybe his dad was wrong about the fact vampires can't mind control. Sam's fingers tightened on the knife's hilt, as if determined that he'd go in the shower right this minute and chop his brother's vampiric head right the fuck off.

Yeah. Once he started showing signs of superhuman strength. He'd need the machete for that, and Dean would hear that one coming.

Dean. Sam slapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to vomit before reaching the trash can. Dean had never shown interest in men, much less his own brother before... and Sam. He just let Dean fuck him not only once, but twice, and let him bite him. Bleed him, and if Dean had just one less ounce of self-control, Sam would be dead. The shower shut off suddenly, and said vampire was next to him in a burst of steam. Dean actually looked worried as he bent down and held Sam's arms. "Hey. What is it, Sam? Vision?"

If he just ignored how the light reflected off his eyes, Sam could pretend that it was his brother in front of him and not a monster he couldn't kill. Instead of saying this, what slipped out was "Are you hungry?"

Dean looked at him, confused. "No, not- Sam, is that what you think? Why I came back?" He sat back, letting go of Sam's shoulders. "Dude, I can go out to any bar and get any kink freak to suck my dick as long as I bite them. I came back because I missed you. You're my goddamn brother, Sammy, and I can't be without you."

His voice was completely sincere. He was fucking sincere. Sam gritted his teeth, fighting off another wave of nausea as Dean pressed one hand to his forehead. "You don't have a fever," Dean muttered. "Geez. Look, Sam. I don't want to change you into a monster. I just... want to continue the family business, next to you. Okay? I won't even bite you unless I have to."

Sam swallowed, forcing bile back. He could try this. If Dean broke his promise, he'd shoot him with something doused in dead man's blood and behead him, no problem. And in return he'd have his (God) brother back.

"Come on, Sam," Dean coaxed, trying to gently pull him to his feet. "You need to get washed up. I'm not sitting in the car with you while you smell of puke."

Sam stumbled, unsteadily moving towards the bathroom and trying hard, so hard not to start another round of vomiting at the feeling of vampire hands on his shoulders.

---

Hunts were a little different. Dean was faster, stronger, and that should have made things easier if Sam didn't fumble with the shotgun in his hands as he watched his brother toss a yeti across the room with little effort.

The bite faded into a mass of scars over the next few months, and Dean stopped looking there hungrily, as if he could taste Sam's blood on his tongue again. Sam stopped searching for turtlenecks in the heat of summer when the waiter at a restaurant said "Man, that must have been a big dog."

Sam looked up past a lanky body into wide, innocent, hazel eyes half covered by floppy hair and tried to ignore the sudden pulse of hunger across the table. "Yeah," he managed. "Huge."

---

It was getting on Dean's nerves. Whenever he'd go out for a snack, Sam would check the news and obits obsessively for the town. For days, like a ravaged body, empty of blood would suddenly show up and he'd have a reason to kill Dean. He had tried to explain to Sam about vampire hunger and how much they could eat, but he just didn't get it. Finally, he ripped the paper out of Sam's hands and slammed him against a wall.

"Damn it, Sam," he shouted, leaning in close. "If you think I'm that big of a monster, just kill me already. Stop fucking looking for a reason."

"I'm not-" Sam began, heatedly.

"Bullshit." Dean's fingers twitched at the scent of Sam, Sammy, and he let a small smile cross his face. "You keep looking to see if my meal's body made the news, but you don't wait to see if I'm sick after I come back. I don't have to eat that much; I can't. But you never saw that in practice, did you?"

"Dean, you promised."

He looked up at Sam, at his parted lips and the breath tumbling faster from him. "If I didn't have to. This... qualifies as 'have to.'" Without waiting, Dean leaned in and took Sam's lips. The kiss was brutal, sloppy, and he fought to keep Sam from pushing him away. Finally, he pulled back far enough to lick at the mass of scars on Sam's neck.

"Dean." It wasn't that broken moan quite yet. Sam hadn't surrendered to what was right at the moment. But it was close, and Dean just bit down carefully with flat teeth.

"Don't you want to know how I do it?" he purred. "If I just push a guy against a wall and suck him until I'm full? Lure a girl into a dark alley with promise of hot sex, bite her, and leave her? Or how about this..." He reached down, squeezing the hardening mass between his brother's legs. "Or how about I fuck them so hard that the bite is what makes them come? It's more fun to do it that way. To..." Dean unbuttoned Sam's pants, shoving the denim out of the way. "Suck his dick, watch him beg me to finish it." He nipped at Sam's neck again, chuckling at the stifled moan. "The best one was this geek, more geekier than you. Repressed fucker, and he wanted all this kinky shit. Hot wax," here, he gripped Sam's dick hard, "tickle torture," a light finger up the underside, "and it all ended with him wanting to come all over my face."

Sam twitched, hands coming up to grip at Dean's belt loops. "Dean, don't."

"But the best part?" Dean continued, getting a firm grip on Sam's dick and pumping steadily. "Was watching him come twice from me biting him." He grinned wickedly, showing off a mouthful of fangs. "I saw him two days later and he was still acting like he was all post-orgasm. Best compliment ever, let me tell you. Second best sex of my life."

"What was the best?" Sam asked, hazily.

"Just this geek, with long hair he should have let his father cut off before he went off to college and a fat dick that made me walk funny for hours," he said casually, feeling Sam's dick jump in his hands. "Though he tried to kill me in the morning."

"Dean."

There it was. The last wall had come down, and Sam was ready to be fucked. "Shh, Sammy. Don't worry. I'll get you there." He licked the long expanse of neck in front of him, teasing him with a slight pricking of fang.

Sam twisted, moaning. "God."

Dean just smirked. "Almost," he whispered in Sam's ear before biting down.

---

Sam rolled over onto his back, panting. Dean stretched, purring, unnaturally cool after a round of scorching sex. Blood and semen stuck to their bodies in a disgusting mess, and Sam nearly threw up right there.

Dean looked over, smirking. "Do you get it now, geek boy?"

---

The hunts became less frequent. Sam would half-heartedly look through the papers, through the news, unable to focus on anything more than the predator across from him. When Dean found hunts, Sam's stomach lurched.

After each hunt, Dean unzipped Sam's pants. He never took blood this way, but what he did instead, the long licks and greedy gulps, made him sick and guilty as his hand fell not to push Dean away, but keep him there while he lapped at Sam's cock as if it was the only thing that would keep him alive.

Dean always tried to push him down, and Sam resisted each time. The push never came hard, was never forced but rather a suggestion that Sam lay down so Dean could ride his dick, but that was one boundary Sam didn't want to cross. Not after a hunt, the time when he and John and Dean would have been downing a few beers instead of the faint feeling of fang against his dick being the thing that made him come down his brother's throat.

The one time Dean let him grab his head and pull it back, the one time he watched his semen spurt over that pretty, fanged mouth, Sam didn't give in to the urge to throw up once.

---

"I'm hungry."

Sam let out a long breath, trying to concentrate on the papers in front of him. "Then go out. The girls at the bar were more than happy to swap fluids."

Dean grabbed him, pulling him up. "I'm hungry," he breathed. "Now. Not later, when I'd get back to the bar. Now."

Sam's heart leapt in his chest, making Dean's breath catch in his throat. "You promised," he said weakly, forcing his hands by his side. "Not do unless you had to. You don't have to."

"Sam, Sam," Dean drawled, cupping the scars on Sam's neck. "Do you really want me out there? Fucking an unknown pussy and drinking what knows what she put into her system?" He leaned in, licking the tough tissue. "I could get sick."

It shouldn't have sounded true. Sam should have told him to buck up and be a man. Instead, he breathed in deeply, and let it out slowly, considering. Dean bit down with flat teeth, making him grunt. "Just this once," he said reluctantly. "Dean, just- nng."

Dean lifted his head, kissing him. His hands swiftly tore off the jeans, and he palmed his brother's rapidly hardening cock. With a wicked smile, he nipped at Sam's lips with fangs, drawing a meager amount of blood. Instead of lapping it up, he ran a fingers across the stinging cut and painted Sam's lips crimson. "Beautiful," he murmured, cleaning the unnatural coloring with his tongue. "Fuck. Sam, why do you smell so good?"

He couldn't answer. Sam pushed at Dean's jeans, panting wordlessly into his hair. Dean lifted his head, smirking. "That eager, huh?"

"Haven't had a hunt in a week," he managed, kissing Dean hard enough for the swiftly healing cuts to reopen. "Dean, we aren't-"

"Hell we aren't," he interrupted, eyes flashing. "This isn't like you can take it-"

"Dude, shut up and fuck me," Sam said, gripping the barely warm hard flesh. "Just... just this time."

Dean looked at him, considering. "You've never bottomed," he finally said, thoughtfully tugging on Sam's cock. "And we don't have anything. Sorry, your little fantasies are going to have to stay to the side this time." He tossed the remains of the jeans to one side, and gently pushed Sam back.

This time, Sam fell back, pulling Dean with him.

---

Dean pulled his fangs out, and licked the deep bite hard. Sam gripped his brother's hips harder, knowing it wouldn't bruise and wishing it would, and thrust upward. A wicked smile crossed his face as Dean moaned and leaned back, desperately fisting his own cock. "Damn it, Sammy, you're almost too big." He let his head tilt back as he rode Sam hard. "You taste so damn good."

Sam thrust up once more, and came hard. Dean came soon after, the fluid splashing over Sam's stomach and up towards his chest.

Dean smiled down at Sam, and this time, Sam smiled back with only the slightest bit of nausea.

---

"Dad sent us another coordinate. Another hunt. Should we-?"

"Do you think we'll meet up with the old man?"

Pause. "... it's possible."

Smirk. "Then let's do it. Let's see dear daddy."

---

John leaned up against the truck, hands shoved his his pockets and looking for all the world like he was just taking in the scenery. Sleepy looking eyes scanned the park in front of him, and only a keen observer would be able to tell that he had one hand firmly on a weapon of some sort, and only another hunter would be able to say it was a gun.

The Impala pulled up next to him, and John pushed off the metal easily, like he knew instead of wished they would be there. He waited patiently for the boys to step out, his hand relaxing off the gun but still not taking his hands out of his pockets.

Sam was the first to stand up. He moved awkwardly, testament to how long the drive was. He slammed the door shut, walking up to take in his father. Where every weapon John had on his person, the ones that he would be able to get to easily. A flash of pride sang through John, at how his kids grew up to be fantastic hunters.

Dean didn't move.

"Son," he acknowledged, softly. "Something wrong with your brother?"

"Dean's fine," Sam started, the heat rising in his voice. "Especially how after you left us and took the Colt with you and wouldn't say where you were, yeah, Dean's fine."

And there was the familiar guilt. The trail of the demon had gotten cold by the time they retrieved the Colt from the vampires, and he had to leave. This was his last chance to kill the damned thing. To end it all, to let Sam get back to the life he wanted. "I had to-"

"No, you didn't! You could have trusted us, you could have..."

The creaking door cut Sam off, and John's hand instinctively tightened on the gun in his pocket. Dean rose without hesitation, without pain, and studied the two men before him like he was watching two steaks move. "Dad," he said smoothly, shutting the door calmly.

John inclined his head, as if he wasn't considering pulling a weapon on his brother in front of the kid's soccer team. "Dean."

Sam looked between them, but doesn't move. He waited, nervous, as Dean smiled. "Been a while," he said with a soft laugh, his teeth flat and human. "Found the demon yet? Anything interesting you think we should hunt?"

John swallowed, hit hard by the hunger in Dean's eyes. He took one step back, watching as Sam whipped a hand out to stop his brother from following. The mass of scar tissue, scars from bites over and over, caught John's attention and forced his hand still.

"Sammy," he said brokenly, watching his youngest son hold a monster that lived in his eldest's body.

"I... it's okay. Dean... he doesn't..."

"I'm still here, damn it," Dean snapped, and flashed a quick fanged smile at John. "So what is it, Dad? You haven't had contact with us since you left with the gun. Fuck, I bet every time Sam called you saying I was missing you ignored it! Now that I'm," here, he broke off, the children watching them. "Damn snacks."

Sam's body jerked, horrified. "Dean, you-"

"Grow a pair, Sammy. I was joking." The narrowed eyes proved that statement a lie, and John took another step away.

"Boys, this can't continue." John worked the gun out, using his body to hide it from the children. "Sam, he's the thing we hunt now." His heart sank as Sam shook his head, stepping in front of Dean.

"He... he's still doing some good," Sam spat back, weakly. "Dean's not evil, damn it."

"He's feeding off of you!"

The mothers were ushering their kids away from the trio of psychotic men, many of them whipping out their overpriced cell phones. Dean watched this, amused, then turned his attention back to his brother and father standing off. "It's like you never left," he said, amused. "Still at each others' throats. Come on, Sam." He turned around, only to come to a stop at the sound of the gun coming up to bear on Dean.

John swallowed, his hands as steady as his face was conflicted. "Sam's never been able to say no to you for long," he manage to get out. "And this is how you repay it? By twisting it?"

"Put the gun away." Dean was still amused. "Or I'll take your hand off."

Sam looked between them, each glance more and more frantic. "Okay, this isn't funny guys. Dad, put it away." He swallowed, eyes flicking between them. "Dad!"

Dean turned and rushed forward, forcing John's arm up. "Listen to your sons, Dad," he whispered in his ear, squeezing his wrist painfully.

John took a deep, pained breath and uncocked the gun. With a swift movement, he set the safety and opened his hand as Dean's other hand wrenched the weapon away. Dean just smirked as he stepped back, popping the magazine out and pulling the slide back. He threw the bullets in one direction, gun in the other, and turned back to the car. "Nice seeing you, Dad," he tossed back, laconically.

Sam swallowed nervously, and followed Dean. In the quiet right before the police sirens started, his words carried. "You did that on purpose!"

"Bite me, Sammy."

---

Sam almost doesn't wake up one morning. The blood loss was too much, and he watched as Dean paced back and forth with a jug of orange juice and mumbling under his breath about high iron foods. Sam rolled his eyes, sipping at the liquid. Finally, "Spinach."

Dean looked up, surprised. "What?"

"Spinach is high in iron. And I won't need any. Shit, were you trying to prove Dad right yesterday?"

Dean just sat down, setting the orange juice aside. "Would I have to, Sammy?"

He looked away from those glinting eyes, coughing on his orange juice. "Dean, the hell?" He wiped at his mouth, and looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "... Dad's right, isn't he."

Dean shrugged. "You're not going to do anything about it. Right?"

Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head. "No." He opened them again, gazing over the cup. "I won't."

When Dean kissed him, yanking his head back to bare his throat helplessly, he only felt sad. Dean laughed when he pulled back, licking the deep wounds in his throat. "Now you got it, Sammy."

End

Under Sounds of Feathers (Supernatural, hints of Wincest, PG-13) 1/1

2006-10-07T03:39:21Z

Title: Under Sounds of Feathers
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Wingfic, hints of incest (Dean/Sam)
Spoilers: Pilot
Disclaimer: Don't own
Notes: Part of Angels Without Wings series
Summary: Slowly, Dean's wings lower from their hyperextended state, hunkered in around him as if he could make them disappear by forcing them back into his body.

Under Sounds of Feathers
Spinny Roses

I believe I have seen you...
In this white wave
You are silent
You are breathing
In this white wave...
I am free
-"Silence," Delerium featuring Sarah Mclachlan

Dean is screaming, blood pouring from his back in alarming amounts, and all Sam could do is watch as two lovely, if bloodstained, wings unfurl. Even with his chest almost touching the floor, the wings start to brush the ceiling and even they they aren't done. When they finally come completely out, they mash up against the rain-stained ceiling. Sam's hand is illuminated in the room as lightning cracks across the sky, the thunder shaking the entire room before the light fades. Dean is breathing loudly, labored, and Sam has to wonder if he should get the transfusion kit, hopefully dry as the storm beats down.

Slowly, Dean's wings lower from their hyperextended state, hunkered in around him as if he could make them disappear by forcing them back into his body. Sam's hand touches the white feather closest to him, the next brilliant flash revealing the minute shaking the touch causes. Sam nearly yanks his hand away, but the feathers are so soft. So beautiful, even streaked with dark splatters of blood and flesh. He strokes lower and Dean keens low in his throat, painfully. "Dude, that hurts," he whispers, nearly inaudible under the sound of the rain.

Regretfully, Sam pulls his hand back. Dean starts to stand and ends up falling onto a wing. The scream of pain is torn from his throat, raw, as the lightning/thunder amplifies the cry. Sam reaches out to steady him, trying so hard to ignore how the flesh under his hands flinch away from his touch. He helps his brother into a sitting position, trying to make sure where Dean sits is away from the spreading pool of blood.

Dean's pulse flitters alarmingly when Sam presses two fingers to his chilly skin. He is about to brave the storm when Dean swallows and cracks a weak smile. "Think maybe I can fly, dude?" he says, starting to lean a little into his brother. Sam looks over the wings, unclean mass of the purest white and strokes alone the new bone structure.

"I don't know. Maybe," Sam whispers, pulling his hand away from the tempting curve of feathers.

Dean just smirks, leaning fully into him as another floor-shaking boom hit them.

The storm calms a bit as they just sit there. Dean starts to doze, and Sam has to force himself to wake his brother up. The question lies on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't want to know the truth. But when Dean shifts his wings, as if fluffing them as a bird would do, the memories of feeling inhuman muscles moving under the skin rise to the fore. The first back massage after returning to hunting, the familiar, half-realized muscles had fully defined from four years ago.

"How long." The whisper is forced from his throat, too soft, not able to hide his voice under the rain any longer as the storm drifts on.

Dean doesn't answer, just flinching in pain when Sam's hand strokes one wing absently. He turns his head away, looking down at his soaking jeans and the rain starting to drizzle down. The room is still dark - power had been lost at the first hint of lightning, just as Dean's back had started to bleed. "Not long," he finally rasps out. "Haven't really earned them yet. Don't worry about it, Sam."

The wings curve beautifully, the still-white parts near glowing. They're gorgeous, perfect, Dean. Sam pulls one loose feather free, fingers sticking to the blood that coated it. Dean doesn't say anything, nothing as Sam brushes more loose feathers onto the floor. A sickening wet plop catches his attention, the amount of molted feathers alarmingly numerous. Dean grunts as Sam manhandles one wing, noting the flesh and bone dropping to the floor in dead clumps. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Nah. Your groping hurts more than losing them."

Sam doesn't take his hands away, a weak flash of lightning illuminating as the skin slid off weakened bone. It's too fast, and in twenty minutes the wings would be gone. Dean stands, still unsteady, and shakes off the the clinging necrotized skin. Sam makes a low sound, hoping it was hidden behind the anemic rumble of thunder. The amused look Dean shoots him says that the needy noise came through loud and clear. "I didn't know you had a wing fetish, Sammy," he says, his normal sexual drawl starting to peek back through. Sam doesn't blush, but as Dean starts to brush the last evidence of the wings from his back, bile rises to his mouth.

Dean doesn't watch as Sam comes behind up him to feel the skin close over his birthright. He simply shrugs, flexing his defined flight muscles, face becoming illuminated as the power switches back on. They both say nothing.

The soft rain falls, reflecting white under the harsh street lights.

Winchester Letters (Supernatural, Dean/Sam, Dean/John, R) 1/1

2006-09-20T19:59:47Z

Title: Winchester Letters
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest (Dean/Sam, Dean/John), blood, large images
Spoilers: AU after "Devil's Trap"
Disclaimer: Don't own
Summary: Three years after his children's death, John finds letters from the both of them.

Notes: This is something new I'm trying. House of Leaves is one of my favorite books, and I wanted to try something that echoed the feeling of the book. What I have below are several images, letters from both Sam and Dean, complete with dust, crumples, food stains, and blood stains.

Found Dean's bag:

Stuffed in the trunk:

In Sam's bag:

Laying on the backseat of the Impala in a dried pool of blood:

For the Ones We've Lost My Soul Will Grieve (Supernatural, Dean/Sam, R) 1/1

2006-09-15T20:07:29Z

Title: For the Ones We've Lost My Soul Will Grieve
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest (Dean/Sam), character death
Spoilers: AU after "Devil's Trap"
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "By the Sword," by Emilie Autumn
Summary: "You know, some day you're going to wake up."

For the Ones We've Lost My Soul Will Grieve
By Spinny Roses

Dean's eyes cracked open, taking in a burst of light and a blurred figure. And by the sound of things, the blurred figure brought a fried heart attack in a bag (his favorite) but no coffee. "Dude," he said sleepily, reaching down to scratch at an itchy leg. "Come on, at least some of Farmer Joe's best swill."

A heavy sigh, and suddenly- Bliss. Right under his nose. Dean sat up, following the ambrosia. He opened his eyes to focus on Sam's disproving face. "You're too addicted to this stuff," he told Dean sternly.

"Shut up and gimme." Dean snapped the cup out of Sam's fingers, one hand still on his leg. "Fucking hell. Sam, where's that pencil?"

Sam looked down, and rolled his eyes. "Dean, stop trying to scratch under your cast. You keep breaking pens and pencils doing that."

"Yeah, yeah. It itches, though," and yeah, Dean knew he was whining. But damn it, the cast was driving him nuts! His fingers were shoved as far down under the plaster as they could go, and there was still that one spot just out of range...

Something yellow flashed through the air and landed lightly on Dean's lap. With a triumphant cry, Dean snatched it up and shoved the pencil down under the ugly purple wrapping. "Ooh. Oh yeah. Mm. Right there."

"Dude!" Sam was looking at him, horrified. "Should I let you and the pencil have a moment alone?"

"Nn... please. Ooh baby."

---

Dean could, basically, not hear a damn thing. That was okay; that just meant that the earplugs they shoved in their ears to keep from hearing the siren were working. It still kinda sucked to not be able to shout at Sam to move damn it, though. He aimed at the siren's feathery back, hoping to God that he would be able to hit the thing without the bullet going through and hitting Sam, when Sam suddenly rolled to one side. His finger continued through the squeezing motion, and the siren's back exploded just after a dulled boom.

She was still moving, lips still uttering her song, when Sam turned and fired three shots. Two into her head, one into her throat. Mouth and larynx effectively destroyed, she went still. Quiet.

Didn't keep Dean from getting the salt and lighter, though. It wasn't until the siren's body was a mess of feathers and ash when the brothers finally removed the earplugs. "Doing a little mind reading, Sammy?" Dean asked, checking a line of scratches down his arm.

"Huh?" Dean had noticed a while back that Sam looked like a confused puppy with that look on his face. "No, no way dude."

"Then how did you know when to dodge?" That was just... he didn't know why he had to know.

"You told me."

Dean looked up at him. "Sam, I thought you said you weren't mind reading." They didn't need stitching. Bandaging, yeah, but they weren't deep enough for stitches.

"This is something different," Sam said quietly. "Let's go."

---

Sam always made the most girly noises when Dean had his lips wrapped around his cock. It wasn't the strangled cry at orgasm, though, that gave Dean that little ego boost, though.

It was the squeaking noises as Dean tongued his slit.

---

"Sammy, some day we're going to have a long talk about you and being strangled," Dean said shakily, holding his coughing brother to his shoulder. "Hey, talk to me. Sammy."

"Sam," he got out, voice rough. "It's Sam." He pulled back to look up at Dean, eyes unreadable. "You were fighting downstairs."

Which was true, he was, but how the hell did Sam know? Dean shrugged, and started to help Sam up. "Bitch went down. Come on, let's get out of here before Mr. Happy Tentacle Monster shows back up and decides to put that tentacle somewhere else."

Actually, the more important question, Dean realized later, was how he got upstairs in the first place when the stairs were destroyed when they first got there.

---

Sam kept getting thinner, paler, as the days went by. It wasn't like he wasn't eating or anything (Dean had seen horses that eat less than Sam), but the weight continued to drop. Dean kept researching curses and going over who could have put it on Sam, coming up with nothing. No witches, warlocks, or sorcerers fought since... well, that crash. The demons hadn't tried cursing them...

There was nothing.

Dean nervously drummed the wheel, off beat with the music, when he heard Sam say something in the passenger's seat. He turned, Sam looking steadily out of the car, lips completely still.

But he still heard "I can't do this anymore" clearly in his ears, echoing louder than the drum solo pounding out of his speakers.

---

Dean woke up one day and Sam was missing.

In fact, a lot was missing.

There was only one (queen sized) bed, and one clothes bag. The laptop was still there, but all of Sam's little touches were missing. The burger wrapper Sam had been chowing down on was missing, both on the table and on the trash can, but the last remains of the burger and fries Dean had ordered was still next to the laptop.

Without worrying, Dean just packed up his stuff and checked out of the motel. He sat down in the driver's seat, and looked at the empty passenger's seat. Where Sam should have been.

There was nothing there.

The Impala quickly came up to speed on the highway, and there was the rustling of a map. "Okay," came Sam's voice, calm. "I think I got it. Dayton, Ohio. We should be able to get there by nightfall."

Dean looked over briefly, watching Sam finish folding the map and stuffing it away. "Okay."

---

Sam looked utterly fuckable like that, head tilted back as Dean bit down on his shoulder. A ragged breath slid past his lips, and a shaking hand cupped his ass. "Dean," he whispered, arching up against him. "You know, some day you're going to wake up."

Dean pulled back, looking down at the empty bed with confusion.

---

Dean hated hospitals. This time it had been a Barghest. Damn thing had torn up his back, and he needed a transfusion faster than someone could say "stat." But he was going to be released soon, just as soon as Sam showed up. The nurse came in, dressed in the cutest Snoopy scrubs, and added something to his IV. Dean reached out, snagging her wrist. "Hey, Amanda, have you seen my brother?"

"Brother?" She looked at him, confused, tucking away an errant strand of blonde hair.

"Yeah. You know, tall. Geekboy hair. Always wears hoodies?"

"He was admitted on the same day as you, Dean," she said carefully and oh yeah, now he remembered. Stitches that Dean couldn't do because hey, out of blood here. He released her arm, nodding. She brushed something off her blue scrubs and what happened to Snoopy? A machine beeped in his ear, louder than it should be with the hint of a car horn blaring behind it-

"Where's my dad?" he gasped out. "My brother?" He couldn't move, not now, his damn leg was broken and his car...

"Mr. Winchester," she started, when Dean looked at her round face and short brunette hair.

"They're dead, aren't they," Dean said bleakly, the words the same as the ones he said when he asked about them after that accident. There were soft lips on his hair, and a gentle urging, a soft incessant voice.

Wake up Dean. C'mon, man. Wake up...

---

Dean sat down. He always sat down, always into the passenger's seat. Sam was always there, but Sam was dead. They were dead.

"You're not going to wake up?"

"Nah." He smiled at him, easily. "I'd rather be here than in a world where I don't have a brother anymore."

"You're going to kill me, Dean," Sam said quietly.

"And if I wake up, I'm going to die," Dean snapped out, serious. "Sam, let me sleep."

"I don't want to lose you either." And Sam was pulling him closer, kissing him weakly. "But I want to wake up too."

Dean pulled back, looking up at him. He was pale, and his skin was paper thin. Dean was healthier than he'd ever been but Sam was- oh shit. He took a long breath, looking down at his strong fingers entwined with trembling, thin fingers. "How long?" he whispered, watching blue veins start to appear under the white skin.

"Two more days. Maybe less."

Instead of answering, Dean pulled back. He looked over his little brother, and kissed him one last time. "I'm not going to wake up," he said sternly. "Sam, you have to let me go."

Sam jumped, startled. "How did you know?"

He just smiled, sadly. "Dude, how long have we done this? Studied how the supernatural works? Wake up, Sammy. Dad's waiting."

---

There was something talking in the background. It was a steady drone, a pleading whisper. The whisper went on and on, even after he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Finally, his voice hoarse from disuse, he whispered, "Dean's dead."

The voice stopped. "Sammy, how did you- oh God, you're awake. You're finally awake..."

Sam didn't look over as John hugged him, just listened to the sounds of the hospital flow around them.

A million voices will leave her... (Supernatural, Dean/Impala, R) 1/1

2006-09-12T19:56:52Z

Title: A million voices will leave her...
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Warnings: het (Dean/human!female!Impala)
Spoilers: Up to "Scarecrow." Takes place in the same universe as "And then I danced another dance."
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Anna Maria," by boa.
Notes: For nymeria and all of those that believe Dean/Impala is the OTP.
Summary: Sam is certain that Dean talks to himself.

A million voices will leave her...
By Spinny Roses

Sam is certain that Dean talks to himself. Not the distracted mutter of someone trying to work out a puzzle, but full out, schizophrenic, "the voices told me to burn things" talking. Good thing: Dean doesn't do it around Sam. Bad thing: Dean still talks to himself.

It usually happens when Sam's in the bathroom, washing away drying monster o' the week guts. He turns off the water and hears Dean's voice saying... something. By the time he dries off enough not to leave sopping wet footprints across the dingy motel carpet, Dean is quiet and sometimes is cleaning a weapon.

This would normally worry Sam, but Dean's calmer during these times. Whatever voice he's chatting it up with, it gives him good advice and helps him out. What does worry Sam, though, is that someday Dean will start talking during the wrong time and say the wrong things.

Something like that could have his big brother taken away from him, and after what happened in Indiana, Sam's not ready to be separated permanently from Dean.

So Sam's about ready to talk about this with Dean when the bastard speaks up.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean says idly, just barely holding back some weird emotion in his voice. As he talks on, Sam still can't pin it down. "We're getting low on gauze. Why don't you go get some." Of course, the last part was more an order than a question, that is just how Dean operates.

Sam's about to argue this but Dean's right. So he holds out his hand, barking out "Keys."

Dean just gives Sam this Look. It was like Sam had just asked Dean if he could take the Impala through a cornfield at 80 mph with bubblegum pop blasting from the speakers and his hand curled around a light beer. Before Sam can say anything, Dean snorts. "No way, dude," he drawls. "You need the walk. Hey," he throws in as Sam just turns away, exasperated. "Pick up some M&Ms while you're out."

"Oh, fuck you, dude."

Okay, so Sam has no idea why Dean can eat what he wants and be buff while Sam has to watch what he eats. If you ask him, Sam would guess because he probably took after Mom in that respect. Dad and Dean can eat the worst shit for your bodies ever, and be fine, so it was obvious Sam didn't take after John. Sam had finished that grumbling halfway back to the motel, and was trying to come up with something new when he notices something missing.

"Fuck you, Dean," he grumbles, shoving the bags up on his arm while fumbling with the key. He breaks off that grousing when he hears the sound of a girl moaning behind the door. And of course, Dean's voice is always unmistakable. He was in there with a girl which... fuck. Someone stole the Impala.

Sam wasn't looking forward to this. So he opens the door, eyes averted so he wouldn't have to watch his brother having sex, and takes a deep breath that he promptly chokes on when the girl says angrily, "Sam, get out."

Okaaaay. It wasn't just the fact a girl he's never seen before said his name, she said it with familiarity and long-suffering annoyance. Sam's head snaps up, to the girl riding his brother. She's not what he normally goes for. She's tall, for one. And if she can't pick Dean up and haul him over her shoulder, it would only be a matter of time. Her skin is almost pitch black, almost as dark as her hair.

And Sam feels like he knows this girl. She rolls her eyes and whispers something to Dean, who just groans as she pulls herself off his cock. And yeah, he's still hard as hell and Sam is going to pay for this. He just knows it. The girl walks over to him, her skin strangely shiny and Sam can't really make out why he doesn't believe it's because of sweat.

"Get out," she instructs, pushing at him. Sam resists, because there's something wrong about her face.

"Um..."

She lets out a disgusted sound and Sam knew that sound. He knew it from when he was learning how to drive and he'd sneak into the Impala for rides. From how it sounded after Jericho until Dean took it out alone to fix it. Sam just looks up at Dean, then down at what shouldn't be.

Dean gets up off the bed, grabbing the bags. "Moon's almost gone. Besides, the moment's broken, shot, and chewed on by a chupacabra." He leans over to kiss the girl, only to meet air as she disappears. Sam turns, seeing the Impala sitting in its spot, shining obscenely. He turns back to his older brother, then points back and forth between the two.

Finally, he croaks out, "Dude, that's just gross."

Dean just smiles, popping an M&M in his mouth.

"Dean! Please. Clothes."

---

Sam wakes up a month later to see the girl standing over him. Apparently clothes were forbidden on the human form of a car and wow that was weird. The girl just grabs him and pulls him up. "Uh."

"Look, asshole, you've done a lot to me in the last few years. But damn it, at least don't walk in on me and your brother having sex, okay?" She lets him go and runs a hand through her hair. "And we just had enough moon to actually do something..."

Sam sits up, a hand on a knife. Yeah, Dean might kill him for hurting his car, but he'd rather have certain parts of his body in one piece. The Impala sits down, looking at Dean's empty bed. She nods to it, then outside. "He's smoking. Sam, damn it, what were you thinking?"

"Um." He just had one more hurdle to jump over, which is there is a naked girl sitting here that is the human form of my brother's car and okay, Sam's still not accepting this. "How?"

She looks at him, not believing what came out of his mouth. "Ho- what do- you..." She throws her hands up, standing. "Fine. You've heard of Pygmalion and Galatea, right?"

Sam nods, that hurdle being jumped over as his head moves. "Yeah. So he... okay, I knew he loved his car and all but this is kinda wrong."

Yeah, if she can't pick Dean up and carry him, it's only a matter of time. Sam rubs his head, ears ringing from her slap. "Asshole," she mutters. "You don't even realize what Dean's done for you." She smiles at him, more a baring of teeth, at his nonplussed look. "Ever wonder why you were actually able to go to college? While you were sleeping away, he used to come out and lay in my backseat. Bitched up a storm about you leaving, you know. Cried a few times, waking up from nightmares about you or John dying because you weren't with them." She looks at nothing, remembering. "Then you nearly got killed."

Sam remembers that. Dean had to hold his guts in after killing a wyvern, and they hadn't seen him or the car for days. John and Dean had talked for a while when he came back, and Sam still didn't know what happened, but right after that John had come to him saying that he can go to college, but he either had to stay or go and stay gone. "Yeah."

"You nearly got yourself killed because you hated the hunt so much, and he knew it." She stands, sighing. "Sam, you ass, look what he's done for you. He keeps saving your ass, and the one time he has a chance to be happy, you say it's gross. Ungrateful asshole."

"So it's perfectly okay for my brother to have sex with his car?" Sam asks pointedly. "Which I'm not completely sure that-"

That one is going to leave a bruise. She uncurls her fist, glaring at him. "Are you not understanding what's going on here? How does Dean act before he has time with me? After? Dean comes to talk to me or let loose some tension. You get your back covered by a happy brother and stay alive. The fact he's fucking his car shouldn't even enter this equation."

Sam touches his cheek, and opens his mouth just as the room goes dark and the girl disappears. There's a second, then Dean comes in reeking of smoke. He looks over Sam, then bends down to unlace his boots. "Have a nice chat?" Dean yanks off one boot, vicious. "Learn anything new?"

"Dean... man... how can you- I mean, the car and-"

Dean shucks off his smoke logged jacket, tossing it into the chair. "Yeah. The car. Get over it, alright?" Without looking, he grabs a pair of sleeping shorts out of his bag.

"Dean," Sam tries again. "With all the stuff we've gone up against and... I mean, are you sure that-"

"Yes, Sam." Dean pulls off his jeans and throws them to one side. "Dude, of course I've thought of that. Went through the whole bullshit when she first started showing up. She's a good spirit, okay?"

"Is that like a 'Good Witch'?" Sam shoots back, for some bizarre reason Billie Burke's prim voice coming to mind.

"Dude, the next time you watch late night TV, you might want to stick with informercials. Look, just... don't. Alright? Back off."

Sam closes his mouth, and lays back down. It's probably better to go to sleep, anyway, then get in a fight with Dean. But there is just one more thing that Sam has to know.

"Dean, are you in love with her?"

Dean doesn't answer, and climbs into bed. The silence is answer enough.

End