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fandomweekly2019-09-13 03:04 pm
gwenhwyfar1984) wrote in fandomweekly2019-09-13 03:04 pm
Entry tags:
[#023] Snow (Supernatural)
Theme Prompt: 023-Inner Child
Title: Snow
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warnings: G
Bonus: No
Word Count: 979
Summary: One evening, Castiel sees an unexpected side to Meg.
Castiel stood for a moment outside of the hotel room, listening. Inside, he could hear the sound of two humans breathing, deep asleep.
“You look like a creeper, you know,” Meg told him. She was under the smoking shelter across the parking lot, a magazine in her hands.
“Creeper?” he asked, stepping away from the door. He walked across the parking lot, his shoes crunching on sand and bits of ice.
“Yeah. You know, a pervert? Hovering outside their door like that?”
“If they would let me in to properly watch over them, then it would not be a problem,” he grumbled.
“And now you sound like one,” she laughed.
“Why are you out here? I thought you’d got a room for yourself.”
“I got it for us,” she replied, pointedly.
“I don't sleep,” he reminded her.
She slowly grinned. “Neither do I.”
He didn’t understand, and wasn’t really in the mood to continue. It had been a long, difficult hunt. Both Winchesters had sustained serious injuries. He healed them, but it had still taken its toll.
He heard the small hum of Meg’s scooter and the crunch of the tires over the ground. She moved over to the nearby trees and stopped.
“I’ve always liked the snow,” he told her. He wasn’t sure why he was mentioning it, but it had come out.
“Really?” Her tone was distracted and she was leaning over, away from him. His eyes moved over the long plane of her back and her blonde hair falling over one shoulder.
“Yes. I did a lot of my observation of humanity in the northern countries. There is something about the snow that is different.”
“Yeah. It’s cold and wet and gets in the way. When I was human…” she trailed off.
“Yes?” he gently prodded.
“I just get the feeling I didn’t like it much. Of course, when I was alive winter wasn’t great for humanity. You can’t farm in the snow. Nothing grows. Travel…”
He nodded, grateful for the brief insight into Meg’s past. He knew most demons didn’t really remember their times as humans, and what they did remember wasn’t usually good memories.
Not knowing what else to say, he turned and started back for the motel. Perhaps he would find something on the tv to--
SPLAT
He turned, confused as to why he had just felt something hit his back. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the remnants of snow on his right shoulder.
Meg raised her eyebrow at him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, I--” Confused, he trailed off and turned away again.
SPLAT
He spun around. Meg was watching him, her expression blank. He could see, however, mirth in her eyes. Shifting slightly, he saw next to her chair a few small, round objects.
Snowballs.
“Meg?”
“What?” she asked, her tone cool.
“Why?”
She shrugged and picked up another snowball.
“You do not wish to engage in battle with me,” he told her seriously.
She threw it and hit him in the face.
He wiped off the icy snow and bent down, beginning to make a snowball. He was surprised that he was doing so, but he wanted to see how far Meg would take this.
“I’ll allow you five minutes to create your arsenal,” she said graciously, opening the magazine in her lap.
He hurriedly made snowballs, and two minutes later, another hit him on his side.
“Demon, remember?” she laughed.
He threw one at her, and a vicious fight ensued. Meg was relentless, tossing ball after ball, a few enhanced by her strength. He had tried to be gentle at first, but then got into the game. She’d yelled her encouragement, and her delighted laughter filled the night air.
He wasn’t sure he was getting the same fun out of it as she was. Instead he marveled at this side of her. She was normally calm and cool. Sarcastic. The only times she laughed was when she was mocking or hurting someone.
Yet, since she’d come back from The Empty, she’d changed somehow. She was still a demon, but she was more relaxed, almost. And now this childlike--human like--behaviour?
A few people looked out their windows or opened their doors to see what the commotion was. Most shook their heads and went back to their business. A few laughed at the sight of two adults, a man in a trench coat and a woman in a wheelchair, engaging in a snowball fight.
He briefly wondered what they would think if they knew it was actually an angel and a demon.
“What the hell is going on?” Dean’s voice broke through the night. Both Cas and Meg stopped and looked at the angry hunter standing outside the motel room door. Beside him, Sam was laughing.
“What’s it look like?” Meg asked, her tone returning to it’s normal sarcastic tone.
“Why do I think this is your idea?” Dean said, disgusted. “Cas, control your demon.”
The hunter turned to go and a snowball hit him square in the back of his head. Dean spun around and glared at Meg. She raised her hands and shook her head. Dean looked at Cas, shocked.
“You do not enter a battle unless you intend to participate,” Cas said seriously.
Dean shook his head and went back into his room. Sam followed, grinning.
“So, you going to ‘control me’?” Meg asked, coming up to him.
“What do you think?” he asked, and leaned down, gently kissing her.
“Good. I’d hate to have to maim you,” she replied, unlocking the door to her room and entering.
He smiled. No, he would never try to control his demon. He loved her the way she was.
Title: Snow
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warnings: G
Bonus: No
Word Count: 979
Summary: One evening, Castiel sees an unexpected side to Meg.
Castiel stood for a moment outside of the hotel room, listening. Inside, he could hear the sound of two humans breathing, deep asleep.
“You look like a creeper, you know,” Meg told him. She was under the smoking shelter across the parking lot, a magazine in her hands.
“Creeper?” he asked, stepping away from the door. He walked across the parking lot, his shoes crunching on sand and bits of ice.
“Yeah. You know, a pervert? Hovering outside their door like that?”
“If they would let me in to properly watch over them, then it would not be a problem,” he grumbled.
“And now you sound like one,” she laughed.
“Why are you out here? I thought you’d got a room for yourself.”
“I got it for us,” she replied, pointedly.
“I don't sleep,” he reminded her.
She slowly grinned. “Neither do I.”
He didn’t understand, and wasn’t really in the mood to continue. It had been a long, difficult hunt. Both Winchesters had sustained serious injuries. He healed them, but it had still taken its toll.
He heard the small hum of Meg’s scooter and the crunch of the tires over the ground. She moved over to the nearby trees and stopped.
“I’ve always liked the snow,” he told her. He wasn’t sure why he was mentioning it, but it had come out.
“Really?” Her tone was distracted and she was leaning over, away from him. His eyes moved over the long plane of her back and her blonde hair falling over one shoulder.
“Yes. I did a lot of my observation of humanity in the northern countries. There is something about the snow that is different.”
“Yeah. It’s cold and wet and gets in the way. When I was human…” she trailed off.
“Yes?” he gently prodded.
“I just get the feeling I didn’t like it much. Of course, when I was alive winter wasn’t great for humanity. You can’t farm in the snow. Nothing grows. Travel…”
He nodded, grateful for the brief insight into Meg’s past. He knew most demons didn’t really remember their times as humans, and what they did remember wasn’t usually good memories.
Not knowing what else to say, he turned and started back for the motel. Perhaps he would find something on the tv to--
SPLAT
He turned, confused as to why he had just felt something hit his back. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the remnants of snow on his right shoulder.
Meg raised her eyebrow at him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, I--” Confused, he trailed off and turned away again.
SPLAT
He spun around. Meg was watching him, her expression blank. He could see, however, mirth in her eyes. Shifting slightly, he saw next to her chair a few small, round objects.
Snowballs.
“Meg?”
“What?” she asked, her tone cool.
“Why?”
She shrugged and picked up another snowball.
“You do not wish to engage in battle with me,” he told her seriously.
She threw it and hit him in the face.
He wiped off the icy snow and bent down, beginning to make a snowball. He was surprised that he was doing so, but he wanted to see how far Meg would take this.
“I’ll allow you five minutes to create your arsenal,” she said graciously, opening the magazine in her lap.
He hurriedly made snowballs, and two minutes later, another hit him on his side.
“Demon, remember?” she laughed.
He threw one at her, and a vicious fight ensued. Meg was relentless, tossing ball after ball, a few enhanced by her strength. He had tried to be gentle at first, but then got into the game. She’d yelled her encouragement, and her delighted laughter filled the night air.
He wasn’t sure he was getting the same fun out of it as she was. Instead he marveled at this side of her. She was normally calm and cool. Sarcastic. The only times she laughed was when she was mocking or hurting someone.
Yet, since she’d come back from The Empty, she’d changed somehow. She was still a demon, but she was more relaxed, almost. And now this childlike--human like--behaviour?
A few people looked out their windows or opened their doors to see what the commotion was. Most shook their heads and went back to their business. A few laughed at the sight of two adults, a man in a trench coat and a woman in a wheelchair, engaging in a snowball fight.
He briefly wondered what they would think if they knew it was actually an angel and a demon.
“What the hell is going on?” Dean’s voice broke through the night. Both Cas and Meg stopped and looked at the angry hunter standing outside the motel room door. Beside him, Sam was laughing.
“What’s it look like?” Meg asked, her tone returning to it’s normal sarcastic tone.
“Why do I think this is your idea?” Dean said, disgusted. “Cas, control your demon.”
The hunter turned to go and a snowball hit him square in the back of his head. Dean spun around and glared at Meg. She raised her hands and shook her head. Dean looked at Cas, shocked.
“You do not enter a battle unless you intend to participate,” Cas said seriously.
Dean shook his head and went back into his room. Sam followed, grinning.
“So, you going to ‘control me’?” Meg asked, coming up to him.
“What do you think?” he asked, and leaned down, gently kissing her.
“Good. I’d hate to have to maim you,” she replied, unlocking the door to her room and entering.
He smiled. No, he would never try to control his demon. He loved her the way she was.
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