Painting With Shadows
Now that the spnspringfling reveals are up, here's my contribution. This was written for tringic.
I... kind of wanted to do a lot of things with this fic. I don't know if I've achieved all of them, but I do hope you enjoy it. Also, it's Meg/Lisa, so... there's that.
Warnings: SPOILERS for s6 till 6.21:Let It Bleed, dub-con, some swearing, disturbing themes, my first attempt at femslash.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters.
My thanks to minviendha for giving this a look-through and for her encouragement in the face of my unbridled panic!
Painting With Shadows
Lisa is not quite sure what to do with the photos.
She shows them to Ben once, and only once-he’s confused; tells her he’s never seen these or the man in them before. She tries to laugh it off before he can start panicking-the man who’s so intimate with them in the photos, one arm around Lisa’s waist and the other over Ben’s shoulders like he’s known them forever, is obviously some kind of prank. Some sort of crazy photoshopped thing with some random actor’s face pulled from the Internet-the guy does have a bit of a movie star vibe going for him. Ben’s not convinced, but he doesn’t push it (he hasn’t pushed for anything since the hospital), and Lisa hides them away in her bedroom.
(just for a little while longer, she’ll say.)
She thinks the photos are real-she’s just not sure what to do next. There are days when she’s so fatigued and disoriented that she can barely get out of bed and go to work; the idea of investigating this man strangely only makes it worse.
Then there are the little things.
A can of shaving cream in the bathroom cabinet. A perennially testy table-light that she can’t remember getting fixed. Old bills and receipts for things she’s fairly sure she’s never needed, leave alone bought. Charms and trinkets with strange symbols on them, scattered all over the house. A .38 mm pistol in her closet. A faded red stain on the carpet under the sofa in the living room.
She knows she should be panicking over all of this, but she can’t really bring herself to care. She’ll look at the photos sometimes, run a finger over the man’s face and wonder about that plastic smile, that crushing grip. That’s all.
-that’s all.
(everything’s changed, mom! you’ve changed! ben will scream. if only he knew.)
Lisa gets a visitor one day-a young woman, petite and dark-haired, dressed in leather. She introduces herself as Meg, and there’s a peculiar glimmer in her eyes as she says this, like she’s known Lisa for a long, long time. Lisa, for her part, clutches at the doorframe, unsure. She doesn’t know if this is another non-person like the man in the photos, come back to reclaim her place in Lisa’s life. She wonders if she digs around the house enough, she can find vestiges of this woman’s life as well.
After all, Lisa’s life hasn’t felt like it’s just been hers for a long time now.
(you know jenna? from across the street? ben will say. she came over to me and she was wondering where your boyfriend went. she said it wasn’t mark; that it was somebody called de- and she’ll tell him to stop talking, without even really knowing why.)
Meg smiles politely at her. “I don’t believe we’ve met before,” she says, “but I’ve heard of you, Lisa.”
Lisa clears her throat. “How do you know me?” she asks, though her voice is thicker than she’d like it to be.
“Oh, we have some mutual acquaintances,” Meg says flippantly, before moving past Lisa and entering the house. “Like Dean Winchester, for instance.”
The name makes her heart pound and cold sweat slither down her spine; she feels hazier than ever. “I don’t know anybody called Dean,” she says.
(ssh, meg will say. you know him. you know why.)
Meg snorts. “Oh, let’s stop with the pretence, sweetie.” She blinks, and suddenly her eyes are black-completely, like they’ve been scooped out and replaced by pools of ink. Lisa takes a step back. “Now,” Meg says. “I can sense Dean-o isn’t here, but that doesn’t really matter. I just need something of his-give it to me willingly, and I’ll make it painless for you.”
Lisa swallows. “I-I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she says. “Really. I wish I could help you, but I-”
She’s cut off as, within the blink of an eye, Meg has her against the wall, one hand around her throat. “Not really in the mood for games right now, sweetheart.” The pressure increases. “Dean’s amulet. Where is it?”
“Don’t... know,” Lisa chokes out. “Please-”
(she’ll come over, and she’ll tell lisa about the non-person, the man in the photo. he's the man who betrayed you, she’ll say, running one hand over her shoulders while peppering kisses on her neck. the man who left you like you are now.)
Meg continues to squeeze inexorably, and Lisa’s vision starts to darken just before Meg releases her abruptly. Lisa falls to the ground, breathing in great painful gasps. Meg crouches before her. “You really don’t know,” she says.
“That’s what... I’ve been trying to tell you...”
Meg places a hand over Lisa’s head and closes her eyes, reciting something under her breath. When she opens her eyes, she’s grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, but that is rich!” She laughs delightedly. “He had your memories removed! Oh, Saint Dean. Never change.”
(lisa will always want more. meg will bring in other creatures like herself, and they will use her house to stage their horrible spells and their meetings and leave everything stinking of sulphur and death, but at the end of the day meg will come to her and her alone and tell her everything she knows about the man in the photo. he's a killer. he's everything that’s wrong and right about being a human. he was yours, and he left you-for us.)
Meg sneers at her and looks away, but Lisa cries out, “Wait! Please-just explain. About my memories. About-Dean. I’ll help you find anything you want.”
Those black eyes consider her with renewed interest. “Sure,” she says. “Why not?” She reaches out, runs her hand up her Lisa’s arm, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Capitalising on Dean Winchester’s stupidity is my specialty.”
Lisa shudders against the creature’s touch, but doesn’t pull away. She needs to-she needs to know.
“Please,” she says again.
Meg leans in, whispers, “and this is how I destroy you, you bastard,” before kissing her.
(lisa will be spread out under meg, and even as meg will grope and bite and kiss and lick, the man in the photo will come to life in lisa’s head. the more she will try to remember him, the more she will slip away, but she will not really care. and as meg will move further and faster, lisa will arch, and she will scream dean!)
Finis
I... kind of wanted to do a lot of things with this fic. I don't know if I've achieved all of them, but I do hope you enjoy it. Also, it's Meg/Lisa, so... there's that.
Warnings: SPOILERS for s6 till 6.21:Let It Bleed, dub-con, some swearing, disturbing themes, my first attempt at femslash.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters.
My thanks to minviendha for giving this a look-through and for her encouragement in the face of my unbridled panic!
Painting With Shadows
Lisa is not quite sure what to do with the photos.
She shows them to Ben once, and only once-he’s confused; tells her he’s never seen these or the man in them before. She tries to laugh it off before he can start panicking-the man who’s so intimate with them in the photos, one arm around Lisa’s waist and the other over Ben’s shoulders like he’s known them forever, is obviously some kind of prank. Some sort of crazy photoshopped thing with some random actor’s face pulled from the Internet-the guy does have a bit of a movie star vibe going for him. Ben’s not convinced, but he doesn’t push it (he hasn’t pushed for anything since the hospital), and Lisa hides them away in her bedroom.
(just for a little while longer, she’ll say.)
She thinks the photos are real-she’s just not sure what to do next. There are days when she’s so fatigued and disoriented that she can barely get out of bed and go to work; the idea of investigating this man strangely only makes it worse.
Then there are the little things.
A can of shaving cream in the bathroom cabinet. A perennially testy table-light that she can’t remember getting fixed. Old bills and receipts for things she’s fairly sure she’s never needed, leave alone bought. Charms and trinkets with strange symbols on them, scattered all over the house. A .38 mm pistol in her closet. A faded red stain on the carpet under the sofa in the living room.
She knows she should be panicking over all of this, but she can’t really bring herself to care. She’ll look at the photos sometimes, run a finger over the man’s face and wonder about that plastic smile, that crushing grip. That’s all.
-that’s all.
(everything’s changed, mom! you’ve changed! ben will scream. if only he knew.)
Lisa gets a visitor one day-a young woman, petite and dark-haired, dressed in leather. She introduces herself as Meg, and there’s a peculiar glimmer in her eyes as she says this, like she’s known Lisa for a long, long time. Lisa, for her part, clutches at the doorframe, unsure. She doesn’t know if this is another non-person like the man in the photos, come back to reclaim her place in Lisa’s life. She wonders if she digs around the house enough, she can find vestiges of this woman’s life as well.
After all, Lisa’s life hasn’t felt like it’s just been hers for a long time now.
(you know jenna? from across the street? ben will say. she came over to me and she was wondering where your boyfriend went. she said it wasn’t mark; that it was somebody called de- and she’ll tell him to stop talking, without even really knowing why.)
Meg smiles politely at her. “I don’t believe we’ve met before,” she says, “but I’ve heard of you, Lisa.”
Lisa clears her throat. “How do you know me?” she asks, though her voice is thicker than she’d like it to be.
“Oh, we have some mutual acquaintances,” Meg says flippantly, before moving past Lisa and entering the house. “Like Dean Winchester, for instance.”
The name makes her heart pound and cold sweat slither down her spine; she feels hazier than ever. “I don’t know anybody called Dean,” she says.
(ssh, meg will say. you know him. you know why.)
Meg snorts. “Oh, let’s stop with the pretence, sweetie.” She blinks, and suddenly her eyes are black-completely, like they’ve been scooped out and replaced by pools of ink. Lisa takes a step back. “Now,” Meg says. “I can sense Dean-o isn’t here, but that doesn’t really matter. I just need something of his-give it to me willingly, and I’ll make it painless for you.”
Lisa swallows. “I-I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she says. “Really. I wish I could help you, but I-”
She’s cut off as, within the blink of an eye, Meg has her against the wall, one hand around her throat. “Not really in the mood for games right now, sweetheart.” The pressure increases. “Dean’s amulet. Where is it?”
“Don’t... know,” Lisa chokes out. “Please-”
(she’ll come over, and she’ll tell lisa about the non-person, the man in the photo. he's the man who betrayed you, she’ll say, running one hand over her shoulders while peppering kisses on her neck. the man who left you like you are now.)
Meg continues to squeeze inexorably, and Lisa’s vision starts to darken just before Meg releases her abruptly. Lisa falls to the ground, breathing in great painful gasps. Meg crouches before her. “You really don’t know,” she says.
“That’s what... I’ve been trying to tell you...”
Meg places a hand over Lisa’s head and closes her eyes, reciting something under her breath. When she opens her eyes, she’s grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, but that is rich!” She laughs delightedly. “He had your memories removed! Oh, Saint Dean. Never change.”
(lisa will always want more. meg will bring in other creatures like herself, and they will use her house to stage their horrible spells and their meetings and leave everything stinking of sulphur and death, but at the end of the day meg will come to her and her alone and tell her everything she knows about the man in the photo. he's a killer. he's everything that’s wrong and right about being a human. he was yours, and he left you-for us.)
Meg sneers at her and looks away, but Lisa cries out, “Wait! Please-just explain. About my memories. About-Dean. I’ll help you find anything you want.”
Those black eyes consider her with renewed interest. “Sure,” she says. “Why not?” She reaches out, runs her hand up her Lisa’s arm, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Capitalising on Dean Winchester’s stupidity is my specialty.”
Lisa shudders against the creature’s touch, but doesn’t pull away. She needs to-she needs to know.
“Please,” she says again.
Meg leans in, whispers, “and this is how I destroy you, you bastard,” before kissing her.
(lisa will be spread out under meg, and even as meg will grope and bite and kiss and lick, the man in the photo will come to life in lisa’s head. the more she will try to remember him, the more she will slip away, but she will not really care. and as meg will move further and faster, lisa will arch, and she will scream dean!)
Finis