Prison Break Fanfiction: Down Home (Supernatural Crossover)
Title: Down Home
Author: HalfshellVenus
Fandom: Prison Break/Supernatural Crossover
Characters: T-Bag, ? (Gen)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 500
Summary: An inexecusable crossover story. You can never really go home again…
Disclaimer: Neither the characters nor universes of Supernatural or Prison Break belong to me.
Author’s Notes: Written for the pbreak_drabbles “Crossover” Challenge.
x-x-x-x-x
When they finally got out-and what a rambling piece of work that had been-T-Bag did exactly what an escaped convict should never do.
He went home.
He picked through fields and back roads, bleached-out hair and clean-shaven face his best effort at looking like someone else. Some folks in these parts didn’t even have television, thank heaven.
He snuck through the outskirts of town to the dirt road leading to the house. Through the brush he went, dew and cobwebs marking his jacket until the dark shape of the house loomed ahead.
T-Bag approached the porch sideways then. Not creeping up on it (might set them off), but allowing time to listen and intuit the atmosphere.
It was surprisingly quiet. No smoke from the chimney-and they used the wood stove for cooking half the time. No answer to his knock on the front door.
The door wasn’t locked-never was-so he went on in. Bloodstains in the kitchen, and he wondered why they weren’t using the fields for slaughter. Messy, filthy business-not what you want inside the house. He checked the bedrooms, all of them vacant and as shabby as ever, and finally went down to the basement.
Good lord, the smell! It was absolutely wretched down there, and the room was crowded full of cages and what-not. What had they gotten up to while he was gone all these years? Hell if that wasn’t blood on the floor again.
He crept closer, sleeve over his nose and mouth against the flies and the smell. Blood, no bodies, no people. What on earth?
He heard lightweight steps overhead. Not a man. Mama, maybe. He stole back up the stairs quietly, opening the door to a faceful of twelve-gauge.
“Now wait a minute there, Missy! Y’all put that down this instant. This is my family’s house.”
The eyes in that wild-haired face were downright scary. She was just a girl, rough-looking and scrawny, but clearly dangerous. A feral child?
“I’m Teddy,” he said. “And who might you be?”
“I’m Sissy,” she said. “This is my house, now that Daddy’s gone.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Daddy. Those people done killed him. Bobby Lang, too. I got away.”
“My Daddy?”
“Guess so.”
Impossible. “Mama didn’t have any more children.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Where is Mama then?”
“Daddy hunted her years ago. She weren’t no better’n an animal, anyway. Easy prey, Daddy said. He got better targets after that.”
“What?”
“That make you my big brother? Heard I had one.”
“Y’all killed Mama?”
“You mighty quick to judge. You been gone a long time.”
Dear lord. “Now easy, there. Shotgun makes me nervous.”
“We got our way of doin’ things. You ain’t gonna fit in.”
“Whoa now!”
“You look pretty fast, though. Give you a five-second start, but then I’m comin’.”
“What?”
“One… two…”
Goddamn!
He lit off through the woods like a rabbit, dodging and weaving.
Crazy family. Makes me look sane.
Faster now, Faster.
He could hear her coming...
----- fin -----
Author: HalfshellVenus
Fandom: Prison Break/Supernatural Crossover
Characters: T-Bag, ? (Gen)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 500
Summary: An inexecusable crossover story. You can never really go home again…
Disclaimer: Neither the characters nor universes of Supernatural or Prison Break belong to me.
Author’s Notes: Written for the pbreak_drabbles “Crossover” Challenge.
x-x-x-x-x
When they finally got out-and what a rambling piece of work that had been-T-Bag did exactly what an escaped convict should never do.
He went home.
He picked through fields and back roads, bleached-out hair and clean-shaven face his best effort at looking like someone else. Some folks in these parts didn’t even have television, thank heaven.
He snuck through the outskirts of town to the dirt road leading to the house. Through the brush he went, dew and cobwebs marking his jacket until the dark shape of the house loomed ahead.
T-Bag approached the porch sideways then. Not creeping up on it (might set them off), but allowing time to listen and intuit the atmosphere.
It was surprisingly quiet. No smoke from the chimney-and they used the wood stove for cooking half the time. No answer to his knock on the front door.
The door wasn’t locked-never was-so he went on in. Bloodstains in the kitchen, and he wondered why they weren’t using the fields for slaughter. Messy, filthy business-not what you want inside the house. He checked the bedrooms, all of them vacant and as shabby as ever, and finally went down to the basement.
Good lord, the smell! It was absolutely wretched down there, and the room was crowded full of cages and what-not. What had they gotten up to while he was gone all these years? Hell if that wasn’t blood on the floor again.
He crept closer, sleeve over his nose and mouth against the flies and the smell. Blood, no bodies, no people. What on earth?
He heard lightweight steps overhead. Not a man. Mama, maybe. He stole back up the stairs quietly, opening the door to a faceful of twelve-gauge.
“Now wait a minute there, Missy! Y’all put that down this instant. This is my family’s house.”
The eyes in that wild-haired face were downright scary. She was just a girl, rough-looking and scrawny, but clearly dangerous. A feral child?
“I’m Teddy,” he said. “And who might you be?”
“I’m Sissy,” she said. “This is my house, now that Daddy’s gone.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Daddy. Those people done killed him. Bobby Lang, too. I got away.”
“My Daddy?”
“Guess so.”
Impossible. “Mama didn’t have any more children.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Where is Mama then?”
“Daddy hunted her years ago. She weren’t no better’n an animal, anyway. Easy prey, Daddy said. He got better targets after that.”
“What?”
“That make you my big brother? Heard I had one.”
“Y’all killed Mama?”
“You mighty quick to judge. You been gone a long time.”
Dear lord. “Now easy, there. Shotgun makes me nervous.”
“We got our way of doin’ things. You ain’t gonna fit in.”
“Whoa now!”
“You look pretty fast, though. Give you a five-second start, but then I’m comin’.”
“What?”
“One… two…”
Goddamn!
He lit off through the woods like a rabbit, dodging and weaving.
Crazy family. Makes me look sane.
Faster now, Faster.
He could hear her coming...
----- fin -----