More Comment Fic (SPN only) 1/3
Okay. I sorta have 13 ficlets for you guys. but because there are 13 of 'em and I don't want to have one post be gigantically huge, you get three smaller ones. They're all from comment_fic and they're all Supernatural. Uhm...enjoy?
Title: Greatly Exaggerated
Author: pandionpandeus
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Gabriel
Summary: Sam's seeing things and then he's not. SPOILER for 5x19
Notes: Written for the prompt: 'Supernatural, Gabriel(/Sam), "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." (Mark Twain)'
In Indianapolis, the front page headline reads ‘Trickster Slain in Duel With Devil’ until he frowns and blinks and then it just says something about a local earthquake killing four.
Miami newspapers ask ‘Trickster Dead or Still Laughing?’ before he realizes they were wondering if the new state law would be passed or not.
‘Archangel Versus Pagan God: Who Walked?’ stares back at him in Seattle, but when he shakes his head, it’s a statement about a cultural festival.
It’s in Dallas that he picks up a paper that doesn’t say anything about Gabriel and the confrontation with Lucifer (now some three weeks ago) and Sam is almost disappointed, but more relieved that he doesn’t have to wonder again if he’s delusional, seeing words that were never there.
Indeed, none of the headlines say or ask anything about the Trickster archangel. However, when he opens the paper to find the local news, his eyes catch on a wanted ad, placed prominently in the middle of an article about crop failures.
Wanted: Tall, intelligent hunter with a vendetta against the Adversary. Can offer assistance and good times. If interested, call 1-800-GAB-RIEL
Gaping, Sam sent a quick glance around the motel room, but he was alone and when he looked back, the wanted ad was still there. He blinked, shook his head, counted backwards from ten, but no cigar. The little square still stared back at him.
“Holy shit,” the hunter breathed. Heart suddenly racing, he stood and paced for a few minutes. Finally, before he could have second thoughts, he stared at nothing and asked, “Gabriel?”
“Hey, kiddo. What’s shaking?”
Whirling, Sam stared at the archangel, who was laying back on one of the beds like he hadn’t died three weeks ago and didn’t have a care in the world right now.
“Gabriel!”
“Yes. That would be me. I thought we’d been through this already. Ring of holy fire and everything. Can we move past that?” Gabriel waved a hand at the human, as if to say ‘hurry up.’
Sam scowled and took a step forward. “You bastard!”
That earned a raised eyebrow. “Not really, but I can understand the sentiment,” the archangel said, conjuring a lollipop and sticking it in his mouth.
“You know,” he continued around the candy before Sam could say anything more. “I was expecting you to say something more along the lines of ‘Gabriel, you sexy beast! How did you survive? We thought you were dead!’ To which I would reply, ‘Why did you ever doubt, mortal? The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated. After all, I am an archangel and a Trickster to boot. My ways are many and mysterious and a silly human like you could never understand. Let it suffice that I am here now.’ And you would be properly amazed and then we would make with the celebratory sex.”
Sam gaped for a moment before deflating and running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I’m glad you’re not really dead, Gabriel,” he said, offering a tired smile.
The archangel grinned back. “Was that really so hard? And can we have sex now?”
---
Title: Powerless
Author: pandionpandeus
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel
Summary: Gabriel gets challenged to go a week without using his powers.
Notes: Written for the prompt: 'Supernatural, Gabriel, going without powers for one week'
He must be mad. Bonkers. Off his rocker. A few fries short of a Happy Meal.
After all, only insanity could explain just why he’d taken that challenge.
Three days in and he was already going through withdrawals and resorting to holding onto stress balls with both hands to stop himself from snapping. Unfortunately, controlling his will was a bit harder.
Catching himself just in time before he conjured a candy bar, he went digging in the duffle bag of candy he’d convinced the boys to get him, on the basis that the challenge hadn’t been for him to stop eating candy for a week. Finding a Twix bar, he ate it and tried not to think about anything in particular.
On day four, he amused himself by shortsheeting the beds, switching the Winchesters’ boxers and shooting spitwads at Castiel. All three were annoying to do by hand, but at least were time-consuming.
By day 5, he’d started picking fights with Dean to keep him occupied enough to not think about using his powers. Sam and Castiel finally had to resort to literally gagging both of them to stop it.
Day six, he counted specks on the ceiling of the trashy motel room du jour’s ceiling.
Day seven was spent counting down the seconds until he could use his powers again.
When the clock finally ticked over into the P.M., he let out a whoop and promptly disappeared from the backseat of the Impala.
Tahiti, here he came!
---
Title: Fix-It Angel
Author: pandionpandeus
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Bobby
Summary: Cas can fix that.
Notes: Written for the prompt: 'Supernatural, Castiel & Bobby Singer, "I can fix that."'
Preoccupied, Castiel didn’t notice the vase until it hit the floor. Then, he stared at the various shards, as if perplexed with how they’d gotten on the floor.
When Bobby wheeled in a moment later to see what the matter was, the angel looked up at him, guilt writ large across his face.
“I can fix that,” he said.
---
Title: Born of War
Author: pandionpandeus
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel
Summary: When it was over, there was...more spare time than any of them could remember ever having.
Notes: Written for the prompt: 'Supernatural, Any, Creatures born of war hardly know what to do with peace.'
When it was over, there was suddenly a lot less supernatural activity and the Winchesters, Bobby and Castiel (who had chosen to remain on Earth) found themselves with more spare time than any of them could remember ever having.
For about two weeks, they took advantage of it, sleeping, eating and generally celebrating in every way they could think of. Eventually, however, the inactivity started to get to them. Dean was first.
He started spending long hours outside, doing physical work; chopping firewood, tinkering around with the Impala, fixing up Bobby’s old car, hauling rubbish, anything he could think of that meant manual labor.
Sam wasn’t far behind, though his restless energy was directed towards reading up on everything he could. He started a new journal, taking everything in John’s and Bobby’s and from their own experience and compiling it into a master journal. Bookshelves were straightened and ordered in record time.
Bobby started joining Dean outside, doing what he could.
Finally, three days after that, Castiel brought the subject up over dinner. “Will you not return to your former life?”
The three hunters shared a look.
“Well,” Sam said. “I guess we could try to settle down…”
The angel shook his head. “These past few weeks have shown that, if nothing else, living peaceful lives is not what you are suited for. Will you return to hunting or choose some other path?”
They couldn’t answer him, but the next morning, they packed up the Impala and set off to hunt down whatever they could find.
---
Title: Greatly Exaggerated
Author: pandionpandeus
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Gabriel
Summary: Sam's seeing things and then he's not. SPOILER for 5x19
Notes: Written for the prompt: 'Supernatural, Gabriel(/Sam), "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." (Mark Twain)'
In Indianapolis, the front page headline reads ‘Trickster Slain in Duel With Devil’ until he frowns and blinks and then it just says something about a local earthquake killing four.
Miami newspapers ask ‘Trickster Dead or Still Laughing?’ before he realizes they were wondering if the new state law would be passed or not.
‘Archangel Versus Pagan God: Who Walked?’ stares back at him in Seattle, but when he shakes his head, it’s a statement about a cultural festival.
It’s in Dallas that he picks up a paper that doesn’t say anything about Gabriel and the confrontation with Lucifer (now some three weeks ago) and Sam is almost disappointed, but more relieved that he doesn’t have to wonder again if he’s delusional, seeing words that were never there.
Indeed, none of the headlines say or ask anything about the Trickster archangel. However, when he opens the paper to find the local news, his eyes catch on a wanted ad, placed prominently in the middle of an article about crop failures.
Wanted: Tall, intelligent hunter with a vendetta against the Adversary. Can offer assistance and good times. If interested, call 1-800-GAB-RIEL
Gaping, Sam sent a quick glance around the motel room, but he was alone and when he looked back, the wanted ad was still there. He blinked, shook his head, counted backwards from ten, but no cigar. The little square still stared back at him.
“Holy shit,” the hunter breathed. Heart suddenly racing, he stood and paced for a few minutes. Finally, before he could have second thoughts, he stared at nothing and asked, “Gabriel?”
“Hey, kiddo. What’s shaking?”
Whirling, Sam stared at the archangel, who was laying back on one of the beds like he hadn’t died three weeks ago and didn’t have a care in the world right now.
“Gabriel!”
“Yes. That would be me. I thought we’d been through this already. Ring of holy fire and everything. Can we move past that?” Gabriel waved a hand at the human, as if to say ‘hurry up.’
Sam scowled and took a step forward. “You bastard!”
That earned a raised eyebrow. “Not really, but I can understand the sentiment,” the archangel said, conjuring a lollipop and sticking it in his mouth.
“You know,” he continued around the candy before Sam could say anything more. “I was expecting you to say something more along the lines of ‘Gabriel, you sexy beast! How did you survive? We thought you were dead!’ To which I would reply, ‘Why did you ever doubt, mortal? The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated. After all, I am an archangel and a Trickster to boot. My ways are many and mysterious and a silly human like you could never understand. Let it suffice that I am here now.’ And you would be properly amazed and then we would make with the celebratory sex.”
Sam gaped for a moment before deflating and running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I’m glad you’re not really dead, Gabriel,” he said, offering a tired smile.
The archangel grinned back. “Was that really so hard? And can we have sex now?”
---
Title: Powerless
Author: pandionpandeus
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel
Summary: Gabriel gets challenged to go a week without using his powers.
Notes: Written for the prompt: 'Supernatural, Gabriel, going without powers for one week'
He must be mad. Bonkers. Off his rocker. A few fries short of a Happy Meal.
After all, only insanity could explain just why he’d taken that challenge.
Three days in and he was already going through withdrawals and resorting to holding onto stress balls with both hands to stop himself from snapping. Unfortunately, controlling his will was a bit harder.
Catching himself just in time before he conjured a candy bar, he went digging in the duffle bag of candy he’d convinced the boys to get him, on the basis that the challenge hadn’t been for him to stop eating candy for a week. Finding a Twix bar, he ate it and tried not to think about anything in particular.
On day four, he amused himself by shortsheeting the beds, switching the Winchesters’ boxers and shooting spitwads at Castiel. All three were annoying to do by hand, but at least were time-consuming.
By day 5, he’d started picking fights with Dean to keep him occupied enough to not think about using his powers. Sam and Castiel finally had to resort to literally gagging both of them to stop it.
Day six, he counted specks on the ceiling of the trashy motel room du jour’s ceiling.
Day seven was spent counting down the seconds until he could use his powers again.
When the clock finally ticked over into the P.M., he let out a whoop and promptly disappeared from the backseat of the Impala.
Tahiti, here he came!
---
Title: Fix-It Angel
Author: pandionpandeus
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Bobby
Summary: Cas can fix that.
Notes: Written for the prompt: 'Supernatural, Castiel & Bobby Singer, "I can fix that."'
Preoccupied, Castiel didn’t notice the vase until it hit the floor. Then, he stared at the various shards, as if perplexed with how they’d gotten on the floor.
When Bobby wheeled in a moment later to see what the matter was, the angel looked up at him, guilt writ large across his face.
“I can fix that,” he said.
---
Title: Born of War
Author: pandionpandeus
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel
Summary: When it was over, there was...more spare time than any of them could remember ever having.
Notes: Written for the prompt: 'Supernatural, Any, Creatures born of war hardly know what to do with peace.'
When it was over, there was suddenly a lot less supernatural activity and the Winchesters, Bobby and Castiel (who had chosen to remain on Earth) found themselves with more spare time than any of them could remember ever having.
For about two weeks, they took advantage of it, sleeping, eating and generally celebrating in every way they could think of. Eventually, however, the inactivity started to get to them. Dean was first.
He started spending long hours outside, doing physical work; chopping firewood, tinkering around with the Impala, fixing up Bobby’s old car, hauling rubbish, anything he could think of that meant manual labor.
Sam wasn’t far behind, though his restless energy was directed towards reading up on everything he could. He started a new journal, taking everything in John’s and Bobby’s and from their own experience and compiling it into a master journal. Bookshelves were straightened and ordered in record time.
Bobby started joining Dean outside, doing what he could.
Finally, three days after that, Castiel brought the subject up over dinner. “Will you not return to your former life?”
The three hunters shared a look.
“Well,” Sam said. “I guess we could try to settle down…”
The angel shook his head. “These past few weeks have shown that, if nothing else, living peaceful lives is not what you are suited for. Will you return to hunting or choose some other path?”
They couldn’t answer him, but the next morning, they packed up the Impala and set off to hunt down whatever they could find.
---