SPN ficlet: Fair Exchanges - Gen (PG)
Title: Fair Exchanges
Pairing: none, 'tis gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: very minor mention of abuse
Spoilers: 4x03 In the Beginning
Word Count: ~650
Summary: No matter where you are, someone's willing to make a deal.
A/N: Written for spnflashfic's international challenge. Originally posted here.
You have the whole world to mine, and somewhere...somewhere there is one.
***
There's a kid barely out of his teens lying in a Mexican hospital bed and he's trying to move his toes, trying not to cry - not to scream - when he can't. His good Christian mother prays to her good Christian god for divine recovery, but the boy, the boy curses and spits, practically vibrating with his why me? and wrath. The medical bills are stacking up, and the care isn't up to what he needs, and he damns his body for breaking so easy.
You tell him, "I can help you."
Later, when he takes his first new step, smiling and unhesitating, his mother breaks down, thanking God and calling it a miracle.
***
There's a system, a formula you follow for these things. It works, always has, every time. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
***
On a train in Tokyo, there's a boy who thinks he knows what Hell is: time pressed up in a crowded train car next to the girl he loves...and her dim-wit of a boyfriend who's as stupid as she is good-looking. The boy doesn't stare at them, won't be rude, but if he could, and if looks could kill...oh, if looks could kill, he'd have a whole load of fun with all the white-hot jealously he's got built up inside.
When the boy gets off at his stop, you approach. "I know what you want," you say. "I can help you." Like you say to all of them.
The boyfriend's dead by the end of the hour.
***
Sex, love, money, success - they all work. Others use them. But life and death, they're the best motivators. You like life and death best.
***
In Nice, France, there's a girl, a pale, pretty little thing who stands on a white-pebbled shore, watching the ebb and flow of the sea like she thinks it's got some greater meaning. And she mourns, salt tears mixing with salt water as tourists have their fun around her; she cries quietly while they laugh.
"Lost your brother dearest, right?" you ask.
"Who are you? How did you...?"
"How'd I know? I know all sorts of things. And I can help you. I'm someone who can help."
She startles when she sees your eyes, but she doesn't run scared. "What's the price?"
When it's done, the girl marvels as her brother walks towards her, walks right out of the water, whole and alive and sputtering. She throws her arms around him, and her promise the last thing on her mind. Ten years is a long time.
***
You search; you deal: lather, rinse, repeat. The right one is somewhere.
***
Lawrence, Kansas, U.S. of A. There's a boy with a drunkard for a dad, a punching bag for a mom.
"Sick yet of watching Mommy get hit? I can help you."
"Who are you? What are you talking about?"
"Not here to hurt you. Just offering you what you need. I can take care of it all, just say the word."
"You mean..."
"It's nothing. Nothing compared to your Mom's safety, right, kiddo?"
"You...you wouldn't, not for free. What do I have to do?"
"That's smart; you're right. There is a price to everything. It's nothing much, nothing you have to give up. I just need permission." You make the exterminator you're wearing give the boy a smile.
***
There's a hunter's daughter in Lawrence, and as you use her daddy's stolen meat to seal things with a kiss, you think that she's your favorite, that this - and her someday-child - might be it.
***
Mary Campbell, soon Winchester, just might be your somewhere-one, but you've got a whole world to try, and an endgame to think about.
In Madrid, there's a woman whose mother is dying.
You tell her, "I can help you."
Pairing: none, 'tis gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: very minor mention of abuse
Spoilers: 4x03 In the Beginning
Word Count: ~650
Summary: No matter where you are, someone's willing to make a deal.
A/N: Written for spnflashfic's international challenge. Originally posted here.
You have the whole world to mine, and somewhere...somewhere there is one.
***
There's a kid barely out of his teens lying in a Mexican hospital bed and he's trying to move his toes, trying not to cry - not to scream - when he can't. His good Christian mother prays to her good Christian god for divine recovery, but the boy, the boy curses and spits, practically vibrating with his why me? and wrath. The medical bills are stacking up, and the care isn't up to what he needs, and he damns his body for breaking so easy.
You tell him, "I can help you."
Later, when he takes his first new step, smiling and unhesitating, his mother breaks down, thanking God and calling it a miracle.
***
There's a system, a formula you follow for these things. It works, always has, every time. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
***
On a train in Tokyo, there's a boy who thinks he knows what Hell is: time pressed up in a crowded train car next to the girl he loves...and her dim-wit of a boyfriend who's as stupid as she is good-looking. The boy doesn't stare at them, won't be rude, but if he could, and if looks could kill...oh, if looks could kill, he'd have a whole load of fun with all the white-hot jealously he's got built up inside.
When the boy gets off at his stop, you approach. "I know what you want," you say. "I can help you." Like you say to all of them.
The boyfriend's dead by the end of the hour.
***
Sex, love, money, success - they all work. Others use them. But life and death, they're the best motivators. You like life and death best.
***
In Nice, France, there's a girl, a pale, pretty little thing who stands on a white-pebbled shore, watching the ebb and flow of the sea like she thinks it's got some greater meaning. And she mourns, salt tears mixing with salt water as tourists have their fun around her; she cries quietly while they laugh.
"Lost your brother dearest, right?" you ask.
"Who are you? How did you...?"
"How'd I know? I know all sorts of things. And I can help you. I'm someone who can help."
She startles when she sees your eyes, but she doesn't run scared. "What's the price?"
When it's done, the girl marvels as her brother walks towards her, walks right out of the water, whole and alive and sputtering. She throws her arms around him, and her promise the last thing on her mind. Ten years is a long time.
***
You search; you deal: lather, rinse, repeat. The right one is somewhere.
***
Lawrence, Kansas, U.S. of A. There's a boy with a drunkard for a dad, a punching bag for a mom.
"Sick yet of watching Mommy get hit? I can help you."
"Who are you? What are you talking about?"
"Not here to hurt you. Just offering you what you need. I can take care of it all, just say the word."
"You mean..."
"It's nothing. Nothing compared to your Mom's safety, right, kiddo?"
"You...you wouldn't, not for free. What do I have to do?"
"That's smart; you're right. There is a price to everything. It's nothing much, nothing you have to give up. I just need permission." You make the exterminator you're wearing give the boy a smile.
***
There's a hunter's daughter in Lawrence, and as you use her daddy's stolen meat to seal things with a kiss, you think that she's your favorite, that this - and her someday-child - might be it.
***
Mary Campbell, soon Winchester, just might be your somewhere-one, but you've got a whole world to try, and an endgame to think about.
In Madrid, there's a woman whose mother is dying.
You tell her, "I can help you."