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ultraviolet9a>> The hitchhikers (and the De Soir Code) (Part 1/2)
TITLE: The hitchhikers (and the De Soir Code)
AUTHOR: ultraviolet9a
SPOILER: Spoilers for after In My Time of Dying
ultraviolet9aSPOILER: Spoilers for after In My Time of Dying
GENRE: Crackfic.
CHARACTERS: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester and a heap of other persons I can’t tell you about.
SUMMARY: Sam, Dean, John, a heap of other persons and the Mystery behind Lana of Smallville. (And the mashed-potato-well demon. And mysterious voices.And sarcasm like whoa. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you anyway.)
RATING: PG-13. Easy on the rating.
FEEDBACK: Dude…duh.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the Winchester boys nor the various other verse visitors (which include Smallville and Ats generally speaking). I’m willing to compromise with doppelgangers though.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the Winchester boys nor the various other verse visitors (which include Smallville and Ats generally speaking). I’m willing to compromise with doppelgangers though.
NOTE: This is my favourite piece of work by far, and the one I’m most proud of because no hint is left unresolved or misplaced. My credo too, in a sense. Everything I believe about the Winchesters, fanfic (and Lana) is in here. (I blame Pratchett a lot. And Spike.)
It all makes sense in the end, so the saying goes.
The Winchesters had trailed down the vampire nest for quite some time. There had been people found drained and ripped apart all around the county. There were young women missing.
So they investigated.
It had been hard not having coordinates sent. It had been hard having that link cut off, the reassuring weight of John gone.
It had been hard and they still walked that frail line of those who are still tasting death deep in their throat. But the hunt went on.
It always did.
The nest was an old barn. It consisted of four new vampires [the missing girls, all pretty and young] and three old ones. Males. About to built their own personal harem. They’d taken out the young ones, they were fairly easy and beyond saving and Dean had managed in a swift highlander move to take off the head of one of the elder.
The other two had survived. They were strong. They were cunning. Sam had already had his right arm hurt at shoulder height and both suffered blade wounds.
Dean grinned.
“Just two, Sammy, piece of cake.”
The vampires grinned.
“Just two?” the one said and suddenly more vampires streamed out of the shadows.
“So, big piece of cake,” Dean said, tilting his head lightly and both prepared for a way out.
They weren’t sure what had happened. One minute they were outnumbered, the next one of the black tinted windows had been demolished by a figure jumping through it in a summersault. The figure rolled up impressively holding a katana above the head that somehow managed to steal the only ray of light away. For a moment everything went still. Then the figure moved. No, it didn’t just move, it danced, danced wildly around and the Winchesters joined in until the vampires were massacred.
They got out, into the glorious light.
And the Winchesters met their helper.
She stood like a May queen. She stood like a top model about to have a photo shoot. She stood like the Goddess Venus, fresh out of the Cypriot waters.
She had long blonde hair waving in the wind like a shampoo commercial even though there was no wind blowing. She had the most perfect body Dean has ever laid eyes upon. She wore skin tight faded jeans, black leather boots with a spiked heel, and a short tight black leather jacket that somehow didn’t stop her perfect breast from perfectly bouncing as she moved even slightly. There wasn’t one speck of blood on her, save tiny blood drops on her face that she wiped away in a gesture frail and strong at the same time. Even the Katana flickered blood free as she sheathed it in the specially made sheath on her back.
A tiny rational part of Sam’s mind wondered how she managed to do that without cutting her own hair, but that too shut up faced by her glory.
“Hi!!!” the blonde said. “I’m Madeline Amber Rachel Yvonne de Soir!!”
Sam blinked. Her voice was husky and sensual, yet somehow full of exclamation marks.
The Winchesters stood mesmerized for one brief moment. That dimpled smile. Those pearly whites. And slanted eyes varying between light green and golden…
“But she prefers to be called Amber because that’s how her dad used to call her,” a voice said behind them. “Oh, and de Soir means night in French, so she’s Amber of the Night so to speak. Ha, ha.”
It wasn’t a husky, sensual voice. It was a warm, cultivated, normal voice, and it carried the weariness of someone who has heard the same story over and over again and still doesn’t like it. It was practically a voice that rolled its eyes.
Both Winchesters managed to detract their eyes for a moment and turn around. Her companion was about to sit on a rock, dirty backpack beside her, rolling a cigarette back and forth in her palms thoughtfully. Brown hair in a tussled ponytail, garden variety dark eyes, normal jeans, boots that were made for walking, a leather jacket selected probably for its many pockets, all in varying shades of brown, with specks of a thick liquid drying on them. Blood, Dean thought. Blood, cuz her face and hands and hair were blood spattered too. Hence the brown. Blood didn’t show that much on it, Dean thought. Clothes made for travelling. And hunting.
The girl never lit the cigarette. She kept playing it in her fingers some more and then pushed it back on a breast pocket.
“They had people tied up in a back room. Midnight snack, I’m guessing” she said. “That’s where the rest of the pack had been hiding. They came together yesterday, two nests. I think they knew someone was on their scent.”
“Are the people ok?” Sam asked. She nodded wearily. “Yeah.. It was only a couple of them and only two vampire keepers. So I gave them the car keys of the vampires’ van. They’ll be off to town, so my best guess is we should hit the road.”
Amber coughed. It was a perfect cough.
Both Sam and Dean felt inclined to turn around and look at her, but she made it easy by walking in a bad girl strut towards her companion. And their eyes still followed her like magnet.
“You got some pretty amazing sword skills,” Dean said. “And some damn good timing.”
This time the brunette rolled her eyes.
“I’m sure Amber saved your life in a pretty amazing way. It was nice seeing you, always great to meet fellow hunters, hope you always remain safe and sane, now can we please split before the cops arrive?”
She got up. Amber shook her head making small ts sounds.
“Please excuse my friend,” she said. “Killing things does that to her. This is…”
The brunette groaned.
“…Matt. Just plain Matt.”
“I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean,” Sam offered with a slight gesture.
“Nice to meet you. Now let’s go, shall we?”
Dean smiled a megawatt smile.
“You girls need a ride?”
They didn’t. Amber owned a Cherokee jeep and had just come to Trinity following a hot lead on the vampires, so all that happened was that they followed the Impala to Jack’s Lumber Motel at the edge of town. It was the only motel around anyway.
Amber had walked to the desk, looking all fresh, while Matt spied from the outside, totally aware of how she looked.
“No rooms? At all?” Amber asked sighing. The man behind the desk shook his head, eyes never leaving her face.
“Not even a small one?” Amber asked smiling seductively. Matt could see the smile. She could also deduce the room temperature rise, if she was to judge by the beads of sweat on the clerk’s face.
“I’m sorry, there’s a wedding, we’re fully booked,” he mumbled apologetically.
Amber backed out to open the door from the inside, while Dean opened from the outside. Matt didn’t even bother to tip him on the shoulder, pointing out that she was standing two meters away. Wouldn’t work anyway. Never did, not with Amber around.
She did allow herself one small thought, though. Boy, the Winchesters looked good. And smelt good. At least now. Dean.
He had clean clothes on and smelt fresh from the shower.
“You settled in yet?”
“No vacancy”, Amber said. “We’ll have to drive to the next town.”
Matt looked at herself in disgust. She had tried cleaning up as best as she could, but she could feel the blood and the dirt and the sweat and the fear all in one tight pack around her.
“Why don’t you use the showers in our room?” Dean proposed. And then you can figure out what to do next.”
Matt rolled her eyes. That always happened with Amber. Whenever there were cute guys around something would happen so they’d end up stuck together.
“That’d be great, thanks!” Amber smiled brightly at him, and Dean replied with an open, cocky, bright smile. Matt sighed and followed them.
Shower was a relief. It always was, Sam thought. Except that time when Dean had put itching powder in his pants after the shower, but that was after, so that didn’t really count. He put a T-shirt on, careful not to mess with the bandages Dean had helped him with and dried his hair with a towel.
Shower was a relief, but…but. They had extinguished the vampire nest. But. They were alive and in one piece. But. They had met up with fellow hunters. But. And one was ultra hot. But. It was deep in his mind. Something was off. Something didn’t feel right. In the back of his mind, he thought he’d hear a wave of voices mumbling…protesting. Then there was a knock on the door, his brother came back with Amber and…Matt and the voices were silent.
Matt had a shower first, because she said she was quicker. Amber claimed because she was more bloody. It didn’t matter. She was out in no time, wrapped in soft faded sweatpants and sat on the bed sipping on the coffee and snacks Amber had brought “as a thanks for you guys letting us use your shower.”
She should stop rolling her eyes. If she rolled her eyes a bit more soon they’d fall off their sockets.
So Amber hit the shower and she sat with relief on one quilted bed, glad to be out of Amber’s vicinity for a while. The brothers sat on the opposite bed, and sipped in silence.
“You been hunting a while, haven’t you?” she asked them.
“Why would you say that?” Dean asked.
She smiled.
“The way you carry yourself. And the half opened notebook on the table. And your half opened weapon bag half shoved under your feet. Not to mention the short glimpse I got of your trunk as we were leaving..”
Sam looked at Dean and both chuckled.
“I take it you’ve been hunting a while.”
She nodded. They were silent.
“So, Matt. That’s an unusual name,” Sam said after a while.
“For a girl you mean? It’s Matilda. It was that or Tildie. So.” She didn’t even comment on the fact that they didn’t find Amber’s whole name odd. They never did.
Suddenly there was a song bursting from the bathroom. The voice was amazing. Could beat down Whitney Huston like that in its clarity and range. She was singing…Metallica.
“Is that Amber?!” Dean asked.
“She’s great!” Sam said.
“And she knows Metallica!” Dean said.
“And her vocal range is amazing!” Sam said.
Matt groaned. Took an empty Cola tin on the night table, and threw it hard aiming at the bathroom door.
“Headache here, thank you!” she yelled and there was a muffled sorry from the other side. She looked at the boys.
“You try living with her 24 seven and then tell me if you can bear someone singing the whole. bloody. time.”
“So…” Dean said again. “How’d you end up with Amber?”
She shrugged.
“I have no idea. I know I was supposed to be the other character the fanfic writer always likes to add and somehow I ended up with a travelling companion.”
“Ah.”
“Ah.”
Then Amber came out of the shower, in tight, tight clothes, with lots of beautiful soft skin and wrapped up in fragrance.
“Let’s paint the town red!!!!” she said.
They did.
Again.
And again.
[And of course Amber always danced so great and could shoot pools like a pro and drink anyone under the table and liked dirty jokes. Of course.]
They hadn’t split. They had followed one more case of vampires Amber had heard off. Then she was cornered and somehow a big log of wood ended up hitting the bad guy on the head, so she had to come forward and say how she had minor telekinesis. And then she had to say how her mum died in a fire above her crib and then the Winchesters decided that she would stay with them.
For more than one reason.
Sam suspected that Dean was in love with her. Which felt wrong. Not because he himself felt so much attracted to her, but because…something was off. Dean didn’t do that. Cassie had been an exception. Dean didn’t follow like a puppy. Dean wouldn’t put a woman, any woman, save for their own mother, on top of everything else. Not on top of the hunt.
Something was off.
And it wasn’t her calling him Sammy.
It was him not minding.
He’d heard voices. They were growing louder. More dissatisfied. He didn’t mention them.
They followed case after case. It was lucky that Amber was with them. She had saved them on numerous occasions.
It was lucky she had met the boys, Amber said. There was this time when a werewolf was about to kill her and if Dean hadn’t shot it down, she’d be dead. She’d cry in her sleep for days afterwards and Dean would always stay up with her, and hold her hand and hug her.
But something was off. Something was off. He could feel it in his bones, in that part of him that…that made things move. That dreamt of things that would or had already happened.
And then there was the time when Amber started doing magic, heavy magic, to bind a demon and she did, and somehow they started talking and it turned out that her great-great grandmother had been a Salem’s witch and she had inherited her gift from her.
And then somehow Dean had mentioned how their dad died, and that in itself was wrong, Dean would never get into detail like that with anyone, not even Sam, and then her eyes flew open and she said it was a supernatural death and those could be changed and they’d been on the hunt for the special spell to bring the dead back, even when Matt was telling them that bringing the dead couldn’t be done, it was in a different verse, in this verse you could bring something back but it wouldn’t be just the dead. Something dark had to come along for the ride too.
But that didn’t matter. They’d go after that spell, and Matt only rolled her eyes, and sighed.
And there was Matt of course. Cultivated, witty, acid Matt, rolling her eyes, but comforting and bandaging them and staying up with them to trail out routes and plans and digging up information. Matt, who somehow always seemed to work unobtrusively, barely there, a presence taking as little space as possible.
Matt, who said she became a hunter because she had looked into the dark side, and the dark side had looked back at her. So she couldn’t turn her back. Not with the dark side staring.
It was odd how they weren’t splitting at all anymore. Ever since that other arch nemesis of Amber had showed up and broken into her room almost killing her [never mind Matt saying that the arch nemesis couldn’t kill Amber even if his life depended on it, the knife wound was clearly not intended as fatal, because he could easily have gone for heart or throat], Dean insisted that for a while they’d share lodgings, and sleep in shifts.
It was one of those shifts, Amber happily sleeping holding Dean’s hand when Matt got up.
“I’m going for coffee,” she said. She didn’t whisper. She knew that a whisper would start any hunter up [save for Amber. When Amber was sleeping what was important was watching her sleep because she looked like an angel sleeping] because a whisper is meant to be concealing. So she spoke normally, though a bit toned down and milder.
She closed the door softly behind her.
When too much time had passed, and she still wasn’t back, Sam put on his jacket and went to look for her.
He didn’t have to look far.
Matt was sitting outside the room, at the doorsteps, looking at the starry sky.
He sat down beside her.
“Something’s bothering you,” he said.
She didn’t reply.
“It’s bothering me too.”
“Is it?” she said wearily, without taking her eyes off the sky.
“It’s Amber,” he said.
This time her head jerked to him.
“What about Amber?”
“Something doesn’t click,” he said. “I know she’s gorgeous and by god, I have never seen anyone fight like that before, but Dean is crushing on her.”
“Oh.” She looked again at the sky. “I suppose that bothers you because secretly you’re crushing on her too. It’s expected, really. You’ll be both crushing and bonding with her in no time.” She patted him on the knee. “Don’t worry about it, boy.”
“I’m not…crushing on her!”
She turned to look at him. Steadily. Odd, Sam thought. Those garden variety eyes…I mean, if you looked at them for long…or rather if they focused on you for too long you’d see strength there. And essence. Funny how they never did notice.
Amber’s eyes were golden when light hit them, he thought. Amazing really. Almost magic, like an elf.
“I’m not…crushing on her,” he said this time without conviction.
“It’s not…normal,” he finished lamely.
He tried to focus. Sam always could focus. He always noticed details, one of his law teachers had told him. And details troubled him.
Matt was rolling again a cigarette back and forth, this time between her palms, her coffee left on the side.
“Mattie,” he said, “there are voices.”
The cigarette. Back and forth. No other move.
“Ever since you and Amber came in the picture, I’ve been hearing voices. Like a wave of them in the distance.”
“What are they saying?”
“I don’t know. But they don’t sound happy.”
They remained silent for a while.
“I don’t hear voices,” Matt said. She tucked the cigarette back in a pocket. “I just…I just have a feeling that it’s supposed to be different.”
“Different how?”
“You know how sometimes when you’re dreaming and having a nightmare, like maybe someone you love wants to kill you, but it feels real? Not like a dream at all? More real than real somehow?”
“Yes.”
“But somehow even when you’re in the dream and you believe that everything is real, deep down a part of you knows that your dad would never attack you, say, with a kitchen knife?”
Well, that depended if that was part of your training drill or not, Sam thought, but only nodded.
“This is what I’m feeling, Sam,” she said. “Like everything feels normal and is as it should be, but the part of you that’s stared into the dark knows that it’s not right. It’s like a river running backwards. Like two and two make three, not four.”
That was exactly it, Sam thought. Things felt off. The way Dean spoke and acted. The way he himself thought and acted. As if they weren’t themselves anymore. As if their voices weren’t true. He took a deep breath.
“And you think Amber is to blame?”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she said, but couldn’t help thinking how she always came out covered in gore, when Amber was fresh like a Cajoline commercial. How when she cried she looked puffed up and needed to blow her nose, but Amber’s tears were like liquid diamonds, and she didn’t puff up and her nose didn’t run. How everything somehow revolved around Amber when…when it should have revolved around the Winchesters. Huh. The thought hit her with the brilliance and clarity of lightning. Something had been misplaced. The compass needle should have pointed at the Winchesters but it pointed at Amber.
She didn’t know if that was so, but she felt it to be true. She didn’t say it.
“I’m cold, Sammy,” she said and went back inside.
“Hey, Amber?” Mattie said sitting at the trunk of the car. The Winchesters had gone to a monastery where the spell book bringing the dead would be. They were dressed as priests and of course Amber had made that witty repartee about “uh, forgive me fathers, for I’m about to sin!” and the boys had laughed and Mattie wanted to shoot herself.
The girls stayed behind.
“Yes, Matilda? Is something wrong?”
Mattie groaned. Amber had a flair for drama.
“So did you have sex with any of the boys yet or not?”
“Matilda!!” There was a faint but totally adorable blush gracing Amber’s cheekbones. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that!”
“Oh come on, I mean you’re pretty tight with Dean.”
“Yes,” Amber said looking in the distance, “but I have two choices, either to engage in immediate and satisfactory one night stand with one protagonist which will be followed by conflicts leading to more sex and emotional scenes and eternal love, or I could develop a slower bonding which will evolve in eternal love and soul mates anyway. Since I have a PhD in psychology and philosophy not to mention religion, I thought I’d try the second version.”
“Oh.”
And then it hit her again with absolute certainty: that’s why Sam’s voices weren’t shouting yet.
The boys returned, with the book.
‘We’ll need isolation to perform this,” Amber said. “A desolate barn maybe or empty ghost house or whatever. Somewhere with no people around.”
And I’m sure it’s going to be raining that night, Matt thought. With lots of lightning and thunder. And I’m sure you’ll look drop dead gorgeous all wet and dripping, while I’ll look like a wet cat.
“I think I saw one on our way here,” Dean said. “Church ruins. We drove by.”
“That should do it.”
“And of course I need to translate this first, just in case,” Amber said.
“Jeez, Amber, I didn’t know you could translate runes!” Dean said smiling in amazement.
“Well, you see, my godmother delved in the black arts and translating, so I’m fluent in Runes, Hebrew, Latin, ancient Greek and Mayan!”
“Golly gee whiz!” Sam exclaimed, and to his own ears that somehow didn’t sound right either.
She had fallen asleep on the motel desk while translating. If it had been anyone else, spit would have drooled down the mouth giving one the appearance of a mentally challenged person, but Amber had been spared the fate of a village idiot. She looked like an angel.
Sam and Dean were dozing off and Mattie stayed on the armchair, waiting. She could feel they were running out of time. She didn’t know why. She gingerly got up from the chair and brushed Amber’s long blonde hair away from the notepads. Huh. The translation was perfect if she was to judge by the notes-even if her own knowledge of runes was marginal.
Then she started checking the doodles. Everybody doodled, stars or geometrical shapes or cartoons or whatever. But Amber’s doodles…well. They’d have put Da Vinci to shame. The girl was gifted through and through.
Then something caught her eye. Imitating the medieval prayer book style she had been reading, since the bring the dead spell was part of a medieval prayer book, Amber had etched her names in letters of similar style:
Madeline Amber Rachel Yvonne de Soir
Matt put her hands over her mouth to stifle her gasp.
Stood there for a few seconds. Willed her heart to calm down.
Then tiptoed to Sam and clamped his mouth with her right palm, her left index finger on her lips, making a gesture of hushing.
He got up with a start but his gasp was stifled too. Dean moved slightly.
She beckoned him outside, and when he closed the door behind them she took him by the hand and walked him all the way across the parking.
“Matt, what’s the matter with you? What’s happened?”
“I got it, Sam, I got it,” she said fidgeting, unable to stand still, “I finally got it! Didn’t you ever wonder why we were all in gore and she didn’t have the slightest blood? Why she seems so gifted and everything but why suddenly all of your quests revolve around her?”
He grabbed her by the shoulders if only to keep still.. Deep green eyes looked at her in earnest.
“Our quest is about bringing dad back.”
“Through her. She told you the spell, we’ve been with you all this time and it all evolves about her saving you or you saving her!”
“Matt, come on…”
“You were considering cutting your hair cuz she said so for fuck’s sake! You like being called Sammy!”
“A change is always…”
“Dean let her drive the Impala! Dean! Dean!”
Sam opened his mouth. Shut it again.
“Tell me, do you see any serious storylines since this fic started?”
“Well, bringing dad…”
“Do you see any serious descriptions apart how pretty she is? Do you see anything like banter between you and your brother? Any rock music apart from her singing, god forbid?”
Matt broke off his grip.
“I’ve been so stupid. So stupid!” she exclaimed. “All the signs were there, but we were all like sleepwalkers!”
“What on earth are you talking about? Matt, please calm down!”
Matt took a deep breath.
“Ok,” she said. “Ok.” She took out a pen from her pocket, looked around and saw a commercial flyer stashed under the windshield wiper of an old green Chevy. She took it. It advertised Jim’s Pork Grill! Eat your fill!
She squatted on the pavement.
“Sit with me, Sam,” she said and he did. “Tell me Amber’s full name.”
“Madeline Amber Rachel Yvonne de Soir”, he said dreamily. “Amber of the Night. Always thought it was a pretty name, kind of poetic and…”
“Will you just shut up?”
She scribbled the name furiously underlining some letters. Sam looked closer.
““Madeline Amber Rachel Yvonne de Soir. The initials create Mary. Mary. That’s my mother’s name, you think it has some significance? It’s not a coincidence, is it?” he said, excitement working up.
This time her voice wasn’t merely rolling its eyes, it was slapping its forehead as well.
“Listen to me slowly pronouncing it. Mary. De. Soir. Mary. Soir. Mary Soo-ar.”
He looked at her. She saw no comprehension dawn in his eyes.
“OH come on, Sam, you’re better than that! Mary. Sue! She’s a Mary Sue! She’s been a Mary Sue all this time, that’s why everyone seems to have a crush on her and the earth orbits around her! Can’t you see, Sammy?”
This time there was comprehension. And she thought, this time, something seemed to clear in his eyes. Some veil being lifted. And, she smiled inwardly, this time, this was the real Sam Winchester.
“Don’t call me Sammy. It’s Sam,” he replied and mentally Mattie did a Pylean joy of dance [it may have been a dance of a different verse, but joy is still joy and dance is still dance in every verse, she thought.]
“Why didn’t I see this coming? I’m good at this stuff, actually I’m great at figuring this stuff out,” Sam said. His eyes were wandering over their motel room door as he sipped the fresh supply of coffee Matt had brought back. There was wind blowing his hair back, freeing a slightly wrinkled forehead.
Mattie smiled. She leaned against the same railing he was. The wind felt good. It felt like a prayer answered.
“I think because a Mary Sue is like a black hole sucking the whole verse into her. She’s twisting it and forming it to fulfil her needs. She’s smarter and more able and more talented than anyone. At the same time she’s damn fragile and possibly fucked up, having gone through possibly what the protagonists have gone through too. She’ll possibly try to right all wrongs and turns this verse into happy la-la land. And all this time all she needs is the rotation of the world around her. And the worship of the protagonists. Oh you were lucky, Sam. You both were. She was leaning towards Dean from the beginning, but you’re pretty hot too, so she was still…holding back because she wanted to be sure in her choice. That’s what saved you.”
“And where do you come in?”
“I think…I think I was supposed to be the secondary character that would be blissful to have met you. Maybe, if I’d been really well written I could still stand in the story. Come and go sort of, like a recurring guest star. Or possibly I could follow a whole string of episodes with you. Eventually I would bond with both of you, and there would possibly be hints of attraction with one of you, but if the chemistry wouldn’t work, ultimately we’d all be friends and I’d go my merry way sooner or later. And you’d know it was ok, because nothing would feel off and you wouldn’t hear any voices.”
“Hmm…” Sam licked froth from his upper lips. “I got one question though. About what you said.”
“Yes?” He was now standing in front of her, a small twinkle in his eye, and she sipped her coffee and waited.
“You think I’m hotter than Dean?”
After she helped him clean up the coffee she had sprayed on him while she had choked, after he had stopped laughing, she grew serious.
“I thought you’d ask about the voices,” she said.
He nodded.
“Oh, I’ve been meaning to, but that was too much wise crack to pass up. So. The voices. You know about them?”
“Yes, I know what the voices are, Sam,” she said, allowing time for a dramatic pause. If Amber had made a dramatic pause, in that silence you’d have heard the wind blowing. Leaves rustling. A solitary crow crowing. But she wasn’t Amber, so her dramatic pause resulted in Sam nodding in impatience. Dammit. For once she wished she’d have the nice scenes.
“The voices you hear have spotted the Mary Sue from the very first moment. They were trying to give you warning in the only way they know: protesting and cussing and mumbling out loud or in thought,” she said. “Those voices you hear are the voices of the readers, Sam. The ones reading this fanfic.”
“So do we tell Dean? He’s the one she’s targeting,” Mattie said. “The hold will be much stronger.”
“No, we don’t tell Dean. That’d break the spell,” Sam said.
“And that’d be bad because…?”
“Because if the spell breaks, she won’t right all wrongs.” And in his eyes, there was a glint, like that of a sharp, hard blade.
[On to Part Two (last part) ]: Righting the wrongs
[On to Part Two (last part) ]: Righting the wrongs
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 09:24 pm (UTC)*dies laughing*
you obviously spent as much time on ff.net as I do... don't you ? Oh, please, confess!
no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 09:43 pm (UTC)And thank you. Am so glad you liked this! (and worshipping my brain! That was such a nice thing to say! *hug*)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 09:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 09:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 11:15 pm (UTC)*lol* just LOL!
*fangirls you*
no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 01:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-09 01:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-09 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-10 11:56 pm (UTC)Hey - I know this bitch from somewhere. Final Fantasy, maybe?
Matt, who said she became a hunter because she had looked into the dark side, and the dark side had looked back at her. So she couldn’t turn her back. Not with the dark side staring.
Cuz that's just rude.
This time her voice wasn’t merely rolling its eyes, it was slapping its forehead as well.
Awesome.
They were trying to give you warning in the only way they know: protesting and cussing and mumbling out loud or in thought,” she said.
Of course they are. And yeah, mostly out loud in my case.
I'm laughing right now, but not as hard as I would be if this wasn't so sadly accurate.
no subject
Date: 2008-05-14 04:33 pm (UTC)