Title: Not Much To Say
Author:![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
chaletian
Fandom(s): Supernatural/Heroes
Notes: SPN spoilers for Born Under A Bad Sign
She was determined, they’d give her that. Too determined.
“Why the fuck can’t you just stay in hell?” asked Dean, the fire along his ribs adding fuel to his anger. He limped a step forward and grinned at the thing strapped to the chair, ignoring the body sitting there, ignoring blonde hair and slim limbs that belonged to a stranger, and focusing on the hatred in those dark eyes.
“Don’t you wish you…” but she couldn’t finish, body arching up in a rictus of pain as Sam repeated the Latin exorcism, unrelenting, uncaring. The black cloud that was becoming ever more familiar swirled upwards, and silence fell.
But not for long. A long stream of expletives exploded out of Dean, as he fell to one knee, his leg giving out eventually. Sam, not in a much better state, subsided into a chair. They exchanged glances, a silent conversation. This is hard. How much longer?
“This is starting to suck.” Dean levered himself upwards as Sam reached out a hand to feel for a pulse in the girl, expression sombre.
“She got pretty beat up, Dean.”
“She alive?” Once again upright, he looked at the girl, and tried to make himself care. Dead or alive, he wasn’t sure he actually gave a damn. This was the third, including Sam. The other one, a boy barely out of his teens, had died as soon as ‘Meg’ had left him. That had been fun. Burying the body. Hoping no-one would find it, what with the part where he had actually died when they fought and Sam had managed to push him under a bus. This one was probably going to go the same way, after the fight there had been. But Sam’s eyebrows had risen in surprise, and he started to undo the straps.
“Yeah. Help me?” And Dean did, because he always did, and they lay the girl on the floor. Dean took a stock check of injuries, pointing out broken ribs and a broken ankle and a dislocated shoulder, and a gash a mile wide down one side…
“What the…?”
A gash that was, as they watched, closing itself. Then the girl’s eyes flashed open, and she was pulling her arm back into position, and poking her ribs into place, and wriggling her foot… and noticing them. Finally.
Dean and Sam looked at each other. And looked at the girl. Who looked back, and tried a smile. “Hi.”
Because, really, there’s not much else you can say when you’ve just regenerated in front of two random strangers with no memory of how you’ve got where you are and why you seem to have been hit by a truck.
“Hey.”
Because, really, there’s not much else you can say when you’ve just watched a girl whose ass you’ve kicked seven ways from Sunday regenerate in front of you.
Author:
chaletianFandom(s): Supernatural/Heroes
Notes: SPN spoilers for Born Under A Bad Sign
She was determined, they’d give her that. Too determined.
“Why the fuck can’t you just stay in hell?” asked Dean, the fire along his ribs adding fuel to his anger. He limped a step forward and grinned at the thing strapped to the chair, ignoring the body sitting there, ignoring blonde hair and slim limbs that belonged to a stranger, and focusing on the hatred in those dark eyes.
“Don’t you wish you…” but she couldn’t finish, body arching up in a rictus of pain as Sam repeated the Latin exorcism, unrelenting, uncaring. The black cloud that was becoming ever more familiar swirled upwards, and silence fell.
But not for long. A long stream of expletives exploded out of Dean, as he fell to one knee, his leg giving out eventually. Sam, not in a much better state, subsided into a chair. They exchanged glances, a silent conversation. This is hard. How much longer?
“This is starting to suck.” Dean levered himself upwards as Sam reached out a hand to feel for a pulse in the girl, expression sombre.
“She got pretty beat up, Dean.”
“She alive?” Once again upright, he looked at the girl, and tried to make himself care. Dead or alive, he wasn’t sure he actually gave a damn. This was the third, including Sam. The other one, a boy barely out of his teens, had died as soon as ‘Meg’ had left him. That had been fun. Burying the body. Hoping no-one would find it, what with the part where he had actually died when they fought and Sam had managed to push him under a bus. This one was probably going to go the same way, after the fight there had been. But Sam’s eyebrows had risen in surprise, and he started to undo the straps.
“Yeah. Help me?” And Dean did, because he always did, and they lay the girl on the floor. Dean took a stock check of injuries, pointing out broken ribs and a broken ankle and a dislocated shoulder, and a gash a mile wide down one side…
“What the…?”
A gash that was, as they watched, closing itself. Then the girl’s eyes flashed open, and she was pulling her arm back into position, and poking her ribs into place, and wriggling her foot… and noticing them. Finally.
Dean and Sam looked at each other. And looked at the girl. Who looked back, and tried a smile. “Hi.”
Because, really, there’s not much else you can say when you’ve just regenerated in front of two random strangers with no memory of how you’ve got where you are and why you seem to have been hit by a truck.
“Hey.”
Because, really, there’s not much else you can say when you’ve just watched a girl whose ass you’ve kicked seven ways from Sunday regenerate in front of you.
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