dollsome: (stock ♦ sick of shadows)
dollsome ([personal profile] dollsome) wrote2012-10-07 12:26 pm
Entry tags:

an eerie, halloweenish, &/or generally autumnal comment ficathon

"I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers."



an eerie, halloweenish, &/or generally autumnal
comment ficathon



LET'S DO THIS
1. all fandoms welcome
2. prompts should be somehow related to autumn or halloween; 'tis the season!
3. one prompt per comment, prompts should be formatted along the general lines of '[fandom] - [pairing/character] - [prompt]'
4. when you've filled a prompt, leave a link to it in the filled prompts comment thread
5. include a title, if the title muses are being cooperative :)
6. share!

The Least Wonderful Night of the Year (Sam, Dean, Cas, PG13)

[identity profile] brutti-ma-buoni.livejournal.com 2012-10-08 05:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"We're told," says Castiel, hair full of shaving foam, with a mauled pair of cat's ears askew on a hairband amid his gunky locks, "That the purpose of All Hallows is to mock and control the darkest forces. That the revelry is not impious, but essential. That humanity drives out darkness." A glob of foam falls onto his coat, and slithers dolefully downwards.

Dean watches the glob till it plops onto Castiel's shoe, and then returns his gaze to the angel's face. Sam can see Dean trying, really trying to hold it back. He's not certain what it is – could be fury, more likely a fit of laughter, considering how ridiculous Castiel looks right now.

But Sam is pissed. There's Lucifer, and vessels, and swords, and Michael, and today, there is also this: getting gunked by a bunch of drunken college freshmen while trying to save humanity.

"Really? Remember what virtuous fun we encountered on Halloween last year? Samhain? With the hijinks and the blood sacrifice and the dead teens?"

"I remember," says Castiel, stiffly, perhaps a little hurt. Sam tries to feel bad about that, but it doesn't take. Too angry. The shaving foam is deflating fast now – it must be cheap stuff, which considering it was intended only for pranking was a smart purchasing decision – and smearing all over Cas's face. It is not improving his angelic dignity. "I am wondering whether the heavens have fully understood what fun this day has become."

"You think?" And it's Dean saying it, not Sam. And he's angry, not laughing. "This is like, the one night of the year when you can't tell evil from real. Like all your nightmares come to life and walking the streets. Like everything that only a hunter should have to face, but they're all laughing and-" He swallows fury enough to keep talking. "I coulda killed those kids. I had rocksalt, sure, but live ammo too and-"

"Dean? Seriously." Sam can't keep silent either. They've been running too hot, for too long, and what should be stupid and laughed off and forgotten just… isn't. "The one night when you can't tell evil from real? Are you kidding? Are you fucking kidding? That's our lives. That's our whole damn lives, when you can't tell evil from real and you try to do good but it comes out bad and-" He stops. There's only two ways this goes: liquor or sobbing like a bitty baby. Possibly both. So, no.

He looks back at Castiel, whose crappy cat ears have slipped round till they're under his chin and whose morose understanding that Heaven doesn't completely get Halloween is just another step on the way of breaking Cas's faith in what Sam once believed in too. At Dean , who's clutching at least two loaded weapons and looks ready to fire either at whatever jumps him next, trick or treating toddler or not. And Sam tries very hard not to look at himself, the recent doom of mankind, vomitously aware of what he's done and can't undo. And tonight, seeing demons apparently on every street corner, temptation manifest, but if he drank their blood he wouldn't only be letting Dean down, he'd be a monster himself. By anyone's judgment.

It's way, way too much.

He says, and it's really the only thing that can be said right now, "I really, really hate Halloween."

Castiel nods, causing the cat ears to flap, wetly. Dean says, "Fuck. Yeah. Really, really, really hate it."

Sam looks towards the nearest possible bar, and jerks his head, invitingly. "Okay then." Liquor it is.

Tomorrow is another day. All Saints, when the demons love to desecrate holy sites for precious relics. Excellent. That, they can deal with.

*

[identity profile] waddiwasiwitch.livejournal.com 2012-10-08 05:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh I loved this. I just can't get the image of Cas and the cat ears and the shaving foam out of my head. Thanks for the mental picture. :)

[identity profile] brutti-ma-buoni.livejournal.com 2012-10-09 02:43 pm (UTC)(link)
*g* Glad it made you smile!

Re: The Least Wonderful Night of the Year (Sam, Dean, Cas, PG13)

[identity profile] copperiisulfate.livejournal.com 2012-10-10 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
hee! this is really, really great. OH BOYS. of course they would. and cas with the cat ears = GOLD.

Re: The Least Wonderful Night of the Year (Sam, Dean, Cas, PG13)

[identity profile] brutti-ma-buoni.livejournal.com 2012-10-10 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
*g* Glad you liked this!