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Jun. 13th, 2008 10:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
liptonrm_backupI know it's Friday night and I should be out and about, doing Friday night type things (well, except for how I'm doubleplusbad at figuring out what those sorts of things even are, let alone where they take place) but instead I'm doing laundry. And listening to my Narnia playlist. I wish, I wish, I wish that there was more Narnia fic out there. I'd write it but my storytelling organ is so filled up by the movies that I can't seem to find anything to add.
But, anyway, my real point for posting is to put up a little more of my Rachel AU. This bit is set during early season two.
November, 2006
Sam could hear them yelling from outside the motel room. He stood there, hand on the door knob, and listened to the controlled ferocity inside. It was different from the fights he and Dad used to have, where the shouting could be heard three counties over. Their volume was repressed, their words bitten off, separated by tense silence. They’ve been fighting, in one way or another, since they met up with her, and he was so damn tired of it he was ready to shake them both. He knew that if he opened that door their mouths would shut and the tension would just stretch and stretch until he'd feel like he couldn't breathe anymore. A part of him wondered if this is what it was like to be on the outside of his fights with Dad and how it was Dean didn’t shoot them both.
When Rachel had shown up on this hunt Sam had thought it would be a good thing. They'd never worked together as professionals and adults before the job down in Arizona last year, and he'd been surprised at the time about how much fun they'd all seemed to have. He’d hoped that working with her now would serve as a tension breaker, but whatever had set her itching for a hunt also had her on edge. She could still carry on a polite conversation with Sam but her temper flared around Dean and it only got worse every second this hunt stretched out. They constantly flung sharp barbs at each other, making hits that Sam knew drew blood.
He heard boots pounding towards the door and he jumped away before it slammed open. Rachel stomped out into the twilight, slamming the door shut behind her. She strode over to the balcony rail and stood there, looking out at the parking lot, her shoulders tense and her hands holding onto the railing for dear life.
Sam’s first instinct was to go over to her, to offer some sort of comfort or support but he didn’t. He hadn’t realized before this how much she and his brother had in common, how they both pushed things down and away and how neither of them was able to accept a word of comfort when it actually mattered. It was really starting to piss him off.
He took a step and she flinched, quickly swiping at tears he couldn’t see. She turned, her face was white and blotchy. She grinned at him, a tired little thing that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Hey Sam,” her voice was rough and brittle. “Sorry for all of that.” She waved her hand vaguely towards the motel room door.
“Are you okay?” He couldn’t remember ever having seen her cry.
“Yeah, I’m good,” and her smile was as fake as Dean’s was most days. “Just going to get some z’s. Sleep tight.” She patted his arm when she passed and that was surprising too.
“Good night,” he murmured to her retreating back. His wanted to go after her, to make sure she was really okay, but he didn't. He only had it in him to take care of one fucked-up idiot at the moment.
He wondered if either of them was ever going to stop acting like they had to protect him from something.
He stepped into his and Dean’s room. The TV was on and playing some college football game. Dean was sprawled on the bed closest to the door, back leaned up against the fake headboard and his eyes half-closed. Sam knew him well enough to see the tight set of his mouth, to know that he was locked down tight.
Sam sat on the other bed and started untying his boots. “So, you and Rachel kill each other yet?” Best to keep things light, keep Dean from leaving for some nameless dive.
“Not yet.” Dean grunted.
“You ever going to tell me what all this is about?” Sam couldn’t help asking, always digging for another hint of all the things his brother kept hidden.
“If I had a clue about what her fucking problem was you’d be the first to know.”
Sam knew that was the end of the conversation. He lay back against the wall and pretended to watch the game on the screen. He didn't even know who was playing.
Bare minutes later Dean surged up from his prone position. Sam sent him a sharp glance as he pulled on his boots with short, perfunctory movements.
“Dean, what is it?” Cause if his brother was off to continue that argument he might just have to punch him in the face.
“She’s going to kill that thing herself,” Dean snarled reaching for his jacket and shrugging it on.
Sam was right behind him as they left the room. “By herself? Why? How do you know?”
Dean’s only response was a pointed look. He opened the unlocked door to her motel room and gestured at the empty room. “Need anymore proof, Columbo? Let’s go.”
Before it all registered they were in the Impala, tearing down the road. “Are you absolutely sure about this, Dean?” Because it didn’t seem like Rachel, he’d never gotten the idea that she was the type to run off half-cocked over anything.
“Yeah,” Dean grunted. His shoulders were stiff, hands clenched tight around the wheel. The passing headlights of another car highlighted the lines tension pulled out around his eyes. “Something she said, something I said.” He stopped suddenly, his face broken for a second with worry and guilt. “She thinks this is her responsibility, something she’s gotta do on her own to make amends.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” Anger made his voice sharp. “We weren’t really sharing and caring back there, Sammy.”
Soon they were bouncing through the woods down the road they’d marked out earlier in the day. They passed Rachel’s Bronco and kept going until the car couldn’t fit between the trees. They jumped out, rifles pulled from the backseat.
They heard the sharp crack of a shot and took off running in its direction. The moon was bright, the leafless trees turned into an alien landscape. All they could hear was the sound of their feet crunching over dead leaves and their breaths ragged in the cold air.
They broke through the treeline in time to see Rachel thrown through the air. Dean fired a shot straight at the thing, cursing. Before Sam could get to her she was up, rifle to shoulder. She and Dean fired at the same time, one bullet through the head, the other through the neck, and the thing fell to the ground.
They stood there for a moment, three breathing statues surrounding the body, shock and adrenaline coursing through them all.
“The fuck were you thinking?” Dean’s voice was past anger, gone deep and controlled like it only did at the very worst moments.
“It’s done, Dean,” Rachel’s voice was flat and strung-out. She lowered the rifle and held it casually, barrel angled towards the ground. She didn’t look at Dean as he stalked towards her, her eyes never left what they’d killed.
“Still doesn’t explain why you thought suicide by monster was the way to go,” Dean snarled. He was right in her space but she didn’t look at him, didn’t flinch, all of her focus on the thing in the middle of the meadow.
“I had it under control.” Her face was pale, coated with a faint sheen of sweat.
“Like hell you did,” Dean growled. “I knew I never shoulda let you in on this.”
She flinched and turned on him, her mouth flattening into a straight line. “What, cause you’ve got the corner on the whole reckless emo schtick? Never took you for such a fucking hypocrite.”
Dean snarled and took a step forward, looming over her. Sam had finally had enough.
“That’s it.” He stepped between them, physically forcing them to back. “We’re going to burn that carcass over there and then get the hell out of here, understood?” He looked from face to face, neither of which even twitched. “Is that understood?” His voice whip-cracked through the woods.
Dean shrugged and grudgingly met his eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” He grunted and marched over to grab the lighter fluid and matches without another word.
Rachel collapsed in on herself, her breathing coming in pants. Sam regarded her with a hard look. “Where are you hurt?”
She shrugged, looking at him but not meeting his eyes. “It’s nothing.”
He said nothing, just stared at her and let the silence stretch out and do his speaking for him. She finally blinked, her shoulders hunching. “It got me in the right leg, gored me with one of those claws when it pitched me around.”
Sam nodded. “Okay, give me your keys, I’ll drive you back.” She didn’t seem to hear him, her eyes lost somewhere past him. “Rachel, your keys.” He held out his hand.
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” She pulled them out of her pocket and dropped them in his hand, still not seeing him.
He smelled the sharp tang of lighter fluid and heard the snap of a match lighting from behind him. He turned and saw the creature take light, the fire reflecting off of his brother’s face.
He grabbed Rachel’s arm and prodded her into movement. “Come on, wouldn’t want to have to carry you out of here like some shrinking damsel.”
That earned him an amused snort and when she finally looked at him he saw a real grin flash across her face.
~~~
I really very much want BSG to download. I've been hearing tremendously exciting things about it all.freaking.week. and really can't wait to watch it.
You know, one day I'm going to come up with a Grand Unified Theory that explains all of the eclectic things I fangirl. Today, however, is not that day.
But, anyway, my real point for posting is to put up a little more of my Rachel AU. This bit is set during early season two.
November, 2006
Sam could hear them yelling from outside the motel room. He stood there, hand on the door knob, and listened to the controlled ferocity inside. It was different from the fights he and Dad used to have, where the shouting could be heard three counties over. Their volume was repressed, their words bitten off, separated by tense silence. They’ve been fighting, in one way or another, since they met up with her, and he was so damn tired of it he was ready to shake them both. He knew that if he opened that door their mouths would shut and the tension would just stretch and stretch until he'd feel like he couldn't breathe anymore. A part of him wondered if this is what it was like to be on the outside of his fights with Dad and how it was Dean didn’t shoot them both.
When Rachel had shown up on this hunt Sam had thought it would be a good thing. They'd never worked together as professionals and adults before the job down in Arizona last year, and he'd been surprised at the time about how much fun they'd all seemed to have. He’d hoped that working with her now would serve as a tension breaker, but whatever had set her itching for a hunt also had her on edge. She could still carry on a polite conversation with Sam but her temper flared around Dean and it only got worse every second this hunt stretched out. They constantly flung sharp barbs at each other, making hits that Sam knew drew blood.
He heard boots pounding towards the door and he jumped away before it slammed open. Rachel stomped out into the twilight, slamming the door shut behind her. She strode over to the balcony rail and stood there, looking out at the parking lot, her shoulders tense and her hands holding onto the railing for dear life.
Sam’s first instinct was to go over to her, to offer some sort of comfort or support but he didn’t. He hadn’t realized before this how much she and his brother had in common, how they both pushed things down and away and how neither of them was able to accept a word of comfort when it actually mattered. It was really starting to piss him off.
He took a step and she flinched, quickly swiping at tears he couldn’t see. She turned, her face was white and blotchy. She grinned at him, a tired little thing that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Hey Sam,” her voice was rough and brittle. “Sorry for all of that.” She waved her hand vaguely towards the motel room door.
“Are you okay?” He couldn’t remember ever having seen her cry.
“Yeah, I’m good,” and her smile was as fake as Dean’s was most days. “Just going to get some z’s. Sleep tight.” She patted his arm when she passed and that was surprising too.
“Good night,” he murmured to her retreating back. His wanted to go after her, to make sure she was really okay, but he didn't. He only had it in him to take care of one fucked-up idiot at the moment.
He wondered if either of them was ever going to stop acting like they had to protect him from something.
He stepped into his and Dean’s room. The TV was on and playing some college football game. Dean was sprawled on the bed closest to the door, back leaned up against the fake headboard and his eyes half-closed. Sam knew him well enough to see the tight set of his mouth, to know that he was locked down tight.
Sam sat on the other bed and started untying his boots. “So, you and Rachel kill each other yet?” Best to keep things light, keep Dean from leaving for some nameless dive.
“Not yet.” Dean grunted.
“You ever going to tell me what all this is about?” Sam couldn’t help asking, always digging for another hint of all the things his brother kept hidden.
“If I had a clue about what her fucking problem was you’d be the first to know.”
Sam knew that was the end of the conversation. He lay back against the wall and pretended to watch the game on the screen. He didn't even know who was playing.
Bare minutes later Dean surged up from his prone position. Sam sent him a sharp glance as he pulled on his boots with short, perfunctory movements.
“Dean, what is it?” Cause if his brother was off to continue that argument he might just have to punch him in the face.
“She’s going to kill that thing herself,” Dean snarled reaching for his jacket and shrugging it on.
Sam was right behind him as they left the room. “By herself? Why? How do you know?”
Dean’s only response was a pointed look. He opened the unlocked door to her motel room and gestured at the empty room. “Need anymore proof, Columbo? Let’s go.”
Before it all registered they were in the Impala, tearing down the road. “Are you absolutely sure about this, Dean?” Because it didn’t seem like Rachel, he’d never gotten the idea that she was the type to run off half-cocked over anything.
“Yeah,” Dean grunted. His shoulders were stiff, hands clenched tight around the wheel. The passing headlights of another car highlighted the lines tension pulled out around his eyes. “Something she said, something I said.” He stopped suddenly, his face broken for a second with worry and guilt. “She thinks this is her responsibility, something she’s gotta do on her own to make amends.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” Anger made his voice sharp. “We weren’t really sharing and caring back there, Sammy.”
Soon they were bouncing through the woods down the road they’d marked out earlier in the day. They passed Rachel’s Bronco and kept going until the car couldn’t fit between the trees. They jumped out, rifles pulled from the backseat.
They heard the sharp crack of a shot and took off running in its direction. The moon was bright, the leafless trees turned into an alien landscape. All they could hear was the sound of their feet crunching over dead leaves and their breaths ragged in the cold air.
They broke through the treeline in time to see Rachel thrown through the air. Dean fired a shot straight at the thing, cursing. Before Sam could get to her she was up, rifle to shoulder. She and Dean fired at the same time, one bullet through the head, the other through the neck, and the thing fell to the ground.
They stood there for a moment, three breathing statues surrounding the body, shock and adrenaline coursing through them all.
“The fuck were you thinking?” Dean’s voice was past anger, gone deep and controlled like it only did at the very worst moments.
“It’s done, Dean,” Rachel’s voice was flat and strung-out. She lowered the rifle and held it casually, barrel angled towards the ground. She didn’t look at Dean as he stalked towards her, her eyes never left what they’d killed.
“Still doesn’t explain why you thought suicide by monster was the way to go,” Dean snarled. He was right in her space but she didn’t look at him, didn’t flinch, all of her focus on the thing in the middle of the meadow.
“I had it under control.” Her face was pale, coated with a faint sheen of sweat.
“Like hell you did,” Dean growled. “I knew I never shoulda let you in on this.”
She flinched and turned on him, her mouth flattening into a straight line. “What, cause you’ve got the corner on the whole reckless emo schtick? Never took you for such a fucking hypocrite.”
Dean snarled and took a step forward, looming over her. Sam had finally had enough.
“That’s it.” He stepped between them, physically forcing them to back. “We’re going to burn that carcass over there and then get the hell out of here, understood?” He looked from face to face, neither of which even twitched. “Is that understood?” His voice whip-cracked through the woods.
Dean shrugged and grudgingly met his eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” He grunted and marched over to grab the lighter fluid and matches without another word.
Rachel collapsed in on herself, her breathing coming in pants. Sam regarded her with a hard look. “Where are you hurt?”
She shrugged, looking at him but not meeting his eyes. “It’s nothing.”
He said nothing, just stared at her and let the silence stretch out and do his speaking for him. She finally blinked, her shoulders hunching. “It got me in the right leg, gored me with one of those claws when it pitched me around.”
Sam nodded. “Okay, give me your keys, I’ll drive you back.” She didn’t seem to hear him, her eyes lost somewhere past him. “Rachel, your keys.” He held out his hand.
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” She pulled them out of her pocket and dropped them in his hand, still not seeing him.
He smelled the sharp tang of lighter fluid and heard the snap of a match lighting from behind him. He turned and saw the creature take light, the fire reflecting off of his brother’s face.
He grabbed Rachel’s arm and prodded her into movement. “Come on, wouldn’t want to have to carry you out of here like some shrinking damsel.”
That earned him an amused snort and when she finally looked at him he saw a real grin flash across her face.
~~~
I really very much want BSG to download. I've been hearing tremendously exciting things about it all.freaking.week. and really can't wait to watch it.
You know, one day I'm going to come up with a Grand Unified Theory that explains all of the eclectic things I fangirl. Today, however, is not that day.
