Anna's fanfiction

Command Me

2009-07-31T23:44:04Z

Title: Command Me
Author: j_p_fan
Summary: Richard and Kahlan finally give in to their desires.
Word Count: 503
Warnings: No spoilers for the show. I haven't read the books yet so no spoilers there either (as far as I know).
Author's Notes: I don't really know where this came from. Still not quite sure if I like it, but here it is.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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She kisses him deeply, her fears for his safety lost to pure lust. His kisses in return are just as hungry. They've been waiting for this moment for so long; too long. There has always been something between them. A special bond that only a Seeker and Confessor could ever understand. It's as though their souls have been shaped, each of them like an unfinished painting, but when they're together the shapes just fit and they make a whole; they feel whole. Once they had discovered that feeling, both of them had craved it ever since.

"Kahlan, are you sure?" he doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to risk her changing her mind, but he wants to be sure. He wants to know that this is want she wants, not just a physical need. Her answer is another desperate kiss as her hands run along the line of his hips, down to find the top of his trousers, tugging at them. He pushes her away from him as he unties the front of her white dress. She blinks at him for a moment, surprised at the abrupt ending of their kiss. She regains herself and begins to fumble with Richard's belt and throws it to the ground underneath them. Richard grows impatient with her dress and just thrusts the hem upwards, unable to wait to be inside her. He pushes her towards the small bed in their room, kissing her neck and shoulders as he gently lies on top of her.

He kisses her as they make love, slow and passionate at first but it soon becomes a fast, furious need for pleasure. Part of Richard doesn't want to reach that final moment of ecstasy for fear of what his fate may be and for the fear of what Kahlan will think of herself if the worst were to happen to him. Though he can think of no difference to the love he feels for the woman beneath him, and the unconditional love he would feel as a confessed man.

Kahlan's sigh is low and almost inaudible, but he hears it and can't help holding his breath with anticipation as she shakes below him. She smiles up at him and, for a small moment, he thinks nothing will happen. That, because his heart already belonged to her, he was unable to be confessed. He still finds it hard to believe that someone so strong would not be able to control her power.

His sight fades to black and there is nothing. Only darkness. Startled, he tries to shout but he can't think, can’t make a sound. It's as though every original thought he has ever had dies in that darkness along with his will. He doesn't know what to do, but he feels as though he can't do anything without some sort of permission.
After a moment, he sees something, a bright light piercing through the dark. Nothing has ever been so beautiful to him.
Kahlan. His love. His confessor.

"Command me, confessor"

With My Life

2009-02-22T02:29:16Z

Title: With My Life
Author: j_p_fan
Summary: Echo and Boyd trust each other completely.
Word Count: 501
Warnings: Spoilers for 1x02
Author's Notes: Still not sure if I like this or not. There aren't enough Echo/Boyd fics around (even though this isn't exactly shippy).
Disclaimer: I am not Joss Whedon (damnit, why not?). I don't own Dollhouse.

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“Do you trust me?” his low voice was unsure. She could feel his hand holding hers, gripping it (not tight enough to cause her any discomfort, but enough for her to know he was there, to feel he was there, right there with her, always).
Echo looked up at him. A man she had not seen before she’d entered the white, blank room she found herself in looked down at her with dark eyes that seemed to smoulder and captivate her in their gaze.

She pondered his question. Not even knowing his name, she wanted to say yes. Every fibre of her being trusted the man before her completely.
She frowned a little, but not because she felt that her undeniable, complete trust in a total stranger was out of the ordinary (she didn’t think it was unusual. She couldn’t think it was unusual. She just felt; she didn’t think about the reasoning behind it) but because she was confused; not understanding how he could ask a question when the answer was so absolute.

Echo looked at Boyd, staring up at him in a sort of daze. Not blinking and without further hesitation, she answered him.
“With my life”

--------------------

Echo.
No. Jenny.

She stands before him, determination blazing in her eyes, battered and bruised and still fighting; unable to give up.
He’s loosing blood fast. Back against a tree in the middle of nowhere; exhaustion seeping through every muscle in his body.

“Do you trust me?” she repeats, a little firmer, looking him in the eye. For a moment, Boyd thinks she’s mocking him. Like, under the heat of her blazing gaze, she’s somehow remembered all he has helped to put her through; how he’s betrayed her trust time and time again without her ever being able to remember, to learn from it, to loathe him as much as he loathes himself for what he’s doing to her, what secrets he keeps. He tried to walk away from it all (once, and only once, not long after he had started) but he couldn’t. Once you were in on a secret like the Dollhouse, the only way out was in a plastic bag or a pine box.
He often wondered what would happen to Echo without him. She wouldn’t remember him; programmed to trust another with her life, without question or hesitation. In a way, she was the main reason he stayed. Boyd felt that he could protect her, whereas maybe his successor might not be as able as he was?
He tries to banish the thoughts swirling in his head now, those of what could happen to Echo without him. Instead he focuses on the girl standing in her body before him. Jenny.

All he can see is Echo.

Her words were tumbling from out of his mouth. He knew this only because he could hear his voice saying them and he thinks that he has never been more honest than when he utters those three words.
“With my life”

The Constant Drumming

2009-01-10T01:07:07Z

Title: The Constant Drumming
Author: j_p_fan
Summary: An insight into the Master's mind and his (rather disconnected) thoughts.
Word Count: 372
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to and beta'd by the amazing headspin_x. This was very random, still is pretty random. Sorry for the absolute suckage but I totally kicked writers' block's ass with this one \o/
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who (which is probably a good thing).

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Drumming. Always drumming. The constant, continuous drum beat that signified the beginning of a great war to come, a great mass of lost souls, lost youths, lost lives, but not yet. Not yet.
The swirling accumulation of the vortex has chosen me, I looked into it and it looked into me. I found the drums. The drums of war would sound that day and they would never stop.
Constant. Forever. Longer than time itself.
Time. Lord and Master of time, that is who I am and that is who the drums speak to.
They sound.

No one else can hear it. I am alone in my curse, my gift, my war. Even my Doctor can not fix me, save me.
He will not stop the drumming. The drumming will never stop and I shall never be free of it.

Time Lord. I shall live forever and the drums shall haunt me every waking moment of forever.
Time. War. Drums. Constant.

The great time war. I fought.
I quenched the drums' thirst for blood and yet still they yearn for more. More blood. More war.
Never fully satisfied.
War. Drums. Time. Lord. Master.

Constant drumming. Forever. Eternity.
Will it stop or will it follow me in the next world as it has in this?
If I die, will it end? Will it ever end?
Do I want it to end?

Drumming. Always drumming. The constant, continuous drum beat that signifies the beginning of a great war to come, a great loss for the people of his precious planet, a great loss for all those who stand in my way, and yet...
Is there to be a war? My children are ready, willing and anxious fly into the battle for which they were made but will the sickening flow of fresh, crimson blood be enough to stop the drumming?
Will the stench of singed flesh be enough to satisfy the thirst that the drums have for battle, for murder?
When my Doctor's precious Earth burns will the drums fall silent? Will they be stunned into stillness by the horror of it all?
Will I be free?

One aim - to stop the drumming.
To stop the dreadful drumming, the fearsome drumming.
The constant drumming.

Pray For You

2008-08-03T01:26:30Z

Title: Pray For You
Author: j_p_fan
Summary: Dean/Layla(ish). "I'm gonna pray for you" and he does..
Word Count: 357
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: For headspin_x. I've always wondered whether Dean kept his promise to Layla, which is probably where this little fic came from.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW.

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As he adjusted his collar and glanced at his reflection, he saw a pretty face in his mind, blonde hair, blue eyes. Layla.
“I’m gonna pray for you,” his own words echoed in his mind and as he stared at himself, about to impersonate a priest, he wondered if he could keep his promise. He had never really believed. He had always thought that if there was such a good God watching over us all then he wouldn’t stand by as demons and monsters roamed the earth, killing innocent people.

But he had really wanted to believe, if only just for a moment, that something was going to take care of Layla. To help her. He wanted to keep her safe, because in some small way he felt responsible for her not being healed by Roy. She was a good person. But that was just it, she was such a good person, she had faith, so why did she have to get sick in the first place? Why couldn’t she have a long, happy life like he knew she deserved?

Dean tore his eyes away from his reflection. No matter what he felt about God, he had to try. He didn’t know if it’d mean much coming from him, but he wanted to keep his promise, he wanted to try, he couldn’t let Layla down.
He closed his eyes, here goes nothing, he thought. Erm, God? Are you there? Okay Dean, you’ve officially lost it. Well done. He shook his head then bowed it forward and clasped his hands together in front of him. Okay, look God, I promised someone I’d do the whole, praying thing for them so, here it goes. Please help Layla. She’s a good person. She doesn’t deserve to die. Please, save her. Please.

***

“I’m gonna pray for you” – and he did. He sent a silent prayer for her every night until the day he died. Every time his words got a little less uncomfortable to whisper to himself and every once in a while he truly felt that he was making a difference, But he was wrong.
It never made any difference.

The Boy King [part 1 of ?]

2008-07-30T20:30:39Z

Title: The Boy King
Author: j_p_fan
Summary: AU. Continues on from where the season finale left off.
Word Count: 144
Warnings: Spoilers for 3x16.
Author's Notes: I wrote this just after the Supernatural season 3 finale and wasn't really sure what to do with it, so it just got put away with so many other unfinished stories I have lying around, but I found it again and decided I'd post it and see what you guys thought.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW.

--------------------

Sam cried into his brother’s mangled corpse until the pool of Dean’s blood around his knees had grown cold. He cried until he felt that he had no more tears in him, but still they came, violently rushing down his cheeks as if in protest against the cruel injustice before him.

Bobby stood silently in the doorway but Sam didn’t notice. Already he was thinking of ways he could bring his brother back to him. Anything, as long as they could be together once more.
“I’ll get you back Dean,” he whispered, voice raw from screaming for Lillith’s mercy, “I promise, I’ll see you again.”

He raised his head from his brother’s chest and stared at the clock on the wall, 12:28, and if the clock could have stared back, it would have seen that Sam’s wet, glassy eyes were laced with bright yellow.

To Be Continued??

Never Leave A Man Behind

2008-07-13T19:55:37Z

Title: Never Leave A Man Behind
Author: j_p_fan
Summary: AU. Ruby tries her best to get out of hell, but she soon realizes that to demons, manipulative is in the job description.
Word Count: 634
Warnings: Mild spoilers for 3x16.
Author's Notes: As I have said before I don't believe that writing is my strong point, but I dearly love to write whenever I get a chance. I'd love to hear what you think about my attempts.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW.

--------------------

Azazel gave her a hard stare. She had been ‘under his wing’ for about six months now – well, it felt like six months, but in hell time had a completely different meaning – and she had screwed up again.
Ruby sighed and tried once more. She focused on the image of her reflection, back when she was human. Her eyes, especially her eyes. They had been blue, a cold, hard blue that had reflected her broken spirit. When she had opened her eyes, Azazel was smiling wickedly. She had done it. She had learned how to hide her heritage from the world. She could follow Azazel onwards and upwards to a better place and she would never have return to the bowels of hell again.

“Tell me, who you are!” His shout made her think of her teacher, long-dead to her by now, Azazel would have never shouted. He didn’t need to. He had this way of making you feel intimidated and unworthy with a single, yellow-eyed look.
Slowly she closed her eyes and let them flood with the colour of her heart, unleashing the monster that she truly was. As soon as he saw her for what she really was he backed away, reaching for the nearest weapon.
How polite, she thought, I’m showing the guy my true colours – literally, and he wants to send me straight to hell – also literally. Lovely.

Once again she remembered that wicked grin. He had flashed it to her that day he had shown her the way out and told her that it needed the blood of two true demons and a willing human sacrifice before it would open.
“How much blood?” she had asked, cautiously.
“Not much, a prick of the finger will do, it’ll barely sting.”

Remembering that moment made Ruby scowl. She wanted nothing more than to forget but the memories continued playing in her mind, like a movie you can’t shut off. She saw the portal open and that grin flashed once more as he had stepped through. She tried to follow but couldn’t. It was like there was an invisible barrier, blocking her path.
“Azazel!!” she cried, “I can’t get through! It shouldn’t be open, what about the human?”
He turned to face her and had looked at her as though she was something he’d trod in that had a bad smell. “You were the sacrifice my dear. You gave up your humanity to get out of here and now you’ll rot for eternity in the very place you gave everything to escape from,” he caught her look of horror and shot her a mocking smile, “oh, didn’t I tell you? This portal need the blood of two, but will only ever submit one. Thing is, it will never close. It’ll haunt you all forever. A way out of the flames so close but you can never use it.”
With that, he had laughed and turned away from her. She wanted to scream, to ask why, why her? But instead she curled herself into a ball and watched him leave, her hopes following in his wake. Cradling the stump which had been her right hand, she had thought – prick on the finger my ass!

To this day, Ruby detested lies. She had always told the truth, no matter how she may word things or what she may choose not to tell someone, she couldn’t lie to them. When Dean and Sam left her in the devil’s trap, she felt a pang of sadness in her black heart and thought about something Azazel had once said to her; “bravery is so close to foolishness that it should be pitied, not rewarded. But there’s one thing the humans have gotten right – never leave a man behind.”

What a fool she had been to believe him.

I Miss You [chapter 1 of ?]

2008-06-13T22:09:29Z

Title: I Miss You
Author: j_p_fan
Summary: AU. What if Dean didn't make it out of his coma? How would Sam and John cope? They'd still have the Colt and one bullet, but would John want to put another son in danger?
Word Count: 789
Warnings: Mild spoilers for 2x01.
Author's Notes: As I have said before I don't believe that writing is my strong point, but I dearly love to write whenever I get a chance. I'd love to hear what you think about my attempts.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW.

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Chapter One:
It Is Hard To Let Go Of What We Hold Dear.

Today was the day that John was set to be discharged from the hospital. Sam had been given the 'all-clear' the day before. For anyone else, they would still be in shock with the knowledge that they had been in a car crash only days before, but not for the Winchesters. Maybe it was because they were used to dealing with shock. Or maybe it was because they had more pressing matters to attend to. Both Sam and John had been devising their own ways to help the only survivor of the crash who had not yet woken up. Dean Winchester was still lying in a coma, fighting for his life.

It had been a day and a half since Dean had 'woken up', only to find that he was also lying in a coma. He had walked the halls of the hospital and found that no one could see him. He had also met a girl, who he'd thought to be in the same predicament as himself, but soon learned that she was actually the reaper that was after his life. He was living on 'borrowed time' she'd said, and if he continued to he would become a restless, angry spirit, just like the things he and his family hunted.

They were sitting on the edge of an un-occupied bed, Dean lost in thought. He didn't want to die, to leave Sammy on his own, him and John would kill each other. He thought of how Sammy might live without him. He might go back to school, get a job, maybe meet a girl and settle down. Then he thought of his father. What would John do without Dean? Hunt the demon. Kill it or die trying. With a sigh Dean then thought of what it would be like if he stayed around. To become that which he despised. It was a tough choice to make but one that he must be sure of, so that he would never regret it.

After a while, Dean spoke. "My mother," he said slowly not looking away from the tiled floor, "Sammy and I saw her. She stayed around then, right? She didn't become an angry spirit." The reaper eyed him carefully. Choosing her words cautiously she replied to his query.

"No. Mary, your mother, did not become an angry spirit, and yes she did choose to stay. But she destroyed herself to protect those in your old house. If that had never happened Dean, she would have become one. The years were kind to her soul but that's not the same in every case." She finished slowly, watching Dean's expression fall back to one of deep, troublesome thought.

He had to make a decision soon. The reaper would not wait forever. He ran a hand through his short, tufty hair and closed his eyes tightly, as though, when he opened them again he thought he would wake up and this all would have been a dream. He opened his eyes slowly and saw the white linen bedding. He frowned slightly as he thought hard about his predicament. He never wanted to become that which he had hunted all his life but, as he thought, he now sympathised with them in a way. It is hard to let go of what we hold dear.

"So, what's it gonna be Dean? I can't wait forever." The cold, matter-of-fact tone in her voice brought Dean back to his senses.

"If I decide not to stay," he started slowly, "Could I still watch over Sammy and my Dad?" He looked up to see the reaper's smile. Although it was not a cold, evil smile, but one that gave Dean reassurance.

"Your brother and father will be fine without you Dean, I can't give away anything about what'll happen to you if you don’t stay."

Dean looked back towards the floor at these words. Of course she couldn't tell him what was going to happen when he died, that'd be to simple. Death was a test, one of courage and a lack of it. He gulped and shut his eyes firmly. When he spoke the voice seemed to be automatic, not his own, and after the words had escaped his lips, he felt an unmistakeable fear wash over him. Thousands of unspoken words jumped into his head. Things he'd wished he'd said and done.

"All right, I'll go"

Fresh Winchester Blood [part 2 of ?]

2008-05-27T21:35:28Z

Sam awoke to find Dean covered over in his blankets, unconciously trying to block the sun from himself. With a yawn, Sam got up and yanked the curtains closed to allow Dean some more time to sleep. He got himself dressed and decided to get the laundry done and bring back some breakfast. Hopefully, by the time he got back with it, Dean would be up and feeling better.

As Dean heard the door click shut, he opened his eyes and hauled himself into the bathroom. Running the shower methodically, he stripped and got in without even glancing at his reflection in the mirror. After washing his hair Dean looked down and saw that the water coming off of his tawny skin was scarlett. Eyes widening, Dean hastily checked if he had cut himself but found no wound. It was a few moments before the events of the night before righted themselves in his mind.

He remembered waiting for Sammy to fall asleep, then going out of the motel. A pretty blonde in a short skirt, low-cut top and heels flashed in his mind. This wasn't his blood that he was covered with. It was hers. He remebered peircing her flesh and bleeding her dry before she had a chance to scream. The way her heart had sounded as it raced when she'd met his eyes. When she blushed, he'd heard the rushing of her blood below her thin skin and had almost lost control there and then. Dean smiled as he remembered the taste of her salty blood. It was full of alcohol and had been so warm and inviting. He wanted more. Suddenly he realized just how thirsty he was, and he could barely contain himself long enough to get dressed before leaving the motel in search of his next meal.

* * *

Sam returned to the motel with coffee and breakfast, and was surprised to find Dean sitting on his bed, as if he'd been waiting for him.'Hey,' Sam said, waving Dean's coffee before putting it on the table, 'I got us some breakfast. Feeling any better?' After a long pause Sam turned to face Dean, frowning. Dean was still sitting on his bed, staring at him. It was then that Sam caught what was darkening Dean's eyes. Lust.

Dean gave Sam a little smirk as his little brother finally caught on. 'I'm feeling much better Sammy. I'm not in the mood for coffee though,' he smiled again as Sam's frown deepend. 'No?' he said, warily. 'No,' he said matter-of-factly and without another word he had crossed the distance between them in two strides and engaged Sam into a hungry kiss. After a moment of shock, Sam returned the action whole-heartedly, dropping his coffee so that he could run his hands through Dean's hair. Dean pushed him back against the dirty wall, never breaking contact as their tounges danced.

Dean suddenly pulled back with an evil look on his face that literally scared Sam. Without a word he flipped Sam over so that his chest was pushed up against the wall. 'I'm gonna take you so high Sammy,' he hissed in Sam's ear before nipping it and sending shivers down Sam's spine. Dean removed his belt and jeans as he continued to hold Sam firmly against the wall. Sam could feel Dean's erection against his thigh through the thin material of Dean's boxers. Before he knew what was happening, his own jeans and boxers were gone, showing just how much he was enjoying every moment of this. Dean freed himself and prised apart Sam's cheeks so he could reach his entrance. Dean thrust himself into his little brother and laughed under his breath at Sam's cry as his back arched to allow him more access.

Dean reached around their bodies to stroke Sam's shaft in time with his thrusts. When Sam came he was calling his brother's name, his t-shirt and parts of the wall were covered in his release. Dean pulled out of his brother before his own orgasm and allowed Sam to push him back on his bed. Sam took his brother's manhood into his mouth and Dean almost came there and then. He thrust himself further into his brother's mouth while Sam teased him with his tounge. Dean buried his hands in Sam's hair as he rode out his orgasm. Dean pulled Sam up to kiss him intensely, tasting his own release on his brother's tongue.

'We should deffinatley do that more often.' Dean closed his eyes and was taken by slumber within moments. Sam chuckled and kissed Dean's forehead before covering him over. He got himself cleaned up and dressed before cleaning the room, which was in a surprising amount of dissaray.

* * *

Fresh Winchester Blood [part 1 of ?]

2008-05-26T16:01:53Z

Title: Fresh Winchester Blood
Author: j_p_fan
Summary: Set between Fresh Blood (3x07) and A Very Supernatural Christmas (3x08). Dean is bitten by a vampire, but what will happen when the hunter becomes the hunted?
Word Count: 570
Warnings: Season 3 Spoilers - 3x07, Wincest in later chapters.
Author's Notes: As I have said before I don't believe that writing is my strong point, but I dearly love to write whenever I get a chance. I'd love to hear what you think about my attempts. This fic was inspired by hay1ock's amazing video Shove The Sun Aside.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW.
Next Parts: Part Two

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Dean smiled as he saw her, blonde hair in a matted, blood-stained mess, mouth smothered in her victim's blood, eyes dark and thirsty for more. More blood. His blood.

'Come an' get it,' Dean leered at her, a sarcastic smirk on his face. She lunged at him at latched herself on his neck, peircing his soft flesh with her razor-sharp teeth, tasting his salty blood, full of adreniline and traces of alcohol. In those few moments it took for Dean to inject her with dead man's blood, he too was injected with her venom. A vampire's venom.

* * *

The day after Sam had killed Gordon and the two of them had headed for Bobby's place, Dean began feeling ill. He'd lost his appetite - which, for Dean Winchester, was a very rare thing - and been suffering from terrible migranes. Sam checked them into a motel for the night and his worries doubled when Dean crawled into bed, fully clothed and fell into an uneasy sleep without a word.

Sam sighed and removed Dean's shoes and jeans before covering him over with a blanket. As he settled it at his brother's chest, he noticed a mark on his neck. Sam switched on the bedside lamp for a better look, only to have Dean flick out his hand and send it crashing to the floor. Darkness flooded the room once more and Dean gave a satisfied groan then rolled onto his side, removing his mark from Sam's limited view.

Sam was too tired to worry about what was probably a love bite on his brother's neck. He undressed in the dark and climbed into bed. As soon as his head reached the pillow, he felt sleep tugging at him and he gladly allowed it to pull him into a deep, undisturbed slumber.

* * *

Her breathing became ragged as she continued to tear down the dark alley as fast as her five-inch-heels would allow her. She knew without looking back that he was still following her. For once, she prayed to God that she was about to bump into one of her ex's, but deep down she knew she'd never met her stalker before. This man poured danger from every inch of his being and even from a distance she was overwhelmed by it. Why had she insisted to walk herself home?!

Daring a look behind her, she scanned the alley as best she could. Her stalker didn't seem to be there. Turning around she let out a small scream of surprise as she came face to face with an incredibly handsome man.

'Are you okay miss?' he asked, voice so mesmorising that she forgot all about her stalker.
'Much better now,' she breathed, not even realizing she'd said anything until she heard his faint chuckle.
'You shouldn't be alone out here. A dark alley is a dangerous place for a beautiful girl like you,' his eyes never left hers as he spoke.

She could feel her cheeks reddening and frowned at his sharp intake of breath.
'Are you allright?' She frowned even more when he silently nodded and refused to meet her gaze.
'Let's get you home,' he said in a voice that was so cold it sent a shiver down her spine. She was sure that this man was dangerous but some foreign part of her was overriding her common sense and she found herself following him further down the ever-darkening alley.

* * *

I Deserve This

2008-05-25T23:38:06Z

Title: I Deserve This
Author:

j_p_fan
Summary: This is a very short drabble I wrote containing Dean's thoughts in those few minutes after Sam left him bleeding to go after the witches and before Ruby came to save him in 3x09 Malleus Maleficarum
Word Count: 300
Warnings: Season 3 Spoilers - 3x09
Author's Notes: Writing isn't my strong point, but I dearly love to write whenever I get a chance. I'd love to hear what you think about it
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW

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Stabbing pain floods my inside. Son of a bitch, it's like being stabbed from the inside, over and over. Those damn witches. It has to be them.

I've got to tell Sam. We need to find the hex-bag.

"It's the coven. It's got to be the coven."

The pain is so bad now that I can't even concentrate to say anything else. My mouth is filling up with blood. Sam's somewhere behind me now, frantically searching for the hex-bag. Next thing I know, he�s rushing out of the motel door. Impala keys in one hand, the Colt in the other. He's going after them alone.

I try to call him back. If I'm going to die here on this dingy motel carpet, he should be here too. For once, he deserves to see me without the mask. He should see his brother without the game-face built solely to protect him from seeing his big brother hurt. He deserves the truth, just like I deserve to die.

I should be long dead by now anyway. Sam's the one who deserves to live, the one who needs to live. The other hunters, they all need him in this war. He's strong and smart and they need him that way. I need to tell him. He needs to know not to dwell on where I've gone.

No one could've saved me; I need to tell him that. I know he tried, man, I wish he hadn't. He'd always have his nose in some book or be online searching for something, anything. He thought I didn't know.

God, there's so much blood. I deserve to die. I should be dead. Dad should never have made a deal for me. I should be dead. Sam has to understand that.

I deserve this.

fandom_fanfic @ 2020-05-26T00:09:00

2008-05-25T23:36:13Z

Welcome to the writing journal of j_p_fan !!
I am very concious about my writing, never thinking that it's good enough. So please, don't be rude because your comments, really effect whether or not I carry on posting my fiction.
This journal was f/o but I decided that I would not hide my work any longer. So here it is, good, bad or otherwise. I'm not sure how long this new found confidence will last though, I'm usually very shy when it comes to showing people my writings.

Also, I don't use any ratings, I don't really get how to use ratings, so if anyone can help me with them, I'd be most grateful. I have no beta readers so if you see a mistake in my post, please don't hesitate to say.
MuchLove!!
Anna~~marie~~
xx