Look at me writing like a writing thing
Nov. 25th, 2009 09:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
solitaryslothTitle: whatever this world can give
Fandom: Supernatural/Good Omens
Rating: PG
Pairing: gen, hints of Dean/Castiel and Crowley/Aziraphale if you look that way
Summary: Sam, Dean, and Cas go to steal the Colt from a demon named Crowley.
Warnings: gratuitous use of crossover, swearing, unbetaed
Spoilers: 5.09 The Real Ghostbusters
Length: 1120
Notes: I was surprised that no one wrote this after 5.09; it seemed very obvious and I was expecting that someone better than me would do it. Actually, I've been surprised and dismayed at the lack of GO crossover in this entire fandom; I would have thought it would be a very natural thing to do. I should have written this fic earlier (i.e. before 5.10), but I'm incorrigibly lazy.
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke&co and Good Omens to pterry and Neil. The title is, of course, from Iron Maidens's You're My Best Friend.
Dean glanced back at Sam and Castiel as they stood in front of the suburban house with the flourishing green garden. Ridiculously green for this time of year because, god dammit, it was nearly winter. "Are we sure this is the right place?" It looked...cheery.
"It is. Are you sure you are OK, Dean? You have asked this several times."
Dean tried not to smile. "Fine, Cas. I'm just surprised, is all." There was also a really nice vintage Bentley in the driveway; however, it gave Dean the irrational impression that it was looking disdainfully at the Impala, which he suddenly felt increasingly protective of.
The three of them stood crowded together on the porch and stared at the door for a long while. It seemed wrong to break it down.
It was Castiel who broke the silence. "I believe it is customary to knock." It sounded a bit like a question. They were silent again, while they considered this.
Sam, suddenly, shook his head vigorously. "Wait," he said, "Why are we considering knocking on a demon's door? Why are we still standing here?"
Dean nodded. Right, something weird here. He reached out to try the handle and the door swung smoothly open. He looked back sharply at the other two. "What the fuck?"
Then he noticed the man standing in the hall. Dean was about to rush forward when Castiel put a hand on his shoulder, restraining him. He noticed Cas's other hand on Sam.
The strange man walked towards them. "Now, now. Is this really the behaviour of youth today?" Dean found himself feeling distinctly chagrined by the disapproval evident in the accented voice. He found himself strangely reluctant to reach for his gun or knife, and Sam beside him was similarly motionless.
Castiel, meanwhile, stepped forward, releasing the brothers. His rough voice sounded a bit incredulous. "Aziraphael?"
The man seemed to notice Castiel for the first time. He tilted his head and studied the angel carefully. "Castiel? You have changed."
"Little more than you, I think. The last I heard you were still in London; I was not aware that you were being informed of events, this time."
"Events?" The man, who looked like he hadn't gotten a new wardrobe since the fifties, seemed genuinely concerned now. Glancing over at Sam and Dean again, more intently this time, the man -- angel, it seemed, though he didn't look like any angel Dean had seen before -- sucked in a breath and straightened perceptibly. "I think you had better come in," he said. He walked swiftly away from them down the hall, calling, "Crowley dear, there are some young men here who would like to see you."
This was truly the most bizarre experience of his life, and that was saying a lot. He and Sam had been soundly smacked down by Castiel when they had tried to attack the yellow-eyed demon that had emerged from a back room, and the five of them were now seated around a table built for four in the kitchen. Drinking tea.
Yeah, this could not get any weirder.
Which was when the demon said, "What is it, angel?" And the angel responded, leaning in close to the demon and giving it the stare that Castiel always gave him, so it must be an angel thing, "It's the Apocalypse again. Here."
Dean started and turned to Castiel, sitting close beside him. "Again? The fucking Apocalypse has happened before -- and evidently prevented -- and you didn't think that might be a good thing to tell me?"
"It could not be averted the same way again," he said. He shifted uncomfortably. "What happened fifteen years ago was...exceptional."
Dean decided they were going to have a long discussion about this later, but let it drop. That wasn't the reason they had come. Before he could speak, Cas had turned to the other angel, saying, "All the same, Aziraphael, perhaps you should contact Adam."
"It is happening again, then?" the angel asked; it was obvious that he was hoping there had been some sort of mistake. He sighed, "I've not heard anything from upstairs since that Saturday, and Crowley's not been told anything either" -- the demon nodded his head in acknowledgement -- "I'm sure they didn't want us making a mess of things again. We're only here because, well, we have rather neglected our work in this continent. I hope the traffic wasn't too bad, getting here -- Crowley will play with the lights and the phone lines and I'm sure I don't always catch everything."
Sam sat up straighter at that. He had been looking a bit fidgety, having to sit next to a demon, and looked grateful for something to focus on. "That was you?" He sounded a bit incredulous and Dean tended to agree, this seemed to be the most undemonic demon they had ever met.
This was only confirmed when said demon rolled his eyes and hissed. "Even the humans are stuck in the fourteenth century. Does nobody have any imagination? So the angel said you wanted something, what is it? I have coins need sticking to the pavement, humans to tempt."
Dean explained about the Colt, trying to ignore the demon as much as possible as he looked at the tea and it became, was that wine? and then the angel's reproving, really dear.
Then Crowley was handing him the gun, although Dean didn't see where he'd got it from, with a "If you really think it'll kill him, but just don't tell anyone you got it from me" and a doubtful look on his face.
They got out of there as fast as possible afterwards, Sam and Dean still freaked out, and Castiel looking a bit reluctant to leave so soon the brothers he hadn't seen in six thousand years.
Later that night, after Castiel had explained everything at some length, Dean couldn't help but laugh. He knew that his world was weird, but this was just, this was weird on another scale. If the world, as Cas had described it, got any weirder it would come round the other side and become normal.
Then he realised something and sat up straighter, his shoulder bumping Cas's where the angel sat too close. "OK," he said, "See, now I know you've just been screwing with me, because I definitely would have noticed if my Metallica was turning into Best of Queen." Dean leaned back, proud of his solution and satisfied that he had finally gotten to the bottom of this. It was easiest to focus on the little things, at these times, so that he wasn't overwhelmed by thoughts about that nobody had thought to tell them and of angels shacking up with demons and really six thousand years.
At some point, I need to work up the courage to actually post to the comms.
And lj HTML? IDEK, you are so weird, I don't get you.
Fandom: Supernatural/Good Omens
Rating: PG
Pairing: gen, hints of Dean/Castiel and Crowley/Aziraphale if you look that way
Summary: Sam, Dean, and Cas go to steal the Colt from a demon named Crowley.
Warnings: gratuitous use of crossover, swearing, unbetaed
Spoilers: 5.09 The Real Ghostbusters
Length: 1120
Notes: I was surprised that no one wrote this after 5.09; it seemed very obvious and I was expecting that someone better than me would do it. Actually, I've been surprised and dismayed at the lack of GO crossover in this entire fandom; I would have thought it would be a very natural thing to do. I should have written this fic earlier (i.e. before 5.10), but I'm incorrigibly lazy.
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke&co and Good Omens to pterry and Neil. The title is, of course, from Iron Maidens's You're My Best Friend.
Dean glanced back at Sam and Castiel as they stood in front of the suburban house with the flourishing green garden. Ridiculously green for this time of year because, god dammit, it was nearly winter. "Are we sure this is the right place?" It looked...cheery.
"It is. Are you sure you are OK, Dean? You have asked this several times."
Dean tried not to smile. "Fine, Cas. I'm just surprised, is all." There was also a really nice vintage Bentley in the driveway; however, it gave Dean the irrational impression that it was looking disdainfully at the Impala, which he suddenly felt increasingly protective of.
The three of them stood crowded together on the porch and stared at the door for a long while. It seemed wrong to break it down.
It was Castiel who broke the silence. "I believe it is customary to knock." It sounded a bit like a question. They were silent again, while they considered this.
Sam, suddenly, shook his head vigorously. "Wait," he said, "Why are we considering knocking on a demon's door? Why are we still standing here?"
Dean nodded. Right, something weird here. He reached out to try the handle and the door swung smoothly open. He looked back sharply at the other two. "What the fuck?"
Then he noticed the man standing in the hall. Dean was about to rush forward when Castiel put a hand on his shoulder, restraining him. He noticed Cas's other hand on Sam.
The strange man walked towards them. "Now, now. Is this really the behaviour of youth today?" Dean found himself feeling distinctly chagrined by the disapproval evident in the accented voice. He found himself strangely reluctant to reach for his gun or knife, and Sam beside him was similarly motionless.
Castiel, meanwhile, stepped forward, releasing the brothers. His rough voice sounded a bit incredulous. "Aziraphael?"
The man seemed to notice Castiel for the first time. He tilted his head and studied the angel carefully. "Castiel? You have changed."
"Little more than you, I think. The last I heard you were still in London; I was not aware that you were being informed of events, this time."
"Events?" The man, who looked like he hadn't gotten a new wardrobe since the fifties, seemed genuinely concerned now. Glancing over at Sam and Dean again, more intently this time, the man -- angel, it seemed, though he didn't look like any angel Dean had seen before -- sucked in a breath and straightened perceptibly. "I think you had better come in," he said. He walked swiftly away from them down the hall, calling, "Crowley dear, there are some young men here who would like to see you."
This was truly the most bizarre experience of his life, and that was saying a lot. He and Sam had been soundly smacked down by Castiel when they had tried to attack the yellow-eyed demon that had emerged from a back room, and the five of them were now seated around a table built for four in the kitchen. Drinking tea.
Yeah, this could not get any weirder.
Which was when the demon said, "What is it, angel?" And the angel responded, leaning in close to the demon and giving it the stare that Castiel always gave him, so it must be an angel thing, "It's the Apocalypse again. Here."
Dean started and turned to Castiel, sitting close beside him. "Again? The fucking Apocalypse has happened before -- and evidently prevented -- and you didn't think that might be a good thing to tell me?"
"It could not be averted the same way again," he said. He shifted uncomfortably. "What happened fifteen years ago was...exceptional."
Dean decided they were going to have a long discussion about this later, but let it drop. That wasn't the reason they had come. Before he could speak, Cas had turned to the other angel, saying, "All the same, Aziraphael, perhaps you should contact Adam."
"It is happening again, then?" the angel asked; it was obvious that he was hoping there had been some sort of mistake. He sighed, "I've not heard anything from upstairs since that Saturday, and Crowley's not been told anything either" -- the demon nodded his head in acknowledgement -- "I'm sure they didn't want us making a mess of things again. We're only here because, well, we have rather neglected our work in this continent. I hope the traffic wasn't too bad, getting here -- Crowley will play with the lights and the phone lines and I'm sure I don't always catch everything."
Sam sat up straighter at that. He had been looking a bit fidgety, having to sit next to a demon, and looked grateful for something to focus on. "That was you?" He sounded a bit incredulous and Dean tended to agree, this seemed to be the most undemonic demon they had ever met.
This was only confirmed when said demon rolled his eyes and hissed. "Even the humans are stuck in the fourteenth century. Does nobody have any imagination? So the angel said you wanted something, what is it? I have coins need sticking to the pavement, humans to tempt."
Dean explained about the Colt, trying to ignore the demon as much as possible as he looked at the tea and it became, was that wine? and then the angel's reproving, really dear.
Then Crowley was handing him the gun, although Dean didn't see where he'd got it from, with a "If you really think it'll kill him, but just don't tell anyone you got it from me" and a doubtful look on his face.
They got out of there as fast as possible afterwards, Sam and Dean still freaked out, and Castiel looking a bit reluctant to leave so soon the brothers he hadn't seen in six thousand years.
Later that night, after Castiel had explained everything at some length, Dean couldn't help but laugh. He knew that his world was weird, but this was just, this was weird on another scale. If the world, as Cas had described it, got any weirder it would come round the other side and become normal.
Then he realised something and sat up straighter, his shoulder bumping Cas's where the angel sat too close. "OK," he said, "See, now I know you've just been screwing with me, because I definitely would have noticed if my Metallica was turning into Best of Queen." Dean leaned back, proud of his solution and satisfied that he had finally gotten to the bottom of this. It was easiest to focus on the little things, at these times, so that he wasn't overwhelmed by thoughts about that nobody had thought to tell them and of angels shacking up with demons and really six thousand years.
At some point, I need to work up the courage to actually post to the comms.
And lj HTML? IDEK, you are so weird, I don't get you.
