Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2010-02-13 08:00 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2010-02-13 08:00 pm
Dean - To Sleep But ...
Fandom: Angel the Series/Supernatural
Title: To Sleep But …
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, Illyria
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse Prompt: Idle hands are the Devil’s joy.
Content Warning: Spoilers through 510: Abandon All Hope.
Summary: Dean can’t sleep, and he’s bored. Always a bad combination.
Author’s Note: Part of my Devil Town series. Because this really needed to be done. Set after “Trust Games.”
Disclaimer: I do not own. They all belong to Joss and Kripke. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
Dean couldn’t sleep.
He hadn’t been able to sleep since Cathrage, not without a bottle of booze in his fist anyway, and here it was looking like he had none. Sam hadn’t been sleeping either, but his body was at least doing the courtesy of letting him pass out when he was beyond exhaustion. Dean’s wasn’t so considerate. He was starting to hate it for that.
He had been spending the past hour since Angel had left, staring at the ceiling above his bed and trying to figure out how to put himself to sleep, but nothing he seemed to come up with was working. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Jo’s face. And frankly, he was starting to get sick of it. Sick of losing people, sick of feeling guilty about it, just – sick of everything. He just wanted this whole thing to be over, and he didn’t know how to get there without giving up everything that he cared about. He wasn’t going to be Michael’s vessel. He couldn’t be.
He had to believe he could choose.
Right now, however, all he had to choose was whether or not he was going to lay there in the hotel room like a lump or get out and find something to do. At the moment, Dean was going with option B. He kicked his legs over the side of the bed, pulled on his pants, and headed out to the hallway. He wasn’t sure if he was going to leave the building yet, but he definitely wanted out of this room.
Glancing up and down the hallway to make sure the attack dog wasn’t around, Dean rounded the corner and made his way through as quietly as possible. He wasn’t sure which room Illyria was in, but he didn’t want to take any chances. It wasn’t until he passed one of the open doors and spotted a flash of blue through one of the open doors. He did a double take, before stepping back into the doorway again and staring at what he was seeing. There was Illyria, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor in front of her TV—playing PlayStation.
What the hell?
Apparently her vessel sense was tingling, because Dean wasn’t standing there long before she started speaking to him. “You were not supposed to leave your room.”
“Yeah, well—I’ve never really been good with directions.” He took that statement as an invitation, moving in to sit on the edge of the bed behind her. It took a minute for his eyes to focus on the graphics on the screen, but he didn’t recognize the game, and wasn’t going to bother to try. “You play video games?”
Illyria just kept her eyes on the screen, not even bothering to look at him as she responded. “I find them a good way to pass the time.” She must have completed a level or something, because the screen whited out and a movie sequence started. As it did, she turned back to face him and studied him carefully for a moment. “You are exhausted and yet you do not sleep.”
Dean suddenly decided that sitting down here wasn’t all that great an idea. He wasn’t really in the mood for having a heart-to-heart with a lost member of the Blue Man Group. “Screw this,” he muttered, before getting up and leaving heading back to the original mission. “I need a drink.”
“Oh, yes. Because alcohol is so incredibly useful.”
Dean ignored the comment, heading towards the stairs. He’d made it about halfway down before he had to stop dead, as Illyria had appeared right in front of him. He used the momentum to side step her, but the point was still made. “What do you want?”
“You will not find what you are looking for here. Angel does not drink.”
“What hunter doesn’t drink?” Dean completely ignored her, and just kept heading into the lobby, moving behind the front desk and starting to look around, seeing what he could find. There was a lot of old books, kind of like the stuff he’d seen at Bobby’s, but none of it was in English, therefore none of it had his interest.
“What makes you think Angel is a hunter?”
“He’s a friend of Faith’s,” Dean sighed, sorting through the papers. “I’m assuming he’s not a civilian.”
Her head tilted to the side. “Civilian? You mean an ordinary human.”
“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Someone who doesn’t know what’s what.”
There was an audible sound that could have been a snort, if Dean didn’t think that Illryia would probably consider herself above that type of noise. “Oh, he knows ‘what’s what.’ You can be certain of that.”
Dean couldn’t help but look up at the way she said it, tilting his head to the side at her response. “You know somethin’ I don’t, sweetheart?”
“More than you realize.”
He continued to look at her carefully, waiting to see if she was going to elaborate on that, before shaking it off and noticing the mini-fridge. “Now we’re talkin’,” he sighed, going to crouch down in front of the fridge and open it. “So Angel wouldn’t answer me when I asked what you were. It’s obvious you’re not an Angel, so what? Demigod? Demon?”
“I am an Old One, one of the beings that the angels ran out of this world in order for you humans to exist. I used to rule this world with the a iron fist and now I am reduced to being a body guard for one vermin who can’t do as he’s told and another who reeks of the disgusting pieces of filth you call demons today.”
“How terrible for you,” Dean said dryly. “Really, tell me—” His voice dropped off as he spotted the containers in the fridge, picking it up and studying it for a moment. “—what the fuck is this?”
“Blood. It belongs to Angel.”
Dean turned around to face her, one of the containers still in his hand. “What the hell does he need friggin’ blood for?”
“To drink, of course.” Illyria said with a slow smile. “As you said—he is not a civilian.”
Dean’s jaw slacked slightly, and it only took him a moment to put two and two together. “He’s a vampire. That bitch left us with a goddamn vampire. I’m gonna kill her. And him.”
That idle threat got Illyria’s attention. She reached across the top of the bar and yanked him towards her, showing far more strength than Dean was expecting. The edge of the desk hit him in the gut hard enough to knock the air out of him, and he winced before looking up to meet her eyes, trying to keep them as cold as possible.
“You lay one hand on him, and I will tear you to tiny little pieces, so miniscule that not even your angel will be able to put you back together.”
“Sweetheart, I’d like to see you try and—”
He was cut off as Illyria slammed her fist into his face, dazing him completely. As his body slumped down onto the desk, she leaned over him with a bit of a glare.
“I think you should sleep.”
As the edges of his vision started to blacken, he was finding that he really agreed with her on that one.
Title: To Sleep But …
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, Illyria
tamingthemuse Prompt: Idle hands are the Devil’s joy.Content Warning: Spoilers through 510: Abandon All Hope.
Summary: Dean can’t sleep, and he’s bored. Always a bad combination.
Author’s Note: Part of my Devil Town series. Because this really needed to be done. Set after “Trust Games.”
Disclaimer: I do not own. They all belong to Joss and Kripke. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
Dean couldn’t sleep.
He hadn’t been able to sleep since Cathrage, not without a bottle of booze in his fist anyway, and here it was looking like he had none. Sam hadn’t been sleeping either, but his body was at least doing the courtesy of letting him pass out when he was beyond exhaustion. Dean’s wasn’t so considerate. He was starting to hate it for that.
He had been spending the past hour since Angel had left, staring at the ceiling above his bed and trying to figure out how to put himself to sleep, but nothing he seemed to come up with was working. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Jo’s face. And frankly, he was starting to get sick of it. Sick of losing people, sick of feeling guilty about it, just – sick of everything. He just wanted this whole thing to be over, and he didn’t know how to get there without giving up everything that he cared about. He wasn’t going to be Michael’s vessel. He couldn’t be.
He had to believe he could choose.
Right now, however, all he had to choose was whether or not he was going to lay there in the hotel room like a lump or get out and find something to do. At the moment, Dean was going with option B. He kicked his legs over the side of the bed, pulled on his pants, and headed out to the hallway. He wasn’t sure if he was going to leave the building yet, but he definitely wanted out of this room.
Glancing up and down the hallway to make sure the attack dog wasn’t around, Dean rounded the corner and made his way through as quietly as possible. He wasn’t sure which room Illyria was in, but he didn’t want to take any chances. It wasn’t until he passed one of the open doors and spotted a flash of blue through one of the open doors. He did a double take, before stepping back into the doorway again and staring at what he was seeing. There was Illyria, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor in front of her TV—playing PlayStation.
What the hell?
Apparently her vessel sense was tingling, because Dean wasn’t standing there long before she started speaking to him. “You were not supposed to leave your room.”
“Yeah, well—I’ve never really been good with directions.” He took that statement as an invitation, moving in to sit on the edge of the bed behind her. It took a minute for his eyes to focus on the graphics on the screen, but he didn’t recognize the game, and wasn’t going to bother to try. “You play video games?”
Illyria just kept her eyes on the screen, not even bothering to look at him as she responded. “I find them a good way to pass the time.” She must have completed a level or something, because the screen whited out and a movie sequence started. As it did, she turned back to face him and studied him carefully for a moment. “You are exhausted and yet you do not sleep.”
Dean suddenly decided that sitting down here wasn’t all that great an idea. He wasn’t really in the mood for having a heart-to-heart with a lost member of the Blue Man Group. “Screw this,” he muttered, before getting up and leaving heading back to the original mission. “I need a drink.”
“Oh, yes. Because alcohol is so incredibly useful.”
Dean ignored the comment, heading towards the stairs. He’d made it about halfway down before he had to stop dead, as Illyria had appeared right in front of him. He used the momentum to side step her, but the point was still made. “What do you want?”
“You will not find what you are looking for here. Angel does not drink.”
“What hunter doesn’t drink?” Dean completely ignored her, and just kept heading into the lobby, moving behind the front desk and starting to look around, seeing what he could find. There was a lot of old books, kind of like the stuff he’d seen at Bobby’s, but none of it was in English, therefore none of it had his interest.
“What makes you think Angel is a hunter?”
“He’s a friend of Faith’s,” Dean sighed, sorting through the papers. “I’m assuming he’s not a civilian.”
Her head tilted to the side. “Civilian? You mean an ordinary human.”
“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Someone who doesn’t know what’s what.”
There was an audible sound that could have been a snort, if Dean didn’t think that Illryia would probably consider herself above that type of noise. “Oh, he knows ‘what’s what.’ You can be certain of that.”
Dean couldn’t help but look up at the way she said it, tilting his head to the side at her response. “You know somethin’ I don’t, sweetheart?”
“More than you realize.”
He continued to look at her carefully, waiting to see if she was going to elaborate on that, before shaking it off and noticing the mini-fridge. “Now we’re talkin’,” he sighed, going to crouch down in front of the fridge and open it. “So Angel wouldn’t answer me when I asked what you were. It’s obvious you’re not an Angel, so what? Demigod? Demon?”
“I am an Old One, one of the beings that the angels ran out of this world in order for you humans to exist. I used to rule this world with the a iron fist and now I am reduced to being a body guard for one vermin who can’t do as he’s told and another who reeks of the disgusting pieces of filth you call demons today.”
“How terrible for you,” Dean said dryly. “Really, tell me—” His voice dropped off as he spotted the containers in the fridge, picking it up and studying it for a moment. “—what the fuck is this?”
“Blood. It belongs to Angel.”
Dean turned around to face her, one of the containers still in his hand. “What the hell does he need friggin’ blood for?”
“To drink, of course.” Illyria said with a slow smile. “As you said—he is not a civilian.”
Dean’s jaw slacked slightly, and it only took him a moment to put two and two together. “He’s a vampire. That bitch left us with a goddamn vampire. I’m gonna kill her. And him.”
That idle threat got Illyria’s attention. She reached across the top of the bar and yanked him towards her, showing far more strength than Dean was expecting. The edge of the desk hit him in the gut hard enough to knock the air out of him, and he winced before looking up to meet her eyes, trying to keep them as cold as possible.
“You lay one hand on him, and I will tear you to tiny little pieces, so miniscule that not even your angel will be able to put you back together.”
“Sweetheart, I’d like to see you try and—”
He was cut off as Illyria slammed her fist into his face, dazing him completely. As his body slumped down onto the desk, she leaned over him with a bit of a glare.
“I think you should sleep.”
As the edges of his vision started to blacken, he was finding that he really agreed with her on that one.
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