Post by Antigone Crow on Apr 26, 2008 0:35:46 GMT -5
Author's Note and Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, there would be no Bela or Jo. Dean would be mine. Pure and simple.
Clearly, I do not own Supernatural.
I do, however, kind of own Andromeda. Kinda.
I know this is kind of impossible in a few places, but, I had to do it. It's AU, so, xP. I win.
And yes. I’m aware Dean is extremely out of character. I told you all I couldn’t write him!
Christmas bells are ringing, Christmas bells are ringing, Christmas bells are ringing..Somewhere else. Not here.
Christmas had always been a holiday that she had enjoyed. Andromeda Wandell's family had always been came together during the holidays: Her mother and father would push aside their differences and not argue for the week or so prior to Christmas, and her brother and his wife, her sister, and herself would appear to their home in New Jersey. However, things this year would be quite different, and Anna couldn't bring herself to face it.
Her sister had been the first to go, two years before--a victim of a ghost (well, technically two ghosts) not yet at rest. She had been nearly raped and then killed; practically mutilated in her car. Anna and Desdemona had been rather close, and had even shared a dorm room at Montclair University. Two young men around her own age had appeared and solved the case, and that was when Andromeda's (clearly called Anna, and Meda, more often than her actual first name) belief in supernatural things came to be. Little did she know, she her, indirectly, been involved with demonic creatures and things her whole life.
This was enough to face for the past two years, but now, there was more.
Her father had been next to go. Anna had not known that he was a hunter until about two or so months after his death. Her mother had blamed the death on a drive-by shooting (they lived in Newark, after all), and kept the casket closed. Anna learned why after finding her father's trunk and going through it. He had been a hunter, like Sam and Dean. He had devoted his life to helping people and saving them from creatures that haunted only their nightmares.
And suddenly, everything made sense to her: Why her father had enrolled her in ROTC as soon as she was old enough to hold a gun, why he had taught her how to use a bow properly. Why he had told her all those stories, while she had always thought he was just trying to scare her and her sister. Why her mother, such a strict Roman Catholic, and he had fought constantly (though never divorced, as that was considered a sin in her mother's mind). It all made sense.
And she wished it didn't. Why? Because Anna then decided that she had to follow in his footsteps. She knew enough already, so why not take over where he had left off?
She'd found the two Winchester brothers, and followed after them without trying to. They'd bump into each other on cases, and soon developed slight friendships. She'd help them, and usually ended up as accidental bait. Think a more useful Daphne from Scooby Doo with a gun, and you generally have a good idea of Anna.
No Sleighbells, no Santa Claus, no Yule Log, no tinsel, no holly, no heart, no 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer'.
Packing was always a drag for her. Having slight OCD, it took a lifetime, and having ADD, she got distracted far too easily. And this year, she did not want to go home, so she was looking for excuses to delay her and things to distract herself with. Her mother had already called and complained that 'Her Annie wasn't home yet, and Christmas wasn't the same without her.'
There was another problem Anna didn't even want to think about (aside from the fact that her mother refused to stop calling her Annie).
Her mother had re-married.
Now, Anna had not expected this to happen at all, let alone so soon. Her mother had married less than a year after her fucking father died. How could she do something like that? Anna (and the rest of her family) knew that her mother and father had difficulties, but didn't every healthy couple? Anna had not thought that they were unhappy (okay, that's a lie), and she had never expected her mother to re-marry, especially not just six months after her father had died.
She had yet to forgive her mother. She had contemplated skipping the wedding, but being the Maid of Honor, that wouldn't have turned out well.
She was not fond of Stan, her new step-father. He was the type of step-father you feared and cringed to hear about. The one that automatically thrust himself onto you and into your life. The kind of step-father that called you 'sugar', 'sweetheart', and 'honey' from the start. The type that tried too hard because he loved (or at least thought he did) your mother and wanted to make everything work.
Taking a deep breath, the twenty-three-year-old woman shut her suitcase and closed her eyes for a few moments. She was returning home for two days--it wouldn't kill her. She'd told her mother she had to get back to work then (not far from the truth), and her mother, although highly disappointed, had said she understood.
She dropped the suitcase outside and closed the door behind her, going to drop off her room key at the motel office. She hesitated as she reached for her phone, preparing to call a cab, and then remembered there was one more thing she had to do.
Christmas bells are swinging, Christmas bells are ringing, Christmas bells are ringing...In my dreams. Next year.
Anna knew that this Christmas was going to be hard on the Winchester boys. She had no idea how or why, but she had heard on a few occasions that Dean's 'time was running out,' and that he 'didn't have a future to worry about.' She hadn't, of course, let on that she knew these things, deciding it best to keep silent. Had they wanted her to know, they would have told her.
She did, however, have to say goodbye. It felt like the right thing to do.
She had been about to knock on the motel-room door when it swung open, revealing a leather-jacket clad Dean. He stopped short and she stumbled back, before offering a quick smile and a wave. "Hey." Awkward.
Sam appeared behind him, and offered a warmer smile to her. "Hey, Anna." Less Awkward.
"Hey," came Dean's, with a nonchalant nod. He noticed her suitcase, and raised an eyebrow. "You goin' somewhere?"
"Oh," she blinked down at her suitcase, and then nodded. "Yeah. Home. Mother called and complained, and I figured a few days at home wouldn't kill me. ..Well, hopefully it won't. Jason'll keep me sane, if anything." Older brothers were truly a blessing at times.
"Oh, right." More awkward.
The silence ticked by, and Sammy finally lightly pushed his brother aside, moving forward to give her a quick, slightly awkward hug. He never had been particularly smooth with those kinds of things. "Have..well, fun?"
"Not likely," she said, managing a quick smile. "But, merry Christmas and all that." She went up on tip-toe to press a quick kiss to his cheek, unable but to feel extremely tiny with the male that was about a foot taller than her.
"How're you getting there?"
"..Airplane." She gulped, and managed a shaky smile. "I'll be drunk before we go up, I can guarantee it." It would be the only way she'd get through the damned flight.
Sammy cracked a grin and chuckled a little, and Dean offered a sympathetic grimace.
“And thus brings the reason why I’m here,” Anna said, nodding. “Uhm, can you hold onto my..questionable shit? I can’t get through security with it.” She felt relieved when Sam said it was no problem and she unloaded the guns from her duffle bag on her shoulder, as well as the saber and rifle from her suitcase and the handgun from her pocket.
She was always prepared.
"Well, Dean's on his way out," Sammy said, lightly pushing his brother out the door. "So, why don't you have him take you?"
Dean sent him a quick glance over his shoulder (and probably a glare) before nodding, turning back to Anna with a smile (probably fake). "Yeah, it's no problem."
"You sure? I mean, taxis don't bother me."
They bothered Sam. She knew that--they'd had a discussion about it before, for some reason. She and Sam had gotten along a lot better than she and Dean. She always felt awkward around the older of the two boys, unable to think of anything to say. And then he would tease her, and she would get pissed off, which resulted in a not-so-good relationship.
"Nah," Dean said, before Sammy could speak up. He knew taxi drivers were shady as well. "It's no problem."
No bathrobe, no Steuben Glass, no cappuccino makers, no pearls, no diamonds, no 'Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire.'
The drive to the airport was, unfortunately, about a half-hour long, and holiday traffic was terrible. She’d squirmed for the first few minutes while he stopped at the gas station, and shuffled through her purse for the two small packages, wrapped nearly in gold-and-silver, shiny paper with a gold bow on one and a silver on the other. She kept them in her purse, though on top, so they would be easier to find. He returned a moment later, a bag in tow, and after filling up, they’d driven off. Thankfully he put in music this time, so the Impala was not silent, instead filled with the heavy and loud sound of Metallica.
After what seemed to be too soon, Dean turned down the music, and Anna grimaced a little. Damnit. Why couldn’t they just ignore each other (as was usual) on the ride there? Then they could say goodbye, she could practically throw the little gift-wrapped boxes at him, and he could go. It would just be that simple.
But he always complicated things.
“What time’s your flight?” He asked, glancing at the clock. Traffic was bad, and he had a feeling that if she wasn’t one of those OCD early people, she’d be screwed.
“Oh, I have a while,” Anna said, confirming his suspicions. “I hate flying, so I need to get there early and get drunk. It’s how my system works.”
“Eh, it makes a bad situation at least slightly more tolerable,” Dean said, glancing at her for a moment with a crooked half-smile.
“I don’t want to go home in the first place, so yeah. Alcohol is necessary for this whole situation.” She pushed back dark red, practically auburn, locks away from her eyes, absently twirling a strand around her forefinger.
She couldn’t help but feel awkward–she was trapped in a car with a highly attractive guy, and had no idea what the hell to do. Thanks to her mother, she’d never been allowed to date when she was younger, and had had a grand total of three relationships in her life.
So, all in all, she was clueless.
Dean looked over at her again, eyebrows raised. “You don’t wanna go home for Christmas?” His eyes flickered back to the road for half a second, sighing when the car in front of him hadn’t moved an inch. He mentally cursed his brother, but decided to keep the conversation rolling. “You strike me as the type that would be all happy-go-lucky about Christmas. Y’know, helpin’ your mother cook, and all that shit.”
Anna actually laughed a little at that, but got her composure back quickly. “That was my sister’s job,” she said, knowing he knew of her sister’s death. Little did she knew, he also knew of her father’s. “I was always fine with it, but this year’s different.” She frowned and stopped playing with her hair, brown eyes flickering towards the window. “It’s starting to snow,” she remarked absently, trying to change the subject.
Dean only grimaced again and flicked on the windshield wipers, and did not comment on the snow more than that. “Different how?” Christmas had always been the same for him. Their father would promise to come home and not show up, and Dean had always gone out and got a tree last minute. His one hand absently went the necklace Sammy had given to him once he figured out what was going on–a present that had been meant for their father, but was given to Dean instead.
“My father died a few months ago,” she said, trying to sound indifferent with a shrug. Dean didn’t know to fake surprise or not, so simply nodded lightly to himself. “And my mother’s remarried already. So, it’s gonna be awkward,” just like this car ride, “and I’m really dreading it.”
Dean shrugged, glad to notice that traffic was finally moving again. He drove (slowly, but still moving) with just one hand on the wheel; lazy, as always. “Well, everyone has to do shit they don’t want to.” Hell, look at his current situation. “You’ve just gotta push through it.”
“I know,” Anna said, nodding with a soft sigh. “Which is why I’m going in the first place. I mean, I can deal with the whole ‘first Christmas without Dad thing.’” Dean winced a little, though hid it well. She caught it, and frowned, though decided not to mention it. “I just wish I didn’t have to deal with Stan.” She didn’t say more on the topic, and absently reached forward to turn the music up again.
She’d rather listen to classic rock and metal than talk about her life. Because she knew that if she kept talking, she would end up telling him something she didn’t want to. She had been thinking of the right way to phrase it the whole ride so far, though had decided that telling him was a bad idea.
And so, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the seat.
No one's buying, feel like crying. No room at the Holiday Inn, oh no. And it’s beginning to snow.
It was just as awkward when they got into the airport, at her gate. She remembered something suddenly, and pulled out the two little wrapped boxes and handed them over. He raised his eyebrows and moved to unwrap the one with his name, but she lightly smacked his hand.
“Wait until midnight, mister,” she said, rolling her eyes with a smile when he pouted a little. “It won’t kill you. Hell, wait until you’re in the car for all I care. Anyway, the other one is, obviously, for Sammy.” Beat. “So, thanks for coming, and all of that.” Awkward.
Dean nodded and turned to leave, and she turned around as well and closed her eyes, cursing under her breath at herself in Gaelic. Out of all the things that she wanted to say to him, that came out. She took in a deep breath, and jumped when she felt someone tap her shoulder, reaching for where her gun would be. She turned, and breathed when it was just Dean.
And thus, she lightly hit his shoulder. Well. Her definition of lightly.
“Ow!” He exclaimed, his left hand automatically going to his right shoulder. “What the hell was that for?”
“You scared me,” she said, simply. “Sorry. But. Don’t do it again. Ever.”
Dean grumbled under his breath and then spoke again. “Yeah, well, I forgot something. Sammy reminded me last minute.” He pulled something from his pocket, and motioned for her to turn around. “Close your eyes,” he said, and she rolled them before complying. She felt cold metal on her neck, and his warm fingers on the back of her neck. She shivered a little, but then his hands were gone. “Open ‘em up.”
She did, and reached for the charm on her neck. She saw a gold pentacle around her neck, with a tanzanite stone in the center. She opened her mouth to ask him how he’d gotten it, then remembered the credit card scams and all the scratch offs he’d made Sammy do when he was lucky. That explained a lot.
“Thanks,” she said, a smile offered. “But why a pentacle?”
“A pentacle’s supposed to ward off bad spirits,” Dean said, with a shrug. “Figured you might need it.” She laughed a little, and nodded.
“Yeah. I do have bad luck..” That was an understatement.
An awkward moment passed, and then she nodded. “Right, so I guess you probably should–,” he cut her off in a way she had not been expecting. An arm looped around her waist and tugged her forward, and warm, warm lips were on hers. It only lasted for a few moments, though it felt like an age; lost in his soft, warm lips, and losing herself in the dizzy haze that had took over her mind the second he’d drawn her closer.
“Flight One Thirteen to New Jersey, rows A through I start boarding now.”
He pulled away a moment later, a smirk pulled onto his lips. “Have fun at home, Anna.”
“Se–yeah,” she managed after a moment, slightly breathless. “I’ll–I’ll try.” She was dizzy, thanks to him, though was getting over it quickly. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”
“Merry Christmas.” He kissed her again, though this was just a quick, almost teasing brush of his lips against hers before he turned to leave.
“Hey, Dean!” She called after him, and he turned.
“Me sil gra tu.” That fit exactly what she’d wanted to say this whole time.
“What?” He looked confused, and waited for a translation from her Irish-talk.
“Figure it out!”
I just need to take it slow. I should tell you, I should tell you.
I felt so bad for him in that episode, his last Christmas. /sniffles/