Mink (minkmix) wrote,

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I Had The Most Awesome New Years Ever. Olga and Kir came Me-Side to hang out, jinkamoo cooked the most awesome garlic roasted chicken ever and candied yams. urdsama makes the best "Supernatural" chibis EVER. OHMYGOD...the cheer. The expensive vodka. The Dean.

Yes. Supernatural on the WB owns me. I, like a hopeful fanny thing, thought I could at least force the pilot episode on Kirsten and Olga so I could do a drive-by obession whatever it is on the dudes...

15 minutes in and they asked about my collection. BOO fuckin' YAH.

We watched them all. We downloaded what we could within 3days that we didnt have.

Olga Drew from our fan fic ideas:

Aw! Sammy! Your "u ok?" paw makes me die.


I wrote a quickie version of what was on my mind after the "Skin" episode... Don't read if yer concerned about spoilers... It's based on the episode "Skin"... Did I mention it spoils? It is also rated R.

Things had gone slightly wrong.

Not that Dean expected a lot. Things rarely went down the road of the expected in his line of work but this time was particularly irritatingly. After all, he had just left this party but yet here he was back in this freaks cozy subterranean living room.

And as a bonus, the smell seemed stronger this time. The hot burning scent of the candles mixed with the sulphuric stink from the stagnant pools of water had a trace of something else under it all. It reminded Dean of the scent of a day old kill. The scent of meat just about to turn. He resisted the urge to ask it why not just check into a Motel 6 instead.

The unpleasant smell aside, Dean found it ultimately and extremely strange what he noticed about Sam now that what he was looking at, wasn't Sam at all.

Dean grimaced as the ropes around his waist and wrists went from slack to tight to tighter. Seated hard on the cold concrete floor his struggle was ended with a powerful closed handed punch to the stomach. Dizzy, he fought not to throw up while he was secured to the water piping that lined the narrow low sewer service tunnel.

The rise and fall of the chest of his captor assured him that this was an animal that breathed air and pumped blood through its flesh. This wasn't a projection. This was no phantom leaving a hazy suggestion of Sam's image. Its perfection had worked. It had lulled Dean just long enough to lower his guard. It wasn't much but it was enough to bring him back to this place.

Copied perfectly, Dean had searched for some sign of the mockery of the face he knew like he knew his own. He wanted to seize on that tired angry gaze and claim to know the difference between his blood and the forgery. But he realized, with a slow dulled surprise, that the match was indeed, flawless. That was how his brother regarded him every day. It was reckless of him to think he could be no fool for this creature. Why had he even for one second thought he knew Sam so well that he could never be deceived? It occurred to him that he maybe he hadn't been paying much attention these past few weeks to anything but maybe the fact that he just wasn't for the first time in a long time, all alone.

And not for the first time that day did Dean think that time was indeed, an objective thing.

Take the course of two years for example.

Two years in the grand scheme of things didn't seem like an enormous amount of anything. It hadn't been for Dean anyway. It was a blur of being on the road with Dad with their hidden triumphs and all their little victories that they could barely celebrate even with one another. It hadn't exactly been boring but Dean knew the first second he saw Sam again in Pal Alto that for all his running around he had been standing still compared to his little brother. Two years could also give a guy a lot of room to shift and change into someone completely different if that was his goal.

So Sam had done it.

He changed his life.

Its blue eyes were still locked on him. His brother's familiar hands resting comfortably on the dirty knees of someone else's khaki trousers. The soiled dress shirt was too small for his brother's frame. There was a wedding ring.

Dean watched the monster sit quietly across from him with a detached curiosity.

It was slightly sobering how much a person could actually change in just two years. Dean was almost positive that the little brother who so annoyingly exceeded his height when he hit his teens had now grown even maddeningly taller. There was also the Ivy League school he had left for in California of all places. And what was with that weird apartment of Sam's that Dean was pretty sure was a converted loft condo? It was that kind of place upper middle class aspiring college students used with pride on their way to future home ownership. It hadn't looked anything like the disheveled and fleeting series of apartments and rent houses they had followed their father around in growing up. No cheap left over furniture and leaky air mattresses in Sam's new life. There were even curtains for Christ's sake.

And of course, most of all, there had been Jess.

Dean still wondered why the sight of her had surprised him. He felt the corner of his mouth pull into a smile at the vague wonder for that picture of normalcy Sam had carefully crafted. Had they gone to movies every Friday? Was there a favorite take out place at the corner that had those noodles she loved? Did they talk about who would use the car while they brushed their teeth at the same sink in the morning? They probably sat around in coffee houses and dreamt about that perfect job Sam would score after he breezed through law school.

His smile faded.

Sam was so stupid. He was so fucking stupid.

He looked up to watch it smile Sam's smile as if it was reading each conclusion Dean made in their mutual silence.

It stood.

Dean hissed as the sharp blow cracked up under his jaw, his head ringing as he connected with the metal piping against the wall behind him. He studied the set to Sam's eyes that he never bothered to understand until now. This was the betrayal that simmered just below that unyielding veneer of compliancy. There was the accusation. There sat the desperate pleading question of why had Dean pulled him back into the life he cast away. Sam had had a chance. He had had a good chance to leave all this bullshit behind him and not even stop to look backwards.

Dean groaned in protest at the bruising grip on his chin turned his face slowly, side to side.

It was a certainty, Dean knew, that this thing would not leave Sam alone now that it knew it was being hunted. Sam's soft gaze was studying his own and Dean briefly wondered at the science of what was to come. Did it have to memorize what shade his pupils were so it could take them on for its own? Would it have to will its skin to shape into Dean's so it could perform the same trick on his brother? Considering the consequences, Dean conceded that the details probably didn't really matter.

Its hand slipped into Dean's leather jacket and pulled it down off one shoulder at a time. Dean sighed shortly. It was going to be more careful this time. No mismatched clothing for Sam to wonder at when Dean showed up late at the agreed corner meeting point. It paused when the jacket fell around his waist and pulled his T shirt free from his jeans to slowly push it up.

His necklace amulet glinted in the candle light from where it lay on his bared chest. A muscle in Dean's clenched jaw twitched as the chain was carefully unclasped and slipped off his neck. The hand returned to his body.

Dean tried to ignore what his head was shouting. The urge to react and flinch away to this being that appeared as his little brother was automatic. A wave of disgust roiled through his stomach as the creature's hand pressed and cupped him firmly between the legs. It was Sam's voice that was soft and low in his ear as Dean writhed and twisted his wrists so hard in his binds behind him that he knew they bled.

"It is a lot better when they don't know."

Dean blinked rapidly as he shuddered in anger. Of course it meant all the humans it had taken. People who had welcomed it with open arms in the guise of a friend. Let it right into their bedrooms never realizing their mistake even after it was even all over. For no reason at all, Dean thought of Jess again. Standing in the bedroom doorway of his brother's apartment looking at him wearily like the utter stranger he was.

"Its a lot better when they die and they never know."

His heart thud in his chest as the hand between his legs slid up to undo his belt, the leather strap hissed as it slid free through his denim belt loops. The imposter held the silver buckle thoughtfully before smiling warmly at him. Soon it would be perfectly Dean.

Dean let his head fall back and shut his eyes.

For a few moments, alone down in this darkness, Dean half hoped Sam would be fooled just like he was.

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