September roundup...

[kellifer]

Don't know why I stopped these, makes it easier to update the Master Lists... which... I need to do at the moment. *shifty eyes*

-- Completed Stories --

Do Winchesters Dream Of Electric Impalas - (SPN) Robot!Dean.

Hurl'd Headlong - (SPN) 4.01 coda.

lil-i-pyooh-shuhn - (SPN) Teeny!Sam.

-- Currently In Progress --

apocalypse_kree fic - (SG-1/SGA) I'm horribly late. I still want to get this done though.

“Morning John,” a cool, smooth female voice sounded inside his head. John flinched and then fingered a small scar at his temple. Not alone, he thought. Never truly alone.

“Morning Lucy,” he replied. He spoke his replies aloud, knowing he didn’t have to but doing it out of habit just the same. It was nice to hear a human voice, even if it was his.

“I trust the girl you were with last night helped herself to your possessions,” Lucy said in a jovial tone. For an artificial intelligence, she sure knew how to stick the knife in.

Small town cops AU - (SPN) Small town cops AU (Still with demon goodness!).

“You’re way too predictable, man,” Sam says, sliding onto the stool next to Dean. He’s wearing his uniform, badge almost too shiny in the dim confines of the bar and his silly hair is slicked back from his forehead. Dean taps his glass and Stephen swaps the juice out for a coke.

Dean’s moved onto the hard stuff.

“Y’know, you’re just like Dad.”

Dean turns enough to blink at Sam, because of the two of them, he would’ve pegged Sam as filling those particular shoes. “Come again?”

“You’re all about the self-flagellation,” Sam says, rubbing his hands together briefly. He’s come in from the snow and there’s a faint dusting of it on his shoulders and he’s not wearing gloves, as usual.

Sammy, where are your gloves?

Lost ‘em.

How? I sewed them on the ends of your sleeves, goddamit

“Sam-”

“I’m just here to see if you’re coming in today,” Sam says, eyes sliding away. He’s still mad and Dean gets that, he really does. Dean feels like Sam was always mad at him for something but this last time was a keeper. Dean looks down at his own badge, pinned to his chest and dull like his surroundings, like how he feels deep down inside.

Worn down.

Dulled.

Comments

[kellifer-fic.livejournal.com]

Hahahaa! :)