lonewriterfiction

[lonewriterfiction]

Night Terrors

"Hey Dean?" Sam's small voice called from his bed. The two shared a room in a small apartment this time, the landlord having owed John and cut him a deal.

The apartment was a nice change from the motels they had been staying in. Sure, it was in a sketchy part of town, and it was falling apart; the ceiling bowing in some spots, appliances leaking or not working properly, and strange smells hung in the air. But it was more of a home than the two had ever had since their mother died, and they were making the most of it.

Dean, sitting on the cracked windowsill, the heat from the day having long since given way to the chill of night, turned to glance at his little brother. "Yeah, Sammy?"

"What are you doing over there?" The young boy rubbed sleepily at his eyes. He was only four years younger than Dean, and he was in his last year of middle school. Growing up before Dean's eyes.

The fear had begun to set in. Fear that Sam would leave him and their father. He had talked about wanting to go to college a few times, and as happy as Dean would be for him, he couldn't help but not want him to go. To stay by his side forever. Dean didn't want to be alone. "Come're." Dean waved him over.

Sam slipped out of his bed, his pajama pants sagging and the faded hems dragging along the floor. They had been Dean's. He stifled a yawn and peeked out the window. "I don't understand why you couldn't have just told me-" He paused then. There was the faintest sound. Sniffling. Whimpering. Crying.

A sound so soft that the light breeze was enough to carry it away, but the apartment walls were thin, and Dean had known what to listen for. "I usually wait till you're asleep. I slip out for a few hours. Visit Ren. She started keeping her window open for me."

"Why? Is that her crying?"

"She has these... bad dreams. Ones that feel real. Sometimes she freezes up, and other times... she starts fighting the air. Can't wake herself from them. Won't tell anyone about them. When I first started hearing her, I..." He chuckled quietly. "I thought there was a monster after her."

Sam let out a chuckle in reply. Then he smiled a solemn smile. "Go help her, Dean. Tell her I said hi."

Dean gave a nod and opened the window further, then hesitated as he remembered something. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, she says she can't wait for you to be in high school. Says you're gonna be her new dodgeball partner."

Without waiting for Sam's response, Dean dropped down from his window, landing quietly behind the rose bushes that grew outside of Ren's room. Deciding to pick one this time, he placed the end of the rose in his mouth and climbed through her window, turning to lightly close it behind him.

Ren's bed sat right up against the windows, pillows surrounding it as if it were a sofa or a daybed. She loved pillows. And blankets. Dean could tell why. She was lonely. The world felt too big and vast, so she nested in comfort to feel at least a hint less alone.

Crawling over to the tightly balled figure on the bed, Dean pulled her favorite blanket tighter around her shoulders before pulling her gently up into his embrace. His back rested against the pillows, and he stared up at the ceiling. Moving a hand through her auburn hair, a smile crept onto his face as he felt her begin to ease.

Quietly, like he did every night, he began to softly sing a tune. "Hey Jude...."

[lonewriterfiction]

Dream a Djinn Dream

"Ren!" Sam hollered out into the darkness of the vast, empty basement he found himself in. He sent a panicked look to his right, where Dean stood, gun and flashlight in hand.

"She's here. We'll find her." Dean reassured him. He wasn't too sure himself, but it was his job to reassure and be there for his younger brother.

Sam nodded, keeping his handgun close to his person, his flashlight held against the barrel of it. The two fell in step with one another, Sam watching the left and Dean watching the right. The basement was mostly desolate, with loose wiring and thick beams of solid concrete decorating the rectangular room. It spanned on for what seemed like eternity in the darkness.

Dean stopped suddenly, squinting at a faint bit of light coming from behind a makeshift wall. "Hold up." He nodded his head to the light and began to make his way towards it.

Following behind his brother, the two moved past the wall, raising their guns to shoot, but instead found something that had been expected, and yet still made Sam's heart leap to his throat. "Oh my god! Ren!" His worried voice barked.

There, illuminated by candlelight, hanging by chains that were attached to the ceiling, was Ren. Her feet barely touched the floor. A needle sat taped into her neck, blood slowly draining into a tube that led to a bucket that lay by her feet. She was unconscious, dreaming while her life slipped away.

Sam stowed his gun into his jeans, shoving his flashlight up under his jacketed arm as he rushed to Ren and began to undo the chains.

There was a small crashing sound from the darkened spaces that surrounded them. Dean frowned, his finger resting on his gun as he stood in a ready stance, his eyes scanning the area. "Get her down quick. We'll have to wake her elsewhere. We can easily get jumped down here."

He would nod, listening to Dean's words as he plucked the needle from her neck, checking her pulse after. It was steady, but just a little too weak for his liking, her skin cold and clammy. With haste, he picked the locks on the chains, and caught her body as he opened the last lock. Pulling her up into his arms, he looked around, worry creasing his brow. "Dean. I got her. Let's go."

Dean gave a nod, not looking back to his brother as he began to move, using the tactics their father had taught them to prevent the djinn from getting the drop on him or his brother.

Not far from their location, a blue glow emanated from a hand, fading back into the shadows to stay hidden. Moving ever closer to the hunters. Hungry and irritated eyes focused in on the woman in Sam's arms.

Part 1 of 2

[lonewriterfiction]

The Trickster and the Bluebird Pt.2

The two sat on an old metal bench, overlooking the calm waters of a lake. The waning moon hung low in the sky as soft purples began to blanket the horizon. 

         Staring up at the remaining stars, Lilly closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath through her nose. Her shoulders relaxed, the muscles in her body letting go of the weight they carried. Her gaze focused on the lake now, the water dark and tranquil. "I hate poetry. I hate it because it speaks to the deepest parts of who I am. It understands me, and I understand it... truly understand it... when it is at its truest." 

         Gabriel watched her quietly. Listening, but not daring to speak. He had never heard her talk like this. She spoke now with the truth that was always held in her eyes, or the way she held herself, when she thought no one was looking. 

          "So I am still and I am silent because if I open my mouth, I may never stop screaming. Franz Kafa. Tomorrow, you promise yourself, things will be different, yet, tomorrow is too often a repetition of today. And you disappoint yourself again and again. James T. McCay. I tried to write down what is inside me... And the page remained blank... Then as I stared at it I realized... That was the truth." Her eyes, now glossy with tears, met his. "I am empty. I have done nothing but help people. Fight battles for those who can't, face the unknown horrors of this world for those who have what I thought I'd never envy. Obliviousness. I protect the innocent, giving the guilty a chance at redemption. Even as a child, I stood between others and those who would harm them. I have given everything and... I can not remember when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I gave everything I had left and then more." 

           He said nothing at first, only leaned forward and wiped a stray tear that had started to trail its way down her cheek. Pulling away, it was then that he spoke. "It's time someone was there for you. There comes a time when even the hero needs saving, ya know?" 

          "Never once have I felt like a hero." 

          "I think that means you were the best of heroes." Gabriel pulled her into a tight embrace, only holding her as she finally let her bluebird out of its cage. "Hey, Lills?" He questioned with a soft tone as the sun peeked out over the horizon. 

           Lilly gave a soft hum in reply. 

          "Let's go get beignets." 

           She couldn't help but let out a laugh and nod into his shoulder. "Let's."

[lonewriterfiction]

Words Unspoken

"Did I wake you?" Dean walked quietly around a darkened room, light from the slightly ajar door he had just come through barely lighting his way. 

       A weak, sleepy hum sounded from the bed in the center of the room. "No." 

        He made his way around to the left side of the bed, sitting down on the edge and adjusting the corner of a blanket, pulling it up over trembling shoulders. He seemed troubled, a solemn expression trying to pose as a small smile. "We may have some new leads. Sam went with-" 

       "Dean," A chilled hand came out from under the blanket he had just adjusted, grasping his weakly. "I'm dying." 

        His smile wavered a moment, and he gripped the hand gently, looking down at their intertwined fingers. "Remember when we met?" 

       Tired amber eyes, illuminated softly by the glow from the door, met his green ones hidden in shadow. "After... gym class. Sophomore year?" 

        "It was before that. Sam wasn't in high school yet. We were new to town. Dad left me to hold down the fort while he went out on a hunt a few towns over. It was the time between 3rd and 4th period; a large group of kids had gathered in the hall." He glanced back up at the woman lying there in the bed. She was so different now than she had been all those years ago, yet in so many ways, still the same. "I thought it was a fight. A few friends I had made pulled me into the crowd, trying to see what was going on. When we made it to the front, I saw you, holding onto some poor guy's jewels, making him apologize to some scrawny kid with goofy-looking glasses." 

        Another soft hum sounded from the woman before him, a smile spreading across her pale lips. "I remember that... He never touched that kid again. I didn't know... You saw that." 

         Dean chuckled and nodded. "You were one intimidating woman. I steered clear of you after that. I didn't want to end up like that guy." 

         "You were a dick back then... but not... too bad. I got in so much trouble for that... worth it." 

         He nodded and moved to tuck an auburn strand of hair behind her ear as her expression contorted in pain, coughs racking her body. "You were always sticking up for the little guy. Always helping someone. Protecting Sam when he came... Hell, you helped me... Even when I was being an ass. So, we're finding a cure. Because it's our turn to look out for you. To save you." 

         "You don't... owe me anything. No one does." She shook her head, her already groggy voice growing hoarse from the coughing. 

         Dean shook his head, watching her decline. It pained him. Moving closer, he sat with his back against the headboard, sliding in beside her and slipping one hand under her and around to her back. Pulling her to him, he closed his eyes momentarily as she let out a pained whimper. 

         She leaned her head on his chest, relishing his embrace. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, but sleep was troubled and hard to even obtain. 

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better," Dean began to sing, the song his mother had sung to him as a young boy, and the song he had sung to the woman in his arms a handful of times in the days of high school. 

          She fell asleep like that in his arms, memories of the short time they had shared in their youth flashing through her mind. Unshared feelings and bonds that could never be broken. 

         Eventually, Dean stopped singing, noticing her fast asleep. He stroked her hair, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. "I love you, Ren. You can't die, okay? I... We can't lose you." A whisper into her hair, lost to the soundlessness of slumber.

[lonewriterfiction]

Hunter's Quarry

 "42 120-J" 

       A woman stared down at the dimly lit screen of a flip phone. It had been a text from an unknown number, but that was not uncommon. She knew exactly who had sent it. Jack. Her closest ally. Sending coordinates meant he was in trouble. 

        Speeding down a dark, desolate highway, the dull headlights of a stolen car and the moon the only light sources around, the woman anxiously checked the time. She checked it over and over, knowing time was not on her side. What she would be facing there, she had not the faintest idea, but she was not prepared for it. 

       Slamming on the brakes once she reached a dilapidated warehouse outside of a small town in Washington, she stepped out, her unbuttoned grey flannel swooshing in the light breeze. Moving to the back, she opened the trunk and pulled out a duffle, checking the magazine of a pistol before shoving it into her jeans. 

        Shouldering the duffle and shutting the trunk, she clicked on a large mag light, the brightness of the thick metal flashlight cutting through the near pitch darkness surrounding her. It was quiet. Too quiet. Pulling a knife from a sheath on her belt, she moved silently and quickly towards the large steel doors to the warehouse, noticing the chain wrapped around them and opting to find a small exit or a low-sitting window. 

       It was then she noticed the salt. Small granules peeked out from holes in the metal. There was salt blocking the exits inside. He was inside. It was not long before she found a side door, picked the lock with ease, and slipped inside. She swiftly shut and relocked the door behind her, kicking the salt back into place. 

       "You made it." A man standing at around 6'2" came out of the darkness, flashlight and gun in hand. He had short, fluffy brown hair, and a chiseled face. Buff, though his build was relatively thin and lanky. As an unspoken standard with hunters, he wore flannel and jeans. "You crossed the salt, so I guess there's no need to ask if you're clean." 

        "What are we workin with? Demons?" The woman asked, placing her flashlight between her legs and taking this downtime to put up her medium-length auburn hair. She placed it in a quick half pony, stray strands curtaining around her face. 

        "Yep... And a lot of em. Whole town is infested." 

        His reply about knocked the breath out of her. "I'm sorry... For a second there I thought you said-" 

        "I did." 

        "We're screwed." 

        "Ren..." He spoke her name in an attempt to get her to focus.

        "Don't—Ren—me. We're dead. Totally dead. What the hell did you do to get a whole town of demons on your ass?"

        It was then that a little boy came peeking out from behind some wooden crates. He couldn't have been older than eight, with light blonde hair and a little bear's paw printed onto his green t-shirt. He looked cold and scared. "I-is she the one you talked about?" He stammered timidly. 

         "Sure is, bud." The man turned to the boy and ushered him forward. As the boy rushed up and clung to his leg, he looked back up at Ren. "He's the reason. Saw a bunch of demon signs. Cattle mutilations, electrical storms, the works. But on a scale I had never seen before. Found his dad, the dude finally admitted he knew why they were here. Thought the demons were after him, but... They were after the boy. The dad had this medallion." He pulled an ancient-looking medallion out of his pocket, handing it to Ren. "I don't know what happened, but it marked the boy somehow. Tried luring the demons away with the medallion, but it didn't work." 

           Ren took the medallion, studying it carefully. "This is the mark of Lucifer. From what you're describing, it sounds like it has a defense mechanism. Marking living beings as a decoy of sorts. So, we remove the mark. Preferably before we get surrounded by demons." She glanced up at the man when he didn't reply. "Jack?" 

         Jack glanced down at the boy. "Go back behind the boxes, okay? We'll be over there soon. I need to talk to her alone for a minute." 

        The boy seemed hesitant, but eventually he nodded, trying to be brave. He detached from Jack's leg and disappeared behind the wooden boxes once more. 

         Jack spoke low, not wanting to be overheard. "We have to kill the boy." 

          Ren's eyes widened, her brows rising in pure shock at the words that had come out of his mouth. "Excuse me? Have you lost your damn mind?" 

           "I'm serious. I don't know how to get the mark off. But imagine what those demons will do to that boy when they get ahold of him. Do you want that? Or would it be more humane to just end it for him quickly?" 

          "We are not playing 'Look at the flowers, Lizzie', okay? That's an innocent. We are hunters. We kill the monsters! The bad guys!" Ren whisper-yelled, pointing her finger at the boxes. "He does not deserve any of this..." She paused and stood straight, suddenly realizing something. "Where's the dad?" 

          Jack was quiet, not wanting to answer. 

          "You did not... You did not, Old Yeller, the dad." 

          "There is no way to remove the mark, Ren." 

          Ren took a step back, looking at the man before her with pure disgust. She didn't recognize him anymore. They had been close for years. Had always been on the same page. What had happened to him in the past, however long he had been on this hunt... It changed him beyond recognition. "Jack..." 

         He took a step forward. "Ren, you gotta understand. We're a team, right? You get it." 

         "Jack, stop. Listen to yourself." Her free hand reached slowly behind her back, her fingertips grazing the cold handle of her pistol. 

          Jack stopped, his expression solidifying, but his eyes showing hurt. "Hey, kid, you can come out now!" he hollered. 

           "It doesn't have to be this way, Jack." Ren shook her head. 

           "One shot, and it will all be over." Jack turned, his gun raising towards the kid as he stepped out. 

            Ren lunged at Jack, leaping onto his back and reaching for his gun. She managed to make him move enough that as the shot went off; it missed the kid entirely. "GET BACK BEHIND THE BOXES NOW!!" she yelled at the boy. 

           The boy screamed and dove behind them once more, whimpering and curling up into a ball, placing his hands over his ears and closing his eyes tightly. Tears slipped from them, down his puffy cheeks. 

           Jack reached behind him, grabbing onto Ren's flannel and yanking forward, using it to peel her off his back. She hit the dirt-covered ground with a loud crash, wood cracking beneath her. 

            Ren quickly rolled to the side as Jack fired again, this time at her. "Snap out of it, Jack! Don't make me do this!" she pleaded while leaping to her feet, ignoring the pain in her spine. As Jack rushed her, she swung the heavy flashlight, clocking him right in the jaw and making him stagger back. Using that window of opportunity, she lunged at him again, only this time, he was ready. 

            He grabbed her and threw her to the ground, landing a punch to her jaw. 

            The boy squealed in fear as he heard two more shots and then silence. The silence lasted for what felt like a lifetime before the wind outside picked up and soon the whole warehouse began to shake violently. His breathing quickened as he began to spiral into a panic attack. 

          Ren limped around the corner, raising her hands in surrender and crouching down so as not to look threatening. Her lip was busted, and she was covered in blood, but it was not hers; her eyes were red from having shed tears. "Shhh... Listen, I know it's scary. I know you probably don't trust me. But out there are scary monsters, and they want you. I need you to listen very carefully, because I'm getting you out of here." Her voice was soft. Soothing. 

           The boy swallowed a lump in his throat. "W- was he... A monster?" 

           Ren didn't know how to answer. Pain churned her stomach. "I... Yeah... Not always, but... yeah." She reached into her shirt and pulled out a necklace with a small charm, slipping it off of her neck. "This will protect you against them. Okay?" She placed the necklace over his head, glancing down at the anti-possession symbol that dangled from it. "It was from someone special to me. It's kept me safe this long, now it will keep you safe." She had kept it for sentimental value, having tattooed the symbol onto her ages ago. 

         The boy hugged her tightly, trembling from fear. 

          She hugged him back, grimacing as it hurt. "I need you to be brave, okay? We don't have much time." She glanced around at the rumbling walls. 

           "B-but it's scary." 

           "I know, kiddo. I know. But you are so strong. You can do it. I believe in you. What's your favorite superhero?" 

            "B-batman..." 

            Ren cracked a smile, pulling him off of her gently and wiping at his tears. "Good choice, kid. He's mine too. You've got gotta be like Batman, okay? Can you do that?" 

            He paused, flinching as the banging and rumbling grew worse. "Y-yeah." 

           "Good. Now we are going to go out there. My car is protected against these guys. We get out there, and you run. You run straight for my car and don't look back. You get in and you hide. Got it? I'll be right behind you." She pulled her gun out, checking the magazine again. Pulling out a bullet, she double-checked that they had the devil's trap carved into it. She had ten rounds. Ten shots to attempt to get them to safety. And she would. She was not going to let this boy down. Not today. 

         The two reached the door, and Ren looked down at him. "What's your name, kiddo?" 

          "Dylan." 

          "Run, Dylan. Run fast." With that, Ren yanked open the door, shooting at the first demon to appear in front of them. The boy took off running in a zigzag pattern, running like lightning itself. "Come on, you sons of bitches!!" Ren yelled out as she fired off another round, running towards the vehicle as well, the headlights a glimmer of hope and symbol of freedom in the hellish battle she found herself in.

((Comment if you got the reference))

[lonewriterfiction]

Night Moves

"Dean," Sam sighed as he followed his brother into the third bar of the night. It was late, nearing 1 o'clock in the morning, and Dean still had not explained why they kept moving bars. "What are we doing? It's late. We need to be researching the case." 

        Dean ordered two beers at the bar counter, sending a flirtatious wink to the blonde bartender before walking to a table nearby and sitting down. He passed one beer towards Sam as he sat opposite him, taking a swig of the one still in his hand. "Listen, Sammy, all the victims had similar features, right?" 

           Sam gave a tired nod, not touching the beer. "Yeah... So?" 

            "Soo, what better way to get ahead of this than to find someone who could be the next victim? We've been at the books for days and still haven't figured out exactly what this is, but if we find the next victim-" 

            He nodded along, picking up the cold beer off the fading wood table and taking a swig. "Okay, but why do we keep hopping around? What if the next victim is on one of the bars we left right now?" 

            "Nah. The last two places had more dudes. Chicks hate bars crowded by too many dudes." Dean took a look around the small dive bar, metal and neon signs decorating the orange-colored wood of the walls.

          Across the bar, on the far wall, sat a jukebox that began playing a Bob Seger song. This drew Dean's attention, and he spotted a woman who had turned from the box and began to dance to the song. Her hair sat just at her shoulders, framing her face with auburn-colored waves. Her skin was pale, and she was thin, her build toned but not muscular. In terms of clothes, she fit right in with the surrounding scene. Faded biker boots adorned her feet, covered by fraying and faded blue jeans. A flannel hung around her waist as a tight fitting, black ribbed tank top showed off her figure beneath an old grey jean jacket that hugged her in all the right ways. She took a swig of her beer and walked back to her seat at the very end of the bar. 

           Smacking Sam's arm, Dean glanced at his brother before returning his attention to the woman. "Look." 

          "Ow." Sam pouted. He had opened his laptop and begun to get some research in before Dean had slapped his arm. Looking up from the screen and following his brother's gaze, his eyes widened. 

          "She fits the bill, right? Same color hair, pale..." 

          "Yeah... Yeah, she definitely does. But what now? Go up there and tell her that her life is in danger and she needs to come with us? She'll think we're crazy." 

          "I got this." A smirk graced Dean's lips as he stood and made his way over to the bar. "Nother round for me and, uh, make that two. One for the lady over there." He pointed to the woman who seemed preoccupied with the song still playing over the jukebox. 

          The bartender gave a nod, a small grin tugging at her lips. "Good luck. Last guy that tried it got rejected pretty hard." 

          "What do you think? Am I better lookin?" He gave a suave grin. 

           She laughed lightly and handed him the two freshly opened beers. "Maybe. But that isn't up to me, and looks aren't everything." With that, she moved on to tend to her other customers. 

           Dean made his way over to the woman sitting alone, passing one of the beers her way. "Name's Dean. Gotta say, love me some Seger." 

          "Do ya now?" She replied as she grabbed the beer he offered and slid it back to him. "Don't take drinks from strangers." 

            Taking a swig from his own as her amber-colored eyes met his green ones, he set the beer down and slid it towards her. "Take mine then. Wouldn't spike my own drink, now would I?" 

            Eyeing him suspiciously, she accepted it and took a swig. "Fine." Breaking eye contact, she stared at a group of signs hung on the wall. "Name a Bob Seger album." 

            "Solo or Bullet band?" 

            A smirk graced her lips, and she eyed him from the side. "Fine. You pass. What do you want?" 

             "Wanted to see if you had good music taste or if Seger was all you got," He challenged. 

             "Okay. Shoot." 

             Dean was in now. If he kept her talking, he knew he could find out more about her and maybe, just maybe, keep this one alive. Little did he know, he was not flirting with some random stranger, but a seasoned hunter who was aware of the danger she was in.

[lonewriterfiction]

There’s a bluebird in my heart 

that wants to get out

but I’m too tough for him, 

I say, stay in there, 

I’m not going to let anybody see you.

there’s a bluebird in my heart 

that wants to get out

but I pour whiskey on him

and inhale cigarette smoke 

and the bartenders

and the grocery clerks

never know that he’s in there. 

there’s a bluebird in my heart 

that wants to get out

but I’m too tough for him,

I say, stay down, 

do you want to mess me up?

you want to screw up the works?

there’s a bluebird in my heart

that wants to get out

but I’m too clever, 

I only let him out at night sometimes

when everybody’s asleep.

I say, I know that you’re there,

so don’t be sad.

then I put him back,

but he’s still singing a little in there, 

I haven’t quite let him die

and we sleep together like that

with our secret pact 

and it’s nice enough to make a man weep, 

but I don’t weep, do you?

             The life of a hunter was one without a home. A not so new place with new mystery stains and strange smells. Better not to think of it. Credit cards maxed out time and time again with different names that seemed to get harder to remember stuffed in a dusty old duffle. People living lives you could never have, friends you'd never make, lovers you could never keep. 

             Still, the open road called. Highlights of days were when you could save at least one life, or you could finally enjoy the songs on the CD (that had been stuck in the car's player since you got it) again. The life hadn't been chosen; it never was. Many times, dreams were full of what-ifs. What if that monster hadn't killed someone you loved? What if you had moved in instead of seeking revenge? 

             "Hey, you asleep?" A cheery voice whispered in the darkness of the motel room. A figure stood leaning over the bed that sat in the center of the room, staring down at the supposed sleeping form. 

              There was a click as a pistol came out from under the pillow, pointing at the figure that loomed over them. The person made no move besides their eyes opening and glancing up at the person before them. A familiar scent caught their nose and caused them to groan. "I'm not in the mood right now, Gabriel." 

              Gabriel, the archangel himself, rolled his eyes and with a snap of his fingers, the lamp on the nightstand flickered to life. "Come onnnn, Bluebird. I know you weren't sleeping." 

              "I will shoot you. Get out." The person, a woman with tousled dark brown hair, buried her face in the pillow to escape the light from the lamp. 

              "Uh hellooo, archangel. That won't do anything to me-" He was cut off by her. 

               She lifted her head while he spoke; her face scrunching in confusion. Groggily, she cut him off. "Did you... Call me bluebird?" 

               "Yeppers. Now get out of that bed and let's go have some fun." His smile was wide, and his eyes nearly seemed to sparkle. 

               The woman pulled the hand that held the pistol out from under the pillow and rubbed at her eyes while she sat up. "How did you know about that poem?" 

              Gabriel sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, the energetic spark he had had mere moments before fading. "I... I've been watching you since you came into town." 

              "What?" Her eyes widened a bit as she processed what he had just said. "No. " Her hand came up, and she rubbed at her forehead with the side of her palm. "What have I told you about spying on me? I-"  

              "Those two knuckleheads you're friends with passed through a town I was holed up in. They were talking about finding you. Mentioned you were in danger. So... I went looking for you. I know I promised not to spy anymore, and in all honesty, I was going to tell you I was here. I was. But then you broke down in your car... I... I'd never seen you cry. I watched you come in here and again, I swear I was going to make myself known, but then you... Well-" He glanced around the room. It was a mess. Everything that had been in her duffle was strewn about in chaos, and a book of poems sat on a rounded wooden table in shreds. "You've gotta let that bluebird out, Lilly." His whiskey-colored eyes met hers, filled with sincerity and worry. 

               Lilly, having never heard him use her full name before, and having never seen him so sincere and serious, couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. She rubbed her forehead again, her body tense. "I... I'm tired." Her lip quivered, and her brows scrunched. Tears began to develop in her eyes, threatening to fall. "Gods, why do you care?!" She stood and, frustratedly, went to the mini fridge located across the room and dug out a cheap beer. "Just go, Gabriel. I'll be fine." 

              A hand landed on her shoulder. Suddenly, they were no longer in the motel room. Lilly was dressed, and there was an ice cream cone in her hand where the beer had just been. Gabriel grabbed her hand and started to pull her along the pathway of an enormous park that overlooked a lake. It was still night, leaning on the verge of morning. Street lamps illuminated their surroundings with a soft yellow glow. "As of now, you are officially kidnapped." He smiled, "You and I will travel anywhere you want. Do whatever you want." 

               "Gabriel-" 

               "Ah ah ah. Nope. No arguing. You need a break. Have you ever just let go and had fun before? Don't answer that. I already know the answer. You're too smokin hot to be so boring." 

                  Lilly smiled softly, a genuine smile that Gabriel had never experienced before. "I was gonna say thank you." 

                   His smile widened, the sparkle reappearing in his eyes. "Anything for you, bluebird." 

                  She groaned and took a bite of the ice cream that was beginning to melt. "Am I stuck with that nickname?"

                   "Until you let it out, no. And hold on a second, did you just BITE the ice cream?" 

                         𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝…

((Poem by Charles Bukowski))