Today I've recieve an awesome present, which brought some tears up in my eyes. Vonnie836 made it to me ... the translation of our Advents Calendar this year, and now we can show it all Supernatural Fans, who don't speak German *smirkes wide*
We can't thank her enough or tell her what that means to us. We only can give her the biggest *Winchester Monster Hug* ever *gg*
Honey, you may regret this and hate us later for all this ;) but you have so much work to do *rofl* there are some days left ... but you wanted it that way *many kisses*
Mia and Leila :D :D
Dedicated to VONNIE836
Welcome to the
Supernatural Advents Calendar 2009
By
Mia & Leila
Following an old tradition, a short episode in the life of the Winchester hidden behind a little door will be revealed to you daily.
In the role of Sam is now Mia and in the one of Dean is yours truly Leila
Have Fun and to all a Merry Christmas time, wishing you from the heart, your scribes, who sit by the fire place with a stocking cap on and conjure stories.
Spoilers: Season 1 – 5
Summary: The Spirits that I called…
Disclaimer: Santa Kripke is and stays (to bad) the only Lord over Supernatural; once again we only borrowed the boys for Christmas to decorate with them.
"Door One"
Dezember 2009
...
At times small smoke clouds, a little bit of ash and an occasional tremor were all that announced the eruption of a volcano. The gray fog could hand for month, sometimes years over the summit, a warning messenger, quick forgotten, but at one time the veil would become thicker, floating spreading out and surrounding everything with its tacky arms. Slowly...creeping and yet unstoppable.
And mildly put, the air was just as thick here; you could have cleanly cut it into slices with one of the many knives of their basic equipment.
The other one was pissed – completely pissed – his lips pressed together to a small line – not a good sign. The silence that lasted for almost two hours wasn't any less meaningful.
And what the hell was he going to say about that? He didn't feel any different. Instead of slowly defrosting after those wonderfully relaxing 120 minutes of verbal iciness, his internal temperature shot up so high, the thermometer threatened to burst – boiling point.
If this „offended liverwurst"-game continued on like this, there would be fatalities - just to clarify, this wasn't a prediction, but a promise – brother or not, slowly he had enough. The sudden movement beside him tore him out of his dark musing and as if his travel companion listened in, he did exactly the wrong thing. Or the right thing – depending on the point of view and outlook.
An arm lifted up – 208 F.
A hand stretched out – 210 F.
Fingers, who busied themselves on the radio power button – more than enough and the boiling point was abruptly exceeded. A slight glow turned into a boiling surge. "Leave it on", quietly said, yet a clear warning within it - and like always it was like he was talking the a damned wall.
- Click -
The booming hum from the loudspeakers was suddenly severed, leaving a vacuum of silence. The unspoken "And if not...", hung provocatively in the air.
Okay, this could get dirty.
Very dirty.
With a jerk, screeching tires and a protesting, howling engine the black vehicle came to a halt on the side of the road, red break lights – a perfect mirror of the anger in the eyes of the one. The mouth already open, any rude eruption died down, when complaining honking von outside made it clear to the driver inside that sudden breaking in the middle of flowing traffic wasn't really a good idea. Okay, so that is if two vehicles in the middle of nowhere on an otherwise completely abandoned country road could be called ‚traffic'.
The internally screamed answer to the other driver, which went through the mind of the honked at driver, would have driven the heat of shame into the ugly face of any demon inhabiting the underworld. But why waste any of the internal rage, if one could use it in a different place? The attention directed itself once again to more pressing issues. The leather of the seat protested noisily, as if to issue a silent protest against the inevitable, when the big body in it turned towards the other.
For a moment complete silence ruled. The heater made a strained attempt to deice the frosty atmosphere – but in vain – ice flowers grew in and outside the car window, further cool harbingers of the continuous closing in of the snow clouds in the evening sky.
The temperature plummeted another few degrees, when four little words made it more than clear, what the standing of things in the house of Winchester was.
"Out of my car!"
