Hi, my name is Gabriel and I've been sober for three weeks.
Oh wait, sorry. Wrong speech. Let's start over:
Hi! my name is Gabriel. I can't tell you who I am yada yada yada because Sam won't let me. He's finicky like that. Also, because then alien demon monsters would find me, climb inside my head, and kill all my friends. Y'know how it is.
It all started when a couple of guys who were up to no good (demons) started making trouble in my neighborhood (Earth). I got in one little fight and then I got magic morphing powers and now I'm the human race's only hope.
Oh, also I'm a bird.
See, the thing is, morphing is great, but it's not perfect. Stay in morph more than two hours and you're stuck. Pretty okay trade, right? Turn into any animal you touch, don't stay in morph too long. I'm kind of the poster child for 'whoops, should have read the instructions on the box!' because I'm now even cuter and shorter than ever before.
I'm a Nankeen Kestrel. Forever.
What exactly is a Nankeen Kestrel, you say? Imagine a falcon with all the falcon-type-stuff. Huge killer talons, razor sharp beak, eyes like a telescope. White and brown scruffs of feathers.
Now imagine it being really small. That's a Nankeen Kestrel. Cute, but totally unlikely to score me any dates.
It's a real shame, because in the 'looks' department I was set for life.
The others can still morph. It's pretty awesome. And terrifying, but it's our only weapon against the demons. I'm not even going to begin trying to explain demons to you. Basically they're dicks, and they possess people. That's all you need to know.
Anyways, that's the shape of it. Three kids and a bird against a race of demons. The worst gambling addict in the world wouldn't even bet on us. We're the underdogs.
Literally, sometimes. Geddit?
But sometimes it's worth it, Oh man is it worth it.
Like now. I was about 500 feet up, lifted by the thermals. I could see everything. Every blade of grass. Every field mouse. Every insect that shot through the air. It was like someone sticking you in the best damn IMAX 3d movie ever. I made HDTV look like blurry sketches of MC Escher paintings.
I was hovering. See, kestrels aren't really built for speed. They're fast, but they're not hawks. I was built for control. I could control every flick of my feathers with more precision than the most experienced helicopter pilot. I could shoot through the smallest gaps in trees like they were bulls-eyes and leave you wondering how I did it.
I was following a rabbit, and my little kestrel brain was seriously considering munching it up like fruit-by-the-foot.
I gave a little internal sigh and turned away from it.
I am not a bird I reminded myself. I am human. Sammy would be pissed if I took to chewing on Thumper.
Sammy is kind of... the copilot of Team Free Will. I know he doesn't really want to be. He thinks he's some huge screw up because his dad's a dick. Sammy is a nice kid though. Back when I was... human, he helped me out.
See, I'm kind of a jerk, and I like to pull pranks sometimes on people that deserve it. Some people have no sense of humor.
You'd be surprised how irate a person gets when their locker is filled with pudding.
Sam kept some pudding-locker-guy and pudding-locker-guy's friends from knocking me about three feet shorter like an accordion and since then I'm not ashamed to say that I stuck to him like glue to avoid being pounded into next Tuesday. He's a nice guy. His brother is kind of an asshat, but hey, so am I.
He's also just so... Sam that if I ate a rabbit he'd make me watch Bambi or a power point on the beauty of nature or something and give me his I'm very disappointed in you look and then I would have to feel guilty or pretend to feel guilty and who has time for that?
Oh, right. I do. I don't exactly have a roaring social life.
I was still watching the rabbit, trying to justify it. Maybe I wouldn't eat it. Maybe I would just chase it. See what it was like. No one could get mad at me for that, right? Maybe it was a sad rabbit. Maybe it wanted to be eaten.
Maybe I'd eat an ear. They don't really need those big flopsy things. I mean, it looked like a complete jackass with ears like that. If I had ears like that I'd be more than happy to give them away to a ridiculously handsome and charismatic bird.
Okay, so I was lying to myself. Big whoop. I was hungry. I was bored. The kestrel wanted to hunt.
Decision made, I angled my wings, shooting down through the branches like a feathered cannonball. I may not be hawk-fast, but I was making human-fast look like glacial speed. I could see every breathe my prey took, every way it's eyes darted.
The fluff ball didn't suspect a thing. I could practically see it's heart beating in it's chest. Closer and closer until I saw it's eyes open in fear and realization.
It turned to retreat. Too slow! all I had to do was open my talons and-
FLASH! Suddenly I was underwater! The blue pushing in around me! Crushing down! Have to get out! Fire! Fire all around me! Have to-
The world snapped back. I was over the field, no ocean, no water, just the ground too close too fast!
«GAH!»
Too late to pull up! I missed the rabbit in my confusion and went tumbling into the dirt hard. Pain shot through my body as gravity slammed me back into reality. The rabbit skittered off to safety. Probably to tell all its bunny friends about how much I totally sucked.
«What the Hell was that?» I demanded of no one in particular. Not surprisingly, no one answered. I got up, shaking out my feathers and testing my weight. I hadn't broken anything but OW.
The ground is a bitch.
This is what I have learned from my time as a bird. It's big and stupid and confining like an emotionally abusive boyfriend. And like an emotionally abusive boyfriend, it really hurts to slam into it at 60 miles an hour.
I'm assuming. Most things hurt at that speed.
I took a shaken breath with my birdy lungs. Something had happened. I didn't know what it was, a vision or what, but I knew what it meant. Someone needed help. Someone needed my help.
That, or I was going insane.
At this point, it could really go either way.
"Are you sure?" Sam was looking at me like I was wearing a fruit hat and doing the maraca naked. He has a lot of facial expressions like that, like looking DOUBTFUL just isn't good enough for him, he has to have his own Sam-patented brand of weird faces.
Of course, in this case I was a magic angel-bird telling him about my neat psychic vision while I did my best to swallow down tofu-meat in his attic. Maybe the look was a little justified.
Sam had taken it upon himself to look after me or whatever now that I was a bird. He's that type of guy. Like one of his friends turning into an animal was something you could provide support for after watching an Oprah special about it. I appreciate it, really, but Sam does not eat meat. He had smuggled me some of Dean's meals, but even that was wrong. I was a killer now.
The hawk didn't want tofu. It didn't want hamburger. It wanted life and blood and prey. It really really really did not want to be a pet.
«Uh yeah. I'm sure. I was hun- flying around» I corrected quickly «and then WHAM, I was about to be a flambé.»
"Underwater" Sam clarified slowly.
«Yep.»
"And you think this is...?"
«A call for help» I repeated for the millionth time.
Sam looked at me like I was offering him a ferret with extra mustard on a stick.
Mmm ferret.
"From who, though?"
Birds don't shrug. I did it anyways. Just how I roll.
«I don't know, Samaroo, but I know what I saw, and I know what it was. Someone, somewhere, was sending out some serious mental SOS»
Sam looked at me like I was asking if he wanted an extra order of hamster-fries with his Mcferret.
I thought-hummed 'Message in a Bottle' until he told me to shut up.
We met the others at Meg's barn and I told them about my little John Edward moment. They all looked up at me in the rafters with varying looks of skepticism. I'm fully convinced that Meg spends hours in front of a mirror every night shaping her eyebrows into perfect skepticism-conveying arches just so she can look at people like they're idiots.
"You sure your bird brain isn't just going..." Dean made a little 'crazy' motion.
I wondered how mad Sam would be if I went Alfred Hitchcock on his brother's ass.
«No. This was real.»
"Visions, though? Isn't that a bit...weird?"
«God forbid our lives get weird...»
Sam and Meg hid their grins at that.
"Really though" Sam said reasonably, "Would this really be any weirder than anything else that's happened to us?"
"Alright," Dean said, "So let's say it is some sort of psychic message. That still doesn't mean it's not a trap or something. The demons know they have enemies after our trip to the Pit. Who's to say they're not just playing us?"
I have to admit it, Dean might not be my favorite guy in the world, but he's smarter than he looks. Which is saying something because wow the guy looks dimmer than an Easy Bake Oven lamp at a yard sale.
Oh, and the Pit? Let me just push pause here and do some explaining. I'm not really good at staying on subject.
The Pit is where the demons live. Every three days a controller (a person infested with a demon) goes down to the pit and returns to their true form, which in this case is smoke. Black smoke that practically screams evil if you see it. The human is locked away while the demon hangs out and soaks in these ray things they need to survive.
Imagine a hole. A hole so deep it would take you five years to dig, and even then you might not be done. A hole filled with an ocean of black smoke. That's the Pit. Fun place.
When the demon is done basking, the human is dragged back screaming and crying by monsters that would make you want to hide under your bed for the rest of your life. Their legs are kicked out and their jaws are forced open. The smoke goes inside, choking them, and it takes control of every little things they do. It sifts through their memories like a movie reel. Their hands and legs and eyes and naughty bits aren't their own any more. They're a slave. Trapped. Forced to watch the demon lie to everyone they know and love. Forced to watch it kiss their children goodnight.
And it could be anyone. It could be your mom or dad or sex-ed teacher. It could be the janitor at the mall or your best friend. It could be your wife or husband or your child, silently waiting to turn you into one of them, while the real person screams and cries for help in their mind.
Some stuff even I can't joke about.
"Are you listening?" Dean asked me again in annoyance, jolting me out of my thoughts, "It's a trap."
«Maybe it is» I admitted «but if we go down there and it's Demons, we can handle ourselves.»
"Yeah? Like you handled things in the Pit?"
Have I mentioned that Dean is an asshole?
"Hey, Dean," Meg wielded her perfect eyebrows in his direction, "If you don't have anything nice to say, shut the fuck up."
I love Meg.
The Pit is where I earned my wings and lost my incredibly sexy human body. Dean at least managed to look suitably guilty, but that didn't stop me wanting to shish kabob him like a bunny rabbit.
Mmm bunny rabbit.
"If we did go down under," Meg started up the conversation again, "I think we'd be okay. Four of us against few demons? Easy."
"Three of us" Dean corrected.
Oh right. Because I can't morph. I can't fight. I can't get to the bottom of the ocean without drowning. I'm not exactly the MVP on our little freaky team. I'm like the water boy. I'm like the guy that gets the water for the water boy.
I'm the mouth-breathing chick in the stands that has the hots for the Water Boy's water boy.
Sam looked up at me like I was on my knees in the rain clutching a dying kitten in my arms, howling at the indignity of the world.
"It's not that we don't believe you-" He started gently.
"I don't believe you" Dean interjected.
"-but you're asking us to go to the bottom of the ocean alone into what's probably a trap." Sam finished without acknowledging his Neanderthal brother. "It kind of seems like a suicide mission."
Meg is the only person I've ever met that can perk up at the words 'suicide mission'. Sam gave her his I'm so disappointed face. She offered her I'm Meg, I do what I want face in rebuttal.
"Just..." he looks at me again. Looking up at me instead of the other way around for the first time since he stopped pudding-locker-guy from decking me. "We'll think about it, okay?"
Which meant no.
Later, I catch the rabbit.
I guess I should feel guilty about it, or bad. Like I destroyed something beautiful and pure and I've upset some balance. I don't. It's tasty. My human mind can only consider that maybe it would be tastier with some A1. I'm not really big on tree hugging.
I don't think about Sam's disappointed face when my beak snaps the ribcage open and warm blood fills my mouth. I don't think about Dean's I told you so face when I pull the muscle away from organs like I'm unwrapping a Slim Jim.
I'm anxious. Annoyed. I still have this itching feeling under my feathers like someone somewhere needs my help and I'm letting them down. All because I'm trapped in this stupid body and my friends won't listen to me.
"Hello" says a man, and I freeze, rabbit meat still in my talons.
When I was human, people didn't really talk to me. Unless you count 'stop sticking things in my locker, freak' or Sam's ten minute rant on the dangers of gluten and global warming as stimulating conversation.
So the fact that I was now a bird and there was some guy talking to me was disturbing to say the least.
We were in a field for God's sake. Who goes around talking to a bird in a field?
"Tweet?" I suggested carefully.
The guy smiled like I was the most charming little bird covered in rabbit guts he had ever seen.
"Good try, Gabriel, but I know it's you."
Alarms went off in my head as I pushed away from the ground, flapping up to a tree limb and settling there. The only people who knew I was bird-ified was our little Team Free Will.
And maybe the demons.
I glared at him from my perch.
"Calm down," the guy said gently. "I don't want to hurt you."
Suddenly he was beside me in the tree and I almost fell out of it.
«Who are you and what do you want?» I demanded, moving farther away.
"My name is Chuck" he said politely, "and I want to help you."
I was being teleportation-chased by a guy named Chuck. Being insane suddenly was becoming a very distinct possibility.
«Chuck?»
"I am known by many names, but that is the one I would prefer."
«Jesus» I swore to myself at the absurdity of my life.
"Yes, that is one of them" Chuck offered helpfully.
I opted to ignore that last bit in favor of my dwindling sanity.
«Okay, Chuck,» I said doubtfully, «How exactly do you plan on helping me?»
"Well, that's entirely up to you." Chuck said casually.
He took a long pull from a flask that I was pretty sure he hadn't had two seconds ago.
"You've been ignoring my messages" he continued like he wasn't sitting in the tree with a bird having a conversation.
«I have- what?» I blinked «Those were from you?»
"Not from me, necessarily. I just... directed them."
«Why?»
Chuck leaned back against the tree trunk. He was thin and rough like either a crackhead male model or an incredibly attractive homeless person, and sharp elbows stuck out of his glaringly white button-up, tapering down to bony wrists and almost skeletal hands. He sighed the way a soccer mom might sigh if her son got mud on his uniform. It was a sigh full of chiding love and disappointment.
Son in this case being me, mud being rabbit guts.
"Do you miss being human?" he asked.
«No.» I lied easily. «Flying around, no school... I'm like Superman. Bitching.»
Ignoring the fact that I just seriously said bitching, let's move on.
"Sam's not here." Chuck said plainly.
He took another swig while I thought about that.
«Okay, fine. It blows, okay? It blows to the millionth power. Happy?»
Chuck looked at me for a moment, and then he raised the hand not otherwise occupied by his flask.
And he snapped his fingers.
«MOTHERF-» I made a very manly sound as the trees, the grass, the EVERYTHING just decided it had better things to do and got the Hell outta Dodge.
Chuck was there. I was there. But I wasn't. My breathe would catch if I was breathing, which I apparently didn't need to do in this void and fuck that's a little worrying.
I had hands. Glorious hands. And feet! And legs! But feathers too. Stretched and too-big and too-small and what the ever loving God was this shit. I was human. I was a bird. My body was everywhere and nowhere and the empty dead incredibly alive void was stretching everywhere around and inside of me.
«Oh God, I'm losing my mind» I whimpered bravely.
"I said call me Chuck." Chuck said patiently from everywhere and nowhere. "How does it feel?"
I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him to fuck off and that it felt awful and weird and wrong. But it didn't.
I was human. I was a bird. This was... me.
«I don't know.» I said after a while. «What did you do?»
"What you wanted. Isn't this what you want?"
I flexed my fingers and talons. Is this what I want? To be human again?
Of course it is, stupid. I thought to myself instantly. But was that true? Or was that a knee-jerk reaction?
«Are you... are you offering what I think you're offering?»I asked weakly.
"I am offering what you want. I can fix you."
«and this is...what? A gift? Charity? I'm guessing this ain't free. I don't know the market value for batshit magic transformations, but if you want my singing voice I'm gonna have to say no deal.»
I joke a lot when I'm nervous.
I would have totally given him my singing voice and he could wear it in a shitty shell and marry Sam or whatever but holy cheese I was getting the option to be human.
"It is payment for your assistance."
I turned to face him, my stomach lurching with nausea as my mind tried to find which way was up. Considering that my body seemed to be in multiple planes of existence and maybe inside out, I wasn't too stoked on the possibility of getting sick. With my luck I'd upchuck into my frontal lobe and die of vomit-aneurysm.
«The messages. The signals.»
Chuck nodded. Or something. I couldn't really tell.
«So... if... if I go to the signal and help your buddy or whatever... you'll... help me?»
He didn't answer me. I continued anyways.
«I can't. Not like this. My friends... or... whatever...» I let that trail off pathetically «They won't go. I can't do it.»
He still didn't say anything, and I started to get annoyed.
At God.
Because apparently I just wasn't testing my luck enough as it was, I had to go dunk Karma's hand in a bowl of warm water while it was sleeping.
«What am I supposed to do?» I demanded «Tell me! Tell me and I'll do it, but I'm useless like this! They all know it! You must know it if you're so all-powerful, right? Poor Gabriel. Can't do shit when he's human, can't do any better as a bird!»
To this day I will deny being anything less than incredibly mature.
Chuck chuckled.
Think about that sentence for a second. It's a weird one.
And then, silently, like he had never been there, Chuck disappeared, the world fell back into place, and I was alone, a small useless little bird, covered in blood.
Maybe he never was there.
I don't know anymore.
I fully intended to put off my little breakdown, but I was still freaking out. I found a stream to wash my feathers and beak in before taking to the sky. I needed to talk to Sam. Now.
I don't know why Sam. I guess because I don't really have anyone else. Meg and Dean would just laugh at me some more. Or talk about how I was losing it.
Which, you know, I was, but that so wasn't the point.
I rode the thermals to the school, letting the joy of flying soak into my mind as I scanned the windows. There! On the second floor was a mop of brown hair bent over a desk in a pathetic attempt to fit that could only be Sam.
«Attention: Sam Winchester to the office, please. The principal would like to discuss your frankly worrying lack of body hair.»
Sam jerked up in surprise, his too-tall body catapulting a few papers to the ground. When he had finished saying something to the teacher (probably an apology, Sam loooooooves apologies) he covertly flipped me the bird out the window.
Flipped me the bird, geddit?
«Get your butt out here. I'm bored.»
He rolled his eyes before taking out a piece of paper and a pencil. My (in my humble opinion) utterly amazing eyes had no problem in reading what he scribbled out.
I'm in class, Gabriel.
«I saw a turtle today.»
What?
«Oh, sorry, I thought we were talking about shit that doesn't matter.»
That earned me a genuine laugh. I really like making Sam laugh. I was shaky and scared and that laugh made me feel a little less insane.
Is it important?
I thought about that for a moment. Was it? I was imagining people in trees. I might be losing my mind. I didn't know how important that was. But I was scared. I wasn't going to admit that to anyone, ever. I'm just not that type of guy, but I was.
I was scared, and I missed Sam, and I really wanted to fly with him.
«Yes.» I decided. «Yeah. It's important.»
Give me five minutes.
It took Sam ten minutes to get out of his class. He's just too damn polite. Eventually though, he made his way up to the roof and changed to his morphing suit.
You can only morph in skintight clothing. Did I not mention that? One reason I'm really glad I don't morph anymore. I don't remember my human body much, but compared to Sam it was just embarrassing. Like I said, Sam is this huge freakish giant that only eats like... low fat tofu and salad. He looks... good. Have you ever known a person that seems to have a spotlight on them no matter where they go? That's Sam.
I pointedly looked away while he stripped off his outer clothing. Somewhat. I couldn't help but be a bit curious as he started to change though.
Look, morphing is weird.
Like... weird weird.
It doesn't ever make sense. Not even slightly.
It's not beautiful or graceful or magical or any other bullshit Disney thing. No violins play. There's no sparkly magic dust, only bones and organs crunching and stretching in ways that they are never meant to stretch. Just looking at it sends bad thing warning signals off in your brain because it's wrong. If the Beast had morphed human, Belle would have been out of there pronto.
With Sam though, it's almost bearable. I don't know why.
I have this theory that it's because he's such a wuss about nature. Sure, Meg's family does the whole rehabilitation thing, but Sam's the one that always carries dog treats in his backpack 'just in case' and refuses to eat anything that has a face unless Dean makes him and then he's sad. He has this connection thing to the world that none of us really have.
Besides me, but... I'm a bird. Being one with nature is kind of out of my non-existent hands now.
The first thing to change were his eyes. His focusing really hard to get into Stanford concentration face sharpened as his irises changed to ghost-white and his pupils shrunk. The white slowly cropping up in his hair flowed over his face down to his neck while etchings of feathers became 3d on his skin.
«Dude, you so look like Marilyn Manson right now.»
He tried to flip me off again, deterred by the fact that his fingers had molded into wings. Big wings.
He shrunk as the last of his human features melted away, but by the time he was done morphing the Bald Eagle, he was still a bit more than twice my size.
Life is so unfair.
«Ready to fly?» he asked with a flap of his stupidly huge wings.
I like flying with Sam.
I mean, flying alone is great. Flying at all is like pure happiness injected into your veins. It's freedom. But having someone to talk to is pretty neat too.
Not that we were really flying together. Bald Eagles don't really hang out with other birds. Hell, Nankeen Kestrels didn't even hang out on this continent. We would have looked mighty suspicious if we were all buddy-buddy. Instead we were about a quarter of a mile apart, close enough to thought-speak, but far enough that wannabe bird watchers wouldn't be nerding out over us.
I'm almost certain that I've caused some bird watchers to nerd out. Kestrels are from Australia. Seeing one here is kind of weird. I'm hoping they just think a bird escaped from the zoo or something. That's where my morph came from anyways.
«So what's up?» Sam asked finally.
Oh, right. I had totally forgot I was here for a reason. Being reminded of my little vision put a significant damper on my mood.
«Not much,» I said nonchalantly «what's up with you?»
«Gabriel.»
Figures I wouldn't get out of it that easy.
«Okay, fine. Remember my vision thing?»
«Yeah?»
«It kind of happened again sort of.»
«What do you mean sort of?»
I told him about Chuck, leaving out the part about the rabbit. He was quiet for a long time.
«Am I losing my mind?» I asked him after a while.
«I don't know.»
That's another thing I like about Sam. He wouldn't lie to me about that. Even if I kind of wished he would.
«I'm not losing my mind.» I said half to myself, «I'm not. Someone out there needs us to help them and instead of doing anything I'm just sitting around like a moron. That really freaking blows, you know? And what if this guy could actually turn me human?»
«I believe you, but...»
«but not enough to go deep sea diving for nothing.»
«I just...I don't know.»
I gave a little mental sigh, swooping lower against a headwind with a flare of my wings. Headwinds are tricky. They push at you like invisible walls. Lose your train of thought and they'll mess you up bad. I focused on flying instead of hearing the unspoken question: are you sure you didn't just imagine all this.
I wanted to bring it up. To tell him I wasn't sure and I was scared and maybe I felt like I was falling apart and if I was a human again I would have hands and arms and maybe I could hug Sam around the stomach like I was always too much of a coward to do before. But instead I was a rat with wings.
«You too scared to go skinny dipping, Sammy?» I joked instead.
«With you? Yeah.»
«Way to hurt a guys feelings. You keep this up and I'll think you don't like me.»
Sam laughed in my head.
«Well-»
FLASH! Dark clouds against the glass, fire burning my wings, water everywhere! Trapped! Can't move, can't breathe, can't-
«Augh!» I cried in surprise as the world snapped back and the headwind slammed against me, my wings losing their balance.
Chuck is a dick.
«Gabriel!»
I tried to open my wings again and catch the air, spinning out of control. My muscles ached with the effort. The wind hit me mercilessly as I tumbled to Earth.
The wind bent my left wing painfully, almost dislocating it from the socket. The kestrel in me cried out.
Fly you idiot! I thought with aggravation. You're a bird now, FLY.
«THIS IS SO UNFAIR!» I howled.
My fall was too abrupt and my wings were too strained. I couldn't pull up! I was going to die because of some stupid vision.
«CHUCK, YOU BASTARD!» I yelled reasonably. I was 50...40 feet from the ground and dropping fast. «SERIOUSLY? WHILE I'M FLYING?»
"SKREEEEE!" Sam dove after me.
I realized a second later what he was going to do.
«Ahhh! NONONONONO, I'M FINE, HITTING THE GROUND IS FINE, I LIVED A GOOD LIFE-»
Bald Eagles are scary. Have you seen bald eagle talons? Next to my body they were like big yellow railroad spikes.
Imagine one going into your arm.
«Damn it!» I winced as Sam struck me, his talons finding a grip on my wingspan. Pain flared over my shoulders. «THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE THAN HITTING THE GROUND»
We were still too low. Twenty feet? Sam's wings were carrying us now, but no way could he pull up at this height. Tree branches were suddenly a lot closer than I felt comfortable with.
«Let me go, you idiot!»
«We're gonna make it, it's fine!»
This is Sam's logic. Two birds crashing towards the Earth is fine. I did not think this was fine at all.
«Ah!»
Sam veered us right sharply, barely avoiding a tree.
«Left, you muttonhead, LEFT!»
«Shut up!»
«You're not going to be able to pull up-»
«I'm not trying to! I'm trying to cut our momentum so when we hit the ground we won't die!»
Oh.
Well then.
I didn't have time for what was sure to be a witty and intelligent response, because for the second time that day I found myself face to face with the ground, which is, as I said earlier, a bitch.
I blacked out.
Rambly author stuff!
Hi! My name is Pangerban and I write stuff. I actually had a account before but I forgot it, so here's to starting new! My prior experience did not have anything to do with SPN, so I can at least say this is my first attempt at writing for this fandom. Because of this, I totally welcome any criticism. A few things I do wanna mention:
1: I know I know I KNOW I should have made those weird Eve-slugs Yeerks. It just makes sense. But I wrote this before I even watched that far and then I saw it and when it came down to starting over or leaving it... I left it.
2: Yes you should tell me who you want to see. From either Animorphs or SPN. I'm not including any Animorphs characters directly, I am using their roles. I know who's taking the part of Ax, for example.
2.5: The Meg is Demon!Meg, but she's not a demon. As in, Meg does not equal Meg Masters. I went back and forth on whether to have Meg as one of the Animorphs, considering that she's a demon, but I just had to. I love her too much. All honorary members of Team Free Will will be touched on. Hopefully. Just keep in mind that she is not, in this story, possessed.
3: You probably noticed, but yes I'm drawing directly from Animorph adventures. Like any specific story arcs from Animorphs? Tell me and I'll see what I can do. In this one I combined the whole Tobias-being-a-bird and Tobias-seeing-psychic-visions storylines. I have a plan on starting on the whole David storyline, but I'm still on the fence about who would be David.
4: The whole thing is already written. I solemnly swear to not drop you guys out in nowhere land mid-story.
5: OH, and for those wondering, you can find Gabriel's bird morph here:
images/20070704211809_
xx Pangerban