So it's been a little while, but here's my oneshot for the May Prompt Exchange Challenge. Loose tag to 4x10. Here's the prompt: "She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful." - Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett [Sent by MysteryGal5]
Her lips were soft and unexpected, a feathery-light touch. The irony of that was not lost on him. Anna smiled almost shyly, her eyes on his face, tracking his reaction. She was beautiful, but Dean had a feeling she was beautiful in the a way a forest fire was beautiful, her long red hair dancing like the flames that would threaten to consume him if he stuck around long enough. But he never stuck around long enough, knew it wasn't in the job description, so for now maybe he could just enjoy this. Plus, it wasn't as though these were normal circumstances for God's sake (no pun intended). I mean she was a freakin' angel after all. A cute, red-headed angel with big, round innocent eyes, but an angel nonetheless.
If Dean really thought about it, he knew Anna was far from innocent, knew she had seen things he could never even imagine, others he would never want to. How miserable she must've been to have willingly ripped out her Grace and fallen to Earth. How strange it must be for her to exist here, to no longer hold the power she had known for centuries. She seemed so small as she stared up at him now with those big wide eyes. For a moment, Dean tried to imagine her as an angel: a fierce, all-powerful being overflowing with grand purpose and white, white light.
He couldn't imagine ever giving up power like that. Dean would've given anything to hold possession of it now, to have a chance at taking down Lillith with just a snap of his fingers. Not to mention Uriel. And Cas.
Dean shook his head, wondering when it was that angels had become his biggest problem. He'd never believed in them in the first place, and now he wished he had been right. He wondered how even angels had managed to get it all so wrong. He wondered where the system had failed, how angels like Anna had discovered the urge to rebel and found the courage to act on it. To act out against God.
Dean was pulled from his thoughts by Anna's "Last Night on Earth" line, whispered so softly he almost didn't catch it. He snorted, caught off guard by the suggestion behind it, though he knew he had no reason to laugh. There was nothing funny about death. Dean knew that from experience.
And if he thought about it, Dean figured this really could be it; his final hoorah. The threat of being cast back into the Pit itched at the back of his mind, a writhing cancer lingering just beyond conscious thought. So Dean shut it all off. He decided not to think about it, didn't allow himself to think about anything at all as he pulled Anna closer, pressing his lips gently against hers. He lost himself in the smooth curve of her hips, the soft brush of her skin against his rough, searching hands. And above all else, he refused to think about tomorrow.
Tomorrow could wait.
I'm probably taking yet another short break from writing fanfiction (about a month while I'm away), but I'm in the process of writing a longer fic based on season 9 that I started writing after 9x16 (so it's definitely AU). No idea when that'll be done, but I'll probably start posting near the end of June/beginning of July. Thank you guys so much for your continued reviews and encouragement, it really means a lot!