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:words are the stitches of this world:
:fanfiction by nevcolleil:
Still Falls - SN/AtS Crossover (vamp!winchesters), PG-13, slash 
3rd-Aug-2007 10:05 am
nevcolleil: writer
A short fic set in the same world as Sight and Circle, but not There's An Empire or 'Scuse Me Buddy (Not part of the Sight 'verse).

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke; Angel: the Series belongs to Joss Whedon, et. al.

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Fic title from Love Song for a Vampire by Annie Lennox.

“So that’s what you came for? Revenge? I took your brother so you take-”

Angel stopped himself, words catching, cutting, in his throat. His fists clenched at his sides until he could feel the bones shift in his hands. Rage. Hate. Dean had gotten what he’d come for if this is what he had felt when Angel had staked Samuel.

Dean cocked one brow, that ever-present smirk of his spreading slowly across his face.

“Take your what, Angelus? Come on, I want to hear you say it.”

Angel clenched his teeth. Dean was on the opposite side of the ramsacked lobby, but that distance was nothing compared to Angel’s fury. He could take him. It would almost be funny how easy he could take him. But if there was even a chance-

There had to be a chance. Dean wouldn’t have just killed Wesley. That wasn’t his style. He’d have wanted to keep him alive long enough to torment Angel with him. He’d have wanted to make Angel watch. Dean liked making his victims watch.

Angelus had taught him that.

Dean scoffed. “You always were a drama queen. I didn’t take him anywhere.”

Angel didn’t blink. It was a lie. Wesley’s scent was in the lobby, the same as Dean’s. Wesley’s bl- Blood was everywhere. But Angel couldn’t hear a single human… heartbeat.

Realization followed closely behind dread, and Angel had to steady himself where he was standing. “No,” he said. “Wes-” Angel said it quietly…

But Wesley heard him anyhow.

He came out of the office and appeared at Dean’s side - eyes a calm, empty yellow. “Yes, Angel?” he asked pleasantly. Angel was speechless.

Dean wasn’t.

He smiled, mouth full of fangs and spite and satisfaction. “I didn’t come to LA to wreak vengeance upon my dear old sire, or some cliché bullshit like that,” he said. “You know me, Angelus. I don’t do melodrama. I came ‘cause I got bored.” Dean shrugged. “And lonely... without Sammy, and all. But guess what? It’s not so lonely here in Los Angeles.”

Dean stopped smiling, about a second before Wes moved.

“I think we’ll stick around a while,” Dean added.

[ end. ]
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