[1-4, Red, Green, Gold, Tree]
[5-8, Gift, Snow, Dark, Light]
[9-12, Double, Words, Fun, Odd]
[13-16, Magic, Apple, Time, Heartbreak]
[17-20, Artist's Choice]
Drabble #1 - Silent
Dean learned the value of silence early. It was one of his earliest lessons, even before he understood what had happened to his mother or what his father really did. "Quiet, Dean." "Keep Sammy quiet." It was important, he understood, even when he didn't know why.
Later, of course, he came to realize that silence was more than just an order--it was the key to his survival in dangerous situations. More importantly, it was the key to Sam's survival. Or at least it would be, if things were ever that bad. Bad enough to put Sam in danger in the first place. They practiced a lot after that.
Drabble #2 - Night
Bobby dreaded nights. Oh, not when he was young. Not even when he first found out what the night held, when dark meant monsters and hunting time. Fear of night came later. After he met John Winchester. After he came to love those boys like his own. After they started making deals and dying and going to hell. Because then, night meant memories and horror, and dreams. At least on the nights he didn't drink enough to push them aside. Alcohol, of course, carried its own set of dangers, and he knew those too. Had watched more than one hunter fall down that hole. But some nights, that's all there was.
Drabble #3 - Negative
Her ex-boyfriend (if a guy she'd once dated for three weeks could be called a boyfriend) had called her a pessimist. Emma preferred to think of herself as a realist. The world was a hard place. Love was fleeting, people left, and the only one you could count on was yourself. She'd learned these lessons a long time ago, and time had only served to reinforce them. It didn't stop her from reaching out to help other people, if she could, but she didn't expect the same in return. Relying on others? That was a sucker's game. And Emma was no sucker.
Drabble #4 - Positive
Henry was always a bright child. Confident, despite his outcast status. Too smart for his own good, some teachers had said. And so very, very certain. The certainty was the part that shook his mother. How could he know? How could he know any of it? And why, oh why, was he so positive he was right? It made no sense. He wasn't anyone special; just a random baby whose mother hadn't wanted him, brought to her by Rumpelstiltskin. So how could he know what she'd done? It was as if he could look into her soul.
It bothered her. It was completely illogical, like a remnant of a world where magic had once reigned. Except Henry had no part in that world. He never had. So where was he getting it from?
This entry was originally posted at http://skieswideopen.dreamwidth.org/843