Rooftop Confessions
This special issue of the award-winning Supernatural gen zine Rooftop Confessions has more than 500 pages of selected fic that were previously published in paper zine form, but NEVER went to the internet. Yep, these Classic SPN stories (Classic as in Before the Angels Came, Seasons 1-3) by four authors J.M. Griffin, EveSong, Judy Dugas, and Lady Angel have not and never will be released to the web. This is your chance to read (or reread) some of the finest early Supernatural fanfic ever written.
Samples from four stories…
Blood and Dust by Judy Dugas
“Look, I’m just saying that there’s no way in hell to know where his grave is, Sam. You of all people should at least admit that by now.”
Sam pursed his lips and looked up from his notes to glare out the front windshield. The horizon seemed to stretch out forever over a land that rose and fell in uneven, choppy waves like a restless dirt sea. The Texas Panhandle in July. Sun burnt. Crispy. Fucking hot. He listened to Dean huff and just knew those green eyes were rolling. This is such a load of bull, we don’t have time to be doing this, we just need to find this creep, do the salt and burn, and get the hell on with the next one.
Sam knew he couldn’t win them all. Didn’t need his brother to remind him. He hadn’t forgotten Ava. But damn if I’m not going to try to save as many innocents and kill as many evil bastards as I can in the time I have.
Casino Jill by EveSong
“So, Sam. what’s the first thing you want to do when we get to Vegas?” Dean tries.
“Find this girl and keep moving. You know how many cameras there are in Las Vegas? We can’t screw around over there, Dean.”
“Okay, okay, I was just asking.” Dean feels stupid now, because he’d been looking at this Vegas trip as, well, a trip to Vegas, rather than a job.
“I was thinking we’d cruise a few casinos, looking for your girl, but, if you want to hide in a room . . .” Dean shrugs.
“Okay, when we get internet access, I’m going to look through websites of the casinos and find the right one. And then,” Sam waves his hands. “And then I have no idea, Dean. I’m just making it up as I go along.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry, Sam.”
“No, it’s fine. I think I just, you know, need,” Sam sighs, “I don’t know what I need.”
They drive on in silence for a while, Sam looking out at the bleak landscape, Dean humming quietly under his breath. “Maybe you need a cheeseburger?” asks Dean hopefully.
Sam smirks. “You know, Dean? That might be it. Let’s get a cheeseburger.”
Motherhood by J.M Griffin
They were hers, had been for a very long time. They rode inside her belly day in and day out, and she loved them for it. She sang a two-note lullaby to them, in the purr of her engine. Some days, when they bickered non-stop, she ached to be able to zap them with currents of annoyance. Other times, especially when one or the other took off alone, she wanted to stage a lock down and force them to stay together.
But mostly she enjoyed their company, rocked and rolled with it. Down endless highways and byways.
She wished for hands, to stroke their faces and nurse them when they were sick or in pain. For lips, to kiss their furrowed brows. For tears of her own, to wash away their sorrows. The best she could do was to cradle their bodies and be a nest where they could eat, sleep, languish when they needed safe haven from the world without.
Dagger of Mórrígan by Lady Angel
(ATF Mag7 X-over)
Dean grinned wildly, taking in the circle of men armed to the teeth with enough firepower to take down a small foreign country. It tickled him pink that he and Sam were part of it. He liked the way the Seven worked. They had the same kind of camaraderie he and Sam had, but meshed in with it was the strong sense of military order that their father had instilled in his sons. Dean found himself responding to that structure and to that camaraderie. Even Larabee, the hardass, could loosen up when they weren’t on the job, joking and teasing his friends during dinner. “So, are we gonna do the cavalry charge and everything?”
Snorts and snickers were softly uttered.
“So,” Standish drawled out the vowels, his deep Southern accent coming to the fore, “Who has the honor of going in first?”
