theladyscribe: Etta Place and Butch Cassidy laughing. (cary grant)
a subtle sort of brilliance ([personal profile] theladyscribe) wrote in [community profile] avandell2008-12-30 03:50 pm

Any deeper blue and you're playing in your grave

Title: Any deeper blue and you're playing in your grave
Characters: Susan Pevensie, others (implied Peter/Susan)
Rating/Warning: PG-13 for disturbing images, mention of abuse
Word Count: 942
Summary: She only has one term of school left, and she moves away after that. Into the city at first, but even that place holds too many memories. She takes what is left of her family's fortune and goes to America.
Notes: Narnia/Supernatural crossover. A different take on what happened to Susan after the events of The Last Battle. Part of the Bruce Springsteen Fic Project (song is "New York City Serenade").

Any deeper blue and you're playing in your grave

The night after the train wreck, Susan dreams about Narnia for the last time. Her brothers and sister are there, looking older, like they did before they left Narnia that first time. Peter is the High King again, the rampant lion emblazoned on his tunic. He stands next to Aslan as they greet the people.

"And what of Queen Susan the Fair?" asks one man.

Aslan curls his lip, and Peter's countenance becomes stern. "She is no longer a friend of Narnia," he intones, voice hard.

Susan wakes with tears in her eyes.


School ends for the term, and that summer Susan stays with her Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta. Their house smells like wet wool and mouldy cheese, but they leave her alone mostly. She only has one term of school left, and she moves away after that. Into the city at first, but even London holds too many memories. She takes what is left of her family's fortune and buys a one-way ticket to America.


She didn't know then what she knows now. The demon lied to her. It killed not only her parents, but her siblings, too. It wasn't supposed to do that. Peter and Lucy and Edmund – they were supposed to stay with her.


In America, no one knows her. She dyes her hair a lighter shade of brown, takes careful time to look the part of a rich Londoner on permanent holiday, even takes on an aristocrat's accent. She changes her name, calls herself Bela, beautiful, though without Peter whispering it in her ear, she no longer thinks it's true.

In America, she can start over, pretend she never had a brother who whispered things in her ear. She can pretend none of this ever happened. She can forget the look on her father's face when he shut the door that first time, when he told her that Aslan wasn't real. When no one came to save her.


She knows now that the demon that came to her, that offered to make the pain go away, was Lilith. Lilith, whose daughter was Jadis, the White Witch. Lilith, who was bent on avenging her daughter's death.


Bela spends the next seven years making a name for herself as a procurer of rare and occult items. Her customers trust her, but they shouldn't. If she ever finds the thing that she's looking for, the object that will not only destroy Lilith but allow her back into Narnia, they will never hear from her again.

She dismisses the small voice that sounds too much like her brother that says it doesn't matter what she does; she'll never be able to go back to Narnia.

She ignores the one that sounds like the rumble of a lion's roar that says she's a disappointment to Narnia.


When the hounds come for her, she can't find it in herself to care any longer. She has failed Peter, failed Narnia, failed Aslan. And what's worse is that it's the first which hurts the most. The dogs scratch at the door, howling for her, and calmly, she takes down the Devil's Shoestring. She closes her eyes and opens the door and waits.


Hell is consciousness and pain and fear. Alastair comes every day, looking the way her father did, a sick smile on his face.

"There is no High King here," he says with a laugh as he brushes a hand along her face.

Susan wants to cry, but her eyes are dry.

Alastair cuts her deeply, pain like nothing she's ever felt before. He offers to take her down off the rack, to take it all away, if only she will denounce the High King and take up her weapons to cut and slice the others who scream. And every time, she refuses, even as his knife twists further into her.


She knows when Dean Winchester arrives. Everyone does. There's a ripple of fury and pleasure that runs through the masses of demons. Alastair stops paying special attention to her, focusing instead on Dean. She hates herself for being relieved.


It's been a thousand years, but she still holds on. Alastair has returned to give her particular attention again. It breaks her heart when he brings Dean with him that first time; she'd thought, hoped, that he of all people could withstand the torture. He doesn't recognize her, or at least she hopes he doesn't, for both their sakes.

He is the worst of her torturers.

"Come down off the rack," he whispers in her ear, "and it will all be over." His hand brushes through her long dark hair, and if not for the pain, she could pretend she's back in Narnia, lying beside her brother in the grass fields outside Cair Paravel.

She's about to whisper yes when the light blinds her. Time, such as it is, stops, the entirety of Hell silent for the span of a moment, of a century, as the light makes its way to her.

At first she thinks that it's Aslan come at last to rescue her, but it isn't. The light brushes against her, and she can hear Peter's voice calling, singing, joyously, "Further up and further in!" but it passes by. The light wraps itself around Dean, who screams, though whether in pain or in bliss, she cannot tell.

The light begins to fade, and with it, her brother's voice becomes nothing but a shadow.

Alastair returns to his post at her side, slicing deeply into her. "Say yes," he tells her, "and this will all go away."

Susan bites her tongue and holds on just a little longer.


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