Blue Hour
Blue Hour charlie bradbury stories

anonAnonymously Published Stories
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fan work by hopesetfree posted on commaful. read the rest: https://archiveofourown.o...

Blue Hour

“If you came this way,

Taking any route, starting from anywhere,

At any time or at any season,

It would always be the same.”

-T.S. Eliot

Gabriel groaned from a place deeper than sleep. A memory half-forgotten, dancing from the depths of a nightmare, evaporated away as he blinked awake.

"Dad? Dad!"

The last cloudy remnants of the too-real dream faded. He rubbed at his eyes, his vision just clear enough he could see motes of dust floating in the predawn light of his bedroom.

And there stood his little girl, hovering anxiously at the door.

Damn. Second time he'd woken her up in the space of a week with his nightmares.

"Sorry, Sati," he drawled, dragging a sluggish hand over his face. "Sorry I woke you."

"Were you dreaming of Purgatory again?" she asked, dark hair framing her face.

"No," he lied.

She waited, her small fingers hooked on the doorframe. "Uncle Cas said something about demons yesterday."

He loved his brother, but the idiot sometimes had no clue what and what not to say in the presence of a seven-year-old.

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