A/N: Hi! Still working on those slow coming long stories, but hey, I have a laptop now just for writing that goes everywhere with me so look for something else soon. This is just a one shot that I had to write. I don't know. I saw something that got the ball rolling here and this is what I came up with. Don't know who the watcher is all I know is I had to write this. It's short, but I hope the description makes up for it.

Light VS Darkness

I watch him as darkness falls to end another day. Another instance the lack of light rules the world for a time, when all that thrives outside the reach of the sun comes out to play.

He's at the window, his back to me as the sun begins to sink. I watch as the light reaches out to caress him, playing over the rigid set of his flannel clad shoulders. The light, with it's last dying burst, runs invisible fingers over his silken hair, turning the brown to flaming auburn as the red light of evening plays over the waves. The fingers of light move to bathe his face, gentle touches gliding smoothly over angular bone and sculpted flesh.

The light sinks lower, gripping his shoulders through the soft flannel. His folded arms tense and muscle tightens rolled sleeves to near bursting. Fine golden hairs seem to hold the light to them, warming tanned skin to an ethereal glow. I see the muscles ripple across his back. He's calm but packed with sheer power, evident in every move or not-move that he makes. His back narrows to his waist. I see the familiar bulge of his Taurus, all but the butt tucked into the waistband of his jeans. I follow the lines of his jeans down his legs, muscle catching my eye as I watch his feet, completely still and poised shoulder width apart, ready to move at a seconds notice. The fist signal from his brain and he's ready to fight, run, or love. His boots are as worn as he is, worked hard and worn down. Scuffed leather is in the shadow, only my memory serves to show me where the scuffs and stains are. My eyes are pulled up once more, going again to his face as movement draws them. The light has left, saying goodbye for now to lives so dependent on mother sun. The movement that draws my gaze is the subtle tip of a chin, down instead of up, the wisp of eyelashes over intense blue green that shines with a light of it's own. The sun fully disappears to shine upon lands so far away and I watch as his eyes close in a moments mourning and then reopen as his chin moves up once more. He stands in the window, watching the darkness. The hunter, ever vigilant until the light shines again.


I watch him as he stands on broken pavement. A new day begins as he watches it without fail. The one thing that's become ritual for him. His hands are poised on cool black metal that is waiting to be warmed by the rising light. His eyes lift to the horizon, the color of jade as the first rays peak above the winter barren trees. The light chases darkness that has crouched so long into hiding for a time.

His hands, calloused and work worn, remain perfectly still, his breath bated, just like the rest of the world. Silence greets the rising sun for the span of a few moments, evil choosing this time to hide while the birds begin to chirp with joy. His eyes follow the sun up, the green pulling in the light, turning from jade to emerald. The sun wakes freckles and scars alike to a new day, a new job, as emerald turns to the color of new leaves. He breathes and I watch as the lashes come down to shield the green from the brightness briefly. I watch as the light, now yellow and new catches in golden highlights that blend seamlessly with caramel colored spikes, knowing without touching that they're soft and fresh. The light catches stubble on his jaw, showing the darker shadow who's boss as even it begs to pull the light close. An army green long sleeved shirt is bowed into submission as it valiantly tries to hug broad shoulders. His customary black tee shirt follows the planes of his abdomen down to the belt cinched at his waist. A knife in a belt sheath rests close to his right hand, ready for use at a seconds notice, lethal and sharp. Deadly.

Worn jeans with holes at both knees and frayed hems hug his legs from waist to feet and heavy leather boots are poised and ready to move with silent grace or pounding steps. My eyes move back to his face as I watch his eyes drift closed as he lifts his face to the new light. His lips tip up briefly at the corners and he pulls in a breath, releasing it on a sigh. He stands straight and lets his arms fall to his sides before his thumbs hook into his pockets. He turns to look at the motel door behind him as he hears it open and close. "'Bout time princess."

He watches as his brother stops in front of the door he just pulled shut, a paint chip drifting from the peeling door to caress his arm before floating like the most delicate of leaves to the chipped concrete sidewalk. A head of brown hair comes up at the sound of his voice and a pair of lips tip up at the corners to match his brother's.

"Late night. Jerk."

"Early morning." Dean replies, opening the car door. "Bitch." Sam smirks and walks to the passenger side of the car, opening the door. He waits for Dean to open his before sliding in against the familiar leather. I watch as the sun warmed car comes to life and pulls out of the lot with a bark of burning rubber. I smile and turn away. The hunters drive off to make it through another day and fight the darkness for another night.

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think?