#HOLY CRAP DID HEX JUST DIE

[ladyzayinwonderland]

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#spoilers for the seventh doctor main range episodes in my tags #but I’m freaking out so I gotta do it somewhere #HOLY CRAP DID HEX JUST DIE?? #LIKE. DID HE. I THOUGHT #I thought that he would be around for a good while #but holy frick #and the next couple episode titles don’t raise much confidence #specifically A Death in the Family #frick frack diddly dack #I can’t trust anything anymore #hex schofield #the seventh doctor #my life #edit: he’s alive and I feel like a fool #they just ended the audio with me thinking he died but all I had to do #was listen to the next one #yay me

[caranfindel]

Recap review 15.16: “Drag Me Away (From You)"

Is this title a reference to "Africa" by Toto?

THEN: Mrs. Butters! I hope you're enjoying your life out there in the woods. Other worlds are gone. Dean is tired of being a hamster. Jack's going to die. Cas told Dean and is looking for another way.

NOW: A guy named Travis checks into a crappy hotel. He has requested a particular room - "doctor's orders." He was here a long time ago. "Welcome back," says the not-very-welcoming clerk. I think we've been here before too; this corridor looks awfully familiar. Travis psychs himself up to unlock the door. The room is ugly and orange and classic Supernatural, in an early seasons way that I miss. Travis drinks whiskey out of a bottle and then gets a text from someone named Caitlin, who is worried about him going back to that place. Travis fiddles with a large pendant and tries to convince himself that whatever happened in this room wasn't real but GUESS WHAT, TRAVIS. A creepy dead child emerges from the closet, causing Travis to drop his bottle, and holds the broken whiskey bottle up to Travis's throat. Screams of horror!

Title card!

Impala. The guys are seven hours away from "back here," wherever "here" is. Sam defends their trip, saying "Travis was a friend." Dean expositions for us that Travis cut his own throat with a whiskey bottle (hmmmm!) and that they haven't seen him in 25 years. So, ten years before the pilot? (Ignoring the skipped years, as we always do.) When Sam was 12 and Dean was 16? That's a long time ago. Dean complains that they've missed funerals for closer friends - friends who were hunters, which tells us Travis was not - but Sam says they don't have much else to do right now, since Chuck is "off world," Jack's hanging around the bunker waiting for Billie's orders, "and Cas just bailed, I guess. He didn't say anything to you? About why he left?"

Oh, Sam! Your brother is a lying liar who LIES! Dean denies he and Cas had a fight (and lord, I love that Sam asked, considering their pointless tiff at the beginning of the season) and says it's just "Cas being Cas." Right on cue, Cas texts Dean.

Did you tell Sam yet?

Sam berates Dean for looking at his phone while driving, which is a little funny, since Dean routinely does things that are slightly more dangerous, but he has a point.

But seriously, let's unpack this. Cas doesn't want Jack to die. And yet Cas didn't enlist as an ally the only other person who would try as hard as he would to stop that from happening. He's had all this time to call Sam, to text Sam, and instead he's just asking Dean if Dean told him? Why?

(I know why. Stupid plot reasons.)

It's going to take a lot to drag me away from you; there's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do.

Crappy hotel. We haven't actually been informed of their location, other than it's more than seven hours away from the bunker. (I know. No one else cares. Move along.) "It looks smaller," says Sam. So they've been here, not just to this mysterious unnamed town, but to this actual hotel. "Yeah, or we're bigger," says Dean. So they haven't been here since they were young. And it must not have been a great visit, because neither is thrilled about being back.

The guys open their car doors, and then we see two pairs of knock-off Converse exiting the car, which is nicely done. Teenchesters! It's January 1993, and the boys are being dropped off at the hotel/beer store. Sadly, Dean isn't played by Dylan Everett. I know I hated on the kid when he was in Bad Boys, but the way he channeled Jensen in the Hansel and Gretel episode just made me fall in love with him. Young Dean is annoyed that he doesn't get to go on the hunt with John, and points out that Sam doesn't need him, since he himself was babysitting Sam when he was the age Sam is now. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal," says Sam, as if he didn't live through A Very Supernatural Christmas and has forgotten that yes, Dean did babysit him for multiple days at a time when he was 12. I kinda like young Sam here. He's no Colin Ford, but he's not bad.

Sam's being cagey about wanting to just go to the room, and trying to hide something under his jacket. Badly. So of course Dean grabs it. It's a 2-year-old guide to colleges that he stole from their previous hotel. "I thought your imaginary friend told you it was bad to steal," Dean says, and oh, thank you Continuity Fairy for remembering Sully.

Wait? You think you're gonna go to college? Yeah. Why not? Why not? Why? Cause that's what normal people do. Right. Because WE'RE normal. Whatever. We barely go to school. So if you think places like that will even think about letting a dumbass like you in? Come on. This, Sammy? This is our life.

OH SAM. Sad Winchester music plays as Sam unpacks his weapons in the ugly hotel room and contemplates his future, or lack thereof. Meanwhile, Dean is pleased to find an old vending machine in the hallway. The same one was present in the NOW. Probably the same candy from 1993. He presses some buttons and gives it a nudge and voila! Free candy. He's surprised by a teenage girl who tells him to freeze, and I don't really think 16-year-old Dean Winchester would be so nervous just because another teenager caught him stealing from the vending machine. I think he would have laughed it off.

{Sidebar: Drinks cost $1. Isn't that a bit much for 1993 prices? Discuss.}

The girl asks Dean to show her the trick and introduces her little brother, Travis. So first it's weird that she introduces Travis but doesn't give her own name, and second it's weird because oh, holy crap, Travis is a live version of the dead kid from the NOW. So if this is the dead friend Travis, that means he was haunted by... a dead version of him as a child? That's new. I'm into it. The girl introduces herself as Caitlin (Caitlin of the text message!) and says her mother works at the hotel.

2020. Present-day Caitlin sits sadly in a diner. She recognizes Dean instantly, even though earlier this season, people made a big deal about Dean not looking like his 15-year-old ID photo but OKAY. She gets some nice Winchester hugs and tells them how rocky Travis's last 25 years have been. He was in therapy, which helped until he did some "immersion therapy" and checked into (duh duh duh) room 214. She also confesses that the funeral was last week, but she lied because she was afraid they wouldn't come. "I think she's back," she says. So Caitlin hasn't seen them for 25 years, and she knows they hunt monsters, and she thinks they'd be more likely to come because of a funeral for someone they met 25 years ago and haven't communicated with since and not because a monster needs killing but OKAY.

Maybe she just wants to take the time to do some things she never had.

1993. Wait a minute. It just occurred to me that 1993 isn't 25 years ago. That would be 1995. (Someone please check my math. It's not a strong point.) So did Sam and Dean actually see Caitlin and Travis two years after all of this happened? Or are we playing fast and loose with the timeline? Or counting the two missing years somehow?

NO ONE CARES. MOVE ALONG.

1993. Travis tries Dean's vending machine trick, but a scary monster lady inside the machine grabs his hand. When Dean and Caitlin show up, there's no evidence of the scary monster lady, but I bet Travis will never eat another My Delight bar.

2020. Room 214. Sam runs the EMF meter while Dean reads the coroner's report. He calls it "open and shut," because Travis's fingerprints were on the broken bottle. Because, of course, dead child Travis and alive-at-the-time adult Travis had the same fingerprints. Caitlin is still convinced he wouldn't have killed himself. But they've found no EMF, no hex bags, nothing to indicate monsters. Dean thinks coming to this room might have just been too triggering.

1993. Dean has unsuccessfully tried to contact John. Why, asks Caitlin? Because monsters are real and we kill them, says Dean. "It's kind of the family business," he says, giving young Sam a significant look. Don't you forget it, kid. He asks about any other weirdness in town, and it turns out there are three missing children.

2020. Caitlin is disappointed that the Dean who believed in her brother's monster 25 years ago doesn't believe now. But he thinks it couldn't be the same monster, because it preyed on kids. And there are no missing or mysteriously dead kids in town. And he killed it.

1993. The Scooby gang gathers to research the case. Sam, bless his researching little heart, uses candy to mark relevant spots on a map. And there's an abandoned cannery in the area. Bingo! Dean goes off to kill the monster on his own, even though they don't know what it is. He's got a gun and a knife and he figures that will kill whatever it is. Oh, Dean. I don't think your father would agree. He refuses to let Sam come, telling him to stay here and "be normal." Cold, dude. He also rebuffs Caitlin's decision to come. "This ain't the freakin' Goonies. None of you has been on a hunt before. Just stay. I got this."

{Sidebar: Didn't Sam leave Sully to go on a hunt? Wouldn't that have been before this?}

Abandoned cannery. As Dean picks a lock to break in, Caitlin shows up. Girl's got gumption. Although she gives Dean a hard time the entire time, so I don't think she's such a great partner. At one point he tells her to stay back and she actually listens, which is convenient, because it means she doesn't see the pile of things obviously taken from the missing children. Along with a key to their very own hotel, for room 107. He pulls back a tarp, and we don't see what's underneath, but we know it's horrifying. He quickly leaves the room and tells Caitlin he didn't find anything. "She's not here."

While this is happening, Sam and Travis are playing Boggle back at the hotel. See, children, back in the day, we didn't have Words With Friends or Wordscape. We had analog.

Sam comes up with sam kill you now which is gloriously freaky even though you're not supposed to use proper names, and now I want a fic with a ghost threatening Sam through a word game. (Actually, on rewatch,Sam isn't one of the words he found, he just wrote his name at the top of his list.) Travis has come up with an equally chilling set of words:dead death kill you now.

I'm hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies. But if Dean had been playing, I'm pretty sure he would have found PIE.

Then the board starts jumping and I'm all ready for it to very clearly spell out something very threatening, but all we get are a few minor changes.

But if anybody wants to interpret, I’m here for it.

Then the lights go out, the Boggle game explodes, and the monster shows up behind Travis. She grabs him, but Dean enters just in time. He swipes his knife at her, cutting off several of her fingers. One is wearing a large ring. Then he stabs her and she disintegrates, leaving the ring on the floor. Also, it's the first time I've noticed Dean is wearing the Samulet. Aw. Better days, friends.

2020. Dean stalks down the hall. Something flashes through the hall behind him. "Sam?" he says. Not Sammy. A figure appears at the end of the hall. As the lights flicker, it quickly (creepily!) shows up in front of him. Oh, it's young Dean! Dead version! "Hey, Dean. I've been waiting for you." He nods at a knife in Dean's hand. "You know what you have to do. You failed. Say hi to Travis." Dean sinks to his knees and holds the knife to his abdomen, but before he can plunge it in, we hear Sam say "Dean?" Dean's vision clears and the knife in his hand disappears. So, there was never a knife? Meaning he couldn't have actually committed hara kiri here in the hall? No threat, then? "She's right," he says. "Caitlin's right."

Hurry boy, she's waiting there for you.

Bar. Dean apologizes to Caitlin for not believing her, and blames himself for Travis's death since he didn't kill the monster after all. "Second chances," says Sam, kind of lightly given the circumstances. Sam starts to head out to check the lore, but Dean reveals that the monster has a nest. Which he saw, along with a bunch of bodies, when he was a kid. He didn't tell them "because I'd never seen anything like that before." I actually think he'd probably seen worse at that point, but maybe not a pile of teenage victims. Anyway, he called the cops about the bodies and then "shoved it down the old memory hole." He apologizes to Sam for not telling him earlier.

"No, man, it's okay," says Sam. "I mean, you were just a kid. We were both just kids. And hell, we used to keep a lot of secrets from each other." Yeah, it's a good thing you don't do that any more, isn't it?

You can't hide your lyin' eyes, Dean Winchester. Which is a completely different song, but from around the same time period, so.

Dean says he'll get food while Sam and Caitlin look into the lore. And if I were Caitlin I'd be all, lore, right, but sadly I'm not.

Next we see Dean back at the diner. "Let me do two burger meals, one veggie burger meal, and, cause I know my brother's gonna ask, do you have arugula salad? Or kale?" I love this, I do. Unfortunately, Sammy's gonna get iceberg lettuce. With ranch. As the waitress walks away, she reveals Billie sitting next to Dean, which is also nicely done.

Billie's annoyed that Dean is working a case. She tells him Chuck just destroyed the last of his other worlds, so he'll be back soon. And she's given Jack his final orders to transform him for the Big Bang 2.0.

Yeah, filling him up with your cosmic TNT so he can die. How'd you talk the kid into that one? I told him the truth. Jack killed your mother, and all he wants is your forgiveness. And I surmise that the only way he can get that is ending God and freeing you from the - what did you call it - hamster wheel. Was I wrong?

Oh. Dammit. She's not wrong, and I guess this is why it was so important to let us know a couple of episodes ago that Dean still hasn't quite forgiven Jack. And I see, in my completely unspoiled way, how it's going to play out. Dean's heart will grow three sizes and he'll forgive Jack and decide he doesn't want him dead after all... just like the end of s14. Just exactly like that.

Well. On to better things. Like Sam, in a less orange version of room 214, sitting in front of a computer. Pity he hid this dark red shirt under a jacket. It looks nice. Very nice.

Sleeves rolled up, even. Damn, boy. Bless the rains.

Caitlin says she's sorry this is his life, and asks if he ever wants to be normal. Oh, Caitlin. It seems like a simple question, but it's not. "Well, we help people, you know?" he answers. "Save them." I mean, not your brother, but you can't win them all.

Diner. Billie tells Dean he won't see her again until the end. "According to Chuck's book, I'm not in this part of the story." Billie seems to put a lot of faith in those books of hers, considering that the one about Dean and Michael was completely wrong. {Sidebar: Or was it? Discuss.} She wants his assurance that they don't have a problem, and he is happy to assure her that he wants Chuck dead, damn the cost.

"And your brother?" she asks. And I love the way Dean looks down into his lap, like a little boy caught in a lie, when he says "He'll get there."

A sweet little boy who is a lying liar who lies. You know that you must do what's right, Dean.

Billie is not happy, at all, to hear that Sam isn't in on the plan. That's a loose end, and she doesn't like loose ends. She warns him to get his crap together.

{Sidebar: Have we ever seen Billie happy? Discuss.}

Hotel. Sam figures out the monster is a baba yaga - a witch that feeds on fear. The giant ring she wears is technically her heart, and is the source of her power. Caitlin notices that the ring worn in an old illustration is the same ring Travis had. Must be some kind of scary accurate illustration. Also, Caitlin must have better eyesight than me, because I can't tell anything about a damn ring. Anyway. Their mom found the ring in the vacuum cleaner and gave it to him. The stone was broken, but he liked the ring and wore it on a chain around his neck. He actually had it fixed a few weeks before he fell onto a whiskey bottle. Sam remembers that Dean cut her fingers off, and theorizes that stabbing her didn't kill her, losing her ring did. Apparently the power of the ring was in the stone, then? But Travis presumably replaced the stone? So why would the replacement stone have any power? Anyway, Sam goes on for a while without realizing Caitlin has actually left the room, which is kind of cute. Caitlin goes out to her car and opens a box marked New York State Coroner, so at least we know what state they're in.

(NO ONE CARES. WE KEEP TELLING YOU, NO ONE CARES.)

It contains Travis's last effects, but the ring isn't on its chain. Frustrated, she shut the box and the trunk and oh, crap. There's grown up dead Travis. "Hey, Sis." He holds up the ring. "Are you looking for this?" Scream!

Dean arrives with his bag of iceberg lettuce with ranch dressing and other assorted meals. Sam's on the phone trying to get hold of Caitlin, but she's not answering the phone. He explains to Dean that they didn't kill the baba yaga, they just damaged her source of power. Dean calls the ring her Precious because he knows I love it when he makes Lord of the Rings references. Sam says her nest must be nearby because all of her attacks have happened at the hotel, and the guys split up. First we see Sam at the front desk, where he hears an odd noise. Ooooh, is Sam gonna be the hero? Will Sam be the one who finds the monster? (Spoiler alert: you have seen this show before, right?) No, Sam finds the front desk clerk hiding in the storeroom with a bong.

We do, at least, get a nice anxious swallow as Sam hears only whispers of some quiet conversation. With a bong.

Dean, on the other hand, walks by the haunted vending machine, listens to someone's Casa Erotica rental, and then notices a door swing open in a very menacing way. "I've seen this movie before," he says. Hee! You've been in this movie, dear. Oh, he's in room 214. Except he's suddenly back in the abandoned cannery. But this time when he pulls back the tarp over the monster's nest, the dead kid underneath is Sam. Yikes! He jumps back, horrified. I like it. Finally he finds poor dead grown Travis. He shoots him, but of course it does nothing. Travis, aka the baba yaga, agrees that he normally eats kids, but right now he's starving. Honey, it's okay. You don't have to be starving to want to take a bite out of Dean Winchester. Or just a loving little nibble. We all understand.

In the real world, Sam walks down the hallway. He hears the struggle in room 214 and we see Caitlin unconscious on the bed as Dean fights the witch. Sam runs in, knife drawn, and this is where he gets to kill the monster, right? Ha ha ha nope. He does stab her, though, which distracts her to the point that Dean can remove her ring and crush it. She goes up in green flames. Mission accomplished!

Aftermath. Caitlin thanks Dean and asks if he was scared. "Always am," he says. She remarks that he's changed, since old Dean wouldn't have admitted it. What, a 41-year-old man isn't exactly like the 16-year-old you knew for a few days? Shocking. Then she says "What do they say about getting older? You tell the truth more because you know that lies, they don't make anything better." NO CAITLIN, THEY DON'T SAY THAT. NO ONE SAYS THAT. LITERALLY NO ONE HAS EVER SAID THAT ABOUT GETTING OLDER.

He turned to me as if to say, no, Caitlin, that's not a thing.

1993. Caitlin hugs young Dean. He gives her his number in case anything ever happens that's... "you know." {Sidebar: Cell phones weren't really a thing back in 1993, so what number did he give her? And how did it still catch up with him 25 years later?} Sam asks if he ever found the other victims of the monster and he says he didn't. It's a theme! Then the Impala pulls up, but before they get in, Dean stops Sam and says "About the college thing..." And my heart sank. Because I knew Dean was going to tell him it was okay if he wanted to go to college, that he was good enough and smart enough (and gosh darn it, people like him... sorry, I couldn't resist) and that he'd probably do great.  And I did NOT want to her this bit of retconning. So I was very pleasantly surprised when Dean just said "I don't know, but we do make a good team, right?" Then the boys climb into the Impala. We can only see John's arm, but if they'd let Matt Cohen direct this episode instead of last week's, we could have seen all of him, and that would have been an even more pleasant surprise. Oh well.

2020. Impala. Sam tries to call Cas, and Dean tells him to hang up.

I got an update. While you and Caitlin were researching, Billie paid me a visit. What? It's go time. Chuck's done with all the other worlds and he'll be here any day, and when he does, we gotta act fast. And there's something else. Something else? Jack's gonna die. Apparently it was always part of Billie's plan, Jack's known this whole time. And he's ready to sacrifice himself, so in order to kill God and Amara, Jack has to die. Wait, so Billie just told you this while you were grabbing burgers? No. Cas did, before we left. Before we even got the call about Travis. So you've been sitting on this. What the hell, Dean? I thought we were past stuff like this! I know, Sam- I can't believe you, you know that? I mean, how can you keep me in the dark about something so huge? Because I knew you couldn't handle it! You didn't trust Billie's plan, and then when we found out about Amara, you started second-guessing. You raised these ethical questions! I shouldn't? Jack's gonna kill himself and I should just shut up about it? Yes! No! This is how we end Chuck, okay? This is the only way we'll ever be free! So I'm sorry, Sam, you don't get a choice! We don't get a choice! Oh, WE. ... Look, man- Stop, all right? Just stop. Please. I'm sorry I had to- Don't. Don't. Don't. Just, just drive. Just drive.

Ouch! Sam's face, when he realizes Dean's been hiding this from him. It makes my heart hurt. And thus we end, on a car ride very different from the one we began with.

Frightened of this thing that I've become.

So, I was pleasantly surprised to get another MotW case with very little mytharc. But not real thrilled to have the brothers at odds. And dumbfounded at Cas's inexplicable failure to talk to Sam about Jack's planned death. (Yes, I know, it's explicable, but "stupid plot reasons" isn't something I accept.) All in all, it could have been worse, I guess. But is "could have been worse" good enough when we're so close to the end? (The irony is that there is at least one Buckleming episode waiting for us, and I'm sure I'll be dying for "could have been worse" after that one.)

Anyway. Please help me stay unspoiled, including episode titles and casting information. And remember, I love you all as sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti.

#tv recaps #recap #15.16 #spn #spoilers

[magiccallie]

So I wrote down my thoughts as i watched through most of Season 2 of Scooby Doo Mystery Inc, and would like to share them, major spoilers below cut

Notes of Season 2 of Scooby Mystery Inc Shout out to this jock bully(?) who upon encountering a monster threatening a girl, did no hesitate to take on said monster, recuse said girl, and protect her as they escape Fred really needs to talk to someone about his new parents, who are now living in his house with him???? The house of the man who took him from them?????? Bronson might not be exactly straight looking at how he acted around the old mayor vs the new one, but *shrugs* Jock Strikes again, is this gunna be the twist? That''s a really douchy twist to pull a stunt like this Love how-I mean this is just the plan. He wanted girls too so he set up the same scenario. Is this extra set up by the parents to get him to trust them that is some next level douchery/ Scratch that on Bronson, omg Oh shit starting with a furry attack this is going to be a weird episode the gang's meta knowledge coupled with their sure willingness to go along with tropes and shit makes for great dialogue oh *oh* this is the episode where we get a peak to see just how big the picture is, love the lore building. knew this episode was gunna be good is that a demon? the furry isnt the mosnter??? ummm...weve been getting hints, are things getting real? so we've established motive for why someone whould want this plavce closed, but actually tangent but dont a lot of these monsters that they encounter seem like, weirdly powerful and mobile for costumes oh there's the furry that red aura is a...the things that happen around it are something deeper it seems. fascinating. is the red just representative of fire hallucinations? those seemed a bit real in effect for hallucinations... this guy, like my manager, needs to hire a little more staff occult magic book falls from the library to gang, and no one is as concerned as they should be nazi robot nazi robot get BJ on the phone Cassidy is the kinda retired PC that the players can strive to be Shit is getting real quick isnt it. Wait is that a seal. does Cassidy die? I know about a certain other death that makes me sad, but i dont want Cassidy to die too this episode is a rollercoaster of odd events weird hologram disguise for Paraclese is nifty Seeing the tragic fate of past groups is...well obviously sad oh dear, she does die huh its super low key, but it plays at the terrifying corrupting ordeal of the eldritchstuff really well with the lore notes bear troubles oh that badge...is that where they buried him? that's...kinda grim they have stealth suits and killer nazi robots? why have the evil guys not won yet? there is a bomb and they are not evacuating. There is a BOMB and they are not evacuating oh the bear can talk, how dare i assume that a bear is incapable of speech the bear is a twunk, scratch that, still a bear, is...he doing a christiphor walkin impersonation? aaand that’s enough for tonight, starting fresh later We're back, 13 more episodes oh so were getting into why i don’t like astrology Enigma machine omg. sorry, im a sucker for bits like that i wanna have long white hair too, i could rock that look How does Paraclese still have an accent after all these years? It is like destiny's Rasputin and just a stubborn superiority complex? something about visiting villains you can talk to in a prison is-ohp thats just all of um huh, cameo episode- err, anyways, it just paints a delightful scene about the relationship of the protags and antags and villainy as a whole in the world well this is horrific, throw some brownish red stuff around and it would be a silent hill scene update: still gay Thirteen more episodes and they have the disk...that does not bode well for what is going to happen the writer's willingness to reference other hannah barbara characters/shows is great oooo anticaptilism, BF is scoring points excuse me???? cyborg dragon girl???? he cant even call her by her name through most of the episode wtf??????? see now im at the point i gotta ask, is this a real ghost thing, or a fake ghost thing? ah i understand now youd think he would be more willing to explain to th-there we go so the animal companians are more suceptible, but they all have the risk Paraclese talking about these cattle is every gm talking about their homebrew monsters omg writers wth was that conclusion for the cattle im dying sk-ska zombies. ska. zombies. i can pick it up oh like the dancing plauge but worse, nifty these ghosts are rude boys, like, thats actually one of their names. And just caught that it the band name is skatastic oh they mentioned the dancing plauge, thank you wtf 101 the 'lighthearted' tone of this episode speaks dark tidings about the horrors to come aaah, hex girls, omg oh damn, update again: still hella gay bards duels be like, but for real loving this more and more young me is crazy about having the hex girls interact with a magicy thing like the disks, the rest of me is concerned at the events that are taking place scooby agrees, and his dog girl friend...well that was something Ricky displaying increasing regrets is not going to do good things for his lifeespectancy ohp then he drags in the other two well, i didnt see that coming for the criminal identity this little girl just had her mom ditch her for a stranger that robbed them, the heck i should probably eat dinner at some point, or like, anything at somepoint... calling it now, this guy is a circus performer/stunt driver, and if he is the random hired british poolboy it is a fake accent he's lureing women away with emotional intemacy. thats funny in itself, btu that they accept so readily still isnt normal oh and apparently kinks, lured with kinks so hes going to be the librarian dude then?? maybe? k, so at least i got that o.o O.O, well, that was quite the lead up and explanation food on plate, depresso in heart, ready to continue so they have to know right? like, this is a planned trap since Fred is 'the only one who knows where it is' doesnt explain Fred though, or how the fake acts "jeepies you found my scarf" oh there it is, they are after the info from him and its all fake, not some hell vision to show why he has to suceed Fred knew first? good on him plastic surgery, holy crap, next level villainy here holy shit they're all in puragoty thanks to the corrpution?????? Going back to early about the horrifying nature of all this. it is just so immensly sad watching them go through these bits. Cool, but sad. Velma demonstrating why thinking and understanding are not always good in eldritch horror games so he's got a guilt complex? heart felt talk with Mayor Dad awwww, poor Velma doesnt think she's pretty guessing...well id say the wife of Enrique but that seems too easy some how, stiill shes the only offered suspect beside Enrique himself thus far *deep sigh* i will never guess any culprit i bother to write down correctly would be a real move of the writers to Uzumaki the town two day deadline given, props to velma for having the foresight to model the disks in a digital format incase theyre lost mad max mystery machine sounds like a doom metal synth wave fusion song things are going too well... How many giant evil doors will this lair have? alchemy. of course. should have guessed. is...is this the episode where Marcie...oh no oh at least shes trying good on her, she's going down in style and flame... oh. ya know, even knowing it was coming and talking it up a sentence before, not a happy event this is a nifty dungeon last episode, hell of an opening/recap wh-what fghaseguk this went batshit didnt it. i wish i had the willingness to write at unhinged as these writers one more media that i am surpised didnt end in a poly relationship this climax is eerily familiar to the live action movies at times and then they all died and went to heaven aww Rickee and Cassidy *and* Velma and Marcie, aww, my heart will heart to think about that one for long, but awwwww Miskatonik University, or however the heck it is said. i thought it was going to be a one off joke but wasn't expecting that.

#scooby doo #scooby doo mystery inc #scooby doo mystery incorperated #mystery inc #mystery incorporated #scooby doo mystery incorporated

[lady-divine-writes]

Moral Arguments

Summary:

Crowley doesn't exactly take assignments anymore, but sometimes he does things for fun - like answering the call of a broken-hearted woman summoning a demon on St. Valentine's Day. But what Crowley thinks is going to be a simple hex-and-go turns into more emotionally charged than he bargained for.

Notes:

Inspired in part by this post.

(AO3)

“Creatures of the Underworld …”

“Yup. That’s me.”

“… on Earth and below …”

“Gotcha.”

“… I summon thee!”

Crowley throws up his hands in frustration. Ten more minutes of this, and he’s going to start pulling his hair out.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m summoned! I’m summoned! Let’s get a move on, will ya? I’m late for a date!”

“Demons of vengeance! Hear my plea! Do my bidding!”

“Let’s have at it then, girlie!”

“Lords of the Dark!”

“Oh, bollocks! Here we go again!”

“I, Samantha Westin of West Berkshire, call you to my aid!”

“Ugh!”

Crowley, hidden between a dresser and a closet, in a shadow created by several taper candles throwing light, slides down the bedroom wall and sits. He’d been summoned here, but not really. Only very specific spells can truly summon him. It’s not a simple matter of yelling out, “Oi! Demon! Get your bum over here! I need you to do something for me!”

If that were the case, he’d never get a moment’s peace.

But this was different – an amateur incantation but on a day of the year when demons get the greatest (and easiest) opportunity to make mischief – and Crowley appreciates easy; when people from all walks of life will call for a demon like they’re ordering take away and invite them into their homes with little to no thought of the consequences.

St. Valentine’s Day.

Crowley doesn’t do much in the way of official assignments for the big bosses anymore, but old habits die hard, and this one’s too tempting to resist. He’s running late for dinner with his angel, but this was going to be fun. He could risk being a few minutes late.

That’s what he’d originally thought.

He’s closing in on over half-an-hour.

Samantha leans over a book on the floor in front of her. She reads a bit, then jumps nervously. She grabs a container of salt by her knee and spills it out in a circle around her.

A protective ring –a boundary between her and any potential evil.

“Aw!” Crowley coos sarcastically to himself. “She fancies herself a white witch! How adorable!”

He has to give her some credit. Whatever book she bought, it’s from someone who knows an inkling of their stuff. Salt is effective against evil creatures, but only minor ones, like the insects of the demon world. Still, considering no one would want their house invaded by a horde of demonic termites or zombie ants, it’s nothing to sneeze at.

“Find a photograph of the offending and fix your eyes upon it.”

“Okay, okay.” Crowley sits up, wondering if he should miracle himself up a bag of crisps. “Finally! Things are gettin’ good.”

“Tear up the photograph,” she reads, “and proclaim his sins into the dark.” She takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “Okay. Here goes.”

She begins to tear the picture in half, then fourths, and Crowley rubs his hands excitedly together.

“So let’s see. What did this crank handle do, huh, Sammy? Stepped out with another bird, I’ll wager.”

Samantha carefully places the torn pieces of the photograph into a small wooden bowl, part of her arsenal of witchcraft paraphernalia, and sighs. “He left me for my twin sister.”

“Ding, ding, ding! Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Crowley licks his finger and marks a single, sparking tally into the air. “Well, you should take that as a compliment, love, really. He left for someone who looks exactly like you.”

“He stole my car …”

“Oh, we’re not done.”

“… broke into my house …” She takes a long breath, shuddered by the onset of tears. “He killed my dog …”

The grin that had been spreading on Crowley’s face falls into an immediate frown. “For Satan’s sake! This prick should be working for us.”

The woman stops, bites her lower lip as the tears gathering around her heart begin to fall.

“He hit me. Not just once. Not just twice. And he … he …” Her voice fails her, but she mouths the words, and Crowley rises to his knees, subconsciously gearing up for a fight. This is a new instinct for him, being protective of anyone, specially a mortal. He’s known right and wrong from day one. He’s felt anger over the injustices he’s witnessed, even remorse over the ones he’s helped cause. But, for the most part, he’s been fine sitting on the sidelines, inconveniencing people when he could for the greater good.

It’s a grey area – thwarting a crime. In the end, someone gets hurt or killed. When you’re in the business of harvesting souls, the who doesn’t necessarily matter.

Crowley simply finds a way to harvest a bit more selectively than other demons.

“Holy fuck!” he groans, tossing his head back and staring up at the ceiling. “Why? Why me? This was supposed to be a simple little fun hex-and-go. What am I supposed to do now?”

The real question, he discovers with very little wracking of his brain, is what would Aziraphale do?

“Sprinkle rose water on the pieces of the photograph and set them on fire.”

A conflicted Crowley watches the young lady search for her flask of rose water. He’d seen it beside her a moment ago – a simple vessel of water with roses floating in it that she probably prepared herself. She suddenly seems to remember where she put it because she spins around quickly with an anxious look on her face, mumbling, “No, no, no! Crap!” before she finds it tipped over onto its side. “Dammit!” She examines the empty flask, wet rose petals plastered to the sides, the water that had been inside soaking into her rug. She shakes her head and sets the flask down. “Of course! Of course! Just my luck! Now what am I going to do?” She gets on her hands and knees and goes searching for something to replace the water with. She finds another bottle within reach of her salt circle and grabs it. She reads the label, then gives it a sniff. She consults her book, and shrugs.

“Smells like roses. This should do.”

Crowley squints from the darkness to catch a glimpse of the label. This bottle isn’t rose water. It’s perfume. Not expensive perfume. The kind one buys at a corner market along with their milk and eggs on the way home. Perfume of that caliber is usually teeming with alcohol.

Flammable alcohol.

He watches as she gives the bowl a few spritzes, a subtle floral aroma filling the air. Then she goes for broke, untwists the top, and empties the contents into the bowl. The scent of roses smacks him in the face like a freight train along with an undercurrent of sharp and chemical. She grabs a book of matches, tearing four from the inseam, and strikes them.

“Jesus Christmas! She’s going to light herself on fire!” Flashbacks fill his brain of a heat seared inside his memory like a wound that refuses, even with time and treatment, to heal. Crowley leaps to his feet and materializes from the shadows, rushing at her, waving his hands to get her attention. “Stop! Stop! For Satan’s sake, stop!”

Samantha’s head snaps up. She drops her matchbook and scuttles backward, stopping when her hands hit the salt. With a snap of his fingers, Crowley extinguishes the flame before it has a chance to ignite the bowl.

“What the ---? What the fuck?” Samantha screams. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m a demon!” Crowley pats his chest dramatically as if she might mistake something else for the demon and him for a coat rack. “You know, the one you’ve been summoning?”

“I---I don’t believe in demons!” she yells and for a moment, all of Crowley’s worries about this woman setting herself, her house, and her neighbors ablaze dies with the absurdity of that remark.

“I … huh … what!? If you don’t believe in demons, why the bloody heck are you trying to summon one then? That’s literally the stupidest … you don’t dabble in magicks, young lady! That’s even worse than knowing what you’re doing!”

“It ---it wasn’t supposed to be serious! It was a coping mechanism!”

“Don’t talk to me about coping mechanisms! My entire existence is about coping mechanisms! Don’t do that!” Crowley snaps, catching her with his magic before she can jump to her feet and dive onto her bed for her cell phone. The bed is halfway across the room. Making a break for it would have taken her out of her circle. “Don’t break the ring of salt! Even terrible spells need to be ended correctly!”

“What happens if they aren’t?” she asks, relaxing when he releases his hold over her.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I want to know! I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know!”

“Cheeky little …” he mutters, fishing his phone out of his pocket, realizing how much this young lady and his angel would get along. “Let’s just say if you don’t want to know what it feels like to have your brains liquefied inside your skull and then drunk by demon maggots, you’ll end this spell. Meanwhile, I’m gonna call in some reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements?” Samantha swallows hard. “L---like … more demons?”

“Luckily for you, no. I run with a different crowd.”

“How do I end the spell?”

“Jump to the bottom of the page,” he says, phone to his ear. “It’ll tell you---Aziraphale?”

This isn’t the way Crowley saw this going. Back in the old days, he’d hex the guy and be done with it – make him go bald with his head hair growing out his nose, give him a festering boil on his face that would never heal, make him severely and flatulently allergic to his favorite foods. Only thing was, unbeknownst to the young lady who summoned him, she would be damned, too. That wasn’t even a demonic rule. That one came from the good book itself. It was the kind of two-for-one demons delighted in.

One that came with a divine loophole.

But not anymore.

For some bizarre reason, he’s taking this personally.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice barks over the line. “What the heaven has happened to you? You’re nearly an hour late!”

“I know, angel, I know. I got caught up with work.”

“You’re working? Tonight!?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll explain when I get there.” Crowley glances down at Samantha, reading through the spell, sniffling as the words take her back to why she was doing what she was doing a moment before. “I’ll be bringing work home with me. I need a little help.”

***

“There, there, dear,” Aziraphale says, handing Samantha a cup of tea. “Let’s talk this out, hmm? Tell us everything, and then we can come up with a solution.”

It took Aziraphale close to an hour over the phone to convince Samantha to get into Crowley’s Bentley and accompany him to his bookshop. When he did, he made Crowley swear he’d obey the posted speed limits.

When they arrived in under fifteen minutes, Aziraphale knew he hadn’t.

Remarkable seeing as they stopped along the way to pick up a friend.

“The solution is we should call the police!” Anathema says, bringing over a plate of cookies.

“I … I tried.” Samantha takes the plate with a small but grateful smile. “Everything he’s done, even with the evidence I have against him, and it’s still a his word against mine sort of situation. It’s almost like the police don’t want to listen. Like they think it’s not worth their time.”

“Sounds about right,” Anathema reluctantly admits, dropping onto a nearby sofa and accepting a glass of whiskey from an angrily hissing Crowley as he paces the floor.

Aziraphale watches on with sympathetic eyes. He’d asked Crowley in private why? Why did this mean so much to him? With everything he’d done in the past, why did this one woman’s plight trigger such a strong response? Crowley had confessed that he didn’t know, but mumbled something about those abusing the vulnerable beginning to get under his skin.

“So, what do you suggest, angel?” Crowley asks, peeking up when he feels his husband’s eyes on him. “What does it say in the rule book about dealing with a situation like this when the supposed good guys sit around with their thumbs up their arses?”

“Normally, I would recommend gentle persuasion, and if that doesn’t work, then a little forceful persuasion,” Aziraphale says. “But as I don’t feel the man in question would be receptive to that, and the authorities aren’t in the mood to help, maybe we should skip the usual steps and jump to the end.”

“And what’s the end?” Samantha looks nervously from Aziraphale to Anathema, then to Crowley staring at the man in white with a disbelief that erases the color from his face. All three have gone quiet, but they’ve seem to come to the same conclusion, and it stuns at least two of them.

Samantha is obviously missing something big.

“Well, you did summon a demon, my dear,” Aziraphale says kindly, but with a grave nod to his husband. “I’d say it’s about time that demon got to work.”

“Are you serious?” Anathema yelps, but not in a way that indicates she disagrees. In fact, she looks fully on board with this plan – whatever it is.

“What about the whole damnation clause thing?” Crowley asks in a lower than low whisper.

“Find a loophole, my dear. That’s what you do.”

Crowley grins, impressed at the ability of his innocent Aziraphale to straddle the grey line as well as he. During a discussion about guns, his angel had once said that they lend weight to a moral argument when wielded by the right people. He wonders if this falls under the same category. “Right. And what about dinner?”

Aziraphale escorts his demon to the door, kissing him softly on the lips before showing him out. “It’ll keep.”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #Good Omens Fanfic #Frankie writes

[bamby0304]

The Hart III- Secrets

Chapter Twelve- Or Treat

Series Masterlist

Summary: Three months… Dean was gone for three months and now he’s back. He’s back and he truly has no idea how much things have changed. Life moved on while Dean was in Hell, and now things are complicated. With new faces and troubles right around the corner, will the trio find a way to come back together? Or has all hope been lost?

Warnings: Angst. Violence.

Bamby

EPOV

"Excuse me?" I spoke up for the first time, looking to each angel. "So, what? Just because of this seal, this thing you might not be able to deal with in time... you decided to kill off everyone in the town?"

"We're out of time. This witch has to die, the seal must be saved," Castiel told us simply, as if that justified their plan, justified everything they've ever done.

"There are a thousand people here," Sam argued.

"One thousand, two hundred, fourteen," Uriel corrected, but the number seemed to have no effect on him what so ever.

Looking over at him, Sam frowned, confused- and if I wasn't mistaken... disappointed. "And you're willing to kill them all?"

"This isn't the first time I've… purified a city," Uriel told him matter-of-factly.

"Look, I understand this is regrettable," Castiel started, only to be cut off sharply by Dean.

"Regrettable?"

"We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already."

"So, you screw the pooch on some seals and this town has to pay the price?"

"It's the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion," Castiel countered, not seeing how this might upset us. "There's a bigger picture here."

Dean shook his head, looking to both angels. "Right, cause you're 'bigger picture' kind of guys."

Castiel took a step closer to Dean, a sense of power radiating off him as he spoke. "Lucifer cannot rise. He does and hell rises with him. Is that something that you're willing to risk?"

The thing is, it didn't matter what Castiel, Uriel or any angel did or said. Sam, Dean and I... we cared about everyone. Including the one thousand two hundred and fourteen people in this town at this very moment. Their lives were worth just as much as anyone else's.

"We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone. Your seal won't be broken and no one has to die," Sam assured them, trying to convince them that their plan was not the only way to go.

Patience running on long, Uriel turned to Castiel. "We're wasting time with these mud monkeys."

"I'm sorry, but we have our orders," Castiel noted... though I couldn't help but noticed the fact that he'd directed the words to Uriel, and not to us...

Sam shook his head, still adamant about saving the town and its people. "No, you can't do this, you're angels, I mean aren't you supposed to- You're supposed to show mercy."

Uriel scoffed. "Says who?"

"We have no choice," Castiel added. It occurred to me then that he might not want to do this, he just had to. It was his job to do what he was told and not ask questions. He was a solider, not a saviour.

"Of course you have a choice." Dean didn't seem to see what I could. He just saw two emotionless angels who didn't care what happened to any of us humans. "I mean, come on, what? You've never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?"

"Look, even if you can't understand it, have faith. The plan is just."

"How can you even say that?" Sam asked him.

"Because it comes from heaven, that makes it just."

"Oh, it must be nice, to be so sure of yourselves." The look Dean gave Castiel as he spoke, it was on the edge of pure hate and anger. He did not like the angels.

Stepping up at Dean once more, Castiel surprised me with what he said next, "Tell me something, Dean, when your father gave you an order, didn't you obey?"

It took a moment before Dean answered. He stood there, looking at Castiel, trying not to react as he thought it all over. When he finally did speak, there was no changing his mind, "Well sorry boys, looks like the plans have changed."

"You think you can stop us?" Uriel looked both amused and annoyed. As if we were children trying to do things on our own, but messing everything up as we went along.

Dean turned to the other angel, standing his ground. "No." He stepped over to Uriel. "But if you're gonna smite this whole town, then you're gonna have to smite us with it, because we are not leaving. See, you went to the trouble of busting me out of hell. I figure I'm worth something to the man upstairs. So you wanna waste me, go ahead, see how he digs that."

"I will drag you out of here myself," Uriel warned.

"Yeah, but you'll have to kill me, then we're back to the same problem. I mean, come on, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch. Sounds to me like you're compensating for something." Dean turned back to Castiel. "We can do this. We will find that witch and we will stop the summoning."

Standing there, looking at Dean, Castiel thought it over. That in itself was a big feat

"Castiel! I will not let these-"

Before Uriel could finish, Castiel raised his hand to cut him off. "Enough!" he ordered, stilling looking to Dean. "I suggest you move quickly," was all he had to say.

...

As we left the hotel room- both Uriel and Castiel now gone- Sam, Dean and I walked over to Baby... the hood now covered in smashed eggs.

I shook my head, stepping up to the hood. "You've got to be kidding me."

Sam didn't even stop, simply moved to the passenger seat and got in. But Dean? He was clearly pissed, and I had a feeling the angels weren't helping the situation. The fact it was his baby that had been hit was the worst of it. He loved this car more than anything, it was practically the brothers' home.

Looking around for the culprit, Dean yelled, "Astronaut!"

Sighing, I walked over to rest a hand on his arm in the hopes of calming him a little. "Come on. We don't have much time left, and we need to find this witch."

Taking a deep breath, he gave a short nod and followed me as we got into the car- him in the front and me in the middle of the back seat. Once we were in, he turned to Sam who was looking down at the hex bag that had been meant for us. I couldn't help but noticed the fact the younger Winchester seemed a little upset.

"What?" Dean asked him.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing." He took a breath, smiling lightly even though we all knew he wasn't amused. "I thought they'd be different."

Dean looked at him confused. "Who, the angels?"

"Yeah," Sam answered simply.

It had been the first time Sam had met the angels, but Dean and I had encountered Castiel on more than one occasion now. Each time I met the angel he was as emotionless and robot like as every other time. There was nothing there. Like he was a perfectly made machine that did as it was told and felt nothing. All he saw was the mission. All he thought about was how to please the people- or beings- above him. There was nothing there. Just a soldier ready to be put to work.

I can understand why Sam might be disappointed. I remembered the case we were on a few years back, when we thought we were dealing with an angel when it had really been the spirit of a priest who had been killed and was trying the write the wrongs of his community. Sam had confessed that he prayed, and that he wanted to believe. That he did believe.

As some stage, I had too. Growing up, after my father had died, my mum had turned to religion. She'd practically dived head first into it. Church and prayers were cemented into my upbringing, and there was honestly nothing wrong with that. It didn't do me any harm.

But at some point in my life, I think I just gave up. In believing in the good. Now that I'd met some angels, I didn't regret my decision. Sure, they might be real. But were they good?

"Well, I tried to tell ya," Dean noted. He had tried to tell Sam. But his brother had been hopeful that he was wrong.

"I just..." shaking his head, Sam looked down at the hex bag in his hand, "I mean, I thought they'd be righteous."

"Well," Dean shrugged, "they are righteous. I mean, that's kinda the problem." When Sam looked to him, he explained what he meant, "Of course there's nothing more dangerous than some a-hole who thinks he's on a holy mission."

"But, I mean, this is God? And Heaven? This is what I've been praying to?" Sam sounded utterly disappointed.

"Look man, I know you're into the whole God thing, you know, Jesus on a tortilla and stuff like that. But just because there's a couple of bad apples doesn't mean the whole barrel's rotten. I mean, for all we know, God hates these jerks. Don't give up on this stuff, is all I'm saying. Babe Ruth was a dick but baseball's still a beautiful game."

I reached over and gave Dean a pat on the shoulder. "Such beautiful words."

Dean rolled his eyes, starting the ignition. "Shut up," he mumbled.

Sam chuckled lightly, looking back down at the hex bag to open it up and fiddle with the bone that had sat inside it and was now between his two fingers.

Putting the car in reverse, Dean turned to his brother for a moment. "Well, are you gonna figure out a way to find this witch, or are you just gonna sit there fingering your bone?"

"You know how much heat it would take to char a bone like this, Dean?"

"No."

Something in me clicked at Sam's question. It was like I'd just figured something out, but I just didn't know what that was exactly.

Frowning, I leaned closer to grab the bone from Sam to get a better look. "No oven could do this. The heat would have to be extreme."

"Exactly." Sam nodded.

Dean looked between the two of us. "Okay, Betty Crocker one and two, so what does that mean?"

Sam grabbed the bone from me again as he turned to his brother once more. "It means we make a stop."

DPOV

Back at the high school and in the art room, I walked over to one of the kilns while Liz and Sam headed over to Don's desk. The two seemed to have an idea of what the hell was going on, while I was still wondering why we were here exactly.

"So, Tracy used the kiln to char the bone, what's the big deal?" I asked, looking inside the kiln before moving over to join them at the desk.

The two of them while rifling through the desk drawers, but it was Sam who answered. "Dean, that hex bag turned up in our room, not after we talked to Tracy-"

I cut him off, nodding now that I understood. "After we talked to the teacher."

"Hey." Sam gestured to a locked drawer.

"I got it." Liz only had to look at the lock before it unlocked.

She's getting stronger...

Opening the drawer, Sam paused the moment we all looked down at the bowl of bones sitting there. One of them were charred while the others weren't, but they were all small. Just like the ones from the hex bags.

"My God." Sam stood up. "Those are all from children."

I sighed, looking down at them. "And I'm guessing he's not saving them for the dog."

EPOV

Dean, Sam and I lifted our guns and shot at Don right before he had the chance to stab Tracy. We'd found the two in Don's basement. He was chanting an incantation while Tracy struggled against the binds around the wrist as they kept her on her feet and unable to escape. The gag on her mouth had stopped her from calling out for help. Luckily, we'd made it in time to keep Don from finishing the ritual, and killing her.

I guess we were wrong... Tracy isn't the witch. I thought as I put my gun away.

Dean- his gun now away as well- moved to cut the rope tied around her wrists, setting her free. Sam checked Don to make sure he really was dead, while I moved over to take a look at the ritual table. I didn't touch anything- I wasn't sure what it might do- I simple looked.

Tracy ripped the gag off. "Thank you, he was gonna kill me! Ugh, that sick son of a bitch." She looked down at Don. "I mean, did you see what he was doing? Did you hear him? How sloppy his incantation was?" I froze, turning to her. "My brother-"

Dean, Sam and I all reacted at once. The brothers moving for their guns while I went to throw Tracy across the room.

Unfortunately, she was powerful. With a few quick witchy words and a wave of her hand, she had the brothers flying back and hitting the ground hard. This was all done in the mere seconds it took before I had her shoved to the ground as well.

Looking up at me, stunned, a small smirk played on her lips as she pulled herself back to her feet. "Well, look what we have here."

She must have seen that I was about to do something else to her, because before I could actually do it, I found myself been thrown to the floor by the brothers, face down, the strength of the hold keeping me there almost enough to crush my spine.

The brother's struggled and groaned, both of them watching me with worried and protective eyes.

DPOV

Sam and I couldn't move. Well, we could barely move. We could wriggle and struggle, but that was it. But we both wanted to move. Not only to kill this witch, but to help Liz. I knew she still had a lot of fight in her, but with the hold Tracy had on her... there was nothing Liz could do at this stage. She was as helpless and stuck as both Sam and I.

"Silly girl." Tracy shook her head, looking down at Liz as if she was simply annoying. Sighing, she turned to Don. "Now, you." She glared at his body. "He was gonna make me the final sacrifice," she told us. "His idea. But now, that honour goes to him. Our master's return? The spell-work's a two-man job you understand, so for six hundred years I had to deal with that pompous son of a bitch.

"Planning, preparing, unbearable." She knelt down, grabbing the chalice and knife he'd dropped, while Sam and I continued to groan in pain as she held up down. "The whole time I wanted to rip his face off." Digging into the bullet wound in Don's chest so the blood would pour into the chalice, she chuckled lightly. "And you get him with a gun, uh, love that." Standing, she moved over to the altar table. "You know, back in the day, this was the one day you kept your children inside. Well tonight you'll all see what Halloween really is."

She began to chant something in what I guessed was Latin, but my attention wasn't on her. Instead I watched as Sam fought against her hold enough so that he could reach his hand over to the blood pooling under Don, and then wipe the blood on his face.

"What are you doing?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"Just follow my lead," Sam muttered as he reached over to Liz and spread the blood on her face- seeing that the hold on her was stronger and she couldn't reach the blood.

Taking a deep breath, I did as Sam suggested and reached for the blood as well, rubbing it on my face so it was covered just like his and Liz's.

Just then, Tracy finished the incantation.

The ground began to shake and crack as thick black smoke emerged for the damaged concrete. It flew into the air and then dived into Don's mouth as if knowing exactly where it belonged.

As Don- who I guess was now Samhain- rose, I noticed that Sam and Liz had closed their eyes as if they were playing dead. Once again, I followed Sam's lead, hoping that this plan of his was actually gone to keep us alive.

There was a moment before Tracy spoke. "My love."

"You've aged." Don's voice had changed slightly, now that Samhain had taken over his body. It was deeper. Darker.

"This face… I can't fool you."

"Your beauty is beyond time." Once again, there was a silence before I heard the indistinctive sound of something snapping and then a body dropping to the floor. In that instant, the hold on me broke. Samhain had just killed Tracy. "Whore."

Listening, I waited into I heard him go up the stairs and close the door behind him before I opened my eyes to check that he really was gone. Once I was sure he was gone, and wouldn't be back, I reached over to check Liz.

"You okay?" I asked her as I helped sit her up.

Groaning, she rubbed at her head which had hit the ground pretty hard. "Fine."

Looking over at Sam as he moved to sit as well, I asked, "What the hell was that?"

"Halloween lore. People used to wear masks to hide from him." He shrugged. "So I gave it a shot."

"You gave it a shot?!"

EPOV

Dean was being his usual over protective self as we walked to Baby. He was right beside me, a gentle hand on my back as if he thought I was going to fall unconscious right then and there. Sure, I'd hit the ground a lot harder than then, and sure Tracy's hold on my had been stronger than her hold on them. But I was fine...

Just in case, I pulled out my pills and took two, hoping they would help.

"Where the hell are we gonna find this mook?" Dean asked Sam as his hand that wasn't pressed to my back used a rug to clean the blood off his face.

Sam had a rag of his own to clean the blood of his face as he responded. "Where would you go to raise other dark forces of the night?"

"The cemetery," Dean answered as we reached the car. He opened the door for me and made sure I was in before he got into his own seat and started the engine, driving down the street as fast as he could while still being safe so he wouldn't hit any trick-or-treaters.

SPOV

"So, this demon's pretty powerful," I noted as Dean continued down the road and towards the cemetery.

He gave a short now. "Yeah."

"Might take more than the usual weapons." I glanced over at him, wondering if he understood what I was hinting at... he did.

"Sam, no, you're not using your psychic whatever. Don't even think about it. Ruby's knife is enough."

"Why?"

"Well because the angels said so for one-"

I cut him off, "I thought you said they were a bunch of fanatics."

"Well they happen to be right about this one," he argued, sounding like a complete hypocrite.

"Dean," Lizzie sighed from the back seat. "Sam may have a point. If things get bad... we might need-"

"No," Dean cut her off sharply as he turned to me. "You said yourself, these powers, it's like playing with fire." Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out the demon knife. "Please."

Without a word, I took the knife, knowing there was no way I could change his mind.

DPOV

We heard the screams and what sounded like a metal door rattling, before we'd even entered the crypt. Rushing down the stairs, we found a bunch of teenaged kids dressed up for Halloween, completely freaked and locked on the other side of some locked metal doors.

As we reached the bottom stair, Sam turned to me. "Help them."

I could see it in his eyes, he was going to go find Samhain. "Dude, you're not going off alone."

But there was nothing I could do to stop him. "Do it!" he yelled before he ran off.

I watched him for a moment until Liz pulled my attention back to the kids as they continued to freak out.

"Dean! Come on!"

Hating the fact that my brother was on his own, dealing with one of the strongest demons we'd ever come across, I took a deep breath and turned my attention to the task at hand knowing it was the right thing to do.

"Stand back!" I warned, pulling out my gun. "Stand back!" The kids did as I said, allowing me to shoot at the locks.

The moment the doors flung open, Liz ushered the kids out, making sure they got to safety as I entered the space they were in, seeing the graves in the walls shake as the fronts of them dropped off, opening them.

Liz rushed back in, only to come to a halt as a zombie crawled out of one of the graves. Suddenly a grave on the other side of the room cracked and crumbled, opening up for another zombie to crawl out.

"Dean..."

Dropping my bag on the ground, I looked over at my shoulder to Liz for the briefest moment. "Back to back."

Nodding, she came over to stand behind me, reaching into my bag to pull out two silver stakes quickly. Once she handed one to me, we both turned to a wall each, getting ready as a few more zombies crawled out.

I tightened my grip on the stake. "Bring it on, stinky."

SPOV

I was deeper in the crypt now, looking for Samhain. I was sure Dean and Lizzie had everything sorted back there. I knew they didn't need me right now, not when there were more pressing things to deal with. Like the demon bring Hell to this town.

Walking down the corridor a little more, I found him tucked away in a room, facing the far wall. I tried sneaking up to him, but he suddenly turned around, lifting his hand to shoot me with the same bright white light Lilith tried on Lizzie and I.

Now in the room, I came to a stop. "Yeah, that demon ray gun stuff? It doesn't work on me."

Pissed, Samhain ran towards me. Before he could do anything, I managed to get the upper hand by making the first move by punching his right in the face. That's all it took before a fight broke out, the two of us throwing hits at each other... until he managed to push me to the wall and wrap his hand around my throat.

EPOV

Dean and I had managed to take down a few zombies now. But right when we thought we could take a breather, a ghost showed up... and boy was she strong. She'd managed to throw both of us across the room before we'd barely had a chance to register her presence. Then, she was gone again.

"Zombie-ghost orgy huh? Well, that's it, I'm torching everybody," Dean muttered as he got to his feet.

But see, the fact ghosts were showing up now told me one thing. Samhain was still alive. That was not good. That meant Sam hadn't dealt with him yet. It wasn't that I didn't have faith in him, but I was beginning to worry.

"You take care of these guys. I'm gonna go help Sam." Without giving Dean the chance to argue or stop me, I rushed out of the room.

SPOV

I'd managed to pull the demon knife out of my jacket. As I went to stab him though, Samhain blocked me with his arm. The blade was pretty close to touching his skin, which then glowed as if sensing the danger.

Snarling, Samhain shoved at my arm roughly, in order to knock the weapon from my grasp. I was now helpless.

There was still some hope, but the chances of me getting out of this on my own, without my powers... with those chances were pretty much non-existent now. I knew Dean and the angels didn't want me to use them, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and seeing as there was no other way for me to get out of this...

"Sam!"

Lizzie caught both Samhain and I off guard as she lifted her hand and tossed him away from me.

I fell back to my feet, taking a deep breath, taking a small moment to recover as Lizzie came to stand beside me. The second I stood straight again and saw Samhain standing in the corner a few feet from us, ready to attack, I knew what I had to do. Not only to save the town, but to save myself and Lizzie.

Lifting my hand, I began to concentrate on him, on pulling the demon out of the body.

He resisted. He struggled and fought, and actually started to slowly and eventually move towards us, still desperately wanting to rip both Lizzie and I apart. Try as I might, I couldn't seem to hold him back and draw him out.

My head began to feel like it was ready to explode. I felt the familiar dripping of blood coming out of my nose as I struggled and fought as best as I could to destroy this demon.

That's when I felt her hand slide into mine.

In that moment, I hadn't had the chance to be surprised or grateful, but for a second I was both, seeing Lizzie raise her own hand as she helped me pull Samhain from Don's body.

It still took a moment, seeing as he was strong and this was the first time she'd done this- that i knew of at least. But sure enough, we managed to pull him out of the vessel, before we finished the job and sent him straight back to hell.

The moment the smoke disappeared into the ground, and we relax, Lizzie goes slack beside me, almost falling to the ground in a pile. I reacted quickly, wrapping an arm around her to make sure she stayed on her feet.

She'd been about to say something when she froze, her eyes on her left, focussing on the entrance to the room... right where Dean stood watching us.

...

After dealing with Samhain last night, none of us had said a single word. None of us even looked at each other. We'd simply come back to the hotel. I guess it had all been too much, because Lizzie had left early this morning. While Dean had been out at a bar or something, and I'd been in the bathroom, she'd packed her things and left... without writing a note this time.

Dean had asked where she was, clearly worried about her even after what he'd watched both her and I do. But I had no answer, and she wasn't responding to any of our calls or messages. I was actually beginning to wonder if she'd come back this time...

Standing by my bed, I packed up my things, ready to get out of here. There was tension between Dean and me, but not enough to change things. The job was done and it was time for us to move on to the next.

"Tomorrow."

I jumped at the sound of a voice. Turning around, I found Uriel sitting on the couch.

"November second, it's an anniversary for you, right?"

"What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering my question, he went on. "It's the day Azazel killed your mother, and twenty-two years later your girlfriend too. It must be difficult to bear, yet you so brazenly use the power he gave you. His profane blood pumping through your veins."

"Excuse me?"

"You were told not to use your abilities."

"And what was I supposed to do? That demon would have killed me, and Lizzie, and my brother and everyone."

"You were told not to."

"If Samhain had gotten loose in this town-"

He cut me off, clearly not caring what I had to say, "You've been warned. Twice now."

"If Lizzie and I-"

"Let me make one thing clear. You were told not to use your powers. Next time we while make you. And that whore you and your brother cart around, she means nothing to us. So, I suggest she stop using her abilities as well. Or you'll both suffer the consequences."

I shook my head at him, wanting nothing more than to hurt him after what he'd just called Lizzie. "You know… my brother was right about you. You are dicks."

Looking to me again, he got up and was suddenly right in front of me. "The only reason you're still alive, Sam Winchester, is because you've been useful. But the moment that ceases to be true, the second you become more trouble than you're worth, one word. One, and I will turn you to dust." Backing off, he went on, "As for your brother, tell him that maybe he should climb off that high horse of his. Ask Dean what he remembers from hell."

Just as quickly as he'd appeared in front of me, he was gone with the sound of heavy wings fluttering behind him. I was left on my own again, left to think about what he'd just told me and what it meant.

DPOV

I sat on a park bench, looking out at some kids and their parents as they played on the swings and ran around. I didn't even have to look over to know Castiel was sitting next to me. I'd heard his wings. I knew he was there.

"Let me guess you're here for the 'I told you so'?" I asked, though had a feeling I knew the answer.

"No."

Or maybe I didn't have the answer. "Well, good, cause I'm really not that interested."

"I am not here to judge you, Dean."

"Then why are you here?"

"Our orders-"

I cut him off, not really in the mood to hear this speech for the millionth time. "Yeah, you know, I've had about enough of these orders of yours-"

It was his turn to cut me off. "Our orders were not to stop the summoning of Samhain, they were to do whatever you told us to do."

I frowned, confused. "Your orders were to follow my orders?"

"It was a test, to see how you would perform under... battlefield conditions, you might say."

"It was a witch, not the Tet Offensive," I noted. "So I, uh, failed your test, huh? I get it. But you know what? If you would have waved that magic time-traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I'd make the same call. 'Cause see, I don't know what's gonna happen when these seals are broken. Hell, I don't even know what's gonna happen tomorrow. But what I do know is, that this, here?" I gestured around us. "These kids, the swings, the trees, all of it is still here because of Liz, my brother and me."

"You misunderstand me, Dean, I'm not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town."

That was a surprise. "You were?"

"These people," he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "they're all my father's creations. They're works of art, and yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken and we are one step closer to hell on earth, for all creation. Now that's not an expression, Dean, it's literal. You of all people should appreciate what that means."

He was right. I did appreciate what that meant. Which is why I'd wanted to save this people last night. Saving the world was great, sure, but not if the wrong choices had been made along the way. If I listened to the angels last night, then I'd deserve to be sent back to hell.

Speaking up again, Castiel pulled my attention to him. "Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?"

"Okay."

"I'm not a... hammer as you say. I have questions. I... I have doubts." He sighed. "I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here. But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don't envy the weight that's on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don't."

We shared a look for a moment and I could see he meant it. Turning away, I wondered what that might mean for me. What it might mean for Sam and Liz... for everyone else. But before I could ask, I looked over to see he was gone, and once again, I was alone.

Bamby

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x oc #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #elizabeth rose hart #the hart #the hart iii: secrets

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

So just for something fun, supernatural AU/crossover?

[Dear Anon, I’m not sure if you meant “supernatural” in the general sense or “supernatural” as in Supernatural the TV series, but I went with the latter.]

Their van belongs to Tobias.  The title’s in his name, anyway, even if Rachel does most of the driving.  It’s Marco, however, who paints the thing to look like the Mystery Machine.

Rachel blanches at the sight of the turquoise horror that greets her when she walks out of the motel room the next morning.  Jake grumbles about it the whole day, complaining that he’s been betrayed by Tobias’s willingness to help Marco with this monstrosity.  Now no one will take them seriously.

…which is, Marco says, the whole point.

The cops who investigate grave desecrations and destruction of property have no reason to suspect the six dumb college kids driving the garish performance piece.  The otherwise-suspicious locals tend to break their narrow-eyed glares to smile in spite of themselves when they see that van pull up outside.  The demons don’t know to be afraid — not until it’s already too late.

Anyway, it’s their home.  They stop by Marco’s parents’ roadhouse as often as they can, and they’ll spend the night at Toby’s any time they swing through Indiana.  If one of them is injured in a way impossible to explain to a civilian doc — striga claw marks, holy water burns, hex bag brands — that’s when Cassie’s mom will stitch them up with no questions asked.  But there are six sleeping bags bundled into the back of their van, and six duffels that rarely leave its trunk.  Their van has 900,000 miles on it and counting, worn places where Rachel rests her favorite rifle on the dash as Ax drives and a window seat that sags perpetually from Jake’s too-long legs jamming up against the support springs.  It’s been with them since Tobias first came to collect them, one by one (“my dad’s on a hunting trip and hasn’t been home in a few days,” he’d said, so casual, as if they didn’t all know what that meant), and it’ll probably outlive every single one of them.

Rachel is fond of pointing out that they are, none of them, suited for desk jobs or apple-pie life.  They’re hunters, she says, and they’re better off this way.  Jake wonders, sometimes, who she’s trying to fool.

Cassie crouches to close the little girl’s eyes, fingers trembling.  The striga was done eating by the time they arrived, too late to be of any help.  M-O-L-L-Y, says the hand-painted line of flowers on the wall.  Cassie looks for a long time, before she can straighten up and move on.

Marco arches off the bed sometimes, gasping hard like it’s him the kelpie dragged under the waves.  Like he’s the one who went down, sailboat and all, to drown in the cold depths of the Pacific.  He becomes too bright and too loud and a little too mean, any time they find themselves dealing with a water demon or a ghostly possession.

Jake enters the first four, first five, sometimes the first nine digits of his aunt’s phone number, on burners and payphones and Michelle’s secure lines.  He never gets all the way, never actually asks anyone to let Rachel come home, and he’s never even tempted where his own parents are concerned.

“What’d you get for it?”  Cassie’s voice is hard-edged with anger in a way that Marco has never heard before.  He doesn’t bother to ask how she knows.  That tiny touch of psychic, mostly on her father’s side, means that she was always going to figure it out.

“Three years,” he says, offering her his smoothest smile.

Cassie stares at Marco.  Both of her hands are fisted in the hem of her flannel, trembling slightly.  Her lips are pressed into a tight line.

“You know what?”  Marco laughs, the sound more desperate than he means it to be.  “That was far more than the demon wanted to offer, even for a top-shelf soul like this one.  I drive a hard bargain.”

Cassie continues to look at him, until he feels himself shrinking in his seat.  “What did you get for it?” she asks again, still not asking about the time.

Peter called today.  For nearly an hour he chattered so much — about the roadhouse, about the new dog, about the wedding in July — that Marco could barely get a word in edgewise.  Marco’s not sure about this Nora person, or he wasn’t at first, but Peter smiles every time he sees her or even says her name.  The first smiles Marco’s seen, the first complete sentences he’s heard, since the Coast Guard knocked on their door and asked them to sit down.

What’s dead should stay dead.  After five years in the business, Marco knows that much.  His mother is gone.  But happiness… even a lifetime’s worth… that doesn’t have to be out of reach.  Not for Peter.  Even if it does come with a toy poodle and an excess of algebra.

Marco pushes to his feet.  “None of your business,” he says.  “It’s my soul, and I’ll do what I want with it.”

He honestly doesn’t know what Cassie has in mind when she stands and crosses over to him.  Not until she grabs him in a hug so fierce it hurts, squeezing her whole body around him.  “I’m getting you out of this,” she promises.  “I don’t care what it takes, I’m not letting them collect.”

Ax was never even supposed to be on the mission to retrieve Marco’s soul from hell.  He tells them that a lot, that he was the only cherub included in the entire garrison of seraphim on what was supposed to be a milk run, an easy first mission just to get his wingtips wet.

He wasn’t supposed to be the only survivor.  He certainly wasn’t supposed to rebel mere months later when ordered to cut out Tobias’s heart to complete a cosmic ritual.

But then, lots of things that weren’t supposed to happen have happened anyway.  Marco was never supposed to die facedown in the half-frozen mud of a South Dakota ghost town.  No righteous man was ever supposed to reach the gates of hell, breaking the first seal as Taylor’s claws broke the surface of his soul.

Aftran is supposed to be helping her overlords do their best to destroy the earth right now, not assisting humanity’s rebellion against angels and demons alike.  Jake is supposed to be at home with his parents, not wanted by the FBI for his brother’s murder and a dozen corpse mutilations.

For that matter, “hasn’t been home in a few days” was supposed to mean that Tobias’s dad was “dead or worse,” not “forcibly called back to heaven to help set up the apocalypse, ‘cause turns out he left out a few crucial fucking details when explaining my family history.”

“…draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te!” Rachel recites.  And then waits, arms crossed, holy water at the ready.

Jake’s mouth curls.  “Okay, we’ve got the Catholic bullshit out of the way.  Now do you believe me?”  Two fingertips drum against the arm of the chair to which he’s tied.

Tobias looks over at Rachel.  Neither of them makes a move to break the devil’s trap.  “What the fuck are you?” Rachel demands at last, feeling her patience fray.

Jake’s shoulder lifts in a half-shrug.  “A high school dropout with six bucks to his name?”

“And severe cataracts?”  Rachel flicks more holy water at Jake; it continues to do nothing.  “We saw your eyes flash white.  Cut the crap.”

“Or what?”  Something subtle shifts in Jake’s voice, becoming rough and cold.  “You��ve killed enough of your cousins for a lifetime, don’t you think?  And Tobias…”  The thing under Jake’s skin runs his tongue over his teeth.  “I know what you and this one get up to in the dark.  Either way, I’m guessing neither one of you is ready to hurt this precious meat—”

Wham! The chair back slams to the floor.  Rachel’s knee is pressed into Jake’s chest.  Her knife blade digs into his throat.  “Guess again,” she snarls.

“Rachel!”  Tobias’s warning comes too late.  Partway loose now, the demon gestures, flinging Rachel across the room.  Jake’s body pulls free from the broken chair, motions not quite human.  Turning, the demon spots Tobias.  It draws itself up.  And up.

Jake’s eyes go white with shock when the thing inside him realizes it has lifted clear off the floor.  That it cannot move his arms or legs.  His mouth opens; there’s an abortive motion as it struggles to escape the meatsuit that now entraps it.

Tobias’s right hand is raised.  His eyes shine with a radiance entirely different from the sickly, jaundiced shield over Jake’s.  The light surrounding Tobias seems to come from everywhere at once, and yet it all shines on him, throwing the wings of his silhouette into sharp relief against the far wall.

“What are you?” the thing inside Jake asks, half-strangled.

“Been asking that question for twenty-three years, pal,” Tobias says.  Blood trickles from his nose.  His hand trembles slightly.  His eyes are steady.  “Guess we’re in the same boat, because I’ve never seen anything like you either.”

Jake’s lips pull back from his teeth, grimace or smile.  “I am what happens when a demon eats an angel.  Swallowed him up, grace and all, and now I’m a Knight of Hell.  And now I’m starting to think that before that happened, Elfangor might’ve got busy while he was here on Earth.”  It leers.  “So naughty, that one.”

Tobias squeezes his hand inward.  Jake’s body convulses, yellow-white flashing under his skin.

“Wait, wait—”  The thing gasps air.  “I can give you power, information, revenge, I can give you—”

“I want my father back, you son of a bitch.”  Tobias closes his hand.  Light flares, sharp enough to blind.  With it comes the unearthly scream of angelic power.

When their vision clears, Rachel and Tobias find Jake — just Jake — kneeling on the floor.  He’s swaying in shock where he stares up at Tobias.  “Did we know you could do that?” Jake asks, voice sandpaper-raw.

“I’m gonna vote ‘no,’” Rachel says, looking at Tobias’s flabbergasted expression.

“Okay, cool, still badass.”  Jake slumps sideways; Tobias lunges to catch him before he hits the floor.  “I’mma take a nap… for the next eighteen hours or so… then we can figure this all out later.”

“It’ll scar, won’t it,” Rachel says, watching Cassie’s neat row of stitches press into her leg as if it belongs to someone else.  She’s not bothered, she doesn’t think.  It’s not that she thinks scars are cool, or that they’ll impress anyone.  Marco will flutter his eyelashes and swoon when he sees it, of course, but that’s about all the reaction she’ll get, all the reaction she’ll want.  She doesn’t think scars make her tough, or that they make her ugly.  They’re proof, and that’s what she hates and loves about them.  Proof that she’s still alive.  Proof of what she’s been through and yet survived.  Proof that you should see the other guy, only of course there’s no seeing him, because he — it — is always ashes on the ground.

“Tobias?” Mr. Feyroyan says, and Tobias stops at the door.  He’s pleasantly surprised to be remembered, given that he attended this high school for a few months at most.  “Did you ever get out?” Mr. Feyroyan asks.  “Make your own life, the way you said wanted to do?”

Tobias considers talking about the five semesters of college he managed before the same things that’ve been chasing him his entire life caught up to him.  Considers explaining that he understands, now, why they had to move so often and why his dad had to be away so much of the time.  Considers admitting that the family business pulled him in, the way it was always going to do.

Considers the traces of ectoplasm still embedded under his nails from the ghost possession this morning.

“I help people where I can,” Tobias says, because at least that much is true.  “And this life isn’t so bad.  Not as long as you’ve got people willing to live it with you.”

Ax wasn’t raised to doubt.  He was raised to be a warrior.  The right hand of God.  Absolute.  Unquestioning.  Wrathful.  He was raised to fight and die in the war against the demons and forces of darkness.  Not to make decisions on his own, with no one to guide him.

“Is it a sin,” Cassie asked him once, “to want to know the truth?”

She believes in him, the way that she’s meant to.  The way that he’s meant to believe in Jake, in God, in the righteousness of heaven.  That doesn’t stop her from asking questions of them all.

Humans are pitiful, evanescent beings.  Earthly and evil.  Half-clay, half-spirit, and the clay half usually wins.  Aximili is supposed to demand their respect, to tell them be not afraid as they quail before him.  He is not supposed to let them shorten his name and feed him pecan pie and show him soap opera marathons.

It’s hard to remember that, sometimes, when he and Rachel exchange a bumping of fists over an annihilated vampire nest.  When Marco lifts yet another bottle down from the bar, wait’ll you try this one.  When he watches his nephew curl an invisible-intangible wing around Jake’s body where they sit at the edge of a reservoir, as if Michael’s sword is not a mere empty vessel but a precious and unique soul, worthy of being treasured.

“An angel, a demon, a nephilim, and their pet humans walk into a bar!” Marco announces loudly.  It has the desired effect, which is to say that Nora lowers the shotgun she grabbed the instant Euclid started barking at their approach.

Still in the front entrance of the roadhouse, Marco and Euclid exchange their usual greetings of polite mutual loathing.  Even Marco can’t deny that the little monster has his uses, when it comes to smelling unclean things.

Aftran seems solid enough, mostly.  But Marco thinks sometimes he can detect a hint of what Euclid smells coming off her: sulfur, smoke, the occasional unsavory whiff of little Karen’s body rotting around the corpse-animating creature within.

Nora thunks half a dozen shot glasses on the bar, pouring holy water-laced whiskey as she goes.  That’s for the humans, and Tobias.

“What’ll it be for you, Precious Moments?” Nora asks, using Marco’s nickname for Ax.

Ax refrains from pointing out for the four millionth time that being a fallen cherub doesn’t mean that his true form bears any resemblance to porcelain figurines, and instead sits at the bar.  “I would like the usual, if you please,” he intones.

Chuckling, Nora reaches down a bottle of Cinnabon Pinnacle.

Jake swallows his shot quickly, grimacing at the taste of the silver-lined glass.  “Does Peter have anything for us yet?”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Jake,” Nora says.  “I’m doing well, thanks for asking.  Have you killed any monsters since we last spoke?”

Chastised, Jake settles over his second drink.

“There are new omens, of course.”  Nora slides a plate of fries and a glass of whiskey — sans holy water — toward Aftran.  “All up and down the U.S.  The pattern isn’t holding anymore, or it’s just gotten so dense it can’t be detected.  Almost like…”

“It’s the end of the world?” Marco suggests.

She smiles grimly.  “Almost.  Funny, you noticed that too?”

Marco likes Nora, mostly because she doesn’t try to mother him.

“Let’s get to it, if that’s all right with you.”  Jake sets his glass on the bar.  “World’s not gonna save itself, after all.”

Marco runs off row after row of glossy badges, engraved name tags, exquisitely forged shields.  Only to have Ax present them upside-down, wide-eyed and utterly clueless.  Only to have Cassie drop the act and start telling the truth the millisecond she thinks a witness or victim has half a chance of believing them.  He’s not even sure why he hangs around with these numbskulls.  Probably because they’d be lost without him.

“Would you have made a good lawyer, you think?” Jake asks.

He and Tobias are sitting at the lip of an open grave, splitting a beer as they wait for the bones to burn down enough to fill the dirt back in.  Their shoulders touch, which is the most affection they ever show, really, living out of each other’s pockets as much as the six of them do.

That’s probably why Jake thought to ask.  Because this is the closest they ever come to having a real date: watching bones burn.  Jake’s already on the FBI’s Most Wanted list, and Tobias is wanted by forces a hell of a lot scarier than mere law enforcement, so they tend to be the ones to risk racking up an entirely moot number of grave desecration charges while the others clean up the rest of the hunt.

“Probably not, no,” Tobias says.  “You’re always telling me I see too many sides of every story.  That would’ve made me a crap lawyer, even if…”

Even if he wasn’t a walking grimoire of spare parts.  He’s gone through the lore in Cassie’s family’s bunker, enough to know what all those demons and angels are after.  A vial of his blood can grant a few hours of invulnerability to harm.  A drop of his grace can open an interdimensional rift.  Cut his heart out and you can close heaven itself.  Stuff an angel inside him, and the resultant being could create and destroy universes with a wave of the hand.

“You could get out, you know,” Jake says.  “Now that you can protect yourself.”

Laughing, Tobias shakes his head.  “Cassie,” he counters.  “Cassie could get out.”

“Cassie will get out.  Just as soon as she figures out a different way to help, one that involves less hurting.”  Jake’s confidence probably isn’t even misplaced.  Cassie’s the one with the clean record, the sane outlook, the skills she can actually put on a résumé.  She’s not like the rest of them, dragged into this life because of one tragedy or another.  “I have hope for Rachel too.”

Tobias hmmms.  That one, he’s not so sure.  Rachel’s record is clean, yes, if only because everyone from the cops to the surviving Berensons believes that it was Jake who pulled the trigger on Tom.  “Rachel thrives in this life,” he says.

“If she would just freaking call her mom, get a little help getting set up…”  Jake makes a gesture of frustration.  He went to prison to protect his cousin, only to have her break him out and them both end up living full-time to hunt things like the one that took Tom.

“Marco’s headed for semi-retirement already, you watch.”  Tobias changes the subject, because he’s a coward.

That one catches Jake by surprise, causing him to twist around.  “You sure about that?”

“Semi-retirement.”  Tobias takes a long pull of the beer, passing it back.  Their fingers overlap, then lace together, as they talk.  “Like what my mom had.”

“She was a hunter?”

“She was the director of the FBI,” Tobias says, smiling at the memory.  “On the phone, anyway.  She went blind some time before I was born — got a few guesses, now, as to how that happened.”

Jake grimaces.  He’s seen for himself what happens when a human looks at the unshielded grace of an angel as powerful as Elfangor.

“So that took her out of field work, and she switched to working the phones full-time.”  Tobias tilts his head back, remembering the long row of landlines and cells, the raised bumps of the Braille labels for insurance investigators, Homeland Security, even MI5.  “Did that until I was seven, which is when…”  When someone came looking for spare nephilim parts.  Tore her to pieces instead.

“I stand corrected,” Jake says at last.  “Marco would make an excellent full-time bullshit artist.”

Tobias chuckles.  “And Ax?  Now that he’s all… locked out of heaven?”

“Your taste in music is a crime, you know that?”  Jake doesn’t answer the question, which is an answer in itself.

Tobias knew he shouldn’t have asked.  There’s no future for fallen angels or freak-of-nature nephilim or alleged career criminals.  Not in the private sector anyway.

“So.  You, me, and Ax-Man, huh?” Tobias says.  “‘til the end of the world?”

Jake levers himself to his feet with a grunt of effort.  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”  He pulls Tobias up; they lean into each other against the cold graveyard air.

“No.”  Tobias takes a breath.  Lets himself feel Jake: fragile, human, warm.   “Doesn’t sound bad at all.”

#animorphs #animorphs au #au #supernatural #supernatural au #supernatural spoilers #(minor) #jake/tobias #i must be out of my mind #violence #gore #nephilim #long post #anonymous #asks #jake berenson #tobias fangor

[shirtlesssammy]

8x07: A Little Slice of Kevin

You’re not misreading this. We’re recapping a Buckleming episode by choice! Is it a hot mess? Yep. But does it also have literal pining!Dean, gothic romance stormy night window visions, boner scenes, roadside confessions, and badass Cas? Yep, yep, yep, yep, yep.

Then:

Where’s the angel? Also, Mrs. Tran is a bit of a badass.

Now:

At a playground (!), a small boy makes a mess with paints so his teacher takes him to the bathroom to clean up. Her eyes flash black for a moment before the two disappear inside (literally). A windstorm suddenly blasts its way through the park revealing the now empty bathroom.

Meanwhile, Dean is cruising around in Baby in a pine forest (while listening to The Animals’ “We Gotta Get Out of This Place”. LOVE.) He sees a dirty, bedraggled Cas walking on the side of the road and slams on the breaks. Backtracking, he sees nothing.

Well, nothing but a literal sign indicating there’s multiple pining situations happening. Dean then gets. out. of. the. car. to stare forlornly at his surroundings.

Later, at the cabin, Sam finds a case --the missing boy/tornado from the cold open. He notices similar happenings all over the world. They guess demons but have no clue how any of it connects.

Crowley is peak evil demon while he tortures poor Samandriel out of names. It also seems that Sam and Dean were right about the missing people. Crowley has collected them all in his dystopian sci-fi factory.

Kevin and Mrs. Tran are on the run, and she has 1000% embraced the mother of a prophet gig. She’s making holy water traps, hex bags, salt barriers, and has even hired a witch to make demon bombs. (Sidenote: This scene is the only time I hear Amy Wong on this show.) They check in with Delta Mendota via Skype. *insert gross Buckleming innuendos* She’s ready to help and is in no way, shape, or form going to backstab these two.

The brothers interview the teacher of the little boy who disappeared.

Later that night, while Sam sleeps and Dean googles “how to save an angel from Purgatory”, lightning flashes and Cas suddenly appears outside the window. He’s gone just as soon as he appears. Dean rushes to the window and stares at the rain in disbelief.

Sam awakens and wonders what Dean is doing. Dean confesses to seeing Cas outside, and earlier on the side of the road.

Dean then starts to replay his time with Cas in purgatory, wondering why Cas didn’t try harder (while beating himself up for the same reason.) Before finding the portal, Cas pulls Dean aside and thanks him, “for everything.”

For Science:

(Like, ouch. It’s little moments like this that make me really feel the profound effect Dean has had on Cas. This human, of all humans over the course of Earth’s existence, made such a lasting change in this angel.) Dean “Save the Hallmark” Winchester refuses to even humor the idea of Cas not making it through the portal.

Crowley is having second thoughts about abducting all these people, who believe they were abducted by aliens.

He tries getting them to read the demon tablet, but they are hopeless.

Meanwhile, Delta arrives at the Tran hideout with the demon bomb materials. *insert more gross Buckleming innuendos*

The next morning, Sam is discovering more missing people, while Dean hangs out in that liminal world between worlds where Cas and him meet so often, the bathroom (Lol, I typed that thinking it was going to be a poetic line, but that just sounds dirty.)

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas appears, for real this time. I’m not sure Dean’s eyes could pop out any further from his head.

Cut to Sam being all chatty and questioning about Cas’s return from Purgatory, while Dean continues to stand and stare in utter disbelief. Cas has been trying to reach out but hasn’t been at full power (Ahem, at this moment I would like to point out that the brothers still have the Enochian warding on their ribs and shouldn’t be detectable by angels. How strange that Cas can still find Dean though.) Cas has no explanation as to how he got out. Dean flashes back to their final moments in purgatory.

I love this exchange:

Benny: Aren't you guys all about faith? Castiel: Not particularly

Benny’s soul gets sucked into Dean’s arm via a spell, and Dean and Cas head for the portal. They find the portal at last, led to it by the delicate dance of a leaf. I love this! It's so pretty.

Leviathan arrive.

In the present time, Dean and Sam discuss the improbability of Cas being back with them, while Cas cleans up in the bathroom.

A story told in two gifs:

I mean, what the actual fuck, show? 

Meanwhile Linda Tran continues to be my favorite, chewing out the witch Delta for trying to change their deal. Suddenly Kevin comes running in. The salt line's been brushed away from the bathroom windowsill! Enter Crowley and a demon lackey, who were let in by Delta. Crowley zaps away with Kevin and orders the other demon to kill Linda. But Linda is ready!

Sam and Dean are busy tracking more demon omens. Sam lists out the names of the missing people and Castiel recites along and then completes it (as he watches TV). Damn it, Cas, stop being adorable. STAHP. 

Turns out, those are names of the prophets and they're written on the subway wall in Castiel's mind. Just like slayers, there's only one active prophet and the rest are potential prophets, who get activated when a prophet dies. There's a brief mention here of Chuck. The idea is set forth that Chuck died, thereby activating Kevin. (Chuck you got some 'splaining to do!) Their prophet talk is interrupted by a call from Linda Tran, asking for help.

In Crowley's latest dank industrial hideout, he swans around the table of prophets and bullies Kevin. If the other potential prophets can't do anything to interpret the tablet, they can at least die for it. Crowley brutally kills one of the women when Kevin refuses to translate the tablet, dousing Kevin with blood.

Elsewhere, Dean, Sam, and Castiel wait on a lonely highway for Linda to show up. With nothing more exciting to do, Dean flashes back to Purgatory again. They're fighting the leviathans and it's sharp and brutal and hard. Just barely, they manage to defeat them. Dean steps into the portal and reaches for Cas. They grasp hands, Dean trying to pull Castiel along with him, but the pull of the portal is too strong. Castiel slips from Dean's grasp as Dean zaps away from Purgatory. Dean jolts back to the present and asks Cas to step out of the car to talk. Dean shouts at Cas that he did all he could to get him out. He didn't leave Cas. HE DIDN'T, DAMN IT! Cas squints at him. “So you think this was...your fault?” (Me: Oh my lord these two are bad at words.)

Their confrontation is interrupted by the arrival of Linda who shows them the demon she has in her trunk. It's demon interrogation time!

Speaking of interrogation, Kevin's tied to a chair in Crowley's weird industrial dungeon. With no answers, Crowley chops off one of Kevin's fingers. After screaming in agony, Kevin agrees to read the tablet. He skims through the table of contents for things such as the “collective tapestry of the soul” and “demonic transport to the regions of hell.” (I love this.)

The Winchester-mobile and Linda drive off to Crowley's mysterious industrial pit. Sam cuffs Linda to the car (SAM) and Dean kills the demon in the trunk. Then they head for the compound.

While Crowley casually blows a pinwheel, Kevin discovers a section about sealing the gates of Hell. NOW Crowley is interested.

Sam, Dean, and Cas infiltrate the plant. Sam heads inside and encounters a ton of demons. He pulls out a jar and chucks it at the ground. It explodes and blasts away the demons. There goes their one demon bomb. Meanwhile, Dean and Cas get waylaid by a solitary demon, who knocks the crap out of Dean with a telekinetic blow. Castiel smites the demon, but staggers immediately afterward. His power is super low.

They find a locked door – behind which is Crowley - and while Dean tries to pick the lock, Cas flaps his way into the room alone. Crowley greets him with, “Which Castiel is it this time? I'm never sure. Madman or megalomanic?” They both pull out angel blades and when Crowley scoffs and questions Castiel's power, Cas goes full on angel. His eyes glow blue and he unfurls his wings. “You're bluffing,” Crowley shouts.

“You wanna take that chance?” Castiel asks (and I pause to fan myself). The tablet breaks in two, and Crowley grabs half of it and zaps away.

The next day, Sam bids farewell to Mrs. Tran and Kevin. He's sending them off to Garth. (Yessss I want to watch that show.)

While Sam and the Trans are off having semi-adult conversations, Dean flips out at Castiel, berating him for heading in alone. “Look, I don't need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don't need it!” OUCH. There are no underlying issues here AT ALL.

Castiel tells him that it wasn't Dean's fault that Cas got left behind. Cas intended to stay behind in Purgatory to do penance. He tells Dean to reexamine the memory. Instead of Cas desperately trying to hang on, Cas actually pushed Dean away and told him to leave. He didn't want to be saved. “I didn't deserve to be out. And I saw that clearly when I was there. I planned to stay all along. I just didn't know how to tell you. You can't save everyone, my friend. Though you try.” GUH CAS

Sam interrupts because, of course. And then suddenly the world disappears and Cas finds himself in a white room. “Hello, Castiel,” a woman in a neat gray suit says. She tells him that he's in Heaven and asks him about Sam and Dean. Castiel immediately spills all the beans EVERYWHERE like a firehose of bean soup.

“Why am I telling you any of this?” he grits out. The woman in the suit is the angel Naomi and she orders Castiel to report on the Winchesters' comings and goings. The angels saved him from Purgatory and reprogrammed him for this one purpose. Castiel refuses, but is powerless to resist her as she zaps him back to the conversation with Sam and Dean. He looks confused, but doesn't remember a thing. Not long afterwards Cas walks off, looking unsettled, leaving a very perturbed Dean behind.

Boris: This post by @elizabethrobertajones makes me very happy.

Quotus Interruptus:

I hired a witch off of Craigslist

You know the rules. Casual encounters. That means no questions asked.

Are we on a spaceship?

I lie, I don't get lied to.

You can't save everyone, my friend. Though you try.

I was going to say that you look like you’ve seen a ghost, but you’d probably be stoked.

This hurts you more than it hurts me, so I can go on forever.

Thank you, for everything.

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#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 8x07 #a little slice of kevin #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #crowley #kevin train #linda tran #delta mendota #samandriel #supernatural season 8