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jungnoir · 3 years

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destiny | 09;

⇢ summary: you’re just about ready to give up on life altogether; your love life is in ruins, you’ve lost your job, and your family couldn’t care less about you… and then you meet your blushing guardian angel, and maybe life isn’t so bad after all.

⇢ relationship: jeon jungkook/reader, min yoongi/reader.

⇢ genre: supernatural, angel!au, demon!au, romance, thriller.

⇢ words: 6.5k words.

⇢ warnings: mentions of depression, violence, vomiting. slightly nsfw toward the end.

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a/n: happy new year! I know it’s been quite a while (literally an entire year since I’ve updated) but I’ve had this chapter pretty much ready in my drafts and just hadn’t gotten around to finishing because. everything. regardless, I hope this sort of makes up for it. love you all! hope you’re doing well. also WOW I swear a lot in this one.

His hand on your neck is meant to silence any screams that might slip out. He applies the perfect pressure to avoid crushing anything vital (and just by the feel alone, you know he’s got quite an amount of strength to pull that off) while simultaneously stealing all your air and forcing you to cower in fear. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know this guy isn’t someone to be fucked with, and all you can think about is the fact that Jungkook is right outside and has no fucking clue what’s going on. The very thought fills you with dread.

“Then again, you’ve got someone helping you.” What once was just a particular, calculated press against your skin becomes a deliberate act of violence as he begins to choke you harshly. You know the pain of his grip might last for weeks, and that’s only if you don’t die in the next minute. “Just makes me wonder what’s so special about you.”

“Nothing!” You rasp out, clawing at his hand now in some weak attempt at breaking away. If you could make enough noise, enough commotion, surely someone-

-but the stranger has already stopped you quick. You aim to throw the door open or something but his free hand quickly apprehends you until you’re just a squirming mess on the verge of passing out. Even your legs are pressed firmly to the wall by his own body, holding you fast so that you can’t help letting a few tears fall. There was no doubt in your panicked mind that this was Seokjin, the angel who’d been trailing you from the shadows for what felt like centuries. His grand act of approaching you, something you’d dreamed up to be a major climactic brawl in a battlefield made for a spectacle, turns out to be so simple. Perhaps that’s what you got for thinking biblically. Why go through all the trouble when he could just squash the problem the minute a chance presented itself?

Now, all you can think is “I can’t die like this”. A sobering thought of pure contempt. Drowning in the river was preferable to this.

You muster what breath you can, eyes blazing, “How does it feel… being God’s lap dog?”

Seokjin is, funnily enough, stunned for a moment. All bravado slips through a teeny crack in his demeanor when you say that, and even though it’s a low blow, it’s also enough for you to thrust a semi-powerful kick to the dressing room door to make the entire thing shudder like an earthquake. That sound, coupled with your comment, makes Seokjin release you in a panic. You hear some gasps from outside, a few people inquiring if you’re alright. An employee sounds most worried amongst the voices. You’re just shy of swinging the door open and forcing Seokjin to be revealed or to disappear all at once, but then he’s grabbed the back of your collar as you scream in frustrated fury. Seconds later, you’re no longer in the dressing room anymore.

Instead, you fall flat on a rough, sandy surface. You’re overwhelmed with nausea, pain, and fear, so your whole body is struggling to pick up on the most important things outside of that, but you do realize quite fleetingly that it’s sweltering. It takes you a few seconds as you curl up on the ground to peek behind your hands that shield your face and discover that it’s blindingly bright where you are, almost like a…

For fuck’s sake. “Of all the places…” You whine with a sore throat, coughing right after from the strain.

Seokjin stands above you and uses his foot to kick you onto your back so that you’re staring up at him and the baby blue sky. His hair color plays against it in an unfittingly gentle contrast, “I thought we might need somewhere safer to discuss things. Oh, and speaking of discussion,” he waves a hand near you and you instinctively flinch back before you feel the pain in your throat subside. You wait a few seconds, but it seems whatever he’d just done had no effect on the rising bile in your throat, so you assume that’s something you’ll have to deal with on your own. What an ass. “Feel better?”

“Fuck you! Maybe if you hadn’t choked me out in the first place-”

“You’d have listened?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t hunted us down to kill us, we would have!”

Seokjin frowns, “I didn’t bring you here to talk about you and that boy, I brought you here to talk about you. I am only concerned with you.”

Whatever that entailed did not sound good in the slightest.

You scramble to your feet and immediately regret the movement as it makes you sick again. The more than 100 degree weather does nothing to fix that either, the sun beating down on you and bouncing off the dusty white sands directly into your eyes. You’re feeling something nasty rising up from your stomach, ready to projectile…

Just as the scene changes, you paint a Victorian rug with streaks of your vomit.

Seokjin immediately groans out loud, placing a rough hand at the back of your neck like one would grab the scruff of a kitten. You’re far too weak to protest, rubbing at your mouth with the back of your hand, so you let him toss you into a chair. The jerkiness of the action should have sent another eruption out of you, but you recognize the relief that has overwhelmed you from the touch of his hand. Had he fixed that too?

“Never the matter,” the angel growls, waving his hand and making the mess evaporate from the very fibers of the rug, “you’re all very fragile. I should have prepared you first.”

“How can you do all that…?” You couldn’t recall Jungkook or Jimin showing off any power like that, and whether it was because of Seokjin’s status or their modesty (and adherence to rules), you were unsure. Most likely both.

Instead of answering right away, Seokjin reaches forward a moving cart and you finally notice there’s a glass pitcher of water (hopefully) next to an array of empty glasses. You take the time he spends pouring some water for you to examine your surroundings.

It looks like a secret room in an old English manor house. The walls are painted a deep charcoal and with the absence of natural light, you could mistake it for the void. The only light that does exist is a strangely dim white light coming from the ceiling. What looks like a rather ornate shell of a skylight (sans the window to actually reveal, well, a sky), seems to hide said white light somewhere in it. It’s such a vague glow that you can’t pinpoint if it’s coming from a lightbulb or magic.

The rest of the room is just as ornate as the “skylight”, filled with deep oak bookshelves, golden artifacts, and shining decorations that already look like they cost more than your house. It doesn’t really matter the longer you think about it. All of it has to be an illusion… right?

A glass is placed into your hand and you break out of your thoughts to make eye contact with Seokjin. He hovers over you with narrowed eyes and when you look back at your surroundings again, you notice all the little decorations have disappeared. Why had he- “We can negotiate those bits of the deal later if you so wish.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask, hesitant to drink the water despite how much the heat of the desert had made you crave it.

“Like I said before, I brought you here to discuss you. I’ve been watching you and lover boy for a while and it has become clear to me that you’ve been pulled along for quite the ride. I’m sure it’s all very daunting.”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t shown up.”

“How much do you know about our Lord and Savior?”

It was tricky to say the least. You’d grown up on tales of him, an over-powered being of immense stature. No one could come close to him, not even the devil. However, you’d learned bits and pieces from Jungkook, Yoongi, and the others to the point where your ideas of the figure had become skewed. There was no linear understanding of him. You honestly had no idea, “Probably not enough.”

Seokjin huffs, taking a seat from across from you in a chair similar to yours. Crossing a leg over the other, the angel stares you down, “Do you know why I’m after you both?”

“You want to kill Jungkook. Because he committed your sin.”

“Jungkook is my main target, yes, but it wasn’t my sin. My sin was sullying myself with a demon. Jungkook’s sin was sullying you.”

You frown, “He did no such thing! You had a fucking child! Jungkook saved my life!”

“You mean to say he ruined it. You were supposed to be dead a long time ago.”

You’d known that much, Jungkook had told you already. Even if he hadn’t, that had always been the plan. “It was… it was my choice and I wanted it then, I admit it. But I was hurt. I was overwhelmed. I wanted it because I was scared there would be no reason to keep going.”

The angel angles a brow upwards, “And the fallen was that for you? A reason to keep going?”

“It was- it was a lot of things. I was reminded that I existed, and that there are people who can love me the right way,” frustrated at the situation, you glare at him, “what the fuck? Is this some fucking therapy session?”

He has the gall to smile, “God knows you need one. I’d like to be the one to get inside that mind of yours.”

Shit. What if you’d given him just the right information to use against you?

You snap your lips shut and sink back into your chair, bubbling with more dread. He notices your sudden resolve and appears to want to ease your worries, “I’m not doing this to break you. Unlike God, I find you, as a person, quite redeemable. A gentle, pained soul who fell victim to the perversion of her guardian angel. It’s all very sad.”

So God did think you were a lost cause. Jimin had been right after all. However, you don’t want to keep talking when you’re so close to getting the information you’ve been waiting for. It seems even Seokjin isn’t fazed by your silence, continuing on without missing a beat. “You see, usually these angel and human matters can be chalked up to the angel getting too big for their britches. They think they can change things like fate: God’s very flawless plan from the beginning. They are simply… glitches in the matrix, you could say? That’s where I come in. I make sure these issues are handled and that everything goes back to normal. You see, God loves his humans. Truly. He has a bit of a temper, but it’s justified, you know? He loves you all so very much that seeing you stray from a holy and righteous path is heartbreaking for him. He can only excuse so much.

“So he doesn’t. But… sometimes I help him. I change his mind. Even Jesus had to convince God not to blame his executioners. The big guy gets real impassioned about those he loves. It’s all part of the territory of being in heaven’s sovereignty,” at this, Seokjin shrugs, “you were an unfortunate casualty of it. However, I brought you here because I think that you could be saved. You’re simply confused. I’m sure I could convince God to rethink... his punishment for you.”

Your eyes widen, nearly dropping your glass, “He’d do that?”

The angel nods, pleased, “Of course! After all, he just wants you to repent. If you show that you will, well, I could put in a good word for you. He and I are very close.”

“But only for me.”

Seokjin’s smile dims some. He was so sure he’d had you on the hook just then, “Well… yes. There isn't much I can say about angels. Humans are born sinful, but angels are born knowing better. If they succumb to sin, I cannot do anything about that. But… if you feel that you’d be leaving Jungkook behind, and if that would cause you to feel guilty, I can assure you that that would be taken care of. Your memory of him would be wiped clean and you’d receive another guardian angel in an instant. You’d be granted everything you ever wanted. You’d be able to live out a new path of life contrary to the one your fallen so selfishly carved out for you.”

At this, you begin to frown deeper than you ever have. It’s not out of confusion but deep, deep understanding. Seokjin’s deal was asking you to sell Jungkook out and in return… he’d make you happy. You’d forget all about what had happened and carry on a new person, virtually safe. You could only assume that meant forgetting Yoongi too. Everything you’d accomplished so far would be rearranged until the you that you’d become would be so unfathomable you wouldn’t ever consider it.

What scares you the most is that you actually consider it.

This all could end right now and you’d get out alive, maybe all the ordinary people you knew would get out alive too. You’d be completely removed from the situation. You’d just have to forget Jungkook.

“You asked me how much I know about God,” you start, thumbs twiddling, and Seokjin perks up, “the stories humans told of him always kind of scared me. He’s so powerful… he knew everything before it was even created. Nothing can get past him. And yet, he let humans have free will and the right to choose what their path in life would be. That part always boggled my mind. God’s supposed to love us unconditionally, but if we don’t return the favor, we suffer eternally. It seemed like a pretty big plothole in the otherwise ‘flawless plan’ you claim he made.”

“Yes, well, it’s not God’s fault that Lucifer’s so conniving.”

“But it is. Isn’t it? God created him. Lucifer is the one who brought sin upon the world but God is the one that created him. If he knows everything, why make him in the first place? It’s a fallacy,” Seokjin’s eye twitches just a bit as you lean forward, “that God knows everything. Isn’t it? He wouldn’t be so stupid. He had no fucking clue what he’d made when he made Lucifer.”

“I’d watch your tone. God hears all.” The angel’s ominous reply is all that you need to hear. He doesn’t tell you that anything else you’ve said is false or not. Of course not. You know as well as he does that you’re spot on.

You’re so stunted by the arrogance of it all that you have to laugh, “Allegedly.”

In that same moment, the white light above begins to flicker. A distant rumbling sounds from somewhere and that fear you’d felt earlier comes back with a vengeance. Seokjin looks annoyed, if anything, “I only have so much time to sit here with you to chat.” He stands up and walks over to you, seizing you by the arm, “So I’m telling you now that you still have a chance. No one else has to die. Do me a solid and make that a reality.”

Did he really not want to kill you? He’d had so many chances to. Even now, he could just… what did you have that made him hesitate? “You think I believe that?”

The ground rumbles underneath you and then you fall through, Seokjin’s grip slipping off your arm… or maybe being pried off.

Where you land next isn’t as disorienting as the last few times, but it doesn’t feel any better to be ripped away again without so much as a warning. For a moment before you land, you halt, almost floating. Then your feet make contact with stone and then your knees follow under the sudden press of gravity. A quick look around tells you that Seokjin is nowhere to be seen… and that where you are looks vaguely familiar.

The stone continues up the walls to the ceiling, creating a naturally cold room that expands no more than the size of a restroom (no toilets in sight, however). The furthest edge of the room from you is completely dark, while the other is helped by a fire stretching from one long, narrow wall to the other. There is no wood crackling beneath it though, nor is there an actual controlled area for it to burn. Flames simply lick up the bottom of the wall as if commanded by magic. While the rest of your body feels chilly, the warmth of the fire keeps your head warm like a fever.

You lay crumpled up on your knees and hands, staring into the flames with the most bemused expression, wondering what to do now. You’re definitely not intent on travelling to the other side of the room in fear of being met with something sinister you can’t see, but the fire only illuminates so much of the place and there doesn’t seem to be a door in sight. If Seokjin wasn’t here, you doubted this was a place he wanted to be.

Maybe he was torturing you? Intending to keep you in a dark, scary room in order to break your resolve? You didn’t know the extent of power he was allowed to wield but this whole transportation thing was starting to get really annoying. You chance a meek, “Hello?”

Your voice doesn’t echo like you expect it to. It sounds like it’s right up against your face, like you’d spoken into a pillow, the sound eaten as soon as it came from your mouth. Where the hell were you?

“...not exact, okay?!”

You pick up on a voice to your right and turn over with such speed that you land on your ass. Some stones move on the narrow wall, and then the room is illuminated from an entirely different source of light. It takes you a few moments to gather your bearings as your eyes attempt to adjust. Voices are frantic and coming closer, you can hear that much. You pick up on one instantly, “Jungkook.”

Your voice is weak with relief just as he comes into view. He looks an absolute mess as he throws himself at your feet and wraps you up into a bone-crushing hug. The strength of his hug doesn’t even bother you as you cling back with just as much force, grateful tears beginning to gush out of your eyes. You didn’t realize until then just how terrified you’d been, really. It was always there underneath the surface, but something about Jungkook’s sudden presence makes the reality of it all hit much harder. He smells like your shampoo still.

After a couple of minutes in his embrace, you pull away to examine his face, “Are you okay?”

He laughs and the way his tears have clogged up his throat make it sound more like he’s choking, “Who cares about me? Are you?”

You smile, tucking some of his hair behind his ear, “Better. With you here. Where are we?”

“Limbo, hell’s limbo.”

You’re not sure what to say in response to that. After what you’d been through in the last… however long it’d been, that seems the most plausible to you. “Is that like purgatory?”

“No,” another voice speaks from above you and only then do you realize that Yoongi is here too. He looms over the both of you but his gaze is fixed heavy on your face, “purgatory is where the dead go on their way to heaven. This is where the living come on their way to hell. Was a hell of a ride trying to get your ass down here.”

“Yoongi…” You peel back from Jungkook and stand up, a little wobbly as you lean against the wall, “...thank you. How did you do it? The places Seokjin took me… I felt like we were in a dream.”

His upper lip ticks up in a snarl, “It was. The place where you were is a void, heaven’s version of limbo. It’s where angels bargain with humans on the edge of death to repent. It’s an open playing field for angels to present themselves to their humans without them having to be dead or breaking a rule… not like the latter really applies to Seokjin, though. It’s only as strong as your will to be there,” with that, Yoongi reaches toward you and brushes what feels like sand off your cheek, or perhaps he just meant to touch you to make sure you were really here with the way it lingered, “and that’s the only reason I could pull you out.”

It was a lot to digest. You still couldn’t totally understand how he’d pulled you from heaven’s limbo if he was a demon, but that was beside the point. Right now, you just wanted to get out of this creepy box of a room for good. And it seemed you would be getting your wish.

Another figure became clear to you through the doorway, though this figure looked much more intimidating than the two by your side. Dressed immaculately with a sly smile that felt strikingly familiar, a man makes his way into the room, pressing a hand to his chest and bowing his head to you, “He had my help too, of course. A pleasure to meet you (Name), I’ve heard very little about you.” The man holds out a hand to you and you can feel both Jungkook and Yoongi stiffen on either side of you, but neither makes a move to stop him. This had to be another demon, no doubt.

You take his hand and shake it firmly despite your nerves, “T-Thank you for your help as well. May I ask who you are?”

The man grins wider, “You can call me Lucifer. Are you hungry?”

An entire array of human food is set out before you but you don’t have much of a stomach to touch any of it, though Jungkook seems right at home as he fills up his own plate. You can only guess he’s enjoying the hell out of having so much food at his fingertips without having to pay for it.

You can hear his delighted sound effects from the left of you as you both sit on one side of a long table. Lucifer sits at the head of the table to the right of you, also refraining from really eating anything. Yoongi sits right across from you on the other side with an annoyed expression on his face, fingers tapping the heavy oak table top in a rhythm you can’t decipher. It couldn’t be any more awkward.

“No appetite?” Lucifer asks, pointing to the food. There’s meat and vegetables and cheeses that you know and don’t know but none of it seems particularly appetizing to you at the moment.

You shake your head, “No. Actually, I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

“Ah, bet you’re bursting.” He chuckles and takes a swig of something you think might be wine. “Go ahead. I’ll try to recap the last couple of days as well as I can.”

“Days?!” You don’t mean to yell, you really don’t (especially not at the king of hell, but-), “It’s been days?”

Jungkook stops chewing to give you a concerned look, “Of course… how long was it for you?”

“Barely… half an hour, maybe more? But not days.”

“Yes, well,” Lucifer sighs, tucking his hands together in front of himself, “time works much differently in heaven and hell than it does here. Especially for those who end up in heavenly limbo. It’s essentially cut off from the rest of the universe which makes it that much harder to track those who end up there. Seokjin was smart in bringing you there than somewhere else on earth.”

Your head is throbbing at this point. If days had gone by, you could only imagine how much had changed since you’d been gone… “So… what has happened since then?”

“Apparently quite a bit, seeing as I was a last resort.” Lucifer’s tone almost sounds irritated. Like a petulant child, he glares over at his son with an unspoken tension that you would like to delve into much, much later when the important things have been moved out of the way. “These boys have been pretty busy trying to get you back. But we are all eager to know what happened while you were with Seokjin.”

Jungkook places a gentle hand on top of your knee under the table. For whatever reason, you note that his grip feels stronger than you’d grown used to. You’d thought the hug was just because he missed you so much, but even this simple touch was- “He… he found me in the dressing room, cornered me there and told me he’d been trying to get me and Jungkook alone. Somewhere he could really do some damage.” You recite all that you readily remembered, some details slipping as you focus on Jungkook’s touch. Yoongi’s eyes never stop boring into you. “He said a lot. He… he said he wanted to give me a second chance.”

Lucifer raises a brow at you, “At…?”

“Life. He said that if I… if I ratted out Jungkook, he’d work things out with God to set my life back on track. Memories wiped, a new guardian angel, the works.” You can feel Jungkook stiffen next to you.

“And did you take him up on it?” Lucifer inquires.

“No! No, I would… I would never. But he was so insistent… It sounded like he really wanted me to say yes. I don’t think he was planning to betray me if I took him up on it either.”

Lucifer heaves a heavy sigh. Folding his hands underneath his chin, the king of hell spares a glance at Jungkook, “He’s got a thing for innocents: those he believes did no actual harm in a situation. He’s always been soft that way. He has more of an affinity for humans than I ever did, but I have more reason to loathe humans than he does, so I guess it’s understandable.”

“He did… mention that none of this was my fault.”

“Of course! You were only following the path life laid out for you. It was the fallen angel you have beside you that decided to shake things up, and aren’t you lucky he did? It doesn’t surprise me one bit that you’re still alive. You’ve done nothing but suffer the consequences, it seems, against your own will.”

“But what about the demon he fell for? Or his child? Weren’t they killed so he could keep his spot in heaven?”

Lucifer leans forward, “I’m assuming your friends haven’t made it known to you yet, but they aren’t dead. They are both very much alive. In fact, the child in question was one of the people that helped in tracking you down. The mother… she is here, in hell, meant to stay imprisoned for all eternity. Or at least until the rapture,” with that, Lucifer drinks again, maintaining eye contact with your shocked stare, “but it was best that no one knew of their whereabouts. Only a handful of people even know that Inhui still exists. It’s become something of a legend amongst the demons and angels, shrouded in confusion. None of the angels would care for the mother, but the child would start an earthly war if they knew one still walked the earth. As far as they’re concerned, the child probably died from the natural complications of being an abomination.”

You frown, “How is that possible? An angel for every human on earth… that’s billions of angels and no one has even noticed the guy?”

“I was wondering about that, actually. He told us that he’d been walking the earth for a while now. Surely someone would have taken notice, right?” Jungkook speaks next, having abandoned his food entirely.

Yoongi snaps out of his bored stance, “Tae’s an anomaly. He’s forgotten everywhere he goes. His impression barely lasts long. Those people he encountered early on considered him a dream, or a hallucination, or a possession of the mind. His actual presence is… hazy. It’s easier to remember him by his name or his number, but everything else is-”

“Intangible.” His father finishes with a flourish. “No ordinary angel or demon could ever put a face to the name, only a feeling. Along with the rather excessive amount of glamours he employs when amongst the public, it is no wonder no one has sounded the alarm. Go ahead and recall his face in your mind, fallen. I’m sure you couldn’t piece it together even if you wanted to.”

Jungkook’s face screws up a little as an attempt, stricken dumb moments later when he can’t utter a thing. Your stomach churns at the thought, soiling your appetite even more.

It seemed like there was more to that story than you were being told, but you imagined that it would be quite a lot to relay to you in more than one sitting. After all, you still had no clue what you’d missed since you’d been gone, and it only hadn’t terrified you senseless because you were at least certain that the biggest threat to everyone’s lives had been right there with you the whole time.

“If you’re not planning to eat anytime soon, is there anything else you’d like to know? It’s not every day a mortal like you gets to talk to Lucifer.” With a small flourishing wave of his hand, Lucifer smiles at you, charming as ever. It was so strange. Yoongi acted nothing like his father, and yet you saw every bit of him in his expression.

You imagined Yoongi felt the need to distance himself as much as he could from his father’s intimidating image and had ended up creating his own in the process. Where Lucifer was inviting, however, Yoongi was… not for everyone. Even as he stares over the table at you, eyes hooded with what appears to be indifference rather than lasciviousness, you can’t help but see the other in him.

“I suppose not,” you murmur, “but now that I have the chance, I don’t really know what to say.”

Lucifer continues to smile, “Don’t fret! I’m sure after the doozy you’ve been in, you’ll need to rest up. You’re more than welcome to stay here until you feel it’s safe to go back topside.”

The thought of treating hell like a hotel to stay in was tickling to say the least. The minute you rise, Jungkook follows suit, nearly knocking his chair over in the process to follow you. “I’d appreciate that. Is there… perhaps a room I could cool down in? Maybe a bathroom?”

Lucifer had deposited both you and Jungkook in a rather nice room, fitted with all the things you’d find in a nice resort room overlooking somewhere like the Bahamas. The dark, brooding colors of Hell follow you even here, and what little light you are allowed in the room comes from fire or mysterious ambience. Still, it’s enough to splash your face with (what you’re definitely sure is) water in the ensuite bathroom.

Jungkook sits at the foot of the bed, watching you, “I missed you.”

Since the moment that the Lord of Hell and his son had left you to your devices, you’d become increasingly aware that something was off about your angel. You had imagined that it had been from the sheer worry he felt over you, but it was starting to feel different from that. Something not so easily explained. If only… if only you could figure it out.

You pat your skin dry and look over at him, measuring him up and down. Appearance wise, he still had the same haircut, same clothes, same shoes. It was the aura that felt different.

Slowly, you approach him from the bathroom and wish that there would be more light in the room to examine him with. In that same moment, what appeared to be a ray of warm light halos above you both, giving you exactly what you had wished for. When Jungkook looks up, he looks… radiant. “I missed you too…” You whisper, reaching out a hand to cup his jaw. At your touch, he shudders, melting into you, and those eyes then laser focus on your own. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.” He answers without hesitation, then turns to kiss your inner palm with such a sensual drag of his lips that you grow hot instantly. The surprise makes you yank your hand away and you swear you hear him whine at the missing contact.

“Y-You just look different.” You squeak, holding the aforementioned hand to your chest as if he’d burned you.

Jungkook’s bushy brows furrow. “Do I?”

When Jungkook had been an angel, he’d had a distinct glow about him that set him apart from others. It was cliche, but it made sense then. You knew that you were dealing with someone from another world. When he’d turned human, he’d felt softer, normal. He didn’t glow in any particular way lest the light hit him through the window just right. But now… that glow was back. In a way that didn’t feel familiar.

You reach your hand out again, but this time you let it wander. You push his fringe back from his forehead, then behind his ear, then down his neck to where a sweatshirt hides his collarbones. In a daze, you fall to your knees before his seated frame and push the fabric back some. You find… nothing. You don’t even know what you’re looking for. A vampire bite? What is so different?

Your hand starts to fall mindlessly as you wrack your brain, but it’s all for naught when Jungkook catches hold of it and intertwines his fingers with yours. His grip is warm and solid. But it’s still- “I thought he’d hurt you.”

You look back up into Jungkook’s eyes as he now leans over you with an intense stare. His hair curls around his cheekbones and twists away from his face at the nape, each strand fluttering as he inches closer until the longest ones are touching your face. “Not much. He healed what he did anyway.”

At that, your angel’s eyes narrow in their scan over you, “What did he do?”

You instinctively swallow. Perhaps because you remember the feeling. Perhaps because Jungkook looks like he could kill. “He… he had to get me to limbo. He had to…” You touch the skin of your throat the same moment you break eye contact, feeling the ghost of Seokjin’s fingers there. It wasn’t so long ago that it had happened after all. You could honestly still feel it.

The silence grows until it’s nearly unbearable, you eventually finding that Jungkook will say nothing while you continue to avoid his gaze. Against your better judgement, you chance a look up at him.

You don’t get very long to look. Jungkook takes both sides of your face and lunges forward like a man possessed and you are forced to follow. In your surprise, you stumble back onto your elbows and Jungkook slots himself between your legs, latching onto your lips in a searing kiss. It’s hot and fast and immature, the kiss of a person who has never kissed before and may never get the chance to kiss again. Youngho had never kissed you like this.

A gentle whimper escapes your mouth but Jungkook inhales it into his own. You feel something primal burn inside you when Jungkook growls out, crouching over you now like a predator cornering his prey, and he’s practically consuming you when you start to kiss back. Can you blame yourself? You easily fold into the feeling because it’s Jungkook and goddamn if you hadn’t wanted to kiss him badly before.

His inexperience does very little to dissuade from how good it feels too, and as you start to take over to guide him, he is all too eager to feel your reciprocated passion. The heady feeling he gives you in his sudden attack pushes all thoughts of Seokjin or the last few days out of your mind like a fast-acting asprin. All you can think of now is how tightly coiled you’d been and how Jungkook is loosening you up one press of his lips at a time.

He lays you on your back and you happily oblige, no cushioning found on the hard floor but you couldn’t care less. Jungkook is careful not to be too rough, aware of your needs as much as his own, and it’s jarringly sweet the way he cradles the back of your head to keep you from hitting it on your descent.

When he’s had enough of your lips (as if he could ever), he starts attacking your neck. He’s lapping at your skin and biting away as if he’s trying to remove all traces of Seokjin’s hands… as if he’s replacing the feeling with him and him only. “I’ll kill him,” Jungkook whispers, a foreign fury in his voice that makes your haze disappear in an instant while he continues to work at your neck, “I’ll kill him for ever touching you.”

Your hand shoots to his hair, feeling your heart beat faster from more than just the kisses, “Kook-” But any attempt at sobering up washes away when, to your surprise, he ruts against you. Youngho had never been that good at using his hips like that either. There was something definitely off with Jungkook.

As much as it pains you, you grab at his hair and yank back, ignoring (or trying to) the filthy groan that he gives in response before peeling away from your skin. You gasp for breath, absolutely winded, “What is going on?”

Jungkook pants past wet lips, “What do you mean-”

“Did Yoongi do this to you?” The sudden heated moment is over when you say that.

Jungkook’s blood has run cold. You have a very strong, haunting feeling that your mounting suspicions have proven correct. His eyes… as gentle as they always were when they looked at you, told you everything. He was not the same Jungkook you’d come to know. Something had happened to him. Something irreversible. You touch his face again and this time Jungkook does not move to embrace it. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. “Why?”

In an attempt to escape your pitiful gaze, Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, cutting you off from seeing him vulnerable any longer. It breaks your heart the longer he stays silent. There’s no denying it now.

A tear of his touches the palm of your hand instead of his lips this time, “How else could I protect you?” He chokes, weak, “I’m not your angel anymore. I can’t be like you. This is the only way... the only way I could stand to look you in the eyes again.”

#majwrites #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook au #angel!jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts au #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #yoongi au #demon!yoongi #min yoongi #bts #jungkook angst #yoongi angst #angel bts #demon bts

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mrvltwimagines · 4 years

Text

The Article

SAM WINCHESTER X READER

SUMMARY: Your past may be in the past, but Sam still wants to know everything about you.

WARNINGS: Parental Abuse, Mention of Knives + Cutting

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

PROMPT: Could you write a Sam Winchester x reader to the prompt "oh god....what did they do to you?"

You stared at yourself in the mirror. The bruises and cuts that used to be all over your body were merely just scars now, but you still felt the pain in them. You could still feel every slice of his knife. Against your stomach, your arms, your chest and legs. You could still feel the slaps she landed on your face, and the punches and kicks she planted everywhere else that was within reach.

You’d been a hunter with Sam and Dean for awhile now, the bunker being the home that the three of you shared happily. You met them only a few years into becoming a hunter, so compared to them you were a baby, even if you were only a few years younger than Sam. They’ve taught you so much. They’ve helped you gain confidence in your work, and confidence in yourself, but then came days like today where you wake up in a cold sweat and the memories rushing back to you like they had just happened.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the full body mirror as you stood in front of it in only your underwear. Neither of the brothers have seen your scars, you’ve made sure of it. They didn’t know what your parents did to you before you were even fully understand the extent of how bad the things they did to you were. Hell, for all the brothers knew, your parents were dead. At least that’s what you told them to avoid the inevitable questions asking why you don’t see or speak to them. You glared at yourself, finally gaining the energy to turn away and slip your shirt and pants on, getting ready for the day.

Today was going to be tough. While you were thankful that the world isn’t too crazy at the moment, you wished Sam and Dean weren’t on a hunt, and that you and Sam could cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie and distract your mind. You loved both of the brothers more than you’ve ever loved anyone, but there’s always been something more between you and Sam. You both never talked about it, but simply enjoyed the time you got to spend with each other knowing that there was nobody in either one of your lives that you cared for more.

Walking out of your room and towards the kitchen, you were startled to hear the clanking of pots filling the empty space. Did they come home early? Was there somehow an intruder? Without thinking much of it, you simply just walked into the kitchen and found Castiel filling a kettle with water before turning around towards you and setting it on one of the stove burners.

“Good morning, y/n - sorry if I woke you!” He exclaimed, not even a bit jumpy at you showing up out of nowhere while he was so clearly distracted.

“Morning Cas, don’t worry about it, I was already awake,” you retorted, grabbing the laptop off of the counter and settling yourself into one of the chairs around the table.

“Are you feeling alright? It’s only 8am and you usually sleep in until at least noon. Are you sick?” He asks. By the look on his face you could tell he was genuinely curious and concerned, no hint of mocking in his tone. It is true that you usually sleep in quite late, your nightmares just weren’t up for that today.

“M’fine, just couldn’t sleep well so I figured I might as well get up,” you sighed, shrugging your shoulders and opening the laptop. You froze once your eyes zoned in on the picture in front of you. There you were, a mere fifteen year old squished in-between your parents, all three of you showing your very realistic fake smiles. You could remember this day like it was yesterday; your mom always insisted on taking holiday photos to send out to the family around Christmas time. She loved acting like she was a perfect mother, but you just remember being slapped around after she got her picture because she thought you had too much attitude.

“Y/n? Did you just hear anything I said?” Cas spoke up, interrupting your thoughts and pulling your attention away from the computer.

“No, yeah, sorry cas, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I think Sam and Dean will be home today. Apparently Garth and a new guy made it to the scene before them, so they let them handle the case.”

You nodded letting him know you heard him, but your mind was going crazy and your eyesight instantly went back to the article in front of you.

“Parents of fifteen year old girl sentenced to 25 years in prison” and the article went on to list everything you testified against them for. You were humiliated that one of the boys were reading this, or even just the fact that they now knew this happened to you. You didn’t know what to do or how to react, so you simply closed the computer and made your way back to your room, not even thinking to say anything to Cas. The second your door closed, the second your pacing began. Who read the article? It had to be Sam. Dean was never too intuitive and gladly took your answer that your parents died as a final answer. Why was he searching about me to begin with? Did I tip him off about something? Is he going to bring this up to me? Am I going to have to talk about this again?

You fell back first onto your bed, allowing yourself to try and take deep breaths while you stared up at the ceiling. You always thought that the answer “they’re dead” when anyone asked you about your parents would’ve been enough, but maybe it wasn’t? Maybe the way you said it made Sam question that answer? You wanted to be sucked up in a hole, the scars on your body seemingly burning at the thought of having to talk about how they were placed there. You knew other people went through what you’ve gone through. Of course your parents aren’t the only abusive parents in the world, but they left you for dead. The beat you and cut you. They hurt you in every way and then just.... left. They didn’t care what happened to you after that last session. You were lucky that your neighbor even stopped by that same day to see you passed out on the living room floor. If it hadn’t been for her, you weren’t too sure that you would be where you are right now - alive.

A knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts, a soothing voice floating through, “y/n, are you alright?” It was cas. You wouldn’t doubt that he knows what happened to you, considering he was a literal angel, but he never made it obvious if he does. What he does make obvious is that he can pick up on your moods and that he knows when somethings wrong.

“I’m fine cas, just need to lay down for a bit,” you called out. You could sense him hesitate before a distant thud was sounded throughout the bunker. You knew that sound to be the door leading from the garage, and your dread began to turn into panic sweats. The sound of Cas’ footsteps furthered themselves, and you quickly got up to ensure your door was locked.

Considering the laptop had been sitting where it was for a few days when Sam and Dean had left originally, you didn’t know whether Sam had been thinking about it the entire time he was gone. Maybe he had forgotten and wasn’t going to bring it up, but you didn’t want him barging in when you were feeling as self conscious as you were right now. No matter what, you felt exposed, like you weren’t even wearing any clothes to begin with.

“Y/n are you in there? We’re back from the hunt,” it was Sam at your door this time. Your hands instinctively went to unlock your door out of habit of hearing his voice. Even when you were trying to avoid him, you physically couldn’t. You opened the door up enough to see his face, and enough for him to see yours. He offered you a slight smile, but you knew he had a lot to say by the way his eyes danced across your face and even willingly looking down towards your body. Was he thinking about what happened to you right this second? Was he envisioning what your body probably looks like thanks to the detailed article that he had read beforehand.

“Welcome back, how was it?” You offered up, bringing his attention back to your face that was glowing pink as the heat rushed throughout your body.

“Didn’t do much, Garth had beaten us to it, and honestly I just wanted to come back home,” he shrugged.

“Oh yeah? Why?” You asked. The second you did, you felt stupid. You knew why he wanted to come home.

“Can I come in? I mean, I don’t mind talking to what looks like a floating head, but I’d rather be comfortable sitting on your bed while having a full blown conversation,” he joked, pushing his hands into his pockets. Your mind blanked for a second before you slowly nodded, backing up to open the door up enough to let him in, and then closing it right after. He made himself comfortable, taking his shoes off before placing himself on your bed with his back rested against the headboard.

“I know what you want to talk about,” you blurted out, avoiding eye contact and beginning to grab the miscellaneous things around your room to begin to clean up. It was always a habit when you felt any type of discomfort, “you want to talk about my parents. I saw the article up on the laptop.”

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he sat up a bit, cross-crossing his legs and leaning forward more.

“I know I shouldn’t have searched you. I genuinely apologize for that. I could just... tell that you were hiding something. I could tell by how quickly you always turned the subject away when your parents were brought up. I guess I just got too curious for my own good.”

You nodded. You understood. For the most part, you were an open book, especially with Sam. He knew all you quirks and triggers. He knew you better than anyone else, you just thought you did a better job at hiding this one thing. Taking a chance, you looked up and made eye contact with him. He didn’t show pity like you expected and experienced from anyone who ever knew you after the incident happened. Instead you just saw comfort.

“They were assholes. Big, huge, assholes who in my opinion should rot in prison, but instead they are out in a measly fifteen years.”

“I can agree with you there,” he chuckled a bit, patting the bed next to him, indicating that he wanted you to sit next to him. You shook your head no, feeling your eyes start to well up with tears.

“I hate them, Sam. They left me so broken. They left me looking so troubled, so unloveable,” you whispered, breaking eye contact with him and opting to continue straightening things up around your room. You kept thinking internally, your sadness diminishing and your anger rising a bit. You turned back to Sam who was just watching your every move. You usually would’ve shied away from that, but this time was different.

Without any thought or hesitation, you pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of leggings and your bra.

“Oh god,” he whispered, seeing your bare body for the first time. In fact, he was one of the first people to truly see your body other than the multiple nurses and doctors that treated you after the incident, “what did they do to you?”

It was that moment that you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders. The way his eyes were gentle as they looked over your entire frame, not an ounce of judgement seeping into you skin, just carefulness and genuine sorrow.

“They did a lot, but I’m still alive. I’m here, I’m healthy, I’m loved, and I’m alive. That’s all that matters.” I murmured, throwing my shirt back on before taking up his earlier offer of sitting next to him, “I know I could’ve told you the truth earlier, I just prefer to not talk about it anymore. It’s painful.”

“That’s understandable, y/n. And again, I’m sorry for snooping into it, but I don’t regret knowing. You’re so strong, and I’m so glad you’re here - alive and healthy,” you nodded, allowing him to grab you into a hug, pulling you into his lap. You chuckled a bit at the strength he formed around you, before pulling away a bit and looking at him, “I love you, and I’m so glad you came into my life. Even though your parents are going to be out of jail one day, that doesn’t ensure that a tragic accident may not happen to them,” he smiled at his own words, sending a louder laugh out of your mouth.

“I love you, too, moose. Thank you.”

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester angst #sam winchester x reader angst #supernatural imagine #supernatural angst #supernatural angst imagine #sam winchester imagine #supernatural trigger warning imagine #trigger warning imagine #sam winchester x abused reader

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 67

WARNING: Profanity

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

“I think you’re reading too much into this.”

They sit in Anil’s home office; away from the distraction of chattering and giggling children and the curious ears and eyes of the team of staff that linger in the halls and busy themselves with numerous daily tasks. Rage and disgust overrule any existing emotion, and Tyler finds himself with a powerful, all consuming need to hunt every last one of Mahjan’s men down himself and then kill them as slowly and painfully as possible. His stomach still churns and bile still burns the back of his throat, and he’s unable to get the images of the previous night’s horror show out of his head; brought back by the confirmation of his worst possible fears. Even though he’d suspected what Mahajan’s men would do to both him and his family, it’s still a difficult pill to swallow, And he’s having a difficult time both controlling his temper and wrapping his head around just how sick and twisted some humans can actually be. That someone would ever harm a little girl and a baby in such fashion. And not just any little girl and baby, but HIS,

“I think I’m reading into it just fine,” he retorts, as he drops into the chair in front of Anil’s desk. Grunting and grimacing as he removes his arm from the sling; brief reprieve from the tight, secure confines.

He frowns at the pins and needles that hamper his hand; attempting to clear them away by repeatedly opening and closing his fist. It’s far more than just a simple separation or even a partially torn ligament or tendon. The overall weakness from his wrist to the tips of his fingers is a near permanent fixture and the pain and discomfort extends far beyond anything he’s ever felt before in that shoulder. And the constant agony he’d been living for years prior to being jumped four nights ago had been bad enough.

“If anything,” he continues “you’re not reading into it enough.”

“Nathan? You think it's Nathan?” There’s a smirk tugging at the corner of Nik’s mouth and an almost amused glitter in her eyes. It doesn’t help with his current mood; adding more fuel to the already raging fire that threatens to consume him.

“You said there was a mole. That there’s someone feeding Mahajan information. That…”

“What I said…” she interjects. “...is that I was worried there was a mile And if the information that came back was what I needed to prove it, I’d let you know.”

“Been over a week. Where is this information?”

“It’s forthcoming.”

“Pretty fucking slowly, don’t you think?”

“These things take time, Tyler. They don’t happen overnight.”

“Seven days,” he points out. “You’ve had seven goddamn days. I’m not asking for a miracle here. Do you have something for me or not? I don’t have time to fuck around.”

That smirk again. Playing on her mouth as she looks him up and down, eyes taking in the bad shoulder and fucked up knee and the multitude of bruises that cover his neck. “Seems like you have a lot of time on your hands right now.”

His jaw clenches. “Where we at, Nik? This isn’t a fucking game. I’ve got a lot on the line here. I have EVERYTHING on the line. So quit screwing around and wasting my time. You have information or not?”

“Nothing concrete. More hearsay than anything.”

“Is there anything you CAN tell me? Because this isn't a joke and I don’t have time to fuck around. Look at me…” he nods down at the arm that he rests across his chest and the brace on his knee. ‘...look what they managed to do to me. You think anyone else stands a chance against them? They fucked me up. And they’ll do worse to anyone else that gets in their way.”

“I can tell you that it’s NOT Nathan.”

“You got proof? That it’s not him?”

“You have proof it is?”

“Why are you so quick to defend him? You haven’t even bothered to listen to the proof I have.”

“What’s in your head is hardly proof, Tyler. What evidence do you have? And I’m talking about solid evidence, not just you trying to fit round pegs into square holes so it fits your agenda.”

“My agenda? I don’t have a fucking agenda. Mahajan’s people know where my family is, and now that I’ve dropped completely off their radar? It isn’t going to take them long to put two and two together. They’ll show up here.”

“So let them. They won’t get far. Not with the amount of firepower we have. Where does Nathan come into this? What does he have to do with any of it? He’s missing. Did you forget that? He’s dropped off the face of the earth. No one’s heard from him.”

“And you don’t find that weird? That he went missing the night everything went to hell? You don’t see anything strange about that? That he vanished into thin air? AFTER things went to shit?”

“You mean after he got the job done for you?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tyler scoffs. “I’m sorry I had a hard time getting shit done while someone was choking me and drugging me and planning on taking me somewhere to torture me and eventually kill me. I am so fucking sorry that all of that got in the way. Why are you so quick to defend this guy?”

“Why are YOU so quick to condemn him?”

“Maybe because the little bastard was supposed to have my back that night. He was supposed to be watching my ass. And look what happened. Look how close someone got to me. Way too goddamn close and now they’re really pissed because their plan didn’t work and they’re going to come for me and they’re going to come for my family. Do you know what was said? What one of the guys told Anil? About Esme and the kids?”

“Tyler...” Nik sighs heavily as she takes a seat behind Anil’s desk. “...those are nothing but empty threats meant to scare you. To get you off your game.”

“Empty threats my ass,” he snarls. “Look at me. Look at what one guy managed to do. You know what they would have done to me; it would have lasted for days, weeks, maybe even months. And now I hear...for sure...what they have planned for my family? You know what they’ll do to my wife? And my girls? Millie is six. Addie’s a baby. And they’re going to do some sick and twisted shit to them. So don’t sit there and try and convince me that the threats are empty when I damn well know they’re not.”

“And you think Nathan is somehow involved because…”

“Did you know he told Anil and his guys that I said to stand down?”

“Did YOU not tell them to...and I quote…’get off my ass’?”

“I told them to stay out of my way. I said that right to Anil. But I said shit to Nathan. Why would I? He means fuck all to me. I’m not telling him to tell Anil and his people shit. But that’s what said; that I said for them to stand down and that he had my back and that’s all I needed. You know me, Nik. You know how I work. How I am. If I’ve got something to say, I say it to someone’s face. I don’t need a messenger.”

“I’ll give you that much,” she concedes. “But maybe it was something you said to Nathan. Or around him. Something he took out context and ran with.”

“Holy fuck…” Tyler gives a dry, incredulous laugh. “...you’re blaming this on me? You’re his fuck up on me? You’re saying I somehow caused that asshole to get a hold of me? You’re putting that on me? You’ve got to be shitting me right now.”

“This is personal to you. VERY personal,” she reasons. “I’m just thinking that maybe it’s so personal that you acted out of character. That you’re not in your right frame of mind and that you could have said something to Nathan that he misunderstood or…”

“I didn’t say shit to Nathan. And you’re right; this is very personal. Which is exactly the reason why I WOULDN’T fuck up. Because of everything I have to lose. I’m not going to screw up when it’s my entire life...my entire world...that could be taken from me. You really think I’m going to fuck when it’s my wife and my kids being threatened? Get your head out of your ass, Nik. Or should I say get your head out of Nathan’s,”

She frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re so quick to defend him. I can’t help but wonder why. Something you’re not telling me? I thought he quit working for you ‘cause he said things were going to shit and and that you were running the operation into the ground. Weird that you’re sticking up someone that said all of that. Unless….” a smirk slowly spreads across his face. “....holy shit...none of that was true, was it? That wasn’t the real reason he quit. You fucked him. Literally.”

“Tyler...I never…”

“You just can’t stop dipping into the company ink, can you. You got a merc kink or something? Me? Him? Gaspar, even? Who knows how many others. We’re good enough to fuck but that’s about it, huh? We can’t give you the fancy shit or all the toys your rich old men friends can give you. You like fucking the hired help.”

“You’re a real class act, you know that? Stay classy, Tyler. Once in the gutter, always in the gutter when it comes to you.”

“That’s rich. Considering you spent how many years trying to ruin my marriage so I’d come running to you? What? I guess I was the only you were willing to permanently slum for.”

“In the end I let Esme have my sloppy seconds, didn’t I?”

He smirks. “Nik, you don’t even come close to being anything like her. You can have all the money, all the class, all the rich, high profile friends and she’s still a hundred times better in every way. And she’s still my wife and that still burns you ass, doesn’t it.”

“That’s how low you’re willing to stoop? That’s how far into the gutter you want to go? You asked me to come here; to help keep an eye on YOUR family. A family you put in this goddamn mess in the first place. Had you not been so selfish seven years ago and kept your dick in your pants…”

“You may be banging Nathan, but he fucked me. Royally. I know it was him. It all adds up whether you want to admit it or not. He just disappears after what happened to me? Vanishes into thin air? If he was dead...if Mahajan had him killed...we’d hear about it. In the same way we’d know if they had him. Do you know where he is? Has your little friend kept in contact with you?”

“Of course not,” she snorts. “I’d never keep that a secret.”

“Naww, you’re just keeping the fact he’s dicking you down a secret. You don’t want people to know you’re banging a low life merc, yeah? Where is he Nik?”

“I have no idea.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you know exactly where he is. And I think you know he fucked up the other night and you’re wanting to keep that quiet. Because you know if I find out it’s true, I will rip his head off and shove it up his ass. I will fucking torture him in ways that will make Mahajan look like a rookie. Where is he?

“How the hell should I know? I’m just as concerned as everyone else. He’s gone; vanished into thin air just like you said. No one has heard from him, no one has seen, no one can get a hold of him, Yaz is having no luck tracing his cell or his SAT. And you know what? You know what you haven’t given me? You haven’t given me one ounce of proof that he’s the mole. So if you’re not going to give me anything…” she pushes her chair away from the desk and stands. ‘“...we’re done here.”

“Sit down,” he firmly orders.

“I’ve got better things to do than fight with someone who is making absolutely zero sense. When you calm down and you get your shit together, come find me.”

“Sit down , Nik.”

“You can’t boss me around, Tyler. Esme may get off on your being like that, but…”

“I said sit down!” he snarls, with enough ferocity in his voice and rage in his eyes that it takes her by surprise and deflates her ego. Lips set in a thin, stern line as she returns to her seat.

“Nathan told Anil and his people to stand down so I’d be vulnerable,” Tyler says. “He knew what was going to happen; he knew Mahajan had sent someone to try and grab me. He’s probably the one who told them where I’d be.”

“It could be anyone who knew you were there.”

“It all adds up,” he insists. “Him taking off after the job was done and then dropping off the grid, him telling Anil that I didn’t need anyone else watching my ass. You don’t think this all comes together and that I haven’t given you the answers you need? You don’t think it’s pretty fucking obvious?”

“The only thing that’s obvious is that your head isn’t on straight. I get it; this is extremely personal and you want someone to blame. You want someone to go after. You’re pissed and you’re hurting and you’re…”

“I am way beyond pissed. I am so far PAST pissed. He told them where I’d be. Told them the weak spots to go after. You can’t tell me that this is all a coincidence.”

“I can, actually.”

He gives a derisive snort and shakes his head. “Wow. Must be some dicking down he’s giving you if you can’t see it. You’ve had one week to come up with something when it comes to this mole bullshit. Yet you have nothing and you still won’t acknowledge what’s right in front of you. All because you’re fucking the guy? Are you kidding me right now?”

“Everything I’VE discovered, does NOT lead to Nathan.”

“So you have found something out. And you weren’t going to tell me because…”

“Because I told you that you’d be the first to know if I had solid proof. I don’t have that yet.”

“You know what, Nik? I don’t have time to wait. My family is in danger. They will take my wife and my kids and they will do fucked up things to them. They will torture them and they’ll make sure I know all about it. I don’t have a single fucking minute to waste. What do you know? Who is it? Who you THINK it is?”

“Tyler, I don’t want to put this on you until I have it. IF I have to. I want clear cut proof before I bring this to you. You have enough going on without adding this to it. You need to get back on your feet; spend time with Esme and the kids. Try and relax.”

“Try and relax?” He laughs. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to relax with my family when all I can think about is what Mahajan and his people will do to them. My wife, my kids. Especially my girls? How the hell am I supposed to kick back and relax knowing what they’re going to do to my family if they get the chance.”

“You don’t need this on your plate,” Nik insists. “You don’t…”

“How about let me decide what I can and can’t handle. Tell me. Tell me who it is. Because I’ll kill the bastard with my bare hands.”

“Ovi,” she says simply.

Tyler shrugs. “What about him?”

“Ovi,” she firmly repeats. “The mole. It’s Ovi.”

“Bullshit,” he growls.

“All signs point to me. I am so sorry. Tyler. I’m…”

“What signs? What the hell signs could possibly point towards him?”

“He’s been in contact with his father,” she begins. “That’s how this all started.”

“Yeah, Mahajan wanted him to take over the family business. Ovi refused to and the old man couldn’t take no for an answer and he’s been hounding him since and stepped up his game. I already know all of that. It’s why Ovi wanted into the game; he thought it would protect him. And us.”

“I don’t mean what you already know. I mean that he’s been in contact with him since coming to Mumbai.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “I don’t believe that. There’s no way. No way in hell. He wants nothing to do with his old man; he’s wanted nothing to with him since he was fifteen and Mahajan let us take him. He doesn’t even want any ties to his old life or even India itself. I had to practically drag him onto the plane to get him here. There’s no way he’s going to go and see his old man.”

“I have the prison logs,” Nik says. “For the past week. Ovi’s signed in over a dozen times since he got here.”

“There is no way, Nik,” Tyler vehemently argues. “There’s no way he’s gone there. He has no reason to go there. I don’t give a fuck what those logs say; he wouldn’t do it. And he definitely isn’t a mole.”

“Tyler, I know what the logs say and they say he’s been there. A couple of hours at a time. And Yaz said he disappears for while after dinner and...”

“He’s been hittin’ the gym. I set up a workout schedule for him. To keep him sharp and to get him stronger and bulkier. He has not been to the prison. And I can’t believe you even think that about him.”

“What I think is that this hits close to home and that the kid means a lot to you. And I get it. I do. The two of you are very close. You’ve been taking care of him for six years now. But…”

“It goes beyond that. It hasn’t been just taking care of him. We’ve given him what he wanted. What he deserved. A family and people who actually gives a shit about him. I love that kid like he’s my own. But I’m not defending him just because of that. I KNOW him. I know what he’s like and how he thinks and how he acts. And I know how much he loves Esme and the kids and he would never do anything to hurt them. Yeah, he does some dumb shit and makes some stupid ass decisions and I could have fucking killed him over wanting to get into the job. But when that kid loves, he loves huge and deep. And he wouldn’t do anything to put Esme and the kids in danger. That’s not him. That’s now who he is.”

“The evidence speaks for itself, Tyler.”

He smirks. “Evidence? You call THAT evidence? That’s way less than what I have on Nathan and you were quick to dismiss me. You have anything to back those logs up? What about videos? Pictures of some kind? Prison has security cameras right? Did you check those?”

“Security cameras in the visitors area, the office, and the hall that connects the two haven’t worked for years.”

“How fucking convenient, huh?”

“It’s a very poor prison,” she attempts to reason. “It's rundown and it’s over crowded and it gets little to no funding from the government.”

“So you have nothing but his name written down in a visitor’s log a few times?”

“More than a dozen times,” she corrects.

“A few, a dozen, I don’t give a shit. That’s all you have on him?”

“I know how upset he got when Anil mentioned killing his father. That he was very emotional and overly defensive.”

“Do you really blame him? Yeah, his dad...his REAL dad…is a first class dick. But that doesn’t mean the kid wants to hear someone come right and talk about killing him. I mean, my old man is a complete prick and there’s many times I’ve wanted to beat the shit out of him myself. But it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be upset if someone else said it.”

Nik says. “Tyler, I know the two of you are close. Way too close to look at this objectively.”

“It’s not Ovi. I know right to my very soul that it’s not him. He would never do something like this to me. And he especially wouldn’t put Esme and the kids in harm’s way. You don’t know him like I do.”

“Which is why I can look at this objectively and you can’t.”

“And you fucking Nathan means you can’t look at him objectively,” Tyler counters. I am telling you, Nik. It is NOT Ovi.”

“And I’M telling you it’s not Nathan.”

“Because you know so much about the guy, yeah? Everything you need to know about him is based on how well he fucks. I’ve raised that kid for almost six full years now and I gave him a family and a decent life and he felt loved for the first time in probably...I don’t know...EVER. He babysits my kids; he kept them safe during the whole Michael McMann bullshit. I trust him with their lives. And I don’t trust many people and you know that.”

“You’re putting too much faith into him. He can’t help how his life was before or who he was born to. And if seven years ago you’d left him like I told you to…”

“We’re done,” Tyler says, wincing as he stands. The pain is especially bad since the rain; the dampness aggravating the arthritis and causing every inch of damage to his body -both new and old- to throb and tighten. “He’s a good kid, Nik. A damn good kid. And it’s not him. He’s the last person who would fuck me over like that.”

“But the logs..”

“Fuck the logs!” he snaps, a hand on the door knob. “Fuck the logs and fuck you for throwing that kid...MY kid...under the bus like this.;”

“I should say the same to you about Nathan,” she shoots back.

“Don’t even compare the two. One of them is a kid that I’ve been raising and loving for six years. The other one just has the dick you’ve been sucking for months.”

“I’ll find proof,” she says, as he throws the door open. “That it’s him. Ovi.”

“Yeah, and I’ll believe it when I see. You find Nathan, Nik. Or I’ll find him myself and the end result won’t be pretty. Because if I find out for sure that it IS him, I will kill him with my bare hands and I’ll throw his body at your feet. Don’t fuck with me, Nik. I find out that you know where he is and that you’ve been protecting him? You’ll regret the day you ever met me.”

****

She wakes to an empty bed; stirred by both Addie’s soft yet persistent whimpering from the nearby cradle and incessant nausea. It’s been on and off all day; smells and tastes she normally enjoys instigating it and the mere sight of food causing the queasiness to settle in and the burn of bile to find the back of her throat.

One hand blindly reaches for that thick, strong body alongside her, eyes snapping open when she finds nothing to cool, empty sheets; barely wrinkled or disturbed. After his meeting with Nik, he’d spent the remainder of the evening doting and loving on the kids; even more affectionate and attentive than usual. It had taken some getting used to on his behalf; growing comfortable with both giving and receiving affection; a lifetime spent with an abusive father that viewed things as even the smallest of hugs or a ruffle of the hair as weak and pathetic. The last time anyone had shown him love and allowed him to give it in return had been his mother; letting him be the sweet and sensitive but often overcompensating for her husband’s neglect and behaviour. Even his ex wife had viewed it as ‘less manly’; a husband that showed emotion or expressed his feelings or showed even the smallest and most innocent form of intimacy. It’s a hard thing to get past; always expected to be the strong, stoic one and often ridicule for showing even the smallest crack or chink in his armour.

It had been a powerful struggle of sorts between them. A husband not used to being tender and patient and affectionate finding himself with a wife that desperately needed -and craved- all three of those things. But he’d come around; each little one brought into the world softening him and breaking down the walls he’d long ago built around his heart. Afraid to love too much; knowing the immense sense of love and grief that comes when you lose someone that had been such an enormous part of your life.

Through one of the bedroom windows she sees him sitting in one of the lounge chairs; hair messy from sleep -or his attempt at it-, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and hands tightly clasped together. His eyes are downcast; both shoulders tense and his jaw tightly set. Despite the good front he’d put on with the kids following his chat with Nik, she had easily seen through it. Recognizing the way his eyes would darken and his face would harden when the littles weren’t paying attention. And it would quickly pass; all tension and fear and worry fading -yet tears shimmering in his eyes- when he’d hug them as tightly as their bodies would allow. The hurt is deep. All consuming. His already weary and bruised and battered mind plagued by so many worries and fears.

She obliges Addie with a diaper change and then scoops her out of the cradle; loving the warmth that radiates from that little body, the soft smell that clings to her hair and skin and her sleeper, and the she settles her little face in her chest and immediately begins rooting for the breast. Growing angry and agitated when comfort and sustenance isn’t provided right away.

“Okay Little Miss Impatient,” Esme coos, and then drops a kiss on the top of Addie’s head as she pads across the room. “You’re not going to starve. Mommy won’t let that happen, I promise. You just have to learn to wait. You were only fed two hours ago.”

She shoves her feet into a pair of sandals that sit at the end of the door, and then with hand holding Addie tightly to her chest, opens the balcony door with the other.

“What are you doing out there?” she asks, and he doesn’t look up and in her direction until she speaks. “You okay?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to keep you with my tossing and turning. How come you’re awake?”

“Someone decided she needed to eat again. She definitely has your appetite. And I’m nauseous as hell. Why do they call it morning sickness when it lasts all damn day? And what is up with your spawn that they’ve all made so sick? I haven't had one pregnancy where I haven’t felt like I was dying.”

Tyler pulls over one of the extra chairs; setting it beside him and then lightly curling his fingers -instinctively and protectively- around her upper arm and guiding her into the seat. “I’m sorry, babe. I would have taken care of her. I didn’t hear her with the door closed.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to always be the nighttime person. You’re allowed a shift off every now and then,” she teases, then presses a kiss to his scruffy cheek before unfastening the first four buttons on one of his old dress shirts; boasting many holes and frayed cuffs but serving as a decent nursing top. “She’s getting very demanding. A little diva already. And so dramatic. Like her big sister.”

“We knew that was going to happen.” he says, then shrugs out of his hoodie and drapes it over her shoulders. Pulling it around her slender body, effectively covering Addie in an effort to keep her secure and warm despite the cool breeze that the earlier rain showers had brought along with it. “Want me to get you something? Something to eat? A drink?”

“I’m okay. But I do appreciate you always wanting to spoil me.”

“Gotta take care of my girls, yeah? Well two out of three, anyway.” He lays a palm on the side of her head, gently pulling it towards him and then pressing a kiss to her temple; hand dropping to her shoulder.

“You couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head.

“Bad dream again?”

“Can’t even get to sleep,” he admits. “Spent two hours just lying there. Thinking about shit.”

“What kind of shit?”

“Shit you don’t need to know about, trust me.”

“But it’s about the dream, right? It’s not that you can’t sleep. You don’t want to. You don’t want to have that dream again.”

“You really DO know me well.”

“I know what your worst fears are. And how your brain likes to exploit them and torture you. This isn’t the first time something’s affected you like this. Probably won’t be the last, unfortunately.”

“It was way worse this time. That shit that went on it. About you. About the kids. Especially about Millie and Addie.” The breath he exhales is tormented and shaky. “I can’t get it out of my head. The shit they would do to the three of you.”

“I know it’s easy for me to say, but try not to think about it. Don’t let it take up space in your head. We’re safe here. With you. Nothing like that’s going to happen. You won’t let it.”

“What if I can’t stop them? What if they come here and there’s nothing I can do? Look how just one of them fucked me up. How the hell would I stop half a dozen? A dozen? More?”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Esme reminds him. “There’s a lot of people here that have your back. And stop doubting yourself. What happened the other night has no bearing on the things you can do. I know what you’re capable of. And even all banged up and bruised, I’d still trust you to protect us over anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “You have way too much faith in me.”

“Faith. Confidence. Trust. I have all those. And they’re always there. Because I know you won’t back down when it comes to protecting us. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do and no limits or boundaries you won’t push. Do you think any of the people here actually care about us? We’re just money to them. A paycheck. We’re way more than that to you.”

“You guys are everything to me. My entire life. My entire world. There’s nothing I won’t do to keep from losing that.”

“I know. When you love, you love huge and deep. And you’re fierce and you’re strong in that love and that’s how I know everything is going to be okay. As long as you’re here. I’m not worried about a goddamn thing. Other than you of course.”

He grins. “I knew that was coming.”

“You need sleep, Tyler. You can’t keep pushing your body’s limits like this. Especially when you’re not healthy. You need sleep and you need to eat better and you need to stop beating yourself up mentally. Because I hate seeing you go through this. I hate not being able to help you.”

“You DO help me,” he assures her. “More than you realize. It’s the only place...you’re the only person...I feel safe with. You’re the only that I can trust. You’re the one constant in my life; I know you’re going to be there even if I’m a fucking mess and I’m falling apart. I just know you’ll be there. That I can count on you and that you won’t think I’m weak or pathetic even if I do feel that way.”

“Baby…” she places a hand on the back of his head, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. “...you’re far from being weak and pathetic. The FARTHEST from it. You’re so strong and you’re brave and you’re resilient and you’ll stop at nothing to keep us safe. What happened that night was just a setback. That could have happened to anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone.”

“You’re not invincible, Tyler. You’re a human being. Let yourself be one. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t screw up. You’re not slowing down and you’re not slipping. These things just happen. And you’re here and that’s all that matters. That you’re okay. Anyone else would have given up. But you don’t know what it is to give up.”

“I couldn’t give up. I didn’t want to leave you. Or the kids. If it was seven years...before you...before US...I probably wouldn’t have fought it. I wouldn’t have given a shit. But all I could think about the other night was you and my kids and how I wasn’t ready to let that all go. I especially wasn’t ready to let US go.”

She gives a teary smile, then kisses his cheek and the corner of his mouth. It takes her breath away. How a man that is so big and so powerful...intimidating even…can be so gentle in both his words and actions. That someone who is capable of inflicting brutal punishment and immense pain, can love so deeply. She doesn’t know what to say in response; if he even wants or expects her to say anything. Instead she leans into him; his arm tightening around her as she rests the side of her head against his chest. And neither of them speak for several long minutes. Enjoying the breeze and listening to the rustle of the trees and the soft, happy noises that Addie makes as she feeds.

“She keeps eating like she is, she’s going to start packing on the weight,” Esme remarks, as she moves the baby to the other breast. “Not that that’s a bad thing. She needs to. She is way too small.”

“You’re just used to them being bigger,” Tyler reasons. “So she’s tiny; nothing wrong with that. You’re tiny. I could pick you up and put you in my pocket and carry you around. Like one of those yappy dogs rich women put in their purses.”

“Excuse you! Did you seriously just compare me to a yappy little dog?”

“Well you ARE very chatty.”

“I’m a social being. I like people. You knew that when we met; you knew I was chatty. And you...Mister Anti Social...put up with it. Not only did you put up with it for five days, you’ve put it with it for almost seven years. You married me. You’ve put five babies in me. Now six! So either you’re a glutton for punishment or you secretly enjoy the way I am.”

“Nothing secret about it. I love everything about you. Even when you’re talking my ear off first thing in the morning and I haven’t had coffee yet.”

“You can be such a grumpy bastard in the morning.” she declares. “But you’re MY grumpy bastard. And I have to confess; sometimes I’m extra chatty just to annoy because your snoring pissed me off so bad during the night.”

“That’s okay. I purposefully annoy you sometimes just because you’re so cute when you’re annoyed.”

“Baby, you’re such a sweet talker. And people say romance is dead.”

He grins, then moves his hand up to the side of her head and presses a kiss to her temple.

“And you’ve been very sappy the last couple of days,” she adds. “Not that I’m complaining. You’re just not usually so ‘out there’ with things.”

“The other night scared the shit out of,” he admits. “Made me think about how if I do die, I don’t want you wondering how I really felt about you. About us. I’d rather you know all of that. Just in case.” His eyes are downcast one again; jaw tightly clenched. And he places a palm flat against the bottom of one Addie’s bare feet and then lightly tickles her heel and each toe.

“I already know,” Esme assures him. "I see in your eyes all the time. I hear it in your voice. You say enough without words, believe me. And nothing is going to happen. We’re going to be fine. All this is going to get settled and we’re going to go home and go on with our lives. And I’m going to get fat and gross. Thanks very much for that, by the way.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re pregnant. I mean, you’re beautiful ALL the time. But when you’re having a baby? MY baby? You’re incredible.”

“Goddamn you are so biased.”

Tyler grins. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean it’s less true,”

She smiles, then turns her face into his and presses a kiss to his mouth; long and soft and sweet. Eyes remaining closed when his fingers gently knead the back of her head and his lips find her brow; lingering there for several seconds. It’s pure and so beautiful...so loving...that once against tears fill her eyes. The thought of how she’d close she’d come to never again experiencing these small moments of intimacy just too much to bear.

“What are you doing under there, little peanut?” He peels back the edge of the hoodie and peers underneath. “You tell mommy that’s okay to be tiny as long as you’re healthy. That’s all daddy cares about.”

“Look at the way she looks at you,” Esme says, as Addie immediately stops feeding and flashes a broad smile. “Daddy is definitely your favorite, isn’t he? Not that I blame you, he’s my favorite too. You and your sister are going to have so much power over him. Millie with her blue eyes and you with your big brown ones. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Daddy is sitting right there,” he speaks up. “Daddy can hear you.”

“Even she thinks rainbows shoot out of your ass,” Esme scoffs, then removes Addie from the breast and readjusts her shirt and the hoodie. “Look at her. It’s like she thinks you shit glitter and unicorns.”

“I remember when YOU used to look at me like that.”

“I still do. I still think you’re the sexiest man on the face of the earth. How can I not? Eyes like that and an ass like that? No one comes close to you, honey.”

“And here I was thinking you fell in love with me because of my boyish charm and sparkling personality.”

“Yeah...no...sorry. It was definitely the eyes and the muscles and the ass. And your face didn’t hurt either.”

“Mommy only wants me for my body.” he says to Addie, then takes her from Esme’s arms; a hand on the middle of her back as he settles her against his chest.

“You’re so good with her,” Esme praises, then lays a hand on his stomach and her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad it was you that knocked me up all those years ago, just so you know.”

“Yeah, I’m glad it was me too. Things have turned out pretty good for us.”

“They definitely have. She’s so beautiful. They all are. I certainly picked the perfect baby daddy. I think I’ll keep you for the long haul.”

“Good. ‘Cause I sort of want to stick around for...I don’t know...the next forty, fifty years.” He squeezes her hip as his hand rests upon it, then kisses the tip of her nose. “Thank you. For her. For all of them. For us. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“No. It hasn’t. But it’s been worth it. Every single second and every single hard and shitty time. It’s been worth it. YOU’VE been worth it.”

“Now you’re going to make ME cry.”

“That’s okay. You’re beautiful when you cry. You’re beautiful all the time. But you’re extra pretty when you cry.”

Tyler frowns. “I’m going to let you have those only because I have my little peanut with me and she doesn’t need to hear the language that’s ready to come out of me.”

She laughs at that, then places a kiss on his shoulder and rubs his stomach. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

“You really want to know?”

Esme nods.

“Nik’s a cunt.”

“Jesus!” Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. “That escalated quickly.”

“Sorry. I know you hate that word. But that’s what she is. I told her about Nathan. About being pretty sure he’s the mole. She said it was all in my head. That I was reading too much into things. That my brain is just fucked and making me think that there’s shit going on.”

Esme snorts. “Nice to see it didn’t take her long to get back on her bullshit. Why do you even involve her in anything? It always ends up like this. Her trying to manipulate you and make you think you’re crazy. She’s never going to change, Tyler. And I regret ever thinking she could.”

“I think she knows more than she’s letting on. I think she might even know where he is. That she’s trying to protect him because she knows I’ll fucking kill him.”

“I knew it. I knew she was fucking him.”

He chuckles. “How’d you know that?”

“Women know these things about other women. She knew I was fucking you. In Dhaka.”

“In all fairness, the entire team knew we were fucking in Dhaka. We were staying in the same room for five days. It probably would have surprised them more if we DIDN’T fuck.”

“She really loves banging the hired help, doesn’t she. She’s got a thing for mercs?”

“Apparently. Her old rich friends can’t get it up so she relies on one of us to get the job done. She basically laughed it all off. Said I was imagining things. That I’m ‘reaching’ because I’m looking for someone to punish.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I thought your argument for Nathan as the mole was pretty sound. It makes sense. You’re not a stupid man, Tyler. Far from it. What’s your gut telling you?”

“That he’s either the mole or he’s playing some part in all of this.”

“Is there any way to prove it? Some way you can find out for sure?”

“Do you have any contacts with the Corps still?”

“Maybe...why?”

“Think you could pull some strings? Dig into his past?”

“I think I could try.”

“Would you? Try? For me? Please?”

She nods.

“Thank you.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “You won’t believe who she does think is the mole.”

“Right about now, it wouldn’t be a surprise if she said it was me.”

“I honestly would have lost my shit if she even suggested it. Ovi. She thinks it’s Ovi.”

“Ovi?” Esme can’t help but laugh. “Ovi as in OUR Ovi?”

Tyler nods.

“What the hell? Why would she suspect him? Of all goddamn people.”

“She thinks he’s been in contact with his old man.”

“We already know he is. Mahajan’s been trying to get him to take over the family biz. But that doesn’t mean he’s a mole. That’s ridiculous.”

“She says there’s proof he’s been to the prison a dozen or so times.”

“Proof? What kind of proof?”

“Visitor logs, apparently.”

“Anyone can sign someone’s name. It probably happens all the time. Is there actual confirmation of this? Security cameras, witnesses that saw him?”

“I didn’t ask about witnesses. But she said most of the prison doesn’t have working cameras.”

Esme snorts. “How fucking convenient.”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“I can’t believe she suspects him. Of all people. Ovi is not a mole. He’s a good kid. Well, young man now. But he’s a good person with a good heart. He’d never do anything like that to me or the kids. Look at what he did for us; during the whole McMann thing. He took our kids...all four...and kept them safe. He wouldn’t do that and then turn around and do something like this. She’s way off bases. You don’t believe her, do you?”

“What? No. I don’t. She doesn’t know him like we do.”

“Because you have that look on your face. The one that says you’re questioning something. Don’t do it, Tyler. Don’t let her in your head. We both know that Ovi wouldn’t do something like this. He loves you. He idolizes you. And he’d never...ever...betray you like that.”

“I wish I could get a hold of him. Talk to him. But I don’t want to draw any attention to him either. It’s better if I just lay low right now. Stay off their radar.”

“Do you want me to call him?” Esme suggests. “Because I don’t mind getting to the bottom of all this and proving Nik wrong. I know you have to fly under the radar, but it doesn’t mean I have to. I’ll do it. You know I will.”

“I think it’s better if we BOTH fly under the radar for now. At least until I’m back about eighty percent. Just in case.”

“Okay,” she reluctantly agrees, then shrugs out of the hoodie and drapes it over Addie. “But I don’t mind stirring the shit pot.”

Tyler grins. “Oh I know you don’t.”

“Like, fuck her for throwing him under the bus. Ovi would never do something like this. We’re his family. We’re his parents. He’s always said that. That we didn’t make him, but we’re still his mom and dad. He loves you way too much to ever hurt you. You know that, right?”

He nods.

“Don’t let her in, Tyler. She’s done it too many times before. Don’t let it happen. Okay?”

He nods and manages a small smile. “Okay.”

“Now come to bed.” she encourages as she stands. “It’s really late and I hate sleeping alone.”

“I can’t sleep. I just can’t.”

“At least close your eyes and try and rest. Even just a little? Please?” She pushes her hair off his forehead. “You can’t go on like this. Not sleeping. Your body will give up on you eventually. We need you better and back on your feet. And that won’t happen if you don’t get some rest.”

“I don’t want to close my eyes,” he admits. “ As soon as I close them, all I can see is the shit from that dream. What those fucking asshole do to you and Addie and Millie.”

“Okay...no...stop…” She stands behind his thighs and takes his face in her hands. “...stop that, Tyler. Stop torturing yourself like this. Because I’m right here and your baby girl is in your arms and Millie is asleep and safe in her room. Don’t do this yourself. Please don’t.”

“I’ll try.”

“Come to bed,” Esme insists, and pecks the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll be in a little while. “I’ll…”

“I said come...to...bed…” she speaks in between kisses to his lips, then captures the bottom one between her teeth. “...now.”

“Oh…” he grins. “...you mean come to bed in THAT way.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she confirms, then takes Addie from him. “I’m going to put her in the nursery and then I’m going to wait for you. I’ll give you ten minutes. You’re not inside by then, I’m staring without you.”

“I might want to see THAT.”

“I’ll indulge you if you don’t keep me waiting,” she promises, then disappears inside.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #extraction 2020 #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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medeafive · 3 years

Text

Blood and Stone - 21

Masterpost

"This is gonna be the worst Christmas ever," Tony mutters, sanding off the edges of a piece of metal. "If we even make it till then. Doesn't look great, does it."

"Christmas?" Natasha questions. "Seriously?"

"It's December, you whale," Tony returns, wiping grease onto his forehead. "And then a new millennium. Thought that would be a lot cooler. All the tech we were gonna have, right… though you probably don't care about that in Russia, you count the years since Stalin's death or something."

"Fuck off," Natasha returns, clutching the bag of peanuts. "Like you would know that, you imperialist capitalist fat cat."

"Sounds about right," Tony admits. "So you're really going to have the monster baby, huh?"

"You don't know it's going to be a monster," Natasha says.

"And you do?" Tony questions. "Because of what, your supreme female intuition?"

"Come on, it's literally inside of me, I can tell whether it's trying to kill me or not," Natasha returns. "You looked at it once under the ultrasound."

"Yeah, you're full of pregnancy hormones, though," Tony points out. "Weird that you're so dead set on that."

"Why is that weird?" Natasha hisses. "Because I'm not the, what was it, the womanly kind of woman, not a real woman?"

Tony groans. "Oh come on, I didn't mean it like that. Nothing negative about it. Just, you're obviously not… that ."

" What ?" Natasha asks.

"You know what I mean!" Tony shakes his head. "Kind or nurturing or… soft, really. Caring. None of that's you, and I thought you knew that and were okay with that, but maybe you're not."

"Maybe I am," Natasha suggests. "But I still want that fucking baby."

"I mean, that's your business," Tony allows. "But you're kinda skipping on the job, letting us deal with the invasion of the black cloaks on our own. There, done."

She didn't even think about the black cloaks. "Done what?"

"Metal arm," Tony replies briefly, raising smooth pieces of metal. "As promised. I'll get your friend and fit it to him, and then go the fuck to sleep."

"Isn't it hurting?" Natasha asks, nibbling away at a cookie.

"Yes," James replies, not even pulling a face as Tony removes another piece of metal from his arm.

"Just give him anesthesia already!" Natasha complains. "What the fuck is this?"

"Yeah, and what, and how much?" Tony questions, putting the rusted metal plate down. "No one knows how his body reacts. I thought you'd prefer if we didn't potentially poison him."

"It's fine," James mutters. "Really."

Natasha snorts. "Oh fuck off. Don't give me that tough guy macho bullshit."

James smirks, almost grins, until Tony starts cutting out another piece of old metal. "Not gonna lie, this is gonna take a while. So brace yourself, buddy."

Natasha swallows the rest of the cookie, slipping down into more of a lying position. "Yeah, Bobbi said pretty much the same thing."

"Does it hurt?" James asks, and she could hit herself for worrying him again.

"No, no, not at all." She sighs. "Just feels weird. Bloated. I don't feel it moving, by the way, not sure why."

"I could give you an electric shock," Tony ponders. "That'd numb your arm. Probably hurts just as bad, though."

"No electric shocks," James states, no room for discussion. "Are you sure it's… fine?"

"Bobbi said so," Natasha replies, for the umpteenth time. "And I'm pretty fresh on the vampire blood, so I feel quite good, actually. Maybe it'll start kicking soon, who knows."

Tony snorts, pulling out another metal part. "Yeah, then it's over with sleeping all day long like a princess-"

The door at the back of the lab cracks open, apparently not locked, and James jumps up before Tony yanks him down again. "Hey, hey, hold still."

James sits down reluctantly, turning his face away from the door where a blonde guy is peering in carefully. He doesn't look good, popped veins under his skin, looks like inflammation as well, and very pale. "Uh, hey. Is… is Sam here?"

"Hey," Natasha replies, rearranging her shirt. "I think Sam's upstairs. I'd go check but… well."

He stares at her belly, which, yeah. "Oh. You're…"

"Yeah, long story," Natasha agrees. "Just sit down and wait, I guess, somebody will come down here sooner or later."

"Yeah, can't move right now," Tony adds. "And this guy either."

"Sure, thanks," Steve says, clinging to the door. "Just, uh- wait, Bucky?"

James cringes hard. "No, wait, he got lost years ago," Steve retreats. "50 years ago, if- wow. No, sorry- unless…"

"Steve-" James starts weakly, careful not to open his mouth too much.

"Oh gosh." Steve takes a step forward. "How did you- You look weird. Your eyes- Are you okay? How did you get here? I'm really glad to see you but you really look strange, sound strange too-"

James presses his lips together. Tony looks increasingly amused, not very helpful. "Hey Steve," Natasha interjects, pushing herself upright. "Maybe we could walk a few steps and talk a little, could we do that?"

"Uh, yes, sure," Steve agrees with surprise. "But you really don't have to get up if-"

"It's fine, totally fine," Natasha waves off, breathing deep before pushing herself up, gripping the IV. "Phew. Haven't been up in a while. Just a second. No, no, I don't need the help."

"Are you sure-" James starts.

"Yes, yes, don't worry," Natasha interrupts even though she still sees stars. "I'm not sick. Over there, could you just hold the door- yeah, thanks, that's it."

Steve holds the door open for her dutifully, chancing a look towards James who's staring at the ground. She pushes past him, dragging the IV drip with her. She's kind of forgotten how to walk so she has to do it slowly and pay attention. Her center of gravity has shifted slightly as well so she has to balance that. "Close the door, please?"

Steve rips his eyes away from James, pulls the door shut and turns to Natasha. She rubs the very tight skin of her belly. "Yeah, so, I know it's a lot for you right now, everything… I guess there's no easy way to break it to you."

"Bucky is a vampire," Steve states. "Is that- Bucky is a vampire ."

"Yes," Natasha confirms quietly. "He's a vampire. Has been for 50 years."

Steve staggers back slightly, leaning against a shelf. "Oh gosh. Is he- did he- does that mean he killed someone? Has he killed people?"

"Probably," Natasha admits. "I'm sorry."

Steve rubs over his slightly swollen face. "Did he turn- he turned people into vampires, did he?"

"Yeah," Natasha replies. "Probably a lot of people. He didn't want you to know but that wouldn't have worked for long."

" Fuck ," Steve breathes. "Sorry. But he's still- still Bucky , isn't he? He's still the same- even with the teeth and the eyes and that, even if he- did that, all of that, he must still be the same person?"

"I don't know if he's the same," Natasha replies. "I can't tell you that. But he's still a person. He's not a monster, even if he did all that bad shit."

"Oh man." Steve rubs his face again. "I don't know if I can- I need to sit down. Sorry."

"Yeah, sure," Natasha replies with amusement. "Take your time."

Steve drops onto the stretcher which creaks loudly. "But if Bucky is still- even if he's a vampire- then aren't all vampires still people? Redeemable?"

Natasha snorts. "Nah, I wouldn't go that far. He's… he's special."

Steve stares at her belly as if he only just remembered. "Wait, are you-"

"Yep."

"You're having Bucky 's baby?"

"Yeah, that's his."

"But he's a vampire -"

"It was an accident but I'm going with it. For now."

Steve rubs his eyes. "Oh man. Sorry, but- who are you again?"

"Natasha," she replies. "It's a long story."

"Steve," he replies reflexively. "Uh, I'm sorry if that was rude, I didn't mean to-"

"No, no, it's fine," Natasha assures him. "This must be pretty difficult for you. I guess I'll just go back and leave you to stomach that, take your time."

"But aren't you one of the ones who hunt and fight against the vampires?" Steve insists.

"Yeah, sure," Natasha confirms, patting her belly. "Right now, not so much. Long story. But really, we don't have to do it all right now, just sit with it for a while and come back when you're ready."

Steve closes his eyes. "Yes. Alright. Just- Bucky's under- he's not dangerous right now? He's under control?"

Great, one more guy that's worrying about her safety. "Yes, yes, don't worry about him. He's not going to hurt anyone here."

"Okay," Steve mutters. "I'm sorry, I think I need to lay down again. Thanks for telling me all that."

He really doesn't look good, greener than before. "Sure. I'm going to lay down as well. Uh, do you want something to eat? I have a lot of food over there."

"Thanks, but my stomach is not doing so well yet," Steve admits, settling down on the stretcher. "Sam brought me a lot of dry bread, so it's fine."

"Yeah, okay." Natasha opens the door again, dragging the IV drip out of the way. "If you need anything, just come over."

James and Tony are still exactly where they were before, James looking up when she closes the door behind her. "It's okay. You just need to talk to him at some point."

"Okay," James says, even though he doesn't sound okay. "Is walking really-"

"Jesus Christ, for the final time, just hold still," Tony interrupts with exasperation. "Is that so hard?"

"Maybe I could go upstairs, or even outside," Natasha ponders, settling on the bed. "Some fresh air, sunlight…"

"There's a chance that's really bad for the little vampire spawn," Tony remarks, trying to fit a shiny metal plate in. "Or for you on vampire blood. Burst into dust bad. Abortion by sunlight bad."

"Is everything that's remotely fun forbidden?" Natasha complains.

"I thought sex with vampires was forbidden," Tony states carelessly. "But apparently… oh, he doesn't like it when I mention that."

"Fuck off," James hisses.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Tony replies, picking up the next metal plate. "You're touchy about that."

Another door opens, this time the one leading to the stairs. "Hey," Clint greets. "Supposed to check in on you."

"Everything's totally fine," Natasha returns. "Could you help me up the stairs? I haven't seen anything but this room in days."

"Uh, yeah, sure." Clint rubs through his hair. "Guess I'll carry the IV thingy. Really a shame we never got that elevator."

"Yeah, really hard to get a mechanic these days," Tony mutters. "No, seriously, don't let her in the sunlight if she wants to keep that cute fangy baby."

"What?" Clint questions. "Isn't the whole point of the baby that it's inside of her?"

"You guys are weird," Natasha remarks, slipping off the bed. "Good luck with the arm, though, it looks promising."

"Why, thank you." Tony bows his head graciously. "It was a lot of work. Now, if this guy would stop fidgeting-"

"I'm not fidgeting," James hisses. "It just really fucking hurts ."

"Told you," Tony states coldly, pressing the metal plate in deeper.

"It's gonna be alright," Natasha repeats. "Okay? I'll come back down, won't be a long trip."

"Yeah, okay," James mutters, teeth gritted.

Clint holds the door open for her as she makes her way through it with the IV. The stairs look taller than ever. "Yeah, so, for the sake of your jealous boyfriend, I'd prefer if I don't have to carry you up the stairs," Clint remarks. "So take it slow and pace yourself."

Natasha snorts, gripping the railing. "He's not that jealous. Oh boy."

Clint presses a hand against the small of her back, steadying her. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, just wasn't pacing myself enough," Natasha mutters. "Uh, I'm sorry he said that. To Bobbi. Well, to everyone."

Clint huffs with amusement, picking up the IV and stepping up the stairs behind her. "Eh, not that big of a deal, actually. Whether she knows or not."

"Did you fight?" Natasha asks quietly. More steps. "I thought I heard screaming last night."

"We always fight," Clint replies earnestly. "Her knowing doesn't change what happened, so no big deal."

Natasha stops to catch her breath. "What do you mean, what happened?"

Clint sighs. "Look, you couldn't know that at the time, but- that really was pretty shitty on my part, from the space I was in then, and it was dumb and spiteful and literally everything she says now. I shouldn't have dragged you into the aftermath of our breakup and expected that to make the pain disappear. Whether or not Bobbi knows, I know what it was and that's enough."

"Mhm." Natasha shakes her head. "Sounds pretty dire. Do you regret it?"

Clint grins. "Eh, not that bad. Look, you almost made it upstairs, don't give up now."

Natasha snorts. "Just pacing myself. Really, don't give yourself such a hard time over the whole thing. Yeah, sure, maybe it was all that but people just do dumb shit after breakups. I know I did."

"Like sleeping with a vampire?" Clint suggests.

She would've slapped him if he hadn't ducked. "That's years apart! Nothing to do with each other! If anything, sleeping with you."

"Yeah, okay." Clint shrugs. "Guess I shouldn't ignore all the mental politics and baggage you had involved, because you clearly had. Focusing too much on my own bullshit again."

"When there's so much bullshit to go around," Natasha notes, turning to look up the stairs again. "Okay. Just a few more. We can do this."

Clint snorts. "Not to brag, but I can walk up stairs in one go."

"Oh, wow," Bobbi remarks, jumping up. "You're up?"

"Yeah, just had to move," Natasha breathes, gripping the first thing she can. "Don't worry, I'm just going to sit down right now."

Sam doesn't meet her gaze. "Wait, I'll move that out of the way," Bobbi suggests, pulling the couch table back. "You good?"

"Yeah, I'm- ow! " Natasha grips her belly with both hands, almost toppling over. "Fuck. That hurt."

Bobbi helps her lay down on the couch. "Oh yeah, don't believe the magic gift of life bullshit, it's really fucking annoying and the rest is just lying hormones. Better?"

"Yeah." Natasha breathes deeply, head dropping back, eyes closed. "Just- felt like I was going to explode."

"Nah, you're stronger than that," Bobbi replies, putting a hand on her belly. "Whoops, there we go again. Should feel less intense when you're lying down."

It does. "That thing's pretty strong, isn't it," Natasha whispers.

"Yeah, but not abnormal," Bobbi returns. "But we can look at it if you want."

"Mhm, maybe later," Natasha suggests. "I'm just going to lie here for a while. Tony's blowing around a lot of metal dust down there."

"Oh yeah, he said something about that," Bobbi replies. "Pretty interesting. Right, I wanted to check that out."

"Sure, why not," Natasha agrees. "If you're sure I'm not going to explode."

"You're not going to explode," Bobbi assures her, getting up. "Okay? Call me if you need anything."

"Will do," Natasha replies. "Uh, Clint?"

Clint, who had kind of faded into the background, takes a step forward again. "Hm?"

"Sorry but- I'm kind of hungry again?" Natasha asks carefully. "Could you...?"

Clint snorts. "You're unbelievable. I'll be right back."

"Looks like you're taken care of," Bobbi remarks, disappearing around the corner.

Sam sits down on the couch across from her, hands folded. "Hey."

Natasha closes her eyes again. "Mhm. Hey."

"Sorry I'm being awkward," Sam says quietly. "When that's exactly what you didn't want."

Natasha snorts. "Eh, it's fine. Can't pay that much attention to that sort of thing right now."

"Can't unsee and unfeel that," Sam suggests with amusement. "It'll pass."

Natasha opens her eyes. "You're not- hitting on me?"

"No, no," Sam replies quickly. "Just being awkward again and making it worse."

"See how that feels?" Natasha remarks with amusement. "Glad it's hitting you this time."

"Nah, you can have it back," Sam returns. "You were way better at not giving a fuck."

"I give way too many fucks," Natasha replies. "By the way, I talked to the frozen guy, Steve. Told him his buddy is a vampire now and all."

"Sounds fun," Sam replies. "About the baby thing too?"

"Very briefly," Natasha allows. "Maybe you should go down and talk to him, he seemed more comfortable with you."

"Honestly, it helps just to leave him alone," Sam explains. "Otherwise, you constantly come upon new things he doesn't yet know about."

"Pepper's chocolate chip cookies," Clint announces with the jar in hand. "I really don't want to cook, badger Sam about that."

Natasha snorts, taking the entire jar. "Nah, it's fine. Thanks."

"I'll make you a protein shake," Sam offers. "Minerals and all."

"Good idea, thanks," Natasha replies. "Is everyone else in bed?"

"Bruce is," Clint replies, dropping onto a chair. "Fury too. Pepper and Sharon are out on patrol."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Natasha asks, reaching deep into the cookie jar.

Clint snorts. "It's always dangerous. But if black cloaks come into our town, we'd better know soon."

Natasha pats her belly. "This is just really bad timing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, why couldn't you hook up with a vampire after we kill them all," Clint remarks sarcastically. "Really a lack of foresight on your part."

"I'm serious," Natasha insists. "I could be out there. I should be out there."

"But you can't and you aren't," Clint returns. "That's just what it is. Fretting about it doesn't help. And it's probably too late, you wouldn't be back in shape even if, you know… if you had the abortion right now."

"Clint, this is-" Natasha sighs. "This is really important to me. I know it's hard to understand but it just is."

"You're fretting again," Clint informs her. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. Just do it."

She sighs, closing her eyes. "Do it is a little much for lying around, sleeping and eating."

"Princess's asleep?"

"Yeah, the stairs must have really exhausted her."

"Your ex is way too smart for you, by the way."

"Already knew that, didn't we."

"Hence the ex."

"Oh, fuck off."

"What, you just said it yourself!"

"Still don't like you saying it."

"Yeah, the Widow's too hot for you, too, so I see how that wouldn't work."

"Not that shit again-"

"Like, she's Lara Croft. Or the chick from Resident Evil. Every guy wants that, including the vampire."

"I'll tell Pepper you said that."

"I'll tell Bobbi all the mean things you said about her after your breakup."

"...how about we don't do either of that."

"Agreed."

"Now shut up about Nat, she's a friend."

"Oh yeah, I see that."

"Jesus Christ, fuck off."

"Gotta be hard, having the vampire run around."

"They both know I don't like him, so I really don't have to bother."

"And the baby."

"Yeah, but… we all throw our hopes and expectations out every year or so, so nothing new."

"You sound really old."

"Stopped trying not to."

"You mean, when you stopped chasing the twenty-something feral cat?"

"Jesus Christ, shut up before someone hears you."

#blood and stone #buckynat #vampire au #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #black widow #winter soldier #my writing #fanfic

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alllwritenow · 3 years

Text

Boom, Boom, Boom of Your Heart

Chapter One

Chapter Two

“Bonnie!” Elena exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her best friend and squeezing as tight as she could. “I missed you so much.”

Bonnie squeezed her right back, resting her head against Elena’s shoulder. “I missed you too. I am never going on tour again.”

Elena laughed and pulled back, studying her friend’s tired, but glowing, face for a moment. “I don’t believe that for a second, Bonnie Bennett. You cannot deny the masses the wisdom of modern witchcraft’s brightest star. Your instagram would riot.”

Her best friend made a face. “Yeah, well, the money’s nice, but if one more Karen treats me like her personal Tituba, I’m going to riot. Giving them tarot readings on instagram is a lot less work than pretending I care about their ‘traumatized auras’ in person.”

Letting out a cackle, Elena hugged her again. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re home. Caroline is just too high-energy to help me keep perspective.”

“I thought you had Lexi for that,” Bonnie teased, shooting a wink at the blonde who was carefully guarding their reunion scene in the middle of the airport.

Elena flapped her hands dismissively. “She’s too chill. I don’t think she understands the concept of stress.”

Lexi chuckled. “Trust me, Elena, I understand stress. But I’m definitely glad you’re back, Bonnie; I’m less likely to catch this one pacing at three in the morning and yelling at her laptop.”

Elena grimaced. “Sometimes the story won’t cooperate with me and I have to make it see things my way.”

Her best friend giggled, and looped her left arm through Elena’s, picking up her bag with her other hand. “I feel the same way about the tarot deck, except there is nothing I can do to make it see things my way. I don’t tell the Karens that though.”

“And that’s why you are the darling of the mystical-obsessed masses who have no idea how actually awesome you are.”

“Speaking of obsessed people,” Lexi said dryly, interrupting their moment. “Can we please get you out of the middle of a crowded airport? You’re supposed to meet Elijah back at the house to go over security there and show him the footage of the nights the notes were left.”

“Elijah?” Bonnie asked curiously, looking up at Elena as they started to walk toward the exit. “Who’s that?”

Elena scrunched her nose up. “He’s the security expert Lexi recommended, the one that will hopefully hunt down that asshole and get rid of them once and for all.” He was also incredibly handsome, charming, and made her stomach flutter when he said her name. It was very inconvenient.

“Good,” Bonnie said sharply, squeezing Elena’s arm with her own. “I want to see the sick fuck burn in whatever hell exists for putting you through this.”

“Me too,” Elena murmured. “Me too.”

“If anyone can do it, Elijah can,” Lexi told her in a reassuring tone, though her eyes never stopped scanning the people around them. “He’s relentless and very good at his job. You’re in good hands.” She grinned. “I’m only worried you’ll replace me when he gets done.”

“Never,” Elena said with a renewed smile. “You’re family now and you’re stuck with us, high stress levels and all.”

Elena ran her hands through her hair, pulling it into a high ponytail she knew she’d end up taking down and redoing at least half a dozen times in the next hour. Now that she was actually doing something proactive about this damn stalker, she was restless and impatient and just wanted to get it done. She felt like she hadn’t had a life since that first note appeared on her doorstep, and she was tired of feeling suffocated in her own skin. No one had that right to take her sense of freedom and security away like this, to make her feel fear in her own home. She growled under her breath and then looked up in surprise when she heard an amused chuckle.

“Is this part of the creative process that Alexandra was telling me about?” Elijah Mikaelson asked her from where he loomed in her office doorway, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

She chuckled ruefully and shook her head, already reaching up to fidget with her ponytail. “No, that’s part of the process I like to call ‘Imagining 1000 Ways for my Stalker to Die a Painful Death.’” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe Jenna will publish it if I pitch it right.”

Elijah smiled at her, a crooked thing that lifted only one side of his mouth. “I’d read it.”

Struck with the sudden urge to ask if he’s read any of her books, she bit down on it, not sure if she actually wanted the answer, and waved a hand in a general encompassing of her home office. “You wanted to walk through the house?”

He nodded, smile fading into a professional mien that was no less attractive but helpful for calming the roiling stew of her emotions. “Yes, and review your security footage for the twenty-four hours before and after each incident.”

Elena grimaced. “I hope you don’t want my company for the full watch, but you’re welcome to review it here or take copies with you. I still have a guest room available and you can use my office if needed.”

Lexi stayed with her, and had a room although she only used it when Caroline was on duty. Bonnie had moved in with her when all this started, moral support and a transition phase between the end of her last lease and her inevitable move-in with Vincent. Well, Elena thought it was inevitable, the two of them, while adorably in love, were agonizingly slow when it came to official relationship milestones. Not that Elena was going to complain about living with her best friend for as long as she could keep her.

Elena didn’t like being alone. And not just because of her stalker. Even as a child she’d hated being the only one in a room, always seeking out her parents, or Jeremy after his birth. Her early years had been plagued by nightmares whenever she had to sleep alone at night, although therapy and time had helped. But then her parents had died in high school and it all flared back up again. She’d put off college until Jeremy graduated, and gone to the same university he chose. Moving to California had only been partly about her career and living closer to Aunt Jenna, and more about following Bonnie, since Jeremy had gently but firmly made it clear that she couldn’t be his big sister shadow for the rest of his life.

Getting her own house had been one of the bravest things she’d ever done, and she deeply resented the stalker for stealing all her progress and pushing her into a life controlled by fear.

Elijah shook his head, bringing her out of her funk. “I won’t impose on you for that long, copies will be fine.”

Elena nodded and then pushed her chair back, finally standing up. “Well, let’s get the tour started.”

It didn’t take long, her house was nice, but far smaller than the colonial home she’d grown up in. Technically only one story, and only four bedrooms because she’d converted the attic into her room. While her books sold well, it was her and Jeremy’s inheritance that enabled her to be a homeowner at twenty-seven, particularly in the expensive suburb she called home, and she hadn’t had the desire for extravagance.

Elijah was professional throughout, kindly taking no notice of the mess her bed was in after the nightmares that had ruined her sleep. He seemed to approve of her security precautions and promised to have an update soon after she left him in Lexi’s hands for the security footage transfer and so the two old friends could catch up.

Leaving them to it, Elena wandered toward Bonnie’s room, relieved to see her door ajar in symbolic welcome. She sprawled onto her best friend’s bed, watching as Bonnie carefully unpacked all of her witchy tools.

“So he’s hot,” Bonnie said casually, not even looking in Elena’s direction as she sorted through a bag of crystals.

Elena flushed, rolling over on her back to stare at the ceiling rather than letting her best friend see by her expression how much she agreed. “And still in the house, so hush.”

Bonnie chuckled, not changing her volume at all. “I’m sure he’s aware of his attractiveness. You should ask him out.”

Reaching for a pillow, Elena blindly tossed it in Bonnie’s direction. “I should let him do his job and you should tell me when Vincent is coming over for your reunion so I can make sure my noise-cancelling headphones are charged.”

There was no audible answer, instead the pillow thwacked against her face and Elena spluttered, grabbing it in a defensive stance as she sat up, only to almost collide with Bonnie’s grinning mien.

“Those are the words of a cornered woman, Elena Gilbert. You think he’s hot, you think he’s capable, and he is literally your knight in shining suit right now. And I’m pretty sure private security doesn’t have ‘don’t date your client’ clauses like bodyguards.” Bonnie arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “And while I know you’ve had cause, it’s been like, two years since you last got laid which is just tragic.”

Elena buried her face in the pillow and groaned. Okay, yes, it had been a while, and Elijah Mikaelson was the first person in a long time to make her libido and her interest take notice. But clause or not, she thought it was a spectacularly bad idea to ask someone out you’d just hired to catch a stalker. Especially for some casual sex after what amounted to only three conversations.

“If you stop talking right now,” she told Bonnie, lifting her head back up. “I promise to ask him out after this is all over.”

Bonnie grinned and offered her a pinkie. “Deal.”

#vampire diaries #elena gilbert #elejah #fanfic #my fanfic #boom boom boom of your heart #rebloggable #bonnie bennett #bonnie/vincent #bonnie bennett x vincent griffith #elijah mikaelson

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imaginefan · 4 years

Note

can you write preferences for when they vent about the reader being their girlfriend, like "that's my girl" moment with loki, thor, stiles stilinski, gale, geralt, iron man, yennefer, dean and winchester

Loki Laufeyson

Loki had heard the screams before he could even see what was happening, you were watching a movie with the others but the screams made him think that something else had happened, he walked into the room and saw everyone had jumped to separate sides of the room and you were in the middle clutching your stomach Loki walked over you pulling you so that you were looking at him. “What happened?” He asked. Your body started shaking as you laughed.

“You remembered… That you taught me that spell… The one for small illusions?” You asked through your laughs.

“That was an illusion?” Tony asked and you curled in on yourself as your muscles started laughing again.

“You're all scared of spiders.” You gasped out.

“I’m scared of spiders that appear out of nowhere.” He answered and you rolled your eyes. Loki smiled as he looked at the frightened faces of the heroes around you.

“That’s my girl.” Loki said as he picked you up “now to teach you something bigger.”

Thor Odinson

Thor had left his hammer in the middle of the floor again and you were getting sick of having to keep yelling at him, you looked at it for a second before gripping it “Thor will you move this- Ahh!” Your sentence was cut off by your own surprise as you found yourself falling backwards.

“(Y/N) my love what happened?” Thor asked as he appeared in the doorway.

“I tripped.” You answered.

“Tripped?” He asked.

“Yes, and your stupid hammer didn’t save me.” You muttered as you lifted it towards him, not really thinking about what you were doing.

“That’s my girl.” He as he walked over to you.

“What are you talking about?” You frowned as he walked to the door calling for the others. “Oh… Oh!” You realised what exactly you were doing and then you looked at your own hand in shock “How is this possible.”

“You are worthy.” He smiled as he walked over to you.

Stiles Stilinski

You had expected for Stiles to be back by now, you knew that there was a certain type of nuance to breaking into an office but it was almost the end of the game, you decided that you were going to go look for him.

The first thing that you heard was the shouting from the swimming pool, you ran to the door and saw Stiles and Derek in the pool “What the hell is going on?” You asked.

“(Y/N) watch out!” Stiles yelled you noticed the moving shadow to your left and dodge as it came at you.

“Oh, I get it.” You nodded as you dodged out of the way again. “Did you at least find out what it is?”

“Not yet!” Stiles yelled back.

“So what am I supposed to do with it!?” You asked.

“It doesn’t like the water,” Stiles answered.

“Is that so?” You asked as you took out your phone and put in your password before having to dodge the creature again, you attempted to call Scott as you tried to get closer to the pool. You were standing with your back to the pool “Come on!” You yelled before jumping out the way at the last minute the lizard gave a harsh shout before jumping out the water and leaving, Scott appeared two seconds later to help you pull Derek and Stiles out of the pool.

“Where’d it go?” Scott asked.

“You should have seen (Y/N) she kicked the thing into the pool and he ran,” Stiles said and you rolled your eyes.

“Let’s just get out of here.” You muttered before heading to the door.

Gale Hawthorne

You had been out hunting before but you weren’t all too good at it, Gale said that he was going to help you, so you met him outside of the gates where he taught you how to place your feet so that you could move quietly, you had a few practice shots before you headed out. “This is going to end so badly.” You muttered to yourself.

“Stop being so hard on yourself.” Gale said softly before pressing a kiss to your head and leading you through the forest, you walked behind him concentrating on not making any noise, Gale tapped the top of your head as he turned back to you, he pointed up into the bushes where there was a deer grazing. You stepped in front of him and positioned yourself as he told you.

“Breath in and pull back to your chest.” He said softly. “Elbow up.” You loosed the arrow that hit the deer in the shoulder, you released a second arrow that flew through the air that hit the chest seconds after killing the deer. “That’s my girl.”

“Beginners luck.” You played it down.

“We’ll see.” He smiled as he pulled you towards the deer that you had just killed.

Geralt Of Rivia

Geralt had just finished a job, he had left you with Roach and Jaskier, you were supposed to make sure that the men that had hired him didn’t try to leave without paying him, or even tried to steal from him. Now the first thing that he heard were the screams of the men that had hired him and you talking in a dangerously low tone. When he broke through the trees to find you had the man on the floor you knee pressed to his back and his arm pulled up behind him “They move I’ll break it.” You threatened as you gestured to his friends who seemed to have been moving towards Jaskier and Roach.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asked a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Oh Geralt your back.” You smiled “they did just what you thought that they would, they tried to skip out on the deal.”

“Mmm.” Geralt grunted.

“Give him the money.” The man under your knee ordered and one of the others threw him the money before you let him go and they all run. You stood up dusting yourself off as Geralt stepped up behind you wrapping an arm around your waist.

“That’s my girl.” He said softly as Jaskier groaned from across the clearing.

Tony Stark

Tony made a mistake that much was clear but there was no point in everyone yelling at him, you were all just wasting time, so you stepped up “Are you all done!?” You asked.

“He’s-”

“Made a mistake, haven’t we been cleaning up everyone else’s these past few months?” You asked.

“That’s-”

“Not the point. No, but we don’t have time to yell about everything.” You explained and Steve looked at you. “Yes mistakes have been made, Tony knows that, we all know that, there’s no point in standing around arguing about it while the bad guy gets a head start.”

“Your right,” Steve said.

“Everyone take a minute and then we’ll sort this out.” You said, everyone left the room and you turned to Tony. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Look I-”

“You're going to fix it.” You ordered.

“You're just finishing everyone’s sentences today.” He teased.

“Mhmm.” You hummed. “I stop people from yelling at you, that's why you love me.”

“That's why you're my girl.” Tony smiled pulling you into a hug.

Yennefer

You and Yen were travelling together, you’d decided that you needed to stop for the night because sleeping on the road just was not going to cut it for another night. You walked into the Tavern and you had expected some stares but you hadn’t expected for someone to actually approach you both. “You ladies need a place to stay?” The man asked, he literally could not stand upright and his smelled terrible.

“Leave us be,” Yen said dismissing him but he stepped closer managing to fit himself between your’s and Yen’s seats.

“Come on I’m sure that I can-” He was cut off by you grabbing his hand and twisting it behind his back.

“I don’t think you can keep up.” You teased as your knife pressed against his neck.

“You can do better than that.” Yen smirked and you moved the knife down to his stomach. “Warmer.” She reached forward-moving it down further. “That’s my girl.”

“No, wait.” He pleaded.

“Next time it’ll be more than a threat.” You informed him before letting go and sheathing the knife.

“We don’t need your help Geralt, she’s got it covered,” Yen called out and you looked behind you to see Geralt standing arms folded as he watched the scene play out. You just smiled and waved before pulling Yen to your room.

Dean Winchester

Dean had met you after Sam had left and you guys hand been hunting together ever since, you went back with him to find Sam when their Dad went missing and you stuck by him no matter what happened but there was one thing that you did that he considered one of your most important skills, whenever you had access to a kitchen you would cook a pie and today was no different.

The bunker was quiet, the boys were sleeping, you were up early for no particular reason so you decided to make a pie, you knew that Dean would want one, it was about half way through the cooking process that the smell seemed to pull Dean out of bed and you giggled went he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of your face when he appeared in the kitchen. “What are you doing up so early?” He asked.

“It’s not early. Sam just went for his workout.” You answered and he looked at the door and then the oven.

“But you were up before that.” He said and you nodded.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged “I was up so I thought that I would bake a pie.”

“Pie!?” He asked.

“It’s not done yet.” You laughed pushing him away from the oven.

30 to 40 minutes later you were sitting at the table and Dean had a whole pie in front of him as Sam walked through the door “Where’d you get that?” Sam asked.

“(Y/N) made it.” Dean answered a smile stretching across his face “my girl knows what I need.” Sam just rolled his eyes and left the room to take a shower while you rested your head against the table tired and embarrassed.

Sam Winchester

Sam hadn’t ever really had a problem with researching for a case but for some reason he just could focus he was sitting at the table with a blank look on his face as he re read the same passage for the 4th time, you glanced over at him and frowned before picking up the laptop doing a quick search on the town.

“Hey what about this?” You mumbled softly as you turned the laptop to show an article about the house that you were looking into. “A girl died in the house, they marked it as a suicide but maybe we can find out why she did it.”

“You are perfect.” He smiled as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“All I did was search the town.” You shrugged and he smiled.

“You're perfect.” He said again before turning and walking out the room “Dean!” He called. “My wonderful, perfect, ama-”

“Sammy we get it, what have you got!?” You heard Dean shout cutting off his younger brother and causing you to groan, you’ll hear about that later.

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winchesterbrotherstan · 4 years

Text

Supernatural- Phantom Traveler (1.04)

Pairing: N/A, Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: A demon haunts a plane, Olive and Sam keep having nightmares, the siblings pull off something big, and Dean spits in Death’s face (no not literally)

Warnings: Demons, mentions of plane crashes, screaming, cursing, exorcisms, etc

Word Count: 8391

Dean, Sammy, Dad. All dead. All torn to pieces. Dad, hung up by his neck. Sammy, head thrown backwards, mouth open, nose broken, blood spilling. Dean the worst, wide green eyes such sharp contrast to the red blood speckling his face, overtaking his freckles. I whimpered, feeling his face. He was still warm, so warm. I hadn’t been fast enough, the spirit got to them because I hadn’t been fast enough. It hurt to see them, but Dean was the worst. He had raised me, and now he was dead.

We had been hunting a spirit that targeted men, especially men with young daughters and younger sisters. It was running rampant, and as much as it was a danger to us, we had to stop it. I felt a cold breath on the back of my neck, and I opened my mouth to scream. A hand slipped in, gripping my tongue and pulling it away, ripping it off. I screamed, but gurgling blood was the only thing that slipped out. Dean’s head twitched, and he looked right at me.

“You aren’t good enough. Face it, kid. You just got us killed.”

I tried to scream again, but this time I could feel my tongue in my mouth. I sat up and sobbed, looking down to my side. Dean was peacefully asleep on his stomach, one arm thrown protectively around me. I struggled to breathe, still crying. The nightmare was jarring, and I felt like I was going to be sick. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I screamed, startled. A hand clapped over my mouth and I was pulled into someone’s grasp. Dean didn’t seem to notice, snoring, unbothered.

“It’s just me!”

I sobbed again, realizing it was Sam. I snuggled into him, wrapping my arms around his torso and squeezing. Sam grunted as he lifted me, trying to get me balanced in his lap. I whimpered again, and he hugged me tighter.

“Shh. You’re okay, bug. You’re okay. I promise. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Sam ran a hand along my back as I tried to calm my breathing.

“I-i-it it was y-y-you an-and Dad, and De-” I cut off, another sob spilling from my lips as I closed my eyes and saw my oldest brother behind my eyelids, dead.

“He’s okay. I’m okay. Dad’s okay. We’ll find him. We’re right here. We’re not going anywhere.” He whispered.

I sat myself up, looking at Sam’s face. He smiled at me, wiping away my tears and kissing my forehead. I sniffled and rubbed my eyes. I looked over my shoulder at Dean. He was still on his stomach, but was no longer snoring. I caught sight of the red alarm clock on the nightstand. 2:45 AM. I rubbed my eyes again.

“I’m sorry, Sam. Didn’t mean to wake you up.” I whispered, crashing back into his chest.

Sam shook his head. “It’s okay, I was already awake.”

I sat up. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Nightmares keep me up too.”

I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. “M’sorry, Sams.”

He only wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my head again. “It’s okay, bug. Do you wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head. “Don’t wanna think about it.” I whined, sounding like a four year old.

He shushed me, trying to soothe me. “It’s okay. That’s okay.”

I finally stopped crying and calmed my breathing down. He rocked me back and forth, trying to get me back to sleep.

“Sammy?” I kept my head tucked under his chin.

“What is it, bug?”

“Can I stay in your bed? Please?”

“Of course you can, bug. C’mere.” He moved backward, pushing the sheets out of the way.

I crawled off his lap and laid down on the side closest to Dean, on my stomach, reaching out for his hand. I barely reached his pinky, hooking my pointer finger around it. I let out a deep breath and closed my eyes. I felt Sam shift next to me, then pull the blankets up to my shoulders. I heard the hum of the TV, then Sam’s fingers in my hair. I was lulled to sleep, feeling Dean scoot close enough to hold my hand in his.

***

My eyes opened before my brain turned back on, and I saw Dean sleeping on his stomach, now on the edge of the bed, hand clutching mine. I yawned against the pillow, then turned my head away. I felt Sam’s absence before I noticed it, hand reaching out, only to pat an empty bed. The door opened, and I heard Sam’s heavy footsteps. I relaxed once more, closing my eyes again. Dean groaned, and his hand gripped mine before he sighed, letting me go.

“Morning, sunshine.” Sam scoffed, and I could tell it was directed at Dean.

“What time is it?” He groaned again.

“Uh, it's about 5:45.” Sam noted, placing things down on the edge of the bed, moving my feet aside.

“In the morning?” Dean hissed.

“Yep.”

I heard the springs in Dean’s bed screech. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours.” Sam sat by me, hand rubbing my back.

“Liar.” Dean scoffed. “Because I was up at three, and Olive was asleep in your bed, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial.”

Sam’s hand stopped, and then he sighed. “Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV.”

“When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?” Dean was disgruntled.

“I don't know, a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal.” Sam’s hand came to my hair, and I shifted a little.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Look, I appreciate your concern-”

“Oh, I'm not concerned about you. It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp.” Dean sassed.

I yawned, but when I heard Dean begin to speak again, I let my head flop back onto the pillow. Sam shrugged again.

“Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?”

Sam kissed the top of my head before getting up. I groaned and rolled over onto my back. Dean snorted at me, coming to sit by my side. He pushed my hair out of my face, stroking my cheek.

“Yeah. But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job. man, it gets to you.” Sam paused. “She woke up last night, crying.”

I could feel Dean staring at me, and his finger came back across my nose. It tickled, and I moved away with a groan.

“You can't let it. You can't bring it home like that.” Dean’s voice was a whisper, and I knew he meant it more for me than for Sam.

“So, what? All this it… never keeps you up at night?” Sam asked.

There was a pause, and Dean pulled my nose between his thumb and pointer finger. I pushed him away, then sat up, kicking the sheets off. I crawled into his lap and dropped my head against his neck.

“Never? You're never afraid?” Sam asked.

“No, not really.” Dean rubbed my back, the other hand in my hair.

Sam scoffed, and I looked over my shoulder to see him pull the hunting knife from under Dean’s pillow. Dean leaned forward and snatched it back, placing it on the nightstand.

“That’s not fear. That is precaution.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Precaution? Olive woke up screaming, and you heard nothing.”

“I heard her. But I saw that you had her, didn’t wanna steal your moment.” Dean shrugged.

“Alright, whatever. I'm too tired to argue.” Sam pulled me from Dean’s lap, sitting me next to him, now on Dean’s bed.

I grumbled, but quickly lit up as Sam handed me a coffee and a brown bag. I looked inside to see a bagel. I smiled and popped up, kissing Sam’s cheek before digging into my breakfast. Dean put down his coffee as his phone rang. He flipped it open, setting it to speaker with a suspicious face.

“Hello?”

“Dean, it's, uh, it's Jerry Panowski. You and your dad helped me out a couple years back.”

Dean looked at me, eyebrows furrowed. I racked my brain, trying to remember what I had researched for a Jerry Panowski a few years ago. It clicked, and I pointed at Dean, mouth full of bagel.

“Poltergeist, Pennsylvania.” I mumbled.

Dean nodded. “Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?”

“No. No. Thank god, no. But it's something else, and… uh, I think it could be a lot worse.”

“What is it?”

Jerry hesitated. “Can we talk in person?”

Dean looked at me, and I shrugged. He then looked to Sam, who looked back. I stuffed the rest of the bagel in my mouth and headed to the bathroom to change.

***

“Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.” Jerry spoke to Sam and I.

“Yeah, I heard. It was a poltergeist?”

“Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.” A worker passed by.

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking.” Jerry hissed at the man. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive.”

“Well, Olive did a lot of the research for that. She did that before she started hunts.” Dean cut in, hand on my shoulder.

Jerry nodded, impressed. “Nice, nice, thank you very much. Sam, your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?”

Sam tensed. “Yeah, I was. I'm… taking some time off.”

Jerry smiled. “Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

Sam looked up. “He did?”

Jerry nodded. “Yeah, you bet he did. Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

Dean tensed too. “He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now.”

“Well, we’re missing the old man but we get Sam and Olive. Even trade, huh?”

Dean laughed, ruffling my hair.

“No, not by a long shot.” Sam scoffed off.

I elbowed him. “Speak for yourself, I’m an even trade.” I laughed.

He smiled, pushing me by the forehead.

“Listen, I got something I want you guys to hear.” Jerry laughed at us, leading us to his office.

“I listened to this, and, well… it sounded like it was up your alley.” He held a CD in his hand, then popped it into the drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

The recording was staticky, and it gave me the creeps. Dean noticed, pulling me against him and wrapping his arms around me as we listened.

“Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485—immediate instruction help! United Britanis 2485, I copy your message—May be experiencing some mechanical failure…”

The recording ended with a loud whoosh, and I shivered.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.” Jerry frowned.

“You don’t think it was?” I looked up from Dean’s hold.

“No, I don't.” Jerry shook his head at me.

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors.” Sam smiled politely.

Jerry nodded. “Alright.”

“And, uh… any way we could take a look at the wreckage?” Dean tried.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage… kids, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse.” He shook his head again. “No way I’ve got that kind of clearance.”

Dean looked at me and pouted, thinking as he squinted. I smiled. We would figure it out. He nodded, then looked back up to Jerry with a smile.

“Won’t be a problem.”

***

Sam and I were waiting outside a Copy Jack. A blonde girl walked in as Dean walked out, and he looked her up and down with a flirty grin.

“Hey.” She smiled.

“Hi.” He grinned.

“Dad! Hurry up, Mom’s waiting for us at home!” I called out to him, smiling from my perch on the hood of the car.

The woman made a face before ducking into the store. Dean came over and flicked my forehead.

“Ow!” I whined, squirming away.

“Aw, I’m sorry.” He rubbed my face with his entire hand.

“You've been in there forever.” Sam sighed.

Dean only held up three IDs, handing one to me and another to Sam.

“You can’t rush perfection.” Dean shrugged.

“Homeland Security?” I looked up with wide eyes.

“Homeland Security.” Sam echoed. “That’s pretty illegal, even for us.”

Dean held his arms out and gestured for me to get off the car. I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head, squinting at him. Dean sighed but picked me up anyways, setting me on his hip as he walked around to the drivers side.

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times.” Dean set me down in the seat, and I inched to the middle, sighing as my brothers piled in next to me.

“Alright, so what do you two nerds got?”

“Well, there’s definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder.” I fished the tape from my pocket and handed it to Sam.

“Yeah?” Dean started the car.

“Listen.” Sam stuck it into the player.

“No survivors!” The voice hissed.

Dean looked confused. “No survivors? What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

Sam shrugged. “Got me.”

“So, what are you thinking? Haunted flight?”

“Well, there is a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, kinda like phantom travelers.” I explained.

Dean listened, but scoffed. “Nerd.”

“Or, remember Flight 401?” Sam asked.

Dean nodded. “Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.” Dean scratched his head.

“Right.” I nodded. “Maybe we’ve got a similar deal.”

“Alright, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?” Dean leaned back, throwing an arm around the back of the seat.

“Third on the list, Max Jaffey.”

“Why?” Dean tilted his head.

“Well, one, he’s from around here. Two, if anyone saw anything… weird…” Sam and I shared a look. “It was him.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I spoke to his mother.” I smiled.

“And she told her where to find him.” Sam finished.

***

“I don’t understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security.” Jaffey shook his head, hobbling around on his cane.

“Right. Well, some new information has come up.” I spoke.

“So if you could just answer a couple questions…” Dean shrugged.

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything… unusual?” Sam asked.

“Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices?”

“No, nothing.” He shook his head.

“Mr. Joffey-”

“Jaffey.” It was a snarl.

“Right, Mr. Jaffey.” I stepped between him and Dean. “You checked yourself in here, right?” The only response I got was a nod. “Can we ask why?”

“I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash.”

“Uh huh. And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?” Dean asked.

“I…” He looked from Dean to me, then Sam. “I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what.” Dean pressed.

“No. No, I was … I was delusional. Seeing things.” Jaffey shook his head.

“He was seeing things.” Dean repeated, looking at me.

I elbowed his side. “It’s okay. Just tell us what you saw. Please.” I coaxed.

“There was this… this man. And, uh, he had uh..” He moved his hands toward his eyes. “These eyes these, uh… black eyes. Entirely black. And I saw him… or I thought I saw him…”

“What?” Dean asked.

Jaffey said nothing, and I sighed.

“Mr. Jaffey, please. Anything you could tell us would help.”

“He opened the emergency exit. But that's… that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.” Jaffey shook his head.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded.

“This man, uh… did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage.” Sam asked, describing a spirit.

“What are you, nuts?” Jaffey scoffed.

Sam and I looked at each other and Dean raised his eyebrows.

“I… I’m sorry, what? What do you mean?”

Jaffey scoffed. “Are you guys sure you’re Homeland Security? I mean look at yourself. You look twelve.” He eyed me.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice was gruff, and he was done waiting around. “You’re not the one who’s asking the questions here. Answer her.”

“He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

I looked up at Sam, and then over to Dean. He looked pale.

***

“Here we are. George Phelps, seat 20C.” Sam looked up from his notepad.

“Hmm.” Dean squinted as he put the car in park and got out, pulling me with him. “Man, I don’t care how strong you are. Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight.” Dean scoffed.

“Not if you’re human. But maybe this guy was something else. Maybe a skinwalker, a familiar. A shifter.” I listed the only things that came to mind.

“Some kind of creature, in human form.” Sam concluded.

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean gestured to the ordinary house in front of us.

Sam and I looked at each other and sighed.

***

“This is your late husband?” I asked, looking at the framed photo in Sam’s hand.

“Yes, that was my George.” Mrs. Phelps smiled sadly.

“And you said he was a… dentist?” Dean was trying his best to be polite.

“Mhm. He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that…” She sighed.

“How long were you married?” Sam asked.

“Thirteen years.”

“In all that time, did you ever notice anything… strange about him? Anything out of the ordinary?” I suggested.

“Well…” She thought, then perked up. “He had acid reflux, if that’s what you mean.”

The boys and I only looked at each other.

***

“I mean it goes without saying. It just doesn't make any sense.” Sam sighed as we walked down the steps of the house.

“A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified. You know what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage.” Dean pressed.

“Okay.” Sam gave in. “But if we’re gonna go that route, we’d better look the part.”

Dean looked at me and scowled.

***

Sam fixed his collar, then adjusted the tie around my neck. He smiled at me, smoothing my hair out and kissing the top of my head.

“Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.” Dean grunted, fixing his tie.

I shook my head as I looked at him and Sam laughed.

“No, you don't. You look more like a… seventh-grader at his first dance.”

Dean looked down at himself and groaned.

“I hate this thing.” He grumbled.

I laughed. “You look cute!”

He rolled his eyes at me and Sam laughed too. “Hey. You want into that warehouse or not?”

Dean glared at us as we climbed into the car. Dean flicked my head as he started the car.

***

Dean flashed his badge first, followed by Sam’s and mine. The security guard eyed me, squinting.

“Trainee. Top of her class.” Sam stepped in front of me.

The security guard seemed to shrug to himself before letting us into the warehouse. The door slammed shut behind us, and Dean grinned, pulling out his EMF meter.

“What the fuck is that?” Sam asked as Dean popped an earbud in.

“It’s an EMF meter.” Dean eyed him. “Reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

Sam waved him off, “Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

Dean smiled proudly. “Because that’s what I made it out of.” He moved it Sam’s way. “It’s homemade.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Dean’s smile fell as he ran the EMF meter over a piece of the wreckage. I noticed yellow dust that looked kind of like tumeric. I ran a finger along it and looked at it. Dean’s EMF meter spiked, and I shook the powder off my finger.

“The fuck is this stuff?” I turned to Sam.

“Language.” He flicked my head before pulling out a plastic baggie. “Only one way to find out.”

He scraped some into the bag. There was a bustling outside the door, and Dean and I looked at each other. Someone shouted an order, and Dean grabbed me by the back of the neck, tugging me down as we scrambled out of the building. We made it through the back and the alarms went off. Dean looked around the corner of the building before pulling me behind him, Sam following. We made it to the barbed wire fence, and Dean threw his suit jacket over it. He patted my shoulder.

“You first.”

I grunted as I clambered over the fence, Sam following, Dean last. I winced, trying to keep my weight off my ankle. It hadn’t healed right, and sometimes things made it hurt. For example, climbing over fences.

“Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.” Dean grinned at me before yanking the jacket back and running.

Sam and I scoffed before following.

***

Jerry had his eye up to the microscope, which was replicated onto his computer screen.

“Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur.” Jerry pulled back and looked at us.

Sam and I went wide eyed, looking right at each other. I gulped, and Dean tensed.

“You're sure?” Sam asked.

Jerry nodded, gesturing toward the microscope. “Take a look for yourself.”

Banging resonated from outside the office, and I jumped about a foot in the air. Dean put his hands on my shoulders as someone cursed outside.

“If you kids will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire.” Jerry nodded before heading for the door.

Dean looked into the microscope and hummed, scratching his head. He looked at me and nodded toward it. I sighed and looked through, only to see yellow.

“You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue.” I winced.

“Demonic possession?” Sam suggested.

Dean shrugged. “It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch.”

“De’s right. It the guy was possessed, it's possible.” I pushed myself up to sit on the desk.

Dean shuddered, leaning beside me. “This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean… it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?”

“Sams, you ever heard of something like this before?” I turned to the tall boy.

He shook his head. “Never.”

***

I rubbed my eyes as I stepped out of the bathroom, just showered. Sam and Dean were in full research mode. Sam was on his laptop, and Dean was strewn over a bed, reading a paper. There were pictures and articles taped onto the walls, and a few books on religion were piled on the other bed.

I sighed and padded toward Sam, wrapping my arms around him from behind, dropping my cheek onto his shoulder. He had the Wikipedia page on demons in Japanese culture open.

“So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? I mean Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it.” Sam didn’t look back as he spoke.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this.” Dean sighed.

“Well, that's not exactly true. You see, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease.” I read off the screen.

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean asked. He came to our side, leaning against the table. “Alright, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?”

“Yeah. You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one?” Sam looked up with concern in his eyes.

Dean snorted before looking away.

“De?” I stood, detangling myself from Sam.

“I dunno, guys. This isn’t our normal gig. I mean… demons, they don’t want anything besides death a-and destruction for its own sake.” His eyes landed on me and he frowned. “This is big. I wish Olive wasn’t here. And I wish Dad was.”

I looked to the floor. I knew Dean wanted me out of the way for my own protection, but it still stung to hear the words leave his mouth.

“Yeah. I wish he was too.” Sam looked back at his computer.

Dean caught the look on my face as I shuffled to the bed, picking up one of the books. He sat next to me.

“Sweetie, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” I mumbled, flipping through the book.

He put his hand down, stopping me from reading. He looked at me with regret on his face and licked his lips. His phone rang before he could say anything. He sighed before answering.

“Hello?”

I tried to pry his hand away, but he kept it firm, shooting me a look.

“Oh, hey, Jerry.”

I sighed and pulled the book away, dropping it onto the bed. I wrapped my arms around Dean’s and scooted closer, dropping my cheek onto his shoulder and looking up at him. His face changed and he swallowed.

“Wh- Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?”

Sam turned around and I inched closer, trying to hear Jerry on the other end.

“Where'd this happen?”

“About sixty miles west of here, near Nazareth.”

“I'll try to ignore the irony in that.” Dean’s freckled face grew a smile.

“I'm sorry?”

Same, Jerry, same.

“Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.” Dean squeezed my hand before hanging up.

“Another crash?” I perked up.

“Yeah.” He squeezed my hand again, and I let go. “Let's go.”

“Where?” Sam stood.

“Nazareth.”

***

“Sulfur?” I asked.

Jerry was looking through the microscope again. Dean was sitting next to me, on the desk, and Sam was in the chair in front us. I had my feet propped up on the back edge of his seat, arms slung over his shoulders. Jerry nodded.

“Well, that's great. All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.” Dean mumbled.

“With all due respect to Chuck, if that's the case, that would be the good news.” Sam looked up.

“What's the bad news?”

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this, so did flight 2485.” I turned to look at Dean, whose face fell.

“Forty minutes? What does that mean?”

Dean sighed. “It's biblical numerology. You know, Noah's Ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death.”

“Sam and I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in.” I informed.

“Any survivors?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. “No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason.”

I pieced things together, then looked back to Dean. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“No survivors.”

I nodded, and realization was visible on Sam’s face.

“It's going after all the survivors.”

Dean sighed. “It's trying to finish the job.”

***

Sam’s face seemed to play the role his voice was acting. “Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.”

His smile dropped the minute he hung up the phone.

“Alright. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.” I looked at Dean, who was driving.

“So our only wildcard is the flight attendant Amanda Walker.”

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight pm. It's her first night back on the job.” Sam spoke.

“That sounds like just our luck.” Dean groaned.

“De, this is a five-hour drive, even with you behind the wheel.” I grimaced.

“Call Amanda's cell phone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass.”

“Already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.” Sam sighed. “God, we're never gonna make it.”

Dean sighed and looked at me, then slammed the brakes, throwing the car in park. He got out, pulling me with him. He slid back in, taking my spot. I grinned as I shut the door and put the car in drive. Dean looked at Sam.

“Dean, she’s fifteen.”

“Hey, at least we’ll make it.”

***

I pulled into the first parking spot I saw and turned the car off, shoving the keys into Dean’s hand. He got out right after me, heading right for the airport.

“Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Sam stopped him.

Dean looked back at us and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Dude, we’re about to walk into an airport.”

Dean shook his head, and Sam shook his back. Dean scowled, shaking his head again. I only giggled as I pulled the knives from my belt and my ankle. Sam sighed at me, and I grinned before pulling out the last knife from the holster strapped against the small of my back. I tossed it into Baby’s trunk.

Dean followed suit, piling a small gun and more knives into the car. Sam stood, weight rested on one hip, arms crossed over his chest. Dean finished and slammed the trunk shut with a frown.

“I feel naked.” Dean hissed.

Sam and I grinned at each other. Dean scowled once more, pulling me to walk as he headed for the airport once more.

We picked up the pace when we realized the time. We ran into the airport, and I stopped at the departure board, both boys running into me.

“Right there!” Sam pointed above my head. “They’re boarding in thirty minutes.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone.”

I pointed to the white courtesy phone right next to us. Dean blinked at me before picking it up.

“Hi. Gate thirteen.”

Sam and I looked at each other, nervous.

“I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um…” Green eyes came my way.

Four two four, I mouthed as I held my fingers up with corresponding numbers.

“Flight 424.” He blurted. “Come on.” He mumbled, tapping his fingers. His face lit up and he cleared his throat. “Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here.”

“Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so-”

Dean paused and his face went pale.”You what?”

Sam and I looked at each other again. Sam lifted me onto his hip so I would be level with Dean. We leaned in, trying to hear Amanda.

“Uh, well… there must be some mistake.” Dean sputtered.

“And how would you even know I was here? Is this one of Vince's friends?”

Dean looked at us. Sam shrugged, and I nodded. A grin grew on Dean’s face.

“Guilty as charged.”

“Wow.” She scoffed. “This is unbelievable.”

“He's really sorry.”

“Well, you tell him to mind his own business and stay out of my life, okay?”

“Yes, but… he really needs to see you tonight, so-”

“No, I'm sorry. It's too late.” She cut him off.

“Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic.” Dean struggled.

“Really?”

Dean nodded as if she could see him. “Oh, yeah.”

“Look, I've got to go. Um… tell him to call me when I land.”

“No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!”

The dial tone rang.

“Damn it! So close.” Dean hissed, slamming the phone down.

“Thank you for flying United Britannia Airlines.” A robotic voice came over the intercom, and Sam sighed.

“Alright, it's time for plan B. We're getting on that plane.”

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” Dean’s eyes went wide and his skin went pale.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash.” Sam whispered.

“I know.” Dean frowned and I sighed as Sam continued.

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and Ollie get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through the security. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dean only looked at him, eyebrows knitted together. I avoided Sam’s stare.

“Are you okay?” He then looked to me. “Is he okay?”

“No, not really.” Dean mumbled.

“What? What's wrong?” Sam’s eyes grew wide with concern.

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…”

“Flying?”

“It’s never really been an issue until now.” Dean practically pouted.

“You're joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?”

“Alright. Uh…” Sam blinked. “You and Olive stay. I’ll go.”

“What?”

“No!”

Dean and I spoke at the same time.

“I'll do this one on my own.” Sam shrugged.

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.” Dean hissed, eyes so wide I thought they would pop out of his head.

“Dean, we can do it together, or I can do this one by myself. I'm not seeing a third option, here.”

“Uh, hi, I’m right here.” I glared up at Sam.

“Oh fuck no. You’re not both getting on that plane.” Dean grunted.

Sam and I looked at each other.

“If Sam’s going, so am I.”

“Oh, please. You two haven’t ever worked alone together.” Dean argued.

Sam and I snorted. “Dean, we successfully evaded cops.”

“And we got your ass out of jail.” Sam rose an eyebrow.

“We’re getting on the plane, Dean. Sammy, go get tickets, I’ll get the gear.” I patted Sam’s arm before turning on my heel.

“Come on! Really?” Dean called after me, but realized I wouldn’t budge. “Man…”

***

I was, as usual, sandwiched between my brothers. Sam has the window seat, and Dean was in the aisle seat. He was reading the safety card, and I was leaning against Sam, reading the book in his lap.

“Just try to relax.” He tried to soothe Dean.

“Just try to shut up.” Dean hissed.

Sam rolled his eyes and we turned our attention back to the book. We were sure this one would contain a way to exorcise the demon, but we had yet to find a solid one that wouldn’t get us all killed. The plane took off, and Dean grew even more tense, jumping at each sound. Sam smirked and I hit his side, suppressing a smile. Dean leaned back in his seat and began to hum.

“You're humming Metallica?” Sam asked.

Dean had his eyes shut. “Calms me down.”

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you gotta stay focused.” Sam instructed.

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath before opening his eyes. “Okay.”

“I mean, we got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing, anyway, and perform a full-on exorcism.” Sam went on.

“Yeah, on a crowded plane. That's gonna be easy.” Dean scoffed, eyes closing again.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay. Promise. Just take it one step at a time, all right? Now, who is it possessing?” I moved from being latched onto Sam’s arm to Dean’s.

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress.” Dean was calmer when he was thinking.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up.” I offered.

Dean mumbled an agreement as a flight attendant passed.

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?”

“No, I'm not.” She shook her head.

“Oh, my mistake.”

She only smiled and went on. Dean looked back, then sighed.

“Alright, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.” Dean shifted.

“Wait, De, what if she's already possessed?” I grabbed his wrist.

He grinned. “There's ways to test that.” He pulled a bottle of water out of his bag. “I brought holy water.”

“No.” Sam hissed.

I sighed and Sam snatched the bottle, hiding it in the pocket of his hoodie.

“You gotta be subtle, dumbass. If she’s possessed, she should flinch at the name of God.” I whispered.

“Oh. Nice.”

“It’s the name of Christ, not God.” Sam corrected me. “Hey.” He called Dean back.

“Say it in Latin.”

“I know.” Dean turned again.

“Okay. Hey!”

“What?” Dean hissed.

“Uh… in Latin, it’s Christo.”

“Dude, I know! I'm not an idiot!” Dean snarled before making his way to the back of the plane.

I watched as he hit an empty seat after the entire plane shook. He disappeared behind a set of blue curtains, and I turned back to Sam.

“I think we’ve got one.” He tilted the book toward me.

I read over it and shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Sounds simple enough.”

“You’ll read both parts, I’ll help Dean hold him down?”

I nodded. “I can do that. You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

He nodded, giving me puppy eyes. “The further away you are from it, the better.”

I smiled and leaned back into him. I felt him laugh as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Dean flopped down next to me, sighing.

“Alright, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet.”

I sat up. “You said Christo?”

Dean nodded.

“And?” Sam leaned forward.

Dean shook his head, again panicked. “There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her.”

“So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere.” Sam sighed.

The plane shook before any of us could say anything, and Dean hit the armrest, knuckles white and teeth clenched.

“Come on! That can't be normal!”

“Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence.” Sam shushed.

“Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm friggin' four.” Dean growled.

“Dean. You need to calm down.” I spoke in a smaller voice.

“Well, I'm sorry I can't.” Dean was gentler with me, but still stressed.

“Yes, you can.” Sam tried.

“Dude, stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap, it's not helping.” Dean’s voice was a hiss again.

“De, he’s right. You have to. You’re panicked, and you’re wide open to being possessed. So you need to calm down right now.” I squeezed his hand.

Dean looked at me before taking a long and slow breath. I hugged his arm, satisfied with the effort.

“Good. Now, I found an exorcism in here that we think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum.” Sam lifted the book.

“What do we have to do?” Dean sighed.

“It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.” I explained.

Dean made a face. “More powerful?”

Sam and I nodded.

“How?”

“Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own.” Sam shrugged.

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?” Dean squinted.

I smiled widely. “Well, because the second part sends the fucker back to hell once and for all.”

Sam flicked my ear, and I smacked his hand away as Dean stood.

“First things first, we gotta find it.”

He pulled out his EMF meter and was slow, walking up the aisle and moving it around. He got a bunch of weird looks, and Sam and I ignored the glare of an old woman. Sam clapped Dean’s shoulders, and the oldest boy jumped.

“Ah! Don't do that.”

“Anything?” I asked, stuck between them.

“No, nothing. How much time we got?”

Sam glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe we missed somebody.”

“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane.” Dean mumbled.

“You believe that?” I cocked my head.

“Well, I will if you will.” He scoffed.

The EMF meter spiked in his hand, and he hit it to turn it off. I looked up to see the copilot leave the bathroom and head back to the cockpit.

“What? What is it?” Sam asked Dean, who only stared with wide eyes.

“Christo.” I whispered.

The copilot turned slowly. His eyes were entirely black. Dean grimaced, nostrils flared. Sam pulled me back, and I gasped as the copilot went back into the cockpit.

Dean pushed us backwards, to Amanda. Sam picked me off my feet so we could move faster.

“She's not gonna believe this.” I spoke from my brother’s hold, feeling like a puppy being carried by the scruff.

“Twelve minutes, guys.” Dean looked at his watch as Sam dropped me to my feet as we walked past the curtain.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope.” Amanda smiled warmly.

“Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.” Dean stepped in, and Sam followed, closing the curtain.

Amanda eyed them cautiously, then looked back to me. “Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole the truth is out there speech right now.” Dean said.

“We know you were on Flight 2485.” I spoke.

Her smile dropped. “Who are you guys?”

“Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.” Sam’s voice was calm.

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now.” Dean was firm.

She shook her head. “I'm sorry, I-I’m very busy. I have to go back.” She tried to move past Dean, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

I grabbed her shoulder and Dean let her go, hands up. “Wait a second. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? But listen to me, uh…”

“The pilot in 2485, Chuck Lambert. He's dead.” I spoke up.

She turned around. “Wait. What? What, Chuck is dead?”

“He died in a plane crash. Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?” Dean suggested.

“I…”

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.” Sam was giving her the puppy eyes.

“Amanda, you have to believe us.” Dean pleaded.

“Please. My brothers and I, we just want to stop this.”

Amanda sighed before looking at me, eyebrows knitted together. “On… on 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes.”

“Yes. Yes. That's exactly what we're talking about.” Sam exclaimed.

She shook her head. “I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?”

“The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.” I nodded.

“Why? What does he have to do with anything?” She asked.

“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?” Dean reassured.

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot-”

“Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.” Sam cut her off.

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you-”

“Okay, well you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't help us out.” Dean was tired of waiting.

She hesitated before nodding. “Okay.”

Dean pulled the book from his jacket and handed it to me. Sam pulled out the holy water, and they both pointed to the counter.

“Sit and stay.”

I rolled my eyes and tossed the roll of duct tape to Dean before hoisting myself onto the counter.

“Yeah, what's the problem?” The copilot peeked through the curtains.

Dean punched him in the face, knocking him down. He and Sam pinned him, putting duct tape over his mouth.

“Wait, w-what are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.” Amanda’s eyes went wide.

“We are gonna talk to him.” Dean took the water from Sam and splashed the copilot, who’s skin sizzled.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as Amanda gaped.

“Look. We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.” Sam pointed.

“Well, I don't understand, I don't know…”

“Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?” Sam bargained as I found the exorcism.

“Okay. Okay.” She scurried out.

“Come on, Ol. I dunno how much longer we can hold him.” Dean grunted out.

I cleared my throat. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino-”

The demon broke away from the boys and came toward me. Dean yanked him by the back of the shirt, knocking him to the floor once again.

“Qui fertis ascendit super-”

The demon knocked the boys off again, ripping off the tape and coming toward me once more. His hand slashed at my neck and I yelped, feeling a stinging sensation. I dropped the book and my hands flew to my neck, feeling blood. Sam pulled him away, and it turned to grab him by the collar.

“I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

I winced as Sam stood, stunned. I inched my way off the counter and fell to my knees, one hand at my neck while the other went for the book.

“Sam!” Dean barked.

Sam blinked before helping him pin the demon. It kicked the book up the aisle, and I groaned.

“I got him.” Sam grunted.

The demon flew out of the copilot and disappeared into the vent. Dean hissed as he stood.

“Hurry up, we gotta finish it!”

“Book’s down there!” I pointed, neck burning.

Sam stood, and the plane dipped. Dean screamed, but pulled me into his grip as Sam went sliding down the aisle. He picked up the book, and Dean held his hand against my neck, trying to keep me calm.

“Caelum, caeli ad Orientem. Ecce dabit voci suae vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem deo!” I could hear Sam.

A charge ran through the plane, and it leveled out. Dean pushed himself to his feet before picking me up by the waist and sitting me on the counter. Sam scrambled back, as did Amanda. She gasped, and Sam’s hands came to hold my neck.

“Is she okay?”

I tried to nod, but my skin felt tight and I looked to Dean.

“She’s gonna be just fine.”

“You’re okay, bug. We’re gonna patch you up, okay?” Sam brushed my hair behind my ear and Amanda pulled out a first aid kit.

***

“Let’s get out of here.” Dean grunted as we stumbled off the landing strip.

Sam stopped, and I looked at him. I squeezed Dean’s hand, since I wasn’t supposed to talk, according to him.

“You okay?”

“Dean, it knew about Jessica.”

I pulled away from Dean and went to him. “Sams, these things, they…” I winced. “They read minds. They lie. That's all it was.” I tried to reassure him.

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

Dean came to our side and pulled us both into a hug. “Come on.”

***

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed.” Jerry shook our hands. “Your dad's gonna be real proud.” He grinned. “Sorry you got hurt.”

I shrugged. “Comes with the job.”

“We'll see you around, Jerry.” Sam clapped my shoulder as we began to head off.

Dean stopped, “You know, Jerry?”

“Yeah.”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway? I've only had it for like six months.” Dean put his hands in his pockets.

“Your dad gave it to me.” He answered.

“What?” Sam tensed.

“When did you talk to him?” I gulped.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call. Thanks again, guys.” He turned and left.

***

“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service.” Sam sighed.

I pouted, leaning against him, sitting on Baby’s hood.

Dean said nothing and dialed Dad’s number. It rang for a few seconds before sending us to voicemail. He hit the speaker button and placed his phone on the hood of the car.

“This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

Sam steeled himself and got in the car, slamming the door. Dean and I looked at each other and I sighed, looking down. Dad wasn’t the perfect father. He was cruel. He was hurtful. He never laid a hand on me, but that was only because the boys didn’t let him. But outside of each other, he was all we had. Dean sat next to me.

“Sweetheart? What I said earlier, I didn’t mean-”

“I know, Dean. You just want me safe. I know what you meant.”

“I know that you know. But I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”

I looked up at him and nodded. “S’okay, De.”

He pulled me into a hug.

“I love you, sweetpea.”

I snuggled into him and sighed. Dad was all we had, but me? I had Dean, and I always would.

“I love you too, De.”

Previous Ep: Dead in the Water (1.03)

Next Ep: Bloody Mary (1.05)

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themoonandotherslikeit · 4 years

Text

What the Rain Can’t Wash Away - Epilogue

*FINAL PART TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES SERIES*

Sixteen years after Lucifer rose, and Dean lost his wife he finds himself with a teenager, a Nephilim, an angel, and his brother living out a Full House rerun with some seriously dark undertones. How will he be able to raise his daughter, fight monsters, and deal with the loss of the love of his life? Sometimes moving on is the hardest part, but with the Winchester’s there’s always something harder around the corner. Isn’t there?

"No doubt.. Endings are hard, but then again.. nothing ever really ends, does it??"

Seven Months Later

Dean

The bar was busy, bustling. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of everything, but I was starting to get the hang of it. Deep breaths, focus on a specific sound, and block out the rest. It wasn’t always easy, but it was damn effective.

Things were calm, for once in my life. It still felt wrong, like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop-- jokes on me, though, because it already did. Sometimes there just isn’t another shoe. Most people have only two feet, and I’ve had about a million fall on my head throughout the years. Maybe it is really over, at least that’s what Ave keeps saying.

“Dean.”

I’d recognize the voice anywhere, and at the sound of it I reached under the bar for the beer I’d been saving, and I tossed it to him. There wasn’t a crash so I had to assume that Sam still had good hand-eye coordination. Well, better than mine at least. “Sammy. Back from the hunt already?”

“It was a milk run.” I could hear the grin in his voice. He was a proud fucker. He loved the hunt, and I couldn’t fault him for that. Sometimes I missed it, but mostly I didn’t. The squeak of his favorite bar stool told me he sat down. Guess he was planning on staying awhile.

“Cas with you?’

“He went back to the bunker to check on the kids.”

“They probably aren’t there. It’s summer. Can’t hardly keep tabs on them anymore.”

“Who does that sound like?”

I laughed and shook my head, leaning on the bar. “Shut up, Sammy. Guess this is what I deserve, huh? After all I put Dad through.”

“Yeah, man,” Sam said softly, reaching out and touching my arm. “It is. You seem good.”

Sometimes I tried to remember what Sam looked like. Every day was harder. It all seemed so fuzzy, and I wasn’t sure what I was making up or what was true.

“I am good,” I said, and it wasn’t even a lie. “Bar is doing great.”

“I can tell! You’ve got a lot of business.”

“We’re holding our own.”

Sam was still in the life, and he came and went a lot, but he always ended up back home. That was all that mattered.

“Where’s Ave?”

“She ran to get limes. We were out.”

“So she’s not sick of you yet?”

“Quit grinning, Sammy,” I said with a laugh. A familiar warmth grew in my gut as Ava’s face popped into my head-- well what I could remember of it. “Nah, she’s not tired of me yet.”

“You made it, man.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Excuse me? Can I get some service down here?” A voice called from the end of the bar.

“Be right back,” I said to my brother, shaking my head. “Duty calls.”

I slid down to the end of the bar in front of the girl calling for me. I leaned in toward her. “How can I help you?”

“How about a glass of red.”

“How about a soda,” I retorted with a smile. “Just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I’m blind.

She reached forward and grabbed my head, illuminating my vision. Eleanor sat in front of me, my own patented grin painted on her lips. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey kiddo. What brings you around?”

“Going to take Claire on a date,” she said, blushing a bit. “And I missed you. Where’s Mom?”

“Getting limes.”

Seeing her never got old. When she touched my hand it was like she turned the light on. She was happy, glowing, literally. I was proud of her.

“Ah, maybe I’ll catch her before the movie.”

I couldn’t stop staring at her. There weren't many things in the world that I loved more than looking at her.

“Dean, I’m back.”

I sat up straighter, turning toward the door. “El, can I--”

It was like she clicked on global vision, and I was seeing the whole bar through her eyes. The door opening, and in the midst of the afternoon crowd my beautiful wife came in, arms full of a bag of bright green limes, bouncing against her large pregnant belly.

“Nel, you’re here,” Ave said, dropping the limes on the counter before wrapping our daughter into a hug. Ella let go of my hand to hug her mom back, clicking the lights back off for me, but the sight of Ava’s round belly was still burned into my vision like I’d stared too long at the sun.

She was almost ready to burst at any time. We had the nursery completed upstairs, but we’d been dragging our feet moving out of the bunker. It still felt weird that Eleanor didn’t live with us. I think we felt like if we left that we would be moving on without her. We didn’t know what we were having, Ave wanted it to be a surprise, and I wanted whatever she wanted. She deserved to be happy and stress free. My job was to be the best husband possible. No Hell Hounds, no hunts, no money problems. The goal was to be happy. That was it.

She wanted to be a stay at home mom with this one. She didn’t want to miss anything else, and that was fine with me. I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to go back to the force, but the itch is a lot easier to ignore when you aren’t faced with it everyday, at least that’s what I told myself.

We were going away after we closed up tonight. They called it a ‘baby moon’ the last weekend away before the baby comes. I told her that we should go back to the beach, where we first started to fall in love with each other. I wouldn’t be against the sand in my toes, a classic shitty motel, the smell of the sea…

I could remember her running out to the beach, her arms in the air, Sam and I following after her like the lovesick puppies we were. It felt like a different lifetime. I guess it kind of was.

“Mom are you okay?”

“What’s going on?” I asked, snapping out of my own personal day dream.

Ave sucked in her breath, and I made my way around the bar, keeping my hand on the edge until I made it around to her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she huffed.

“You don’t look fine,” Ella said, suspiciously.

“Ava, what’s happening?” I asked, touching her arm. She leaned into me immediately, and I reached down to touch her stomach. It was tight, and my eyebrows came together. “Are you having a contraction?”

After a moment of gasping and gripping my shoulder with her hand she whispered, “Fine, yes,” breathlessly.

“How long?”

“All morning,” she said sheepishly, letting out a pained laugh.

“Damnit, Ave.”

“Don’t do that,” she said dismissively.

“Hey Sam, go get the car.” I dug my phone out of my pocket and handed it to El. “Can you get Claire to come close up shop? We’re having a baby.”

My heart was racing. I couldn’t hide that I was excited, and fucking terrified. We didn’t have a great track record and even though this pregnancy has seemed pretty seamless, there was still a lot of risk. “Are you good, sweetheart?” I asked Ava, wrapping my arm around her.

“Still hate that,” she gasped, another contraction racking her body. “But yeah, I’m good.”

A honk came from out front and I put my arm under hers. “Ready?”

“It’s probably nothing, Dean… My water hasn’t even broken.”

“Ava Winchester, just because I can’t see you doesn’t mean I don’t know you’re in pain. Let’s go get you checked out. If anything, we will just come home and watch a movie. Okay?”

“Fine,” she huffed. Stubborn woman.

We got in the car, Sammy was driving and Ave, and I were in the backseat. I let her lay down, and I held onto her. “I’ve got you, Ave.”

I tried not to think much about the day that Eleanor was born. The day I missed, but as Ava writhed in pain in my lap I couldn’t help but wonder if Sam was holding her like this. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was afraid.

She squeezed my hand tightly, pulling my arm around her. I could feel her tears on my forearm. I’d have given anything to take her pain away. “Wish I could switch places with you,” I whispered into her hair.

“You couldn’t handle it,” she gasped out.

She was probably right.

We rolled up to the hospital, and they wheeled her to her room while Sam and I took care of all of the paperwork. Now that I was an official business owner, we had legitimate insurance. It was kind of weird putting our real names on the forms.

“Is this what it was like the first time?” I asked.

“Huh?” I could hear his pencil scribbling on the forms.

“When Ella was born? Was this what it was like?”

“No,” Sam said softly, his pencil stopping. “She didn’t go into labor then. She had to be induced. It was pretty scary, actually, but she did great.”

“I’m scared,” I admitted.

“You’d be crazy not to be,” Sam said, squeezing my shoulder.

“Thanks for being there for her the first time.”

“You’ll do it this time. It’s pretty incredible, honestly.”

“You think you and Eileen will ever?”

Sam exhaled and was quiet for a moment. I could hear his pencil tapping. “Doubt it. I already have two kids, basically three with Claire. Plus, I like the hunt too much. So does she.”

I smiled a bit to myself. I used to feel that way. Incredible how your perspective can change. Guess I had to lose my sight in order to truly see.

Ava

I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t done the baby’s laundry. We hadn’t even fully moved into the apartment. I think I kept expecting the other shoe to drop, something to change, to fall apart. I didn’t expect this.

I was laying in a hospital bed, with my feet in the air and some nurse had her fingers probing for my cervix. I thought I was going to throw up, and all I could think about was Dean. Part of me wondered if he ran, even though he wouldn’t have to see anything traumatic. I couldn’t stop thinking about how last time I did this I was all alone.

Except for Sam.

Sam really was the only constant for Dean and I. We should buy him a fruit basket or cigars or name this kid after him, or something.

The door opened, exposing Sam and Dean. If I didn’t know any better I’d think Dean was about to throw up, and Sam didn’t look much better, if I was being honest. I instinctively reached out for Dean, forgetting for a second that he couldn’t see me. It was still hard sometimes. Sam nudged him in my direction, and he found my hand easily. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, gripping me tightly.

I looked to the nurse who smiled tentatively, removing her hand and discarding her glove. “Ava you’re about eight inches dilated. I’m going to have the OB come in and check you out, okay?”

“Sure,” I said with a hopeful smile before turning to Dean.

Sam had slipped out with the nurse, leaving Dean and I alone. I was appreciative of that. I moved my feet from the stirrups, because who knew how long the doctor would take, and I scooted over. “Sit,” I demanded quietly.

He placed his hand down on the bed and felt around until he was able to sit next to me, feeling him next to me immediately relaxed me a bit. “Sammy?” He called out.

“He ditched out. My legs being up in the air probably scared him away.”

“Good,” Dean said with an ornery smile. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. “He should be scared.”

I laughed lightly and kissed him before wincing from another contraction. He held me against him, his face curling down into concern. Ever since his eyesight left him, Dean was even more easily readable than before. Since he couldn’t see people’s faces, it’s like he forgot that we could still see his expressions. “What?” I gasped out a bit.

“Huh?”

“You seem… concerned.”

“I am concerned,” he admitted, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows came together. “The nurse she sounded… worried, I guess. Shit, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just freaking out.”

I smiled at him warmly and touched his cheek. He was so fucking cute. The big bad Dean Winchester, single father for sixteen years, and so damn afraid. I loved him so much for it. “No freaking out allowed. I’m about to push a living being out of my vagina. You aren’t allowed to freak out.”

“Right,” he said, his face getting serious. “Sorry, I shouldn’t do that. You need me to be strong. I should be your support here, not cause more issues.”

“You’re okay, Dean. I’m just giving you crap.” I pulled his face to me, and I kissed him desperately. “It’s your first time.”

“I hate that I missed Ella’s birth. I think about it a lot.”

“I wish you were there, too.”

A knock came to the door, and I looked toward the door. “Mrs. Winchester?”

“That’s me.”

“I’m going to just check you out,” Dr. Laucklan said with a warm smile.

I frowned a bit. “Why? The nurse just did.”

“I just want to double check. I don’t want you to be concerned.”

Concerned. Well I was. How could I not be after she said that? Dean stood up and held my hand tightly.

“It’s good to see you again, Dean.”

“Good to hear ya Doc,” Dean said, beaming.

I adjusted my legs back into the stirrups and scooted to the end of the table.

They never really tell you how much it sucks getting your cervix messed with. It hurts in a way that is unnatural, it’s mean, and Dean has learned, and is already squeezing my hand in preparation. It was almost eighteen years ago that I was here with Ella, Sam snuggled behind me, but it didn’t feel like that long. My body remembered this feeling like I just went through it. I barely felt healed from the first time, but dying does weird things to you. Nothing is ever really normal after that. Not that my life with the Winchester’s had ever been normal.

My OB was making sounds in reaction to whatever she was doing between my legs. It was a humming, a sort of judgmental noise that left me unsettled.

Something was wrong.

She pulled her hand away and discarded her glove. “Ava, Dean,” she began, and my stomach dropped.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want you to be worried, but there may be a change in plans,” she explained. “Your baby has flipped since your last appointment, he or she is now in a breech position.”

“What?” I asked, my heartbeat pounding so angrily in my ears that the sound was virtually impossible to override.

“Can we do anything about that? Turn them around? I think I heard of that…” Dean’s voice was far away. He couldn't see my face, and it was probably for the best, because I had to look absolutely terrified.

I ran my hands over my swollen stomach. This was the last place that my little one would be safe. Inside of me, they’re safe, but now… what I was hearing from my doctor told me that I couldn’t even protect them. “What do we do?” I asked, the sound of my own voice snapping me out of that feeling that I was underwater.

“I want to suggest a Cesarean.”

“A C-section,” I said, dumbfounded.

“What?” Dean’s voice was rising, and I couldn't even look at him. I couldn't process my emotions and his. It was all too much. “That isn’t a part of our birth plan.”

In any other circumstance, hearing Dean Winchester use the phrase birth plan would be insanely entertaining to me. “Dean,” I whispered, reaching for his hand again. I finally turned to see his face, it was twisted, his cheeks wet from tears. I had to remind myself that this was his first time. Last time didn’t exactly go as planned. “It’s okay.”

“No, Ave… it’s…”

“Hey,” I said, tugging him to me. I brushed my nose against his. “I love you. Everything will be okay. We want to do what's safest for our little pumpkin.”

He pressed his forehead to mine in a way that was so gentle that it made my heart hurt. “I just want you both to be okay.”

“We will be. You’ll be right there the whole time.”

“But I can’t see,” Dean said, his voice breaking into a soft, strained sob.

I touched his cheek, holding his face, and I closed my own eyes so we would be on equal terms. “You don’t have to be able to see to be there. You aren’t defined by that, Dean. Not to me.”

“Okay,” he whispered with a nod. “Okay.”

Ella

I’ve learned a lot of tricks in the last few months. Some Cas taught me, some Billie, and some I just learned myself. One of the best, though, is the most simple. I like to be invisible. Sometimes I just watched them, my parents. I watch them be together, be in love. Sometimes I’ll just rest my hand on Dad’s shoulder so he can see Mom. The look on his face when he does is always one of complete adoration. It’s kind of like how Claire looks at me.

I wouldn’t ever admit it to them, but I spent a lot of time back in that bar, the one where they met. I even went back in time once, just to watch them meet. It may not have been obvious to them, but I could tell that they were already spent on each other. Especially Dad.

I heard their prayers from the hospital like they were right next to me, pressed against my ear. With all of the power in the world I still didn’t know how to fix this.

I popped into the operating room, everything was sterile, blue. The air was cold and Mom was shivering. Her arms were spread out and strapped down. She sort of looked like Jesus on the cross, and the sight left me sick to my stomach.

Dad’s hands were shaking as he held her hand. He wore blue gowns, something over his hair, and a mask. He looked alien. I wished someone had taken a photograph.

They were both behind a curtain that separated Mom’s stomach from the rest of her body. The doctor cut into her, pulled her organs out to expose her uterus, and I felt awful for ever being born. The human body was incredible.

Mom was crying. I could feel the fear pulsing off of her in a way that was almost palpable, so I broke my own rule and I pressed my hand into hers. Her fingers curled in immediately and her head turned to me. Thank you, she prayed, and I squeezed her hand in response.

I spent my entire life wanting a relationship with her, and the moment she got back I had to go and die. We were cursed. People always said that, other hunters, angels, demons. You Winchester’s are cursed. I never believed it, but I had started to. We were supposed to be Chuck’s favorites, but maybe there’s something not so good about being God’s favorite after all.

I just hoped this baby didn’t get the curse.

“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Winchester,” the doctor said as she lifted a wailing baby out of my mother. “You have a son.”

Dean

I have a son.

I couldn’t begin to explain the feeling that washed over me when the words came out of the doctor. Son. I had one already, of course. But things with Jack were always a little complicated. I love him like he’s my own. Something felt different, though. With this baby I felt like I had a fresh start. He didn’t know anything I’ve done. To him I am just his father. I’m not the righteous man. I’m not a dark shadow, murderer, knight of hell, monster.

I am just me.

The nurse placed my son in my arms, and I felt how small he was. He was tiny and squirming, and I felt myself cry. I hadn’t loved anything this much since the first time I held Ella. There was nothing like it.

And in a blink the lights were on. The darkness dissipated, and I knew she was with me. She was giving me a chance to see my son.

I couldn’t look away from him. He looked at me with hazy eyes, his face pink and swollen. His head was perfectly round, like an orange. His tiny fingers flexed for me, pin pricked with dimples. He looked a little like Sam when he was a baby, and I touched his tiny chin. It was the size of my thumb and the sight of it made my heart squeeze. “Ave he’s gorgeous.” I turned so she could see him, and she was crying. She was beautiful, even pale and her hair tucked away inside of a cap. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered quietly to her.

Her face flashed in recognition. “You can see me.”

“I’ve always been able to see you.”

I held our son against my chest, with my daughters hand pressed to my shoulder, and for the first time in my life, we were all together. Everything was perfect. “I don’t need eyes to see you Ava Winchester.”

She smiled as I laid our son on her chest, near her face. As I leaned down to her and pressed my lips to her forehead everything went dark again, but this time it didn’t scare me. This time I didn’t feel empty, and I was sure that I would never feel empty and afraid again.

------

A/N:

I can't believe this day is finally here. I've been dragging my feet really badly, because this series is what made me want to write again. This show has pulled me out of my absolute darkest places, given me a beautiful new group of friends, and a purpose. I think I associated my joys with the show and my feelings toward it with this fic... so what happens when it's over? I'm not afraid of that anymore.

Now I'm just enjoying a large coffee, and the bittersweet feeling of endings. Please yell at me anytime. I live for it.

Love you all

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mona-stay · 6 years

Photo

A real imaginary friend part 3

pairing - Lucifer x reader

warnings- kidnap, torture, evil Michael

part summary- Michael sends his angel to kidnap reader. will Lucifer give Michael the war he wants or will he lose y/n forever

part one part two

story-

When Lucifer told you all about Michael’s minions at the store and about how Michael wanted his war had you all on edge. Dean had every possible wording up, Cas was forever looking for traces of his brother’s whereabouts. You couldn’t settle over the next week waiting for Michael’s army to do something. Nothing happened a week went by and there wasn’t a single sign of an angel or any attempt on Lucifer’s life, after he childishly refused to stay in the bunker until Michael was found. Lucifer full of confidence saying Michael had lost his bottle after their sister told him what happened at the store but deep down you knew it wasn’t that easy. Another month went by and everyone started to forget about Michael and move on with life.

You were hunting again, today you had a possible wraith. In an old people’s home in Georgia, an old retired hunter called Dean’s phone looking for help. You headed into the home looking in every mirror hoping for an easy lead. Sam went into the communal room posing as a visitor, while you and dean went to see the manager for jobs.

Yours, a trainee nurse while Dean was posing as a handyman. It took 2 days and you still hadn’t found the monster, yet another body showed up during a night shift making you request nights the next morning. Your first night shift started and you scooped out each staff member finding nothing. Sam and Dean were parked outside neither of them officially allowed in at this time of night. You looked out the window giving them an OK thumbs up signal, letting them know you were safe but still hadn’t found anything.

“miss waters” you heard someone call out your cover name. You smiled at the old woman in the hallway playing the role of your fake job. “what are you doing out of bed at this time of night, Mrs white?” you asked helping her back to her room. Once inside something felt off, the old woman stood up straight raising her arm hitting you in the head. Dazed you get up blinking the stars away pulling out a silver blade. The old woman laughs at you “that’s not going to hurt me stupid girl” she said “well see” you call back slicing her arm.

There was no burning, no screaming expected by a wraith when touched with silver. “what are you?” you asked backing yourself into a corner. “I’m an angel of the lord and my brother Michael wants to meet you,” you said before hitting you again knocking you down. Your head hit a cabinet blood dripped onto the carpet, the angel stood over you smiling as she touched your head knocking you unconscious.

Dean watched the windows, it had been an hour since you’d last looked and he was starting to worry. “she’s a professional she knows how to look after herself and there is only half an hour of her shift left” Sam said trying to reassure both Dean and himself. 40 minutes went by and there still wasn’t any sign of you. Dean got out the car heading to the back of the building, in a rush. Sam followed asking Dean what he planned to do and to think before he acted. Knowing is brother’s shot first policy when someone he cared about was in danger.

Within minutes Dean picked the lock on the back door one he’d used as a service entrance during his fake job. Once inside he and Sam snuck around looking for you. They walked to the window they saw you last not really knowing where to start looking “should we split up?” Sam asked. Before Dean could answer they heard two voices down the hallway getting closer. Dean grabbed Sam dragging him into an open door. happy to find the room dark and empty. Not wanting to be kicked out before finding you.

Sam stood by the door listening out for the people to pass. Dean pulled out his cell and tried calling your phone for the 10th time. A faint buzzing could be heard in the room making both Winchesters look. On the floor was your mobile, a small pool of blood there too. Both boys looked at each other worried, Sam put on the light as Dean noticed a note next to the blood, under the phone. He picked it up feeling sick, he knew this was the reason you were missing and hadn’t checked in. he wondered how long you had been gone for he should have can in soon and maybe he could of saved you. His fingers shook as he opened the folded paper reading the black fancy writing.

Lucifer, you shouldn’t have said no to me! now I have your human! Your Soulmate! I will have my war one way or another! Meet me, fight me and save your girl. Keep me waiting and I’ll make sure she feels my impatience. Michael

Dean handed Sam trying not to be sick, Sam gasped as he read it out loud. “what are we gonna do?” Sam asked. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know Sammy! We give this note to Lucifer and he will kill us both then start an apocalypse. We don’t and y/n Gets beaten and killed. Trust me those dicks are creative when it comes to pain” dean said knowing they were caught between a rock and a hard place. “well we can’t just stand around here, let’s get back to the car and call Cas maybe he can help or he can tell Lucifer what happened” Sam said looking out the door hoping no-one would see them.

Back at the car dean called for Cas, not like he hadn’t been silently calling him since finding Michael’s note. “Cas get your feathery ass down here right now or so help..” dean yelled being cut off by Cas appearing in the back seat “Dean,” he said looking at the Winchesters “I sense urgency and fear. What going on? Where is y/n” Cas asked? Dean had his head in his hands trying to keep a grip on his emotions. Sam looked at Cas handing him the note “your brother took her” he said. Dean couldn’t handle the silence and started baby not knowing where he was driving too he just needed to be moving.

***

You woke feeling groggy, the light hit your eyes bright making you blink several times. The room around you was in a large and exquisite room, with white and gold walls. It reminded you of the best suit in a 5-star hotel. Your mind goes back to what you’re remembered last, being in the home with an angel posing as a wraith. You go to the door trying to open it, to your misery it was locked. You panic looking around all your weapons had been taken from you. Running your hands in your hair you pull out a clip, smiling to yourself. Bending the clip you place it in the lock, “that’s not going to work but points for trying” you hear someone say, making you jump.

Turning around you see a man in his 20s, he had jet black hair with honey brown eyes. Something about him seems familiar, liked you’d seen him before. He also reminded you a little of dean. “so you’re names y/n! And my brother’s new pet” he said it like he was telling you it more than asking. “yes and I’m guessing your Michael” you answer back keeping your body and voice strong. You watched Michael hold himself like a soldier in the army his legs spread shoulder with apart, his arms behind his back. “I am, the archangel Michael to be precise,” he said a hint pride. “so you’re the big brother, right we’ve met now like you wanted hello not exactly a pleasure. now open the door I wanna go home,” you told him. You may have looked and sounded tough and confident but inside your heart raced and stomach twisted and turned in fear.

Michael took a step forward “well I can see why my brother likes you and it’s not just the grace in you, but I can’t let you go, not yet anyway” his voice is cool and calm making your fear grow. “why can’t I leave? where are we?” you asked first hoping to stall long enough to find a way past Michael. “we’re in what Zachariah calls his green room and to answer your other question. Well, I need you to show my brother he can’t run away from his destiny. I’m sure holding his soul mate hostage will push Lucifer into starting an apocalypse just to find you alone” he smirked. “now I’m not a monster like my brother, while you’re here if you behave you stay here until the war is over then you can go home.” Michael started to say.

“behave. You expect me to just sit back and be a good girl after you kill people to lure me out, kidnap me so you can start a war to destroy the world,” you yell Michael steps closer to you, anger all over his face “who do you think you’re talking to? I am an archangel the firstborn” he started but you didn’t care for his speech or title.

“You’re not the first archangel I’ve met. You can’t scare me I’ve been tricked by the trickster and came out on top and as a child literally danced with the devil. You really think I’m scared of your choir boy angel threats” you shouted back.

You felt a sharp smack to your face, it hurt like hell but the adrenaline running in your veins you didn’t feel it as bad. Michael hit you another two times until you fell to the floor. “you will obey me and you will hold your tongue in matters you don’t understand” the room around you started to smoke and change. The luxury suit darkened the once golden walls turned into dark gray stone. The tables and artwork had gone, a metal chair was the only item left. The door now steel bars with another room on the other side, Michael transformed the room into a cell, a bed in the corner and a metal chair with chains, another click of his fingers you found yourself chained to the chair. You screamed a mouthful of curses at Michael as he walked out the cell.

***

Cas hadn’t said much on the ride back to their motel. He couldn’t believe Michael would do this, take another angel’s soulmate. One of the few things he did say to the boys, he explained about y/n soul how she’d been made for Lucifer. “This was my father’s plan bringing him to the bunker, so he could meet her again” he also told dean how he’d sensed it the first time he met her, he could feel the grace in her, it was one of the reasons he’d been distant with her. “I’ve never once hated y/n. I just didn’t want to anger Lucifer”

They got to motel all nervous about facing the devil, they decided not to go home just yet. “what if we just don’t tell Lucifer. We can save y/n ourselves” Sam suggests. Dean looks at his brother doubtful “I’d agree with that but how do we even find her. We spend weeks trying to find him the note didn’t even say where Lucifer was meant to go. So I’m guessing he already knows, should we tell him to find out where Michael wants them to meet” Dean argued. “and how many people do you think will die if Lucifer goes after Michael” Sam said back. “so what you suggest leaving y/n with Michael for God knows how long until we find them. You never know what Michael will do to her” dean shouted back. he’d been held by angels before, he knew what Raphael was capable of.

Cas sat on the bed looking at the note, while the brothers argued. Dean turned to him pulling the note out of his hand “your quiet, what’s your opinion?” he asked. “telling Lucifer is going to end in a lot fighting and bloodshed but Michael shouldn’t harm y/n unless provoked or Lucifer doesn’t answer his message” Cas said looking at Dean, Dean made the point you wouldn’t just sit back you’d fight against Michael to get back to the bunker. Making Cas give a nervous look, “give me an hour before you tell Lucifer. I think I can find somebody to help” Cas added before vanishing.

Not even 15 minutes after Cas left Dean started to get restless. Sam knew, he could see dean fidgeting and pacing around the room. “we can’t just sit here we need to do something” Dean said, “look give Cas a chance and if he’s not back in an hour. Well go the bunker and I’ll tell Lucifer myself” Sam said. “tell me what?” Lucifer’s voice came from the door. His eyes glanced around the room “where is my angel” he asked feeling the nerves coming from them. Sam and Dean looked at each other, Sam sighed knowing there was no way they could hide this from him now. “look don’t get mad, but…” Sam said as he walked next to dean pulling the note out of his hands and handing it to Lucifer, not knowing how to tell the devil y/n had been kidnapped.

Lucifer read the note his eyes going red with each line, the air in the room getting colder with his anger. Sam watches Lucifer’s hand scrunch the paper in his fist before the same hand came up hitting the wall leaving a large hole in its wake. “what the bloody hell happened, how could you let this happen! You were meant to be protecting her, have her back isn’t that what you hunters say” he growled through clenched teeth, trying to keep as calm as he possibly could. His body language was anything but calm, his clenched fists shaking at his side, his shoulders tensed and squared.

The look on his face alone was enough to scare any man. Dean swallowed hard “we’re not 100% sure on the what exactly. We were on the hunt y/n got a fake job inside the home and asked for a night shift. She checked in at 5 am with us letting know she was okay but by ten past 6 she was gone. We went in to find her and we found this note. Cas is going to get help or information on Michael’s whereabouts he said give him an hour” dean said holding his hands up, palms facing Lucifer. Lucifer didn’t answer instead his fist hit the wall again this time close to deans head this time he kept his hand in the wall. Lucifer wasn’t in a waiting mood, not when you were in Micheal’s hands. “I’m getting her back, you can either help me or stay out the way! Try and stop me and I will make sure you feel the full treatment hell has to offer when I kill you both” he said the full promise in his voice. Before Dean had a chance to answer Lucifer clicked his fingers and was gone, leaving Sam looking worried at dean a hunt of I told you so in his eyes.

***

You sat in the cell. Michael made around you. Losing track of time you didn’t know how long you’d been in here for. Well it looks like my brother isn’t responding yet, do you think we should give him some motivation” Raphael said. He was Michael’s second in command and more than happy to do his dirty work. In the time you’d been here Raphael had paid you three visits each ending with you in pain from some chronic illness he magicked up or bloody from his grace as he boiled your blood in your body. Raphael painted a sigils on the wall part of you wondered what it was for. “now let’s see if your screaming draws him in shall we” Raphael said coming at you with an angel blade in his hand.

It had been hours, you had stab wounds everywhere each non-fatal but that didn’t mean you weren’t in unbearable pain. You had lost a lot of blood but Raphael would click his fingers and stop the bleeding before you could die from blood loss, however he left each cut and bruise how it was. You closed your eyes picturing Lucifer in your mind, ‘Lucifer help’ you thought over and over as Raphael ran his blade into hip again making you scream loud. Raphael stopped and smiled at you “was it so hard to call for him, if you’d done that hours ago you wouldn’t be in this state, but because you made me wait and I'm having so much fun let's make sure he gets the full message shall we” your eyes widened at what he said then flicked to the symbol on the wall. When you watched him draw it, you assumed that was how they were going to contact Lucifer. You never believed they would use your prayers to torture their brother. “interesting thought, but no that sigil is so he can’t use your prayer to find you but he can still hear you scream” Raphael said. clicking his fingers, the pain in your chest was unbearable making you believe he was making you have a heart attack, you screamed again this time for Lucifer, Cas, God anyone who could hear you.

***

Lucifer kicked in the door to Crowley’s mansion, demons came running at him only to burst into dust. Lucifer wasn’t in the mood to deal with them, he came to see Crowley and nothing was going to stop or slow him down. If Michael wanted a war he was going to get one, right now Lucifer was working on getting his army. After the first attempted apocalypse when both Michael and Lucifer were locked in the cage, Crowley had found a way to become king. To Lucifer's annoyance a lot of demons followed Crowley, saw him as king and lost faith and respect in their creator. If he wanted a loyal army he needed Crowley.

Crowley looked at Lucifer “you should have called Lucy, I would have baked a cake” he said sarcastically. “I’m not in the mood for jokes Crowley, I wanna make a deal and if you say no well I’ll kill you right now” Lucifer said, if it were a cartoon he’d have steam coming out of his ears. “well I see someone’s shoved a stick up your ass, what’s this deal you wish to make” Crowley said part of him not wanting to test the devils word. “I will let you keep this whole king of hell thing you have going on. In return, I want an army of no less than 3000 demons. And I want soldiers, not your Wall Street crossroad demons. I need demons to go against Michael and his army” Lucifer said not batting an eyelid.

Crowley thought about it, knowing it was one of the easiest deals he’s ever made. He could lose that amount of demons if it meant keeping hell and his title as king. “3000 is a lot of demons Lucy, but I guess I can work with that, you sure you’re willing to give up hell. A petty fight with your brother just doesn’t seem worth it. What’s really going on?” Crowley fished. Lucifer wasn’t in the mood but knew without Crowley he’d only be able you rally up around 1000 demons for his army and that wouldn’t be enough to go to war with.

With a sigh, he told Crowley about your kidnap. Part of Crowley wanted to help Lucifer, he knew you from his dealings with the Winchesters and enjoyed your company and humour. When he was the resident of the bunker’s dungeon you used to come to sit with him and just talk for while even bringing the demon king a drink of whiskey some nights. if Crowley was honest about his feelings he developed during his time on human blood he would actually call you a friend. “well I must say it’s a shame I quite like the little kitten. Okay, I’ll get you your army, it’s a deal” he finally said.

As Lucifer walked out of the mansion “brother don’t do this, I have a plan let us help you” Cas called out with the Winchesters in tow. “Cassy like I told your human pet, you’re either with me and that’s great, but if your not and try to stop me I will smite you the same way I’m going to smite Michael” Lucifer told his younger sibling. “and what’s your plan open the gates of hell and start an apocalypse there is a better way” Cas argued. Lucifer was about to make Cas vanish when he heard your voice.

your cries for help rang in his ears followed by screaming, he could hear Raphael’s laughter in the background. Another loud blood-curdling scream came. “Lucifer, Cas, Chuck someone please help me” your voice called in his head. Lucifer turned to Cas who looked terrified by the prayer he’d also heard. “if you heard any of that Castiel then you know I have to do this” Lucifer said before walking off. Dean looked at Cas, he still had a look of horror “what’s going on? What’s he talking about Cas?” he asked. cas lowered his head “they are using y/n screams and prayers to torture Lucifer, to make him angry and it’s working. they are torturing her to make Lucifer mad enough to tear the planet apart” cas said trying to think of a way to stop this and save his friend.

part 4

#lucifer #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural angst #supernatural au #dean winchester #sam winchester #crowley #gabriel #raphael #michael #part 3 of 4 #castiel #trigger warnings

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thorne93 · 6 years

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Curious Conundrum (Part 4 - Repost)

Prompt: You’re John Watson’s sister. One day you decide to visit your brother for lunch, only to meet the infamous Mr. Holmes…

Word Count: 2381

Warnings: language, flirtation, sexual innuendos (maybe? idfk), murder/crime/case related stuff, angst…

Notes: This is a repost, since some were having trouble viewing. I did not add a keep reading since that seems to be what’s broken. Sorry for the long shit, but gotta make sure y’all can read it.

Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong Not only did she beta, but I literally couldn’t have written half these scenes without her help. She contributed majorly, even wrote some parts of scenes. I am forever in her debt.

Also, this starts AFTER Season 2, episode 1. I don’t follow all the episodes, but it does follow the timeline and hit some major events : )

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing?” John wondered nearly two weeks later as he walked into the living room. Sherlock seemed absorbed in his laptop.

Half of his attention on John, he slowly answered, “I am testing your sister.”

“Y/N? Why?”

“I want to know the full extent of her abilities,” he noted.

“Why?”

“Because I very rarely meet anyone who isn’t entirely dull or moronic, so when I meet someone who might even entertain the idea, I embrace it.”

“You mean someone who isn’t crazy like Moriarty or Irene Adler?”

“Precisely,” Sherlock hummed quietly.

“Well, she always appreciates a good challenge,” John remarked.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Sherlock idly mumbled.

Sherlock texted you after a few hours of work.

“Are you up for a challenge?”

You smiled, curious at what he was offering.

“Possibly. What’s the challenge?”

“Meet me at my flat. I’ll show you.”

Intrigued, you grabbed your things and nearly made a bee-line over to him, a little embarrassed at how easily you just jumped up because he asked you to. But who were you kidding? You were utterly fascinated by him.

The three of you had ventured together on a few cases in the last few weeks. Every time, you and Sherlock were practically finishing each other’s sentences. He seemed impressed by you, but wouldn’t show it more than a word or two of praise, and the reserved smirk that would dance across his face. His eyes would scan your body, watch you as you worked. You thought it was just him being curious, wanting to observe you and how your mind worked, but it was so much more than that. He felt something for you, something deep, and the only chance he could stare at you without social repercussion was when you were working together.

Little did he know, you were doing the same. You couldn’t help but stare at him. Watch him work. Admire his coat, his sharp cheekbones, the way his hands flitted about when he was thinking, the way his eyes squeezed shut in thought or snapped open in revelation. Your eyes never left his body, wanting desperately to drink him in. Every deduction, every case solved, every detail unveiled, was another way to your heart. Nothing impressed you more than an intelligent man, and God did he have a lot of intelligence to go around.

If the two of you weren’t solving cases rapidly, you seemed to trade music back and forth on the violin. You brought your old instrument out of some cobwebs from home, had the bow restrung, the strings replaced and finely tuned, and the two of you would play. Sherlock liked it to help him hone his thoughts and focus, you liked it for the relaxation. Then it seemed if music wasn’t filling the flat, the two of you read side by side, all myriads of things.

Time with Sherlock was…nice, to say the least. You didn’t have many friends – okay, scratch that, you didn’t have any friends other than John technically, so to find someone on the same wavelength as you was a godsend. You felt utterly blessed that he even allowed you in his presence, as John had made it abundantly clear that if Sherlock Holmes did not like someone, he would make it known. Yet, Sherlock seemed to reciprocate the feelings, always texting you and asking if you were coming by today, asking if you could help on cases, asking how your day was going.

If you didn’t know any better, and you probably did, you’d say you were falling for Sherlock Holmes, if you hadn’t already.

Arriving at the apartment you were more than curious when Sherlock nearly jumped at the sight of you.

“Y/N! Excellent, now we can get started,” he said as he handed you an envelope.

“What is this?” you wondered, taking the envelope.

“Oh, dear, I thought you were brighter than that. This is an envelope, if you open it, there are contents inside you can read,” he stated, his tone saturated with sarcasm.

“Oh, gosh, thank you, Mr. Holmes. I had no idea that’s what this was,” you said in an equally mocking tone. You opened the envelope and read the contents, Sherlock staring at you the entire time. “It’s a riddle?” you questioned, your eyes drifting up to Sherlock who was closer than you expected.

“Mhm.”

“And you need help solving it or what?”

“No. I created them, and when you solve one, it will lead us to the next clue.”

“You…made a scavenger hunt for me?” you wondered, a glimmer of joy in your stomach.

“In a sense,” he noted with a head nod. “It’s a test. I want to see how good you are.”

“Good at deduction?”

“Yes.”

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. “Okay…Well let’s see here,” you said, reading the riddle. It was almost set up like Clue. There were a list of suspects, the events that took place, and the typical ‘who done it’ at the end. You eyeballed the information for about three minutes before you finally answered, “His sister.”

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” he wondered, his hands behind his back as he assessed you.

“It said he drowned in the bathtub, woman typically drown people, and a men wouldn’t typically attack a nude man. She’s the only one to gain anything from the murder.”

“Excellent. Now, where is our next destination?” he inquired with an excited look.

“I don’t know. How am I supposed to know?”

“The answer is in the answer…” he noted and you frowned at him.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he repeated.

“Okay but the answer was Doyen Noel, how the hell–Oh my god, it’s an anagram. It’s the London Eye!”

“You got that quicker than expected,” he admitted.

“Wow, thanks,” you said with an eye roll.

“Oh, come now, don’t be offended. I at least assumed you would get it, that’s a far better expectation than I had for your brother,” he noted with a coyish grin.

Silence passed between you two for a moment, but then the comment got the better of you two and you began giggling.

Still laughing, you asked, “So we go to London Eye now?”

“Indeed we do.”

The two of you began to leave the flat when John stopped you. “Where are you going?”

“To scavenge London,” you said with a wink, Sherlock right behind you.

“The game is on, Watson,” he remarked with a grin at your brother.

As the two of you got in the cab that he hailed, he asked you, “So why an attorney?”

“Why a detective?” you shot back.

“Come now, I’m not being coy.”

“Neither am I,” you remarked honestly. It was one of your deepest desires to get to know every little thing about Sherlock.

“I asked you first,” he commented.

“Well, if you must know, I wanted to help put people away.”

“But you’re a defending attorney,” he noted.

“I was a defending attorney,” you corrected.

“Was? What changed?”

“My job,” you said with a smirk.

“Clever,” Sherlock dryly remarked.

“I had a change of heart,” you confessed, giving him a real answer.

“What? Why?”

You shrugged. “Well, I thought my job would be helpful. I thought I would mainly get innocent people off or help get some real justice for the guilty ones. You know, maybe if they had a minor offense, I could help get their sentence minimized. But as time went on, I had more guilty clients than innocent ones and…well it made me sick to help get them back on the streets.”

“Sudden change of morality…” he mused.

You nodded. “I suppose so. So now, I can use my power of deduction for good, like you.”

“Oh, don’t make me a hero,” he pleaded, a tone of irritation lacing through him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Holmes,” you remarked. You knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t want you to paint him in some sort of heroic light. “You aren’t a detective for the ethical pragmatism of it. You’re a detective because you love the chase, the game, the hunt, whatever you want to call it. It gets you off.”

“Did John say that?”

“No. I did. I can tell,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve watched you for all of five seconds and I could tell. You get excited at the thought of outdoing anyone, about knowing you’re the best.”

“Does that put you off?”

“Why would it?”

“It does everyone else,” he noted as he looked out the window.

“Well I’m not everyone else. I could give a damn less why you do it…I just love that you do it. So long as you’re right and the bad guy gets put away, who the hell cares what you’re reasoning is.”

He turned back to you, a curious look on his face. “It’s…refreshing to hear that.”

“You’re welcome,” you stated with a smile.

The two of you arrived at the Eye and he directed you towards the envelope that was taped in an unusual, inconspicuous place.

“Oooh, next clue,” you noted as you opened the envelope. You read the note, Sherlock’s eyes locked on you yet again, watching your every move. As soon as you began to think about the riddle, Sherlock grabbed the note from you.

“And that’s all for today,” he noted, holding it in the air away from you.

“What?” you exclaimed, a smile spreading over your face. “Give it back! I need to solve it, dammit!”

“You get to think on it for the night, and give me your answer tomorrow,” he said with a playful smile.

“Sherlock! Dammit, give me the note! What the hell?” you asked, grabbing at the note, but it was futile. He was much taller with a much longer arm.

“We can’t have all this fun in one night. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to over exercise your mind.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Oh screw you, Holmes. Give me the clue. I can do this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can, Watson, but I would much rather see you squirm for it,” he noted, looking down at you. It was just then you realized your body was pressed against his, your chest on his chest, his face only inches from yours. The air between you two was playful but giving way to something else, at least for you. A blush rose in your cheeks as you quickly backed away and turned your face, hiding the signs of your infatuation.

“Uh, alright, I’ll think on it tonight,” you quietly said.

Sherlock nodded, trying to brush away the feelings he suddenly had. “Right. Well…while we’re here, care to ride the giant tourist trap?”

You glanced to the ride and nodded. “Sure, yes.”

The two of you boarded The Eye and it began ascending. Not wanting to miss the view, you made your way over to the edge, where Sherlock joined you.

“Marvelous work on the Johnson case last week, by the way,” Sherlock said. “It was fascinating that they used copper to keep the smell of blood–”

“Work?” you started, cutting him off as you stared at the vast beautiful view before you. A frown formed on your face, as did his. “That’s really what you want to talk about right now?” you questioned, glancing at him.

“Typically yes.”

You smiled at his brute honesty, one thing you admired about him.

“And right now? With me, is that what you want to talk about?” you questioned again, your voice dropping lower.

He looked down at you for a moment before answering, “No. No…I want to know why a successful and brilliant girl like you isn’t a detective, or a scientist. You’re highly analytical but you use those skills to work a courtroom, why?”

A grin flashed across your face as you turned back to the view, but his eyes stayed on your face. “I suppose…I wanted to use my skills to help people.”

“Being a scientist or a detective does that. Something about law must’ve drawn you in, what was it?”

“You’re the greatest detective in the world, can you not deduce it?” you inquired with a teasing tone.

“I find I often have trouble deciphering you, but not to mention deducing peoples motive’s doesn’t always come as quickly as their immediate actions,” he admitted.

You paused a moment, pressing your lips in a line as you thought. “I suppose…I wanted to make a difference, like John. He’s a doctor, and he was in the army. Science…it’s too impersonal. Sure, medicine science, you could be saving someone’s life, but whose? As an attorney, I work with people, I get to know their stories. I got to defend cases I felt like needed defending, I got to help innocent people, and now, I’m going to help put the bad people behind bars.”

“Hmm, I see.”

“Do you? I know you don’t exactly see good versus bad…”

“No, I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t admire those who do?”

“Oh, so you admire me?” you teased with a turned up smile.

He chanced a half smile and said, “I’ll leave you to your deductions. But speaking of admiring, I couldn’t help but notice you’re not married.”

“What? Because I don’t have a wedding ring? You know not everyone wears–”

“Because you spend countless nights at our home, you’re available at a moment’s notice, you are physically fit, and you pour time into your work. You’re married to your work, not a person. So tell me – why.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes, but you’re not the one who asked. I am. So why, a successful, young, smart woman like you. Why has no one snatched you up?”

“Perhaps…I didn’t want to be snatched up…” you suggested with a sullen smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#curious conundrum #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock fic #sherlock bbc #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes fic

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elleberquist6 · 6 years

Text

Stray Cat - chapter ten

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2086 Warnings: Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut Summary: Phil Lester believes that if he does good things then good things will happen to him, so on one of the worst days of his life he invites a rain-soaked Neko boy named Dan into his home. Phil has never met a Neko before and he knows nothing about the dark system that has molded Dan. Dan is part of a repressed population with few rights, and as Phil gets to know him he can’t understand why – Dan is the most amazing person he has ever met. — Phil was a light sleeper and he didn’t get much rest thanks to the Neko sharing his bed. He could tell how uncomfortable Dan was and he knew it wasn’t his fault, so he did his best to make Dan feel safe as he thrashed in his fever dreams by murmuring soothing things and holding him closer.

At one point, Dan jolted awake, seeming to be completely aware. “Phil,” he gasped. “I’m going to be sick. I don’t want to be sick in your bed. Please help.”

“Okay, one second.” Phil grabbed his glasses from the nightstand. He had been on the edge of sleep a moment ago, and while he knew what needed to be done his limbs still felt heavy with sleep. He willed his legs to move over the edge of the bed, and they moved slow to obey him, but finally he was sitting up with his legs out of the bed. He turned to Dan. “Hold on.”

Phil picked up Dan and carried him to the bathroom. Dan clambered out of his arms before kneeling to retch bile into the toilet. By the time he came up for air, Dan’s face was pale and sheened with sweat. “Sorry. About waking you. About all of this.”

Phil sat on the edge of the bathtub beside Dan. “It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize. But Dan, can I ask you something?”

Dan nodded. He was still kneeling by the toilet, and he seemed to be debating if his stomach had settled yet.

“You look like hell.”

Dan grinned and despite the sweat on his face he looked lovely as his eyes lit up in amusement. “Thanks so much. What was your question?”

“I was just wondering if it was always this bad. If you always get sick like this. This happens every month, right? I wouldn’t know how to handle that if it were me.”

“Oh, no actually, it’s not usually like this.” Dan was staring at the washcloth that was hanging on a hook near Phil, so Phil dampened it under the tap and handed it to him. Dan started cleaning the sweat off his face as he talked. “I only had a heat like this once before, my first one when I was 12, about to turn 13. They started giving me suppressants right after that. I was on them for 5 years, right up until the time I was sold. I actually liked the pills – they were the one thing I liked about living in that place. That I didn’t have to feel like this every month.”

Phil grasped one detail of what Dan just shared, and his hands fisted at his sides. “You told me that you had just turned 18 when we met. You meant that literally, didn’t you? They sold you when you were 17?”

Dan nodded and looked at Phil’s fists. He reached out to tap one with a fingertip. “Don’t be angry. Not on my behalf. It’s not you.”

“Oh, really?” Phil asked, not entirely happy to hear himself described in that way. Phil had never been strong or tough, and whenever a physical confrontation happened – like a playground fight – Phil had always run away. He always felt like a coward, and right now he wanted to be different. He wanted to be someone strong and vengeful who could hunt down and punish the people who had hurt Dan. His fist tightened under Dan’s fingertips. “You say being angry isn’t like me? So, who am I?”

“You’re… you.” Dan pulled his hand back and bit his lip. He hesitated, but went on, “You’re sweet, like the sweetest person I’ve ever met. You’re funny, gentle, and kind. You’re a lovely person.”

Phil thought about how similar this sounded to the things he’d thought about saying in response to Dan asking why he liked him. He opened his mouth, but then he closed it.

Dan gave him a slight smile. “What?”

“Nothing. Just, there was something I wanted to tell you. Something I wanted to explain, but this really isn’t the time. I’m not sure there ever will be a time, now that…” Phil shook his head, trying to balance being honest with being protective. “It doesn’t matter. Forget it.”

“You said ‘now’.” Dan glanced down at himself. “You mean while I’m like this? What don’t you want to say?”

He could tell how fragile Dan’s self-esteem was, so he knew he couldn’t leave it like that. Phil clarified, “I was thinking about earlier, when I told you I liked you. I still do, but I’m not going to bother you about it again. Because now I can really tell that you don’t feel the same way.”

“You can?” Dan narrowed his eyes.

“Yes. It’s okay. I understand. If you were interested in me like that, you would want me to help you, so that you don’t have to feel like this. But you don’t like me in that way, which is why you’re going through this in the way that you are. It’s okay that you don’t like me. I’m fine with it and I can really respect that.” Phil gave him a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Dan. I mean it. I think that anyone else in this situation would just grab the nearest warm body if that could stop the pain, but you didn’t. It shows how strong you are, and I think it shows how you care about me. It couldn’t just be physical for me and I probably would have gotten hurt emotionally. So, really, thanks.”

Dan nodded and looked away. “Sure, you’re welcome. Could you help me up?”

Phil helped Dan up so that he could brush his teeth. Then they went back to bed. Phil glanced at his clock and saw that it was 4:30AM. He had to wake up to get ready for work in less than 3 hours, but he didn’t care about anything but the boy who was now lying beside him. His friend.

“Phil…” Dan said hesitantly.

Phil couldn’t see Dan’s face as his eyes hadn’t readjusted to the darkness yet – he wondered if Dan could see in the dark thanks to his cat genes, but he didn’t ask. Phil brushed the Neko’s damp, curly bangs away from his forehead. “What is it?”

“You’re wrong.”

Phil frowned. “About what?”

“I think I do like you. I think I like you so much, but I’m just not sure right now and I’m terrified.”

Phil felt his heart beating against his ribs. “Why would that scare you?”

“It scares me for about a hundred different reasons,” Dan gave a nervous laugh glancing down at himself. “The most primary of which is the way my body is right now.”

“You don’t think that I would hurt you. Or that I would do anything to you that you didn’t want? Dan, even if you like me back, it doesn’t have to be like that.”

“I know. You’re great. I just hate the way I feel right now. I don’t trust anything about it. My body is letting me down right now. I’m not just physically weak. I have all these instincts that I’m fighting. I even have thoughts going through my mind that I normally wouldn’t have, and I’m…”

“Oh,” Phil said, realizing what Dan meant. “You want to wait until your heat is over.”

Dan nodded. “Yes. I think this is me. I think I liked you before this started, but I want to be sure. I need to know that it’s me that wants you, not just my body.” He started talking faster then and Phil had to strain to keep up. “And even then, I’m still not sure. Phil, I have no idea what I want. After what happened to me, I’m not sure if I will ever want to be with someone, even you, but… but I’m not ruling out the possibility. Not yet, not with you. And really, that says a lot about you.” Dan took a breath before going on, “I wasn’t going to say any of this until I was a bit surer of things, but I couldn’t let you continue thinking that I didn’t care. I do. I think I like you. I’m just really confused right now.”

Phil leaned in to place a kiss on Dan’s forehead. Dan tasted like the salt of his sweat, but Phil didn’t mind. “Thanks for telling me. Don’t worry about me, Dan. I don’t want you stressed out about this – just focus on feeling better. Either way, it doesn’t matter because we’re still going to be friends, no matter how this turns out. I just want you in my life.”

Dan’s bright teeth flashed in the dark as he smiled. “I want that, too. So, you’ll wait?”

Phil pulled the Neko against his chest in a tight hug. “I could wait a lifetime for you.”

“Phil, wake up. Phillll,” Dan groaned.

Besides Dan’s voice, Phil heard a familiar beeping noise that was dragging him to awareness. Dan leaned over him and Phil felt something hard press against him, and suddenly he was completely awake. Phil blinked, but without his glasses all he could see was his phone in Dan’s hand; the beeping stopped.

“Are you awake?” Dan asked. He looked at Phil and in the light of Phil’s phone he could see his face. “You are. Good. Your alarm went off. Do you have work?”

“I do.” Phil cleared his throat. “I was going to call in sick or something though.”

“On your second day back at work? And you’re not sick. Why would you do that?”

“You are, though. You’re going to be sick for a couple more days, and I don’t want you to go through that alone. Not over this job – it’s not worth it.” He couldn’t see Dan’s face clearly without his glasses, but he could tell that Dan was giving him a quizzical look. “I don’t like working there and my manager is awful. The girl who broke up with me on the day I met you said something that has stayed with me – she asked me why I never stand up for myself. I want to start doing that if I’m going to be working there again. I don’t want to let this guy walk all over me anymore, and I think a good start to that would be telling him that I can’t work today because I need to be there for someone I care about.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want you to lose your job taking a stand because of me.”

“Well, I’m not good at taking stands for myself, and I think it would be easier to do it on your behalf.”

“Okay,” Dan gave him a quick smile. “You stand up for me and I’ll stand up for you. But I’m not sure that this is the time to do that. I’ll be fine here while you go to work. If you lose this job because of me, then you’ll start worrying about money again. I don’t want you to be worried.”

Phil bit his lip as he thought. “You’re right… I could call Martyn. He works from home. I could ask him to bring his laptop over here. He could look after you for me.”

“Oh no, do you have to?” Dan rolled away and settled back into his pillow. “I hate the way I am right now. It’s really embarrassing. I don’t think I want him to see me like this.”

“Why? Martyn won’t care.” As Phil said it though, he knew that maybe it was something he couldn’t promise. Dan was in an admittedly awkward situation. Phil didn’t mind since he saw Dan as someone who might potentially be more than a friend, but it might be impossible for his brother to be in a room with Dan and act like everything was normal – Martyn was not the best in odd social situations. Phil went on, “Okay, I’ll make him promise not to be a dick to you. He won’t make any stupid jokes or things like that. If you want you don’t even have to be in the same room as him – you can hide in another room while he hangs out in the kitchen and does his work.”

“And you’ll feel better if he’s over here?” Dan asked. He sighed in response to Phil’s nod. “Ugh, okay, ask him if he’ll come over.”

#phan #phandom #phanfic #phanfiction #dan and phil #dan x phil #neko

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fortey · 3 years

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The Day I Met Jack LaLanne

Those of you who know me know I love me some juice. That grammatically atrocious sentiment has sustained me for many years. Juice is like nature’s water. Or water is nature’s fruit juice, I forget which. But the fact remains if I can squeeze the ever loving crap out of a beet and then drink it, I am literally tickled pink. And by literally I naturally mean figuratively.

It’s no surprise then that when I first discovered the Jack Lalanne Juicer I had to purchase one. My love of juice combined with easy access to a credit card and near-criminal drunkenness guaranteed that I would probably buy any hunk of shit I saw on the Home Shopping Network that night. But the hunk of shit I saw was a juicer and my heart skipped a beat.

After defibrillation, I ordered the juicer and 4-6 weeks later I was discovering that when you mix apple, carrot, celery and papaya it tastes like a foot. But apple all alone is exquisite.

I’d enjoyed my liquid diet for a few weeks when I gleefully learned that Mr. LaLanne himself would be coming to my town for a convention to show off his latest product development and espouse the virtues of a juicy lifestyle. The very idea that there was some new, more efficient way to wring liquid from a pear was too enticing to avoid. I purchased my ticket and then sat on my ass for two more weeks until the fateful day arrived when I could witness a man who was nearly a century old, who made a career out of being handcuffed and towing boats while swimming, made juice. Fuck, I need a hobby.

The convention was as exciting as a convention full of the elderly and shop-at-home products could be. My keen senses soon determined I was the only individual in the building either under the age of 50 or who had been voluntarily out of the house in over a month. Shut ins apparently love juice, storage solutions and Mighty Putty.

I perused various tables hawking what could best be described as absolute shit before my stomach began cramping with hatred for bringing it to such a ridiculous place. Ginsu knives, curtain steamers, Orange Glow – what the fuck was I thinking? A woman wearing slippers shoved a boney, avian elbow into my ribs while I tried to watch a ShamWow demonstration and told me to “bugger off.”

I escaped to the nearest washroom as my guts twisted in knots. Possibly because this place was so preposterous but more likely because of the Hot Pockets I’d decided to eat for dinner the night before and breakfast that morning.

As I sat in contemplation in the end stall of the restroom, appreciating the colorful graffiti on the walls and wondering why so many people took a shit with a pen and a desire to bang another dude, my reverie was interrupted by a gruff voice.

“What did you eat for breakfast?” it asked me. I arched an eyebrow and continued about my business, confident that, despite seeming to come from the next stall, there was no way in hell this person was talking to me because the first thing any human in a civilized society learns is that you never, ever converse with strangers on the shitter.

“It sounds like you’re giving birth, what did you eat for breakfast?” the voice demanded again. For starters, I did not sound as though I was giving birth, I was maybe breathing a bit heavy, but that was all. You eat 8 Hot Pockets and see how your insides like it.

Suddenly, a tiny mirror on a metal stick appeared below the wall separating stalls. I may have screamed but if I did, it was manly.

“Hey buddy, you deaf?”

“No…” I foolishly answered. Fuck. When someone gives you an out, always take it.

“Then speak up. What was for breakfast? My God, look at you. What do you weigh? 220? Have you ever lifted a weight in your life? Can you even get off that toilet when you’re done?”

“What?”

The mirror shifted and suddenly I could see, glaring down at me, the cold, steely eye of Mr. Jack LaLanne himself. Jack LaLanne was trash talking me while we were both on the toilet.

“Yeah, you’re not blind either, are you champ? So answer the question. Breakfast!”

“I had some Hot Pockets,” I answered, unsure of why I felt I needed to answer to Jack LaLanne.

“Hot Pockets? Good grief, what the hell is a Hot Pocket?”

“It’s like crust with pizza toppings inside. In a pocket.”

“And it’s hot? You heat it? You make it warm and consume it for some cockamamie reason? With cheese and sauce and, what? Sausage? Are you eating pork sausage?”

“They were pepperoni.”

“That’s a sausage, Einstein. My God. I can see you sweating.”

There was a moment of silence while Mr. LaLanne just stared at me. I could see his expression in the mirror, hard and disgusted. I tried to smile.

“Are you pushing? Is that a grimace? If you have to push a bowel movement it means you’re killing your bowels. Do you know that I’ve not had to push out a single bowel movement since 1931? Do you know that? I’m asking you a question.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“And why would you? Too busy stuffing your pork pie with pockets. Look at you. I can smell butter.”

In fairness, there was a curious butter-like odor in the bathroom but it wasn’t from me. It was there when I came in.

“Listen, do you know who I am?” he demanded of me. His mirror shifted, I think he was trying to look me in the eye.

“I think you’re Jack LaLanne.”

“If you could think you wouldn’t be such a mess. A sick body breeds a sick mind. I bet you look at girly magazines. I bet you’ve never had a job or loved a woman. How many pushups can you do?”

“Why do you have a mirror on a stick?”

“Thank your lucky stars I do! Do you have any idea how many chin ups I can do? That’s the power of juice, my friend. Not your sausage pies. If a man made it, don’t eat it. Processed food will kill you deader than a bullet.”

I wasn’t convinced that statement was factually accurate was but I was afraid to bring it up lest it breed another tirade from Mr. LaLanne. Suddenly the mirror vanished and a moment later a hand, the wrist encircled by what looked to be a velour cuff, appeared.

“Take my hand,” Jack LaLanne said. I frowned and noticeably clenched the majority of my body. “Curse your hide if you don’t take my hand, I’m trying to save your life.”

“Don’t you feel this is the wrong time?”

“It’s never the wrong time to care about your health now give me your hand or so help me I will come in there and take it!”

Ashamed of the palpable fear I felt of a man in his 90’s, I reached a hand down. LaLanne grabbed me in a grip like steel. H is hand was like ice cold tissue paper around a rock, I had never felt anything so offputting in my life.

“I’ve been on this toilet for over a half an hour purifying my mind, soul and body and I want to share that energy with you. Hot Pockets? Of all the cock and bull stories, why don’t you just eat cheese curds off of the diseased carcass of a prostitute?”

“I was in a hurry?”

LaLanne’s grip tightened and I stifled a cry of pain.

“A hurry? No time? How much time will you have when you’re an actual, literal whale? Hunted for your precious blubber by the Japanese and basking in the sun to try to keep warm.”

“I don’t know.”

“Nobody does, my lad. That’s the rub. You need to take the time now. Juice is the key. Have you seen my juicer? How do you think I’m able to live the way I do? How do you think? Curse you, I know you’re not deaf give me an answer!”

“Juice?”

“Right! Juice! You’re not a lost cause, friend. You can do this!” LaLanne continued to compress my hand in his vice-like grip for another moment of silence before his hand pulled free. I heard a rustling and suddenly the mirror reappeared.

“Take this. Use it. Spread the word,” he demanded. I reached down and took the mirror on a stick. A second one appeared right after. “I have more, don’t you worry. Now go. GO!”

I sat still a moment, not wanting to move under his watchful, mirror eye. He began chanting “go” over and over, and, after about five minutes, I forced a calm on myself and proceeded to wipe my ass. LaLanne’s mirror turned, watching me as I left the stall. It popped out of the front as I washed my hands very thoroughly and left, never to see Jack LaLanne again.

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odogaronfang · 6 years

Text

[[ @clumsybooknerd hi Tala!!! i was assigned to be your secret santa this year, and after looking through your blog to get an idea of what to do i came across your vampire au! so i thought i could write for that for the @imaginefourswords secret santa gift! i didn’t see too many details on it, so i hope this is okay- merry christmas, happy hanukkah, or just happy holidays!]]

Vampires were, for the longest time, thought to be the stuff of legends. Myths made by the ancients to explain the phenomena they didn’t understand- stories told by disenchanted parents to frighten children into behaving themselves- tales to tell at campfires under a new moon, with the certainty of a jumpscare to punctuate. And every so often someone would go missing, off the streets of a bustling city or from the gold-wheat fields of the rurals, and it would be chalked up to humans; so sick, so terrible, the human trafficking, awful things going on in our world, but oh well, what can you do. Some of them were even found, with little paired pinpricks littering their bodies, pale and gray, wrinkled and lifeless, sunken-eyed with skin too large for their bodies. Snakes, it’d be dismissed as, so often, too often- went to close to a nest, got bitten, venom did them in. Or bats, a swarm, a moon-snuffing flock, overwhelmed them and fed off them.

The latter was far closer to the truth, as people later discovered. A few of the newer-turned got careless, too sloppy with their schedules and their choices, and got caught in the act. Not caught, never taken into custody, but seen and sometimes filmed, and as much as authorities wanted to keep it under wraps, the truth came out eventually. There was panic, fear, accusations, riots, a general chaos that for quite some time disbanded all sense of trust and order among the people, comparable to the witch hunts of old. But from that rose the new profession of hunters; vigilantes at first, but soon a trusted and revered group, only the most diligent and skilled accepted into their ranks.

“I just don’t understand,” Zelda says, rolls up the map and throws it to her companions, “They’re supposed to be following some sort of pattern. And they’re not.”

“They are, down by Kakariko, I think.” Red takes the map, looks over the dots marked down, color-coded and varied in size. “From the reports I’ve read, at least. This is like, an isolated thing. Whatever’s going on down here isn’t the norm.”

“It might be a shift in tribes,” She suggests, shuts her laptop and rests her head in her arms. “I’ve heard of that happening before.”

“Maybe we could send someone in to see.” Green’s taking shots at the wastebasket with paper balls and has yet to make one.

“Really? Do we have anyone that can shapeshift?”

“No, but Green can teleport! As soon as it’s lunchtime he’s gone.”

“Hey, tracking vamps is hungry work.”

“Half the time we’re just staring at maps and guessing at things. The other half of the time it’s paperwork.”

“You’re forgetting the half where we hunt.”

“Green, how many halves are in a whole?”

“None. It’s a hole.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Whatever,” Zelda interjects, before they can start up an argument, “We haven’t actually gone hunting in months. We have to stare at maps and guess at things and guess them accurately before we can risk that kind of thing, and everything we’ve predicted has been way off.”

“I hear Valensuela’s thinking of calling some out-of-district help.”

“Uh, no thanks, those dudes are complete as-”

“Annoying. Very annoying. They don’t know how we operate here.”

“Not at all, apparently.”

“We just need to figure out what’s going on with them!”

“And how are we supposed to do that? It’s unpredictable!”

“Then maybe we just need to station lookouts.”

“Green, no way are we doing stakeouts. We have lives.”

“And we also save lives, and this is what we need to be doing to do that!”

Zelda would very much like to argue with that, but it’s a valid point, and if they don’t get something done it’s going to be a serious threat to job security. “...I’ll bring it to Valensuela in the morning.”

Vampires were, for the longest time, thought to be the stuff of legends, and it was this that kept them secure and hidden in their hunts. Something that was not real could not be combatted, and something that was not real could not be killing anyway, therefore it clearly must be something else, one among themselves. Those times were the easy ones. Pick off the wanderers deep in the forest at night, sneak into a house or two in the abandoned months, slip in and slip out smooth as silk and quiet as a shadow. Societies were loose and informal, and skill preceded age in the hierarchies that colonies tended to fall into. The longest fangs, the sharpest claws, the most bloodthirsty, those were what won the seat as ruler.

Then greed overcame prudence, and form became sloppy, and the turned were more in numbers and less in skill, and it wasn’t long after that they were found out. And so prudence had to win out over greed, and the life of ease and lavish became the life of covert and secrecy, and a rigid order under which all turned were governed. The stealthiest shifters, the seductive, the efficient, the largely normal, those now filled the roles at the top, and dictated the code of the colonies. Those who disobeyed were staked and left to the sun’s whims. There was no other choice.

“D’you know who’s supposed to be out feeding tonight?”

“I have not heard. The elder said nothing of it to me.”

“He’s not saying anything.” Shadow huffs, settles irritably into his hammock. “He gripes about schedules and policy and then doesn’t issue anything. So now we’re getting twenty kills in a night and then radio silence for a month. ‘N I’m hungry.”

“You ate two days ago.”

He points a finger at Vio. “Technically I didn’t. Well, not much. I gave most of it to you ‘cause you’re new. You’ll see, once you’re older you’re gonna need more.”

“I am older than you were when you say you were turned.”

“Okay, well, I have years on you. Like, decades at least, so you need to respect your seniors or whatever that human phrase is and listen to me.”

“You are required to see to my well-being. I am under no such obligation to you.” He smiles caustically at Shadow. “Already some have noted that I am more skilled than you were.”

“It’s ‘cause you had a good teacher.”

“You turned me and did not show your face for two months.”

“I thought I’d just killed you! You weren’t supposed to turn, I didn’t know it was a new moon, the clouds were too heavy.”

“I am ever indebted to you,” Vio says, sardonic as ever, “How merciful.”

Shadow rolls his eyes, turns over to see whether the elder’s ledge is occupied. It’s not, of course; he’s been gone days now, with no signs of when he’ll return, and the colony has started to grow restless.

“Oh, screw this. C’mon, Vio, we’re gonna hunt. I’m gonna starve to death at this rate.”

“That may be an improvement.”

“Shut up and shift, idiot. You’re coming whether you like it or not.”

Vio, reluctantly, does. And Shadow insists on leading, as he always does, and chooses the target, as he always does. Shadow chooses an alley, perfect, of course, for its darkness and seclusion, perches on the ledge of a narrow rickety overhang and leaves him to find his own.

“They pass through here all the time,” Shadow says, by way of explanation. “Eager to get home, I think. Not so worried about getting killed as getting back in bed.”

“A sentiment I share.”

“You’d rather me starve?”

“Sometimes I think so.”

They share in the silence for a while, companionable if a little tense, watching pedestrians cut through their alley to the avenue on the other side, waiting for a likely candidate, waiting for a good time. It’s a while before they get it, and even then that’s questionable; Shadow’s hungry, and makes it abundantly clear that he is getting a meal and getting it tonight.

“Him,” Shadow hisses, points at a man shorter in stature, earplugs in, paying no attention to his surroundings.

Vio isn’t so sure- but he hasn’t got time to protest, because Shadow’s dropped before he can manage a word.

“Easy,” Shadow says, with a terrible fanged grin, “Won’t know we’re here ‘til we’re on him.”

He creeps up behind the man, reaches a hand out to grab his neck-

-And the guy nearly breaks his arm getting him away.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, pal?!”

Shadow makes a noise that’s half a growl; that’s all the time it takes for the man to realize what kind of situation he’s in. He turns, to make a break for it, if he can get to the church down the street he might be able to make it, churches are supposed to keep them out right- but Vio’s there, cool and largely apathetic, arms crossed and gaze icy.

“Make this easy for yourself,” He says, with a softness that contrasts sharply to literally everything else going on, “This is nothing personal.”

“You screw off right now,” The man yells, and looks around for something, anything to fight with, throws a hard fist into Shadow’s face as he advances. He turns to Vio again, sees he isn’t approaching, chances a moment to turn around to scan the area and when he looks back there’s Vio, a dagger gleaming in his palm.

“I am only trying to make this simple for everyone,” He says, and with a shrug, plunges the blade into the man’s stomach.

Had it been anyone less resolved it might really be over then. But it’s Blue, and Blue isn’t very well going to hand over his life to a couple of bloodsucking parasites. He can’t just rip the knife out- he knows that from his late-night binges of crime fiction.

“Get him,” Shadow hisses, nose bent unnaturally, blood oozing far too slow from the wound, “What are you waiting for you useless piece of garbage-”

“I am not the hungry one. Fetch your own meal.”

Shadow stalks over, shoves him out of the way to chase after Blue, who’s managing a (relatively) fast shamble away, taking advantage of the distraction. He makes it to the end of the alley, is barely out in broad moonlight before Shadow shoves him to the ground- the impact only buries the knife in deeper- hovers over him with the reddest eyes he’s ever seen, and he’s sure that it’s over then but he hears a shout, and then the blare of a siren, brief and sharp and loud.

Shadow swears, drags Vio off into the darkness cursing a blue streak as he goes, and all Blue can manage is a half-sigh of relief as the officer rushes over.

“Sir,” Says the officer, gun in hand, as he runs up, “Sir, what’s going on?”

He could say vampires (and likely be mocked for it) or he could lie. “I don’t know,” He says, a half truth, because really he doesn’t know, not for sure. “One- One minute I was walkin’ and the next I got stabbed.”

“I’m sending for an ambulance,” Says the officer, “Where is the wound?”

“Stomach,” Blue answers, and feels himself starting to slip, and it takes considerable effort just to turn so the ground isn’t pushing the knife in further.

“Sir, stay awake, the EMTs are on their way. What’s your name?”

“Blue.”

“Where were you headed tonight, Blue?”

“Jus’ home. Long day at work.”

“Any plans for the day?”

“Emergency room, apparently.”

“Well, Blue, at least you’ve got a story to tell now.”

A story indeed, he thinks, miserable and angry.

He’s out of it beyond that, too dizzy and light-headed from blood loss, can hardly manage to lift a finger as the EMTs assess his condition and haul out the stretcher. He’s out for a while- later he suspects they drugged his IV en route- wakes in the cold white sterility of a hospital room, stomach good and bandaged with a needle stuck in his arm. What he wouldn’t give for a Hollywood exit, to rip it out and collect his things and be off, but he’s weak and tired and above all hungry. A few nurses are in and out, give him a plate of terrible hospital food that tastes like soggy cardboard and sawdust. Before the morphine kicks in he resolves to call Erune about bringing him some real food, and maybe see if he can get in contact with the local hunters’ legion.

#vampire au #four swords #blue link #vio link #shadow link #red link #green link #ze #i hope u like this!!#ive never written vamp fiction before and i rarely read it so idk if this is up to par #happy holidays tho!!!#man this was fun i regret not joining it sooner #my writing

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surveys-at-your-service · 7 years

Text

Survey #56

“no doubt about it, i got a bad, bad girlfriend.”

who was the last male you hung out with? we didn't really "hang out," but i was around bradley, colleen's husband. the last male i really did "hang out" with was my friend girt months ago. who is your favorite person to text? colleen when’s the last time you talked to the person you like? the last time i talked and he responded, via battle.net because we were both online. i asked him how school was going and such, despite in his responses it being obvious he didn't want to talk. last time i "talked" to him without his input in the conversation was when i wrote him a ten-page letter i've yet to mail him. who did you last take a picture with? colleen, chelsea, and mom. do you and your best friend ever fight? yes. we're in a fight now, actually. we're both very opinionated people and also very different, so. is there someone who can make you laugh no matter what? fucking jason. i would be crying and he could still make me laugh. has anyone ever mistaken you for being gay/lesbian/bi? yes. more than once. lmao at the store the other day, colleen ran into her preacher, and i was with her. it was kinda obvious he thought we were a couple. explain why you last threw up? had a baaaad stomach bug. ever kissed your best friend's significant other? definitely not! do you like the person you are becoming? no. more than anything, my happiness should NOT be so dependent on a man who doesn't even care about me. do you have anything embarrassing/sexual in your room? i do not. know anyone who has a pet gecko? my former best friend summer and my acquaintance caleb. do you like eating soup in the winter? i don't like soup period. do you like getting jewelry or do you not wear any? sure! when you were in high school did you ever have bomb threats? once because a kid my sister knew was stupid as fuck. did/do you get school cancellations because of snow? dude, we got cancellations if there was a chance of an inch of snow. who knows ALL of your secrets? jason is the only one, actually. i've literally told him everything. what does your typical outfit look like? yoga/sweatpants, graphic tee. did you have a job before you were in college? no, actually. do you think hunting is wrong? if so, why? for purely sport, kinda. just killing for fun doesn't seem right in the slightest? if you're in a survival situation or if you actually do eat what you kill, sure, hunt. have you ever thought about what it would be like to have a baby right now? not in-depth, no. it'd be... very hard. well first off, it'd be impossible for me to get pregnant, but let's just say i somehow did. i'm pretty sure i wouldn't be a "bad" mom, but an insufficient one. i'm pretty severely mentally ill and very unstable right now, and a child's malleable mind doesn't need to be exposed to that, especially when it's his/her mother. i also do not want to bring a child into this world when (s)he wouldn't have a father figure. fathers are just as important as mothers, imo, and a baby should be raised with both parents. the last thing a child needs is just a sick mother. despite the obvious issues though, holy hell would i do everything for that baby. do you have a sensitive gag reflex? VERY. i can't even put those things in my mouth at the dentist for when you get x-rays without a massive struggle. i usually have the get the kid ones. what was the last situation to upset you? colleen said something very ignorant. have you ever had an online argument? waaaaay more than one. i've been around the internet since what, 2007? i've had plenty. do any of your friends know you fill out surveys? online friends, sure, real life friends, not on tumblr, no. i occasionally/very rarely post a survey in facebook notes, so my friends obviously know, but they haven't seen even a microscopic quarter of the surveys i've done. i'm not entirely... against the idea, but like, i'd only ever maybe admit to colleen i have a survey blog. how do you typically style your hair? does it take long? no, because it's too thick for me personally to style. i would kill to have the emo/scene/whatever you call it hair, but my hair just doesn't work with me. when were you last offered something illegal? never, i think. what are you most confident about? most insecure about? uhhh. i mean, i guess my knowledge about meerkats is what i'm most confident about? most insecure about, my stomach. when are you most likely to say something you don’t mean? if you bring up jason. where’s the best place to get your favorite dish? my favorite dish ever is spicy shrimp fritas, which i get from olive garden. can you play guitar hero? yeah. i used to play almost everything on expert and sometimes get 100%, but now i play mostly on hard and a select few on expert. if you could move somewhere else, would you? yeah, closer to the mountains on the western side of the state. how many months until your birthday? less than one! do you want your tongue pierced? yes, i want the snake eyes tongue piercing. who was the last person to disappoint you? colleen are you emotionally strong? i honestly do not know? like i tell myself i wouldn't be alive otherwise, but simultaneously, i feel that if i was strong, so many things wouldn't bother me. you think ‘I love you’ are strong words? they were enough to ruin my life, so. on grand theft auto, do you just kill people or actually do the missions? i've never played it before, but i think i'd do the missions, since i play games to beat them. have you ever been to australia? no, but i'd kinda like to to meet my friend shay. i'm just scared of all the venomous shit they have, especially the spiders. do you watch adult swim? no. half the shit on there was immaculately immature the last time i saw it, anyway. do you have a favorite pair of underwear? i only have one pair because i never wear underwear unless there's an occasion i need to, and they're pink and black and lacy. what is your dad’s occupation? he's been a mailman for years and actually likes it. have you ever seen a baby snake? no, actually. i mean on television and stuff, sure, but not in real life. do you own any band tees? plenty. big part of my wardrobe. do you think they really landed on the moon, or it was fake? i've seen like all the evidence that it may have been faked, and i believe it's a possibility it was, but in general, i believe that we truly did land on the moon, despite some of the oddities. do you feel embarrassed to listen to music you love out loud around other people? no no no no no!! that's like, probably the only think about me i'm proud of revealing!! does your shower have a glass screen or a curtain? curtain when is the last time you sat around a campfire? years ago in new york. do you have a back-up career choice? what is it? not really, honestly... i mean my dream job is to be a meerkat biologist, but i'm not moving to africa, so that just won't happen. the only thing i want to do is be a photographer. are men more attractive with longer or shorter hair? i mean, it really depends on the man, but in general, i like longer hair. is there a name that you hear and cringe? rachel. what was the last computer game you played? world of warcraft, before my computer decided "hey let's keep restarting." i was about to get the long-forgotten hippogryph too, and i'm still salty about it. what would you say is your guiltiest pleasure? world of warcraft, again, and idk why. like there's nothing to be ashamed of, yet i am. like even when i get my computer fixed, i'm contemplating just not getting back into it to avoid the feeling of embarrassment. do you let your pets on your furniture? yes, because they live here??? can you usually tell when someone has feelings for you? with my history of thinking aaron liked me and believing jason would ask me out, i guess. what is your favorite thing to cook for someone else? the only thing i can really cook are some yummy scrambled eggs, with hot sauce. have you ever bought underwear simply because it made your underwear drawer look nice? no? how do you feel about kettle cooked chips? GROSS would you ever consider visiting texas? if my former best friend mini would talk to me again, sure. i'd love to visit her. who was the last person to turn you on? jason was good at that. what are your views on the death penalty? it is only for the coldest, hardest criminals where there is no doubt they committed the crime. some people just don't change and do deserve to die, imo. is the music you listen to 'weird’? i'm sure some people consider it such. have you ever played an instrument? i played flute all through middle and high schools are fingerless gloves awesome? sure, i have some from high school. do you fit any stereotypes? possibly. after all, the definition of certain stereotypes vary very slightly from person-to-person. i guess i fit both geek and emo in some ways. does your best friend have a driver’s license? yeah. what size drink do you usually get at fast food restaurants? medium. do you have underwear from victoria’s secret? i do not. do you want a relationship? i mean, yeah, i guess. i'm dangerously lonely and after dating jason, i know how good relationships feel. but i don't want to rush anything. are you uncomfortable staring into someone’s eyes who you like? no. i could stare into jason's forever. who was the first person you talked to today? via the internet, ummm i think it was shaylee. in real life, nicole, my little sister. honestly! do you think you’re better than anyone else? not at all. god told us we're equal, that's why. do you have any fish as pets? no. i'd really like a big saltwater tank, though. when was the last time you slept in your parents' bedroom? well, my parents have been divorced for years now, and mom doesn't currently have a room, she sleeps on the couch and i sleep in her old room, so i really don't know. do you like channing tatum? i think he's physically attractive, but that's it. do you have a common first name? very. who/what is one person/thing that had the biggest impact on your life? jason. what is the most pointless movie that you have ever seen? did you like it? "the purge," because the whole basis of the story was just... stupid? like, WHY to begin with would it ever be legally allowed to purge? the whole idea was just stupid. the movie itself was okay in general though. who is the most important person in your life right now? i'm trying to make it me. have you ever had a crush on someone of the same gender as you? nope. who did you last talk to about the person you love? mom, i think. who was the last person you sat next to on a bus? i haven't been on a bus since high school. but i always sat with jason. do you carry photos in your wallet? i'm pretty sure i have a picture on nicole somewhere in there. the last time you had sex, was it in their bed or yours? i've never had sex, but the last time i did something sexual, it was probably his bed. is there someone that you believe you will always be attached to? i don't "think" it, i know it. has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? nope. name two of your favorite colors. maroon, pink. do you want to get married? i do. are you afraid of roller coasters? yes, i am. what colors would you like to have at your wedding? i've actually considered many combinations. think i'll wait for my spouse's opinion 'til i really decide. tell me the truth, what made you start liking the person you like right now? he was so, so unique. strange. different. maddeningly bizarre. and, he cared. he approached me while i was pushing everyone away, and i just couldn't shove him, too. he wanted to know aaaall about me, and he seemed to like everything he heard... he backed me into a corner where i couldn't escape him, yet i wasn't afraid. now i'm damned for it. what was the last reason you cried? i missed jason. last person to tell you i love you? my mama what do you think your ex would say about you? "she's my psycho ex." think of your last kiss….was it cute? i don't remember my last kiss, because i didn't think it'd be the last. i was so blissfully ignorant. i was suspicious that something was wrong with jason, but... i never thought he'd leave. i mean don't get me wrong, every kiss we had was precious, but it was at the same time just another kiss. have you ever played golf? i've played putt-putt, but not golf. what was the last tv show you watched an episode of? probably something at colleen's, idk. do you like beer? if so, what's your favorite brand? never tried it, but i know it stinks to high heaven. how often do you update your facebook status? i never update my status unless something quite big happens. i only ever share funny pictures/posts or stuff i heavily relate to/agree with. do you feel bad when you throw food out? it's not something i think about all the time, but i do, because i know some people have much less than i. when was the last time you waxed anything on your body, if ever? months ago when i had my eyebrows done. i want to go more regularly, it's just a money thing. what is your favorite video game? "silent hill 2" would you ever consider getting plastic surgery? what would you have done? i don't think so. do you like shrimp? eh, usually. have you ever been in a car accident? i have. who is your favorite superhero? batman. what is your favorite fruit flavored soda [grape, strawberry, orange, etc]? strawberry have you ever slept in the same bed with the last person you kissed? pleeeenty of times. would you ever be a stripper? hell no. your ex is walking next to you, with their new partner, what do you do? fucking kill her. do you have a hard time letting go? i probably have a harder time letting go than anybody on the planet. is the last person you kissed a virgin? nope. he's had sex with rachel, and i'm sure he's fucked ashley by now. can't wait 'til he breaks her heart, too. have you ever cried uncontrollably on a boy’s shoulder before? more than once. how many times have you changed a diaper in your life? literally only once what do you think makes you a good girlfriend or boyfriend? i'm passionate and loyal as fuck. did you ever go to a mental hospital? four or five times, the numbers are honestly starting to blur. does your mom/dad smoke? dad does. how old are you? i'll be 21 in a few weeks. did an old person ever hit on you? yes, and it was fucking terrifying. do you believe that weed should be legalized? no, honestly. do you like apple jacks? yes! Are you afraid of the dark? nah. would you say your taste in music is in a very broad spectrum? no, honestly. i'm very limited in the type of music i enjoy. are you a moaner, a screamer, or totally silent? ... i'm going to pretend the fact this is on a survey doesn't bother me and just answer it. i tend to moan and gasp a lot. i've wanted to scream before, but haven't. what’s your middle name? marie have you ever written or received a suicide note? no, but more than once have i almost written one. ever kissed anyone with a nipple piercing? no. have you ever kissed someone who had a boyfriend/girlfriend? no, and i wouldn't unless it was jason and he was the one trying to kiss me. ever made out in a pool? no, but we might as well have that one time. do you have a pool? no, we had to sell ours for the money. are you an emotional person? too emotional anybody ever tell you that “you could do so much better” about a person? literally everyone tells me that?? how many full biological siblings do you have? full-blooded? just two. what is something you currently need to buy?  new tank tops for bed, badly. the last person you kissed asks you to marry him/her. how do you react? HA. no. apologize to me, number one, and fucking prove to me you won't leave again. do you wear hair extensions?  no, because i don't need them. how old were you when you started puberty? i have no memory of when i started. if you could have any magical power, what would you have? shape-shifting, i think. do you believe in love at first site? absolutely not. let’s say your dad came in your room one day and told you that you had to get married in the next week but you can pick the person but you have to stay with them for the rest of your life no getting out of it, who would you pick? "no getting out of it" my ass, i'd get out of it. he can disown my ass, whatever, i don't care. i take marriage way more seriously than that. if you could be the lead role in any movie, what would it be? honestly, i'd want to play a person driven crazy by events in her life. because same fam. when eating something are you more concerned with taste or nutrition? taste, honestly. what gender do you identify with? female, because i have a vagina. yes, i'm conservative about this matter. fight me m8. are you more of a science or math person? science, easily. what are your opinions on abortion? i'm viciously pro-life. if you identify as a girl, would you ever consider getting a pixie cut? no. please do not misunderstand this: i have no problem with bigger people, but generally, i find pixie cuts to look bad on bigger women like me. are you a metalhead? hell to the fuck yeah. do you even listen to metal? it's like... all i listen to. do you know anybody who is a wiccan or pagan? i'm pretty sure i know two or three wiccans do you watch supernatural? i don't anymore, 'cuz it's a ptsd trigger. it was the first show jason and i binge-watched together. stopped at the sixth season, i think. it's a really good show and i love it, i just tried to watch it one day, and i can't without him. what’s your favorite character in your favorite tv show? i'd say my overall favorite show is "fullmetal alchemist," so hmmm... shit man, i'm having a difficult time remembering all the characters. i feel like i really liked one of the seven deadly sins, i think it was greed? no... maybe envy? envy! the one i misgendered, lmao. i really like them. are you diabetic? i am not, but it runs in the family, so... where is the majority of your family from? mom's side, new york, dad's side, michigan. last person you slept in the same bed with? chelsea hate someone, who? i try so hard not to, but i'm pretty sure the feelings i have towards jason's current girlfriend is hatred. when was your first kiss? hmmmm. maybe like, may-ish four years ago? do you carry a purse? yeah. would you ever name a kid damien? it's a decent name, but no. bats are not spooky or are they? no no no, they're so precious!! especially flying foxes!! do you like listening to new music, or just sticking to your favorites? both. depends on the mood. are you one of those people who can eat anything and not gain a pound? fuck no. i'm the person who looks at cake and gains 10 pounds. do you like hot dogs? i do, i just don't think of how they're made. do you watch american horror story? again, i used to, but don't anymore due to it being a ptsd trigger. we watched the first season and most of the second together. do you have sensitive teeth? no would you date someone you had a 16 year age gap with? NO what is your sexuality? heterosexual, some asexual traits do you think suits are sexy? kill me yes fucking christ do you think earrings are attractive or unattractive on guys? ehhhh, i'm kinda neutral with guys and earrings. would you ever have a threesome with your friend and their bf/gf? fuck no. so sorry to offend, but you don't fucking love your significant other if you're comfortable fucking someone else with them. i'd lecture the heavens out of my friend if they suggested that. have you ever kissed just a friend? on the cheek, yes. what was the last graduation you attended? my little sister's have you ever pole danced before? nope. have you ever broken into someone’s house? wtf, no. would you ever kiss your best friend’s boyfriend/girlfriend? no, because i have respect for their relationship and i don't "like" her husband like that. have you ever seen a live bat? hmmm, i may have at the zoo, but otherwise, i'm not sure!

#survey #quiz #questions #asks #answered

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bi-fandom-trash · 6 years

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Blurred Lines: Complete Full Work

Dean was 13 years old when he experienced his first heat. It took him a day or two to realize what was happening. When it dawned on him, he considered killing himself. Of course, his father, an alpha, had already sensed it. He had bought the appropriate medications—painkillers, hormone suppressants, scent suppressants, etc. He handed them to Dean and asked if he needed anything else.

“No.” Dean lied. “I got this.”

“I’m gonna be gone on a hunt the next few days.” John replied. “I know it can be painful. Try not to scare Sam.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean replied. He sensed his father’s discomfort, but also his disappointment. He expected his sons to be alphas, like him. Having a son who was an omega would undoubtedly be a weakness.

Indeed, they would have to do their best to plan out hunts around his heats. They typically fell right around the 26th of each month, and lasted four days. He could work through the first and last days, but the two in between were unbearable. They consisted of Dean lying in bed, sweating through the sheets, gritting his teeth until his jaw hurt to avoid crying out.

Those were the days he truly felt useless.

John never complained about the situation. He simply worked around it without any acknowledgement.

Then Sammy came of age. They all should have seen it coming. The way he was always butting heads with John. Two alphas would always have friction in close quarters.

The fact that Sam was an alpha and Dean an omega was something that would leave Dean with a sick feeling in his stomach. John and Sam would often plan small stuff to do during Dean’s heats—usually simple salt-and-burn jobs. Something they could do without Dean. Of course, this was logical, as Dean couldn’t work at the time. And it was uncomfortable for everyone if they were around him during his heat. But Dean also couldn’t shake the feeling that they avoided him for another reason: shame. They didn’t want to see him so weak and pathetic. It was unbearable to live it. It must have been unbearable to witness.

So Dean did everything he could to make it up to them. He followed orders unquestioningly. He became faster and stronger with each passing day. He may be useless two to four days out of the month, but the other twenty-six, he was a force to be reckoned with. He was a lean, powerful monster-killing machine. He refused to let biology stand in his way.

___________

Until fifteen years later.

_____________________

“Bobby! Thank god.” Sam was clearly panicking on the other end of the line. Bobby knew only one thing could cause that tone in Sam’s voice.

“What’s wrong with Dean?”

“I—I don’t know, Bobby.” Sam replied. “He’s in heat, but it’s bad. Really bad. Nothing’s working. Not the pills, nothing. It’s never been like this.”

“Bring him over.” Bobby said. “We’ll figure something out.”

“I told you not to call him!” Bobby heard Dean shout. “Just let me fucking die!”

“We’ll be there in about two hours.” Sam said before hanging up.

______________

A few minutes later, Dean was laying in the back seat of the Impala, slick with sweat and hurling into a bucket every few minutes.

“Why the fuck would you drag Bobby into this?” Dean tried to shout, but it just came out as a weak groan.

“I’m not gonna let you die, Dean.” Sam said. “Bobby will know what to do.” Sam opened the windows and turned on the air. The pheromones were making his head buzz, and he was ready to lose his lunch, too. Years of practice made it easier to ignore, but whatever Dean was going through was supercharged, and biology really didn’t give a damn about family relations.

“I know you can’t stand the smell of me. Just leave me on the side of the road.”

“Quit being melodramatic.” Sam replied. It was going to be a long ride.

_________________

Sam was nearly ill himself by the time they made it to Bobby’s. He needed Bobby’s help to carry Dean to the safe room.

“What are we gonna do, Bobby?”

“You’re gonna go take a walk,” Bobby instructed. “Get some fresh air and get your head together. I’ve been doing some research. There’s a few things I’m gonna try.”

Sam gave his brother’s shoulder a squeeze before heading outside. As a beta, Bobby couldn’t really smell the pheromones too strongly, but judging from the state Dean was in, both boys must be going through seven types of hell being stuck together through this.

“Just let me— “

“If you ask me to let you die, I’m gonna string you up, boy.” Bobby cut in. “Idjit. Now I looked up a few things. I gotta know some stuff.”

Dean vomited again, and Bobby waited for him to finish.

“You okay?”

“Peachy. What did you need to know?”

“How many years have you been going through this without a mate?”

“About fifteen.”

“FIFTEEN YEARS!?” Bobby couldn’t hold back his surprise. “Good lord, boy. That—that’s. Damn. I always assumed you were a really late bloomer. You are one tough sonuvabitch.”

“Not so tough now, huh?” Dean looked like he was about to hurl again.

“Well, I got some supplies here.” Bobby took out a few IV bags.

“Where’d you get that stuff?”

“The less you know, the better.” Bobby grunted. “It’s some saline solution, and some of those hormone suppressants. Maybe they’ll work intravenously.”

Dean nodded. But he could tell by Bobby’s tone of voice that he doubted it would work. A sudden shot of pain went through Dean’s body, and a scream escaped his lips. It was about twenty seconds before it subsided.

“Bobby, we both know how this is gonna go down.”

“Shut up.”

____________

Dean was passed out on the mattress in the safe room when Sam came back from his walk.

“How’s he doing?”

“Sam, we may not have a lot of options.” Bobby looked grave.

“What do you mean?” Sam’s eyes were filled with a kind of wild panic.

“We need to find him a mate. And soon.” Bobby replied. “I don’t know how he went this long without one.”

Sam shook his head. “No. He always said he would never mate. He’s been adamant about that.” Sam said. He and Dean didn’t talk about it much, but on the rare occasions his heats were really bad, Dean had made it quite clear. “I thought you had some things to try.”

“That was before I knew how long he’s been without a mate.” Bobby replied. “Everything I’ve read on the subject says the same. Ten, maybe twelve years an omega can live without a mate. But beyond that…Sam, if we don’t find him an alpha soon, he’s going to die.” Bobby gave Sam a pained look. “I’m sorry, son.”

“There has to be something else, Bobby. There has to be. I can’t just find some random alpha and ask him to rape my brother!”

“Then start praying.”

“Praying!” Sam exclaimed, realization dawning on his face. He ran outside.

_______________

“CAS!” Sam screamed up to the sky. “CASTIEL!”

This went on for about a minute before he heard the shift of wings.

“Cas!” Sam called out, relieved. “Cas, it’s Dean.” Sam briefly explained the situation.

“Is there anything you can do?”

Cas looked down. “I’m afraid not,” the regret in Cas’s voice was almost palpable. “It’s no longer in my power to do such things.”

“No, no.” Sam seemed to visibly sink upon losing his last hope. He allowed himself to cry for the first time since this started. “No, Cas. There has to be something you can do.” He gripped Cas’s coat weakly. “Please, Cas.”

“I’d like to see my friend,” Cas said, gently pulling himself from Sam’s grip as he began to walk inside. He turned around. “Sam…I am sorry.”

_______________

Dean was barely conscious. Pale and sweating, he was curled in on himself in a fetal position. The occasional groan made its way out. He saw Cas and let out a weak stream of profanity.

“Well, it’s just a damn party now, isn’t it?”

“Dean,” Cas touched his friend’s shoulder comfortingly. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Hey, when it’s your time, it’s your time.” Dean managed a weak smile before the pain ripped through him again. He couldn’t suppress a scream. Cas held a cool cloth to his friend’s head. It did literally nothing to help, but Dean appreciated the gesture. He wouldn’t admit he appreciated it, but he did.

“Is there no hope of finding you a mate?” Cas asked. Dean glared at him.

“I’d rather die.”

“You can’t mean that.” Cas said gently.

“I’m not gonna be some alpha’s weak little bitch, begging for it!” Dean winced as another shot of pain went through him.

Cas didn’t respond. He simply wet the cloth again and placed it back on Dean’s forehead.

_____________

“He’s asleep.” Cas answered the unasked question as he entered the kitchen and sat at the table with Sam and Bobby.

“We can’t just sit around waiting for him to die.” Sam shook his head. It was clear he had been crying. “We can’t.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done,” Cas said. Sam gently pounded his head with his fist, as though trying to force the ideas to the surface. It must have worked, because he suddenly screamed.

“Aha!” Sam jumped up, slapping the table in triumph. “Why didn’t I think of this before?”

“What is it?” Bobby asked.

“Cas! You mentioned once that Jimmy Novak was an alpha.”

“That is true.” Cas replied, “but you can’t be suggesting—“

“Cas, you could do it! Couldn’t you?”

“Sam, Dean does not want to mate. He’s made that quite clear.”

“I don’t CARE!” Sam screamed. “I’m not going to let his fucked up inferiority complex kill him!”

“I thought you were against someone mating him against his will,” Bobby said.

“But Cas isn’t some random stranger,” tears welled in Sam’s eyes. “He…he’s really dying, Bobby. And I can’t lose him. Not like this. Please, Cas. He’s my brother.”

“I will suggest the idea to him,” Cas conceded. “But I will honor his wishes.”

_______________

Dean didn’t think it was possible for him to laugh in the state he was in at the moment, but he did. And not just a small chuckle, but a full-on belly laugh.

“Oh, that’s a good one, Cas.”

“I’m being serious.” Cas replied. “We feel you should be presented with all options, as…undesirable as they may seem.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Cas, you’re a damn catch,” Dean barked another laugh that turned into a pained groan. “But I’m not about to become anyone’s bitch.”

“You complete asshole!” Sam snapped. “After everything we’ve been through. After all of it, you’re just gonna lay down and die when there’s another way?”

“Sam, calm down.” Cas said gently.

“No! No, I won’t calm down!” Sam was screaming through his tears. “Have you even thought about any of us? Thought about what this will do to me?” Sam’s voice suddenly went softer, weaker. “Dean…I can’t. I can’t just watch this happen. Would you be able to watch me, if it was reversed? Could you?”

“Sam…I can’t.” Dean had tears in his eyes for the first time. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

“Are you so obsessed with some outdated notion of masculinity that you’re willing to die for it?” Sam asked. “Seriously?”

“It’s easy for you.” Dean said, his teeth gritting through the pain. “You were the alpha. The one who didn’t have to sit it out once a month. He didn’t look at you the way he did me.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sam asked incredulously. “Because of DAD? You’re seriously letting our fucked up childhood dictate this?”

“Sam, I’ve made my decision!”

“Fuck This!” Sam’s face hardened. “Cas, just take him!”

“I won’t.” Cas held his ground. “I won’t do that.”

“We can worry about the morality of it later. At least he’ll be alive!”

“I. Won’t. Do. That.” Cas repeated, his voice nothing short of dangerous. “Don’t ask me again.”

“You know what, Dean?” Sam turned to his brother, fire in his eyes. “Every time we went out without you, I could tell he wished you were there. ‘Hard to believe he’s an omega, the way he fights.’ Dad would say.”

“You’re making that up.”

“You know I’m not.” Sam looked Dean dead in the eyes. “Maybe he didn’t say it to your face, but he certainly said enough behind your back. ‘Dean won’t let anything stop him. Damn near dead one day, and ready to hunt the next.’” Sam mimicked their father’s voice all too well. “Why do you think I left? It didn’t matter that I was an alpha. Hell, he probably expected more from me because of it. But I was always the weak little brother. The one he got stuck doing the easy jobs with for a couple of days, until he could have his favorite little soldier back again.”

“Dad never mentioned my status, or my heats. Ever.”

“Not to you, he didn’t.” Sam replied. “Listen, he was kind of fucked up, okay! I mean, I know we both loved him. Still do. But he wasn’t father of the year. And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let his shitty parenting take you from me!”

Before Dean could reply, he was suddenly taken by a wave of pain. He jackknifed in on himself, holding his stomach. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He seized up over and over again, as wave after wave of agony overtook him.

“Dean!” Sam ran to his brother side, hands going to either side of his brother’s face. “Dean, please! Let Cas do this. Please.”

It was several minutes before the pain subsided. Dean looked different afterward. He looked hazy, and his eyes took on a defeated quality as they locked with Sam’s. Sammy. His biggest weakness. Take care of Sammy. Always take care of Sammy.

“Okay.” Dean said, barely a whisper. “Cas. Do it.”

“There isn’t much time.” Cas said softly to Bobby, so the brothers couldn’t hear. “It may already be too late.”

“Do what you can.” Bobby said, giving Cas a clap on the shoulder as he left the safe room. Sam followed him out.

“Take care of him, Cas.”

Cas nodded, closing the door behind them. He turned to Dean, his stomach in knots. There wasn’t time to second-guess this. He strode over to Dean, removing his coat and shirt as he walked.

“Let’s get this over with.” Dean said softly, using the last of his energy attempting to turn over on his stomach. “Don’t look at me.”

Cas knew he had to act quickly. He helped Dean out of his jeans, then turned him on his stomach as he asked. He took a deep breath, breathing in Dean’s scent.

Then instinct took over.

______________

The next few minutes were a frenzied blur of teeth, thrusts, and scent. Cas vaguely heard Dean’s screams, and answered with his own. He intuitively knew these were not screams of pain, nor even of pleasure. Just pure release from the act being performed. When it was over, Dean laid limp beneath Cas. For a horrifying moment, Cas thought the worst, but then realized Dean had just passed out.

Cas zipped up his pants, and, shaking from exertion and the thrum of hormones coursing through him, managed to cover Dean with a thin sheet before slumping in the chair next to the bed. An entirely different scent hung in the air. Dean no longer smelled the same, nor did he himself smell as he did before. Their scents had mingled, permanently changed.

They were bonded.

He sat next to his friend for several minutes. He couldn’t decide if it would be worse to be there when Dean woke, or to be gone. Before he could determine what to do, Dean began to stir.

“Cas?”

“I’m here.” Cas rested his hand on Dean’s back.

“You okay?”

“Me?” Cas was taken aback by the question. Certainly his own safety wasn’t a concern. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“Alive.” There was a look on Dean’s face Cas couldn’t place. It wasn’t quite defeat, nor resignation. Nor was it mere sadness.

Loss. Cas realized. It was a look of total loss in his friend’s eyes. And Cas had put it there.

What have I done? Cas stared down at his friend, tears pooling in his eyes. What have I done?

“Cas?” Dean grasped Cas’s shoulder. “Really. I’m okay.” Clearly mistaking Cas’s regret for concern. “But I am kind of thirsty. And hungry.”

“I’ll be right back.” Cas said. At the moment, he would go to the furthest reaches of the galaxy for Dean out of pure shame for his actions. He could never make this up to him. Never. No amount of service, no amount of pie or beer could ever undo what he had just done.

_______________

Sam and Bobby both stood up as Cas came into the kitchen.

“Is he okay?” Sam asked. Cas didn’t know how to answer that.

“He survived.” Cas decided to settle for that. “He needs rest. Water. Something to eat.”

“He’s hungry?” Sam asked, a small smile making its way to his lips. Dean was never hungry during his heat. In fact, that was the only time he didn’t eat non-stop. “That—that’s great! I mean, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” Cas replied.

“Cas, thank you. Thank you so much.” Sam went to hug him, but Cas stopped him with a hand to his chest. Sam looked at him, a little puzzled.

“Don’t thank me for that.” Cas said. “Just…don’t.”

Bobby went to the fridge and took out a few bottles of water and what appeared to be leftover beef stew.

“Tell him to eat it slow.” Bobby instructed as he handed it over to Cas. Cas just nodded. As he made his way back to the safe room, Sam followed him. Cas stopped.

“Sam…I think it unwise for you to see Dean at this time.”

“Oh.” Sam looked down. Part of him understood that Dean likely needed his space, but another part of him needed to see for himself that his brother was okay.

“I need your help organizing the supplies.” Bobby said. He really needed no such thing, but it was a good excuse to get Sam out of the house. “You can see Dean later, when he’s feeling up to it.”

“Right.” Sam said, seeing right through Bobby’s lie, but going along with it anyway. “Okay.”

_______________

Dean was halfway through the second bottle of water before he spoke.

“I usually begin around the 26th.” He said, attempting to sound all-business. “I can make it to the 27th or 28th before I…before I’ll need you.”

“Dean…” Cas tried to find adequate words. There weren’t any. “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Dean couldn’t meet Cas’s eyes. “I told you to do it.”

“We both know you didn’t have a choice.” Cas’s voice was tortured.

“I did.” Dean said simply. “I could have died.”

“That isn’t a choice.”

“It is.” Dean said. “And I chose to stay here, for Sam. And now I’m alive. So it’s done.”

“Dean--”

“Just forget it, Cas!” Dean said, an edge to his voice. “It’s done. It’s over. It is what it is. So let’s just get on with it.”

Cas nodded. “I will make arrangements to be here at the appropriate time.”

“Good.”

There was a long pause.

“Listen, Cas. I’m okay now, and I’m pretty tired.”

“Understood.” Cas went to touch Dean on the shoulder, then thought better of it. Without another word, he vanished from Bobby’s house.

______________________

“Dean?” Sam slowly walked into the safe room. “How you feeling?”

“Not now, Sammy.” Dean turned his head toward the wall.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Do you need anyth--”

“I’m fine, Sam!” Dean snapped, still not facing him.

“Sam,” Bobby stood at the doorway. “Take a walk.” Sam swallowed hard, nodded, and left the room without another word.

Bobby sat next to Dean in silence for a few minutes.

When he finally spoke, his words were soft and even. “Nothing about what happened today was okay.” He said. “Nothing. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t damn glad you’re alive.”

“I think I’d take death right now.” Dean continued to have his back turned toward Bobby, but it was clear in his voice he was fighting tears.

Bobby considered him for a long moment. “Your father never told you this, so I’m going to. You are not weak, Dean. Far from it. And your biology doesn’t define you. It never will. And you never need to feel ashamed of it.”

Dean didn’t move or respond.

“God knows I’m no expert on this shit,” Bobby said. “Hell, I’m the last person to be giving advice. So I’m not going to. Just know that I’m in your corner. Always have been, always will be.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean said, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, son.” Bobby gave Dean a quick pat on the shoulder as he got up to leave. “But I’m not sorry you’re still with us.”

________________

Dean slept for a few more hours. When he woke up, he knew what had to be done. He took a shower, got dressed, and looked at himself in the mirror.

Suck it up and keep moving. He grabbed his jacket and headed out to face the world.

“Dean, how are you--”

“Sam, do me a favor.” Dean said shortly. “Don’t ask me how I’m doing, how I’m feeling, or if I need anything. I’m fine. Period. Got it?”

“Yeah, you certainly sound fine.” Sam shot back sarcastically.

“I’ll live.” Dean snapped. “We’ve wasted enough time here. We should get moving.” He turned to Bobby. “Thanks for everything, Bobby. We’ve gotta be heading out now.”

Bobby regarded Dean for half a second before extending his hand. “Always.” He gave both boys a hug. “See you around.”

As much as Dean appreciated everything Bobby had done, he simply couldn’t stay in that house another second. He wanted to put some miles between himself and the scene of the…incident. And fast.

They rode in silence for about half an hour before Sam spoke up.

“I know you’re pissed about what happened, but--”

Dean hit the brakes so fast on Baby her tires squealed.

“Dean! What the--”

“You listen to me.” Dean said dangerously. “You have absolutely no fucking idea what is going through my head right now. So don’t even try to fucking PRETEND to get it, okay?”

“Dean, please let me--”

“No. You do not get to talk about this. Ever. I know why you did it, okay? I get why you and Cas did what you did. But I do not owe you anything. I don’t owe you an explanation, or closure, or some fucking Oprah Winfrey moment, got it?”

“I’m not going to apologize for saving your life. Hate me all you want, but I am so happy that you are alive to hate me.”

“Eat a bag of dicks, Sam.”

_________________

A salt-and-burn, a vampire nest—same old, same old. The more Dean worked, the easier it became to push the incident from his mind. Things even returned to some semblance of normal between him and Sam. It was about 90% an act—just going through the motions of normalcy. A snarky comment here, a shared beer there. But it was a start, and all Dean had to hold himself together.

It fell apart on the 26th. Dean knew it was coming. He could practically set his watch to his heats. But that didn’t make it any easier when he felt the first pangs in his lower abdomen when we woke up. Sam smelled it, of course.

“Huh.” Sam gave a curious little noise as he squeezed toothpaste on his toothbrush.

“What?” Dean asked, giving his shirt the sniff test as they got ready to leave the hotel room in search of whatever was leaving travelers strung up inside out on the side of the road in the thriving metropolis of Bishop, California (population 3,000).

“It…well…” Sam knew he needed to tread carefully. He used the excuse of brushing his teeth to give himself time to think about how to say it. He spit, then, “Well, it’s not as strong as usual. I’d always heard it’s easier…you know…after. But it’s a lot easier than I expected. I can barely feel it.”

Sam waited for the hammer to fall. But Dean just shrugged.

“Yeah, well I’m marked territory now.” They barely met each other’s eyes before looking away, then gave the familiar, awkward chuckle they had used for years when the subject came up. The idea that some primal part of Sam’s brain wanted to jump his brother’s bones was always weird, to say the least. It was never uncontrollable, but it was just enough physical and emotional discomfort to put everyone on edge. At least that was over now.

“Dean, someday maybe we could talk about it? You talk, I mean. I’ll listen.” Again, he waited for the explosion. But Dean didn’t respond at all.

He cocked his gun and put it in his waistband. Then, with more bravado than necessary, “Let’s go kill us a …whatever the fuck this thing is.”

____________

A full day of questioning people (as agents Seward and Folly) turned up bupkis. Dean was good at pretending his head was in the game, but in reality, he was dreading the inevitable. He hadn’t seen Cas since the incident the month before. Knowing he would have to see him at least once a month wasn’t a problem—Cas was his friend, and after much consideration, Dean didn’t want to change that. But knowing he would have to submit to his friend regularly was something Dean just couldn’t stomach.

It could be worse. He kept telling himself. It’s Cas. It could have been anybody. At least you can trust Cas.

But as much as he kept repeating this to himself, it didn’t change the fact that he felt an emptiness drop in his stomach every time he thought about it. But there was something else—a small flutter in his chest. Anticipation. And he hated himself for feeling it.

It’s just the hormones. He told himself. He’s your mate now. You are biologically programmed to want him. But somehow that actually made things worse. The fact he had absolutely zero say in something so intimate wasn’t just depressing. It was infuriating. Dean allowed himself to be completely pissed off more than a few times this month. Sure, he was angry with Sam for orchestrating it, and Cas was far from his favorite person at the moment. But really, most of his anger was directed at biology itself. He had very little choice in his life—hunting, taking care of Sammy—all of it. And now he didn’t even have a choice regarding who was going to be sticking their dick in him for the rest of his life.

As if on cue, Dean received a text message from Cas.

Time and place?

Dean thought about it for a moment. His discomfort was mild right now, and Sam could hardly feel anything. If they mated too soon, the urge would build again and it would have to be done more than once in the cycle, and Dean definitely wanted to avoid that. They had to wait until the heat was at least half over.

Tomorrow night. 10pm. Bishop, CA. Vagabond Inn, rm 4.

That feeling came back to Dean’s stomach. He saw a seedy place called Rusty’s not far from the motel. Perfect spot to gather some intel while he numbed himself to the onslaught of crap currently taking up residence in his psyche.

“I’m going out for a drink.” Or five.

____________

So apparently there have been some more-cunning-than-usual rugarus in the area that banded together and convinced a group of teens to worship them and offer human sacrifices to their weird backwoods cult.

Gross.

And Dean had to fight one with a twisted ankle, a headache, all while in heat. Sam offered to drive, and Dean took him up on it, starting to feel more than a little ill.

“So, uh…Is Cas coming by soon?” Sam asked. A mixture of anger and embarrassment rose up in Dean, but he shoved it aside.

“Yeah. He’s probably waiting there right now.” Dean realized he probably should have let Sam know they would be having company, but he also didn’t really give a damn about being particularly polite to Sam.

“Oh. I’ll just drop you off, then. I’ll go hit up that bar.” Sam said simply.

“You look like hell and smell like a rugaru. Get cleaned up first.”

“You’ve been to that place. I’ll fit right in.” Sam smiled, and Dean couldn’t help but give a good chuckle in return.

Dean didn’t get in until nearly eleven, but Cas was waiting patiently in the motel room, clearly trying to follow a reality TV show. The confused look on his face was utterly priceless.

“Apparently they dress children as adults, and then the children are given scores based on how well they act like adults.”

Dean tried hard not to laugh as he turned off Toddlers and Tiaras.

“Um…Sorry I’m late. Rugarus.”

“I trust your hunt went well?”

“Yeah. They’re smoke.” This felt odd, talking about his day to Cas, like he had just come home to the missus from the office.

Dean got cleaned up in the sink, removing his filthy shirt and trying to hide his limp as he walked over for a towel.

“You’re hurt.” Cas came up to him, and with a touch his ankle healed. The touch did more than intended, however. Dean’s face flushed, his heart rate increased. The touch of his mate while he was in heat was literally irresistible. Cas seemed less affected, though his pupils had dilated considerably. Cas was drawing from his angel power to control himself, the same way he controlled hunger and circumvented sleep. Though this was proving a little more difficult than he had imagined.

“Dean, I apologize. I should have realized--”

“It’s okay.” Dean replied. “I mean, that’s why we’re here, right?” Dean walked over to his bed and sat down. Cas looked at him, lost for words.

“Well, I’m sure Sam would like to come back and get some sleep.” Dean said, pulling off his jeans before laying on his stomach. “Turn off the light. Let’s get this over with.”

Those same words as last time. They cut Cas to the core. But he turned out the light, stripped off his clothes, and let nature take its course.

__________________

It was the same the next two months. Sam and Dean would hunt, going about their business. Cas would text Dean on the 26th, and they would meet the following day.

Until the third month, only a week after his heat. Sam and Dean were following a lead when they came across a simple golden rod, about two inches in diameter, with Enochian writing etched in it. There was no getting around it. They needed to call Cas.

It all was smooth and normal on the surface. Cas welcomed them with his usual, plain “hello.” He asked to see the artifact. They talked about theories as to how an antiques collector in Las Cruces, New Mexico wound up with it.

“He insists it was ebay, and I didn’t get the impression he was lying.” Sam said. Still, all of the collector’s neighbors, whom he claimed to know and get along with, had perished in bizarre ways. Rather than getting an “off” feeling from the guy, both Winchesters had the impression he genuinely feared for his own safety as well.

It all seemed so routine. But there was so much beneath it. Pauses were more awkward than they had been in the past. Too-long glances between Dean and Cas, while Sam avoided eye contact a lot more with both men. But they all played it off. Because there is was work to be done. Besides, what would they say? Was there anything to say?

And so they worked the case. And it seemed almost like old times. Dean driving, Sam shotgun, Cas in the back. The occasional jibe about Sam’s height or Cas’s limited social skills. They spent the bulk of their day questioning people and following leads around town, eventually deciding to call it a day. Sam and Dean, at least, needed to rest.

They went back to the La Quinta. Sam hit the shower and Cas took the opportunity to talk to Dean.

“I’m in a room down the hall.” He said, “215.”

“You…rented a room?” Dean asked, genuinely puzzled. “With what money?”

“I managed.”

“But…why?” Dean asked.

“Just come…Please.”

Dean considered for a moment, then figured there was no reason he shouldn’t.

“Yeah, sure. Just let me get a shower and I’ll be right over.”

______________

After taking a quick shower with the minimal hot water Sam left him (what the fuck did he DO in there, anyway?), Dean walked the short distance down the hall to room 215. Cas opened the door before Dean knocked.

“Dean, come in.” Dean noticed immediately that Cas was drinking. Not heavily. He didn’t appear drunk at the moment, nor did it seem to be an overwhelming problem, but an empty liquor bottle in the trash and one half full on the nightstand indicated a certain generalized habit with which Dean was all too familiar.

“So, what did you need?” Dean asked.

“I wanted to know some things.” Cas answered.

“Like…”

Cas contemplated for a moment. “I want to know things about you, Dean.”

“Cas, you’re probably the closest thing I have to a best friend. You know more than anyone, except Sam.”

“But I don’t.” Cas replied. “I know you’re a great hunter. I know you value family and friendships above all else. I know the overarching things that make you great. I know your personality, your wit, your sarcasm. But I wanted to know other things. Small things.”

Dean looked at Cas, at a complete loss for what to say. Cas was making less sense than usual.

“Okay, so what do you want to know?”

“Well, we could start simple. What’s your favorite color?”

Dean simply stared at Cas for about three full seconds.

“You called me over here in the middle of a case, at ten o’clock at night, to ask me my favorite color?” Dean asked incredulously.

“I thought, since we are bound for life, we may want to know each other. In other ways.”

“No!” Dean nearly yelled, a knee-jerk reaction. “We aren’t a couple. Don’t act like we’re a couple. You’re my friend, and this is an arrangement. That is all.”

There was a pause. Dean wasn’t sure why he was reacting so strongly, but he couldn’t seem to stem the flow of sudden negativity he felt at the idea. He didn’t want what had happened at Bobby’s to turn into something…something else.

“I see,” Cas finally said. “I know that our bond wasn’t what either of us intended. I thought perhaps we could make the best of a…less than ideal situation. But if you choose to see me only as a medical treatment to get you through each month, then I will respect that.”

“Don’t you dare!” Dean practically growled. “Don’t you dare turn this around on me. Like I’m using you. You don’t know what—You haven’t--”

“I do understand.” Cas’s voice sounded exhausted with pain. “You seem to forget that you are not only bound to me, but I am also bound to you.” Cas paused, finding the words. “I know what happened to you—what we did to you—was unspeakable. And I am not attempting to legitimize what happened. Far from it. But has it occurred to you, Dean, that I didn’t have much choice, either?”

Dean looked at the angel, realization slowly playing across his face.

“I also had plans, Dean, and they didn’t involve being bound to you. But this is our reality now. And every month, I feel like I’m….” Cas trailed off.

“Just say it.”

“I feel like I’m raping you. Every time.”

And there it was. The first time either of them had used the word. Not even in their heads had they dared think it. But now it was out there, and there was no going back.

“Well, you’re not.” Dean said. The thought left him incredibly uneasy. Rape was what happened to women or children, those who are unprotected or in abusive relationships. It didn’t happen like this. Not to people like him. And the thought of Cas being categorized as a rapist was too wrong for him to even contemplate.

“You are far from willing, Dean.” Cas said, “Your own biology may have coerced you, but it was coercion nonetheless. And once you gave the word, I could not allow myself to watch my friend die.”

“Well, if that’s true, Cas, then aren’t you just as much a victim as I am?” Dean asked. “Aren’t you also a victim of biology, and my possible death forcing your hand?”

“I have considered that.” Cas said. “However, there is one other piece to the puzzle. One I feel you should know.”

Dean felt the hair stand on his arms. What else could there possibly be? Something supernatural about his heat that month? Something Cas couldn’t tell him at the time? Whatever it was, Cas was clearly struggling with it. Dean had never seen him looked so pained.

“Dean…I…I liked you. Loved you. Before.”

Dean just stared for a long beat before finding his voice.

“What do you mean?”

Cas covered his face with his hands. “’Dean, I never wished to be mated to anyone. As I said, I never planned on it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been in love with you. For some time now. And I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—do anything to hurt you. Not like I did that day. But when I was forced to do so, I’m horrified by what I did, considering my feelings.”

Dean took a long moment to digest what Cas had just said. Cas had loved him? For how long? And suddenly Dean got almost a montage of Cas—Cas giving him rare smiles, Cas always coming when he called, Cas always standing so close. After only a few seconds, Dean went from being surprised by this revelation to being shocked he hadn’t noticed it before.

But, no matter what, Dean knew one thing for certain.

“Cas…you didn’t want that situation. Nobody wanted it.” Dean wasn’t asking a question, but stating a fact. “Whatever you…” Dean swallowed down his feelings at the words, “whatever you may have felt, you were not capable of enjoying that. Your body may have had no choice, but you—Cas—didn’t take any pleasure in that.”

Dean wasn’t sure when the bottle of whiskey had shown up in the conversation, but both men took a swig, sitting in silence for a few minutes.

Finally, Cas spoke.

“Neither of us can mate with anyone else, Dean.” Cas reminded him. “But given the circumstances, I can certainly understand your desire to keep this arrangement purely biological.” Cas was doing a poor job of hiding the pain in his voice.

Another long pause.

“Blue,” Dean suddenly said. “My favorite color is blue. What’s yours?”

“Green,” Cas replied, a small smile upon his lips.

Dean took another drink.

“Maybe…maybe we could talk. For a bit.” Dean said. “After all, you did rent the room for the night. It’d be a shame to waste it…and the mini bar.”

___________________

A few shots in and Dean is more than a little tipsy. They had been exchanging favorite and least favorite things the last hour.

“Favorite music?” Dean asked. “Let me guess. Some ancient choral crap? Hymns?”

“Actually, I’m a bit of a jazz fan. Cab Calloway, specifically.” Cas replied.

“Really?” Dean frowned in puzzlement. “I would not have guessed that.”

“During the space of time between world wars, things were bleak all around, but particularly for minorities in your country. All the outcasts—blacks, prostitutes, homosexuals—they would gather at the speakeasies and would dance together, sing together…They found solidarity, however briefly, in their shared social exile.” Cas explained. “It was…beautiful.”

Dean was a half beat from a snarky comment, but stopped himself. The idea of Cas finding a certain beauty in a bunch of misfits coming together was, in itself, beautiful. And reminded him somewhat of the small group of misfits they proudly called family.

“Well, I’d ask favorite food, but I know you don’t eat.” Dean said.

“I don’t,” Cas replied. “But I am somewhat partial to strawberries.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Strawberries?”

“The scent is quite pleasant.”

“You’re such a girl.” Dean chuckled.

“But I’m not.” Cas failed to see the joke. “I’m not really male or female. However, my current vessel--”

“Cas,” Dean cut in. “Lighten up.”

Cas smiled at his friend, not completely understanding the humor, but taking it as such.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean said, suddenly serious.

“Dean?”

“I’m glad it’s you.” Dean downed the last bottle from the mini bar before falling back on the bed.

“What do you mean?” Cas followed suit, his head landing next to Dean’s on the mattress.

“I meant that I didn’t want it. God knows I didn’t want it,” Dean’s hand fumbled as he slid it into Cas’s. “But if it had to be someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Then Dean passed out.

_____________________

Dean woke up in the room he was sharing with Sam the following morning. Cas must have transported him as he slept. His head was pounding. Those last two shots were probably unwise. The entire evening was probably unwise, if he was being honest with himself.

“Hey,” Sam said, already dressed. “Coffee’s brewing.”

Dean just grunted in response as he threw off the covers and made his way toward the bathroom.

“Cas brought you back around three o’clock this morning.” Sam said, clearly just trying to make conversation. His attempts at normalcy were really starting to grate on Dean, especially when he talked about Cas so casually. Like they both didn’t know the subject was a mine field.

“So, you guys go out on the town or something?” Sam took a sip of coffee.

“You know what, Sam?” Dean slammed the coffee pot down after pouring himself a cup. “It’s none of your fucking business what we do. In fact, do me a favor and kindly go fuck yourself.”

“Finally.” Sam sighed. “I was wondering how many times I’d have to bring him up before you finally let me have it.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve been needling me about this for weeks, just so see when I’d crack?” Dean gave Sam a fire and brimstone look.

“We can’t keep letting it fester, Dean.” Sam said. “It’s eating away. At all of us.”

“And who fault is that, exactly?!” Dean screamed. “We all get to walk on eggshells around each other now because you decided to go play matchmaker!”

“Matchmaker?!” Sam exclaimed. “You think I did that for kicks?! You were DYING, Dean, or did you forget that little detail?”

“Funnily enough, I remember having my guts twisted inside-out for a day and a half!”

“Do you want to talk about this?” Sam asked. “I mean really talk about this?”

“Fine!” Dean shouted. “Let’s talk about it Sam! Where should we start? The part where you basically told Cas to rape me, or the part where you begged me to let him?”

“How about the part where I talked you out of dying? Let’s start there!”

“It was my CHOICE!” Dean roared.

“It was the wrong one.” Sam threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “I’m sorry, Dean, but between death and rape, rape is definitely the lesser of two evils.”

“It wasn’t just the one time, Sam!” Dean tried to hold back tears. “It’s every month. Forever. There’s no getting off the Cas train.”

“I know it’s weird, but at least Cas is a good guy--”

“It isn’t about Cas being a good guy, you fucking idiot!” Dean shoved Sam. “It’s about me! My body. My life. And now I don’t have a choice. I have to let my best friend stick his dick in me, or we both suffer, and maybe die. And don’t even get me started on what this has done to Cas! When I’m not pissed at him, I feel sorry for him. The guilt is eating him alive, and I can’t even tell him it’s going to be okay, because it’s not. It’s never going to be okay. We are both completely fucked for life! All because you couldn’t let go.”

“Would you be able to let go of me?” Sam asked simply. “Would you? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

And that stopped Dean dead in his tracks. Because honestly, he probably would have acted exactly the same way.

“Don’t be too hard on Cas. We were damn lucky he did it.” Sam said.

“Lucky?! Have you been listening to a goddamn word I’ve been saying!?” Dean bellowed.

“You’re kinda hard to ignore at the moment.”

“Then what part of all this,” Dean gestured wildly, “reeks of good fortune to you? Because I fail to see the fucking silver lining here!”

“Because if he hadn’t done it, then I WOULD HAVE!”

What followed was the longest, most awkward silence in the history of the Winchester family.

“I’m gonna just pretend I didn’t hear that.” Dean said softly.

“I’m not proud of it, Dean, but I would. If it meant saving you.” Sam looked to the ground, tears in his eyes. “God help me, I was seconds away. And even if you never forgave me, it would have been okay as long as you were alive.”

It was at that moment that Dean realized just how insane their need to protect each other really was. Because, again, Dean wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t have done the same, if it came down to it. Codependency ran through their veins like a venom.

God, they were so fucked up.

___________________________________

The next half hour was spent in silence. Dean took a shower and met Sam in the car. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Dean finally spoke.

“Listen, when this case is over, I think we should maybe go our separate ways for a while.”

Sam just nodded. Honestly, he didn’t know how they had made it this long.

_______________

The case went sour rather quickly. Cas showed up in the backseat with the Enochian artifact a few minutes later, and told Dean to just keep driving. Apparently the rod was actually a crude print press. If one dipped it in ink and rolled it across a flat surface, the writing transferred. It appeared to be coordinates written in Enochian. Some rogue angels were after it.

“What do the coordinates lead to?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know that yet, but I have a few ideas. The angels involved are cunning.”

“Who are they?”

“He. Adriel. The angel of destruction. Ever since free will was introduced, he has been seeking retribution for…well, everyone and everything. He and his followers will stop at nothing to restore the fire and fury from the old days. I strongly suspect they wish to create their own army.”

“So they’re recruiting?” Sam asked.

“No, Sam. I mean they seek to literally create an army. From nothingness.”

“How do they do that?” Dean asked.

“I can’t be sure, but I suspect one of these coordinates may lead to Radueriel.” Cas replied.

“Rad-a-who?” Dean cursed under his breath as the light in front of him turned red.

“Radueriel,” Cas repeated. “He is capable of springing other angels into being with a single word. He was moved to an unknown location centuries ago. He would be a most valuable asset to any angel war.”

“Great.” Dean rolled his eyes. “So how the hell did it wind up with some antiques collector in the ass crack of New Mexico?”

“No idea.” Cas answered. “But one thing is certain—we can’t let it fall into Adriel’s hands. We have to hide it.”

“Doesn’t Heaven have some kind of safe deposit box?” Dean asked.

“Heaven is not safe now. There are too many players. One can’t be sure who to trust,” Cas explained. “What we need is time. A safe place to go until we can figure out where to hide it.”

“Bobby’s?” Sam asked.

“It is a fortress of weapons and knowledge.” Cas agreed. “I can think of no other place.”

“Well, zap us there, then.” Dean instructed.

In a heartbeat, they were driving down the street to Bobby’s in Sioux Falls. Dean was disoriented for a moment, tapping the brakes instinctively while he got his bearings. They were only about two hundred yards from Bobby’s and it was pouring. Dean hit the windshield wipers.

“Well, I hope Bobby’s ready for some company.” Sam said. No one else said anything. They were back. Back to where it all started. And Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it.

__________________

Just the short walk from the car to the front door left them drenched. Bobby welcomed them in and offered them beer and towels to dry off while Cas explained the current situation.

“Do they know we have it?” Bobby asked.

“Uncertain,” Cas replied. “I had to make some inquiries, so I imagine it’s only a matter of time before they do know, if they don’t already.”

“So they’re gonna come knockin.” Bobby deduced.

“Most likely, yes.” Cas nodded.

Sam and Dean remained quiet, Sam looking at the floor and Dean staring at the door to the safe room, a sick feeling in his stomach. Bobby followed Dean’s gaze, an idea occurring to him.

“Well, let’s keep it in the safe room for now, and ward it against angels.” Bobby took the rod from Cas and headed toward the room. He turned to look at his boys, who seemed glued to the spot. “I’ll take care of it. It’s a one person kind of job anyway.”

“I would help, but--” Cas began.

“Angel-warding. Yeah. I know.” Bobby said. “I’ve got this. You boys go get changed into something dry.”

In less than an hour, everyone was clean and dry, and the artifact had been carefully warded. To test it, Cas attempted (and failed) to get into the safe room.

“I guess that’s the best we can do for now.” Bobby grumbled. Cas nodded in agreement. “Too bad you can’t get in there to get a good look at it while we research how to get rid of the damn thing.”

“Perhaps I can.” Cas said. “I may be able to write an exception into the wards.”

“You can do that?” Bobby asked, all curiosity.

“It’s complex, but I imagine it can be done.”

“If that’s the case, then why stop at the safe room?”

“You mean ward the whole house?” Cas asked. Bobby nodded. “I don’t see any reason I shouldn’t be able to do that.”

Sam and Dean had been sitting quietly at the kitchen table the entire time.

“Thoughts, gentlemen?” Bobby asked, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah, do it.” Dean said. “I’m going to bed.”

Dean began to head upstairs.

“I’m gonna hit the couch.” Sam said. Bobby was about to say something sarcastic along the lines of ‘thanks for your help’ but decided against it. His boys were clearly having a rough time, and being back at the house wasn’t helping. Bobby tried not to let it affect him, but it stung a bit. He always wanted the boys to see his home as a safe place, but that clearly was not possible anymore after the events that transpired.

“We should do the warding immediately.” Cas said. “The sooner we protect this place, the better. We do not want a visit from Adriel.”

“Yeah, you boys get some rest.” Bobby said. “Cas and I can handle this.”

_______________

The rain had let up a bit, but writing the sigils on the damp wood of the house was proving a challenge. It was well over an hour before the warding was finished. Bobby and Cas came inside, mud on their boots and water dripping down their noses.

“We’ve both earned a beer.” Bobby said as he made his way to the fridge. The two men sat and drank for a few minutes before Bobby finally spoke his mind.

“Cas, look. I know what’s happened is really none of my business, but I feel like I need to say something.”

“On the contrary, Sam and Dean regard you as family.” Cas replied. “And this is very much a family matter.”

“They’ve both been through hell. I don’t need to tell you that.” Bobby took a long sip of beer. “Even without this little incident, they have some serious issues. I know they’re far from okay, especially Dean. None of us wanted this to happen, but now that it has, I just want to make sure…” Bobby struggled to find the words. Another sip and a pause.

“Cas…please take care of my boy.”

Cas placed his hand solemnly over Bobby’s.

“I swear upon my father that I will do everything in my power to care for them. Both of them.”

Bobby nodded. Then both men went back to their beer.

___________________________

Both boys slept longer than anticipated. Bobby and Cas researched everything they could regarding the coordinates, quietly as possible so as not to wake them.

“They haven’t been sleeping well.” Cas said. “It’s been weeks since either have slept through the night.”

“You’ve been with them all this time?” Bobby asked.

“I check on them nightly.” Cas replied. “I don’t tell them, though. It makes Dean uncomfortable.” Bobby chuckled awkwardly at this. He couldn’t decide if that was creepy or sweet. Just then, Sam began to stir on the couch. He looked at his watch.

“Oh, crap! Sorry guys.” He sat up, rubbing his face. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Bobby said. “You didn’t miss anything. We’ve got bupkis. Nothing interesting at any of the coordinates, nothing on Radueriel, except what we already knew. Same with Adriel.”

Sam pulled up a chair at the table and began looking through what Bobby and Cas had found.

“Well, have you tried varying projections of these coordinates?” Sam asked.

Cas and Bobby both just stared at him.

“Well, it’s possible that the coordinates were made using a different projection.” Sam explained. Continued blank stares. Sam sighed. “Look, the earth is spherical, but maps are flat. So in order to make that transition, there have been hundreds of projections used throughout history. None of them are one hundred percent accurate, but…”

And so began the half-hour lesson on map projections, brought to you by professor Winchester.

“Okay, so we will leave all…that to you.” Bobby said. “Maybe you can make some sense of those coordinates.”

Sam nodded and pulled the laptop toward himself to get started right away.

“Guess I’ll crack open some cans of chili.” Bobby made his way toward the cabinets. Cas, meanwhile, made his way upstairs without comment. It was understood that he was going to check on Dean.

___________________________

Cas carefully opened the bedroom door. A simple double bed and a dresser took up most of the space in the small room. Dean was laid on his stomach, hand under his pillow, likely on his firearm. His breathing was deep and steady, rather than the usual quickened pace of nightmares that plagued both him and his brother. Cas was just about to leave the room when Dean stirred and checked his watch, in much the same way his brother just had.

“Shit.” He grumbled. “I fuckin’ wasted half the day.”

“You needed the rest.” Cas replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you feeling well?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dean rubbed is eyes. “Really, good, actually.” Dean was surprised. He hadn’t expected to be so relaxed here, but he supposed decades of feeling safe in this house overrode any recent events. With the full arsenal and a hunter he trusted implicitly in the home, he always instinctively felt at ease here, ever since childhood. He always slept better at Bobby’s than anyplace else.

“Sam is downstairs working on the coordinates.” Cas said. “We should assist him.”

“Yeah.” Dean agreed, throwing off the blanket and heading toward the bedroom door. “Guess we should.”

“You seem reluctant.”

“Yeah, well, me and Sam have been in a bit of a rough patch.” Dean explained. “We’re actually gonna go our separate ways for a while after this case.”

“Do you think that’s wise?”

“Yeah.” Dean gave case a ‘stay out of it’ kind of look. “I do.”

“I can’t help but notice that whenever you separate, things tend to go less than favorably, for both of you.”

“Cas, I just can’t, okay?” Dean raised his voice. “I thought we could go on like it didn’t happen, but we can’t!” Dean took a breath and calmed himself. “It’s not forever. Just for a while. I need some space from him.”

Cas looked to the ground. “I understand.” A short pause, then. “Do you also need some space from me, Dean?”

Dean considered for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s different with you.” He knew it was a lame answer, but it was the best he could do. It was different with Cas. Maybe because Sam was his brother, and it was a different dynamic regarding trust. Or maybe because Cas was bonded to him now. Or perhaps it was because Dean felt somewhat of a camaraderie with Cas in the whole matter—that they both had been victimized to a certain degree. Both compelled against their will to complete the act. Whatever the reason, Dean felt less pleased with the idea of distancing himself from Cas.

“Well, I should get down there.” Dean walked past Cas and down to the kitchen.

_____________________________

The next few days were actually boring. Sam worked on the coordinates, which was really a one person kind of job. Dean and Bobby kept looking up ways to destroy or hide the thing, and Cas went through tomes of Christian lore that only he could translate. It was like working on a high school group project, with everyone at their separate tasks. Except there were no slackers in this bunch. Meals were mainly left to Bobby, who insisted it was safer to hunker down with canned goods than to venture outside the wards for takeout.

Evenings, which would usually be beers and movie night at Bobby’s, became more isolated. Sam on the couch, Dean upstairs, and Bobby in his room. It was like living with roommates, rather than family. Dean felt somewhat responsible for that, like he should just get over it already for everyone else’s sake. He laid on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, wishing with everything that it was different. That he was different.

“You’re awake.” Cas said suddenly, and Dean jumped, not having heard Cas enter the room.

“Holy fuck, Cas!” Dean clutched his chest. “You’ve got to work on that!”

“My apologies.” Cas replied.

“So, still watching me sleep, huh?” Dean asked, smiling slightly.

“It’s a difficult habit to break.” Cas admitted. “Particularly now, with more immediate danger present.”

“We’re always in danger.” Dean said dismissively.

“And I always watch you sleep.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“I was wondering, since you couldn’t sleep, if perhaps you would be interested in continuing what we started before.” Cas asked.

“What?”

“I would like to continue to get to know you. If you are willing.”

“Oh, that. Right.” Dean had actually forgotten all about that. But now the memories came flooding back to him. Learning quirky things about each other, laughing at Cas’s responses. It had been…fun.

“Sure. I’d like that.” Dean smiled.

________________________________

“I’m sorry, Dean, but I don’t understand why one would watch programming on a single species for an entire week.”

“Because its SHARKS, Cas!” Dean gestured wildly. “SHARKS!”

Both men were seated on the bed, passing one of Bobby’s many bottles of whiskey between them.

“There is a plethora of sea life. It seems odd to focus so intently on only one genus.”

“Oh, never mind!” Dean scoffed. “You just don’t get it.”

“Why don’t other animals get the same air time?” Cas asked, head tilted in that curious way. “Butterfly week. Or bee week. I would watch bee week.”

“Bee week? Do you even listen to yourself?”

Then both men started laughing. And it felt good. Dean looked over at Cas, and he felt something stir inside him.

It’s just the hormones. He told himself, even though what he was feeling wasn’t sexual at all. He allowed himself a long look at Cas’s eyes, his rare smile. His permanent bed head.

“Dean? Is something wrong?”

“Nah, Cas. Sorry.” Dean shook his head, a vain attempt to shake off unwanted thoughts. “Just got distracted for a minute there.”

“Perhaps you should attempt to sleep again.” Cas suggested. “You are quite intoxicated.”

“Yeah… yeah, I probably should.” Dean laid back on the bed. Cas lifted the covers over him.

“Are…are you tucking me in?” Dean laughed. “What am I? Five?”

Cas just smiled. Dean thought for a moment, then realized he hadn’t woken up without a blanket in several months. He used to kick them off all the time during his nightmares.

Dean tried not to dwell on it. Your friend checking on you as you sleep, covering you back up…it was creepy. A creepy Cas thing he did because he didn’t understand human boundaries.

Except it wasn’t really creepy. Not anymore. And all at once, Dean remembered Cas’s confession.

“I liked you. Loved you. Before.”

And maybe it was the whiskey talking, but without even thinking Dean blurted out, “Cas, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I’m sorry that you love me.” And Dean knew it sounded stupid.

“That is hardly your fault.”

“I’m sorry it’s not different. I’m sorry I’m not different.” Dean said, wishing he could just stop talking. But he couldn’t. “You deserve…you deserve it to be different.”

“I wanted you, Dean, but not like this. Never like this.” Cas’s voice was thick with unshed ears. “It is I who needs to apologize to you. Forever. And it still won’t be enough.”

“You and Sam. It would be easier if I could just get over it. Just move on and let it go. And I just can’t.” Dean lifted his arm over his eyes. “I just can’t.”

Cas walked back over to the bed and sat down. “You do whatever you feel you need to, Dean. Sam and I will cope. We did this to you, not the other way around.” Cas couldn’t help but place a hand on Dean’s knee as he spoke. “Whatever I feel, whatever Sam is going through, it is a small matter compared to what you are enduring.”

“This all happened because I was weak. All of it.”

Cas sighed. “I will never understand the idea that showing emotion, or needing others is weak.” Cas pulled Dean’s arm from his face, looking him in the eyes. “Dean, opening yourself up to another person, allowing yourself to be vulnerable. That is actually strength.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“I’ve seen a lot of humanity, Dean.” Cas went on. “And time and again, the greatest things were birthed from humans allowing themselves to be raw.”

There was a pause. Cas swallowed.

“It isn’t fair that your biology has made the choice for you.” Cas finally said. “But needing someone, for whatever reason, isn’t weakness. And I will be here. Always.”

Cas got off the bed and walked toward the door. The room was spinning, Dean’s heart was pounding, and he couldn’t stop himself.

“Cas?” Dean asked, and Cas turned around, his hand on the doorknob. “Cas…please stay with me.”

With the last shred of his sobriety, Dean moved his body a few inches over, turning on his side. Cas hesitated for a moment, then laid down next to his friend. He pulled the covers over both of them, then very gently spooned up behind Dean, their bodies not touching, but his arm draped very innocently around Dean’s waist.

“Is this okay?” Cas asked. Dean nodded.

It’s just the hormones. Dean repeated to himself. It’s just the hormones.

__________________________________

It soon became part of the routine. Wake up, research, meals, then laying together in bed until Dean fell asleep. Dean tried not to read too much into it. It simply felt nice, and Dean just tried to leave it at that. He didn’t know how much of it was due to the bond, and how much was just him enjoying Cas. Hell, maybe he just needed a warm body next to him. The fact that warm body had only a few months ago done…No. He pushed all that from his mind and simply focused on the more important tasks at hand.

They had been at Bobby’s almost a week when they finally heard it.

“Yahtzee!” Sam exclaimed.

“What did you find?” Bobby was right on top of him in a matter of seconds, Dean and Cas close behind, all surrounding the small laptop screen.

“The Gila Cliff Dwellings.” Sam explained, showing them the map. “This projection is from a few hundred years ago, but it matches up.”

“The what?” Dean asked.

“The Gila Cliff Dwellings.” Sam repeated. “It’s an archaeological site in New Mexico.”

“Hence the rod’s location.” Cas said.

“I’m guessing so.” Sam went on. “It was occupied on and off around 1200 through 1400 A.D., right around the time of severe environmental upheaval.”

“Meaning?” Dean asked.

“What archaeologists call the ‘mini ice age.’ It basically got colder and drier. Cultures aggregated to certain locations for survival, and began to worship--” he pulled up a photo of a ceramic vessel on the screen. “A horned serpent. Similar to Queztalcoatl.”

“And for those of us who aren’t up on horned serpents?” Dean prompted.

“Well, there are a lot of different versions of the legend, but one claims that he inflicted self-injury to create entire worlds.”

“Yummy.”

“And one of the body parts he used to bring life was his tongue.”

“That could be a metaphor for using the spoken word.” Cas said.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Sam agreed.

“So they pray to this angel pretending to be a god, and he breathes more angels into existence to get them through the rough times?” Dean summarized.

“But if that’s the case, then where are these angels now?” Bobby asked.

“That is a good question.” Cas replied.

“So what’s the plan?” Dean asked. “Just zap on over there, find this guy, and give him the coordinates?”

“I don’t think he will be easy to find.” Cas said. “Also, we will likely be followed. Angels have been staking out the house, waiting for us to venture out.”

“What?!” Dean exclaimed. “Angels staking the place? And you didn’t think to share this information?”

“I thought it was understood.” Cas shrugged. “We all knew they would be here.”

“Well, maybe an update next time?” Dean was clearly annoyed.

“And that brings us to our next problem.” Bobby said. “We need supplies.”

“I’m the logical choice.” Cas said.

“You’re not going alone.” Dean responded automatically.

“Well, if you think the two of you are going without me, you’ve got another thing coming.” Sam stood up. “I’m going with you.”

“Look, someone has to stay here and hold down the fort with Bobby.” Dean reasoned.

“And who says I’m staying?” Bobby piped up. The other three looked at him. “What? I ain’t no housewife. I’m tired of always staying here.”

“We can’t all go.” Dean sighed.

“Let’s draw straws.” Sam suggested.

“No!” Dean had a sudden edge to his voice. “I’m going with Cas. Period. This is not up for debate.”

Neither Sam nor Bobby dared challenge the fierce protectiveness in Dean’s voice. It was beyond his previous ‘I’m not leaving my friend’ vibe. It was something almost dark. Something primal.

He was protecting his mate.

_________________

Holy oil. Check.

Lighters. Check.

Double-checking that the lighters work on the first damn try. Check

Angel blades. Check.

And…shopping list. Check.

Both Dean and Cas donned a large backpack. Dean concealed a couple of twenties in his pocket. The plan was simple. Cas would transport them to a grocery store two states over (hopefully buying time before the angels found them). It was after hours, so they would grab what they could, Dean leaving the money at the cash register. Cas estimated about 10-15 minutes before the other angels would be able to identify their location.

“Good luck.” Sam gave his brother a hesitant hug, and Cas a shoulder squeeze.

“Don’t get yourselves killed.” Bobby said gruffly.

Then they vanished.

_______________

Dean and Cas appeared in Bobby’s kitchen only ten minutes later, Dean clutching a bleeding Cas to his side, holding him up. Sam and Bobby were ready, Sam helping Dean maneuver Cas to the couch to lay down, and Bobby grabbing the first aid kit they had at the ready.

“They were waiting?” Bobby asked, rhetorically. Of course they were waiting.

“It was a full-scale ambush.” Dean replied. “At least twenty angels. I told Cas to grab what he could while I held them off, but then the idiot--”

“You would have died, Dean.” Cas calmly cut him off as Bobby cleaned his wound.

“I had that blonde bitch.” Dean said dismissively. “But Cas here decided to jump between me and the blade.”

“It’s only a shoulder wound.” Cas acted tough, but he seemed weaker than usual.

“Stitches?” Bobby asked.

“Not necessary.” Cas replied. “I will heal on my own. It will just take more time than usual, as I was hit with an angel blade.”

So some bandaging and a sling seemed to suffice.

“Here, help me get him to our room.” Dean said, ignoring the fact he just called it our room. Neither Bobby nor Sam blinked at this, and helped Cas up the stairs and into the double bed. Though the wound was in his shoulder, his entire body seemed weakened, likely due to the damage to his grace.

“You should get some sleep.” Dean said, covering Cas with the blanket. He couldn’t help but notice their reversed roles.

“I don’t sleep, Dean.”

“Right. Well, just get some rest.” Dean stood there, feeling like an idiot. He didn’t want to sit and stare at Cas, but also didn’t feel right leaving him like this.

Cas looked like he was about to protest, but his pain seemed to get the better of him.

“Very well.” Cas noticed Dean’s awkward stance. Like Dean didn’t know what to do or where to go. “Perhaps…perhaps you would like to stay with me?” Then Cas added the hurried explanation, “Our bond may actually assist in the healing process.”

“Really?”

“I’ve done some research on the subject.” Cas explained. “The presence of a mate can lower blood pressure and boost the immune system.”

“Well, who am I to argue with science?” Dean gave a little smile before lying down next to Cas, both of staring at the ceiling, shoulder to shoulder. There was a long pause. Cas hesitantly lifted his head slightly and laid it on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s hand went to Cas’s hair, carding through it absent-mindedly. Indeed, both men let out an involuntary sigh. Dean felt himself relax. He had a moment of anxiety—was it the hormones? Simple enjoyment of another person’s presence? Something more?

Then he just decided to stop thinking about it. Whatever it was, it was nice. And dammit, he deserved to just feel nice for a while without analyzing it.

It wasn’t long before Dean fell asleep. And, despite not needing to, Cas found himself dozing off as well, the warmth and contentment enveloping him in a comfortable cocoon.

____________________

Sam and Bobby went through the bags Dean and Cas had brought home. Despite the short trip, they had done quite well. Dean’s backpack predictably held jerky, meats, hand-held pies, liquor, and 8 loose bottles of beer. Sam couldn’t help but smile at the bunch of bananas, clearly obtained for his benefit. And…strawberries? Sam shrugged at this, placing them in the crisper.

Thankfully, Cas had been a little more practical. Toilet paper, aspirin, soap, milk, slightly squashed bread, and eggs (though a few were cracked). Overall, not a bad haul.

They put the groceries away silently.

“I suspect they both need a bit of shut eye.” Bobby finally said, in reference to the fact that Dean hadn’t come back downstairs.

“Yeah.” Sam replied.

Another long pause. Something was eating at Sam. Bobby could tell. But he simply let Sam stew a while, getting his thoughts together.

“I’m horrible, aren’t I?” Sam asked, barely above a whisper.

“No.” Bobby replied, almost automatically. The idea that either of his boys could be truly horrible people was preposterous. Misguided, yes. Short-sighted? Definitely. Just plain idjits? Absolutely. But to consider them bad people, at their core?

No. Absolutely not.

“It’s all wrong now. And it’s all my fault.”

“Listen to me.” Bobby said, eyes locked on Sam’s. “You are not a bad person. This whole damn situation was snake-bit from the start. What you did wasn’t right. Far from it. But all things considered, it wasn’t wrong, either. There isn’t some damn handbook to deal with shit like this. And you and Dean…well, that’s the kind of love that breeds crazy. It don’t always look like love. But it is. And that’s the truth.”

“Bobby…how can we go on like this?” Sam’s voice was thick as he swallowed back a sob.

“You just do.” Bobby said. “It just goes on. Life just goes on.” It sounded trite, but it was all he had.

___________________

Now that they knew where they might be able to find Radueriel, the question became how to get from point A to point B. It took Adriel and his followers less than ten minutes to find them last time they ventured out. And they would need a lot more time to find Radueriel’s actual location. Possibly days.

Also, Cas was injured, and it would likely take a couple of days for him to heal completely. So that meant they were sitting ducks again. Their days were once again filled with research, planning, and whiskey. It seemed less awkward than it had been. There was still tension in the air, but it had eased. Dean felt less anger, though shame still shot through him on occasion, especially when he thought too hard on Cas.

When the angel blade had stuck Cas, Dean had felt his insides twist up. The only other time he had felt terror like that was when Sam had died. Now that the three of them were safe again at Bobby’s, Dean felt more at ease. The immediate threat still loomed over them, but Dean could push that aside.

They were all safe for now. Cas was safe. He was recovering. The blade didn’t kill him, and he was here and solid and currently laying next to Dean, gently embracing so as to avoid harming his injured shoulder.

And Dean didn’t care anymore. He still felt shame and sadness at what had occurred, but he no longer cared what his feelings for Cas meant. Was it just the bond? Was it something more? If he was being totally honest with himself, he had always had stronger-than-mere-friendship feelings for the angel. But whatever had happened, however they got here, the simple fact was they were here now. And these feelings existed, for whatever reason. So Dean was simply going to learn to live with them.

Some part of himself wondered if that was defeat. Just acceptance. And if that was really okay. The fighter in him still wanted to feel that anger toward Sam and Cas. He wanted to feel resentment and sadness and loss. And he did. But it had been dulled. With each passing day, he felt less anger.

Perhaps this is what they mean by time healing wounds.

___________________

There seemed to be some truth to what Cas had said about the presence of a mate assisting in the healing process. Within twelve hours, he was already moving his shoulder. It was stiff, and painful, but he could move it.

They were seated around the table, all of them researching Radueriel. Mostly it was dead ends. As Cas looked up from the text he was attempting to decipher from a strange Enochian dialect, he caught a glimpse of something. Sam was holding the rod at eye level, lazily looking it over as he had done many times over.

The light had hit it just right, and a faint, whispy tendril of incandescence shone for a split second.

“Grace.” Cas murmured, lurching forward and grabbing the rod from Sam’s hand.

“What?” Dean and Sam asked simultaneously.

“It’s grace.” Cas ran his hand over the artifact as though reading faint Braille. “I didn’t feel it at first. It’s so faint.”

“How can there be grace in that thing?” Dean asked.

“As you know, Grace can be ripped from us.” Cas replied. “And it appears someone has actually fashioned the gilding on this tube with grace. It’s--” Cas gave a sudden jolt of surprise.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“I do believe this artifact is gilded with a portion of angel wings.” Cas looked somewhat nauseated at this realization.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

“Why?” Bobby chimed in, pouring himself another whiskey.

“Yes, I am sure.” Cas answered. “And I don’t know why anyone would do such a thing.”

Cas stared down at the artifact with a mixture of horror and intrigue.

“Bad, huh?” Dean asked.

“Imagine your reaction to books bound in human skin. Then multiply that reaction.” Cas replied. “I can’t fathom what one could gain that would warrant such abhorrence. But we could probably ask the angel to whom the wings belonged.”

“You mean summon him?” Dean asked.

“It should be quite simple.” Cas answered. “A part of him is already inside the wards. It should be a rather easy, bringing the rest of him.”

“I know that, Cas.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I meant do we want to summon some unknown angel here? Whoever those feathers belonged to could be working for Adriel. Or worse.”

“The angel would be greatly outnumbered.” Cas said simply. “And the information could prove invaluable.”

“He’s got a point, Dean.” Bobby said. “It’s four to one, and we have all the anti-angel supplies we could need.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Sam stood up and headed toward the supply closet. “Let’s do this.”

__________

It only took about half an hour to have the summoning spell at the ready, complete with a circle of holy oil and a lighter handy. It was like clockwork. Cas (with a look of disgust) took a knife to the gilding, shredding off a small piece. He began the spell in perfect, unbroken Enochian. Bobby and Sam stood on opposite ends of the holy oil circle, gripping angel blades. As Cas finished the spell, Dean waited with a lighter to the ground. The moment he saw a flicker of movement within the circle, he lit the oil.

The unknown angel was clearly fighting the summoning, or else the warding was making things difficult. He faded in and out a few times before his presence was firmly established. He had dark skin, shoulder-length hair, and sharp, proud features that clearly distinguished him as Native American. While Sam, Dean, and Bobby regarded the angel with apprehension and curiosity, Cas had a look of utter shock. As did the angel in the flames.

“Castiel?” the angel asked. Cas gaped open-mouthed a few seconds before responding.

“Radueriel?”

“Well, it’s been centuries.” Radueriel bowed in greeting. “I am so grateful it is you who has summoned me, brother.”

“How did this happen to you?” Cas asked, concerned. “Why would this artifact have your…your wings? Ripped from you, melted down?” Cas looked almost like he was about to vomit with the prospect of it.

“I trusted the wrong person.” Radueriel looked to the ground, saddened. “From what I understand, you can empathize.”

“Yes.” Cas nodded gravely. “I can.”

“I would gladly explain to you, my brother.” Radueuriel said. “But please—the wards, the damage to my grace—it has all taken its toll. I’m afraid the holy oil is too much. Release me.”

Sam and Dean exchanged panicked, apprehensive looks, but Cas nodded calmly.

“Release him.” Cas said. “He will not harm us.”

Sam, Dean, and Bobby all looked to each other for confirmation. They seemed to reach a wordless understanding. Without lowering their blades, Bobby and Dean began to douse the holy fire in water, extinguishing it. Sam remained completely focused on Radueriel, his gaze almost predatory while the others were distracted.

But Radueriel made no sudden movements. They all stood there for a moment, ready to strike if necessary.

“May I sit down?” He asked. Sam, Dean, and Bobby all looked to one another, then gave some shrugs and nods.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Bobby said. They all made their way to the living room, Radueriel and Cas sitting on the sofa, the others standing around them, guard up.

“I—I don’t even know where to begin.” Cas looked at Radueriel in wonderment. “What happened to you, all those years ago? How did this artifact come to be?”

“As you can guess, after Father left all those years ago, I lost his protection.” Radueriel said with the tone of beginning quite a tale. “While he was there, he alone dictated when I gave life to new angels. It felt…amazing. At his side as he described those brothers and sisters I was to help him create. My breath and my word breathing life into them. To serve him so intimately, so importantly. It was my true purpose.” Radueriel looked to the ground, tears escaping.

“When he left, the other angels all wanted me.” He continued. “The fighting began. You remember--” Cas nodded “—and I was no longer seen as a creative being. I was no longer respected. I simply became a weapon to be obtained. I panicked, ready to run. Then he found me.”

“Adriel?” Cas asked.

“Yes.” Radueriel sniffed, looking up at the others. “He offered me protection, promising to never use me for my power. We had known each other for years, and we were…”

“Friends?” Dean asked.

“No.” Radueriel replied, his voice low with shame. “We were…so much more. He was my brother, more so than the other angels. The bond we shared was stronger than any other I have ever experienced.”

Dean grunted in understanding.

“It was just the two of us for several years. Addy and I were inseparable. The adventures we had.” The angel smiled fondly at the memory. “We were so happy. Until…”

“Until you weren’t.” Sam finished gently. Radueriel nodded.

“He asked me to do the unthinkable. To make him an army. I said no, of course. He attacked. I didn’t stand a chance. I thought he would merely kill me. But instead he took some of my feathers.”

Cas looked to the side and slightly back to where Radueriel indicated, to something only the two of them could see. To the missing feathers. Cas looked sickened, gently laying a comforting hand on the other angel’s knee. Radueriel cleared his throat.

“After that, he showed me the cylinder. There were twelve coordinates on it. Most of them in uninhabitable places. The middle of oceans, the tops of mountains.”

“Barren deserts.” Sam said. Radueriel nodded.

“The Cliff Dwellings were the most hospitable of the locations. He--” the angel faltered for a moment, remembering the horrifying moment. “He gilded the cylinder with my feathers, the most sacred and powerful part of my grace. I was bound to those coordinates, forever. I could never go anywhere else. Except to the cylinder itself, which he kept with him at all times. But not for long. Eventually word of the cylinder got out, and it was stolen, bartered, and otherwise used as a bargaining chip. I was a mere bargaining chip. Eventually, I managed to swipe it with the help of another angel. An archangel known for his mastery of tricks and illusions.”

“Gabriel?” Sam and Dean exclaimed simultaneously.

“Yes.” Radueriel replied, somewhat surprised they had guessed. “He shared in my heartache regarding the fighting. He helped me get the cylinder. He had every intention of handing it over to me, I’m sure. But he ran into his own problems before he got the chance and had to go into hiding. He got word to me that he had hidden the cylinder someplace safe. I don’t know where. We couldn’t risk the location being intercepted.”

“He’s dead now, so the hiding place may have died with him.” Sam said. Radueriel looked stricken by the news of Gabe’s death. “Looks like it was found by some humans. We found it causing trouble in New Mexico.”

“I am very sorry to hear about Gabriel. He was quite a character.” Radueriel gave a sad little chuckle. “Yes, without an angel present, the artifact could become quite volatile.”

“Lucky you were here, then Cas.” Dean gave his angel a little smile.

“So what do you plan to do now?” Bobby asked.

“If you would be so kind as to give me the cylinder, I would then be able to go anywhere.” Radeuriel said.

“And what about Adriel?” Cas asked. “We are not able to fend him off.”

Radueriel thought for a moment. “I will talk to him.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Dean said. “I mean, we can’t protect you. And he could just grab that thing from you again.”

“But at least he would have seen me with it, which will pull him away from you. He will have no reason to come after you once he knows you no longer possess it.”

“But why bother talking?” Sam asked. “Just let him see you with it, then vanish. Go someplace new.”

“I…I can’t do that.” Radueriel said. “I must speak with him.”

“Why?” Sam and Bobby asked in unison.

“It has been centuries since I last saw him.” Radueriel had a softness in his voice. “In spite of it all, I wish to speak with him, at least once more. I…”

“You still love him.” Dean said. The others all looked at him. “In spite of it all. He’s still your brother.”

“Yes.” Radueriel inclined his head, tears in his eyes. “No matter how this ends, I must try. At least once more.”

________________

Radueriel walked boldly from the house and past the many vehicles in the salvage yard.

“My brother!” Adriel cried out. “It has been too long.”

Radueriel continued to walk toward his brother, cylinder clearly in hand, stopping only ten yards from him.

“I see you’ve found it.” Adriel smiled. “And now you believe you’re free.”

“Yes, now you can call off your attack on these people.” Radueriel motioned toward the house. “They are not a part of this.”

“Naturally.” Adriel gave a little bow. “I never wanted them. Only you. Imagine it, brother. You and me, together. My strategy, your gift. An unstoppable army. The two of us, side by side, ruling Heaven.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Radueriel said solemnly. “If we could talk alone. Call off your guard.”

Adriel hesitated.

“You owe me that.” Radueriel’s eyes never left his brother’s. “Please, Addy.”

With a wave of his hand, all the other angels left.

Radueriel approached Adriel cautiously, but did not back down.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Dean asked Cas.

“No.” Cas replied. “They’ve muffled their conversation.”

“They’ve what?” Dean asked.

“They’ve used their grace to mask their conversation from all but each other.” Cas explained. “It’s an old technique.”

Radueriel and Adriel continued to speak, looking mostly solemn, though occasionally tilting their head upward with a small laugh. They went on like that for about twenty minutes, before Adriel sank to his knees, his brother following. They held each other for a long time, Adriel’s head tucked beneath Radueriel’s chin. And then, they were gone.

Everyone in the house was quiet for a beat.

“Well, I sure hope they haven’t gone off to create an army.” Bobby grunted.

For some reason, everyone else laughed.

“Somehow, I don’t think so.” Cas smiled.

“Neither do I.” Dean agreed.

It had been a long day. They all decided to go their separate ways.

“Good work today, boys.” Bobby grunted on his way to his bedroom, mumbling something about being “too old for this shit.”

Sam stretched out on the couch, putting in his ear buds.

“Hey, Sammy?” Dean asked.

“Yeah?” Sam took out the buds.

Dean just stood there for a few beats, then gave his head a little shake.

“Never mind.” He gave his brother the smallest of smiles. “Goodnight, Sammy.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” Sam smiled back.

Dean made his way upstairs. Cas was waiting for him, sitting on the bed in his usual t-shirt and shorts. Dean shucked his own clothes until he was down to the same, the casual routine they had developed over the last week.

“Did you talk to Sam?” Cas asked.

“No.” Dean answered, sliding into bed next to him. “I tried to. But I just didn’t know what to say.”

“Do you…forgive him?”

Dean thought for a long moment. “I don’t know.” He said. “But…” But I love him. Dean nearly said, but stopped himself. “But he’s my brother.”

He settled for that. There was something hanging in the air. The unasked question. Dean waited. But he knew Cas would likely not ask. He was too afraid of the answer.

Do you forgive me?

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long time.

Yes. Dean said in his mind, willing Cas to read it. And suddenly, Dean didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care that he was hurt. He didn’t care that hormones might be partly to blame. He didn’t care that Cas was annoying, infuriating, and male. And he didn’t care what that made him.

He wanted Cas.

There was no flush or dizziness his heats usually brought on. There was no alcohol in his system. Sane and sober, Dean leaned into Cas and pressed their lips together.

And God, it was good.

Cas hesitantly responded to the kiss. They slowly opened their mouths up to each other, Cas tilting his head just so to allow better access. The kiss deepened exquisitely. Not feverishly, but in a long, languid way.

They were in no hurry. Dean gently traced Cas’s jawline with his fingertips, down his neck and chest, eventually tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Cas looked at Dean, somewhat puzzled. “Do you need me?” He asked, knowing they were at least a week from Dean’s heat.

“No, Cas,” Dean replied. “I…” Cas could tell the next words were difficult for Dean.

“Cas, I don’t need you. I want you.”

Cas bathed in this moment for a few seconds. The moment Dean’s barriers completely crumbled between them.

“I want you, too.” And lord help him if Cas’s eyes weren’t staring right into his soul. “Anything you want, Dean. You lead.”

It felt a bit odd. Perhaps even unnatural. But that was the point—this wasn’t governed by nature, or instinct. It was purely desire. Dean’s desire for Cas, and Cas’s desire for Dean. Their biological roles would not rule them. Their free will would. This time, they would choose.

Dean positioned himself on top of Cas, feeling strong, powerful, and in control for the first time in such a context. Cas laid back, giving himself over to his partner’s whims, without a single worry about overstepping his boundaries, or overpowering his partner needlessly.

Dean was consenting. With every kiss, with every thrust, he was giving himself willingly to Cas. And Cas gave himself willingly in return.

“Good?” Dean asked, breathless between thrusts.

“Good.” Cas confirmed, gently stroking Dean’s jawline.

It wasn’t the rushed, frenzied sex of mating. It was a slow, steady build to climax. Dean took the time to relish the small noises Cas made, the hitches in his breath and the almost-groans at the back of his throat. Cas took the time to memorize Dean’s face—the patterns of his irises, the tiny freckles across his nose, the faint scar on his forehead, likely from some hunting mishap.

Dean angled his hips differently and Cas’s eyes flew wide open as he let out a little scream. Dean chuckled, the vibration shooting through both their bodies.

“Found it.” He smiled down at Cas, who gasped again as Dean thrusted. He loved watching Cas slowly come undone beneath him. The angel let go of all inhibitions, gently rocking against his partner and repeating something in Enochian as he climaxed.

Dean was close behind, emptying himself into Cas with a moan before collapsing on top of him, completely spent.

They laid like that, neither really sure how long. Eventually, Dean rolled off Cas and used his shirt to clean them off. With a small push, Dean wordlessly prompted Cas to turn on his side, then spooned up behind him, pulling the blanket over them as he did so.

“Dean, I--”

“Shhh.” Dean cut him off. I forgive you. I love you. I should feel anger and shame and hate toward you, and I do sometimes, but all of that is overshadowed by how much I love you. How much I’ve always loved you.

But Dean couldn’t say that. So he just placed his lips close to Cas’s ear.

“It’s all good.” He murmured, giving his ear a small brushstroke of a kiss for good measure.

Then he held his angel close as he slowly dozed off.

_________________

They sat around the table, a real meal for the first time in ages. Dean had made his famous burgers from scratch, complete with real lettuce and tomato, and Bobby had brought out the beer. Dean had scoffed at the idea of a fruit salad at first, but Sam’s offering to the meal was actually really good.

They continued to sit at the table long after the meal was over, enjoying a whiskey. Not completely drunk, but lightly buzzed and warm as they shared stories. Bobby was in the middle of a hilarious reminisce regarding Rufus and a wendigo hunt when Dean felt it.

First he looked to Bobby, who was trying not to laugh as he continued his story. Then to Cas, who looked fondly back at him, eyes filled with the same undying loyalty as always. Then to Sam. This was the hardest of all, but as Dean looked at Sam, he knew that, despite everything, they would always be side by side. For all his faults, and all the recent events that seemed unforgivable, Dean still knew that Sam would always be his brother. And that wasn’t merely a biological distinction.

His dad, his brother, and his mate. All laughing. All talking. Still standing. Still family.

They all had rough roads ahead. And Dean knew he would still have sleepless nights and pain from that day so many months ago. But for the first time, Dean felt it.

It was going to mend. Not all at once, and not completely. It wasn’t good, or even okay. But it was almost okay.

Dean reached over and took Cas’s hand, not caring about what anyone else thought, not even caring what he thought of himself. However they got here, they were here now. And the feel of Cas’s hand in his, Sam and Bobby not even glancing twice, the natural way it all felt—that was almost okay.

And given their lifestyle, almost okay was the best any of them could hope for.

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