#okay not me getting called out like that but PHEL

[nikawiy]

hopefully i'll eventually get up to being able to do more writing here && obv phel but predominately here. made this bc i thoroughly enjoy writing mothers/motherly/family kinda stuff. kyo kara maoh rpc were like a lil family to me in the past bc i rp'ed the demon brothers' mom. honestly wonderful memories wouldn't trade 'em for the world. i know i shouldn't feel guilty bc this is both low activity for the reason i know my health is awful and also bc hobby and whatnot. just kinda ???? a force of habit from past experiences on old blogs and yadda yadda anons being not so nice bc my past graphic design student butt took a while on longer replies. even tho i shrug at the fact i find it ridiculous now words unfortunately stick so gotta work on that. but yeah. i hope i can eventually write more and throw out stuff like starter/plotting call stuff here & phel. i've just been suffering severe fatigue the past while and unfortunately my family doctor isn't around until march bc she had an emergency to attend to. hope she's okay she's a sweet lady i've seen since i was wee lil. but yeah. late night sleep-deprived bc i cannot breathe ramblings. tl;dr hope i can get to the point to write more and do more stuff bc i wanna. been with wavering health and extreme fatigue so that's been my major block. anyways sorry for a semi-downer but i guess (?) just where i'm at kinda post. i hate talking abt my health bc it's just a constant i'm not anywhere in good health. kinda used to it even tho it's sad i have to be. but yeah. i hope i can get to a stable enough place i can reach out more and write more. i love doing that. y'all also honestly make me feel cozy & nice. glad i gave tumblr rp another shot bc i missed it. yeah this post is long. my tl;dr is p much useless at this point. i'm bad at mindlessly rambling. it's how i learned twt dm & tumblr im have character limits. if you didn't know they do. fun facts with your local floof gremlin. okay i'll shut up for real now.

#❥・⁕ ℳᵒᵗʰᵉʳˡʸ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ( ooc ) #// a more tl;dr is just me saying how hope i can write & do more bc health has been my main drawback for here & phel #// also that i'm glad i came back to tumblr rp bc i actually missed it & i think you all are neat #// it's kinda a downer read imo but i rambled bc my mind goes zoom constantly #// but yeah hopefully sometime in the near future can yeet out stuff for starters here and shiz

[eve6262]

battle prince phel, pt. 2

"I don't fight like the other Queens, by the way."

The phrase keeps floating in her head as she decides on what dagger to use. Initially she thought blue, to match the decor, but the green blade is strangely enticing this evening, so she takes it in hand and strides out to the arena.

It's more of a sparring pit than a proper arena, mind, because the actual area for proper exhibition matches is held where the usual training is, so. For now, this will do. Not like she minds much, considering this is nothing but a scouting match or sorts to identify where on the heirarchy she is.

Katarina obviously rules, but she'd be lying if she said she wouldn't be excited to have a second runner-up in this well-mannered girl. She'd make for a good ruler of this place even without a crest; someone to manage and keep the peace of her citizens, assure them there's nothing bad about the new rule.

She doesn't plan on being a bad Queen, in fairness. Just a ruthless killer for the rest of the crests.

What she does not expect is for Alune to be standing off the to the side while the man previously attending her now stands as her opponent.

"What, are you testing me?"

"No, Your Highness. This is simply how I fight." She turns to the boy. "Phel?"

He nods.

Unwilling to keep up this charade, she immediately dashes forward, only to be sidestepped and hit with something in the side. She turns toward him, previously unarmed, and in his hands is a rifle of the same color as her blade- a strange teal-green, and aimed at her still. He fires another shot before rolling to dodge a swipe.

From his back he pulls a different weapon. A curved red thing; he twirls it once and it starts a flurry that Katarina quickly tries to run from, only to find that he's quite fast with the enchantment active. The moment it slows, though, she finds her chance.

She goes in for a jab, and with the close range he can't avoid it; blood seeps from his stomach, but every hit with this strange weapon heals him. Determined, she continues her assault, but eventually the gun he holds phases out from his hand and another apparates in its place.

A strange thing, small, not unlike the red one, but with a dark orb that seems to swirl with power in it. It shoots a similar thing, and as he pulls she realizes its power, rooting her to the ground. He takes this time to dash away, switching back to the rifle.

She was right. A good match; definitely second place, but she's always first.

Her moves are more calculated now, leaving traps in places and keeping stock of ambush corners. The blue dagger is left in the center, strategic, ready to be picked up at a moment's notice and spun; the platinum is now in her hands rather than her others, all discard in various places near him. Yet each one is avoided with enough precision that she ends up needing to pick them up to place them elsewhere.

Meanwhile, his barrage never stops. Once the rifle leaves his hands she thinks she has a chance, but a flamethrower apparates in its place. When he does a more concentrated spray it gives him a chance to quickly take a shot with his other gun, chaining into another pull down on her body and more shots with that one.

Even without the pull, they feel heavy, so much so that she feels distinctly slower. But she has the advantage of her daggers- blinking to one in a mere second, she gets off another good slash, and he rolls away just in time to avoid the second hit. Now that the red gun is gone, he can't heal anymore, either.

She's worse for wear, though. Plenty of hits sustained, and as much as blades are sharp his guns hit hard. The flame especially- thankfully her clothes are sear-proof after one particularly disastrous Coronation where all the spectators had to be sent away for a good hour or so.

It was very funny to see Janna so embarassed, though, so Katarina counts it as worth.

Eventually he runs out of the heavy gun- she assumes, anyway, that there's some strange limit to these things- and another new gun enters his hands. A silver chakram- these she's heard of before, from Diana once more. Yet the moment he gets it he puts it on his hip once more and returns to using the flamethrower.

The heavier guns have to be slung over his shoulder, but the lighter ones can fit on his hip. She can use that as an advantage, maybe- disarm him. Can't shoot if you have no gun.

She goes for the chakarm next time she gets close, the flames scorching her worth it if she can get rid of the thing. But the moment it falls to the ground it disappates like a piece of mist and appears back on his hip, same as before.

Well. More evenly matched than she thought. This is getting irritating.

There's no way he can outdo her in raw strength, she thinks, and he fires one last flamethrower shot before it leaves him. This is her chance, definitely, and she goes in, but again the red gun is in his hand and he's running in circles around her, and only now does she notice the smaller chakarms that orbit him this is creating.

The moment he finishes with the red gun, he pulls out the chakram, and prepares with all of them. At the same time she decides to finish it. In a dazzling clash of steel she spins, throwing her daggers in a signature finisher move, as he deflects them with his weaponry just barely. Neck for neck, as her move finishes his extra chakrams disappate.

The both of them are panting, though there's determination in their eyes. Alune calls out from the sidelines.

"Phel! Are you okay?"

He doesn't respond, but she somehow responds to him anyway. "I really think you should stop."

Katarina, not one to be present for mushy sentiment, straightens herself out. "It's fine. I say we call it there, anyway."

She looks to the man with a slight smirk on her face. "We're a lot more evenly matched than I thought. What's your name?"

He tilts his head to the side, makes some strange motions with his hand. "What?"

"He's mute," explains Alune, coming over to stand beside him. "This is Aphelios, my brother."

"Ah. Didn't mean to offend."

Aphelios makes a motion as if to say it's fine, none taken. He sticks out a hand for a handshake, probably, and she's going to take it so hopefully it isn't more sign language that she should probably learn now.

It isn't, and she leaves after a few more words with Alune. On the way back, she smiles to herself.

This will be interesting.

--

finally finished it lads

~Eve6262

#league of legends #fanfiction #writing #short story #alune #aphelios lol #aphelios #katarina lol #katarina #battle queens

[thatonebirbnerd]

All Those Chains You Bear

Word count: 1417

Trigger warnings: Violence, injury/blood, death, goes into detail re: effects of (ritual) self-poisoning

So, this is a new fandom for me! I've loved LoL's lore for a long time, but never thought I'd be able to write fanfic for it... and then Aphelios came out. Something about him and Alune drew me in enough that I made a cover of their theme and finally wound up smashing out the first draft of this story in a clearly lunar (read: stayed up til 5am) frenzy. Now it’s polished, and I hope you enjoy the results!

The title’s from Aphelios and Alune’s aforementioned theme.

AO3 link

Breathe.

Come on. I've done this dozens of times. Have to just - breathe -

Dammit. 

Every time, I seize up and let go of the bowl. That moment of weakness could kill me. Can't let that keep happening.

But it's too late to try again now.

A familiar surge of energy rushes through me, forcing every muscle in my body under its caustic, unforgiving whim. But that's the price I pay to... not even to speak with her. Just to be with her.

As much as the poison shakes me to the core, it cuts deeper that I may never see my sister again. Our orbits, our paths in life, led us to separate realms, with this ritual the only way for her to find me.

I drop to the ground, catching myself with one hand. My throat tightens, and my breaths become shallow. It’s almost over. A voice creeps into my mind as I cough and sputter, no longer able to cry out. It is faint and distorted at first, growing ever clearer like the moon emerging from behind clouds. 

Aphelios. 

I'm here. It's okay.

I just wish I could talk with Alune for a while. I try to say her name, but I can only choke out a pitiful noise.

It always starts with pain. I'm sorry.

I kneel, letting myself recover between gasps for air. Another moment of vulnerability, but one I can use to collect my thoughts.

We have work to do. Raiders took one of our relics. Show them the moon's light.

If only I could answer. I must do that through action.

I stand up, as tense as a drawn bowstring, and leave the gloom of the temple. Every movement I make is awkward, but… I’ll get used to it. 

After all, I have to.

---

They're camped near the Rakkor, hiding from their wrath. Would-be climbers of Targon, carried away by their own greed. Even the Solari can't pardon thieves.

I'm not far now, but traveling around Targon’s slopes like this is deeply exhausting - more than fighting. But I never know what could ambush me in the night, and I need Alune. I can fight without the noctum, but not without her.

The dull ache breaks my focus and overwhelms my senses. I have to force myself to track a lone, unfamiliar war whoop, echoing from the valley below. My quarry.

There they are. Take this. 

Calibrum.

Gleaming stone and metal work their way into the physical realm, taking a slender form in my outstretched hands. The rifle Calibrum is all too familiar, a weapon I can use for anything. I can probably get a good angle from that ledge a few paces away. The brigands are downhill.

Breathe, focus... fire. A bolt of magic flies from my weapon, piercing a man who was standing close enough to my perch that I can see him bleed silver. They'll be looking for me now. I need to enter the fray.

You're fading a bit. Our thoughts separate.

I rarely dread words. These, however, the thought of having to take more noctum… I feel a pang of fear, through the numbness.

I crouch out of view, and take just another sip. The liquid glows like moonlit waters, even more than the night-blooming flower from which I distilled it. It is at once my strength, and the single thing most likely to end my life.

The fresh wave of agony always stops me in my tracks. But this time, I collapse. My limbs jerk, and I’m breathing hard, too hard. I lose control of myself, convulsing as my body rails against the poison in my veins. And then I panic, a primal terror that cuts through even the strongest of my walls.

Even if there were help nearby, I couldn’t scream for it - the best I can do is grunt. I can’t die like this - 

Steady, Phel. I’m still here. Starforger’s claws, you’re foaming at the mouth… Breathe. Let it pass.

I think it’s only been a few seconds, but it seems like an eternity before the spasms end. It’ll be a while before I can take on even one attacker, but I don’t know if that will mean minutes or hours. I rest, curled into a ball, recovering what little I can as the noctum urges every fiber in me to move, to fight.

The outlaws still haven’t found me, even after all this. Did Alune misdirect them, or are they merely so stupid that they can’t check the high ground?

Regardless… I wish I could thank her, that she could hear me.

At last I rise, still trembling, and head downhill.

---

Crescendum.

The firearm fades, and I reach for another - for Alune. The next weapon to enter my grasp is a chakram, round as the full moon.

There are only six people left in the camp. They're clearly confused. And no wonder; the Burning Ones stamp out whatever they can find of my people.

Of course, they finally grasp what happened when they see me striding toward the windswept clearing they’ve staked out. They cease their fireside chatter, and walk over to meet me. They expect a bargain. After all, one man cannot stand against a group - in their homeland.

"Whaddya want, kid?" The leader's Targonian is... shoddy at best.

I still try to give ultimatums sometimes, out of habit. This is one of them. It’s… embarrassing, not being able to force out a single word when I need it.

"Wildclaw got your tongue?" I don't understand the turn of phrase - it's not in any dialect of Targonian - but Alune laughs as she translates it for me.

Unlike my sister, I don’t have time for jokes. I look the ringleader straight in the eye, and with a flick of the wrist, I send the blade flying.

I'm still stiff, sore, exhausted. But adrenaline is stronger, and I need to stay alive. 

I weave between the warriors. They seem clumsy, and they all wield slow, heavy weapons that they now have to reach for. And like most foreigners, they’re unused to the thin mountain air. In seconds, the leader is on the ground, his blood shimmering just like his friend’s.

But the rest are ready now.  I've taken on more than five before, and the chakram easily leaves wounds in every one. A woman with a club covered in ice tries to swing at me. She misses, but her companion's axe lands low, grazing my leg.

Severum? Yes. You’ll need it.

I catch the chakram in my left hand, and it disintegrates, leaving this realm. The scythe that forms in my right hand is even smaller, but it fires a spread of magic that saps the life from the hooligans. I feel better, and my own wound shines as it knits itself together.

They're faltering. You can do it, Phel - watch out!

Her voice becomes urgent, ringing in my head, and I realize there's a greatsword headed for my neck.

Time slows down.

Only one way to save myself - 

I am with you.

- with the only words I wish I could see her say to me.

I throw my head back and let out a guttural roar. My throat burns from the effort, a feeling that spreads through me. Lunar power surges outward, staggering the few barbarians still standing.

But when the searing sensation ebbs, and ceases to cloud my vision, the cowards lie dead around me.

It’s over, Phel.

Give them traitors' burials before the sun rises. Their supplies will feed the Lunari.

I'm sorry it has to be this way, brother.

My muscles relax as Alune speaks, and her voice begins to fade from my mind. I call out for her - she might be the only one who understands whatever came out -

And she's gone.

The moon is cruel, to keep us so far apart.

For a moment, my mind swims, trying to think of a way to get her back, get her out of that lonely temple beyond this world… no. I can’t give in to that.

I'll bury these friendless fallen, and take back the stolen symbol of our faith. But perhaps I’ll do that closer to dawn. For now, I sit and reflect, surrounded by the carnage I wrought. To ground myself.

To remember the pain, to relive it, to force myself back to reality - away from her.

To feel anything else beside that pain, to hear my own voice again as the noctum releases its stranglehold. 

To mourn.

#league of legends #league of legends fanfiction #fanfic #aphelios #alune #lunari #canon universe #angst #violence // #blood // #kestrel writes #i might be like #the third person to write a fic about phel that doesn't ship him #by the way this is the non gw2 fic i was referring to a couple days ago!!!

[honekitteh]

FIC: Countdown - Chapter 2

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T (this chapter) Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out.  Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes.   Warnings: See Chapter 1 

Chapter 1 | Crossposted to AO3

“I sensed our course has changed. What’s going on?” Kira walked onto the bridge and stood behind me. I gave her a simple nod as I watched the colors of hyperspace on the screen.

“Pandemonium is a better name, it’s at least somewhat pronounceable,” I heard Doc’s voice behind me.

“Phelgethon fits better,” the deep imperial cadence retorted. Lord Scourge, the former Emperor’s Wrath, didn’t hold any emotion in his voice, so it was difficult to tell if he was teasing the human doctor or not.

“Ph.. Phel… That sounds like something is stuck in your throat or you’re coming down with a cold.”

“That would be impossible.”

“Just saying…”

Kira laughed looking back at the two men who entered the bridge, “You have a hard enough time saying Barsen’thor when we’re meeting with the Council.”

“What is it with Jedi and Sith with their impossible titles?”

Kira rolled her eyes and took the seat opposite me and looked at the controls. “Ziost?”

Lord Scourge tilted his head. “We’re headed to Ziost?”

I took a deep breath. “Theron called for backup.”

Doc quickly responded, “Think he will need medical attention?”

“It’s Theron, so likely,” Kira stated with a small chuckle. The small laugh she shared with Doc stopped though as she looked over at me. “Jyana? What’s…” Her words stopped as soon as we left hyperspace and started to enter orbit over the blue world of Ziost.

Suddenly all that was let out was a simple, “Oh…”

My heart sunk as well. The presence was unmistakable, the darkness within the force encircled the blue globe in front of us. I kept getting flashes of images: blue turning to grey, green turning to grey, everything living turning to ash. My hands balled into fists on the controls.

It was Scourge who broke the silence. “We’re too late… his plan is already in motion…”

I closed my eyes. “We have to try.”

“The odds of his survival are…”

“Screw the odds, we have to save this world, whatever it takes.”

Kira started softly, “Jyana…”

“This isn’t about Theron… this is about the Emperor.”

Scourge and Kira shared a brief look and nodded. I moved to stand up and started walking back to my quarters to grab my shoto and cold weather gear. The others followed me. As I walked, Scourge spoke, “Teeseven and Kira should accompany you. The rest of us could come easily under his influence if my sense is correct.”

I nodded my agreement, but Doc spoke up, “I’m sure they would need medical…”

“No. The risk is too great.”

The medic opened his mouth, but Lord Scourge quickly ushered him away as I began to get my kit together and throw on my hooded coat.

Kira put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m with you, Jyana. As always.”

Without looking back at her, I put my hand over top her hand. “I know.”

She sighed softly, “What if we can’t stop him?”

“We’ll sort that out when it comes.”

“And Theron?”

I closed my eyes, trying to reach out my senses. There was a part of me that was certain I’d know if he lived or died, but I wasn’t entirely sure if we were connected in that way. I mean, we were connected somehow, but…

“Jyana?”

“I… We’ll sort that out later too. Right now, the Emperor.”

“Guess we’ll sort out the lack of holoing ‘til he’s in trouble when we get there?”

I made a small chuckle.

“See, got a laugh. I’m sure he’s fine.”

I nodded and looked back at her and smiled. “Let’s get to work.”

Imperial military forces on Ziost have ceased responding to orbital comm signals. Reports indicate the military has turned on the civilian populace. An Imperial military outpost may yield more information. A transport is available for departure.

I pulled my hood over my head, shivering slightly from the cold as it hit my skin, as I stepped out of the shuttle. I could feel the waves of chaos surrounding me. The Dark Side of the Force, ever present on Ziost as Lord Scourge had warned us, was present. It took a bit of willpower to put it to the back of my mind and then I realized my eyes were frozen shut and I looked out.

Soldiers were firing their blasters at civilians; civilians were firing back. None of them were in control of their actions. I could feel the power of their puppet master. I looked over at Kira who stepped out of the shuttle after me. Her face was white, clearly sensing what I was. She adjusted a fairly sizable bag around her belt awkwardly.

“What is with that bag?” I asked, deciding to ignore the other bantha in the room.

She sighed with great exasperation. “Doc insisted. If he wasn’t going to be able to come down, we had to take these.”

“How many kolto injections are there?”

“I lost count at 5 if I’m completely honest. Could be 20 or so?”

“Why would we even need that many?”

Kira gave me a blank stare. “Have you met yourself? That doesn’t even include the chance we find Theron...”

I pursed my lips. “I cannot deny your point, even as much as I want to.”

The astromech T7-01, the first friend I made when I came to Tython to complete my training, rolled out of the shuttle and beeped his intent to head towards the outpost. Kira and I nodded to each other and followed him, attempting to not draw too much attention to our movements. I pulled my hood closer around my face, shielding myself from the chill wind. Kira pulled up her scarf around her nose and put the goggles on over her eyes. I frowned and looked in my pack. To this she handed me mine and I worked on getting those on.

Somedays, I wondered who took care of who when it came to Kira and I.

I pulled out my scanner to follow the signal that T7 was very clearly following. We ducked against the building, watching the soldiers as they shambled. They looked like they were looking for prey and weren’t very picky as to what kind to have. I took a few deep breaths as we pushed on forward. I slipped slightly, barely managing falling into a snow drift by probably two inches. Another glance at Kira was met by a slight point toward her kolto pouch.

Sighing I took another look at the signal. I couldn’t get a sense on much of anything beyond the cacophony of blaster fire, dying men, screaming children, and a complete feeling of helplessness. T7 beeped a warning as we rounded a corner. Speeders and shuttles were crashed outside the vehicle bay that the signal was coming from. We moved inside, the droid moving quickly to investigate any potential console.

“Seems like we made some friends,” Kira spoke up.

“We need to reevaluate our standards,” I sighed as the soldiers started shooting at us.

Kira and I made quick work with a few flicks of our lightsabers. The soldiers came in waves of three. I frowned looking down at the last one I had to pierce through the heart.

No one deserved this fate. Sure, they were Imperials and would have attacked me anyway, but I would have preferred they’d had a choice to do so. These did not.

T7 beeped down to us from over a balcony. I nodded to Kira who remained behind as I followed T7 up the ramp and took a look at the holoconsole. It was busted, T7 beeped his frustration. There was no way for him to access any of the data that could have been held here. This bay was a complete wreck. I took a sigh and made a quick call to the ship.

“Scourge, come in.”

“Reading.”

“You were right, they’re all possessed.”

“Slaves to his will. He is attempting the ritual again. When he is done, there will be nothing left.”

Suddenly I knew what I felt in the back of my head and cut the comms. The presence was unmistakable and it was overpowering. For a moment I wondered how long I’d need to keep him out of my own head, but then that slow build up behind my eyes moved away.

Like this was something we’d rehearsed, but we obviously hadn’t, both Kira and I said in unison, “I can feel your presence Vitiate.”

Three people entered the Vehicle Bay one at a time, their voice theirs, but not under their own control. Their eyes glowed silver and I could feel the aura radiating off of them, flowing off of them in red waves in my Force sight. The first that spoke was a male Imperial Commando. “My little insect, no doubt here to drone and flutter once more.”

A female soldier followed him. “Dromund Kass, the Yavin moon... It must not be clear to you yet. There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Seriously, Vitiate, a monologue? I ignited my shoto but slightly startled as I noticed the last one who moved in.

A Jedi. The way he carried himself suggested one who specialized in Form III, Soresu.

“That’s all right though. Seeing you, it’s like visiting with a forgotten friend. I’m oddly pleased you’re here. You’ll bear witness to a world’s end if you survive long enough.”

As the group moved to attack Kira, I leaped off the balcony.

The jedi focused his attention on me, while Kira made fairly quick work of the Imperials. He swung his yellow blade vertically at my head which I parried with my purple shoto. The shoto were much shorter than his longer normal bladed lightsaber, but I’d found their mobility gave me a slight edge when I dual-wielded. Since the first lightsaber I made on Tython had fallen on hard times… okay I honestly can’t remember what happened to it. I just remembered the Masters sighing heavily at me and pointing me where I could find more materials to make a new one. At the time I thought it had been a punishment, to not have enough material for one, but after time, I instead found it a blessing. It wasn’t the size that mattered to a weapon, after all. It was how you used it.

With a motion of his hands, the he used the Force to knock me back. I smacked into corner of the ramp. With a grunt I tossed my shoto at him. He parried one of them, but the other struck true. As they returned to my hands, I leaped back into the air and met his blade with mine.

It was a whirl of blades. Purple and yellow reflecting off the damaged walls of the vehicle bay. He fought more aggressive than I would have expected. Had he been under his own power, I would have expected far more defensive maneuvers. If it had been, we might have been a bit more evenly matched. One slight miscalculation proved fatal, and I cut his lightsaber in two, and he fell. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, unfocused, exhausted, and they changed from silver to brown. As he took his last breaths, he gasped out, “He’s gone... I can... I can finally...”

I felt the life force leave the man. I looked down at my shoto, which had fallen to the floor at some point. I removed my goggles and lowered the scarf from around my mouth. Frowning, I reached my hand towards the Jedi’s eyes, but the back of my mind sent a warning through me. Instead of getting a chance to pay my respects to a man who fought well despite his circumstance, I stood, taking my sabers back in my hands. “More of you already?” I stated, “I suppose I should be flattered.”

I ignited my shoto but before Kira or I even moved, an orangish red lightsaber made quick work of the enemies just outside the Vehicle Bay. Then the blonde Sith Lord made her way towards the entrance, her green cape flicking behind her. Her yellow eyes looked tired as they fell on me.

“So my senses haven’t betrayed me. It really is you.”

“Lana Beniko.”

Lana pinched the bridge of her nose for a few seconds before stating, “You don’t belong here, Jedi. You shouldn’t have come.”

Before I could retort, Kira approached Lana and I could tell that the redhead sensed the Sith Lord’s exhaustion. “It’s nice to see a friendly face. I’ve missed you.”

I simply blinked.

Lana exasperatedly responded, “I’m trying to avert a mass catastrophe while keeping the most powerful mind in the galaxy out of my head. I… I can’t think about that.”

Kira let out a breath of air. “You don’t gotta tell me twice,” she muttered.

I blinked between the two, then looked back to Lana. “What do you mean, we don’t belong here?”

Lana’s expression was somewhere between exhaustion and exasperation and gave me a non-committal response and put her hand up to her temple, as if she was listening to incoming communications and status updates. She then looked back to me. Before she said anything further, I cut in, “In case you might have forgotten, standing up to the Emperor is kind of my job. And I’m not about to start backing down from him now.” I raised an eyebrow and looked Lana over. “And I’m thinking you could use the help.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that. As you can see, things are already out of hand.”

“Seems we’re not the only Jedi here,” Kira pointed out, looking back at Master Garault’s body behind us.

“His mind was not his own.” Lana sighed heavily. “He belonged to the Sixth Line.”

“Sixth line… I’ve never heard of it.”

Lana raised an eyebrow. “They’re a team of Jedi commandos working in secret for the SIS. They follow their own addendum to the Jedi Code, hence the name.”

“There is no contemplation, there is only duty,” A bald man in a crisp imperial uniform with a tech brace around his head approached. I pursed my lips, trying to hide my on distaste for the “there is no” version of the Jedi Code while he continued, “A great point of view—so long as they’re working for you.” He looked around the room and then addressed Lana. “Pardon the interruption. I sent a probe droid to look into that crashed shuttle, Minister Beniko. It’s empty.”

I looked back at Kira and shared a raised eyebrow with her before looking back to the imperials.

“Agent Kovach, this is the former ally I’ve mentioned,” Lana stated, “Right now, we all want the same thing, so I suggest we work together.”

I lowered my hood and tilted my head. “He called you ‘minister.’”

With a dismissive wave, Lana replied, “Yes, he did.”

Agent Kovach continued, “We know Theron Shan was on that shuttle. And we know he’s responsible for the Sixth Line being on Ziost in the first place”

I gave Kira a slight glance. A tightness in my chest that had been forming since I’d landed on the planet only seemed to increase its pressure.

Lana rubbed her temples. “So far, Theron has only added to our troubles. He’d better not be here to cause any more.”

“Theron’s here to stop the Emperor, same as me,” I replied quickly.

“Vitiate is not our Emperor. Not anymore.” Lana gave a glance around the vehicle bay and motioned to the numerous bodies. “As you’ve witnessed, Vitiate is taking hold of an increasing number of soldiers and Sith. His goal continues to be the accumulation of power. Agent?”

Kira and I glanced at each other and then back to the Agent.

“The dark side is strong on Ziost. Using the outpost’s resources, our former Emperor can massacre the defenseless to fuel him. The more powerful he becomes, the more people he can control. He will keep on killing until nothing’s left.”

Kira whispered to me, “Isn’t that exactly what Scourge said happened before?”

I simply nodded and moved to speak, but Lana was having a short conversation on a call. “Yes, I’m on my way,” she spoke into her communicator. “I’m needed everywhere, all at once. I’ve already lingered too long. Agent Kovach has a plan to help stem the bloodshed.” She gave a kurt nod and turned on her heel as she left the vehicle bay.

Agent Kovach watched Lana as she left, a little too closely. I raised an eyebrow and looked back at Kira. T7 beeped a question as well.

“Agent?”

As soon as he seemed sure she was gone, he began speaking quickly, “After the Yavin event, I was sent here to infiltrate Sith Intelligence. I work for Theron Shan. In fact, we were supposed to meet up here.”

“If you know where he is, now would be the time to say so,” I snapped. After the words were out of my mouth I felt a small presence in the Force, Kira. Mostly just telling me to relax subtly. I took a deep breath and tried to offer an apologetic smile to my response.

Either Agent Kovach didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because he just responded, “I haven’t been able to reach him. Not since the crash. Best not to think about that now, I guess.” I frowned and looked down.

Kira stepped forward and spoke up. “Lana might seem like the nicest Sith Lord ever, but don’t thinks he won’t eviscerate you if she finds you out. Or worse.”

I looked at Kira and blinked slowly, then looked back to the agent, who simply shrugged. “I know all the risks that come with my line of work. It helps not to think about them either.”

I looked back towards the Jedi laying lifeless behind me. “What was his name?”

“Master Garault.”

I moved back towards Master Garault’s body and took a knee. He was free of Vitiate, but at what cost. Sighing I finally reached to his forehead, meditated on his memory in the Force for a few seconds. Then I took the tips of my fingers and lowered his eyelids over his eyes.

“The outpost armory, it’s wide open right now,” Agent Kovach continued, “Anyone can get in there. We need to lock it down.”

T7 beeped an agreement and I stood up and pulled my hood back over my head. “Then point the way.”

“I’m on it.”

I hadn’t been watching where my feet were going as we worked our way through the outpost towards where Agent Kovach indicated the armory would be. It was miraculous that I was only in a snow drift and not somewhere more unfortunate. A hand reached down and took mine. Before allowing myself to be lifted up, I reached out with my senses to be certain that it was Kira and not someone who was just going to pull me out and make me dead. With some grumbling, I allowed myself to be pulled up.

“Kolto?”she asked after I straightened up.

I muttered, “I’m not hurt. Just embarrassed.”

“You should be, that was completely hilarious.”

“Ha ha. If this world wasn’t utter chaos…”

“Yes I know. This way.” Kira and I quickly worked our way to the armory, T7 beeping locations and parameter warnings along the way.

By the time we got there, Imperial officers were already in the armory. At least, it’s more possible that these officers had been originally stationed here, long before this whole mess started. Now, they just no longer had wills of their own. I could sense Vitiate’s hold on each one of them. They could sense us as well. Upon our entrance, we were immediately under fire and T7 very quickly attempted to evade attention. If they had been normal imperial troops, operating under their own free will, they would not have ignored the droid. They seemed more interested in humanoid lifeforms. I assume Vitiate can’t really accumulate more power from the deaths of droids.

One, two, they fell to Kira’s dual-bladed lightsaber. Three, four, my twin shoto ended more. Now it was the Quartermaster who stood between us and our goal, someone who probably just simply wanted to put in an honest days work, go home, see family, friends, have a nice drink, have a great meal, and then repeat the pattern over again.

The poor soul didn’t stand a chance against Vitiate’s control. Nor did he stand a chance against Kira and my blades. After the haze of battle was lifted, I slowly made a point to close every one of their eyes.

No one deserved this. Not even Imperials.

Agent Kovach had made it into the armory while I had paid my respects to the deceased. He quickly moved to a console to lock the building down. “You sure cleared a path out there. That’s good… but it’s bad, too.” I raised an eyebrow at him and made a motion for him to explain, which he figured out without me needing to say anything, thankfully. “Each time a pawn’s killed, Vitiate gets a little bit stronger. Not as much as when they kill, but… That’s what Minister Beniko says, anyway.”

Pulling off my hood and cold weather protection again so I could cool down from the exertion, I studied the Agent, tilting my head. “So we have to stop them without killing them.”

“Or we destroy Vitiate. Not that anyone seems to know how to do that…”

A pressure built up in the back of my head. “Agent, we’ve got company.”

“Almost there…” he worked quickly at the console. The door opened and the force-field was just pulled up just in time for a dark skinned, armored jedi to waltz in to meet. “Master Surro,” Agent Kovach stated, looking downcast, “The Sixth Line commander.”

“This one’s my favorite so far,” Vitiate poke through her voice, “Even now, she struggles. You know, she’s done some terrible things in the Republic’s name.”

I wrinkled my nose and let out a breath. “I’m the one you want. Release Master Surro and the others. Take me instead.”

“Again?” I flinched slightly but held my ground, waiting. “No. I don’t think so. When this world turns to red and you choke on torrents of blood, remember that this was your chance to flee.”

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #theron shan #kira carsen #female jedi knight/hero of tython #oc: jyana kai #otp: come what may #fic: countdown #ziost #swtor: rise of the emperor #swtor #fanfic #in which kira keeps jy alive #nor will kira's sass ever be denied

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God -Chapter 15

Warnings: Mention of rape 

Chapter Fifteen

“Nothing haunts us like the things we don’t say.” - Mitch Alborn

-18 Days After-

in books and movies, when two people fall in love everything falls into places like dominoes in a perfect line. No tile falls before the one proceeding it, and they all make a perfect picture. That’s what it was like for Pheli and Sam. They fell into place effortlessly.

Her legs rested over his as they sat with their backs against a log facing the fire. He had an arm around her, and his fingers drummed against her arm to the music.

“That was bad, don’t you think?” She asked against his neck, placing a kiss below his ear.

“What was?” Sam asked absentmindedly watching the fire.

“Lisa.” She hissed.

“Oh.” He sighed. “That.”

“Yeah, that.”

“She really did a number on Dean.”

Ophelia looked at Sam and put her finger under his chin, prompting him to look at her. “Do you think he still has feelings for her?”

“I don’t know.” Sam said with a sigh.

“Things have just seemed to be going well for him and Emerson...”

“Hey.” Sam said, taking her hand in his. “It’ll work out. He’s always had a torch for Em. We just need to let them work it out.”

Pheli poked out her bottom lip instinctively. “I know, but she’s my sister. I want to protect her.”

“I know you do.” He kissed her hair. “But they’re adults. We shouldn’t meddle.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Tell me about it.” He grinned widely at her, before humming along to whatever song Benny was singing.

Ophelia’s eyes locked on her sister. Emerson sat next to a guy that Pheli had yet to meet, she looked relaxed with a beer in her hand. She knew Sam was right, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to smack Dean silly for letting her walk away. When it’s real you don’t walk away. Didn’t he have a romantic bone in his body?

Sam leaned over to Benny and whispered something too low for Pheli to hear.

“Sure, brother.” Benny responded before starting up a new song.

Her ears perked up, and she turned to look at her boyfriend, who was grinning ear to ear. “You didn’t.”

“Turns out he takes requests.”

“You are so lame.”

“You love me.”

“I do.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed Sam right on the lips. She knew that no matter what happened, Sam wouldn’t walk away from her. He wouldn’t be the one leaving.

“I’m accidentally in love.” Sam sang softly against her lips, holding his palm against her cheek.

-4 Years Before-

“Come on, Phel. This is our chance. It’s not too late for her to get another room mate.”

“No, Samuel! Do I have to say it a thousand times?” Ophelia asked, turning back to the truck that they were using to move into the dorms. The couple was having a stare off. Her arms were crossed tightly at her chest, and Sam’s hands were in his pockets. Despite his height, he wasn’t nearly intimidating enough to ever win against her.

“I just...” He sighed and took her fingers in his hands. “We have been together for a long time... it’s time for us to take the next step, don’t you think?”

Pheli melted a little, loosening her arms so he could take her hand properly. “You know I want to live with you.”

“Then do it!” He whined.

“Sam I can’t. Em and I have always been together. She needs me, you know? I can’t just abandon her for a guy.”

“I’m not just a guy.”

“I know you aren’t, honey, that isn’t what I’m saying.”

“I know it’s not.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head. “I knew what I was getting into when I asked you out. The Maklen twins were always a package.”

She kissed the base of his throat. “It won’t be forever. Eventually she will find someone that she wants to live with...”

Sam pulled back a bit to capture her lips in his. “Don’t tell me that’s why you wanted her and Dean together so badly.”

She laughed humorlessly. “You aren’t the only one dating someone codependent, Sam. I figured the two of them and the two of us would be... I don’t know? Magical isn’t the right word...”

“Convenient?”

Pheli cracked a smile and nodded. “Yeah, that is the word.”

“Can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink, Phel.”

“I really don’t appreciate that metaphor, Sam.”

“Sorry.”

“It was all going fine until Dean had to disappear into the fucking night.” She complained, pulling away from the hug to grab her bag from the back of the truck. “Emerson won’t even acknowledge that there was ever anything going on, but I’m not blind, you know?”

“She probably just needs time.” Sam said with a wince. “I know I do.”

“I’m sorry.” Pheli sighed. “I didn’t mean to bring it up like that. Have you heard from him?”

“Gotten some letters.”

“Good. At least he’s writing someone.”

Sam grabbed a box and smiled at her. “Emerson’s a great girl, she won’t be alone forever. I know it would’ve been cool if her and Dean would’ve worked out, trust me. I want him to be happy, but not everyone finds their soulmate when they’re in high school.”

“I guess not.” She said sadly, before kissing him again. “Maybe not everyone is this lucky.”

“The odds of winning the lottery are pretty low, Phel.” He grinned, two dimples making an appearance on his cheek.

She poked one and let herself smile. “Let’s go. I’m sure Em thinks we hid out somewhere to have sex.”

“Maybe we should live up to that stereotype.”

“Shh, you.” Pheli pointed at him with a warning.

He laughed brightly and the couple walked away from the truck, toward the dorms, and into a new chapter.

****

“You didn’t have to kick Sam out.” Emerson said, hanging up her clothes in the closet.

“Sure I did.” Pheli said, organizing her makeup on her desk. “This is our first night on our own. Our first night of freedom! No boys allowed, just the Maklen sister’s against the world!” She spun dramatically in her desk chair.

“Looks like you have a lot of expectations for tonight.”

“I do.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Anything... everything!”

Emerson smiled at her sister, but behind her dark eyes was a deeper longing that Pheli knew that she wouldn’t be able to fill. “I don’t know, Phel. Maybe you should call Sam. I’m tired, and I have a lot of unpacking to do.”

“So let’s unpack.” She said quickly, fumbling in her bag. She pulled out a bottle of vodka and shook it. “We can make a drinking game out of it!”

“As tempting as that is.” Emerson said with a sour face, her upper lip curled and her nose wrinkling.

“Come on, Em. I know you’re sad but...”

“I’m not sad.” She cut Pheli off. “I’m tired. I told you. I just... I want to get settled in. We’re starting over. I just need a night.”

Pheli looked at her sister. Her shoulders were tight and her eyes looked swollen from lack of sleep. Her blonde hair was tossed lazily into a bun on top of her head. “Okay. We can put on some movies and unpack? Order in?”

Emerson smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. “That’d be great.”

“Why don’t you go on a coffee run, and I’ll find all the best DVD’s?”

“Sure.” Em said, grabbing her purse. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Sounds good.” She gave her sister a thumbs up as the door latched behind her.

She knew the DVD’s were in one of Emerson’s boxes, and she lowered herself to the floor so she could start rifling through them. The first box seemed to be all clothes, so she pushed it away. The second had books on top, so it seemed like a possible option. She moved the first few books away and squinted as a white envelope fell out of one of the books. “What...”

It was a letter from Dean. The fold lines were perfectly preserved, despite the fact that it’d obviously been read dozens of times at least. “He wrote to you after all.” She said, carefully unfolding the page. She knew it was a complete invasion of privacy, but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t put on the breaks for long enough to talk herself out of it.

Em,

Shit, I don’t know what to say. I’m on the bus to Basic Training. A fucking bus, and all I can think about is the sky. I’m sure it sounds weird, but hear me out, okay? I’m lookin out the window, and we are in the middle of nowhere so there are hundreds of stars. It looks like glitter was just thrown onto a piece of black paper. You should see this sky, Em. I never really realized how many stars there were. I knew, well of course I knew that there were a lot, but it never really clicked before now. Sometimes I think it takes me a little longer to get things, maybe I got hit one too many times growing up.

We are under the same sky, Em. You and me. When I look at the moon I’m gonna always think about you lookin up at it, too. What’s it look like there? I had to have seen it a million times, but fuck if I remember it now. I’m always lettin things pass me by. Maybe I’ll stop doing that. I know it ain’t fair for me to do that now of all times, but I can still think it. I probably never really saw the sky when I was home. I looked, sure, but I don’t think I ever saw it. I wanna see it now. Just tell me it’s not too late. Please. I’ve gotta know I didn’t fuck it all up.

I keep thinkin about last night on the roof. I should’ve... I guess it doesn’t matter what I should’ve done. It only matters what I did, and I’m sorry, Em. I’m always lettin you down, and you’re the best person I know. I don’t want to let you down anymore. I wanna be stable, like the moon and those stars. They’re always there, ya know? Whether we can see them or not.

Dean

Pheli held the letter to her chest. Emerson never told her about it. She looked back down at it, before folding it carefully and placing it back in the pages of the book. She wanted to know if she wrote him back, if there were more letters hidden somewhere. Turned out there was a romantic bone in Dean’s body and it was a damn good one. That was a love letter. It was poetic and beautiful, and Pheli found herself a little jealous. She couldn’t believe, after everything, that Em would keep it to herself.

Her head shot up when Emerson unlocked the door to their dorm. “Hey, good news, there’s a coffee cart really close. We really got the good dorm.” She said brightly before stopping in her tracks. “Phel? Shit, are you okay?”

Pheli didn’t realize that there was a tear rolling down her cheek until Emerson knelt down to wipe it. “I’m... I want you to be happy, no matter what.”

“Hey.” Emerson said with a smile. “I am happy. We are at college. A fresh start, right?”

“But is that what you want? You want to start all over?”

Emerson’s eyes flickered down to the book in Pheli’s hands and up to her eyes. She looked into the eyes of her sister’s. It was much like looking into her own. “We have to keep moving forward.” She said, finally. “All going backwards can do it hurt.”

“You’re sure?”

She gave Pheli a single nod. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Okay.” She said, placing the book back into the box. “Now which box is Pretty in Pink in because I need Molly Ringwald in my life now.”

“Over here.” Emerson smiled gratefully. “The box that’s labeled movies.”

Pheli raised an eyebrow. “Labels. That’s really smart, college girl. I’ve got a lot to learn from you.”

“Let’s start with coffee and go from there.”

“Deal.”

-18 Days After-

“Let’s call it a night.” Sam said with a yawn. “Dean’s been alone at the tree too long, I’m sure I’ll be sleeping in the dirt. He’s a notorious bed hog.”

“Aw, you miss sleeping with me?”

“I miss sleeping with you the moment we get out of bed.”

“You’re too cute for your own good.” She placed a kiss on his chin.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Count on it.” He gave her one more peck before jogging back over to his brother, whose back was now to the campfire.

Pheli stretched and walked toward the tent, passing the guy who was sitting with Emerson, who she knew now was Gordon Walker. He avoided her look as she passed him, and her skin ran cold in response. Her stomach twisted as she pushed through the flaps of the tent.

Emerson laid on her side with her back facing Pheli. Even in the low light she could make out the red that came out from under her sisters blanket. “Oh my god.” She rushed to her sister, kneeling down. “Em?”

She opened her eyes to face Pheli. She looked completely broken. Her face was wilted and her bottom lip trembled. She was impossibly small, like a child. Her lips were swollen along with the skin under her eyes. “What did that motherfucker do to you?” She asked, holding Emerson’s face.

She propped herself up, wiping snot off her face with the back of her hand. She gripped the sheets in her lap. “Nothing.”

“We should get you checked out... you’re bleeding...”

Emerson looked up, meeting her sisters eyes. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

There was something unspoken between the twins. Their mother was convinced that they were telepathic. That they spoke inside of their minds. That moment was no exception. Pheli read her sister loud and clear.

She took her sisters hand. “Can we sleep together tonight? I’m scared, and I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Of course.” Emerson said, and Pheli stood slowly, helping her sister up. Em stood on shaking legs, exposing wet blood on the inside of her thighs. Ophelia’s jaw set tightly.

“I can’t wait for a bath. I heard they have some kind of set up here. It’ll be nice.”

“Yeah.” Emerson agreed as they both rested on Pheli’s small pallet. They laid nose to nose under the blanket. Her hands where on Emerson’s hips protectively.

“I’m here for you.” She whispered into the darkness.

“I know.”

He is going to pay. She thought angrily.

“Phel?” Em asked, her voice barely a breath. “Don’t tell him.”

“He cares about you, Em. I can tell he does.”

“Just... don’t tell him.” Her voice broke and it took her a few moments of silence to get her breathing controlled again.

“I won’t. Okay? I promise I won’t.” Pheli hugged her sister closer, letting Emerson bury her face in her neck.

They had separate beds since they were out of their crib, but no matter how old they were they always ended up in the same bed, pressed together like when they were in the womb. It was comforting. It slowed their heart rates and made them calm. It helped them sleep.

There was no sleep for Pheli that night. Her eyes were still glued on her sleeping sister when Castiel and Meg stumbled into the tint, trying their best to be quiet, and they were open still when the morning sun bled in through the flaps in the tent.

-25 Days After-

They were getting into the swing of things at the camp. It was a fortress against evil with large gates and bolts that required keys and a security badge to open. If Emerson talked to Dean, she didn’t tell her sister about it. As far as Pheli was concerned they weren’t even on the same hemisphere.

Emerson was different. She didn’t have to tell Pheli what happened for her to know, and Gordon had done the smart thing and stayed the fuck away. Castiel went on a supply run midweek and came across some materials to fashion the girls a small tent. Sam and Dean were bunking with Garth and Benny. Sam’s feet stuck out of the end of the tent, and although not ideal, it was better than nothing.

The two sisters took up running once Pheli’s ankle was healed. The running seemed to help Emerson. After a run she would smile and look up. They were getting stronger. They’d soon get an assignment to help around camp. There hadn’t been any Rogues in sight since they’d came to the camp, and that was enough for Pheli to make it feel like home.

“You’re getting fast.” Emerson panted, with her hands on her knees. They’d just finished a run around camp. They were still slow, but Pheli was picking up on it quickly and getting better every day.

“I was made to run!” She teased, wiping sweat off her forehead. “I’m going to go see if I can get us some lunch. Meet back at the tent?”

“Sounds good.” Emerson said with a nod, her head still practically between her knees.

Pheli turned and used the rest of her energy to jog toward the main building, next to the medical one. That’s where they sorted through food and determined meals.

“Hey!”

Shit.

“Slow down Sonic, Jesus.” Dean said, grabbing her shoulder.

Pheli turned, elbowing him in the jaw. “Oh my god, Dean!?” Her hands flew to her mouth. 

“Damn, Rocky.” He said, rubbing where she hit him.

“Sorry, you snuck up on me.”

“Remind me to announce myself by name next time.”

“Hey.” Pheli snapped. “It’s never been safe for women, now especially. Those self defense classes are finally going to pay off.”

“I’d like to see a Rogue try to take you on. You’d knock their head clean off with that elbow.” He said with a wide grin.

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

“I’m leaving now.” She said, turning on her heels.

“Wait.” He said, quietly, desperately.

“What?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Em won’t see me. I’ve tried. When I walk toward her she runs in the other direction. I want to give her space...”

“So give it to her.”

“I want to. I’m just worried.”

“You seem really worried when you’re hanging out with Lisa.”

“I didn’t ask her to... this isn’t about Lisa. Things are over between us. They have been for a long time.” Dean said, running his fingers through his hair. It was getting shaggy. “I just wanna talk to her.”

“I’ll tell her you were asking. I just don’t think she’s ready.” Pheli said, her heart aching for Dean and for her sister. She didn’t want things to be over for them. They seemed happy.

“Thanks.” He said, and he watched her go.

Love was a fickle thing. It causes weak knees, and yet it expects you to stand. Pheli suspected that was why there were two people involved in love. They can help each other stay upright. Maybe that’s why it was called falling. Emerson was out on a tightrope teetering and threatening to fall with no promise of a net below. Pheli was doing her best, but she suspected that nothing would change until they got away from Gordon.

She pushed into the kitchen area, and right into a meeting. Everyone turned and looked at her. “Sorry.” She said, raising a hands “Don’t mean to interrupt.”

“Why not?” Someone complained, glancing back at her. “It is your fault. We have four more mouths to feed. We are running out of food! We need to do another run.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Castiel said through gritted teeth. “We need to take space between our runs so the Rogues can disperse. We don’t want them catching our location.”

“It won’t matter if they find us if we are starved!” Someone else chimed in.

“This isn’t up for discussion.” Castiel snapped.

“Who made you God?!”

“I’ll go, Cas. You know I can take down those motherfuckers.” Gordon said, standing with a sneer.

“Me too.” Pheli chimed in before she could stop herself. “You’re right, it was my group that added more people to feed. We want to pull our weight. I’ll go with Gordon.”

He turned to her with narrowed eyes and she smiled at him wickedly.

“Fine.” Castiel said with a sigh. “I’ll get another pair of volunteers and you’ll go out tomorrow at sunrise.”

“Aye aye captain.” She said turning to leave. She pushed out into the heat of the Summer day, her heart pounding.

What did I just do?

Seeing him stand up there in front of her completely unphased by what he’d done made Pheli see red. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she was ready to lose it. The idea of being alone with him was enough to cause her impulse to jump into action before she could realize that she was going to be out in the field with the Rogues and with a known rapist.

She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to her knees to catch her breath. Sam was going to kill her. Emerson was going to kill her. She couldn’t tell either of them. They’d try to stop her, and that was her once chance to confront him. She needed to make things right for her sister. If they were going to stay there, they needed to feel safe. Sam always told her that she shouldn’t interfere, that she shouldn’t put her nose in her sisters business, but she couldn’t stop. It wasn’t in her. She knew that when she loved someone she wouldn’t stop fighting for them. Especially when they couldn’t fight for themselves.

-4 Years Ago-

Dear Dean,

I am not supposed to be writing this. It’s inappropriate, but I can’t stop my pen, so here we are. Em didn’t share with me the letter you sent to her, and I think it’s because she’s scared.

There’s a risk when you fall in love. When you care for someone you give them a piece of yourself and you trust them not to hurt you. I don’t know what happened between both of you, but I’m asking you to not give up on her. Because you’re right, Dean, the moon is always there. No matter what you do. No matter how many times it hides behind clouds or shadow. It’s even there when the sun is out. If what you feel is like the moon, then it won’t go away just because you want it to. It won’t go away just because she asked you to.

I guess what I’m saying is, the sky looks beautiful, Dean. It’s a little dull right now, but the stars will sparkle again. Sometimes it just takes time, and it’s worth the wait. Trust me.

Ophelia Maklen

—————

Chapter Sixteen

Get caught up!

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[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God -Chapter 16

Warnings: Mention of rape, graphic violence, and language. 

Chapter Sixteen

“So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

-26 Days After-

The morning was cool for June as Ophelia snapped her thigh holster in place. She slid her hand gun into place. She hoisted her shotgun over her shoulder and stuck her blade in her boot. She didn’t like guns, but after her last run in with the Rogues she wasn’t in a position to deny the necessity. Plus, she’d never felt so badass in her life. She left Emerson asleep, hugging her pillow, and made sure to give Sam a really big kiss goodnight. She left him breathless. His love wasn’t lost on her. She could tell that their hearts beat together every time he looked at her.

He wouldn’t approve of her going out in the field, but it wasn’t about him and her, it was about Emerson. At the end of the day it was the Maklen sisters. If they had to pick, it would always be each other. She had to do it for her sister.

Pheli leaned against the tree, waiting for the rest of the group. She sipped her coffee out of her canteen, and focused on the colors in the sky as the sun teased the horizon.  

“Well, Hell in a hand basket, you showed up after all.”

“Ash.” Pheli said with a smile. “Morning.”

“We had a bet runnin that you wouldn’t show up.” He flipped the bottom of his mullet over his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes. “And whys that?”

He shrugged. “Gender bias, probably.”

Ash was a serious genius. He didn’t look like much in his cut off flannel and mullet, but he went to MIT before it all went to shit. He made the water filter system in the camp and was solely responsible for the gate around the community. He was damn fun at get togethers, too. The first night by the fire he ended up buddying up with her and Sam singing along with Benny. He made a genuine fool out of himself, and that made him okay in Pheli’s book.

“So fucked up.”

“Agreed.” He said, adjusting his machete on his shoulder. “Let’s head to the Jeep. Gordon’s probably already there.”

“Who else is coming?” She asked as they began their walk to the gate where the Jeep was parked.

Ash shrugged, walking with a bit of a bounce in his step. “Hell if I know. People don’t tell me shit. Always be underestimated, Blondie. When you are, it’s really easy to surprise people.” He offered her a wide grin.

“I know exactly what you mean.” She said smoothly.

Her hair was in two braids down her back to keep her hair out of the way. There were no flowers in them that day. There was no time for glitter and pleasantries.

Ash was right. Gordon was already in the front seat, tapping the steering wheel impatiently. “Shot gun!” Ash called with a wide grin, breaking out into a funny, wobbling jog to the Jeep.

Pheli rolled her eyes and picked up her speed. She opened the back door and slid in.

“Surprised you made it.” Gordon grunted from the front seat.

“Lots of that going around.” She said, shifting her weight to keep her knife from digging into her calf.

The door to her right opened up and Dean slid in next to her, wearing a wide ear-to-ear grin. “Ready to go!”

Pheli started at him her heart rate leaping at the sight of him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She hissed through clenched teeth.

“Cas mentioned your heroic volunteering. Couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

“Did you tell Sam?”

“And let him try to follow you? No fucking way.” Dean laughed breathlessly. He reached forward and patted Gordon’s arm, causing Pheli to flinch instinctively. “Come on, Buddy. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Ash?” Gordon asked, starting the Jeep.

Ash leaned forward and pressed a garage door opener, causing the gates to spring to life. They opened with a creak and a groan. “Outward and onward.”

Gordon pulled out of the camp and headed back toward the city. “We don’t have many more runs to Dallas. It’s about picked dry.”

“And overrun.” Ash agreed.

“So.” Dean said, leaning close to Pheli. “What’s this about?”

“I wanted to wear the cute thigh holster.” She said, deadpanned.

“Oh, sure. Of course.” He said, not sounding at all convinced.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before he poked her leg.

“God, what?”

“I go by Dean, actually.”

Pheli glared at him. “Was this your plan all along? Trap me in the backseat so I can’t run from you? You want to ask about her. We just talked yesterday. I said...”

“You said you’d talk to her. Did you?”

“She isn’t ready, Dean.”

“Isn’t ready for what?” He asked, weakly. “If you haven’t noticed the world is ending.” He said, gesturing to the wreckage outside the Jeep. “We are on sort of limited time here.”

Pheli sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s not my place to tell you. It’s hers, if she wants to.” She said low enough for only him to hear it.

In the front seat Ash sang along to some old cassette tape that was jammed in the Jeep’s radio. It was loud enough to drown them out. She just hoped Gordon wasn’t paying attention.

“I don’t wanna lose her again.”

“You two are so fucking frustrating, you know?”

“Try being a part of it.” He said with a dry laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“We need to cut your hair.”

“What? The long hair is only cute on Sam?” He teased.

“Yes actually.”

“Hurtful, Phel. You’ve got a mean streak. Who would’ve known?”

Gordon turned down the radio and glanced at Dean and Pheli in the rear view mirror. “We are approaching our drop point. We will split in groups of two. Ash has maps of the places around the block that need to be searched and what’s expected to be found in each place. We have a list of supplies that we need, but if you see anything worthwhile grab it. And Ash that doesn’t include skin mags and more ball caps.”

“You have to have culture to have a functioning society, Gordon, you snob.” Ash complained.

“Everyone has been issued a watch. We are staying an hour. That means that when we exit the Jeep, it will be rolling out in sixty minutes. With or without all of us, so make sure you’re back and buckled in before that hour is up. If not, I hope you’re a good runner, because you’ll be footing it back to camp. Keep your guard up, and try not to shoot unless you have to. Sound attracts them. Any questions?”

“Just one.” Pheli said, leaning around the seat.

“What is it?”

“I want to team up with you.”

Gordon shrugged. “Fine.”

“Aw, my ego is fucking bruised, sister.” Dean complained.

“Don’t sister me, Winchester.”

“Alright get your fucking head in the game team.” Gordon said, pulling into downtown. Ash handed the maps along with the packs that were required to make the run.

“Everyone has the same list.” Ash explained. “Just get what you can. Use common sense and you’ll be fine.” He offered a smile before the Jeep rolled to a stop.

“Sixty minutes.” Gordon said, making eye contact with Ophelia in the mirror. “Let’s go.”

****

Emerson stretched out in bed, reaching out and missing her sisters warmth next to her. “Phel..” She groaned sleepily. When she didn’t get a response, she sat up slowly. The tent was empty.

She rubbed her eyes and stood up, still crouching so her head didn’t graze the top of the tent, and she wrapped her blanket around her. She expected to find her sister cuddled up with Sam, or getting her morning coffee. Pheli was all about her beauty sleep, but ever since the incident with Gordon neither girl was able to sleep well.

She poked her head out of the tent. The camp was quiet, still lulled in the early moments of morning.

She felt dead most of the time. Like Gordon reached up inside of her and pulled out the part of her that was human. The part of her that was alive. She wondered if it was how the Rogue’s felt. Sometimes she felt like she was on autopilot, just doing what was expected. She smiled when it was required, even though it never reached her eyes. She knew that Pheli had to see it, but she didn’t comment on it. She was giving Emerson space and that was truly all she could ask for. She’d successfully dodged Dean since that last moment that they had with Lisa. She couldn’t stand it, looking into his warm green eyes. She couldn’t have him look at her like he wanted to see the sky within her, because the fucking sky was dark. There were no more stars. There was no moon. There was nothing but darkness.

She squinted at the camp. The burning embers left in the fire showed the late night conversations had by old friends. It was the only sign that anyone lived there. Everything else was still.

She took advantage of the stillness to get some coffee and to just befor a bit. She wouldn’t have to act or pretend. She could just sit and fill the hole inside of her with black coffee and dark thoughts. She pulled her blanket tightly to her chest, closing herself into it, as she walked to the coffee cart. She didn’t care if it was last nights brew or if she had to brew it herself, she would suckle the caffeine and try to remember how to be a person, because every day that went by was harder and harder to remember how.

She reached the coffee stand, and picked up the insulated pitcher and poured into one of the available canteens.

“Pour me one?”

Her back stiffened and she turned to see Lisa standing with her baby strapped to her chest. “I was just up getting Ben back to sleep. He gets restless sometimes. A walk usually puts him right back down, but Mommy needs a pick me up.”

“Sure.” Emerson said, forcing a smile. She offered the canteen that she poured for herself. Suddenly coffee didn’t sound as good as it had before.

“Emerson, right?” She took the canteen, and gratefully sipped at it.

“That’s me.” She hugged her blanket around herself, like a protective layer.

“You came with Sam and Dean.”

“You’re observant.”

“You don’t like me much.”

“Very observant.”

Lisa shifted her weight, bouncing Ben. “You know Dean and me...”

“He’s all yours.” Emerson said quickly. “I won’t be standing in your way.” She caught a glimpse of little Bens freckled face, and she felt sick to her stomach.

“I don’t need your permission to pursue him.”

“But you’ve got it anyway.” She forced a smile. “Life is sometimes nice that way. I better get back to bed, Pheli will be looking for me.” She pushed past Lisa, trying to hold everything in. She was the little Dutch boy with her finger in the dam. Any minute now everything would come rushing out, and sweep her away.

“Emerson.” Lisa said, causing Em’s feet to plant in the dirt. She waited for whatever Lisa wanted to say. She didn’t know why. She didn’t owe the woman anything. She wasn’t the bad guy. She was backing down. What else was she expected to do? “It isn’t up to us, you know. Dean was always a complex man, but this part isn’t complicated. He either loves me or he doesn’t. There’s nothing else to it.”

Emerson smiled bitterly to herself. “If you really think that, you’re so much dumber than I thought.”

She didn’t wait for a response, and made her way back to her tent. She didn’t make it a habit of shitting on other women. It wasn’t the way she was raised. Women were allies. They had to stick together, but this time... this time was too much for her. She didn’t have the patience to rise above. She’d lost enough.

She curled up in her blankets, pulling them over her head. She sat under there, and she pulled out her bag. She dug all the way to the bottom and pulled out a notebook and her pen. It was getting close to the end of the notebook. Time had gotten away from her. She clicked the pen a few times, before flipping to an open page.

Dear Dean,

I want to go find you. I want to walk over to your tent, pull you out of bed, and shake you until you understand. I need you to understand. More than anything I need things to be different. I need all of this to not have happened. I’ve coped. Haven’t you watched me cope all this time? I got over you. (Am I seriously trying to lie? Way to go, Em) I was a kid when this all started. When I watched you walk away. But I coped. I’m still coping.

But still I want to go find you. I want to let you remind me what it feels like to be alive. He fucking hurt me, Dean. In a way a person should never have to be hurt. I thought the way that you hurt me was the worst thing I’d ever feel, but losing you... that hurt in my heart. This is different. He reached inside of me and cracked me open. He stole pieces that will not allow me to be whole ever again.

Part of me wants you to fix it. I know if I asked you to, you would crack pieces of yourself to put me back together, but what would that make me? I can’t give you what I need when I’m like this. Not when I still wake up in a cold sweat feeling his weight on me.

All I’ve ever been for you is complicated. Things have never been easy. It was never the right time. Who are we to think that this is the right time? During the fucking apocalypse, of all times. You deserve something better. You deserve what I wish I could let myself be.

I remember the night at the ocean before you left. I remember what I almost... you said you wanted it to be real. I’m not real, Dean. I’m not myself. Not anymore. I’m a shell with Emersons face. The girl you knew is dead.

I am so sorry for your loss.

Em

She closed the notebook, shutting away her letter along with dozens of others from the years that she never sent. That she never had any intention to send. The wall around her heart was complete. Brick by brick. She was a princess in a tower of her own design. A tower with no escape hatch and even when the prince came... she would not let down her hair. She would ignore his calls and pray to a god that wasn’t listening that he would go away. That he will finally leave her to her poison thoughts and shackles. That he would finally leave her alone with the greatest monster of all, herself.

****

Pheli’s bag weighed heavily on her shoulders as she climbed a set of stairs behind Gordon. They spent the first forty-five minutes finding most things on the list. She’d scored with a huge bottle of low grade pain killers and several canned goods. There was soap and clean underwear tucked in the bottom of her bag. Gifts for Emerson. After everything was over Pheli wanted to burn her old ones. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Gordon wasn’t in a chatty mood. Every time Pheli tried to get him to talk to her long enough to get anything from him, he would just grunt and move on to the next aisle. She was getting really fucking tired of it.

“So where are you from, Gordon?”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s all gone now. Look for some honey. Cas likes it.”

Pheli’s eyes narrowed as he rounded a corner to of sight. He knew she was circling him.

“Is there really more stuff up this high?” She asked, gripping the railing as they ascended the stair’s, climbing higher and higher.

“There’s somethin important up here.” He grunted out.

He unlatched the door, swinging it open. His boot crunched as he passed through the threshold. She followed him, stepping into the sunlight. They were on the roof. She frowned and turned to him, watching him latch the door again, locking them up there together.

She crossed her arms. “What the fuck are you doing, Gordon?”

“I’m not stupid, Ophelia. You volunteered because you have something to say to me. So have at it.”

“You presumptuous fuck.”

“Oh so you don’t have anything to say? I sleep with your sister and you don’t care. Great. I was worried that there was something off with you two, but maybe not.”

Bile rose in Pheli’s throat. It stung and bubbled like the rage within her. “You...You...”

“I fucked her. Yeah, I know. It was okay.” He shrugged. “Can’t be too picky around here.”

“You son of a bitch. You raped her.”

“She was flirting with me all night.” He said flatly, approaching Pheli slowly enough that she wasn’t preparing against it. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Leave her alone when she said no.”

“Gotta repopulate the human race. Can’t be so picky.” He shrugged smugly.

“And you can sleep at night with that logic?”

“Like a baby.”

It was so fucking wrong. It was wrong that he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt, while Emerson cried in her sleep. It was disgusting. She didn’t feel sick anymore. Her skin was hot, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. It wooshed like the sound of waves at the ocean.

“You fucking men think you can do whatever you want.” She said, closing the space between them.

He reached forward, pushing a loose hair behind her ear. “We don’t think, Princess.” He leaned in to her ear. “We know.”

Something possessed Ophelia in that moment. The girl who was made of cinnamon sugar got a hint of cayenne. Something sparked in her. Maybe it was his hot breath against her neck, or the smug sound of his voice, but something overwhelmed her. It was like she was watching her body from above as she grabbed the back of his neck and slammed her forehead into his, knocking him backwards.

He was taken off guard and he stumbled. Her head pounded in response, but her adrenaline kept her moving forward, her self defense class she took in college bubbling up to the surface. She pulled back and kicked him square in the chest, her leg aching from the strain in her muscle as he fell directly on his back.

His head smacked the concrete of the roof, and he looked up at her shock present on his full lips and wide eyes. “You’re going to regret that, you bitch!”

“I already do.” She said, pressing the heel of her boot to his throat. He gasped in response. “I regret not hitting you sooner. I think you’ve seriously made me stupider since I had to listen to you talk. Is it contagious, Gordon?”

He gurgled, unable to respond due to the boot pressed firmly against his Adam’s apple. He clawed at it, but she had the upper hand. “Tsk tsk. Better not. It doesn’t take much pressure at all to break that little ball in your throat. I wonder what the survival rate of that is in a post apocalyptic world?” She smiled, saying it all a little too sweetly, as she pulled his gun off the holder on his belt. She tossed it away, and it clanked as it skipped across the ground.

She pulled her shot gun off her shoulder and loaded it, cocking it into place with a sharp click. “Get on your fucking knees, and don’t try anything funny.” She said, removing her foot.

He immediately gasped, clawing at his throat as a breath flowed back through him.

“Now, you son of a bitch. Knees!”

He complied, climbing up to his knees. She pressed the shot gun barrel to his head, directly between his eyes. “No.” He muttered between snotty tears. His hands came up in front of his chest, his palms facing her in surrender. “D...don’t do it. I’ll apologize.”

“But you aren’t sorry, Gordon. That’s the problem. People like you just take what they fucking want no matter what the cost. You hurt my sister.”

“I did.” He sobbed, his voice trembling. Clear snot rolled down out of his nose and onto his lip.

There was no satisfaction for Pheli in his tears.

“You have to pay for that Gordon.”

“You aren’t a killer, Ophelia. Don’t do this.”

She laughed, causing the barrel of the gun to tremble against his skull. The cool metal leaving an indention on his skin. “Maybe not, but there’s no law anymore. There’s no justice. There are just people and monsters. The people kill the monsters, and from the little time I’ve known you, it’s pretty obvious to me what side you’re on.”

“I’m not a monster! I... I will be a better man...I’ll...”

“It’s too late for that, Gordon.” Pheli said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Make peace with whatever god you believe in.”

There was something tragic about the loss of innocence. The loss of faith in humanity. The loss of hope. Pheli stared down the length of her shotgun and said goodbye to the part of her that was human. Because he was right. She wasn’t a killer, but if it was between her sister and her innocence it was an easy pick.

She wouldn’t be the girl with flowers in her hair anymore, but maybe that was okay. Maybe it was time for her to retire her braids and grow the fuck up.

She pulled the gun off his skin, just back far enough.

“Please...” He begged, as her finger rested on the trigger. “I had a sister, too. I lost her. I lost her. I lost...”

Bang!

—————

Chapter Seventeen

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[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God -Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

“There are feelings you will never find words for; you will learn to name them after the ones who gave them to you.” – Maza Dohta

-30 Days After-

Being with Dean didn’t erase what Gordon did, no one could do that, but the way he was looking at her helped. That glint in his eyes and shadow of a smile on the corner of his lips dulled that pain that lingered. He made her stomach flip with the possibilities that he held behind his gentle green eyes. It made her dizzy. As their fingers laced together, she thought that maybe, just maybe things would be okay.

She had no idea how wrong she was.

Thunder interrupted their gentle embrace, causing the ground to pulse beneath them. “Dean?” Emerson murmured, her eyes wide as her head turned up to spot the deep burn marks that were streaking down the sides of the tent from the rain.

“Shit,” he said, immediately shuffling to his feet. “Let’s get your stuff, we’ve gotta go.”

She stood up and grabbed her own bag, tossing Dean Pheli’s. They were already packed up. Ever since Gordon attacked her, Em was ready to run. Most of the time she still slept in her boots. “What are we going to do about the rain?”

“Here,” Dean said, grabbing the blankets from the twins bed pads and wrapped them around Emerson.

“What about you?” She looked at him. He wore his flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed up. He didn’t exactly look protected.

He rolled down the sleeves and buttoned it up to his neck. “I’ll manage. Let’s go.”

“No fucking way.”

“Listen,” Dean said, grabbing her shoulders gently to make her look at him. His cheeks were flushed under his freckles, and his lips were pulled tightly over his teeth. He looked serious. He looked afraid. “We don’t have time to argue. You trust me?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she said, touching his cheek. They were together, which meant she had to trust him. She owed him that. “But, yeah, I do.”

“I’ll guide you. Stay under the blanket. We are getting Phel and Sam, and we will find cover.” He put the blankets over her head, and his hand rested on her lower back. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

-2 Years Before-

“Ready?”

“No,” Dean grunted. He was gripping two bars on either side of him. His knee was in some kind of metal and fabric contraption, and he hadn’t walked in months. Physical therapy was the bane of his existence. It was the last fucking place he wanted to be. His therapists name was Anna and with her red flowing hair and quick retorts, he often couldn’t look at her without seeing Charlie. Charlie smiling and telling jokes, then Charlie in pieces strewn around him, which usually sent him into a panic attack. He would fall over, sweating, weeping, his heart rate pounding in his ears like an explosive blast echoing through the desert.

“Whenever you’re ready, Dean. I cleared my schedule.”

“Why would you do that?” He gritted his teeth, still avoiding Anna’s face. He could see her scrubs and white tennis shoes, tapping impatiently.

“Because I know you like to stall and run into my next appointment. Now you can’t do that. You’re my last one of the day.”

“But don’t you want to go home eventually?” He groaned, his arms already shaking from having to hold himself up. He was so fucking weak, and the reminder had his eyes stinging.

“Go home to who?” He watched her knees lower as she squatted down so her face could meet his. “I’m here to help you. Being in the hospital is miserable. You’re punishing yourself. I can see that. It won’t get better until you let yourself heal. It’s one step at a time, you just have to start.”

“God you’re really preaching, ain’t ya?” He wanted to spit at her. He wanted to hug her. “As if you know what it’s like.”

“It’s my job to know.”

“Well you better start working a little harder on that, Sweetheart.” He said it like an insult, like venom.

“You want to be mad at me? That’s fine.” Anna stood up, crossing her arms. “Be mad. Be pissed. Just come over here and say it to my face.”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t walk over there. He just wanted to be left alone to atrophy in the dark. He didn’t talk about the dark thoughts that danced behind his eyes, the insomnia that kept him up at night. He didn’t talk about the nightmares that followed him even when he was awake.

“Don’t be a coward, Winchester. You’re better than that.”

“You don’t know me,” he snapped, his eyes finally up level with hers. “You don’t know that I’m better.”

“I know what the people who visit you say when you turn them away. Your brother? The pretty blonde? Your old platoon? They all tell a lot of stories about the kind of man that you are.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” Anna challenged, her eyes narrowed in on him. “Show me the truth, Dean.”

She was touching a live wire, poking a nerve. He hadn’t slept past a nap in over a week. They were weaning him off of the pain medicine to keep him from being addicted. He was awake. He was in pain, and he was fucking pissed off.

“God, shut up will you? I can’t stand it. I can’t fucking stand it!”

“Bradbury! Bradbury, shit, fuck. I can’t see! Call out to me! Charlie!”

His chest hurt and he wanted to hit something. He wanted to punch and scream, break his fingers, and seep into the ground where no one could find him again. His whole life he stayed alive for Sam, but in that moment he felt so fundamentally broken that he didn’t see the point. There was no meaning him. Sometimes something was so unrepairable that it’s better, more humane, to just leave it that way. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Then you don’t want to read this?” Anna pulled out a piece of paper, folded in half twice.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked, a bead of sweat rolling from between his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose and into his mouth.

“The blonde left it the last time she tried to check in.”

Dean frowned and let out a ragged breath. His fingers curling around the bars tightly. He tried to catch his breath, to not collapse right there. “No, I don’t want to see that.” She was the last person he wanted to hear from. He didn’t want to see her, hear from her. He didn’t want her pity.

“You don’t want to hear this?” Anna challenged, unfolding the page. “Dear Dean, leaving you laying in that hospital bed may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Stop it,” he grunted, his head turning up just to catch a flash of her red hair. His eyes brimmed with tears.

“I know that you are hurting. You’re hurting in a way that I can’t possibly understand, but I just need you to know.”

“I said fucking stop!”

Anna went straight to Dean to be there if he fell. He didn’t even notice, he was too focused on the letter, on the words, her words, that he didn’t feel himself take a step. “You’re doing great, come on Dean, lets make it to the end of the bars. You got this.” He stumbled forward, his leg giving out. Anna caught him, her hands in his. He could feel Emerson’s letter crush between their clasped hands.

A tear rolled down his cheek as white hot pain rushed through him, but it wasn’t the pain from his knee, it was something else altogether.

-30 Days After-

Dean and Emerson exited the tent in a sprint. His hand was on her back guiding her. It took everything in him to focus forward and not cry out from the rain pelting onto his skin, sizzling in his hair, melting through his flannel. He put an arm up to cover his eyes, because the last thing he needed was to be blindduring the damn apocalypse.

His hands curled into the blankets covering her back and he hoped to hell that the layers were enough to protect her, as the speckles of deep red rain left droplet sized burns on his fist. His foot landed in a hole, his knee twisting. Pain rushed up his leg right into his gut, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Not while she was on the line. Not after all the pain she already had to shoulder alone.

“Dean?”

He heard Emerson like she was caught on a breeze, stifled by the storm. She was under his fingers, but his head and skin were buzzing. Like always, he felt like he was too far away. He was always too far away.

The world was red. It was the color of the rose he handed Emerson at homecoming.  “Fine, but this isn’t a date. We are going for our siblings.” The color of her dress as she danced with him, their hands brushing. “Why aren’t you always like this?” It was the color of his moms apron as she puttered around the kitchen, trying to make use of herself by pretending she cooked the Kentucky Fried Chicken herself. “I’m not good at this, but you always have something to eat. Don’t you?” It was the color of Charlie’s hair. The wisps that caught in the breeze that escaped her cap. “Sargent Winchester, you can’t lie to me. I’ve seen that look before.” It was the color of blood. Blood pooling under her missing limbs. Blood dripping out of his mouth after his fathers fist connected with his teeth. “You’re no son of mine.” Blood on Emersons bedroll After Gordon attacked her.

Everything was red, and Deans run was slowing. The tent felt so far away, and his head was spinning. Just as he was losing his footing, he felt an arm slide under him. Emerson had flung her blankets over his shoulders as she supported him on his. Her arm was out of the blankets now, as she met his eyes under the blanket. Red liquid rolled down his cheek. She reached up and wiped it without a wince. “There’s room for both of us. We aren’t doing this Titanic, shit, Dean. We will end better than them.”

And they went forward with gritted teeth and squinting eyes. They fell into the Winchester’s tent, having used up all their energy running and fighting the pain that radiated through their skin. Emerson threw off the blanket immediately and rolled Dean over to his back. She pulled his head into her lap. He was barely conscious, but he could see Sam, Pheli, and Emerson’s face in the red haze. “Sweetheart, I think I’ve got a thing for ya.”

Emerson blinked a tear out of her eye and pressed her lip together. “You do, Dean. It’s a big thing.”

“We are running out of time,” Sam said anxiously. “It’s not safe.”

“He’s hurt,” Em said, her voice far away. “I don’t know if we can move him.”

“We don’t have a choice. Get ready.”

-17 Years Before-

“Get ready!” Mr. Maklen said as he pushed a six year old Emerson on her bike. Dean was sitting on his porch and eating a popsicle just watching her.

She petaled hard, her blonde pigtails poking out of her lopsided helmet. She was all elbows and knees, leaning forward with her tongue between her teeth as she focused.

The Maklen sisters were annoying at best. They were in first grade with Sammy and he always got flustered when they were around. “They’re just girls, who cares?” Dean never understood. Girls were the same as boys, except they cried more and never wanted to get dirty.

There was something different, though, about Emerson with her scuffed knees and serious expression. She had no training wheels and Mr. Maklen released her, even though she’d been repeating don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t let go like it was her mantra, like a battle cry. All Dean could think was, she trusted him. Fathers weren’t supposed to break their children’s trust, he knew. But they still did. He knew that, too.

She pedaled down the road, zipping along the gravel. She wasn’t wobbling, or afraid. She looked good, brave even. Dean grinned at her, moments away from cheering her on, when the front wheel of her bike hit a patch of sand, sending her skittering to the ground. The bike slid out from underneath her, the right side of her body scraping against the asphalt.

Before Dean knew what he was doing he was running to her, his popsicle left behind in the yard. “Em, are you okay?” He fell to his knees next to her, staring at her with wide eyes.

Her face was in the sand, one of her pigtails hung limply where the pink scrunchie was falling out of her hair. She propped herself up on her elbows and spit out some blood before turning to him with a wide, newly toothless grin. “What do you want?”

He looked at Emerson, completely enamored, his mouth hanging open. “I saw you fall.”

“Yeah, so?” She asked, wiping her bloody saliva with the back of her hand. Her brown eyes glistened in the sunlight, with small flecks of gold.

The corners of Dean’s mouth tugged, pulling his lips into a wide grin. She got up and wiped the rocks off her knees and hopped on her bike, leaving her small front tooth behind in the dirt. Emerson Maklen was officially the coolest person that Dean had ever met, you know, for a six year old.

-30 Days After-

Emerson let Dean rest in her lap, his eyes had flickered closed, and her fingers were resting on his pulse point. His heartbeat was a little quick, but he seemed stable. “It’s okay, Dean. I’ve got you.” I can be strong enough for the both of us, she thought. It was the least she could do, since he was always doing It for her. Her own skin ached and tingled, but her time in the rain was a fraction from his.

Sam pulled out their protective gear, gloves, jackets, and gas masks. Pheli slid into her long pants and stuffed them into her boots. “Em, you need to get ready.”

Emerson’s eyes didn’t leave Deans resting face. “What if...”

“No, we aren’t doing that,” Pheli said, putting her hand on her sisters shoulder. “No fucking way, okay?”

Em pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay, you’re right.” She reaches down and placed a kiss in his hair, before whispering against his ear. “Dean Winchester, I swear to whatever god is listening that if you leave me when we are just getting started, I will never forgive you.”

His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled just a little bit. “Think you’ve got a thing for me too, Maklen.”

“Shut up.”

She smiled and she kissed him. It was soft, because he was hurt, and because she was afraid. She spent her whole life being strong. She was strong enough for her and Pheli, for her mom, strong enough to handle her father leaving, and strong enough to watch Dean walk away from her over and over again. No matter how strong she was, Emerson was never strong enough to say yes. To say yes to him, to what she wanted. It was always someone else. The last time she felt close, that forever felt like an option, he was laying in a hospital bed and a few days later she wasn’t allowed to see him again. To say that her heart hurt was a vast understatement. So she kissed him softly, because a brush was all she could handle. Any more pressure and she may burst.

Pheli’s eyes were on them, locked and examining. “Okay, lets get you sitting up, lover boy.”

Dean smirked, though the smile didn’t meet his eyes. The girls helped him sit up, and Sam helped get him into the gear. Emerson and Pheli moved to the back of the tent to finish getting ready and to give the brothers a little space. “So, it’s a thing?” Phel whispered, eyeing Dean.

“What?”

“Don’t what me!”

Emerson smiled and gave her sister a quick nod.

“Yes!” Pheli squealed a little too loudly, throwing her arms around her sister. The girls hugged, despite the itching on Emerson’s burns, she laughed.

She was still laughing when a bright red flash of light shot across the sky, lighting up even the inside of the tent like a flare gun. “What the fuck was that?” Emerson asked, turning her face up.

“No idea,” Sam commented, quietly, his hands still on Dean’s hood, adjusting it.

“We need to go,” Dean agreed as a blaring alarm started ringing through the camp. “Help me up, Sammy.”

Sam gripped his brothers arm, yanking him up, causing Dean to grunt.

“Where are we going?” Emerson asked, gripping her gas mask in her hands.

“We are getting a Jeep and getting the fuck out of here. Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ve got ya. I’ll take point, Sam you follow up the end?”

“You got it.”

Dean slid his gas mask on, and the rest of the group followed. The bleep bleep bleep of the alarm still rang in their ears, only slightly muted from the mask over their ears. He held out a hand to Emerson, and she took it eagerly. His gloved hand felt heavy in hers. Dean gave her a nod, and she met his nod with her own.

The rain had lessened outside. It was more of a gentle drizzle, a hiss like a snake hiding in the grass. Emerson gripped Dean’s hand tighter. Apart from the alarm cutting through the air, things seemed quiet. Eerie. Empty.

The main gate was down, electricity pulsing through the air. The trees around the gate were on fire, the medical buildings, and coffee cart were all engulfed. Golden flecks of heat licked up toward the dark sky, deep black bellows of smoke curled and mingled with the clouds. There was a weight in the air. Something palpable. It felt sort of like a post disaster film reel, flickering on aged film without sound.

At least it did, until it didn’t.

The group saw Castiel before they heard him. He was running toward them, gas mask on, waving his arms wildly. Emerson squinted at him. It was hard to see through the smoke, and haze of red drizzle, but from where she stood it looked like he was running from something.

—————

Chapter Twenty-Two

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The Hand That Reaches for God -Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

“And in the end, we were all just humans… drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

-20 Months Before-

After one glass of Jack Daniels, neat, Dean Winchester felt the familiar warmth. He felt the fog rolling off the water first thing in the morning. It was a comfort, an old friend.

After two glasses of Jack Daniels, neat, he felt tingling in his arms down to his fingers. It was the way his body felt during a concert when he stood too close to the speaker. He could feel the base booming through his veins.

After three glasses of Jack Daniels, neat, he almost forgot about the jagged scar down his knee and Tiny Tim’s walking stick that leaned against the bar. Almost.

“I should cut you off.” The pretty brunette bartender said after serving him the fourth glass of Jack Daniels, neat.

“But you never do.” He slurred just enough, and shot her the best smile he could do when he was feeling so down. It wasn’t impressive, but he was handsome and weathered, and that was exactly her type.

“I’m Lisa.” She said, leaning in.

“I know.” He pointed at her name tag above her left breast. “I can read.”

“It would be appropriate to tell me your name.”

“You don’t want to know me, Lis.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Why not? Because you’ve had a bad time of it? We get a lot of Vets in here. I know the drill.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You get a lot of Veterans, but yet you still don’t know to leave us the fuck alone? You’d should move along, sweetheart, you don’t know shit about war.”

“I had two older brothers die while in service. I know a little about it.” She said, flatly as she wiped down the bar top.

“Shit.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. He was an asshole. He was a crippled asshole.

“You all think that you own your pain, I’m just telling you that there are people who get it. There are people who could help you.”

“What? People like you?”

Lisa laughed and shook her head. “Me? Fuck no. You’re attractive, but you’re an ass.” She said, handing him his tab. “I’ll take that whenever you’re ready.”

After his accident everyone walked on eggshells with him. They did worse than that most of the time. Most of the time they avoided him all together. It was nice to be called out, because she was right. He was an ass, and he was wallowing. He pulled out some cash from his wallet and laid it down, deciding right then and there that he would be good enough for her one day. He had to be, because the alternative meant that he would be his father, and he would be damned if he ended up anything like John Winchester.

-19 Months Before-

“Lisa, the guy is here again.” One of the wait staff from the bar said.

She rolled her eyes and ate the last bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He was like clockwork, every day. “Dean.” She said when she reached the bar.

“Shit, am I late?”

“Late for what?”

“Your break. You usually take it at this time and well…” He held up a paper bag. “I brought you dinner.”

She eyed him. “What’d you bring?”

“Bacon cheeseburger. It’s my favorite.” He shrugged, handing her the paper bag. “You can have it, anyway.” He stood up from the stool.

“Where are you going?” Lisa asked, eyeing him, the bag in her hand.

His green eyes met her brown ones. “I was just here to drop that off.”

“You’re not going to stay?”

Dean shook his head. “I’m not ready, Lis. I’m only going to ask you out when I’m good enough for you.” He leaned on his cane to take the pressure off of his bad knee. “So for now… take the burger as a peace offering.”

He walked to the door and opened it. “Dean?” She called after him.

“Yeah?” He turned toward her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded and pushed into the night.

-18 Months Before-

Dean brought Lisa dinner every night that she worked. He brought her doughnuts and coffee when she worked the day shift at the bar, and quickly learned her food preferences. The more he went to see her, the less he felt the self-loathing that plagued him.

He brought in her turkey bacon club with extra guacamole and spicy french-fries from the local place on the corner. He pushed into the bar. “Hey, Lance, where’s Lis?”

“She told me to have you meet her out back.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. He expected at some point that she would be sick of him, and he sighed, gripping the bag. He pushed too hard. He walked through the back door to find Lisa sitting alone at a single table with two plates, and a glass of water in front of her and the other empty seat. “Lis?”

“Hey, Dean.” She stood up with a smile. “Are you ready yet?”

“What?”

“You said you had to wait until you were ready to ask me out and well… I decided that I’m ready. I got you a bacon cheeseburger, and I was wondering if you’d want to have dinner with me… for real this time.”

Dean smiled a bit and nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

-16 Months Before-

“Dean, babe, wake up.” Lisa said quietly. He sat up, sweat covering his chest, back, and face. Lisa’s hand was over his heart. “Your pulse is racing.”

“Sorry.” He exhaled, trying to catch his breath and slow his heart. He clamped his eyes shut. You’re okay. You’re okay.

“You don’t have to be sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No... I…”

“It’s okay.” She assured him, wrapping her arms around his middle. She placed a kiss on his jaw. “I’m here to talk when you’re ready.”

But he would never be ready. He still saw the look on Charlie’s face. How wide her eyes got. How she was laughing right before.

“You’re seriously telling me you have no one at home? Even I left some ass behind.”

“You’re vulgar.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“And you’re a prude, Winchester.”

Dean shrugged with a laugh. “I’m not, actually. I just don’t have anyone at home.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “Maybe it isn’t a girl… oh my god, Dean are you gay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Christ, no. I am not gay.”

“It’s okay if you are, you know. I am.”

“I’m aware.” He grinned.

“I’m just surprised, I guess. You look like a fucking supermodel. Your face is perfectly symmetrical. It’s kind of creepy. You really don’t have any girls coming after you?”

“Hey, my face is not creepy.”

She laughed. “Deflection. Nice, but yeah it is kind of creepy.” She poked his cheek. “You don’t even look real.”

Dean always expected that being buried alive would be the thing that would haunt him forever, but life was funny like that. Life was real fucking hilarious, and he was the butt of the joke. It wasn’t the child size coffin, or dirt in his lungs that haunted him. It was something else altogether.

The smell of burning flesh. The sight of Charlie’s arm off her fucking body. His knee completely twisted so his foot was facing the wrong direction. The sight of her empty expression looking up at him from his lap.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad, you’ll be okay.” He pressed his hands to the space where her arm used to be. They always teased her about being pale, but fuck she was so pale. “I’ve got you.” He kept whispering. They were alone. There wasn’t a medic. There was no one. Just Dean Winchester holding Charlie Bradbury as she died in his arms, bloody and alone.

“I’m here, Dean. I’ll always be here.” Lisa promised, hugging him tightly. Dean wished that people wouldn’t make promises, because there was no way they could be kept. Charlie died, Lisa left, and he was broken. He probably always would be.

-18 Days After-

“Lisa.”

“Oh my god.” She murmured, her eyes immediately spilling over. “I thought… This whole time I’ve been so terrified. I thought you were dead.”

“Not dead.” He said blankly. It was like he was shot back into time, back into her bed, into her arms.

“I’m so glad.” She exhaled quickly, running around the coffee cart. She wrapped her arms around his neck before he could stop her. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

He instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back. As bad as things ended between them, he was glad that she was okay, too. “Where’s uh…”

“Greg is gone.” She said quickly.

“Gone?”

“He left after Ben was born.”

“Ben.” Dean said slowly, trying out the name on his lips. He felt sick to his stomach.

“That’s my son. He’s beautiful.”

Everything crashed and burned. My son. Dean let go of the hug. “I’m glad you’re okay, Lis.” He said before turning on his heels and walking right back to Sam, leaving her standing alone next to the coffee cart.

“Where’s the coffee?” Sam asked. He was sitting with his back against a tree with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“The what?”

“You good?” Sam asked, eyeing him.

“Lisa is here.”

“Wait, like your Lisa?”

Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah, she was running the fucking coffee.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “What are the fucking chances?”

“Did she say anything to you?”  

“She hugged me.”

“And?”

“And her boyfriend dumped her after she had the baby. Ben.” Dean said quietly. “Fuck, I never thought I’d see her again.”

“But you don’t want to be with her, right? You’re with Emerson.”

“Right.” Dean said with a nod. “I want to be with Em. Shit, this just surprised me.”

“I’ll say. Relax, dude, just tell her you’re not available, and don’t drink her cool aid. It’ll be okay.”  

“Right.” Dean said again, his heart rate finally slowing back down. “Just brought back some shitty memories.”

“Maybe you should sit down?”

“Yeah.” He lowered himself to a seated position. “Have you seen Em?”

“She’s still with Phel getting settled. I hope they’re getting some rest.” Sam said, elbowing his brother. “We should get some rest, too. This is the safest we’ve been in day’s. We should take advantage of it while it lasts.” Then Sam closed his eyes and crossed his arms.

Dean was exhausted, but sleep was reserved for the guys that weren’t juggling an ex-fiancée and a childhood love in the same fucking camp.

****

“My hair looks fine.” Emerson swatted her sister’s hand away. “Quit Trying to braid it.”

“Please! You haven’t washed it in days.”

“Neither have you!”

“Yeah, but you can’t tell because of the braids! Just let me do the front. Dean will love it.”

“You don’t know what he’d love.” Emerson complained.

“You’re right.” Pheli put her hands on her sisters knees. “What does he love?”

“It’s all so new, Phel. Am I crazy to try to start this during all of this? During the fucking end of the world?”

“If not now, then when?

“The next life?” Em offered weakly.

“Come on, what do you have to lose?”

“Everything. I could lose everything.”

“You’ll only lose everything if you let him see your nasty hair.” Ophelia teased. “Now let me braid the front!”

“You are terrible at pep talks.”

“Or am I really good at them?”

“Whatever just braid it before I change my mind.”

****

Benny sat by the fire as it licked up toward the moon. His acoustic guitar sat on his knee. “Say you’re leavin on a seven thirty train and you’re headin out to Hollywood. Girl, you been givin me that line so many times it kinda gets like feelin bad looks good.”

Dean laughed and Benny nodded at him.

“That kinda lovin turns a man to a slave. That kinda lovin sends a man right to his grave.” Garth joined in, singing off key, just like old times.

“I go crazy, crazy, baby I go crazy. You turn it on, then you’re gone. Yeah you drive me crazy, crazy, crazy for you baby. What can I do, honey? I feel like the color blue.” Benny and Garth sang together. They sounded like a pair of coyotes howling at the moon, but it reminded Dean of when things were good.

“Is this what is was like?” Sam asked him, leaning against the tree.

“Was what like?”

“Your deployment.”

“Kind of.” Dean said with a smile. “Sometimes.”

Castiel joined in, strumming on his knee completely off beat. He waved Dean over, and Dean finally rolled his eyes and walked right up to the group. “You’re packin’ up your stuff and talkin like it’s tough, and tryin to tell me that it’s time to go. But I know you ain’t wearin nothin underneath that coat.” Dean sang with his gravely voice, his boot on the stump next to Benny.

“Crazy, crazy, baby I go crazy...”

Dean’s eyes locked with Emerson across the camp as she exited Castiel’s tent. Pheli had braided her hair out of her face, but the rest spilled down her back. Her flannel was tied around her waist, and his breath hitched in his throat when she reached up to stretch and the space between her shorts and her tank top met the firelight.

“I need your love, honey, yeah. I need your love.” The men harmonized, without Dean. His mouth was completely dry. She did that to him, caused his head to spin, like nothing else in the world mattered at all.

Garth handed Dean a beer. “They’re far and few between.” He winked. “But we’re celebrating, right?”

“Right.” Dean exhaled, his eyes still on Emerson as she walked toward the fire.

“Dean!” Lisa said, as she jogged over to him. She had an infant in her arms.

He swallowed hard at the sight. Holy shit. “Lis.” He breathed, her name barely a whisper.

“I wanted you to meet Ben.” Her eyes flickered up to Sam’s. “Oh, hi Sam.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Lisa.”

“It’s nice to see you, Sam.”

“Likewise.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Look at him.” Dean said, distracted by the child’s chubby cheeks. He had Lisa’s dark hair and her lips. His tiny thumb was in his mouth as he sucked away. He didn’t notice Lisa snake an arm around his waist to bring Ben closer. “Wow.”

“He’s incredible.” She agreed.

Little Ben gave a sleepy sigh and a few baby babbles, causing Dean’s heart to squeeze. He never let himself admit how much he wanted that. Not until he almost had it. He loved Lisa, and he loved her pregnant. When he left he knew it would be better. He wasn’t made to be a father, but that didn’t mean he didn’t secretly wish for it in the deepest parts of his soul. “Hi, Ben. I’m...”

“Dean.”

His eyes flickered up. “Em, hey.”

The Maklen twins stared at him. When they were young he used to think they were creepy. There was always something creepy about twin girls, especially when they stared at him. He stopped thinking that, the older he got, but in that moment Ophelia had a murder look in her eyes and Emerson’s jaw looked tight. “Uh, Em this is Lisa...”

“Lisa.” Emerson repeated.

“Yeah, uh Lis this is Em my...”

“Friend.” Emerson said, smoothly. “Our sibling’s are dating.” She added quickly. “This is Ophelia.” She tapped her sisters arm.

“Nice to meet you.” Pheli said with equal parts aggression and sugar. She was good at that.

“I was just helping her over to Sam since she hurt her ankle. I’ll see you guys later.” Emerson said before turning away.

Dean stared at her and didn’t stop her as she walked away and sat on a log right next to another guy who was sharping a blade. He pressed his lips together and just watched.

“Dean you fucking idiot.” Phel hissed. “Go after her.”

He watched her lean in to him, asking questions about the knife, he assumed. Friend. Our siblings are dating.

“I think I need to lay down.” He said, offering Lisa a weak smile. “See ya later, Lis. He’s a cute kid, really.”

“Thanks.” She said, looking confused as he made his way back to the tree that he and Sam were using for camp.

He looked at the full beer in his hand that Garth gave him. He stared down the neck of the bottle before pressing it to his lips, and welcoming the warmth. It wasn’t Jack, but he’d be happy if it helped him sleep. Anything to quiet the noise in his head, and blank out the image of some other guy’s baby in Lisa’s arm, that guy’s hand on Emerson’s thigh, and the life draining from Charlie’s eyes.

—————

Chapter Fourteen

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The Hand That Reaches for God -Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

“We will survive, you and I.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

-15 Days After-

Dean Winchester was no stranger to violence. To blood. To the chase. His dog tags slapped against his chest as he ran, his eyes always glancing back to make sure Emerson was catching up. He reached out a hand for her, lacing their fingers, he wouldn’t leave her behind.

The rain pelted their hair, the ground. Their feet splashed in the puddles that covered the cobblestone pathway. They hadn’t thought it through, their weapons and supplies were in the diner, far behind them. Dean scanned their surroundings for anywhere to take cover. They came up on the Ferris wheel and he made a split second decision. “Come on!” He shouted, and he began to climb, his hands slick on the metal.

“Dean I don’t know if I can climb that!” Emerson shouted up at him over the downpour.

“Yes you can!” He shouted back, his feet landing on a solid, horizontal piece. He reached a hand down to her, his other hand wrapped around a bar to keep him steady. “‘Mere I got you.”

Sam was doing the same, hoisting himself up high, and reaching out for Pheli’s hand. The creatures groaned behind them.

Emerson met his eyes, squinting in the rain, and she knew that she could trust him. She had no other choice but to trust him. “Alright, okay.”

“Good girl.” He said as their hands clasped together. He lifted her up with one arm, groaning in response. He pulled her against his chest, their lips an inch apart, but it wasn’t the time to be thinking about kissing. “Alright, put your hands in those grips and start to climb, I’ll be right under you.”

“Dean…”

“I won’t let you fall, but we need to get higher. Come on, they’re gaining.”

Emerson nodded, and reached up to put her hand in the dip of the metal. Dean’s hands were around her waist as he hoisted her upwards. They didn’t have time to argue. The groans were getting louder, and she wanted to look back, but she didn’t. She had to believe that they’d be okay.

“See that top seat? That’s what we are going for.”

“Okay, yeah. I can do that.” She said through gritted teeth. Fuck it’s so slick. She curled her fingers around the metal and let Dean push her upwards. Her feet landed on a bar, and she made sure she was solid before turning and offering a hand to him.

“Not gonna pull you down.” He grunted before jumping like a fucking mad man, and grabbing the bar. He pulled himself up easily, swinging his legs next to hers. It never occurred to her, before that moment, how strong he really was. She couldn’t see the bulge of his muscle under his canvas jacket, but she knew it must be there. He was a solider, and he probably worked out every day. She swallowed hard. There was so much she still didn’t know, and in the wake of everything, all she could think was that she didn’t want to die before she got to find out.

“Sammy?!” Dean called.

“We’re good.” Sam said, they were about sixteen feet up and still climbing on the opposite side of the wheel. “You?”

“Still good.” Dean shouted with a nod. He turned and caught a glimpse of the hoard coming their way. Groaning bodies, pushing past them at a fast walking pace. They were squeezing into the gate. He quickly assessed the situation. There were twenty-two of them. People, or something that used to be people, covered in melting flesh and pus covered wounds. He watched a man run his arm across a woman, her flesh peeling away like butter. He wanted to throw up, but he swallowed down the bile that came up his throat. It wasn’t the time. One foot in front of the other. He just hoped to hell that they couldn’t climb. “Let’s keep going, Em.”

“Dean I…”

“Hey.” He said, grabbing her face in his hands. She looked fucking terrified. Her brown eyes were wide, her pupils almost taking over the entirety of her iris. Her lips were trembling, and turning blue from the rain. “I’ve got you. You don’t need to be afraid, because I am not letting anything happen to you. No fucking way. I don’t break promises, Em. You know that, don’t you? I’m not losing you today. We have too much catching up to do.”

She sucked in her breath and grabbed the back of his neck to pull his face down to hers and she kissed him, urgently and quick. “Okay. Let’s go.”

He moved his hands to her waist and spun her around. “Grab there.” He instructed, and she followed. One arm up and he lifted her to her next position, then swing up to meet her. They were half way up to the top, and the creatures below were gripping, and climbing over each other, but not making any other progress. Dean made a mental note that they couldn’t problem solve. “Okay, Em, I’m going to push you up, and I need you try to get into the cart, okay?”

She glanced back at him and nodded. “Okay.”

He picked her up, hoisting her upward toward the cart, one hand on her waist and the other under her ass to push her up high enough for her to grab. Emerson’s hands grabbed for the seat, but it was soaked from the rain. She wasn’t able to get a grip, so she slid. Her hands left the seat just as quickly as they were placed there, sending her free falling off the side of the Ferris wheel.

-5 Years Before-

“So you’re willing to go on the fucking Ferris wheel, but not rollercoasters?”

“It goes in a slow circle, Dean. Yes I’m willing to go on the Ferris wheel.” Emerson narrowed her eyes at him. “Does that mean you won’t go with me?”

“Hey.” He put his hands up in defense. “I never said that.”

“Just checking.” She shot him a wide grin. “Let’s go then.”

They settled into the seat, the lap bar locking across them. Their thighs brushed from the close proximity. They’d been at the park all day, and the sun had finally dipped below the horizon. The stars were coming out like speckled glitter. “Full moon.” Emerson commented.

“Yeah.”

“It’s beautiful. It feels a little hopeful.” She squeezed the bar. She was so fascinated with the sky that she didn’t catch him looking at her.

“Yeah, it is.”

The wheel started to turn, just a bit, to allow the next couple on. Emerson instinctively grabbed Dean’s hand. “Sorry.” She said with a quick exhale as she released his hand. “Still a little jumpy from the roller coaster.”

“It’s okay.”

“You seem quiet.”

“Nah. Just enjoying the view.” He said, his tongue shooting out to wet his bottom lip.

“It’s a good one, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

The wheel turned, but this time she kept her hands to herself as they went toward the sky. The higher they went, the more they could see. All of Happy Fun Land. The ocean in the distance, dark and tempting. It felt like they were the only two people in the world. “Do you know your deployment date yet?”

“Nah. I go to MEPS in about a month to get checked out and then they’ll let me know. By the end of the Summer at the soonest. Then I have Basic…then I don’t know. I may just stay on a base. There’s really no telling until after Basic.”

“Are you scared?”

Dean smiled a bit and turned to her. “What do I have to be afraid of, Em?”

“Saying goodbye?”

“We all say goodbye at some point. It’s just a part of life.”

“How insightful.”

“You’re young.” Dean said, quietly. “You’ll see.”

“You’re not that much older than me, Dean. You know that, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t sayin…”

“You were, and it was condescending.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.”

“If I’m such a child then why do you always want to hang out with me?”

“You aren’t a child.”

“Just immature? That’s a lot, coming from you.”

“Christ, why are we fighting right now?”

Emerson crossed her arms and looked back out to the park. She watched the rides light up, the rollercoasters spin in the darkness. “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I know we aren’t friends, Dean.”

“We aren’t?” He chuckled. “Then what are we, Maklen?”

She turned toward him. “Two people. If it weren’t for Sam and Phel we wouldn’t hang out. You know that.”

“You don’t think we would?”

She pushed her hair behind her ear, and looked up at him.  She could see the reflection of the moon in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have looked at me twice.”

“You’re pretty blind, aren’t ya?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve always been lookin at ya, Em. I’d be an idiot not to.”

-15 Days After-

Dean reached for her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his own foot slipping, causing his head to hit the bar behind him as he pulled her against him. Her scream was muffled by Dean pressing her face into his chest. “Hey, I’m sorry, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Em.” He mumbled, his lips and hands in her hair.

“Em!” Pheli shouted.

He could feel Emerson against his chest, calming down, before she pulled back to yell at Pheli. “I’m okay, Phel!” Sam had his arm wrapped around her; they were already secured in their seats.

“Hey.” Dean whispered, looking down at her.

They’d been up on the wheel for only a matter of minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

“Dean.” She whispered.

“I know.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You hold on here, I’m going to go up to the seat and pull you up. Okay?”

“Is your head okay?” She moved her hand to the back of his head where it hit the bar. Her fingers came back tinted red with his blood.

“Don’t worry about me. Just hold on here, okay?”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around the bar, feeling the absence of him immediately. He reached up and grabbed the lap bar, the seat groaning and swinging in response. He pulled himself up and over, sliding his legs in place. He reached out a hand for her, swinging the seat down.

“Come on, Sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

She closed her eyes for a second. All the times that he swung over to her roof came to her mind. “You look lonely, Em.” How did he know? He always said the exact wrong thing. He always said the exact right thing. His hand extended to hers, wet from the rain. His fingers reached as far as they could, his face serious. He was Dean Winchester. He was the bad boy. The guy that left. He was the thought on her mind as she laid alone in her dorm room, staring out the window at the moon as it grew in the sky. She opened her eyes and he was there, like he had been until the night he left. She settled her feet and pushed off, reaching her hands out for his. Her fingers curled around his forearm. He held onto her with his free hand and pulled her up and over the bar. She settled in next to him, but she didn’t let go. “What now?” She asked, her voice small.

“Still got your gun?” He asked, pulling his off the holster on his thigh.

“Yeah.”

“Seen The Walking Dead?”

“I have.”

“Let’s try for a headshot.” He grinned, taking off the safety. “Sammy?”

“Yeah?”

“Got your gun?”

“I do.” Sam shouted back.

“You were always good at Call of Duty. Put those skills to use.”

Bang. One down. Right between it’s eyes. Dean was a killer shot, but that was no real surprise.

Emerson held her own gun in her hand. 

“Watch out for the recoil.” He said gently. “It’s a bitch.”

She nodded and closed one eye. Bang. Her shoulder shot back, hitting the back of the seat. “Shit.” She mumbled. No dice. She missed.

Sam took out two. Pheli’s eyes were buried in her hands. She hated guns and violence, and if Emerson could guess, that would be the last time they went to Happy Fun Land.

“I got it.” Dean said with a smile, as he patted her thigh. “Don’t worry.” He focused then, his jaw tight and his eyes unwavering. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Emerson watched the creatures fall over each other, pushing the fallen out of the way. Their mouths opened, showing black and rotting teeth. Their eyes were hollowed and dark under red blistering skin. One grabbed another, trying to climb over, its mouth biting at nothing. They were starving.

It wasn’t long before they were all picked off, but Sam and Dean used all the rounds in their guns. Sam missed a few, and there were a hand full that didn’t go down with one shot. It wasn’t until the final one fell that Emerson let herself lose it. The tears stung her eyes and she felt a burning in the back of her throat. “Em?” Dean asked, alarmed.

He wrapped his arms around her before she could collapse. “Shh, I got you.”

“What the fuck, Dean? What the actual fuck?” She was sobbing, snot and all. “Everything is falling apart.”

“I know.” He whispered into her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“We could’ve died.”

“We didn’t.”

“How are we going to survive this? A bomb went off... a fucking... bomb.” She was starting to hyperventilate, her heart rate was through the roof.

“Listen to me, Emerson. You need to breathe. Look at me.”

She followed his instruction, meeting his green eyes, that looked more grey against the rainy sky. A drop fell off his nose, his eyelashes littered with pockets of water. “Breathe in.” She did. “Breathe out.” She did.

They breathed like that for what seemed like an eternity, their eyes locked. She breathed in when he did and out when he did. After a dozen breaths she was feeling a little better, a little more centered. She didn’t have a lot of breakdowns. She kept herself tightly coiled, but eventually everything comes undone. It always does.

“We kissed.” She said with her last exhale.

“We did.”

“Twice.”

“Want to take it back?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.” He smiled a bit in the rain. “Just took the fucking end of the world.”

“It can’t be the end of the world.” She gasped, feeling her heart start to race again. Her jaw trembled.

“Are you cold?”

“I... I don’t know.”

“Here.” He shrugged out of his wet canvas jacket, and draped it over her shoulders.

“You’re going to freeze.” She commented, eyeing his t-shirt.

“I’ve been colder.” He promised, wrapping an arm around her. “I’d like to kiss you again. Maybe when we aren’t running for our lives.”

“You may be waiting a while.”

“Emerson Maklen.” He laughed and shook his head. “What have I done, after all this time, that would make you think I wouldn’t wait for you?”

She looked up at him and cupped his cheek in her hand. “You know, I was thinking the same thing.”

Later that night

They found a place to camp. A nurses office that seemed more like a waiting area for people who got injured or sick on the rides. There were a couple of single beds that had a blanket and a pillow. They’d all changed into dry clothes and were settling in.

“Sam and I are going to do a perimeter check.” He said, sliding his clip on his gun into place. “You girls get some rest.”

“You won’t be gone long?” Pheli asked, mid braid, looking up at Sam with wide eyes.

“You won’t even have time to miss me.” He leaned down and kissed her. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll be waiting. I don’t think I can sleep without you.”

“Try.” Sam smiled down at her before he nodded to Dean. They walked out the door, letting it click behind them.

Emerson ran her fingers through her own hair, it was finally drying, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it looked like. “You okay?” She asked Pheli.

“I... I don’t know, Em, honestly. Probably not so much.” She forced a smile. “This is crazy. I feel like it’s a bad dream.”

“Me too.”

“And not to be totally... well, me.”

“What are you talking about?” Emerson sat down on the bed opposite to Pheli and pulled her knees to her chest.

“You kissed him.”

She wiped her cheeks as if it would make the growing blush disappear. “I... I did.”

“Finally! How do you feel?”

“This is really what you want to talk about right now?

“Opposed to zombies? Fuck yes.” Ophelia said, tying her braid at the bottom. “You kissed Dean Winchester!”

“Twice.” Emerson exhaled with a smile.

“Oh my god! For the first time, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This is fucking wild. I mean, the apocalypse is terrifying, but this is crazy. I never thought this would happen.”

“You practically shoved us together every chance you got.”

“Yeah, but you’re like an old maid. I never thought you’d give in! Even though you’re perfect for each other.”

“Phel, listen...”

“Don’t do it! Don’t say what you’re going to say.” Pheli begged. She literally begged, with her hands clasped together up on her knees.

“What am I going to say?”

“That it was a one time thing. It wouldn’t happen again. It was a fluke.”

“It wasn’t a fluke.”

“What?”

“I like him. I think I’ve always liked him, and I definitely want to kiss him again.”

Ophelia flew across the room, throwing her arms around Emerson’s neck. “I can’t believe this! You’re falling in love!”

“Don’t be extreme.” Emerson laughed, but maybe she was. Maybe she always had been. Falling in love with Dean Winchester felt taboo, especially given the circumstances, but maybe that was exactly why it was the right time. Maybe they needed death to stare them in the face to get over themselves. Or maybe she was just finally able to admit that she didn’t want to die alone.

-5 Years Before-

“So,” Dean began, awkwardly. Sam had walked Pheli to the door, but Dean and Emerson stayed, leaning against the Impala to give their siblings some space. “Tonight was fun.”

“It was.” Emerson agreed.

“Ah, she finally admits it.” He laughed. “Thought we were gonna have to torture some fun out of you.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Be careful or I’ll take it back.”

“Take it back, but I’ll know the truth.” He bumped against her gently. “You had fun. You had fun with me.”

“Yeah, yeah, throw a goddamn parade.”

“Maybe I will.”

“That I’d like to see.”

“Em?” He glanced at her.

She looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I am scared.” He admitted. “Scared of sayin goodbye. To Sammy, to you... I... Shit. Maybe it makes me look like a girl, but I’m gonna think about today for a long time. Gonna keep it close, because shit’s gonna suck in Basic. I already know that.”

“You’re brave, Dean.” She met his eyes. “But you don’t have to worry about saying goodbye to me. We aren’t going to say goodbye.”

“We aren’t?”

“No.” She smiled a bit. “We will see each other again. You’ll live to annoy me another day.”

“Now there’s something to look forward to.”

“Yeah, keep that in your pocket.” She patted his chest, above his heart. “Keep it close.”

“I will.” He promised, as he pushed a chunk of hair behind her ear. “Goodnight, Emerson.”

“Night, Dean.”

He watched her walk away, across his yard, into hers. He couldn’t imagine the ache that he would feel saying goodbye to her, because fuck, the one he got when she walked away burned. His chest pulled to her. He would keep her with him more than she would know and more than he would ever admit. Emerson was like a beacon. She was the North Star, and as he would learn in Basic Training, he could always use the North Star to find his way home.

—————

Chapter Ten

Get caught up!

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[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God - Chapter 19

Warning: This chapter contains some smut there at the end! 

Chapter Nineteen

“Never forget how strong and brave you are, and how many times you have already saved yourself.” - Mark Anthony

-5 Years Before-

Emerson woke up with a start. The sun was rising over the horizon, and she was in Dean Winchester’s arms. She squinted, taking in her surroundings. They’d fallen asleep by the fire, with his fingers twisting in her hair. She never made it home the night before. She was going to be in so much trouble. “Dean,” she hissed. “Wake up.”

His eyelids fluttered, still looking unbelievably heavy. “Em?”

“Yeah, hi. Get up,” she said, pushing his arms away from her body.

“You sure know how to wake a guy,” Dean grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Dean,” Emerson said again, more insistent this time. She stood up frantically. “I never made it home.” She reached in her pants, pulling out her phone. Why didn’t her mom call? Or Pheli? “Fuck!” She said, as she stared at her waterlogged cell phone. She never took it out of her pocket when they jumped. “I’m so dead.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean said, getting to his feet. “I’ll get you there.”

“You shouldn’t have brought me here at all! I didn’t want to come!”

She wanted to believe him, but her head was spinning. She didn’t stay out all night with guys. She didn’t skip school.

Then she thought, she never did anything wrong. Apart from the occasional trip to the principal for coming off snotty, she was never in trouble. There was no way that her mom would be able to flip out about one time. It was an accident, after all.

They got in the car and she pulled her knees up to her chest.

“Em?”

“What, Dean?” She didn’t mean to snap, she really didn’t. Things just weren’t supposed to be this way.

She felt an ache in her chest that she’d spent years trying to avoid. She didn’t want it. The way he was looking at her wasn’t what she asked for. It just happened. Some things just can’t be fought. Some things are just the way they are. She and Dean spent so much time not saying what they meant. They danced around and avoided. She did everything that she could do, but she loved him anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he said, weakly, turning his eyes back to the road.

She slumped in her seat and watched the world out the window. It was easier to blame him. The back of her throat burned, because she knew that it was the beginning of the end. “I’m runnin’ out of time, okay?” They were out of time. There was no more available. It was over. Maybe it was over long before it ever started.

Dean pulled up in front of their houses, and Emerson threw open the door. She ran to her porch, leaping up the stairs. She didn’t look back to see if he was watching her. She didn’t have to. She knew he was watching. The front door was unlocked, and she pushed in slowly.

“No. It hasn’t been twenty-four hours, but it almost has! Don’t start that shit with me. My daughter is missing!”

“Mom?” Emerson squeaked as she stepped into the living room. Pheli was curled on the couch under a blanket, surrounded by balled up tissues, and Jana held onto the back of the couch to stabilize herself, so she could pace anxiously.

“Christ,” Jana sighed, putting her hand over her face. “She just got home. Yes. Thank you for your time.”

Ophelia jumped up, knocking a lap full of tissues onto the floor. She flung her arms around Emerson’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Oh my god! Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, hugging Pheli back. “I didn’t mean to scare you guys.”

“Well, you did a terrible job!” Their mother snapped, staring daggers at her daughter. “Where were you, Emerson?”

The girls unfolded from their embrace, and Emerson tugged at her hair. “I was...”

“I got a call from the school. You never made it in. You didn’t answer your cell phone.” Emerson hadn’t ever seen her mother so angry. She could’ve sworn that Jana had steam coming out of her ears. “What do you have to say for yourself young lady?”

Emerson’s fingers twitched at her side. Her jaw tightened. She felt cornered. “I was with Dean.”

“Dean Winchester?” Pheli whispered, her mouth hanging open.

“Doing what?”

“We went for a swim,” Emerson said, shifting her weight. “My phone got wet.”

“You had all Summer to swim, Emerson. This isn’t like you.”

“You’re right. It isn’t,” she snapped. “It isn’t like me. I never do this kind of thing, so can’t you just cut me a break?”

“Excuse me?”

“Mom, come on! It was one day...”

“I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, but I frankly don’t appreciate it. Go to your room and get ready for school. When you come home tonight, go straight to your room. You need to reassess your priorities if you ever want to make something of yourself. Go.”

“But he’s leaving to...”

“I don’t care! You’re not going to see him. If you can’t be trusted to act like an adult, then I won’t treat you like one. Room. Now,” Jana shouted, her shaking finger pointing to the stairs.

It was over alright.

-27 Days After-

“Dean, can we talk?” Castiel asked, jogging up next to Dean. He was working on his knee, testing his limits.

“Sure, man. Mind keeping pace?”

“Actually,” he said, slowing down to a stop. “We should probably go somewhere private.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. Lead the way.” They made their way back toward the perimeter. Castiel walked with his hands in his jeans. He looked pensive, with his eyebrows coming together. “Alright, man, you’re killin’ me. What’s up?”

Castiel turned to look at his old friend, and Dean would recognize that look anywhere. It was bad news. He swallowed hard, feeling a lump growing rapidly in his throat. “It’s Ophelia.”

“What is it?”

Cas shook his head with a sigh. “When she came back without Gordon she told a story about how they were overrun. He didn’t make it.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, there was only one shot reported. Her guns were only missing a single bullet. She came back with his pack. Ash didn’t report any Rogue’s in the vicinity. Even if there were, Gordon isn’t the kind to get taken down easily, and he definitely would’ve used more shots.”

“What about his gun? Was that ever retrieved?”

“No,” Castiel said slowly. “But there was only one shot heard. You were there, Dean. Doesn’t it seem suspicious?”

Dean’s tongue darted out of his mouth and ran along his bottom lip. It was weird. He knew it was the moment he saw Ophelia’s face. Something more was going on. “Nah, man. I believe her. What are you trying to say?”

“It isn’t what I’m saying or what I think... it’s the rest of the base. They don’t believe her. They want a trial.”

Dean’s eyebrows came together, his heart hammering under his sternum. “A trial for what?”

“Some people think that she... that she killed him.”

He didn’t mean to laugh, but it was just so fucking ridiculous. His laughter bubbled out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Are you fucking kidding me? Ophelia Maklen? I’m sorry, Cas, but no. No way.”

“It doesn’t look good, Dean.”

“You’re way too serious, man. She didn’t. She couldn’t. She isn’t capable.”

“You’d be surprised what people are capable of now. Things are different, man. Remember all those kinds in Afghanistan with bombs strapped to their chest? This is a war zone, too.”

“People made those kids do that, Cas. If Phel did something it was something she had to do,” Dean said, flexing his fingers.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Cas said with a nod. “But she will need to prove that. We are a true democracy, Dean. My hands are tied.”

Deans jaw was tight. “When?”

“Three days, before dark. Everyone will make their case, and then the base votes.”

“Votes?”

“To decide if she’s guilty or innocent. Unless she confesses, of course.”

“And what? If she’s guilty then she goes to jail? Like you said, this is a war zone. You can’t keep a girl locked up. Especially not one like Ophelia. She’s already struggling just being without her conditioner,” Dean said, trying to make light of things, but his smile seemed forced and his laugh was too dry.  

“Not jail. Just maybe... banishment, but I don’t know for sure. We haven’t dealt with this kind of treason before. It may be less than that or worse...”

“Banishment?” His mouth hung open. “You can’t do that! This was our plan, Cas. Me, you, and the guys.”

“You haven’t been here. Like you said, you’re a civilian. What happened to you back there was fucked up. We all know that, but the past doesn’t mean anything now. As much as I wish it did. In war it’s all about the now. You know that.”

“I get it,” he said through gritted teeth. “I get it, but it’s fucking bullshit. I’ll tell her.”

Dean didn’t let Cas talk again, he turned on his heels and jogged away. His head was water logged. This is bad, fuck this is so bad. He was never close to Ophelia. It was just Emerson. His few select moments one on one with her felt like she was more of an annoying little sister than anything, but she was always supportive of him and Emerson. She was a good person. There was nothing in his mind that thought she did it, but yet. His memory flickered back to the back of the Jeep. She was acting really fucking weird. Something wasn’t right, but it couldn’t be what they expected. Why would she kill him? It didn’t make sense.

He slowed down his jog as he approached the Maklen’s tent. He poked his head in cautiously, a hand over his eyes. “Knock knock.”

He heard and audible groan and couldn’t help but smile. “Em. I’d recognize that annoyed tone anywhere. Everybody decent?”

“Yes, Dean. What do you want?”

Dean opened his fingers, catching a glimpse of her. She was lounging on her pallet, her pen tapping a notebook on her lap. Her hair was falling into her eyes. It was muted and dark in there, and he didn’t know how she could possibly see well enough to write. He was dying to know what she’d been scribbling.

“Out with it Winchester,” she prompted again.

“Aw, be nice to him, Em,” Ophelia said, waving her sister off.

“I’m actually looking for you,” he said tightly to Pheli.

“Finally moved on to the more superior twin? It was bound to happen,” Pheli said dramatically.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah. I’m mad for you.”

“Knew it.” She grinned.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Emerson asked curtly.

“Actually...” Dean said, shifting his weight. “Phel, can we talk?”

Pheli raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure. I’ll be back, Em.”

“Whatever,” Emerson grumbled, rolling onto her side away from them.

Dean winced at the sight of her turning away from him. He hated that. He hated every time she looked away, but he needed to get over it. She drew the line, now he just had to stay behind it. It was the least he could do.

Ophelia and Dean exited the tent. She folded her arms across his chest and glanced at the tall man. “What’s going on? You look suspiciously serious.”

“What happened at the run yesterday, Phel?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened with Gordon?”

“I told you.”

“No.” Dean frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You actually didn’t.”

“Why does it matter?”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and grabbed her biceps, holding her in place. “Listen to me. It matters, Ophelia.”

“Why, Dean?” Her eyes locked with his, her pupils expanding.

“They think you killed him.”

He could see her throat move as she swallowed, her lips opening slightly like she wanted to speak, but she didn’t.

“Fuck.” His hands fell back to his side. He rubbed his jaw. “You didn’t, Phel. Say you fucking didn’t.”

“I can’t say that, and I think you know that.” Her eyes flickered away from him.

“Shit. Goddamnit. Why? Did he attack you?”

“It doesn’t matter why. It’s over.” Her arms folded across her chest, and she turned away completely.

“It matters.” He touched her shoulder. “It matters, because they want a trial. They think you killed him, and they want a fucking trial.”

Pheli turned back to look at him. “A trial? What do you mean?”

“I mean, we have three days before you have to stand up and make your case. So whatever reason you got, I hope that it’s a damn good one. Otherwise we are fucked.”

****

“Stop!” Emerson called after her sister. They were running, and Pheli was pushing harder than she ever had before. “Christ!” She grabbed her sisters shirt, and both girls collapsed into the grass side by side. “We should tell them what happened. What happened to me.”

“No,” Pheli said, shaking her head. “No way.”

Emerson propped herself up on her elbows. “They’ll understand.”

“I don’t give a shit what they think. I’m not making you relive that. This was my thing, I’ll deal with it.”

“That’s not how we work, Phel. It’s not just you. It’s us. It’s always been us. We are a team.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“What does that mean?” Emerson frowned, sitting up.

Ophelia followed her sister and sat up. “You’ve been taking care of me your whole life. Don’t talk about this in front of Pheli. Don’t do that in front of Pheli. Don’t upset Pheli. I’m not a flower, you know? I’m not going to break. I don’t have petals.”

“I know that... I...”

“Let me take care of you.” Phel took Emerson’s hands in hers. “No one is going to make you talk about that. No one. I will handle this. Let me take care of you.”

Emerson squeezed her sisters hands. “We will take care of each other. Which means, I’m not going to let them send you away, or worse.”

Pheli wrapped her arms around her sister and squeezed her tightly. “It’s going to be okay.”

“It has to be.” Em murmured against Phel’s neck.

-28 Days After-

Every moment since the bomb went off felt indescribably long. Every second ticked away. Every second was a thousand. At least it felt that way for Emerson. It did until she found out about the trial. Then it went so fast. The clock was spinning. She was afraid it may fly away.

Dean was up on the wall. She stuck her foot in the crack and hoisted herself up to sit next to him. “Dean?”

“Hey.” He didn’t look at her. He just stared off at the distance.

“It looks bad.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah it does.”

“They won’t... they won’t try to kill her, will they?”

He turned to look at her. “Don’t think so. Cas said it’d most likely be banishment.”

“They can’t do that...”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “I hope they won’t, but I don’t know what the fuck they’re going to do.” His eyes flickered to hers. “Why’d she do it? Did she tell you?”

“She said she had to,” Emerson said through gritted teeth.

“The story’s gotta be better than that. They’re not going to take that. They don’t know her, but they knew him.”

“They know you,” she said quietly. “Talk to them.”

“Em...” He sighed. “I don’t think they care about me. Cas does, sure. Benny... but it isn’t just them. It’s this whole damn place.”

Emerson wiped a tear off her cheek. She hurt to her core. “Maybe they’ll understand.”

“I hope so,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “But no matter what we will figure it out. We gotta stay here, Em. The world is a fuckin mess out there. It’s not safe.”

She didn’t want to lean on him. She didn’t want to have to, but old habits die hard. “I know that.”

“I was thinkin’ about that last day.”

“Last day?”

“Yeah. Before I left.”

“Dean... I don’t... I don’t want to talk about that night.” She pressed her lips together. Some things were better left in the past.

“Not that night. The morning, when I dropped you off.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “What about it?”

“It sucked. Watching you go into that house. I fucked up. Shouldn’t have kept you out all night... but that was one of the best nights of my life. I just never really told you that. I didn’t want it to end.”

“I liked it, too,” Emerson admitted. “But everything ends eventually, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

-29 Days After-

“What’s going to happen?” Sam asked, looking down at Pheli. He scored some alone time in the tent. They were desperate for just a little time. Time to breathe each other in. Time to just be the two of them. Since everything started, that was the one thing that Sam wanted more than anything.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

He pushed a hair out of her face and placed a kiss on her forehead. “It’s me and you, and even if Emerson and Dean aren’t getting along they’ll back us. All we need is each other.”

“Everyone keeps talking like I’m going to die,” Pheli said through gritted teeth. “Did anyone consider that I did a good thing? That Gordon was a monster?”

“What happened, Phel? You’re not violent. You don’t...”

“Don’t what? Kill people? You’re right. I don’t.” Ophelia sat up and rested her chin on her knees. “This is all so fucked up, Sam.”

“Talk to me,” he whispered, sitting up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her. “Whatever happened we can...”

“Let’s be honest here, okay?” She turned to look at him, a tear rolling down her cheek. “They’ve already decided what happened. Nothing I say is going to matter. You guys know that, right? They decided tomorrows outcome before they ever called for the trial.”

“Do you want to go through with it? We can just leave. We don’t need this place.”

Pheli touched Sam’s cheek, running her palm along his growing scruff. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Not by a long shot. “You are one of a kind, Sam Winchester.”

“So are you. Let’s just go. All we’ve ever needed was each other. The four of us...”

“Sweetie, I appreciate the sentiment,” she said with a sigh. “But you’re wrong. You saw what the world was like out there. It’s kill or be killed... and obviously I made the wrong choice. I always hoped by the time I was graduating college I’d be a little smarter.” She laughed dryly.

“You are smart.”

“You’re my boyfriend, you have to think that.”

Sam laughed and shook his head. “I don’t have to. I know you, Ophelia. You’re a lot of things, but stupid? You’re not stupid, and you’re not a monster. I just wish you’d let people see the real you.”

“I don’t know who the real me is, not here. Not in this version of the world.”

“Here,” Sam whispered, leaning in to kiss her. “Here you can be whoever you want to be. Here you’re in my arms, and I’ve got you. Just be you, Ophelia Maklen. I love all the versions, but the one that comes from here,” he said, pointing to her heart, “that one is my favorite.”

So Pheli kissed him. She kissed him, because he made her want to be a better person. She sat on her knees to reach up to his face and ran her fingers through his hair, tugging gently. She messed up. She shouldn’t have ever let Emerson go alone with Gordon. She shouldn’t have been alone with him, herself. Everything was fragile enough, but things were getting worse. Every second, every day, they were closer and closer to the end. They couldn’t leave the camp, but if they didn’t... how would they ever see if there was help out there? If there was any to find.

“Phel,” Sam murmured against her lips. “Be here with me. You’re somewhere else.”

She didn’t know how, but when Sam looked at her like she was the only other person on the planet, how could she not try? So she lifted her arms, and he tossed her shirt away, his following after.

After their father left, both Maklen sister’s lost a little faith in love. Emerson chose the place of angry solitude. She was all logic. She was made of steel, cold and solid. That left Pheli in control of hope. It left her picking up where Emerson left off. So, when Jana couldn’t stop shaking long enough to pour cinnamon in her cookies, it was Pheli that hovered over the mixing bowl. It was Pheli who tried on dresses, spinning around, laughing even when everything seemed so fucking hopeless. Because she knew that without it, they’d have nothing.

Pheli wrapped her legs around his waist, deepening their kiss. Sometimes life felt like too much, but even when the world fell apart there was Sam. There’d always be Sam with his bright smile and floppy hair. She pulled away and pressed her forehead to his. She ran her thumb across his bottom lip, and he kissed it instinctively. When she was with him she felt safe. She was alive.

She reached behind her and unlatched her bra, tossing it away. Sam smiled at her widely. He leaned down to press gentle, light kisses along the fullness of her breasts. She closed her eyes and let her body relax under his touch. His strong hand held her back up, letting her lean into his touch, and she folded. Her head rolled back, her spine in an arch against his hand. He ran his free fingers between her breasts and down her stomach, her muscles flexing under his light touch, goosebumps rising on her skin.

His fingers caught the button of her jeans and unsnapped them easily, the zipper making a soft grinding noise as he slowly worked it down. She reached up behind her and let her hair down, shaking it out.

Sam let her down, her back flat on his mat, and he ran his fingers along the insides of her thighs, silently asking her to release his waist. She complied, letting her legs loose.

Ophelia and Sam didn’t need words. They communicated through touches and looks most of the time. She always felt like he knew her soul. Everyone assumed that they never fought, that they were perfect, but there was no such thing. All they had were moments, strung together like popcorn around a Christmas tree, they were fragile, but they handled their relationship with care. They wrapped themselves in bubble wrap and held each other close, because something easily broken is something to be cherished. It’s something one of a kind.

Sam worked her jeans off, tossing them to the side, and went right to his own. Ophelia propped herself up and watched him awkwardly hop out of his jeans under the low ceiling of the tent. She let a laugh bubble up inside of her.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” she giggled. “Can’t help it. You’re too fucking cute, giant.”

Sam fell back to his knees, now only wearing his boxers. He crawled to her, back between her thighs. “I’ll give you something to laugh about,” he said, his voice low.

“Mmm, promise?”

His hand snaked around to the back of her neck, and he captured her lips in his. He kissed her insistently, pressure against her mouth. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. Pheli groaned against the kiss and arched her back to press their bare chests together. It felt good to be close to him, to feel his pulse under her touch. His skin was warm and smooth against hers.

She slowed the kiss down, drinking him in. She ran her leg against his before wrapping her legs back around his waist, and her arms around him. Her fingers danced along his skin. She tasted him, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He was warm, soft, open. He tasted a little like the the morning, burnt coffee, and sleep.

Her nails dug into his back back, with a groan, as he pressed against her, two flimsy pieces of fabric between them. Sam grunted from her nails against his skin, but held her closer, grinding against her. She reached down and hooked her fingers in the waistband of his boxers, and pushed down at them desperately trying to close the space between them. He lifted his hips, helping them down, and with a wiggle and a kick they were off.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice soft and wrecked.

“You’ve got me,” he assured her, his words against her mouth, her ragged breath on his lips. His hand slid up between her legs, his fingers pushing her panties to the side. He slid a finger inside of her in one quick, slick motion. He gave his hand a few quick pumps, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

“All of you.” Her eyes locked with his.

He slid a second finger in, his eyes never leaving hers. He always wanted to watch her come undone, he liked to see her need him, but the look on his face in that moment was different. He wasn’t overcome with lust, and his forehead had a distinct wrinkle. He was worried. “I don’t... I don’t have a condom, Phel. Last time was the last one...”

She propped herself up on her elbow, and held his face in her hand. He leaned into it, and she smiled. “I don’t give a damn,” she said, breathless from the continued motion that swirled and pumped inside of her.

Sam’s eyes scanned down her body and back up to her eyes. He didn’t need any more permission than that. After all their time together he knew when she was sure, and they loved each other. Nothing else in the world mattered, not really. His fingers slid out of her, causing Pheli’s eyes to flutter shut. His fingers grazed across the lace of her panties, making sure they were out of the way as he lined up and pressed into her.

They sighed together in relief as the pressure that was building inside of them geared up to be released. They moved together, Sam creating the rhythm, and Pheli following his lead. She pressed into him, meeting his strides. His hair fell into his eyes, his gaze focused, and his jaw right. She reached up and pulled their faces together in a desperate, insistent kiss.

She pressed her hand back to the ground before shifting her weight, flipping Sam on his back. His eyes fluttered in surprise, but he didn’t pull back from the kiss. He licked into her mouth, his fingers running through her hair, knotting into her waves. Pheli moved with him, grinding against him, running her hands along his chest, through his hair, twisting her fingers into his as she held his hands above his head. Even though he was stronger, he let her pin him.

Sam Winchester had a magical way about him that quieted the screaming inside of Pheli’s skull. The sounds and bees that bounced around her head in a way that never stopped, in an unforgivable way, but there was something about him that silenced things inside of her. He muffled the madness. He was constant and solid. When she was with him she really believed that everything would be okay.

They pulled apart at the right time, Sam grabbing his own boxers to clean up, agreeing to deal with those consequences later. He layed back and pulled her to him, wrapping his sheet around them. Her head rested against his chest, listening to the slowing sound of his pounding heart.

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life,” she murmured, before kissing the bare skin on his chest.

“That was poetic. Shakespeare?”

“Victor Hugo. Les Miserables,” she said between kisses.

Sam looked down at her and tilted her chin up, so she would look at him. “This isn’t the French Revolution, Phel.”

“I know,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “This is so much worse.”

—————

Chapter Twenty

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[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God - Chapter 11

Warnings: graphic parental abuse, normal zombie/apocalypse violence, blood, gore, language.

Chapter Eleven

“My only relief is to sleep. When I’m sleeping, I’m not sad, I’m not angry, I’m not lonely, I’m nothing.” – Jillian Medoff

-18 Days After-

What does it mean to be alive? Was it the sweaty feeling of Emerson Maklen’s fingers inside of Deans? Was it the ache in his leg from war, which still hurt after a long drive, or before the rain fell? Was it the sound of Pheli and Sam’s rapid fire guesses on twenty questions? Was it the fresh air and blood that pumped through Dean Winchester that kept him moving? What did it mean? The questions were the same that plagued him his whole life. 

Why was his father so cruel? Why wasn’t Dean the smart one? Why couldn’t he ever be fucking good enough, no matter how hard he tried? He glanced at Emerson who was laughing at something that Ophelia had said. Emerson Maklen, the girl that he never thought he would deserve.

He remembered watching her, curled up on the porch swing working on her homework. She looked studious. She worked hard. She was beautiful with her study glasses sliding down her nose and her blonde hair falling into her face. She was effortless, unlike her sister who put in endless effort in her style and makeup. Emerson was unlike anyone he had ever met.

“Do I have something on my face? Dean I swear to god...”

“Nah, nothin like that.” He said with a shrug. If he hadn’t been staring at her mouth he may have missed her statement all together.

He didn’t want to introduce her to his war buddies. His memories of them were all dirt, dicks, and filthy jokes. “Got a girl back home, Winchester?” He would shake his head, no, because he didn’t. But more than anything he said no, because he saw the way the guys dug into Garth about his lady. Asked how fuckable she was. Asked to borrow a photo. He couldn’t imagine them getting their cum covered hands all over one of Emerson. No fucking way, he was keeping that to himself. Not that he had one to show, anyway.

“That’s reassuring.” She said, wiping at her face anyway.

Growing up, their father always said that life was war. There was always something to fight for and someone to fight against. Dean just didn’t think John got the message that he wasn’t supposed to fight against his children. That beating his own pain out of his fists wouldn’t solve any of his problems, just create new ones. It was easier to blame John for all of his issues. There was no way around the fact that John was ten shades of fucked up. His time in the marines had done him over. More so than just making him a yes sir, no sir kind of man. He was jumpy. He was cruel, and he was paranoid.

-15 Years Before-

One night Dean woke up to John shaking him. His strong hands were on Dean’s shoulders. “Wake up son, wake up!”

“What? What’s goin on? Dad?”

John’s eyes were bloodshot. “Get up.” He grabbed the comforter in his hands and threw it off the side of his bed. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Dean asked, rubbing his eyes.

John grabbed ahold of his sons arm and pulled him along with him. He pulled his son down the stairs and out into the back yard. There was madness in his eyes, and Dean noticed for the first time that John’s feet and hands were covered in dirt. He was holding a garden shovel. “What is this?”

They loomed over a large hole in the ground. It was the length of the shovel and only a few feet wide, not much wider than John’s shoulders. “Get in.” He said hurriedly.

“What?”

“Get in the fucking hole, son!”

“Dad I…”

“That’s an order!”

“Yes sir.” Dean squeaked. John gripped the shovel in his hands again. He was white knuckled against the wood, and as Dean talked back he watched the shovel rise higher in the air. John would kill him if he hit Dean with the shovel. Dean knew that, so he complied, and climbed into the hole. He sat at the edge of the hole and dropped himself into it. His bare feet hit wood at the bottom of the hole. There was a box. It was crudely put together, and when Dean turned his foot caught a loose nail causing him.

“Sit down boy.”

“Yes sir.” He followed instructions, lowering himself to a seated position.

“This is important soldier so listen… listen… do you hear me?” He was rambling, pacing back and forth. He held the shovel like a gun.

Dean felt blood trickle out of his foot and his palms started to sweat. He couldn’t call out for his mother without being reprimanded or injured. Plus, there was a huge risk that John would shove his wife into the hole right next to their son. Or Sammy. Dean couldn’t risk it. He swallowed hard and tried to keep his hands from shaking. He had to be strong.

“They could come for you. They will come for you at some point. Who knows what kind of torture they’ll put you through. Bamboo under your nails, cuts, or they could bury you alive. I can’t have you tellin secrets to the enemy. Do you understand? I need you to be able to get yourself out. To not be afraid. Lay down.”

His back scraped against the wood, against the nails and he bit down on his tongue so he wouldn’t cry out in pain. He couldn’t make John angrier.

“Shut the lid.”

He couldn’t make his arms move, they were made of concrete, stones, they were heavy and stuck to his sides. He was shaking more now despite the sticky humidity of the Summer night air. “I won’t be able to get out.” He whispered.

“If you have the will to live you will. It is amazing what the human body can do. You’ll see. I made the boards loose. I won’t pack down the dirt. It will be easy the first time.” The first time.

Dean couldn’t do it. He started to cry. He knew that John always hit him for that. Men don’t cry. But he wasn’t a man, he was a twelve year old boy who needed to not die alone in a damp fucking hole.

“Shut the fucking lid!” John’s voice was enough to startle Dean out of his tears. He grabbed the lid and allowed it to fall shut above him. Everything was dark. All he could hear was his heavy breathing and the pitter patter of dirt falling on top of the make shift casket.

He was going to die before he ever made it to high school. He was going to suffocate before he ever kissed a girl. He couldn’t remember the last thing he said to his Mom or Sammy. Sammy. Who would protect his brother if he was dead? He started to scream, finding his voice again. He could take whatever John threw at him, but damn it, he had to be alive to take the punishment. He clawed at the lid, trying to break through, but his fingers were weak from fear and sleep. His nails broke and blood ran down his fingers. He kicked at the lid and screamed louder. It felt disjointed, like he was watching himself from above. Maybe he was dead already, just replaying the moments before his lung filled with dirt, and the worms buried deep into his skin. “Help!”

More dirt. More blackness. Pieces of dirt and rock fell between the cracks of the pieces of wood. He felt around for the nail that cut him down by his feet. It caught his already bloodied fingers and he pulled. He pulled and yanked. Maybe if he could get it out of its place and break through the lid. His fingers were wet from blood. The nail kept slipping out of his grip. He couldn’t get it. Tears soaked his face. Dirt fell into his open mouth as he screamed for help. He coughed at the dirt in his throat. He screamed and screamed, his arms finally giving up. He had no more in him. Nothing left. No more energy to claw at the lid of the box. He was a shell. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I am so sorry.”

It felt like an eternity before the lid opened again. His mother leaned over the box in her white nightgown, covered in dirt. “Oh Dean!” She screamed, pulling him out of the box and against her. She was sobbing and he could faintly hear his father murmuring in the background.

“I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t… Dean is okay. He is okay. I’m sorry.” He was crying, as if the motherfucker deserved to cry. As if he deserved the sympathy. As if he was the one hurt.

It was the last straw. At least for a little while.

-18 Days After-

Dean never intended to be like his father. John had court mandated therapy after the incident, and they never spoke of it again. Dean didn’t sleep for a week until he started sneaking his father’s whiskey. It would knock him right out. Just a few sips and he was sleeping, dreamless. They never told Sam. Deans many wounds from being inside the box were blamed on a fight at school. It was easier than explaining the truth.  Dean was always getting into trouble, after all.

He didn’t want Afghanistan to fuck him up, but he didn’t always get what he wanted. Frankly, he rarely did. It just wasn’t in the cards for a guy like him.

“Is it a giraffe?” Sam asked Ophelia, looking serious.

“No! Try again!”

“Damn it. You’re cheating, you have to be.”

“I’m not!”

“Dean are you okay?” Emerson whispered to him as his fingers tightened around hers. “You seem like you’re somewhere else.”

“I’d like to be somewhere else.” He said quietly. He didn’t mean her. Of course he didn’t, but she looked away nonetheless. He didn’t tug her hand back, because his mind was still swimming. He was walking toward that past that he worked so hard to put behind him. The past that Lisa helped bury, and this time she wasn’t there to do the heavy lifting. He couldn’t expect Emerson to do that for him. it would be too much. It was too much the first time, and this time he knew better.

“I think,” Pheli said, hopping up on the median that separated the two highways. They were close to the city at that point, within a quick sprint of down town. “That you’re really bad at this. Maybe you don’t know me at all Sam… maybe.”

She slipped. At least that’s what it looked like at first. The others didn’t see the red blistering fingers reach up from the other side of the median. They wrapped around her ankle and yanked hard, sending her falling over the median to the other side of the highway. “Phel you klutz.” Sam laughed, shaking his head.

“Sam!” She screamed in response. It wasn’t out of anger, or pain. It was fear.

“Phel?” Sam called, hopping up on the median. “Shit, Dean!” He shouted before jumping down.

There was a creature. Once a man, but now he looked more like what he would expect a man that went through a garbage disposal to look like. Its skin was red and limp, falling off of its face as Pheli scratched at him, screaming at the top of her lungs. Its black teeth were biting lazily at her, its white eyes were hazy with no life left in them. Its legs were broken in an awful way that kept it from standing, like maybe it had been ran over by a car. That didn’t stop it from crawling and grabbing at Ophelia with its bony, fleshless fingers.

She kicked at it, her boots slushing in the wet skin. It peeled away with the lightest touch. Both of her hands were on its shoulders holding it at bay, just out of biting distance. They didn’t know if the bites would do anything worse than a normal bite, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

Sam’s feet landed on the asphalt. He grabbed the creature by the shirt and yanked it away from Pheli. He pulled out his gun as quickly as he could and pressed it to the back of the creatures head. He pulled the trigger. The sound of the bullet echoed, cutting through the still air. 

Ophelia didn’t stop screaming until Sam pulled her into his arms, the body of the creature was disposed in a crumple on the ground, its face blown away. Ophelia’s face and clothes were splattered with the dark blood of the creature.

“Hey, I’ve got you.” Sam promised.

It was all so fast. By the time Emerson got over the median it was over. She ran and crouched to her sisters side. Ophelia turned to Emerson and hugged her. “I thought I was going to die.” She cried into Emerson’s shoulder.

She held her sister tight. “I won’t let you die. Not like this. We die together, remember? It’ll just be you and me. We will die on the same day. Today isn’t that day.”

“Today isn’t that day.” Ophelia was slowing down on her tears, matching her twins breathing.

“That’s right. Today isn’t that day.” Emerson repeated, pulling back so she could wipe the blood away from her sisters mouth and eyes. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” She repeated. “We are okay.”

But they weren’t okay.

“Ladies, not to break this up but we need to go.” Dean said, his thumb gesturing toward the city.

The gun shot must have alerted them. “Shit, Phel get up.”

“What?” Her eyes were still full of tears.

“Get up now, we have to run!” Emerson said as her eyes caught a hoard of creatures making their way through the cars. She couldn’t count, there were so many they were pushing together and climbing over the cars.

Emerson pulled up her sister and Pheli cried out in pain when she pressed on the ankle that the creature had grabbed. “Shit, you good?” Dean asked.

“No... I...”

“Come on.” Sam said crouching so Pheli could climb into his back. Sam gripped her legs, while Dean and Em grabbed their bags. “We need to go.”

They ran. Thankfully Sam had long legs so he was able to keep up. Emerson knew that Dean was going slower on her account. He was always a good runner. She remembered him jogging around the neighborhood before he deployed. He would make effortless laps through the streets for a good hour or two.  

The group ran on the emptier side of the highway, the creatures noticing the rapid slaps of their feet on the concrete. They drug themselves toward the median, up and over. Their groans and screams filled the empty air, the sound of flesh sloshing off of skin, and the sound of shoes gaining on them. Dozens of feet hitting the asphalt. The group didn’t have advantage this time. They weren’t on high ground. They were surrounded.

“Toward the city!” Dean instructed. “We need to get inside, out of view.”

They pushed forward, Emerson felt a pair of fingers brush her back and she pushed forward faster. The creatures climbed over to her right, falling over the median, some falling right at her feet. She jumped over them, and fuck she didn’t even know she could jump like that. They bit at her like the plants from the old Super Mario game. She jumped, and they reached for her. One slip up and she was down. The brothers couldn’t stop for her if she fucked up. They’d have to go on, and leave her to be dinner, or whatever the creatures wanted from her.

Entering the city felt like jumping over a line into another world. The tall buildings hovered over down town. It looked so much worse close up. The doors were boarded up. Spray paint covered the windows and walls. Cars were abandoned, trash everywhere, and bodies feasted upon in the streets.

Dean turned for a place to hide and in the pivot his knee twisted. “Fuck.” He said automatically as he fell to the ground. Pain burned and shot up through his leg. Sam didn’t notice his brother fall and he and Pheli were at doors, trying to bust them down.

“Shit, are you okay?” Emerson immediately crouched next to Dean.

“No I...”

More groans. The squish of hurried flesh. They were close.

“Come on, get up.” Emerson reached through his arm and tried to help him up. He got steady, but the moment he put any pressure on his bad knee he collapsed back into a ball at her feet. “Dean...”

“I can’t. Fuck.” He reached for his thigh and unholstered his gun. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily. “Go.”

“Yeah right.” She frowned, and stood over him, clicking the safety off the gun. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Yeah, back atcha.”

“I’m hurt. I’m a liability.” Dean insisted. He knew how bad his knee was. He would just slow them down. It wasn’t just that. The wall he built in his head was quickly crumbling around him. “Go, Em. Come on.” He hissed.

“Pheli is hurt too, and we aren’t leaving her.”

“Because Sam can carry her, and unless you’ve gotten stronger lately I don’t think you can piggy back me.”

“Well, then I guess we die together.”

Dean frowned, his eyebrows coming together. “You don’t mean that. You’re supposed to die with Phel. In a long time. Remember?”

“She has Sam. She will be okay.”

Sammy.

Dean tried to lift himself up, his body crying out in response. Black peppered his vision as he tried to keep from blacking out. He ran on the leg before. He had to. He thought back to the creature on the ground with its two broken legs. He couldn’t be that sad son of a bitch. He couldn’t lay there and die if Emerson refused to leave him. He couldn’t let her die, too. He couldn’t leave Sammy with the responsibility of taking care of things alone.

“Hey I’ve got you.” She said, quickly grabbing his arm. He was heavy, but her feet were apart and her legs were steady. She put her arm under his like a crutch. “Don’t put pressure. Let’s go.”

It was too late. They took too long. The mob came around the corner to their left. “Fuck, let’s go!” Emerson said, dragging him to their right. Sam had turned then, they were quite a bit forward, still pushing on doors. He finally must have found one that wasn’t locked, because he stood there with his mouth hanging open and his hand on the handle. Between them, another group came around a corner. Another dozen or more.

They were surrounded.

“Dean..” Emerson gasped, her grip tightening on his waist. “We can fight them all. There aren’t enough bullets.”

They shuffled closer. The moans white noise. They were a buzzing in the air like coming up on a bee hive. The air was palpable, moving. She could smell them, the burning, rotting out flesh. It stung her nose. Bile rose in the back of her throat, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the smell or that it may be the end. It was all about to be over. There was no way out. No last stitch effort that either Emerson nor Dean could see.

She pulled him against the building. They couldn’t run, but with Deans wounded leg they couldn’t run anyway. At least now they couldn’t be attacked from behind. She quickly pressed his back against the building. With her hands pressed to his chest she opened her mouth to let out the words she was swallowing all those years, but her breath hitched in her throat. She couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to. So she turned away, with her back pressed to his front. Her arms were extended, holding her weapon. Despite the terror growing inside of her, her arms didn’t shake one bit.

Dean wrapped his arms around her to help her aim. They were able to take out a hand full as they came closer. One head shot. Another missed. In the throat, then again in the head. They didn’t have enough ammo. How many monsters were out there? They’d never have enough. Dean glanced around for something long and blunt to hit them with. In the middle of a city they were falling short of sticks or rocks.

She pulled the trigger and it just clicked in quiet response. She kept pulling and it continued to click back at her, empty. Dean sucked in his breath and held her by her hips, flipping them as quickly as he could manage on his bum knee. He hovered over her, his hands on either side of her head, shielding her from the hoard. “Should’ve left a bullet for me.” He mumbled, his breath close to her lips. “You shouldn’t have stayed, Em. Really fuckin dumb move.”

“You would’ve stayed for me.”

“I’m dumb.” He shrugged, forcing a smile. He could feel the heat on his back from the creatures behind him. They radiated like he was standing too close to the oven.

“You’re not.” She promised, touching his cheek. “That night Dean, on the roof... I’m...”

“Hey.” He stopped her with a shake of his head. “We ain’t doin that, okay? No chick flick moments. No need to go out like that.”

She sucked in her breath, but nothing could stop the tears that were steaming down her cheeks. He held her cheeks and kissed her as softly as he could manage. They had enough things that hurt. Enough harshness. Things with Em always made him feel light, and fucking hell if he had to die he could go out kissing her like that.

There was a noise behind them, a rumble, crushing bones, and screams from the creatures. He braced around her only moments before a hand curled around his shoulder. He sucked his breath in, and turned slightly out of instinct to look.

“Em.” He whispered, his mouth open.

It was a Jeep. A dark green Jeep had plowed through the hoard, some still reaching out, broken, from under its tires. A person was inside, dressed in layers, a black canvas jacket, dark jeans, boots, a scarf, a rimmed hat, and a gas mask. The person reached out a gloved hand for them. So much for no last stitch efforts.

—————

Chapter Twelve 

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[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God, Chapter 2

***Sometimes staying away is the easiest move. Keeping a safe distance, especially for Emerson and Dean Winchester. So, when the Maklen twins come home again, they don’t anticipate the feelings that Emerson will get having to see him again. When tragedy strikes, the Winchester brothers and the Maklen twins are forced to face, not only their feelings, but each other. In a story about pain, family, abandonment, and desire, the couples have to decide if survival, without love, is enough.***

Warnings: Angst, language, illness, mutual pinning

Chapter Two

I don't wanna let this go. I don't wanna lose control. I just wanna see the stars with you. - Troye Sivan 

-5 Years Before-

The night sky was starless and inky black. Emerson leaned against her window on the second story of her childhood home. She found herself, more often than not, climbing through her bedroom window and resting on the flat portion of her roof. She could see Ophelia and Sam in his window studying, and making eyes at each other. She found her eyes flickering to Deans window that sat nestled next to Sam’s. It was dark in his room, a blue black shadow inside of the pane. 

Emerson peeled her eyes away and looked forward. During the day, if she squinted far enough she could see the ocean, but at night it was all just blackness. In a world so dark, she felt so small.

“Hey, scoot over.”

Emerson almost jumped out of her skin at Deans voice below her. She glanced down, past her feet to catch a set of hands pulling themselves up onto the roof. “Christ! You scared me.” Her heart was pounding, from the startle, she assumed.

“Just saw you up here. Thought you looked lonely.” He grinned, his teeth glowing against the cool darkness. Emerson’s eyes landed on the strain of his bicep as he hoisted himself onto the roof, settling next to her.

“I’m not lonely.” She complained quietly.

“Well, Phel is at my house, so I don’t really believe that.”

“I don’t need to be with her all the time.” Emerson said curtly. 

Dean laughed at that, shaking his head in the darkness. “Yeah, okay.”

“Coming from you.” She snapped. “You and Sam are practically conjoined. You’re more codependent than we are! What would you even do if you were away from him for more than an hour?”

Dean was quiet, staring into the distance. “Guess we’ll find out.” 

She looked at him in the darkness. The subtle sweep of his nose, and the way half of his face succumbed to shadow he was still beautiful, even against the weight of the night sky pressing down on him. “What does that mean?” Her voice came out much softer than she expected.

She watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, like he was considering whether to say out loud whatever he was thinking. “Just... don’t freak out.”

They weren’t friends. He was just the boy next door. The annoying older brother of the boy who followed her sister around. He was a gnat in her breathing space. Why would she freak out? Why would she care? “Spit it out.”

“I enlisted today.”

Her stomach dropped. 

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip anxiously, his eyes darting to hers. They looked gray. Like all the color had been sucked away. “You did what?” She asked dumbly, like she didn’t hear him. 

“I joined the army.” He said slowly, carefully.

“Why in Gods name would you do that?!” She found that her voice was rising at an alarming rate. Her pulse raced in her chest. 

“Hey! I told you not to freak out.”

“I’m not.” She halted her voice, it shook beneath her lips before she balled up her fist and hit his arm. “I’m just... are you fucking crazy?”

“No.” Dean avoiding her eyes, looking at his lap. “I’m just tired of being worthless. I want to make my Dad proud.”

“If he isn’t proud of you already, he’s an idiot.” Emerson didn’t know where the words were coming from. She’d always thought Dean was a pain in the ass, a trouble maker, because he was. He was always getting in fights and drinking too much. “You don’t have anything to prove.”

“Em,” he sighed. “I have everything to prove.”

-Thirty Minutes After-

The boat was no longer shooting forward, it was now just a subtle sway and groan of the waves, and Emerson looked up to the stairs, catching Dean jogging down them with her eye. “Anything going on up there?”

“It’s quiet.” He admitted quietly, looking at Ophelia who was asleep on Emerson’s chest. Her face was swollen from crying. “Looks like some fires on the mainland, though.” 

“What’s the plan?” Emerson whispered, her eyes moving between the Winchester brothers. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“Did you get anything on the radio?” He asked, avoiding her question.

She pressed her lips together in a fine line, and gave a swift shake to her head. 

Deans jaw twitched, and he crossed the room, crouching in front of the radio. Click click click. Nothing but static. Emerson wanted to be annoyed that he didn’t trust her, but more than anything, she wanted to be wrong about that. She wanted someone else to be out there. 

She reached out, and gripped the sleeve on his shirt. Her fingers curled into the fabric. His head turned and their eyes met. There were a thousand things she wanted to say. A thousand things she couldn’t. “Please tell me you have a plan.” 

“We need to wait it out.” He said quietly, after a moment. “We have some supplies. I don’t think I’ll have an idea of what we’re in for until the morning, it’s too fucking dark out there.” 

“Okay.” Emerson said quietly. 

“Try to get some rest.” 

As if it were that easy. 

-3 Hours After- 

Emerson woke with a start, her heart pounding. She didn’t know when she fell asleep, she only remembered gently rocking Pheli as she cried in her sleep. She tried to be brave, even though she was terrified, too. She squinted in the darkness to catch Sam cradling Pheli in his arms. He was asleep, with his mouth open slightly, and his face buried in her hair. They were finding comfort in each other. In the wake of her hammering heart, Emerson wished she could share in that comfort. 

She sat up slowly, alert, as she caught what woke her. The steady pitter patter of rain against the deck above her head. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked to the stairs, where Dean was slumped over, asleep. 

“Hey.” She whispered, touching his shoulder. “Wake up.” 

His eyes shot open in alarm, and he reached next to him, blindly, for something that wasn’t there. He blinked a few times before whispering, “Em?”

“I think it’s raining.” 

He squinted into the darkness and after a moment of quiet, he seemed to recalculate where he was in his mind and he stood up slowly. His face turned up toward the ceiling. “Let’s check it out.” 

He climbed the stairs, and opened the door to the front deck with caution. He stood in front of Emerson, blocking her way, protecting her. Instinctually she wanted to slap him away, he was an independent woman, after all. But the moment that door opened, she flinched behind him, grateful that he was there.

The smell was the first thing they noticed as the door opened. It was burning, almost chemical. It was nothing like a normal rain on the ocean that smelled fresh, like salt, and sweet Summer kisses. This was something else all together. Emerson had to cover her nose to keep the sting from almost burning away the hair inside of her nostrils. 

She peaked around Deans large form to get a better look. The rain was at a roar. Water seemed to fall from the sky like a bucket being dumped off the side of a fishing vessel to chum the water. It was thick, angry, and deep, blood red. Emerson sucked her breath in. Everything was red. It was like she was staring into a single side of an old pair of 3D glasses. It was hazy, and a pink fog seemed to rest on the top of the water. 

“What the fuck?” She whispered.

There was a sizzle to the train as it landed on the deck of the boat. A sizzle like water on a hot stove. Without thinking, Emerson stuck her hand out past Dean into the red veil.

It stung like a motherfucker.

When Emerson was eight she put her hand on the burner on the stove. Palm flat on the iron swirl. She was a curious child. It had occurred to her a dozen times before that she shouldn’t touch it, but the call was still there. The call to learn, despite the consequences. 

That moment was kind of like this one.

“Emerson, Christ!” Dean said, yanking her hand back. Her palm had three tiny blisters from where the droplets fell before he could yank her back into him, back into reality. 

“Sorry.” She exhaled.

“It’s already blistering.” He complained. 

“It was really hot, Dean. Scalding.” Her eyes met his. She wasn’t worried about the sting, or her skin boiling off her bones, or the overwhelming scent of his skin when he stood that close. “What is going on?”

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t know, Em.”

 Her hand still rested in his palm, comfortably. 

He released it after a moment and clicked the door shut. Dean settled into a seated position at the top of the stairs, and Emerson sat two down from him, with her back against the wall and her legs curled into her chest so she could look up at him. She couldn’t see him in the darkness, but knowing he was there gave her some comfort, so she pressed her socked toes against his boot. 

“How’s your hand?” He asked, his voice a whisper. 

“It’s fine.” She curled her fingers into her palm and counted her heartbeat with the gentle throb from her burns. “Do you remember the night you told me that you enlisted?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why’d you tell me? You hadn’t even told Sam yet. I never understood that.”

She could hear him exhale in a hiss. “Sam was gonna be mad. He would try to talk me out of it, and I don’t know, guess I didn’t want to be talked out of it.”

“I tried to talk you out of it.” She laughed a bit. Her laughter sounded breathless and hoarse. 

“I didn’t expect it.” He admitted. “I figured you wouldn’t care.”

“I figured I wouldn’t either.”

“But you did.”

“But I did.” She pressed her head against the wall. “Life isn’t quite what we expect, is it?”

“No, it sure isn’t.” He laughed curtly, and quick, like an after thought. 

The rain wasn’t letting up, and thunder roared in the distance, like a threat, or a warning. “How did Sam react, when you told him?”

“That I was going away?”

“Yeah. I saw how he was when you left...” How they all were without the snark and big presence that was Dean Winchester. 

“I told him the day I shipped off to Basic.” Dean said, his voice far off, like he was somewhere else in his mind. “I was a coward. Part of me worried that if I told him with enough time that I wouldn’t go, but I couldn’t take it back. It was too damn late.”

“You... you said you had something to prove. That’s why you joined.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, did you? Did you prove it to your Dad? To yourself?”

He snorted. 

“What, Dean? You got something to say?”

“Just... are we ever done trying to prove shit to the people we love? I figure we die tryin.”

Theres something to that, Emerson thought. “Insightful.” She snarked. It was easier than being kind, than being open. Especially since the world was collapsing around them. Maybe it’d always been collapsing around them. 

-5 Years Before- 

“So you’re really going?”  Emerson asked him, or maybe she was asking the night sky, the starless, empty existence. The world that could rid her of Dean Winchester for good. 

“That’s what enlisting is. I’m gonna be a mechanic, so I probably won’t see any action. Just fixin tanks and cars.” He shrugged like it wasn’t still a sacrifice. Like it wasn’t a big deal. 

“Aren’t you scared?”

Dean glanced at her. He wanted to say that he’d been scared for years, but instead he chose a joke. Like he always did. “Of what? Some officer askin how tall I am? Six foot one, Winchester? Didn’t know they piled shit that high!”

Emerson smiled humorlessly. “Guess that’s it, then.”

“You sound disappointed.” Dean chucked. “You gonna miss me Maklen?”

“You? God no. It’s a relief, honestly.”

He leaned in close to her, he was only a breath away, his lips hovering over her pulse point on her neck. She could almost feel him smile. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sweetheart, but we both know the truth. You’ll be lost without me.”

****

“So.”

“So?” Emerson snapped, looking at her twin from her side of the room. “Say what you want to say, or go to sleep.” She grumbled.

Pheli sat up and threw her pillow at her sister on the darkness. “I saw you on the roof with Dean Winchester.”

“I’m not listening to this.”

“Come on, Em! Don’t leave me hanging, I’m your sister.” 

Emerson groaned and opened up her blanket so Ophelia could climb in. “Come here.” 

Pheli snuggled in next to her sister. they laid on their sides, nose to nose. “You were on the roof with Dean Winchester. What was that about?”

“Don’t tell Sam.” Emerson whispered.

“I can’t lie to him.”

“It’s not a lie. Chicks before dicks, come on. Sister pact.”

“Fine.” Pheli exhaled in a single puff, sending a toothpaste breath into Emerson’s nose. “What is it?”

“He enlisted. The army.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No.” Emerson whispered.

“When?”

“He leaves at the end of the Summer.”

“How... how do you feel about that?” Pheli asked.

“It’s going to be weird not having him around.” 

“Sams going to be devastated.” She was quiet for a moment before she whispered. “No offense, Em, but why did he tell you?”

“I don’t know, Phel, but it was... I don’t know. He seemed different, for a second.”

“Different how?”

Emerson pressed her lips together and rolled onto her back. How could she describe it? The way he moved close to her. The way he admitted he wanted to prove himself to his father. The way he looked gentle in the moonlight. The way she was going to fucking miss him more than she could ever admit. 

“Brave. He was brave.” 

—————

Chapter Three

Get caught up!

#fanfiction #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #apocalpyse #AU #dean winchester #deanxofc #sam winchester #samxofc #angst #pain #otp #love #slow burn #violence #apocalypse AU #the hand that reaches for god

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God- Chapter 6

***Sometimes staying away is the easiest move. Keeping a safe distance, especially for Emerson and Dean Winchester. So, when the Maklen twins come home again, they don’t anticipate the feelings that Emerson will get having to see him again. When tragedy strikes, the Winchester brothers and the Maklen twins are forced to face, not only their feelings, but each other. In a story about pain, family, abandonment, and desire, the couples have to decide if survival, without love, is enough.***

Warnings: Angst, violence, death, mutual pinning, age difference, language, abuse, eventual smut.

Chapter Six

“I do not need someone to complete me. But if you wanted to, we could walk next to each other into whatever is coming next.” –Meghan Lynn

-1 Week After-

Emerson sat in the shower. Her knees were pressed to her chest as she let the warm water run over her. Her hair was matted to her head and her forehead rested on her knees. They’d been in the Winchester’s basement for a week, with no sign of life anywhere. No one had come knocking. The phones were all dead. No radio signal. They were on a backup generator at the house. Emerson slept every night on the couch, staring at the ceiling until sleep finally caught up to her.

When it did, all she had was nightmares.

Pheli would reach up from her pallet on the floor and grip her sister’s hand. They slept close together like the always had, but this time Sam’s large body curled around protectively around Pheli as she slept. Most of the time she woke up bright and shiny as ever, which was probably the only reason Emerson hadn’t had a complete breakdown yet. How could she when her sister was singing show tunes?

Emerson turned her face into the stream of water, letting it wash over her. It rained every day since the explosion. Red and hot like the first time. Sometimes she would lie on the couch and listen to the rain, and pretend it was a summer night. She pretended it was the time before.

She reached forward and turned off the water. The immediate chill from the house covered her damp skin, causing her hair to stand on end. She let herself rise on shaky legs, and towel off. She twisted her blonde hair up in the towel and stepped into Dean’s robe, closing it around herself. She took a deep breath of the scent. It smelled like this body wash. It was so much harder to ignore him when they were living under the same roof, but she was trying. Especially now that their immediate sense of danger was muted.

She wiped away the fog on the mirror, and was assaulted with her own reflection. A set of dark, tired eyes. She leaned forward and let the heat of her breath steam up the mirror again. It was just another place to hide. It was just another mask.

She went out into the living room to get her clothes. She pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “Is that mine?” Dean asked, leaning against the wall. He gestured to the AC/DC shirt that was curled in her fingers that was indeed his.

“Guess so.” She said, tossing it up to him. “This place is a pig sty. No wonder some of our stuff is getting mixed.”  

“Keep it.” He tossed it back to her gently.

She caught it in one hand and unconsciously pulled it to her chest. “Fine, but only because I don’t hardly have any clothes here.”

“Mhm.”

“Where’s Phel and Sam?”

“Probably getting busy.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Gross.”

“Eh, carpe diem and all that.” He eyed her robe suggestively.

“Turn around, Winchester. You don’t get a free show.” She spun her finger and he complied. She untied the robe, lowering it to the floor. She watched his back tense as the sound of fabric landing hit his ears. If he turned toward her he would see everything, and it was a little paralyzing. She stepped into her shorts and slid his t-shirt over her bare skin, cutting the tension between them. “You’re good.” She whispered.

Dean turned back around cautiously, almost as if he expected to find her still standing there before him completely naked. He swallowed hard as he saw her. She removed the towel from her hair and ran her fingers through it.

“Dean.” She murmured, her eyes never leaving his.

“Yeah?”

“How long is this generator going to last?” The thought had been plaguing her mind every second since she woke up in his bed conscious again. How long did they have? The storms still raged outside, she could hear the angry booms of thunder and the insistent pattering of rain against the roof.

“I don’t know.” He admitted.

“What about your parents? What about our mom?” She knew she couldn’t ask Pheli’s opinion. She couldn’t take away her positive attitude, and if Sam and Dean were talking about it, they weren’t doing it in front of the girls.

“I don’t have the answers, Em. I’m sorry.” He said weakly. His chest ached. He wanted the answers. He was supposed to have them. He was the fucking soldier, after all. If he didn’t have them then who did? He sold a chunk of his life to a government that was going to let them boil alive under a blood red rain. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something, but instead he just let his blunt nails dig into his palm as he curled his fingers in on themselves. He tightened his fist as much as he could.

Emerson stepped toward him, and took his fist in her fingers. So much for avoiding him. “Don’t be sorry.” She whispered. “Hey, look at me.”

His eyes flickered up to hers.

“You don’t have to have all the answers.”

“Of course I do.”

-6 Years Before-

“Alright, the game is Bullshit.” Dean said, shuffling the cards. His cigarette hung out of his lips.

“I bet you’re great at that.” Emerson said smoothly.

They were laying in the backyard in the grass. Pheli’s head was on Sam’s lap, her toes in the grass.

“How do you play?” Pheli turned to look at Dean. Sam was placing dandelions in a braid on Ophelia’s hair.

Dean passed out cards to each of them. “So the game works like this.” He plucked two cards from his hand. “We go in order. Aces are low. I’ll say, I’ve got two ace’s.” He said, waving the two cards. He sat them face down with a bright smile.

“And then?” Phel asked, suspiciously.

“Bullshit.” Em said smoothly, her lips pursed.

“Well fuck me sideways.” Dean smirked, flipping over the cards. “You got it.” He had a queen and a king that he’d placed down. He took the cards back into his hand.

“So we just call you on your shit?” Ophelia asked with a grin.

“That’s the game.” He laughed.

“Been waiting my whole life for this.” Sam added with a laugh. “Let’s do it.”

Not all afternoons were like that, unfortunately.

“One three.”

“She’s got an honest face.” Sam smiled brightly, kissing Pheli.

Dean lit his cigarette and pulled the smoke in to his lunges. Emerson caught herself watching him. They were always looking at each other when the other was looking away.

“Two fours.”

“Bullshit, Sammy.” Dean let out a smoky laugh.

“Fuck you.”

Deans lip was busted and he had a cut right above his eye that was healing. They didn’t talk about it, but Emerson knew. She’d seen John through her window. He slammed Dean against his car. She didn’t know why he did it, but it didn’t matter. No one knew. No one but her, and it wasn’t her place to know. It wasn’t her place to say anything.

“Em, it’s your turn.” Pheli touched her sisters leg gently, trying to pull her out of her daze.

“Uh, sorry.” Her eyes met Deans, then flickered back to the cards in her hands. They looked blurry. “I’ve gotta go.” She stood up suddenly, dropping her cards in the grass.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it, Phel. I just… I forgot I have something I have to do.” She jogged back into the house, letting the back door shut behind her.

Not every day was like that. Not every day was calm and full of laughter. Her mom dropped a bottle of wine the night before. She said it was an accident, but Emerson wasn’t blind. Her hand just stopped working. She lost her grip and the entire bottle of merlot crashed to the ground. It was a sea of red covering the kitchen floor. Green tinted glass sat in the pools of red.

“Shit!” Jana exclaimed.

“Mom!”

“Emerson, honey, stay back. I dropped the wine.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She waived her hand.

She knew better. Her mother wasn’t fine, and she probably never would be again. It was the beginning of the end. “Let me help you clean this up.” She offered.

“No, I can do it myself.”

“I know you can… I just thought…”

“No, Emerson” She snapped her fingers weakly, pointing to the stairs. “Go make sure your sister is doing her homework. I’m fine here.”

Everything was falling apart, and Emerson didn’t think she could handle it anymore. She’d been so wrapped up in herself that she didn’t hear the door behind her open. “Em.” Dean said, his hand resting on her shoulder.

She flinched away from him. “God, why are you always sneaking up on me?”

“Sorry.” He moved his hand. “You just seemed upset.”

“I’m not.”

“Right.” He said, wiping a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “You can tell me.”

“I don’t want to.” She said, eyeing his healing lip. It’s you. On top of everything else, I’m worried about you.

“Okay.” He looked around before grabbing her hand. “C’mere.”

“Where are we going?” She asked as he pulled her out the front door and across her lawn.

“My place.”

“What?” She could feel her cheeks heating up. “Dean I…”

“It’s okay. It’ll help.”

She swallowed hard. She could feel her heartbeat behind her eyes as he unlocked his front door and pulled her inside. They walked down the stairs and into his bedroom. This is Dean Winchester’s bedroom! She wanted to look around, to take it all in, but she couldn’t because she was too fucking nervous.

He moved his hand from hers and held her face in his hands, brushing away any wetness that was left. “Stay right here.” He murmured.

She nodded. It was all she could do. Her mouth was so dry, she was afraid it would crumble if she tried to produce any string of words. He turned away from her and started digging in his drawers. She watched him. The way his back curved as he bent over, the way his jeans hugged his legs just enough. Her face was so hot, she worried she’d start sweating.

“This helps me.” He explained. “When the world is too fucking much.” He turned around, holding a glass figurine. It was an angel, pretty, and delicate.

“Are we going to… pray?” Her nerves were quickly replaced by confusion.

“No.” He laughed and placed the figurine in her palm. “Break it.” He said quietly, their hands still touching. “It’s therapeutic.”

“You want me to break this.”

“That’s what I said.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

Emerson held it in her hand, letting it catch the light of his bedroom before she curled her fingers around it. Destruction doesn’t solve anything. Pain breeds more pain. But yet, she really wanted to break something. She wanted to break John for hurting Dean. She wanted to rip apart the doctors that diagnosed her mother. Even though it wouldn’t change anything. She’d still be sick. She’d still be dying. The angel in her hand stared up at her, and it looked so pious she couldn’t help but pull it back and throw it against the wall as hard as she could.

She let out a yell as it crashed against the wall, exploding into a dozen pieces. There was something deeply satisfying about watching the pieces crash to the floor. It was different than the bottle of merlot. It was purposeful. Her body wasn’t failing her, it was helping. She grinned wildly, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Another one.” He said, opening his palm to reveal another angel.

She took it eagerly and threw it a bit harder. It bounced off the wall and hit the book shelf before exploding. The colorless glass sprayed out into the carpet, and even though it’d be a bitch to clean up, Dean offered her another, and another until she was weak at the knees.

He wrapped an arm around her, and lowered her to a seated position next to him on his bed. “I’ve got you.” He said, quietly.

She looked at her trembling hands. Hands that destroy. She curled her fingers in on themselves and looked up at Dean. “Thank you.” She whispered. “I’m not mad anymore.” She was just sad. She was heartbroken.

“You’re welcome.”

She reached up her finger and ran it over the cut on Dean’s lip. “Why didn’t you hit him back?”

Dean winced, but he didn’t back away from her. Maybe he suspected she knew the whole time. “Would you believe me if I said violence wasn’t the answer?”

Her eyes flickered to the glass shards covering his room, and the small dents on his wall from repeated throws. “Not even a little bit.”

He rubbed circles on her arm, looking off somewhere else. “ I guess I don’t want to lower myself to his level. I want to be better than him.”

“You are.” Emerson promised him. “You’ve always been better than him.”

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Not even Pheli? Sam doesn’t…”

“No.” She cut him off. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.” She stood up, moving out from under his arm, and she leaned down and pressed her lips to the cut above his eye. “If he’s ever coming after you, you can stay with me. If something happens to you I don’t think I could forgive myself.”

Dean stared at her, his mouth open slightly, before pressing his lips together in a line. He nodded. The realization that Emerson Maklen could care about him was dizzying. “Bullshit.” He whispered with a slight smile.

“What?”

“I said, bullshit. You could forgive yourself, because it wouldn’t be your fault. It’d be his. Don’t let other people’s mistakes sit on your shoulders. The only thing we can be responsible for is our own actions.”

“How about you practice what you preach, Winchester?”

He reached up and touched her cheek. “I’m trying.” He promised. “I’m really trying.”

-1 Week After-

Emerson ran her fingers along the dents in the wall of Dean’s bedroom where she’d thrown the figurines.

“What were you so upset about that day?”

She turned to look at him. “Mom’s MS was finally showing symptoms, and then I saw where John hit you and I just...”

“How’d you know, anyway?”

“I saw him. Outside of my window one night. It was horrible, Dean.”

“It was.” He said, between gritted teeth. “He was a marine, so he knew how to dish out a beating.” He laughed dryly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He said swiftly. “Plus. For all I know he’s already dead.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know what to believe.”

“Hey dorks!” Pheli asked, popping her head into Dean’s bedroom. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“Nope.” They both said at once, causing her eyebrow to quirk up.

“Uh huh. Sam and I were about to start an exciting game of Bullshit.” She grinned widely, waving the cards. “You in?”

“I don’t know.” Emerson groaned.

“Would it help if I said we were playing... strip bullshit? With alcohol?” She held out her other hand exposing her bottle of tequila.

“Fuck it. I’m in.” Dean grinned, swiping the tequila.

“You’re serious?” Emerson asked her sister.

She shrugged. “We are stuck in this basement for god knows how long, and I’m sure you’re as bored as I am. We need to wind down, and I figured what better than a little drinking game.”

“That involves nudity?”

“Only if you’re bad at lying.” Pheli said innocently.

“Yeah.” Emerson rolled her eyes. “I’m so sure.”

The four of them made it into the living room and got in a seated position. Pheli dealt out the cards. “Okay, so the rules are the same. The only kicker is that if you call Bullshit and you’re wrong then you can either take the cards, take a shot, or lose an item of clothing. If you’ve put more than one card you get more than one punishment. So if I put out three cards I can either, take three shots, take two and an item of clothing... you get the point. Oh, and if you call bullshit and you’re wrong, then you have to take whatever punishment the wrongly accused gives you.”

“And who wins?” Emerson asked, suddenly wishing she was wearing more than her pajama shorts and Dean’s t-shirt.

“The winner happens when they completely run out of cards. Like Uno. If you’re naked, then you just have to do shots or take cards.”

“Maklen I’ve called you a genius before, but now I think you’re an evil genius.” Dean grinned, but he wasn’t looking at Pheli at all. His eyes were on Emerson, and this time she wasn’t looking away.

“Alright let’s get started.” Sam laughed. “Phel you’re first.”

Turned out that Pheli was really bad at Bullshit. After five rounds she was sitting in her bra and panties, and she was starting to slur.

Dean was only wearing his jeans, his bare chest exposed. His dog tags rested on his chest. He looked at her under hooded eyes. He’d taken two shots, but still seemed pretty comfortable. Relaxed.

Sam matched his brother pretty well, his skinny chest exposed. Pheli drew little hearts on his chest with her fingers.

“Okay.” Pheli said sitting up. She held up four cards. “Four queenssss.” The S on the Queens hissed a little too long.

“Bullshit.” Em said, looking at her sister over her cards.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you!” She pointed at Emerson. “Read em and weep, sister!” She flipped over her cards to reveal all four queens.

Emerson swallowed hard. She’d managed to avoid any real consequences up until that point. She’d gotten lucky and gotten all good cards. “Be nice, Phel.”

“Get naked, sister.” She giggled. “I own you!”

Pheli never could hold her alcohol. She got sloppy over a few wine coolers, and even then she was a little vindictive. She never quite knew the line, and Emerson was feeling it.

“I only have two pieces of clothes, Phel.” She met her sisters eyes, feeling heat crawl up her neck.

“So I guess you’ll be taking two shots as well!”

“Are you kidding me?” Emerson hissed.

“She doesn’t have to...” Dean began before Pheli waved him off.

“Yes she does! That’s the rules.”

Emerson took the bottle of tequila and took two big swigs, closing her eyes. She hoped it would give her some liquid courage, because she could feel how red and blotchy her skin was under her t-shirt.

She sat down the bottle and Pheli scooped it up, taking a few drinks herself as she eagerly watched her sister’s embarrassment grow.

Dean peeled his eyes off of Emerson, to try to give her some privacy as she pulled off Deans t-shirt from her torso. She sucked in her breath as the cool basement air hit her bare breasts. She sighed and shook her head, as she pulled off her shorts. She sat her pile of clothes in front of her. “Okay. Dean it’s your turn..”

His tongue darted out of his bottom lip, and Emerson could tell he was doing everything in his power not to look at her. To respect her space. Her heart flipped.

“I’ve got uh... two kings.”

“Bullshit!” Pheli sang.

“Nope, sorry.” He said awkwardly.

“Uh oh! Guess you’re seeing both twins no nos!” Pheli giggled as she tried to fiddle with her bra.

“Nope.” Sam said, shaking his head. “No fucking way.” He stood up and threw Pheli over his shoulder. “We are going to bed. Night guys.”

“Sam you’re no fun!” Pheli complained.

Dean handed Emerson the blanket from the couch, his eyes flickering to her for just a second as she wrapped the blanket around herself. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t always wondered what she’d look like naked. He’d seen her in a bathing suit but nothing could compare to how beautiful she was. Her face was pink from embarrassment, and her nipples alert from the cold. Her blonde hair spilled over her pale shoulder, and he wanted to kiss her.

“I’ll give you some space.” He said, standing up.

“You don’t have to go.” She said quietly, looking at him.

Her blush was starting to recede.

“Yeah I do.” He said quietly, and he went back into his room. He closed the door behind him, leaving her sitting in the living room alone. He pressed his back to the door and tried to calm down. His body and his mind where racing toward a finish line. Emerson Maklen. The woman he couldn’t want. The one he could never have. Major national disaster or not. He was still him and she was still her. No amount of card games would change what he already knew, he would never be with Emerson, and never is a long fucking time.

—————

Chapter Seven

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[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God -Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

“We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.” - D.H. Lawrence

-18 Days After-

Dean grabbed the hand without question and allowed himself to be pulled into the Jeep, before reaching for Emerson’s hand. What was his choice? Stranger in a Jeep or a bunch of fleshy monsters that were trying to bite their faces. It was an easy decision, if he thought at all about it.

“We have two more. My brother and her sister. They’re just ahead.” Dean pointed to where Sam and Pheli were when he and Emerson got settled in the Jeep.

“Thank you.” Emerson said softly. “We were dead out there.”

The person, who’s build lead them to believe was male, gave them a big thumbs up. Nothing else could be made up behind the mask. It was all too eerie, but so much better than the alternative.

The Jeep pulled forward, over more bodies, easily crunching over their bones. Sam and Pheliwere behind the glass door of the building, curled together. Sam’s eyes lit up when the Jeep door flew open and Dean waved them in.

“I thought we lost you, man.” Sam said as he helped Pheli in. they were hurrying, the groans of the creatures were too close for comfort.

“You almost did.” Emerson said, wrapping her arms around Pheli’s waist.

“Whose this?” She asked, eyeing the driver.

“We don’t know.” Her sister whispered.

The man turned toward them and after what seemed like some careful consideration before removing his gas mask. He revealed messy dark hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a perfectly straight white smile.

“Holy fuck.” Dean whispered. “Holy fuck.”

“Hello, Dean.”

A grin grew on Dean Winchester’s tired, pained face. A real one, not the kind that he had become so familiar with that was painted with regret and fear. “Cas.” The two men pulled into a tight hug. “Holy shit it’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” Cas said into Dean’s shoulder. He pulled out of the hug and looked Dean over. “You’re not hurt, are you? Any injuries? Bites? They didn’t bleed on in you, or gas you, did they?”

“What?” Dean asked, alarmed. “No, uh, we are good. Fucked up my knee, and Phel over there got grabbed and hurt her ankle.”

“But they didn’t bleed into you? Your mouth? A wound?”

The group all looked at each other and shook their heads. “No.” Emerson said quietly. “Why?”

“You don’t know, do you?” The dark haired man asked. His chin was tight as he put the Jeep in gear. “We need to go.”

“What do we not know?”

“I thought it was why you were here.” Cas licked his bottom lip. “We will talk more when we get to the base.”

Emerson reached for Dean’s hand and he laced his fingers with hers. He trusted Cas. “It’s okay.” He whispered against Emerson’s ear. If someone was going to pick them up he couldn’t have picked a better person. She nodded back at him, her other hand on Pheli’s knee.

He drove quickly, taking unconventional turns to lose the creatures on their trail. The Jeep crunched easily over bodies and the trash in the street. Before they knew it, they’d lost the creatures on their tail, and were back on the road to the base.

It was right outside of town, just like Dean had mentioned. The perimeter of the base was a tall fence made of different items that seemed to be procured from the city, and then lined again by barbed wire. Cas leaned in and grabbed his walkie talkie and pressed the button. “Castiel Novak reporting in. I have four recruits with me. There are no level red injuries that I can see.”

“I hear ya loud and clear Hot Wings.” A gravely Southern drawl met Castiel’s through the walkietalkie.

“You won’t believe who I found.”

“Lookin forward to it, Brother.” The voice said as the gates in front of them were pushed open by men in military uniforms.

Dean felt his chest tighten at the sight of the men in their ACU’s. He unconsciously tugged at his dog tags around his neck. Castiel pulled the Jeep forward. “Alright, first we will get you to Medical to get checked out. Have you eaten?”

“Not in a while.” Pheli squeaked, suddenly hyper aware of her empty stomach.

“We will get some rations for you and set you up with a place to rest.” He put the Jeep in park. The area seemed to be sectioned around an old strip mall. There were units that had new spray painted signs of their uses. They stopped in front of a shop that had a big sign that was painted Medical in dripping red spray paint. “The guys will be happy to see you, Dean.”

“Me too.” He grunted.

Castiel swung his door open and got out of the car, the rest of the group followed his lead. Pheli leaned on Sam for support. Emerson jumped out before Dean, and held out a hand. He winced as his bag leg touched the ground, but he didn’t lean on Emerson. “You good?” She asked him softly. He shrugged in response.

Cas waved for them to follow him into Medical. The door chimed, perhaps the bell was left over from when it was a shop. It looked like the shop used to be a clothing store, the walls were still lined with garments, but the rest of the racks were taken out and moved. There were folding tables scattered intermittently that were covered with sheets to be used as exam tables and beds for the injured.

“You’re back!” A small woman said, looking up from her table. She was organizing medical supplies. “Hello Clarence.” She almost purred, moving from behind the table toward Cas.

“Meg.” He said, his blue eyes studying her. “I have some patients for you to look over. New residents. No level red injuries.”

“Have they come into contact with any Rogues?” Meg asked, pulling her dark waves into a ponytail.

“Swarm of them in the city. My timing was impeccable.”

“Rogues?” Dean asked with a frown.

“Not your turn to talk, tall dark and handsome.” Meg snapped, before turning back to Castiel. “You’re okay, Clarence? No close calls?”

“I’m fine.” He assured her.

“Good.” She exhaled before turning toward the rest of the group. “Name’s Meg Masters. I’m the resident doc around here. Just got lucky I guess. Take a seat. We will do physicals first, and then assess injuries. I know you told Clarence over there that you haven’t been bitten, but I’m still going to need to do a once over. Not worth the risk, ya hear me? Whose first?”

“Can you look over my girlfriend first? She hurt her ankle...” Sam asked, gesturing to Pheli.

“Sure.” Meg shrugged. “Bring Princess over here.”

“Cas,” Dean began, grabbing his arm before he could leave. “What do you know?”

“I don’t know if this is the right place, Dean.”

“I think anywhere is the right place. Rouges?”

He sighed in response, and pulled Dean away from Emerson so they could talk a little more privately. “It’s what we call the creatures that you encountered.”

“We came from out East, Cas. We saw the explosion. How were there effects way out here?”

“You really don’t know. Didn’t you go report when things went down?”

“I’m out, Cas. I’m a civilian. Not exactly anywhere for me to report to.”

“There were explosions everywhere. All over the US. A lot of bases were attacked. From what I understand the Capital is completely down. We haven’t received any communication or orders so we came here. Just like we all discussed.”

“It’s all dark?”

“That is how it appears.”

“Why are you so concerned about bites?” Dean frowned, his head spinning, but being back there across from his former brother in arms was bringing back old habits as he stood practically at attention.

“From what we can gather the Rogue’s were created from the blast and the red rain.”

“You had that here, too?”

“Haven’t in a while, but yes.” Castiel said with a sigh. He crossed his arms. “Things are bad, Dean. Our resources are good, but they won’t last forever. The Rogues are multiplying faster than we can pick them off.”

“Multiplying? I thought they happened from the blast.”

“That’s one way. From the intel that we’ve gathered, there are two levels. First level are the ones you saw. Nasty mother fuckers. They have the bubbled and burned flesh, and they are unbelievably hot to the touch. They’ll burn your skin right off if they grab ahold of you, and then there’s level two. These are the ones that have been infected.”

“Infected.” Dean repeated. “You’re saying this can be caught? Like a damn disease?”

“Exactly like a disease. Without a scientist or a real doctor it’s hard to be sure, but we think it is spread through bodily fluids. Saliva and blood are the big ones. Some of the Rogues also deplete a gas that is toxic. It’s unsure if this will cause an outbreak of the disease or not. No one has escaped the gas yet.” Castiel explained grimly.

“Christ.”

“You’re telling me.” He forced a smile. “It’s good to see you, Dean. It really is.”

“You too, Buddy.”

-2 Years Before-

“Winchester, do you need something?”

“Captain Novak, permission to enter?” Dean asked, standing at attention in the entryway to Castiel’s tent.

“Granted. What can I help you with?” Castiel scribbled at his paperwork on his desk, not looking up at Dean.

“Can I speak freely, sir?”

“Personal or business?”

“Personal.”

“Granted.” He finally looked up at Dean and smiled widely. “What can I do for you, Dean?”

“Morale is shit, Cas.” He said casually. “I was wondering if we could take some of the guys into town? You know, to have some fun.”

“I’m not sure if that would be wise. You do know these people want us dead, right?”

“I’m aware.” Dean said smoothly. “Or maybe a movie night? The guys are in a shit mood, sir.”

“Don’t sir with me right now.” Castiel waved Dean off. He’d been recently promoted, and there was no hiding that the two men were close friends. It still felt weird pulling rank. “But you’re right. I heard Garth crying in his bunk again. He’s a sensitive one.”

“He is.” Dean agreed. “Benny is down, too, Cas. He’s worried about his niece. I just think a distraction is in order.”

He pursed his lips in thought. “Okay, fine. We will arrange something. You’re due some fun, too, Winchester.” Castiel promised. “You head out tomorrow to work on those Humvee’s right?”

“Yup. Headed that way at oh-four-hundred.”

Cas grinned at him. “Up before the sun, I’m sure you’re thrilled.”

“Yup, jumping for joy over here.”

“Alright, Winchester, get out of my fucking face so I can get some work done. Dismissed.”

Dean gave his friend a loose salute and turned on his heels before exiting the tent.

“What’s the news, Brother?” Benny asked, a cigarette hanging out of his lips.

“He’s going to work something out.”

“Strip club?” Charlie asked, wiggling her eyebrows. She was a tiny thing, pale with red curls that always fell out of her tight bun at the base of her head.

“Aw, you wish.” Dean caught her around the shoulder and rubbed the top of her head.

“Get off, you ass.” She laughed. She always looked at Dean as a brother and he felt the same. She was brilliant and nobody could deny her computer skills. She was a fucking genius, and why she was out in the dirt with a bunch of men was beyond him. “So what, a football tournament again?” She complained.

“He didn’t really say.” Dean shrugged. “But you know Novak, he’s good for his word. Now get back to work, you lazy assholes.”

He moved forward, back to the tank he was supposed to be tinkering with, his mind far away. “Dean, hey you got a second?”

“Hm?” He turned back to Charlie.

“Don’t leave without me in the morning, I’ll be heading out with you. They’re having some technical difficulties, and I’m going to see what I can do to help.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “We leave at oh-four-hundred sharp, don’t be late. It’d be a long ass walk.”

“Heard.”

-18 Days After-

They wrapped Pheli’s ankle and applied burn cream from where the Rogue got a little grabby. She would be good to go in a few days, she just needed to stay off of it. Dean’s knee was out of place, before Meg popped it back in. She warned him that it could happen again, since she didn’t have the resources to fix it permanently.

The sun was going down on the camp, the orange sky causing the tents and people to seemingly glow. Some were washing clothes, hanging them up on a line; others cooked over a fire in the center of camp.

“No fucking way.” A deep drawl came from behind them. Dean turned, recognizing the sound immediately.

“Benny?!”

“Hey, Brother.” The man said, pulling Dean into a hug. He wore a dirty Henley, and a gray hat over his dark peppered hair.

“Damn, it’s good to see you.” Dean grinned. “Oh, uh, guys this is Benny he was a buddy of mine from Afghanistan. He was in my unit. Benny this is my brother Sam.”

“So good to finally meet you.” Benny said, offering him a hand.

“This is his girlfriend Ophelia.”

“Call me Pheli, everyone does.”

“And her sister, Emerson.”

“Nice to meet you.” Benny said, kissing both girls hands. “Not very often we get pretty girls in here.” He grinned widely before turning back to Dean. “We are going to play some music by the fire tonight, like old times. We have to keep it low because of the Rogues, but one of our own is back. That’s cause for celebration.’

“Aw, man I don’t know. We are kind of tired, I think.”

“It’s okay.” Emerson said softly, touching his arm. “Benny is right. We almost died today, we should celebrate.”

Dean looked at her for a moment before nodding. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Alright. Fuck, I guess we’re in.”

“Great!” Benny said, slapping Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll see you at the fire after dinner.”

“You got it.”

“Dean!” Castiel called, waving at the group. “We have your quarters set up for the night. We don’t have an extra tent at the moment. We can do some shuffling tomorrow, but it’s a nice night so we got you and Sam set up under the stars.” He gestured to the set up that was under a tree. “The ladies can follow me. We have some extra space with Meg and me.”

Emerson replaced Sam on Pheli’s side. “We will go get settled and meet you.” She promised the boys before following Castiel to the tent.

Dean leaned on the makeshift crutch that Meg made him. “Fuck, man.”

“You’re popular here.” Sam said once they were alone. He grinned widely. “Want to go sit for a bit? You look beat.”

“I feel beat.” Dean said, before scanning the camp. “I think I saw a sign for coffee on our way over here.”

“Sounds good.” Sam agreed.

“Why don’t you go settle our stuff, and I’ll grab a cup of joe.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I want to get a lay of the land before we get too comfortable.” Dean said with a nod before hobbling toward the coffee counter. It was a small stand, set up with just a table and a crudely painted sign. She had a small fire behind her in a metal ring that kept the coffee heated. His stomach ached for food, but his head throbbed from exhaustion. Caffeine would have to do. He didn’t want to know the kind of nightmares he would have if he closed his eyes.

“Heard you’ve got the caffeine.” He said as he approached the brunette behind the table. She was turned away, fiddling with the fire. “We will be seeing a lot of each other.” He laughed dryly. He knew it was smart to befriend the person supplying him with coffee or booze. He was always very chatty with his bartender.

The woman laughed and turned to him. “That’s me. I must say, ever since I took over this position I’ve been very popular.” Her dark eyes caught his as she turned; her pink lips opened in shock. “Dean.” She murmured.

“Lisa.”

—————

Chapter Thirteen

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[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God- Chapter 4

***Sometimes staying away is the easiest move. Keeping a safe distance, especially for Emerson and Dean Winchester. So, when the Maklen twins come home again, they don’t anticipate the feelings that Emerson will get having to see him again. When tragedy strikes, the Winchester brothers and the Maklen twins are forced to face, not only their feelings, but each other. In a story about pain, family, abandonment, and desire, the couples have to decide if survival, without love, is enough.***

Warnings: Angst, violence, death, mutual pinning, age difference, language

Chapter Four

“I manage a smile the first time I see him, and it feels like the biggest lie I’ve ever told. So I hold my breath cause I’m thinking any minute now he’s gonna call me on it.” - Shane Koyczan

-9 Hours After-

The Earth was quiet. It was almost eerie, alien. The Winchester brothers stepped off the boat first on to the dock. They wanted to test it to make sure it was sound, so the girl’s wouldn’t fall into the ocean. Pieces were broken from when the earth shook. The dock splintered, as if it’d been hit by an angry fist. Sam lifted Pheli off the boat, effortlessly, pulling her against his chest. “You look cute.” He whispered to her through his surgical mask. She hit his chest playfully in response.

Dean offered a rubber gloved hand to Emerson. She could see the crinkles around his eyes from where he was grinning widely under his mask, but there was something else. His pupils were dilated and his eyebrows seemed locked in position. He was afraid.

Emerson rested her gloved hand in Deans and let him pull her up onto the dock. “Where are we going?” She asked him quietly.

“I have some supplies at the house, then I thought we could check the hospital and see about your mom.”

Pheli turned at that and met Emerson’s eyes. Their mother. They were going to let her go. It was already decided. What was the likelihood that she was still alive strapped to the machine that was breathing for her? What was the likelihood that anyone survived? In the wake of the explosion, would it even be safe to travel downtown to find out?

Dean squeezed Emersons hand. She hadn’t noticed that she was gripping his fingers for dear life. She didn’t want to need his support, but he was strong, and his hand was warm within hers. “Come on.” He said. “Let’s get to the car, it’s not safe to be out here even with the precautions.”

She pulled her hand from his and adjusted her hat, even though her skin was still covered. She could feel the heat from the sun baking down on them, and her skin was starting to sweat under the rain jacket.

“I feel like a baked potato.” Pheli complained as Sam zipped her jacked up to her chin.

“Better safe than sorry.” He said, poking her nose through the mask.

Ophelia was meant for drama, and Emerson had always thought that. Growing up, Pheli was always dressing up, and doing performances for the family. She would sit her sister and their mother down and do a dramatic reenactment, or a song and dance. The older she got, the more drama was involved in their regular life. She would cry over boys, and romanticize the smallest moments.

She wasn’t being dramatic then, though. Emerson felt that the baked potato metaphor was unsettlingly fitting. The ground seemed to be steaming; most of the red rain was gone from the ground, evaporated into blood red clouds that floated threateningly above them.

“Thank God.” Dean whispered as the four reached the car. “My baby is okay.” He ran his fingers along the car with a relieved smile.

Emerson rolled her eyes as he unlocked the car. Her vision was fuzzy along the edges. “Dean I’m not sure these masks are working.” She exhaled slowly, eyeing Pheli as Sam helped her into the car. “You feeling okay?”

“A little woozy.” She admitted.

“Me, too.”

“Alright, lets book it.” Dean said quickly, sliding into the driver’s seat.

The sisters laced their fingers together in the backseat. Emerson rubbed small circles on the back of Pheli’s hand. Their eyes flickered out the window as they watched the town they grew up in fly by in a blur of color. “Oh my god.” Pheli whispered, her hand going to her mouth.

Everything looked like it’d been picked up and shook. Buildings had collapsed, some still on fire. The flames licked up toward to the sky. Cars had crashed into each other, causing Dean to slow the Impala for fear of a collision. Bodies were lying in the street. “Christ.” Dean whispered. His back was tense under his flannel. Emerson wanted to reach out and touch him, but she refrained. It wasn’t their way, after all. “Fuck.” He stopped the car.

“What?”  Emerson asked, scooting into the middle seat so she could get a view of the street. There was a large light pole that had fallen in the road. There was no way around. “Shit.”

“Fuck!” Dean shouted, slamming his hands against the steering wheel. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. “We are going to have to walk.” There was oil in the street from the car wrecks. Fire. It was dangerous to stay, but they had no idea if they would survive the walk back to the houses. The girls were already feeling a light headed from the toxin in the air, and they’d barely been outside.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Sam promised, his hand on Pheli’s thigh. He was reaching around from the front seat.

She nodded. She believed him. She didn’t have any other choice.

“Dean, the gas…”

“I know.” He said sharply before letting out a sigh. “I have supplies at the house. All Dad’s old military shit. I think he may have some masks. We just have to get there.” He turned, meeting Emerson’s eyes. “We will have to hustle.” He turned to Phel. “Can you do that?”

Both girls nodded. They knew the only answer was yes. They had to move, or they would die, and the latter wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be.

-7 Years Before-

“What in God’s name are you doing here?”

Dean leaned against the doorway wearing a black button up lazily tucked into a pair of slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a cigarette was in between his teeth. He held a single rose in his fingers. “Homecoming, Em.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Emerson stared at him blankly. Fucking Ophelia! I’m going to kill her.

“Shit, put your murder eyes away.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“You’re too old for high school homecoming.”

“Probably right, but Sammy needs a wingman.” He offered her the rose with his best smile.

All it did was piss her off. She reached up and pulled the cigarette from his lips and broke it. “I’m not going anywhere with you if you have cigarette mouth. It’s disgusting.”

“Why do you care what my mouth tastes like?” He taunted with a smirk, clearly loving getting a reaction out of her.

“I don’t care.” She snapped before turning to walk back inside.

“So, you gonna change?”

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to him. She was wearing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. She was so distracted by him showing up that she didn’t even realize. “No. I’m not going to homecoming.”

“Yes you are!” Pheli said from the top of the stairs.

“Oh I don’t want to hear it from you!” Emerson snapped at her sister who quickly disappeared back into her bedroom.  She turned on her heels and her chest brushed against Dean’s.  

“I don’t want to go either, by the way.” He said quietly.

“Cool.” She said. She didn’t back away from him. “So why are you trying to go?”

He shrugged. “I put on a shirt.”

“Right.” Emerson snorted.

“Just come with me, Em.”

“Why should I, Dean?”

“Because you want to.” He said sheepishly with a mischievous grin.

“I don’t.”

“You’re a liar.” He grinned widely. “Fine. Come because it’ll be fun. We can watch Sammy and Ophelia be all squirmy and awkward. It’ll be great.”

Emerson opened her mouth to argue more, but she pressed it shut. She knew she should go to be there for her sister. It was her first date with Sam. Her eyes met Deans green ones. He was grinning. He already knew he won. “Fine, but this isn’t a date. We are going for our siblings.”

“Yup. Totally.” He chucked low. “I don’t date anyway, Em.” He shrugged.

“Right.”

****

Dean was surprised by how nice Emerson cleaned up. She took a step on the top of the stairs and Ophelia cleared her throat, maybe to signal Sam to look at her, or perhaps to signal Dean to look at her sister.

He wasn’t blind, he knew Emerson was beautiful. Both Maklen sisters were often the talk of the school, and even though he was long graduated, he wouldn’t forget the look of the other seniors when the two blonde twins walked into the school on the first day of their freshman year. They were beautiful and typically attached at the hip. Sam had begged him to take Emerson to the dance.

“Please, Dean. You owe me!”

“For what, pray tell?”

“Two words: pink panties.”

“Alright, you got it. I’ll take the cranky sister to the dance.” Truth be told, he would’ve taken her anyway. She was hot and mysterious, but more than anything Sam asked him. He couldn’t say no to his brother.

“Thank you.” Sam exhaled.

“You’re really nervous, aren’t you?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Yes.” Dean laughed. “You actually are.” He grabbed his brother and ruffled his hair. “Little Sammy! Don’t forget to pack condoms.”

“What? No way!” His face was bright red and hot.

Dean laughed and let him go. “Go in with confidence, my man. It makes a world of difference.”

Sam ran his fingers through his hair to fix it. “Is that what you’re going to do with Emerson?”

The older brother shrugged and flipped his lighter in his hands. “It won’t be like that.”

“Why not? If it works with all the other girls.”

“Well first of all, she’s sixteen.” He said, flicking Sam’s forehead. “Second of all, I don’t know. She’s not like other girls.” He shrugged noncommittally.

Her hair had a subtle wave to it as it spilled down her shoulders. Her dress was simple, maroon, and strapless, showing off her smooth collarbones and flawless shoulders. It hit her mid-thigh, and for once she wore combat boots. His eyes landed on her full lips, which were painted a nude color. More than anything, though, she looked fucking annoyed.

“You look amazing.” Sam gushed at Pheli. She was wearing a pink dress that hugged her curves. It had a shimmer to it, and the straps crisscrossed across her chest. She wore a pair of silver heels that caught the light. She put a lot of work into her appearance, and Sam noticed.

“Thank you.” She blushed, red creeping up her neck. “You look handsome too.” She took his hand, and he offered her a corsage. “Wow! It’s stunning. Did you pick it out yourself?”

Dean turned to Emerson and grinned. “Wow, you clean up nice.”

“I know.” She forced a wicked grin.

“You look nice, too, Dean.” He said in a girly voice. “Wow, thanks Em. You’re a peach.”

“Was that supposed to be me?” She laughed.

“I think it was a spot on interpretation.”

“I guess.” She rolled her eyes, but took his arm when he offered it. “Okay love birds, let’s get this thing over with.”

The dance was impressive, but no one should’ve been surprised. Pheli was on the planning committee. The gymnasium at the high school was transformed by twinkle lights, and clear balloons covering the floor. Everything was low light and sparkling. It felt like they were inside of a glittering snow globe just waiting to be shaken.

“You out did yourself, kiddo.” Dean glanced at Ophelia. She smiled widely, knowing that any compliment given from him was one to cherish.

“Sam let’s go get our picture taken!” She squealed, pulling his hand. The couple disappeared into the crowd to go get a professional photograph taken.

“She’s intense.” Dean commented.

“That’s an understatement.”

He glanced at her. “Do you want a drink or something?”

“What? Like punch?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” Emerson raised an eyebrow. He put a hand on her lower back to lead her through the crowd.

He got them both a glass of punch and to her surprise he didn’t pull out a flask. They walked away from the table and took a seat. She took the glass from him and eagerly and took a sip. She made a face. “This is so watered down.” She laughed.

“Yeah, I never liked dances.” He agreed with a laugh. “They always felt lame and forced.”

“Pheli loves them, and I love watching her love them. Ya know? Even if I hate them.”

“Don’t teenage girls usually love dances?”

“That’s a stereotype.” Emerson raised an eyebrow.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, guess it is.”

Emerson picked at her nails uncomfortably, and Dean couldn’t stop staring at her. The way her blonde waves fell in her face. The focus of the deep brown of her eyes. The way her bottom lip moved as she let out her breath. He pleaned in. “Okay, one time offer.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Want to dance?”

She almost spit her drink. Was Dean Winchester seriously asking her to dance? “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Going once… going twice…”

“Fuck you.” She went to fold her arms across her chest in protest, but instead he grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

She was so surprised that she was easily pulled on to the dance floor. He spun her around effortlessly, her hair whipping around her. The song was faced paced, and she was surprised by his dance moves. He wasn’t grinding against her leg, he was actually dancing. His hand was pressed to her lower back and he lead her around the dance floor. “How did you learn this?” She asked, breathlessly as he pulled her against him.

“Mom.” He said with a shrug. “She loved to dance, and Dad had two left feet.”

“You’re actually pretty good.” She laughed as he spun her out and back in again.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

“Maybe I’m not what you think I am.” He asked as he pulled her a little closer, his eyes meeting hers intensely.

Maybe he wasn’t. It hadn’t ever occurred to her that the guy next door could be more than he appeared. The song changed to a slower one and she started to pull away, but his grip tightened on her. “Just a little longer.” He murmured, and she wasn’t really sure if she was intended to hear it, not really, so she didn’t comment on it.

They swayed slowly together to the rhythm of the music. She let her body relax against him, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “This doesn’t last forever.” He commented quietly.

The song? She knew that, but somehow she didn’t think that was what he meant. “What doesn’t?”

“High school.”

She nodded against his shoulder. “I know.”

“It sucked for me, too.” He laughed breathlessly. “But it really is just a blink and it’s over.”

She knew that, but there was comfort in hearing it from someone who lived through it. From someone who wasn’t like Pheli, who often cried at the thought of high school ending.

“Not everyone is Sam and Ophelia.” Dean commented, as if he could read her mind.

“That’s the truth.” She pulled away to look at him. “Why aren’t you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know... real?”

He shrugged. “When people think you’re one thing, sometimes it’s just easier to live up to it. I’d always rather be underestimated. Then you can surprise them, and you never let anyone down.”

Emerson pressed her lips together. Part of her wanted to kiss him, but then she remembered that she didn’t kiss guys like Dean Winchester. She didn’t kiss guys period. She was thinking, again, despite what she was witnessing, that he was one thing. That he was bad, but people are more complicated than that. More than anyone she should know that. “Want to get some air?” She asked him instead.

“Sure.” He shrugged, dropping her hand to walk outside.

She somehow felt empty, without having him touching her. They pushed out into the cool Autumn night. His back was pressed against the brick of the school as he pulled out a cigarette. He held it between his lips and lit it, inhaling the smoke. His eyes fluttered closed, his face relaxing.

“Why do you do that?”

He shrugged, opening a single eye to look at her. “Part of me has always known I’m going to die young. May as well help it along. Should smoke two at once.” He laughed, letting out a gray breath.

She eyed the cigarette, glowing orange in the night air. “That’s tragic, Dean. You know that, right? Life isn’t about dying. It isn’t about getting to the finish line.”

He turned his body to look at her, his expression serious. “Of course it is, Em.”

They weren’t like Sam and Ophelia. Wrapped up in bliss and possibilities. Flowers and butterfly kisses. Emerson and Dean were snark, longing looks, and inhaled smoke despite the fact that it fucking hurt. They stood in the dark behind the school, listening to the muffled pulse of music through the wall into the gymnasium. There were people that went to dances and fell in love under the twinkling lights, and then there was Dean Winchester. He wasn’t the guy to fall in love with. He was dangerous. He had bad habits and little to no respect for himself. But he also danced with his mom and looked out for his little brother, and the way he looked at Emerson through the smoke in the darkness made her question everything she knew. Maybe that’s what relationships were all about. Questions and answers.

Emerson grabbed the cigarette from him and stepped an inch away from him. “I refuse to believe that you are living just to die. What is the point? If you don’t have something to live for, Dean, it’s time to find one. You think you’re worthless, but the only thing making you worthless is you.”

His eyes flickered to the cigarette with his mouth opened. Her words hit him like a bullet to the chest. He half expected her to stomp out the burning embers, but instead she brought it to her lips and took a deep breath in, sucking the smoke into her lungs, her eyes never leaving his.

-9 Hours After-

They were running, dodging flames, cars, fallen trees, dead bodies... Emerson bent over in a coughing fit. Even through the surgical mask the air was too much. The toxin and the smell of burning flesh had almost completely blinded her. Everything was fuzzy. She had only been pulled forward by Ophelia, who was being almost drug by Sam. They jumped over a fallen woman, and Emerson released Pheli’s hand. She doubled over, coughing into her mask.

It was worse than that first cigarette. She coughed so much she almost threw up. It had lessened the impact of her statement to Dean, turns out Ophelia wasn’t the only Maklen girl who had a flare for the dramatic.

“Em!” Ophelia turned back when she felt her sister release her grasp. “Dean!”

He turned and muttered a curse under his breath. He turned on his heels and ran to Emerson, effortlessly scooping her up. His arm went under the bend of her legs and behind her back. “I got you.” He told her, holding her against his chest. “Keep going! I’ve got her!” He yelled to his brother and Pheli.  

Emerson looked up at Dean weakly. She was coughing more, her throat burning. She tasted pennies in her mouth. “Dean.” She whispered between coughs. Her lips were wet under the mask.

“You’ve got it. Just hold on a little longer, Em. We are almost there. We don’t live just to die, remember?” He asked quietly, wiping a tear from her eye. “So you aren’t dying today. I won’t fucking lose you. Not now.”

—————

Chapter Five

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#fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #deanxofc #samxofc #writing #mine #the hand that reaches for god #otp #angst #apocalypse!Au #AU #mutual pinning #romance #violence