#I JUST REALISED THAT PEOPLE THINK ITS FAKE AFTER ITS BEEN SAID A LOTTA TIMES SO

[ruanais]

If I ever say sorry to u like- 20+ times and say it really often, I swear I really do mean it :’)

[dragestilwrites]

Gaijin Love Story

*Rated E - 18+ Only!* 2300~ words McHanzo

Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, First Time

Jesse and Hanzo are sent out on a mission that requires them to pretend like they are engaged. But what if there are real feelings lingering beneath the facade?

Author’s Note: Please do not read this if you are underage! This fic contains adult content!

It always rained at the worst times, Hanzo thought, as they stood under the small awning protecting the bus stop from the elements. Their mission was already complicated enough with the particulars of their cover. They didn’t need bad weather to literally muddy the waters further. But Jesse was smiling even as he retrieved a small umbrella from the bag slung across his torso. He opened it with a small click and it popped up, creating a canopy above them to keep them dry.

“Cheer up, Han,” Jesse said as his free arm reached down to interlace his fingers with Hanzo’s and draw him closer. “Stay next to me and we’ll both stay dry.”

Jesse’s grasp was warm. His thumb brushed gently over the back of Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo tried to remind himself that this was all part of their cover. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he was roped into this all, but now there was no backing out. Their target was hosting an event for couples planning their weddings. It was, of course, actually a distraction to cover for the weapon smuggling ring he was running. But the event was the best excuse to get close to him.

So Hanzo found himself in Tokyo with Jesse so close they could share their warmth and rain pattering softly on the umbrella above them. He had protested that Genji could have gone. He had pressed that, even though no one would mistake McCree for a local, the man knew plenty enough Japanese to get by. But they had been chosen to work as a team. The commander seemed to take pleasure in Hanzo’s terse arguments and the lazy grin on Jesse’s face as he watched it all unfold. ‘You two have an outstanding track record when you work together. No more discussions - your flight leaves tonight,’ the commander finally said when Hanzo’s protests ran dry.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Hanzo said as he glanced up at Jesse.

“Aren’t you? Tokyo’s great! Haven’t been here in ages.”

“You’ve been to Tokyo?”

“A few times, yeah. Maybe you haven’t noticed but I’m not so good at sittin’ still.”

“Oh I’ve noticed,” Hanzo answered with a small chuckle.

“So how are we handlin’ this mission? Bein’ serious for a second,” Jesse said after a few moments of walking in silence.

“We are to get-”

“No, no. I know the outline - I mean us two personally. I’m holdin’ your hand but I didn’t even ask. Not very gentlemanly of me.”

“They must believe we are engaged. I would expect hand-holding to be a minimum requirement for creating such a belief.”

“Y’know why don’t we grab some food, take it back to the hotel, and talk about this there? I’m starvin’ and good food makes any conversation better.”

Hanzo agreed with a nod and allowed Jesse to lead them through the streets on a quest for dinner. They ended up in a convenience store, grabbing familiar comforts from their pasts. Something about being in old territory but an entirely new situation brought cravings for nostalgic tastes to soothe anxieties. Jesse paid as Hanzo watched in quiet wonder at the ease with which his faux-fiancé spoke to the cashier. It was strange to hear Jesse speak Japanese. They only ever spoke in English, and it was a rare occasion when he would catch snippets of conversation between Genji and Jesse when they were shouting at each other in Japanese while playing video games.

“Ready to go?” Jesse asked, and Hanzo was shaken out of his thoughts.

Hanzo took the bag with their dinner and drinks as they stepped outside and Jesse reopened the little umbrella. His arm wrapped easily around Hanzo’s shoulders as they began their journey to the hotel. It wasn’t far, and they were both wordlessly eager to get off the streets and into somewhere warm and dry. They didn’t speak until they were at the front desk, handing over passports to check in, and then they fell silent again until they were safely behind the closed and locked door of their room.

“I think I stayed here when I was younger,” Jesse said once they had settled in and spread out their meals on the small table between them. “Not in a room this nice, but I was payin’ my own way.”

“It’s strange to hear you speak with such familiarity about Japan,” Hanzo admitted, “and to hear you speak so fluently. I did not know you could.”

“It never came up I guess,” Jesse answered with a small shrug. “It’s usually all business talk, y’know?”

“How did you start speaking to Genji in Japanese?”

“Just some team bondin’. Commander thought it was smart to leave the choice up to us what to do. That karaoke bar didn’t know what it had comin’,” Jesse said with a distant smile.

Hanzo chuckled at the thought. He could only imagine the trouble Genji and Jesse must have been up to. He understood now why the commander had taken to pairing Jesse with him rather than his younger brother. Perhaps he was meant to be a sobering force. He smiled absently before taking another sip.

“You really think my Japanese’s that good?” Jesse prodded after several moments of silence. “Don’t practice as much as I used to.”

“You are fluent not only in the language, but the customs. You must have studied our culture.”

“I lived here a while and did a lotta people watchin’. Nothin’ like sittin’ back at a cafe and just seein’ what you can see. And I did read a bit. I was tryin’ to blend in as much as I could while lookin’ like this. Understanding the culture is important to fitting in.”

Hanzo had set his beer down and was watching Jesse intently. For the dozenth time, he thought about the way Jesse’s boisterous personality could easily cover up his intelligence and drive. He thought about how flannel shirts and a cowboy hat could mask deep concern for the opinions and well-being of others. Hanzo exhaled a breath he’d been subconsciously holding and took another sip.

“Your efforts show. You are impressive.”

Jesse froze and he blinked a few times. Hanzo had never been the sort to throw around compliments. He rubbed the back of his neck in mild embarrassment. He hadn’t planned for that when he was in the captain’s quarters after hours negotiating to be sent on this mission. He had been trying to find time to spend on his own with Hanzo for months. It had started a month or two after the commander began teaming them up instead of sending Jesse out with the younger Shimada.

Hanzo was a ready match for Genji in skill. He was efficient and precise and never failed to get the job done. And he was a useful pair of eyes to have on the team, helping keep both of them aware of any nearby threats. And sometimes when it was late and they were laying low at a hotel and Hanzo thought he was sleeping, Jesse would hear Hanzo humming quiet songs to himself as he cleaned his gear and mentally reviewed the day. Those moments felt almost as intimate as this one, only a small table and heavy air between them as a faint warmth crept into Jesse’s cheeks.

“Jesse?”

Jesse realised he had been staring, mouth slightly open with words stuck fast to his tongue. He swallowed them down, blinked slowly, and then took a hasty sip of his own beer to wash away his sudden nerves. He nodded his head as he took another sip and settled his free hand on the table to keep himself grounded. “Do you still wish to talk about our interactions during this mission?”

“I think we oughta,” Jesse said, though he wondered whether he actually wanted to have this sort of talk. “You said you don’t mind holdin’ hands, but is there anything you do mind?”

Hanzo was quiet and still, and Jesse wondered if his question was too bold or maybe just too broad. But he didn’t interrupt the silence. He would allow Hanzo time, if that was what he needed. He couldn’t help but question if his patience would pay. Finally Hanzo took a deep breath and looked firmly at Jesse.

“No. I will inform you if you cross any lines.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion from a long flight and a long walk. Maybe it was too much beer before properly eating. Maybe he’d just finally lost his mind. He couldn’t say. All he knew was that he was moving before he could think. All he knew was that his fingers were sliding into Hanzo’s hair, loosening from its tie and running through the smooth locks. All he knew was that he was kissing Hanzo because he needed to know the taste, the feel, the essence of the moment when their lips touched.

And before he could stop himself, before impulse gave way to embarrassment and anxiety, strong hands were on him. One settled on his hip and the other rested on his back, pulling him close until he was straddling Hanzo’s lap. When Jesse pulled back to take ragged gasps for air and to cool air on his flaming cheeks, Hanzo’s lips found his pulse and pressed hot kisses up and down his neck and throat.

“Is this part of the mission?” Jesse asked breathlessly.

“If you want it to be,” Hanzo answered.

“Could it be...more?”

“If you want it to be.”

Jesse could see the faint flush in Hanzo’s cheek. He could hear the hunger in his voice. Had they been dancing around each other unaware for long? Had the commander been a bit too quick to allow the roster change? Jesse couldn’t question anything for much longer as Hanzo’s lips found his again and his attention shifted to trying to get Hanzo out of his shirt without breaking contact for more than a moment.

“I have only one rule if this is more than a mission,” Hanzo breathed, breath warm where it brushed past Jesse’s ear.

“Anything! Whatever you want, honeybee, it’s yours.”

“Whatever you say, tell the truth. If this is real, tell no lies.”

“Oh fuck me, Han. You’re all I want. You’re all I have wanted.”

“That can be arranged.”

Dinner was forgotten as they lost themselves in each other. Their hands wandered and searched for all the right places to touch, to caress, to hold. They kissed with burning lungs and hungry hearts. They stood gracelessly and stumbled to the bed, shedding clothes as fast as they could along the way. Jesse found himself lying flat on his back in the middle of the mattress as Hanzo kneeled above him.

“Is this really happening?” Jesse breathed.

“I hope so,” Hanzo replied before leaning down and licking along Jesse’s hardening cock.

Jesse groaned and his fingers curled into Hanzo’s hair, pressing into his scalp with blunt nails. Hanzo didn’t seem to mind as he stroked Jesse leisurely while lapping at the tip of his growing erection. When Jesse’s hips twitched upward eagerly, Hanzo pulled back with a wicked and wondrous smirk. He reached to his bag, left by the foot of the bed, and withdrew a small bottle of lube. He made sure Jesse was watching as he carefully turned around and leaned forward, resting on an elbow and his knees with his ass facing Jesse. He slicked up the fingers of his free hand before slowly running one digit around his rim.

Jesse had to bite his lip to keep in the undignified sound he made at the sight of Hanzo presented so beautifully in front of him. Hanzo seemed well aware of the effect he was having on Jesse and he relished in taking his time to draw out the anticipation and desire. He couldn’t entirely stifle his own noises, though, and when Jesse’s hand cupped an ass cheek and squeezed, Hanzo let out a hungry moan.

Neither of them could stand to wait any longer. Hanzo turned back around and crawled up the bed until his hips hovered above Jesse’s. He used his still slick hand to stroke Jesse’s cock - once, twice, and then he was guiding the tip inside his stretched entrance. As he sunk down slowly, he settled his hands on Jesse’s bare chest. Jesse’s hands squeezed his hips as he began a steady rocking motion, seeking to take Jesse deeper with every roll of his hips. Jesse wondered if this was just an exceptionally vivid dream. It felt like a fantasy.

Every move Hanzo made was deliberate and they drove Jesse mad. After a few minutes of this perfect torture, he decided to make a change. He wrapped an arm around Hanzo’s back, leaned upward, and then flipped them both over so their positions were reversed. He hooked one of Hanzo’s legs over his shoulder as he drove deep into Hanzo. Hanzo’s hand came up to catch his cheek and then they were kissing again, and with every thrust it felt like the borders between them were growing thinner and thinner until it was impossible to know where one ended at the other began. Their pace quickened and then grew frantic as they chased their messy ends.

“Hanzo, I’m-”

“I know.”

Jesse’s hips snapped against Hanzo’s a few more times before he pushed as far in as he could and then stilled, breathing heavily with his body hovering just above Hanzo’s. Hanzo gasped out Jesse’s name as Jesse’s hand wrapped around his cock and stroked him to completion. Hanzo’s head fell back and his hair was a messy halo on the pillow behind him. The room was warm and the air was thick.

Jesse pulled out after several long minutes still tangled with each other. And then he was sidling up next to Hanzo, nudging him onto his side, pressing his bare chest to Hanzo’s back and holding him snug against it. Hanzo couldn’t help but yawn as he settled into Jesse’s warm and comforting embrace.

“I think I’m in love, honeybee.”

“That makes two of us, anata.”

[almostdepraved]

Reignite (Present!Carol/Reader (OC)) - Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys! I’m writing my first fanfic. It took me a lotta courage to actually post it, so I hope you like it. Tell me what you guys think <3

Ever since you could remember, you were never certain of your emotions. It was much easier to manipulate feelings rather than wasting energy to solve such a trivial mystery of your mind. That particular strategy, however odd, had been the main factor for not only your success in life, but you assume of your entire family. Varying media had slapped on countless titles like geniuses, progressive-minded, genetic and family goals. Using any silly, eye-catching terms to feed to the public. And they’d eat it up; they always do- like a junkie getting their hands on anything to get a fix out of reality. It’s sad, but the truth can be just that. No one wants their reality, not even yourself.

 You, Lauren Troy, graduated from high school at 12 years old, successfully earning your double major degree in psychology and business by 16 before adding a degree in nursing and completing its master program at the age of 22, and finally working as a regular staff nurse. You, the daughter whose mother is one of the world’s best surgical oncologist, your father, the owner of one of wall street’s most profited firm five years running, the niece of a senator, and a CEO of New York’s number one hospital. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that you could lead a life that is untouchable and almost without consequences. However, it does seem to take a fucking genius to figure out that that life is excruciatingly isolating.

 It wouldn’t surprise anyone from your family though, they’re smart enough to know that something stupid’s bound to happen. So went that ‘something stupid’ thing did happen, which was of you being found directly responsible of several patients’ deaths that were under your care, they just expressed fair amounts of disappointment and without another blink, would have proceeded to make the phone calls needed to fix the legal problem and handle whatever journalists that’d try to scoop up anything and make it a story.

 What they didn’t expect was that you wanted to go to prison, and you wanted to serve the time the judged had given of four years. It confused your father the most. As dirty as he might be playing and winning in the money-making game, he loved you too much to have you stain your record and ruin your own future. You had persisted, barely at the edge of sanity from feeling so bothered by your own emptiness. You did something heinous, and you should face the consequences of it. You thought maybe then you’d be fixed. Finally, he had agreed but made an appeal to the judge for you to be placed into maximum security, away from any potential enemy that your family’s legacy might have made. Fortunately, serving your sentence went as smoothly as prison life could offer, and because of good behaviour and reputation, the board gave you an early release- two and a half years early. That night, you had laid down on your bed back in your expensive family home, forcing yourself to cry from just about anything- nothing happened.

 Perhaps you felt slightly guilty when you realised how easy it was for you to get a job. It almost felt like nothing had changed. Like you weren’t hold up in a cell and only had an hour a day to see partial sunlight for 18 months. Like you hadn’t purposely overdosed vulnerable people and watch as they take their last breath. You ought to feel offended, you thought a second before accepting the offer of becoming a hospital CEO. Bonus point was having your brother as a colleague. Double bonus points for being able to resign comfortably at the age of 32.

 So what if you definitely are an empty, emotionless being? You now have the money and time that could keep you cosy for a decade, and that’s without giving much thought to the calculation.

 “Damn Laure, you’re really going for it huh? Got a plan for after?” Your brother brought your attention back to earth with the tone he used. There was a hint of jealousy that was laced in his first question, and you raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued that he’d feel that way. He wasn’t like you. He liked money, especially a shit ton of it to spend ridiculous things on. “Yeah, I doubt it’ll last long anyway. I get bored too easily.” “That’s true.” You were both just exiting the hospital to head over to a nearby restaurant for some late lunch when your brother phone’s ring. The ringtone was different than usual; it was a pop song that was playing. This meant that it was one of the girls he’d hooked up with called. You snicker at his confused look as he answers it.

 “A babygirl of yours forget the rules or something? Or is she a new one?” You teased. He throws you a death glare before he walked away to have the conversation with some privacy, lifting his index finger for you to wait on. You turn your attention to the street in front and began people-watching. A fun activity to waste time, plus, it makes you think, and you like thinking. This suddenly made your mind run over the memories you had whilst in prison. You realise you didn’t have to do much thinking there. No stimulations, or puzzles, or mysteries that held your attention for long.

 Except for one.

              Pieces of scattered memory flashes in your mind: steely blue eyes; a pair that could read you like how you read your favourite books. Death grips; the kind that’s so painful that you would feel alive in. Greying blond hair; something you didn’t know you have an itch to feel gently against your fingertips, almost like old pressed up leaves. And jumbled up letters that you think forms a name, what was it?

 Cathrine?

 Cassie?

 Cornelius?

 Cape town?

 Cornstarch?-

 “Hey Laur, we need to get back inside.” Your head snaps quickly to where your brother was, almost jogging shortly to reach you. “Why?” Cheekytita? You think the C’s that are endlessly popping in your head are going to frustrate you to no end. “Remember Linda from MCC? Corporate prison people that would be better in prison?”

 “You’re one to talk, but yeah I remember.” It would also mean that your brother had banged her a couple of times and the realisation made you feel repulsed. Cate Blanchett?

 “She’s brought in someone from Max. Inmate suffered extreme blood loss, and is in a fucking coma right now.” You were confused by the lack of context. You hated not knowing something. “Then let the medical handle it. I don’t get why you’re like this.” He bites his bottom lip, hesitant to answer. “I owe her a favour, and now she’s claiming it. I’m worried because not only is her ass on the line, but my ass is dependent on this prisoner’s survival. Linda’s got major dirt on me, and I intend on not having it spread.” You nod, the gears in your head turning. Your brother starts to head to the ER room that the prisoner and Linda is. You follow him in quick steps. Half-shouting another question. “What does she want then? You said the guy’s alive?”

 “She wants full recovery. Guy better be better than before he was stabbed. But she wants it hushed, as far away from bad PR as possible. A prisoner’s gonna get his own dedicated team or some crazy shit like that.” Both of you were close now, a couple more turns. “And you’re actually considering to follow every request?” The door’s to your left, and you automatically wrapped your hands around it before stopping yourself. “Sorry, you do it.” You take a step back for your brother. “Exactly, I have to.” He mirrors your words as he opens the door and steps inside.

 As your mind recognises Linda’s face, you felt a wave a disgust and turn your gaze elsewhere. Your brother can sort this out, you convince yourself as his voice fills the room as he greets the black-haired woman with fake warmth. The hospital bed was to your right, and you see the outline of a body at the corner of your eye. You mind thought of multiple scenarios at once for a prisoner to be in this position, now completely filled with curiosity. You head over to see the luckily unlucky man. What was it?

 Gang capture gone wrong? Then there should’ve been multiple sent here.

 Cage fight? No cages there, cell fight more like it.

 Castration? Obviously not, but it does start with a ‘c’.

 What it was had frozen your body and mind; an upward curve at the torso, thin, pale hands at the sides with veins that pushes high against the skin, lined complexion- wrinkles. Shoulder length dull blond hair, it seems to be greying. Something in the back of your head began pounding to be released. A locked information that you wanted to know as well but can’t recall. Something had reflected light into your eyes. A glint from beside the bed and your eyes searched for the source. Big framed glasses, it reminded you of a style you barely recognised, like in the 80s.

 A piece of a puzzle manifests in your mind. Whether it’s the final or the first, you don’t know.

Oh, wait- oh no.

 C is for Carol. Carol Denning.

[nealcassatiel]

Whole Lotta Lore and Love (Part 1)

Destiel/SPN Case Fic

Words: 18,400

Set 1 week after the end of the S12 finale

Summary: Jack ran away from the bunker leaving Sam, Dean, and Cas to scour the internet for signs and omens of where he might be. With no luck in finding Jack, Sam finds a case in Pine Creek where victims have turned up tortured or with their brains missing

Content Warning: Mature, sexually explicit, TWs; Graphic violence, torture, death, graphic details of injury.

Themes: Destiel, SPN Case, fluff, smut, horror, SPN lore

If you’ll find it easier to read, I have uploaded the fic onto its own page on my blog which is here

Harrison Baker walked back home from his last day of work with a bouquet of flowers held in one hand, on his way to a living nightmare. The night air in Pine Creek shuddered through the swaying trees, making their boughs claw through the blackness like aged hands grasping for life. The cold burrowed through his thick black coat and suit through to his skin making him shiver as he ascended the steps up to the porch of his house. As he took his keys from his pocket Harrison realised that the front door was already agar. His breath hitched as he quickly glanced around him and slowly pushed the door open.

‘Kelly?’ He shouted into the dark.

Harrison slowly walked over the threshold, dropped the flowers on the table near the door, and turned on the lights. When the hallway was fully lit, he could see a smashed table lamp shattered into pieces of glass and cheap metal on the wooden floor.

‘Kelly!?’ He shouted again, now with a greater sense of panic in his voice. He moved slowly into the living room and noted a picture frame from their wedding smashed on the floor. Harrison could hardly breathe, he moved quickly through the living room and into the open plan kitchen, seeing plates broken on the counter. That’s when he heard the noise from behind him.

 ***

 ‘The brat can’t have gone far, I mean, he knows nothing about this planet. He can’t be more than a few miles from here?’ Dean said in exasperation in between sips from his lukewarm beer.

‘I dunno, Dean.  We still don’t know how powerful he is,’ Sam replied, still checking through local town reports on his laptop.

‘Great,’ Dean replied in monosyllabic sarcasm.

‘Sam’s right. The child holds great power. It would be unwise to underestimate his abilities,’ Cas said with a frown.

They had been looking for Jack for two days now, ever since he escaped the bunker. They all knew he was powerful but he had hardly spoken since he was born at the lake house. After resurrecting Cas, albeit only to a human form, Jack had kept quiet about what he knew as well as his intentions. Cas had continued to have faith in him, as had Sam, although Dean remained wary of him.

‘Well,’ Dean continued in an exasperated tone, ‘Maybe we shouldn’t be searching for omens and looking through crime reports. He’s a teenager after all. Why don’t you check if any golden eyed weirdos have been spotted in the local bowling alleys or malls?’

Sam sighed and ignored his brother, then continued to check through police reports in the surrounding states. ‘Hey, there’s this?’

‘What?’ Dean said, quickly rising from his seat, walking over to Sam and looking over his shoulder at the laptop screen.

‘It’s probably not Jack, but this may be a case?’

The police report was for two missing couples taken from the town of Pine Creek.

‘“Kelly Baker’s body was found with wounds consistent with torture in a car park on Elm and 3rd. Melissa Reed’s body was found two weeks earlier in this same spot with similar injuries. Melissa’s partner’s body, Lucian Krukow had been placed with Kelly’s body. Mr Krukow’s injuries are consistent with being bound at the wrists and ankles. Autopsy report lists severe brain injury as the fatal wound,”’ Dean read out loud. ‘So what? This just sounds like they’ve got some wackos in town. Not our problem.’

‘Yeh, but get this, the autopsy report details that the brain was almost completely gone and that what was left was practically liquid,’ Sam said as he continued to skim read the rest of the report.

Dean sighed, ‘Yeh, OK. But we don’t have time to be taking on cases right now. Our priority is finding Jack.’

‘But Dean,’ Sam said insistently. ‘This town could be in danger?’

‘It’s fine,’ Cas interjected. ‘I’ll go look for Jack. You two can check out this case.’

‘No, Cas,’ Dean said in an exasperated tone, rolling his shoulders and stepping away from Sam. ‘You’re not practised enough to go out on your own.’

‘I assure you that I am perfectly well, Dean.’

‘That’s not what I mean. You’re human now. If anything happens to you, that’s it. Lights out. No fixing yourself with any angel mojo.’

‘I know,’ Cas said, narrowing his eyes and turning to look at Dean. ‘I am aware of my fragile mortality, but last time I checked, that didn’t stop you from putting yourself in danger.’

Dean and Cas stared each other down. Cas knew what Dean meant, but he wasn’t going to sit trapped in this bunker doing nothing just because he was no longer an angel.

Dean continued to glare at him, taking in the fiery emotion behind Cas’s eyes, before huffing out a quick breath and saying. ‘Fine. You go. We’ll check out this case. But if you find Jack, call us.’

‘Of course,’ Cas replied assuredly, before going to his room to pack things for the trip.

 When Cas had left, Sam turned to look at Dean who was staring at the doorway through which Cas had just left.

‘He’ll be fine,’ Sam stated.

Dean sighed and took another swig of beer before dragging his eyes back towards Sam. ‘He shouldn’t be going off alone, he’s not ready.’

Sam shut his laptop and got up, moved passed Dean towards the hallway and said as he left, ‘He’ll be fine. If anything goes wrong, he’ll call us.’

Dean was left alone. He didn’t like the idea of Cas going off by himself, especially to go look for an incredibly powerful Nephilim. Whilst Cas and Sam may be under Jack’s spell, Dean certainly wasn’t. Jack had resurrected Cas, but apart from that the child just seemed plain creepy. His practically silent demeanour and watchful gaze was unsettling, as if he were thinking through nefarious plans whilst sat in silent observance. Dean took one final swig of beer before heading off to his room, trying to shrug off the unease fully weighing down on his shoulders.

 ***

 ‘I’m Agent Watts, this is my partner Agent Star, we’re here to see the bodies of Melissa Reed, Kelly Baker, and Lucian Krukow,’ Dean said as he and Sam held up their fake FBI badges for the local police sheriff to view.

Sheriff Mark Handler glanced briefly at the badges before turning and waving to the agents to follow him.

‘Nasty business, this. Never seen anything like it, poor souls,’ Sheriff Handler said with a sigh as he walked towards the autopsy room. ‘I knew Kelly and Harrison, lovely couple,’ he continued sadly, lost in thoughts of summer barbeques spent with the couple and beers in the local bar with Harrison.

‘Harrison Baker is still missing, right?’ Sam said as they were shown into the autopsy room, the heavy metal doors swinging shut behind them.

‘Yeh. Gone about 6 days now. After what happened to Lucian Krukow, I ain’t holding out much hope for Harrison.’

‘Sheriff,’ Dean said, abruptly cutting off the Sheriff’s thoughts of his dear friends and this recent tragedy, ‘Is there anyone who would want to harm them? Or a common enemy they might have with Ms Reed and Mr Krukow?’

‘Enemy?’ the Sheriff replied in shock. ‘No, no, there ain’t no one in this town who would have a bad word to say about the Bakers, or the other couple for that matter. No… They were good people, you know.’

‘And there’s no chance that Mr Baker is a suspect in Mrs Baker’s murder?’ Sam asked.

The Sheriff turned to glare at Sam, before schooling his gaze into stern professionalism.

‘No chance. Never seen a man more in love in my life. There ain’t no way he had anything to do with this. I reckon we got a town psycho amongst us.’

‘OK. Thanks Sheriff,’ Sam said, giving the man a sympathetic look.

The Sheriff glanced briefly around the coldly lit room, sniffed, stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed out, letting the agents know that he would be upstairs if they had any more questions.

 Sam and Dean walked over to the wall of cold metal boxes, pulled out the shelf on which Kelly Baker was laid, and threw back the thin, light-blue cotton sheet rested on top of her body.

‘Yikes,’ Dean said, grimacing at the deep cuts carved over her entire body. One of her eyes had been gauged out, most of her teeth had been pulled, and her skin was covered in so many gashes that it was barely recognisable as a human body. Both the wrists and ankles had deep rope burns, now turned a dark hue of purple that juxtaposed the cold white skin of the corpse.

‘What are you thinking?’ Sam said as he moved slowly around the body, ‘torture?’

Sam handed Dean a pair of blue latex gloves, and took a pair for himself to put on. Dean bent down to further examine the body, being reminded of his years in hell and the things he’d done over his time as a hunter. ‘Yeh. Looks like it.’

Sam glanced over at his brother, noting Deans uncomfortable demeanour and remembering why he might feel particularly uncomfortable seeing such wounds. Sam covered the corpse, rolled the shelf back into the wall and slammed the metal door shut.

Next he rolled out Melissa Reed’s body which bore almost exactly the same injuries as Kelly Baker’s. After briefly examining the cadaver, Sam brought out Lucian Krukow’s body. Mr Krukow had identical marks on his wrists and ankles from rope burn, but apart from that, his skin looked clear of all other injuries. Sam walked over to the desk in the room and found the autopsy report for all three victims, opening to the page of Mr Krukow’s report.

‘So, here it says that he has wounds consistent with being bound at the hands and feet, he has a non-fatal head wound consistent with being hit by a blunt object, and get this, ninety-five per cent of his brain is missing, and the five per cent that’s left is liquefied. The only other injury is a small puncture wound through his skull,’ Sam said, outlining the report and then handing the folder over to Dean.

Dean skim-read the report, then bent down towards the body to examine the head. The hair had been shaved and his skull had been sawed around the circumference of his head. Dean looked closely at the small hole that burrowed through to the brain and sighed, then gently removed the upper part of his skull to show empty stern-white bone with a purple gloop at the base of the head.

Dean retched and turned his head away from the opened head, lifting one gloved hand towards his grimacing face. ‘You ever seen anything like this?’ he asked Sam.

Sam shook his head and said in confusion, ‘No… Any idea what we’re dealing with?’

Dean stood up, shook his head, and quickly removed the latex gloves. ‘No. I got nada.’

Sam frowned, crossed his arms and stared down at the body. ‘I don’t get it? The others died from blood loss. Why kill them one way and him another?’

‘Maybe it needed information from them?’ Dean replied.

Sam pondered over the case for a moment before saying, ‘I dunno, Dean. It just doesn’t make much sense.’

 ***

 The air was thick with dreary clouds in the suburban outskirts of Pine Creek. There was a light drizzle which pattered on Sam and Dean’s black suits as they walked up the few steps to the Baker’s house. They flashed their FBI badges at the officer stationed outside the house and entered the crime scene. They surveyed the smashed lamp, the flowers scattered on the floor by the door, then moved through the living room and into the kitchen.

‘You guys find anything?’ Sam said to a cop who was jotting down notes in the kitchen.

‘Nope, nothing much. Looks like a classic case of a B n’ E. Intruder kicks in the door, there’s a clear sign of struggle. Our guess is they took Mrs Baker, husband returns from work, then they grab him,’ the cop told them whilst continuing to write various notes on the small notepad.

‘Any witnesses?’ Dean asked as he glanced around the room trying to find clues as to what took the couple.

‘None. And none for the similar case last week. Neighbours didn’t see a thing.’

‘Super,’ Dean responded sarcastically under his breath.

Sam and Dean continued to walk round the house, then headed upstairs to check for any EMF.

When the EMF reader showed no signs of any readings, Sam turned to Dean, ‘So, what do you think? No EMF reading. No smell of sulphur. We can rule out demons or ghosts.’

‘Yeh… I got nothing’ Dean sighed, ‘We should hit the lore when we get back to-’

‘Agents,’ the Sheriff said as he rounded the corner of the upstairs hallway. ‘Heard y’all were here. I just got a call in saying Harrison’s body’s been found in a park to the east of town on Parker and 15th. Meet you guys there?’

‘Sure thing,’ Sam replied as he watched the Sheriff hurry back down the hallway.

 ***

 Sam and Dean checked out the newly found body of Harrison Baker, sprawled out on the mud in the park. It had the same injuries as Lucian Krukow; rope burns on the wrists and ankles and a puncture mark at the top of his head.

‘How much do you bet his brain’s gone walk about?’ Dean said as he towered over the limp body that lay in the dirt below him.

‘OK, so we’ve got two couples dead. One has been tortured, and the other’s brain has been liquefied and sucked out through their skull… Hey, what about a wraith, like the one in Oklahoma? The puncture marks are similar?’ Sam said.

‘Yeh, but why would a wraith be torturing the other two? And as far as we know the vics didn’t have a case of the crazies?’

Sam furrowed his brown and glanced around the desolate park with houses on one side, and a forest on the other. ‘They must have known something the monster needed to torture them for. It just doesn’t make sense that it didn’t liquefy all of the brains,’ Sam wondered out loud.

The Sheriff slowly walked up beside them and stared down forlornly at his friend’s lifeless body. ‘He was a good man,’ he said quietly.

‘And you’re sure they didn’t have any enemies? Or they weren’t mixed up in some stuff?’ Sam asked.

‘Like I said, they were good folks. Ain’t no one who’d want to do them any harm.’

Sam patted the Sheriff’s arm and gave his condolences before he and Dean returned to the impala, deep in thought.

 ***

 Sam and Dean checked into the nearest motel, a dirty and dishevelled place with a broken buzzing vacancy light and sparse cars in the driveway. They specifically asked for the ground floor room nearest the fire escape, collected their keys, and went through the old hat routine of chucking their bags of clothes and weapons onto the king sized beds in the room. Dean sat down on the edge of a bed and started a weapons check whilst Sam sat at the small table at the side of the room, opened his laptop and started searching for lore on whatever they were hunting.

As Dean removed and reassembled the barrels, slides, and magazines of the guns, Sam searched for monsters that kill victims differently, monsters that suck out brains, and monsters with a flair for torture.

‘Find anything?’ Dean asked Sam as he got out an old, dirty cloth to clean out the gun barrels.

‘No. Nothing yet,’ Sam replied as he continued to scroll through pages of lore.

‘Maybe it’s not just one thing? Like those Jefferson Starships?’

Sam rolled his eyes at the sound of that god awful monster name. ‘Not likely. There were no other… weird injuries apart from the brain stuff. And I doubt those….’

‘-Jefferson Starships,’ Dean interjected with a grin.

Sam sighed and continued disgruntledly, ‘those… Jefferson Starships even exist anymore.’

Dean huffed out a quick breath and nodded slightly in agreement. ‘OK, so we’re back to square one.’ Dean sighed yet again as he placed the guns he’d cleaned back in his dark green duffle bag. ‘Why can’t cases be goddamn simple anymore,’ he said under his breath. ‘You know, the longer we’re working this case the longer Cas is out there searching for the devil child… alone.’

‘He’ll be fine, Dean. Chances are that he won’t even find the kid. And anyway, even if he does, I doubt Jack would’ve resurrected him only to kill him a week later.’

‘I dunno, man. I don’t trust him,’ Dean said as images flashed through his mind of Jack killing Cas in varying horrific ways.

After a pause Sam asked, ‘Have you heard from him?’ briefly glancing over at Dean who was now staring at his phone.

‘Who?’

‘Cas.’

‘No,’ Dean said as he opened his phone and checked for the billionth time that day to see if there were any messages or missed calls.

Sam stared at his brother. It was obvious that Dean was worried despite his attempts to pretend he wasn’t. Cas had only been dead for less than a day before Jack brought him back, but practically that entire time Dean had watched over his body. Sam swore he had seen Dean praying most of that time, and when Sam suggested that they burn the body Dean had angrily told him no, and that they would find a way to bring him back. With their mum trapped in the parallel world and Cas dead, Dean hadn’t coped. But rather than hit the whisky, Dean had just sat in the dirt in complete silence, the vision of an utterly broken man. Now that Cas was back, Sam could see that those long hours of watching over Cas’s dead body still haunted Dean. Sam understood why Dean was so worried, but trying to break through Dean’s façade to actually try and talk to him about his emotions wasn’t going to happen.

‘Maybe you should just call him?’ Sam asked.

‘No. You’re right, he’s probably fine,’ Dean said as he continued to glare at his phone as if he could make it ring just by staring at it.

Sam heavily sighed in annoyance at his brother’s complete inability to navigate his emotions in a healthy manner. ‘Dean, just call him. Anyway, it’d be good to know if he’s made any progress.’

Dean could hardly argue with that. And if he was calling to check up on Cas’s progress finding Jack, that was a good excuse to call him just to check up on the newly human idiot.

‘Fine. You continue finding whatever the hell we’re looking for, and I’ll call Cas,’ Dean said as he got up and headed out the motel room door.

 It was dark outside. The sidewalk was dimly lit by faint lights behind the cheap curtains of the motel rooms. The sound of sporadic passing cars on the nearby road and the wind through the rain soaked trees were the only sounds Dean could hear. He paced up and down the concrete path, spinning his phone between his fingers whilst building up the courage to call Cas. Why was he even calling? Cas said that if he ran into any trouble he’d call. So what was the point in this phone call? Sure, Cas was human now, but he used to be a very capable angel. And despite losing his powers Dean was certain he could hold his ground in a fight… but could he win if he was up against Jack? Probably not was Dean’s best guess. And the damn idiot was way too trusting of the kid. What if Jack changed his mind about wanting Cas around and beat the utter crap out of him, or worse, nuked his ass into the afterlife… and Dean was the one who OKed Cas’s solo mission to find the kid… it would be on him if anything happened to the son of a bitch…

Dean hurriedly dialled Cas’s number and lifted the phone to his ear. He only heard it ring out twice before there was a noise from behind him and everything faded to black.

 ***

 Dean woke up in a dishevelled room, almost cave-like. It had the cold damp feeling of a basement and the walls were made from wooden slats. As he regained consciousness he realised that he was sat on a metal chair, his hands were tied tightly with thick rope behind his back, and his ankles were tied to the front chair legs. Dean struggled but to no avail. When he couldn’t free himself, he looked around the room, trying to search for whatever had caught him. He could feel a dull pain at the back of his head and assumed he’d been knocked out and dragged to wherever the hell he was now.

‘You’re awake. Perfect!’ said a menacing female voice from behind him. He heard footsteps walk up to him, and then a slight woman with long blonde hair came into view. She looked completely human, except her eyes had the wild evil stare Dean had only ever seen in monsters.

‘You’re gonna regret this,’ Dean hissed at her, narrowing his eyes and staring her down.

‘Am I?’ she said with a smile, ‘You’re the one tied up, honey. You better start talking to me with respect.’

‘Trust me, lady. You’ve picked the wrong guy to pick on this time,’ Dean snarled at her as he surreptitiously tried to untie his hands - unsuccessfully.

‘Oh,’ she replied in feigned surprise, ‘I know you’re a hunter. I’ve seen you and your brother sticking your nose in around here, so this is going to be particularly fun.’

Dean needed more time to try to untie his hands, he needed to keep the bitch talking. He didn’t know how long he’d been out cold, so the longer he managed to stall her, the longer Sammy had to get his ass over here and free him.

‘So what are you then? Some sick bastard who likes dinner with a side of torture?’

‘You didn’t work out what I am?’ she replied, that evil smile still plastered over her smug face. ‘Hmmmm, well, let me give you a clue. You bastards killed my cousin a few years ago in Oklahoma.’

‘You’re a wraith?’

‘Bingo!’ she replied, cackling.

‘So what’s with the Guantanamo Bay act? Those people know something you don’t or did you get bored of just sucking out people’s brains?’

The monster stepped quickly towards Dean and placed her hands on the armrests of the chair, leaning her head towards him and sniffing the beads of sweat that dripped down his face. ‘My dearly departed cousin liked the crazy brains,’ she snarled in a whisper at him. ‘Me, well, my kind prefer love and grief.’

The wraith then stepped back and moved over to a table at the side of the room that Dean hadn’t noticed till now. On top of the table was an assortment of knives, wrenches, and hammers. She picked up a small, sharp knife and moved back to stand in front of him.

‘You see,’ she continued, spinning the knife in one hand so that the glint of a single light above her shined on the blade, ‘love-soaked brains are simply delicious… but what’s even more tasty is love and grief. Mmmmmm, that mix is simply scrumptious. Can’t get anything tastier!’

‘So what, you steal couples and feed off one? Why not both?’ Dean asked, still failing at loosening the ropes behind his back. Goddammit this evil bitch had tied him up tight.

‘Well, you see, you gotta ramp up the love and grief before you eat them. You gotta let the suckers cook a bit before their ready,’ she replied then stopped to laugh before continuing, ‘See, I take them both, then torture one in front of the other. Floods the watcher’s brain with all kinds of delicious chemicals. Mmm mmm mmmmmm. They scream and cry as their lover’s cut into tiny little pieces. They beg me to kill them and let their darling sweetheart go. And when they’ve seen their true love killed slowly and oh so painfully, I let them stew in their grief until they’re ripe! And the dead one… well, let’s just say that a tortured brain has a bit of a sour taste.’ The wraith scrunched up her face as she looked off into the distance, presumably remembering a past meal that didn’t taste up to her standards. ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘I’m looking forward to you. Revenge for my family and a hunter whose brain is soaked in love… you’re a rare meal. You know, most hunters I’ve found haven’t even got a whiff of love about them. No good to me. I normally just kill them and be done with it… but you… oooohhhh, I can smell the love and lust in your sweat. I’m really really going to enjoy this!’

‘If you’ve done anything to Sam I’ll kill you,’ Dean snarled at her.

‘Sam?’ she said with faint shock, ‘That’s your brother, right? No, no, no. Familial love is... how do I put it… not my cup of tea… the brains taste a bit… flavourless.’

‘Well then,’ Dean said, slightly confused, ‘you aren’t going to like me. Might as well just let me go,’ he said with forced humour.

The monster lifted one of her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes at him before an evil smirk played across her face. ‘Ooohhhhhh, this really is going to be incredibly fun.’

 ***

 Dean was gone. When he hadn’t returned from calling Cas, Sam had called him, only to hear the classic rock ringtone coming from outside the motel room door. Sam went out to find Dean’s phone abandoned and ringing on the concrete slabs. Sam shouted for his brother, but already knew that it was too late.

He rushed back to his laptop and cursed, still not being able to work out what had killed those other people, and had now taken his brother. There must be something he was missing? Disheartened he grabbed his laptop and stuffed it in a bag with some guns and knives, then ran out to the impala.

 Sam reached the house of Lucian Krukow and Melissa Reed in a few minutes. He ran up the steps into the house and quickly unpicked the door. Switching on the lights he saw that the house was in a similar state to the Baker’s house he’d visited yesterday. A lamp was smashed on the floor, a coffee table was upturned, and there was a bouquet of flowers forlornly dropped on the floor. Sam quickly glanced around, trying to see if there was something he missed… wait… weren’t there flowers on the floor of the Baker’s house? Sam spun back around, bent down and looked at them. They were yellow primrose flowers. Weren’t the other flowers primroses too, he was sure that they were dainty yellow flowers that seemed to small and wild to be given to someone in a bouquet? Sam ran over to the dining room table and grabbed his laptop out of his bag, opened it and quickly typing the passcode in. ‘Primrose. Brains. Liquefied brains’ he typed into the search bar. What else? The monster was only taking couples. Maybe it had nothing to do with information but something to do with the fact that they were couples. Sam then typed ‘love’ onto the end of his search and pressed ‘enter.’ He skim-read the searches until he saw a link and clicked on it. It was a page about ancient Nordic lore, and detailed information about an Elsker Spøkelse. They were types of wraith who would lure couples into woodlands by covering the land in flowers, usually primrose, known as ‘kusymre’ in Norwegian. The couples would go on walks into the woods and the wraith would kill one lover, leaving the other in deep grief before eating their brain. Sam then searched for where these wraiths would take their victims and found that they lived in caves in the woodlands, normally by the waterfalls found in Norway. Caves… water, where would there be caves in small-town America? Sam remembered the woodland by the park where Mr Baker’s body had been found. He then searched for maps of the woodland and... bingo.

 ***

 Dean continued to struggle with the ropes that tied his hands behind him as the wraith inspected the various torture implements on the table. Sam still hadn’t arrived to beat the crap out of this thing, and if he was being honest with himself, Dean was getting worried.

‘You know, I normally just go for requited love. Want to know my secret? Want to know how clever little me finds the best steak in town?’

‘No. Not really,’ Dean replied with a smile that barely hid the ferocious anger underneath.

‘It’s the flowers,’ the wraith continued. ‘See, back in the old days all I had to do was litter the forest floors with beautiful little flowers and the lovers would walk right into my arms on their romantic walks. Now, all I get is the rare annoying solo hiker,’ she said sourly. ‘And then, I set up a flower shop! See, flowers are good for two things, for confessing your love or your guilt. It takes me about a second to work out which one, and then there are the weekly visits from the truly devoted. Mmmmm, they walk into my shop every week and hand over their addresses and names and they’re dead after the second visit.’ She paused to giggle in congratulations at her own evil plans. ‘Good, isn’t it? But, you know,’ the wraith said as she picked up a knife and tested its sharp edge on her palm, ‘I still remember one of my tastiest meals. A few years ago I found this college kid. I could smell the love and lust from a mile off. Turns out he was deeply in love with this girl, so I took them both. So he wakes up here and I bring in his girl and he starts crying, begging me to let them go. She wakes up and asks who he is!’ The wraith started laughing at this point, before the evil cackles died down and she continued with her morbid story. ‘It turns out, she was just some girl from a class he was in, she didn’t even know his name! Now, I thought all this effort I’d put in to carving her up was for nothing, but then when I sucked out his brain it was one of the sweetest I’ve ever had! Mmmmmm, the unrequited love, the unresolved lust, the pining and ohhhh, turns out, the flavour of that love, of that pain was one of the most wonderful meals I’ve ever had!’

‘As I said, lady, I’m dead inside. So unless you want a brain like stale bread, you’re gonna want to let me go,’ Dean responded.

‘Oh,’ the wraith said, still twirling a sharp knife in one hand then looking right at him with a smirk, ‘We both know that’s not exactly true.’ She then walked up to him, pressed her face close to his and licked one of the beads of sweat that was dripping down his cheek, causing Dean to pull his head as far away as he could with a grimace.

‘Mmmmm. I can taste the longing, you know. The deep seated passion pushed way way down. I could smell it a mile off. It’s so strong it took me less than a minute to track down your weakness,’ she said as she walked out of the room and out of view.

Now that she was out of sight, Dean struggled harder with the ropes. Goddammit they were tight. Sammy still hadn’t arrived and Dean was panicking. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to stall. And another question that had been troubling Dean was, who was this mystery woman he’s apparently been lusting over? Was it Lisa? He hadn’t thought of Lisa in years? Maybe she was lying about Sam and she wasn’t too fussed about brotherly love? That would explain why the idiot hadn’t come to save his ass yet… There was someone else… but Dean pushed that thought all the way to the back of his mind. Anyway, it was probably Lisa, who else could it be? God, when he got free he was going to enjoy killing this son of a bitch.

Dean’s train of thought was broken as he heard a clanking sound from outside, and then the wraith entered the cold, dark room with another metal chair, its steel stained with old blood. She placed it a couple of metres in front of him, smiled at him, then left the room again, allowing Dean to continue with all his might to free himself.

He then heard the all too familiar sound of a door opening and a heavy, dead weight being dragged into the room. She appeared again, holding onto and sliding a body in her wake. Dean inhaled sharply as a dull pain hit him in his stomach. If he was being honest with himself, he’d seen this coming. Still, it was hard to be confronted with any of this. He started struggling with the ropes more as panic seared through his body. His heartbeat was going at a million miles an hour and his chest was tight with agony.

The wraith lifted the body easily onto the chair, as though it were the weight of a feather. She then grabbed some rope from nearby and tied the ankles to the chair, and the hands behind the chair. When she had finished tying the tight knots, she turned to look at Dean with a maniacal grin. She took in his fright, his emotional pain, the look of fear and helplessness smeared over his pretty face and laughed, ‘Oh, this really is going to be so very fun!’

 ***

 Sam drove the impala at breakneck speed through the town, zooming through the red glares of traffic lights on the dark suburban streets. The impala hissed and screeched round corners until it skidded to a stop by the park where the last body was found. Sam shut off the car and ran to the trunk to grab everything silver he could get his hands on; silver knives which he stuffed in his pants, a gun and all the silver bullets available. He slammed the trunk shut and jammed the bullets into the gun as he ran off into the ominous woods.

 ***

 ‘There’s no point struggling, sweetie. I’ve done those knots especially tight for you,’ the wraith sneered at Dean.

Continuously trying to free himself had zapped Dean of most of his energy. He slumped over in the chair for a moment to catch his breath, then felt the clammy hand of the monster jam his chin up.

‘You’re going to want to watch this,’ she sniggered at him, then turned around, knife in hand, ready to start her sick torture routine.

‘Cas!’ Dean shouted at the collapsed body in front of him.

Cas was still knocked out, wilting over his own limbs that were tied to the chair. He looked so fragile, which further reminded Dean that Cas was no longer an angel. He could really die this time. Dean continued to struggle as he felt tears prickle at his eyes. He wasn’t going to let Cas die, again. Not on his watch, and not because of him.

The wraith bent down to stare at Cas’s slumped head, ran the knife along his jaw, and sniffed at his face.

‘Hmmm, smells different this one… not quite human,’ she murmured to herself. She licked his cheek and said, ‘Oooohhhhh, there is a touch of the… angelic about him. But…’ she licked his face again and swished her tongue around her mouth trying to work out the exact taste, ‘Oh… he’s mortal… he’s… human!’ She spun round to look at Dean with a smile, ‘Fall for an angel, did we? How… adorable!’ The wraith almost skipped towards Dean and said, ‘Does he know? Does he know all about the wanting, the lust… the… how do I put it… utter devotion?’

Dean spat in her face and said, quietly yet menacingly, ‘I think all that brain guzzling has turned you crazy.’

‘Well then, I’m just going to have to test out my theory then,’ she said, then rushed towards Cas, lifted the knife into the air and jammed it down through his foot. It sunk deep through his black shoe and spat out blood through the leather. Cas awoke screaming in pain. The agony was so strong that he could hardly catch his breath and once his cries had subsided he gulped for oxygen in the cold, damp air.

‘Cas!’ Dean shouted at him, his whole body struggling against the rope, yet to no avail. ‘Cas!’

The wraith grabbed another knife from the table, moved closer to Dean, and stared into his eyes.

‘See,’ she said, taking in the torment behind his eyes, ‘Told you I wasn’t wrong.’

‘Dean,’ Cas painfully gasped. His head rolled like a heavy weight on his neck, his drooping eyes trying to focus on the man in front of him. Cas tried with lacklustre to free himself, but the scorching pain from his foot and the deep, dull pain in his head had sapped him of all energy. He let out a few grunts in pain before his head sunk down once again.

‘Cas! Hang in there, buddy!’ Dean shouted. ‘I swear to God,’ he spat at the wraith, ‘I will kill you even if it’s the last thing I do.’

The wraith moved even closer towards him and whispered, ‘I’d like to see you try.’ The monster then paced towards Cas, grabbed the front of his shirt and sliced down the middle, sending white buttons shooting off across the room. ‘Now… where shall we starts,’ she teased as she moved the knife up Cas’s bare chest. She then quickly sliced a gash across his left ribs, causing Cas to wake and scream again at the pain.

‘Dean,’ Cas whimpered, his eyes glazed over and his body limp.

The monster then cut another gash over his collar bone and punched him with a powerful hook across his face, leaving him drooling blood. The monster laughed and then returned to face Dean. Standing close enough to him that Cas couldn’t hear her words.

‘You know,’ she snarled at Dean, ‘I could tell you now whether he loves you back,’ she said with a smile.

‘Go to hell,’ Dean hissed at her.

‘I admire your commitment to your self-hated,’ she laughed at him. ‘Anyway,’ she sighed, ‘I wouldn’t tell you anyway. It’s more… fun letting you both die never finding out.’

Dean felt helpless, hopeless, and broken. His arms seared with pain after trying to untie the knots behind him. His wrists burned from the tight ropes. He watched as the wraith returned towards Cas and started caressing his skin with the sharp knife, leaving trails of bright red blood behind each careful swoop of the blade. Cas screamed and whimpered, writhing in agony in the chair. Dean could feel tears cascading in silence down his cheeks as he realised that all he could do was watch. The monster started humming to herself, then returned to the table at the side to select a new implement, her thin fingers caressing each horrific instrument as she mused over what to use next. With the monster out of the way, Dean could now fully see Cas. Could see the blood and the agony in his eyes. Cas looked up, and looked right into Dean’s eyes. The expression they shared at that moment, when both of them realised that they may not be making it out of this alive, broke them.

 Suddenly there was a sound at the door. The wraith span around quickly, picked up a large knife from the table, and walked slowly towards the door.

 Sam stood pressed up against the wall by the door. He had kicked it and could now hear something slowly moving towards it on the other side. He held a gun in his right hand, and in his left a silver knife. The sound of footsteps stopped just before the door, then he heard click of the handle turning, then the door was pushed open slowly with a creak. Sam stayed where he was, pushing his whole body as far back against the wooden wall as he possibly could. He saw the profile of a woman peer out through the door, then he spun round and shot at her. She moved back quickly, dodging the bullet as Sam followed her into the dark, damp room.

‘Sammy!’ He heard Dean shout, but he didn’t look. He kept his eyes firmly on the wraith. She ran at him, he shot a few more times, but this spryly bitch ducked and dodged every goddam bullet. She grabbed at the gun and flung it from his hand, but he circled his left hand around and managed to catch her with the knife, causing her to scream and stumble backwards. He switched the knife into his right hand, and moved towards her as she held her side which was giving off steam as though her skin was burning beneath the slashed fabric. She shrieked and rushed at him again with the knife, but he caught her arm with his left hand, her catching his knife-holding arm with her left, they stood locked in the position until she spun Sam around and threw him to the other side of the room. As she ran at him, Sam quickly took out a spare gun from his pants and shot at her 5 times in the chest. He body convulsed with each shot, her face stuck in an expression of shock as she slowly continued to try to step forwards, before her entire torso started burning. She screamed in utter pain as she fell face first onto the cold ground, the bullet exit wounds on her back spitting out bubbling blood.

Sam realised he was breathing intensely, his arms still held onto the gun and locked in front of him. His breathing calmed and he slowly put the gun down, then looked around the room to see Cas and Dean tied to chairs. He got up and stowed the gun back in his pants, grabbed his silver knife from the floor, then cut the ropes behind Dean’s back and on his legs. Sam then ran over to Cas, knelt behind him and cut all of his ropes. Cas was still slumped forwards, seemingly unresponsive.

‘Cas! Cas!’ Dean said, as he knelt in front of him, then patted his cheek to try and wake him.

Cas grunted, and slowly opened his eyes, carefully lifting his head to see Dean in front of him.

‘Dean,’ Cas choked out.

‘It’s OK Cas, we got you,’ Dean said, standing up and pulling Cas up off the chair, and draping his arm over his own shoulder.

‘You guys OK?’ Sam asked, taking Cas’s other arm and helping Dean to carry him out.

‘We’re fine. Let’s just get out of here,’ Dean said as he and Sam pulled Cas’s stumbling body out.

 ***

 Sam and Dean helped to carry Cas out of the woods and to the impala. They lay him down on the back seats then chucked their weapons into the trunk, got in the car, and drove off.

They sat in silence for a few miles. Sam was driving whilst Dean sat in the passenger’s seat, stretching out his fingers and rolling his wrists to try and dissipate the pain from being tied up.

‘How’s he doing?’ Sam asked.

Dean turned round to glance at Cas who was still passed out on the back seat. ‘We should get him to the nearest hospital,’ Dean said. He noticed that Cas had started shivering, his arms cradled up against his body, his chest still bare from when the wraith had cut his shirt. Dean could see small trails of blood dripping down his body and onto the interior leather of the car.

‘Cas! Hey, Cas!’ Dean shouted at him, then turned around as far as he could to try and shake him. Despite his attempt, Cas didn’t wake. ‘Stop the car, Sam!’

Sam quickly swerved off the road, and slammed on the brakes. Dean got out, ran to the back and got in next to Cas, shutting the door behind him. ‘Sam! Hospital! Drive!’ he shouted, then pulled Cas up into a sitting position so that his back was resting on the opposite passenger door. Dean lifted Cas’s injured foot up into his lap, and saw that a heck of a lot of blood was continuing to drip down from below the sole. Dean hurriedly took off his jacket, and then shirt, then tentatively removed Cas’s shoe, causing him to wake and scream in pain.

‘It’s OK, Cas. We’re getting you to a hospital!’

Cas murmured something unintelligible before he passed out of consciousness. Dean peeled off Cas’s sock, revealing a deep knife wound that bore all the way through his foot. Dean tore off a section of his shirt and tightly wrapped it around the injury, holding the bandage down with his hands. Sam was driving at the speed of lightening, he’d got out his phone and was following GPS to the nearest ER, spinning the car round corners and cutting red lights.

‘Dean,’ Cas said quietly. Dean looked up at the bruised and dishevelled man in front of him, in a torn black suit and muddy trench coat, his white shirt open and stained with thick blood. Cas tried to move but winced in pain and collapsed back again.

‘It’s OK, buddy. We got you, you just hold on till we get to the ER,’ Dean said, then scooted further forwards towards Cas, still holding his bandaged foot in one hand, and then reaching over to check his chest wounds with the other. They all looked not too deep. The one across his ribs would probably need stiches, but he was undoubtedly going to be fine. Cas grabbed onto Dean’s hand that was holding onto his open shirt. Cas wrapped his fingers tightly around Dean’s palm, gripping onto his hand as though this was his only anchor to the conscious world. Cas’s head was thrown back, his face grimacing in pain.

Dean stared down at their hands clasped together.

‘It’s OK,’ Dean said quietly in a husky voice. ‘I got you,’ he continued, squeezing Cas’s hand.

 ***

 Sam and Dean helped Cas into the ER and waited with him for various doctors to examine his injuries and bandage his wounds. They told all the doctors their fictitious story of how Cas was injured with complete conviction. Cas’s foot was tightly bandaged and put in a cast that reached halfway up his thigh. Five hours after entering the hospital, Cas was free to go and left on crutches, high on codeine, and with more pain killers in his coat pocket.

Cas fell asleep almost immediately when they started their drive back to the bunker, leaving Sam and Dean to sit in silence.

‘How you holding up?’ Sam asked.

‘Erm… fine, I guess.’

Sam paused before continuing, wondering how to phrase what he needed to say. ‘It’s not your fault, Dean.’

‘Who said it was?’ Dean replied accusatorily.

Sam sighed in frustration. ‘Look, I can tell that you’re blaming yourself for this.’

‘And why should I not?’ Dean shot back angrily, still staring at the open road in front of him. ‘I let Cas go off on his own. I got complacent and got kidnapped by a freakin’ wraith. And because of that, Cas almost got killed, AGAIN. This… all of this is on me.’

‘No, Dean. It’s not,’ Sam said sympathetically. ‘I was fine with Cas going off by himself. And I was meant to have your back… If you’re blaming yourself, you’re gonna have to blame me too.’

Dean turned towards the passenger seat window and stared out at the dark fields flying by them. He needed to change the conversation so said, ‘So, did you find out what that thing was?’

‘A wraith.’

‘Yeh, but we ganked a wraith back in Oklahoma. This one… seemed different,’ Dean said. Dean had got enough info on the wraith that he knew that with a bit of searching he could find out what exact type of wraith it was. The question was, did Sam know?

‘Erm…’ Sam said. He did know the exact type of wraith it was, but if he told Dean would he be opening a can of worms that his brother couldn’t deal with yet? But if he didn’t let Dean know, then how would he explain being able to find them? And if he didn’t say now, Dean would just try and find out what it was back at the bunker… Maybe this was a good chance to have those discussions they had never had… ‘It was an Elsker wraith.’

‘Ek.. Elsk what?’

‘Elsker. It… It feeds off the brains of people… in love,’ Sam said hesitantly.

Dean shuffled in his seat. OK. So Sam did know, great. ‘Makes sense,’ Dean said.

Sam blinked in shock. Well… that went down better than he’d thought it would.

Dean continued, ‘The wraith said it took people that the vic… well… cares about, you know. And you and Cas are like family to me, and why take you, right? Would’ve been pretty stupid to try and kill two hunters in one go,’ Dean said, then briefly glanced at Sam to see whether he was buying any of this.

Sam sighed. OK, so maybe this wasn’t the time for that conversation. ‘Yeh, ‘course,’ he replied.

‘So how’d you find us?’ Dean asked.

‘Well, Elsker wraiths would normally take their victims to caves, usually by waterfalls. So I checked the maps of that woodland by the park where one vic was found and saw that there were some abandoned mines there. There were already caves formed by underground streams so I was assuming you’d be there. Took me a while to find the right mine shaft, but managed to track some blood till I found you guys.’

‘I didn’t even realise there were other wraiths.’

‘Yeh. Right… Well, you both got out of it alive. That’s all that matters.’

 ***

 Once they were back at the bunker, all three of them went to their respective rooms and slept. Sam was the first to wake up, so went to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. He’d heard Dean watching tv or a film in his room until late, and so assumed that he was continuing to put off sleep until he could no longer keep his eyes open. He’d been like this ever since the lakehouse. He’d go to his room at a reasonable hour, but Sam knew that he wasn’t sleeping. Every morning he’d wake up as tired as he’d been before ‘sleeping’. Sam knew that after the events of the past couple of days Dean’s sleep schedule wasn’t going to get any better.

‘Hello, Sam,’ Cas said, appearing at the door, leaning on crutches. He was dressed in one of Dean’s old t-shirts and a pair of Sam’s spare tracksuit pants. His hair was a mess and he looked awful and tired.

‘Cas. How are you feeling?

‘Terrible,’ Cas replied, then navigated his way to the table.

‘Coffee?’ Sam asked.

‘Yes, please.’

Sam poured two coffees and brought them over to the table, setting one in front of Cas then sitting opposite him.

‘So, what do you remember of the past few days?’ Sam asked.

‘Not much… I… I stopped at a gas station and then… I woke up… Dean was there… and this woman, she… she was hurting me,’ Cas said as he stared into his steaming coffee. ‘Is Dean alright?’

‘Yeh. Yeh, Dean’s fine.’

‘What was that thing?’

‘A wraith.’

Cas scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. ‘What did it want from me? I don’t remember being interrogated?’

‘It… It didn’t want to interrogate you. It wanted to torture you,’ Sam said.

‘Why?’ Cas said, his brow still furrowed. He stared at Sam, as if he was looking deep into his eyes for answers.

Sam shuffled in his chair uncomfortably. ‘Well, see, we were hunting it… And so it took Dean. It was an Elsker wraith… so, it takes people that… that care about each other.’

Cas looked away and said softly, ‘I see.’

They both sat in silence for a minute. Cas was deep in thought and seemed completely oblivious to the awkwardness. Sam, on the other hand became fidgety and uncomfortable.

Sam couldn’t take the silence any longer, and when it didn’t seem as though Cas was going to talk, he asked, ‘So… how’s the foot?’

‘It hurts,’ Cas replied monosyllabically.

‘You’ve got pain meds right?’

‘Yes. But, they make my brain feel like thick tar.’

‘Yeh, that can happen. You should take them though, they’ll help,’ Sam replied with a gentle smile.

‘‘Morning,’ Dean said as he appeared at the kitchen door, rubbing his eyes.

‘Hey,’ Sam replied light-heartedly.

Cas didn’t turn around, he didn’t even move.

Dean went over to the counter where the coffee pot stood, grabbed himself a mug, and poured himself a coffee.

‘You sleep OK?’ Sam asked, trying to ignore the fact that Cas hadn’t acknowledged Dean’s presence.

‘Like a baby,’ Dean said in between sips of coffee.

There was silence for a brief moment. Sam noticed Dean glance briefly at Cas from where he was standing, then return to drinking his coffee in silence. Cas continued to stare with an expressionless look into his own coffee mug placed on the table in front of him.

‘So…’ Sam said, trying to fill the silence with words. ‘I was thinking of heading out to find Jack?’

‘Sure, when d’ya wanna head off?’ Dean replied.

‘Erm, I was actually thinking of doing this solo,’ Sam said tentatively, looking at Dean and then nodding his head in Cas’s direction.

Dean got what Sam was silently trying to say and huffed out a breath in annoyance. ‘Babysitting!?’ he said.

Cas woke up from whatever thoughts he had been trapped in and caught onto what was being said. ‘It’s fine. You both go. I will be fine alone.’

Sam rolled his eyes, took Cas’s mug of coffee and placed it on the floor next to the table. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘Pick that up for me, then.’

Cas glared at Sam in annoyance, then bent to reach for the mug but shouted out in pain as soon as his torso contorted even the slightest amount.

Dean sighed, walked over to the mug and set it back down on the table. ‘Fine. You go,’ he said to Sam. ‘I’ll look after Tiny Tim here.’

‘Great. I’ll leave in an hour. You both rest up, watch Netflix and… whatever. And Cas, take the meds,’ Sam said as he got up and left to go pack.

Dean was still stood next to Cas who had returned to staring into his coffee. Dean sighed and sat down at the table.

‘You good, Cas?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Cas didn’t look up and simply said, ‘Apart from the pain, I’m fine. How are you, Dean?’

‘I’m fine,’ Dean said then waited to see if Cas would say any more. Something was off about his demeanour, but perhaps this was an effect of the pain or the strong medication he was on. Dean continued to sip at his coffee, warily watching Cas. When Cas continued to neither speak nor look at him Dean said sarcastically, ‘Great. Good talk,’ before heading out of the kitchen.

 ***

 Sam had left soon after breakfast, leaving Dean and Cas alone in their respective bedrooms. It was now afternoon, and Dean sat on his bed, listening to Led Zeppelin loudly in his headphones. He’d kept to himself and hadn’t seen Cas since that morning. He should probably be checking on him, perhaps he needed a bandage changing, or needed help with something… but the brief conversation from this morning had made him want to stay the hell away from Cas for as long as possible. Either one of two things had happened, Cas had found out about why the wraith took him and now felt awkward about the situation, or Cas didn’t know exactly why he was taken but was just pissed at Dean for it being his fault. Perhaps Cas was felt both awkward and angry. As much as Dean wished that he could stay locked in his room until Sam got back, he knew he should go and check on Cas. Goddammit.

Dean ripped his headphones off, got up and turned off the record player. Sighing to himself he walked down the corridor to Cas’s room, paused at the door, then knocked three times.

‘Come in,’ Dean heard from inside.

Dean carefully opened the door to see Cas lying on the bed, his upper torso resting on two pillows behind him. Cas was staring up at the ceiling, and gave no indication that he was planning on looking at Dean.

Dean glanced around the room, trying to see if there was a tv or laptop in here that Cas had been watching, or maybe a book on the side tables or bed. When he saw nothing he asked, ‘You just been staring at the ceiling all day?’

Cas finally broke his staring competition with the ceiling above and looked at Dean briefly, then returned his eyes to the plaster overhead.

‘Yes,’ he replied.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. Damn angel. ‘You need your bandages changed or something?’ Dean asked with a tone of impatience.

Cas glanced down at the same old t-shirt he’d been wearing all day, and tentatively touched at his torso, wincing.

Dean moved over to the bed and crouched down next to Cas, then lifted his shirt to expose the bandages which had now turned the colour of murky brown and red-hued black.

‘That would be a yes,’ Dean sighed. ‘OK, you stay here and I’ll go get the first aid kit.’

Dean returned a moment later to find Cas sat on the side of the bed, breathing deeply, his face contorted with pain. Dean rushed over, set the first aid stuff on the bed and put a hand on Cas’s shoulder. ‘OK, easy, man.’

‘I… I can’t lift my arms,’ Cas said, embarrassed and dejected.

‘Alright,’ Dean said soothingly. ‘You lie back and we’ll just push your top up.’

Cas lay back down on the bed, breathing in sharply when he lifted his foot in its heavy cast back up onto the bed. Dean pushed the t-shirt up as far as it could go, carefully lifting the material over the bandages. He slowly tore each bandage from Cas’s skin, trying not to pay attention to Cas wincing every time one was removed.

‘You need some whisky for the next part?’ Dean asked.

‘No. I’ll manage.’

Dean gave Cas a worried look before dousing some cotton wool with anti-septic fluid, then carefully wiped it across Cas’s chest and stomach. Dean couldn’t help but notice the tanned skin and muscles which jumped at his every touch. He needed to quickly end this chick flick moment asap before he puked. It didn’t help when Cas started giving out small whines in pain, and his breathing became louder as Dean continued to wipe the stinging liquid over the cuts. Dean breathed in steadily and tried to focus again. He got out some clean bandages and medical tape from the box and placed them over the cuts.

Cas had begun this whole painful endeavour watching Dean’s hands push his shirt up, then start wiping that awfully painful liquid over his cuts. He noted Dean’s fingers move the cotton wool in delicate circles over his cuts. It was indeed painful, but with his friend sitting so close to him and tending to his wounds, he just couldn’t watch. He returned his eyes to that familiar ceiling above him and focused on the pain which helped him to ignore anything else that was going on.

When Dean had finished applying the bandages he got up and coughed uncomfortably, then threw the old bandages in a bin at the side of the room, gathered up the medical supplies, threw them in the box and walked towards the door.

‘You hungry?’ he asked.

‘Erm. Yes. I suppose,’ Cas replied.

Dean didn’t look at him as he left the room, saying, ‘I’ll get some food ready, then.’

 ***

 Dean set down the homemade burgers with a side of chips, and two beers on the main table. Cas had hobbled over with his crutches and was now sat at the table.

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

‘Don’t mention it,’ Dean replied, taking the burger in his hands and biting down on it, humming at how good it was.

They both ate in silence. Normally Dean could deal with silence, after all, Cas wasn’t the chattiest of people, but Cas still felt off and Dean couldn’t help but worry about what thoughts were running through his mind.

When they’d finished eating, Cas said, ‘Dean… I’m sorry.’

Dean looked up at him in surprise, saying, ‘Sorry for what?’

Cas stared down at his lap, ‘I should not have gone searching for the Nephilim alone.’

Dean picked up his beer from the table and took a sip, watching Cas in confusion.

‘It’s fine, man.’

‘But it’s not, Dean. You were right. Evidently I am not ready to be going off alone. I put you all in danger because of that wraith.’

Dean sighed. ‘That wasn’t your fault, Cas.’

‘Yes, Dean. Yes it was.’

‘No. It wasn’t. Look, I was taken by that wraith and I’ve been doing this shit for years. And I was with Sam.’

‘So…’ Cas continued, a confused expression playing at his face, ‘So… you’re not angry with me?’

‘What? No? Is this what this silent act has been about?’

Cas mumbled, trying to find the right words, ‘I… I thought you were angry with me?’

Dean gave out a few relieved laughs and smiled at Cas, who glanced up at him. ‘Nah, man. We’re all good, yeh?’ he said, lifting his beer bottle towards Cas.

Cas picked up the full beer bottle in front of him and clinked the glass on Dean’s. He smiled timidly and said with a nod, ‘All good.’

 ***

 They spent the next few days in the same routine. They would wake up, have breakfast. Dean would remove Cas’s bandages, let Cas have a shower, then reapply some clean ones. They would spend the day looking for any signs which might tell them where Jack was, however everything on that front was silent. In the evening they would watch tv and films sat on Cas’s bed, before Dean would return to his room and listen to more music until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

By the third day Cas’s stomach had almost healed, he was able to bend without much pain and managed to change his bandages by himself. After breakfast he sat at a laptop in the main room trying to find any omens or weird storms which might give them any clue as to the whereabouts of the Nephilim.

One thing had been bugging him over the past few days, but with all the medication he’d been on, he could hardly think straight. He’d skipped the medication this morning which had brought back the pain in his foot, but at least his mind felt clearer. Dean was off somewhere else in the bunker, and so Cas was alone. What he couldn’t work out is why the wraith had taken him? Sam had helpfully explained that it would take people that cared about each other, which warmed Cas to know that his and Dean’s bond remained strong despite the upsets of the past years. But what didn’t make sense is why the wraith hadn’t taken Sam? Sam had been in her vicinity, and yet she had tracked him down and carried him miles back to her lair.

Cas sighed and then brought up a new tab thing on the laptop device. He typed in ‘Elsker wraith’ and hit the first listed page. Cas frowned at the information, then returned back to the search and clicked on the next site. He read through the information and felt his heart beating faster. He was not used to such mortal things, and it frustrated him that he was feeling all of these effects which he hadn’t as an angel. ‘Love’; that is what the pages had said. And not familial love; true love. Cas knew it made sense, why else would the wraith have taken him instead of Sam? Memories of the days when he was an angel flashed through his mind. He recalled the times when he’d been miles away from the boys, or in heaven and something akin to energy had rushed through his body as his mind told him that Dean was praying to him. Sometimes Dean would have been praying, but other times Cas had tuned into the thoughts and heard thoughts, not prayers. Mostly it was Dean worrying about where he was, or if he was OK, a few times Dean had just been thinking of him in a general sense. A couple of times the thoughts had seemed scrambled and nonsensical, and when Cas tuned in to check if they were prayers but couldn’t make sense of it, he had flown to where Dean was and seen that he was sleeping. On those occasions Cas had watched over his peaceful body for a moment or so, before heading back to whatever mission he had been on. He had been aware of the rumours in heaven; the rumours that his connection with Dean was crossing a line, but Cas had always ignored it. Him and Dean were family is what he would tell himself. But this past week or so, since he’d been mortal, there were thoughts and feelings that it was becoming harder to deny. He couldn’t lie to himself that thoughts hadn’t crossed his mind… thoughts and specifically cravings which he hadn’t felt so strongly as an angel. But Dean had always called him family, and so that’s what he was. He had always thought that Dean thought of him and Sam in the same way… but now, was that not the case? And now that he himself was mortal and practically human… did that mean that he was released from the vows older than the earth which detailed strict laws about how angels should interact with mankind?

But… wait. His thoughts were running away with him… this didn’t necessarily mean that Dean loved him… it could mean that the wraith knew that he was in love with Dean… maybe this was all his fault after all? If he hadn’t had feelings for Dean, then the wraith wouldn’t have taken them both…

‘You find anything?’ Dean said as he entered the room with two plates of pasta and two beers.

Cas was shocked from his reverie and shut the screen down quickly. ‘No,’ he said, shiftily.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, ‘You watching porn?’

‘What? No,’ Cas replied with embarrassment.

Dean looked at him warily for a moment longer, then sat down to start eating. Cas looked at the beer set in front of him. He hadn’t drunk much because he had been told that medication and alcohol was a bad combo. But he felt like both beer and medication wasn’t such a bad idea right now, so popped out a pill from the package in front of him, and washed it down with a huge glug of beer.

They both made small talk over the food. Cas tried to remain as calm as possible. The beer was certainly helping that. After they’d finished eating, Dean suggested that they call it a day on the research, and went to grab some more beers from the kitchen. Dean was glad Cas had finally decided to join him drinking. He himself hadn’t drunk much over the past few days because Cas hadn’t, so he was pleased that if Cas was drinking, then he must be feeling better.

After a few more beers Cas was beginning to feel fairly tipsy. He’d been trying to block out the thoughts from earlier, in particular the ones where he’d discovered that it was his fault that Dean had been taken by the wraith, but now those thoughts had started to creep back.

‘We should watch a film,’ Cas announced with a slight slur.

Dean noticed a change in Cas’s demeanour and was slightly taken aback by the quick change of topic from the conversation they’d been discussing before.

‘Yeh, sure. You got one in mind?’ Dean asked.

‘What is that one about the spy man?’

‘It’s spy. Not spy man. Just spy,’ Dean said with feigned frustration. ‘And you mean James Bond?’

‘No, I am aware of that one. The more recent one… the Birth of the Supreme?’

‘Bourne Supremacy?’ Dean asked.

‘Yes. Yes, that one.’

Dean smiled to himself. ‘Sure, you head to your room and I’ll put the plates away and bring in more beers,’ he said with a smile.

 ***

 Cas sat on one side of his bed, the beers and codeine had mixed so that his brain felt like the fluffy fur of a puppy dog. Despite this feeling of relaxation, he couldn’t shake the feeling now rested in the pit of his stomach that he really was to blame for the wraith thing. And Dean knew what sort of wraith it was, so had probably worked out why she had taken Cas, and so was Dean now aware of Cas’s feelings for him?

At that moment Dean came into the bedroom, handed him a beer and flopped down beside him on the bed. He grabbed the laptop that was beside him on the floor and started searching for the film. Cas silently drank his beer, his mind still spinning in circles with guilt.

‘Dean,’ Cas said suddenly, ‘I have something I mussst confessss sto you.’

Dean raised an eyebrow at his slurred speech, but continued to browse the internet for a copy of the film. ‘Go ahead.’

‘I believe it wass my faultyou were taken by the wraith,’ Cas said, first looking at Dean and then staring down at the beer bottle.

Dean looked over at Cas in confusion, then set the laptop to one side and moved so that he was sitting on his side of the bed, but facing Cas.

‘Cas,’ he said with a sigh. ‘We’ve gone over this. It wasn’t your fault. I’m not upset with you, man. We’re good.’

‘No, Dean. You don’t understand. It was an Elsssshker wraith. It took me because… well, probably because of my feelings for you,’ Cas said almost comically, still unable to look at Dean.

Dean didn’t respond which worried Cas. He took a brief look at Dean who was staring at him in shock. Cas quickly averted his eyes and tried to find anything in this room to look at.

‘I…’ Cas continued, ‘I ssshouldn’t have mentioned that. It is not of import. I have consumed much beer and I hear wildly inaccurate statements occur in humans after alcohol consumption,’ he continued hurriedly. ‘I’m… going to go… now,’ Cas said then lifted himself up surprisingly easily from the bed, before his head started spinning, his cast pulled him off balance and he fell down onto the floor.

Dean rushed off the bed and ran round to find Cas sprawled on the floor.

‘Goddammit, Cas,’ he said softly then hooked his arms around Cas to lift him up, back onto the bed. Dean sat down beside him with a sigh. He patted his hand reassuringly on Cas’s thigh, then left it there for a moment, before sliding it down back into his own lap.

‘Cas, it wasn’t your fault the wraith took me,’ Dean said in a quiet tone.

‘Dean, it wasss. And I take full responsibility for that.’

‘No, Cas… Goddammit,’ Dean said, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh to try and collect his thoughts. He couldn’t remember how many beers he’d had, and he certainly wasn’t as drunk as Cas, but he’d had enough that his thoughts were kind of blurry. ‘Cas, the wraith took you to hurt me. It tortured you in front of me. If this had been about you, I would be the one getting knives shoved into me… do you understand what I’m saying?’

Cas looked down, deep in thought, trying to piece together the bits of information.

‘So… if it wanted to hurt me, it would have tortured you… but it tortured me… so it wanted to hurt you…’ Cas paused to think about what this meant before saying quietly, ‘Oh…’

Dean breathed in deeply then ran his hands over his face.

‘Yep,’ Dean muttered, almost to himself. Dean couldn’t tell whether he was cringing, happy, or so embarrassed he wanted to leave and never return. Had Cas just said that he had feelings for him? Had he really said that? And had he himself just told Cas… well, the same thing? God, this silence was unbearable.

Dean was about to say something, say anything to break the silence before he felt Cas’s lips press against his. Dean breathed in sharply through his nose, his eyebrows rising in shock, before he gently pushed Cas away. Cas opened his eyes, and then looked away. Goddammit, now he’d upset the damn drunk angel.

‘Woah there, Cas,’ Dean said, still holding his hands up in front of him.

‘I… I thought that’s what one is meant to do… in this situation…’ Cas said, his words trailing off until they were barely audible.

Dean was dumbfounded. Cas placed his hands in his lap and looked down at them. Dean took in his profile, his drooping yet rather adorable eyes, his lips which a second ago had been pressed against his own… God… was he thinking of Cas in this way and not catching himself a second later? Was he finally going there?

Dean placed a hand on Cas’s shoulder, causing him to turn towards Dean who then moved his head towards him and pressed a soft kiss against Cas’s lips. Cas’s lips opened slightly, and gently closed over his own. They were soft and he smelled of beer and the same shower gel Dean used. A rush of heat flushed through Dean’s body as he kissed Cas and breathed in the heady smells of the fallen angel. Dean had kinda stopped thinking, stopped wondering, stopped every thought in his mind because this feeling was now everything. He broke the kiss and opened his eyes. Cas was staring at him, mouth slightly open, with such softness and intensity. Dean stood up, lifted Cas’s legs onto the bed, and pushed him back so that he was lying down. Dean then kneeled over him, bent down, and kissed him with an intensity he didn’t realise he could still conjure in situations like this. He felt Cas’s hands at his neck, and then his fingers bury themselves in his hair. Cas lifted his head to meet every kiss, and kissed back with a passion that surprised Dean. He felt strong and supple beneath him, his lips caressed, sucked, and swirled over his own. Dean lowered his body further down so that their chests were brushing against each other, he then found Cas’s tongue with his own and lapped at it, causing Cas to let out a small whimper. Dean’s breath hitched at that sound as a heat flooded through his body. Fucking hell. Dean quickly broke the kiss and sat up over Cas. Cas’s head followed Dean upwards, still searching for the next touch when Dean broke away. His lips were full and flushed and his eyes slowly opened, blinking up at Dean.

Dean got off Cas, being careful not to knock his cast, then got off the bed and took a few paces away.  

Cas pushed himself up to sitting, and looked sheepishly around the room. Dean felt lost for words. Suddenly a panic spread through his body as he realised what had just happened. He pressed his fingers to his closed eyes and rubbed at them, trying to work out what to do next. Goddammit, what had just happened? Without looking at Cas he stormed out the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Cas stared after the closed door in drunken shock. Was Dean upset with him? If he hadn’t been before, then it looked like he was now. Dean was probably upset with him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have kissed him. But Dean had kissed him back? Wasn’t that meant to be a good sign? He wasn’t all too familiar with these human feelings and social cues so maybe that wasn’t a good sign? Cas breathed in shakily, and breathed out slowly, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He had probably upset Dean. Perhaps he could say that this was the drink… but before the kiss he had told Dean about his feelings towards him. He shouldn’t have mentioned it. He was new at this whole human thing but even he knew that Dean walking out without saying one word was a bad sign.

Cas shuffled on the bed, and leaned back against the bedrest. He needed something to take his mind off what had just happened, and saw that the laptop was still on the other side of the bed. He brought it onto his lap, noticed that the film was loaded and paused on the screen, pressed enter, and tried to forget everything that had just happened.

 ***

 The film was entertaining enough that Cas could almost fully pay attention to it without drifting off into thoughts of what had just occurred. He focused on staring at the screen and following the plot, but on occasion his mind would flash with images of Dean’s body over his, their lips pressed together. Cas’s body would react to the memories; his breathing would hitch, his stomach would tumble, and his body would warm.

About twenty minutes into the film he heard a knock at his door. It could only be Dean. Cas froze and stared at the closed bedroom door.

‘Yes?’ he said.

Dean opened the door slowly, and walked over to the bed without looking at him. He sat down next to Cas, swung his legs onto the bed, crossed his arms, and leant back.

Cas didn’t know what to do or say. His mind still felt woozy from the beer which obviously hadn’t been helping his judgement calls. Did Dean want to talk about it? He was assuming not seeing as he hadn’t said a word, nor even looked at him since he came into the room… but the fact that he had joined him at all must be a good sign.

‘Shall… I restart the film? Cas asked hesitantly.

‘No. You’re good,’ Dean replied.

The film continued playing, them both watching it side by side. More than ever before Cas was extremely aware of Dean’s body next to his. He could feel its heat, could sense the smallest movement… this was… distracting. Cas half-wished he was still an angel and could zap out of there in an instant.

Dean didn’t know what to think. After what had happened he had returned to his room and paced around whilst trying to calm his breathing. When a couple of minutes had passed he turned his record player on and collapsed onto the bed. He put on his headphones and listened to the blasting rock music, trying not to think. Goddammit, Cas. This had opened a whole can of worms that Dean didn’t want to deal with right now. Dean shut his eyes and tried to focus on the music, blocking out the emotions. Was he happy about this? What was he so scared about? Cas had told him how he felt and then made a fucking move on him. If Dean was being honest with himself he didn’t see this as a bad thing, it was pretty relieving to be honest. But Dean had returned the kiss and then went back for more… Could he pretend that hadn’t happened? Cas seemed pretty drunk, and maybe he could convince him that it was a drunken mistake? But did he even want to pretend like it was nothing? Dean turned the thoughts over again and again in his mind, searching for how he really felt. He’d kept burying this stuff for so long that it didn’t feel right trying to face it. He’d quietly admitted to himself in the past that yeh, sure, some guys were pretty fucking hot. He’d gotten completely smashed before and gone home with a few. But Cas… anything he’d felt towards Cas was repressed so deeply that he’d been unable to truly admit to himself these feelings. Since Cas had gone and died on him, it had become harder to pretend that his feelings towards the guy were completely platonic. These thoughts went round and round in circles in Dean’s mind. He started to wonder about what Cas was doing now. Was he now watching the damn movie? Was Cas upset with him? Fuck, he was probably drunk and majorly pissed at him. Dean sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. Before he could think about this anymore he got up, walked out the room to Cas’s bedroom, and knocked on the door.

 To Cas, the movie was mildly entertaining. In the past he’d watched in confusion at such films, trying to disseminate the varying reasons why humans interacted in such ways, but since Metatron had downloaded cultural references into his brain, and since he turned human that first time, he was enjoying films more. The on screen romances and social relationships were less confusing, and he’d learnt to just enjoy the plots.

Dean had still said nothing to him, but at least he was here. As much as film plots were making more sense to him, Dean’s social cues were still way beyond his ability to fully understand. The drink from earlier, and the pain medication were making his eyes feel heavy and his body feel lethargic. As the film continued, Cas slowly drifted into sleep.

 Dean’s attention to the film was broken when he felt Cas slowly slump to the side, until his head was resting on Dean’s shoulder. Dean looked down to see Cas’s chest rise and fall slowly. His eyes were shut and looked deep in sleep. Dean tried to be annoyed at the damn, drunken idiot falling asleep on him, but without anyone there to note his social discomfort, Dean smiled slightly, and continued watching the movie.

 When it ended and the title credits started rolling, he gently moved his arm to pause the film. He wouldn’t be able to get up without waking Cas, and to be honest, he’d rather just go to sleep without having to deal with another conversation. He tried to move slowly, pushing Cas away from him gently.

‘Was I asleep?’ Cas said, his voice deep and husky. Cas sat up and rubbed at his eyes.

Dean got up off the bed and headed to the door. He turned around to see Cas staring at him sleepily.

‘Night, Cas,’ he said quietly.

‘Goodnight, Dean,’ he heard Cas say as he shut the door.

 ***

  Cas woke up feeling terrible. His hair was a mess, his stomach felt weird, his foot hurt, and his head was pounding. He slowly opened his eyes and stretched out his arms. He glanced at the bedside table and saw a couple of empty beer bottles… well, that would explain things. God, how did Dean deal with drinking so much so often? He was probably used to it… wait… Dean. Cas furrowed his brown trying to remember why the thought of Dean was of some importance right now… and then he remembered. First the memories of Dean’s body pressed on top of his and the heat he’d felt in that moment. Secondly came the memories of Dean’s look of shock and his silence when he left the room and for the rest of the evening. Cas took a pillow from beside him and slammed it over his face, pressing the cotton to his eyes as if he could block out whatever he was feeling with the soft material barrier between himself and the world. He was not used to all of these human emotions, he didn’t really know what emotion he was feeling right now. Was it embarrassment… yes, it was that. How does mankind cope with being so laden with such things? Perhaps it was best if he tried to avoid Dean today, his body felt worn down, sick, and tired and the last thing he needed was to be involved in some confrontation with Dean.

 Cas spent the day watching Netflix in bed, leaving the room on the rare occasion to grab water and meds to help his continuous headache. He binge-watched a series about vampires which appeared wildly inaccurate. Moreover, they all seemed far too pretty and clean to be at all accurate. Oh the misleadings of American popular television. By the time it was six o’clock, his stomach started to hurt with pain rather than the morning’s nausea. He would have to go to the kitchen to make food… which ran the risk of bumping into Dean. Furthermore, his cooking skills were mainly confined to sandwiches, and his body craved something more substantial. But sandwiches would have to do seeing as Dean would be unlikely to cook for him this evening. A pity, as Dean’s culinary skills were surprisingly good and he always enjoyed their evening meals together. This whole day alone had made him miss Dean in general. What were they to do? Cas went over the events of last night for the millionth time that day; he had confessed his love to Dean, Dean had seemingly reciprocated those feelings, Cas had kissed him, Dean had reciprocated that before walking out the door and not speaking to him for the rest of the evening. Were all humans this indecipherable, or was Dean particularly puzzling? Cas’s own understanding of his emotions seemed equally incomprehensible at this current time. Perhaps they always had been difficult to comprehend? For years he had known of his love for the man, but it had always been mixed with his duty as a kind of angelic guardian. He loved Sam as well, but his feelings towards Dean had always felt more… potent. On occasion he could have sworn he felt something akin to lust. Since becoming human this time, it was becoming difficult to deny that there was a sense of lust towards Dean, and the feeling of love that he had harboured in his heart for so long was becoming stronger every day. When he had been an angel, it had been programmed into his mind that one of the greatest sins one could commit was to lay with mankind and perhaps that knowledge had been the barrier stopping him from truly exploring those emotions before. Now that he was mortal and essentially human, those rules didn’t apply and any guilt he had felt regarding his emotions was dissipating quickly. The only guilt he now felt was that he may have ruined his friendship with Dean. He had seen that in movies, when someone professes their love to a friend, only to be declined leading to the relationship breaking down… was that happening now? Cas groaned in frustration at his woes, then took in a deep breath, grabbed his crutches from beside the bed, and made his way to the kitchen.

 Cas was relieved to see that there was no one in the kitchen. He went about trying to find bread, cheese, and ham to make a sandwich. The whole process was incredibly difficult seeing as both his hands were needed to hold onto the crutches. He crossed the kitchen to find a plate, then hopped back to the counter with it, but somehow slipped causing the plate to crash onto the floor and smatter into pieces. As he himself hit the tiled floor he hit his foot and cried out with pain as he lay on his back on the cold tiles.

‘Cas!’ Dean shouted as he ran into the room, holding his gun out in front of him. The shocked and focused look in his eyes melted into pity and relief as he saw Cas lying on the floor surrounded by smashed porcelain and his crutches.

‘Sorry,’ Cas said quietly as he tried to push himself up into sitting. ‘I was trying to make a sandwich and slipped.’

Dean stowed his gun in his pants, sighed and went over to help Cas up. ‘You OK?’ he asked.

‘Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.’

Dean picked up and handed the crutches back to Cas and surveyed the smashed plate on the floor. Sighing he said, ‘Look man, you go rest up. I’ll make you some food.’

‘Thank you, but I’m sure I can continue cooking.’

Dean glanced quickly at Cas. Cas had noticed that he still hadn’t properly looked him in the eye yet, which continued to be worrying.

‘No, Cas,’ Dean said in an exasperated tone. ‘You can barely stand. I gotta make some grub anyway, so you just… I dunno… just let me help you, man.’

Cas saw that there was no arguing with Dean, so nodded slightly before hobbling out of the room and into the main space to perhaps start on some more research.

 Dean entered the main room of the bunker with two plates of steak and fries. He placed one in front of Cas who thanked him quietly. They both started eating in silence. Cas normally never noticed silences and they rarely made him feel awkward or uncomfortable, but this silence felt excruciating. He felt something that he’s never experienced before, a feeling of anxiety within his chest which made him want to say just about anything to break the quiet. This truly was an odd sensation.

‘Dean, I…’ he blurted out, ‘I believe I owe you an apology.’

‘You don’t owe me anything, Cas,’ Dean replied between mouthfuls of food.

‘Well… then I owe you an explanation.’

Dean sighed and dropped his cutlery onto the plate, and wiped his mouth with his chequered shirt sleeve. ‘Look, man. I don’t wanna talk about it, OK,’ he said with frustration.

Cas narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. ‘I feel as if it’s pertinent to discuss what happened nevertheless.’

‘No. It’s not, Cas. I’m drawing a line. Nothing happened. We’ll just carry on like we were before.’

‘But Dean,’ Cas said, his voice softer and more pained now, ‘You can barely look me in the eye.’

Dean shut his eyes and sighed, then pointedly looked at Cas. He could only bare to hold eye contact for a couple of seconds before he looked away again. Cas was doing that thing where he was staring at him with that sad puppy dog expression. Goddammit.

‘Truth is, Cas,’ Dean said quietly with an earnest tone, ‘We’ve been through a heck of a lot together – purgatory, the damn apocalypse… God, there isn’t another person on earth apart from Sam whose been through as much crap with me as you… And bullshit like last night, that changes things, man-’

‘Dean,’ Cas interjected sadly.

‘No, let me finish… Now… there are things about me that I’ve buried so deep that I’ve forgotten what in the hell they even were. And there’s a tonne of other crap that I haven’t buried deep enough. And so whoever you think I am, I’m not that guy,’ Dean finished, his voice husky, loud, and angry.

‘You think my judgments are based on a misunderstanding of your character?’ Cas said, anger boiling in his chest. ‘Do not mistake me for a fool, Dean. I have watched over earth for thousands of years. I have watched the trials and failings of mankind for eras and have held no one in as high esteem as you.’ Cas’s voice rose in passion and volume with each word. He lifted himself off the chair, grabbed his crutches and limped towards Dean until he towered over him. Dean was sat at the table, staring down at his food, his chest rising and falling. ‘I have seen you fail and fight. I have seen you in your worst moments and your best. I have saved you more times than I can remember and would die for you! So do not think that anything I said to you was born out of misjudgement or misunderstanding!’

Dean stood up forcefully, pushing the chair back with enough power that it toppled over behind him. He stood closely in front of Cas, staring down at him with an expression of anger and sadness. ‘So what, Cas?!’ he shouted in his face. ‘You think you can say shit like last night and then we’ll live happily ever after? Ain’t gonna happen because life, life is just gonna hand you a load of crap and take everything you care about away from you. So whatever you think you feel, forget about it. Because that’s how people end up dead!’

‘See, this is your problem, Dean! You push everyone away because you think you don’t deserve to be happy!’

‘No, it’s because everyone I’ve ever cared about has either run away or ended up dead!’ Dean shouted.

‘Well I’m happy to take that chance!’ Cas shouted back at him.

They both stared at each other with the utmost intensity, chests rising and falling quickly as their heartbeats raced. Dean grabbed Cas’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together forcefully. He sucked and bit at Cas’s lips as if he needed to taste all of him. Cas let go of the crutches which crashed to the ground then grabbed at Dean’s shirt and pulled him closer, holding onto him fiercely for support. Dean spun them around and pushed Cas onto the table and stood between his legs, leaning down towards him to continue the passionate kiss. Cas moved his hands and grabbed onto the back of Dean’s neck, both pulling Dean down towards him and pulling himself up. Their lips crashed into each other’s as they sucked and lapped. Dean pushed his tongue into Cas’s mouth and sought out Cas’s tongue, sucking and licking at it. Dean felt Cas take in a sharp breath and heard him groan into his own mouth, the vibrations humming at his lips. Dean broke the kiss and pushed Cas down onto the table. He then kicked off his shoes and nimbly knelt on the table over Cas. Dean pulled Cas further forwards so that his whole body lay over the polished wood. Dean moved so that he was sitting over Cas’s crotch, then bent down to kiss him again with fervour. He felt Cas’s fingers tightly entwine themselves in his hair. He could feel Cas’s full lips pressing, opening, and closing over his own. Dean pressed his body further down so that his crotch brushed over Cas’s. Cas gave out another moan into Dean’s lips. Dean started to move his mouth in motion with his body, rolling his hips down into Cas. Dean bit down gently on Cas’s bottom lip and groaned. Their breathing became laboured. Cas bent his good leg up and settled it behind Dean. Cas grabbed at Dean’s back so that he could push his body up to meet Dean’s rolling hips. Cas gave out another pained groan causing Dean’s body to flush with even more heat. He quickly sat up in Cas’s lap, pulled him up and grabbed at his t-shirt, pulling it off him quickly to expose tanned skin and rippling muscles. He pushed Cas back down on the table and saw that Cas was staring at him with an intensity Dean had rarely seen in his eyes which looked practically black. Dean pulled off his own shirt, and then his t-shirt, all the while staring down at Cas’s chest which continued to quickly rise and fall. He unbuckled his belt, then pulled it from the loops in one smooth motion then chucked it across the room. He then pushed himself off the table and kicked off his jeans, before jumped back over Cas. Dean pulled Cas’s sweatpants down to his knees, and resumed kissing him and rolling down into his body. Now with only the thin material of their boxers between them, their breathing became even more laboured and Cas’s moans became louder. Dean was hard and could feel Cas’s erection beneath him. He moved slightly so that their cocks would rub against each other which made Cas gasp into Dean’s mouth. Fuck. Cas rolled his hips up to meet his own and Cas gasped and moaned into each kiss giving out the fucking hottest sounds Dean had ever heard. Dean’s breath hitched at each groan Cas gave out. The tension building in his body was almost unbearable, so he continued to prop himself over Cas with one arm, then firmly moved his other hand down Cas’s chest, feeling each scar as he moved down towards Cas’s crotch. He pushed his hand below Cas’s boxers and grabbed him in his hand, which made Cas basically scream out a breathy cry. As Dean kissed him, he slowly moved his hand up and down Cas’s dick. Cas took one hand out of Dean’s hair and moved it between them, grabbing Dean’s hard erection and copying the movements Dean’s hand was making. They kissed and sucked at each other’s mouths whilst moving their hands over each other, their hand movements moving in sync with each kiss. Their breaths became more and more laboured as they started to drive each other to the edge.

‘Dean,’ Cas groaned into his lips.

Dean almost came just from hearing his name uttered with such intense passion. He started moving his hand quicker, feeling Cas become tenser with each stroke. He himself was close, the heat and movements of Cas’s hand on him causing his entire body to flood with intensity and pleasure. Dean’s head became light as the pressure built to breaking point. He cried out into Cas’s mouth, then broke their kiss, moaning as he came. His hand slowed on Cas, but he could still feel the tension in Cas beneath him. Dean’s breathing slowed as he opened his eyes to see Cas staring up at him, wide-eyed. Dean grabbed Cas’s hand that was between them, and lifted it up over his head. He then kissed him again and started to move his hand slowly up and down Cas’s hard dick. Dean reached for Cas’s hand with his free hand, entwining their fingers and holding his arm down above Cas’s head. Cas’s breathing started to rise again, his moans became louder with every touch. Dean could feel the tension in his body rise with each movement, and felt Cas’s fingers grip tightly over his own. Cas came with a deep and breathy cry, groaning into Dean’s lips as his came onto his and Dean’s bare torsos. Dean stroked him through the orgasm as Cas stopped kissing back and just moaned into Dean’s open lips. When Cas’s breathing started to slow, Dean let go of him and rolled over to lie on his back next to him. They both lay with laboured gasps next to each other.

Holy fuck, Dean thought. His head felt light, his body felt satiated and exhausted, and he still could barely catch his breath. He lifted his head up to glance down at his body, glistening with sweat and cum. Crap, he was gonna have to get up and have a shower. He collapsed back on the table, then turned his head to look over at Cas. Cas’s eyes were shut as he breathed in and out through his mouth. His stomach was also shining with sweat and cum under the bunker lights. Dean stared at Cas’s shoulder and arms, really noticing quite how fit he was. Dean rolled his head and stared up at the ceiling. Fuck. What had just happened? There was really no going back now. In the past Dean had wondered what it’d be like to fuck Cas, but he had always quickly shut down those thoughts before they got out of control. Now that it had happened, it had been pretty damn hot. Dean remembered Cas’s moans and how his eyes had looked dark and intense…

‘I should take a shower,’ Dean announced before the memories of what had just happened would make him want to go back for round two.

‘Yes. That would be a good idea,’ Cas replied through laboured breaths.

Dean pushed himself up and slid off the table, then headed out the door without looking back.

 Cas lay on his back, still trying to regulate his heartbeat by taking in deep breaths. He could barely believe what had just happened. It had all seemed so quick… yet also so… right. The feeling of wanting, of pining over Dean had gone. Yet only now that it was gone could Cas discern that it had been hanging over him for so many years. Cas had had sex before, albeit only a couple of times. But this, this had felt so completely different. The sensation had oddly reminded him of when he had battled and fought his way into the pits of hell to rescue Dean, and when he had touched his skin, held him tight in his arms and crashed up through the levels of the pit his body had been flooded with this heat. At that first moment when he gripped Dean’s body to his own, this burning fire had flooded through his angelic form making him feel wild with a heady and intense feeling which he had never felt before. Cas pushed himself up into sitting and looked around the empty room. He glanced down at his chest and noted that he imminently needed a shower. The feeling of complete relaxation that had flooded through his body and the memories of what had just happened made him smile to himself. He then pushed himself off the table, grabbed the crutches that lay on the floor, and made his way to his bedroom. When he heard Dean leave the shower and return to his room, Cas grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom.

 Cas got out of the shower, and by that he pulled himself up out of the shower seeing as with his leg still in a cast he had to take the shower head off, sit on the floor with his bad leg hanging out, and wash himself whilst trying to avoid any water splashing out and onto his cast. It was certainly not the most relaxing way to complete this task. Cas limped over to his towel and dried himself, then tied it around his waist, grabbed his crutches and hobbled back to his room. Now that some time had passed, the worries started to creep into his mind. What was Dean thinking right now? Did he regret what had happened? Should Cas go and see him? A feeling of need swept through his body as he sat on the side of his bed. Having experienced what it was like to have Dean so very close, now that he wasn’t here Cas felt bereft of his presence.  He couldn’t deal with wondering through the night how Dean felt, and after having not spoken to him for the entire day after the kiss they shared last night, Cas didn’t want to go through that again. So he put on an old t-shirt and the pyjama pants Sam had given to him and went to Dean’s room.

 Cas knocked on the door.

‘Yep,’ he heard Dean say.

Cas opened the door sheepishly to see Dean lying on his bed wearing loose cotton pants and a black t-shirt.

‘I… I…’ Cas started to say, but realised that he didn’t really know what to say to Dean.

Dean was staring up at him, his arms crossed and his face stern. When Cas didn’t continue talking Dean sighed and a faint smile played across his lips.

‘You have something you want to say, Cas?’ Dean asked with a tone of playful humour.

Cas relaxed seeing Dean’s smile and hearing the light-hearted tone in his voice.

‘I may need clarification as to your thoughts right now,’ Cas said tentatively.

‘Well, understanding people’s thoughts has never really been your strong suit,’ Dean said with a grin.

‘No. It has not,’ Cas said quietly with a smile.

Dean exhaled, uncrossed his arms and beckoned Cas over to him.

‘Sit down, man.’

Cas went over to the bed, and sat on the opposite side of Dean, placing his crutches on the ground next to him. He then lifted his legs onto the bed, placed his hands in his lap, and stared down at his fingers as if they were the most interesting things in the world. ‘I may be concerned that you feel regret over… what happened,’ Cas said.

‘I don’t,’ Dean replied. ‘Do you, Cas?’ Dean said, rolling his head in Cas’s direction to look at him.

‘I do not,’ Cas said.

‘OK. Good… Well, do you wanna watch another episode of that god-awful vampire show you’ve been watching this past week?’

Cas glanced over at Dean and smiled. ‘That would be good.’

‘OK, then,’ Dean replied with a smile, then grabbed his laptop from beside the bed, brought up Netlix, resting the laptop on his lap, and pressed play.

Cas felt reassured by Dean’s seemingly comfortable demeanour, but he couldn’t stop this feeling of awkwardness at just being sat next to him after what had happened. Almost as if Dean had read his thoughts he lifted up his arm that was closest to Cas.

When Cas didn’t move and just stared at the raised arm, Dean sighed.

‘This is the point where you move closer to me, idiot,’ Dean said with deadpan comedy.

Cas shuffled closer to Dean who returned his arm back down behind Cas and over his shoulders. Cas relaxed into Dean’s body and instinctively pushed himself lower and leant into Dean.

‘What the fuck even is this,’ Dean said in exasperation as he stared in amusement at the tv show. ‘None of the lore makes any sense, damn Hollywood idiots.’

‘I believe it’s supposed to be entertaining.’

‘You know what would be entertaining – having a hunter come in and kill all these lame blood-sucking idiots.’

‘Well, that would rather confuse the plot seeing as one of the vampires hasn’t killed a human and is in love with the lady with the red hair,’ Cas said, calmed and amused by the conversation.

‘Those two are getting it on?’

‘Yes, I believe so.’

‘Well good on him… But that guy with all the tats doesn’t seem too happy about it.’

‘From what I gather he is also in love with the red haired lady.’

Dean muttered something about unrealistic vamp lore and cheesy tv shows, although from what Cas could discern, Dean seemed to be somewhat invested already in the show.

 They continued to watch a few episodes, Dean making snarky comments throughout and correcting various points of lore. Cas started to drift off, letting the warmth of Dean’s body and the soft noise of the TV programme lull him into slumber.

Dean could tell that Cas had fallen asleep on him. When the current episode finished he shut the laptop and placed it on the bedside table. He then moved his arm which woke Cas who stared at him sleepily. Dean got up and pulled the covers from under Cas, and lifted them over him. Cas was obviously not properly awake, and so instinctively pushed himself down to lie on the bed. Dean covered him with the bedsheet and stared at him for a moment. Cas looked peaceful, and Dean hated to admit it but he looked kind of adorable. It had been strange sitting in bed with his arm over Cas, but not specifically because it was Cas. More that Dean hadn’t been like that with someone since Lisa. Having Cas so close to him felt weirdly natural, but it was still hard to shake off the feeling of someone being close to him at all. Dean wondered if he should go sleep in Cas’s room tonight, but they’d already crossed so many lines over the past few days that sleeping in the same bed wouldn’t make much of a difference. Dean sighed, turned off the light and got into bed with Cas. He pulled the covers over him, and started to regret his decision. What was he doing? Was this a good idea? He tried to get comfortable, resting his arm behind him below the pillow and shuffling his head around. He felt Cas roll towards him, still fast asleep, and basically bury his head in Dean’s side. He looked down at Cas with annoyance, but softened his expression and just tried to let himself be OK about this. Dean stared up at the dark ceiling, preparing himself for a good few more hours of trying to sleep. After about ten minutes he felt himself drifting off… perhaps lying with the damn ex-angel had some uses.

[lesbrarians]

Junkrat/Roadhog: Voyages Ch 2

I’m so happy you guys enjoyed the first chapter ahhh I hope you continue to like it! I’m gonna go to a Monday-Friday update schedule starting next week :> 

Title: Voyages

Characters: Junkrat, Roadhog

Rating: R

Summary:  After a rocky start and some ups and downs, Junkrat and Roadhog are officially partners, even if things haven’t progressed quite as far as Junkrat would like. With his treasure at the heart of their grandiose plans, they take their adventures overseas and leave their mark on the world, for better or worse. (Mostly for worse. They’re criminals.) Sequel to “Origins.”

---

He woke up to find that he had drooled all over Roadhog’s arm when he was conked out. “Whoops. Sorry, mate, got a lil’ somethin’ on ya there.” He rubbed off the saliva with his forearm and wiped it on his shorts before climbing to his feet. The alcohol’s effects had worn off in his sleep, leaving him dry-mouthed and slightly achy in the temples, but it was nothing that a few gulps of water couldn’t fix -- one of the packages Ava had mailed alongside them was a slab of flavored mineral water, an obscure Australian brand that she could provide justification for sending overseas. He propped his hands on his hips and scanned the cargo hold for his next conquest.

“Gross,” Roadhog told him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Junkrat giggled. “Not like yer not used to havin’ my spit all over ya!”

“True,” Roadhog agreed with a huff of amusement. Junkrat was not the neatest of kissers.

“Y’know, there’s somethin’ we can do to pass the time...” Junkrat sniggered as he scrambled on top of a large box. He estimated that sitting on top of it would put him roughly at Roadhog’s eye level. He made grabby motions with his hands in an attempt to lure Roadhog over to him. “Mind takin’ off that mask of yers?”

Roadhog gave a grunt of assent as he stood up. He reached for the straps of his mask, and Junkrat felt his heart quicken. He technically knew what lay beneath, having felt the swathe of twisted, scarred flesh that marked Roadhog as a survivor of a nasty fire, but Roadhog still refused to show him his face entirely. Unfortunately, this time was no different, and he pushed the mask up just far enough to reveal his jaw and mouth.

“Still deprivin’ me of yer beauty, eh?” Junkrat said, unable to stop himself from bemoaning Roadhog’s reticent nature.

Roadhog’s wide grin was lopsided: a crooked grin with crooked teeth, and Junkrat loved it. He wondered how many times Roadhog had smiled without his noticing, shielded by the barrier of his gas mask. “Yeah,”  he said. “This is all you get.”

“Good enough for me! All I really need, roight?” Junkrat wrapped his arms around Roadhog’s neck and kissed him with all the fervour of a man starved of intimacy. He was enthusiastic, if sloppy, but his poor technique made for more opportunities to practise.

Roadhog took control of the kiss in the hopes of teaching Junkrat a better technique than all tongue, no temperance. A little restraint went a long way. Junkrat didn't mind relinquishing control, not when it meant Roadhog gripping his face in those two hands and leaving him -- literally -- breathless.

Junkrat gasped into Roadhog’s mouth, grinding up against him. He probably should have been embarrassed that he was already hard after a few minutes of making out with no below the belt touching to speak of, but Roadhog tended to have that effect on him. He didn’t care how he looked, shamelessly rutting against Roadhog’s belly, not when it felt so fucking good.

The last time things had gotten this hot and heavy between them, they'd been interrupted by the sound of approaching police sirens. The time before that, it was an ambush by a scraggly group of Junkers. Before that, their dinner had started burning. There was always a crisis to be dealt with, and Junkrat had nearly given up hope on ever getting laid. Now, however, there were no distractions, nothing to keep them from doing as they pleased. It was positively exhilarating. Junkrat pushed Roadhog away from him, putting just enough distance between them to give him room to hop off the box he was sitting on. He fell onto his knees with a breathless giggle and tugged at Roadhog’s belt, attempting to figure out how to unfasten the custom plate that served as a buckle. It took a great deal of concentration. His tongue poked out of his mouth as he tried to decipher the mechanism, which didn’t catch in quite the same way as his own belt buckle.

“Whole lotta work just to suck yer dick, but -- heh -- worth it!”

His focus was broken when Roadhog pulled on his hair, tugging his head up to look at him. It was too urgent to be sexy, and the odd look that twisted the corner of Roadhog’s mouth only confirmed that.

“No,” Roadhog said.

Junkrat dropped his hands and frowned up at Roadhog. “Whaddya mean, no? Thought y’were into this.”

“I am.”

This made less than zero sense to Junkrat. “Then why not?” he demanded to know.

“Because.”

It was as valid a reason as any, but it wasn’t one Junkrat was satisfied with.

He was still on his knees. “Fine,” he said shortly, climbing to his feet. At least the pressing situation in his pants had lessened in all the confusion. He jerked his head in the opposite direction, nodding at the far end of the cargo hold. “Just gonna dip for a bit, then.”

He slinked off to be alone and process, his mind a jumble of thoughts. He picked his way through the cargo hold to put as much distance as possible between him and Roadhog, and he took out his frustrations on the various packages that stood in his way.

Maybe looking through other people’s mail would help him forget the buzz of indignation and sudden sense of inferiority that clouded his head.

He recoiled in disgust at the first container he broke into. It took him a few moments to realise that he wasn’t looking at an actual omnic, but a detailed, life-sized photograph of one, a diagram depicting the contents of the package being shipped. He inspected it further.  

“This a fuckin’ sex bot?” he muttered to himself, simultaneously incredulous and revolted. It wasn’t an omnic, but a “personal pleasure device,” or so the label said. He hadn’t realised that there was a market for functional, non-sentient robots built for the pure purpose of masturbation -- but apparently there was a global demand for them, if some corporation was shipping one from Sydney to Tokyo. It might not have had any consciousness or free will, but it could walk, talk, and fuck. Too close to an omnic for his taste.

It wasn’t like Junkrat didn’t have any perverse ideas of his own, and he had certainly entertained the thought of building a mechanical device to help him get off, but you couldn’t pay him enough to fuck anything that even remotely resembled an omnic.

Rationally, he knew that the robot before him couldn’t think and possessed no artificial intelligence, but still, its visual similarity to the bots who could do so gave him the heebie jeebies. He tore open the box. “Disgusting,” he said aloud, critically eyeing the robot, which had clearly been built as a facsimile of a human woman with ridiculously exaggerated proportions. He raided the husk of the sex bot for any parts that he could repurpose for his own inventions, then vowed to use the box to take care of any personal business, because really, fuck whoever had ordered this.

He stuffed his pockets and the bag slung around his bony hips with various mechanical odds and ends.

Moving on, he thought to himself. Looking at the fake omnic for too long was gonna make him sick. Robots -- proper, non-feeling mechanical devices -- were only good when they didn’t represent the humanoid second-class citizens that he so detested.

He tried another box.

It took him a few moments to figure out what he was looking at. The case was filled with soft, white toys, each with a cartoonish happy face, pink blush markings, and green tendrils.

Junkrat picked up one of the plushies and studied it. He didn’t get it -- was it an onion? A peach? A lump of garlic? Why did it have tentacles? -- but it looked like something Roadhog would like. It was pretty cute.

He stuffed the plush toy behind his back. “Roadhog!” he called out as he started making his way back to their corner of the ship. He had cooled off significantly. So Roadhog wasn’t in the mood tonight. He guessed it made sense, they were in the middle of pulling off a complex operation. He’d try jumping his bones later, once they were settled in Japan.

Roadhog gave a questioning grunt and tilted his head at him. Junkrat climbed over the last box standing in his way. “Gotcha something.” He held out the plushie. “Happy birthday!”

“It’s not my birthday,” Roadhog said, but he accepted the gift. He held it in both of his hands, carefully examining it.

“S’called a pachimari,” Junkrat informed him, having read the label. “Thought maybe y’d like it. Cute stuff’s kinda yer thing, ain’t it?”

Roadhog squeezed it. It squeaked, causing them both to emit small noises of surprise. Junkrat hadn’t anticipated that bonus. Roadhog looked at him. “I love it,” he stated. The tacit approval made Junkrat glow with pride, and a grin threatened to split his face in two.

“I knew ya would! It’s all cuddly, roight? Like you!” He sat down and took the pachimari from Roadhog. He stuffed it behind his head as a makeshift pillow and leaned against their motorcycle crate. Roadhog promptly tugged it away from him, causing the back of his head to crack against the box.

“Ow!” Junkrat rubbed the base of his skull. “Watch it!” Roadhog didn’t apologise, responding only with a vaguely threatening hum. Junkrat shifted to use his his belly as a pillow instead.

“What’re we gonna do first when we land?” he asked Roadhog. Even with a direct path to Japan and the miracles of modern technology, it would still take them the better part of five days until they arrived in Japan. They might as well use the time to strategise.

“Get more of these,” Roadhog replied, tenderly cradling the pachimari in his hands.

Junkrat cackled. “Good a plan as any!”

 ---

 As they neared the last leg of their journey, Junkrat was going stir-crazy. He was used to being cooped up for a week or so; he did it every time he and Roadhog needed to lay low after a particularly successful string of crimes. The key difference between then and now, however, was their choice of shelter: a deserted house in the desolate Outback, long abandoned by Australians who had the sense to get away from the irradiated region, was very different from the storage hold of a cargo ship. There, they could venture outside briefly to get some fresh air and sunshine, or at least crack open a window. Here, not so much.

“I don’t know if I can make it, ‘Hog,” Junkrat moaned. At present, he was draped over a crate, arm flung over his eyes.

“You’re being overdramatic again.”

Junkrat feigned indignance. “What a load of crap, I have never been overdramatic a single day in my life!”

"You are always overdramatic," Roadhog pointed out.

Junkrat popped his head up to glare at him, then sat up straight. "Am not!"

They were too busy bickering to notice when the boat stopped rocking beneath them.

"Hang on," Junkrat said, shoving his hand into the snout of Roadhog's mask in an attempt to silence him. "D'you feel anything, or am I just mental?"

"You’re mental. What am I supposed to be feeling?"

Junkrat pointed to the floor of the ship, and it clicked.

"Get back in the box," Roadhog said, shoving Junkrat off of the crate he had reappropriated as a lounge chair and in the direction of their own crate. "We must be here."

"S'your fault we didn't notice," Junkrat said, being antagonistic purely for the sake of being antagonistic. Roadhog pushed him in response, and he giggled maniacally.

Roadhog hefted the lid of the crate, prepared to seal them both back in once they'd secured their hiding spot, while Junkrat climbed inside.

The door to the cargo hold, a scant few metres from them, slid open, and a slim man trundled in, loading cart in hand.

All involved parties froze: Junkrat mid-climb, one foot still in the air, Roadhog with the massive lid still in his arms, the dock worker still holding onto his trolley.

Junkrat was the first to break the silence. "G'day!" he said with a jaunty salute. Roadhog dropped the lid with a resounding thump. The dock worker responded, clearly nervous, but neither of them could understand Japanese.

Junkrat hopped down from the box and approached the man, who looked at him warily. “Mate, I got not the faintest idea of what yer sayin’, and even if I did, I don’t care. Roadhog?”  He held out his hand, fully expecting his bodyguard to understand what he was requesting. Roadhog tossed him his frag launcher. Junkrat promptly fumbled the catch and dropped it to the floor, although he made a quick recovery and pressed it to the man’s temple. “Anyway. So, howsabout you forget what ya saw, and we take our leave?” The man likely understood his words just about as much as they had understood his, but violence was the universal language. He nodded frantically, a droplet of sweat beading on his forehead.

"Righto!" Junkrat said brightly, lowering the grenade launcher and glancing back at his partner in crime.

Roadhog had used his time constructively and torn down the side of the crate, freeing the motorcycle and creating a ramp. Junkrat booked it back to the bike and leapt into the sidecar while Roadhog revved up the engine.

"Outta our way, ya dingus!" Junkrat shouted, and the cargo worker dove to the side, abandoning his trolley, which Roadhog promptly smashed into.

They peeled down the gangway and through a crowd of mail couriers, smashing through the first fence they saw.

"Okay, so we went to all that trouble, what with the rebreathers and all, and yer telling me that we coulda got away with just bargin' on-- camera!" They both smiled for the security feed, Roadhog taking his hand off the handlebars long enough to flash a thumbs-up, while Junkrat struck a dramatic pose. "--board? Forget it mate, I'm not even tryin' anymore. Let's just bludgeon our way through everything, eh? Who's gonna stop the two scary Australian Junkers? Caution's fer chumps."

Roadhog laughed, that deep, low chuckle that always reverberated in Junkrat's bones. "Fair enough," he said. They tore off down the streets of Tokyo, in search of a truck from which they could illegally siphon petrol for their motorcycle.

 ---

  The streets of Tokyo, Japan were vastly different from the wasteland of the Australian Outback. For one, Junkrat had never seen so many people in one place in his life. Even their trip to Sydney hadn't been so saturated with pedestrians. At first, it was overwhelming, all the hustle and bustle turning him skittish. However, once he realised that they could get away with committing crimes a lot easier when they were in crowds, any misgivings he had vanished.

Junkrat had every intention of scouting out the city's omnic population, but first, he felt they deserved a vacation. What better way to unwind than at an arcade?

He was glued to the soft drink machine. “Look, 'Hog, they got all kinds of fizzy drinks here!” He hadn't heard of any of the brands before. Most of them weren’t in English, but he could make out Kiki Cola, Murloc, and Nano. Despite having no idea what they tasted like, they were making him salivate. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Which, oh which, should I try first?” When he didn't get a response, he turned around. “Roadhog?”

Roadhog had abandoned him to check out the machines that dispensed an entirely different kind of loot: stuffed toys. There was one claw machine in particular that Roadhog was fixated on, the one affixed with a sign that read “UFO.” Junkrat recognised the pachimari that they had strapped to the back of their chopper.

Roadhog’s snout was pressed against the window of the machine, much as Junkrat’s tongue had been against the glass of the vending machine. Besides him was a small boy with a tuft of blue hair and a pachimari tank top, quietly sucking on a lollipop as he stared up at Roadhog.

Junkrat shoved the child aside with a shout of, “Move, he’s mine!” and squeezed next to Roadhog. “Looks like you found where baby pachimari come from.”

Roadhog gave a grunt of assent, and they were silent for a split second. Junkrat eyed the crane inside the machine, wishing that he had some yen so he could test it and study the machinery.

Roadhog spoke first. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Depends what yer thinkin’, mate. I'm thinkin’ we gotta liberate some of these city wankers of their wallets. I wanna see this beaut in action.”

“Not what I was thinking.”

“Or,” Junkrat continued, raising an imperious finger in the air to silence him, “we liberate these poor souls from their prison. We'd be doin’ ‘em a favour, really, givin’ them all homes. You, me, and a million pachimari. One big happy family!”

He could sense Roadhog's smile through his gas mask. “Yeah! That's more like it.”

Junkrat flashed a grin back at him. “You take care of them, then. I'm gettin’ us some bevvies to celebrate!” He unholstered his frag launcher and bounded off towards the vending machine.

He wasn’t going to discriminate between flavors now -- although he was making it his personal mission to sample them all during their time in Japan -- he simply launched a grenade at the nearest dispenser, causing the thick pane of glass to splinter, cracks spreading out from the point of impact. He finished the job by kicking it in, sending shards and cans flying, and grabbed all the soft drinks he could carry. There was a similar crash behind him as Roadhog punched the claw machine, his spiked brass knuckles absorbing the shock and smashing the window entirely.

Junkrat had overestimated how much he could hold at one time and promptly started spilling cans when he took off running. Roadhog lumbered after him, hot on his heels, and he was doing a much better job at holding onto his purchases than Junkrat was.

Junkrat gave up trying to carry them all and settled for guzzling what he could, letting the other cans fall as they may. “Oh, that’s good,” he said out loud, studying the can to figure out what brand it was -- Kiki Cola -- before tossing the empty can behind him.  

They burst out of the arcade into the afternoon sunlight, the small child wailing in the distance at the loss of all the plush toys.

Miraculously, they made it back to their new home base without too much trouble. Most people leapt out of their path, alarmed and intimidated by the two Junkers barrelling down the street.

“Gotta get me a cart or somethin’, next time we do that,” Junkrat said, pushing aside the tarp that served as their front door. “Or make use of them arms of yers! How the heck did ya manage to carry all those?” He gestured at the heap of pachimari still in Roadhog’s arms.

Roadhog shrugged. He carefully set the pile down on the ground. “Practice.”

Junkrat eyed him. “Betcha y’could carry me.”

“Bet I could,” Roadhog agreed. He sat down on the throne of pachimari with a whumph and the sound of a million squeakers going off at once. Junkrat giggled gleefully and joined him, squirming under Roadhog’s arm. He picked up one of the plush toys and squeaked it, over and over, until Roadhog finally ripped it out of his hands. Deprived of entertainment, Junkrat took stock of their new, albeit temporary, home.

It had been impossible for them to find an abandoned place to squat, given their determination to stay within the more urban areas of Tokyo, where concentrations of omnics were highest. An empty apartment did not stay empty for long. They had been ruminating on alternative options -- Roadhog had suggested staying under the bridge, but Junkrat had been adamant that he was “not gonna share with a buncha derros” -- when they stumbled across a portion of the city that had been blocked off with fences and tarps, surrounding several half-built skyscrapers.

They couldn’t read the sign that marked the company that was behind the construction zone, but by the looks of the logo and some general deductions, they had concluded that it was meant to be the site of future residences for omnics.

As it turned out, Japan had a relatively small population of omnics. The country was an island with limited space, and as such, there was a nationwide push to relocate omnics to the mainland. Robots were one thing; omnics were actual citizens who needed resources and living space. With new regulations in place and political, pro-omnic protests, Tokyo was redeveloping a portion of the city to house omnics with no place to go, providing them with dwellings that suited their non-human needs.

It was the stupidest thing Junkrat had ever heard of, and he had had quite a lot of stupid ideas in his lifetime.

The fence had been plastered with signs, mostly likely warning individuals not to trespass and espousing the dangers of entering a construction site with no safety gear. They were all in Japanese, however, and the only sign Junkrat had recognised was a bright red stop sign.

Stop signs didn’t stand in his way, nor Roadhog's: he always had preferred to think of them as “suggestions” rather than “rules,” and Roadhog's command of the road entailed blowing through red lights more often than not. With a brash laugh, Junkrat had immediately instructed Roadhog to toss him over the fence.

They'd found a fairly solid structure with tarp tacked between its pillars to protect the half- finished interior from the elements. It was a risky choice of dwelling, but given the dearth of heavy machinery, they had concluded that construction had been halted due to some bureaucratic nonsense or other.

“Maybe the good people of Tokyo are seein’ sense!” Junkrat had speculated. “Those heaps of junk don't deserve fancy flats.”

It was a good decision, Junkrat thought as he burrowed deeper into the pile of pachimari. Anywhere was home as long as he had Roadhog by his side, but having the basic human comforts of a relatively enclosed, private space made it all the better.

[tumblunni]

ah no its okay! its just the achievement system being weird! You get the achievement for gathering evidence A right after gathering it, but only get the achievement for evidence B during the actual ending for some reason. Phewwww okay! But man its getting a bit annoying replaying the final scene trying to figure out the precise order to possess everyone to get certain endings. Its annoying cos there’s a long cutscene before it, and even though this game has a super fast skip feature you have to keep hitting the button for like a minute each time. Wish it could have at least been something you hold down instead :P oww my wrist ehh I guess I’ll pause here and wait a bit before going for the true ending. I’m gonna look up a guide cos its so frustrating having all the evidence and not knowing the right order to do it in, gahhh! And there’s so many trip ups where itll send you immediately into one of the bad endings, and then if you present too many pieces of evidence you get a bad ending and GAHHHH! How can I leave out half of these evidences and find other ones that say the same thing in less words?? Also it seems I might have to completely replay the final chapter cos the requirement for the golden-failure ending is to get everything for the golden ending except one thing. Its the only ending that cant be gotten after you get all the evidence, you can get all the other bad ones by messing up this final minigame :P gahhhhhh :P

Anyway RAMBLING ABOUT THE BAD ENDINGS SO FAR AND HOW GREAT THEY ARE (by which I mean DEPRESSING):

* Oh godddddd It wasnt ferdinand was it?? I mean if you get that ending then everyone acts as if it was him, but it didnt seem very believeable?? The ending is so quick and weird. Its definately a bad ending. You get it from presenting just one piece of evidence during the final minigame, and then ferdinand never confesses and honestly his alternate suggestion makes a fuckin lotta sense! When Donavan shoots him he confesses that he’s actually a conman that snuck onto the ship with false papers to steal stuff, but then Donavan is like ‘NO. YOU ARE THE KILLER.’ and shoots him dead anyway. And everyone is just like.. ‘umm.. i guess... he was the killer...?’ and it just ends! I really dont think he was the killer, I think he was just a petty criminal instead. or if he WAS the killer, we didnt really prove it here, we didnt find the real truth. That was just executing a scapegoat because we didnt solve the mystery. Tho it would be incredibly ironic if we get the true ending and it turns out he WAS a serial killer! option to actually deduce it was him, option to not deduce anything and just accidentally shoot the right man XD Either way he is a creepy fuck and clearly evil even if he didnt kill anyone. Thats why I can believe that he was a misdirect and he’s just a different criminal who wasnt involved with the main plot. I was suspicious of him for AGES and I was so convinced he was the killer but now I’m really heckin not!

* The ultimate bad ending where you don’t pin anyone as the killer is just so depressing and messed up! Donavan turns into a monster himself in his pursuit of the killer, he’s got his guts hanging out and he knows someone in the room has to be the culprit but he doesnt have time. So he tries to kill EVERYONE just in case! Wow you lost every single one of those badass points you had when I first got to play as you, dude. I was actually happy you didnt die! Now I’m frickin glad to see you shoot yourself after shooting all my friends, you fuck! ‘Hey I avenged one person’s death by killing nine other innocent people but lol I got the criminal’. Godddd, I can see how he got to this point but man its impossible to be sympathetic even if its not like he’s evil. Jeeesus... And if anything its WORSE that he dies before he can finish off every single main character! Paulo survives in this one, along with Xu who feels like she deserved to die. And Paulo is so traumatized by everything that he becomes severely mentally ill and is only capable of repeating words people say at him, he doesnt even recognise anyone anymore and we dont even get to know if he gets treatment or if he could ever recover. We just see everyone huddled together on a lifeboat trying to make him wake up and crying that they deserved to die too... gahhh... WHY PAULO WHY Man, at least its better than how he doesnt even get a single line of dialogue in the other two bad endings, that was weird. I hope he gets an epilogue in the true ending at least! I cared about him the most! Oh and it really fuckin hurt how Quella and Darryl were murdered in reverse order, dear jesus. Darryl was fine with dying, but then Quella jumped in front of him to protect him and all it accomplished was that darryl actually cried for his own death before he got mowed down too. And their bodies were left holding each other! GAHHHHH And its even worse cos the dialogue kinda upgrades their friendship to some cute romantic tension in the bad endings where they survive, that just makes me love them more and then AAAAAA

* Oh and the third bad ending is really sneaky cos it seems like a true ending?? You discover who was behind the human trafficking and he gets a cathartic punishment and really the only clue it isnt the true ending is how ferdinand seems suspicious and it all wraps up a bit too quickly and all. I’m left wondering what on earth could be the extra thing in the true ending, like do we find out someone entirely else was involved in this, or do we get more of a proper reveal of how ferdinand was the serial killer and he gets actual karma instead of just being killed before anyone is even sure he really did it... BUT ANYWAY THIS BAD END THIS CULPRIT NOOOOOOOOOO God, I knew Ferdinand was probably the culprit but even with all the clues together I didnt realise the human trafficking was even happening, let alone who did it! IT WAS GRANDPA IT WAS GRANDPA ALL ALOOOOONG NOOOO I mean.. at least it wasnt the grandpa I liked best. Darryl is totally innocent. But it was the more clearly a grandpa dude, the one you cant even debate is actually fifty. WHY GRANDPA WHY Gah, at least now I have an excuse why for once I didnt like a grandpa character. He always did seem like a bit of a suspicious asshole, even if I also believed a lot of what he said and never thought he’d be THAT evil! like.. god. Even if his sympathetic backstory is true he just fuckin destroyed it by reacting this way to it. Hell, i dont even trust its true though, i feel like it likely his wife divorced him for very good reasons after seeing what his personality really is in this ending. His kids are fuckin lucky theyre never gonna see him again! GAHHHHH The cute grandpa who loves cats and GAHHHH he was drugging and transporting kidnapped tennage girls to be sold into sex slavery. And he justified it by saying ‘oh humans are all animals, my wife was like an animal to me, blablabla its just our base desire to be evil motherfuckers’. And even right to the end he didnt understand why we were all disgusted at him, he was like ‘okay you can stop lying now, you dont REALLY care about these random nameless victims, you just wanna get a cut of the profits! I can make you all fuckin’ rich, we can smooth this all over, right?’ its so fuckin sick cos he was faking concern throughout the whole damn minigame so clearly he DOES understand that some people are good, right? He has to understand what morality is, he’s just excusing himself by pretending all of humanity is inherantly the same as him! GOD it was satisfying to see him shot in the head mid sentence Tho still i wish for an ending where the culprits can go to prison and suffer forever for what they did, and nobody else has to die. Also i want some conclusion for Paulo And a proper goodbye scene for the protagonist instead of them just dissappearing after the last minigame with no fanfare at all :P

* Also wtf was up with the mystery ghost in the bathroom, then? They just ask you random personality quiz type questions once per chapter of the game, and get no conclusion or reveal of who they are. Did they just stay haunting the bathroom forever, unable to solve their own murder like the protagonist did? Thats depressing. I mean i could understand their lack of conclusion if they were just meant to be a tutorial character or something, but paulo does all that! And why do they say all those questions if your choices dont matter...??

[occupyscifi]

The Re-teens

Ellen spotted the weirdo hiding behind the bushes near the hotel swimming pool. He looked furtive, and he looked like he didn't want to be looked at.

“I'm going for a coke” she told the folks, who nodded dumbly without looking over from their loungers, the haze of alcohol and prescription medication practically coming from them in waves. Ellen weaved her way across the bright blue of the different sized pools, past the families of one or two children around her own age and past the small knot of scowling boys and girls she didn't know. The fact that they fell silent when she passed told her all she needed to know about who they were talking about. But Ellen was grown up for her age and strode past them without bothering to look, she and her friends owned this pool, and these bunch of strangers had better get that thing straight right away.

She approached the weirdo from behind, cutting through the fake potted palms to arrive at his back. The weirdo was dressed in a way that was supposed to be normal but gave of great waves of not normal at all. The bright shirt he wore was still creased from the shop and a price label still hung from one sandal. This was a man who had arrived quickly, and not for a holiday.

“Hullo” she said, watching him jump practically out of his skin with surprise “What are you doing looking at us?”

The weirdo looked her quickly up and down “Hmm, too old” he muttered, looking over at the kids by the pool.

“I'm thirteen next month” she said, her forehead creasing “What's that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing. Just leave it” he said, not looking at her.

“You didn't tell me who you are” said Ellen boldly “unless you do, I'm yelling for security”

“I am security” he said, eyes under their dark glasses moving quickly. Ellen noticed that they were high end lenses, disguised in a cheap frame. The kind of lenses with telephoto strength and military grade resolution. With a pair of those you didn't need binoculars to see far away things, and you could livestream encrypted 3DHD footage anywhere online. The only question in Ellen's mind was who he was streaming the information too and why. Shrewdly she watched as the weirdo turned around to survey the kids playing in the pool.

“you don't look like security” Ellen said sceptically “security have uniforms. I've seen them. They're pretty ace actually. With, like, guns and stuff”

“I'm undercover” said the weirdo “For everyone's protection” he turned to her briefly, turning a penetrating gaze her way. She responded by continuing to stare back, her mouth half open and one eye closed against the bright light

“you should go back, miss”

“what are you protecting us from?” she asked, following his gaze to where the kids were still scowling at her friends.

“you don't need to know” he said, in that tight lipped way that security men liked to do. That more than anything else convinced her he wasn't just some ordinary weirdo. However that didn't mean he wasn't someone to be very wary of, and it didn't explain why he would be watching a pool full of kids. Then realisation dawned on her face.

“hey, its re-teens, isn't it?” the weirdo's body tensed suddenly, whipping around.

“what do you know?” he asked quickly, his fingers grabbing her arms. Seeing the startled expression on her face he quickly let go, and his face regained its impassive look “not that I'm confirming anything...”

“they told us about them. At school” said the girl offhandedly “just, you know. To be careful of them. Never said why though”

“probably for the best” said the weirdo “they're probably the most dangerous people in the world today”

“dangerous?” said Ellen, her face lighting up “why?”

“like I said” the weirdo repeated “you don't need to know. It’s in hand. Go back to your parents, Ellen”

“how did you know my name?” she asked, creeped out all of a sudden

“I'm security” he said

“I haven't seen you before” said Ellen carefully “and we've been here for ages”

“I'm not with hotel security” he replied cagily “like I said, I'm undercover. Less people know the better, okay?”

“it’s all right” said Ellen with a shrug “I'll not tell no one” she paused “if you tell me about re-teen's and why they're so dangerous”

The weirdo's gaze bored into her, those funny lenses seeming to read everything about her. Then he sighed “okay, fine” he glanced back at the kids by the pool “You ever read Peter Pan? About the boy who never grew up? There were a few movies about it too”

“Nope” said Ellen

“Hmm, maybe they'd banned them by your time. Guess they must have figured that it gave people ideas. Like they didn't already do it enough”

“do what?”

“it’s complicated” said the weirdo “and sciencey”

“I've studied science” said Ellen “in school”

“you know about genetics? Hormones and that sort of thing?” Ellen nodded “well, it’s like this. Kids stop being kids because their brain releases a load of hormones that tell their body to grow and change and become adults, okay?” Ellen nodded again. She remembered a gross talk back in school about what would happen to their bodies. Had made it sound so icky she'd vowed it would never happen to her.

“well the thing is that science is wonderful because it can figure things out, but people are not because they start messing with stuff that science can do. One day people start asking that if hormones start adolescence then maybe if we could block them we could stop kids ever becoming adults at all”

“Why'd people do that?” asked Ellen

“Good question” said the security weirdo “truth is, I don't know. Which is probably a good thing because its illegal. Started off with parents doing it to their kids because they wanted to keep them kids forever, which is really damn creepy. However creepiest thing was when kids started doing it to themselves” he shook his head “That was another thing altogether. Peter Pan complex, that's what they called it. Whole load of psycho science behind it about a generation of young people who never wanted to grow old because they saw what had happened to the previous generation. Load of bullshit if you ask me” he eyed Ellen “long story short, you've got people now should be in their fifties and sixties and look like they're about eleven years old”

“what's wrong with that?” asked Ellen “I mean so long as they don't stay at school, because that would be weird....”

“these are messed up people, Ellen” said the weirdo in a serious voice “and they've been messed up for a long time. They can't work because legally they're underage so instead they make money from... other things”

“what other things?” said Ellen innocently

“bad things” said the weirdo, looking uncomfortable “very bad things, then blackmailing the people they've done the very bad things with. Lot of very rich folks found themselves getting caught up in this. Lotta money gone missing, that sort of thing”

“so they hired you to sort it out?” said Ellen “so you're working for the guys that got blackmailed”

“no. those folks can rot for all I care. No, it seems that blackmailing paed.....bad people wasn't enough. They've started branching out. Taking advantage of people who don't know any better. People who'd never expect an innocent looking kid to do anything bad”

“I've never met any innocent kids” said Ellen, recalling schoolkids she’d known “all kids can be hella nasty when they want...”

“you haven't seen anything like these monsters” said the weirdo “if you'd seen what they left behind” he shook his head “I'm here to see that doesn't happen here.  We tracked a bunch of re-teens to this area, but there’s a bunch of hotels along this stretch of coast and they could be in any of them. He looked at her. “They like hotels. People don't seem to ask so many questions in them. Well, until me that is”

“So you got any suspects?” Asked Ellen eagerly

“Can't say” replied the security weirdo cagily then he thought for a moment. “Maybe you can help actually. You been here long?”

“Bout two weeks replied Ellen “parents wanted to get out. They got some money quickly and decided they could use a holiday”

“Sure” said the weirdo. “I get that.  Could do with one myself. Been following these crazy fu...folks for a long while. Found nothing but broken lives and empty wallets so far” he looked sad for a moment “Those kids there” He nodded at the group of kids that kept giving Ellen and her friends such evil looks. “You know them?”

“They've been around for like a week or so” said Ellen “They're okay I guess”

“You guess?” asked the weirdo “you don't talk to them? Don't hang out with them?”

“Tried” said Ellen. “But they weren't friendly. Not to us anyway. Kept to themselves a lot”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds right” said the security man. “Saw that last time. Adults didn't have a clue” he turned to Ellen. “You don't have to worry. We'll get them this time. We were tipped off in time…”

“Yeah, always gotta watch those nosy kids” muttered Ellen “don't have no loyalty...”

The security guy froze, looking round at Ellen “how did you know it was the kids who'd called us?”

“Heard on the news I guess” she said with a shrug

The security guy frowned and looked at the girl’s parents out on the loungers, that seemed to reassure him.

“Yeah, I'm calling it in” he said “can't risk losing them again” he looked at Ellen “we'll cordon off the whole place” He raised a hand to his glasses, ready to connect him to the law

“the whole place?” said Ellen, eyes going wide “really?”

“yeah, nothing to worry about” said the security weirdo “but you might wanna tell your parents, because everyone is going to have to be scanned...”

“Right” said Ellen, nodding slowly. She appeared to reach a decision “Only, they aren't my real parents. Adopted”

“That's okay” said the security guy, not paying much attention “sure they love you just the same. After all they did choose you...”

“Oh no, I don't think you understand” said Ellen, and her tone made the security weirdo freeze in horror “I adopted them” she gestured at the two junkies she'd hired as cover.

“What?” Said the security guy “how?”

“Easy” came a voice from behind the security weirdo “when you hit your sixth decade you really know what makes people tick”

The security guy whirled around to see the trio of Ellen's friend's standing there. All pretence of childhood had dropped from them. Now he saw them for what they were, desperate and jaded and old. He went for his gun, fingers scrambling at his belt.

“not gonna happen” said Ellen, holding the weapon “I got light fingers for an old lady” She admired the barrel of his weapon. “And you even got a silencer on it already. She smiled viciously. Saves me a job” She added, firing twice. The security guy crumpled silently, his feet kicking once and making the fake plants shake.

“Now” said Ellen, idly watching as the blood flowed across the tiles and into a nearby drain “where too next?”

“I hear Malaga is lovely this time of year” said one of the gang “and those kid’s parents are bound to crack soon and give us their account passwords” He looked up at several hotel rooms where the curtains had not been opened in days. “I mean we've been torturing them for nearly a week”.

Ellen looked over to where the real children were giving them evil looks. “Should have tortured them too, I reckon”

“We've got standards” said the other boy as he frisked the corpse of the security weirdo. Satisfied he was dead they rolled him behind a palm before scattering into the hotel.

 By the pool the pretend parents snoozed or sat in stupor. The real kids shivered, despite the heat. There were few things more terrifying than a reteen.