#great deep lover and great overall surface/summary go well in a person but in two persons

[jrueships]

maxeys chart 😭😭

[wildefiction]

L’Appel du Vide

PAIRING: Madeline (OFC) x Winchesters + Friends

WORD COUNT: 2,846

SUMMARY: Madeline has worked alone for as long as she can remember. She keeps her friends distant and her secrets to herself but when a would-be typical case puts her and the Winchesters on a trail of monsters unlike anything they've ever seen, they'll have to rely on one another to make it out alive.

SERIES WARNINGS: Depictions of gruesome murder, highly detailed gore, nudity, occult references, angst, religious references, drinking, drug use, witchcraft, torture, abuse, filicide, death, brief mentions of incest, smut (eventually, maybe), shape-shifting, loss, grief, blood, nightmares, paranoia, mental illnesses & overall dark/horror based themes.

A/N: This is a reboot of the original from last year and is a collaboration with the wildly talented @wildeheathen

ONE

Somewhere in the heart of what many humans would have called ‘the middle of nowhere’; a heartbeat erratically disrupted the lazy croaking of toads and the cacophonous chirping of crickets as its warbling tune rang out like perverse thunder. It was too fast, uneven and pained as if whoever owned the organ was frantically fleeing from a monster that grew ever closer with each passing shadow. It wasn’t uncommon for drug-addled folk to be found in these parts, mumbling about laughing shadows while they scratched at seeping sores and charred veins from their repetitive use of man-made hallucinogens. Run. Faster. I’m going to get you. Go! Quickly now! The hissing laughter danced through the looming trees and dense foliage as whatever was causing such an inhuman sound coursed after its prey with a morbid amount of delight.

She had such pretty blonde curls, her skin kissed by the sun and her choice of clothing a heavy tell that she wasn’t from around these parts. She ran through the woods as quickly as the expensive boots would allow without breaking an ankle, her chest burning as she tried to outrun the shadows themselves as they danced and whipped through trees that were barren of foliage in the late winter months. She heard the sinister laughter, it was real and she knew she wasn’t losing her mind. She heard it tell her to run faster as if prodding her toward her final destination. Faster. You’re almost there. Go on! A scream of fear that would have once echoed through the dense forest was now less than a hoarse whisper as the girl pushed herself to run even faster. It wasn’t until it was far too late that she spotted the gnarled branch, thick with age and sharpened by passing wildlife sharpening teeth and shedding antlers. Try as she might, the speed in which she ran only caused her to stumble as she tried to stop herself, falling forward and disturbing the peace of the night with a sickening gurgle as blood pooled from thick, artificial lips, her mouth a perfect ‘o’ and her baby blues wide as she gasped and gagged.

“Like a fish out of water. Tch. You were much prettier than he made you out to be, but you know how scorned lovers can be. Selfish prick, you could have made so many men happy.” A smoky voice spoke to the girl as she struggled and fought her impending death. “You know what they say though, twenty bucks is twenty bucks, though in this case, it’s your soul for his. Humans will do some truly debase shit when their ticket comes time to punch. I guess he wasn’t kidding when he said you’d pay for breaking his heart. Looks like he’s one-upped you on that, now.” From the shadows that had once chased the girl through the forest strode a tall, sharply dressed male, pale as the moon that kissed the forest floor with eyes the color of burnt ocher. They glowed like the coals of a dying fire as he bent at the waist and met her gaze with his own.

“Stop fighting love, hush.” A pale hand tipped with talon-like nails slid over the female’s cheek and as if being powered down, she stopped struggling, her head dropping forward to rest against the branch that had impaled her. Even Gregory wasn’t the type to watch the pretty ones suffer for too long. He had morals after all, where those morals were was a different question, but he was almost certain that he owned a set or three. Bringing his hand up, a curling swath of black smoke summoned a small scroll of parchment to his palm, a finger from his free hand swiping some of the quickly cooling blood from the woman’s mouth to ‘sign off’ on his latest job. The quirky kid who had so brazenly ordered his ex-girlfriend’s execution had only had one request. ‘Make it messy’ and so Gregory had done the best he could given the location he had been stuck in. There was no fire or brimstone in this girls’ future, but neither was she destined for the shining gates of heaven. “Atheists. They get the worst end of the stick.” Gregory spoke to himself as he slipped past his latest job and headed for a break in the woods. He was due to meet with the self-professed King of Hell and two humans that had turned the short, saucy Scotsman into a personalized demonic pet. Gregory found it amusing, much to the chagrin of Crowley.

Humming under his breath as he walked, Gregory was very aware of the fact that he was being watched, a grin curling at the corner of his too-wide mouth and his arm out-stretching to act as a perch for a rather large Raven to land upon. “You know if they catch you doing this they’ll never trust you again, right?” He knew the bird wouldn’t answer, but he’d always found it amusing at just how neutral a witch could be when it came to monsters and men.

Gravel crunched beneath her heavy black boots as Madeline walked along the dark country road, the only light provided by the swollen moon, heavy with the turn of the seasons. A slight breeze swept through the dark, teasing a few strands of her hair that had stubbornly refused to be bound by the thick elastic band currently holding the rest of her tresses. She often walked alone in the dark, the silence only punctuated by the chirping of crickets. She loved the sound, something you couldn’t hear in the city. Even at night, cars and crowds never ceased completely and it left her on edge. Out here she felt at ease. Suddenly, the sound of breaking twigs broke her reverie and she quieted, listening for any hint of what had disturbed the silence.

Straining, she heard the sound again - this time with the added rustle of leaves and the earnest sound of a struggle. Intrigued, Madeline slowed to a stop, glancing over her shoulder. The road stretching behind her was quiet, she could only just make out the dim glow of light coming from the sleepy little town some ten miles back. Inhabited mostly by farmers, it was the type of place where the lone supermarket was also home to the town post office.

A breeze playing along the ground, the disturbance sent little torrents of dust to scatter across the abandoned path. Following a particularly strong whirlwind, as it danced across her shoes, Madeline took note of a single black feather caught in a small thicket of wild brambleberry. Crossing the path and stepping down into the trampled grass of an embankment, the fragrance of pine needles and cedar assaulted her senses. Stooping to disentangle the feather from amongst the sharp thorns, she straightened, peering closely at the crumpled tip. Running nimble fingers over the vane, the silky texture was a true, inky black. Turning it in her hands, Madeline could just make out the indigo iridescence playing along the center. Glancing once more over her shoulder, the woman fished into the front pocket of the denim jeans clinging to her thighs. Procuring a small folded pocket knife, she raised the weapon to her mouth, her focus remaining on the feather while using her teeth to unfold the titanium blade from its hand-carved cedar handle. Dragging the sharp edge across the lifeline of her right hand, Madeline winced as it bit into her flesh; a pool of garnet immediately flowing to the surface. Dragging the edge of the feather through the small pool of blood that had gathered in her palm, she closed her eyes - muttering under her breath in a language unknown by modern man. The breeze picked up again, swirling about her legs as the woman stood, waiting for the magic to take her. When it was quiet once more, a large, obsidian raven lifted itself from the ground, banking over the thick copse of trees that flanked either side of the old country road. It took only moments to locate the cause of the disturbance she’d been so curious about. Settling on the thick branch of a nearby oak, the great bird ruffled its feathers as a pair of unnaturally carnelian eyes stared up at her from the pale face of a man on the ground below. A knowing smile crept across his features as he held one arm aloft, offering Madeline a closer vantage point to the carnage sprawled out on the forest floor. Leaning forward, sharp talons cut into the branch, flakes of bark falling to land on Gregory’s shoulders as she unfolded her great wings and glided down to land on his outstretched forearm.

Scowling, a growl rumbled from his chest, “watch the suit, woman.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t wear a thousand-dollar suit in the middle of the woods.” Where the large bird had perched moments before, Madeline now stood next to Gregory as if she had been there the entire time. Reaching over to brush the debris from his shoulders, the woman scoffed “and what the Winchesters don’t know won’t hurt them, right?”

Gregory simply stared at the woman, not bothering to waste his breath on such a ridiculous question. Falling into step beside him as Gregory started to move through the trees, Madeline was quiet, the only sounds that of breaking branches beneath their feet. Back at the edge of the main road, the tall man slowed to a stop. Raising one of his long-fingered hands, he pinched the bridge of his nose, a deep sigh illustrating his sudden irritation. Glancing up at him, Madeline was just about to ask what was wrong but chose to stay silent instead. While she and the static demon got along well enough - their relationship wasn’t one close enough for such discussions. Then again, Madeline was unsure if there was anyone in her life with whom she had such a rapport.

Reaching out, Gregory wrapped cold fingers around the creamy, soft skin of the woman’s wrist. “Perhaps you can ask them and find out then, eh?”

A small tingling spread from behind Madeline’s navel, the sensation expanding out across her stomach before a sharp tug had her scrambling to grab hold of Gregory’s well-tailored suit jacket. Shadows exploded around the pair as they hurtled through the cool autumn air. Swirling around the thick stone support beams of a nearby railway bridge, Gregory would soar several hundred feet, pop back into a somewhat recognizable human form just long enough for Madeline to start to complain before laughing and turning incorporeal once more. Several minutes passed before he stopped for the final time, one arm snaking out to snatch the back of Madeline’s simple cotton t-shirt before she could fall into the puddle of what looked to be some mix between oil slicked rainwater and the week-old remnants of some poor saps soured cabbage lunch. “God-damnit Gregory, warn me next time, will ya? You know I hate when you do that shit.” Crouching to steady herself on the ground, Madeline took a deep breath and immediately regretted the decision.

“Yeah, might not want to breathe too deeply here witch, you’re not in the trees anymore.” Chuckling, Gregory stalked past the woman to stand before a run-down tavern, the deep crimson door illuminated by the glow of flickering blue lights. Glancing up at the neon sign above her, Madeline could see that the establishment was called ‘Helga’s Tavern’ - half the bulbs had burnt out so instead of the first word simply read H-E-L, while the t, r, and n of the second word sat dark.

“Hel Avenue? That’s catchy..” Chuckling to herself, Madeline missed the look Gregory shot at her before reaching out to turn the aged-bronze handle set into the splintering wood of the establishment's door.

“C’mon woman, I wouldn’t advise even someone like to you hang out here by yourself any longer than absolutely necessary.”

Following along behind the man as he reached out and yanked open the door, the rust on the hinges screeched in protest at being disturbed but Gregory paid it no mind, stepping forth into a dimly lit bar that smelled of stale cigarettes and sweat combined with cheap beer and desperation. This was the busiest gate to hell, the one where most mortals didn’t even know they were dead yet. Madeline couldn’t help but notice that the patrons straddling the worn cushions of the stools pulled up to the bar never even lifted their eyes from their drinks. Even though she’d never been in such a place, the woman knew what she was seeing.

“Where are we going anyway?” Hurrying to catch up to Gregory as he passed through a second door set into the furthest corner of the room, the hush that surrounded them once it closed was almost jarring. Unlike the dirty, disease-riddled room they’d just left, soft golden light illuminated ornate iron sconces set into the black walls of the hallway where they now stood, the red-tinted glass creating a warm, strangely inviting atmosphere.

“I’ve got a case to consult on with the Winchesters, my uh….uncle... asked me to assist.” “Normally I would’ve blown him off, but even for me, this particular situation is gruesome. Color me intrigued.”

Still caught up on the idea that Gregory had any sort of family, Madeline was surprised when they came to a stop outside a set of massive wooden doors. Taking a deep breath, the man paused for only a moment before pressing a palm against the door, his long fingers splaying out until they lie flat against the solid barrier. Snarling as if in pain, Gregory removed his hand as the metallic sound of gears shifting allowed the door to fall open.

The same warm glow met the pair as they crossed the threshold. Immediately, the smell of aged scotch and fire danced through Madeline’s senses, laced with something else she couldn’t quite decipher. Across the room, against what looked to be a bank of dark windows, a massive wooden desk sat gleaming in the firelight. Behind it, a short man in a well-tailored suit sat staring into a crystal tumbler of scotch - the amber liquid clinging to the sides as he twirled it in his grip. Fixing deep-set, lichen-filled eyes on Gregory, a rich, cultured voice rumbled from his chest. “Glad you could make it, even if you are late.” The thick accent dripped with derision and the man seemed almost offended that anyone would dare waste his time.

Tearing her eyes from what looked to be some sort of massive, invisible...beast.on the ground at the man's feet, Madeline shivered, a rare feeling of unease creeping down her spine when the man’s expression shifted from Gregory to her, his green eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

“Don’t be rude now Gregory, who’s your friend?”

CHAPTER TWO

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven @wildeheathen