#hi yes hello everything I say is exactly two ideas in a trench coat

[cardentist]

the transmisandry “debate” and the attitude towards trans men is so transparently a retreading of literally every exclusionary movement of the last few decades and Yet it’s being perpetrated and tolerated by what otherwise should be inclusionist spaces because it’s once again being pointed at a more “acceptable” target

like, on some level I understand the gut reaction, the term itself is associated with a lot of negativity and “mens rights activists” and the like have made the idea of men specifically facing oppression for being men at best laughable and at worst a red flag for violent misogyny. it’s one of those things that a lot of people in left leaning spaces take for granted as being true across the board, something they don’t need to think about or examine. and to be clear “they” included me for quite some time, I do understand where the feeling comes from

but it’s not about oppression for being men, it’s oppression for being trans men, it’s transmisandry for the same reason that transmisogyny is transmisogyny. it’s a term specifically meant to cast a net over the broad array of experiences that people have specifically as trans men to give them an outlet to both examine their experiences in relation to the wider community of trans men and to specifically seek and give reassurance and solidarity to each other. 

the bigger problem with this argument is that many people will resort to denying what I’ve just said in order to reject the proposed term, whether it’s something they’d actually believe once they examined the situation in earnest or not. because people act as though acknowledging that trans men face oppression for being trans men will open up the floodgates leading to cis straight white men convincing people that they’re oppressed for being men. so trans men Can’t be oppressed for being trans men because trans men are men and men aren’t oppressed.

so leading from this line of thought what you’ll generally see is the argument that what trans men experience is “just” transphobia, and if you press the issue or bring up a personal example you’ll almost as commonly get that anything else is “just” “misdirected” misogyny. and just, there’s so So much to unpack there that I’m almost tempted to just leave it where it is, but ignoring the issue won’t make it go away and I wouldn’t be writing this post if I didn’t want the issue to change.

the point with, I think, the least baggage is one that I’ve already touched upon, that being that the experiences of trans men and trans women are just naturally going to be different from each other and it’s useful for both parties to have language to talk specifically about their experiences, in the same way that it’s useful to examine the differences between the experiences of binary and nonbinary trans people. it doesn’t matter who you think has it “worse” because this isn’t a competition to see who’s oppressed enough to Deserve having their experiences heard. the urge for trans men to make a term to describe their experiences isn’t some way to try to argue that they’re more oppressed, it’s born from the inherent need to be understood and to see that other people exist in the way that you have. it’s the solidarity that brought the trans community together in the first place

a point leading off of that with probably significantly more baggage is the idea that queer and lgbt+ spaces are a contest to measure your oppression in the first place. don’t get me wrong, it Is useful to recognize different axis’ of oppression, to recognize larger patterns of violence faced by specific groups of people at a disproportionate rate. it helps us, as an entire community, identify the most vulnerable groups of people so we can lean into helping them on both a systemic and individual level, so we can see whose voices need to be boosted so they can be heard both in and out of the community. and moreover having these numbers and experiences together can help people outside of the community see that it’s is a problem as well. 

however, the issue comes in when perceived theoretical oppression is used as a social capital to decide who is and is not allowed to be heard. I’m sure I’ve already lost the ace exclusionists ages ago by now, so that’s a perfect example. at it’s most extreme ace exclusionism is blatant bigotry and hatred justified with the excuse that they’re protecting the queer and lgbt+ community from privileged invaders, and even when in it’s milder form ace exclusionism is powered by the idea that asexual people don’t face oppression. marginalized people are denied resources, solidarity, safe spaces, and voices because they’re painted as not being oppressed or not being oppressed Enough. this wouldn’t be able to happen if your worth as a member of the lgbt+ community wasn’t measured by how oppressed your particular minority group is, if it didn’t have the sway that it has. creating a power structure in any way at all leaves people with the ability to exploit that structure, and the specific one that’s emerged within the queer community and leftist spaces in general allows people to exploit it while hiding it as moral, while hiding that they’re causing any pain at all. it’s the same frame of mind that’s made bullying cool in activist spaces 

another reason why this hierarchy tends to fail on an individual level is, of course, that the level of oppression that an entire group faces does not dictate someone’s lived experiences, which is an idea that goes both ways. the argument over whether or not asexuals are oppressed is ultimately a meaningless distraction from the lived experiences of asexual people. it is a Fact that asexuals face higher levels of rape and sexual assault than straight people, you can deny that what they’re facing counts as oppression specifically but what does that matter? there are people who are suffering and that suffering can be lessened by allowing those people into our community, shouldn’t that be enough? likewise, comparing the suffering of individual people as if they were the same as the suffering of their respective groups combined is absolutely absurd. someone who is murdered for being a trans man isn’t less dead than someone who was murdered for being a trans woman. a trans woman isn’t Guaranteed to have lived a harder life than any and every other trans man just because of a difference in statistics, and the same can be said for literally every other member of the lgbt+ and queer communities. other community members aren’t concepts, they aren’t numbers, they’re people with unique lives and sorrows and joy. neither you or I or anyone else is the culmination of our respective or joint communities and some people need to learn how to act like it.

again, there is Meaning in seeing how our oppression is different, it’s not inherently wrong, but creating a framework where it can be used to paint a group of people as both lesser within the community and less deserving of help is creating a framework that can more than readily be abused. and because it positions the abused as privileged it creates a situation where the abuser can justify it to themselves. you use another minority as an outlet for the pain you feel under the weight of the same system that hurts them while denying their pain.

but to pull the conversation back to trans men specifically, lets examine lived experiences for a while longer. “misdirected misogyny” and “just misogyny” are both employed commonly in exclusionist spaces to deny that either someone’s oppression happened to them for the reason they say it did or to deny that their oppression is their own, and often times it’s both. for instance, the claim that ‘asexual people may face higher rates of sexual assault but That’s just because of misogyny (and/or misdirected homophobia)’ is used to deny that what asexual people face is oppression for being asexual. if you can’t deny that an assault victim was assaulted without either violating your own moral code or the moral code of the community you’ve surrounded yourself with then denying the cause of their assault is a more socially acceptable way of depriving them of the resources they need to address that assault. their pain wasn’t their own, it belongs to someone else, someone who’s Really oppressed.

in the context of trans men the argument is, of course, that they’re men. if they just so happen to face misogyny then it’s because they were mistakenly perceived as women. this works a convenient socially acceptable way to deny the lived experiences of a group you want to silence both in the ways that I’ve already illustrated And with the added bonus woke points of doing so while affirming someone’s gender identity in the process.

again, I want to reiterate, even if it were objectively true that all trans men face transphobia and misogyny totally separately, like a picky toddler that doesn’t want their peas anywhere near their mashed potatoes, that is ultimately an insufficient framework when talking about individual lives. there’s literally nothing wrong with trans men wanting to talk about their lived experiences with other trans men in the context of them Being trans men. being black isn’t inherently a part of the trans experience but being black Does ultimately affect your experiences as a trans person and how they impact you and it’s meaningful to discuss the intersection of those two experiences on an individual level. 

but it just, Isn’t true. this shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, but trans men were born in bodies that are perceived as being women, misogyny is a Feature to the experiences of trans men inherently. even trans men who are fully transitioned, have full surgery, have all their papers worked out, completely pass, move to a new state and changed their name, and have zero contact with anyone who ever knew them before or during their transition still lived a significant portion of their lives under a system that was misogynistic against them. of course there’s still a spectrum of personal experiences with it, just like there are with cis women and trans women, but to present the misogyny that trans men face as “accidental” is just absurd.  and moreover, most trans men Aren’t the hypothetical Perfect Passing Pete. I’ve identified as trans for seven years now and I frankly don’t have the resources to even begin thinking about transitioning and won’t for what’s looking to be indefinitely, I don’t even begin to come within the ballpark of passing and it Sure Does Show. misogyny is just as present in my life as it would be for a cis woman but the difference is that I’m not supposed to talk about it.  and even barring That there are transitioned trans men who face misogyny specifically because they are trans men, before during and after transition. you could argue that that’s “just” transphobia but you could do the same for transmisogyny. if we can acknowledge that trans women have experiences that specifically come from their status as women who can be wrongly perceived as men then we should all be able to acknowledge that trans men have experiences that specifically come from their status as men who can be wrongly perceived as women and that both the similarities and differences between these experiences are worth talking about. 

another issue with painting it as “just” misogyny that ties pretty heavily into what I was just talking about is the fact that men don’t have the same access to spaces meant to talk about misogyny that women do.  again, this is something that makes sense on a gut level, it’s not like cis men are being catcalled while walking to 7/11. but like, a lot of trans men are. misogyny is a normal facet in the lives of trans men but male voices are perceived as being invaders in spaces meant to talk about misogyny, both in and out of trans specific spaces and conversations

trans men lose a solidarity with women that they do not gain with men. there’s a certain pain and othering that comes with intimately identifying with the experiences of a group of people while being denied that those experiences are yours, of being treated the same way for the same reason but at once being aware that the comfort and understanding being extended isn’t For you and feeling like you’re cheating some part of your sense of self by identifying with it.

part of that is just the growing pains of getting used to existing as a trans person, but that in and of itself doesn’t mean that we aren’t allowed to find a solution. if trans men can’t, aren’t allowed, or don’t want to speak about their experiences in women’s spaces then why not allow them to talk about their experiences together? the fact that we even have to argue over whether or not trans men Deserve to talk about their experiences is sad enough in it’s own right, but even sadder is inclusionists, people who should frankly know better at this point, refusing to stand up for trans men because someone managed to word blatant bigotry in an acceptable way Once Again.

[smallerinfinities]

mad woman: iii (nessian)

a/n: *taps mic* does this thing still work? OH hey! hello! yes, this fic is properly old now and probably everyone thought I abandoned it but joke is on everyone including myself lmao...turns out I love these two..and after acosf well I would 10/10 die for them. so here we go! a ride to be sure! people do be getting naked!

warnings: 4.8k of smut (like woah). language. guilt. 

Nesta wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing.

It had seemed like a good idea. Everyone in certain social circles knew the truth about Hewn City. Knew the dance club for the front it was for the shadowy bowels beneath. Here, she had thought yesterday morning, here she could be on even ground with him.

Him.

Cassian's hand was still in hers as she led them both down the long hallway toward room 3B. His words before hadn’t completely hidden his reactions to her clothes, her face, her body. She smiled to herself remembering the slight widening of his eyes. He probably thought he hadn’t reacted, but she knew. All men are weak. Just put on a dress and show some thigh and she knew she’d get his attention. Even if it was probably all for show. Cassian was a fine actor.

She thought back to four days ago. Or was it five, she thought. They had started to bleed together after the bender she’d gone on after wishing Cassian death on the phone with Amren.

Feyre was in her apartment for the second time in a week. An unprecedented occurrence. If the judgment in her eyes was any indication, she had come to check on things. Baby sister coming to her rescue. How rich. She stood on the carpet again, with her perfect heeled sandals and her tidy camel trench coat. Thankfully, she’d left the hat at home this time. Her arms were crossed tight against her chest as she surveyed the room.

“I see you’ve already made yourself at home again,” she observed, picking up a half-empty bottle of gin, “I’ll send Alis this afternoon.”

“I don’t want anyone else in my fucking apartment, Feyre,” Nesta cringed at the lingering slur in her voice.

“So you can drown yourself in this shit alone?” She held up an empty bottle of vodka in her other hand. “Nesta, it’s only been a few days since I was here the last time. Can you even stand right now?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nesta sneered, settling back into the couch cushions. She couldn’t, but Feyre was a bitch for even asking, so she spat back, “At least I cope with my problems legally, High Lady.” In a fantasy world, smoke would have curled from her lips when she exhaled those last words.

Feyre stilled, breathing evenly. Nesta wasn’t sure if she was containing her rage or accepting the shame she had to be feeling.

“I see you gave Amren a call.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Nesta was surprised. Amren had seemed like one of Feyre’s inner circle, no matter how much money the High Lord and Lady may have given her.

“No, I told Amren that what you did with her number was your business,” she wrung her hands. She was….nervous. How odd. Feyre Archeron was a lot of things, but nervous was rarely one of them.

“Well,” Nesta exhaled, the anger fleeting like wind taken out of her sails, “yes, I called. Everything was very cryptic until someone showed up here who was not a therapist and started taking his clothes off. Honestly, what were you thinking, Feyre?!”

“I…” she hesitated, sinking down on the other end of the couch with Nesta, bracing her elbows on her knees, “I don’t know. I was desperate. I just want you to feel something again, Nes.” She hadn’t called her that since they were children. Nesta felt a little pang in her chest. I need another drink. “I know it’s...unconventional, but it really does help. Rhys and I...well, you know there’s a lot of stress involved in our lives.”

“So you fuck it out with strangers that you pay to keep silent??” Nesta asked incredulously.

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot seedier than it actually is, but,” she huffed, swallowing back some kind of emotion, “yes. There’s a lot of….relief, if you just give into it. Amren knows what she’s doing.”

“Are you and Rhys having problems?” It was the only explanation Nesta could understand for this. I mean it was one thing to hire a hooker if you weren’t getting any, but from the forced lunches and “sister dates” that Elain made the three of them go on, Feyre had always seemed to have a very active sex life.

“Oh, God, no,” Feyre visibly relaxed, caught off guard by even the implication. That made Nesta’s stomach relax. She hadn’t even realized she cared. “Rhys and I are fine, stronger even. There is power in giving up power, especially when you grapple with it on a daily basis. But this isn’t about me or Rhys.” Feyre leaned over and reached out to take Nesta’s hands, but stopped when Nesta visibly tensed at the mere idea of contact. “I’m really not lying when I say I think a little relief would help you.”

“Why do you insist I need help?” Nesta ground out through her teeth.

Feyre sighed and stood. There was something settling over her face, deep in her eyes. Sadness. “Suit yourself, sister.” She stood and, to Nesta’s surprise, took a swig from the half-empty gin bottle she’d pushed in Nesta’s face earlier. Her face screwed up in a grimace, “Jesus, how do you drink that shit?”

“I don’t even taste it anymore.” Nesta looked off, toward the window. Toward the empty corner where the wedding dress had hung for months. She’d taken it down that night after he had left.

That bone-deep sadness returned to Feyre’s eyes, “Alis will be here this afternoon.”

She left without another word.

Nesta sighed, catching Cassian’s attention, but she said nothing. She kept a steady flow of booze in her veins after Feyre left for three more days, sometimes just laying in bed for hours while the world spun. She saw Tomas, saw Elain, but most often she saw hazel eyes and bold, dark lines inked across a broad, tanned chest. Those were the torturous hours, when the desire would rise in her, when she would feel something just like Feyre said. Even if it made her soul burn. He was haunting her. He’d left her alone, angry and wet, for what? Because she refused to accept his “help”? Wasn’t this all just fucking anyway? What difference did it make how she responded?

The frustration had overwhelmed her until she finally realized that it didn’t matter how much she drank, he wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t chase him into a whiskey-soaked oblivion like she could the memories of her fiancé and her sister. He was real. He was still breathing. He was making her life a living hell.

He was going to pay for it.

So, she’d called Amren back. Had made him meet her here of all places. Had put on a dress and a pair of heels and more makeup than she’d been planning to wear at her own wedding. A costume. A mask. If he was going to “help” her, at least it wouldn’t seem like her that he was helping. She’d fuck him out of her life on her terms. Just once wouldn’t damn her to hell, right?

Nesta had never been to Hewn City before. Clubbing had never been her style. She was more of a library, bookworm kind of girl. But now that she was here, she kind of liked the secrecy of it all, the discretion everyone had whispered about. It made her feel like a character in one of her books, a different kind of escape than booze offered, with the rouge-tinted lights and shadowy, padded hallways. She could be anyone here. She would be anyone here. Anyone but herself.

“I think this is it,” Cassian’s deep rumble sounded behind her. They stopped in front of a painted black door, the marker flickering “3B” in the light of the candle sconce behind them. Nesta fit the key into the lock and turned it.

The room was cooler than the hall, but she wasn’t sure the temperature was what made her break out in gooseflesh. There was a massive four-poster bed in the center of the room covered in black satin sheets drawn back against a deep crimson comforter. Only a handful of hanging exposed bulbs lit the space, giving the boudoir decoration some industrial finishes. It was like a scene out of some vampire film noir. The light reflecting off heavy restraint cuffs at each corner of the bed only heightened the effect. A dark armoire loomed in the corner. Nesta was sure that if she opened it, she would find any number of instruments with which to tease and taunt Cassian with. This place was a sex dungeon and she had paid to be a mistress tonight.

Cassian’s mistress.

Nesta took a deep breath and settled into this new character, some confident woman who knew exactly what she wanted and knew exactly how to take it from a willing participant. She sauntered over to the foot of the bed and leaned back against it to look at him. He was so quiet tonight, looking around the room like she had, taking it all in.

“Cat got your tongue?” Nesta proded.

“No,” he hesitated, stuffing his hands into his front pockets like an embarrassed school boy rocking forward on his toes. It only lasted for a second before he hid it behind a smirk, “no, just a little….confused?”

“About what?” She crossed her feet at the ankle and let the deep slit on her dress fall open, revealing almost every inch of her long legs. His eyes widened momentarily before he cleared his throat. Was he….nervous?

“Well, uhh,” he was stammering now, the false bravado unable to keep up with the situation unfolding in front of him, “if I’m being honest, I’m not sure what to do.”

“You mean, Cassian, self-proclaimed sex therapist, doesn’t know what to do?” The teasing in her voice blushed his cheeks pink, “well, color me surprised. I thought it would have been clear by now.”

“It’s not that it’s...you’re…” he cocked his head, “different.” His eyes followed every inch of bare skin from her painted toe to the top of the slit an inch below her hip. “Something changed.”

Why does he make this so damn difficult?

“Yes, well,” she replied, biting her bottom lip for effect, “I decided that I want you to help me.” His head straightened.

“Do you?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, emphasizing the size of his biceps. His nervous energy cooled in seconds, giving way to something else, something that had been simmering beneath the ice.

“I do,” she slipped back a little farther onto her palms, tilting her head back. She was a predator, setting a pretty, needy trap for him. If he got off on a savior complex, she’d play the part until she got what she wanted. “I just want to feel normal again.” She smiled internally as she watched her words wash over him. Watched him take a few deep breaths, watched him move for the first time since they walked in the room.

He kept his body closed, his arms a barrier between the two of them, as he stalked forward. Nesta stopped breathing, feeling his gaze shift from confusion and questions to calculated assessment. He paused in front of her and bent down, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her slim waist. The space between them was thinner than the air atop the mountains in Illyria.

“I think…” he looked her in the eye, no blinking, no touching, just a wisp of mint from his mouth, “that’s a load of bullshit.”

A rush of fury, so white hot it blinded her, licked down her arm. She raised her open hand and ripped it through the air.

Only to be caught in an iron grip.

“Ah, ah, dear Nesta,” his lips curled up on one side, “I like a little pain with my pleasure, but not without my consent.”

All she could do was stare him down as she huffed, imagining the breath leaving her nostrils in puffs of hot smoke. A caged dragon in pretty clothes begging to get out. But hell would freeze over before she moved first. She could feel the tension between them, feel the electricity pulsing through him where his fist gripped her wrist. Maybe it was her pheromone-laced delusion but she thought he might want this as much as she did. He wanted her challenge, her adamant wall. He wanted to break her, remake her. Little did he know that you can’t break what’s already broken.

Just a character, just a role to play...

“Oh, come on, Cassian,” she tried to free her hand but he remained hard as stone around her wrist. He hadn’t pinned her legs though. She slid one bare leg up the inside seam of his jeans. The muscles flexed and contracted underneath the well-fit fabric, higher and higher, until she reached the apex. He hissed. A feline smile spread across her face when she felt it, felt him, hard and begging for her. “I think you want this a little more than you’re willing to admit, more than you’re allowed to admit.”

His nostrils flared, barely imperceptible, but even the smallest changes in him drew her notice. Why? It was a question she didn’t want to even ask herself, but it kept coming, night and day. Why did this night feel like the edge of a dangerous cliff? Why did his agreement to come tonight feel like more than just a business arrangement? Why did the tension between them feel like her only anchor to this life? She pressed harder into him, needing to move, to get this over with, to fuck him right out of her head.

“Nesta.” His voice brought her back from those questions that haunted her like the inked lines hidden underneath his t-shirt. So close now, so close to her fingers, her mouth. She looked up at him, aware of her knee still cradled between his legs.

“Cassian.” Her voice practically sang. The song of his own personal siren.  

He was so still. If he hadn’t said her name she wouldn’t have been sure he was even breathing. He placed his hand between his groin and her knee and stepped backward. His pupils were wide, endless pools, black as tar and eating at the hazel surrounding them. He was drunk on the lust, drowning in it just like she was.

“Take off that dress before I rip it off.”

A bone-deep shiver ran from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes at the command, reaching back up to settle between her thighs. She flushed from the heat of his gaze on her skin as she stood, reaching behind her neck to loose the three pearl buttons between her pride and her desire. Fuck it. The dress pooled at her feet.

The corner of her lip tugged upward when she heard his breath catch. She wasn’t wearing anything under the dress. Lingerie had felt like too much and her regular cotton cheekies would have been too conspicuous beneath her close-fitting dress, so nothing had been the only choice. The right choice if Cassian’s jeans had anything to say about it, clearly growing tighter by the second.

Nesta backed herself onto the bed again, digging in with her heels to push herself toward the headboard as gracefully as she could while burning alive. And she was burning under his gaze. Every flick of his dilated pupils, from her bare legs, to her full breasts, to her smooth stomach, to her glistening cunt, she burned. When her head thudded against the carved cherry wood headboard, his eyes finally met hers. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat.

“See something you want, Cassian?” she asked, struggling to keep her tone innocent, indifferent.

“Depends, Nes.” She ignored the heat that pooled at the nickname, especially when he said, “what are you offering?”

She bit her lip at his words. And spread her knees open for him. Now, come and take it.

He went wholly still as pink creeped into his tan cheeks. He was fucking blushing at her cunt on display for him. A filthy thought entered her head and before she could shut it down, she reached between her legs and traced a finger over her slit. The low lights flickered in the reflection off the wetness laced there before her finger disappeared….

Right between Nesta’s wine-colored lips.

His eyes tracked that finger in and out of her mouth as she sucked and swirled her tongue around it, moaning at the taste of her arousal, the eroticism of the gesture. She released her finger with a pop and smiled wickedly at him.

“Want to taste?”

Cassian moved swift as a thunderclap, as if her words were paddles jumpstarting his heart into quick, heavy beats. He pulled off his shirt. Those thick, black lines of ink that haunted her dreams were on full display, curling around his biceps and across his broad shoulders. She wanted to trace them with her tongue, taste the salt on his skin. He didn’t bother with some cliché striptease. His fingers fumbled with his belt, fumbled with the top button and zipper of those tight jeans. He tripped out of them, splaying his hands across the rumpled comforter as he kicked his pants somewhere across the room, losing his shoes and socks at some point between.

She would have smirked at the clumsiness, questioned his self-proclaimed prowess as a sex therapist, if her throat hadn’t gone completely dry at the size of him. Even through his underwear there was no mistaking it—massive, just like every inch of the rest of his body. Of course, he had a cock to match.

He grinned, following her eyes, guessing her train of thought. The bed dipped as he crawled toward her, full prince of cats on display again. A man who knew what people saw when they looked at him and enjoyed that power, that raw sexual energy dripping from his every pore. With that glint in his eye, she was happy to play along—for now.

Every thread in the expensive duvet cover beneath her set a thousand sparks rocketing across her skin. His movements were measured, purposefully kept from touching her skin. He was so close she could feel the warmth radiating off of him with every inch forward, every inch toward where she wanted him. All of him. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Nesta started to fidget with anticipation, ready for him to spread her open and take, take, take, but she wouldn’t beg. Wouldn’t reach or claw or whimper, no matter how much she wanted to.

Feyre might be paying, but she would own him before the end. Even if she had to sacrifice her soul to do it.

When his mouth finally made contact with her skin, a whisper of a kiss along the inside of her thigh, it was a struggle not to moan. Loud. She was strung tighter than a bowstring and he knew. Her traitor body was going to beg for him with or without words, so she opened her mouth instead.

“Gonna fuck me senseless, Cassian?”

His head jerked up from between her thighs, that feline smile turning her molten. “You know, Nesta. I think I’ll shut you up instead.”

Someone as big as he was shouldn’t have been able to move that fast. Shouldn’t have been able to cover her entire body with his and claim her mouth between one second and the next. His hands curled behind her neck to pull her firmly to him and devoured her. Their tongues clashed, dancing together, as she moaned into his mouth. Whether it was surprise or pleasure or both that pulled it from her, she wasn’t sure. The mint and adrenaline still laced his tongue, this time with a natural smokiness that she hadn’t noticed before. He licked at her, sucked at her lower lip. She nipped at him, teeth as much a weapon as her words, her hands. She dragged her nails down his naked back and drew a hiss from him, maybe some blood too if the tang of iron was any indication.

It only spurred him.

“You know these lips taste better when they’re not liquor-stained,” he panted. He studied her face, she knew it must be flushed from his kiss, and slowly ground his hips into hers, with the same bruising intensity he claimed her mouth, drenching himself in her through the thin fabric of his underwear. Those really need to disappear. Her fingers continued their violent path down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs, the only barrier left between everything she wanted. Wanted, never needed. They danced around to the front of him and sought purchase.

Another moan, loud and throaty filled the space between them.

My God.

“Off, off, off, off,” she was chanting when he finally released her mouth to move down to her neck, surely to mark her like she’d marked his back. It was going to be tit for tat with him. “OFF,” she clawed at his hips. He raised up and smirked at her.

“You just have to ask, Nes.” His lips curled to the side, “maybe say please.”

She held his gaze. Please. It was a chant in her head but she couldn’t say it. He saw it there, the challenge, the struggle, but this was a battle of wills. And Cassian was a seasoned general.

He ducked his head and nosed at her jaw, along her throat, peppering her skin with close-mouthed kisses. “Just say the word,” he ground into her again, not nearly the friction she wanted. His hands found her peaked breasts and traced her nipples, slow circles at first, then quick pinches accented by his teeth at her throat. There was no pattern, no guessing, no preparation. Every nerve ending was a live wire, screaming for his touch.

Nesta Archeron was going to die here. The flames in her belly were going to consume her and she was going to die at a high-priced sex club. And maybe she should. It might be worth it. Rhysand would never live it down. She wouldn’t sacrifice her pride for an orgasm. But, as his hips did another slow roll against hers and he scraped at her neck with his teeth, her resolve imploded.

“Please,” she croaked. She felt his smile against her skin.

“What was that?”

“Please,” she said a little louder, still barely a whisper.

“That’s awfully quiet, Nesta,” he licked at her collarbone and made her eyes roll back into her head. “Makes me think you don’t really want it.”

“Please,” she repeated, her head thrashing, “please, PLEASE.”

“Okay, okay,” he pushed up to lean back on his heels above her. “No need to shout.” The tease in his voice forced an impatient growl from her. He cocked an eyebrow as he toyed with the elastic waistband on his underwear, slowly pulling it down below the defined V set low on his abdomen, revealing inch after inch of smooth, tanned skin, until finally they were gone and there was nothing left between them but sexual tension and a promise of release.

Her eyes raked down his muscled body, unable to keep her hand from reaching to touch the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, reaching lower. His fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“Uh, uh, princess,” her cheeks flamed as he lifted her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss on her palm, “it’s my turn.”

She blinked and his mouth was on her. His hair, tufted at the back of his head, bobbed between her legs as he lapped up the wetness that had been pooling since they started their games tonight. Since he first leaned against her door frame, if she was being honest with herself. His lips wrapped around her clit and when he moaned around her, she saw stars. Her toes curled. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair. Her knees bent to capture his head forever between her thighs but he caught them before she could crush him with the force of her pleasure.

It might have been hours, days. He held her spread open and licked and suckled and fucked her entrance with his tongue. Careful, slow strokes to stoke the fire ripping through her veins but not enough to send her to her peak. Her thighs began shaking; her fingers knotted into his hair and held his mouth against her. His name was a holy chant in this unholy place.

“Cassian,” she sobbed as a tear rolled down her temple and into her sweat-soaked hair.

He groaned and release ripped through her. Waves of pleasure locked her body in a silent scream, her head tilted back and her mouth wide open. He kept stroking her through it, his tongue undulating against her clit over and over as her body jerked involuntarily once, twice before relaxing completely, melting into a warm, soft puddle of flesh.

There were no words. No thoughts. Nothing inside her head except for the truth of it. No one has ever made her feel like that, forced that kind of pleasure from her. Her harsh breaths were the only sound in the room as Cassian traced patterns on her inner thigh. She blinked furiously, clearing her eyes of any emotions that might betray her. Looking down, she caught his eye and his answering smile made her forget her own name.

He was looking up at her, his cheeks pink from the heat and pressure between her thighs. His hair was a fucked out mess. He looked...content. As if her orgasm was all he wanted, like he could do it again and again and not care if she ever touched his cock even though she’d never wanted anything more in her life.

But...what if he doesn't want that?

She tensed suddenly. He was an escort after all. This wasn’t his choice. What if all of this is just an act? She knew she shouldn’t care. She was a paying customer and shouldn’t care what he wanted. What his desires were. She should just take her pleasure, satiate her own desire, and leave. That had been the plan when she came here. Hell, she had just been acting when this all started.

Until he gave her the best orgasm of her entire fucking life. Until he called her on her bullshit, got naked, and got on his knees for her. Until he made her gasp his name and fucking cry for the privilege.

This was wrong. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—

I don’t deserve this.

Her breath caught in her throat. I need to get out of here.

She sat up so quickly her head spun. Her fingers caught on the restraints attached to the headboard and she recoiled. What am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea? Cassian jerked up from between her legs at the motion, the perfect window for her to rip her legs from his vicinity and swing them to the floor.

“Nesta, what’s wrong?”

She heard him, confused, still panting, but she couldn’t find the words to answer him. The panic was bitter, the taste in stark relief to Cassian’s tongue. Stop! Where is my fucking dress? Her head swiveled frantically. A slip of navy stuck out from under the armoire in the corner. She lurched forward, grabbing and pulling on the dress that barely covered her ass, left nothing to the imagination. What have I done?

“Nesta, what is happening?” Cassian was louder this time. Loud enough to draw her eyes. He was leaning on one elbow, wide-eyed and still painfully hard. At this angle, she could see the angry red marks across his shoulder, darkening with dried blood in some places. A damning souvenir for what she had done. A claiming.

She couldn’t ignore the voice in her head. A betrayal.

“Was—” he sat up and leaned on his knees, “was it not good?” Some unfamiliar emotion danced across his eyes as he waited. She stared and stared and stared. “Did I—“ he kept hesitating, “did I not make you feel good?”

It was the doubt, thick and traitorous, in his voice that made her silently turn around and walk out the door.

------ *runs away*

tags: @sleeping-and-books @greerlunna @sjmships @cupcakey00 @queenestarcheron @awesomelena555 @mysticalunicole​ @lordof-bloodshed​ @courtofjurdan​

[contemplativepancakes]

15x14 coda: it’s a date!

1k of fluff, read on AO3 here

Jack is finally in his room, after four slices of cake that Dean had watched him devour with increasing pride, when Dean crosses his arms and leans against the wall, turning to Sam. “So… How was your date?”

“Really, Dean? That’s what you're concerned about? After we all almost died?”

Dean waggles his eyebrows. “Well, yeah. Just looking out for my little brother.”

The bunker door clangs open, and Sam shoves Dean towards it. “Maybe worry about yourself.”

Dean flips Sam off before turning his attention to the door, his eyes catching on the swirl of tan that follows Cas as he makes his way down the staircase. 

“Hey, stranger.” Dean’s throat is suddenly dry. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says in his soothingly familiar way. 

Dean sees Sam leave out of the corner of his eye, so he walks forward and wraps Cas in a hug. “I missed you,” he mumbles into Cas’s ear, tugging on his trench coat. 

“I would rather have been here than in Heaven, trust me.” 

“Well, you didn’t miss very much.”

Cas hums. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Dean laughs and tugs Cas towards the kitchen. “Maybe just a little.”

Dean flicks on the light, steering Cas to the table. He runs a hand through his hair. “I know your grace has been kind of wonky lately... I was thinking you might be able to taste more than molecules now? Thought I could make you supper, or something.”

Cas raises his eyebrows. “Or something, hmm?”

The tips of Dean’s ears turn red. “Shut up. Now I’m not even going to ask you what you want.”

Dean glances back at Cas, sitting at the table with his hands folded together. Dean throws a dish towel at him, but Cas catches it, because he is generally infuriating. Dean turns around and grumbles to himself, getting out the tomatoes he blanched and peeled in a moment of hope. If Sam was going to go on his date, Dean needed something to keep himself busy, and the thought of Cas returning was distracting enough, to say the least. 

Dean’s not even really sure what Cas was off doing. What did the other angels have to offer? There’s, what, eight of them left? But, whatever, Dean’s not here to stand in the way of Cas doing what he wants; he’s only here to tell him when his ideas were dumb. 

He does just that, and Cas scowls. 

“What am I supposed to do, Dean? Just sit here and watch the world end? I have to try.”

Dean softens. “I know you do, buddy.”

Cas’s frown deepens, and he sighs, drumming his fingers on the table.

“It’s going to have to simmer, so cool your jets. It’s going to be a minute.”

“That’s not… Why do you insist on calling me buddy?”

“What?” Dean’s hands pause in adding spices to his pot of tomatoes. 

“Why do you insist on calling me buddy?” Cas repeats. 

“Are we not friends?” Dean asks in his most affronted voice, but he knows what Cas is trying to say. He wants to hear it anyway. 

Cas’s chair scrapes the ground as he stands up and walks right into Dean’s bubble. Dean resolutely stares into his pot of sauce, because even though he wants to hear it, he doesn’t particularly want to look too desperate. He grabs a spoon and dips it in, offering it to Cas. “Tell me what it needs?”

Cas takes the spoon and licks the sauce, never breaking eye contact with Dean. Dean tries not to sweat. 

“Tastes good to me,” Cas says. 

“Yeah?” Dean’s eyes dart to Cas’s lips. 

“Yes,” Cas breathes, and closes the remainder of the distance between them. 

Dean finds himself in one of the gentlest kisses he’s ever had, harkening back to memories of first kisses and times when he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders, if there was ever such a thing.

Dean finds his arms wrapping around Cas of their own volition, and the kiss deepens until Dean has to extricate himself so the sauce doesn’t burn. 

He stirs it and looks back at Cas. “So…”

“That was extremely overdue,” Cas says, eyebrows raised and daring Dean to disagree. 

Dean gives his sauce another stir, emotions swirling in his gut that almost cause him to drop his wooden spoon. “You’re right.”

“What? What was that? It can’t be Dean Winchester admitting I’m right.”

Dean laughs, his nerves sinking beneath everything else he’s feeling at the knowledge that nothing has changed, not really. “Don’t be a little shit.”

Cas grins at him, his eyes bunching up at the corners, and Dean’s heart twists painfully. “The sauce needs to simmer for a bit, but I have something else for you.”

“Oh?” Cas tugs Dean closer by his flannel. 

“Not like that,” Dean says in exasperation, batting Cas’s hands away. “It’s been two minutes, and you already can’t drag yourself away from me, jeez.”

 “I’d never willingly leave you, Dean,” Cas says earnestly, and that’s just a little too much for Dean right now. 

“Okay, Debbie Downer, sheesh. C’mere.”

Dean beckons Cas to the fridge, where he pulls out a tupperware container and cracks the lid, presenting it to Cas. “Happy birthday.”

Cas squints. “I was created before the concept of days came into being.”

“Now you’re just doing that on purpose.”

Cas cracks a half smile at him. “Thank you.”

Dean shrugs. “We sort of… realized we hadn't been celebrating everything we should have been. I think you’re worth celebrating, even if you’re older than birthdays.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Yeah, me, too. You’re not allowed to leave anymore.”

Cas tugs Dean into another kiss, putting down the cake and backing Dean up until he’s against the fridge, and there’s warmth pressing against him from both sides. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yeah, you better,” Dean says, but they both know it’s a halfhearted threat at best. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. And, hey, I shouldn’t have to find out, right?”

“I think angels generally have a longer life expectancy than humans, yes,” Cas says, but he looks upset and Dean curses himself for bringing it up. If Cas feels even half of the things for Dean as Dean does for him, Dean knows exactly how that thought could be distressing.

“Hey.” Dean hooks his fingers underneath Cas’s chin, making him look back up at him. “Good luck to anything that tries to keep us apart. Not on my watch, okay?”

Cas takes a deep breath and gives Dean a watery smile. “Okay.”

-

Sam comes to a dead stop in the hallway. “Is that a hickey?” he asks Dean incredulously. “Guess that answers the question of how your date went, then.”

tagging: @urbankat82 @that-one-fandom-chick @youcancallmeanet @nineteensevetyfour @1stborneve @i-know-like-four-things @darcydelaney

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[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. LXV

It was a love story from the very beginning.

You are the one in my heart (Part I)

(11x11/11x12)

Hello my friends! Here we go again with another meta about season 11!

This time I'm gonna talk about the way this season makes us see that Dean is in love with Castiel and the angel being the only one in his heart. To talk more thoroughly about this, I divided the topic into two parts.

I want to say thank you to @destielle for beta reading this for all of you! Thank you girl! 💕

Get it out of my head!

Just a little thought about this quote that was repeated several times by several characters in episode 11x11 'Into The Mystic'. Of course they referred to the Banshee, but it was clearly a mirrored description of what was going on with Castiel, at that time possessed by Lucifer.

Cas left when Lucifer occupied his vessel, but while Sam openly worries about him, Dean confronts Sam and us with his trust in Cas and him disappearing… 'Cas is always fine!' 

He was so embedded into his drama with Amara that he had no time for additional worries. And Cas was always fine... Right?

This momentum is important because of the drastic change we will see in Dean’s stance on this after he discovers that Castiel is possessed by Lucifer. From then on he won’t rest until he is able to rescue him. His priorities will change and Amara will drop lower, behind Cas, on the list. But we will talk about this in the upcoming metas.

Oak Park and Broken Hearts

I need to talk about the two songs in the beginning of the episode: they're extremely romantic, talking about two lovers and how they meet again. So… these may be just little hints of Castiel coming back to Dean after being possessed. 

But let's jump to The Residence Oak Park. We meet Mildred, I know, but there's another interesting character, named Arthur. Arthur is the man in charge of the residence, but the reason why he sleeps at this place is because he separated from his wife. He starts talking about it with Dean, and it’s obvious he got his heart broken. He says this sentence to Dean…

ARTHUR: I should have sent the heart. I can be so stupid.

The meaning behind this? He regrets how they broke up over phone, but even more that he didn’t do more to keep her by his side. And these regrets are exactly the same Dean will be struggling with after discovering that Cas was in fact Lucifer the whole time. Maybe he should've paid more attention to what was going on with Cas, acting so weird… but because Cas is always okay, as he claimed... and with Amara on his mind, worrying him a lot, he just couldn't see it.

When Arthur is killed by the Banshee, we encounter through Mildred that he had a heart condition (valves issues), so we, as the audience, connect that bit to the symbolism of the broken heart. This also applies to Mildred herself when she says she has Atrial Fibrillation, another cardiac pathology.

So… why wanted the Banshee to kill Dean? What made Dean vulnerable? Also his heart! It was broken by his encounter with Castiel (Casifer) in the bunker!

Don't use me as bait

Before jumping to Casifer’s and Dean's scene, I want to point out how blatantly the writers helped us seeing the subtext.

First of all they made the Winchesters talk about broken hearts. Because they needed us to see that case revolving around that topic.

Secondly, after Dean and Casifer had their moment, Dean was very offended by the thought of Sam wanting to use Mildred as bait. Why? 

Because writers wanted us to see that what Cas inquired to Dean was to make him act as the bait to catch Amara. And that was the cause of Dean's vulnerability and broken heart… he thought Cas was asking him to play the bait, thus putting him recklessly in danger. His Cas, who always had been loyal to him and who would never hurt him, always took care of him even. It broke Dean’s heart, because he thought Castiel didn't love him the way he did. Again, the shadow of the unrequited love…

And that’s said scene:

Dean enters the bunker and finds Casifer searching for something, looking disheveled with rolled-up sleeves and no overcoat, especially without his trenchcoat. It’s an odd sight of the angel. And rightfully so, because it’s not the real Cas…

After this they start talking about Amara…

DEAN: Yeah, I know. Saying you're gonna kill is one thing, but... Actually doing it's something totally different.

LUCIFER/CAS: What do you mean?

DEAN: I've had two shots at Amara. I struck out both times.

LUCIFER/CAS: What are you talking about?

DEAN: I don't even know where to start.

LUCIFER/CAS: Dean... Tell me everything.

Lucifer found something that sparked his interest: why isn’t Dean Winchester able to kill or harm Amara? So he plays the concerned friend right here to gather more information from Dean.

DEAN: I tried to kill her.

LUCIFER/CAS: Well, the two of you are connected somehow by the Mark.

DEAN: Yeah, no, it's, uh... It's more than that.

LUCIFER/CAS: Attraction? Oh, Dean.

Gif set credit @starlightcastiel

DEAN: I know. I know. Okay? Whatever it is, a... Attraction, connection... I got to tell you, man, it scares me. I don't know that I can stop it. I don't know that I can resist it.

Dean defines his issue with Amara with the word ATTRACTION, but he doesn't know exactly what it is, because he can't control it. Because it’s a dark force that drags him to her. So he doesn't know what it is, but he knows what it’s not (I will talk about this in the next meta). So, Dean is terrified… he doesn't like it. 

Lucifer is lucky because he can use this against Amara, but he tries anyways to act like a comprehensive friend… but he fails… his first mistake is to place his hand on Dean's right shoulder (and that's when Dean looks at him suspiciously) because that's not Castiel's shoulder (profound bond shoulder).

And after this Lucifer says those unlucky words that will break Dean's heart, proning him to become a Banshee's victim.

Gif set credit @starlightcastiel

LUCIFER/CAS: Hey, it scares me, too. But we will find out what this is, I promise. In the end, it may help draw her out. This could be a good thing.

Dean looks at him hurt and confused. Why does Cas want to use him as bait? Doesn't he care about him? 

Dean is pining for Castiel

Gif credit @demondetoxmanual

Mildred was introduced in this particular episode as a wise character, with Dean she talks about watching sunsets and FOLLOWING YOUR HEART. Dean listens to her, and really reflects on those words as we will see in the final episodes of this season, when he follows his heart trying to rescue Castiel from Lucifer despite the main plan. It will be a war decision, more accurate in the circumstances, revealing he never changed his mind and will and has always put Castiel first, because Castiel comes first in Dean’s heart.

Another interesting and wise observation Mildred made about Dean, and writers were very specific to make us see it, is the following…

MILDRED: Darlin'... If there's one thing I've learned in all my years on the road, it's when somebody's pining for somebody else.

[Dean smirks]!!!!! Oh, don't try and hide it now. Follow your heart. Remember? I don't know who the lucky lady is, but I am damn sure jealous.

Mildred saw it, just like the banshee, Dean is pining for someone. The lucky one that has his heart however is not Amara, we know that Dean is afraid of her and he knows it’s not love that he feels for her. But Dean smiles nonetheless… he smiles, because Mildred found out. Yes. He is in love. Yes, he is pining for someone. And it’s a very hot, blue eyed and winged man. 

A little Destiel mirror

Just a couple of words about episode 11x12, we have Alex here with a boyfriend that turned out to be a vampire ( a monster) which she didn't know about before.

Pay attention to this dialogue after Alex finds out her boyfriend is a monster.

ALEX: (To Henry) Nothing? None of it was real?

HENRY: Seriously Al? You were a complete freak! I mean, you were an angry loner, creeping around the school like some kind of trench coat mafia?

CLAIRE: You're gonna burn in hell, you sociopath.

HENRY: (Still looking at Alex) I could never date someone like you.

It’s a switched mirror, Alex represents Castiel now, and the disappointment of being rejected will come at the end of the season when Dean calls Cas their Brother. Oh yes, the car scene… and the coward We/Us speech… my heart.

To Conclude:

Mildred served as a channel to show us Dean is pining for Castiel, delivering an advise Dean will follow once he finds out Cas is in danger.

Dean had his heart broken because of Cas (Casifer), drowning again in the idea that his love is unrequited.

Alex/Henry relationship was a switched Destiel mirror and a premonition of the "rejection" Castiel will feel when Dean calls him a BROTHER later on.

I hope you enjoyed this meta, see you in the next one!

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

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If you want to read the previous metas From s11, here you have the links Vol. LXII, LXIII, LIV.

Buenos Aires, June 9th 2020 3:17 PM

[gothamangelwings]

Okay, so I wasn’t sure if I was going to say anything about this, but I have to, for my own sanity. Excuse me for my rambling (especially about Castiel) and repeating myself, which I probably will do in this post.

Truth is I only got into Supernatural a little over a year ago. I just kept avoiding it over the years. I think when it was in it’s 7th or 8th season, I thought to myself “oh this should be ending soon. I’ll just wait til its over and watch it then” That did not happen. Jump to last year when I heard about the Scoobynatural episode. I love Scooby so I had to watch. And I loved it. And I really loved Sam and Dean. But I also couldn’t stop thinking about the guy in the trench coat with the deep voice named Castiel. Did very little research to find out he’s an angel. That’s all I wanted to know. Went to netflix and started watching the show from the beginning. By the time I got midway thru season 3 I was hooked. I started buying the dvds in bunches. Watching as much as a I could a week. When I got to season 4 I was Cass on the cover of the boxset and said “that’s him! That’s the angel! He’s in the season!” I actually didn’t know he would show up right in the beginning of the season but when Dean was at that gas station and gas started shattering I thought. That’s him isn’t it? That’s Castiel. Misha’s actual entrance on the show is the best in history. I do love Sam and Dean but I’m not going to lie and pretend like Castiel isn’t my favorite. Because he is. I adore that awkward angel. He is the reason I happily kept watching and brought all the dvds because I knew Misha was still working on the show. He is the reason I will buy season 15. I started shipping Destiel in season 5 but when I re-watched the series (Yes I watched it twice in less than a year. One over a period of several months the other over a few weeks before the show came back after hiatus.) I saw moments in season 4 that i missed the first time around.

So yes this finale makes me cry and not in a good way. although there are a few saving graces.

Let’s begin.

First let me start by saying I do not in any way blame the actors. Especially Jensen. He said he thought the ending was bad and had to be talked into it. Dean/Jensen deserved better. I blame the writers and producers and The CW

Second, repeat after me:

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Now speaking of Castiel, who I mostly want to talk about before addressing the rest of this mess. Castiel/Misha deserved better. There really is no reason Misha couldn’t be in the final episode unless there was something on his end. Although seeing that he recently went to California to shoot a something for Amazon and took West to the Winchester House. He can definitely travel. But if there was some reason on his end, then okay, fine then. However that doesn’t excuse the way the handled his character in these last two episodes.

Yes in 15x19 Dean demands Chuck bring Cass back. Dean remembers Cass’s words when Chuck calls him the ultimate killer. Yes, Dean runs to the door when he thinks Cass has just called him. Instead in was Lucifer. What a slap in the face to the fans and an insult to Misha after that beautiful confession of love.

But the end of the episode. Jack becomes God and no one says “What about Cass?”

Now 15x20. Sam brings up Castiel and Dean is just like “move on“. No, That is not Dean. No matter what Dean cared about Castiel, to the point that being without him in the past led him to depression. i understand he doesn’t want Castiel’s sacrifice to be in vein. But come on. There’s living on and being happy and then there’s acting like the guy didn’t matter. Again, no. That is not Dean. Not after all the development those two have had. I know Dean wasn’t always perfect when it came to Cass but he did care. What happened to “We lost everything. Now you’re going to bring him back” What happened to the purgatory apology and admitting his anger issues. And so much more.

Again Castiel is in heaven. Jack got him out of The Empty. But they could of made it more clear. ( I swear, if they are leaving this up to interpretation....) Because I see so many people who have “conveniently” missed what Bobby said and insist he’s still in The Empty. Or just want to say “well that’s not what he meant. Cas is still dead, he just meant his influence on Jack” or some shit like that.(Now that I think about maybe influence isn’t the right word to use with this fandom lol)

Anyway lets say that Misha could not in anyway be there for filming. YOU CAN STILL ADDRESS HIS CHARACTER PROPERLY AND GIVE HIM A SATISFYING ENDING. In fact you barely have to change the scene between Dean and Bobby just add a few more lines.

Dean: “So Jack did all that?”

Bobby: “Well Cass helped”

Dean: “Wait, Cass is here?!”

Bobby: ‘Yep, Kid got him out.”

Dean: “Well where is he? Can I see him?”

Bobby (smiling): “Now calm down ya idjit. He’ll be back soon. Had some business to take of. But he is planning to stick around here with the rest of us.’

Dean (smiling, happy because he’s getting a second chance): Good. He belongs with us. With me. (takes a drink) It’s just too bad...

Bobby (knowing he’s talking about Sam: “Don’t worry he’ll be here shortly...”

Scene plays out as normal but instead when Sam and Dean are reunited. Dean tells him “Let’s head back, Mom, Dad, Bobby, and Cass are waiting for us. Along with everyone else we loved and lost when we were alive.”

Or... a few scenarios with Castiel there (even for a few moments)

1. When Dean dies (yeah we’ll talk about that) Jack sends down Cass to take him to heaven. Dean leaves his body. Watches as Sam falls apart and then hears “Hello Dean” turns and there’s Cass to guide him to heaven and also let him know Sam will be okay and will live a happy life”

2. The scene with Bobby starts the way it did but instead after he says “Well Cass helped” he points behind Dean.

Cass: “Hello Dean.”

Dean: “Cas! Aw, it’s good to see you. You have no idea.”

They embrace. Maybe the say something about the confession maybe they don’t but at least they’re together and we know that they have time to talk.

Episode continues as it did but again Dean tells Sam that Castiel is here waiting for them.

3. Episode plays exactly as it did. Except at the very end after Sam and Dean reunite on the bridge...

Cass: “Hello Dean. Hello Sam”

Both: Cass!

The three hug. Dean a bit longer.

Dean: “Well look at that. Team Free Will back together again. This time forever.”

In any scenario Castiel is living in heaven with the boys. Him and Dean eventually talk about what happened. In my canon Dean returns his feelings but even if he can’t it’s okay because Dean does care about Cass. And Castiel’s happiness was just in being able to say it. Either way they’re together along with everyone else they love and will be waiting for those who haven’t arrived yet.

Also Cass finally gets his guinea pig. Because he deserves it.

ONCE AGAIN, EVEN IF MISHA COULDN’T BE THERE. THERE WERE STILL BETTER WAYS TO HANDLE THIS ENDING! OH AND THERE BETTER NOT BE SOME LAME ASS THING LIKE ‘HE’S IN HEAVEN WORKING WITH JACK BUT ISN’T ALLOWED HERE BECAUSE THE NEW GOD LIKES TO KEEP ANGELS SEPARATE FROM THE REST OF US’

NO. CASTIEL IS DEFINITELY WITH DEAN IN HEAVEN. END OF STORY.

Moving on the other problems which I won’t go into full detail in like I did Castiel.

Dean’s death. The ever loving fuck was that? A nail?! I get that they finally get to call the shots in there own lives now but come on! A nail. And this is what a few weeks after defeating Chuck. Who, if he wants to can have a happy life. You know when Cass heard about this he rolled his eyes. Like “Really?!”

Ewwww that forehead touch. I know for most people it’s just a sweet final moment between two siblings as one dies. But we all know this is fuel for the Winc*sters and b*bros. I mean come on now. You’re afraid to have Dean even acknowledge Castiel’s feelings but a forehead touch that can and will be taken out of context as romantic between two brothers is fine and dandy. I was watching this with my Mom and even she was like “That forehead touch,,, why.. just why...”

Funny thing about my Mom. (Sorry not sorry going back to talk about Cass for a moment) She has been watching SPN with me this year but honestly only (not even) half paid attention. She has a habit of always looking at her phone even when it’s something she wants to watch. Two weeks ago after 15X18 I asked “Do you believe Cass’s confession was romantic?”

Her response. “No, they’re just friends. Angels aren’t supposed to feel romantic love.’ We get into a small argument.

A few days later...

Me: “Misha confirmed it was romantic.”

Mom: “Oh, well that settles it then. I just was taught that angels didn’t feel that kind of love.”

Me: “Yeah but your forgetting a few things. 1. Cass isn’t like other angels and 2. This is a fictional tv show not the actual bible.

Mom laughs: “Good point, Guess I didn’t think about that.”

Me: “Y’know people are actually saying  that Cass can’t be gay or bi because Dean isn’t.”

Mom: “That’s stupid. One has nothing to do with the other. Even if Dean doesn’t feel the same way that doesn’t change Castiel’s feelings.”

Jump to the last few days.

Mom: “Cass is going to show up in the finale. He and Dean will be reunited! Maybe he’s one of those people in the masks being controlled by The Empty. Or maybe there will be a scene in the barn where Dean is on the ground about to be stabbed and Cass saves him in the knick of time!”

Mom after the finale: “That was terrible. Very disappointed. They really couldn’t get Misha for few minutes. They better not use covid as an excuse with all those people on that bridge. Everything about this episode felt wrong” (she said that about 15x19 too). (Grabs her phone to look at twitter) “Misha is crying. This episode doesn’t deserve pie.”

We brought pie. We did not eat it.

Moving on.. .yeah yeah the wig on Jared was awful. But who cares. What I want to know is who is the mother? Is it Eileen? I hope it’s Eileen. It better be Eileen.

The barn. Why? Why that barn? Did they really think no one would notice. I get reusing sets and locations as completely different places. But that just hurt.

Did we need so many songs with no dialogue being spoken. I mean yes Carry On was a must have but so much time could’ve been spent talking about other characters during the other songs .

And again why are they trying to make Dean look bad. It’s not his/Jensen’s fault it’s the horrible writing of these final two episodes. Why did they not take to opportunity to talk about Castiel’s confession. Yes I’m  back on Cas again. I warned you. Also he’s probably the main reason you’re reading this anyway, so yeah...

I would like to believe a conversation happened off screen but the way Sam and Dean acted it doesn’t seem like it.

Again would it be so hard. Two scenarios

1.

Dean: “Before Cass got dragged into the Empty he told me...

Sam: :Told you what?”

Dean: He told me... he told me he loved me.”

Sam (smiling): “That’s not news Dean,”

Dean: “No Sammy. He really loved me... like... you know..”

Sam: “Again, not news Dean. How do you feel? “

Dean (hesitates): “ I think... no, I know I love him too. He’s the only man I’ll ever love.”

Sam: “Well you know technically Cass really isn’t male... so...

Dean: “Oh please Sammy. Could you imagine Cass in any other body? Especially a chicks. It would be so weird.”

Sam: “Good point.”

Dean: “Besides, he was perfect the way he was.”

2.

Dean: “Before Cass got dragged into the Empty he told me...

Sam: :Told you what?

”Dean: He told me... he told me he loved me.”

Sam (smiling): “That’s not news Dean,”

Dean: “No Sammy. He really loved me... like... you know..”

Sam: “Again, not news Dean. How do you feel? “

Dean: “I can’t return his feelings. I see him as a man and you know I’m attracted to women.”

Sam: “Alright then.”

Dean. “But y’know...”

Sam: “Hmmm?”

Dean: “I still miss him. I wish he was here with us.”

There were so many easy ways to fix this and they did nothing. Did they not think 15x18 would have a huge impact. I really hope the writers are kicking themselves for this. Funny, by ignoring Castiel and his feelings they actually brought more attention and love to him and Misha.

I really don’t know if a rewrite and reshoot for the dvd release is possible. Has that ever been done, I feel like it has but I’m not sure. But if it is. Fix it. It only took a few weeks to film these last two episodes. I’m sure all the actors can come back to film for a few weeks. Once there are less Covid restrictions of courses. I know there’s been talk about a possible movie. That could fix it. As long as they bring back the angel in the trench coat. Or how about a bonus episode for the dvd 15x21 where everyone is gathered in heaven. Sam, Dean, Cass, Bobby, Mary, John, Kevin, Charlie, Eileen, Jo, Ellen, Pam. Even Crowley and Rowena because why not. Oooh and Meg too because she did sacrifice herself for them and also I just love her.  Anyway they all gather and talk about old times. Perfect excuse for an old fashion clip show. Funny/heartwarming banter in between. Make Destiel canon at the end. Another possible way to fix it is do a comic book season or even just a few issues to flesh out the ending in heaven. Just fix it.

At least we have fanfiction.

If there are any positives to take away it’s this:

1: Castiel is in heaven with Dean. They are together. They have a second chance.

2. It was said only 30% of the fanbase would like this ending. Like many people I assumed that meant a Destiel ending. Cause I thought out of the whole fanbase shippers were in the minority. Nope turns of the the Winc*sters/B*bros are the 30%. Destiel fans, Cass fans, Misha fans are part of the 70% who hate this. Though why you would want to only please 30% of your fanbase is beyond me.

3. Sam was able to live a long happy life without being codependent on his brother.

I absolutely hated the last two episodes and how this show ended. Again the only saving grace is knowing Jack got Castiel out of The Empty and he and Dean reunited in heaven. But no matter how much I hated 99% of the ending. I still love this show and all it’s characters. I will happily go back and watch it over again to relive the good, funny, sad, bittersweet moments. The final 90 minutes of the series is not going to ruin that for me. I love Sam and Dean but Castiel is my favorite and I will happily go back and enjoy everything about his character. I am not going  to let this ruin Supernatural for me. Next summer I am going to my first SPN Convention and I can’t wait. I may have only discovered the greatness of Supernatural a year ago after avoiding it for so long but I want it to stay apart of my life. Like I said I only got into Supernatural a little over a year ago but this hurt my heart so much I only imagine how those of your who’ve been here for over a decade feel.

I know this was very, very long and I probably actually forgot some things I wanted to say. But I’m tired.

Cass and Dean are in heaven together. I believe they are canon 💙💚

[sylvanfreckles]

If You Love Me (FebuWhump 28)

Fandom: Supernatural Summary: Jack brings Dean some good news: Castiel has been resurrected and wants to return to earth. To do so he has to voluntarily give up his grace, through one thousand selfless acts that will eventually earn him a place in heaven. But selflessness isn’t easy...sometimes it’s downright selfish.

Prompt: “You Have to Let Me Go”

(It’s Destiel, it’s fluffy, it’s angsty, it’s everything I wish the finale had been. Canon divergent from before the boys head to the pie festival.)

(I don’t understand formatting on here too well, this is a little cleaner over on AO3)

* * *

This is gospel for the fallen ones

* * *

Dean's dreams were dark places lately. After losing so much...after Cas and Jack and the way the world just seemed to slip apart at the seams around them, there just wasn't much to smile about. So it was unusual that he fell asleep and found himself in a quiet meadow. It was just the kind of thing he used to dream about when Cas needed to dream-talk to him (he can't be gone he can't be gone).

It was...nice. The sun was warm on his face, reminding him that he hadn't really left the bunker in a while except to walk Miracle. Maybe...maybe this could be a message. There was still warmth and brightness in the world if he knew where to look for it. Maybe he should drag Sam to that pie festival in Akron, get some fresh air and a change of scenery.

“Hello.”

He spun around and was wrapping his arms around Jack before his mind really caught up what he was doing. Jack hugged him back, a little awkwardly (like Cas had...not Cas please, god, not Cas). “Damn, Kid, it's good to see you,” Dean huffed out, pulling away enough to get a good look at Jack's face. “Apotheosis looks good on you.”

At Jack's puzzled look Dean slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, I can look stuff up, too.”

“Right. Um, anyway, this is a dream.”

“Yeah, I got that.” He wrapped one arm around Jack's shoulders. “So, any reason you're popping in here and not visiting us in the bunker? Not that it's not great to see you, but Sammy's missing you, too.”

“I had something important to ask you,” Jack explained. “Just you...I don't think Sam needs to know until you wake up.”

Dean's eyebrows shot up. “Well, I'm all ears.”

Jack's mouth opened for a second, like he was going to contradict Dean (“I was never in...your...” why won't it stop). “Castiel is back.”

For a second, Dean was sure this wasn't a dream. He must have died in his sleep and gone to heaven, or been taken by a Djinn in a hunt. Or...or this was hell. Or a nightmare. There was no way the real Jack was actually here saying this.

“It's true,” Jack continued. He'd slipped out from under Dean's arm and stood facing him. “There's just...a problem.”

A problem. Of course. That made more sense. “What, uh, what's up?” Dean asked. His voice was cracking but he ignored it, focusing all of his attention on Jack.

“I had to close heaven,” the young entity explained. “It was better this way...between the remodeling and the new fledglings, it would only endanger earth if angels were still allowed to pass back and forth unhindered.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Dean held one hand up. “You...remodeled heaven?”

Jack nodded. “Everyone's together now. As it should be.”

Well, hell, that sounded a lot better than before. He hadn't really been looking forward to an eternity in his own private holo-deck anyway...a big, giant party sounded like a good deal. “So what's the problem?”

“Well...Cas wants to come back to you.”

Suddenly, the field around him was far too bright. Dean swallowed and looked away, fighting back the tears that prickled at the edges of his eyes. There it was...this was the nightmare again. Things like this didn't happen to Dean Winchester. He didn't get a happy ending.

“Dean,” Jack's hand on his arm pulled him back. “He can only return to earth if he gives up his grace.”

Oh. Dean swallowed and nodded. Of course. If Cas gave up his grace he'd be human again. That hadn't exactly gone well in the past. “So, what, you want me to tell him to stay up there?”

“It's not that simple.” With a sigh, Jack turned away from Dean and there was suddenly a park bench in the middle of the field. A simple, black iron thing that hadn't been there until Jack wanted it.

He sat down and awkwardly patted the bench for Dean to join him. “You see...if he stays in heaven he'll remain an angel. But if he returns to earth and loses his grace, he still wouldn't have a soul.”

Right. Angels weren't given souls. “So you're saying...”

“If he doesn't have a soul he'll go back to the Empty at the end of his life,” Jack explained.

Dean felt his heart sink. For one brief, shining moment he'd had the vision of growing old with Cas. Retiring together, maybe running the phones and lore the way Bobby used to, training up younger hunters to follow after them. But he couldn't ask for that, not at the cost of Cas's eternal peace.

“There's one thing, Dean,” the young entity interrupted before Dean fully lost it. “We don't have an Occultum, and he never had a soul to begin with, but there is a way for him to earn one.”

He met Jack's gaze, staring into the light blue eyes that still seemed so young. “How?”

“If Cas can perform one thousand selfless acts before he dies, he'll have earned an eternal rest in heaven. He'll lose his grace gradually, until he's nothing more than a mortal, but he would gain a soul in return. The question is...do you want him back under those conditions?”

He wanted Cas back under any condition. Angel or human, pissed-off demigod or nerd in a trench coat. Any version of Cas, any fraction of him...but this couldn't be about Dean. “What does he want?”

Jack's face relaxed in a smile and Dean could have sworn the kid winked at him. “I think you know.”

Dean felt his cheeks grow hot and cleared his throat, trying to cover his embarrassment. “Well, y'know, if this is what Cas wants.”

“Dean,” Jack's hand on his shoulder left a tingle like static electricity racing through his body. “What do you want.”

He had to look away. The shining earnestness in the kid's face, so much like Cas's. The horrible, bright, unbearable hope that was suddenly burrowing up in his chest. This couldn't—good things don't happen. Not like this.

But Jack was waiting for an answer, and Dean realized he couldn't edge his way around this question anymore.

“Yes,” the word rushed out in a sigh. “I wish I could...I never...and then he was gone and I couldn't...and I've give him my soul if that meant he could just come back. Just...even just for a second.”

Jack's face split in a beaming smile, revealing the gap in his teeth that made this almighty ruler of the universe look like a twelve-year-old kid. “Then let it be so.”

* * *

This is the beat of my heart

* * *

“Okay,” Dean shuffled the papers into a loose stack and tucked them under one arm. “So, me and Sammy'll go check out the woods, and Cas can head back to the hotel and do some more research, sound good?”

“Dean.”

“No arguments,” Dean held a finger up in front of Cas's face. “You've only been back for a few months. Still need to get your sea legs.”

A flicker of confusion crossed his...his Cas's face. Sam interrupted before another episode of 'The Dean and Castiel Show' started (as he called it). “We don't even know if there's anything out there,” he countered. “The hikers who disappeared were all traveling alone, we'll be fine if we stick together.”

Dean kicked at his brother to shut him up, but Sam knew it was coming and side-stepped it. “Still, I'd feel a lot better if someone stayed back to keep looking into this. Might find something we missed.”

“Then it would be best if Sam stays behind,” Cas suggested, with a nod toward the younger Winchester. “He's the most experienced with computer research.”

The way Cas said computer like it was a dirty word brought a smile to Dean's face. Even after all this time, his...his Cas didn't quite have a handle on technology.

But no. That was a terrible idea. “No, I need Sammy with me to help me track,” Dean replied.

“Dean.” Cas was shooting him his I used to be an angel-of-the-lord and I dragged your soul out of hell, I can handle this measly human task look. Except this wasn't doing the laundry or buying road trip snacks. This was a real, dangerous hunt.

“Why don't we all go together,” Sam broke in, apparently realizing that the other two were more than willing to stare at each other until someone broke down. “This thing has only attacked people who are alone anyway, we'll be safe as a group.”

Well, he clearly wasn't winning this one. Dean let out a long-suffering sigh and dug in his pocket for his car keys. “You're staying in the middle,” he warned, pointing at Cas.

* * *

But they haven't seen the best of us yet

* * *

“Morning, Sunshine,” Dean smirked over the rim of his coffee cup. As an almost-human, Cas had the most magnificent bedhead first thing in the morning. It reminded him a little of when they'd first met, when Cas had that crazy, windblown look like an angel who'd never heard of a comb. “How'd you sleep?”

Cas slid into the chair across from Dean and rested his elbow on the table to prop his chin in his hand. “I'm afraid sleeping is still an adjustment.”

“Yeah, well, you'll get used to it,” Dean said with a smile and shoved the coffeepot over. “And there's always caffeine.”

“Or I could sleep in your bed.”

Dean had been in the middle of swallowing when Cas made that statement, and he spluttered the coffee right back up into his mug and all over his hands. “Cas, that...I thought we were....” They were taking it slow. There were a crap-ton of issues to deal with, between Cas's less than fond memories of the last two times he'd been human and Dean's own dump truck load of shame. While Dean never had any doubt that Cas had meant everything he said before the Empty took him away, there was the very real issue that Cas hadn't expected to survive that confession.

Where did that leave them now?

In the midst of his panic Dean finally noticed the mischievous smile Cas was trying to hide behind his own coffee cup. “You little sneak!” Dean dipped his fingers into his cup and flicked lukewarm coffee at the other man.

Cas laughed and held a hand out to block the droplets of Dean's coffee. “My apologies,” he said, though he didn't sound the least bit sorry. “I didn't expect you to be up so early.”

“Had to get into town to grab the morning post,” Dean announced. He proudly slapped his hand on top of a stack of newspapers, pulling the topmost one off to unfold in front of Cas. “The society pages are a great place to find all kinds of charity events and stuff. Hey, did you know Lebanon has a soup kitchen once a month? They take donations all the time, then provide a hot meal and bags of groceries for people in need.”

“That's...wonderful, Dean,” Cas, face screwed up in confusion, craned his neck to see the print Dean was gesturing to.

“Wichita has a bunch of stuff coming up, too,” Dean added as he piled another paper on top of the first. “There's a fundraiser for an animal shelter—I know you don't really have money, but they're also asking for help running the phones and stuff. There's, like, three nursing homes, and I know they never get enough visitors. Oh,and they're always asking for help at the adult education center. You'd be great at that, most of those guys are just looking for some encouragement.”

“Dean,” Cas lunged across the table to rest his hand on top of Dean's, stopping him. “What are you talking about?”

“Selfless acts.” Really, it should have been obvious. “Jack said a thousand selfless acts, right? What's more selfless than charity?”

Cas smiled, affection softening his eyes. “I don't think it counts if I do it like this.”

Dean twisted his hand just enough to brush his thumb over Cas's. “You don't know that for sure.”

Sighing, Cas pulled his hand away and took one of the papers off of Dean's stack. “I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try.”

* * *

The fear of falling apart

* * *

They'd gotten maybe a dozen yards into the woods at the edge of town when they found fresh tracks. Then a dark shape darted across their path, and they were after it.

“Werewolf?” Dean called over his shoulder. He and Sam were desperately trying to keep Cas between them, to protect the former angel from harm, but they hadn't counted on Cas having better stamina than either of them.

“The tracks are too canine,” Sam replied. “Skinwalker?”

“It ran on all fours,” Cas added. “Look,” he added, crouching next to a track on the path. It was definitely a canine track, about as large as a man's hand.

Dean let out a whistle. “Big dog.”

“Some skinwalkers get that big,” Sam suggested. “Did you bring silver?”

Dean patted the stock of his rifle. “Always come prepared, Sammy. Cas?”

Cas held up his angel blade.

“Dude, come on,” Dean groaned. “I gave you a gun.”

“I left it behind. This is all I need,” Cas insisted. When Dean groaned again his face hardened and he set his jaw. “I haven't lost all of my grace yet, Dean. This is sufficient for me.”

“Yeah, well, we're setting you up with a nine millimeter and some practice targets when we get back,” Dean countered. “Come on, let's move.”

The prints were becoming more frequent now. Dean desperately wanted to send Cas back to the car, especially knowing he was only armed with his blade. But that meant either sending Cas back by himself (and this thing was taking out solitary hikers), separating the brothers so one of them could take Cas back (again...solitary hikers), or all heading back together (leaving this thing to keep picking off hikers). The only option at the moment was to keep Cas with them and just watch his back.

Dean held his fist up to halt the others and backed off the path toward the undergrowth. He could barely see the shadow of something ahead of them...something big and dark moving around in the bushes.

He peeked over his shoulder at Sammy and jerked his head toward the shadow. He braced the rifle to his chest with one hand, and with the other gestured for Sam to move to the other side of the path to get a different view of it.

Sam, who'd been furthest back, crouched low to hurry across the path to the faint shelter of the trees on the other side. He eased forward, shotgun braced against his hip, while Dean tracked his progress, ready to aim and fire if this thing charged at them.

There was a bellowing roar from the path ahead of them. Sam scrambled backward, firing his shotgun from the hip in the direction of the creature charging. Dean heard the thing yelp as Sam's shot hit, and he was rolling into the path, coming up to one knee, sighting down his rifle for the dark shape moving through the bushes.

It charged him, fast, and Dean was barely able to get a shot off before he was bowled off his feet. The bullet thudded into the creature's shoulder and it let out another shriek of pain before a massive, clawed paw was swiping at Dean's face and chest.

Then Cas was there, still preternaturally fast despite how mortal his blood was these days. He caught the beast's swipe on his angel blade and easily parried, his strength still so much greater than a normal human. Dean scooted away to bring the rifle around again, but the creature knocked Cas aside and took off down the path.

“Don't!” Dean started, but Cas was already taking off after it. Dean shoved himself to his feet to follow, Sam on his heels, and they burst through the shadowed depths of the forest path just in time to see Cas tackle the creature on an old suspension bridge.

“Oh my god...” Sam's voice sounded numb with horror, and Dean had to agree. Cas was fighting a thing that looked like a wolf, but only if a wolf was bear-sized.

And Cas was...winning. He scored a few harsh slashes up the creature's chest and carved a furrow across its face. The wolf-thing snarled and leaped for him, but Cas ducked under and caught the thing in the stomach with his shoulder, heaving it up and over the side of the bridge.

“Cas!” Dean pelted forward, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. Cas glanced over at him...just as a paw shifted into a large, meaty hand to seize him by the wrist and drag him over the side of the bridge.

Dean could vaguely hear himself yelling as he ran onto the bridge, ignoring the way it shook beneath him. He could just see Cas's fingers twisted in the rope that ran across the bottom of the bridge, and he slid onto his belly to stick his hand through and grab Cas around the wrist. “Hold on!”

The skinwalker still had a hold of him. It had fully shifted now, to a large, muscular man with a feral gleam in his eyes. He had both hands wrapped around Cas's wrist and was swinging back and forth under him, as though to use the former angel to get the momentum to swing back onto the bridge.

Cas met Dean's eyes, face set in a determined line. “Don't you dare,” Dean snarled. He dug his fingers in and squeezed as much of himself through the gap between the bridge's railings as he could. “Don't do this to me again.”

“Dean. You have to let me go.” Cas's voice was calm, too damn calm for this. “It's all right.”

“No,” Dean shook his head. “No, I—I need you.” I love you.

Cas smiled. “I know.”

Then he was pulling out of Dean's grasp and falling down, down, down to the river below.

* * *

Don't try and sleep through the end of the world

* * *

“Come on, man,” Dean coaxed. “This one's really good, I promise.”

Cas let out a tired sigh and twisted to stare at Dean. They were huddled up on the library couches, Cas with an ancient illuminated text open on his lap and Dean poking through Sam's laptop for some kind of extra-selfless deeds they could do. Maybe if it was good enough it would count for three or four.

“I appreciate the assistance, Dean, but I believe your plan is flawed.”

“Yeah, well, how do you know?”

In reply, Cas held his hand out. Just a few days ago they'd taken a simple salt-and-burn near Kansas City (after handing out water at the mini-marathon to support the children's hospital), and the ghost had been powerful enough to send a shard of glass straight through Cas's hand. Any normal human would have needed medical intervention and weeks of recovery, but the wound had slowly closed up until there wasn't even a scar left.

“Jack said I would lost a fraction of my power for every selfless act,” Cas explained gently. “I'm still very much an angel, Dean.”

Dean stared at Cas over the top of Sam's laptop, before gently closing it and setting it aside. He chewed his lip for a moment while he considered what to say. “A thousand is a lot, man. Maybe...maybe you just haven't noticed.”

“It's just going to take time,” Cas replied, resting his hand on top of Dean's. “We have plenty of that now.”

“So, what, you gonna hear a bell or something? When you're all done, I mean.”

Cas shook his head. “I'll know when I haven't heard the voices of my brothers and sisters in over a year.” Catching Dean's puzzled glance, he went on. “The last thing I'll lose is Angel Radio. Some of the other angels have agreed to contact me periodically, and when I can't hear their voices anymore is when we'll know I'm fully human.”

Dean stared down at their hands, watching Cas's thumb move back and forth over his knuckles. “I still think we should keep trying. I mean, all this charity stuff is pretty selfless anyway, right?”

To his surprise, Cas threw his head back and laughed. “Selfless deeds for a selfish reason? Is that what you're saying?”

Dean had to grin, too. “So we're selfishly being selfless?”

Cas's smile grew more affectionate. “How selfish of us.”

* * *

‘Cause I won't give up without a fight

* * *

“Sammy! Take that side!” Dean waved his brother back and stumbled the rest of the way across the bridge. The river wasn't too far down...the water was deep...the current wasn't too strong. Cas was still partially an angel. He could survive this...right?

“Cas!” Rifle bouncing along his back, Dean shoved his way through the undergrowth, trying to reach the river. The suspension bridge had only been twelve or fifteen feet in the air, mostly just a shortcut for people who didn't want to take the longer path down to the footbridge.

He ran along the riverbank, stumbling through the mud, eyes open for any sign of Cas or the skinwalker that had dragged him over. Sam had reached the riverbank on the other side and was moving parallel to Dean, calling Cas's name as he went.

The back of his mind was racing through scenarios. How cold would it get at night this time of year? What kind of wounds could Cas get from falling into the river? Could the skinwalker have survived, too?

“Dean!” Sam's voice broke through his thoughts.

“I see it!” Dean called back. There was something on the riverbank ahead...something big and dark. Slinging his rifle around into his hands, Dean slowly approached, ready to take a shot if it was the skinwalker.

It was big and hairy and naked. And not moving. Dean risked a glance across the river at Sam, who shook his head. No ideas. He slid forward carefully and nudged it with his foot. It didn't move. He pushed harder and the thing rolled over onto its back, sightless eyes staring up at the sky, a diamond-shaped hole in its chest.

Cas had gotten the skinwalker. Dean let out a sigh of mingled frustration and relief. At least they knew this thing wouldn't be hunting down any more hikers, but it didn't answer the question of how far their missing angel had gotten. Or what kind of shape he was in.

Sam was already moving down the river and Dean picked up his pace. If the skinwalker had been washed ashore here, maybe Cas wouldn't be too far away.

Dean saw him first. Around the next bend of the river the bank on his side smoothed out into a kind of beach area, where sand and silt had been washed down the river and collected in the curve. There was a figure sprawled on the gritty sand, half out of the water, still recognizable even in the second-hand hunter's threads they'd been giving him.

“Cas!” Dean ran through the mud, dropping his rifle when his shaking hands wouldn't loop the strap over his shoulder. He crouched down and grabbed the former angel under the arms and hauled him out of the water, then collapsed on the beach to cradle Cas's head and shoulders against his chest.

“Come on, Sunshine,” Dean murmured. He wiped at the mud smearing Cas's face, rested his hand against his neck to feel his pulse. “Please...”

Cas's pulse beat strong against his fingers, and Dean let out a sigh of relief and lowered his head until his forehead was pressed against Cas's. “You said you wouldn't leave again, man,” he whispered. “You promised.”

Cas stirred, his eyelids fluttered. Dean pulled back just enough to watch those bright blue eyes squint open. Dean let out a sigh of relief. “Never thought I'd be glad you're still mostly angel,” he muttered.

His...his Cas...managed a weak smile, his voice breaking in a whisper. “I must be too selfish.”

* * *

If you love me

* * *

And thus ends this year’s FebuWhump! I hope you all enjoyed, and I’ll be compiling the master list shortly.

(And if you have the song stuck in your head now, imagine how the last two months have been for me)

[beanie-beebo-writes]

Highway To Hell

Series Summary: An all-too-real nightmare and a missing brother sends Dean, Bobby, and Cas on a frantic search. All the while, what may be a bad dream leads to a probable jump-start to Dean's true worst nightmare, Sam jump-starting the end of the world. Set in season 4; consider this a parallel canonverse fic

Previous chapter, Masterlist

Chapter 4

The drive was silent, which was expected. Knowing that made the atmosphere less awkward, but tension still remained on the surface. Castiel rode along with Dean in the Impala, deciding it would benefit more to keep the older brother company. Bobby lead the way in his pickup, to keep one of his good vehicles handy.

Cas would have offered to turn on the radio, but Dean seemed to be in deep thought, and he didn't want to disturb him. From what he had learned from being around the Winchesters, when Dean was distraught, you left him alone. Unless if he specifically asked for help, which was a rare occurrence. Especially if family was at stake, Dean was at a fragile state; he should only be pushed when necessary. And now was not necessary, so Cas settled on watching the passing scenery outside his window.

"We will find your brother, Dean." Cas reassured.

"And what makes you so sure?" Dean asked.

"Because he left on his own, and he's Sam Winchester." Cas said.

Dean stared back at the road, contemplating the angel's response.

"I hope you're right." He said.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since the gas pedal was basically floored, they arrived to Ilchester within no time. After quickly settling into a random motel, they head straight into town. The clock in the car wasn't much use, but the sun told them it was close to noon by the time they pulled up into city parking. All three of them got out of their vehicles and met at the space between their cars.

"Alright, so I figure we split up, to cover more ground." Bobby suggested.

"I like that idea, let's go." Dean said, starting to walk away.

"Not so fast, boy!" Bobby exclaimed with annoyance. "We need to set up some plans first."

"Well, I say screw a plan, and find Sam." Dean said.

"We can't find your brother faster without a plan, and you know that. Use your brain Dean; remember, treat it like a usual case." Bobby replied.

"But this isn't a usual case, Bobby!" He said.

"I agree with Bobby," Cas said, "Sam is a subject, and we are searching for him. As you would with any other victim or monster."

Dean inhaled, trying to conjure up a way to argue back with this statement. But he couldn't, they were right.

"Before you can begin to argue, you're sticking with me this time around." The older hunter added.

Dean grumbled in annoyance. "So how are we exactly going about this?" Cas asked.

"Do you have a phone, Cas?" Bobby asked.

"No, I don't own one. I never really saw a use for acquiring one." Cas replied.

"Alright, well you can use mine." Bobby said, handing the angel his cell phone. "I think the best way to go about this, is to show them a picture of Sam. We have the resources, we might as well use them to our advantage."

Cas examined the cell phone with curiosity, as if he was from Mars. Dean rolled his eyes and waited impatiently.

"Dean, you have a photo of Sam, right?" Bobby asked after pulling up Sam's picture on his phone.

"What? Oh, yeah, I have a couple." Dean said.

"Recent?"

"Pretty recent. Plus, his looks haven't changed that much in a few years."

"Point taken. Alright, all set guys?"

"Yes." Dean and Cas said in unison.

"Good. Dean and I will take this way, Cas, you take that way. All you have to ask is if they have seen Sam, and show them the picture on that phone. Capiche?" Bobby explained.

"I don't understand." Cas said.

"What don't you understand?" Dean fumed.

"Capiche." Cas answered.

Dean rolled his eyes; Bobby glared at the elder Winchester.

"I just asked if you understand, and if everything is good. That's capiche." Bobby said.

"Oh, then I capiche." Cas said.

"Can we go now?!" Dean asked.

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You need to screw your head back on, and get it out of your ass!" Bobby shouted quietly.

"I think I'm fine." Dean said.

"No Dean, you're not. Whenever you're without your brother, you spiral. I've raised you long enough to know that." Bobby replied. "Now focus, will you?"

"I am focusing!" Dean said.

"Well focus harder." Bobby said.

The two hunters first stopped at a concession stand, knowing the worker had likely seen all of the action. To their benefit, they had a few moments before lunch came around.

"Excuse me," Dean started, "Hi, we're agents Tolson and Hoover with Missing Persons. Have you seen this man around?"

Dean pulled out his phone, which was already on a photo of him and his brother, trying out their fathers' sawed off shotguns a couple years back. The concession worker studied the photo briefly, but intently.

"Not sure, but the face looks familiar." He said.

Bobby slid the man thirty dollars with a gleam in his eye. "Are you sure?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I did see him. He was a little out of it; he seemed like he was out for something. From what I could tell, that something was drugs." He said.

"Do you know where he was headed?" Dean asked.

"No, but he was actually going towards a store down the corner, he asked for directions. It's a small shop called 'Loretta's Spice Garden', you shouldn't miss it." The concession worker said.

"You're a big help, thank you." Bobby said as the two of them walked briskly towards the small shop.

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cas awkwardly wandered around the slightly busy town square. There were so many people he could ask for information, but they all looked like they were in too much of a hurry. He couldn't help but wonder how the other hunters did it, no one remotely seemed to care enough to give him even a few seconds. His eyes finally settled upon a woman lounging on a nearby park bench; he strided over to her with a spark of confidence.

"Hello, um, I lost a friend of mine, have you seen him?" Cas asked as he sat down.

She looked quickly at the picture and then focused her gaze on him.

"Well, that depends." She purred.

"What do you mean? It's a yes or no question.." Cas said.

"If you're willing to pay, maybe I'll tell you." She replied with a wink.

"Well, I don't actually have any money on me right now, but I could-"

"No silly, I meant a little personal time, in the bedroom."

"I guess I could accommodate that, when I'm free sometime."

"How about within the next seven hours, what do ya say, handsome?"

Cas blushed as the woman began to play with his loose trench coat ties.

"Um, sure, I could always stop in tonight."

The woman pinched his cheek and smiled seductively, handing him a slip of paper with a series of numbers written upon it. "I'll be seeing you later then."

As the lady walked away, Cas realized he had never felt so confused and heated at the same time.

                                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~

A bell above the door chimed as Dean and Bobby walked into the comfortably small store. They were greeted by a plump woman at the counter, who just put down a book on mythological creatures.

"Hi, welcome! How can I help you fine gentlemen?" She asked.

"Let me guess, Loretta?" Dean asked confidently.

"No, actually. Loretta was my mother's name; I'm Lanie." She said.

"Alright Lanie, we have a couple questions for you. We're agents Laurel and Hardy with Missing Persons. Have you seen this man around, recently?" Dean asked, pulling out his phone from his jacket.

Lanie put on a pair of cat-eye shaped glasses and peered at the picture of the two of them. Recognition instantly filled her face.

"Oh yes, he was here yesterday. He didn't look too well." She said.

"Did he buy or take anything?" Bobby asked.

"Well, he did buy a few herbs and some candles. I could pull up the inventory, if you want to know the exact items he purchased." Lanie said.

"That would be great if you could do that, please." Dean said.

As the lady walked over to her old monitor, the two hunters glanced at each other questionably. They leaned over the counter as she searched her recent inventory.

"From what I can gather, he purchased four red candles, a small bag of Ambergris, Frankincense, and Benzoin." She said.

"And you're positive that's what he bought?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, since I mark each time I count inventory. And I don't get a large amount of customers daily, so it's normally easy to pinpoint who buys what." She explained.

"Did he happen to tell you where he might be going?" Dean asked.

"No, sadly, but wherever he was headed, he sure made a haste to get there."

Dean's demeanor changed so instantly, Lanie was about to ask if he was alright. Dean anxiously eyed Bobby and nudged his foot.

"Thank you for your time, it really means a lot." Bobby said as they began to head out.

"No problem, I hope you find the guy you're looking for!" She called out with a warm smile.

At that point, Dean practically rushed out of the store block until Bobby pulled him to a halt.

"Dean, wait," He said when he caught Dean's attention, "where do you think you're going?"

"Bobby, whatever he bought, it didn't sound like ingredients for baking a cake."

"I get that, but we have to stay together. This could be dangerous."

"It's Sam-"

"As far as we know, we know it's Sam. For all we know, he's.."

Dean clenched his jaw and inched closer to the older hunter.

"Don't."

Bobby nodded, looking at the older Winchester with a hint of sympathy behind his eyes.

"I don't care what it takes, we will find your brother." Bobby assured.

Dean broke eye contact before tears could cloud his vision; the thought of losing his brother again, he couldn't process it. Where could he even turn? He could only hope Bobby knew what to do. Right on cue, Cas began to approach from farther up the sidewalk, hopefully serving as a brief distraction to the current situation.

"Hey Cas, find anything?" Dean asked when the angel was close enough to mumble.

"Well, I think I might have. A nice young woman offered to spare me some details later on. I tried to ask around, but everyone was too busy." Cas explained.

"Later on? Cas, you know we need details now, right?" Dean said.

"I know, but she did seem quite sincere." He replied.

"It only takes a couple seconds to answer a few questions, ya idjit." Bobby said.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I'm confused." Cas said.

A small smile crept onto Dean's face. "Wait, Cas, did she say why she wanted to meet you later?"

"Yes. In fact, she said I had to spend some personal time in the bedroom with her, which I found rather peculiar.."

Dean stifled a laugh that began to arise in his throat as Bobby rubbed his forehead awkwardly.

"Son, I believe you were just played."

"I'm sorry?"

"What Bobby is trying to say, is that she wanted some… um.. personal body on body action, from you. She probably has nothing that could help us at the moment."

"Wait, do you mean… intercourse?"

Dean sighed and deadpanned at the angel. "Did you really have to let the whole world hear it?"

"Well, I.."

"Never mind, we'll talk back at the car."

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Slash Fiction - Ch 4

Title: Slash Fiction 

Fandom: Supernatural

Series: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel (there will be more)

Rating: Lemon (for the series as a whole)

Tags: fluff, angst, pining, canon typical violence and gore

MASTERLIST

AO3

SERIES LIST 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Four

     “Dean,” Sam whispered as Sera walked around the body hanging from the roof, same as the last. 

     Dean heard Sam, but couldn't register anything. He felt his heart rate increasing as he looked at the poor man in front of him. Familiar trench coat hanging around him, blue tie, dark messy hair… blue eyes. 

     “I know those guys said he was dressed like Cas, but Dean, he… he looks exactly like-”

     “Yeah, I know, Sam!” Dean snapped, then quickly turned away from the body, not able to look anymore, and walked down the hall.

     Sam and Sera shared a quick, knowing look between themselves as they watched Dean stop a few feet away and pull out his phone.

     He couldn't help it. Normally this sort of thing didn't bother him too much anymore, it came with the job, but the fact that he was practically looking at Cas hanging from the ceiling made his stomach turn. He had to be sure, he had to ease his mind even though he knew he was being ridiculous, but he had to dial the number anyways.

     The phone rang for what felt like a lifetime before someone picked up, and Dean sighed as the familiar voice hit his ears, “Hello, Dean.”

     “Hiya, Cas,” he smiled, relieved.

     “Is everything alright?”

     “Yeah , I just…” He ran a hand down his face, “Just a rough night I guess, wanted to hear your voice.”

     “Do you want me to come to you? I can fly in, just tell me where you are.”

     “Naw, it's alright, I know you're busy helping Bobby with that vamp nest,” Dean risked a glance over his shoulder, seeing Sera and Sam still investigating the scene then turned back, “just hearing your voice is enough.”

     There was a pause for a moment before Cas said, “As long as you're sure you're alright…”

     “I'm fine, Cas, promise, just…” He closed his eyes tight, focusing for the moment on Cas’s voice in his ear, “Just distract me for a few, tell me about your job with Bobby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “I would love to know what the hell’s going on,” Sam said as he circled the body once, “I was two feet away from what was clearly a spirit and there was no EMF at all. Maybe you're right, it must be broken.”

     “It's not broken,” Sera replied, deep in thought when Sam looked at her in question.

     “Do you know something?”

     She hummed in response then said, “I’ll get Dean then we need to head back to the motel, I'll tell you everything when we get there.”

     Sam nodded to her as she made her way down the hall towards Dean. He was still talking on the phone with his back to her and his head down, she didn't have to ask to know who he had called, who he would need right now. 

     “Yeah, Cas, I’ll call you if anything else comes up, maybe…” Dean scratched his head, “Maybe you can stop by the motel once we figure some things out?”

     “Of course, Dean,” she heard Cas say through the phone.

     “Great, I’ll shoot you a text when we’ve got some time.”

     There was a moment of silence between the two of them as she stood back and watched as Dean shuffled nervously from foot to foot, “Hey, Cas, I…”

     “Yes, Dean?”

     Dean shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and huffed, “I gotta go, I’ll text you later.”

     “Right…” She could hear the disappointment in Cas’s voice through the phone, “Text you later.”

     “Bye, Cas.” And before Cas even had a chance to respond Dean hung up the phone. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that Dean had already planned on not calling Cas when they got back to the motel. That as soon as those feelings started bubbling their way up, Dean would do anything to tamp them back down again, despite the fact that right now he clearly needed to see Cas.

     She shook her head, then Dean turned to be face to face with her. He quickly stuffed the phone back in his pocket and completely ignored the fact that she more than likely just heard everything he had said, and instead asked, “Anything?”

     She nodded, “I might have something, I'll explain back at the hotel.”

     “Good,” he grumbled as they started making their way back towards Sam.

     “So,” she began cautiously, “is Cas coming by?”

     “I don't know, maybe.”

     She nodded, pursing her lips before adding, “He should. It might be good for you to see him for a while.”

     He stopped walking and looked at her for a second as she kept going, then he shook it off and changed the topic again, “We need to call the cops and report this, get a coroner here.”

     The change in topic definitely did not go unnoticed by her, but she allowed it, for now. “Sam’s calling them, and I’ll get Vincent to gather everyone in the lobby.”

     They made it back to Sam who was just finishing up with the police on the phone as she asked, “Do we know his name, any ID on him?”

     “It's Erik.” She turned to Dean who still refused to look at the body. “His boyfriend’s downstairs looking for him.”

     No words were said between them as they all knew this was a huge hit for Dean. He wouldn't admit it but there were a lot of factors to this particular piece of the puzzle that were too close to home for him.

     Still not looking, he shook his head angrily and exclaimed, “We need to gank this bitch, now!” Then turned and walked away from them.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     About ten minutes later the cops arrived, along with the coroner soon after that. Vincent had since gathered the rest of the players in the front lobby and informed them that due to unforeseen circumstances, the game was unfortunately ending. And with the promise of a red lobster gift card for every player, courtesy of Chuck, the small group left the building, except for two other boys who had been asked to stay behind. 

     The three stood back and watched as the police informed Erik’s boyfriend of his death, and as his heart shattered, Sera and Sam watched as Dean’s did too. They all thought back to the boy hanging from the roof, to how much he truly did look like Cas. This one was a little close to home, and they were all so exhausted from it already but clearly had more work to do.

     “Hey, Sera.” She laid her head back against the wall and rolled it to the side to look at Sam. “How did you know to go to the third floor?”

     She turned away from him for a moment and then pushed off from where she was leaning against the wall. Without a word she made her way back up to the second floor with the boys on her heels, both curious but neither voicing it, and followed her up. 

     When they stepped out of the elevator she turned down the small hidden hallway and knocked on the office door. “Amanda, it's Sera.”

     The door opened a crack and Amanda peeked out. Upon seeing it was Sera and the boys, she opened the door and let them in. “Agents, what's going on? Who was that woman?”

     Sera eyed Natasha who was off to the side doing homework again, then leaned in towards Amanda. “Another man was killed.” Amanda covered her mouth with a gasp as Sera continued, “That woman has something to do with it, we just aren't sure what yet. But she vanished before we could get to her.”

     “Oh my god,” Amanda moved to sit in the chair behind her desk.

     “I also need to take Natasha’s laptop.”

     “Why?”

     “While I was reading her story earlier some information popped up on her laptop that could be pertinent to the case,” she shifted her eyes to Natasha then said, “so I need to take it in for evidence.”

     “Is… is Natasha in trouble?!”

     “No, not at all,” Sera assured her, “in fact, Natasha more than likely had no idea that this information was on her laptop. But myself and these agents are going to do our best to find out how it got there and why, so we can stop this from ever happening here again.”

     Amanda couldn't even say anything, she just nodded as she tried to hold the tears back. 

     Sera sighed, then turned away and headed towards Natasha, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, Natasha, but I have to take your laptop for a few days.”

     “Why?” She turned back to Sera, “I have to finish homework.”

     “Myself and these two guys are federal agents, and we are currently investigating some pretty strange things,” she thought how best to say it without scaring the poor girl too much, “so we're just checking everyone's computers in the area. I promise I’ll bring it back. And if you don't get your homework finished on time I promise I'll talk to your teachers about it, alright?.”

     “Alright,” she handed the laptop to Sera, “but you have to bring it back, I have school work on there, and my book!”

     “I promise,” Sera held a hand up and Natasha nodded. 

     The three then said a quick thanks to Amanda and quietly left the building. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

                              PREVIOUS           NEXT

A/N: I know its been a long time but here is the next chapter and more to come soon I promise, its already all finished!  And I am so sorry this took so long! I mostly just write this series for myself but if there is someone else out there who likes it too, then I am always happy to share and hear your thoughts! XD <3

And if you or anyone else you know would wanna be tagged, just let me know!

Tags: @kitsunecastiel 

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER FOUR - THE DEAL

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 3,037

The night had a bitter chill in the air, the humidity making the cold seep into one's bones and no matter how many layers, it still would find a way under the skin. Eric stood close to the outdoor heater, rubbing his hands together frantically and blowing on his digits in an attempt to keep them warm.

It wasn't often that the temperature would drop this low in the South, but cruel when it did and most of the city's infrastructure was not built to deal with it. The people were not bred to survive in such frigid conditions; they were used to the scorching sun and a constant sweat. It sent a shock through the city's inhabitants and nearly crippled them.

The young valet was professional as ever, though, and battled through the unwelcome climate. He had the last car, the fancy half a million-dollar machine, all ready and warmed up for the customer. Now was just the waiting game. Except he wasn't looking forward to seeing that particular man again, there was just something about him that made Eric feel uneasy.

"Quite a crisp evening, wouldn't you say?" The sudden closeness of the dark figure made Eric nearly jump out of his skin and grasp at his chest in fright. "Did I frighten you? Terribly sorry."

He didn't sound sorry at all.

The young man laughed shakily, "Not a problem, sir, I should've been paying more attention. Your car is all warmed up, I hope you enjoyed everything this evening!"

Dracula plucked the keys from the valet's hand, who took notice of his talons and his eyes widened. The count stepped closer and tilted his head down towards the boy, "It is unnecessary, though appreciated. Do try and stay warm tonight, this kind of weather can be rather penetrating."

Eric gulped audibly. "Y-yes, sir."

With a grin, Dracula straightened to his full height and clicked a button on the key fob to turn the car off. "No need to waste gas. I'll be waiting for a bit."

The kid just stood there awkwardly and shuffled his feet a bit before it dawned on Dracula, "Ah, yes, you would like a tip, hm?"

Without bothering for a response, he retrieved a folded hundred dollar bill from his breast pocket and held it out for the young man. Eric went to take it but found that the count would not let go and he glanced up with nervous eyes. Dracula inhaled deeply and leaned even closer, "Run along now, Eric, there are dangerous creatures out and about. We wouldn't want anything unsavory to happen."

The valet nodded frantically, his head bobbing up and down like a muppet, and once Dracula let go of the bill, the kid took off into the building without a second glance.

—

Roxana's hands shook as she returned to the kitchen, the vampire's presence was a little overwhelming, to say the least, but something inside her itched with incorrigible curiosity. Yes, she was terrified, because she knew that man was most likely going to kill her. The Harker Foundation alluded as much. They told her he was a bloodthirsty beast with no remorse or self-control. He had killed her blood relatives, doppelgängers, whatever the fuck, and was now there to do it again. She probably shouldn't have tossed their business card in the trash.

But there was something that caught her off guard and made her wonder. Why did he look so surprised to see her if he had already been searching for her? But then she remembered how he then had the smugness of a cat catching the mouse. Maybe he was just going to toy with her before he went it for the kill.

She was damn near thrown off her balance as someone knocked into her side in a rush. "Eric? What's the matter with you?"

"I'm so sorry, Miss Rox, I wasn't paying attention." He seemed a little tense and she figured he had a run-in with the vampire. Her eyes quickly searched his neck for any open wounds and once she was satisfied that he was unharmed, Roxana patted him on the shoulder.

"No harm, no foul," She smiled kindly and his tension eased, "It's late, y'all should head home. I'll see you next week."

"Thanks, ma'am, have a great night!" Eric turned and shouted towards the freezer, "Oi, that creepy dude gave me a hundo - drinks on me tonight!"

Al shot out of the walk-in and nearly stumbled over his own feet, "Bitch, what! Let's go!"

The two grabbed their things and made their way towards the back door. Angeline was walking in after clocking out and threw on her jacket, "What do you mean 'creepy'? He was pretty damn fine, for like an older guy."

Al let out a whistle, "Oh girl, I feel you, I was just telling Rox that her mans is a daddy I'd like to know."

"He is not my-" Roxana started but it was too late, the other two whipped their heads around and gawked at their boss.

"Oh my god!" Angeline squealed and Eric looked slightly mortified.

"He's terrifying!"

"You've got a boyfriend?!"

"Lord knows baby girl needed to get her some of dat good lovin'."

"Holy shit, stop, please!" Roxana couldn't help but laugh as she tried to quell the three people hollering over one another. "Mr. Balaur and I are not doing anything of the sort, I can assure you. Now go on, the bars are calling."

The trio finally acquiesced and traded turns giving her a hug, making their departure for their after-work shenanigans, but as they were leaving Eric turned back once more, "Just to let you know, Mr. James-Bond-Villain is waiting for you out front."

Roxana rolled her eyes and waved back at the kid, "Thanks for the heads up, y'all be safe."

"You too, baby," She could hear Al's voice carry in from the alley, "Don't forget to use protection!"

Her employees' cackles could still be heard after the door finally shut and Roxana dropped her head onto the counter with a long-suffering sigh. She really hoped that wouldn't be the last time she saw them.

Shaking her head to try and rid the terrible thoughts from her brain, she set out to finish scrubbing down the kitchen and closing for the night. The busywork helped take her mind off the fact that she was about to face off with a fucking vampire afterward.

It took about another hour for her to be completely satisfied with the level of cleanliness and she finally took off her white chef jacket. Her eyes caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and her hand moved to pull a necklace out from under her shirt. The small golden cross flashed as she tilted it under the lights, her gaze focused sincerely on the little piece of jewelry.

"If there was ever a chance you might want to work, now would be a good time." She murmured, dragging her thumb across the shiny surface before she let it drop back down to hang against her collarbone and looked back at her own eyes. "Oh, who am I kidding?"

Roxana slid on her jacket and turned off the lights as she walked out the front doors of Sanguine. She had the strangest feeling almost like she was walking into battle.

—

Sure enough, Dracula was waiting for her out front of the restaurant, just casually leaning against the side of his car and swiping on his phone. By the way he was flicking his finger to the right or left and the sly little smirk he was sporting, she assumed he was on Tinder. The thought of matching with a five-hundred-year-old vampire gave her a laugh and she caught Dracula's attention with her soft chuckle.

He grinned and tucked his phone into the breast pocket of his suavely fitted trench coat. "Hello, Roxana."

Out of pure habit from her Southern hospitality, she gave a smile and a small wave back, "Hey there…Count Dracula."

His head tilted slightly as he regarded her curiously, "So you know who I am?"

"Yeah," She nodded, "And what you are."

"Oh?" There was a pause. "Well good, that sorts out all that awkwardness then."

He pushed himself off the car and she was momentarily distracted as the full vehicle came into view, "Are you serious - a Rolls Royce? That's what you drive?"

His eyebrows rose almost innocently. "What? Did you expect a hearse?"

She shrugged. It wasn't something that really crossed her mind but it didn't sound unreasonable.

"I'm undead, not unfashionable." He winked, "Besides, I found a killer deal."

Dracula opened the passenger door and looked at her expectantly, "Care for a lift home?"

"Are you going to kill me?" Roxana blurted out, as she tugged her jacket closer in an attempt to fight the chill. "Just like you killed Zoe and Agatha?"

Something flashed in his dark eyes but she couldn't tell what it was before it disappeared and his gaze hardened, "I see that the foundation got to you."

"They told me about you." She corrected him.

"Clearly," His jaw ticked, "However, you have me at a disadvantage, as I've no idea who exactly you are and that doesn't seem fair, now does it?"

She stared at him in disbelief, "A disadvantage? You're a vampire."

Dracula studied her face for a moment and then heaved a sigh, "It is not my current inclination to kill you, Roxana, but I cannot promise as much for the future. Though it does seem to be a reoccurring trend with you Van Helsings."

Roxana weighed her limited options. If she could even truly fool herself into believing she had any. On the one hand, Dracula had not harmed her yet when he had plenty of opportunities given that they were very alone on the street, at a later hour, and on a Sunday night. Everyone in the city was either at home or the bar; either way they were staying inside and away from the cold. Not a witness to be found. On the other hand, her own car was currently in the shop and she imagined her chance of something bad happening was just as likely if she chose to walk or take an Uber.

"Sure, I'll take a ride." She slid past him and into the seat, all the while trying to ignore his cheeky little grin. He closed the door gently and then went around to get in the driver's side, turning on the vehicle and looking at her expectantly. "Just head towards the river and then take a right on Tchoup."

Soft jazz was the only sound heard for a moment as he pulled away from her restaurant and followed her directions. She watched from the corner of her eye how he tapped his nails against the steering wheel, the claws creating a dull thud every time they connected with the leather.

She decided to be the one to break the silence and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly so she could gather herself before speaking. "They said you might come looking for me and they showed me photos and videos. That's how I recognized you."

"You look just like them." He glanced over, his eyes meeting hers briefly before focusing back on the road. "But I honestly had no idea you even existed. Tonight was merely a pleasant surprise, nothing more."

Not very convinced, Roxana crossed her arms and looked out the window at the passing houses, "So this is just a funny coincidence?"

"Oh I don't believe in those," He breathed a laugh, "After five hundred years, I think I know a pattern when I see it."

"If you continued that pattern, my death would be inevitable."

"You're mortal." He scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Your death is inevitable whether I have anything to do with it or not."

"I saw the photo of Zoe's corpse. Do you expect me to believe you're not going to do the same thing to me?"

Dracula's hand tightened on the wheel. "That was a mercy."

"I'm sorry?" She turned towards him with an affronted look on her face, "Please tell me how that is supposed to be comforting."

He stopped at a light and met her gaze, "She was already on the verge of dying. Cancer. I simply assisted the parting guest."

As he spoke, his eyes looked beyond Roxana for a moment as if he was viewing the memory, and then the light turned green. She quietly told him the make the next turn.

"Why the name change? von Hels isn't very different than Van Helsing." He switched the subject, not wanting to completely divulge what had actually happened in London. One mustn't show their cards all at once.

"Theatrics, I suppose. Plus, my family has a bit of a reputation around here and I'd rather that be a separate entity than my restaurant." She said, "I'm probably the only Van Helsing left in the city and after some years passed, people don't make the connection anymore."

"Except me."

"Yeah, well, you have a bit of an advantage."

He couldn't help himself, "Some would say I have a bite of an advantage."

Roxana laughed and he decided he liked the sound; he couldn't remember ever hearing Zoe or Agatha laugh. The former was nothing but science and skepticism, the latter was smugly studious; this one, however, was calm and curious and almost cheerful - no matter how much her heartbeat told him otherwise, he had to admit her poker face was spectacular.

"It's up here on the left."

He pulled the car over in front of the row of mismatched colored shotgun houses. An equally disheveled looking calico cat was perched on the stoop, its eyes reflected back brightly and its tail flicked as the vehicle slowed to a stop.

"If you're not here to kill me, then what is it you want?" She asked seriously, looking over to the vampire as he put the car in park and turned towards her once more.

"The usual; some company and something to eat."

She couldn't stop another chuckle, "Don't we all?"

Dracula watched her for a moment before leaning closer, enjoying the way her eyes widened as he backed her into the corner of her seat and the door. "I want to find out everything there is to know about you, Roxana Van Helsing."

She was paralyzed as his hand came up around her neck, holding her gently and firmly still. His thumb traced her pulse point and she watched with rapt attention as his tongue slowly wetted his lips. Eyes so dark that even the glow of the street lamps disappeared into their depths.

"There is a reason we crossed paths and we're going to find out why," She went to speak but his long finger halted her lips before the words could form, "After all, we will be working together for this upcoming soirée. Might as well kill two birds with one stone, hm?"

Roxana's brows rose skeptically but she said nothing. She had nearly forgotten about that whole fiasco. 

A quick flash of gold caught Dracula's eye and his attention was diverted to the small cross hanging around her neck. She watched as his jaw clenched and his head moved back minutely, but instead of being deterred, like the foundation said he would, Dracula merely let go of her neck and tapped the tiny piece of metal with his claw.

"Oh, you haven't heard those don't work anymore? Sorry to disappoint." He shrugged innocently and then leaned back. Despite his words, she could tell he clearly still held some distaste for the holy symbol.

"I'll agree to help you, with both the dinner and whatever this is, on one condition."

He smirked, "And what would that be?"

"You're not allowed to have my blood." His face dropped and he glowered as she continued, "I know you could just take it whether I'd like it or not, but if you actually want my cooperation, it is off-limits."

Dracula studied her for a minute before smiling again, "Of course. I've been on a consent-first diet as of late anyway. Helps sort through the drunks as well. Let me tell you, I've had some nasty hangovers from these people. I swear, this city runs on liquor."

Shaking her head, she gave another laugh and opened the car door. As she stepped out, she leaned back to look at him once more, "This has all been really weird, but I guess have a good night?"

"I shall need your telephone number." He held out his mobile and watched her put in her digits before handing it back. He quickly typed out a message, she heard her phone go off in her purse, and he grinned toothily. "See you around, Miss von Hels."

She closed the door, walked up to her stoop, and went straight for the lock without looking back. The cat meowed loudly as she passed by. "Come on, Fifolet."

It stretched up in an arch and set its sights back on the idling car, seemingly narrowing its eyes toward the vampire. With a sassy swish of the tail, it turned and followed her into the house.

Dracula watched intently until the door finally closed shut, he could see the lights flick on through the windows but nothing more past all the curtains. He chuckled to himself as he put the vehicle into gear again. What a silly thing to demand…of course he was going to get her blood. Time was eternal, he could be patient, and once he got her…he was going to enjoy every last drop.

Taglist:

@festering-queen​ @vissidarte213​ @moony691​

[khaosgaming22]

Foxtrot- A Destiny Short Story

“Tell us the story about how you and Zoro met Khaos.” Rieka said petting Alastair.

“Alright then.” I said clearing my throat. “Grab some popcorn and get comfy everyone, here we go....”

~

I walked out of the Tower on my 3rd mission ever and towards the hangar bay to grab the courtesy ship Amanda Holliday gifted me. I looked around at the multitude of Guardians in clothing that looked otherworldly, knowing Guardians it probably was. When the Vanguard asked me what class of Guardian I would pursue I said Warlock. Titan was a no, too brutish and headfirst for me, Hunter cloaks looked nice as well but the Warlock dusters, libraries and paths I could choose eventually won me over. Scout figured I would choose Warlock, I have no idea how she guessed correctly but I guess she has had more time as a Guardian than I have.

“Mornin newbie!” Amanda waved to me as I entered and I waved back. My duster blew in the wind as a ship was leaving.

“Hello Amanda.” I said back, she stopped for a second to set down a tool and faced my way.

“Where are you goin first Khaos? Moon? Titan? I’ve heard Io is pretty peaceful.” I shook my head.

“Just around the European Dead Zone for now. It’ll be a while before I decide to travel off-world.” She nodded.

“Welp, have fun!” I said thanks and jumped up into my ship. The controls were foreign but I noticed there was a sticky note on the dash, I pulled it off and read it.

“Just click the map, tell it where you wanna go and turn on autopilot bud! Much easier. -Amanda ❤️”

I smiled, put in the coordinates and the ship lifted off and toward the EDZ. The trees became a blur of green as I quickly approached the zone and the ship set down next to an abandoned city square. There was a church in the center and an old courtyard in front of it, I opened the cockpit and jumped out to walk around.

“Not a bad place to start I suppose.” I looked up to find a sniper barrel pointed in my direction. I started to reach for my weapon but the person behind the rifle smiled and waved. I walked over to the church and found him standing next to a couch with some tea.

“Hello there sir, are you Devrim I presume?” He nodded.

“That I am, and who might you be Warlock?” He took a sip of his tea.

“My name... well I don’t really remember my real name but I guess everyone calls me Khaos.” He motioned to sit down on the couch and I did.

“So you’re the new Guardian they found in a storage closet! That must’ve been quite the awakening.”

“Yeah it was interesting that’s for sure. Luckily I had a Ghost to help me understand everything until I met the Vanguard.” Cooper floated out of my trench coat and bobbed in place.

“I am very thankful for that.... I’ve never heard of a Guardian so utterly confused about the Light and being revived.” Devrim laughed a bit and I rolled my eyes.

“Well I have to say that’s not the strangest place I’ve heard Guardians being revived. But yes it can raise quite a few questions.” I nodded.

“So where are you going first?” I thought for a minute but in reality I had no clue. He must’ve sensed this because he shrugged it off.

“Just walk around here a bit and I’m sure you’ll figure everything out. Exploring is half the fun of being a Guardian after all!” I smiled and said goodbye after grabbing a biscuit.

“He was nice.” I said to Coop walking towards more old buildings.

“Oh trust me Khaos, there is a reason you see Guardians in tons of armor and weapons...” I shrugged and he transmatted my Sparrow, it was also a loan from Amanda. I wonder if she does this for all Guardians or if she likes me, hopefully it’s door number one because I wouldn’t know how to feel...

~

I eventually made my way to a part of the EDZ that was much... darker. I hadn’t run into anything yet but I could tell that something was off. Devrim said I should explore so I pushed forward through the rock tunnel and tree canopy but I kept my Auto Rifle loaded. As I made my way through the area I noticed a bush moving and went to investigate. I pushed the leaves out of the way and found a small animal, I couldn’t tell what it was exactly until it shifted out of it’s hole and looked at me. It was a small baby red fox and it looked like it was in pain.

“Coop? Scan please.” Cooper bobbed and ran a scanning light over the fox.

“She’s in bad shape... I don’t know if she’s going to make it....” Not on my watch, I thought. I went to pick her up and she yelled in a high pitch, after some amount of struggling I was able to get her into my arms.

“Coop, can you transmat us to my ship?” He bobbed in place nodding and in no time flat we were back in orbit. I put the coordinates in for the Tower, following the sticky note Amanda left again and the ship did a nose dive toward the Last City. The ship set down in the hangar and I jumped out carefully making sure not to escalate the fox’s pain any more.

“Back so soon? What, were the Fallen too much for ya-“ She noticed the fox in my arms. “Oh no! What happened to them?”

“Not sure, found this little girl hiding in a bush near her hole in a dark area of the EDZ, Coop said she wouldn’t make it so I had to do something.” She nodded and grabbed a few bandages from a toolbox.

“Wait... you said dark area of the EDZ right?” She said giving the roll of bandages to me, I nodded. “Doggone it, Devrim!” I looked at her confused while wrapping up the fox’s leg.

“What’s the problem, I didn’t do something wrong did I?” She shook her head.

“No honey, you’re just fine, Devrim forgot to warn you about the forest didn’t he?” The fox stopped shaking so much after I applied the bandages.

“Dark forest?” I asked petting the fox to calm her down.

“When the Traveler was captured by the Red Legion, a guardian went into there and found a shard that had broken off. He ended up discovering a way to win the war but ever since then it’s been overrun by Taken.” Taken? Those were the souls of the enemy races that had become something else. Hungry for the Light, and bad news.

“Jeez... I’m lucky I didn’t run into any.” I shook my head. “Never mind me, I have to help her!” She nodded and I thanked her before taking my leave.

~

“Alright Coop, analysis if you please.” Cooper scanned the fox once I got her to lay down on the table in the Last City Hospital. I got a few scratches from her but even my starter armor gave me protection from her claws. Whatever I could do for her I would, I was determined to save her.

“Seems like she has a broken leg, her jaw is a little banged up and she’s missing patches of fur in places.” I nodded and tried to figure out what I could do. Ghosts could only heal Guardians so that was a no. Maybe I could make her a splint or cast for her leg, her fur would grow back eventually, as for her jaw I wasn’t sure.

“Coop, do you know anyone who could make something for her leg?” He thought for a minute and responded.

“Well... Banshee has a 3D printer for weapon parts. Perhaps it could make a cast.” I nodded, that seemed like the only option at the time, but I couldn’t leave the poor baby here.

“Guess you’re comin with us girl.” She stepped back on the table and looked in fear. “I’m sorry baby but we can’t just leave you.” I picked her up before she could run away and Coop transmatted us to Banshee.

“Hey there Warlock, how’s it goin.” He said while holding an auto rifle in his hands. He always held it apparently, I’ve heard he has memory problems so I wonder if he forgets he holds it so much.

“Can I use your 3D printer? I have to make a cast for this fox I found, she has a broken leg.” He just stood there for a minute, probably trying to process what I had just said, then moved to the printer and tapped a few buttons.

“All yours.” He said going back to working on something to his left. I selected the dimensions that I figured would work and the machine spat out a small sock looking object. I fit it onto her carefully and she calmed down a little. First step was down, now to fix up her jaw. Unfortunately all I could do was let it heal by itself and give her some painkillers.

“Thanks Banshee.” He turned around after a minute and waved, then Coop transmatted me back to the Hospital. I found a bottle of medicine that seemed like it would work and gave them to her with some food. They must’ve had drowsiness as a side effect because she was out like a light.

~

Over the past few weeks her jaw healed with help from the pain medications and after a slow process I was able to take the cast off. Her patches of fun had grown back and she was beginning to run around and eat more. I also noticed one day she was born with two tails instead of one and at some point I gave her the name Zoro, Spanish for fox. Call me uncreative but I think it fits her.

I also learned to use that printer of Banshee’s and developed a weapon around my fluffy new friend. A little rocket launcher I like to call the Two Tailed Fox, I sold the idea to Daito and they mass produced them for Guardians to use. I didn’t need the recognition, but I do get a royalty for each one of them sold every month. Basic idea behind it was that it fired two shells, one Void, one Solar that track whatever you aim at. Who needs accuracy when your weapon aims for you? Plus, I created the original so if you ever see me in Crucible watch out, because this thing has two rockets, they’re locked on, and despite how cute the picture of Zoro may be, don’t be fooled. She will scratch if you’re on the enemy team.

[localteaaddict]

Death and the Maiden (Part 2)

Part 1: (Link)

Pairing: RK900 (Nines) x Female!Reader (MobBoss!Nines/Florist!Reader Human AU)

Warnings: Mentions of drug and glamorization of crimes/gang violence in general. I also have no idea how actual mobs operate.

A/N: So...this is the continuation of the MobBoss!Nines/Florist!Reader Human AU which, btw, thank you so much for all the reblogs and likes! Special thanks to @acciork800, @cyberlifeleds and @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 for the kind comments they’d left on the previous chapter. I didn’t know so many people would like this, but boy am I glad I wrote it. I’ve also found a title for this ‘verse, taken from my favourite composition by Schubert.

As always, dedicated to the marvelous @bears-shitty-art for the encouragements and ideas she’s given me.

-

Nines hadn’t had to see through an execution in a long time. He’d never really liked or enjoyed it and he certainly hoped he wouldn’t have to witness the aftermath of one today. He was wearing a new pair of shoes this afternoon; blood on the leather was awfully difficult to get out.

He realized that luck wasn’t on his side when he saw Connor already waiting for him. Standing by the door and dressed just as sharply but with a button or two loose at his collar, Connor looked every bit the more easy-going, carefree counterpart of his twin. As Nines approached, Connor’s face lit up in a boyish smile.

“Brother,” said Connor as he gave Nines a theatrical hug, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“You did see me just yesterday,” Nines couldn’t help but smile a little at Connor’s old antics. The smile disappeared quickly, however, once he sobered in the anticipation of what was behind the closed door. “Did he talk?”

Connor sighed. “Yes.”

“Do you think he was telling the truth?”

“With these turncoats? Who knows,” Connor rolled his eyes. “Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. Either way, he did admit to stealing from the regular shipments and pocketing the money. For himself, he claims.”

“So we’re still missing some red ice for the next delivery......” Nines furrowed his brows. “Markus won’t be too happy once he finds out.”

“We’ll make do; talk to him and the others, use some of your sweet charm on them. They like us,” Connor shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll excuse it for once. It’s not like we haven’t done the same for them before.”

That was true, but Nines had a bigger problem to worry about. Markus and the other leaders of Jericho were relatively easy to appease; the brothers’ mentor, not so much.

He looked straight ahead, cold grey-blue eyes not betraying a hint of emotion. Adjusting the collar of the trench coat, he nodded minutely at the security guarding the heavy door.

It opened. Nines walked in, followed by Connor close behind.

-

You sighed, tapping your aching shoulders lightly with a fist as you straightened your back. Moving fresh pots of succulents and cacti was not an easy feat, especially since there were few dozens of them; quite heavy, too.

Kara smiled apologetically from across the shop. “Thank you so much for all your hard work, (Y/N). I wouldn’t have been able to close on time without your help. I’m sorry the delivery came in late......”

“It’s okay, Kara, really,” you chuckled, waving your hand. “It’s not your fault the guy came in late. We’re just lucky the plants are still fresh.”

“Right,” Kara’s smile was still apologetic; she quickly tilted her head towards the window. The sun had fallen and there was only thirty more minutes to go until the finishing time. The day had been slow today and the trickle of customer had pretty much stopped another half an hour ago. It’d been quiet, hence you were able to move all these pots of plant into the shop from the back.

“When we’re done, why don’t you drop by the cafe? I’m sure Luther and Alice would love to see you.” Kara suggested, and you beamed.

“Really?”

“Yes, definitely,” Kara smiled. “I could ask Luther to make you your favorite drink. In fact, why don’t I call him to save a piece of that cake you like too?”

All that strenuous labor suddenly felt totally worth it. While Kara ran this flower shop, Luther ran a small cafe right across the street; it was the most cozy little coffee place you’d ever seen, and although it wasn’t Instagram-famous, all the good coffee and dessert connoisseurs knew about it. You’d found out about the cafe purely by the virtue of being Kara’s family friend, but you had never been more grateful for the friendship than when you’d first tasted Luther’s chocolate terrine. It was to die for.

As Kara pulled out her cellphone and started to make the call, and you were about to move the last of the succulents with a newfound vigor, the doorbell rang.

You nearly dropped the pot in surprise, not just by the sound but by the person who’d just walked in. You recognized him immediately. The Mysterious Hottie with a Great As―uh, the customer from that early morning.

Kara seemed taken aback by the last-minute customer too. She looked like she was about to just terminate the call, but then you could hear Luther’s faint “Hello?” across the space, so you just waved a hand at her in a silent go on, I’ll take care of this. Kara covered the phone, quickly mouthing a ‘thank you’ before returning to the call.

You put down the pot you’d been holding, lightly dusted off your green shop apron before approaching the man. He seemed no more certain than his last visit, scanning everything slowly and cautiously to take in any changes. He finally faced you, and you could see the quick glint of guilt flashing across his face. You put your hands on your hips in a mock annoyance, smiling to show you didn’t actually mean it.

“Good to see you again,” you said, and he blinked in surprise, as though he hadn’t expected you’d remember him. Pish. As if anyone could forget someone this gorgeous. “Although I have to warn you, we’re closing in twenty-five minutes.”

He relaxed his shoulders minutely, the corners of his lips twitching like he wanted to smile but didn’t know how to. “I apologize for dropping in so late. I’ll make it quick; would you happen to have a cat grass?”

“Cat grass?” You couldn’t help your eyes growing big; the man, to his credit, merely nodded. You rubbed the back of your neck, quickly looking back and around the shop in general. “Uh, let me think......so that’s, like, the plants safe for cats to eat, right? I think I’ve seen them around the shop before, but I’m not sure if we’ve still got them. Would you mind waiting while I do a quick look around?”

“Not at all. Thank you,” the man gave you a little nod; he made such a tiny gesture look so graceful, you couldn’t help but grin like an idiot.

Kara caught the look on your face as you dashed to the shelves at the back; she quickly followed you, a (hopefully) safe distance between you and the mystery man so he couldn’t hear.

“Do you know him?” she asked, point blank. You were still grinning.

“Sort of? He came by few days ago. First customer of that day, actually, bought exactly fifty-nine roses for his mom―I think―and gave me a nice tip, too. Told him he didn’t have to, but he insisted,” you prattled as you searched through the shelves; nope, they weren’t here. “Hey, Kara, didn’t we have some wheatgrass over here?”

“We don’t have them anymore, I think,” said Kara, but she seemed more thoughtful than before, and it definitely wasn’t about the whereabouts of the wheatgrass. Finally, you turned to look at her.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Kara’s smile turned airy immediately, but you swore you could have seen a......shine of knowing shift in her eyes. “We haven’t got wheatgrass in pots, (Y/N), but if he’s okay with the seeds, they’re here.”

“Thanks, Kara!” You happily took the packet of seeds from her; Kara shooed you towards the open area.

“You give that to the customer. I’ll finish tidying up.”

“Are you sure? I could help―”

“It’s fine, (Y/N),” she shooed again, still smiling. “Go on, don’t keep him waiting.”

When you returned to the shop floor, the gentleman was still surveying the area, everything about him just as meticulous as the first time you’d seen him. That bit of dark hair shadowing the forehead just right, a long trench coat over a black turtleneck shirt and matching pants. Damn, but his legs were long and shapely. You’d only seen that kind of legs on supermodels in magazines. No gloves, which was a shame, but his naked hands were pale, with translucently blue veins faintly prominent, his fingers long and elegant. You’d never thought a day would come when you’d use the word beautiful to describe a man’s hands, but never say never, as they said. And you’d never been more happy to be proven wrong.

He noticed you and turned to face you. You tried to erase that stupid, appreciative grin on your face but probably only succeeded in making yourself look more idiotic. Still, you didn’t falter as you held out the packet.

“We didn’t have the grown plant in a pot, but I did find the seeds―well, my boss did, but anyways,” your rambling suddenly stopped when he gave you a smile; a genuine, barely-there-but-still-a-perfect smile.

“Thank you,” he said, that sexy, sexy baritone ringing pleasantly and doing something insidious to your poor heart, “I understand this is a strange request, and at such late hour, too. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Oh, uh―no worries? I mean, that’s what I do! That’s what I’m paid to do. Not that I’m just helping you out for the sake of money! I mean, I―” you stopped, burying your face in your hands. You were so lucky Kara was at the back and only this guy was a witness to you making fool of yourself. This very, very handsome guy who was practically your fantasy on legs. “Ohmygod......”

To your absolute mortification - or surprise? - he let out a quiet chuckle. He gently took the packet from your hands, silently gazing at you.

“Thank you,” he repeated, and this time, it felts more sincere, more heartfelt on your burning ears. “I hadn’t even realized how much I’d needed that today. Truly, I’m grateful.”

“Uhh......for me being silly? Or for the seeds?” you threw a haphazard guess just to cover up how awkward you felt, but he still sounded frustratingly sincere. 

“A laugh.” Alright, at least he sounded like he meant it. You could live with that. You swallowed, nodding, still not looking up from the floor. You could still hear the faint mirth in his voice. It made his voice sound lighter, more humane. You had a feeling that he wasn’t like that often enough. “Today was......difficult, so to speak. So thank you, not just for your help but also for making my day.”

“Or an evening.” You couldn’t help but quip as you raised your head to meet his eyes. The grey-blue of his eyes felt like a quiet storm, or maybe that was just your heart doing a marathon right now. Shit. Not now, heart. “If you’d like to take the seeds, I can help you with the―is that blood on your shoes?”

His face immediately hardened at your blurted words. You’d only just noticed the small, dark stain on the edge of his loafer, and he quickly looked down as well. You didn’t miss how his jaw tensed up all of a sudden, but he merely started speaking again, calm and composed. As if he’d been aware of it all along.

“I was helping my brother bandage his hand,” he explained. “He cut his palm quite deeply and couldn’t manage on his own. There was blood everywhere―I thought I’d cleaned everything,” he shrugged a little, “I guess I missed a spot.”

“Oh. Oh dear, I hope your brother’s alright,” the tension in your shoulders deflated instantly. “That was awfully nice of you to help him. You’re not afraid of blood?”

“No, not really,” he said as he followed you to the counter to make the payment. “My brother would get himself hurt all the time; he’s older, but he’s always been the more careless one as well. It’s nothing new, although it was alarming when he bled all over the carpet.”

"Aw,” you gave him a sympathetic smile, ringing up the price. He politely declined the bag but took the receipt. As you handed him the piece of paper, you solemnly and discreetly added:

“Hydrogen peroxide.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Hydrogen peroxide. Bleach. For getting rid of the bloodstain,” you waved a hand to emphasize, “just spray some hydrogen peroxide on the spot, wash the area with dish-washing liquid, scrub it with warm water and it’s as good as new. You’ll save your carpet in no time.”

He blinked, then promptly bursted into laughter. This was no restrained chuckle like before; this was a full-on, genuine laugh that stunned you, but most of all, even the man himself seemed bewildered by his own reaction. Yep, he definitely wasn’t someone who laughed often. But it was still a very nice laugh, a deep and resonant sound that made something in your chest tickle. You giggled as well, before holding out the receipt at him again.

“Just giving you a valuable tip. Carpets can be expensive to replace, you know.”

“They can be, yes,” he agreed easily. Your fingertips brushed his as he took the paper. As childish as it was, you couldn’t help the thrill that rushed through your heart. “Thank you for your help, the seeds and the advice.”

“No worries. Happy to help,” you gave him a mock salute, to which he nodded. His face seemed much softer now, less uncertain. More alive. 

As he reached the door to leave, he paused, before turning back to look at you.

“How did you know about using bleach to remove bloodstain?”

“I’m a girl, sir,” you gave him your most flat look. “Of course I know how to remove a bloodstain or two.”

[hekate1308]

Going Steady

Destiel Valentine’s story. Enjoy!

Dean Winchester had always known that in order to preserve what he chose to call the freedom of choice, rather than his brother who persisted in naming it “a profound fear of commitment”, he would have to make sure that both he and his current partner would have to abide by certain rules, and until now, it had always worked. No sleep-overs, no meeting the family, and no anger if one happened not to be available.

It wasn’t that he was against a monogamous lifestyle per se, or that he never wanted to get married; it just happened to be easier for him not to have to consider a partner in the mix. His work as a homicide detective kept him busy, and he had to be the world’s best uncle and most awesome BFF to boot.

So really, he had no time for romantic entanglements.

Cas, when he had first met him, had enthusiastically agreed with him. Really, they were a match made in heaven; the cop who now and then felt the need to burn off some energy after a long shift and the artist who was up at all times of the day and night anyway.

Not that you would have guessed from looking at Cas. The guy invariably wore a trench coat and what seemed to be the same suit, and he never had his hair under control. Although part of that might have had to do with Dean spending a got part of their time together running his hands through it (so he had a thing for dark-haired man. Sue him). He’d more than once contemplated sending him to Crowley or Charlie for fashion advice, but the last thing he needed was them ganging up on him.

So far so good. A hot guy agreed to be Dean’s friend with benefits six months ago, and ever since then, he hadn’t had the time or need to go out looking for one-night stands.

Great. Everything was going great.

Apart from the fact that… well…

Somewhere along the line, the rules had been thrown out the window. For example, they spent most of their nights together, switching between apartments.

And there was this slight hiccup where Dean just happened to accompany Cas to his brother’s wedding last month. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t have a plus one and asked him, now, was it? And he looked damn good in a tux. Cas had just needed some arm candy.

Not that his family seemed to have agreed. Dean was invited to Amelia’s birthday party in two weeks’ time.

Cas hadn’t said anything against it, though. Just like Dean, he had never done much to enforce the rules.

Again, so far so good. After all, if they were in agreement, and it seemed that they were, why should he care too much about the rules?

It only left him with a slight dilemma concerning Valentine’s Day. Because, well, Valentine’s Day was very much about couples and commitment, wasn’t it? At least if he happened to be seeing someone, and Dean and Cas certainly saw each other… regularly…

“Darling, I am not exactly the poster child for functioning relationships. What made you think it would be a good idea to ask me about this?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because you’re a lawyer, Crowley, and if I ask Sam, I’ll only get another lecture.”

“Which you won’t be getting if he finds out you asked me for advice instead of him?”

Dean sighed. Having a fling with one of Sam’s colleagues or rather rivals might not have been the best of ideas, but it had been fun and Crowley was still one of his best friends. “I just don’t want to screw things up, you know?”

He realized he’d said the wrong thing when Crowley actually put his glass of Craig down. “Say that again.”

“I – I don’t want to screw things up.”

“Dean Winchester. Are you telling me you actually want to be with him?”

“Well, I – I don’t want things to end” he said rather lamely.

“Come on. You have never been one to lie to yourself” Crowley pointed out correctly. “You know exactly what you want, you just don’t wish to admit it.”

“If I had wanted to hear the truth, I’d have gone to Sam.”

“No, you’d still have come to me, Squirrel, we both know you can’t help yourself where I am concerned.”

“Don’t I know it” he replied, winkling at him.

Crowley grinned back. “Now, are we going to be adults about this or not?”

Dean sighed. “Didn’t think you’d ever jump on the get Dean Winchester off the market train.”

“Oh, trust me, that’s the last train I would ever willingly leave town on but” Crowley shrugged. “You have been very happy lately. Tehri is no denying that. So, despite my burning jealousy, I have to admit he’s good for you.”

He didn’t exactly look like he was dying of a broken heart.

“Alright” Dean said. “I’m going to invite him to dinner on Valentine’s Day, make my patented burgers…”

“He won’t stand a chance” Crowley deadpanned.

“And then I’m just going to tell him that I’d like us to be exclusive.”

“Shakespeare himself couldn’t come up with a more romantic proposal.”

“We didn’t say anything about proposing to him yet.”

“Next year, then. Good to know.”

Sometimes, Dean wondered if all his friends happened to be slightly insane by accident or if he wasn’t strictly speaking normal himself.

Cas accepted his invitation with that gentle smile of his that made his eyes look up, and Dean dared hope it would all end well.

After all, he had the evidence to proof that Cas was into him, right? He certainly raised no objection to them spending so much time together, and he’d enjoyed dancing with him at the wedding, Dean was sure.

And Cas loved his burgers, he’d shown him that often enough.

So Dean bought the best meat he could find and prepared himself for Valentine’s Day.

And if he just happened to buy more condoms too, well, he just happened to be a hopeless romantic.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas” he said, kissing him as he let him in. They had not yet exchanged keys, but if everything worked out… “How did it go?”

Cas had been negotiating the terms for another one of his exhibitions. Dean had accompanied him to the opening nights of his last two, and they had been successes. Of course they had. If you asked Dean, Cas was the most talented artist of their generation.

Then again, he might have been a bit biased.

“Good. The exhibition is going to open next month.”

“Hell yeah. Knew it would.”

Cas smiled at him, then frowned. “Is everything alright?”

Dean sighed; of course he’d noticed. “Got a case today. Open and shut, but… domestic violence.”

Cas winced, then drew him in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well…” It struck Dean that it probably wasn’t very romantic to tell him about something like this on Valentine’s Day. “It’s good to see you” he said honestly.

Cas pulled back, smiling. “It’s good to see you too.”

Another point for the He is going to say yes side.

Dean grinned. “I made burgers.”

“I love your burgers.”

“I know.” Dean almost let an And I love you slip out, then thought better of it.

They ate mostly in silence, apart from Cas’ moans that really did nothing to calm Dean’s heart.

“These make me very happy” Cas told him at one point.

“I’m glad” he answered, wishing he could hold hid hand, but Cas had both firmly wrapped around the bun. It would have to wait.

Eventually, they were finished and Dean got out the champagne. Perhaps not exactly the subtlest of gestures, but he wasn’t going for subtle. He was going all out for happily ever after.

“You are spoiling me” Cas told him as they were cuddling on the sofa.

“Yeah, well…” Dean cleared his throat. “Cas, there is something I have to tell you.”

He stiffened. That wasn’t good.

“It’s nothing – bad, I promise.” Man, where was the speech he’d prepared for this? He’d decided he was going to be suave and charming, but apparently it wasn’t to be. Well, he’d have to go with honesty. “We’ve been doing this for a while.”

“Six months, three days, ten hours and” Cas looked at his watch “Seventeen minutes.”

Wow.

“Yeah, and so I was wondering… I like you a lot. I just wanted to ask if we could, you know, try the whole boyfriend thing. Being exclusive. Going steady.” There. He’d said it.

Cas was looking at him with wide eyes and as the seconds ticked by, Dean decided that the chances of this ending well were dwindling, so he tried to backpedal. “I mean we don’t have to, what we have is just fine by me –“

But then his lap was full and Cas was kissing him and then he whispered “Yes” against his lips.

“Yes?” Dean asked stupidly.

“Yes, Dean. I would love to be your boyfriend.”

Well, he decided as he took Cas’ hand and led him to the bedroom, that had been easier than he had anticipated.

“Dean?” his boyfriend (boyfriend) asked the next morning at breakfast.

“Yeah, Cas?” he asked, immediately pretending that he hadn’t just dreamily watched him making coffee.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

He threw him a mock-glare. “I meant another question, Mr. Teacher.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Stop distracting me”.

“I am not distracting you.”

“Yes you are” Cas grumbled. “It’s unfair how good you look in the morning.”

Dean grinned. Cas was not a morning person, but he wouldn’t have him any other way. “I can try and look uglier, if you want me to.” He didn’t care that he was probably looking like the cat that got the cream., Mostly because that was exactly how he felt.

“Why yesterday?”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you decide to ask me to “go steady”” got his quoty fingers shouldn’t have looked as adorable as they did “yesterday of all days?”

Dean blinked. “Dude, you know.”

“No I don’t, that’s why I am asking.”

“Cas, it was February 14.”

Cas tilted his head to the side. “And?”

Sometimes, Dean could swear that Cas lived on another planet. “Valentine’s Day? You know?”

“Oh.” Cas thought about that for a moment. “I didn’t realize. I just thought you wanted us to have a nice evening together, as usual.”

“But you’re not… mad or anything, are you?”

Maybe it was a bit late to remember Cas ranting how some holidays were just overhyped opportunities for people to fool others into buying stuff they didn’t need.

“No. Oh God, no” Cas kissed him, then grimaced. “It’s only going to be rather cliché to tell people that Valentine’s Day is our anniversary.”

“Oh I am sorry, Mr. Great Artist, I will make certain to propose at a more exclusive date.”

They looked at one another, the blushed and tried to change the subject.

One year later

Despite the jokes Crowley loved to make, Dean was not going to propose on Valentine’s Day. There was no reason to even celebrate it. Technically, their anniversary lay six months before that date anyway.

So, when he came home to find Cas having made dinner, he didn’t think much of it. They took turns cooking anyway.

But later, as he was putting away the dishes after having washed them despite Cas’ protests, his boyfriend cleared his throat. “Dean?”

“Yes?”

He turned around to find him kneeling down, holding a small box.

And as cliché as it sounded, he was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat. “Cas? You do know what day it is?”

“Our anniversary” he said simply.

Oh, of course he knew. But what did Dean care whether they acknowledged the date or not?

It was far more important to answer.

“Come up here, I need to kiss my fiancé.”

[wolf-in-a-suit]

Advanced organic chemistry

Show: Sherlock

Summary: All you wanted to do was pass your exam, of course being the assistant of the famous Sherlock Holmes there is little time for petty little things like ‘graduate university’. Still, right now you start to regret ever having met the detective…

Okay, you could do this! Just one more exam and you were done for this semester, after this everything would be sunshine and rainbows – as much as lingering around various crime scenes could be described that way. But a certain detective would have a field day once he realized that he could drag you around London at any ungodly hour, without such ‘boring’ excuses as a math exam, or your potentially ruined future. Needless to say: You hadn’t told him yet. Your sole confidant had been John, Sherlock would figure it out soon enough and until then you hoped to get at least a good nights rest.

The heard of nervous students began flocking into the exam room like sheep to the slaughter. There was Caroline who, for weeks now, wore backs under her eyes like a fashion statement and Max who twitched every few seconds. Exams this year had been hell. Especially, as the educators had agreed on the fact that their students were lazy and had to pick up their standards. As a result the whole education plan had been overworked, rendering the old exam sheets form previous generations useless.

For many it felt like the smite of god, a punishment for their sins: Sleeping trough an eight o’clock s.t. chemistry lecture. You on the other hand, as the somewhat unwillingly assistant of Sherlock Holmes, had to conform on Sherlock’s standards for employees: Which included excellent chemistry, physics and mathematical skills, to just name a few. You were sure not even Albert Einstein would have the fitting CV. While wondering for the countless time why on earth Sherlock had chosen you, Caroline flapped into the seat next to you. Her eye started twitching when the test were passed around.

Both of you posed a humorous contrast, if one could find humor in such a dire, life threatening situation: She looked like she was going to pass out any second now, while you just peered through the grand windows at the left side of the room, slouching on the uncomfortable wooden chair.

“You have one and a half hour, starting-“ Professor Smith peered at his watch “-NOW!” The race had started and the fluttering of exam pages filled the room. First question: Derive the Van der Waals equation. Easy, though you had to admit the questions kept getting harder, and harder on the next pages. Caroline next to you had suddenly become very still after reading through each sheet, from her almost translucent complexion to her stiff posture you almost mistook her for a client – well technically not client, but ‘object of investigation’ seemed a tat impersonal.

The continuous scratching of your pen did little to ease her rigor mortis. Draw the Morse Potential, you had skimmed over that just yesterday. The diagram almost clear in your mind, but before you could picture it clearly a flash of black outside before window distracted you. However, it was gone as soon as you turned, scanning the window front. Perhaps you were a little stressed after all?

Scratch, the continually assault of bullpens on paper, or lack thereof, filled the warm, suffocating air for the next minutes. Until a new flash of black captured your attention once again. Looking back, you should have expected something like this would happen on your most important exam: Outside, waving like a madman, stood Sherlock, flanked by both John and Mary trying to capture each of his gesticulating arms – probably in order to drag him away. Just on the side, head in her hand, visibly ashamed to be part of the commotion stood Molly.

Sherlock however was oblivious to the petty feelings of his band of chaperones and started to ruck his head, black locks bouncing, mentioning you to come outside. The shuffling of papers ceased somewhat and a murmur of ‘What’s his problem?’ filtered through the room. Had it always been this hot in here? Though you supposed, no one knew that you were the sole recipient of the madman’s attention. Like always you would just ignore his antics, take your test and deal with the murder case, or whatever crime had him this anxious afterwards. Yeah, you could do this!

Just when you picked up your pen Sherlock seemed to get what you were trying to do. So, being the good friend and boss he was, he started pointing and mouthing directly at you. Now about three hundred pair of eyes were trained on you, a reminder of those nightmares were you showed up to class naked.   You looked down at yourself: Nope, not one of those dreams.

“Excuse, me-“ a somewhat snotty voice toned to your right. “- do you mind! I am trying to die here!” You faced Caroline, grateful for a reason to turn away from the window and replied sweetly: “No, I don’t. Just go ahead.” So, maybe Sherlock’s demeanor had slightly rubbed off on you, but that was the only thing enabling you to ignore the commotion outside, plus all these stares, continuing with your exam. Some poor chap of the faculty staff would try to take care of the situation outside soon enough.

Bam! The doors to the room burst open and in strode none other than: Mycroft Holmes himself.

His expensive suit and confident stroll marking him as an exotic particle in the microcosm’s of the university. Shit! What was he doing here? A sudden uneasy feeling washed over you, along with some shame. If Mycroft was here, then something was seriously wrong! Was Moriaty back!? ‘Dear god, please no!’

Professor’s Smith expression was murderous, his glare piercing the advancing man, possessing the audacity to interrupt his sacred chemistry exam. Sherlock’s brother however was, as always, ‘not impressed in the least’ and merely reacted with a raised eyebrow to the seething, small man trying to tell him off. Smith’s outburst was short lived, all it took were a few uttered words from Mycroft and the former defiant teacher folded and started nodding along with everything the British government demanded. Which of course led to: “Mrs.___, please finish your exam at once and come down here.”

At his point you didn’t care that all those eyes followed while you handed your half-finished test back, to great was your anxiety over the possible state of the empire. Judging by the short nod and worried look in Mycroft’s brown eyes it was at least national danger. An oppressive silence followed the exam room doors clanking shut behind the two of you. All you could do was watch the politicians back while walking after him through the entrance doors – that and produce a puddle of sweat. Had his shoulders ever been so hunched? They normally were set so proudly. ‘Please, don’t let it be a war!’

The cold rush of air hit your face and with it came the normal Sherlock intensity: “___, finally! None of these idiots was of any help.” With a flurry of his black trench coat the detective escaped the clutches of Mary and John, grasping your arms in a desperate manner. There was a deep concern in his eyes as well, which only resulted in your stomach making the jump of a cliff. You looked around helplessly and steeled yourself for the answer to your question: “So what is it? Moriaty is back, a hidden bomb, or World War 3?” “Nothing of the sort!” John tried to calm you. Mycroft helpfully added: “Much worse!”

“Come now, are you sure you aren’t just exaggerating?” Molly’s brow had never before been that furrowed. “For once, my dear brother”- Sherlock pronounced the word with such distaste, that by now it was an insult “- is not overreacting.” Shit, you didn’t even own a bunker, how were you supposed to survive a war? “Looks to me that the two of you just need to grow up already.” John’s sole reply was to cross his arms at the theatrical show presented to him.

“Hello! Would someone have the decency to tell me why the world is ending?” The Holmes siblings exchanged a look. “Our parents are coming to visit.”

Silence.

The only thing heard was the rustling of fallen leaves in the brisk wind.

You opened your mouth…

…and closed it again, because you were too astonished, or too angry to even compute how you felt.

Both brothers watched you with equal concern and impatience. Which soon turned to alarm, when you simply spun around and started stalking back toward the front doors.

“I told you this was a bad idea.” Mary addressed the detective who snatched your arm centimeters from the door handle and twisted you back to face him.

“They are coming tomorrow and someone-“ he send a smoldering glare to Mycroft “-promised we would cook for them!” Pushing down the black hole of hate, currently sucking at your guts, you sighed: “So, big deal! Your parents will see that they raised two adults who can’t cook! What about it?” Mycroft Holmes supported by his umbrella wore the look of a man fearing eternal damnation. “Once they realize that, Mummy will stay to remedy that particular ‘lack of skill’.” “Yes, and no one wants that!” It must have been Christmas, for never had you seen these two agree on anything before.

“Mrs. Hudson!?” you supplied. “I am not your housekeeper, Sherlock!” The detective’s impression was scarily near to the original. Your eyebrows rose when you mentioned to the band of friends shivering in the cold autumn air. Which just earned you a scoff: “You are talking about a man whose sole consolidation for his lack of cooking skills is that his wife, is as deadly in the kitchen as her former profession-” “Hey!” though Mary’s shout was rather meek, confirming the accusations “- and Molly who is in charge of the morgue, seemingly also not afraid to raise the demand for places in there, with her ‘chicken parmesan’.”

“It was just that one time, Sherlock!”

Everyone’s eyes were trained on you expectantly, while a sudden grin erupted on your features. This wasn’t going to be cheap. You turned to Mycroft and nonchalantly asked: “What exactly was my grade in that exam?” John and Molly looked somewhat confused at the sudden change of topic, while Mycroft’s eyes glinted, catching on instantly. He pursed his lips. “A C, I’d say.” A suffering sigh escaped your lungs. “So, the equivalent of pasta with plain tomato sauce, then?”

“It could also have possibly been a B.” “Hmm,-“ you pondered this for moment. “Casserole.” The British government erected itself to his full, imposing height. “Considering that we so crudely interrupted your examination an A would be in order.” You nodded at that and mused. “So we need to get all the ingredients for Coq au vin before tomorrow.” This statement was a relieve for all participants, an audible gasp going through John, Mary and Molly.

“So what are we waiting for?” Sherlock clapped his hands. “John still has to clean the dinner table from all his stuff.” “Hold up! The only thing littering the table is your chemistry set!”

And so the small band of misfits made their way through the cold wind to the next tube station. You already knew what your plan for this night was:

Googling ‘how to cook coq au vin for beginners’.

[spnjediavenger]

Chapter 5.5: “What do I do?”

A/N: I had more I wanted to add to the episode i used but chapter 5 was already so long so i decided to do a mini chapter.

Disclaimers: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters

Time frame: set mid S5

Warnings: Season 5 spoilers, MAJOR FEELS

Co-written by: @sarimaposthumous

Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! And much love to those who have liked and/or reposted!!! <3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

             Sam and Dean had stopped in the middle of the night to let Kali out, and stopped again during the day once they were a fair distance from Elysian Fields.

           Elliana was still curled up on Sam’s lap, so he placed a kiss to her temple and rubbed a hand over her arm to wake her up.

           “Ellie, we’re pulling over for a bit,” he said softly.

           Ellie opened her eyes, not feeling any better than she did hours prior. She shuffled off Sam’s lap and exited the car with the boys, Anaya following her.

           Dean pulled the DVD from his coat that Gabriel had given him before going to fight Lucifer and Sam placed his laptop on the Impala’s roof.

           “Let’s give it a look,” Dean said.

           Ellie blinked the tears away that quickly began to sting her eyes. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” she said, trying to cover the emotion in her voice.

           “Do you want one of us to come with you?” Sam asked, worried for the girl.

           “No, that’s ok. I just need a little time alone,” she answered quickly, walking down the short hill next to the car and signaling for Anaya to follow her.

           The boys shared a concerned look but played the video Gabriel left.

           After about 20 minutes of walking, Elliana found herself at a small lake. She whistled to Anaya and they sat down on a large flat rock close to the water and Ellie pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her dog close.

           “I can’t believe it, Anaya,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes yet again. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

           The dog whined slowly and rested her head atop Elliana’s knees, looking up at her with big eyes.

 “Gabriel! Gabriel! Guess what!”

“Ellie! Ellie! What?!” Gabriel mimicked the girl’s excitement.

“I finished my 7th grade classes with 2 B’s and the rest A’s!!!” Ellie replied excitedly. “That’s the best I’ve ever done!”

Gabriel couldn’t help but smile at her. The girl’s enthusiasm put a spark in his chest. And he loved the things like this that she shared with him; even though he wished it could be a parent she was able to share it with.

“That’s awesome, little wolf! High five, kid,” he said, holding up a hand.

 Gabriel touched two fingers to Elliana’s forehead, sending some of his grace through her body to heal the broken bone in her leg and the cut on her shoulder. She let out a sigh of relief when the pain flooded away.

“Alright, for these bigger things, I’ll always try to be able to come and heal you; but let me show you some basic things in case I can’t, ok?” Gabriel said. He snapped his fingers to make a book appear in front of them, teaching Ellie the basics of first aid and eventually how to stitch up a wound.

Elliana listened to him intently, taking in every bit of information and appreciating her guardian’s care for her. She loved every time he was around and cherished every second.

“Hey, Gabriel?” Elliana asked as she was leaned into the archangel’s side. Her head, which was rested on his shoulder, turned up to look at him.

“Yes, ladybird?” he said, looking down into her eyes.

“Why did you pick me? I mean, out of all the prayers that are sent and everything…and you said you kind of avoid heaven-y things…why did you decide to help me?”

Gabriel smiled lightly at the girl’s question. He looked forward again to continue watching the sunset. Though he didn’t stay in one place long, like Elliana, he always tried to come back and have a good time with her. Give her some normalcy that she needed and deserved. Let her act like a kid for a little bit.

“There’s a lot wrong with this world, kiddo,” he said. “And when I happened upon your neighborhood, well…I noticed your house wasn’t exactly an exception. But you,” he continued, turning back to her. “You had something in you that piqued my interest.”

“What was that?”

“Kind of a combination of things. Kindness, strength, good sense of humor. Lighthearted,” he continued, poking her side and making her yelp but smile. “You have heart. You’re something this world needs. And I’d have been damned if I let you get hurt anymore.”

 The sound of fluttering wings broke Elliana out of her flashbacks. She looked to the side, not bothering to turn her head, to see Castiel standing beside her. Elliana sniffed a bit and wiped the tears away that ran down her cheeks.

“Hey, Cas,” she whispered, not bothering to hide the sadness in her voice.

“Hello Elliana.” Cas stepped forward and awkwardly patted her shoulder in comfort, trying to think of how humans usually showed such gestures. He sat down next to her and pursed his lips a bit, thinking of what to do. He knew he should say something but wasn’t sure what best to say or do to ease the girl’s pain, still a bit unaccustomed to human emotion.

“Ellie…” he started, turning a bit to face her. “What happened was tragic. But Gabriel knew what he was doing. And he died doing what he believed was right – protecting you and the Winchesters. I know my brother cared for you, Elliana.”

Ellie shook her head lightly and squeezed her eyes shut. “He was everything to me, Cas,” she said, sniffling again. “I wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for him. He was always there for me and now-“ A sob cut her off and she hugged Anaya closer, burying her face in the dog’s fur. “He was everything to me and now he’s gone,” she cried.

Cas hesitantly reached out and put a hand on Ellie’s shoulder.

“I understand. I’ve lost people I’ve cared about in the past.” After a moment, Cas spoke up again. “Here, I have something for you.” He reached into his coat and pulled something out. “When Lucifer left the motel, I went back and retrieved Gabriel’s blade for you. I thought he would have wanted you to have it.”

Elliana choked out another sob and took the blade in her hands. Anaya sniffed it and let out a quiet whine as well.

Ellie finally looked up at Cas with watery eyes, her lip quivering a bit. “What do I do, Cas? I miss him so much,” she cried. She leaned her head on Cas’ shoulder and lightly grasped onto his trench coat, not noticing him tense up under her.

The angel hesitated before wrapping an arm around her. “We keep fighting. We make sure that Gabriel and everyone who has died in this war hasn’t died in vain. We keep fighting until Lucifer and Michael are stopped.”

Elliana nodded but still couldn’t push away the hurt inside her. “He was my family, Cas,” she whispered, tears still pouring from her eyes.

“Sam and Dean and I are your family too, Elliana. It will take time to heal, but we will be here for you,” Cas said, feeling slightly more confident now. He had taken quickly to Ellie when they had first met; her enthusiasm to learn from him and her spirited personality were precious to him. And he would make sure he would be there for her, as his brother was.

Ellie nodded again and continued to softly cry into the angel’s shoulder, feeling his arm tighten around her just a little bit. Soon, another presence sat next to Ellie and she turned to find Sam sitting on her other side. She gave him a weak smile and he pulled her into a hug.

“Here, kid,” Dean said as he stepped in front of her. She looked up as he knelt down, holding out a small box. “Gabriel mentioned in that video that he put this in the car and told us to give it to you.”

Ellie pulled away from Sam just enough to grab the package and open it up. There were three items in it along with a note.

Elliana

I know you’re gonna be hurting for a while. But I had to protect you. You’ll be alright though, you’re strong – and I know those two idiots and my brother will keep you safe. The amulet in the box will also protect you. And in a most dire time, it’ll lead you the right way. Next is a guitar pick, because I know you’ve been wanting to learn how to play. Lastly, something for my favorite husky ;)

Stay strong. And remember - I love you, little wolf.

-Gabriel

 Ellie pulled out the items from the box, inspecting each one. The amulet was just like the one that belonged to Dean. Elliana wasn’t there to see him throw it out, so she didn’t recognize it. The boys and Cas gave each other a look, but decided against saying anything to her. The guitar pick was white and had a cross on it, making the girl smile fondly. And Elliana giggled a bit as she pulled out the last item; it was a stuffed dog toy – a white wolf.

The boys couldn’t help but chuckle too as she held it out to Anaya, who excitedly took it in her mouth and ran off a few feet with it, bowing down to squeak it. Ellie giggled again at the dog and looked back to the other items in her hand. She flipped the note over to realize it was written on the back of a picture. She had no idea how Gabriel had it, or how it was taken, but it brought a smile to her face.

“You gonna be alright, kiddo?” Dean asked, noticing the smile on her face.

“It’ll take a while,” she admitted. “But I think so. And I have you three as well,” she said, smiling at each of them.

“Damn straight,” Dean said, giving her a hug before they all got up to head back to the Impala. Ellie called to Anaya, who followed joyfully with the toy in her mouth, and walked with Sam and Dean, staring at the photo in her hands. It pictured Elliana hugging Gabriel, both smiling. Ellie smiled at it and thought back to that day.

 “I gotta say, kiddo – I’m really proud of you,” Gabriel said, smiling fondly at Elliana. “You’ve been doing an amazing job. Taking care of yourself. Taking care of Anaya. Hunting things and saving people. You’ve been so strong and smart; you still have so much hope. You’re really doing awesome.”

Elliana smiled bashfully as she looked at him. “I haven’t done it by myself,” she said. “I have you.” She smiled wider, throwing her arms around the archangel. He wrapped his arms around her as well and she melted into him a little more, closing her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I love you, Gabe,” she whispered.

Gabriel’s heart fluttered at those four words – way more than he would ever admit.

“I love you too, little wolf.”

Chapter 6 ->

[jess-irenes-fics]

Aunt May’s Friend

18+ SMUT

You’re Peter’s aunt May’s friend, and really shy. Peter wants to introduce you to Mr Stark and Bruce; he and May think it may help you break out of your shell.

Bruce Banner x Reader

For myself and @star-munch-grimes

“Come On, Ms L/N. It’s okay. They’re my friends.” Peter reaches behind him to take your hand and guide you inside the Avengers Headquaters.

“P-Peter-“ “No, it’s okay, I promise.” He takes your hand and steps into a lab like room. “So, this is the lab....Mr Stark? Mr Banner?”

“Hi Peter....” a soft voice calls out and a man with salt and pepper hair steps out. “Hi, Mr Banner. You’ve grown your hair back.” “Yes, my curls are back.” The man chuckles. Peter looks back at you, you’re looking at your feet. “Who is this?” “This is Ms L/N, shes aunt May’s friend and she is really shy. We thought Tony could help her out of her shell so she would feel more comfortable on Friday.” “Friday?” “Oh, aunt May is taking her speed dating. Come on Ms L/N....Mr Bann-“ “Bruce.” “Bruce is alright.” Peter guides you closer slowly.

“Peter, it’s okay, don’t force her. Hate to tell you, Tony isn’t here and I’m the worst person for that assignment.”

“I-I’m Y-Y/N...,” you slowly reach your hand out and he shakes it gently. “Hi Y/N....May has pretty friends,” Bruce smiles and causes you to blush looking to your feet. He giggles a little. You say Thankyou softly.

“What?” Peter asks. “She said Thankyou....Ms Y/N...May I call you that?” He rubs the back of his neck. You nod. “Ms Y/N, would you like to hang out with me here anyway?”

“I’ll leave you two.” Peter backs away walking backwards and rubbing your arm. “She loves science stuff.”

“Peter wait-“ he was gone.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let the other guy out...”

“The other guy?” You look to Bruce. He only smiles at what he was working on. You smiled, it looke awkward, you knew it.

After a while of silence, and him stealing glances and smiling, he speaks.

“Ms Y/N...”

You look up. “Are you alright?” You nod and smile. “Would you like something to drink? Water, coffee”

You simply shake your head. “You can call me Y/N...” “Thankyou, Y/N,” he smiles. “If you do just say something...okay?” You nod with a smile. “You really are very pretty....,” he says, you can tell he is a bit nervous himself, you can only blush and giggle just a little. He giggles as well and his eyes crinkle on the sides.

“I Uh....I like your hair, it looks soft,” “she speaks,” he chuckles. “I guess I could make some progress, I’m going to grab some coffee....sure you don’t want any?” “O-Okay..”

He smiles and a few moments later he returns but while he is gone another man comes in.

“Hi,” he sees you and immediately smirks coming over to shake your hand. You shake it nervously. “Hello....” “Tony, Tony Stark, you are?” “Y/N....May’s friend, Peter brought me....I-I’ll go.”

“N-No, stay, May has pretty friends-“

“Tony.”

“Oh, hi Bruce.”

“Hi.....here you are Y/N.” Bruce hands you a coffee and your fingers linger over it as he hands it to you, you catch him staring at your eyes.

“Tony....”

“Yeah Brucie?”

“Uhm....get out.”

Tony was about to retort but only smiled and left.

“Y/N....uhm.....do you...want to go Friday?”

“Well.....Is like to find a nice guy....”

“.......would you....maybe....possibly....go to dinner with me Friday night?”

You nod, eagerly to be honest.

“Thankyou.....,” he kisses your cheek.

“Why did you make Tony leave...?”

“Uhm....I wanted to ask you and I didn’t want you to feel nervous....”

“Oh,heh....m-may I?” You slowly start reaching for his hair. He smiles and puts his head down letting you touch it. “It is soft,” You giggle.

He picks you up by your waist and helps you down from the table you sat on. “Peter is....at the door...”

“Oh, I’ll see you Friday, Bruce....” you leave looking back at him.

“Y/N, how do I contact you?”

“Oh, I can meet you here if Peter will bring me-“

“You guys have a date! Yes! I’ll have her here Friday night Mr Banner! Ms L/N, come on, we gotta tell aunt May!” The kid pulls you out.

“Sooo,” Tony enters again smiling and making his eyebrows jump at Bruce.

“What?” He asks confused.

“It’s always the quiet ones, you know?”

“Know what?”

Tony only smiles and pats his shoulder, winking at him.

Friday came as promised, Peter and May dropped you off and left before you could chicken out. You had chosen a pair of black heels and a little black dress. You stepped into the dark laboratory quietly. “Uhm....B-Bruce...?”

He stepped out in a long sleeve black shirt and jeans, he looked a tad uncomfortable.

“You look beautiful...” he says honest and taken aback. “Thankyou, I’ve had this since high school and it still fits,” You giggle. “Are you okay? You’re walking a bit funny?” “Oh, um....Tony insisted on helping me dress and he likes really tight jeans.” He rolls his sleeves up and tries to fix them and it makes you laugh and cover your mouth. He can’t help but smile. “I look ridiculous huh?” You shake your head honestly. “They look nice on you.”

“Well, if you’re ready?” “Yes.” He takes your hand. “Is this okay?” You nod. Dinner at the Italian resteraunt goes amazing and you offer him to come back to your home.

“So uh....Y/N?” He asks as you stepped into the restroom for a minute. “Yes?” “Were you.....looking forward to tonight?” “Why do you ask?” You step out. You had forgotten that you bought lingerie and laid it out on your bed. It was light blue lace over white, you had the matching blue thong. He glances between them and you. You blush, you were caught. “Uh...uhm...” “Put it on?”

You blush as you make your way to grab them. You change into them and fix yourself up as he waits on your bed, sitting at the edge. You come out slowly, strutting a little but rubbing your arm. He was on the phone.

“Tony, I’m in the middle of a date!” He whisper yelled. “Yes, I remember what you said about the quiet ones but what does that mean?? Why are you laugh-I have to go.” He hang up and turned to you, his eyes widened and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You look beautiful, I mean that, May has pretty friends..”

You can’t help but blush. He chews his bottom lip, you can’t stop yourself from doing the same in response.

“Come’er,” he holds a hand out and you slowly come across the room to him. “You like science?” He asks looking at you as he looks up eyeing your body. “Yes?” “I feel like we have chemistry,” you burst into laughter and he chuckles awkwardly, the lights in your room were already off and you were almost straddling his lap. Your head fell into his chest as you laughed and he held it. He tries to form words to redeem himself but you whisper in his ear. “How about we put two things together, and watch one explode?” You but your bottom lip before lick his earlobe a little.

He closed his eyes and his lips parted but he stands. “Y/N....I’m sorry, I can’t....I don’t want the other guys coming out...” “it’s alright-“ “I should go....I’m sorry, I hope you find a nice guy...,” he says as he takes your hand, kisses your cheek, and leaves.

You were heartbroken but needed answers, so the next day you built up courage to visit him at the headquaters without Peter taking you.

“Hi...” He was there alone again.

“Y/N.....Hey....”

“What was that last night?!” You weren’t loud but it was obvious you were mad.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you but-you’re cute when you’re angry”

You blushed. “Bruce!” You tried to hang strong, you were angry. He sighs and places a hand on your chin, forehead to yours, and explains everything about the Hulk.

“I would still like-I don’t think I could ever meet a nicer guy....especially at speed dating...” “Y/N, You have no idea how bad I want this....” “Good! You owe me!” “So cute...” you could see his heart melt, he was giving you eyes as if he were looking at a puppy. “Stop it I’m angry!”

He smiles down then picks you up by your waist, sits you on the computer (? That thing in Tony’s labs that has the screen projections, like the physical part of it). “I’m mad at you!”

“Tell me how mad you are,” he says smiling before kissing you, softly, a quick peck. You blush, “I’m serious!”

“Uh-huh,” he kisses you again, a little harder. “I am! You did hurt me!” “I’m sorry, not what I intended,” he kisses you again, passionately this time. “What’s under the trench coat?” “Nothing because I’m actually quite pissed Bruce Banner! Are you actually even listening?!” Now you were loud.

You looked in his eyes and a grin grew on his face, lust blown, even more so when he pulls the string opening the coat revealing just what you wore when he left the night before and he lets it fall. “Bruce Banner listen to me! I’m getting really really angry!”

It’s like the louder you got, the more he liked it. He was now holding your neck and kissing you, licking your bottom lip just for entrance. “Bruce! I said listen! Damn it!” “Language.” He didn’t purr exactly but his voice got deeper and his neck began turning green, the vein buldging. “That’s hot...” you find yourself whispering and running your thumb, then your tongue over the vein. He backs away.

“What?! You can’t just lead me on and pull away!! Bruce!! What the hell!!?”

“Stand up.” You found yourself feeling hotter and wetter between your legs, and standing.

He steps over and pulls your thong down to your ankles, you step out of them then he scoops you up sitting you where you had been. One of his hands slips into your lingerie finding your breast and squeezing, his other going up your thighs, he gripped on.

“Bruce this isn’t funny!!”

He growls, pushing your legs apart and slides his hand between your legs, rubbing his thumb on your clit. All that you could do now was moan and your head fell to his shoulder before you start sliding his shirt off. You lick your lips as your hand runs across his chest, just the right amount of chest hair. You can’t control yourself from lowering your head and licking his nipple.

He grabs your head by the hair and pulls you back up to look at you. His neck still looked as it did before and after a heated kiss, he pulls away and lowers himself so his head is between your legs and he grips one of your thighs and one of your hips. His toungue licked just teasing at first and you found yourself begging, he turned you around so you were bent with your bum facing him. Gently he rubs your ass and then gives it a smack making you yelp. Then another, he saw how wet you were, it was dripping down your thighs. Another smack, then another even harder, his hands left your bum red and he stopped. Lining himself he plunges himself in bottoming out, he was huge. It hurt and still being angry you reach back slapping him across the face. “That hurt!!” “I’m sorry,” he stood still for a moment. “Move!” You slapped him again. He moved, ramming into you relentlessly. “If you didn’t feel so good!-“ “what?” He whispers in your ear, voice soft. “You’re making it very hard to focus on being mad at you!! I’m trying to make a point!!”

Turning you around he enters again, holds your hips, one leg on his shoulder, watching your breasts bounce and your face.

“Just as soon as we finish we’re having that conversation do you understand me?!” You we’re close, you both knew it, he rode you out through your orgasm then pulled out for his own and you kissed his cheek, his lips, and pulled his hair. “Good, now maybe you’ll listen. I was angry, because you hurt me.....I accept your apology,” you blush at your lap. “May I have my underwear back please?”

He doesn’t answer only shoves them in his front pocket, a string still hanging visibly.

“You’re out of your shell...” you blush head falling in his chest again and he strokes your hair, helping you put the coat back on and tying it.

“Always the quiet ones, Brucie. Hi Y/N,” Tony smiles leaning on the doorway.

“Tony, how long were you here?” Bruce asks, Hulk starting to come out.

“Since about the second time she slapped you.”

You stroked your fingers through Bruce’s hair to calm him. “I’ll see you again Friday?” “Yeah..”

“Bye Tony...” Bruce lifts you and helps you down and you walk out, your heels clicking the only sound.

“Bye.” Tony teases then looks to him with a giant grin. “She came out of her shell”

[beanie-beebo-writes]

Highway To Hell

Series Summary: An all-too-real nightmare and a missing brother sends Dean, Bobby, and Cas on a frantic search. All the while, what may be a bad dream leads to a probable jump-start to Dean's true worst nightmare, Sam jump-starting the end of the world. Set in season 4; consider this a parallel canonverse fic

Previous chapter, Masterlist

Chapter 3

A/N: I believe I didn't post an update this friday, so I'm SUPER sorry about that. My life is super messy rn. Anyway, here it is, a day later 😅

Dean awoke with a gasp and looked frantically around the motel room. He panted and wiped the sweat from his face after realizing where he was. He barely even noticed Bobby watching distantly from the foot of the bed.

"I was going to wake you, but I know you needed some rest, so I figured you could ride it out." Bobby said.

Dean gulped and quickly tried to regain his composure, despite Bobby probably have seeing him at his most vulnerable state.

"How long was I out?" Dean asked.

Bobby looked down at his watch. "About three hours." He replied, pulling his chair back to the small table he was using. "So, while you were sleeping, I figured.. Whatever took or has your brother, it had to leave a trace somewhere. So I searched around in the local papers, scanners, etcetera." -Dean made his way over to Bobby's laptop- "It turns out, demonic omens have been increasing around here within the past couple of days."

"But there was no sulfur, I checked." Dean said.

"Yeah, but we should definitely check it out. I think this may have to do with Sam." Bobby said.

"Why would you say that?" Dean asked.

"These omens aren't your average omens, Dean.. They're mixed in with some stronger storms, and it's almost like they're leaving a direct trail. And they're lasting for days." Bobby explained.

"So maybe a different type of demon or entity?" Dean inferred.

"Correct. Plus, the trail of omens start right here, Pontiac, Illinois," Bobby said.

"..Which is where we are now." Dean finished.

"Mhm. And they end there, Ilchester, Maryland." Bobby said.

"So that's where Sam is." Dean concluded.

"Most likely." Bobby said.

"Then we need to hit the road, now." Dean said.

"Woah woah woah son, we can't hunt something if we don't exactly know what it is." Bobby said, stopping Dean from grabbing his things.

"It's a demon, Bobby. What don't we know?"

"If it's as powerful as it looks, it may need some looking into."

"We have the colt, isn't that good enough?"

"I'm not too sure, but it wouldn't hurt to keep it in mind."

Dean sighed. "Sam could be in serious trouble here, Bobby!"

"Calm down, they wouldn't kill him, not likely. The demons might want him for his abilities."

"Alright, fine. Where do we start?"

                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~

They both spent countless hours searching up numerous different types of entities, as well as trying to trace weather specific omens. Many of the omens derived from different demonic presences, which only made everything all more confusing. Some demons seemed to match the profile, but when summoned, they all seemed just as clueless as everyone else. They were of course put to the test, but either they couldn't care a less (knowing that Dean would likely exorcise them anyway), or simply were clueless.

"Hey, did you happen to contact Ruby?" Bobby asked, cleaning up some of the previous ritual scatterings.

"Yeah, but I guess she couldn't get ahold of Sam either, just like I told you with Cas." Dean replied.

"Well, what if she was covering up?" Bobby said.

They both looked at one another and ran to set up the ritual Dean had performed earlier that day. After finishing preparations, they both exchanged another glance before igniting the contents in the small cauldron. Almost instantly, Ruby appeared in the devil trap, appearing more annoyed than ever.

"Are you serious? Honest to whatever God you believe in, I don't know where your Winn Dixie ran off to." She retorted.

"I say guilty." Bobby said.

Ruby scoffed. "Whatever you believe, I honestly don't care."

Dean gestured to her with the knife, firmly holding it against her vessel's throat. "How would you know we wouldn't summon you for something else?" He asked.

"What do you think I am, stupid?" She spat. "Why else would you summon me twice in one day? Now I told you before, I have no freaking idea where your freaky ass brother is hiding."

"Watch your tone," Dean said through gritted teeth. "before I slit that pretty throat of yours."

"You don't scare me, Winchester." She sneered.

"Dean, just wait a minute, she might be our only lead." Bobby said.

He slowly stepped away from the demon, not breaking eye contact once. He kept the knife at a ready stance, ready for any possible move she could try and pull off.

"I'm gonna ask nicely, only this once." Bobby said. "Where, is Sam?"

"Kiss my ass, I already told you dimwits three times."

"Prove it."

"How?"

"That's for you to figure out."

Ruby glared, not having the slightest idea how she could prove herself in this situation. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in her head.

"Why don't you call your angel lover? I bet he could figure out if I was lying." She said.

Before Bobby and Dean could consider the thought, the flap of wings echoed into the room. They all turned to the trench-coated angel, raising their eyebrows; Ruby smirked knowingly.

"No word on Sam." Cas said, slightly out of breath.

"Well hello to you too, Cas." Dean remarked.

Ruby sarcastically motioned her head forward and cleared her throat.

"While you're here, Cas, I was wondering, could you confirm something for us?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, sure." He replied.

"Ruby?" Dean turned around, gesturing for the demon to continue.

"As I was saying to these hard-heads, I have absolutely no idea where Sam was or is. He seems to have warded off every major creature that could possibly track him down, so I can't go and find him." Ruby explained.

"Well, is she lying?" Dean asked.

"I don't think she is, Dean. I just finished talking with Crowley." Cas said.

"And?"

"And he said that he can't get to Sam either."

"Why would you believe The King Of Crossroads?" Bobby asked.

"Because I threatened something in his possession; he admitted this against his will." Cas replied.

"Okay, another dead end." Dean sighed.

"Wait," Bobby said, turning to Ruby, "When did you last see or hear from Sam?"

"The last time I both heard from him and saw him was over a week ago." She said.

"What for?" Dean asked defensively.

"For demon blood, we were preparing to take down Lillith." Ruby admitted reluctantly.

"What?!" Dean fumed, closing in on her.

"We had no other choice, Dean." She started.

"Oh yes you did, don't pull that with me." He seethed.

"Really?! Because do you know what Lillith has been doing? She's on the final seal. She could break a number of them, at any second." Ruby spat.

Dean started to walk away but then turned back to pound her face into a battered tomato. The only things that held him back were two pairs of arms behind him.

Ruby smeared the blood off of her vessel and flipped her stray hair strands back onto their original sides.

"Punch me again Dean, I bet all of that angst will definitely help you find your brother." She remarked.

"Shut up you bitch!" He shouted, still struggling in Bobby and Cas' grasps.

"Dean, enough. This isn't necessary." Cas said.

"Cas is right, boy. Come on, use your head." Bobby agreed.

Dean grunted as they pulled him onto his feet, anger still coursing through his veins.

"Is that all?" Bobby asked.

"No, but the knight-in-shining-armor wouldn't let me finish." She responded, "Sam kept demanding for more blood. I don't know if it was for the addiction, or if he was going to practice on his own, but he wouldn't tell me."

"Don't tell me.." Dean started.

"He had to get better and I thought maybe some self-practicing would enhance him. So I supplied him, with gallons of the stuff. I got permission from some peers, and we all chipped in." She explained.

"You stupid bitch.." Dean whispered.

"I tried texting him, to ask for progress, but he never got back to me, not once. I couldn't even track him down, not for this whole week." Ruby finished.

"Yeah, that's great." Bobby said.

"So maybe he is just running around rampant from the demon blood. Do you know if he got more?" Castiel asked inquisitively.

"No, I don't. I know just as much as you do." She said.

"So we don't even know if he is in Ilchester." Dean said to Bobby.

"Yeah, but it's worth a shot anyway." Bobby said.

"Are you nuts? What if he isn't there? We don't have any idea how bad this is for him right now! He drank gallons, Bobby." He said.

"I get it, I do. Sam's your brother. But we have to treat this like you were hunting the demon. You didn't know what you were looking for, remember?" Bobby reminded him.

"Yeah, but-"

"But nothing. You followed anything remotely weird, and eventually figured out a pattern. Maybe this is what we need to do with Sam. We will find him, okay?"

Dean sighed and looked at the ground. This was always the hardest, staying calm while your other half was in danger. Without Bobby, he probably wouldn't be able to.

"Okay." Dean said quietly.

Bobby smiled and patted Dean's shoulder in reassurance.

"Awe, how sweet. Now, can you let me go?"

Castiel walked over to Ruby, pulling out his angel blade from his sleeve. She looked up slightly, staring straight at the silver blade. He glared momentarily before kneeling to the floor and scraped off some of the trap's paint. Cas slowly stood up, looking her straight in the eyes. Ruby glared back at him and disappeared.

"Would you like me to come with you?" Cas asked.

"I think that would be a smart idea, could you ward all of us?" Bobby asked in response.

Cas raised his palms as a bright light filled the room, causing slight discomfort in both hunters. The light quickly faded and the men searched their bodies for the warding.

"Is that it?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, you are warded from the inside." Cas replied.

"Alright then, let's go." Dean said with slight pain to his voice.