#maleficarium

[maleficariun]

[sergeantsporks]

so if Luz still wants the isles to be ‘happy fantasy fun’ I Doubt she is from the 1600s. Early 1900s mayybe a bit before then? Unless the reason she ran away to the isles was because she wanted to know ‘what the witches were doing, maybe it’s actually pretty cool over there :)’

Luz heard stories about the faerie realm and instead of taking away a "they're dangerous, and only the luckiest/smartest/purest of heat get out of these interactions on top" message, went "Whoa, that sounds fun." She focused a little bit more on the helpful spirits/fairy godmothers/talking forest creatures and the turning-a-monster-into-a-hot-girlfriend parts than the they-will-trap-and-enslave-you-and-drag-you-to-hell-if-you-misstep parts

But it's also just yeah, she's a weird, queer girl and so... the weird, othered creatures from a story have her sympathies and draw her attention. She doesn't fit in at home; maybe if she stands in this faerie circle she'll find who she belongs with. Maybe if she follows that owl into that foreboding archway, someone will understand who she is.

Idk, I feel like even BEFORE the rise of Modern Fantasy And Fairy Tales, there are still PLENTY of stories where mortals marry a magic creature, and they go on quests where they are both aided and foiled by magical means, so it's not like everyone always thought magic stuff was bad forever until we hit modern times. It could be dangerous in those stories, sure, but plenty of protagonists were demigods or used magic. She read the Odyssey instead of the Malleus Maleficarium, so sue her.

[thywheelof-fate]

Swears with an Upraised Hand

His tongue was a silver knife as the group traipsed about for a cure, but something about the choral vibration of his patron's voice made him feel childish. It was not the same as the Butler, whose overwhelming subservience prompted Lennox into brattily murderous responses. No, his patron was something else. 

If his questionable brain juices were reduced into more of a slurry, he might say that the affection was familial.

Or, Lennox Amafete and the peculiarity of being a warlock who has forgotten precisely what his pact is. Along with most everything else.

۝

"...and if he finds the novice or disciple willing, then the devil stretches out his hand, and so does the novice, and she swears with an upraised hand to keep that covenant. And when this is done, the devil adds that this is not enough..." - Malleus Maleficarium, on making deals with the devil

۝

Whatever weapons they can find, it only takes Lennox tracing his scarred fingers over the grip once before it settles in his hand like he had been holding that very weapon for all his life. 

It's an amusing parlor trick to grab Astarion's knives and throw them with harpy-eyed accuracy, then get tossed Shadowheart's mace and slam through the stuffed torso of their camp's training dummy. He and Wyll would have fierce spars while trying to one up the other. Slow nights were spent rummaging through the camp chest and trying their hands at every spare weapon they could find. 

Lennox looks up from where he was wiping off his great sword. The spot where Wyll's tent used to be was barren now, a dumping grounds for the group to throw their packs. Even the extra training dummy was carted away in a move Lennox might have called petty if he had cared any more.

He tilts his head, before going back to cleaning his weapon- a hefty great sword that hums with flames. A pretty prize ripped from the hands of a cambion as they hurtled through Avernus. 

A particularly stubborn piece of dried blood remains on the guard. Lennox picks at it with his nail, a slight shudder caressing his spine as he remembers the empty eyes of the goblin that had last been skewered on it. 

The Urge scents the battlelust immediately. It lingers, whispering lovely thoughts of blood and more blood into his pointed ears. Indulging in a gruesome daydream is tempting, but possibly losing himself in a haze of red is not. Lennox grits his teeth and sets about scrubbing the sword with more ferocity.

It is not the murder that bothers Lennox so much as the fact that his body escaped his control. Where memories once were are barely impressions, snippets of his once grand carnage, so there can be no telling the difference between a compulsion and an old habit. Perhaps this flesh of his had never known the difference. 

A headache grips him then, as it often does when he dwells too long on the past. His patron's touch on his mind is light and soothes. Where the tadpole burrows and the Urges rip, their fiendish influence feels more akin to a sharpened claw dragging along the still waters of a stream. Dangerous, but far more subtle about it. Far more cheeky about their motivations. 

Sleep.

And far more smothering with their infernal concern for his well-being. He responds with a tired thrum of annoyance, sending the feeling off to whatever devilish being holds his pact. 

Heh.

They always giggle when he thinks of the pact he cannot remember making. The details upon which his soul is staked are lost in the cesspool of his mind, but he could not help but notice that the almost friendly cooperation he has with his patron is different than how Mizora treats Wyll-

Treated? He didn't know. Not anymore. He had lost the right to know when he gave into the blood song, to the sharpness of the drow general's smile, and the sweet, exhilarating joy of tearing down something he helped fix. 

Flashes of cutting down the tiefling's strongest play in his mind's eye. The image of Zevlor's stricken face as Lennox announced himself as a nightmare makes the Urge purr. The druids, their forces already decimated when he exposed the snake and her lies, had barely provided a satisfying end to the slaughter. At the time, he'd been drowning in the ecstasy of murder, but it just felt sloppy now. Killing the lone goblin left at the camp while Minthara marched the rest to Moonrise had not satisfied his restlessness at all. 

He yanks his patron closer, feeling the warm rumbles that burn deeper into his being than the Urges could reach. 

Mm?

Show me. Again.

Spoilt little prince.

He did not dignify such name calling with a response. His tongue was a silver knife as the group traipsed about for a cure, but something about the choral vibration of his patron's voice made him feel childish. It was not the same as the Butler, whose overwhelming subservience prompted Lennox into brattily murderous responses. No, his patron was something else. 

If his questionable brain juices were reduced into more of a slurry, he might say that the affection was familial. As it were, his patron's action served only to rankle him.

Fine, fine. Do not sulk.

His vision tunnels and blurs. He is not sitting on a fallen tree, feet propped up on his pack as the firelight casts a dim glow on the rest of camp. The balmy evening is replaced by a cavernous chill. A hand cards through his hair, almost too rough and possessive. Like a nipping pup being soothed. The fingers don't feel quite like flesh, as if the person is wearing gloves or a gauntlet of some kind.

The figure says something- a phrase he cannot quite catch, a handful of words that his patron refuses to unravel more than they already have. But the meaning of the sound matters little when Lennox can already feel every tensed muscle melt into content. 

Dark hair. A velvet rich voice. Occasionally the memory clears enough to reveal a wicked half-smile or the shadow of stubble. 

In his more pathetic moments, Lennox tries to recreate the figure in the silhouettes of the spawn and the wizard. Carnal pleasure and romance only soothe the craving for a short while.

Soon enough, Lennox begins to drift to sleep, half lost in memory and exhaustion. 

[fade-and-loathing-in-thedas]

Some more Amell Family Face Claims

Avacyn Amell (Jaime Murray)

A former tranquil mage turned an avenging angel after being freed from tranquility by a spirit twisted by rage.

Remus Amell (Harry Lloyd)

A formally timid mage turned into a torturer at the behest of a fear demon he's in debt to. He's the nightmare you fear now.

Akroma Amell (Cara Delevingne)

Grey Warden, Hero of Ferelden, Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, Abomination, Maleficarium—so many different names and titles, yet there are so few who know the curious person behind them.

Roman Amell (Alexander Ludwig)

An apostate hiding in plain view as a military leader in the Toussaint Mercenary Company, his envy knows no bounds.

Arcadia Amell (Kristen Bell)

A former Senior Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle and the current leader of a group of rebel mages in the Hinterlands, you'd never suspect she's been possessed by a Pride demon for the last 15 years—well, other than her attitude.

[mt-nynj-queer]

@maleficarium

[carica-ficus]

✨September JOMP challenge✨ - 01/09/2023 - 🌿TBR this month🌿

The challenge just started, and I'm already late... In my defence, I like to take my photos with natural lighting, but I spent most of my afternoon yesterday out of the house, so I missed my chance.

I don't actually stick to some personal TBR schedule. I pick my books very sporadically. But I do know I'll be reading the next book in the "Witch of Grich" series by Marija Jurić Zagorka called "Malleus Maleficarium".

I might just participate in the Croatian SF Readathon that Morina Kutija introduced earlier today. There's only 3 prompts, so it's very time friendly, and I've been meaning to read some more speculative fiction by Croatian authors anyways.

Speaking or Morina Kutija, I am definitely going to be reading through the new issue during this month as well! Unfortunately, since it is a Croatian speculative fiction magazine, most of the stories are on Croatian, but I might just share the ones available on English (they are all free to read on their site 😊).

________________________________________________________

What's on your TBR this month?

[poisonerspath]

Clavicula NOX- Maleficarium Nigra Issue 5 Magic and Mayhem 2014 including articles by Gemma Gary, Sarah Anne Lawless and Nikolaij de Mattos Frisvold. Part of the recent book update website link in bio. - - - #occultbooks #witchcraft #traditionalwitchcraft #occultbooks #occultpublishing #folkwitchcraft https://www.instagram.com/p/Clj7aAgL1-Z/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[possessedscholar]

God bless the people who recognize shit from old books in Witch From Mercury.

(Me pointing out the Malleus Maleficarium reference in the prologue isn’t counted there, I had to have that pointed out myself.)

[coconutcows]

Thanks for sharing your knowledge; Boulton and Park looked like they had some serious swag! It's so frustrating how they had all these heavy charges for something so innocuous as wearing dresses, though... Not to mention all the junk they got hurled at them for being two men dating. :<

It reminds me of the Salem Witch Trials, actually; where no matter what the "guilty" party said/did, it would be twisted against them by the prosecutor and judge. Fun fact! Did you know that Heinrich Kramer, the infamous author of the Malleus Maleficarium and the primary driving force behind the witch hunts, actually faced huge criticism for his beliefs, even back then? Both the Bishop of Brixen and the theologians at the Faculty of Cologne thought his methods were unethical and vile!

I dunno, I just found that really interesting. It's easy for people in the present day to think everyone in the past shared the same beliefs, when that couldn't be further from the truth! So Boulton and Park probably had a lot of people in their corner back then too, even if it didn't seem like it. Thanks for listening to my little essay btw. I hope you don't mind that I bounced around a lot lol ^v^

Haha it’s no problem, although it’s def not my knowledge so much as an article I stumbled across, but I think every reminder that drag and crossdressing and many other queer flavours have been around for a long time is something worth sharing.

I did not know about Heinrich Kramer!!! I don’t know much about the Salem Witch Trials in general, but it doesn’t surprise me in the least that he was highly criticized, if we never had people who thought forwardly in the past we would still be there. As long as people fight for things like respect and dignity and rights for all we’ll keep moving forward, regardless of the speed we will go forward.

And no problem!!! Thanks for sharing your knowledge with me, believe me I have no problem with people bouncing around when the talk, I do it all the time!!! I just appreciate people willing to talk and share with me :)

[yarismoon]

[maleficariun]

[mortispoxi]

The Malleus Maleficarum is what no pussy does to a motherfucker...

[grace-nakimura]

the only real reason why i don’t romance Sebastian is bc i can’t hurt Anders and i also hate hurting Sebastian I JUST LOVE THEM ALL EQUALLY

[kellykline]

Hammers

3.09 Malleus Maleficarium

4.07 It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

5.19 Hammer of the Gods

8.02 What's Up, Tiger Mommy?

10.03 Soul Survivor

15.14 Last Holiday

[mt-nynj-queer]

@maleficarium

[crashdevlin]

Radius- Part Two of Two

Author’s Note:  Catch up on Geometry here,

Summary: Y/n gets called in when Becky tricks the Winchesters into attending the first annual Supernatural Convention, where she officially meets Prophet Chuck and Fangirl Becky Rosen and gets herself into a bit of trouble.

Pairing(s): Dean x Reader (mention of past)

Word Count: 5709

Story Warnings: addiction, depression, attempted rape, over-the-top magical violence against guys who kinda deserved it, 

"Hey, we've got prophet problems." Dean said, as soon as your phone beeped to say the line had connected.

"Hello to you, too, Winchester."

"Sam got a text from Chuck last night. You remember prophet Chuck? You flirted with him in the same future universe where Lucifer told you to stay with him."

You growled, feeling betrayed. "Cas told you?"

"Cas tells me everything. That's just the relationship we've got. Chuck said 'life-or-death'. Sam thought we might need some extra oomph. You wanna bamph to me, give us a hand?"

"Fine. Gimme a minute to grab a bag." You said, before shutting down your phone and reaching under your altar for a spell component bag. You tucked your Glock 26 into a holster under your left arm and put an extra magazine in your inside pocket. You tapped your wrist three times and circled the symbol there.

You appeared next to Dean as he stood glaring at Chuck. "You told us to come." Dean growled.

"Ah, no, I didn't." Chuck responded, throwing you a nervous look.

"Yeah, you did." Sam insisted. "You texted me. This address, life-or-death situation. Any of this ringing a bell?"

"I, I, I didn't send you that text."

"We drove all night! I called in..." Dean didn't finish.

"I'm sorry. I-I-I don't understand what could... oh, no."

"What?" Dean growled.

"Sam! You made it!!" A shrill voice squealed from the top of the stairs. A small blond woman in a teal sweater-vest ran down the stairs.

Sam seemed to search for the memory attached to the face. "Oh, uh, Becky, right?"

"Oh. You remembered." The woman said, enamored. "You've been thinking about me."

You scoffed as Sam looked around for help. "I..."

"It's okay. I can't get you out of my head, either." Becky finished.

"Becky, did you take my phone?" Chuck accused.

"I just borrowed it... from your pants."

"Becky."

"What? They're going to want to see it!"

"See what?" The brothers asked, simultaneously.

"Oh, my god! I love it when they talk at the same time!" Becky squealed.

You laughed. "Yeah, that's pretty great." You said, as a man walked out of the building to stand at the top of the steps.

"Hey, Chuck? Come on, pal. It's showtime."

Becky ran up the stairs, excitedly. Chuck turned to the Winchesters. "Guys. I'm sorry." He nodded vaguely. "For everything." He said before following Becky up the stairs. The hunters looked at each other before starting up the stairs, warily.

"Hey. Welcome to whatever shit-show this is, Christina." Sam said.

"I guess I just can't say 'no' to a Winchester... even when we're arguing. Speaking of... Dean?" The older Winchester turned to you at the top of the stairs. "I'm sorry. I should have just told you, but... it's hard, you know? Lucifer is a big player and even if that future was a construct of Zachariah's imagination... the angels have knowledge of events that haven't happened yet and it scared me. The thing with Croatoan, with Lucifer asking me to stay with him... I thought it'd be better to keep it to myself. Anyway... sorry."

Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you into the hotel. "We ready?"

"Sure." You said, pulling out of his arm and holding the door open for the boys.

As you all walked in, a large man wearing a brown leather jacket and a blue button up walked by them carrying a mug of beer. "Hahaha. Hey, Dean. Looking good."

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked the guy's back.

The man turned back around. "I'm Dean, too. Duh."

You smirked and followed the big guy. Chuck plus Becky plus Random Guy Cosplaying as Dean... that equals fan convention. "Hi." You said, sitting in a chair across from the guy. "Your costume is amazing. I mean, you might wanna try to weather that jacket a bit. Dean's had his since he was a teen and John had it for years before that, but the rest... Where'd you get the amulet?"

The guy looked down at the necklace and smiled. "Oh, there's this fan in Sweden, he makes 'em. Cost forty bucks, plus shipping, but..." He fiddled with the necklace. "It makes the costume. You... didn't cosplay?"

You looked down. "How do you know? Maybe I'm a random hunter. Or a witch."

The man's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah. In Malleus Maleficarium, the witches were just wearing civvies."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Dean. I'm sure you'll try to kill me at some point." You said, standing.

"It hasn't started yet, so... my name's Demian."

"Christina." You said, offering your hand.

He took it with a smirk. "You know that there is a Christina that's a witch in the series."

"Oh, really? Shoot, you just handed me my cosplay, then."

"Yeah, I mean, she's never described. It's a one-off mention in Malleus, but, yeah, Christina the Witch."

"Well, all right. I will be Christina, the witch today." You said, dropping his hand. "I'll see you around, Demian-Dean."

You walked over to Sam and Dean, who were glaring at the little blond woman. "It's awesome! A Supernatural convention. The first ever."

"Come on, boys. Blend in. Act like you like your lives." You said, walking into the auditorium and taking a seat in a chair near the back.

***************************

You sat in the audience as Chuck answered questions about guns and Ruby and then someone asked, "Yeah, at the end of the last book, Dean goes to Hell. So, what happens next?"

"Oh. Well, there lies an announcement, actually. You're all going to find out." Chuck said, before looking nervously at Sam and Dean. "Uh, Thanks to a, a wealthy Scandinavian investor, we're going to start publishing again."

You flinched as the room erupted in cheers and screaming. You looked back at the boys, who looked like they were about to jump the stage and tear Chuck apart. You stood, stepping between them and putting a hand on each of their backs. "I have two words for you. Guardian Archangel." You said, before walking back into the hotel's foyer.

Sam followed you out into the open area. "Hey."

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Lucifer asked you to stay?" He whispered, pulling you a little away from the group.

You looked up at him, before sighing deeply. "This is why I didn't want to say anything about it, Sammy. This is..."

"Is that why you've been weird with me, lately?"

Your eyebrows scrunched together. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Is it because Lucifer was wearing me? Did he do something to you?"

"Sam, I don't wanna do this, especially here." You whispered, backing away.

"Yeah, right now might not be the best time, but... Christina, you've been awkward with me since you've been back. You... you used to call me 'sweetheart', you barely look at me, anymore. You put your hand on my back in there and that's the first time you've touched me since you've been back from the future. Unless you count when you sat in me while I was the Impala, which I don't." Your back hit the wall and you had nowhere else to go as Sam crowded you. "Christina, talk to me."

You stared at your feet, trying to ignore the proximity. "Sammy... Lucifer, he just... he-he told me some things, a-about you. I just thought it'd be better to... back away a little."

It was Sam's turn to scrunch his eyebrows together. "What'd he say?"

"I... Sam. Don't...." You practically begged him to leave it alone.

"Christina, what did he say about me?" Sam demanded.

"He said you've wanted to fuck me since back when you still thought I was a lesbian." You whispered, furiously. You didn't dare look at his face, your eyes closing tightly. "He said that me calling you 'Sweetheart' turned you on, and that when I breathed my power into you... You almost took me in that honeymoon suite, instead of Ruby."

Sam backed away, his hand going to the back of his neck to rub nervously. "That's..."

You opened your eyes and bit the inside of your lip. "It was better to just back away, try to forget it."

"Okay. Maybe... let's do that." Sam said, walking off toward Chuck and Becky. You watched from the corner as Dean and Sam growled at the prophet.

You moved to join them just in time to hear, "Uh, Becky. Would you excuse us for just a second?" from Chuck.

Becky nodded. "Uh-huh!" and Dean and Sam walked away to a door leading to a hallway. You didn't follow, flopping into the chair Chuck had vacated. "So... who are you?" Becky asked, her voice high pitched and annoying.

You pulled Chuck's drink off of the table and took a sip. It was cloyingly sweet. "Christina. Y/l/n. Merry meet, Becky Rosen." You said, before forcing more of the drink down your throat.

"Oh! Witch Christina, from Sioux Falls!  Dean mentioned you in 'Malleus Maleficarum'. Sam said you were like Glinda of Oz, and then Dean spent a paragraph musing about a 'cold night in a Dodge Charger'."

Your eyes widened, having never considered that something like that might have ended up in one of Chuck's books. "Wow. That's... Oh my god!" You took another drink and hoped that the liquor in it would present itself soon. "How graphic were his musings?"

"It was pg-13, at best. I think the most graphic part was when he was wondering about how you got so good at, um, deep-throating."

"Wow. Oh, my god." You repeated.

"Yeah, Chuck didn't describe you, at all. I wasn't expecting a witch to be so pretty. It, uh, would've made me nervous to have you over in that corner with Sam, but I know you're a Dean girl."

You rubbed a hand across your face. "You know, most witches are pretty. Magic works better than makeup." You looked at Becky through Becky's own eyes.

You expected the blond fangirl to freak but she just scoffed, excitedly. "Oh, my god. That's so cool! Can you look like anybody?"

You shook the glamour away. "Anyone of a similar body type."

"What was Dean like in bed?" Becky asked the question like it was a completely normal thing to ask a woman she just met.

"Excuse me?"

"I write fanfiction and... I've always written Dean as an aggressive lover, 'push you into a wall and leave bruises' kinda guy. The perfect companion to Sam, who's just a giant Teddy bear. You think I characterized them right?"

You blinked at the blond for a few moments before taking another drink. "You know that this is my ex-boyfriend and his little brother you're asking about? And Dean in high school is not the same as Dean now."

"Well, how was he back then? I could do a high school au." You were saved by Chuck walking up, alone. Becky looked around him, trying to find Sam. "Where are they?"

"They ran off because the hunt started. I don't think they... uh, get it." Chuck answered, looking at his near-empty drink in your hand. Becky jumped up and ran for the door Chuck had come through, so he took her seat and picked up her abandoned drink. "I'm glad you're here, uh, can I talk to you about something important?"

"Shoot. This yellow thing is starting to kick in, so..."

"Uh, so... I've been writing, you know and... someone is gonna help get me published again. Starting from when Dean got pulled out of Hell... that's uh, 'Lazarus Rising', but..."

"Chuck, you're rambling."

Chuck took a deep breath. "Well, the second book is... the working title on it is 'Are you there, God' but, uh, it's about the Witnesses, so... you're a pretty prominently featured character. So, you're on the cover?" It came out like a question.

"Oh, man. Tell me that I'm just as unrecognizable as Fabio and Duke Nuke'em out there."

Chuck cringed. "I got with a better artist this time. And my... publisher insisted on some... aesthetic choices. I mean... Do you wanna just see it?" Chuck asked, reaching between your legs and pulling a folder out from under his chair. As soon as you leaned forward, he opened it. It was drawn in the same Harlequin Romance style that the covers of the other books had, but the face was undeniably yours. You were standing in Bobby's front yard with a shotgun. You leaned down to examine it, noticing that even the scars matched. The only problem is that you were dressed in all black, necklaces, rings and bracelets covered in pentacles and Gothic symbols.

"Chuck, this is... kinda offensive. I haven't been Goth since middle school when I was alone cause no one would talk to me after..." You faltered as you realized that none of that happened. You couldn't even say for certain whether you were alone in middle school.

"That's gotta be hard, never knowing what's real about your past." Chuck said, sympathetically.

"You know about that?" You asked, quietly.

"Yeah. I mean, I see a lot of stuff about people tangentially related to Sam and Dean. You and Cas... definitely saw that. And, you know... Dean was there, too."

"Thanks for never writing about the... the Tessellation." You whispered as someone walked up to the table to let Chuck know he was going to be needed on the stage soon.

"Yeah, that was just self-preservation, really. I have to keep as many fans as possible, you know, and if I write Dean as anything other than the hunter archetype... Well, you know."

"Yeah. I do."

Chuck looked around like he was trying to get up the courage to say something else. He cleared his throat. "So you went to the future too and... I saw something, in that alternate universe that Zachariah made... in the future?"

"Yeah?" You said, suspiciously.

"You and Lucifer? What was up with-" Chuck stopped as a knife was discreetly pressed against his thigh. "Hey, I-I'm not gonna mention it, I-I promise. Won't write about it, either."

"Chuck, this is the most important thing in my whole life, okay, that no one finds out that I stayed. If you ever tell, I will destroy you, archangel be damned."

"I swear." Chuck groaned. You put the knife back into its sheath and let out a heavy breath. "But, I mean... They can tell you're different. All of 'em. Are-are you just gonna keep hiding behind the Croatoan thing?"

"That's exactly what I'm gonna do." You took a drink of the yellow thing. "I haven't even met Lucifer here." You whispered back.

"And when you do?"

"Have you seen that?"

"No. But it's gotta happen."

"Why? Because fake Lucifer that Zachariah created said we knew each other? That doesn't mean anything."

"That fake Lucifer is the reason you know why you can beat the virus. He's the reason that... dark spot on your soul has grown."

"He's the reason my power has grown, too, so remember that, Chuck." The words came out slow, with no feeling.

"You feel guilty... don't you?" Chuck asked, leaning forward.

You blinked at him, then shook your head slowly. "I didn't mean to stay." You whispered. "And I didn't mean to... keep staying. I kept telling myself, 'I'll leave tomorrow' and then every tomorrow he'd come to me with something new. Things were bad there, but... they could be so good sometimes."

"And Lucifer? He was good?"

"He never hurt me. He just... made me better... or worse. I'm stronger now. I'm..."

"I think, maybe, stopping would be the best idea here, Christina. I mean... you were there for Sam's thing with the demon blood. You know how the magic thing can affect you. Maybe, you should back off, play analog again. Do you even realize that you've glamoured away your scars?"

You looked down at your cleavage, smooth skin greeting you. You sighed and stood. "I'll take it under advisement, Chuck. You fix that picture. Keep the jewelry and I won't complain about the clothes, but... Red lipstick, shades of brown for the eye shadow." You said, walking over to the bar.

"A bottle of beer, two whiskeys and a pint." You ordered. As Sam and Dean came to sit on each side of you, you slid the beer bottle to your right and one of the shots to your left. The guys nodded at you appreciatively and took the alcohol. You downed your shot and pulled the beer mug to your lips. "So, fake ghost hunt. How was that?"

"Shut up. Just... shut up." Dean growled.

"Right. Look... I'm gonna go." You said, standing.

"Go?" Sam asked, turning to you. There was a sadness in his eyes.

"Guys... this isn't a thing. I can understand you guys staying because... this is your life on the page, but... I'm a single paragraph in a book about you putting down witches. I'm cool to leave. I'll, uh..."

"How you planning to get back to Sioux Falls?" Dean asked, barely looking up from his shot glass, which was being refilled by the bartender.

"I'll scrounge up some wheels, don't worry about it."

Sam stood, a wall of muscle stopping you from heading for the door. "You should wait. You've been drinking. Be safe, wait out the buzz. If you still wanna go when you're sober, I'll help you get a car."

You couldn't help but be touched by the concern. From Sam, it was appealing. From Dean, it would've pissed you off. "Fine. I'm gonna go sit down,though. I don't wanna be at the bar when the Deans get back from the hunt, it's begging for sexual harassment." You angled around Sam for the chairs you'd been sitting with Demain at earlier. "Oh, and, uh... I don't need help getting a car. If needed, I could get any of these guys to give me their keys."

Sam smiled awkwardly before sitting back down. You sat in a chair and closed your eyes to rest them. I think, maybe, stopping would be the best idea here, Christina. flashed through your head. You ran your hand through your hair, pulling it around to hang over your left shoulder.

"Heya, sweetheart. Who're you supposed to be?" A Dean walked up and sat on the table in front of you.

You opened your eyes and looked at him. He was young, maybe early twenties, and attractive. You smiled at him, able to feel his apprehension. He was not used to being forward. It was almost sweet. "You read Malleus?"

"Yeah. It's one of my faves." He dropped the fake baritone gravel.

"Well, there's a paragraph where Dean thinks about a witch he knew in high school."

"Oh! Christina! Clever. She's never described, so you can take it wherever you want." The Dean geeked out. You nodded. "That's neat. Why... why the knife?"

You looked down at your hip. "Oh, well, because I talked to Edlund about the character. He gave me some spoilers. The knife works toward her character development."

"She's gonna be in the new books?"

"More than... Yeah, she's gonna get a real description and a personality more than 'Glinda of Sioux Falls'. She ended up friends with Bobby."

"So, you know Edlund, huh?"

"Never met him before today, so... Anyway... 'Dean', it was nice to see you." You said, standing.

He stood, too. "Sure you wanna walk? I've got an Impala in the parking lot that's been begging for some action. I mean, it's not a Dodge Charger, but..." The gravel was back in his voice.

"Oh, look at you! That leather must have imbued you with Dean's superhuman confidence." You smiled. "And you are cute, but I'm, like, a decade older than you. So... why don't you go track down that Ruby I saw earlier? She's closer to your age."

"Wait!" He whispered, desperately. "Look, you are the most amazingly beautiful woman here and... I don't want to... I'm here with my brother, okay, and he's my Sam, but... he bet me that I couldn't get a woman to come up to our room with me. I'm a virgin, okay, and I just want to prove that I can... you don't have to do anything with me, just... If I could get my brother to see me walking into my room with you, the most beautiful woman here, he'll never mess with me again."

You sighed, then nodded. "What's your name?"

"Mark."

"Y/n. Come on. Where's your room?"

*************************************

As soon as you walked into the room, a set of hands grabbed you and pulled you in further. One of those hands covered your mouth and the other held your right wrist. Mark shut the door and locked it, before turning and pulling your knife from its holster. "It's not very smart to follow a stranger into his hotel room." He said it like he was disappointed in you, but his smirk said otherwise. You kicked at him, pushing back against your unseen captor. Mark avoided the kicks, then moved his hand to your spell component pouch. He opened it, then scrunched his eyebrows together. "No cash. Thought these convention nerds were supposed to be flush." He said, tossing the pouch away.

Your captor pulled you away toward the bed, pushing you down and pushing your face into the mattress while your hands were secured behind your back. "Well, guess we oughta do something to make this worth our while."

You could feel your Glock digging into your side. You turned your head enough to speak and breath. "You need to let me go. I'll forget all about this and we can all walk away."

"Oh, girl... you aren't gonna be walking anywhere." The second man finally spoke up.

"I'm giving you an out here." You growled. "If you continue with this shit, I will be forced into doing something..." A fist collided with your cheekbone.

"Shut the fuck up."

You closed your eyes as a rag was pushed into your mouth. You lay on your side for a few minutes as the men whispered in the bathroom. The only thing you were able to hear was, 'just gonna roll her. If we fuck her, we'll have to kill her so she doesn't ID me.'

You focused on your hands as they whispered, twisting your wrists until you could get a finger on the rope. You pushed electricity into the rope, which ignited. You breathed out forcefully at the feel of fire against your skin. As soon as the rope was weak, you broke your wrists out and flipped over, grabbing your Glock and jumping to your feet in one movement. They turned to you, shocked as you held up your gun and pulled the rag out of your mouth with your off hand. "How did you-?" The Sam, an ugly guy with a bulbous nose, asked.

"I warned you. Tried to give you a chance to walk." You shook your head, slightly.

"You're not gonna kill us." Mark said, confidently.

You chuckled, clicking the safety back on and holstering it. "I am not. No... I'm gonna do something worse." You pointed at the blond. "Dýskamptos." He went stiff, only his eyes moving. They darted back and forth, panicked.

"What'd you do to him?" Mark asked, poking his partner in the arm.

"Can't have him interrupting us." You said, walking forward and putting your hand on his shoulder. He shouted as pain radiated down his arm. "Oh, no. Can't be screaming, Mark. Isychía." You wrapped your hand around his throat.

"You picked the wrong woman, Mark." You said, with a sad and angry smile. You chuckled a little as you pushed him to sit on the bed. "See, I have issues, Mark. I have anger that I can't get rid of. I have hidden it with whiskey and beer, I have hidden it by saving people and allowing myself to be on call to help whenever I'm needed, but sometimes, Mark... sometimes the monsters of this world aren't supernatural, sometimes they're rapist, murdering assholes who think they can get away with anything they want.

"The boys would want me to leave you alone. Let the cops do their job. But..." You smiled and ran a finger down his cheek. "I think I would rather just kill you, Mark. Too much time with Lucifer, I guess. He would never abide the... disrespect." The word exited your mouth like a growl. "Think I might just maim you, though. You don't know who I am, but... you will never forget me." You dug your nails into his cheek and scraped all across his face. You grabbed the jacket and pulled the leather down his arms.

"You don't deserve to wear this outfit. Dean would beat your ass into a little puddle. But he'd leave you whole, Mark. I can't do that." You pulled his eyelids up and looked into his blue eyes. "Énkavma." You said, a smile spreading across your lips as the vitreous fluid in his eyeballs started to boil. A rush ran through you as he tried to scream, his hands going to cover his eyes. A familiar tingling lightheadedness came over you as he fell over silently screaming. You turned to the ugly man, his eyes wide and panicked.

"Is it your turn, now?" You asked, singsong. You swayed a little as you stepped to the man. He screamed deep in his throat. You giggled, placing a hand on his left thigh. You looked up into his scared brown eyes and whispered, "You're gonna lose this leg. I'm cutting off the blood flow to it. Unless you can figure out how to get out of this spell before this blood loss causes permanent damage, you're gonna be a cripple."

You pulled away and smiled, politely. "A blind rapist and a one-legged thief. I don't think you'll last." You said, grabbing your spell components off of the dresser and picking up your knife. "You boys have a wonderful life." You said, walking out the door and securing it behind you with a 'Do Not Disturb' sign.

You twirled down the stairs, jumping the last three to the bottom. You watched as Dean ushered the actors and hotel associates into the auditorium. "Where have you been? Come on!" He shouted at you. You raised an eyebrow and followed him into the room. Dean and Sam poured salt in front of the doors.

"Real ghost?" You whispered.

Dean looked into your eyes. "Are you high? What magic could you have possibly needed?"

You shook your head and waited for them to talk. "Okay. New theory." Sam started.

"The legends about Leticia are ass-backwards, obviously."

"Yeah. So, all right, let's say those three orphans were playing cowboys and Indians." Sam continued.

"LARPing as cowboys and Indians."

"Whatever. And say, let's say they scalped Leticia's son and killed him."

"Mom catches 'em in the act, flips out, slices them and dices herself."

"If that's true, it means we've got three bloodthirsty brats in the building."

"Yeah, and Leticia was the only one keeping them under control."

"Smooth move on our part." Sam whispered back.

"Yeah, well, we gotta get back to the cemetery, torch the kids' bones."

"How? We're trapped." Sam said, causing your eyes to shoot to attention. "We don't even have our guns! The ghosts are running this joint and they're only scared of one thing."

"Exactly." Dean's eyes lit up as he turned to you.

"Okay, I'm lost here. We're trapped?" You asked.

"Yeah. Maybe you'd be caught up if you hadn't disappeared. Murderous kid ghosts. They're only scared of Leticia Gore. You can look like any chick." Dean explained.

"You want me to glamour myself to look like a dead woman?"

"Yeah, that too much to ask?" He asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Dean, she's already been using magi-" Sam started.

"It's fine. I'll do it." You said as Dean turned to Demian.

"We wanna help." Demian said.

"Guys, no." Dean said shaking his head at Demian and his Sam.

"Why not?" The Sam said.

"Cause this isn't make-believe."

"Look, we know. We're not nuts. We're freakin' terrified." Demian said.

"Yeah, but if all these people are seriously in trouble, we gotta do something." The Sam whispered.

"Why?"

"Because... that's what Sam and Dean would do."

You walked to the door, pushing through it and carefully stepping over the salt. You walked to the bar, took a shot and looked at the picture of Leticia Gore. You ran your hand over your face and down your hair, down your shirt and your jeans, before turning around to look at Sam and Dean and the two cosplayers.

"How did she-" Demian started.

You turned to Sam and Dean, twirling slightly. "So, I talk to the kids, get them to open the doors, you guys make it out to the cemetery for a salt-n-burn. Pretty standard, right?"

"Standard? Are you-" The tall cosplayer stuttered.

"Yeah. I'll have your back with the... fire poker." Dean said, walking over to grab the iron poker. "You and me, y/n/n, library. They'll focus on the door." You nodded, walking toward the library you'd seen earlier. Dean pushed you into the wall just before the library. "This isn't the first magic you've done tonight. You are high right now. Can I trust you in there?"

"Of course, you can, Dean."

"You promised me. Magic as a tool, not a drug. I said I wouldn't hammer you about it anymore and you said you wouldn't get caught in this shit again. Tell me that you needed to use magic, that it wasn't just for fun." He whispered.

You closed your eyes and sighed. "One of these wannabes tried to rape me, Dean. I used magic to get out and away without having to shoot him." You opened your eyes and pulled away from the wall. "Magic as a tool, Winchester." You said, before walking into the library. "Boys?" You said, forcefully. "Boys?! Come here this instant." You looked around, no sign of them. "You come when I call you! You understand me?!"

"Miss Gore?" The boys suddenly appeared in front of you.

You made your face hard. "You boys have been very naughty. Now, you open the doors. Open the doors right now!" You demanded. The boys flickered backward, worried. "You're very naughty. You hear me? Naughty. Naughty, bad boys!"

Your head started to swim. You looked down at your arm and saw scars. "Dean." You said, weakly, knowing your glamour had failed. The boys glared at you as Dean rushed into the room, fire poker held high.

"Run." He ordered. You shook your head weakly, as the boys brandished their knives. "You're weak. You can't even hold your glamour right now and that's second nature. How can you help me? Get out of here!"

You scrambled to leave the room, but you turned and put your hand up. "Asfalís." You whispered. You slid down the wall outside the library, where Dean had pushed you. Your weak legs couldn't stand anymore.

Sam checked your pulse on his way into the room, but he pulled back when you blinked open your eyes. You nodded at the room and Sam ran to help Dean as you passed out.

************************************************

You woke to Dean putting you in the back of the Impala. "Ambulances are on the way. Had to get you out so that we wouldn't have to explain. You okay?"

You sat up and looked down, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry. I fucked it up."

"Maybe you should step back from the magic again. I mean... I'm not sayin' stop, but... you could've been hurt in there, because we were relying on your magic and it failed. That can't happen again."

"It won't... I just... over-reached, is all."

"What'd you do to that guy? The one that you used your magic on?" Dean asked, quietly.

You shook your head. You couldn't tell him. You could never explain why you went so far. "It doesn't matter. It won't happen again. I promise." You whispered.

"Get some more rest, Y/n/n." You lay your head on your arm and closed your eyes.

*************************

"You okay?" Sam asked Dean, walking up to the Impala. You opened your eyes and sat up.

"Yeah, you know? I think I'm good."

"Well, you're not gonna believe it, but I got a lead on the Colt." Sam said.

"What?"

"Long story. I'll tell you on the way?" Sam said, grabbing the passenger door handle.

"What are we waiting for?" Dean said, getting in and turning over the engine. He looked at you in the rear view mirror. "How you doin'?"

"I'm embarrassed, but I've come down. So... the Colt?"

"Uh, yeah. Becky told me that Bela didn't give the Colt to Lilith. She gave the Colt to Lilith's right hand, a demon named-"

"Crowley has it?" You squeaked.

Sam turned in his seat to look at you. "How do you know about Crowley?"

You started to hyperventilate as Dean pulled over down the road from the hotel. "Crowley is the one that pulled her out of Hell."

"Well, then, he's... reasonable?" Sam asked.

"He's... a demon. He's King of the Crossroads. Spent centuries kissing Lilith's ass, doing her bidding. He's evil and horrible and..." You took a deep breath. "He's got the Colt. So, we have to find him."

"Yeah. You know him pretty well." Dean said, quietly. "Any idea where to start looking?"

You took another deep breath. "Any big important deal going down, he'll be there. Rich guys, politicians, anyone important selling their soul, he'll be the one to close the deal." You leaned forward. "You can get Cas to look around for him. It's a demon. Cas should be able to find him."

"Yeah, we're gonna take you home, first." Dean said.

"Yeah, you don't look so good." Sam supported.

You shook your head. "I have to deal with this, okay? I can't just sit at home while you walk right into the King of the Crossroads' lair. I know how to deal with him. Just... call Cas, have him look for Crowley. I need to rest." You said, closing your eyes and leaning against the car door.

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