#prom pact sweep!!!!

[ghostgardn]

His Tutor

synopsis: Reader is Graham Lansing's AP Psychology tutor, when she meets him at his house he cracks a deal.

a/n: FINALLY WROTE SMTHN. This has taken me like a MONTH to finish, so Prom Pact fandom pls rise from the dead n appreciate istg 😤

You knock on a thick white door, the address matching Graham's text. A beautiful redheaded woman opens the door with a distracted look, when she finally focuses on you a bright smile spreads on her face.

"You must be Y/N, it's so great to finally meet you." She firmly shakes your hand and calls for Graham. You glance around the foyet before hearing thudding footsteps from the staircase.

Graham, shirtless, presses his stomach to the railing as he looks at you two. His mother quickly scolds him for his appearance and urges him to put a shirt on.

"One thing I've learned about being in a house full of boys is they think this is a glorified locker room." She gestured around herself before her head turned towards a double swinging door, where a phone rang loudly. "Make yourself at home." She said before excusing herself to answer it.

You slowly made your way around the clean white room, eyes sweeping over the many picture frames. Again there was some thudding on the staircase so you turned around to face the noise.

"Hey. Ready to get studying?" You asked, tilting your head slightly. A big smile grew on Graham's face.

"Yeah, follow me." He said, waiting for you to meet him at the staircase. You trailed up the steps behind him and turned the corner twice before making it to his room. Toeing your shoes off, you slipped comfortably onto his desk chair. Meanwhile he dropped into his beanbag chair, grabbing a basketball and throwing it up.

"Okay, today is Piaget's Theory. How much of that do you remember from last week?" You asked, looking over your notes and then meeting his eyes.

"The theory is that children's intelligence undergoes changes while they grow, right?" You smiled and nodded before flipping the page.

"Yes! There are how many stages?" You asked throwing him a paper to crush and throw in his trash can.

"Four." He stated, throwing the paper away. You tossed him another. "Sensorimotor, pre operational, concrete operational, formal operational." And he tossed another.

"Yep! Sensorimotor is-"

"Ages 0-2 and is how kids experience the world. Through sensory experiences and motor actions." He interrupted. Tossing another piece of paper into his trashcan with a large dopey smile. You nodded and started again.

"Pre Operational is..." You prompted, eyes glued to your notebook.

"I have an idea." Graham said, noticing your lack of attention on him.

"Hmm?" You asked, half listening.

"If I get this entire theory right, I get to kiss you." He suggested, eyes tracing your face.

"Yeah sure." You said, eyes still glued to the page. Not hearing what he said.

"So that's a deal?" He asked, eyebrows shot up.

"Mmhmm." You agreed, muttering his name while you wrote something down.

"Okay! Pre operational starts at two, they can play pretend, talk about past memories, and can speak about people not in the room with them.” He says, watching you check a box and look back up at him. He throws a mini basketball into a small hoop attached to his closet door.

“The concrete operational stage begins at seven. Kids can solve problems better, because they can consider multiple options and endings. They can read maps, perform math better, and understand two different glasses can hold the same amount of water even if they look different.” You nodded and checked another box, looking back up to see the sun beaming on his face. He shook his long hair out of his face like he was a puppy, pulling the desk chair closer to his bed.

“The formal operational stage is the fourth and final stage.” Graham focuses an eyelash resting on your cheek, he leans forward and gently lifts it off and holds it in front of you. “Make a wish.” He whispers, hot (vaguely minty) breath fanned over your face. You quickly blew the eyelash off his thumb.

“It starts at age eleven, they can think of hypotheticals, abstract thoughts, and can use reasoning skills to solve a problem. Done.” He finished, still close enough that you wouldn’t have to reach far to get to him. You checked the final box, and when you looked back up he was even closer.

“That means I get to kiss you, y’know.” Graham muttered quietly, eyes grazing over your face.

“What?” You asked breathlessly. His large hands raised to meet your waist.

“We made a deal. If I got the whole theory right, I could kiss you.” He said, pulling you closer.

“I- uh. I guess I don’t remember that.” You replied. Your knees touching his, wheels squeaking against the hardwood floor. The chair half raised from a soft rug underneath her.

“Well can I kiss you anyway?” Graham asked, puppy dog eyes engaged, and a sweet smile on his lips.

“Yeah, that’d be alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, please kiss me.” You responded, soon feeling his hand glide up from your waist and settle on your cheek. Your breath mixes with his as you lean close. His nose nudges yours.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” You nod briefly, he leans into you and places his lips on yours. The kiss is gentle and sweet, his lips are soft and he tastes of mint. He pulls back with a smile.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Graham whispers, forehead resting against yours. You smile at him, eyes boring into his.

"Me too." You responded lips grazing his in another kiss. Love overflowing in your heart.

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[taeguboi]

The Very Hopeful, and I [BTS Soulmate!AU]

WATTPAD // FIC MASTERLIST // REACTIONS

PROLOGUE: MINDFUL here

PROLOGUE: YOUTHFUL

As children, we’re encouraged to keep the names on our wrists hidden from one another. This policy holds many intentions, most of which ensure education remains focused upon. It prevents major conflicts during school years of destined enemies. It allows us to be teenagers and practice at relationships so we can make the mistakes, even though we individually know the truth about who our futures lie with. So like, the girl I made out with behind the bleachers in my senior year isn’t going to be the mother of my children, but at least I learned a thing or two, I suppose. Quite importantly, this rule also stops irregular or taboo cases, or anything societally seen as ‘abnormal’ being highlighted. It stops confrontation and commotion, and I guess I appreciate that, really.

For example, wouldn’t it be disappointing if the name of your soulmate or ally was that of a celebrity’s, only to find years later that you stumble across someone else with just the same name? All those years of bragging and bathing in attention from your classmates, only to be dragged down upon the 1st reunion when you introduce your partner that looks nothing like that famous person, they just merely share the same name.

Or how about being outed instantly because the 1st name on your wrist is of the same gender as you? Kids, even teenagers, don’t always fully understand the concept of loving someone with the same… anatomy as themselves, and that’s because they haven’t learned or experienced everything life has to offer yet, and they don’t know how everything works.

I can’t say I really know of any other ‘irregular’ cases, I simply follow suit of others and focus on myself. Myself, who has a most definitely female name at the top of that short list of names engraved into my skin…

I don’t yet wish to reveal my names beyond family to be perfectly honest. Maybe I’ve just stuck to a routine that has been embedded into me for the first 18 years of my life, but it’s not for that reason alone. I want to do more in the world whilst I’m in a physical peak before I start aging and settling down with this girl whose name sits on my skin. I’m content with the people I have met so far.

I met my biggest enemy last year, when at my old job, they went out of their way to screw me over and stand in the way of me getting a promotion. Fortunately, I overcame this person and I managed to get the promotion of a lifetime, and they remain a part of my past that built me as a person… I guess that person was chosen as my enemy because had I not worked my way up the ladder, I probably would have been made redundant, put out of work, etc, etc, blah, blah, blah…

My greatest ally, just a year older than myself, I met during my school years. I have nothing but fond memories of this person. It’s a great shame that we got separated after middle school; I would have liked to experience those high school years with him, getting up to all sorts of mischief in the first few years, then maturing and growing up together… but I’m sure I will find him some day again. Afterall, he’s supposed to be my greatest ally.

In kindergarten, we both got kept behind after class because we wrote stories that followed a similar plot and since we were sat next to one another, we basically got lectured about copying other people’s work… Of course, I never looked over my shoulder that entire session, too engrossed in visualizing and bringing to life the figments of my little imagination. Incidentally, on that day, it turns out that person created a story about bird-humans that flew up to mars and found a dozen living breads, which I guess followed the same plot as my storyboard of how robot-human hybrids travelled to the moon by a magic carpet and discovered alien bunny life… In hindsight, his made more sense, you know, birds and bread.

I’ll skip to the part where I made a promise with this ally. We were probably about 13/14 years old, he in the last year of middle school, not that far away from reaching that grand unknown stage that was 18. We had taken two girls to the arcade in the spring as a sort of double-date type arrangement, and we really had fun that day. I let the girl win of course at most of the multiplayer games, it was only the polite thing to do. Though I went out of my way to beat my ally friend; we were quite competitive in that way, but never anything serious.

So we kindly walked the girls back home, (to the same place, they were close, see,) and it seemed that talking about them led to this said promise.

“Tonight was real fun, don’t ya think?” he asked me, sweeping his ebony bangs away from his eyes as rich as black coffee. For some reason, I remember he was sporting a red snapback with the words ‘bad hair day’ printed across it in blue writing. I didn’t quite understand the hat, I’ll be honest.

“Yeah, I think the girls had a good time” I agreed.

My friend, I thought, was quite the looker, truth be told. I was often flattered by other students my age for my looks, but I personally never felt I quite matched up to my older friend. I possibly just thought him to be much cooler than myself, purely because of the 1 year age difference, though. We were some of the lucky ones I think; we got by mostly at ease through those school years; girls wanted to date us, so we got the first of many chances we needed to make the mistakes with.

“So, I’m sorry if I sound like I’m being nosey, and you don’t have to answer, but… Well, man, we trust each other right?” he asked yet again. He was full of questions that night, but I didn’t mind.

“Right.”

“I know we’re supposed to hide our names, so you don’t need to tell me any more than a yes or no to my question…”

I knew exactly what he was going to ask of me, so I answered “No, the name on my wrist isn’t of hers.”

“Ah, shame, really. You guys seemed to get on well… maybe she’ll be your school soulmate though”

A school soulmate was more of a bogus made up concept that lead to the real soulmate thing [but admittedly, it really caught on, especially in high school years with traditions and other such occasions as prom]. Some people were fortunate enough to find someone to stay with throughout their school years and learn how to get to know and look after a person in the same way one would their true soulmate…

I say fortunate, but I can only imagine how devastating it would be, to develop feelings for someone to such a great extent, always knowing they aren’t the person you’re destined to die with. Teenagers can be very fickle too, you know; I should know. I’ve been there, done that, thought I fell in love about 6 times, cried enough to fill a river. I even heard of people who were that convinced they had found their soulmate, they’d be crying themselves to sleep at night because the name doesn’t match what’s on their wrist. There would be the hope that they’d be an irregular case [polygamy, in which the placement of names are said to follow a relay-like triangular form,] and so they’d mutually agree to reveal the names, only to find that neither one is there, and that there is no third party.

“What about yours?” I interrupted as he continued chatting about me and… I can’t say I remember her name.

“Nah… I wasn’t really feeling it to be honest anyways. I just thought it’d be nice to try the double dating thing at least once, eh?”

“Yeah…”

“I think I only asked her out because I knew your girl and she were friends, and the arcade tonight did sound fun… See, I think the name on my wrist holds a different kind of personality. I don’t think I’m destined to be with a girl who wants to be a reporter… I think mine will be more of a behind the scenes kind of girl… I’m going to meet her after we graduate, and she’ll play hard to get because she has a bit of fire to her personality, and…”

“Dude, we’re barely in our mid-teens yet” Yes, I would interrupt often, but note that my ally would try to initiate these conversations often, also.

“I know, I know, but if our partners are already destined, then why not just become fond of the idea of meeting them already?” He was extremely optimistic in my eyes, something I envied actually. He seemed to be a much happier person than I.

“I suppose I’m not like you in that aspect” I explained. “I like to live in the moment. I’m gonna do some stuff first. I’m not sure what yet, but I want to have an impact on people in the world before hiding away into that eternal romance stuff…”

“You make this whole soulmate thing sound like a drag…”

“But whatever happens, and when I do meet her, I want you to be there. You can even be best man.”

“Like there’s any other option!” he jested, then paused. He stopped in his tracks as we reached the side of the river that ran through the park en route to our houses. “You know what? I think  we should make a promise…”

“Hmm, that depends…” I replied uncertainly, glaring into the glistening water that just about managed to reflect our faces from the dull evening sky.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad or something that benefits me more than you…”

“Fine, what is it?”

“We confirmed we’re each other’s allies, right? When we both graduate… We show each other the names.”

“Alright…” I agreed, humming with pleasant surprise, having thought the promise was just going to be another one of those ‘I’ll stop talking so much if you quit being so pessimistic’ type of pacts. I even began initiating the little pact. “I promise that I will reveal the names printed on my wrist once we have both graduated.”

“Alrighty then. And I, shall do the same.”

“You realise you’ll have to wait a year for me, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.”

Next --> PROLOGUE: Hopeful

[letdecemberburninflames]

One Last Ride (Winchester Sister!Reader)

A/N:

This is for @daughters-and-winsisters writing contest. All writing in italics is flashbacks.

_*_*_*_*_*_

When I went to bed that night I was very confused. I had scouted out a complete two mile perimeter around the hotel, above ground and below. Nothing. Nothing strange, no demons, no monsters, no one seeing anything weird, not one hair out of place. I let my eyes flutter close, exhausted. Being a hunter, I needed only a few hours sleep, but I didn't care. The cotton sheets were so soft and warm, especially after such a long day. I wondered if this is what it felt like. To be a normal person, free from worries. I let my mind drift off into dreamland, for the first time in a while.

I was in a park. The sky was unnaturally blue, the grass a vibrant green. I was the only one there, or so it seemed. I turned a slow circle, then froze when I saw a man on a bench, his back to me.

"Hello there, Y/N. So nice to finally meet you."

"Who are you." My eyes narrowed as the man stood, turning to face me.

The guy, who apparently thought he was all that and a bag of jelly beans, flashed me a blindingly white grin. "Why, being the smart girl you are, I thought you would have figured that out already." His eyes flickered from brown to swirling purple. "I'm Abraxas."

"Yes, well Abraxas I don't really go for guys who can flashbang a whole country with their teeth. Care to tell me why you've bought me a hotel room?"

He walked closer. "My employer is very interested in you, sweetheart. He has a deal proposition for you, but will only offer it if you pass his test..."

"Does one of his "tests" include listening to you trying to sweet talk me without blowing my own brains out?"

"Mmm." He bit his lip. "I like 'em feisty. But I would bite that tongue of yours if I were you...." He bent his neck, whispering in my ear, "For the sake of your dear brother Sammy..."

"What did you do to my brother." I growled. Sam was Lucifer’s vessel, and the upcoming apocalypse had all of wound a bit tightly.

"Oh, me?" Abraxas stepped back and placed a hand on his chest, looking shocked that I accused him of something. "I didn't do anything. In fact, it was all you. Well, you and Dean broke the first seal anyway. It all went downhill after that."

"You son of a bi-" I swung my arm at his face, but he grabbed my wrist before i could land a solid punch.

"No need for name calling." He pouted, straightening his green Hurley t-shirt. "I'm simply just delivering a message." He held up his hands in mock surrender.

"What. Is. The. Test."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere. There's a rather nasty bunch of vampires that happen to be ticking off my boss. Take 'em down, sweetheart, and my employer will be more than happy to speak with you about a deal regarding your brother." He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and turned to leave, whistling "Hotel California" as he went.

"Wait!" I call out.

"Yeah?" He's halfway across the park by now.

"Why the dress?" Upon my arrival in the hotel, I had found a dress with a note pinned to it that fit me perfectly in the closet of my room, which was half the reason I had been so rigorous about my perimeter sweep.  

"Obviously my boss thinks you're going to be able to pass his test with flying colors. He'll need you well rested and in your best possible shape for the...never mind. Oh, and Y/N? When you complete the test, visit the address on the note."

With that, he was gone.

---

I parked my car in least overgrown spot of the parking lot. Taking down the vamps- that had been the test- had been uncomfortably easy, and now I was at the Pacific Medical Center on 12th Ave. barely within the limits of Seattle, Washington. I had done some research; it had been abandoned long ago due to mysterious deaths in the hospital staff. I was supposed to meet Abraxas in the east wing, the psychiatric ward. Popping the trunk open, I rummaged through the contents for everything I'd need. Salt? Check. Holy water? Check. Everything else? Check. My sanity? Check....ish. Good thing I was headed in the direction of the psychiatric ward. I made my way through the hospital, my surroundings eerily quiet. Not a single demon in sight or out of it. I turned a corner into a hall, the east wing, the nut case area. I kept my gun in my hands regardless of my peaceful surroundings, refusing to let my guard down. I turned a corner, and a familiar Cheshire Cat smile glowed in the darkness, accompanied by a half-lidded purple gaze.

"Abraxas." I hissed.

"Nice to see you too, sweetheart. So glad you could make it. My boss is very eager to see you in person."

"Well then where the hell is he?" I glared at him.

Abraxas grinned. "Where the Hell indeed." He motioned the the door he was leaning on the doorframe of, pushing it open with his hand. "Ladies first."

"Bullshit." I muttered, but stepped through anyway.

---

"Ah, the littlest Winchester."

"Lucifer. I should have known." I glare daggers in the direction of the man.

Satan grinned at me from his perch on a rusty operating table as he sipped a Mai Tai. "Nice to see you too, Y/N." When I didn't respond, he continued, "Well, we can do this one of two ways. One, you have a seat and listen to my proposition and the reasoning behind it like a good little girl. Or option two, you try and kill me, fail, and are punished and forcibly held down by Abraxas, who by the way has taken a liking to you and wouldn't mind it at all, while I tell you all about my little plan. Capisce?"

"Capisce."

"Lovely. Have a seat." Lucifer hopped off the operating table and motioned to a table with two chairs that had appeared in the blink of an eye.

I pull out the chair and sit down, crossing my legs beneath the table. I smirk rose to my face, "So then Luci, what was so important that you had me driving all the way out to Washington for you?"

"Your brother Sam is my vessel, as you know. But I'll get to that later. You. You are a rather unique individual, aren't you? The angels don't really like you, probably because you’re a Winchester. But the demons, they don't really like you either, also because you’re a Winchester. Kind of funny if you think about it. All the demons hate Dean, all the angels hate Sam, and everyone hates you!"

"Yeah." I blew a piece of hair out of my face. "Hilarious."

"But you see, you're useful to me. I need you. You are the wild card of the vessels, I could use a faithful servant down in Hell. Especially one as powerful as you have the potential to be. I will also quit bothering your brother about being my vessel. Sure, he was supposed to host me with the apocalypse coming on, fight Michael, blah blah blah, but now I have you! With a little training, you'll be perfect. I'll even give you two months here in this beautiful city if you accept my offer."

"So you want me to sell you my soul in return for my brothers freedom from his bond with you?"

"Correct!"

"Jeez, it's like Ghost Rider all over again. Do I get a cool motorcycle too?" I joked.

"You can have anything you want down in Hell."

"Just as long as my head isn't turned into a flaming skull."

"So you'll make the deal?"

I swear I saw an eager glint in his eye, but I ignored it. "I'm doing it for Sam. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone else."

Lucifer stood, and I mentally cringed, knowing what I had to do to seal the pact. I stood as well, watching him as he walked towards me. Lucifer placed a hand on my waist, and leaned in, pressing a rough and forceful kiss on my lips. When he licked my bottom lip with his forked tongue, I pushed him off of me. "That's enough, tiger." I glared, wiping my mouth.

"See you in two months." Lucifer disappeared, taking the table and chairs with him.

Abraxas strode into the room, and I resisted putting a bullet through his head. He grinned his dimpled, Cheshire Cat grin. "Nice to know I'll be seeing you around a lot more. Hell could use some hot mortals."

"Shut up, Fonzie."

***Timeskip Two Months***

I glanced out the window at the city lights of Seattle creating an artificial daytime in the dead of night. I rolled the diamond of my necklace in between my fingers, my last birthday present from my brothers. They usually weren't great with gifts, especially Dean, but for my birthday this year they gave me a diamond necklace that had belonged to my mother. It was a sweet gesture, and it was nice to have something that she had owned. Dean had mentioned that she wore it to her wedding and now it was time to pass it down to me. I looked down at the letter from Abraxas, reading and rereading the directions to make sure I was absolutely correct about every move I was making.                                                           On October tenth you shall meet me at the Lake View Cemetery at 11:30 pm, no earlier, no later. Find the Rhodes family mausoleum. You must wear the dress provided in the hotel room closet.

The dress was a violet evening gown, and as much as I absolutely hated dresses, I figured that it probably wasn’t the wisest idea to piss Satan off.

I carefully step over Dean, making damn sure I wouldn't wake him. We had all "agreed" that we were going to leave town first thing tomorrow. But I wasn't about to break my deal. I knew better than to tangle with Lucifer, and I would do anything to keep my family safe. Even if it meant giving more than my life.

As quietly as I can, I close the hotel room door behind me. I slip on a pair of silver heels and walk down the hallway, my heart pounding. The purple dress swirls around my ankles and I feel off, the formal clothing so different from what I'm used to wearing. Sure, I had dressed up for cases that involved me and my brothers crashing a dinner party or any other formal event, but this was different. It felt like I was going to prom. (Which I never went to by the way. Long story, but mainly because my date ended up being possessed.) My stomach felt like it was trying to audition for Cirque de Soleil.

When the elevator doors opened I heard a familiar voice call my name, and try as I might, I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"Hello sweetheart." Abraxas smirked at me from his spot leaning against the wall, his perfect face highlighted by the light from the chandelier above. He was dressed in an expensive suit with a bow tie, his hair meticulously styled, and for a moment when he looked at me his eyes flashed their true shade of violet.

Deciding to act like a decent human being, I nodded. "Abraxas."

The demon stepped closer, and I resisted the urge to back away. "You know," He whispered. "We're supposed to look like a couple."

I bit back a grimace, and batted my lashes at him. "Fuck you.” I whispered through a faked love-drunk grin.

"I forgot to mention you look gorgeous tonight." Abraxas began to lead me towards the doors, speaking loudly enough for others to hear. In an undertone he added, "Lucifer let me choose the dress. It's exactly the same shade as my eyes."

I resisted the urge to puke all over his freshly shined Gucci shoes. ​​ Outside, there was a limousine waiting for us. "Really? A limo?" I sent him a look of amusement.

Abraxas looked hurt. "Sweetheart, Lucifer put me in charge of making sure you were happy. This limo wasn't cheap.”

---

"We're here, sweetheart."

I look up to see a gate with the words "Lake View Cemetery" scrolled across the top in wrought lettering. Abraxas helps me out of the limo, and with a snap of his fingers, it disappears. We walk through the gates and stroll across the grass, like a normal couple would out in a garden after a fancy dinner party to get some time alone. Except the garden is a cemetery and my date is a demon and I didn't get food. Abraxas leads me to a white marble mausoleum; the name "RHODES" is etched in the stone above the patina copper doorway. Two Doric columns stand on either side of the doorway, making the whole building look like an ancient Roman temple.

"After you." Abraxas ushers me through the doorway.

Inside, Lucifer is leaning against one of the family's graves. Not really wanting to look at him, I focus on the name. Alyssa Rhodes, 1982-1998. I nearly feel a pang of sadness when I realize that she was only sixteen when she died.

Lucifer grins. "Now, you may be thinking, 'Why this family's mausoleum, Lucifer? Why not someone else?' Well, I'll tell you. The Rhodes family were some of my most loyal followers! They're all demons now of course, long story, and have kindly let me borrow their lovely tomb for this ritual. In fact, they had it built for this very purpose! All the symbols are already carved in the floor, and look! They even provided candles."

I look around. The ground is one giant pentagram unlike one I have ever seen before. Candles burn at each point of the star, and in the center of the room is a stone table that looks uncomfortably like a coffin. Several other demons including Abraxas stand around the room, each holding a different object. "Let's just get this over with." I growl.

Lucifer looks at me curiously. "You sound so much like your mother."

"Shut up."

Following his directions, I laid down on the coffin-table, hands folded on my stomach. Lucifer stood at the top side of the table, hovering above my head, an ancient book in his hands.

"Don't worry. This won't hurt....much." Abraxas smirked at me as Lucifer opened the book.

"Id quicquam risum stultus diabolus non mauris non mauris non mauris magna..."

The first two demons approached me, silver knives in their hands.

"...ridiculum est haec amo, cum Jero ego potest stercore est scriptor..."

Two more demons approached and knelt on either side of me, wooden bowls in their hands. My heart pounded with fear. What if I had made the wrong choice?

"...hoc totum fasciculum stercore bovis stercore Non possum credere potest Latinum translata..."

To late to back out now. The demons with the silver knives each grabbed one of my hands, holding them out over the wooden bowls. They slit my wrists, and I bit back a scream as the blood began to drip into the bowls.

"...munda , et hoc purificat libentissime est sanctus , ut est Dominus, in tenebris..."

Abraxas approached the table, a goblet in his hands. The demons who had been collecting my blood poured it into the goblet. I panted heavily, dizzy from the rapid loss of blood.

"...pius hoc est fun, et commutatio sanguinem inter dominum et servum, puer voluntatem..."

Abraxas took the book from Lucifer and in exchange handed him the goblet of my blood, which he drank greedily, the crimson liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth. I held back a gag as Abraxas took the goblet and handed Lucifer the book back.

"...nunc in sanguine comeditis et servus dominum suum ministerium in studio ad eum..."

Another demon approached, a knife in hand, and Lucifer took it, slicing into his palm. Blood dripped from his palm to the floor.

"...Illud prorsus tauro hanc animam servi sui et trade nihil habet usque serviamus, ut haberet filium!"

Lucifer finished reading and handed the book to Abraxas.

"Open your mouth, darling."

I did as I was told, and just as Lucifer raised his hand, the doors slammed open.

"Y/N!" I turned my head and saw Dean and Sam fighting through the demons that had swarmed them the instant they stepped foot in the mausoleum.

With tears in my eyes at the sight of the family I was giving my life to protect, all I could do was whisper. "I'm sorry." I say, turning my head back to it's normal position. Lucifer drips his blood into my mouth, and I close my eyes, knowing what is coming.

"NO!" I can hear Sam and Dean screaming, but it's cut short as soon as the blade lacerates my throat and the world fades blissfully away.

***Third Person POV***

Sam and Dean struggle through the horde of demons, hell bent on ripping Lucifer limb from limb after watching their sister be slaughtered in front of them. But Lucifer disappears, along with all the demons except Abraxas, who's still in his suit, leaning on the table.

"Don't worry boys. You can have the body. Well, this one anyway. I'm sure Lucifer will be enjoying her new one in Hell." And then he too disappears before Sam or Dean can utter the first word of an exorcism.

Dean collapses at the table, his jeans soaking up the blood of his sister that has spilled to the floor, tears rolling down his face. Sam too kneels next to her cold body, brushing her H/C hair out of her face, tears brimming in his eyes as he realizes that he'll never see her again. They sit next to her dead body, remembering. Remembering the times they fought, every regret, every mistake. Realizing they will never see her smile or laugh again. That she will never gank another monster or demon with them. That she will never eat another greasy burger or sing along to another classic rock song in the Impala. That she will never get married, never finish school. Never see another sunset or sunrise.

Both men look up at the sound of a familiar flutter. Cas stood on the other side of the table, looking down at the female's body, emotion sweeping over him.

"Cas..." Dean looks up. "Cas, you can bring her back right? Pull her out of Hell just like me?"

Castiel reached out and stroked her cheek, cold as the stone on which she lay. His Father had done a such great job in creating her, it was a travesty to take something so young, innocent, and beautiful from the world. Cas had sensed it when her soul left her body. He had seen her close her eyes, give herself willingly to death for her brother, an action so selfless Castiel wouldn’t have even considered it within the realm of possibility. 

Her body was still, drenched in blood, sprawled in front of her brothers and the angel. Dean bowed his head and knelt down by her side, one of her hands clasped securely in his, the blood still spilling from her wrists. All he wanted was to hold her in his arms, to tell her it would be alright.

Dean was the first to rise, hands sticky with the blood of his baby sister, tears streaking his face. "W-we should probably..."

"Yeah." Sam agreed, wiping his eyes. His flannel shirt was soaked with blood, but he lifted his youngest sister in his arms, trying hard to keep from trembling. He ignored the laceration through her neck, focusing on her face, peaceful despite the gory scene she left behind. For a moment, he could almost believe she went to Heaven. But she didn't. His baby sister was in Hell. And it was all his fault. If only he hadn't fallen for Ruby's lies, if he hadn't made so many mistakes she might still be alive. None of this would have ever happened if he hadn't... Sam's hands tightened on her body, fingers digging into the purple material of the dress. He presses his lips to her pale forehead, tears dropping off the end of his nose as he thinks of all the life lost, all the things she could have done. Silently, Sam followed Dean out the mausoleum door and through the graveyard. In the parking lot Dean pulled a blanket from the trunk of the car and together they wrap her body before laying her down in the back seat for one last ride.

[r-was]

Endurance Test

               “He was about my height,” Miranda said to her red gel nails before tipping the mug back and leaving a red stain where her lips had been. Rob stared at it for a moment as if it would bite him. He was usually in charge of making the coffee. Miranda liked to play with the water-to-coffee ratio and, in his humble ex-barista opinion, turn perfectly drinkable coffee into sludge, but it was hard to turn down a hot cup when he’d just come home from work. Miranda pursed her red lips, already smudged from the coffee and the grilled cheese they’d shared. “Or maybe a little taller.”

               “So would you say about five-foot-ten?” Rob prompted, touching the tip of his pen to a blank page in his notebook. He hated bending over the low coffee table to write, but if he sat at the dining room table Miranda would complain about ‘not joining her for dinner.’

               Miranda’s head tilted to the side, resting against her knuckles. A loose lock of auburn hair fell against the loveseat’s leather back. “I don’t know,” she said absently. “You’re a better judge of height than me.”

               Rob thumbed his glasses further up his nose. “It’s important for visualisation. What about ethnicity? Caucasian?”

               “Probably mixed.” She turned towards him, nestling her back in the corner of the couch, and drew her legs up under her. “He had that look about him.” When she noticed Rob’s unimpressed look, Miranda sighed. “I don’t know. It was a two-minute interaction. You don’t interrogate me every time a man hits on me in a bar, so why this?”

               “When a man hits on you in a bar, his intentions are clear. But giving you a necklace out of the blue? Don’t you find that strange?”

               Miranda rolled the necklace’s fake pearl between her fingers. “Not really. It’s not the first time a man has done something for me.”

The scent of grilled cheese was getting to him, and he wanted to wipe the crumbs from where they’d stuck to her lipstick. He’d been with her when she’d bought her first stick of crimson lipstick from the drugstore in high school. She’d never looked back, and sometimes Rob felt as if he never looked anywhere else. Miranda leaned forward across the loveseat to place her coffee-warmed hand over his, still poised with the pen above the page. “You’re not on duty. Just forget about it.”

The pen snapped against his notebook as Rob leaned back, offering her hand a brief squeeze before releasing it. The leather squawked in protest, but he had moved past the period of being around Miranda when they graduated high school. Rob had steamed milk until it howled for mercy and Miranda had sat at the bar, all short skirts and long coats, and read vocabulary terms to him over an open textbook. They’d gone to prom together, too. As friends. They’d got all their graduation photos taken together. Their 800-square-foot apartment was too much for one single twenty-four-year-old to purchase, but two made it feasible. Sometimes Rob had wondered if there was a reason that such apartments weren’t available to people who had no time to tidy them between classes and part-time work. They’d adapted, though. They always managed.

“I guess you’re right,” he said at length.

“You always pause when you’re editing yourself.”

“I do not.”

Miranda’s hand brushed against the fabric of his French cuffs sleeve, as if that would ease the lines from his forehead. “Don’t edit yourself around me.”

Rob turned his palms to the ceiling, dislodging her. “What if it’s tapped?”

Miranda’s eyebrows arched. “Tapped? Rob, this isn’t CSI: Miami.”

“Miranda.” Swivelling towards her, Rob spread his hands. “Do you know how many women every year get murdered by men they thought they could trust? How many times I’ve heard ‘he was my friend’ or ‘he seemed like a nice guy’ from women found bloody in alleys?”

“So should I only talk to women? Only operate between the hours of ten and two when the sun is highest in the sky?” Miranda challenged. “I really needed to be more afraid of men than I already am. Thanks.”

“You should be afraid!” Rob exclaimed, coaxing his hair into further disarray with his fingers. The first time his hair had looked so tousled was in their first year of college, when Miranda had slicked back his hair for a date. At the time he’d claimed that it wasn’t him, but it seemed like he’d taken on the persona she’d crafted for him. The girl hadn’t stuck, but the stylishly dishevelled look had. “I don’t want to have to deal with it when they show up at the door with a bat! Women have been tracked for weeks with smaller things than a cheap necklace.”

Leaning back, Miranda rested an elbow on the back of the couch and appraised him with a steady look. Her stockinged foot a fallen law textbook before it opted to rest on the coffee table instead. Finally her eyes dodged to the TV remote and then the dark screen. “If you interrogate every friendly man in my life, people will think you’re my boyfriend.”

A nerve jumped in Rob’s lip. “I can’t look after you forever. You’re twenty-seven. You have to start being more careful.” In the next room, the refrigerator began to hum and the dim lights flickered. Rob had insisted on buying a ‘proper’ lamp for the living room to save his already-failing eyesight and save him the strain of surviving in half-light. He’d neglected to turn it on tonight and Miranda had never been bothered by cave-like conditions.

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s only had one girlfriend since high school.”

Rob smiled. He usually did when he had nothing to say. “You know why I broke it off with her.”

“Because she couldn’t tolerate you living with a woman. You should have stayed together, since apparently you can’t tolerate it either. Why are you being like this?” She picked at the couch cushion while Rob stared hard at the line between her brows.

“It’s called looking out for you. Someone has to do it.”

Miranda’s heel hit the base of the couch so suddenly that Rob jumped, and his neck craned as he watched her rise. She always liked to dress up when she went out, but it left a bitter taste in Rob’s mouth to know that he was the only one to see her like this. That men might look at her and deem her desirable as if they’d seen every side of her. Rob never had any doubt that she would look good in yoga pants and a sweater, but the thought that another man might made his clammy hands lock together in his lap. “I look out for myself,” she said. An arm swung out, sweeping the dusty air. “I earn my keep, don’t I? You don’t have to coddle me like this. I’m not sixteen anymore.”

Rob was on his feet before she finished. “Then stop being an idiot. If you keep having flings, you shouldn’t come home crying and expecting me to share a bottle of wine every time you get your heart broken.”

Miranda’s eyes went wide. “I do not have flings!” She shrilled, and Rob felt the rush of striking a nerve. “At least I put myself out there instead of marrying myself to my work! If you think our marriage pact will save you from the single life, I have some bad news. I don’t marry overprotective jerks.”

Robs lips curled, and he could feel the latest wrinkles folding around his mouth. When he let out a breath, the red strands that fell around her shoulders lifted. Her chest heaved with anger. “At least let me take a look at it,” he said at last. She watched him for a long moment before lifting her chin in acquiescence. Sliding his hands beneath her hair, Rob ran his fingers carefully along the chain, feeling where the rough metal and smooth skin met. This close, her hair smelled like mint and Miranda. He turned the pearl over in his fingers. A thin chain like that would snap like nothing, he thought. He’d grappled with suspects who’d had similar necklaces break with less than it would take him to make this one irreparable. He could tell her it really was bugged; that he’d take it to the station in the morning.

When Miranda’s breath tickled his cheeks, Rob looked up to meet her steady gaze. She wasn’t afraid of him, and had no reason to be. He was calm, cool, dependable Rob. Not some jealous hothead. He released the necklace, noting that “It looks fine,” and was about to drop his hands when Miranda caught them in her own.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” she said, and her smile pressed dimples into her cheeks.

“Someone has to,” Rob responded demurely, noting that in the decade he’d known her she’d never complained about how his hands got clammy when she touched them. “Friends?”

“Of course, dummy. I didn’t ditch you when you were dating that horrible woman, did I? That’s what friends do. You’ll regret it in three years when we have to tell the neighbours that we are getting married, after all.”

Rob smiled, deciding that caring about her since high school was worth more than any necklace a stranger could give her, anyway.