#technically he could likely be a dear or wendigo

[sleepy-stories]

Look i made a pen sketch of alastor

[starshipsofstarlord]

Growing Pains | TFW

Request:  Hey! Can I please request a platonic x reader with team free will 2.0? The reader gets turned back to a toddler by a witch and they try to ask Rowena for help but, the spell lasts for a week and it's just plain chaotic. The reader is extremely clumsy and hungry but knows a few words like "Hungry" and "Thirsty". The rest is up to you 😊. Thanks in advance!

A/N: It is a little different from the request, so I hope you don’t mind, also it’s not great. And I’m terribly sorry for the wait, I hope you can understand why xxx

Walking around the lab, you screwed your face up at the mess. It was like toddler’s had been let loose in the room, there was glass broken upon the floor, paper thrown out of the shredder, and worst of all, no one to condemn for the death of the scientist.

Sighing, you shut your eyes, leaning back into one of the counters. “So, the guy that was killed had like a dozen or so kids and we can’t find a single one of them, or the mother?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose as Cas circled the room once more, seeing if he could find anything that your human eyes had missed. But alas, there was no ultimatum, nothing that could direct the pair of you to answers.

“That sounds about right.” Dean’s gruff voice came from the doorway, stepping on shards of glass as he came closer to the two of you. “Although at this time, I am calling shots on the mom being the killer.”

“We don’t even know if this is up our alley Dean.” You sighed, opening your eyes and looking at the older hunter. “Did you get anything from the co-workers?” 

“Not a peep.” His tone was almost too cheerful, especially considering the circumstances. The group of you were nowhere near completing this case, and all he could think about was the burger joint around the corner. You were close enough to it, that you would give in and accompany him. “Who’s hungry?”

“After the sight of the guts strung in the ceiling fan,” you looked up to emphasise your point, “I think I may have lost what appetite that I had left.”

“Bad luck. You snooze, you lose.” With that he left the room, presumably heading off to stuff his face. It was impossible not to roll your eyes at his childish behaviour, although in all fairness, you should have been used to it by now. However your dear angel friend remained with you. 

“We should meet with Sam and Jack, and see if they have found anything in the house.” Castiel spoke, confused by the lack of evidence in this death. There was nothing that could have helped, even the majority of the man’s body was gone.

“Why would someone have that many children?” It was a rhetorical question, but just the thought of your body going through it’s natural process that many times made you shiver.

“To repopulate.” Cas put simply, although that was a straightforward fact. But that was not what you had meant, admittedly you had a soft spot for kids, even missed being one sometimes.

“I know, but doesn’t that seem sort of strange to you?” Your mind was spinning with all sorts of possibilities, of what could and couldn’t be going on. Unless, well... “It could be like some sort of supernatural litter, or they’re breeding test subjects. Is there even any record of them having that many children?”

Your conclusions made your friend frown, and he pointed his finger up, unintentionally pointing to the tendril of flesh that was hanging from the fan above.

“We should check the records.” And with that he grabbed your bag from just outside of the room, pulling your laptop from out of it. Just then, your phone began ringing. It was Sam, and so you answered.

“Hey, you find anything?” There was silence on the other end, until you heard the shrill sound of what you supposed to be a child.

“Was that Jack or -” 

“Hey!” The nephilim retorted. You could already picture the child like frown on his face, but before either of you could bicker about your comparison, the Winchester on call spoke first.

“She left one of her kids, and we found hex bags.” He breathed, relieved that this did in fact involve what you all were guessing to be a witch, yet also frustrated about how messy this all was. “But the thing is, this son of hers was closed in the basement, and the only thing down there for him to eat down there was a man’s leg...”

“We should get that tested, it could be the father.” You said, trying to think about this case adjoined with all of its new revelations. “So, what is her goal here, she’s trying to turn her own children into cannibals?”

“That’s how the ‘myth’ of the wendigo started in human folklore.” Jack commented, before he frowned. Him and Sam both let out shouts, making you fear for the pair. 

“Sam?”

“She doesn’t have any children, nor did he.” Cas spoke, the content on the screen disarranging this entire predicament further. “What just happened Sam?”

His breathing could still be heard from the other end of the line. It seemed like he was in shock of some sort.

“You’ve got that right, Cas.” He breathed, referring to the fact that she had no spawn. “And I suspect the others are like him. He’s just turned into a grown man, we’re going to attempt to get an answer to who he is. Be careful if you encounter Mrs Fletcher, both of you.”

So, now you had a presumed answer on how Mr Fletcher had died, you had to tell Dean. Quickly, you and Cas left the scene, looking for the elder Winchester, remembering to take any of your items with you.

“Thankyou.” You nodded, doing all of the talking to any police whilst Cas held your phone at an arm’s length. “Got any clues on where our witch works?” You asked him.

Sam replied soon, making the matter of reaching Dean that more prominant. “West Street, not far from where you are. At the burger joint, Paula’s.”

“Shit!”

-

When you and Castiel arrived, Dean Winchester was nowhere to be found. That fact had you deeply concerned, more so than you would usually be on a hunt. This presumed witch was targeting adults, and not only did he and the majority of you fit the agenda, but you didn’t want to know what would happen if you ended up disturbing her crosshairs.

There was no one inside, excluding yourself and the angel. It was eerie, almost too quiet to be owned by a witch. Scratch that, definitely too quiet.

“Behind the counter.” You nodded towards the door, taking the lead first, lightly pushing it. The bell atop of it jingled, making you blink hazily, before all turned to a deep gaze of pixels.

Castiel walked closer to you, tapping your forehead, but to no avail was your state resolved. Instead, you felt the need to collapse and keep your eyes contained behind their lids. And so you gave into that feeling, only hearing the voices of Sam and Jack before it was over.

-

When you awoke, you were in your bed in the bunker, but it felt much larger than it ever had before. There was so much room to move upon the mattress, the duvet even felt bigger.

As you looked down at your hands, you realised they had shrunk significantly. For all you were aware, this could all have been a very lucid dream, but you doubted that. As a hunter, the strange things were never false, they were real.

Attempting to leave your bed, you dropped your legs over the side, although they were now incapable of touching the floor. Instead of landing upright, you fell, causing a thud against the floor.

The sound had obviously rendered, and it removed all thoughts that were rattling around in your mind. Memories flashed before your eyes, sending a haze of dizziness to your shrunken body, until they all left, making you aloof in your own adult room.

Dean rushed out of his own reside as he heard the thud. He had followed the witch around the back and shanked her, but there had been a second plan up her long black sleeves. And he should have known, as he walked into your room, only to find a little girl with a strong resemblance to you.

This was her charade when alive, and the issue still stuck even now even when she was dead. Dean rubbed his face, feeling the muscles that were tensing beneath the skin. And now they were left with the outcome that they and you had tried to resolve.

Looking down at your youthful silhouette reminded Dean as to exactly why he hated witches so much. They were deceitful and cruel, and unfortunately so much more. “Sam!” He called out in a hurry, cradling your small, whining body in his arms.

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but your once fellow hunter would not allow you to do so. There was no logic turning in the cogs of your mind, instead, you were much rather shy to someone that you were viewing as a stranger.

In a flash, Sam was at the threshold of your door, looking in as it was ajar. He saw Dean with a kid, and there was only one explanation for it. They had been hustled whilst the witch turned in her grave...

-

Cas examined a book in the war room, whilst Jack followed his actions. Sam was on the phone with Rowena, asking, some would see it as begging, the witch to come and fix you up. And thus, Dean was left with you, whilst he nursed a beer in his opposite hand.

You tried to reach the glass bottle, but Dean jerked it away from your grasp. “No.” He warned you, having continuously done so before when you were too lazy to fetch your own from the fridge. But that didn’t stop you, instead it humoured you, making you laugh at the perceived game.

“Stop it.” He spoke again, making Jack laugh at your stubbornness which clearly hadn’t changed. For once, it was nice for him not to be the youngest in the room, even though technically he still wasn’t. But all got distracted when Sam huffed a sigh of relief over the phone.

“Okay, great. Me and Dean will meet you there.” And then he hung up.

-

Rather than being in Dean’s arms once again, you had been traded to Sam’s as the eldest drove Baby to the destination that Rowena had proposed. “Thirsty.” You mumbled, a gurgle following your very short sentence.

Sam looked at Dean, who only shrugged. He was unsure of what to do, they couldn’t stop at a gas station, otherwise they would miss their meeting with Rowena, and as they knew far too well, she was a tricky one to get a hold of.

“No you’re not.” Dean told you, trying to convince your mind otherwise to its actual thoughts. For the moment of which you were silent, he thought it may have worked, however the peace was not eternal, for you spoke again.

“Hungry.” You managed to speak next, making Dean huff from exhaustion. He thought of your need for a drink, and then it clicked, he tipped his head back at Sam.

“There’s a beer in the back.” It possibly could have rolled under his seat, these roads to the witch were bumpy. Sam gasped at the statement, placing his hand on your back as he bounced you and kept you distracted from your desires.

“Please tell me that you’re not serious.” At this point, Sam would not be surprised with his brother. Quite clearly, as much as the man adored kids, he was getting quite fed up with you in this state. It was day in, day out and yet the effects still hadn’t worn themselves out.

“She’s technically of legal drinking age.” He shrugged, remembering all of the times that you would steal his beer from the fridge, or even sometimes his hands.

“Technically,” the younger of the two pried, glaring at his brother, “currently she isn’t,”

“We’re here anyway.” Dean cut the conversation short, putting the car in park. For the first time in his life, the hunter and legacy was eager to see Rowena. Never did he think that day would ever come, but somehow your obliviousness had landed you all here, and he hated it.

Sam got out of the car, carrying you to a bench that Dean had decided to park his own rear on. There was a nice breeze whipping his hair before his face, and this younger you mirrored the reaction the elder one would have had.

You laughed, watching the swarm of locks cover his face, and move to the other side, with the swiftest and slightest motions as the direction switched itself up. 

Footsteps, clearly heels, could be heard clicking their way over. It was isolated in this park, presumably the redhead’s doing as she came into view with an amused grin stretching her chin.

“Well, if I was not already quite acquainted with the pair of you, I would presume the two of you were fathers to dear little (Y/N).” Rowena bent forward, ignoring the glares she received from the men, ogling at your youthful expressions. “Are you sure that you don’t want to keep her like this? She is quite adorable when she hasn’t got the brains to work with my son when the two of you dimwits think it fits into your narrative. Or hold a gun to the back of my neck and blackmail me with my own security.”

“Definitely.” Was Dean’s instant response. He could not do another day with baby you, he’d start going grey, or his eyes would turn black all of a sudden from pent up rage.

“Yes, Rowena.” Sam answered, bowing his head, as your fingers decided to thread themselves through his hair.

“Shame.” She pouted briefly, before waving her hand, and then you were, dazed, but sat in Sam’s lap, full size. As soon as you came to, your eyes widened at the position you were in, and you were quick to launch yourself out of it. He however sat there stunned. “Told you we should have called her earlier.” Sam said, still feeling awkward from your exchange, and Dean only grunted in a reply.

Dean knew for sure though, you had been a pain in the ass. If it ever happened again, he would just leave you with Jack and Cas.

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited

Chapter 9: Revelations

Death sighed, "In some ways it was, no need for a ruckus."

Meanwhile the Wendigo behind them began snarling as it transformed back into its 'normal' state. Death then approached it cautiously, Harvester still poised to strike it down.

The words it said next surprised everyone, "Thank you........"

All of a sudden Merlin popped into the space with seemingly no aid from a portal, "Ok I've finally figured out what this bastard. Oh hi." That last part being said in quite the nervous tone.

Morgen and Death looked at him surprised whilst Aspen shook her head, "Why is it everytime I get involved with others....YOU...happen to be involved with them?"

"Maybe because they're coming to a genius. Who just so happened to figure out what the hell that guy is. It's a Wendigo, kind of sort of....went on dream journey and got his mind fucked up. And then got fixed in poor fashion."

"Right.....and I suppose you have a plan to help with this?" Aspen asks him a bit untrusting.

"Well I mean....technically these things are omnivores. I dunno how to help this thing any further. Given the fact that it looks to be.....alright?"

Aspen facepalmed, "In other words, all you had was information about the creature and NOTHING ELSE. Ugh, probably got distracted by some lass or other."

"A, I was always fascinated at the fact that these guys are more amongst us druids than the brutish monsters most are accustomed to. And I also, no I haven't, I would've been stuck in my house for the past twenty-four hours, I am forty-eight hours exhausted."

"How marvelous. So what's the point of this information then?" Aspen inquires.

Merlin is unaware as Morgen approaches the Wendigo curiously but cautiously as well, and answers Aspen, "Meaning their cannibalistic tendencies are curbed..."

"Greatly.." The Wendigo hissed before Merlin could say it.

Morgen meanwhile felt a strong pull for some reason, only being stopped by Death and held back. The look in his eyes seemed to suggest concern, "What in Creation are you doing?"

"Something strong's calling me, quite incessantly in fact. It's just pulling me."

Death however grabbed her outstretched arm, "And where exactly is this 'call' pulling you? Cause to me this could be a trap."

The Wendigo looks up at him, "I won't bite....I know what's happening. Kind of....although it is rare to see one of your kind here."

Morgen looked at him quizzically, "What do you mean by...one of my kind...?"

The Wendigo suddenly paused with concern then told her quickly, "Crap....I have to go... if you need my help...I'll be in Alaska." With that he sprouts owl wings before flying into a portal he made. Once it shuts, Death notices Merlin examining Morgen up and down.

Aspen then grabs him by the ear and Death places Morgen behind him, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Owowowowow! What the HELL Aspen?" Merlin asked her.

"Asked the old pervy mage." Aspen sighs.

"I was NOT being pervy, just being fucking curious is all. Now would you please let go of my fucking ear?!" Merlin got out angrily.

"And you thought saying you were...'curious' was supposed to help your case?"

"I dunno, just seems a little bit off given what the Wendigo just said. Made me a little bit worried, and I just wanted to see what it was." Merlin pled.

"I did feel a strange pull towards the Wendigo, should I be concerned?" Morgen inquires nervous.

"I don't know yet. I need to do a further examination." Merlin insists.

Death holds her close on instinct, "Given her current history, that may not be a good idea."

Morgen was surprised at first but as Death didn't let go she started to enjoy it a little. Blushing all the more as she did so. Feeling his rough hands on her back was so soothing. After a moment she let out a satisfied exhale, which he felt on his chest quite easily.

Merlin of course says this gem before Death can say anything, "I think you're enjoying that a little bit too much over there my lady."

Death's own reaction, was to go red behind his mask, and go dumbfounded, "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"How long since you've been with a woman to have forgotten what THAT sound means?" Merlin questions him.

Death thinks on it briefly then looks down at Morgen, "Uhm......you wanna say something?"

"Well uh.......uhm.......ah......oh dear....." Morgen gets out in her massive embarrassment.

Death begins to back up, thinking that may help things. Letting Morgen go he tells her, "I'm sorry about that."

"I don't mind it, in fact I.....that is I......uhmmmm....." Morgen began before looking at Aspen and Merlin watching her, and she blurted out, "It was soothing ok?!"

Morgen then shuts her mouth quickly as Death looks back at her, "Uhmmmm well then I.....you're welcome...this is first time anyone's ever said that....about me."

Merlin gets a coy smile then tells Death, "I have something to talk with ya about. Now get over here before I start embarrassing ya even further."

Death quickly jogs over to him and goes on a walk, "Is there a reason that you wish to speak with me NOW?"

"Ok first off you do realize that's she's pining for ya right?" Merlin inquires only for Death to be silent, caught off guard by the question, "Oh my god....you don't. How daft are ya, I just need to ask."

"I can tell, believe me."

"Ok how long has it been since you've been with a woman? That has forced anything on you?" Merlin questions him.

"Uhm I.....I can't really seem to recall. That's why I'm here."

"Ooooooooh. So you need some memory magic eh? What exactly for?" Merlin asked him.

"I've been having visions, dreams, recollections, came here to see if they were memories or if they were just small dreams." Death explains.

"You do realize I could give ya a memory potion that could snap you back into normal recollections."

Death somehow...understands this, "So what you're saying is this potion will make me remember that which has been locked away?"

"Make ya remember all that you've lost? Yes. It helped me remember what happened while I was having a black out. Helped me avoid many an awkward conversation."

"Did NOT need to KNOW that. Of all things, THAT was the last thing I needed to hear." Death expresses in an uncomfortable tone.

"Look this'll help, trust me. If it helps me it'll help you." Merlin states before walking off then coming right back...,"Op nevermind, just in case something goes wrong."

"What?"

"Oh nothing to worry about Horseman, trust me. Just drink it." Merlin explains.

Death finally does so and ends up downing it all. Merlin tries to stop him but is too late. Death then begins to have a massive headache of pain, but somehow has the fortitude to remain standing. Which only concerns Merlin all the more as Death remembers all the locked up memories. The repressed ones with Lilith hit him all over again accompanied by him pulling through with only occasional growl in pain. Death then starts to weep softly, surprising all but Aspen. He sees Wren as the nurse that once saved his life, to the warrior she eventually became due to his advice to her, then when seeing the memory of her being dead he begins to weep harder. Then he actually begins to calm down a bit as he remembers his little baby daughter. The memories of holding her in his arms, when she was taken, and surprisingly when Absalom told him he searched for her and that she'd died.

"I need to go find her now!" Death shouted to his brother within the memory.

"It's too late brother. " Absalom begins whilst handing him a torn piece of the fabric Death had wrapped her in. It was bloodied as well, "This is all we found, what was left. Best to forget it, and move on. Besides her Mother was a Fae, nothing to be writing home about."

"You didn't look hard enough, you must've missed something." Death begged in a mix of denial and anger.

"Oh please, it was a Hag, since when do they leave anything behind."

"I promised to keep her safe! I promised! Not let me go! Let me go hunt! I can find her!" Death pleaded.

"Hunt all you want brother, you'll find nothing. I'm sorry for your...loss. But for the sake of us all brother, leave it in the past. It's nothing worth...crying about now."

Death shouted, "She was my child!"

"And I've had many children myself. The weak shall perish, only the strong shall survive. You don't see me mourning them do you?"

Death however finally just screamed at him, "SHE WAS MY FIRST ABSALOM! AND IT'S MY FAULT SHE'S DEAD! WHAT DO YOU HONESTLY EXPECT OF ME?! TO BECOME THE HEARTLESS MONSTER LIKE YOU ARE NOW?! TO NOT CARE JUST LIKE YOU DO?!"

Absalom puts the axe down and walks up to him, "You wound me for thinking I don't care. I think on what's best for our people. And right now I'm thinking about what's best for you. Let it go."

Death enraged, only shouted, "IF I FIND OUT, THAT YOU IN ANY WAY HAD ANY PART OF THIS...."

"Keep your threats to yourself Death, before you find them being shoved down your throat."

With that the memory ends as Death runs off in his rage. Death then comes to back in Aspen's forest. A mix of emotions going through his mind, particularly anger, as Absalom was indeed lying. And this time, Death could tell he was.

He immediately asked Aspen in a darkened tone, "Do you have any trees here that you need cut down?"

"No Horseman, but perhaps Merlin can send you to a room or dimension full of things to destroy?" Aspen suggests gently.

"Uuuuummmmmm.....I've a training room you could like. It'll base the enemies on your memories. You know, if you're pissed off at someone, you can technically take care of em. Not the real deal, but it'll help." Merlin explains.

"Just send me in there." Death says simply with a growl.

Merlin does so, leaving Death to face a memory of Absalom.

"Remember what I said I'd do to you if you lied to me? I found out you lied about my daughter!" Death shouts already starting the barrage.

Morgen and the others wait for him to return for quite a long while. Morgen begins to grow worried as time goes on. Suddenly Death appears from the room after asking Merlin to bring him back. Morgen stands straight up and asks, "Are you alright?"

"I'm a lot better now than I was a few minutes ago. I need to take care of a few things, I'll take you back in case happens." Death tells her in a depressed state.

Morgen only nods and allows him to bring her back to Vortigern's home. Once they return she heads inside as Death hurries off into the northeast.

When she gets inside at last, she hears Strife ask her a bit coyly, "So how'd it go?"

"It went well, but I think the memories are....more painful than he expected. He's headed northeast from here, if you want to go check on him." Morgen explains somberly.

"So where is he now? Or is he being private about that?"

"He spoke no words on the way back, he just left without a word as well. Only heading northeast on Despair as I walked inside." Morgen replies.

"Great. Also, uhm...did you encounter any problems while you were out?"

"We finally took care of the Wendigo, he won't be bothering anyone now. He's gone home." Morgen says.

"Huh? Explain."

Morgen does so, and notices Strife getting confused at first. Then when mentioning the memories and how he screamed in anger at the end of them coming back to him, Strife looked worried.

"You hear any names being screamed at all?"

"Only once, and I heard the name Absalom. I don't know it, but he sounded severely angry and hurt by something he did. Something about a child." Morgen explains as best she can.

Wide eyed, Strife said, "Aw shit. So he's remembering that now, great."

"What's wrong with that memory exactly?"

"Not my place, that's something he needs to tell you. Whenever he's out of his moods." Strife tells her before heading outside.

Strife decides ultimately that Death should talk to somebody right now. That he needs to talk to someone. So he rides out with Mayhem to find Death. Tracking Death through the tracks Despair left behind. Before too long, Death managed to find a secluded cabin. One that had ultimately seen far better days. Hell it actually looked as though it had been vandalized recently. Death looks around for any missing valuables and finds a specific locket he gave to Wren long ago is indeed missing. He knew because it was usually hung above the fireplace. Then he hears something in the basement. He goes downstairs with Harvester, finding a typical bandit easily enough.

"If you wish to live, drop everything you've gained from here, and leave." Death growled to him.

The man did obey and quickly took off in a panic. Death then goes through the bag of stolen goods and begins to place them back in their proper places. Feeling happy memories from some, and sad memories from others. The locket he glances over for a time, and he chooses to look into it. This locket had Wren's memories of him within it, and he decides watch through them. And then he saw the memory Wren had of the last time he saw her alive. He saw the beautiful cliffside cave they'd been in, with a gorgeous aurora borealis in the sky. The memory went well, then Death heard the part he was dreading.

"I wish we could stay this way forever." He heard Wren say to him.

"Unfortunately forever doesn't seem to last that long."

Wren then sighed, "Death you could just stay here. You don't have to leave. No one's forcing you to..."

"I kinda have to. Responsibilities unfortunately, besides Absalom would drag me out of here and kill you if I ever abandoned everyone. I'm sorry, but unfortunately responsibilities have dictated that I need to go."

"Death please, you gave my life more purpose than being a warrior ever brought. Than being a lonely nurse in my home brought. I need you, please don't leave me." Wren pleads with him.

"Take solace in the fact that I will return. But I can't stay, I have to go. Now please, let's not this any harder, ok?"

Wren then holds him tightly, sobbing into his chest. This lasted for some time as he comforted her. Finally Wren told him softly, "Death, I love you. Please promise you'll return to me soon."

"I'll try." Death told her before gently kissing her, then Wren asked of him,

"Before you go, please do one thing for me. So I can bare this loneliness."

"What is that?"

"Impregnate me. Please." Wren begged him.

"Uh.....huh. It's gonna be a little bit different but, I think I have my ways." Death expresses with a chuckle before they got to it.

After this Death saw them have their moment of passion and how he left her at home at the end of the night. He closes the locket, and places his head in his hands.

"Staying was the choice I should've made. I'm sorry."

Suddenly he heard a light knock, and turned his head growling in an undetermined emotion.

"Hey cool it dude, it's only me." Strife calmly states.

"Why are you here? How the hell did you find me? And to top it all off, how much of that did you hear?"

"Small bit. Came here cause I thought you might need somebody to talk to." Strife tells him.

"Riiiiiight. And you didn't think I wouldn't be in the mood?"

"Uh huh. As for how I found you, got the direction you went in, and you didn't help things by not hiding Despair's tracks."

"Just.....just leave me to this. So I can do something I didn't do a long time ago." Death implored him.

"Hey, I'm coming in. And I'm not leaving, not while Uther's still running around. Besides, you shouldn't be alone while like this. If you want me quiet, that's fine. But I'm not leaving bro. I'm staying right here with ya."

"Fine, but silence is what I'm seeking now." Death calmly said.

Strife then sat down on a chair behind the couch Death was sat on. Remaining quiet as Death asked him to. Strife occasionally glanced his way, noticing the pain he felt in his current body language. Strife soon decided to do some maintenance on his guns to pass the time. Better than the ringing in his ears that often came with prolonged silence. While there was the occasional click of parts or a metallic tink, Death didn't seem to mind it. If anything he couldn't blame Strife for passing the time that way. He only kept staring at the locket for what seemed like hours, in fact it was quite a long time before Death finally sighed. Strife paused, listening intently for whatever his brother may say at last.

"Thanks, for being silent and being here."

"You're welcome. Feel free to stick around, I'm not done cleaning Mercy here." Strife told him.

Death nods then heads outside, finding a patch of gravestones nearby. He goes up to one in particular, looking at it in silent reverence. Then suddenly, he noticed the grave site itself had freshly disturbed dirt. As if someone had been digging recently. Slowly gaining a look of concern mixed with shock, then he turned Harvester into a shovel. He needed to see for sure that she was intact, that nothing was taken. That SHE wasn't taken. Then upon reaching the hollow hole where she'd been placed eons before, he found no body. Fearing the worst had been done, Death backs away in pure shock. Then upon collapsing into a sitting position, he heard Strife hurry outside.

"Yo you alright out here, what the hell's going on?!"

Death can only point to show Strife what's wrong.

Strife then hurried over and examined the exhumed coffin. Which currently had a hole through the top, as if someone had punched through it, "Ok, where did the body go? And what the hell happened to the coffin?"

"I left her here....I could've sworn it was right here."

Strife then walked up to his brother then kneeled, "Dude snap out of it.", shaking Death in the process.

"Waaaugh....What? What what?"

"Bro, coffin. Look at it." Strife tells him.

Death does so reluctantly and actually sees the coffin lid's hole. This only raises even more questions though, "How could there be a hole? Why is it looking as if it's from the inside? Did I bury her alive? No that can't be right, I felt no pulse on her.....she never breathed.....Maybe some weird version of a coma? No that's ridiculous. Uhm uh....."

"Wait a minute, what happened?"

Death takes a moment to breathe and asks Strife, "If I tell you this, can I trust you to keep quiet about it?"

"Remember Lilith? Kept my mouth shut about that. I still think you should Fury and War though."

"I'm still afraid that they'll try to avenge me. And end up as playthings, like I did."

"A, you don't give those two enough credit. B, you beat yourself up way too much. And C, War's way too smart for that." Strife explains.

"What about Fury?"

"Eh....mixed response to that one. But me and War will keep her 'calm' and in close proximity in case she actually does go after her. Trust me, you've got to worry about when it comes to those two, ok?" Strife assures him.

"You think they'll react to it ok? That they won't....be ashamed of me because of what happened to me?"

"They know just as well as us how fucked up Lilith is. How evil, twisted, and manipulative that BITCH can be. I also know they won't shame you for something that wasn't your fault. I didn't, and I never will. You didn't deserve that, not one second of those three days." Strife states calmly.

"Thank you."

"So you gonna start explaining this whole place to me?" Strife asks.

"Remember the fact that I, had a daughter once?"

Strife cocked his head skeptically, "You? Having a kid?"

Death only sighs and then tells Strife, "Remove the helm, I'll show you."

"A, it's a visor. B, give me a second to unhook it."

Once Strife got it off of him, Death then showed him the memories of Wren, the last time he saw her alive, his reaction to a letter she sent about her pregnancy, and the day he found her dead. Next came his memories of their little daughter. How he held her, the anklet she was given based on Nephilim tradition, the Hag that took her from him, and Absalom's bullshit towards Death. Only then did Strife remember for himself. He remembered how depressed Death had become. How he'd rarely eat unless forced to, almost never speaking, and just obsessing over the piece of fabric. Even to the point he wrapped it around a tiny felt doll made to look like an infant. He always kept it in a little box with a ring he'd made for Wren a long time ago. One he never got to give her. It was a pewter feather that wrapped around the finger with the vein of said feather being blue glowstone. Wren had once said it was her favorite.

"Dude, don't this the wrong way. I thought you were screwing around with her. I didn't know it was serious! If I knew it was, I wouldn't even have allowed Aspen to take your memories. Or even allowed to go attempt it." Strife expressed sympathetically.

Death only shook his head, "Not your fault, I just made the choice. But she's missing."

"Yeah, strangely. You don't think that she pushed her way out?"

"I don't know. I don't even see how that's even possible. She was dead, no pulse, no signs of life, nothing." Death stated.

"Well maybe it was so faint you didn't notice it?" Strife asks cautiously.

"I checked. I used my magic in order to see if there was life in her. I sensed NOTHING. No matter how many times I checked, or how many times I actually prayed. There was no life."

"Yeesh, talk about a horror story. Apparently somebody up and died and came back? Humans talk about crap like this." Strife remarked.

"Yes but those stories are about elderly people, and someone who's tied to the Creator. Not someone who's young and had no relations to him." Death insisted.

Course behind both Horseman, a young woman had just returned with a hand pulled wagon behind her. Upon seeing Death however, she quietly lowered the wagon down and began to back away towards the house. Not wanting to be seen, especially not now.

Death suddenly senses life nearby, "We're not alone."

He then turns around and nearly throws Harvester in that direction. Only to hear a familiar voice shout to him, "Wait! Death calm down!"

Death did so, slowly, and lowered Harvester. Once he did, he saw someone he never thought he would again. In his shock and disbelief, he dropped his scythes, "I uh....I...Wren?"

"Hello Death." Wren told him, looking as though nothing had happened to her.

Death immediately comes up and begins checking her over. He finds no signs of dirt, she isn't wearing the dress he found and buried her in, he then checks for any Necromancy. To his further shock, there are no signs of that magic having been used on her. He does notice her knuckles looked scratched up and a bit swollen, as if she'd punched something and broken them recently.

"I think you need to start explaining something to me."

"Yeah, last my brother knew, you were DEAD." Strife adds on.

Wren sighed and looked up at him, "I once told you I was a Fae, but that was a lie. I'm not a Fae at all, I'm an Arcaneian. From the realm once called Arcaena. You know of the race I'm sure, having fought them before."

"Yeah, one of your Generals nearly killed. In fact that's how we met."

Wren nods, "Yes, I recall readily. You came to me battered beyond all belief, a sleek sword through your chest. I even remember how many times you tried getting out of bed."

"Yeah....but how does any of that explain you being ALIVE?!"

"Calm down and I'll get there. Arcaneians have an ability to resurrect after a long time. For some it takes longer than others. The only catch, you can only do so a few times. Should you reach a particular age, you'll just die. You won't have anymore chances." Wren tells him calmly.

"Oh, are there any other things that I should know about?" Death inquired.

"We have tattoos that only reveal themselves on Arcaena. And should we indeed die we turn into a weapon that only has a shadow of our personality. What we were in life, is barely a memory, if even that. It's actually....kind of terrifying to think about." Wren tells him sounding a bit nervous.

"Oh GRAND....great, so.....that's a.....lot to take in actually." Death says being reminded of the Grand Abominations briefly.

"I know it's a bit like those....'devices' you were involved with. But it's not the same thing, it's different I assure you. It's only a scary concept for me."

Death sighed before asking, "So...how powerful are these weapons?"

"The Abominations were more powerful than them overall. But they can get to massive destruction levels if they're an old construct or weapon, if they're original body or soul is extremely powerful enough to boost them to that degree, or when they become mystically charged enough."

Death looks at her a bit wide eyed, "You have any examples of these?"

"Yes actually. Although I'm.....reluctant to bring them up." Wren told him nervously, staring at the graves of her family members.

Death observes them a bit and questions, "If I dig them up, am I going to find these 'things' you were talking about?"

"I would assume so....but please reconsider. Let's just leave them be please....." Wren pleads with him.

Death can see the fear in her eyes, and it's never been something he got used to, "We won't touch them. Why are you, terrified to begin with?"

"To look upon them......is to acknowledge my own eventual fate. And there's barely anything left of their original selves in those weapons now......It used to give me nightmares....about what may happen to me....and when I was stuck in that grave.....I had to listen to them.....speaking to me....." Wren tells him in a fearful tone.

Death hugs her, holding her closely, "If I knew, I would not have buried. I only need to ask one more question? What would've happened if I had cremated you on the pyre?"

"It wouldn't have done anything really, only made my recovery longer. And probably more painful too." Wren expresses simply, calming down a slight.

"Glad I buried you." Death states stroking her back, "So....how have you been doing these past few...eons now?"

"I only came out recently. Aside from being scared shitless in that dirt, I have been just gathering supplies and keeping a low profile mostly."

Death then thinks a moment, before asking Strife telepathically, "Would it be good to tell her about our daughter?"

"I dunno dude this is up to you. It may be a BAD idea, but if you wanna go for it then go for it. She's probably gonna find out on her own eventually anyway."

Death swallows hard, dreading what he's inevitably having to tell her, "Wren....I'm not sure if you heard me. But when I found our daughter......I promised you I'd keep her safe. Do you.....remember that?"

"I remember hearing your voice once. Although it was long ago, and you sounded devastated. That's about it. Why? What happened?" Wren questioned him concerned.

"I......I couldn't......I......I failed.....I failed you Wren......I failed our daughter......a Hag took her.....and I couldn't.....stop her......My brother refused to let me.....go find our little one.......I don't know her fate......but I.......I fear what it may be. I'm so sorry......I'm so sorry Wren....." Death told her falling to his knees.

"So she's gone? You've never found her?" Wren implored him.

"I tried everything.....I couldn't find her.....I even tried finding Hag, and I found no remains either. Given the current information I got.....I'm glad I never any remains or strange weapons. So there's some hope at least......I'm....I'm so sorry.....I....wish I could've saved her. Please forgive me...."

Wren knelt with him and this time was the one doing the holding, "We'll find her Death, one way or another. Just please don't blame yourself. You did all you could for her."

Strife turns around and walks off, clearly trying to hide his choked up voice, "I just need to....go over there for a minute.....I need a little minute to myself....got something in my eye....not going to be looking good. And uh....I'll help finding her too. Besides, she's family too right?"

"Yeah, she's family." Death expressed calmly as he stood up, "Also, when we get back to the others...."

"Don't tell em? Got it."

Death decides to wait until another time to explain the situation with Morgen. Wanting to wait to find out more about how he feels towards her. Wren of course has it in her mind to go hunting through various Hag nests.

Course Death has Despair come to his side and asks Wren, "Do you...want to come along? I know how you are about...being alone and all."

"You'd let me come along?" Wren asks surprised.

"It's the least I can do after essentially burying you alive....so yeah...Besides we've got decent food there." Death states.

"Very well, just let me grab some things from inside." Wren says hurrying to gather some belongings.

She takes the locket and naturally takes her current weapon. Course she also takes the sword that was in Death's back once. Having kept it because it asked her to. She then hurries out, with Death helping her onto Despair's saddle. Once Strife mounts up, they hurry off. Death wanted to ask what she brought, but chose to inquire on it later. When they finally returned, Morgen caught glimpse of them. When noticing Wren on Despair's saddle, she felt a twinge of jealousy coming on. If anyone was around they'd notice her eyes had gained a bit of emerald green alongside the usual amethyst purple.

Barrcus turned the corner and found her looking out the window. Seeing her eye color he asked her, "And who seems to be the holder of your jealous gaze?"

Morgen sighs, "The woman with Death there, she's probably important to him. I'm worried they might be....close."

"And what do you wish me to do, in order to help alleviate those emotions?"

"Nothing. Beyond maybe advice....if you have any council for me." Morgen requests.

"You should probably tell him at some point, about your feelings for him. That way it could give him a way of dealing with how he may be feeling. Or it could give him incentive to figure out what he's feeling. Either way, you'll know and either put your feelings aside or explore them. Just be patient, and don't go that fast. Just take it slow, for both of you."

"Thank you Barrcus. Would you recommend I speak with the woman as well? Maybe to get to know her and prevent resentment?" Morgen suggests.

"That indeed is a wise choice. As long as you keep your emotions in check. Just be the understanding woman I know you are."

"Of course, I'll be mindful of myself. Thank you." Morgen expressed with a sweet hug, which Barrcus reciprocated despite his pain.

[yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend]

Dear Friend - Part 6

Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean meets a girl on a new hunter website and begins an online romance. The only problem is, they don’t know who the other person is. Could their love for one another last only in the confines of the computer screen or will their desire for something more lead them to finally meet?

Warnings: Some swear words. A little less of a slow burn this time. That’s progress, right?

A/N: This is the second to last part of this little series. I’m loving your kind words about it so much. Thank you to everyone who’s taken the time to leave me feedback on it. Once again, a huge thank you to @hannahindie​ for betaing this series for me. I really appreciate all your notes and suggestions. As I’ve said before, I hope you ll have as much fun reading this story as I’ve had writing it. 

Series Masterlist

Dear friend,

I can’t tell you what happened to me last night, but I beg you from the bottom of my heart to forgive me for what happened. I feel terrible that you found yourself in a situation that caused you additional pain. But I’m absolutely sure that whatever you said last night was provoked, even deserved. And everyone says things they regret when they’re worried or stressed. You were expecting to see someone you trusted but met the enemy instead. It’s my fault.

Someday I’ll explain everything. Meanwhile, I’m still here. Talk to me.

“So?” Christina barely waited for Y/N to open the front door before she spoke. She had been dying to find out how her friend’s meet up went.

Y/N simply sighed as she stepped back to let Christina inside her house. She shut the door behind her and turned back around. “He didn’t show,” she huffed as she ran a hand across her face.

“No!” Christina followed Y/N as she walked into the kitchen. She sat at the table as Y/N poured them cups of coffee. “He stood you up?”

Y/N joined Christina at the table, setting down both mugs, “Something must have kept him from showing.” She mindlessly stirred her cream and sugar into her coffee and clinked her spoon dry on the rim of her mug. “Maybe he got there, took one look at me and left,” she frowned.

“Not possible,” Christina assured.

“Maybe there was a hunt that ran long.”

“Absolutely.”

“A wendigo in the mountains…”

“And no service…”

“Or what if there was a car crash?” Y/N’s eyes went wide.

“The roads are slippery this time of year…”

“And he’s in the hospital… his arms in a cast, unable to move…”

“He couldn’t type. Had to find someone to type for him,” Christina continued her friend’s theory.

The little television on the counter interrupted their thoughts with a breaking news jingle. “This just in,” the anchor began, “Oklahoma’s Solstice Strangler has finally been caught. State authorities say they apprehended the suspect last night after a lengthy investigation.”

Christina turned to Y/N with eyes as big as saucers.

“What?” Y/N asked. “Are you suggesting that –?”

“It could be.”

Y/N sat there in silence.

“He was arrested last night. And Oklahoma is in the area you said he was from.”

They both looked back to the television in time to see a man in handcuffs with his head covered by a jacket being led inside what was likely to be a police building.

“That explains it!” Christina exclaimed as she slapped her hand down on the table.

“He was in jail…” Y/N said breathlessly.

“And there was a phone…”

“But he could only use it to call his lawyer…”

“You’re so lucky,” Christina shook her head solemnly. “You could be dead.”

Y/N thought on the idea for a moment before pulling herself back to reality, “Are you crazy? He couldn’t possibly be the Solstice Strangler.”

Christina held up her hands in surrender. She set them back on the table and leaned over them, “How long did you wait there all alone?” Her face had a little too much pity on it for Y/N’s liking.

“Not long,” Y/N leaned back in her chair. “Dean Winchester came in…” she tried to sound nonchalant about it.

“Dean Winchester?!” Christina said a little too loudly for the quiet kitchen.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Now what’s this case you need me to work on?”

Christina begrudgingly allowed her friend to change the subject and told her about the strange deaths that had been happening in a small town in Kansas. It sounded like werewolf trouble, but she was on her way to meet up with some other hunters to take out a vampire nest so she couldn’t go help. She knew Y/N would be a great substitute.  

“There needs to be three FBI agents on this case?” the local sheriff asked as Y/N flashed her credentials.

She looked at the officer with a mix of shock and confusion, “There are other FBI agents here already?”

“They’re inside having a look at the body right now,” he nodded in the direction of the crime scene.

Nervously, Y/N dipped under the police tape and made her way inside. Coming across real agents always stressed her out. What if her cover was blown? It always took too much time and effort to backtrack over her story. As she turned the corner into the living room, however, she was met with two tall and familiar looking men.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she sighed.

Sam and Dean turned from their crouched positions over the body and looked up at her.

“Y/N?” Dean tried not to sound too bright and excited. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here helping a friend. What are you doing here?”

“Well, now you’re the one invading our territory, sweetheart,” he gave a playful wink.

Y/N just stood there tongue-tied, unable to come up with a witty remark or even another question. He was right – technically she was in their territory. She should’ve known better.

Sam stood there looking between the two of them. Everything in him wanted to yell “It’s him, Y/N! Dean is the one you’ve been writing!” but he bit his tongue. “I’m gonna go have a look around,” he vaguely gestured to another part of the house and took his leave.

Dean watched his brother depart while silently begging him to stay. He didn’t know what to say to this woman. This woman who clearly hated him but he secretly loved. He felt small as she looked at him with contempt.

“So what do we have?” Y/N decided it was best just to get on with the case. The sooner it was solved, the sooner she could be rid of Dean Winchester.

Dean studied her face for a moment, noticing the lines that formed on her forehead as she gave him a  quizzical look and the way the right side of her mouth tipped ever so slightly up into a half smile. It was a delicate corner, one that begged to be kissed. He mentally slapped himself back into focus. “Beverly Williams,” he said, turning back to the body that lay on the floor near them. “Housewife. Her heart’s missing. Just like the other two.”

“Sounds like a werewolf,” Y/N crouched down to have a closer look. “Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

After a look around and talking with the neighbors, the three headed to the local diner for lunch and to go over the details of the case.

“So get this, according to the victims’ Facebook pages, they’re all members of the same graduating class in high school,” Sam informed Y/N and Dean. “It looks like their reunion is coming up.”

“What do you want to bet there’s some former Goth kid that never quite grew out of their phase?” Dean turned to look at Y/N with his usual lopsided smile only to be met with an unimpressed stare.

The three victims were part of the same AV club according to the school’s records. There were only two surviving members, Abigail Maples and Jefferson Levi. The hunters decided to split up and go talk to them. Dean and Y/N went to talk to Abigail at the bookstore she worked at, “Shop Around the Corner”.

“So do you know why anyone would want to hurt you guys?” Y/N asked over an open notepad.

“No, I have no idea why anyone would do such a thing,” Abigail continued to shelf books as she talked to them.

“Well, if you can think of anything else, please give us a call.” Dean handed her a business card.

“Thank you for your time,” Y/N held out her hand.

Abigail took it in hers and hissed quietly in pain. She caught Y/N’s eyes and regained her composure, “Goodbye, Detectives.”

“It’s her,” Y/N said under her breath as they exited the store.

Dean stopped in his tracks. “How do you know?”

She held up her right hand and wiggled her fingers, “Silver ring. She winced in pain and tried to play it off. We have a bigger problem, though. I think she might have made us.”

“Great. Just great.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sam to tell him the news.

They spent the rest of the day keeping an eye on Abigail. For someone so vengeful, she sure was boring. Apparently keeping her job was still important to her. They watched her close up the shop and head back home. Halfway there she took an unexpected turn in the wrong direction.

“That’s the direction of Jefferson Levi’s house,” Sam said.

“Looks like revenge is on the agenda for the evening,” Dean quietly quipped. He turned the Impala down the street she had turned onto and continued to follow her. They pulled up to Jefferson’s house a little bit after she arrived. Quietly they got out of the car and made their way up, guns drawn.

The door was ajar when they got to it. Sam gave the other two a silent confirmation before heading in gun first. The house was still as they scanned the entrance. They heard clamoring and a yell coming from the back of the house and moved towards the noise. The turned into the den to find Abigail attacking Jefferson. He was struggling but effectively holding her off. He grunted and strained under her as he held her wrists to keep the claws at bay.

“Hey!” Dean yelled.

Abigail turned around at his voice and he shot her right in the heart. She stumbled backwards into a bookshelf and collapsed on the floor.

Y/N went to assist Jefferson as the boys made sure Abigail was, in fact, dead. “Are you okay?” she asked gently and she hoisted him easily to his feet.

He wiped his hands on his pants and looked down at his slashed up arms with a wince, “What just happened?”

She gave a weak chuckle, “I was hoping you’d kind of tell us that. Why would she come after your group?”

Jefferson looked sheepish, “We bullied her back in high school. She was weird and different. You know how high school can be.” He added the last bit quickly in his defense.

“Yeah, well look where it got you now.” Dean walked over to him, “You should get to the hospital.” He looked Jefferson straight in the eyes, “An animal attacked you. You didn’t see what kind, though. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Jefferson nodded slowly in understanding and made his way towards the door, leaving the three hunters with Abigail’s body.

With another successful hunt behind them, they agreed a drink was in order. The three of them walked up to the local dive bar side by side.

“You know what?” Sam stopped a little way off from the door. “I think I’m actually gonna skip out on drinks and head back to the motel.” He looked directly at Dean and attempted to silently communicate his true motives to him, then gave a quick look to Y/N, “I’m just feeling really tired.” He gave her an apologetic look.

Y/N was a little surprised and disappointed at the loss of a buffer between her and Dean. “Oh… okay.” She tried to save face for the sake of politeness, “Have a good night then.”

Sam gave a wave to the two of them and headed back in the direction of the motel. Dean watched him walk away once again and silently begged for him to come back. What was he going to do now?

He gave an awkward laugh as he opened the door for Y/N and followed her into the bar.

“I wouldn’t want to cramp your style,” she said as she took a seat a little while later with their beers. Dean took the seat opposite her. “I’m sure there’s a helpless woman here tonight and you’re going to go in for the kill. I bet her name is Monica and has aspirations of being a flight attendant. You’d just love her and leave her before the sun rises.” Her words registered in her brain after they were spoken and she clapped her hand over her mouth, “Oh…”

Dean only gave a slow nod.

She winced, “I don’t mean to say things like that. No matter what you’ve done to me, you don’t deserve me saying things like that. But it’s just that every time I see you –” She gestured grandly with her hands.

“Things like that just fly out of your mouth.”

“Yes! And I regret it. My friend said I’d regret saying things like that, and he’s right.”

“Your friend?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. He was actually who I was waiting for that night we met in the café. The night I was so…”

“Charming,” he finished her sentence for her.

She shook her head, “I was not charming.”

“Well, you looked charming.”

“I was upset and horrible.”

“I was the horrible one.” He took a sip of his beer.

“Well, that’s true, but I have no excuse.” She took a sip of her own.

Dean swallowed and nodded, setting his bottle back on the table, “Oh, I see what you’re saying. That’s interesting. I am a horrible person, so I have no choice but to be horrible. That’s what you’re saying.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed and she covered her mouth again in embarrassment.

“But that’s all right,” he continued, “I was rude to you and can be a bit of a pill. You hate me.”

She sighed, “I don’t hate you.”

“But you’ll never forgive me,” he took another sip of his beer. “Just like Elizabeth,” he said as he swallowed.

“Who?”

“Elizabeth Bennett – in Pride and Prejudice. She was too proud.”

“I thought you hated Pride and Prejudice.”

“Or was she too prejudiced and Mr. Darcy was too proud?” Dean kept on. “I can’t remember.”  

Dean looked at Y/N as she took a sip of her beer. There was a slight smile on her lips. The same corner that begged to be kissed turned up once again. He couldn’t help but smile.

Y/N couldn’t help but notice. She set down her drink and nervously ran a hand through her hair, “Why is it that we’re here again?”

He picked at the label on his bottle as he leaned back in his seat and continued to study her. “‘Cause I wanted to be your friend,” he shrugged.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

He splayed his fingers out in front of him, “I know that’s impossible.” He leaned forward again, “But sometimes you gotta try to do the impossible.”

A faint smile flashed across her lips.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Finally, Dean broke it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed.

“What happened with that guy in the café?”

Y/N sighed again as she moved her beer bottle ever so slightly to the left, “Nothing.”

“But you’re crazy about him?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Why don’t you run off with him?”

She placed her elbows on the table as she leaned in. Her face scrunched up in embarrassment. “I don’t actually know him,” she groaned as she dropped her head into her hands.

“Really?” Dean said curiously. “What, did you meet him online?”

Y/N shifted her head to look up at him through her fingers. “Yes.” She was surprised he guessed correctly.

“May I offer you some advice?” He reached up to gently set her hands down, “I think you should meet this person.” He paused for a moment, “No, wait, wait… I take that back. Why would anyone want to meet someone they met on the internet?”

“Hey,” she frowned. “I don’t think I need to be taking advice from someone who –”

Dean gently put his fingers to her mouth to quiet her. “Now, now,” he said softly. “I can see that I bring out the worst in you, but let me just help you make sure you don’t say something you’ll just torture yourself over for years to come.”

In that moment, Dean was closer to her than he had ever been, and for the first time, she noticed how green his eyes were. A mossy green with flecks of brown speckled over them. They were very beautiful. And his hands, though rough and calloused from years of working with them, ghosted her lips ever so gently. It was the softest gesture from such a strong man.

Dean was caught up in the moment, too, lingering a bit too long over the lips that took up most of his free thoughts. He realized a second too late what he was doing and pulled his hand away. He took a final long pull of his beer and retrieved his wallet from his back pocket, “I think I’m going to head back to the motel.” He fished out enough bills to cover the tab and set them on the table.

Y/N’s mouth remained open from her previous attempt at speaking as she watched his actions. The whole situation left her flustered and confused much like any other interaction with Dean Winchester, but this time it was different.

“Good night,” he said as he got up and left.

All Y/N could do was watch him leave as she traced her lips with her own fingertips. Her mouth still remembering the pressure of his fingers on it.

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[sheepbutthead]

Do them all?

Hey thank you, Anon.

65 Questions You Aren’t Used To

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

All the time. I’ve been grappling with the thought that this is just a big simulation and I’m just a brain floating in a jar.

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

I’m actually fine with the dark. Sometimes my anxiety gets the best of me though. So like a 2? 3?

3. The person you would never want to meet?

Everyone’s favorite walking, talking orange: Donald Trump.

4. What is your favorite word?

That’s tough, there are a lot of good words. Salubrious is good. Gentle is good. Cro-magnon makes me think of crunchy cereal.

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

The Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

“Dear god what a fucking fuck.” and “There’s cat hair all over my sweater and it’s killing me.”

7. What shirt are you wearing?

I’m wearing one of my favorite sweaters. It’s burgundy and has a stitched squares pattern.

8. What do you label yourself as?

Jewish (barely), white dude, awkward, sensitive in the worst way someone could be sensitive, somehow still apathetic to the point of concern, (very) amateur musician. 

9. Bright room or dark room?

It depends on what I’m doing. If I’m working or eating I like a bright room. But typically I like soft yellow light or just natural window light.

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

Forcing myself to sleep so I wouldn’t overthink anymore.

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

Probably 5. Being 19 feels weird.

12. Who told you they loved you last?

My mom. I just took her to the doctor for a evaluation type thing.

13. Your worst enemy?

Tangling things. Like blankets, string, messy rooms, jackets, drama, emotions. Also needles.

14. What is your current desktop picture?

A very old picture of the square in Jacksonville.

15. Do you like someone?

Yes, I’d say so.

16. The last song you listened to?

Whale by Yellow Ostrich. I’ve been getting into them lately.

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

I don’t know, I’m generally against killing people. I’d hate to be responsible for anyone’s death. Unless maybe it was someone who did horrible horrible things to people. Like a serial killer or a Hitler situation.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

Now THIS I’m kinda ok with. I’m still usually not cool with violence but I’m also human. Probably Trump if I wouldn’t go to jail for the rest of my life. So maybe just one of or both of the Paul brothers.

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

I’m not sure of the moral implications for this one either. I guess maybe Gordon Ramsay so he can teach me how to cook or just cook for me all day. I’d be happy with one of the Chris actors from the Marvel movies because they all seem like fun, cool people and they’re also very hot. I guess we’d just hang out all day and do stuff. I would stare a lot.

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

I don’t know. I’ve been told my eyes are nice. Maybe my ears?

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

I think I would be a pretty hot girl actually. Of course I would take that genitalia for a spin. I can’t really think of much else to do as a girl that I couldn’t technically just do as a guy. Maybe experience a period?

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

I play trumpet, I guess. That’s not much of a secret. Or a talent. I can drive stick. I can whistle pretty well. I’m good at not only destroying property but also relationships.

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

Rabbits. I hate them. Yet I dated someone who loved them. Electricity makes me nervous.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

Fuck dude, I don’t know. That’s a lot of different combinations. I’ve been enjoying egg sandwiches lately.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

I’d probably put it into my bike for repairs and stuff. Anything left over would just be saved for gas.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

I’d love to go to Santorini but definitely not how I’m dressed now. Iceland would be cool to go to. Also Quebec for the Winter Festival.

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?

I haven’t had enough alcoholic drinks to really make a good decision here. I will, however, take a lifetime supply of Buffalo Rock Ginger Ale. 

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

Jesus, imagine the pressure and responsibility. We settle our arguments with whoever can rip the phattest vape cloud. Or maybe just rock, paper, scissors. No need for a fair and educated trial when you can just leave everything to chance and get fucked by fate. But seriously, probably like a vow of honesty. Everyone’s super honest to the point of destroying relationships but we all at least have our shit out there. And we all understand and don’t judge. Pretty much a giant safe space for my bitch ass.

29. What is your favorite expletive?

Fuck nugget, fucking fuck, or motherfucker. Basically just fuck. Or panty waste.

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

I hate this scenario and I think about it all the time. I still don’t know what I would grab. I think maybe my homecoming crown, diploma, or maybe my keyboard. I don’t know. I could list so many things that I would also choose. I hate this question.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

Easy, cheating on someone. Fucking stupidest, most hurtful, self centered, damaging thing I’ve ever done. I’ll regret it until I’m dead and I can never make up for it.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

What a life I live. I’m cool with Canada, Iceland, or maybe Denmark.

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

My sister.

34. What was your last dream about?

Trying to talk to someone I used to know and being having a developing “hates me then doesn’t” buddy buddy relationship with their dad?

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?

I am a good space heater. That’s about it.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

When I was little I had to go to the hospital because of dehydration. One of the doctors thought my appendix was about to burst and they almost sent me in for surgery before another doctor came in and corrected them. Mom was pissed.

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

Oh yeah, several times. Although we don’t get many opportunities in the south.

38. What is the color of your socks?

Red and black.

39. What type of music do you like?

All kinds. I think my main genre is either some sort of electronic music or alternative rock and similar variations.

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

sunsets definitely. Because when it’s done you can watch the stars.

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

I’m a fan of whatever has the most chocolate. I like peanut butter ones too.

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

I don’t care about sports that much, friend.

43. Do you have any scars?

I have one on my finger that I don’t know where it came from, one on my nose (that I also do not know the origin), another one on the same finger because I was young and held the knife the wrong way so that it closed on my finger, and a lot of self inflicted stuff.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

I have graduated and I’m not entirely sure. I used to know. Some kind of creative. It’d be cool to work in the movies. Maybe a concept artist or something like that.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Maybe my personality. Just generally not such a fuck. I wish I was more driven. 

46. Are you reliable?

I think I am 75% reliable. Maybe 85%.

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

Do I end up like Dad? 

48. Do you hold grudges?

I can hold them for a little bit but I usually drop it or find a way that made it my fault.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

A horse and a some kind of dinosaur. So we could ride big lizards that like apples and sugar cubes. Or maybe a dog and an elephant so we could have really big dogs with really big ears.

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

I’ve had a lot. I had a conversation on using the wendigo that lives near my house as a last resort for affection.

51. Are you a good liar?

I’m pretty good. Not great. But I can lie kind of ok. Maybe I’m not that great a liar.

52. How long could you go without talking?

Probably a week.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?

My old bowl haircut from when I was young or when I had really long hair. The long hair wasn’t that bad really. I just didn’t take care of it.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

Yes, several times.

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

I can do the typical crappy English accent and maybe Scottish.

56. What do you like on your toast?

Usually just butter.

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

God knows. Probably a willy.

58. What would be you dream car?

I actually use to drive my dream car. I love old Volkswagen Beetles. I’d love to put an electric engine in it like that one company does. I think they’re called Zelectrics.

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

I sing occasionally. Only when no ones around. I don’t do much else besides maybe style my hair with the shampoo.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

Yes, definitely. I think it’d be against logic to believe otherwise.

61. Do you often read your horoscope?

More than I’d like to admit. I don’t really believe it; it’s more of a casual thing. But also, I can’t help but be pulled into it.

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

J, K, W, G, Y, and maybe Q.

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

I’m tempted to say dragons because they’re basically like flying dinosaurs with fire breath and cool lore. But on the other hand, dinosaurs ACTUALLY existed and that’s amazing in and of itself.

64. What do you think about babies?

I think they’re cute and they smell weird. Never hand me your baby, I will be very nervous. They’re also loud and you don’t know if they’ll turn out to be good people no matter how hard you try. They’re also amazing and they blow my mind. I do not want one. Probably ever.

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

Welp.

[agoodflyting]

He That Fights With Monsters - 2/5 (monster!Kylo, historical Kylux AU)

3100 words / mature / AU

When a survivor of a lost wagon train tells a disturbing tale of cannibalism, Captain Hux leads a rescue mission deep into the mountains, only to find himself hunted by a clever wendigo.

Warnings this chapter for: mentions of survival cannibalism, blood, some gore.

“Get him inside- inside, quickly!” The man staring in the window is tall and gaunt, with strips of bloodied, frozen linen wound around his feet and ice crusting his unkempt dark hair and beard. Rodinon and Thanisson half drag, half carry him into the mess hut. He is shivering, insensate. Barely alive. Cold has sunk deep into the dark woolen coat wrapped around his lean frame.

“We need hot water and blankets. And go and inform Major Krennic!” Hux barks. “Yes, sir!” Mitaka stumbles, scrambles to obey. “Christ, how long has he been out there?” Rodinon asks. “He’s cold as ice.”

They get the stranger into a hot bath and try to work some blood back into his frozen feet and hands, which he clutches close to his chest like claws. Eventually the muscles relax, but the shivering intensifies as life returns to bone-white limbs. “W- we-“ the man struggles to speak around the chattering of his teeth. Even his lips are pale, bloodless.

“It’s alright, rest now.” “W- w- where-“

“You’re at Fort Spencer. California. What’s your name?” Hux asks. “B-ben… help, p-please…”

It is the last word they get out of him before he succumbs to a heavy sleep.

Was he a hunter or fur trader who had gotten lost in the mountains? Or perhaps some wagon train had become stranded. It wasn’t unheard of, Rodinon told him, when reckless guides tried to beat the onset of winter in the race to a safe haven and lost. The rags tied around his boots were tattered with frozen blood. How long had he been walking, out there alone in the cold?

A pallet is made up beside the fireplace in the mess hut, piled high with spare blankets and furs, and Hux’s own greatcoat. He remains there through the night. They take turns keeping vigil, like mourners, but he seems to sleep peacefully. Miraculously, the cold seems to have done no permanent damage beyond a slight chill that lingers beneath the skin no matter how they try to warm him.

Hux fingers the edges of the book in his lap as he keeps watch over the young man. Dark hair and pale skin. Resting beside the fire with his damp hair curling around his face and dark lashes resting on his cheeks, Ben looks like something out of a fairy tale. Lacking only a kiss from a lovely young maiden to awaken him.

The snow worsens through the night.

It feels as though Hux’s shift at the mysterious young man’s bedside has just ended- surely he had crawled into bed and closed his eyes only minutes ago- when he is awakened by Mitaka banging on his door in a flutter of excitement.

“Captain! Captain, he’s awake!”

Hux groans into his pillow.

He dresses with haste if not enthusiasm, pulling on his too-thin boots to tromp out into the thick snow covering the yard. In the night it had fallen thick and fast enough to coat everything in a gleaming field of pristine white that crunches under his feet.

He first cuts a path to the Major’s hut, but Krennic is more interested in the warmth of his bed and the contemplation of a sick basin than in their new arrival, shouting through the door for Hux to fuck off and not to disturb him again for anything less than a corpse

“Is the Major coming?” Mitaka asks earnestly when Hux steps into the mess hut alone.

“Major Krennic has directed me to handle this situation,” Hux replies stiffly. He hears snickering and a mutter of, “Too much bourbon in his bourbon?” from within the handful of men gathered around. Hux cuts a glare at them as he passes.

The man who said his name was Ben is sitting up beside the fire. Stripped of his tattered, ice-encrusted clothes, he has Hux’s greatcoat draped over his bare shoulders. He’s a large man, and broad-shouldered, but lean, with wiry arms and a narrow waist. As if he’d lost a great amount of weight in a short amount of time. Large hands twist idly in the blankets gathered over his lap.

“How are you feeling?” Hux asks, taking a seat across from him.

“Better, thank you.” His voice is soft, but deeper than Hux is expecting.

“Shall we start with your name?”

“Benjamin Organa-Solo. Ben,” he corrects. “I’m a student at the seminary in Fort Wayne, Missouri. Thank you,” Ben adds earnestly when Mitaka passes him a bowl sloshing with a watery stew. He gulps it down, still steaming, like a starving man. When he reaches out his arm for the bowl, Hux notices a wooden rosary dangling from his wrist.

“How long were you out there, Ben?”

“I’m not sure,” he says in between ravenous gulps. “Three months? Maybe four.”

“Without food?” Mitaka interjects.

Ben pauses, hesitant with his answer. “Yes.”

Wordlessly, Mitaka accepts the empty bowl back and scuttles off to fill it again. When Ben has gulped down another helping, practically swallowing the soggy root vegetables and chunks of over-boiled chicken whole, Hux prompts him again.

“You said you were out there three months without food. How are you still alive?”

Ben bites his lip, “I… I said no food, I didn’t say there was… nothing to eat.”

For a moment, the only sound is the wind howling outside the hut. The fire crackles. It casts an eerie, orange glow over Ben’s uneven face.

“I suppose I owe you the truth,” Ben says. He closes his dark eyes, briefly.

“We left in April, out of Saint Louis- my uncle Luke, my cousin Rey, and myself. And five others. Two men from New York- Dameron and Finn. Professor Saint-Tekka, from… Sweden, I think.” Ben pauses. “And our guides. An older man named Snoke, and his servant Ren.”

“I don’t know any guides named Snoke, not on this route...” Rodinon says. He had been at Fort Spencer the longest out of all of them.

“Better for you,” Ben says. There is an empty, haunted look in his eyes. “He was an awful man. And a worse guide. He told us he knew a secret, shorter route through the mountains. That he would get us there in half the time. We trusted him… even when he lead us far off the known path.”

A feeling like dread settles in the pit of Hux’s stomach.

“The route he lead us on was impossible. Twisting through the mountains. We tried so hard… lightened the wagons as much as we could. But at the first snowfall we were still more than a hundred miles from this place. That was months ago. Snoke said we had no choice but to take shelter in a cave and wait for the storm to pass. But after three weeks, the trail only became worse- more impassable. And we had run out of food.”

Ben sucks in a shaky breath, fingers tracing blindly over the rosary around his wrist. “We ate the oxen, the horses… even Dameron’s dog.”

Mitaka makes a low, dismayed sound.

“That lasted us about a month. After that it was our belts. Our boots. Any roots that we could dig up, but there wasn’t much- it was so cold. We were starving.”

Hux suddenly finds that he cannot meet Ben’s black-eyed gaze. The remembered taste of copper fills his mouth- he suddenly knows where this story will end, god, he knows-

“When Professor Saint-Tekka died, my uncle and I were out gathering firewood. He had starved to death. And when we got back, the others were cooking his legs for dinner…”

“Oh, god…” Reich groans.

Hux presses a hand over his mouth to keep the taste of bile down.

“I like to think I could have stopped it, if I’d been there,” Ben is breathing hard, as if on the verge of tears. “But I don’t know. My uncle railed at Snoke for allowing it, but even he gave in, eventually- it seemed a godsend, and Rey was so hungry…”

Hux pictures them there- starving, hollow-faced men and woman clustered around a pitiful fire in the dark of the cave. The smell of meat cooking. Would he have stopped them?

Ben drags the heel of his palm over his eyes. Steadies his voice, and Hux forces himself to look up. “We ate sparingly. Others did not. Snoke, in particular, was always hungry…”

“The…” he swallows, “meat didn’t last a week. And we were all hungry again, but this time it was different.” He meets Hux’s eyes. “Worse. More… predatory.”

Ben’s mouth twists into a bitter frown, “My uncle was the first one they killed. Snoke said that he slipped on the ice and broke his neck. I would almost have believed it, if not for Ren’s handprints on his skin. And once he was dead what could we do? We were starving. "

“By the time they killed Dameron, they weren’t even bothering to hide it anymore.”

“Dear god.”

“That left five of us. Snoke and Ren, my cousin Rey, Finn, and myself. Finn and I knew that one of us would be next, so we drew lots after the others were asleep… One of us to go for help. The other to stay and try to protect Rey.” He makes an empty sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I won.”

“Are they still up there?” Hux asks him. “Finn and your cousin?”

“Snoke and Ren too. As far as I know. Please- you have to help me. You’re soldiers… you have to help me save them.”

There’s a low muttering from his men, an edge of fear. Hux feels a frisson of it himself, after Ren’s story. Snoke and Ren seem, in his mind, like monsters from a children’s story, all teeth and shadows. He half-imagines he hears a brittle laugh, like the rattle of dry leaves.

“Please. I’ll go back myself if you won’t.” Ben says again, entreating with his dark eyes suddenly full of fire. He hunches his bare shoulders under Hux’s coat, gripping it tight around him in the low light.

He forces himself to be reasonable. It was an old man and his servant- terrifying, perhaps, when you were weak and starving, hemmed in by ice, but no match for half a dozen armed soldiers, even if they were Fort Spencer stock. And this man needed their help.

You’re no hero, Hux.

Hux informs Major Krennic that he is taking four men with him at first light to render assistance to a trapped wagon party. It is not, technically speaking, a lie, and Krennic does not care enough to press him for details.

That night Hux has nightmares about the cave, gaping open like a hungry mouth waiting to swallow him up. The smell of meat cooking. Lukewarm blood in his mouth, running down his throat.

He is back in the pit again, but now it’s Ben’s corpse weighting him down. His shattered skull, inches from his face. His eyes are open, but they are sky-blue, not black, staring at him in the warm darkness, and Ben’s corpse laughs- His stomach roils, tight and anxious with fear like the coward that he is, as he busies himself with assembling their provisions the next day. Rodinon and little Thanisson will accompany him, as well as Reich and Mitaka. He wishes Phasma was coming, but she won’t return from San Miguel for several days yet. To delay could cost lives.

When his men assemble at the gate- shuffling, half-awake, unkempt, but there without complaint- Hux is very nearly proud of them.

“What are you doing?” he frowns when he notices that Ben is among them, wearing a pair of borrowed boots and adjusting the straps on his pack. He has shaved and combed his ragged hair, revealing uneven but strangely boyish features.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, as if it were obvious. Before Hux can open his mouth to deny him, to say that it isn’t necessary, Ben insists, “I have to- you’ll never find them without me.”

Ben proves an adept tracker. Despite having been insensate and half-frozen, he remembers the path from the cave well.

“It’s on the other side of this ridge,” he says as they strain their backs on the foothills of the Nevadas. Hux’s men grumble and his legs burn from the steady climb uphill, but they make steady progress. “A day or more’s walk northeast, near a river.”

Aside from pointing out directions, Ben smiles and laughs with the rest of the men, but otherwise says little. Lost in his own thoughts. Hux catches him once in quiet conversation with Thanisson, who is their youngest, fresh-faced and barely more than a cadet at twenty, when they stop to rest. Ben is showing Thanisson the rosary looped around his wrist, fingers brushing lightly over the little beads. “-you do that once for each, and then the Hail Mary-”

Something about it makes Hux’s blood sour with something that feels uncomfortably like jealousy. It’s a nasty feeling. Selfish. A bitterness that this man should remain so disgustingly sweet and unstained after what he had done.

The taste of blood, like copper, in his mouth. It was unfair. He should be marked by it, broken, blackened in some noticeable way. Instead it feels as though Ben were flaunting his purity in Hux’s face.

“Break’s over. Come on, let’s get a move on.” Hux calls out, spitefully. His words are met with groans and scattered complaints. Ben tucks the rosary back into his sleeve and parts from Thanisson with a smile and an earnest clap on the boy’s narrow shoulder.

To his surprise, as they wind out of a thatch of trees and onto an exposed mountain ridge, Hux finds Ben keeping pace with him. For long hours neither of them speak. The uneven rock beneath then is frosted with snow- a treacherous walk. One mis-placed step could send a man tumbling. Hux concentrates on putting one foot in front of him.

“I ought to thank you,” Ben says eventually, eyes on his boots and the slippery ground beneath. “For helping me. For letting me come along.”

“You were right- we wouldn’t stand a chance of finding the cave otherwise,” Hux says with distant civility.

“Still. You have no idea how grateful I am.”

They walk in silence. There is a question hovering on the tip of his tongue. Something that has been lurking, quiet and heavy in his chest since Ben had told them his story. An explanation for something that perhaps Ben can provide.

“May I ask you something? About… what happened in the cave.”

Hux waits for a sound of assent before he continues. “You said that after you ate that man, your hunger was different. What did you mean?”

Ben is quiet for so long, watching him in the fading evening light, that Hux thinks he might have overstepped propriety. “It felt… wanton. Like I would do anything to satisfy it. Like I could do anything.”

“You felt stronger.”

His voice is low, almost loving, “Stronger. More powerful. It was like I wasn’t myself, but-“

“-you were more in control of yourself than you’ve ever been.” Hux finishes. His mouth is dry.

How did you take the fort?

I don’t know. I don’t know- "Yes."

Ben watches him closely, and in the fading light, his soft eyes suddenly seem dark and fathomless as the night sky. Hux can feel them on his skin long after he looks away.

He is eventually roused from his numb reverie by a shout from up ahead. Mitaka has slipped on a patch of loose snow and tumbled perhaps a dozen feet down the ridge. He is alive, but bleeding heavily from a gash across his calf where the sheer rock face had split him open. Hux watches the scene distantly, feeling like he’s been doused in ice water- Mitaka’s shouting, the loose snow where he had fallen, red blood staining the pristine white beneath him. Blood on the snow, on his face, in his mouth- It is several moments before Hux realizes that everyone is looking to him for orders. He drags his eyes away from the bright smear of blood on the snow. His mouth opens and closes a few times, his mind like a clockwork that has ground to a halt at the sight of all that blood- “Captain?” Rodinon prompts.

Awareness returns back to him in a rush. “Get- get a rope.” It is easier once he begins moving, the actions of command coming back to him slowly, and their momentum carrying him forward. The ridge is far too steep to climb down. They will have to lower a rope, and- “Rodinon, get bandages and see if you can find something for a splint. Thanisson-“

They lower the rope down to Mitaka, and Hux and Thanisson and Reich together succeed in pulling him, hand over hand, up the sheer rock face.

Hux feels Ben’s eyes on him the entire time.

They camp that night on the ridge, clearing away enough snow to make room for their narrow tent and sleeping close together in the darkness. Mitaka’s wound isn’t deep, but it is jagged and bleeds heavily. Hux finds excuses to wait outside of the tent, unable to abide the sharp copper smell of it, until they’ve managed to staunch the bleeding and poured enough whiskey down Mitaka’s throat to get him to sleep through the pain.

Hux lies awake late into the night, listening to the warm, living sounds of breathing, snoring, inside the tent. When he finally sleeps, he dreams of blood and snow, and Ben’s voice. I would do anything to satisfy it. I could do anything-

He is awakened by shouting. Scuffling at the back of the tent.

“What’s going on?” Hux demands, his voice sharp in the darkness.

“Get him off me! Get off!” Mitaka is nearly screaming. Reich and Rodinon have Ben pinned between them, his hands wrenched behind his back. His eyes are black, pupils fat in the dim light of Thanisson’s lantern, and Hux can see that there’s a bright smear of still-wet blood on his lower lip. “What happened?”

Mitaka is shaking, his face pale. As if in shock. He mumbles something, barely more than a whisper. Someone had torn the bandaging off his injured leg, and he presses both hands to it to stop the bleeding, which has started afresh.

“Lieutenant,” Hux barks. “What happened?” “He was-“ Mitaka cringes away from Ben, hands still curled protectively over his wound. His face is twisted up in something like disgust.  “He was licking me.”