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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 18

Scully, Mulder, and Missy travel to California to meet Emily and wrestle with the future.

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The echo of Scully’s heels against the linoleum is almost enough to drown out her racing heart. Mulder’s thumping steps and her sister’s daintier ones help too, but their collective power does nothing to ease Scully’s awareness that the Earth circles the sun at a thousand miles per hour. Today, she’s feeling every bit of it.

The three of them round a corner, and a broad-shouldered man and tiny-waisted woman come into view. Agent Feniston and the lawyer, this must be. Outside of conference room C--as planned.

Straightening every disc in her spine, Scully extends a hand and exchanges a firm shake with each of them. Mulder and Melissa hang back.

“Dana Scully,” she declares. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“That decision rested with the foster parents,” the male agent insists. “As does any from this point forward.”

“Yes, and I’ll be sure to thank them as well,” Scully acquiesces.

“Hello, Ms. Scully.” The lawyer uncrosses her ankles. “I’m Tanya Joyce, you can call me Tanya. As a representative of the state of California, my priority is guarding the child’s wellbeing and ensuring that any choice made is what’s best for her.”

“Of course,” Scully murmurs. “Thank you for being here.”

Tanya thumbs toward the closed door of the conference room. “Brian and Cecily are eager to meet you. The foster system has extremely limited information on little Emily. Your testimony will help us all fill in some blanks.”

Scully nods. “Me as well...this is as much a surprise for me as all of you.”

“Are we to understand that you were not aware you bore a child, Ms. Scully?” Agent Feniston asks.

“Yes, sir. I know it’s quite hard to believe, I feel the same. I was missing for a period of time last year and was comatose when I returned.”

“Yes, and how long was that period of time, Ms. Scully?”

The edges of her lips fall. “Approximately five weeks.”

“So is it safe to assume that though the child shares your DNA, you did not carry her?”

“No sir, not that I know of. I believe that my eggs were harvested, and she was...well, she comes from one of those.”

The agent hums a note of acknowledgement. “As I told you over the phone, the federal database contained no viable DNA match of a father.”

Scully nods. “Yes sir, and I have no knowledge of what sperm may have been used.”

“Noted.” He rubs his neck. “We were lucky, we only found you because you were in the missing persons database.”

“I had no idea I was still listed there,” Scully says. “I’ve asked the FBI to remove it.”

“Well, it was a stroke of luck for us,” the agent tells her. “This little girl’s foster parents encouraged the state to pursue child abandonment charges against whoever left her. She was found outside a local care center at two weeks old, as I’ve told you.”

“Yes.” Scully purses her lips. She imagines a baby with her eyes, nose, toes, chromosomes crying on a nondescript doorstep...she and Mulder did not know what they were doing when they said they wanted the truth.

“We’ve already confirmed your story with the FBI,” Feniston continues, “and we have proof that you were working on cases in the east at the time of Emily’s delivery to the foster center, so you are free of any child abandonment charges.”

“Wonderful,” Scully replies, but really, those were the least of her concerns. “May I see my daughter now?”

That’s the first time she’s ever said that sentence, and she didn’t expect terror to shoot up her spine. Is this what it is, having an extension of your life outside your body?

The lawyer steps forward. “I’ll introduce you to Brian and Cecily, they’d like to speak with you first.”

Scully does not like the way that sits in the air. Still, she musters a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

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Mulder and Melissa make themselves at home on a pair of leather chairs outside the conference room. They have been the pall-bearers keeping Scully aloft as her crushed dreams reinvent themselves as high hopes. They don’t understand how it happened any more than Scully herself: one phone call turned into multiple consultations with Agent Feniston, then Tanya and California Social Services and finally, DC social workers who performed background checks and prepared forms so that Scully could come here today to meet her baby and, God-willing, bring her home.

It doesn’t happen this fast, it never does--different voices said these same words to them a dozen times. And yet, barely two weeks after Agent Feniston’s fated voicemail, here they are. On All Hallow’s Eve, no less. Just in time for Emily to complete her first rotation around the sun.

They both play contrasting yet crucial roles in Operation Miracle Baby, as Mulder dubbed it. Dana has sobbed into Missy’s shoulder every night for the past two weeks; happy tears (her baby! she has a baby!), sad tears (she has a baby…and she didn’t even know...), scared tears (a baby! a baby, Missy! probably already walking, and maybe even talking if she’s exceptional...). The situation--and its implications--are impossible to reconcile in such a short time, if at all. Scully’s petite frame could not physically contain it.

Mulder’s the comic relief, the distraction, the reminder that nothing can be so grave if there's still breath left in your body. He bought a CD of nursery rhymes and stuck in it his beat-up office radio, playing it through the day while Scully labored over this form or that and he pretended to alphabetize the case file drawer. Now, he hums himself to sleep every night with one of those rhymes; he’s hoping this new skill will come in handy.

He would’ve bought toys and baby clothes too, but Melissa made him swear not to in case the adoption falls through. And she’s right, he can’t bear to imagine the pain Scully would feel packing those away. For sale: baby shoes, never worn hits you no matter who you are. Still, he has a stuffed UFO and a Build-a-Bear fox (yes, he went in and filled it himself) hidden in his closet, and he hopes they won’t go to waste.

Operation Miracle Baby has been as covert as anything Mulder’s ever been involved in. He, Melissa, and Mrs. Scully are the only ones in his partner’s circle with any knowledge of what’s going on. No one else, in Scully’s words, matters. Trinity too has received a full briefing from Missy and is ecstatic about her girlfriend potentially becoming an auntie. Skinner was told it was a family emergency--and well, it is--though surely he’s suspicious about both of his agents requesting time off. Bill Jr. has no idea they’re in San Diego, though they may seek “refuge” (the air quotes are Missy’s) at his place if the proceedings drag on.

This is a triumph or failure to be shared only with those most beloved, that’s what Scully said to them the night before they boarded the plane. Mulder has never been included in anyone’s most beloved before. It feels pretty damn good.

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The perky lawyer raps on the conference room door, opening it in response to a voice on the other side. Scully’s breath catches….a strawberry-haired infant rests in her mother’s arms (Scully hates to think it, but surely this woman is more Emily’s mother than she is), pulling at a lock of the woman’s blonde hair.

The woman turns her way, and Scully gets her first glimpse at Emily’s face. Emily. Her baby. She wondered the whole flight here whether she would feel a connection….a sense of recognition...upon laying eyes on her daughter. And my god, it’s like some chained section of her heart has burst open, flooded with all the good feelings of the world. Icy blue eyes and cherub cheeks...that’s her baby. That’s her baby.

She watches as her baby is passed to a woman in a CA Social Services button-up who slides past Scully in the doorway like she’s not even there. Scully has a split-second to notice the dimples on her daughter’s cheeks, but that’s it. Emily’s gaze misses her entirely.

Tanya strides toward the couple in the room, Scully following behind.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace, this is Dana Scully, Emily’s biological mother.”

“We’re so glad to meet you,” the man says, shaking Scully’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m Brian, and this is my wife Cecily.”

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Scully tells them, shaking Cecily’s hand in kind. “I understand you’ve cared for Emily since shortly after she arrived at social services.”

“Yes,” Cecily confirms. “She came to us when she was a month old. Raising her has been an absolute joy.”

Brian nods. “She’s the second infant we’ve fostered. We adopted our first one, Andrew, when he was a year and a half.”

“I didn’t realize you had another child,” Scully converses, feeling out of her depth. “It must have been quite a transition, taking Emily in.”

“It sure was, but she’s an angel, truly,” Brian says. “We couldn't fathom that someone could abandon her and get away with it, that’s why we contacted Agent Feniston.”

Cecily chimes in--”We were told the chances of finding a DNA match in the federal database was slim. We didn’t expect to learn that you were unaware of Emily’s existence!”

“Yes, I’m still coming to terms with it all,” Scully replies. “I’m grateful that you’ve given me the opportunity to see her, at the very least.”

“When we heard your story, we knew it would be heinous of us to say no,” Cecily says, offering a sympathetic smile.

“You’re an FBI agent, did we hear that right?” Brain asks.

“Yes sir, I’ve been with the Bureau five years now.”

“You live in DC?”

Scully nods. “Around the corner from the National Mall.”

“That’s exciting!” Cecily pipes up. “How did you find yourself having Emily in San Diego?”

“I actually have no idea, Mrs. Lace,” Scully murmurs. “My family lived here when I was young, but I haven’t been back since. Coincidentally, my brother lives not too far off.”

“Wow,” Cecily gasps. “They weren’t kidding about you being a missing person.”

“No ma’am.” She went from a missing person to missing a person. No wonder she’s spent the past year feeling so empty.

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Mulder and Melissa get only the slightest moment to catch their breath before a child that is unmistakably the progeny of Dana Scully is carried into the lobby. Her hair curls around her ears in a cute mushroom top, her tongue dancing in her mouth like it has a mind of its own. They stare; they know better, but fuck it, if any baby is worth staring at, it’s this one.

“Is that--?” Mulder whispers.

“Yeah,” Missy breathes.

They’ve both seen the pictures, they are well aware that it’s her. They say these things for the awe of it.

“She’s…” Mulder’s eyes are wide. “She’s bigger than I thought she would be. Not fat, I mean. Just...a whole tiny human.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Melissa smiles at her niece, who is now seated on her caretaker’s lap across the hallway. Emily’s big eyes blink at her, containing silent judgements. How like her mother she is.

Missy elbows Mulder. “I bet she orders mushroom pizza and then picks the mushrooms off because apparently ‘the cheese tastes better than on the regular cheese pizza,’” she muses, naming one of her sister’s quirks.

Mulder likes this game. “I bet she vehemently denies the existence of extraterrestrials only to secretly believe that her dashing partner is right,” he offers.

Missy smirks. “I bet she would find this game very stupid if she understood it.”

“I’m all in on that one.” Mulder mimes pushing a pile of poker chips into the center of a table.

Missy laughs, looks toward her seat partner with soft eyes. “She’s gonna be a great mom, isn’t she? Dana, I mean?”

“Oh yeah.” Mulder clasps his hands in his lap. “We should be so lucky to have a little Scully in the world.”

“Mm-hm.” Missy focuses on his face, watching for the slightest move that might give his thoughts away. “And she’ll be able to do it alone, do you think?”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll need some help from Mrs. Scully, and you, and…” he trails off before adding his own name, but Missy’s mind fills it in reflexively. “She’ll need help,” Mulder finishes, “but yeah, she’ll be incredible.”

The details have already been parsed out. As a single mother, Scully is required to list a guardian who would take custody of Emily if something were to happen to her. She listed her mother as the primary one--the social worker told her it’s best if it’s someone who has child-rearing experience--and Missy as the secondary guardian. She would, after all, already live in the child’s household.

Then there was the matter of the job--its extensive time requirements, travelling, and danger level were all of concern to the agency. This came as no surprise to Scully; a single female FBI agent does not make the ideal adoption candidate. And though she hasn’t yet spoken to the Bureau, Mulder has promised her they’ll work something out. It can be like your leave of absence, he assured her. You tackle the paper trail and I’ll focus on following the suspect’s trail. Easy-peasy.

That’s what he says to her, though he’s terrified of losing her as his partner...Of her being reassigned to something simpler or leaving the Bureau entirely. She could teach at Quantico, that schedule would be a hell of a lot easier than running on Mulder time. Agent Scully can pack for hastily-booked flights at midnight then catch them at 7am, but Emily’s mother couldn’t. He will have to reckon with this if all the pieces fall into their graceful place. He’ll have to figure out how to rearrange their partnership for her, or even worse, how to live without her as his partner. Or maybe even at all.

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Scully glances at her shoes, then summons the courage to meet Mrs. Lace’s hazel eyes. “I hope you will consider my request. I know it’s not up to you entirely--the court will have the final say--but my abduction experience has left me unable to have a biological child, so learning of Emily was truly a miracle of the highest order.”

Her voice clips as she takes a breath. “I understand that it would be a huge sacrifice on the part of your family, and that you’ve developed a bond with Emily over the past eleven months. I just ask you both to please...think about it.” Tears twinkle in her eyes. She made it, thank god, she made it without breaking down! She’s rehearsed that speech ten times over.

Cecily lays a hand on her husband’s arm. “Of course, Dana. It would be a painful sacrifice to us, you’re correct, but we understand that you’ve flown across the country to be here, and that you’ve brought witnesses to testify to your character, so your commitment is clear. We’ll listen and make as compassionate a decision as possible.”

Scully’s lips creep into a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” She steps back, the weight of imminent sobs settling over her chest.

“Ms. Scully has already undergone most of the requirements needed for adoption,” the lawyer tells Mr. and Mrs. Lace. “Medical clearance, psychiatric clearance, criminal background check, and home study. In the spirit of her unique circumstances, California and the District of Columbia have agreed to cooperate to make the process as smooth and expedient as possible, if you should choose to surrender Emily to her. I don’t mean to sway your decision in any way, just to give you all the available information.”

The couple nods. “Thank you, Tanya,” Cecily answers. “We’d like to speak with the first witness now.”

Scully balks. She expected more questions, a barrage of them, as intense and prying as if she were testifying in front of Congress. And she was ready for that--she was prepared to do whatever they asked of her, to show that there are no lengths she wouldn’t go for Emily. She’s already documented every detail of her life for social services and given over the necessary specimens to prove that no, she’s not a drug user, and yes, her thyroid is hyperactive, but she takes medication for that and her doctor will confirm that it’s under control.

And if they wanted to know more, she’d tell them. She’d tell it all. Her deepest, darkest secret (telling Daniel that yes, he should leave his wife & kids...all for her, to be with her), the most petty thing that haunts her (stolen cigarettes, smoked on the family porch at 1am), what she wants to say most but can’t (I love you)...a part of her was taken to create Emily. She would give the rest away to keep her.

There was a moment, in one of the drab little interrogation rooms at DC social services, where Scully was met with a question that lunged toward her like a time-bomb. Pull the fuse, pull the fuse it taunted her. See what happens. Instead, she played it off. Pretended she didn’t hear its doomed tick. Feigned none the wiser. No, she isn’t aware of any potential medical condition that would inhibit her life expectancy or ability to care for a child, she told the nice woman. Thank god they got the chip out of her neck before it showed up on any x-rays.

She snaps back to reality, watching as the conference door opens, and her sister enters the room.

“Thank you, Dana,” Tanya says, and she assumes that’s the lawyer’s way of telling her to get out, so she does. Outside the room, she settles next to Mulder in a seat that’s still warm.

“How’d it go in there, champ?” he chatters. “You need some water or anything?”

Scully’s not listening. Her eyes are trained on the baby girl across the way with hair too auburn to be brunette that’ll require a smattering of box dye every two weeks to qualify her as a soulless ginger.

Emily’s eyes land on the woman she does not know is her mother, studying this new face with an infant’s usual curiosity. Mulder has realized by now that the little girl is of much more interest to his partner than he is, and he watches as mother and daughter wave to each other.

Scully lets out a laugh so strangled that for a moment Mulder thinks it’s a cry and jumps to comfort her. He relaxes back into his seat once he sees the joy on her face.

“She’s a sweetheart, huh?” Mulder wisecracks as the young girl jams her fingers into her mouth.

Scully beams. “She’s a baby, that’s her way of learning the world!”

“Hey, I’m not knocking it. That’s my personal preference as well,” he says with a lop-sided smile.

“Yeah, well, she’s not licking evidence,” Scully quips.

Mulder shrugs. “A man can’t help his oral fixation. Haven’t you ever heard of Freud…?” he lets it slide off his tongue.

Scully rolls her eyes. His inability to maintain an appropriate manner is nothing if not inspiring.

She gestures toward Emily. “You’re already encouraging bad behavior. Tsk-tsk,” she teases.

“That’s my job as--hey, wait. What’s she gonna call me?” If you get custody, of course passes silently between them.

“I don’t know, Mulder,” Scully says, watching her daughter out of the corner of her eye. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” That’s a lie. She’s sat up during the night trying to decipher Mulder’s relation to Emily. He would certainly be the male authority in her life, but that doesn’t make him a father figure. Right?

Scully adored her father because he was the head of the family, and he embraced the responsibility, always making sure they had what they needed. While her mother was often the one doing the grunt work of caring for them, her father provided for them. His long deployments with the Navy protected them. Scully understood his sacrifice and loved him for it

That’s not how it would go with Emily. If she were so lucky as to get the child, Scully would be the caretaker and the provider. A two-in-one deal with a high price. What would that mean, for Emily? Scully could do it, she believes that. Not that it would be anything less than utterly exhausting, but with a little help from her mother and her sister, she could make do, and they say it takes a village to raise a child anyway, so what’s so bad about that?

Since she’s filling those roles herself, that leaves...well, Mulder could be the fun uncle, that fits him. Bill Jr. isn’t gonna cut it, and neither is Charlie, considering that he’s god knows where. Besides, it’s unlikely that Mulder will get a chance to know a biological niece or nephew. He and Emily could fill missing pieces in each other’s lives.

Scully’s eyes trace the contours of her partner’s face. “Do you have a preference about what she calls you?”

“I was hoping for His Royal Highness Fox Mulder of Martha’s Vineyard--is that too much?”

Scully lets a strand of hair fall over her face. “It might take her awhile to get her tongue around that.”

“Or it’ll speed up her speech acquisition,” Mulder replies.

“Oh, you’re a child-rearing connoisseur now?”

Mulder twiddles his thumbs. “It is my goal to raise the first kid to transcribe canine language into English.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware of that,” Scully tells him, a smile flitting on her lips. It’s this kind of banter that keeps her sane. A few minutes out here with him, and she’s forgotten that what happens in that conference room will dictate the rest of her life.

Across the hallway, Emily giggles at the air, and it fits, doesn’t it? Here she is, already laughing at Mulder’s jokes like the Scully girl she is.

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It feels like a prisoner exchange when witness number one in their civil-that-sure-feels-like-a-criminal case joins Scully back in the hallway, and Mulder is called forward “to the stand.” He swears he found a penny in the parking lot this morning & promises to bring back good news. Scully’s pretty sure he made that story up, but she’s no less hopeful that it’ll come true.

Returned from her brief stint in captivity, Missy dives right into a discussion of her niece: “Look at her, Dana, she looks just like you!”

“Well, she does have fifty percent of my DNA,” Scully concedes with an admiring glance at the little girl.

“Have you gone over to see her?”

Scully shakes her head. “I didn’t think that would be proper.”

“Are you kidding me?” Missy retorts. “First of all, Brian and Cecily are very nice people, and I’m not supposed to say this, but I think there’s a chance that Emily will be yours. Secondly, this could be your only opportunity to interact with your daughter and you’re not gonna take it?”

Scully bites her lip. Her sister knows how to craft an argument. “Alright, but you have to back me up.”

“Trust me, I wanna see her just as badly as you.”

Scully steels herself, then approaches the woman in the polo shirt. “Hello.” She does a polite half-wave, which she’s never done before and which makes her feel ridiculous. “I’m the potential adoptee, and I was wondering if I could say hello to this precious little girl.” It all feels completely out of character, like she’s reading lines from a script. But this is it, this is her reality.

The woman’s face offers little in the way of recognition. “You can have a supervised visit with her, yes,” she recites, as rehearsed as Scully.

“Great.” Scully claps her hands together. “May I take her to my sister right over there?”

The woman nods. Scully lays her hands on Emily’s waist and lifts the girl gently from the woman’s lap. She is heavier than Scully imagined, or maybe just heavier than she hoped. Every ounce is a reminder of unseen existence and unwitnessed growth.

Emily does not balk, just stares up at her mother with those probing eyes.

“Hi baby girl,” Scully coos to her daughter as she settles her against her hip. “Can you say hi? Have you got that one yet?”

The girl blinks. “Ma-ma.”

Scully crooks her neck, tries to reign in her racing imagination. All babies do this at this age, don’t they? Calling every woman mama and every man dada. Emily’s no exception. And yet...for that to be the first word her daughter has ever said to her. God winked at her, and she’s glad to have caught it.

The pair makes it to Missy, who blows a kiss in Emily’s direction. “Hey there little one.” She extends her index finger, and the girl latches onto it.

Scully cradles her baby’s head, Emily’s fine hair soft beneath her fingers.

“She’s even-keeled for a baby,” Missy remarks, wiggling her finger and watching Emily crack a smile.

“Yes,” Scully gurgles out of the sheer joy. She settles into her chair with Emily in her lap. “Do you know what she said to me?”

Missy looks up. “What?”

“Mama.” Scully dons a triumphant grin. “She called me mama.”

“Oh, no way!” Missy squeals. It’s a bit too loud and sudden, making Emily jump. The ladies laugh, and Scully pulls her daughter in closer, kissing the crown of her head. She still has that baby smell; the freshness of new life and all its purity. Scully sighs. It must have been even stronger when she was born.

Scully closes her eyes. If she had one chance to pause life somewhere along the way, to linger in a perfect moment longer, she would do it right now and she would never regret it.

“My baby…” she breathes into Emily’s ear, hoping it will stick. That one day she’ll remember and find her way home, should she need to.

A warm tear slides down Scully’s cheek and lands in Emily’s lap, a dark drop on the girl’s corduroy pants. “Mama loves you, Emily.” She tightens her embrace. “That’s me,” she sniffs. “I love you, Emily.”

Observing this, Missy feels that she is an interloper and slips off to the bathroom, leaving mother and baby to have their moment.

Scully strokes the girl’s tiny palm with her thumb. She has missed so much already, and my god, she could miss so much more. What is love, if not sacrifice? Hadn’t that been the takeaway from each week of Sunday school?

The conference door opens, and Scully finds herself irritated that life has failed to pause. Oh, what wouldn’t she do to take the reins from God, even for a moment? She looks up at Mulder, doe-eyed as he processes the optical illusion that is Emily and her mother. Said mother sees the tenderness on Mulder’s face as he comes to terms with this sight, and something in both of them breaks, and something else opens.

Mulder approaches quietly, apprehensive about ruining the moment. Little does he know, he’s not ruining it; he’s completing it.

“Hey,” Scully swoons. “How was it?”

He’s too earnest to crack a joke right now. “Less nerve-wracking than I expected,” he murmurs. “Brain and Cecily are good people.”

Scully can’t help but wonder if they’re hammering this point about Brian and Cecily to make her feel better when the gavel falls in their direction. Mulder directs her train of thought away from this when he kneels in front of Emily. His eyes are as soupy as ever, Scully notices; she could sink right into them.

“May I?”

Scully chuckles under her breath, like a stranger has just asked if they could pet her dog. “Of course, Mulder. Say hi.”

Over the past weeks, Mulder spent considerable time anticipating this initial interaction. First impressions are important, after all, and there is no one he has wanted to impress more than this sweet girl. Ultimately, he decided that he didn’t care what their meeting was, as long as it would be. And now that he’s here, knelt in front of his two favorite girls, he’s ready to make a promise.

He envelops Emily’s closed fist with one hand and uses the other to caress Scully’s palm. “I want you to know,” he begins, shifting his gaze between mother and daughter, “that I’ll always be here for you.”

He looks to Scully, realizing that Emily is unable to comprehend what he is saying. “Regardless of Brian and Cecily’s choice, I am prepared to make every sacrifice so that you two can be a family. The family you deserve to be. I know what it’s like to not have that, and christ, Scully, I’m not letting you go through that. You’ve had enough for one lifetime.”

Scully’s face puckers. She is moved on a dimension that transcends the spiritual, if such a thing is possible. She closes her eyes, lets the tears slip out, then softens her focus on him.

“Thank you, Mulder...Fox,” she effuses, needing to heighten the intimacy. “Emily and I…” she kisses her daughter’s temple again. “Well, you know. You already know.” Her voice is somber almost, reminiscent of a wedding vow’s binding utterance.

Mulder smiles up at them, pats Scully’s hand. “I know. Me too.”

There are many phrases that could fill her blank, but he chose his favorite, and he’s got an inkling that he’s right.

Scully sucks in a breath, and it’s the first one that has ever counted. Earth is new to her, again.

The door opens a second time, and the lawyer approaches with Brian and Cecily behind her.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace would like to take some time to think about their decision,” Tanya announces. “You will understand, they hope…?”

Scully nods, swallowing back a lump in her throat. She would like to break into a tantrum, throwing chairs and screeching every obscenity she knows. Begging please, please, don’t let me miss another heartbeat. Let me live in this Heaven I’ve found. But no answer is better than an immediate rejection, so she screws her lips into a smile and gives away two more handshakes.

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lace. I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

#you guysss i have been excited for this chapter since day one!!!#it only gets more emotional from here ahhhh #hope you enjoy <3 #i am hugging anyone who reads this #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf fic #txf #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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frogsmulder · 3 years

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Maybe There’s Hope: chpt 2 Like They Used to

Starting from the final events of 09x20 The Truth, Mulder and Scully tackle their new reality as fugitives. When they finally settle into things, Scully finds out she is pregnant again. A canon divergent AU where I thought, what if Scully got pregnant whilst on the run instead of at the end of season 11?

2.5k words; rated e; tagging @today-in-fic; read on ao3

Scully woke up first and smiled despite herself. The warmth of the sun streaming through the window made her skin tingle, washing her of the pain the previous night. Eyes still closed, she hummed, rubbing small circles through the fine hair on Mulder's forearm. She must have turned over in the night, her back now nestled into his chest and his arm wrapped around her, cocooning her in his warmth. His breathing was still low and deep from sleep. She leaned into the rise and fall of his chest, his strength gentle like the lap of the sea at the sand. She imagined the steady beat of his heart like the sweep of a lighthouse in the dark, the guiding metronome she followed. If it wasn't for the fact they had fallen asleep in yesterday's clothes atop of a motel bed, Scully could have kept playing pretend like it was two years ago on one of their lazy Saturday mornings they had made a habit of. If she didn't open her eyes, maybe she could stay in that fantasy a little longer: she would kick Mulder out of his bed to make a pot of coffee whilst she snuggled deeper into the sheets. He'd come back with two steaming mugs and they'd sit together reading (she, her book and him, another X File). She'd enjoy teasing him, telling him that the weekend was for relaxing and not for work.

"I am relaxing!"

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it."

"Does Agent Dana Katherine Scully always need proof for anything I do?"

"I'm still waiting."

And then he would tickle her legs under the covers with his feet, almost making her spill her drink. Or he would kiss her just to prove a point. Or both.

Scully bit her lip to stifle a laugh at the memories. Opening her eyes, she let reality flood in. It wasn't two years ago, back when things seemed simpler, but it did feel like a Saturday morning– it might well have been, she had already lost track of the days. She turned awkwardly in Mulder's arms, one of them still a dead weight over her, and traced his laugh lines with her eyes. In the brightness of the morning, she could see the bags under his eyes weren't so heavy. He looked rested and happy, the natural curve of his mouth pulling upwards into a soft smile. She cupped his jaw, stroking his cheek with her thumb, feeling the rough grain of his five o'clock shadow. When he didn't stir, she placed kisses to his stubbled jawline, waking him up the way she used to on a Saturday.

With his eyes closed, Mulder mumbled in his deep, sleepy baritone, "Hello."

"Hi," she whispered back.

He opened his eyes to see her face waiting, almost expectantly, mere inches from his. "Do you want me to make the coffee?"

She smirked, wriggling closer. "I want you in bed with me."

"We might have to actually get in it then."

Scully frowned, displeased with the idea of moving. Mulder laughed at her tiny pout and smoothed her wrinkled forehead under his thumb. Lifting her by the elbow, he prompted her to get up so they could pull the cover back and climb in.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Hmm. You?"

"Yes." He tucked an imaginary stray hair behind her ear, finding any excuse to touch her. She held his hand in place by her cheek, making sure he wouldn't let go, and sighed, his larger hand holding her, comforting her, protecting her. A grin too wide for his own good appeared across his face when he understood her meaning. Scully rolled her eyes and kissed the silly grin from him.

It was a sweet kiss that steadily grew into something more. Mulder leisurely explored the taste of her lips and she opened up to the feeling, tasting his tongue playfully in return. When he moaned, she giggled, pressing their foreheads together and licking her lips. Her tongue had subconsciously traveled her lower lip, savouring the warmth he had left there, but seeing his gaze fixed to her mouth, she took her lip between her teeth just for show.

"You're such a tease," he chuckled.

"And you're not?" Scully looked into his hazel eyes, the familiar feeling of being lost in them, inching up her spine.

Mulder kissed her in reply: a full, heated kiss that put to rest any questions about who was the tease.

Scully combed her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing them closer with her leg hooked over his hip. She would have giggled again at the roughness of his jeans against her smooth skin– a reminder of their strange situation– but she felt too good to stop kissing. He was awakening parts of her that she hadn't known in years; fuzzy warmth tingling through all of them to the tips of her fingers and toes. When he slipped the gown from her shoulders, his fingertips lightly tickling her skin, she didn't complain.

Mulder stopped to look at her: red, plush lips, misty blue eyes, hair somehow still immaculate. He felt his heart clench with that indescribable feeling. Returning his palm to her cheek, he tried to touch the sensation, make it tangible, and better comprehend it. Scully nuzzled into him and he realised that he would never understand how he was worthy of such love, especially the highest pedigree that was Scully's love. He was just grateful to know it.

He trailed his fingers over her shoulder, drawing patterns between the dusting of her freckles. Her pale skin glowed in the morning light; her hair caught like a halo of fire too. Resting his hands at the knot of her tie, Mulder cautiously looked up, asking silent permission to undress her completely. With a small simper, Scully nodded slowly. He pulled the robe from her and threw it haphazardly to the corner of the room.

"That's not even the corner with the chair in," she laughed.

"I know."

Scully kicked the covers down and Mulder nudged her onto her back, kissing his way down her neck. He pressed his lips to every inch of her skin, licking and nibbling until she was squirming and giggling. He was methodical, remembering all the points that made her moan and all the places that made her gasp like their relationship was still green. It was about the only thing he did methodically.

Upon reaching her breasts, he sat up and sighed, holding both of them in his hands. Gently palming them, he watched Scully bite her lip in anticipation and her nipples harden further as he swiped his thumbs across them. Leaning down, he pushed them together, first drawing his nose up the valley and then his tongue, blowing cool air on her wet skin afterwards.

Scully involuntarily arched her back when she felt his mouth swirl around one nipple. And then the other. Bolts of lightning shot to her core, warming her in that way that left a delicious, hazy ache in its wake. Eyes closed, she bit back a whimper, smiling, having missed the feeling for so long.

A different kind of ache began to settle in her breast and she tugged Mulder up, smirking at his glistening lips, to distract herself. His eyes, though dark, grew soft with concern.

"I need you up here with me," she answered.

"Of course," he smiled, crawling back up to her.

She pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it perfectly into the chair. He stopped and laughed, shaking his head. His breath hitched when her hand palmed him through his pants. She wasted no time, deftly undoing them and pulling them down his thighs. He helped her the rest of the way and chucked them in a pile on top of his t-shirt.

"One-all," he grinned. "Looks like we drew."

She cupped his face– "We'll have to find a way to settle the score then." and kissed him, giving him as good as he gave.

Mulder shuffled awkwardly and Scully broke away, raising an eyebrow. He held up his boxers and waved them like a victory flag.

"Da-nah!" He scrunched them up and flung them to the chair with the others. "Two-one: I guess, I win."

"As referee, I disqualify that one."

"You're just a sore loser."

"I'm just trying to level the playing field."

"Do I still get to play?"

"Mhmm." She claimed his lips, burning with need, and let her hands wander the expanse of his back.

He rolled them over, so he was gazing up at Scully in all her beauty, her now longer hair cascading around her face, framing her features in fiery ribbons. He liked it longer, it reminded him of when she had first introduced herself to him. He had been so naive then to think she was on anybody's side but his. And she was still with him even now.

Yet she hesitated. The smile falling from her eyes was replaced with something unreadable that scared him.

"Scully?"

"Please... Please could you be on top?" she asked.

"Yeah." He let her climb off and lie down next to him, seeing her visibly relax as she laid her head down beside his, a meek smile at the corners of her mouth. He brushed her hair behind her ear again, repeating the soothing motion. "Okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." Being in charge of the situation, she felt that other ache deepen into something akin to dread. She couldn't place it and didn't know how to begin describing it to him as much as she wanted to. "... Don't want to be on top," she concluded.

"We don't have to–"

"No, it's not that." She shook her head and simpered, playing with his thatch of chest hair. Sighing, she ran her hands down further and told him a half-truth to ease his worry. "I'd rather feel you closer to me."

Mulder groaned when she held him and began running her fist up and down his shaft. She chuckled at how quickly she could elicit a response from him.

"Still want to play?" she asked.

"If you do."

Mulder waited for her to nod before moving ontop, cupping her face as she guided him home. He watched Scully bite her lip as he pushed in slowly, taking the time to savour every moment of her expression. She looked up at him with clear crystal eyes and he felt that tether between them strengthen.

"Hello," she whispered, pushing his hair up off his face. She kissed him, reveling in the searing heat they created between their bodies.

"Hi," he chuckled. "Okay?"

"Yeah."

He pushed languidly in and out of her, finding an easy rhythm like the gentle strength of the tide. They made love lazily, playfully– like they used to on their Saturday mornings– until the waves crested and crashed and he felt her shudder beneath him. He followed her, tumbling off the cliff, buried in her scent, her heat, her hair, her being.

Scully still clutching at his back, pressed his weight into her chest, fingernails digging in slightly. She was panting beneath him, so Mulder moved to give her some room to breathe, but she pulled him closer.

"Stay," she huskily implored him.

"I'm crushing you, Scully."

"Mhmm," she agreed, smiling shyly, distracting herself.

Mulder kissed her temple and nuzzled deeper into the swathes of her hair splayed across the pillow; the smell of her– them– as addictive as it had ever been. They stayed curled tightly around one another for a while until Scully softened her grip and let him go to the bathroom. He returned a few moments later with a warm washcloth and handed it to her. Enamoured, he watched her clean between her thighs, thinking it might be his favourite part of Saturday mornings. A close second then.

"I was gonna jump in the shower now; you wanna join me?"

She looked up and handed him the cloth back. "No, that's okay. You go ahead."

She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, lips pressed into a thin smile that he assumed was meant to reassure him, but the detached look in her eye only made him anxious. Dejected that she didn't want his company, that she felt she couldn't share her trouble with him, Mulder nodded and went into the ensuite alone.

Scully sighed after he closed the door, cursing the heavy weight in her chest. It was like God couldn't let her have one moment of happiness without somehow tainting it, reminding her that her current situation wasn't happy, making her feel guilty if she found a small quantum pocket of joy. One arm wrapped around her naked waist, the other fiddling with her pendant, she huffed, pushing down the feelings, disregarding them as immature. She padded barefoot over to the chair, picking up her discarded robe on the way. She folded each garment neatly, placing them on the arm, apart from his t-shirt, which she wore. Clutching the collar to her nose, she inhaled the distinct smell of Mulder and sleep, dragging her back into that dream of lazy Saturday mornings. Whilst she was waiting, she made the bed: plumped up the pillows, straightened out and tucked in the comforter, even though she knew the sheets needed changing. It was just something to do to keep her occupied– she feared those emotions would rise to the surface given half a chance.

With nothing left to do, Scully found her thoughts scarily empty, instead only a feeling a magnetism drawing her towards the bathroom. Before she knew it, she had already turned the handle of the door and found herself sitting on the edge of the tub, watching Mulder run soap through his hair. She couldn't tell if it was the steam that was soothing, or if just being in Mulder's presence calmed her, but when he grinned upon seeing her, she smiled too.

He saw she was wearing his t-shirt that was ten sizes too big for her, the hem reaching halfway down her thighs. He hummed appreciatively. "I see my shirts have got joint custody again."

A simper played across her lips, but she ignored the comment. "We need to get some clothes, even if it's one set that we wash and wear alternatingly."

"I don't mind having only one shirt if it always smells of you." His voice was plain and candid and Scully couldn't tell if he was being serious, though he probably was.

"Practically speaking, Mulder, you would."

He shrugged. "I'm sure I could live with the burden."

He emptied an entire one of the travel bottles of shower gel into his palm and struggled to keep a hold of it all.

"Jesus, Mulder!" Scully laughed. "You don't need that much."

"You gonna help me with it then?" he cheekily grinned.

Mocking reluctance, Scully undressed and joined him under the shower spray.

#my fic #Maybe there's hope #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #on the run #xf fanfic

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anguigenus · 3 years

Note

To give you any idea of how much I connect you to Gus, I had a dream about the toh wiki that when you click on his page, it had like all this information of death and royalty notes and even called him, "the bridge between death" sooo there's that lol

My canon now. Gus is getting a spin-off series and I’m writing it, Dana told me so herself.

#/j #actually though that is completely hilarious #I certainly have a very distinctive niche #but the fact you had a dream about it? amazing #thanks for the ask!#de anguigeno

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scullyverse · 3 years

Text

Roses & Restraint: Chapter One

Dana Scully

Stella/Scully || multi-chapter || rating: E (Explicit)

Summary:

London, 1990. Stella Gibson and Dana Scully both enrol in University. Dana is lonely and insecure, Stella is distant and guarded, until they meet.

Notes:

This story is something that has been conceived and created through many months of brainstorming and endless conversations between me and my wonderful other half Lieke. This little universe has evolved into a life of its own and I can't wait to share it with everyone, finally! This story starts AU with Stella and Dana in University but will maintain heavily elements of both canon The X Files and The Fall later on in this series. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much we have had creating it together.

Also available to read on AO3

Dana

London, England

September 1990

Dana Katherine Scully had never felt lonely before. Growing up in a house full of siblings, she constantly found herself surrounded by noise and the warmth of having people close. She had always been connected with her mother and father, tolerated and even loved her two brothers and was especially close with her sister Melissa. So sitting alone on her new bed in an alien country surrounded by nothing but silence was certainly a different experience.

Tucking her legs up to her chest, Dana rested back against the headboard, looking around her new dorm room. It was fairly empty for the moment save for the essentials like some fresh bedsheets; her closet was open and half-filled with the clothes she had brought with her, and a stack of freshly shrink-wrapped textbooks resting in a neat pile on her desk. Her mother, Margaret, or Maggie as she liked to be called, was planning to take her out shopping later today for a few things to make the space feel more like home. But Dana knew it would probably never feel quite like home to her, this was just a space that she occupied for the time being.

Dana rested her hands on her knees, tilting her head to look outside of the window, seeing mostly brick from the dorm building next door, some leaves barely visible from the trees below. She had been so excited to get accepted into London University - as one of the only places that delved into Biophysics, it was at the top of her list of places to study because of their curriculum. And she was still excited, it was just a different feeling from imagining it to being here, and she suddenly felt very out of her depth. In just two days classes would start and she had never felt this underprepared for anything before in her life. Everyone else surrounding her would be older and have those extra years of life experience she just didn’t feel she had acquired yet.

Being academically brilliant she had skipped a few grades and was able to apply for college at only 16, much to her parents' delight and also uneasiness and worry. It seemed such a whirlwind of a year last year, applying to many different establishments, and finally getting accepted here. Her mother had flown her out at the beginning of the year for interviews and entrance exams to see if she would be a fit for the course she was applying for and if she was able to handle the caseload that would be expected of her. They had gladly invited her and seen her potential. So why don’t I feel that potential right now? Dana thought, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip.

Things would be fine, her mother had told her so, and she was sure she was right, it was just hard to shake the feelings away when her head could think of nothing else. Letting out a sigh, Dana pushed herself off the bed and made her way towards the suitcase sitting in front of her closet, still filled with numerous things from home. Kneeling and rummaging through the items inside, she pulled out her worn copy of Moby Dick and put it on the floor next to her before grabbing the family picture from last Christmas and put it on her desk, angling it towards her bed. She wasn’t one for clutter, but she always kept a photo of her family in her room. Normally it was the only thing that rested on her desk besides books and stationery.

With the book in her hands, she made her way back towards her bed, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the dog-eared cover before she heard a soft knock. Turning towards her door, Dana quickly fixed herself up, adjusting her blue oversized shirt and brushing her frizzy hair away from her eyes with her free hand.

Dana pulled the door open and smiled warmly when she saw her mother standing in the hallway, a plastic shopping bag in her hands.

“I thought you could use some snacks for your room.” Maggie greeted her with a hug. “Maybe you could keep some in your desk drawer as you did at home, they even had your favourite,” Pausing, Maggie rummaged through the plastic and pulled out a bag of gummy bears. “-I was surprised to find them, but they were in the little supermarket down the street from the hotel.”

Dana stepped aside to let her mother into the room and shut the door softly. Taking the candy given to her with outreached hands, Dana put both the bag of gummy bears and her book down on her desk and stepped forward to wrap her arms around her mother’s waist, her chin just able to rest on her shoulder.

“Thanks, mum. But you didn’t have to do that.” Dana insisted.

“Of course I did, Dana. I know how much you love them.” Maggie replied, brushing her concern off with a smile.

Feeling Maggie’s arms wrap around her, holding her tight, Dana felt warm and secure as she closed her eyes. She would miss her mother’s hugs more than anything. Even though at times she couldn’t stand the way her mother coddled her, she would never get tired of her love. Taking a deep breath, Dana tried to get her emotions under control as she pulled away, looking up at Maggie with slight embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed.” Dana apologised, rubbing under her eyes.

“It’s okay sweetheart, you’re allowed to feel like this. Is it too much though? You know you can always come back with me and we can apply somewhere else.” Maggie reassured, placing a hand on Dana’s head and brushing down her hair before resting her hand on her cheek. “This is a big step and something I know I wouldn’t have been able to do at your age.”

“No mum, I want to do this. I’m fine, just a lot to take in for the first few days.” Dana answered, looking into her mother's eyes and giving her a slight smile as she leaned into the familiar hand against her cheek.

Stepping away, Dana peeked into the bag still in her mother’s hand to distract herself from the sour feeling in her stomach. Maggie watched for a moment before smiling as Dana took the bag from her mother’s hands and made her way towards her bed, tipping the contents onto the covers. Dana wasn’t a big fan of sweets, but she did tend to like the odd one here and there when she was studying, a habit she had picked up in her second year of high school. Dana’s eyes lit up when she saw a few more packets of her favourite gummy bears and some chocolate bars that she didn’t recognise, but sounded pretty delicious. She looked up at Maggie and gave her a grin before Maggie took a seat on her bed, picking up one of the chocolate bars.

“I wasn’t sure if this brand would taste good, but the cashier recommended it to me as something that seems to be quite popular here, so hopefully it tastes okay. Though I’m sure it’s not as sweet as the chocolate we’re accustomed to at home.” Maggie said as she gave the bar back to Dana.

Dana gathered the candy and put it back into the plastic bag to put it away somewhere later before she put her hands in her lap, fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. Dana looked up at her mother with slight nervousness as a silence hung between them before Dana felt a warm hand rest of her own.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s go have a look around the city. We still need to buy you some essentials. And I know you wouldn’t say no to a new outfit or two,” Maggie urged, a reassuring look on her face.

Chuckling, Dana got to her feet and walked to her closet to grab a pair of worn sneakers, slipped them on and then led Maggie out of her room, making sure to grab her keys and lock the door on the way out.

——♡——

Dana had only ever been to London once before, that time being earlier that year when her mother had brought her over to have some advisory meetings at the University. They hadn’t had time to stay longer than they needed as it clashed with school, so Dana hadn’t gotten the chance to explore the city she was going to call home for the next few years. Maggie was staying at a little hotel just outside of the city’s business district and over the last week, Dana had gotten used to the bus routes and timetables as she travelled between the hotel and the campus.

Taking her mother’s hand, Dana helped her off the bus and onto a busy street, filled with people making their way to work as it was rush hour in the morning. Dana had done a little exploring on her own the previous days but hadn’t had much of a chance to look at the storefronts like they planned on doing today. She hadn’t brought much with her, only her suitcase and the majority of space in her mother’s too, as Maggie had promised they would go and buy things once they were here as it would be easier that way. And that way her belongings would still be at home for when she came back to visit during the school breaks.

They spent their morning walking around the different streets and Dana ended up getting a spare bedsheet, some new towels as well as some toiletries from a little boutique store that was filled with soaps and hair products that smelt like roses, Dana’s favourite. Maggie insisted on buying her a new bag and a few new outfits that Dana had loved the look of as well as all the stationary she would need for the first semester. Dana would be left with a savings account that her mother and father would deposit money into every month so she could have an allowance until she got a job. Maggie urged that she shouldn’t hurry in finding work, that she should take a while to settle into her new schedule and that there would always be money there for emergencies. Dana wasn’t one to spend money frivolously, only planning on using it for the essentials like food, school supplies and accidentals.

Maggie had already taken her to the campus shop to purchase the textbooks she would need, which Dana had felt guilty for as both her Anthropology and Biophysics textbooks had ended up costing quite a bit. Maggie had just waved her off, not hesitating to pay, but Dana intended to keep them as pristine as she could in hopes she could get some money back for them at the end of her degree and repay her parents.

After almost a full day of shopping, they ended up walking past a bookstore on the way back to the bus stop and Dana proposed they have a look inside. Dana smiled when her mother went straight to the murder mystery section - it was the first stop she went to in every bookstore, while Dana headed for the general fiction section. Dana’s fingers brushed over the covers as she tilted her head, looking over the titles with interest. Reading was always a good escape for her and she would never turn down a novel where she could lose herself in the pages for a while.

Dana walked her way slowly up the aisle, before she reached the end and caught sight of a blonde crouched down in the literature section, pulling a book off the shelf with black polished nails. Dana watched her flick the book over before she brushed her short hair back, revealing a set of piercing blue eyes. The girl opened the book and read a few lines before she rose to her feet, turning and catching Dana’s gaze.

Dana gave a polite smile as the blonde walked towards her, tapping her fingers against the cover of whatever book she had grabbed from the shelf. Stepping back slightly, Dana made room for the girl to walk past her in the aisle, but she bumped into the shelf softly in the process. The blonde smirked at her clumsiness and Dana watched her walk around the corner and out of eyesight. Way to look like an idiot, Dana.

Turning back around, Dana resumed looking at the titles before she heard her name being called and saw her mother making her way towards her, a Joanne Harris novel in her hands. Maggie had always been a fan of the murder mysteries ever since Dana could remember so it was no surprise that she had found another book to add to her collection.

“Have you found anything you like sweetheart?” Maggie inquired.

Shaking her head, Dana closed the distance between them as she reached and took the book out of her mother's hand, flipping it over to give a quick read of the back before she made an impressed face.

“Sounds like a good one. Come on, let me get it for you as a thank you present for everything you have done for me this past week.” Dana said with a grateful smile.

Maggie began to protest, but Dana cut her off with a scowl.

“Mum, please. It’s the least I can do. Besides, it will give you something to read on the plane home tomorrow.”

Maggie sighed and relented as Dana walked towards the counter to pay for the book with some of the crinkled bills she had in her jeans pocket.

After the book was purchased and they made their way to the bus stop, Dana and Maggie juggled their bags of shopping into the dorm room and spent the rest of the afternoon organising everything and putting things into their new home. Dana was impressed with how comforting they managed to make it look, though it still didn’t feel like home and she was sure it wouldn’t ever have that feel to it.

Just as it started to get dark, Dana walked her mother back to the bus stop and hugged her, promising to meet her the following morning at her hotel so they could go to the airport together. Dana wasn’t looking forward to sending her mother home and being left alone, but she was sure the feelings would get better the longer she stayed there by herself. Missy had told her that it would be good for her to go out on her own and spread her wings. Dana wasn’t sure what that meant yet, but hopefully, that would come to her in time too.

Once the bus carried her mother out of sight, Dana let out a shaky breath. The sour feeling in her stomach was hitting her with full force and she had to swallow down a rise of bile in her throat. Loneliness wasn’t something that agreed with her just yet, it would seem. Turning on her heels, Dana tucked her hands into her pockets as she walked back towards her dorm room, suddenly not having the energy to smile politely at the people walking around her. She just wanted to retreat to her room and not have to worry about people seeing her cry.

——♡——

Most of the people had started to arrive in the other rooms on her floor, so she didn’t have the communal bathroom all to herself as she had hoped for. Wrapping a towel around herself, Dana ducked her head and avoided the other girls in the bathroom who were chatting in a thick northern English accent that Dana couldn’t quite understand.

Hugging the towel to herself, Dana grabbed her toiletry bag and quickly walked across the hall to her room before slipping inside, resting her wet hair against the door. She hadn’t thought about bringing a change of clothes with her as everyone else had, and she felt lucky that her room wasn’t far and there were no people in the hall for her to make a fool of herself in front of.

Taking the towel off her body, Dana walked towards the small set of drawers next to her bed, drying her hair roughly as she rummaged through the second drawer to find her pyjamas, which consisted of a large navy shirt of her father’s she had taken a few years ago and a pair of checkered shorts. She threw the wet towel onto the bed, got changed, and hung the towel on the hook behind her door.

Suddenly, she felt very small and the constant dull chatter from the other dorm rooms did nothing to settle her feelings of sadness. Dana stood for a moment, feeling her wet hair seep into the back of her shirt and a warmness fill her eyes. Shaking her head, she quickly blinked the tears away.

“You can do this. Come on, Starbuck. You can do this.” It was a mantra she spoke to the empty room that gave Dana a tiny flicker of courage, picturing her father’s warm face and soft eyes that he only ever showed to his family.

Dana looked at the red lights on her clock and sighed when they read 9:47 pm. It was still early, but her body was almost acclimated to the change in time zones enough for her to begin to feel tired. Grabbing her copy of Moby Dick off her desk, she turned off her ceiling light, leaving only the slight warm glow from the small lamp on her bedside table. Maybe she could read for a little bit to get her mind off things, it usually worked at home. Getting into bed, Dana put the blankets over her knees as she rested back against the headboard, reaching over to her bedside table to grab her glasses and slip them on before she opened her book to the page where she left off a few days ago.

But no matter how many times she read the same lines over and over again, nothing seemed to sink in enough for her to focus on the story. Her stomach was churning and it was starting to make her frustrated. Huffing, Dana threw the book to the floor, and watched as it tumbled on the rug before it fell with half the pages tucked under the cover and now folded. Taking off her glasses, Dana held them in her hand and gripped them tightly between her fingers. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she should just go back home right now and just choose a university closer to home.

Pulling the blankets back, she placed her glasses back under her lamp before she walked over to pick up her book from the floor, pausing when her fingers touched a piece of white paper, a stark contrast to the worn yellowing pages of her book. Dana picked the book up and pulled the piece of paper out from in between the pages. She couldn’t remember leaving any notes in this book.

Dana opened the folded paper and sucked in a breath when she immediately noticed her sister’s handwriting, a mass of messy nearly illegible script. Dana put her book down on the bed as she sat down, quickly grabbing her glasses so she could read the words her sister had written to her.

To Dana,

I wrote this for you when you first told me where you planned to study. You have your heart set on it, I can see that stupid little sparkle in your eyes when you talk about it. But I also know how you can doubt yourself, how you can think you don’t deserve things you’ve achieved through all your hard work and dedication to the things you want. You don’t need to doubt yourself, I know you can do this. You are strong and can be so determined when you want to be, even if it gets you into trouble from time to time. Trust yourself, Dana. I’m your big sister and I will be here for you, even if you screw up. But you aren’t going to do that. It seems like you got all the brains in the family and all of us are always trying to catch up to you. I’m only a very expensive phone call away.

You can do this,

Missy

Dana held the letter in her shaky fingers, not able to see the words anymore from the blurriness of the tears behind her glasses. She took them off and put them on the bed to rub her eyes, wiping away the tears now threatening to fall down her cheek. She wasn’t sure how Missy knew she would need words of encouragement, but she had a way of always knowing Dana better than she knew herself.

Sniffling, Dana looked back down at the note in her hand with a smile, somehow feeling Missy sitting right next to her even though she was hundreds of miles away. She would have to remember to tell her mother to thank Missy for her when she got home. Folding the note in half again, Dana held it to her chest for a moment and let out a breath, less shaky than a few moments ago. Missy believed in her. That was something they didn’t really speak about. Her relationship with her sister meant more to Dana than anything. They fought like crazy sometimes, but they both loved each other fiercely. That would never change.

Grabbing her glasses once again she put them back on the nightstand before she got back into bed, the note in her hand as she situated herself under the covers. Leaning over, Dana switched off her lamp and the room flooded with darkness. It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to vaguely see the outlines of solid objects as she snuggled down, slipping the note under her pillow before resting her head down. She could feel her wet hair seeping into the material of the pillow, but Dana didn’t care.

Lying on her back, Dana looked up at the ceiling, the silence now becoming deafening. Closing her eyes, Dana rolled over on her side, curled up, and wished sleep would take her away for a few restful hours.

——♡——

Sleep didn’t come at all. Dana hated that. Once the light of the early morning started seeping through her closed blinds, Dana turned her head to look at the clock. 5:06 am. Her mother’s flight would leave in a few hours so Dana figured she would just head over to the hotel now and spend a few more hours with her mother before she left. She couldn’t bear to lay in bed a moment longer anyway.

Sitting up, Dana threw the blankets off her and got to her feet, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror she had fixated on her wardrobe door. Her hair was a mass of fluffy red curls and her eyes were red from the tears she had shed as well as the lack of sleep. Dana ran her fingers through her hair before grabbing her toiletry bag and heading to the toilets to both relieve herself and try to make herself somewhat presentable for the day.

Dana returned with her hair brushed but still fluffy and curly, unable to do much else and she didn’t have the energy to style it today. She would deal with that tomorrow when classes started. Dana picked one of the new outfits her mother had bought her; a knee-length black denim skirt, red flannelette shirt and black singlet top. Dana slipped on her black converse, slightly dirty from years of wear, before she grabbed her bag and put in the essentials: wallet, book and a bag of gummy bears from her drawer. Something was telling her she might need the pick me up later when she eventually crashed from lack of sleep, and she was anticipating the final separation from her mother was going to be something that would knock her around too.

It took Dana a short walk in the brisk early morning air under the faint glow of the streetlights and a 15-minute bus ride to reach the hotel. Dana paused in the reception area, looking at the large clock on the wall. It wasn’t even 6 am yet. She knew her mother was an early bird, but maybe she should wait a little while longer before disturbing her.

Sitting down on one of the small lounge chairs in the lobby, Dana reached into her bag and pulled out her book. Crossing her legs, Dana opened the book and began to read, her eyes flicking up every couple of minutes to the clock. She would read for another hour or so and then make her way up to her mother’s room. They served breakfast around that time so Dana was sure she would be up before then.

The lobby had slowly begun to fill with the bustle of people over the next hour and Dana had put her book away in favour of people watching. Maggie had picked this hotel because of it being so central to London’s business district and now Dana understood that it was favoured by businessmen and women for the same reason. There was a steady flow of people dressed for work leaving and arriving and by the time the clock hit 7 am the lobby chairs had been filled with people drinking coffee and reading the morning papers. Dana smiled slightly at the nice old lady sitting next to her and grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and walking towards the elevators.

Stopping in front of her mother's room, Dana pulled her bag tighter onto her shoulder and raised her hand to knock a few times on the wood. It took only a few moments before Maggie opened the door, her hair sitting perfectly on her shoulders and the slight makeup on her face making her appear years younger. Maggie’s eyes went from happy to worried in a matter of seconds as she took in the rough appearance of her daughter.

“Dana, you’re here early…” Pausing, she reached for Dana, resting her hands on her upper arm, giving it a slight squeeze. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, mum, just a bit of a rough night that’s all. I was up so I thought I would come over a little earlier and spend some time with you before we have to leave for the airport.” Dana gave her a small smile as she rested her hand on her mother’s arm, rubbing it gently.

Maggie let her daughter into the room and shut the door as Dana flopped onto the neatly made bed, letting her bag fall to her feet. It was amazing how efficient her mother was, it was like no one had stayed in the room at all. Looking around, Dana saw how the room was spotless, all traces of her mother tucked away into the suitcase resting next to her on the bed, all except for her handbag resting on the chest of drawers closest to the door.

“When’s your flight again?” Dana asked, her voice soft.

Maggie grabbed her bag and walked over to Dana, removing the suitcase off the bed and making room for herself to sit down next to her daughter. Rummaging inside, she pulled out her boarding pass, handing it to Dana. Looking down at the ticket in her hand, Dana’s fingers ran over the time.

“10 am boarding time… 9 arrival time. So we don’t have too long then, huh?” Dana stated, giving the ticket back to her mother with sad eyes.

The tight feeling in her stomach that had been bothering her all morning was getting worse as the seconds ticked by. She wasn’t sure what she would do without her mother there with her. Even though she was staying across town, she was still within reach. But soon, she wouldn’t be. Maggie would soon be on a plane back home to the US and Dana would be rooted there, alone. She was getting tired of crying, but she could feel herself getting hot in the cheeks as she turned her head.

Maggie reached under Dana’s chin, turning her head back to look into her eyes. The moment Dana’s eyes met the soft warm eyes of her mother, she broke. Her bottom lip trembled as Maggie pulled her close, wrapping her arms protectively around the small child in her arms. Because in this moment that was how Dana felt. Like a child. And in some instances maybe she still was.

Sobbing, Dana buried her face into Maggie’s chest, enveloping herself in the familiar scent of jasmine and home. Maggie said nothing, just held her tightly, her hand coming up to rest on the back of Dana’s head, brushing her hair soothingly. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, she needed to be strong like Missy had told her to be and spread her wings on her own. But it was so hard to have to eliminate the comfort only her mother could give her.

Dana wasn’t sure how long she stayed in her mother’s arms after she had stopped crying, but the gentle encouragement of Maggie’s arms guiding her away and saying, “Sweetheart, we need to get going,” told her that it must have been close to an hour.

Pulling out of Maggie’s embrace, Dana wiped her eyes and tucked her fly away hair behind her ears. Nodding silently, she got to her feet and helped her mother up off the bed too, out of courtesy more than necessity. Maggie gathered her handbag and boarding ticket as Dana put her bag back over her shoulder before reaching down to pull up the handle of Maggie’s suitcase. Maggie objected but Dana brushed her away with a small smile, her lips dry from the previous hour crying against her mother’s chest. Gathering the fragments of courage inside, she tried to stand a little taller than she felt.

“It’s the least I can do, mum. Come on, let’s go.”

#stella x scully #stella/scully #stella and scully #stella gibson #dana scully #txf #the x files #the fall #fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfiction #stellaxdanafic #stellaxdanaxrar

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magical-grrrl-mavis · 3 years

Text

Sibling AU

because apparently this is a thing I've got on my mind now. (Probs won't be writing it any time soon but I have a primal need to info dump, and maybe I'll inspire someone else.)

Characters

Eda Clawthorn - Canon Eda: She's Eda. She loves all 3 Noceda girls but is closest to Luz

King - Canon King: He's King.

Lucia Noceda - Beta Luz: Her weirdness is sorta toned down compared to Canon Luz. She's a bit more angsty. Reeeaaaally needs to smile more. Absolute D E L I N Q U E N T. Get’s into trouble on purpose, be gay do C R I M E. Feral. Totally down to help with Eda’s less honorable schemes. Tries to seem more “over it” and grown up but is secretly just as enthusiastic as Luz. She's more closed off, her life’s been a bit harder. Very protective of Luz and Laia, DO NOT fuck with them in front of her. Ready and willing to throw down. Deeeeeefinitely not hopelessly in love with Amelia. Age 17

Luz Noceda - Canon Luz. You know her, you love her. Age 14

Laia Noceda - Pilot Luz: Just as weird as Luz but a bit more laid back and shy. Doesn’t like putting herself out there quite as much as Luz, but gets dragged into her schemes a lot. Huge nerdy bookworm but perfectly capable of being flirty. Actually pretty confident with Anna. Too precious for this world. Is babey. Sits back and observes her sisters antics bc she's actually got a little sense. Age 13

Amelia Blight - Beta Amity: Cold but F E R A L. Doesn't even try to be the little miss perfect anymore but will pretend in front of parents. C H A R I S M A. Will fuck you up. Sorta pyromaniac but not like crazy, just good w/ fire magic and feels calm when she watches flames. Will burn you to ash if you hurt Amity or Anna. Rolls eyes at the twins antics. “You were going to do WHAT with Amity’s diary!?” Lotta internalized shit from her treatment by her parents. THIS CLOSE to burning down Blight manor. “If I have zero friends nobody can hurt me”. Lucia really throws a wrench in that plan. Toooootally not madly in love with Lucia. Natural greenhead but constantly dyes her roots brown as a form of small rebellion and solidarity with Amity and Anna. Age 17

Edric Blight - Canon Edric: You know him. Age 16

Emira Blight - Canon Emira: You know her. Age 16

Amity Blight - Canon Amity: Our girl! Age 14

Anna Blight - pilot Amity: Is babey. Loves books. Shy and tries to stick silently to the background. Just so sweet and precious. PROTECC HER. Tries to do the right thing. Like, ALL her siblings do their best to protect her from her parents. Not good with people at all. Age 13.

Winona Park - Beta Willow: You've seen Dana’s drawing of her. This shady bitch. She knows all your secrets. She will use them against you. Likes a little trouble but doesn't get caught. Ever. By the time you figure out what rule she broke she's already won the game. Don't. Touch. Willow. T R O U B L E. Loner until Lucia came along. Just does not care about anything. Doesn't even try in school but is still almost as good as Amelia. Not quite as powerful as Willow but still powerful. “What happens if I press this button.” Age 17

Willow Park - Canon Willow: You know her, stronk cinnamon roll. Age 14

Gus Porter - Canon Gus: Boy needs more character development. Age 12

(Story might not go quite like I'm describing it here but it's pretty close.)

Eda was going to eat King when they first met, they tell it like it's just some cute story.

Camilia was going to send both Luz and Laia to normal-person-camp but didn’t even try with Lucia bc she's clearly a lost cause. Lucia waited for the bus with them though, and she and Laia both followed Luz through the portal. Luz was the one who decided to stay on the isles, Laia just agreed bc she also hated the idea of camp, and being a witch sounded fun. Lucia agreed bc “well I'm not leaving my fucking siblings in another dimension on their own” but also was jumping up and down inside at the idea of being a witch.

Lucia and Laia were just vibing at the owl house during Witches Before Wizards because nobody told them shit.

Luz and Laia both went to the school in I Was a Teenage Abomination, Lucia didn’t bc “school? Why would I willingly go to school?” so she wandered off to town to do GOD knows what. Laia just hid in the bottom of the pot, but wandered off, Anna helped save her and get her out in the end. Later, at the covention, Laia gave Anna the “thanks pal” drawing.

Luz and Laia were both captivated by Eda’s magic lesson in Intrudor, Lucia was just hanging back with her arms crossed like she didn't care but inside she was going “I'm gonna be a witch! I'm gonna be a witch!”. Luz discovered the light glyph but Lucia came up with the idea of sticking it on the wall.

At the covention, Lucia saw Amelia and was actually gonna go over and be flirty bc Hot Witch Girl, but then she overheard her talking to Amity about her fighting Luz and instantly big sister mode. They got into a fist fight out back over “my sister’s better than yours.” their relationship after that is just Lucia constantly antagonizing Amelia and almost getting burned. Anna just stayed by the sidelines at the covention and Laia didn't see her until the very end, talked a bit and gave her the drawing b4 being dragged out by Eda.

Laia helped w/ the moonlight conjuring, but Lucia heard "night market" and sneaked off there. She didn't see Eda'z predicament but did run into Winona, who was making trouble and just being generally shady. Lucia helped her out with the shady business because why not and they were instantly friends, their friendship has a lot of Lucia going “you scare me sometimes.”

Laia went to the Library with Luz, she saw Anna just hanging out reading in the corner and immediately went over and sat by her. They were in Amity’s hideout sitting real close reading when Luz and the twins walked in, they left immediately, Anna red as a tomato.

The second Eda said body swap Lucia scooped Laia up and noped on out. It sounded fun to Lucia but for some reason she didn't feel comfortable subjecting Laia to that.

Laia and Lucia went with Eda when she talked to Bump abt enrolling them and just sat back and watched Eda clean up all her messes. Lucia was impressed.

Laia was just as excited to go to Hexside as Luz. But Lucia hated school, even magic school. She only decided to go to keep an eye on her sisters and fuck with Amelia.

Neither Laia note Lucia were interested in going to the Grudgby match. Laia stayed home and read (on the couch. She was so engrossed in her book she missed king walking out with half-transformed Eda) and Lucia went to hang out with Winona.

Laia and Anna worked together on a book for the writing contest. It won. Lucia wrote one too but it git rejected for being too graphic. It made one of the judges who read it start seeing a therapist.

All three went to the knee. Lucia went along with Eda'z crazy teaching because it seemed hysterical to her crackheaded mind, she missed the whole Slitherbeast thing bc she was off with moss in her ears, dirt over her eyes and pine needle mulch in her nose. Laia was incredibly disappointed that Anna wasn't there with the other blights. She didn't even try to stop Luz from stealing the wand bc she knew she wouldn't listen. She was just as impatient as Luz, just not rash. They figured out the ice glyph together.

Lucia chose the bard track in First Day bc she wants to be in a band. Laia couldn't choose just like Luz and got stuck in the Oracle Coven. Lucia got caught just like Luz and ended up in the detention track, Barkus was a bit more wary about her. She helped fight the basalisk I guess. Laia just stayed in class. Both Luz and Laia got to be in every track, Lucia chose only Bard, Beast Keeping and Illusion.

When Luz and co were shrunk at the carnival, Laia was off hanging out with Anna, and Lucia was doing something crackheaded with Winona. (Seriously, you could write such good fluff fics about Anna and Laia, and insane crack fics about Lucia and Winona.)

Idfk what Laia and Lucia were up top in Understanding Willow

Anna and Laia went to Grom together. They're such unassuming people that the only people who noticed were Eda and King bc they helped Laia get ready, and Amelia. Who had very mixed feelings bc 1- that's Lucia's sister, but 2- she actually kinda likes Laia and Luz.

Lucia begged Luz to let her take over as Grom queen but no dice. She ran to help too when Luz ran off but was too slow, she didn't get there until the very end of the dance.

Look, Laia is too much of a bookworm to care about sports and Lucia just thinks their stupid, so neither of them watched Luz play in Wing it like Witches.

Eda made cloaks for all 3 girls. Lucia and Laia were in the wrong year to go on the field trip to the emperor's palace. After school Laia went to the library with Anna and Lucia went to hang out with Winona. Laia and Anna fell asleep reading in Amity's secret room and Lucia and Winona lost track of time hanging out, neither got home until the next morning, and they found Luz crying on the floor.

Imagine with me, all 3 noceda girls breaking into the conformatorium to save Eda. All three wailing on Belos, Laia with a fuck ton of glyph papers, Luz with Eda's staff and some glyphs, and Lucia with a red aluminum bat covered in glyphs. They don't beat him but they do a lot more damage than just chiping his mask.

Imagine all 3 sisters agreeing silently to destroy the portal. For Eda.

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Note

would you want to preview one of the new nostalgia aus? the snippets have made me so so curious! you could share as little/as much as you’d like❤️

Hi sweetheart! Of course, I’ll tell you about it! You know I’m always up for rambling about my stories lol

I’ll go at it under the cut cause holy shit did I ramble about these. Thank you so much for asking love!

Πραξιδίκη (Praxidice)

The one I’m most pumped about atm. It is also the longest AU I have planned, aside from Hope of course.

Praxidice is one of Persephone’s names, used to refer to her in her subterranean queen title and in her status as the mother of the Furies. It means roughly ‘she who brings justice/revenge’. The name fits, and I wanted it to be a name for Persephone (instead of, say, a river in the Underworld, or an emotion or smth) because the Reader (Persephone) is a different reader from canon Nostalgia, and it is her embracing other part of herself what defines this AU.

This AU changes a lot of the main story, if not everything. The Greeks (that she doesn’t know are alive but now you guys do) sail back to the Mediterranean instead of trying to find her in Scandinavia, presuming her dead; and the Priestess’ motivations about returning to her ‘mother’ are not centered around returning to Greece or her people, but to Sieghild, who represents Demeter as much as Greece/Danae do. Ivar’s progression into letting go of Freydis’ words about pain being a mark of the Gods and thus if you endure it you are rewarded is also much more complicated.

What “If we name things, we make them real. And real things are dangerous things, becuase real things can be taken from you.” or “Bend to the Fates, but don’t let them break you.” is to Nostalgia, “Make the ground where you are defeated the realm where you will conquer. Survive, until spring comes.” is to Praxidice, basically.

I want to explore a few things in this AU, mainly surrounding the characters. This isn’t the Priestess of Nostalgia, this is the Priestess that had Narses put an army at her disposal with a few words of love. This is the Priestess that would make Freydis proud. You know where this is going, don’t you?

This also isn’t the Ivar of Nostalgia. To me, around Chapter 8 he needed only a push to truly fall into the world Freydis told him of, where the Gods reward those who endure pain. The Priestess fighting him every step of the way did help towards him realizing that yeah maybe not, but it also was him realizing his own mistakes along the road (”If you had asked, I would have said yes.” most of all) that truly kept him from having what he wanted.

Her main ambition in this AU will be changed from wanting to return to her people to wanting to return to her mother, and, similarly to how it went with Narses, when the desire for something else (war when it came to Narses, or in this case, survival) trumps any desire for freedom, she will lie through her teeth, no matter the cost. Also, returning to the element of her name: she wants revenge, but Stithulf ain’t exactly the only one she wants revenge against.

And as a result we get a very different Ivar as well. He is getting everything he ever wanted (”You seemed like everything I ever wanted. Not just seemed like it, you were. You still are.”) and he has no reason to distrust it. He is bewitched, this time a tad more literally.

And yeah, drunk on the idea of loving and being loved, sold on the fantasy of this being a reward for his strength, he’s diving head first. It is a more vulnerable Ivar is what I’m trying to say, because, as you can see through Nostalgia, his heart is a good chunk of steps ahead of the Priestess’ (especially towards the beginning) and having her agree with him and promise this is a choice she can make would only make things faster (we know when he falls, he falls hard and fast); all the while the Priestess is very much playing a part. Awful for everyone involved? Yes. Am I a horrible person for writing this? Also yes.

And this also has a new-ish role for Freydis to play. Now, more than ever, Freydis and the Reader are very alike. Still, I will try (keyword try, because I always say that and I write her front and center in every fucking story I can lol) to not focus on her too much.

Anyhow, I will stop boring you with my rambles lol. Here’s two quotes I feel describe their situations very well, the Reader and Ivar respectively:

“From the very womb

of your sadness,

of your old self,

you have come out,

borne of heartache and pain,

yet you have made yourself

this magestic, beautiful new thing.

You and Persephone

share this in common.

From the fires of trauma

where no one expected

your recovery,

you have forged

your own rebirth.”

- Your Trauma Does Not Define You, Nikita Gill

“Tell me that you weren’t hungry that day.

Tell me that’s not what got you to stay.

(...)

I want to believe you had the choice;

I was hearing more than my own voice;

That you opened the palms of your hands

To offer your heart, not meet my demands.

Convince me that you want to be here;

It’s not my trick that keeps you so near.

You chose me. You love me. This is real.

No silly seven seeds sealed the deal.

(...)

Just tell me you weren’t hungry that day.

Just tell me I’m the reason you stay.”

- Hades to Persephone, Ann Schafer

Anyhow, the snippet you requested ended up being like well over 1k, so I decided to post it on its own. You can find it here!

Thank you so much for showing interest in these messes that I write, it means so muhc ot me! Sending you my love sweetheart!

(As for the other AUs, I think I have Elpís/Hope which you guys already know about; Alatheia, the Freydis/Reader AU; and then Phlegethon, which is (because I am such a fucking mess) an AU of Alatheia, though it’s more of an alternate ending/epilogue, I just want Alatheia to be its own story without meddling Ivars making life difficult so the side of the story that focuses more on him is an AU of its own. And I think that is it, for now.)

#answered asks #asks and replies #νοσταλγία asks #Πραξιδίκη asks

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sigritandtheelves · 4 years

Text

Lifeline

PG | 2.1k wds | angst with a happy ending; MSR; canon divergence; s9: “William;” the Gunmen are alive so everything is better

Summary: She’s coming apart so he’s coming to get her.

A/N: I’ve got a looooong time in this airport so I finished this for you. It’s super self-indulgent. Not sorry.

_+_

Blood on the crib sheet, blood on her baby’s head. How many times will they hurt him in his own nursery? How many times can she do this? She hasn’t slept in 36 hours and she can’t keep her own child safe.

William cries and cries while she clings to his blue bunny hat, helpless in this sterile space. Mulder in the hospital was awful; this is unbearable.

The doctor tells her, as so many have before, that her baby is fine. But things could have been different. She did not keep him safe.

Look at me. Look what they did. Is this what you want for your son?

The words echo for hours, that raspy voice. How easily she had been manipulated. Scully does not trust herself, watching her smiling child who looks at her with open love and no reason to doubt. You’re wrong to love me, she thinks to him.

She cannot be trusted.

She cannot be trusted with a child.

Scully comes apart in his nursery, in the same clothes she’s been wearing since she sang to him in the car with no cares but that it was past his bedtime. She stands in the place where she could have lost her baby twice now. She thinks this child would be better off without her. She understands that she deserves to be alone.

—

“Look, I told her not to do anything, not to talk to anyone yet, but you need to get to Mulder. Get him to come back here now.” Monica Reyes is nearly shouting into her phone, her patience running thin. She caught that child as he came into this world, and she won’t see him sent away without a fight.

“Listen, lady, I told you we don’t know where he is.” Frohike’s voice also seems impatient, but she senses there’s something he’s holding back. “I haven’t seen him in months. No one knows where he is.” She catches it this time, a kind of verbal wink, and she pulls back.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll keep trying through official channels.”

“You do that. And don’t call here again!”

He hangs up and she puts her own phone away. She looks up at the window to Dana Scully’s apartment where the other woman paces, casting shadows on the curtains. Dana refuses to sleep, but Monica will stay with her tonight. She’ll keep watch, and she’ll call Skinner if she has to. That baby isn’t going anywhere.

—

At six the next morning, Scully is curled around William in her bed, clutching him as they both doze, her lips pressed to his fuzzy head. At the sound of the front door opening, she jerks awake fully, a reflex of panic forcing her upright. She lifts William to her chest and ducks down beside the bed, holding him against her, grateful for his silence in sleep.

A soft knock on her door. “Dana.”

Reyes’s voice. Still, Scully doesn’t move, tucked between her bed and dresser.

The knock again. “Dana, can I come in?”

After a moment, Scully realizes what she’s doing, feels foolish, and stands. She hesitates, but moves to unlock her door. Reyes is there, as she expected, but so is Melvin Frohike.

“Hey, there’s that kiddo,” he says, bopping William’s sock-covered foot. He seeks out her eyes, concerned. “You okay?”

Scully tries not to cry, but feels the tears welling anyway. She nods. “Yeah,” she says. “Fine.”

Frohike gives her a scrutinizing look and nods like he doesn’t quite believe it. He says nothing, reaches into his pocket instead. “Got something for ya.” It’s a phone, small and gray and indistinct, perhaps a little rough around the edges, with nicks in its plastic casing like it’s been pried apart more than a few times. “When this rings, you answer it, okay? Should be in the next five minutes or so.”

Scully takes the phone from him without question. Frohike and Monica exchange a glance—worried, she thinks, but can’t work up the motivation to reassure them. William stirs and she adjusts his weight in her arms, rubbing his back, kissing the top of his head.

“Well,” the man says. “I guess I’ll head out. When he wakes up, tell the kid I said hi.”

Scully nods and watches as he turns to go. Belatedly, she calls out, “Thank you,” though she isn’t sure yet what for.

Monica tells her, “I’ll make some coffee,” and leaves for the kitchen.

Scully closes the door again and locks it. She lays William on the bed—still rosy-cheeked and snoozing—and sits beside him watching his tiny chest move up and down in sleep. She puts her hand on his belly, feels the flutter of his heartbeat. The phone surprises her when it rings. Its chirping is unfamiliar, and she presses the answer button quickly, lest it wake the baby.

Hesitant, she speaks into the receiver: “H-hello?”

“Scully? Dana?”

The room spins and she’s grateful to be sitting on the bed. She’s woozy at the sound, unbelieving. The tears are back, pressing at her eyelids, and she’s sure she can’t breathe. “Mulder?” Her voice emerges too high.

“It’s me,” he says. “I can’t talk long.” There’s a muttered shit, and then, “I’m coming, okay? Honey, don’t do anything, just stay there in the apartment. I’m coming as quick as I can. Don’t do anything until I get there.”

“Muld—“ she chokes on a sob. “You’re coming?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice gentler. “I’ve got a long drive, and it’s not safe for me to talk much longer, but I’m coming. Tell William I’m coming, okay? I love you.”

There’s crackling over the line, like the connection is unstable, like his voice could disappear at any moment, and it makes her desperate, makes her grip the phone tighter. “Mulder, I’m sorry,” she sniffs. “I couldn’t do it alone.”

Another hum and pulse of static, and his voice sounds more distant. “You did a good job,” he says. “Just wait for me.”

Scully nods, though she knows he can’t see it, and says into the phone, “I love you.” A second later the line goes dead and she isn’t sure if he’s heard her. She cradles the phone in her hands like a sacred and fragile thing: it gave her his voice in her ear after all these months. She looks at William on the bed and rubs her index finger along his cheek. “He’s coming back,” she tells him, and tries to make herself believe it.

—

She waits for two days, the tension of her need buzzing like a hive of bees, nerves frazzled, unwilling to put William down even for a few minutes. Monica offers to watch him while she showers, but Scully refuses. She tells Monica to go home and takes William into the bath with her, soaps them both up and tells him it won’t be long. “He’ll be here soon,” she whispers. The hours stretch like months, and the two of them wait alone behind locked doors.

Mulder’s wheels are on the road, somewhere in the world, spinning ever closer. That knowledge is the only thread that keeps her tethered to the world.

—

He drives a beat-up junker into Georgetown and feels terribly out of place. Mulder has grown scruff into an almost-beard that is streaked with small patches of gray. He wears oil-stained jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, but he enters under the cover of darkness in the hope that no one will notice him. It’s almost three in the morning. He brought practically nothing with him, but his back pocket holds a photo of William, his small pack the phone he used to call her. He’s home now. He sees her apartment and his heart slams in his chest.

She’s a wreck, man. She’s not okay. Keeps talking about giving up the baby to keep him safe. Frohike’s words had been like slow punches to the gut. How bad it had been for him in all these months—he never thought about how bad it could have been for her. For them.

Mulder lets himself into the building, quiet, and approaches her door. He prays that his family is on the other side. Let them be there, he thinks. Let them be okay. He turns his key in the lock and pushes it open. “Scully?” A hushed call into the darkened apartment, but nothing. He locks the door behind him. Quiet, he moves through the dark to the bedroom door but finds it, too, locked.

“Scully,” he whispers again, taps the door three times. There’s nothing for a moment, so he tries again. “Scully?” A little louder this time. There’s rustling on the other side.

“Mulder?”

A wash of relief. “It’s me,” he says. “You okay? Can I come in?”

He hears a groan of furniture sliding—a dresser in front of the door? The lock turns, the door cracks open, and she’s standing there in yellow lamp light, holding their son, hair mussed from sleep. Her eyes go wide at his appearance—so different from when he left, he’s sure—and then her face gives way in a heartbreaking flood of relief. “Hi,” she manages, and then she falls against him, face pressed into his sweatshirt and crying already. He scoops them both to him, speechless, presses his face to her hair and breathes them in. His hands find her waist, then in her hair, then her shoulders so he can tip her back and see the baby, who has stirred and fussed and opened his eyes: still blue, like hers. He touches the baby’s face, his soft onesie.

It is too much for him. For her, too. They all crumple to the floor, a whole family of inconsolables, crying into each other and kissing cheeks and eyes and foreheads and fuzzy heads and scruffy beards and finally lips when he can’t stand it any longer because she’s just so beautiful and this is his son and he’s missed them both so very much.

“I’m so sorry,” he says at last. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

She shakes her head, “No,” she says. “I should have been stronger.”

He also tells her no, tells her she did just right. “You’re okay. We’re all okay. We’re together now,” he says. “We don’t separate again.“ His family: how could he have walked away? “I won’t go anywhere without you. Without both of you. We stay together.”

She wipes her face, buries it in his arm, kisses his bicep. “Yeah. Okay.”

Mulder scoops his hands under his son’s back and lifts the child up. “He’s gotten so big,” he says, taking in the boy’s solid weight, his chubby cheeks, his rather large head. “Look at the noggin on this kid.”

Scully laughs, still swiping at her eyes. “That’s all you,” she says, smiling at him with a look that quickens his heart with the sheer volume of love in it. “The Scullys were petite babies.”

He gives her a look, like even Bill? and she’s still smiling at him. It is his favorite thing. He cups her cheek, rubs his thumb at her temple.

William burbles a “Ya ya” and regards his father curiously, glancing now and then to Scully for reassurance. She boops his nose and whispers, “That’s daddy,” which makes Mulder’s breath hitch.

The baby presses his feet down in an I-want-to-stand gesture, so Mulder grips him under the arms and lets his little feet press into the rug. The baby holds up his weight, satisfied, and shoves a fist into his mouth. “Strong,” Mulder says.

“Yeah. He wants to walk.”

Mulder left a squalling infant and came back to an almost-toddler, a little person forming his own personhood. He turns his gaze Scully, who’s watching them with a look he cannot name. “We’re okay now,” he tells her.

She holds his scruffy jaw with both her hands. “Thank you,” she says.

He leans in and kisses her mouth, rubs his nose against hers, drinks her in like he’s dying of thirst. “Let’s get in bed, hmm?” He finally says.

They close and lock the door. At her nervous look, he helps her push the dresser back in front of it. He strips his dirty jeans, worn hoodie, and they climb into the covers where they are three, quiet, entwined in warm sheets with William heavy on his chest.

“Tell me where you were,” she whispers.

Mulder breathes deep and kisses the top of her head. “Tomorrow,” he says.

She lays one hand on William’s back, her cheek on Mulder’s shoulder. “Okay.”

He watches her drift and, after some minutes, lets himself slip under too.

They’re not safe. They might not every be safe.

But they’re together.

#a thing i wrote #season 9 #canon divergence #i needed this #🤷‍♀️

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aewriting · 4 years

Text

This is an angsty little fic I just wrote this evening. It's based on my recent viewing of RNM episode 2x01, a DM exchange with @angsty-aliens about that "I don't want to play your guitar" line, and some past "accidental sex worker Michael" head canons from @ninswhimsy and @lambourngb

Be warned - Michael is NOT in a good place in this, and it shows, especially in his interaction with Alex.

Warning for sex work.

Here it is on AO3, if you prefer.

***

“Michael?”

He’s drunk. He’s so drunk – on alcohol, acetone. He makes himself straighten up, really look at her.

Diana? Dana? No. “Deena, hi.” He tries to stay steady, smile. No, don’t smile… it’s a funeral, after all. “Been a while.”

“Sure has.” She eyes him, up and down. Not subtle. “You look good.”

He doesn’t. He knows that. He’s… he’s a fucking mess right now. But Deena was always more interested in touching than looking.

“I didn’t realize you knew Noah Bracken,” she says, slight frown on her face.

“Yep,” he says tightly. “Him and Isobel.”

He sees how it lands – the way Deena’s eyebrows raise, the way she quickly covers up a half-smirk. “I see,” she says, and Michael has to stop an eyeroll. Doesn’t correct her, though, doesn’t explain. It’s been a long time since he’s given a damn about his bad reputation, after all.

Deena’s eyes, still wide, flick to Isobel, in that skintight black dress of hers. “Well,” she says, clearing her throat, her gaze sliding over Michael again. “My husband’s on business in Canada right now.”

Oh Jesus.

“And you were always so… handy. Might have a few jobs for you.”

And now it’s Michael’s turn to look her over. Deena runs with the Ann Evans brunch crew. Red hair, good figure – clearly takes care of herself. If she’s had work, it’s subtle. Discreet. She really hasn’t changed that much since he last saw her, years ago…

First time had been an accident. It was that awful winter right after graduation, before he’d started out at Foster’s Ranch. Before the Airstream. And he honestly didn’t mean for it to happen, but he’d been…

He’d been desperate. He can see that now.

He’d tried to go about things honestly, at first. Tried. He was cold, hungry, and he wasn’t about to try to hit Isobel and Max up again, lost as they were in their own problems. So after one particularly bad storm, he scraped together all his money, went to the hardware store, and bought a shovel. Drove to one of the nice neighborhoods. Started going door to door.

Most people didn’t answer. It was the middle of the day, so they were probably at work, and no doubt some people just ignored him. Like, he probably looked shady. But he got a couple bites. At least the physical activity kept him warm, and he made a few bucks.

That’s how it had started, with Deena. She looked him over. Asked him his age. Seemed pleased when he’d said 19. “You look older,” she commented. He got to work on her driveway and sidewalk. Saw her peeking through the curtains. Looking at him. He assumed that she was checking in on his work, his progress.

He was been wrong.

He finished up and knocked on the door. Deena smiled at him. “You poor thing,” she cooed, looking him over. “Looks so cold out there. Want something warm to drink?”

And Michael was cold. Sore and tired. And here was this lady actually, actually fucking treating him nicely? “Sure,” he said, using the big smile.

She smiled back. “Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?”

Oh god, hot chocolate sounded fucking awesome. That’s exactly what he ended up telling her, too, before realizing he’d said “fuck,” but she just laughed. Busied herself in the kitchen with the milk, the mix. “Take off your coat, stay a while.”

Nice, was Michael’s first thought. What does she want, was his second.

She made small talk, at first. Then started rubbing his shoulders. And that, that’s when Michael realized what was going on. And… and it wasn’t like it was off-putting. No. Deena was fucking hot. Her house was warm. He bet she’d let him shower, even.

One thing led to another. And when it was over, after he’d showered (with her), she gave him a lingering kiss and pressed a very generous “tip” into his hand.

“There’s a little extra there. For you,” she said with a wink. “You did such a good job out there,” she added. “You better come back next time it snows.”

So he did.

And a few times for raking leaves, the next fall.

Then another winter.

She wasn’t… wasn’t the only one who’d ever paid him, but she was... the least accidental. After that first time, anyway. And it’s not like he ever asked her to. She, she always volunteered it. At the end. Part of his tip. He didn’t, didn’t expect it, necessarily. Wouldn’t have pressed it, if she hadn’t kept it up. But it also wasn't like he was gonna turn it down, either. Right? Like, who would?

And really, wasn’t everything a goddamn transaction, anyway? People weren’t just nice to a kid like Michael, and they weren’t nice to an adult like him, either. They had an agenda.

Everybody… everybody has a fucking agenda.

Michael lets his gaze linger on Deena again, standing in front of him in her flattering, stylish black dress. Probably cost more than the monthly payment on his Airstream. “You still over on Hollybrook?”

Deena makes a face. “No, no… I’ve upgraded. Over in Montebello Heights now.”

Michael nods. “How long’s your husband in Canada?”

She bites her lip a little. “Weeks.”

Fuck it. Why not? “Then I’m sure you could use a man around the house. Take care of some things.”

She grins.

***

“I don’t want to hear a damn word about, about Project Shepherd. Or Caulfield, or my…” He shakes his head. “None of it, okay, Manes? I told you that.”

Alex sighs. “You did. Yeah, you did. Sorry.” He glances around the makeshift lab, looks quickly away from Max’s naked form, suspended in the pod. “I’ll just, just update Liz and Kyle with it.” He goes to leave. Stops. “How… how long you been in here?”

Michael shrugs. “Long enough.”

“You should get something to eat. Crashdown?”

Michael fixes him with a level gaze. He does need to eat. “Sure, Manes.”

They drive separately, thank god. Michael wishes they could eat separately, too, but he’s not that big of an asshole. Today, anyway.

Liz is working, and she raises an eyebrow at Michael, which he returns with a shrug. They get settled in a booth. Liz isn’t the one that waits on them. Michael gets his usual, a burger. Watches as Alex gets the enchiladas, eats them with gusto. Times like this, Michael can almost forget. Forget that he wants the distance, the end to this damnable push-pull they’ve been doing for years.

“Arturo’s are the best,” Alex is saying.

“If you say so,” Michael says shortly, and he sees Alex’s face fall, just a little. Part of him’s glad to still have that power. Part of him hates it.

Their server brings the bill, and Michael grabs for it. Alex frowns.

“Guerin,” he says, a warning in his tone.

“What?” Michael grits out. “Don’t need your charity, Manes.”

Alex closes his eyes, briefly. “I… I know that. This wasn’t…” He shakes his head a little. “Wasn’t charity.”

“Then you won’t mind me paying.”

But Alex, he just can’t leave it alone. “Isobel, she says that you haven’t been taking as much work, at Sanders’.”

“Since when is Isobel telling you about my – “

“And, and I see the way you are,” Alex barrels on. “You, you don’t seem good, Michael.”

And the audacity, the sheer nerve of Alex right now, Michael thinks. Cause when, when in their whole damn history has he ever seemed good? And why can’t Alex just see, just fucking listen and leave Michael the fuck alone? If he hasn’t realized after all these years just how fucked the two of them are, together, what’s it gonna take?

And then he has an idea.

He squares his shoulders, makes a show of pulling out his wallet, thumbing through the bills. “Don’t need to worry about me, Alex. I’ve picked up some work.” He gives a tight little smile. “Night shifts.”

Alex looks at him, surprised. “Oh,” he says, attention drawn to the money Michael is casually flashing.

“Yeah,” Michael says, drawing out the word. He can tell Alex is torn between asking more and just letting it be. So Michael pushes. Again. “An old employer. She’s generous.”

And that does it. “What, what are you doing, exactly?” Alex says, brow starting to furrow.

Michael just shrugs, gives him a smirk. “Something I’m good at. According to you, at least. And others.”

And at that, Alex’s face goes slack. “Oh my god.”

Michael shrugs. “Gonna do it anyway, might as well get paid.”

Alex’s eyes are darting around the Crashdown. He leans forward. There’s anger now, not just the shock. “Holy shit, Michael.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but just curses instead. “God damn it.”

Michael scoffs a little. “Well look at you, high and mighty. All offended. Not like you’ve never done it.”

Alex’s eyes widen. “What?” His mouth is open. “I’ve never, never –“

Michael laughs, a harsh, biting sound. “You’ve done it with me, Alex.”

“That’s bullshit – “

“Gave me a place to stay and a guitar. Then tried to kiss me.”

Alex’s mouth is pinched, tight. “No. No. Do not do this. That is not what that was – “

“Wasn’t it?” Michael asks, scrunching up his face in faux confusion. “Cause I don’t think you would’ve been so inviting if you hadn’t wanted my dick.”

“Stop it,” Alex hisses.

“Not like I didn’t want yours, too.” Michael shrugs. “Everything has a price, right?”

Alex looks sick. “Guerin, please. You don’t have to – “

“Course I don’t. Not now. Didn’t always have that luxury, though,” he says, voice hard. He takes out a few bills, slaps them on the table showily. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Captain.”

He’s out the door fast, and he knows he shouldn’t turn back, shouldn’t try to catch a glimpse of Alex through the window, but he can’t help it. He’s still sitting, stunned-looking, in the booth.

Michael swallows hard. Turns and walks away. Maybe this time, it’ll stick.

#my fic #roswell nm #angst #Michael guerin #malex

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spn-safeandsound · 4 years

Text

12. Long Distance

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x17; Hell House

Word Count: 7,182

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, sisterly antics

Author’s Note: Enjoy! Let me know what you think! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

Julia anxiously watched the printer in Beth and Taylor's study, her lips quirking into a smile as the professional cursive was inked onto the expensive paper that Beth insist she get for her diploma. She had finally graduated from Stanford and, although she didn't get to attend graduation, she was very proud of herself. Her double major in Religion and Linguistics had been received simply because she was too meticulous and stubborn to let her education go waste.

But now that education was over and she couldn't lie and say she wasn't happy about it. Sixteen years in school was a long time—even though she went two years less than other people she graduated with—and she was glad that part of her life was over. She just wished that her mom and Levi were still here to witness this. Still, she knew they were watching up in Heaven and that was the best she was going to get.

Once the printer spit out her diploma, she carefully set it on Beth's desk so the ink could dry without any smudges. She was just taking a seat in the desk chair where her open laptop was sitting so she could continue working on the case she found for Sam and Dean down in Texas when her cellphone rang.

She wasn't surprised that it was Dean; he had been calling her every couple of hours to check up on her. He wasn't happy that she didn't want to hit the road just yet after Levi's death but he understood and was supportive anyway. He just made sure she knew that he and Sam would check up on her and the rest of the Petersen family. That was sweet and everything and Julia appreciated how supportive the Winchester brothers were being but sometimes there was such a thing as too many calls. She couldn't believe that Dean accused her of talking too much.

Beth and Abby thought it was the cutest thing ever when she'd have to leave the room to talk to Sam and Dean—though it was mostly Dean as she and Sam communicated through a text thread—and not return for a half-hour. Beth and Abby weren't the ones who had to assure a very worried Dean every couple of minutes that they were safe and feeling a little bit better. Usually Julia was the mother-hen but, apparently, in her absence, Dean took up the title.

Julia sighed and flipped her phone open. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Dean."

"Yeah, I know," Julia rolled her eyes, glad that he couldn't see the obvious look on her face. "What's up?"

"Well, Sam just woke up with a spoon in his mouth," Dean chuckled, sounding satisfied with himself. "and I took a picture to send to you."

"Yeah, it's real funny, Dean," Sam grumbled.

Julia shook her head in amusement; Sam and Dean's prank wars were always a hit with Dean, even if Sam didn't enjoy them as much as his older brother.

"Where are you guys?"

"A few hours outside of Richardson," Dean answered her. "Give me the low down on this case you found."

"Okay," Julia pressed the space button on her laptop, waking it up, and clicked on the folder of information she collected. "About two months ago, a group of kids went poking around a local haunted house."

"Haunted by what?" Sam wondered.

"A misogynistic spirit, I guess. Like we need any more of those in the world," she hummed in disapproval; Sam chuckled in agreement. "Anyway, the legend goes that it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters."

"Okay, so what happened with this group of kids?" Dean said, getting her back on track.

"They saw a dead girl hanging in the cellar."

"Anybody ID the corpse?"

"The body was gone by the time the cops got there," Julia clicked on the police report in the file. "The police think that the kids were playing a joke on them."

"Maybe the cops were right," Sam suggested.

"They could be but I've read some of the first-hand accounts from the kids involved," Julia sighed. "They seemed pretty sincere about the whole thing."

Dean sounded skeptical when he spoke next. "And where did you read these accounts, Junior?"

Julia took a beat, glad that he couldn't see the flush rising in her face. "I might have surfed through some local paranormal websites."

"Mmhm," she could hear Dean's disapproval even though he hummed. "and what's it called?"

Julia sighed as she read the website from the file, "Hell hounds lair dot-com," she heard Sam laugh. "Hey, it could be legit!"

"Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit them in the ass, Julia," Dean sighed.

"Hey, you wanted a case, I delivered," Julia defended herself. "If it's nothing, that's fine, but it doesn't hurt to check it out."

"Especially since we let Dad and Luke take off," Sam backed up Julia.

Julia frowned, still bitter about that. She wasn't mad at Dean and Sam by any means. No, she was angry with her dad. He didn't come when Julia was dying or when Levi actually died but he was fine following John Winchester to Chicago just to see the failed trap the girl who killed Levi set up for them.

It wasn't like his daughters were only a half-hour away, mourning the loss of their older brother or anything. It wasn't like his only son was killed.

"Fine," Dean gave in when he heard Julia's silence. He had been the one to tell her that they saw Luke with their dad and it was heartbreaking to see the expression on her face. He hoped he'd never let her down like Luke did. "We'll check it out. How have you been doing, shortcake?"

"I'm fine," Julia twisted her lips. "I got my diploma today."

"Wait, are you serious?" Sam exclaimed. "That's great, J! Congratulations!"

"I'm proud of you, Julia," Dean added sincerely.

"Thanks, guys," Julia's chest swelled with love. She was so glad that Sam and Dean Winchester were in her life.

"Send me a picture."

"I will," she agreed to Sam's request. "Well, I'll let you go—"

"Wait, wait," Dean stopped her from hanging up. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Dean..."

"I mean, you can talk to us."

Julia quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't do chick-flick moments?"

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, well..." he changed the subject. "How many times have you watched Dirty Dancing since we left?"

Julia hesitated; Dirty Dancing was her go-to movie to watch whenever she was sad. It was her mother's favorite movie and Julia grew up watching it a lot. She absolutely adored Patrick Swayze, the dancing, the music, and the love story that made up the film. It made her happier.

"Jules?"

"I've watched it every night, okay?" she confessed. "Leave me alone, I'm delicate."

"All right, all right," Dean gave in; Julia could tell that he was worried about her and that was sweet but watching that movie was her coping mechanism and it hadn't let her down so far. "We'll talk later, shortcake. Stay safe."

"I will," she promised. "You guys be safe, too. Love you."

"Love ya, too, J," Sam called. "Bye."

"Bye."

Julia closed her phone and set it down on the desk beside her laptop. She pulled up her internet browser and started doing more research for the case, hoping that any information she pulled would help the brothers out.

Dean and Sam walked into the record shop, looking around for the guy that the witnesses said sent them to the house where they saw the dead girl. As they passed by the first table full of records, a worker came out from the back with his hands full of more merchandise to put away.

"Gentlemen, can I help you with anything?" he asked them.

"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam asked him politely.

"I am," the worker confirmed as he put a record in place.

"Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News," Dean told him. "I'm Dean and this is Sam."

"No way," Craig's face lit up. "I'm a writer, too. I write for my school's lit magazine."

"Ah, good for you, Morrison," Dean chuckled as he began to look through the crate of records in front of him. He completely missed the confused look that Craig gave him but Sam noticed and cleared his throat.

"Um, we're doing an article on local hauntings and rumor has it you might know of one," Sam smiled at Craig, wishing that Julia was here to get the information out of him—she was much better with the guys than he was.

"You mean the Hell House?" Craig asked.

Dean nodded, looking up from the records. "That's the one."

"I didn't think there was anything to the story," Craig said avoidantly.

"Why don't you tell us the story."

"Well, supposedly, back in the thirties, this farmer named Mordechai Murdoch used to live in this house with his six daughters," Craig told them after a moment of hesitation. "It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, and he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "How?"

"Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick rather than starve to death, so he attacked them," Craig stated. "They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung them up, one after the other. And, when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now, they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside."

Dean pressed his lips together; the story Craig was telling sounded just like that. A story. His words were something out of a dramatic novel, not a true story. And what parent would just kill their kids instead of trying to do whatever it took to make sure they lived?

"Where'd you hear all of this?" he asked Craig.

"My cousin, Dana, told me. I don't know where she heard it from. You gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second."

"But now you do," Sam assumed.

"I don't know what the hell to think, man," Craig shrugged. "You guys, I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again."

Dean shared a look with Sam and then nodded at Craig. "Thanks."

A half-hour later, Sam and Dean were walking through mud to get to the so-called Hell House. It was creepy looking, they had to admit, but not anything less creepy than the things they saw everyday during their job. It was just a little run-down house, not much else.

"I can't say I blame the kid," Sam sighed, his eyes searching the grounds around the house.

"Yeah," Dean agreed as they got closer to the house. "so much for curb appeal."

Sam took a look around the perimeter of the house while Dean pulled out the EMF meter. It whirled like it usually did when there was anything unusual around but the way it started up as soon as he pressed it on, made him think that something was off.

He tapped the device, frustrated, as Sam came back over to him.

"You got something?"

"Yeah, the EMF's no good," Dean looked around, the powerlines above the house catching his eye.

"Why?"

Dean nodded at the power lines. "I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings."

Sam sighed heavily. "Yeah, that'd do it."

"Come on, let's go."

They entered the house, finding that it was unlocked in its abandoned state. They started in the front room and then moved onto the living room where a fireplace lined with various candles was. The walls were covered in spray paint, a bunch of different symbols that didn't really even go together scattered randomly around the room.

Dean whistled sarcastically. "Looks like old man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger in his time."

"And after his time, too," Sam muttered, eyeing a symbol of an encircled cross. "That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries but this sigil of Sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the sixties."

Dean gave Sam a long took, wrinkling his nose. "How do you know that?"

"I listen to Julia when she talks about this kind of stuff," Sam said pointedly, knowing that Dean checked out whenever something that required a little brain power was brought up.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shuddup," he walked across the room, looking at more of the symbols on the walls. He stopped in front of one that looked like an upside-down question mark with two little lines on either side. It looked kind of familiar. "Hey, what about this one? Have you seen this one before?"

Sam studied the symbol and took a picture of it with his phone. "No."

"I have...Somewhere," he couldn't place it, though.

Sam cautiously reached toward the symbol, rubbing it with his fingertips. "It's paint," he studied the slight stain that it left. "Seems pretty fresh, too."

Dean sighed and turned away from the symbol. "I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind but the cops may be right about this one."

"Yeah, maybe—"

A loud noise cut off Sam's agreement. The brothers instantly went on alert and followed the noise to a door that led to another room. They stood on either side of it; when Sam nodded, Dean whipped open the door and stepped into the room.

He was immediately attacked by bright beams of lights right in his eyes and two groans of horror. When the flashlights flitted away, he could see that there were two guys in front of them, around his age with camera gear.

The brunette groaned. "Oh, cut. It's just a couple of humans," he told his companion, who shut the camera off. "What are you guys doing here?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Dean countered.

"Uh, we belong here," the ginger guy with the camera drawled. "We're professionals."

"Professional what?"

"Paranormal investigators," the ginger reached into his pocket and pulled out a card to give to them. "Here you go, take a look at that, boys."

Dean took the card and read it. He groaned in realization, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler? Hellhoundslair.com," Sam read over his shoulder. "You guys run that website?"

Ed, who was the ginger with the camera, nodded. "Yeah."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans," Dean said sarcastically as he passed Ed and Harry to check out more of the kitchen.

"And we know who you guys are, too," Ed said.

Dean and Sam turned to face him sharply. "Oh, yeah?"

"Amateurs," as soon as the words were out of Ed's mouth, Dean pursed his lips and turned away once again. "looking for ghosts and cheap thrills."

"Yep," the other guy, Harry, agreed. "So, if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here."

"Yeah?" Dean noticed a gadget that they must have brought with them on the counter; he picked it up to inspect it. "What do you have so far?"

"Harry, why don't you tell them about EMF?" Ed prompted his friend.

Harry hesitated. "Well..."

"EMF?" Sam played dumb and Dean saw that he was trying not to smile.

"Electromagnetic field," Harry told him as though he was an expert. "Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector," he pulled a EMF reader out of his canvas vest. "Like this bad boy right here."

He turned on the EMF, causing it to whirl angrily. "Woah, woah," he exchanged an excited look with Ed while Dean smirked at Sam. "It's two-point-eight MG."

"Two-point-eight," Ed repeated excitedly. "It's hot in here."

Dean whistled mockingly while Sam tried not to laugh. "Wow."

"Huh," Dean clicked his tongue. "So, have you guys ever really seen a ghost before?"

"Once," Ed looked back to where Dean was standing by the counters. "We were, uh, we were investigation this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table."

"By itself," Harry added needlessly.

"Well, we didn't actually see it, we heard it," Ed corrected himself but grew serious again. "And something like that...it, uh, it changes you."

"Yeah, I think I get the picture," Dean crossed his arms over his chest and walked over to Sam. "We should go, let them get back to work."

"Yeah, you should."

Dean nodded at his brother and then the door. "Sam."

Sam followed him out of the kitchen and they left the house, not wanting to deal with the kids who wanted to enter the big leagues.

Julia kneaded the sugar cookie dough on the counter in front of her, humming along to whatever Disney song that the radio that was playing throughout the kitchen. Lizzie was on her side of the island, cutting out cookies with a heart-shaped cookie cutter while Beth and Abby were on the other side, decorating some of the finished cookies with colorful icing.

Once that song was finished, a familiar one started, making her smile.

"Oh, I love this song!" Abby exclaimed while concentrating on the flower cookie she was creating. "Let's get down to business to defeat the Huns!"

"Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?" Beth joined in.

Julia sang next. "You're the saddest bunch I ever met but you can bet before we're through..."

"Mister, I'll make a man out of you!" Lizzie finished loudly, making Julia, Beth, and Abby laugh.

They continued singing along to the best song that Mulan produced while making cookies. When Lizzie was finished with the rest of the heart batch, Julia slid the tray into the oven. Once she set the timer, she gave Lizzie the last batch of dough, allowing her to cut out some dinosaurs.

"I'm done with the dinosaurs, Momma!" Lizzie announced once the dough was gone.

"Good job, cutie," Beth smiled. "Why don't you go wash your hands?"

"Okay!" Lizzie climbed off the stool she was standing on and ran out of the kitchen to the nearest bathroom.

"Use soap!" Beth called after her; once she was sure her daughter couldn't overhear her, she turned to Julia. "So..."

Julia pursed her lips, knowing what was coming. Since Dean and Sam left four days before, Beth had been waiting to talk to her about something. She had that look in her eyes where she wanted girl talk and it also occurred every time Dean called her. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Julia sighed and started wiping the excess flour from the counter. "So what?"

Beth smiled coyly and Abby shook her head impatiently. "She wants to know about you and Dean."

"What about me and Dean?"

There was no her and Dean, no matter how much Julia wanted that. She had moments recently when she and Dean spoke—especially when Sam wasn't joining the conversations—where she thought Dean might have the same romantic feelings that she had but she wasn't sure. Dean cared about his family and he considered her and the rest of the Petersen family his family. It wasn't like he was pining after her the same way she was pining after him.

"Oh, stop deflecting, Julia Ruth," Beth scolded her. "There's something going on with you and Dean and I—" Abby cleared her throat and Beth corrected herself, "—we want to know."

Julia scoffed and threw her washcloth into the sink. "There is nothing going on. Trust me."

Beth and Abby exchanged skeptical looks. "But you want there to be, don't you?" Beth guessed; she gasped loudly when she saw Julia scratch her cheek. "Oh, my God, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"You scratched your cheek, you liar," Abby pointed out with a laugh. Julia scowled at her. "We're sisters, Jules. Sisters talk about this stuff."

"I've never talked to you about my boyfriends before," Julia protested.

"That's because by the time you had an actual boyfriend you were at Stanford," Beth reminded her. "and you did use to talk to me about boys. Remember that guy you liked when you were in high school?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Julia groaned; Abby and Beth gave her expectant looks. "Fine, I like Dean. Happy?"

"Extremely," Abby smirked. "He sucked you back in, huh? How old were you when your crush on him finally went away?"

Julia blushed. "Fourteen."

Abby snorted in amusement. "Yeah, now I remember."

Julia sent her a glare while Beth slapped her arm. "Abby, stop," she scolded her before turning back to Julia. "Ignore her, Jules. It were cute."

"A fourteen-year-old crushing on a guy who was twenty? Yeah right," Julia scoffed. "And that's the problem, isn't it? He's almost seven years older than me. He doesn't see me as anything but a little sister."

Abby calmed her laughter. "Jules, Dean doesn't look at you like a sister," she told her baby sister. "He looks at me and Beth as sisters. He looks at you like you're sex on legs."

It was Beth's turn to giggle as Julia's cheeks darkened further and she ducked her head.

"And Sam says that he always checks you out," Abby added.

Julia looked up sharply. "He did?" Abby nodded. "Since when do you talk to Sam?"

"Since he grew up to be a hottie with a body."

Julia rolled her eyes so heavily that it hurt. "No one actually says that, Ab."

"Since when were we talking about me?" Abby protested as Beth laughed again. "my point it that Dean wants to fuck you."

"Okay, the five-year-old is going to be back any second so let's not use that language," Beth smothered her laughter as they heard the faucet cut off in the bathroom. "But, seriously, Julia, he likes you."

"What we're going from sex to feelings now?" Julia asked incredulously. "Sex, I get. I'm hot and Dean loves sex but feelings? Are we talking about the same Dean Winchesters, here?"

"I wanna talk about Uncle Dean!" Lizzie chirped as she ran back into the kitchen. She climbed back onto her stool and looked eagerly at her mom and aunts. "Are you talking about the crush he has on Auntie Jules?"

Julia gaped at her while Abby pointed enthusiastically. "See? Lizzie sees it too."

"That's because Beth's poisoning her mind."

"No," Lizzie protested innocently. "I heard Uncle Sammy and Auntie Abby talking about it."

"Well, I'm so glad that my love life is so interesting to you guys," Julia huffed with warm cheeks. She glanced at the oven, wishing the timer for the cookies would go off so they could change the subject.

"Look," Beth sighed. "Dean calls you multiple times a day, every day just to see how you're doing. Do you think he does that to anyone else who isn't Sam?"

"He's checking up on me."

"Don't give us that sh—crap," Abby shook her head, correcting herself before she could cuss in front of Lizzie. "You're scared that you'll put yourself out there and get rejected."

"Because it's Dean!" Julia exclaimed, frustrated. "Dean, who doesn't do relationships. So what if I want to protect myself? That's good."

"It's good to protect yourself," Beth agreed and grabbed Julia's clenched fists. "but you and Dean...you should see each other. You look at him when he's not looking, he looks at you when you're not looking. You move even an inch and he's shifting toward you. The way I see it, is this isn't a passing fancy."

"You're together every day, you fight along side each other, you protect one another," Abby continued. "You trust each other and that's rare in our profession, Jules. Even I can see that you guys have something special."

Julia wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. It was nice hearing her sisters say these things but she couldn't tell Dean about her less than platonic feelings for him. He was too important to her and she didn't want to lose him, even if it meant she had to get over her feelings. Dean didn't do relationships and she had tried the one-night stand thing and it didn't go well for her. Maybe it wasn't meant to be.

As if the universe was disagreeing with her, her phone rang from the counter by the fridge. Lizzie eagerly climbed off her stool again and raced toward the phone, flipping it open.

"Hi, this is Lizzie!" she chirped before gasping excitedly. "Uncle Dean, we were just talking about you!"

"Lizzie!" Julia lunged toward her niece, ignoring her flour-covered hands to grab the phone from her. She pressed it against her ear. "Uh, hey, Dean."

"Hi there, shortcake," Dean's voice was coy. "Heard that you girls were talking about me. Are there gonna be pillow fights next because, if you want, you could—"

"Okay," Julia hurried interrupted him, waving frantically at her sisters as they laughed at the mortified expression on her face. "We were, um, we're making cookies actually, so...yeah."

"And I just so happen to come up in the conversation?" she could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

"Uh, yeah, because," she walked out of the kitchen and into the bathroom next door, shutting the door firmly behind her. "I was telling Lizzie that you liked pie instead of cookies."

Dean perked up. "You guys are making pie?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Julia agreed even though they hadn't really planned on it. "So, what's going on down there?"

"Eh, we got some more information," Dean sighed, becoming serious again. "Some kid told us that a guy named Mordechai Murdoch killed his six daughters during the Depression but what Sam found didn't quite match up."

Julia frowned. "Well, what did he find?"

"That the guy's name was actually Martin and he had two sons instead of six daughters," Dean informed her. "There's nothing to say he ever killed anyone."

"Huh," Julia wrinkled her nose. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I talked to the police and there's no missing persons, either," Dean paused for a second. "Jules, we dug like you wanted but we don't think there's anything here."

"Well, that's good, then," Julia said. "No spirit, no dead people, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, on your way back, you can stop in Houston," she suggested. "I, um, I got that NASA tour for Levi, remember?"

"Jules, we can't—"

"Yeah, you can," Julia insisted. "I don't want it to go to waste and you love that kind of stuff, Dean. You and Sam deserve some fun once in a while, you know?"

Dean was quiet for a few seconds. "All right. We'll check it out."

"Good," she smiled. "I'll email Sam the information about the tour and hotel."

"Thanks, shortcake," Dean's voice cheered up a little. "I'll call you later when we head out, okay?"

"Okay, talk later. Bye, Dean."

"Bye."

Julia snapped the phone shut and sighed, pressing it to her chest. She was glad that she got to the phone before Lizzie could spill on what they were really talking about. Dean was already insufferable when he knew they were talking about him but if he knew that they were talking about feelings and sex and all that, his ego wouldn't be able to fit in the Hancock building.

She slipped her flour-covered phone into her apron pocket and quickly washed her hands before heading back to the kitchen.

Before Sam and Dean could even leave town, they got a call from the detective Dean spoke with the day before. The sun was still setting when he called, telling them to get to the Hell House as soon as possible. When they arrived on scene, a body bag was being carted to the coroner's van. The detective informed them that a girl had hung herself in the house, which sounded just like the Mordechai story went.

They went back to the Hell House around midnight and dodged the cops when those nerds, Ed and Harry showed up. Mordechai ended up attacking with an ax and was immune to rock salt, which led them to more research.

Dean sat on his bed, drawing that familiar symbol on the notepad that the motel provided. "What the hell is this symbol? It's bugging the hell out of me," he looked up at Sam, who was researching at the table. "This whole fucking job is bugging me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks."

"It does," Sam said distractedly, focusing on his laptop.

"All right, well, that explains why he went after you but why me?"

"Hilarious," Sam looked away from the screen to scowl at him. "The legend also says he hung himself but did you see those slit wrists?"

"Yeah."

"What's up with that?" Sam shook his head. "And the ax, too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over again?"

Dean nodded. "This dick keeps changing."

"Exactly. I'm telling you, the way the story goes..." Sam typed in Ed and Harry's website and pressed enter, waiting as it loaded. His eyes widened when he saw a new article about the Hell House. "Wait a minute."

Dean looked up from his notepad. "What?"

"Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site," Sam informed him. "Listen to this: They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now, he's imprisoned in the house for eternity."

Dean sat up as he stared at the symbol he had drawn, finally recognizing it.

"Where the hell is this going?"

"I don't know but I think I might have just figured out where it all started," Dean rolled off his bed. "Come on, we gotta go to the record store."

They entered the record store not long after, spotting Craig at the cash register.

"Hey, Craig," Dean called to him over the loud rock music playing through the store. "Remember us?"

Craig sighed. "Guys, look, I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry," Dean waved him off as he stopped in front of the record crate marked with the second letter of the alphabet. "We're just here to buy an album, that's all."

He quickly flicked through the records in the crate and pressed his lips together when he found the one he was looking for. On the back of a Blue Oyster Cult record, he saw the symbol he had recognized at the Hell House.

He grabbed it and slowly walked over to Craig with Sam on his heels.

"You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was and then I realized that it doesn't mean anything," Dean told Sam conversationally, his voice hardening toward the end. "It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult. Tell me, Craig, you into BOC or just scaring the hell out of people?"

When Craig turned around to face him and Sam, he handed the Blue Oyster Cult album to him. He took it and flipped it over, eyes flitting over the cover art, which included the symbol that was spray painted at the Hell House.

"Why don't you tell us about that house," Dean suggested. "Without lying through your ass this time."

Craig looked up at Dean for a moment. "All right," he sighed heavily. "My cousin Dana was on a break from TCU. I guess we were just bored and looking for something to do. So, I showered her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted so we painted symbols on the walls, some from albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks."

"Then, we found out this guy, Murdoch, used to live there so we made up some story to go along with that," he continued. "They told people, who told other people, and then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took a life of its own."

Dean blinked at him; something about what he said was familiar.

"I mean, I thought it was funny at first, but..." Craig shook his head sadly. "That girl's dead. It was just a joke, you know? I mean, none of it was real. We just made the whole thing up, I swear!"

Sam nodded. "All right."

As they turned away from Craig to leave the record store, Dean muttered to Sam, "If none of it was real, how the fuck do you explain Mordechai?"

Dean was trying so hard not to smirk as he watched Sam wiggle around in his seat, trying not to scratch at his crotch. While his brother was in the shower, he had sprinkled itching powder into Sam's underwear and now he was able to watch the whole thing unfold right in front of him.

If only shortcake was here, too, he sighed mentally.

Sam was in the middle of talking to Julia on the phone, telling her his thoughts about Mordechai being a tulpa when Dean interrupted him, "Dude, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," Sam said avoidantly.

"What's going on?" Julia's voice came from the speaker.

"Nothing," Sam assured her. "So, these tulpas...There was this incident in Tibet in 1915. A group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard that they brought the thing to life out of thin air."

"Okay, well, there are thousands of people on the internet," Julia said thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Sam nodded, wincing as he picked at his itchy jeans. "I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai and then it spreads and goes online where countless people believe in the bastard."

"Wait a second," Dean spoke up. "People believe in Santa Claus so how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?"

"Cause you're a bad person," Sam opened his laptop, still squirming, and pulled up a photo of the sigil that brought tulpas to life. He showed it to Dean. "And because of this. That's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was."

On the phone, they could hear a thump of a book and then pages being flipped. "Okay, this book says that the sigil has been used to centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So, people who are on the Hell Hounds website, staring at the symbol and thinking about Mordechai...would that be enough to bring a tulpa to life?"

"It would explain why he keeps changing," Dean answered her.

"Right," Sam adjusted his jeans and added, "as the legend changes, people think different things so the legend itself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."

"Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit," Dean stated, choking back his laughter as Sam started wiggling more than he had. "So, why don't we get this spirit sigil thing-y off the wall and off the website?"

"I don't think it's that simple," Julia sighed as they heard more pages being turned. "Once a tulpa is created, they take on a life of their own."

"Great," Dean grumped. "So, if he really is a thought form how the fuck are we supposed to kill an idea?"

"Well, that's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us," Sam showed him the video Ed and Harry put up on their website. "Since they posted the footage, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."

"Huh," Dean clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "I've got an idea but we have to find a copy store."

"What are you thinking?" Julia wondered.

"We're gonna give these boys a story and change the legend," Dean told her as Sam forcefully stood up and did a weird walk to relieve himself. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I think I'm allergic to our soap or something."

Dean snickered as Julia spoke up, "What? We use hypoallergenic soap, Sam."

Dean's laughter increased as Sam did a weird lunge in the middle of the motel room. Sam immediately stood up to his full height and glowered at his older brother.

"You did this?!"

Dean couldn't talk, he was laughing so hard.

"You're a fucking jackass!"

Dean continued to laugh, standing up from his chair to dodge the attack coming his way.

As Sam chased Dean around the room, they didn't notice as Julia sighed, "All right, I'm gonna hang up now."

After Dean and Sam told Ed and Harry about this new legend that they found—in which Mordechai would be killed with a pistol and wrought-iron bullets—and a little prank Sam pulled on Dean—where he superglued his beer bottle to the palm of his hand—they headed back to the Hell House to kill the tulpa once and for wall.

They entered the house with their firearms drawn and slowly walked their way around, looking for any sign of Mordechai.

Dean winced as he tightened his hand around his gun. "I barely have any skin left on my palm."

Sam snickered. "I'm not touching that line with a ten-foot pole."

Dean pressed his lips together, irritated, and flashed his light straight into Sam's eyes until he flinched. Once he was satisfied that he got some sort of revenge on his little brother, he continued on through the living room and into the kitchen. "So, do you think old Mordechai's home?"

"I don't know," Sam pointed his gun at the door that led to the basement.

"Me either."

Sam and Dean whipped around at the new voice, pointing their pistols in Ed and Harry's faces.

"Woah, woah!" Ed shouted while Harry lifted his hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

Sam raised his gun away from them. "What are you trying to do, get yourselves killed?"

"We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?"

Before either of the irritated brothers could say another word, a crash came from the basement door. They instantly went back on alert, aiming their guns back at the door.

"Oh, shit," Ed muttered from behind them, focusing his camera on the action. "Hey, guys, do you wanna—you wanna open that door for us?"

"Why don't you?" Dean dared him.

None of them even stepped closer to the basement door as Mordechai burst through, growling at them while waving his ax in the air. Dean and Sam immediately took their shots but Mordechai didn't falter. It was only after full rounds that he disappeared but not in the way they wanted him too.

Sam and Dean immediately left the kitchen to check the other rooms on the first floor.

"Wait a minute?" Ed said breathlessly. "He's gone? He's gone."

"Did you get him?" Harry asked him urgently.

"Yeah, they got him."

"No," Harry shook his head. "On camera. Did you get him on camera?"

Ed faltered. "Well, I..."

Harry grabbed the camera from him. "Let me see it, let me see it."

He flipped open the little screen but was pushed to the floor as Mordechai appeared, smashing the camera with his ax. Dean ran back into the room after hearing some loud noises and glared at them.

"Hey, didn't you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?" he barked at them.

"Of course we did," Harry answered, getting to his feet as Sam came back into the room. "But then our server crashed."

Ed nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

"So, it didn't take?" Ed and Harry shook their heads at Dean's question. "These guns don't work?"

"No."

"Great," Dean sighed and turned to his brother. "Sam, any ideas?"

Sam shrugged; no ideas. None whatsoever.

"We're getting out of here," Harry spoke up.

"Yeah," Ed agreed quickly. "Great idea."

They left the kitchen, only to run into Mordechai again. They screamed and ran for the front door but it was locked and they were unable to get out. They turned to see Mordechai and followed them to the front door and was slowly advancing toward them, raising his ax.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

"The power of Christ compels you!" Ed shouted at the tulpa. "The power of Christ compels. THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU."

Any other time, what Ed was saying would make Dean laugh so hard. But, alas, now was not the time for amusement. Sam ran up to the front door and shouted at Mordechai, getting his attention.

"Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch!"

While Sam and Mordechai fought and Ed and Harry ran out of harm's way, Dean found some lighter fluid in the kitchen. He quickly sprayed it all over the floor and onto the cupboards before heading into the living room to spray it there, too.

"DEAN!"

Hearing Sam's shout of help, Dean quickly grabbed a bottle of spray paint and pulled his lighter out of his pocket before running toward his brother and Mordechai.

"Hey!" he shouted at the tulpa before lighting his lighter and spraying the paint at the same time, creating a homemade blow torch.

Mordechai let Sam go and disappeared; Dean grabbed Sam and helped him run back into the living room.

"Mordechai can't leave the house and we can't kill him? We improvise."

He showed Sam his lighter and clicked it out before throwing it onto the floor. The old wooden beams lit up immediately and Sam and Dean took off, knocking down the front door and jumping off the porch.

As they ran into the trees, Sam turned to Dean incredulously. "That's your solution?" he pointed at the flaming house. "Burn the whole damn place to the ground?"

"Well, nobody will go in anymore," Dean shrugged. "I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty but it works."

"Well, what if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?"

"Well, then, we'll just have to come back."

Sam sighed at Dean's nonchalant answer and turned back to the house. "Kind of makes you wonder," he said. "Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just because people believed in them."

Dean didn't answer but he thought about what Sam said as he continued to watch the house burn. It did kind of make him wonder but he couldn't really consider that. No matter if a supernatural was real just because someone believed in them, they were still killing them and saving people.

It was the family business, after all.

(Gif is not mine)

#supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x original character

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