#yeah barn's arm is Temporarily Not Part Of Him but he's not awake to notice or care <3

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

The lights out au is the first au in a while to peak my interest : O

I gotta know, why is Sally evil and what does she do?

Also how's Barnaby doing? <: (

im Delighted to hear that!! (also hi! your laughingstock art is adorable!)

Sally isn't really evil per se... she's just sleepwalking! while having mild to intense nightmares! most of the time she just sleeps in her house, but once per day she takes a walk - a "patrol" - around the neighborhood before going back to sleep. every so often she wakes up Extra agitated, and needs to be soothed to sleep or she'll get destructive. in general, though, Nightlight!Sally just patrols and attacks anything that makes noise until it goes Quiet again

and Barnaby! well! he's having the most wonderful dreams <3

[kenzieam]

Druid - Chapter Eleven

Rating: M (smut, language, violence, mature themes, potential major character death)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes  @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee  @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw  @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff  @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf @smilexcaptainx @plaidcat4815 @shirukitsune @chook007 @laketaj24 @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @brujademente

If you want off this list, send me a DM

Thank you, my lovelies, for your kind words and support XOXO

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JAMES GOES DARK AF.

Trigger warnings: Extreme violence, language and torture.

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“Where are you?” I hear tears in his deep voice, he’s crying with me.

“I don’t know.” I whimper.

JAMES

My heart is exploding out of my chest and I’m crying so hard I can hardly take a breath. Part of me is ashamed at how strongly I’m reacting, but there’s only Thor, Steve and Stitch in the van with me, and they all know how precious Levi is to me, they’ve all seen the way her abduction has affected me. I’m not ashamed to show how deeply I love her, I just wish I could get my shit together long enough to figure out where she’s at.

A hand claps my shoulder. “Give me the phone,” Stitch commands. “I need to assess her injuries.”

I don’t want to let go but I do, passing the cell over and gripping the dashboard in front of me, fighting to draw deep breaths. It occurs to me suddenly that the van has come to a stop and I glance over, see Thor bent over the steering wheel, forehead resting on his forearms. His shoulders shake, he’s crying too.  

I turn my head to look in the back. Stitch has moved to the furthest corner of the van, where it’s quieter and is the epitome of professional concentration; I’ve been around him long enough to know that only later will he allow the emotions in, only later will he break down, but he’s better at pushing it all away in the moment than the rest of us, he was a field medic, baptized by fire.  

My eyes track to Steve next and he’s no better off than either Thor or I; his face is red, cheeks wet and he looks like he’s praying, although I know for a fact he hasn’t set foot in church since middle school.  

Levi’s disappearance was crushing, her reappearance equally devastating, but for completely different reasons. I doubt I’m the only one who’ll only be able to breathe easier after they’ve crushed her in their arms, breathed in her scent and reassured their anxious heart that she truly is safe.  

Levi hasn’t been in the family for long, but she’s in deep.

Stitch finishes his questions and covers the mouthpiece. “She’s banged up some, dehydrated and the fucker shot her in the shoulder, but she’s coherent and alert.” He hands the phone back to me before I make ‘gimme’ fingers.

“Baby?” I gasp, desperate to hear her voice again.

“James,” she breathes, tears in her voice.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t there-”

She interrupts. “This wasn’t your fault.”

She doesn’t need my wretched guilt, not right now. “Can you figure out where you are?”

She pauses and I visualize her glancing around frantically. “I don’t know.”

“Any landmarks? Something distinctive about the terrain?” I press.

“Any mail? Business cards, anything laying around?” Steve adds.

“Babe, you heard that?”

“Yeah,” I hear quiet shuffling. “Give me a second. There’s nothing outside, just scrub-brush; but I think I’m in some kind of valley or wash... there’s an old blue ford pick-up outside, rusted out, hood up-”

“Good, baby. Good, keep going.” I encourage.  

“Wait... there’s some old papers. It looks like this place has been empty for years, but there’s still old furniture and stuff laying around.” I hear more scuffling. “Wait, yeah... some old bills-”

She reads off the address, but as soon as I hear ‘Deke and Carol Henday’ I know exactly where’s she’s at.

“Shit, baby! We’re on our way. Sit tight, just a few hours. Hide somewhere, okay?” I pull the phone away from my ear to bark at Thor. “You were right, he took her home. Go!” The screech of tires temporarily drowns out any other noise and I hear Steve barking into his own phone to the other team travelling with us, but my focus is on Levi now.

“Levi? Baby, you still there?”  

“Yeah,” she whispers and my bones melt. “Don’t hang up on me, okay?” Her voice quavers slightly.

“No, never, baby. Never.” Her tremulous exhale slays me. “Can you hide somewhere?”  

“I think so... yeah.” I hear more scuffling and shuffling, then the click of a door.  

“Baby...” the words slash my tongue but I need to ask. “Did he hurt you...?”

“No.” She whispers and I sag in relief. “He knocked me around some though, Stitch thinks my eye socket is cracked again.”

Rage boils in my blood, but now isn’t the time. “I was so scared.” I confess.

“Me too.”  

“If something happened to you, I couldn’t-” I break off before I the darkness overwhelms me again; I cannot think that way, I’ll go fucking crazy.  

“I’m here, I’m safe.” Her voice is soothing, a gentle balm to my raw nerves. When I get her back, I’m not letting her go, I’m going to trap her in my arms for days, burrow as close as I can against her until the anguish fades.

Thor’s pushing the speed limit as much as he dares, and I want to scream at him to go faster, but the last thing we need is to be pulled over, have to explain to some too-big-for-his-britches rent-a-cop what the fuck we’re doing and so I don’t comment, focusing on Levi instead. We don’t talk for long stretches, we don’t need to; I can hear her breathing, and her me, and for now, it’s enough. For a while I think she dozes, but whimpers awake with a short cry of ‘No!’ that stops my heart.

“Are you close yet?” She whispers and I glance at Thor, brow raised.

“Forty minutes.” He answers, glancing at his GPS.

“Almost there, angel. Less than an hour.”

“Okay.” Her voice breaks.

LEVI

My body aches and I’m so goddamn tired, but hearing James on the other end of the phone is keeping me going.  

Soon, my mind chants, soon. They’ll be here soon.

I’ve hidden myself in a back-bedroom’s closet, pulled the folding door shut behind me and sit with my knees drawn to my chest; the phone clenched in one fist and the knife in the other. James’ earlier words drift back to me, ‘You were right, he took her home,’ and I can only summon relief that the bastard was predictable that way, that he ran to ground in familiar territory and my family thought to look there first. They were already racing here when I escaped and called, I couldn’t imagine having to wait hours upon hours for them to drive all the way across the state, my fucking nerves couldn’t take it.

This is even worse than waiting in the fading firelight last night, my ears strain to pick up any noise, any indication that my attacker, Henday, has followed me, tracked me here and is dragging his battered body towards me like some ghoulish Terminator.  

I want James here, I want to feel his arms around me, his lips on mine; I want to be able to fall asleep knowing I’m safe, surrounded by his scent, his warmth and security.  

Nothing can hurt me while James is with me.  

I don’t even notice my eyelids have gotten heavy, almost closing until a screech outside and slamming of vehicle doors startles me alert. I freeze, heart hammering. Has Henday found some way back to me?

I hear muffled pounding feet, the front door of the house smacks the wall as it’s violently thrown open, then people are shouting my name, but one voice rises above the others, arrowing directly to my heart.

James.

I reach up weakly, push the cheap folding door open and try to yell back, but my throat can only manage a croak. Then James is there, eyes wild, face flushed, a gun in his hand.

“Levi!” He cries out, dropping the gun, falling heavily on his knees in front of me, dragging me against his chest. I squeak as pain shoots through my body, but my relief at seeing James again, at finally being safe overrules any and all discomfort. I claw closer, climb into his lap, straddling him and burrow as close as I can, tears streaking down my cheeks, wetting James’ t-shirt and he’s just as frantic back, squeezing the life out of me and I don’t know who’s crying harder, who’s shaking more violently.  

We fall silent, muffling our tears against each other’s shoulders and just cling together. I can’t see, hear, smell or touch anything other than James and my heart gives a big sigh of relief. James is trembling against me, but he doesn’t let go, if anything, he’s trying to hold me closer, never wanting to let me go.

I know the feeling.  

Eventually, sounds pierce our bubble and a hand rests on James’ shoulder. I lift my head to look but James keeps his face buried in my hair, his tears wetting my skin. His breathing is hard and tremulous.

Steve and Thor are smiling down at me, and Stitch stands nearby holding a small duffel and looking impatient.  

Steve speaks first, swiping once at his cheek before reaching out and gently shaking James’ shoulder. Reluctantly, he lifts his head. “Brother.”

“She needs water.” James states, jerking his chin at the bottle in Steve’s hand.  

I realize then how fucking thirsty I am and scramble for the bottle, sucking down the precious liquid with a desperation I’ve never felt before. Suddenly, my stomach heaves and rejects the bounty and I barely manage to lean away from James before it all comes up again, splashing in the dark corner.  

James pries the bottle from my hands and holds it up to my lips. “Small sips, baby. Small sips.” He parcels the liquid out slowly and I swallow gratefully, eager for more. My stomach doesn’t rebel this time, and I feel an indescribable relief flood my limbs, chasing away the pain.  

I finish the bottle but James refuses to give me more, not wanting to overload me and Stitch agrees. The medic kneels in front of us and reaches up to gently touch my uninjured shoulder. I flinch before I can stop myself and shoot him an apologetic glance. James growls low in his throat, a warning.  

“Can you turn around?” Stitch asks and I hear the snap of rubber gloves. I squirm on James’ lap to comply and hear his small, muffled groan as I rub accidentally against him. He shoots me a sheepish look; James would no sooner take advantage of my body right now than he would sacrifice a puppy, but his body and cock have their own involuntary reactions to me and, when I’m feeling better, he plans to wreck me. The feeling is definitely mutual.

Stitch is all business, prodding gently at my cheekbone, wincing in commiseration and nodding in confirmation. “Yeah, cracked orbital socket. We need an X-ray this time. Too many traumas to the same area and we might need to consider titanium implants for stability-” he continues on, not noticing the way James’ tenses at his words. “Any tenderness in the ribs?” He glances up at me and I shake my head.  

“Just my wrists, leg and shoulder.” I reply, holding out my hands and pulling away the makeshift bandages I applied.

All four men audibly growl as my torn skin becomes visible and the tension in the room ratchets up to suffocating.  

“That fuck.” I hear Steve grit.

Stitch seems almost reluctant to prod the rent flesh, stunned by the exposed muscles, the dried blood staining my hands and halfway up my forearms. My wrists throb like I’ve dipped them in battery acid, but I’m become almost inured to the pain by now. Swallowing once, he reaches into his duffel and produces a few wrapped sterile moist bandages.  

“I’m not even going to try to treat these until we get home, I need more than what I brought.” He says, carefully wrapping my abused wrists. His hands pause as he finishes, and he takes a deep, audible breath. The army medic who’s seen it all is having a tough time holding himself together. Finally, he raises his head. “Your shoulder?”

At my small nod he reaches up and begins to examine my left shoulder. He’s supremely gentle, but I flinch and wince nonetheless, turning and burying my face in James’ throat. I can feel the angry pulse of his heart through his velvet skin.

“Clean in and out.” Stitch reports. “But again, I’m not comfortable treating this here.”  His inspection of the gash on my shin is quick but thorough, and it is quickly wrapped as well. My injuries are severe enough that he’s not willing to risk further complications by working on them without his entire inventory of supplies and clean surroundings. He looks up. “We need to go.”

Steve nods even as Thor’s cell begins to ring. He pulls it out and listens briefly, barking a command before hanging up. “Team’s here.” He levels pain-filled eyes at me. “Where is he, darlin’?”

The exhaustion I’ve been holding at bay for hours is threatening to take me, but I force myself to think, replay these last terrifying hours. “North, I think. There’s a trail. About a mile up is where the van broke down; keep going another couple miles to the campsite. I fought him, he was flat-out when I left.”

“You wound him? Did he have any weapons?”

I think back to the duffels full of guns. “Yeah, I hit him in the head with a propane tank and hamstrung him. I might have broken his nose and I slammed the van door on his head too. Oh, and I nailed him in the balls.” James chuckles darkly against my skin. “Weapons? Yes, but they’re all in the van. He had a handgun, though. I took his knife.”

“I hope you fucking ruptured his nuts.” Thor glances at Steve with a raised brow and he nods in return. Both men turn to leave but Steve glances back. “You coming, Cannon?” His tone indicates he doesn’t expect an affirmative answer.

James shakes his head, burrowing his face into my hair for a heartbeat before lifting it again and adding. “Do what you want with him, but I want him back at the compound alive and able to answer questions after.”

Head-on-a-stick floats ghoulishly through my brain and I can’t stop a shiver. James tightens his arms around me, surrounding me in his comforting scent. His lips linger at my throat and I can’t decide if the slight tremor I feel emanating from him is suppressed rage or sorrow.    

“C’mon, baby.” He murmurs and Stitch reaches out to steady me as we stand. Once he’s upright again James pulls me back to him and reaches down, lifting me bridal style. I close my eyes to block out the house as he carries me outside.

The team is assembling beside one of the vans, and I hear the click of many cocked handguns, the snick of many blades being replaced in sheathes. I almost feel sorry for what awaits Henday, almost.

Steve appears at James’ side as Stitch throws open the back doors of the second waiting van. I’m drifting, and don’t hear what he says, and then I’m being gently set down on a mattress laid out in the rear of the vehicle, James taking care to lay me on my right side, my damaged left shoulder free. Stitch kneels in front of me, rummaging in his duffel. He withdraws a small vial and syringe.

“Morphine.” He explains as he draws up some of the clear liquid. “Just enough to take the edge off for the drive.”

I nod tiredly; I just want to sleep.  

James settles behind me as Stitch gives me the injection and, as the medic pats my leg comfortingly and turns back to his duffel, he scoots closer carefully, his heavily muscled chest pressing against my back. His arm cautiously wraps around me, drawing me nearer, but he’s careful to avoid my wounds. To be honest, I’m so starved for him I’d put up with the pain either way.

Stitch drapes a blanket over us as James nuzzles his face into the nape of my neck and then the relief of the morphine pulls me under.

JAMES

Only my need to hold Levi close to me keeps me from riding with my brothers to find that worthless fuck and tearing him the fuck apart. Only my helpless desire to breathe her in, feel her soft curves against me and reassure myself that she’s here, whole and alive keeps my beast caged.  

Bane and Stitch sit in the front and Bane drives us home while Stitch approaches us periodically to check up on Levi, take her pulse and read her temperature with one of those quick-read ear thermometers. Levi barely shifts, never waking and I let her sleep, content to just hold her.  

The prospect and the medic talk quietly up front but I don’t listen, I only burrow closer to my woman and try to decompress. Try to wind down from the abject hell of the last few days.  

I never want to feel that again, that helpless fear, the horror of the unknown. Terror that the woman who completely owns me, body, mind and soul was somewhere out there, being hurt and tortured and I couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop it.  

Henday will beg me for death before I kill him. He’ll wish he’d never been born.  

My cell buzzes and I move as little as possible to glance at the screen. It’s Steve.

Leaving now.

He still talking? I reply.

Mostly, might need a boost.  

Pain is an effective stimulant.

Text me when you get back, I’ll be with Levi.

K. She did a number on him, fucking proud of her.

I set the phone back down and burrow closer to my girl. I’m fucking proud of her too. The way she described fighting back makes my chest puff with pride. She held her own against a real bastard and got away. I didn’t think it was possible, but my love for her has grown even more.  

I manage to drift off too before we get back, and wake to the prospect thumping the sole of my boot. Levi flinches and whimpers when I move her, making me wince; I hate, with a passion, causing my baby pain. Stitch hurries ahead of me and has his small but well-stocked infirmary in the back of the clubhouse lit up and humming when I carry Levi through the door. It’s past midnight and the clubhouse is asleep, except for the sentries we have posted during the lockdown. I expect Nat and Sable to appear at any moment, demanding to see their friend.  

I’m exhausted, but far too keyed up to sleep and I’m not leaving Levi’s side. After Stitch disappears for a minute in the back room and reappears freshly scrubbed and in clean clothes, he pushes me back there too to clean up, and when I come back in, he’s already working on Levi. He points to a chair at the head of the gurney and tells me to sit; talk to her and keep her occupied; she’s going to be in some pain unless he gives her enough morphine to knock her out.  

Levi’s eyes shoot open as he begins and her jaw tightens. I open my mouth to snap at Stitch to give her more but she shakes her head slightly, gritting out a ‘no’. I hear my teeth squeak as I clench them.  

“Just talk to me,” she murmurs hoarsely.  

I don’t know what to say, I only know I want to keep her distracted from the pain. I start murmuring, lowering my head to hers, telling her about the rides I plan to take her on, when all this shit is done with, where we’ll just fill the bike’s saddlebags with supplies and head out, going wherever we feel like, camping outside, making love under the stars.  

She listens entranced, eyes fluttering shut as I branch out, begin talking about us years down the line, the way she’ll grow round with my children, the way we’ll lounge in bed together, our little ones cozying close while she nurses the newest addition. Only in my quietest moments have I allowed myself to fantasize like this, envisioning my seed taking root in her belly, her bearing our children and filling the house I’m going to build for her.  

I’ve never wanted this with anyone but her. I’ve never wanted that type of happiness with any other.  

Before long, she’s quiet, the tension in her beautiful face melting under my fingers as I stroke her cheek. Stitch is totally absorbed in his work, but he glances my way and nods. He’s careful as he cleans the tears at her wrists, injecting lidocaine to suture the worst of them. I continue to tell Levi about our beautiful future, but not with words. I let my eyes tell her, the way I hold her hand. She understands, squeezing my hand back, her amethyst eyes hauntingly beautiful.

But it doesn’t last.

I carry Levi upstairs to our room after Stitch finishes. He’s given her another shot and she’s drowsy and exhausted and I want nothing more than to curl up beside her and hold her, but just as I lay her on the bed my cell buzzes.

We’re here. It’s Steve.

Put him in the cellar. I’ll be there soon.

I hate leaving Levi; but I have to, I want to, no, I need to punish that worthless fuck that hurt her. I need to see the light bleed from his eyes as his life leaves him. I need to hear his pathetic death rattle and know that I’m the one that took his miserable life, make him pay for hurting the most important thing in the world for me.  

I lean down and murmur in Levi’s ear before gently kissing her temple and turning to leave. “I love you, Levi. With all my heart, all that I am. You complete me, baby.”  

She hums, half conscious, face relaxing completely into unconsciousness as I move to the door.  

Across the compound, under one of the smaller garages, lies the ‘cellar’. It’s a sound-proof underground room that we utilize more frequently than I’d like to admit. There’s a chair bolted to the concrete floor and a drain nearby if things get messy.  

And they’re about to get fucking messy.  

There’s quiet satisfaction on my brother’s faces as I enter the cellar. Henday is restrained in the chair, bent over and wheezing. Although my knuckles itch to bury themselves in his face, I turn to my brothers first.

“He ready to talk?”

“Think so. Might need some encouragement.” Steve answers, glaring daggers at Henday’s form.

I nod and turn, advancing on my prey. He doesn’t seem to notice me, so I kick his shin, hard. This gets his attention and he yelps pathetically, throwing his head back. Eyes wide with pain and fear lock on me, the whites of his left one almost black with hemorrhaging blood.    

“You think you could hurt my woman and get away with it?” I snarl. “You planning on splitting her in half? Fucking her ‘till she’s cold? Sending me pieces of her?” My rage grows with each word, spittle flying from my mouth. It takes all my strength to hold myself back from tearing into him indiscriminately.  

I force a step back, then two and Henday’s eyes follow me. His wheezing breaths whistle past his lips and as they curl in fear, I see only bloody gums. All of his teeth have been knocked out, only jagged stumps remain. I glance over at Steve and Thor, both flex bruised and split knuckles in answer.

I turn my attention back to my prey, back to the piece of shit that almost took everything from me.

“Who told you about us?”

Henday doesn’t answer, setting his bruised jaw mulishly.  

I’m wearing steel-toed boots, so I draw back and kick his shin again. The sound of bone snapping is drowned out only by Henday’s garbled scream.                                                          

“Who told you?” I repeat, my voice deceptively calm. My brothers shift their weight behind me, ready to pull me away if my beast decides to kill him without getting my answers first.  

“Fuck you.” He’s brave, I’ll give him that. His words are mangled, almost incomprehensible, but the blazing in his remaining eye is enough to convey what his ruined mouth can’t. He spits contemptuously at me, and I hear the faint clink of a tooth root hit the concrete floor.  

Suddenly, I’m done. I want this fuck to hurry up and talk so I can get back to Levi. I glance at Steve and jerk my chin at the jerry can behind him. He passes it over without a word.

Henday‘s eyes follow my movements, bloody drool dripping from his chin. I don’t know if he’s shaking in fear or shock or some mix of both, but I don’t care.

I twist off the cap and splash his left leg. He squeals and tries to twist out of his restraints. I lean forwards, my voice deadly calm, so he can see I mean every fucking word.

“Tell me who told you.” I say, my voice mild, almost conversational. “Or I’m going to set you on fire and let you burn. Then I’m going to extinguish the flames and revive you. Then I’m going to do it again... And again.... And again.”

A tear of blood trails from his ravaged eye.

“But,” I continue, splashing a little more on his already soaked leg. “If you tell me, I promise to shoot you between the eyes before the flames get too high.”

He mumbles and my fraying temper snaps. I pull my pistol and fire, hitting him in the abdomen. He screams, bucking in the chair. The wound is fatal, but not immediately.

“I read that the two most painful ways to die are to be burned alive and gut-shot. You’re both now.” I pause and lean closer, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a matchbook. “I can keep this going for hours, days in necessary. I love a good barbeque, don’t you?“                

What’s left of his resistance, and maybe his sanity snaps and he howls like an animal. “Okay!” Blood froths at his lips. “Okay.” He sways, as if losing consciousness.

“Was it your mother?”

“No. NO! Leave her alone. It wasn’t her. She’s got the Alzheimer's, she don’t know shit no more.”

“Tracer said he called her.”

“He did! Said he was dead, but that don’t mean she understood him! The nurses thought it was a joke, told me when I went to see her. I thought it was just her messed up head, so I ignored it too, but-” He breaks off, coughing violently. “Just promise me,” he groans. “Leave my ma alone.”

I don’t get my jollies from hassling old demented women, no matter how evil their sons are. “So, who? Last fucking chance.”

“Next day, McCoy called me.”

“Who the fuck’s McCoy?”

“Buddy of mine, we go way back. Grew up in the Knights together. My brother and McCoy left years ago, joined with Trace. You probly know him as Preacher.”

“Preacher?!” I thunder. “Tracer’s fucking Enforcer?!!”

Henday nods tiredly. “McCoy Jackson. He told me everything. Said the bitch deserved the slap, got my brother killed-”

“YOUR BROTHER GOT HIMSELF KILLED!” I roar. “He laid hands on my woman and he deserved that fucking bullet!” Strong, implacable hands yank me backwards and I shrug Thor and Steve’s grip off me, step back in front of Henday.

“That all?”

He nods, exhausted.  

I flick the match head, lighting it and dropping it on his leg. Henday starts to scream as the flames flare, struggling against his bonds. I nod to Tucker, who throws a bucket of water over the flames, extinguishing them. Henday is crying hysterically, babbling.

“I said... is that all?”

“Yes. YES! Please! Kill me!” He screeches and I hear the defeat in his voice, the trapped animal resignation. Death is his only reprieve now, and he’s welcoming it with open fucking arms.  

I throw a second match and step back.

His garbled wails remind me of the villain in the second Terminator movie, the howls and shrieks of the liquid-metal monster as he roiled and thrashed in the molten pit.  

I stand there for a beat, until the screams lose their human edge and become mindless animal suffering; then I keep my promise and shoot him between the eyes.

[crispychrissy]

Shrink - Chapter 9

Summary: When patients of a psychiatrist that caters exclusively to hunters start going crazy and dying, Sam and Dean Winchester investigate what might be causing these bizarre episodes. Pairing: None yet Word Count: 2324 Warnings: None A/N: My first fanfic! This is going to be a series, probably over 30 chapters total. Any feedback is appreciated, I am a newbie!

After being startled awake by the loud ringing and vibration of his alarm, Sam groaned and wiped the dried saliva from his left cheek. Lifting his head, he sluggishly flailed his arm and slapped the screen of his phone to silence the alarm. “Dean…wake up.” Sam mumbled with a gravelly voice as he lifted his head up to look over toward Dean. Noticing he was gone, Sam propped himself up and swung his feet around off the edge of his bed to face Dean's bed, placing his feet flat on the surprisingly cold floor. "Dean?" Sam asked as he rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, unsuccessfully trying to smooth down the cowlick he had developed overnight. As he leaned to his left to get a better view into the bathroom, the motel room door opened behind him. Spinning around quickly, he was momentarily blinded by the bright reflection of the sun off the table next to the window in the room. Sam squinted and blinked, finally able to make out the shape of Dean as he threw the motel room key on the table and walked in, stopping next to the end of Sam's bed. "Morning, Scary Spice. Nice hair.” Dean said, smiling.    “Shut up.” Sam said, shaking his head. “How long have you been up?” “About an hour. Ran to get some breakfast.” Dean said, shaking a white paper bag he was holding in his left hand. “I got you an egg white omelette with some green crap on it.” He said, dropping the bag onto the end of Sam’s bed. 

“Th-Thank…you?” Sam said, suspicious of Dean’s attitude. “Don’t mention it. Get dressed, eat, and let’s get on the road.” Dean said, wiggling his thumb toward the Impala sitting outside the motel room. “Okay…who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Sam said, turning his body toward Dean. “The peppy attitude…getting me breakfast,” he said as he picked up the paper bag. “Not to mention the beard. You feeling okay?” Sam asked as he reached into the paper bag to remove the Styrofoam container. "I feel fine, Sammy." Dean said as he walked over and sat on his bed. "Just excited to be working a case again, you know? I enjoyed the brief pantless staycation we had, but hunting is who we are...and I want to stop whatever is killing these other hunters." Sam shrugged and got up from his bed. "Whatever you say." He set his food down and walked over to the bathroom and flipped on the light. "Still doesn't explain the beard, though." "I'll shave it if you cut your hair." Dean said as he ran his fingers up and down the side of his face and chin and chuckled quietly. Sam leaned back and stuck his head out the doorway to the bathroom, a toothbrush in his mouth. "Really, dude? You're not shaving to protest my hair length? What are you, eleven?" Sam rolled his eyes and leaned forward back into the bathroom, brushing his teeth. "Growing old is mandatory. Growing up is optional." Dean said as he laid back on his bed. Sam swished water around in his mouth and spit as he ran some water over his toothbrush. Wiping his mouth with one of the towels, Sam emerged from the bathroom. "Yeah, still not gonna happen." He said as he turned and threw the towel into the bathroom sink. Dean sat up and slapped his thighs with his hands. "Well, judging on how fast this beard is growing, you're going to have to call me Agent Gibbons from now on." Dean smiled and began to play air guitar. "You are eleven." Sam said as he grabbed his food container and walked over to the table, placing it down and turning, walking back toward his bed. "I'll eat on the way. Get your fed suit on." "Dude, we're pretty sure this shrink deals with hunters. The fed suits and badges aren't going to fool her." Dean said as he got up from his bed. "Right." Sam said, as he stopped riffling through his bag. "Call the office and get their address while I change my shirt. The card is on the table." Sam pulled a new t-shirt and flannel out of his bag and started unbuttoning his shirt. Dean sighed and snatched the card off the table while he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and began dialing. "Put it on speaker." Sam said as he slipped his undershirt over his head and threw it on the bed. "Yeah, yeah." Dean said as he finished dialing and hit the speaker button. Right as the line started to ring, Dean slid his phone onto the table in front of him. "Dr. Barnes' office, this is Natalie. How can I help you?" a female voice answered. "Hi, my name is Dean Winchester. My brother and I were looking to come in and speak to Dr. Barnes and we just need your address." Dean said, leaning up in his chair. "Who was your reference?" Natalie asked. "Uhhh...reference?" Dean answered, looking up at Sam with a confused look. "What is the name of the individual who told you about Dr. Barnes?" Natalie replied with a heavy sigh. "Oh...uh...Adrian Booth." Dean said, shrugging and raising his eyebrows at Sam, who shrugged back at Dean. "One moment." She replied before the line went quiet. About thirty seconds later, Natalie came back on the line. "Referral verified. I do need to ask two questions before providing you the address of the office." "Alright. Go for it." Dean said as Sam slid into the chair opposite him and finished buttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. "What two materials can cause a ghost to temporarily disappear?" Natalie asked. "Easy." Dean said with a smile. "Iron and salt." "Thank you. Next question: What creature has a reflective lens flare appear in their eyes when they are shown on camera?" Dean scoffed. "Easy again. That would be a shapeshifter." he replied, giving thumbs up at Sam. Sam smiled and mouthed "Mandroids" at Dean before laughing lightly, remembering the time years ago when they were stuck in a bank with a shapeshifter and a mentally unstable ex-security guard. "Alright, thank you. Are you ready for the address?" Natalie asked. "Hang on one second." Dean said as he wiggled his wrist at Sam, requesting something to write with. Sam took his notepad and pen out of the pocket of his jacket that was hanging on the back of his chair and slid it over to Dean. Dean flipped it open and uncapped the pen. "Okay, ready." "842 Southside Ave, Suite Three in Tulsa, Oklahoma. If you're using GPS, you have to drive past the office and take the side street behind the building. The office entrance doors are there and so is our parking lot. You got that?" Natalie asked. "I...believe so..." Dean said as he finished writing on the note pad. "842 Southside Ave, Tulsa. Take the side street to get to the office. Got it. Thanks." "If you're not setting up an appointment, there might be a wait when you get here." Natalie said haltingly. "We'll be there today, and that's fine." Dean said, capping the pen and setting it down before picking up his phone. "Thank you." He clicked the End Call button before Natalie had a chance to answer. Dean was already on the map app on his phone typing in the address as Sam got up to put on his jacket. "Shouldn't be too long of a drive." Sam said as he grabbed his now-cold omelette from the table and opened the door to the motel. "Nope...but let's hope this doc isn't making people go guano on purpose." Dean said as he grabbed the motel room key off the table and followed Sam out into the parking lot. Dean opened the driver's side door to the Impala and paused for a moment before leaning down and looking at Sam, who was already in the passenger's seat. "Hey...last night, didn't you say there was one more case you wanted to check into that was a possible match to the other two we've confirmed were hunters?" He said as he side stepped and slid into the driver's seat before shutting his door. "Yeah, I have to call the Sidney police department to get more info on the case. I'll do that on the way to the doctor's office." Sam said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and Googled their phone number. It was seven-thirty in the morning, but Sam hoped they were open already so he could cross reference a complete list of names of the victims with Dr. Barnes' patient list when they got to her office. After a few minutes of searching, he located the PD number on their website and dialed it. After a few moments of ringing, a deep grumbly voice answered. "Sidney Police Department, Officer Clarke speaking. May I help you?" the voice said. "Hi, this is Detective Steve Elliot, badge number 25157, out of Madison, Wisconsin. I'm calling about the two homicides you guys had about a month ago...the two homeless people with multiple stab wounds that had their throats slit?" Sam said, reading the name and badge number off a small piece of paper that he keeps inside the front part of his notepad. "Oh...uhh. Yeah. Hang on, let me get you over to Eric, he's lead on that one." Officer Clarke replied before he put the call on hold. A few seconds later the phone rang again and a man answered. "Officer Eric Manns speaking. This is detective Elliot, right?" His tone had a lot more pep in it than the previous officer. "Yes. Please call me Steve. You're the lead on the two homeless person homicides?" Sam asked, flipping his notepad open to an empty page and uncapping his pen with his mouth. "Yeah, that's me. What do you need to know?" Officer Manns said. "You catch the person that did it or have any leads? We have a similar case up here and wanted to compare notes." Sam said, moving his phone from his left ear to his right, holding it in place with his shoulder. "We got him, already. Local kid named Paul Groban." Sam heard Officer Manns rustling some papers in the background. "He was apparently trying to join a gang and he had to kill a few homeless people to get in." Sam raised his eyebrow, grabbed his phone with his left hand, and pressed it to his left ear before looking over at Dean. "A...gang? In Sidney, Nebraska?" Sam said in disbelief. Dean shot a puzzled look back at Sam, trying not to take his attention off the road for too long. "Kids get bored. Play too many video games. Worship Satan. Kill the neighbor's cat. I stopped asking why a long time ago." Officer Manns said with zero inflection in his voice, followed by a heavy sigh. "How sure are you that he did it?" Sam asked sheepishly, still puzzled by the Officer's statement. "He had the bloody knife wrapped in the same hoodie a witness saw him wearing that night. We found it shoved under his bed in his room." Officer Manns said. "His room?" Sam asked. "How old is this kid?" "Just turned fourteen on October nineteenth." Officer Manns said, his voice sounded more defeated than earlier. "Oh, wow." Sam cleared his throat, trying to cover how shocked he was. "I'm guessing we're not after the same guy then." "Ha. Don't think so, Steve. Unless my guy flew up to Wisconsin and went on a crime spree before returning here to kill two people." Officer Manns said. Sam laughed lightly, reciprocating the officer’s initial laughter. "I guess not. Thank you for your time, though, Officer Manns. Have a good one." “Likewise, buddy. Good luck on your case.” Officer Manns said. “Thank you.” Sam replied before hitting the End Call button on his phone and placing it on the dashboard. "Unless a fourteen year old gang member hopeful is somehow seeing a hunter shrink, I don't think that one is one of ours." "Did I hear him say something about killing the neighbor's cat?" Dean asked as he checked the map on his phone and changed lanes. They were already on the highway and well on their way to Tulsa. "Yeah." Sam chuckled. "And Satan worshipers. If he only knew we've both personally met Lucifer. Hell, I was possessed by him." Dean scoffed and revved the engine. He took in a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual. "You know...I kinda get it." Sam raised an eyebrow and looked at Dean. "Get what?" "You know...the therapy crap." Dean waved his right hand around. "I mean, I don't believe in it....but I guess it works for some people. And if this doc is helping hunters work through all the dark and depressing stuff we see, then I guess that's cool. I mean, sometimes I wonder how different you and I would have turned out if we got therapy when we were kid-" Dean stopped and looked over at Sam, who was currently staring at him with a confused and inquisitive look on his face. "I think that beard is doing something to you, Dean." Sam said, pursing his lips together to stop himself from smiling. "What?" Dean said. "I mean, I can dig into the lore...maybe there's some type of haunted beard." Sam replied. "Okay, stop." Dean said, waving his hand. "Maybe Bobby is back. Do you have the sudden urge to watch Tori Spelling?" Sam said as he started to laugh. "Eat me, Sam." Dean said, turning his attention back to the road. "I think that beard is eating you enough." Sam said, still snickering and laughing as they continued down the highway toward Tulsa.