#yeah yeah we all know cas is lamp

[butterscotchx98]

Uh Supernatural amiright

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: provocative dancing, slight Sam x Reader, jealous Dean

Chapter Word Count: 4211

—-MDNI—-

A/N: aaaaahhhhhhhh sorry this one took ages. I suddenly had a bunch of personal things going on so I struggled to find the time. Also this chapter is wild, I’m so sorry for the complete train wreck that it is. I just keep writing without questioning it too much. But yeah same as always pls let me know of any errors as I am the only one who proof reads this shit.

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Please read the below first:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 8 - Part 1

Morning soon rolled around; my alarm waking me from my deep dreamless sleep, eyes wearily blinking open as I stared blankly at the old ceiling. Turning off the repetitive beeping, I flung back the covers and climbed out of bed, pacing to the bathroom to freshen up before heading down to breakfast. I was in desperate need of a laundry day as I was down to my last couple of clean items: a cropped black tank top that said ‘Singers Salvage Yard’ across the front in old cracked and over washed lettering, paired with a short denim skirt with frayed edges. It was an a-line fit a long time ago, but as I got older and my figure changed it just got tighter and shorter. I don’t even know why I still have the thing. Paired with my boots and some comfy socks poking over the top of them, I looked like I should be getting paid to wash cars. I grimaced, knowing full well that Dean was going to make a comment.

Dean.

My mind raced back to last night with his parted lips and black lustful eyes - I couldn’t tell if he wanted to push me against a wall or be at my mercy, it was hard to say. Both sounded spectacular.

I strode into the central study room where the boys did all their research, looking for my flannel when I noticed a figure out of the corner of my eye. Instinct took over and I grabbed the nearest item to me - a lamp from the middle of the table - and held it up like a bat, ready to swing. The man flinched but held up his hands, an apologetic expression on his ruggedly handsome face.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” his voice was monotone despite his peaceful words.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“CAS!” Suddenly Deans voice rang through the open room and we both spun to see him standing where I had just walked in, Sam following behind.

“Dean I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle her, I wasn’t expecting you to have visitors,” this Cas guy spoke, his tone forever unchanging.

“This is (Y/n), Bobby’s niece. She’s staying with us for a while to help with research,” he explained, before turning to me and giving me a stern look, holding his hand out.

“(Y/n) give me the lamp.”

I did as he asked, placing the cool metal into his palm as he returned it to the table. We shared a look for a second and I was unsure of the meaning behind it - was he mad about me almost bludgeoning his friend? Was it because I was going to use a lamp of all things? Or was it about last night, and the fact I left him hanging? Who knows, but I’m sure I’ll hear about it later. Dean was about to turn away when the monotone voice of Cas spoke up.

“I’m sorry (Y/n), please forgive me for startling you. Although…” he paused, looking me up and down and then almost knowingly between myself and Dean, “I have personally been caught off guard here as well - I was unaware that Dean was involved with someone.”

“Excuse me?” I blinked up at Cas, getting ready to snatch that lamp back. I saw Dean pinch the bridge of his nose and mutter an ‘oh boy’ under his breath.

“You’re sexual endeavours with Dean,” Cas looked at me like I was the one missing something here. Clearly I am. Cas continued, “you’ve been intimate, have you not? This means that you are a couple from what I’ve learned.” Suddenly his eyes went wide and he looked straight at Dean.

“Or is this a pizza man situation?”

“CAS STOP TALKING,” Dean bellowed, embarrassment creeping across his face. I’m assuming he’s not used to that emotion as he was getting very frustrated. I couldn’t help but stand there in disbelief.

“How the actual FUCK do you know about me and Dean after saying that you weren’t aware of me even being here before you arrived?”

“He can smell it,” Dean said quietly, arms now crossed over his chest.

“What?”

“He can smell… me… on you,” as the words left his lips, his eyes locked with mine for a split second sending a jolt down my spine and hair prickling on my skin. I tore my eyes away from him and looked back at Cas.

“So wait, this weirdo can smell that I slept in one of Deans T-shirts last night?”

“You slept in one of his shirts?” Sam asked, piping up for the first time since this conversation started. Dean grinned like the cat that got the cream, embarrassment dissipating for a second.

“Yeah, she did.”

“Hmmm,” Cas mumbled, “No it’s not just that… It’s stronger, like there is part of Dean in her somehow. Or at least there was; not so much anymore.”

My eyes went as wide as the moon and my cheeks felt like they’d been set on fire.

“OH MY GOD,” I hid my face in my hands, wanting the ground to swallow me up. Whilst I tried to hide my entire existence, Dean cackled, leaving Sam confused.

“I don’t get it, what’s going on?” He asked, looking between all three of us. I couldn’t say a word through the white hot embarrassment, which left Dean to explain. He turned and looked Sam dead in the eye.

“You know how much I love pie, Sam,” he paused to see if Sam was catching on, which he wasn’t so Dean continued. “All sorts of pie. Like, uh, apple pie, cherry pie… cream pie…” Sam’s eyes shot open as wide as they could and he almost went as red as me.

“Nope!” He declared, promptly spinning on his heel and leaving. Cas looked confused.

“I smell no pie here.”

“Never mind, Cas,” Dean patted him on the shoulder before urging him to catch up with Sam who I’m assuming is in the kitchen by now. When it was just Dean and I left I peered at him through my fingers, my face still burning up.

“Dean what the fuck just happened?!”

He tried to suppress his laughter, explaining that Cas was in fact ‘Castiel’ and an Angel of the Lord, which explained his rigid behaviour and a weirdly strong set of senses.

“Why didn’t you butt in and explain who he was before everything got so embarrassing!”

“To be honest it was all pretty hilarious.”

“No it wasn’t! That was NOT an enjoyable moment!”

“Ok I’m sorry,” Dean paused, looking down at me with softer eyes, a slight smile still on his lips. He stepped closer and I pushed on his chest.

“You better be! You owe me big time for that one Winchester.”

He grinned as the furious redness on my face simmered down, just leaving a pink glow on my cheeks.

“Ok ok! Look let's just go and get some breakfast and put this behind us,” he put his hand on the small of my back, urging me towards the kitchen. I hummed, walking with him. There were a few moments of silence as we made our way down before he suddenly spoke up again.

“Did you know that he once smelt a bladder infection on a dead guy?”

*

Breakfast was uneventful. I was unable to make eye contact with Castiel, and it seemed that Sam was unable to make eye contact with me. Dean however was completely unphased. Once we were all finished and I’d cleared everything away I made my way to my room, grabbed my dirty clothes and then headed to the laundry room - today was going to be a practical one as I officially had nothing else to wear. Upon arriving I couldn’t help but grimace; a mountain of mens clothes covered in mud, blood and black goop sat in the middle of the floor by the washers.

“Gross…” I winced, the smell of dirt and iron filling my nose as I got closer and poked the pile with a pipe I found off to the side. I half expected the mass of clothes to sprout legs and walk off. The boys could probably find lore on the thing with how long its been sitting here. I huffed, scooping my hair into a high ponytail before shoving a bunch of my washing in a machine and turning it on before returning for face the Winchesters laundry. I can’t leave it here, that goes against everything clean and hygienic that I stand for. I could burn it? They would definitely complain about having to replace all the plaid shirts. Should I sort it or just hope for the best? Do I check the pockets? Knowing all the crap they carry around, I should definitely check the pockets before a load of bullets or a hex bag goes through one of the machines. I set to work, sorting out colours, blacks and whites - unable to differentiate between lights and darks at times - and search every pocket as I go. The amount of women’s phone numbers I find on napkins and receipts is ridiculous. I can’t help but feel a little deflated, knowing I’m probably just a name on Deans list. I put them to the side in a pile, keeping them separate from the numbers from Sam’s pockets. I load up another machine and turn it on, picking up the stacks of numbers and leaving the room.

I find the boys sitting in their usual places at the tables, surrounded by piles of books and files. Castiel was nowhere to be seen. I walk up to them and slide the collection of phone numbers over to them.

“I thought you might want to keep these,” I said, not understanding the tone in my own voice. They both took a few seconds to realise what it was that I was handing them and they both responded in an abashed manner, shooting each other a knowing look before staring at the accumulation of digits, not once making eye contact with me. Sam nodded a quick ‘thank you’ before I turned to leave, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him crumple them up and throw them away in a carrier bag on the floor next to him. At the same time, I caught Dean shoving his collection into his jacket pocket, which was hung on the back of his chair. I hastened my actions and turned away quicker, not wanting to have the knowledge that he was keeping them. A pang of something shot through my chest, and I couldn’t tell if it was jealousy, sadness, rage or self pity. Whatever it was, I needed to get the fuck away from Dean.

*

A few hours passed and I was still sorting laundry. My clothes were officially clean and dry and away in my room, however the task at hand was now the clothes belonging to the Winchester boys. I was a few minutes away from the final load of washing being dry, and I’d managed to arrange the clothing into piles of ‘definitely Sam’ and ‘definitely Dean’, with a ‘really not sure’ pile in the middle. The jeans were easy enough to tell apart and due to Deans T-shirt I wore to bed last night, I now knew that he wore a slightly larger shirt size than his younger brother. I guess he had bigger shoulders, despite Sam being taller. My train of thought snapped as I suddenly heard a door slam upstairs and a female voice call out. I recognised the voice immediately. I stopped everything I was doing and headed upstairs, my feet carrying me with purpose as I reached the study room; Sam and Dean also emerging from another corridor.

“Charlie!” Dean beamed at her, going to give her a hug before I caught up to them and shoved him out the way.

“Don’t you EVER abandon me again like that,” I said, embracing her tight. “I’m fucking annoyed at you…. But I’m glad you’re here. These guys are like wild animals.” She patted my hair softly before I stepped back and she had an apologetic look on her face.

“I knooowwww I’m sorry! But you were in such a slump I really had to do something. Plus these guys really needed whipping into shape,” she spoke the second half of her sentence quieter and we both peered at the boys, fully aware that they could hear every word we were saying.

“Anyway!” She exclaimed, moving away and plopping her backpack onto the nearest table, “I think I have a case for you guys…” her voice was excited but the way her expression changed when she looked from the boys to me was slightly concerning. Sam seemed to pick up on this too.

“That’s great, but what’s the catch?” He asked. Charlie bit her lip and looked between the boys and me again.

“It’s in a strip club and we will need (Y/n) as bait.”

“What?!” Both me and Sam spoke up at the same time, and all that Dean could muster was a huge grin.

“I’m gonna need more details than that Charlie,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Right, yes, I probably should have started with the other details. Anyway, I’m pretty sure this club is run by a bunch of vamps, using girls as bait to lure in unsuspecting men to feed on in the private rooms.” The brothers nodded, like they’d seen this sort of thing before. “Anyway,” she continued, “I’ve had a hunch about this place for a while and did some digging, and it turns out that just last night they advertised a new position available and they want someone that looks just like (Y/n). This is a perfect way to take them down from the inside.” Charlie finished speaking and scanned our faces for any sort of response. I shrugged.

“Sure I’m in.”

“No way, we aren’t putting you in the line of fire like that,” Sam turned to me, a look of worry already smothering his features.

“I agree with Sam, this will be more dangerous than the last case. We’ll find another way to take them down,” Dean said, before he added in an almost snide tone “plus I bet you can’t even lap dance. How would you ever fit in?”

I scoffed.

“Fuck you, I can lap dance just fine.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“I don’t need to prove shit to you.”

“Guys,” Sam held his hands up, “not right now.”

I turned back to Charlie.

“Look I’m in, can you make sure that no one else gets hired?” She grins, opening her backpack and pulling out her tablet.

“Absolutely!”

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Up Next:

Chapter 8 part 2

[lunamaraproject]

LUNAMARA: Fragments [7]

🦢

“A little to the left… no, no, the other left,” Felix tilts his head, squinting. “No, too far. Back to the first left.”

“How are you half a century older than me but don’t know your left from your right?” Rufus grumbles, adjusting the picture on the wall again. He steps back and checks his work, and then walks away before Felix can annoy him by asking for more adjustments. “That’s the last thing in the living room box.”

“Thanks again for this, Rufie,” Felix says, tottering after his superior and out of the living-dining room. He really does think it looks nice, though for the sake of Rufus’ patience, he’ll wait until after he’s gone home to tweak things a bit. 

“Cassius Corvus has informed me that you are prone to ‘chipping a dainty little finger’ if you’re not supervised while doing heavy lifting tasks,” Rufus replies, with a bit of heat, probably from the unwanted nickname. He strides down the hallway to the bedroom ahead of Felix. “And I owe him a favour, so.”

“Aw, I thought you were here because you wanted to help me unpack out of the kindness of your heart!” Felix trails behind him, skipping a little. “And hold on, how long have you and Cas gotten along?”

“Since we found we could commiserate over having to look after both you and the Princess,” Rufus glowers at him over his shoulder. He nearly walks into a low ceiling beam by doing so, and dodges at the last moment. “Why in Luna’s name are you so obsessed with these low ceiling apartment designs?”

“It’s cozy! I save on the heating bill! I would think that someone as energy efficient as you would appreciate that!”

“You are going to crack your head open on one of these and then all will be able to see what I suspected for the past century: that it’s empty!” 

“At least when they’re this low you can reach to hang the ceiling decorations– woah!” 

Felix is proud of himself for dodging the slipper that Rufus just threw at him. It was, luckily, the first thing he happened to grab out of the box labeled ‘bedroom’, rather than the ornamental globe, or the lamp. That might have been a greater test of Felix’s reflexes. 

“I can leave you to do this yourself and if you chip then that’s your problem.”

“No sir, pwease sir, not my delicate widdle fingies! Pwease, merciful Lowd Canis!”

The look that Rufus gives him could, as the humans used to say, sour milk. 

“Never speak like that again.”

“Yessir.”

Rufus turns back towards the box, and drags it further towards the center of the room. The nicknacks inside are practically overflowing, and it’s only one of three fairly large containers Felix has shoved his entire bedroom into. He did have to sleep here last night, so the bed is made up, but it looks a little sad and lonely without its dozen throw-pillows and blankets to drape here and there. Rufus starts taking out these things and looks more and more aghast at how many there are. 

“You do know that your family crest is not an excuse to start actually nest building, yeah?” he says, holding out a particularly obnoxiously coloured pillow. It’s bright pink, and fluffy, and shaped like a heart. Felix plucks it out of Rufus’ hands and hugs it to his chest.

“The Cygnus family does not hold a monopoly on enjoying comfortable living! But we are very good at it,” he places the heart pillow directly in the middle of the large pile against the headboard of the king size bed. “I like collecting these sorts of things. They make my home feel like my home no matter how many times I move!”

“If you just stayed in the palace you wouldn’t have to move at all,” Rufus fires back, taking out a jewellery box and showing quite a sweet amount of care in delicately placing it on the dresser. “You know the Princess would be delighted. And Cassius would be relieved. And I wouldn’t have to deal with your stupid excuses for being late to the office.”

“But unlike you, I like to keep this mythical thing called a ~work-life balance~,” Felix wiggles his fingers and releases a light sparkle into the air. Rufus looks disgusted at him for wasting magic for dramatic effect. “Which is much harder to do if I live in the same building where I work.”

“Seems to work fine for the royals.”

“Ah, but as you have likely seen from existing in the proximity of the palace and around some extremely stressed out royalty, it really doesn’t,” Felix counters, dusting off a small mirror and setting it to one side. “And I am not a royal, so I’m not obligated to put myself under that kind of pressure. So I won’t.”

“So you’re just going to live in one crumbling ruin of a building after another?” Rufus frowns as he sets hairbrushes and polish onto the dresser. 

Felix watches him for a moment, and then smiles. “Thanks, Rufus.”

It catches him off-guard. “What? For what?” Rufus asks, squinting at him as though expecting some sort of stupid joke.

“For caring. For worrying about me,” Felix says, entirely sincere, picking up an empty box and folding it closed. “I know you don’t want me to get caught in some sort of cleaving event and end up in a million pieces on the surface. But I promise I do thoroughly check the location of my apartments, and that they’re not likely to fall off the side of the city at a second’s notice. I’ll be fine here. Really.”

There’s an awkward silence, wherein Rufus won’t look directly at Felix, a soft scarlet glow at the tips of his ears, which is how Felix knows he was right on target. For a man who keeps people at arms length, Rufus is certainly easy to read once you know how. 

It’s sweet, really. Felix appreciates it.

With a purposeful flourish, he hefts up one of the two large boxes remaining onto the bed, and opens the lid. The inside is almost exploding with fabric. “Anyway!” he declares. “Onwards to putting away all my wardrobe! Rufie, grab the other one!”

“... Wait, are both of these just clothes?!”

🌗

More from LUNAMARA:

Fragments [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]<-- More every Thursday!

Comic [Prologue]

Art by Luka (http://nousanti.tumblr.com/) Story by Pidge (http://pidgestories.tumblr.com/)

[shallowseeker]

Sometimes, I obsess over season 5-6, because...from Dean's POV, Cas just upped n' left.

And there's just...so much stuff in 6x01. His neighbor Sid haunts me.

Dean is grieving and prickly, and he sits with Cas in the silence for hours as they drive together.

But then: Cas likes being called Heaven's new sheriff, and he's leaving, and--

So, Dean's ugly hurt feelings come out, and--

DEAN: Wow. God gives you a brand-new, shiny set of wings, and suddenly you're his bitch again. ... DEAN: Well, you really suck at goodbyes, you know that?

Cas struggles for words, licking his lips nervously, not entirely sure what's he done to upset Dean so badly. (He was trying to be funny, be lighthearted and indulge Dean’s “sheriff” talk!)

Aside// I love how freely they talk here. Very quickly, they move into an emotionally charged conversation. Dean freely releases his true feelings about the situation, something he will soon have to bottle up in suburbia.

///

I'm not special. I'm not even a friend. The Apocalypse is over, and Heaven's done with me. Cas is done with me. I lost Sam. That was the mission my father gave me. I want to die. There's no purpose left in my life.

///

And then, we move to Dean in early season 6, and we see him spending a lot of time with his neighbor, Sid, who shifts from moment to moment, representing everything from Dean’s old life. (Sam, Bobby, John, Cas--all rolled into one.)

And Sid seems genuinely nice. He and the neighbors seem to tiptoe around Dean, alerting Lisa of his mental state, as if they know he's emotionally fragile.

Dean even looks out across the street into Sid’s window, like he’s looking in on their married life. Perhaps, he’s wishing they were his mom and dad, or Sam n’ Jess, or Bobby n’ Karen—because in being in suburbia, he feels sundered from his extended family.

Dean seems to feel like an outsider. (It’s strange, too, like he might even be longing for what Sid and his wife have with each other??? We get Sid buying Dean beer followed by Sid bringing his wife a glass of wine. He loves Lisa. He wants to be connected, but he’s struggling.)

And here, in the bar scene, Sid’s wearing a dressy button-down. SID: "I've been buying you beers for a year:" -- SID: "You're practically respectable." -- SID: "Wow! Every time. What is it with you?" -- DEAN: "It's like chicks dig unavailable guys."

This is not just about the waitress who scribbled her number on Dean's receipt. It's about Dean himself.

He digs unavailable guys. He's missing his old life, his family, his brother, and...the unavailable soldier, Cas.

It calls to mind Dean’s later lamentation to Cas, “I was there. Where were you?”

///

Later in the episode, the manifestation of his subconscious refers to Cas as "sugar."

Azazel: Yeah, kiddo. The big daddy brought your pal Cas back, right? So why not me? Add a little spice to all that -- that sugar. DEAN shoots AZAZEL.

///

And then, when Sam returns, Dean is chomping at the bit for news of Cas:

Dean: What do you mean you don't know? Sam: I mean, no idea. I-I'm just back. Dean: Well, was it God, or -- or -- or Cas? I mean, does Cas know anything about it? Sam: You tell me. I've been calling. Cas hasn't answered my prayers. I don't even know where he is.

///

Poor Dean.

At home, he's hypervigilant, checking everything, and staring out across the yard at Sid and his wife, which shifts to become echoey specter of John and Mary, as they die.

Sid brings his wife a glass of wine, a bit of a higher-class parallel to how Carmen brings Dean beer in season 2’s What is and Should Never Be. (Also, Sid was buying Dean alcohol earlier. Now, he treats his wife.) They smile at one another, and then the djinn strikes.

Sid grabs a CHAIR on his way down. His wife grabs a LAMP. "Dean, they're already dead and you know it."

There's just something about it.

His old life and longings are reflected in this Sid character, morphing from moment to moment. He feels disconnected--he misses Bobby, he missed his little brother, he wants a friend who's unavailable, and he wants his mom and dad to be safe and alive and happy. He wants an integrated life.

This strange, incomplete happiness feels like exile.

[eldritch-thrumming]

part one part two part three part four part five AO3

“I will love you no matter where you go and who you see. I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else and I will love you if you have a child and I will love you if you have two children. I will love you if you never marry at all and never have children, and spend all your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.”

Indianapolis, Indiana Summer 1996

Steve wakes up alone in his big bed with fluffy white sheets for the last time. The sun filters in through the spaces between his blinds, but the curtains have been taken down and the holes in the drywall spackled and painted over. He climbs from his bed and gets into the shower before he strips the sheets from his mattress. He makes his breakfast—scrambled eggs and burnt bacon—before washing the dishes in his sink. He carefully wraps each plate in newspaper before stacking them in a brown cardboard box. His phone rings.

“Hello?” He says into the receiver.

“Hey, Steve, me and Lucas are at the U-Haul place,” Dustin says on the other end of the line. “Can we just pull up right in front of the building?”

“Yeah, I already talked to the super. Should be all clear down there.”

“Alright, see ya soon.”

“Thanks, Dustin.” Steve hangs up and goes back to wrapping the last of his dishes and mugs. He’s taping up the box he’s been working on, writing “KITCHEN” in big, black letters on the side when there’s a knock on the door.

“It’s open!” He calls out. Then, when he hears the door swing shut, he yells, “Start with the stuff in the bedroom, but please for the love of god, be careful!” Lucas had already broken Steve’s favorite lamp when he’d come with El and Max to help pack a few boxes last weekend and bring them over to Frank and Doug’s garage for storage.

“Always the babysitter,” a familiar voice says from the kitchen doorway.

Steve whirls around to see Eddie, in a white t-shirt and black jeans, leaning his shoulder against the refrigerator. 

“Um,” Steve says and drops the plate he’s holding. It smashes against the kitchen tiles. Neither of them glance at it. Steve watches the way Eddie’s forearms flex as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Heard you could use some help moving,” Eddie says, a soft smile on his face. “I’m pretty good at heavy lifting, you know.”

~*~

Indianapolis, Indiana Summer 1995

When Steve wakes up, he’s in a tiny bed with rough scratchy sheets. The sunlight is pouring in through uncovered windows. There’s a mechanical beeping. Someone takes his hand in theirs. It is soft and dry. The grip on his fingers is tight.

“Steve?” A voice says next to him.

Steve groans. His head hurts. He has to squint against the light in the room, winces at the tinny beeping of the machines. He turns to see Robin sitting in the vinyl armchair at the side of his bed.

“Mm,” he tries to say something to her, but he’s not sure what it is. His mouth feels glued shut, like he’s eaten a spoonful of peanut butter, teeth all gummy and stuck.

“Water?” She asks, lifting her hand from his to pour him a cup from the plastic pitcher on the bedside table. He can’t get his hand to grip the paper cup properly, so she has to hold it to his lips for him. It’s borderline humiliating as the water misses his mouth and pours down his chin.

Once he’s back against the pillows, he makes a vague gesture with his hand. Robin clears her throat.

“Well—” She’s interrupted by a horde of people practically falling through the doorway. 

“Steve!” El practically shouts. She sees Steve wince and lowers her voice. “Steve. You’re awake.” Mike and Will come in behind her, followed by Jonathan, Nancy, and Max.

Steve grunts in her direction. He tries to sit up, but there’s a shooting pain in his side. He lays back down, gesturing with his hand again.

“After I called you, I called everyone,” El starts, filling Steve in on what he’s missed. “Robin and Nancy, Dustin… Eddie.” She only stumbles slightly over the name and Steve expends all his energy on not reacting to it. “We got there just in time, Steve. You were… not good.” Her eyes are huge as she looks at him.

Steve clears his throat. “Was it…?” His voice is raspy, hoarse, like sandpaper over stones. He can only get out the first two words of his question, but he knows El understands.

“It was Vecna, but… different.” El tilts her head, considering. “Not human at all, not even a little. Not anymore. Changed. Worse.” She shakes her head, like it’s hard to explain. “You were… on the ground, when we got there. In a trance, almost, but it wasn’t the same as… back then. It was… something different. I don’t know. It is hard to explain, I think.” She shakes her head again.

“But you woke up when El called for you,” Will picks up where El’s left off. “You got up and you fought, Steve. You… It was wild.” 

“And then it was over. It was so quick,” El says, eyes shining. “But it’s over. Really. It’s gone. I promise.”

Steve wants to believe her. He wants to believe that the girl with the superpowers has finally defeated the monsters. But he’s been told all this before. He’s seen what happens when they let their guards down, when they try to forget. He’s seen what happens when they leave. 

Steve tries to nod at her, tries to smile. Tries to pretend that he believes her.

~*~

Indianapolis, Indiana Fall 1995

Steve spends a week in the hospital and then three more weeks in rehab where he has to do physical therapy every day. The Party is in and out and Steve thinks that Nancy might have made some sort of schedule for visiting him. Steve only hears vague rumblings of Eddie’s whereabouts. He’s only really convinced that Eddie’s even in the same city when Robin brings him his favorite donuts from the bakery that Eddie used to take him to on Saturday mornings, back when they were happy.

When Steve’s finally released on orders to stay home from work for another month and to do as little as possible—barring his physical therapy—Robin moves back in to her old room in Steve’s apartment. Steve doesn’t ask and Robin doesn’t even really offer. She just… stays. Just tells him that this is how it’s going to be.

On the ride home from the rehab center, she promises it’s only temporary, that she’ll only be there until Steve gets the all-clear to head back out into the world on his own. Steve protests until they reach his apartment building and comes face-to-face with the crumbling concrete stairs that lead all the way up to his apartment. He only stops his grumbling when Robin slips his arm over her shoulder and helps him to his front door. 

“Surprise!” Steve nearly jumps out of his own skin when Robin finally gets the door open and ushers him inside his own home. Steve is bombarded with tiny flecks of paper that he slowly realizes are supposed to be confetti, very clearly homemade. He vaguely thinks about how someone who is not him better clean that up later.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Steve gasps out, clutching at his own chest. “This is how I fucking die. Not monsters. Just you stupid assholes sneaking into my apartment.” He scowls at them and they all have the good grace to look at least a little guilty, even Erica.

“Sorry, Steve,” El says from where she stands between Max and Lucas. “We just wanted to welcome you home.” That’s when Steve sees the banner that says “Welcome home, Steve” hanging over his couch, each letter a different color, all wonky and wobbly. Steve can’t even help the slow smile that spreads over his face.

Steve doesn’t even see Eddie until Robin’s got him settled on his couch, his cane propped next to him against the armrest. She pushes a plastic party cup of soda into one hand and a slice of his welcome home cake into the other. Steve doesn’t miss the fact that the cake is El’s favorite, chocolate on chocolate on chocolate. He shoves a big forkful into his mouth before he even notices Eddie sitting in the corner. Their eyes meet and Eddie raises his own plastic cup in Steve’s direction, a soft smile playing around his lips. Steve swallows thickly and nods back, eyes darting away quickly.

Despite the music and the laughing and the constant conversation, once he’s done with his cake, Steve starts fading fast. He’s still recovering, his wounds burning hot on his side, his legs aching from his trek up the stairs. He stretches, leans back against the couch cushions. He couldn’t keep his eyes open if he tried. 

He hears Robin and Nancy start to round up the Party, pushing them out the door. They all want one last word with Steve, but Robin tells them all they can come back later in the week when Steve’s feeling a little bit better. He hears them all grumbling, half-hearted protests and half-baked arguments about why they should be allowed to stay. He hears them filter out into the hallway and he cracks one eye open, wanting just one last glimpse of them all before he falls into sleep.

But when Steve finally looks over toward the door, the Party has already been pushed out the door, with Robin and Nancy following them out into the hall, making sure they get down the stairs, as if they might try to sneak back in when they’re not looking. It’s just Eddie standing there, lingering near the open front door.

“Bye, Stevie,” he says when he sees Steve looking at him, so softly that Steve almost thinks he must imagine it. But then Eddie raises his hand and gives him a little wave, just a wiggle of his fingers, before he makes his own way out the door. “Feel better.”

Steve falls into a dreamless sleep right there on the couch. 

~*~

Robin has been staying with Steve for about a month when they start to really get into it. She broaches the topic one night in the living room and it’s clear to Steve that she’s been waiting for the perfect moment. 

They’re washing up from dinner. They’d opted for take-out, since Robin can’t cook at all and Steve’s still a little unsteady on his feet most days. He’s hoping that he’ll be able to go back to work in another week, just waiting for the all-clear from his physical therapist. 

Robin comes back from taking the trash out to find Steve stretched out on the couch. She washes her hands and then drops herself into the ugly armchair that Steve’s sure must have come from her mom’s basement at some point over the years they’d lived together. She sighs and Steve braces himself.

“So,” she starts, trying for casual and missing by about a mile. She looks up at Steve and meets his gaze before clearing her throat. “Do you ever think about getting out of here?”

“What, this apartment?” Steve asks, purposely missing her point. His calves are cramping and his temples throb. He can’t really imagine a worse conversation than this one, right now. 

“Come on, Steve,” Robin rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Are you going to stay in Indiana for the rest of your life?”

“What’s wrong with Indiana?” Steve crosses his arms over his chest.

“Nothing.” She crosses her own arms, mirroring Steve. “There’s only something wrong with it if you’re too scared to go anywhere else.”

“I not scared,” Steve insists. His fingertips dig into the muscles of his forearms. 

“You’re not?” Robin raises her eyebrow. “Then what are you doing, Steve? If you’re not scared, why are you here while Eddie’s still writing love songs for you halfway across the country.”

Steve’s ribs crack. His lungs collapse. His heart squeezes in his chest. 

“It’s not about that,” Steve mutters, barely able to get the words out. He can’t get enough air. 

“What’s it about, then?” Robin’s voice is gentler now, less combative, but still challenging. 

“I was the only one here, Robin,” Steve doesn’t hide the anger from his voice, the resentment. He unfolds his arms to clutch at the couch cushion beneath him, like it’ll keep him tethered to the earth. “Everyone left and I stayed. I was the only one here. I was here when no one else was.”

“And you almost died, Steve!” Robin’s voice is just as angry as Steve’s when she responds. “You almost died down there. Alone. If Will and El hadn’t gotten there when they did, you wouldn’t be here.”

Steve snaps his jaw shut, his teeth slamming together painfully. He takes a deep breath, tries to regain control of himself.

“I understand that, Robin. But what am I going to do? Leave? Stop watching?”

“Steve,” Robin says, her voice soft. Sadder than he’s ever heard her before. He can’t look at her. He knows she’s crying. He is too, he can feel the hot tears on his cheeks. Steve hears her drop from the chair onto the carpet as she makes her way over to the couch on her knees. “Steve, look at me,” she says when she’s kneeling in front of him. He looks at her. His heart breaks. He remembers the last time they were in this living room, crying together. He remembers how scared she had looked. How angry she’d been at how he was hurting himself. He thinks this might be the same thing. “This isn’t your responsibility. Not alone. We all made it back. We made it in time. You don’t have to stay here. You shouldn’t stay here just because you’re afraid.”

Steve’s throat tightens. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t promise he’ll stop being scared. He can’t promise he’ll leave, just pick up and go. He wants to. He wants to tell her that he doesn’t need to be here. That he just wants to be here. But it’s not true and he can’t lie to her. Not like this. Wouldn’t even dream of it. Robin seems to understand that. She just stays there, kneeling in front of him, one hand on his knee and one hand gripping one of his, vice-like and warm.

They stay like that for a long time, until the tears dry on both their faces.

~*~

Indianapolis, Indiana Summer 1996

Steve’s mouth has gone dry. His hands feel hollow, weightless. His fingertips burn. He can feel the heat rushing to his face. 

Eddie’s smile falters.

“Or I could, uh. Sorry. I didn’t—“ Eddie starts, standing upright and taking a step back. Steve is quick to cut him off.

“No, no!” He practically yells into the space between them. “No, I, uh. Was just surprised. To see you.” He makes a vague gesture with his hand at his side.

“Robin called,” Eddie says, as if that explains everything. “Said you were skipping town.” Steve hears the implied finally in his words and can’t help but roll his eyes.

Eddie and Steve have spoken sporadically in the year since Steve was in the hospital. Mostly on the phone, but they’d seen each other at Christmas. Steve had tried to avoid Eddie—it should have been easy with the campaign Will was running in Joyce’s basement over the holiday; Steve doesn’t think any of the boys had showered for a full week—but somehow, Eddie was always in Steve’s line of vision, nudging his shoulder when Jonathan told a joke, piling more mashed potatoes on his plate at family dinner, passing him the last sugar cookie on Christmas morning. Steve had felt off-kilter for the entire week he’d been sleeping on the Byers-Hopper living room couch and had come back to Indianapolis with a head full of ghosts. 

Eddie had started calling him after that, just to check in, he’d said. Only once or twice every couple of weeks, but he always had a funny little story about the cat he’d adopted out in LA that made Steve laugh until his sides hurt, still just a little bruised and broken from last summer.

Steve hadn’t told Eddie about his plans to leave Indianapolis. He’d wanted to be sure that he could really do it, that he wasn’t going to come back scared, with his tail between his legs, forced to take up temporary residence over Frank and Doug’s garage until he could find something permanent, all because he was too much of a coward to leave the past behind. 

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Apparently Frank and Doug are looking to franchise. Heard I was just about ready to leave Indianapolis and asked if I’d take a look at a few different places for them. New York, Chicago, Seattle…” He lets his voice trail off.

“LA?” Eddie asks and Steve tries not to convince himself that the look on Eddie’s face is hopeful. 

“Uh. Yeah, actually. LA’s on the list. Last stop on the tour.” Steve cringes as he says the last part, but Eddie just smiles.

“Maybe I could find someone to show you around.” Eddie looks down at his feet and then glances back up at Steve through his eyelashes, all flirtatious and pink. 

“That… would be nice.” Steve’s sweating now, his skin tight and hot across his chest and shoulders. 

“Yeah?” Eddie does sound so hopeful then that Steve feels something in his chest swell at the sound. He feels the blush rising in his own cheeks.

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “Yeah.”

Before they can say anything else, the front door bangs open and Dustin and Lucas come crashing into Steve’s kitchen. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steve yells, holding up his hands. “Remember what happened last time! Don’t break any of my shit.”

They’re not even listening, too busy jumping around Eddie, shouting about how they thought they wouldn’t see him until Thanksgiving. Steve smiles at them, rolling his eyes. Eddie meets his gaze from across the kitchen and shoots him a wink.

It’s not perfect. There’s a lot they need to talk about. Steve’s got more cities to visit before he even gets out to LA. He’s not sure he’ll even want to leave Indianapolis once he’s out there. But he’s willing to try and he thinks that, for right now, that’s enough. He’s still scared. He’s scared shitless. Feels like he might vomit every time he thinks about driving out of Indiana. But he thinks there might be some better things waiting out there for him than whatever he’s leaving behind here. He’s got Robin and Nancy in New York. Will and Mike out in Seattle. Lucas, Max, and El in Chicago. Eddie in LA and Jonathan and Argyle down in San Diego. Dustin out in Boston and Erica down in DC. He’s willing to try, for them.

~*~

Only three more plates and an end table get sacrificed to the moving gods by the time they’ve packed Steve’s entire life into the back of the U-Haul Dustin and Lucas had driven over earlier. Steve watches them drive it away from the curb before he unlocks the driver’s side door in his car and gets in. Eddie slides in next to him in the passenger’s seat. 

Eddie looks over at him as Steve slides his sunglasses over his nose. “Ready, Stevie?” 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Ready.” 

He smiles as he drives away from his apartment for the last time. 

~*~

And here we are, finally at the end. I hope you enjoyed this. I was planning on this being a bit more bittersweet and sad here at the end, but. They didn’t want that, I guess! This was BY FAR the longest and most difficult part to write and I do worry that I’ve fucked up the pacing, but this is all necessary for where these idiots end up so.

Excited to hear what you all think. Sorry for not really explaining anything about the Upside Down. I don’t know what was going on! It’s inexplicable! You have to believe me! Epigraph is from Lemony Snicket, although I did definitely edit it down so there’s that lol if you don’t read on AO3, the title of this chapter is “i can’t believe you told me everything’s okay, that we would find each other somewhere else one day.” :)

Anyway, I don’t really think this lives up to the rest of the fic (I truly believe that this is the best story I’ve ever written), but it makes me happy and it’s complete and I do very much love it, even in all it’s imperfection.

I had no sleep last night and took Tylenol PM about an hour ago, so please forgive any mistakes (and please do feel free to point them out to me! it’s very helpful, I promise! I actually did reread the other parts before finishing this, but it’s highly likely I missed a thing or two).

Here’s the taglist. I’m very very very sorry if I missed you or tagged you by mistake. :)  @starlight-archer @sly-bananabread @eddiemunsonswife @renaissan-vvitch @gamerdano @n0-1-important @orangeandthefairroadkill @hollysimone  @spkdnailbats  @and-say @fabledanzel @grtwdsmwhr @dogswithforks @grimmfitzz @lololol-1234 @estrellami-1 @ajamlessbaby @goblineddie @bejeweledbaby @lizard-dyk3 @savory-babby @mssrs-weasley @anzelsilver

[bobwess]

Workin' on the new "Wait for the Ricochet" chapter. Preview:

It was barely four in the morning when young Dean heard his brother. 

“Are you awake?”

He sighed, turning on his side to face young Sam. “Yeah.” He threw his hands up to block the sudden blinding light when Sam threw on the lamp. “Jesus.”

“I can’t sleep.” 

Dean sighed again, settling back with his eyes closed. “How much sleep did you get?”

“Five hours.” Young Sam said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “You?”

“Two.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face, trying to push past the last pulls of sleep. He and Sam had sat together a long time last night. 

Young Sam hugged his arms around himself. “I keep thinking about going back.” 

“Yeah.” 

Sam didn’t say anything for a moment. 

Young Dean looked up, squinting past the lamp to look at his brother. He frowned, pulling himself up. “Hey.” He said softly, getting up and crossing to sit next to Sam. 

“I know we have to.” Sam said, looking down.

“I know.”

“I almost don’t want to.” 

Dean put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. 

“I know… I mean I don’t want to leave Dad or… or Bobby…” Or Pastor Jim. “But… I don’t know… it’s been…” 

Three full meals a day. Quiet. Full of movies and fishing and the internet. 

“Who knows if that’d last.” Dean tried to reason, but he couldn’t bring himself to put much of an effort into it. He tried anyway. “Like a vacation. It all goes back to normal after.” 

“I said it was better… hunting without Dad.” 

“Sam-”

“I don’t want to fight the apocalypse.” Sam said, voice small. “I don’t want to give up college.”

I don’t want to go to hell. 

Dean felt his face flush, room pushing in for just a moment. “We turn out okay.” he reminded Sam, but his thoughts circled back to Cas. “I mean… as good as we could.” 

“He won’t tell me much.” Sam said. “Me… I know he’s hiding things. Things that happened to us.” 

“Yeah.”

“Have you uh… did he tell you anything?”

“No.” 

“You’re lying.” Sam said, leaving no room in his voice for doubt.

Dean closed his eyes. “Yeah, alright, but he didn’t tell me anything about you.” 

“What did he say about you?”

“Sam-”

“Tell me!” 

“No.” Dean said firmly. “He… I… It’s for me to know.”

“That’s not good enough.” Sam said forcefully. “I want to know.” 

Dean closed his eyes. “It’s bad.” 

“What?”

“It’s real bad, Sammy. I… I don’t want to talk about it.” He couldn’t talk about it. “I… I don’t…” He felt the hot flush of his face but he managed to stave off tears for the moment at least. “I don’t want to go back.” 

It felt heavy, and came with a white hot flash of guilt. He immediately felt a keen stab when he thought of Dad. 

Dean shifted slightly, feeling the ghost of bruising still splashed across his rib cage. Third week of the motel. Werewolf. Whoever was before that. Why is it always no highways and one bar? 

“Dean?” 

Dean closed his eyes, riding out a lightheaded wave.   

He was going to hell in thirteen years.  

Fifty years from now he’ll still be in hell. 

He closed his eyes. And what was he losing now? His mind flashed back to sitting with Sam for hours last night. 

“Dean?”

“I don’t want to go back, Sam.” Dean repeated softly.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

I Will Find You in the Dark Ch. 6

Series Summary: Dean and Julie's story continues through turbulent times in the Winchester's life. Can Dean and Julie survive through it all? Can their love survive?

Chapter Summary: Now that they have the demon chained up, can they cure him and bring their Dean back?

Pairings: Dean x OFC (Julie) Established Relationship

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence throughout. Smut throughout. More detailed chapter warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Show level violence, Demon!Dean (with all that his black eyes bring with them), Demon!Dean being cruel for the fun of it, threatening behavior, mentions of pregnancy, and lots of angst.

Word Count: 3,433

Series Masterlist

A/N:  The sixth chapter in the sequel to my fic, Green is My Favorite Color I strongly suggest that you read that one first, since there will be references made to it throughout this sequel. Also, I suggest you read the Dean and Julie Mini-Series I wrote as a bridge between that fic and this one. (The Mini-series’ title is a bit of a spoiler for the original series, so I won’t post it here, but it can be found here.) I had a lot of fun writing that original series, and the mini-series, and certainly hope those who read and enjoyed those, enjoy this sequel. 💓

The beautiful dividers below and at the end were created by @talesmaniac89 ❤️ Title card was created by me.

The room was dark when Julie opened her eyes; they couldn’t adjust fast enough, and she sat up with a cry of fear.

“Easy, Julie.” She recognized Cas’ voice just before he turned on a bedside lamp. She looked at him in confusion, her brain refusing to fill in the blanks. 

“Cas?” She asked stupidly.

But the angel seemed to understand that his name alone was encompassing a myriad of questions that were chasing themselves around inside her head. Though he still seemed baffled occasionally, he’d come very far in understanding the way humans’ minds worked. 

“You’re safe.” He informed her in his deep angelic voice. “You’re in your room, and I’ve healed you completely.”

She shook her head. “Healed me from what?” But as soon as the question was asked, everything came flooding back into her mind.

***

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was loud and full of fear. He slapped his brother’s cheek hard, and Julie put a hand over her mouth to stifle her own terror at Dean’s ashen, sweaty face. 

Good god, we have actually killed him. She thought as bile rushed up her throat.

But after another slap, Dean sucked in a deep breath and let out a low groan. Sam let out the breath he’d been holding, and Julie felt the relief flood her, as tears ran down her cheeks. She dashed them away quickly, not wanting to give the demon in Dean’s soul more ammunition for his cruelty.

“Come on, come back to us.” Sam said as he gave his brother a bit of a shake. “You okay?” 

Dean raised his head slowly, and seemingly painfully, as he mumbled out his answer. “You call drowning in your own sweat while your blood boils okay, then yeah, I’m okay.”

Sam stood up and moved out of the devil’s trap and back to the table that held the syringes full of purified blood. 

“Look,” Sam told him with regret in his voice, “I can’t stop doing this.” 

“Sure you can - just stop!” Dean said, anger lacing his exhaustion now. “It’s too late to get your brother back. He’s long gone. But I’m liking the new model.” His gaze swiveled to Julie and he gave her a smirk. “Lean, mean, Dean.” He nodded towards her. “You’d like him a lot, sweetheart.” 

“No thanks.” Julie told him coldly. “My husband’s gonna be back anytime now.” 

Dean chuckled roughly. “That what you think? Huh? That he’s just gonna stroll back into your life? Well, I’ve got news for you, this asinine plan of yours isn’t gonna work. So, you’re either gonna have a demon husband, or a dead one.”

He shook his head at her.  “I don’t know why you’d want that pussy back anyway.” His gaze was lustful as he scanned her body from head to toe. “Promise you I’d be a lot more fun.”

When Julie remained silent, he let out a bark of harsh laughter. “Yeah, what am I thinking? I’m talking to the girl who waited around for years, for whatever scraps I threw her way. No matter how many times I walked away, you’d just be sitting there begging like a good little bitch, every time I came back.”

He tilted his head and his voice dripped with disdain. “Pathetic and weak.”

His penetrating stare was only broken as Sam stabbed another needle into his arm, making him scream in rage and pain. Sam tossed the syringe back onto the table, and hustled Julie out of the room, pulling her down the hallway far enough that she could no longer hear Dean’s grunts and growls.

She covered her face and leaned against the wall, thumping her head onto the hard tile. She shook her head and then pulled her hands down to look at Sam.

“What are we doing to him, Sam? What if we are killing him? He said it felt like his blood was boiling?” Her face was stricken. “I mean, what the hell?”

Sam let out a deep breath and scrubbed his big hand over the scruff that grew on his cheeks. “I know, Julie, but…” He shrugged, his expression as helpless as his tone. “What’s our other alternative? This is the only solution to get Dean back.”

Julie felt tears gather as her frustration and heartbreak overflowed. She nodded sadly and dropped her head. “I know.” She said in a whisper.

Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’m gonna call Cas again, and see how far out he is, and I’m gonna go unlock the door for him.” He pointed a finger at Julie as he put the phone to his ear. “Don’t go in there.”

Julie nodded and Sam’s long stride carried him away quickly so that she only heard him ask Cas. “Man, how far are you? We need you.” Then his voice was gone and there was just the quiet hum of air vents and machinery in the walls.

Julie ran a protective hand over the baby bump that seemed to get rounder every day. “He’s coming back, sweet pea, I swear it. Your daddy is gonna love you when he gets to meet you.” She was determined it would be true. 

A couple of minutes ticked by before she heard it. Dean’s voice - and it was scared.

“Jules?”

She stood staring towards the light spilling from the door until he called again, his voice slightly louder and laced with pain.

“Jules!”

She rushed to the doorway to see Dean slumped over once again. As she watched, his face spasmed in pain, and he lifted his head slightly. Relief washed over his face when he saw her. “Jules.” He groaned deeply and she came into the room. 

He looked at his tied up hands and then back to her. His expression was all confusion. “I don’t…what’s going on?” Again pain seemed to wrack his body for a moment; he gritted his teeth against the onslaught before he slumped over, deathly still.

Julie’s eyes widened and she ran up to just outside the devil’s trap. “Dean!” She called out to him, but he didn’t answer. Her eyes held panic as she looked down at his chest, but it wasn’t moving.

She ran up to him and lifted his head in her two hands, as Sam had. She tried smacking his cheek, and shaking him slightly, but he didn’t respond. 

“Dean!” She screamed in horror. 

And faster than she could blink his eyes opened, coal black, and he snapped the ropes that held him, reaching out and getting a vice grip around her throat. He pulled her in close to his face and grinned.

“Pathetic and weak.” 

Giving her a shake, he raised her up above his head and walked out of the devil’s trap with a grimace. She saw the demon cuffs dangling from the arms of the chair just before he slammed her against the wall, still outstretched in his hand.

He shook his head. “Good god, you are a sap. And I always thought you were so smart.” He shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.” He raised his free hand to scratch his chin in thought. “Now that I’ve got my hands on you, what am I gonna do with you?”

Julie felt the increasing pressure he was exerting on her windpipe, and she began clawing at the back of his hand, but he ignored her like she was an annoying fly, simply grabbing her right arm and slamming it beside her head on the wall. 

Her free hand still clutched at his wrist as though she had any hope of loosening his grip. “Dean.” She croaked out. “Dean, please.”

He just chuckled as his black eyes stared into her and his grip tightened on her throat and arm. “You know, I could snap your neck with nothing but a flick of my wrist. Humans’ bones snap so easy. See?” 

Julie screamed a choked and almost silent scream as he twisted her arm slightly and she felt the bone break. Pain radiated through her body. But panic was setting in quickly to overshadow it, as her vision began to blur and her lungs began to ache. 

“I could kill you right now.” Dean’s voice was low, almost soothing.

Julie closed her eyes, shutting out the monster’s face, and conjuring Dean’s image into her mind; his sparkling emerald eyes and the way they grew warm when he looked at her; the soft smile he wore in the mornings when she woke him with a kiss, the silky way his lips felt against hers when he kissed her back. 

If she was going to die, she wanted her husband’s beautiful face to be the last thing she saw.

The last thing she heard before blacking out was the demon making his decision. “N’ah, you might be fun later. I’ll kill my brother first.”

She felt her body hit the ground, and then everything went dark.

***

As the memories flooded her mind, Julie turned frantic eyes on Cas. “Where’s Sam, what…what happened?” 

Cas patted her shoulder. “He’s fine, he’s fine. I got here in time to stop Dean, and we got him back into the devil’s trap, and the demon cuffs. Sam is about to give him the last injection. Then we’ll know.”

Julie rubbed a hand over her belly, her body shaking slightly from shock and worry. “Is the baby…?” She couldn’t finish the question, but Cas answered quickly.

“He’s just fine. His heartbeat was a bit fast for a while, but it’s returned to normal and his brain and organ functions are all what they should be.”

Julie looked up at the angel with a soft smile of relief. “He?”

Cas looked guilty for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t know.”

Julie shook her head though. “No, it’s okay. We couldn’t tell the last time we went to the doctor, but I wanted to know.”

Rubbing her belly, she breathed in deep and long. Then she stood up.

“Whoa, Julie, you should rest.” Cas admonished. 

But Julie just shook her head. “No. You healed me right?” Cas nodded reluctantly. “Then I need to be there. I need to see if after all of this, Dean comes back to us.”

***

Dean sat in their bedroom, leaning against the headboard and looking around the room at all the pictures Julie had put up on the walls, as well as on every flat surface in the room.  They were pictures of the two of them, sometimes alone together in the frame, and sometimes showing their arms slung around Sam or Cas, Benny or Charlie. Without fail every one of them showed Julie beaming out at him.

And every time he looked at them, the vision of Julie’s terrified face staring down at him as he squeezed the life from her, replaced her smile in his mind. He dropped his head into his hands and felt the deep gnawing pit in his stomach grow larger.

Suddenly the door opened gently and Julie’s head poked through the crack. Her smile was soft and questioning. “Hey.” 

Dean was shocked to see her, but he stood up quickly. “Sorry, I’ll go.” 

But before he could make it to the door, Julie walked through and pushed it closed behind her, leaning against it. She shook her head. “Please don’t go. I wanted to see you.” She reached towards his cheek. “I missed you.”

But Dean stepped back, his heart constricting. “Julie…” He stared at the ground, unable to look at her. “Don’t do this.”

Even without looking, he could see the way her brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

He turned his back on her and went to stand and stare at the weapons mounted on the wall. They made him frown now. Why had he put these here? Why did he fill their bedroom with weapons of war?

Cause you're a killer, and a monster, of course. Said the voice in his head. That’s all you know.

When he answered, his voice was rough with tears he refused to shed; he didn’t deserve to cry about his sins. “Julie, you can’t just pretend none of this happened. You can’t just…” He turned back to face her, but kept his gaze averted. “You can’t just forgive me.”

Julie was quiet a moment, before she responded, annoyance in her tone. “I don’t think you actually get a say in whether I forgive you or not.” She shrugged in his peripheral vision. “But the fact of the matter is, there’s nothing to forgive. It wasn’t you.”

Dean scoffed and shook his head. “It was me, Julie. That’s the whole problem. No one possessed me, no one had control of me. It was all just my own fucked up, black soul.”

Dean could see Julie was shaking her head the whole time, barely letting him get the end of his sentence out before she was contradicting him. 

“That’s simply not true. It was the mark, it twisted your soul, made your heart go black. But the mark isn’t you, it’s not who you really are. It’s a dark, evil thing, and it leached into you.” 

She walked up to stand directly in front of him, putting her hands on his forearms. Dean turned his head further to the side, desperate not to look at her. He didn’t want to see her compassion, her certainty that he was good; he couldn’t take the forgiveness in her features. 

“Dean,” she said softly, but sure, “I know who you are, the real you, and that black eyed thing wasn’t you. It was like an infection, and now you’re healed.”

Dean stared at the ground again. “Not that simple.” He mumbled.

“Of course it is.” Julie argued, stubborn as always. “It. Wasn’t. You.” She said in a staccato rhythm. 

“But I remember when it was.” He said, his voice a mere croak.

Finally Dean looked up at her, seeing her beautiful face properly for the first time since she’d entered, and he swallowed over and over to rid his throat of the lump of unshed tears that grew there. 

Dean was determined to make her understand. “I remember everything. Every moment. I remember every cruel, hateful word.” His jaw clenched tightly. “I remember the feeling of your arm breaking in my hand. I remember your scream, and the way panic filled your eyes, all the fear and terror, I remember it.” 

Julie dashed away her tears angrily. “I know -”

“But mostly I remember the feeling of absolute glee I felt watching you struggle, hearing you choke…” He broke off, shoving his fingers through his hair and turning away again. His hatred of his own body and soul made him reach up and rake his hands down the wall, smashing weapons to the ground, clearing the way for him to deliver two solid punches to the wall, breaking his knuckles against the stone.

“Dean!” Julie yelled out, rushing towards him, but he sank down on the bed. 

“Please, Julie.” He looked up at her, knowing that he was begging. “Please don’t act like nothing happened. I hurt you, badly. Broke your bones, considered ending your life.” His voice was desperate and strained. 

He glanced down at the bump that showed through her flowy shirt “I put them in danger.” His mind ran away from that train of thought, simply too horrified to examine it for the moment. 

Instead he continued trying to make her understand the truth. “I lied to you, tricked you, used your love against you. I said horrible, awful things to you.” He paused, and his mind rebelled at his next words too, but they were also the truth and needed to be spoken. 

“I cheated on you.” 

His voice was a whisper as he looked into her eyes again, and saw the pain that truth caused her. Whatever she may say, he knew that it mattered, that his sins and transgressions couldn’t be overlooked or brushed aside. 

Julie tried to hide her hurt with a raised chin and a stubborn glint in her eye. “I’m aware of everything the demon did.”

“The demon WAS me, Julie! For Christ’s sake, why can’t you see that?” He yelled at her.

Julie’s careful façade began to crumble, as pain swept across her features, and tears overflowed her lashes. Instinctively, Dean reached for her; desperate to stop them. He took her face in his hands, but her tears fell too fast and too hard for him to swipe them all away.

“I know what happened.” Julie choked out. “I know all the horrible things that have happened over the last two months. Do you think I don’t know?” Julie shook her head and pulled away and straightened up, throwing her arms up.

“I have had a really awful couple months, and today was one of the worst days of my life.” She sniffed, and scrubbed her face with her hands. “Some asshole demon really hurt me, and I was really scared.”

She cleared her throat and walked back up to where he sat on the bed. Reaching behind him, she pulled a small metal disk from where it hung on the wall and, taking his unbroken hand in hers, she set the worn and battered talisman there. The old piece of jewelry looked much different than it had when he’d given it to her nearly eighteen years earlier. But it still held the magic of their love and he gripped it tightly in his hand as he looked up at her.

She ran a hand down his cheek and he shivered. “I’ve had a really shitty few months recently. So, I’d really like to just be here with my best friend. And I’d like my husband to hold me, and tell me that things will be alright.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. “I don’t mean everything will be fine today, or even tomorrow. But I need him to tell me that they will be, eventually. That we’ll pull through this like we always do.”

Dean closed his eyes as his need to comfort her, to hold her and reassure her, warred with his guilt and his fear of the mark that was still etched into his arm. 

Finally he opened his eyes and let his tears fall at last, hoping they would tell her that he was more sorry than he could ever express. “Julie, I swore I would never leave you, and I won’t.” He shook his head. “But you have to promise me that when you want me to leave, you’ll tell me. Tell me to go.”

Julie shook her head. “That will never happen.”

Dean closed his eyes briefly, opening them again to peer up into her sunshine face, always his brightest spot; even now trying to lift him out of darkness with her unceasing light.

“Jules.” He said in a broken voice, filled with both awe and shame. “I’ve done nothing to deserve you.” The awe was there because he simply couldn’t understand her love, and the shame was because he knew that, in fact, he didn’t deserve it. 

“I’ve told you a hundred times - you’re my hero, Dean Winchester. Plain and simple” Julie’s voice was clogged with tears.

Dean shook his head. He would never understand her, but he believed her. And he loved her - needed her - so much.

So, he pulled her down into his lap, and held her close. He shifted them back against the headboard and tightened his grip a little more, before pressing a kiss to her forehead and running his hand through her hair.

After a few minutes of silence, Dean took a deep, steadying breath, and then moved his hand down to spread across Julie’s belly. His voice was whisper soft. “So, I’m gonna be a dad?” The word alone conjured up contradictory feelings of excitement and complete terror.

Julie nodded softly and moved his hand a little lower. “Try talking to him, he likes voices. You might be able to feel him move.”

Dean’s gaze shot to hers. “He?”

Julie nodded and gave him a watery smile. “So Cas says.”

Dean felt a warm place start to grow in his battered heart right alongside the cold fear. But his mind’s eye conjured up the vision of a curly-headed little guy with big brown eyes, toddling around the bunker and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’m gonna need to build him a yard, and a playground. He can’t stay in the bunker all the time. But it’s gonna need to be heavily warded, and protected.” He nodded with conviction. “But we can do it.” 

He looked into Julie’s tear-stained face, gripping the talisman tight in his fist, and promised. “We can do it.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

[cat-loves-music]

Apple Pie Life

Warnings: Character "death", mention of previous character death (SPOILER!!!), blood, let me know if I missed any!

A/N: if you haven't watched Seasons 9-10 of Supernatural, proceed with caution cuz of spoilers.

Summary: Reader confesses fantasies of an "apple pie" life to Dean and he does something unexpected 👀.

I can see myself and Dean being thrown against the wall as we watched Sam, possessed by Gadreel, stalk over to Kevin. I scream at the top of my lungs for Gadreel to stop, but my pleas are not heard. Gadreel places Sam's hand on Kevin's forehead and a bright light shines from inside Kevin's body as he screams out in pain.

"No!" I shriek, my body immobilized out of fear and panic.

Kevin's screams cease as his lifeless body falls with a thud to the ground, his eyes burned out of his head. Gadreel places a small note with Kevin's name on his body and leaves. Tears stream down my face as I rush to Kevin's side just to feel the remaining warmth fade from his body.

"Y/n!"

I wake up to the sound of Dean calling my name and I'm instantly aware of the light sweat seeping through my pajamas. Turning my gaze over to Dean, I notice a look of worry is evident on his face as he searches mine for some sort of sign.

Kevin died about a week ago. While Dean, Cas, and I were looking for Sam and trying to find a way to cast out Gadreel has been the priority, which meant that none of us had time to grieve.

"Was it the same one, sweetheart?" Dean asks, his voice bringing me out of my thoughts which causes me to burst into tears.

He pulls me in to a knowing and comforting embrace, letting me cry into his chest.

"It's so hard, Dean. Why did it have to be him?" I sobbed.

Dean strokes my hair comfortingly, saying, "I know, Y/n. He didn't deserve it."

I pull back from him and look into his forest green eyes, "None of us deserve this pain, Dean."

"I don't know, sweetheart. If it weren't for me having Kevin stay with us, he would be alive right now," Dean replied.

I sit up, "Dean, this isn't your fault. It was Metatron's fault for telling Gadreel to kill him and Gadreel's fault for actually going through with it."

He sighs, putting his hands behind his head on his pillow, looking like he's deep in thought as he stares into the void of the dark motel room. His eyes look glossy as if tears are about to spill.

"Do you ever think what life would be like if we didn't hunt?" Dean asked, eyes searching my face for an answer.

I study his eyes, trying to figure out what's going on behind them as I answer, "I try not to so I don't get upset about the things that could have been, but sometimes I can't help it."

"What do you think about?" He asked.

I'm suddenly thankful for the darkness of the room as I can feel my face heat up. Dean and I have been dating for what feels like forever and the topic of the apple pie life fantasies have never come up. Needless to say, we've never discussed how much further we wanted to take our relationship.

"I think about having an apple pie life. You know, white picket fence, a nice house, a kid or two, maybe a dog," I answer.

"Ever think about getting married?" Dean inquires.

I smile, "Yeah. I do."

Dean flashes me a soft smile, the first real one since Kevin passed, and says, "I think about all that too. Especially getting married...to you."

I can feel my heart flutter in my chest, "I mean we could if we really wanted to get married, but since we have a lot of stuff going on with Sam, Metatron, and Abbadon, we kinda got our hands full."

"Yeah, you're right," Dean agrees, sitting up and lifting himself off the bed, turning on his bedside lamp.

I somewhat think I've upset him until I see him searching through his bag and coming around to my side of the bed.

"I guess I have a confession to make," Dean states, fiddling with the small object in his hands, "I've held onto this for so long and everytime I've seen this in my bag it has reminded me to keep going. To keep fighting so we can end all of this and I'll actually live to be with you forever, so..."

He kneels down on one knee in front of me, holding out what I can now see as a ring and instantly my eyes are filled with tears, "Dean..."

"Y/n L/n, will you marry me?" Dean asked, his eyes hopeful and his hands presenting the ring.

I nod my head frantically, "Yes! Of course I'll marry you."

Dean grins, sliding the ring on my finger and stands up, pulling me into an embrace and kissing me.

"After all of this, I swear to you that we'll have our apple pie life," Dean promises.

I smile, "Just gotta live through it first."

He smiles back at me and kisses me again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~《W》~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been a long and difficult road when we've finally reached the final battle with Metatron. Abbadon is finally dead, since Dean now bears the Mark of Cain and we are in possession of the First Blade, and Sam is back to normal.

Fire burns around the homeless encampment and smoke filters into my lungs as I see Sam and Dean. Dean looks bloodied and bruised as he rests against a pile of something I can't quite make out and Sam is assisting him with balance.

My gut immediately tells me something is wrong as I approach them and when I get closer, I notice that he's bleeding profusely from his abdomen.

"Hey sweetheart," Dean greets, his eyes fighting to stay awake.

"Dean you're gonna be okay, there's gotta be some spell or something to heal you," Sam says, frantically.

"Baby, come on fight," I plead, "you gotta stay alive for me."

"I love you," he replies, his eyes closing and his last breath leaves his lungs.

"Dean!" I cry. "No, no, no, please baby wake up."

And just like that Dean and my future with him was gone...

Hiii, lawd it's been a while since I wrote anything. I know I have another series to do but I am currently watching Supernatural and I just finished season 9 and I'm about to finish season 10. I got inspired to do this since this is basically the last half of season 9 and beginning of season 10 will be the next part if y'all want a part 2. Please like, comment, reblog if you liked it and on to the next one!

[biillyhargroves]

cas-babysitter-dean-pizzaman said: I have this headcanon were they help each other with their own traumas and just being the most supportive boyfriends to each other . Lot’s of cuddling and shit :)

this checks all my boxes!!! pls accept this Steve/Eddie/Billy moment, brought to you by Boys With Matching Scars(TM) and a shameless adoration of the entire hurt/comfort genre.

within our common threads (fic requests open)

Silver moonlight slants through smudged glass, warped in strange shadows as it filters through the gauzy curtains of the Munson trailer. Hands tremble in the dark, feel through the fog of stubborn sleeplessness to find the faucet, run the tap, fill a maybe-clean tumbler with lukewarm water. 

Eddie raises the cup to his lips, tilts his head back, and downs the whole thing in one gulp. He sets it on the counter, glances up and startles at his own reflection in the pitch-black kitchen window. 

“Shit,” Eddie mutters, scrubbing his hands over his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, presses his fists against his eyelids as if the pressure might shove away all the awful things that fill up his dreams these days. The scars on his sides burn in a way that makes him think his very cells remember, that they’ve all re-arranged themselves somehow, every little molecule of his skin ready for battle.  He sucks in a breath, counts to ten, releases it.

Eddie doesn’t hear Billy shuffle out of the bedroom, doesn’t hear Billy ask if he’s okay. He feels someone step up behind him, holds his breath and stills every muscle of his body until Billy’s arms curl around his middle, his touch warm and familiar. Eddie opens his eyes as Billy rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder and Billy says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, blinking until their reflections come into focus, until he can meet Billy’s eyes in the glass windowpane. Billy’s thumb slips beneath the hem of Eddie’s shirt, draws gentle circles on his skin. Eddie feels himself uncoil and leans against Billy’s chest. Billy takes his weight with ease. Eddie explains, “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah,” Billy mumbles softly, his breath tickling Eddie’s neck. “I know.” 

“I just—” Eddie starts, and then he shakes his head. “It’s just—”

Again, Billy says, “I know.”

“How do we do this?” Eddie asks. “I mean, really?”

“Do what?” asks Billy. Eddie drops his gaze. Billy holds him tighter. Eddie shifts in Billy’s grasp, turns around to face him, rests his hands on Billy’s sides, right over the thick skin of his scars. Billy looks down, frowning, shuddering ever so slightly at Eddie’s touch. When he raises his gaze again, Eddie looks sad.

“This,” he says, tracing the curve of one huge mark from Billy’s hip up to his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, leans forward, rests his against Billy and chokes back a sob when Billy’s arms hook tight around him, holding him even closer. He curls toward Billy, and Billy puts a hand on Eddie’s head, fingers tangled in Eddie’s hair. 

Billy is quiet. The truth is, he doesn’t have an answer. He has lived with scars for so long, his skin battered and bruised long before hell opened its mouth in Hawkins. These new ones, though...They’re different. He knows they are, and they are constant reminders of the evil lurking around every corner. They make him feel helpless, and so he holds Eddie even tighter, because if there is one small thing he can do in the face of such grave danger, it is to remind himself that he will never have to face it alone. 

Billy glances down the hall where the bedroom door yawns open. A small light is left on inside, a strange little lava lamp plucked out of a garage sale heap. Steve is still asleep, his chest rising and falling, one arm outstretched to the empty space once occupied by Eddie and Billy.

“Hey,” Billy says softly. “Come on.”

He nudges Eddie, and Eddie complies, lets himself be lead down the hall and into the bedroom. Billy guides Eddie onto the bed, crawls in behind him so that he is nestled between Steve and Billy. Steve must feel the shifting of the mattress because he blinks blearily up at them, finds Eddie sliding in beside him and meets Billy’s gaze over Eddie’s head.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, and Billy juts his chin toward Eddie, mouths, bad dream. This has become the norm. A cycle of nightmares, of one of them waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing, in desperate need of the others to hold him, to calm him, to reassure him. It seems that they take turns, and tonight is Eddie’s. Steve settles his head back onto his pillow, whispers, “C’mere,” as he pulls Eddie to him. He kisses Eddie’s temple, his forehead, and lets Eddie rest his head against Steve’s chest. 

Billy secures his arms around Eddie’s middle once more, reaching one arm across Eddie lacing his fingers with Steve’s. They don’t talk. They simple lay there, all three of them tangled together, until they each fall back to sleep.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Destiel Month, 6 Nov.: Trip

"Oh?" Dean wiggled closer. "Where would you like to go?"

deancas, established relationship, nsfw-ish

"I was thinking," Cas said.

Dean opened one eye to look at him. Cas, or at least his soft hair, looked improbably tidy. Only a little flush on his rough throat remained. On the other hand, to Dean's great delight, Cas like Dean was still incredibly naked. 

"Angelic post-coitus musings – sounds like a Penthouse column." Dean grinned lazily as he stretched long-ways down the mattress and wiggled his toes.

"I–" Cas closed his mouth and started again. "I was going to say I wouldn't call it that, but you're well aware I would not write a column for that publication."

Dean poked his leg with his big toe. "Don't let the naysayers get ya down. Dream big, buddy." He yawned and stretched some more. 

Cas rolled onto his side, facing Dean and wearing a patient-but-not-that-patient expression. "Are you going to go to sleep?"

Dean moved a little closer and hooked his foot around Cas's ankle. "You just fucked my brains out, man, you gotta give me time to recoup."

"On average your refractory period is approximately 23 minutes." Cas pushed a lock of hair off of Dean's forehead. "And it's been about 15 minutes already."

"Okay, Mr. Spock, first of all, this isn't a sprint, it's a marathon. Secondly, you don't need to pay that much attention to the clock–"

"Oh, I'm not." Cas shrugged. "There doesn't seem to be a clock in here. Our phones notwithstanding." 

He glanced over at the window. On the way into the cabin they'd thrown down their keys, phones, and bags in that general vicinity. They themselves had landed directly on the one well appointed bed. Their clothes were…everywhere.

Dean reached out and snagged the undershirt that was festooning the corner of the headboard and let it fall on the floor. "You're just, what? Able to keep – and remember, I guess – time, these particular times, by yourself? That an angel thing?"

Cas propped himself up on one arm. "Hmm. I oversaw a lot of celestial projects over the years. They often took a very long time to complete. Proper timekeeping was essential."

"You know having sex isn't the same kind of thing, right? Like there's no boss standing around with a clipboard checking off ticky boxes. Although that might be kinda interesting." Dean waggled his eyebrow and was gratified that Cas smiled in response. "All right. What were you thinking?"

"We should take a trip somewhere." 

Cas traced something on Dean's shoulder with a fingertip; Dean shivered to guess it was probably the ghostly outline of Cas's former handprint.

"We're technically already doing that." Dean let his hand curl around Cas's hipbone and marveled again at how good it felt to do so. "And we're even staying in a slightly more upscale accommodation than usual. Behold! We're in a cabin, but the bedside lamp is not shaped like a whiskey barrel. Pretty classy." 

Cas shook his head with what Dean felt confident was genuine fondness for him. "I meant a vacation devoid of potential dragons."

"Oh?" Dean wiggled closer. "Where would you like to go?"

"You're always talking about the beach." 

"Oh hell yeah." Dean got lost in the ocean blue of Cas's eyes for a second. Then he remembered: "It's November."

"The US has a whole southern coast, doesn't it?" Cas squinted. "Not to mention all the other parts of the world that aren't going into wintertime, or even if they are, it's warm there year round." He must've felt Dean's hesitation. "We don't have to go the second we return to the bunker."

"No, no, you're right." 

Dean started to imagine a long swath of white sand warmed by sunlight, and water clear as glass rippling in a tropical breeze. Fruity, frosty drinks and hot, lazy afternoons. The sea turned to flame at sunset. A beautiful resort room where he could lay Cas out and take him apart slowly, taste every inch of tanned, salty skin, render him helpless with pleasure. 

Cas's eyes had been tracking Dean's and growing darker.

"We'll do some research when we get home, figure out a time and destination," Dean murmured against Cas's mouth, as the flat of Cas's hand began to wander down his chest. "How many minutes we at?"

"Twenty," Cas said, already sounding a little out of breath.

"Ahead of schedule then," Dean said, rolling onto his back as Cas rose up over him.

Planning for a trip could be half the fun. Practicing for a trip, even nicer.

[takerfoxx]

Hey.

Surprise! Here's the final piece of the Walpurgis Nights crew watch The Rebellion Story!

Reminder:

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

The room that Homulilly shared with her girlfriend Kriemhild Gretchen was an eclectic mix of Gretchen’s love for bright and cheery colors and Homulilly’s preference for the macabre, from the gothic desk lamp surrounded by tiny glass kittens to the imitation human skull adorned with a crown of daisies. A newcomer might find their spirits uplifted by how warm and welcoming it was, only to then feel quite unsettled once they noticed the more gloomy bits of décor.

Not now, though. Now it was all gloomy, and for once the reason was Gretchen.

The lights were out, the curtains drawn, and Gretchen was seated on the side of the bed, shoulders slumped in misery, her legs lying in limp curls all over the floor like wet spaghetti noodles. Her face was all blotchy from crying.

Homulilly’s chest tightened up. Carefully shutting the door behind her, she walked over to Gretchen, careful to not step on any of her legs, and sat down next to her.

“Um, are you...okay?” Homulilly said, folding her hands in her lap.

Swallowing hard, Gretchen stared down at the spiral patterns her legs had formed on the floor. “Yeah. But um, not really. I don't know.”

Fortunately, the two of them knew each other so well that Homulilly didn’t have any difficulty sorting out what Gretchen meant. Gretchen was fine in that she wasn’t hurt, in any danger, and would probably be fine before too long, but she was very upset and feeling really confused.

“Are you mad at me?” Homulilly said.

Sniffling, Gretchen grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and blew her nose. “A little. But not really,” she said as she tossed it into the wastebasket.

Homulilly considered that answer. Everything in the movie had been so confusing in how to related to the residents of the house that it was hard to separate the two.

“Are you...more upset about what Homura did to Madoka, or what she did to herself?” she said.

Gretchen made a face. “I...I’m not sure. I mean, why did she do that to her? To Madoka, I mean. She was getting her happy ending! They were going to be together. Like us! Isn’t that what she wanted?”

Before Homulilly could respond, Gretchen immediately launched into the rebuttal. “And I know! Kyubey would try again! But did she have to do it like that? Couldn’t she have gone with Madoka and then they could’ve come up with something together after?”

Homulilly shrugged. “Maybe. But I don't think Homura wanted that.”

“Why?”

“I think...I think Homura just...broke. I think she was so messed up by...by everything that had been done to her, everything she went through that she...couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Okay, but why do that?”

“Because it was the only way she could have any control over anything.”

Her brow furrowing, Gretchen glanced over to Homulilly in confusion.

“Think about it,” Homulilly urged. “Everything she tried, she failed. Going back in time didn’t work. She had to watch you...um, watch Madoka die over and over again. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t win. And then Madoka made her big, witch-erasing wish, it took her away from Homura for good. She lost again.”

Now Gretchen was fully turned toward Homulilly, silently listening.

“It’s like what we said earlier. I think Homura told Kyubey about Madoka and the wishes because she was so miserable in the new world without Madoka that she was almost hoping that he’d do something like what he did. She wanted Madoka back. But when he did, it ended up being in the worst way possible. Even when she got what she wanted, she still lost!”

Letting out a long and slow exhale, Homulilly said, “No matter what she did, she always ended up as a pawn in someone else’s agenda. Even going with Madoka wouldn’t have changed that.”

Gretchen fell silent, mulling over Homulilly’s words. Then she sniffed, blew her nose, and muttered, “I…I get it. At least I think I do. I just don’t think…I don’t think she should have done what others were doing to her. And I definitely don’t like how she was calling herself evil! Hasn’t the world been cruel enough to her, without her being cruel to herself?”

Homulilly found herself thinking back to her first few years as, well, herself, back when she and Gretchen had found themselves in the care of the Freehaven Integration Bureau. She had not liked herself very much back then, and it had taken a lot of work from both herself and those around her to help work past all those doubts and insecurities to accept herself for who she was. She could only imagine the absolute depths of the self-loathing that plagued Homura Akemi.

“Maybe we should stop, then,” she said. “Charlotte was right. This was a bad idea.”

“Stop?” Despite how much the movie had distressed her, Gretchen seemed even more upset by the idea of not finishing it. “We can’t! We can’t just leave things like that!”

“But what if what happens next is even worse?”

Again Gretchen did not respond, though her curling legs suddenly lay flat, indicating that she was deep in thought.

Then, so suddenly that it took Homulilly by surprise, she sprang up, all twelve legs lifting her almost all the way to the ceiling.

“Then at least we’ll know,” she said, the determination evident in her voice. “But I can’t have all that eating at my mind. I need to know how it turns out.”

For as sweet and unassuming as Gretchen was, when she had her mind set on something, it was impossible to deter her. And honestly, Homulilly did agree. “Okay,” she said, standing up as well. “Let’s finish this nightmare.”

…

=Homulilly and Gretchen return=

G: Hey.

Op: Oh, uh, hi.

Ca: Gretchen, are you-

G: I’m fine. I’m sorry I ran out like that.

Op: And are you two-

H: We talked it over. We’re okay.

Op: Okay. Because if you want to stop…

G: I told you. I need to see how this ends. I can’t just leave things like that. But I promise I won’t run out again.

Ok: Okay then. Um, let’s again remind ourselves that this is an alternate Bad Future and none of this actually happened, and we’re all happy together, okay?

Ca: Agreed.

Op: Right there with yah, babe.

Ch: Sounds good to me.

G: Yes. Right. This didn’t happen.

Ch: Well, if you believe in multiverse theory-

H: Just play the movie.

…

Ch: Okay, so, we’re in the real world now?

Ca: I think so. Albeit one that Homura’s…overwritten.

G: What does that even mean? Is she God now? And don’t call her the Devil!

Op: Why are you looking at me? I wasn’t going to say it.

Ok: You were thinking it.

Op: I was thinking it a little.

…

H: Well, apparently the new God likes to have tea parties in the middle of the street.

Ok: For reasons.

Ca: Oh. It’s…me. Well, at least I’m still alive.

Ok: What the hell was that blue mouse thing?

Ca: Um, that was…one of Charlotte’s familiars.

Ch: I-

Op: What was it doing outside of a labyrinth? Actually, you know what? I don’t care. My weird threshold has been thoroughly maxed out.

H: How do you even remember what her familiars look like? Wasn’t that over twenty years ago?

Ca: Believe me, some things still out in the memory.

Ok: Wait, I changed first, right? Did I have familiars?

Ca: You two merged pretty quickly, and by then we were done with the familiars.

Ok: So, me and Charlotte joined souls before anyone else.

=thoughtful pause=

Ch: I refuse to entertain this line of thought any further.

Ok: Ouch. Tell me how you really feel.

Ch: Oh, for the love of…

…

H: Who am I talking to?

Op: Um, the waiter? Yourself?

Ok: Oh! There goes your cup.

Ch: Clumsy God.

Ca: Is that feather from Homura’s wing? How’d I-Never mind.

…

Op: Oh. I’m here, now. Feeding the birds.

Ok: That you are.

Op: Yup. Just me feeding the fucked-up birds that I suppose I can actually see.

Ch: You don’t seem very concerned.

Op: Maybe they just look like magpies to me?

Ok: It is nice of you to be so sharing with the unholy abominations.

Op: Oh, thanks a lot, you fucked-up children! Made me waste an apple! Ungrateful little brats.

Ch: You do look kind of cool looking over everyone from that tree, though.

Op: I always look cool. Looking cool is my default. Get on my level, scrubs.

…

Ok: Oh. Me.

G: You look angry.

Ok: Well, apparently I have a bullshit detector.

Ca: We’re not going to see another fight, are we?

Ch: It’s a little late in the movie for another action scene.

Op: Besides. Homura would absolutely wipe the floor with her.

Ok: Hey!

Op: Sorry, babe. But she’s God now. You’re just a little outclassed.

Ok: Hey, I can beat up a god. Just watch me. Bring me a god right now, and I’ll beat them up.

H: You sure you want to go?

Ok: You’re no god.

H: Are you sure about that? Maybe I’ve been one this whole time and just never told anyone.

=Charlotte eyes her suspiciously=

…

Ch: On the one hand, you really got to admire how fluid the animation is. On the other, what the hell is she doing with her hands?

Ok: You do weird things with your hands all the time!

Ch: I’m autistic. It’s called stimming. Homura’s just doing it to be dramatic.

Op: She is pretty extra, not gonna lie.

G: Wait, she only captured my human part? What about the rest of me?

Op: Dunno. Maybe it’s still there. Being God.

Ok: So, there’s two Gods now?

Ch: More God and-

=Gretchen glares=

Ch: -and okay, never mind.

…

G: You’re not evil! Stop calling yourself-Huh?

Ch: And Homura’s familiars have all decided to take a swan dive. Would that even kill them?

Op: Somehow, that’s less disturbing than how much they’re smiling.

Ok: WOW! She’s leaning in awfully close! Personal bubble, come on!

Ch: See? She just likes being dramatic.

H: Do I ever get that dramatic?

Op: You have your moments, but this is way over the top.

Ok: Oh, so Sayaka can just summon me up whenever she needs someone’s ass kicked. Gotta admit, I don’t know how I feel about that.

Ch: It does raise a lot of weird questions about the connection between Puella Magi and witches.

Op: At least she didn’t stab her own heart out this time.

Ch: I don’t know. That was pretty metal.

G: You guys are sick.

…

Ok: Oh, hang on, what is she doing to me?

H: Oh, no.

Ca: I have a feeling that she’s wiping Sayaka’s memories.

Ok: I did not consent to this!

Op: None of us did.

H: I’m starting to…I’m really starting to dislike where this is-Wait, did I just get beaned by a tomato?

Ch: Her own familiars threw it. That is some deep self-loathing.

H: What is it going to take? When will you finally be satisfied?

Op: Starting to have second thoughts?

H: I already did. Look, I’m not going say I didn’t enjoy what I-Damn. What she did to Kyubey. But brainwashing everyone is too far!

G: Homulilly…

H: And she is just playing into the whole “Devil” thing way too hard! Oh, look at me, I’m so edgy, I’m dancing around in a skanky black dress calling myself evil! Why don’t you get a pipe organ going while you’re at it?

G: I liked the dress, though…

Ch: Would this be a bad time to point around that they again have me prancing around in the background like the idiot child I’ve been made out to be?

H: Yes. You’ve had your turn to complain about your other self. Now it’s mine.

…

Op: And…memories gone!

Ok: So, wait, did I just never die now? Are all my cool Archangel powers gone?

Ca: It does seem to be-

G: Oh! Hitomi.

Ok: And violin-boy. Super.

Op: Well, they’re not surprised to see you, so I guess literally everything got wiped away.

G: Look, she’s crying! She still cares about them!

Ok: Well, yeah. They were my friends. Er, still are, I guess.

Op: At least you’ve moved on. Hey, wait, are we still together?

Ok: Oh, if Homura wiped that out, then I going to be so…

…

Ch: Your teacher is still on that bullshit.

Ca: Nice to know some things never change.

H: Is there…Is there a specific reason why Homura’s in the class? She literally rewrote the universe and set herself up as its new Dark God. She doesn’t have to go to school!

Op: Besides, with all that timelooping she’s done, she ought to have enough credits to graduate any university a dozen times over.

Ok: Pretty sure doing and redoing the same section in your textbook over and over again doesn’t equal a degree’s worth of knowledge.

G: Oh, wait, what? Why am I…

Ch: Did…Hang on, wasn’t Homura the transfer student?

G: I guess…she switched our places?

H: Why does she looks so maliciously bored, though? Isn’t this what she wanted?

Ch: Finally got the whole universe rearranged just how she wants, and it still feels like she’s just going through the motions.

…

Op: Well, give Madoka credit. Day one and she’s already assembled a harem.

Ok: Jealous much?

Op: Nah. Mine’s bigger and less…underaged.

G: You have a harem?

Ch: Have you seen the girls at her studio fawn over her?

Ok: It’s the suits.

Op: And the swagger. Ladies love a confident woman who knows how to dress.

G: Wait, a grade-schooler? Did that girl just say Madoka looks like a grade-schooler?

Ch: Um, yes?

G: Well, she’s wrong! I am definitely not a kid!

Ok: Well, your style is a little more grown-up than Madoka’s is. And hey, she really is like fourteen, so that’s technically a kid.

G: Not a grade-schooler, though! And I’m the same age as those girls are! Um, I mean, she is.

Op: Hey, Homulilly. Wouldn’t that mean-

H: There is no force in this universe or any other than could compel me to get involved in this conversation.

Op: Noted.

…

Op: And the Queen Bee arrives to scatter off the competition.

G: Oh, thank goodness.

Ok: Come on. Don’t you want a bunch of pretty girls as admirers?

G: No! They were being weird!

H: Yes, because Homura is so much better.

Op: Wow. You soured on her fast!

H: If she had just stuck to regaining Madoka and ruining Kyubey then it would at least be understandable. But now she’s brainwashing people, erasing their memories, and changing their lives to create her perfect world. That’s too far.

Ok: Um, would I sound crazy if I said that I still kind of get it?

=everyone stares at her=

Ok: Okay, just hear me out. I know what she’s doing is fucked up. But look at just how much she’s been jerked around by literally everyone and everything. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she fought, no matter what she suffered and sacrificed, it was ruined by stuff that she couldn’t control. So she snapped and took all the control. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t at least get it.

Ch: Um, can’t say I really disagree, but did you catch the part about her switching up Madoka’s life so Madoka was the one who was gone for a long time?

Ok: Yeah?

Ch: So, wouldn’t that meant that she kind of erased Madoka and Sayaka’s friendship? Maybe as a way to get Sayaka permanently out of the way?

Ok: Oh. Oh, wow.

H: That’s what I mean. She’s…basically playing dolls with all of you. And while I do still understand it, it doesn’t really justify any of it.

Ca: Maybe this isn’t about what’s morally right or wrong. Maybe it’s not about good guys or bad guys. Maybe it’s about what happens when someone is unfairly pushed too far for too long and is never allowed to win.

…

Ok: They’re just really driving in the whole creepy vibe, aren’t they?

H: Was that closeup of her mouth really necessary?

Op: You know, for someone who literally rewrote the universe to give herself what she always wanted, you’d think she’d be enjoying it more.

Ok: Um…phrasing.

Op: That’s not what I mean! I mean, why is she being so weirdly distant and standoffish? She got the Madoka that she wanted, everything that was in the way now isn’t, literally nothing can keep her from finally making this…whatever it is work. So why is she acting so weird about it?

Ch: Well, if I had to guess, maybe she doesn’t know how to do it any other way? I mean, she’s done the whole Reset Time, Protect Madoka thing for so long, she probably can’t turn it off.

H: Also, she hates herself.

Ok: Wow.

H: I mean it. Remember that tomato? She hates herself for what she did, so she can’t even let herself enjoy it! This is her first meeting with the new Madoka, and she’s already sabotaging things!

Op: Damn.

Ch: That’s a good point. And didn’t she also do the same thing back in her witch’s labyrinth? I mean, that also was her version of a perfect world.

G: That’s sad. She deserves so much better.

H: Well, maybe she did…

G: She still does! Candeloro was right. She got pushed too far!

…

Ch: Oh, hang on. Is she remembering?

Op: Well, here’s a twist.

H: That got reaction out of Homura. She definitely didn’t expect this!

G: So am I going to get my powers back?

=cooldown hug=

G: Oh. Guess not.

Ok: Wait, did you want her to remember? Because that would probably lead to a fight!

Ch: God, can you imagine what that fight would look like? Probably rip the world to shreds.

H: I don’t think they would fight, even then.

Op: How would you resolve this, then?

H: I…am very glad that I don’t actually have to come up with an answer to that question.

Ch: …so, are the ribbons symbolic of something, or…

…

Ok: Is there a word for when something is really sad but also really fucked-up in a disturbing sort of way?

Op: The Rebellion Story.

Ch: =snorts back laughter=

Ca: And the sun sets on an oblivious city.

Ok: Oh, hello! Is that us meeting?

Op: Thanks for spilling my pocky.

Ok: No matter what the universe, nothing can keep us apart!

Ch: Aaannnddd a bunch of random familiars, just hanging out!

H: I’m thinking that they’re Homura’s minions now.

Ch: Oh. Great. Me.

Op: About to be crushed by cheese. How appropriate.

Ca: No, I’m there to save you! So we can be together as well!

=everyone stares=

Ca: Granted, in a purely…platonic sense. Because…I got nothing.

Ch: Shoulda just let me get crushed.

Ok: It’s how you always wanted to go.

…

Ch: Okay, that way to Good Morning, and that way to the Country of Sweets?

Ok: I kind of wanna see what that second one is like.

Op: I’m more interested in Good Morning. Is the whole place just perpetually stuck in the AM hours?

G: Oh! It’s my family!

Op: Well, at least you’re all back together and…about to get crushed by all those boxes. Seriously, what’s with huge piles of stuff just tumbling down in slow motion?

H: Maybe Homura messed up the gravity settings.

Ok: Um, what’s that spinning thing above the city?

Ch: Big Sister is watching you!

Op: And the Godoka statue. Because symbolism.

Ok: And…Wow, it’s over!

H: Thank! God.

Ok: Oka.

=Homulilly glares=

Ok: Sorry.

Ch: And roll credits!

Op: This song is way too cheery for what we were just subjected to.

Ok: And that’s not even getting to the visuals. Did the people who put this together even watch the film?

…

Op: Oh. An after-credits scene. That’s neat.

H: Oh, damn it.

Ok: Hey, it’s you!

H: No, it’s not!

Ch: Is there a reason why that hill has half of itself just missing?

H: Is there a reason why Homura set her chair all the way on the edge?

Ca: And the rat is here. Fantastic.

Op: Oh. More dancing. That’s-WOW!

Ok: Oh-ho-ho! Kyubey got fucked up!

H: At least she did that. I’ll give her that much.

G: Wait, huh?

Op: Um…

Ok: Did Homura just take a swan dive off a cliff?

Ch: More of a long tilt, and…Um.

H: …well, it’s not like it’ll kill her.

Op: Yeah, but I still have many questions.

Ch: It’s probably symbolic of her paradoxical self-loathing. Here she is, finally having gained everything she ever wanted, her greatest enemy lies defeated while she dances in victory with the symbol of her newfound power, and she caps it off by symbolically committing suicide. You know, like her familiars did earlier!

Op: No, I get that, it’s just…why?

Ch: I just said why.

Op: Not the writers, her! Why did she just off a cliff? It can’t hurt her, she’ll just end up lying at the bottom looking foolish. Why?

Ok: Probably just to be dramatic.

Op: Kind of pointless to do it without an audience.

Ch: You mean like us? We’re watching.

Op: Yeah, but does she know that?

Ch: I don’t know. Probably.

=silence=

Ok: Did anyone else feel a sharp chill running down your back?

…

Ch: Well, that’s…that’s the movie. That’s a look of how we all would have ended up if you all didn’t turn into witches while fighting me.

Ok: Hey, Candy. You said I was the first one to witch out, and that set the rest of you off, right?

Ca: Uh, r-right.

Ok: Okay. Well, you’re welcome.

=simultaneous sigh=

Op: Any thoughts?

H: Plenty. But most of them really should be told to a therapist.

Ch: Okay, I’m tearing the bandage off. Homura. Let’s talk about her.

G: Don’t.

H: No, we should. And you guys don’t need to remind me that it wasn’t really me. I know that. But it’s still pretty hard to watch.

G: What happened to her was horrible! No one should ever be pushed to that point.

Ok: Yeah, not gonna lie, I still don’t know how I feel about what she did. I mean, on the one hand, I do kind of get it, and sure, everyone’s alive again and all happy together, but on the other…

H: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m glad that she finally made Kyubey pay. But I can’t excuse what she did to all of you. She stole your memories and rebuilt your lives the way she wanted them to be, in a manner that was convenient for her. That’s just…not okay.

Ch: I think Candeloro had an interesting point earlier. Maybe Homura had been pushed to a point where moral judgments don’t really apply anymore.

H: Wait, so you’re saying that if someone suffers enough, they should have free reign to do whatever they please?

Ch: Of course not. I’m saying her case is unique. And it kind of is outside of our jurisdiction to judge.

H: But it was your lives she was playing with! Sayaka and Madoka were best friends, and she just took all of that away! Everything you had all fought for, everything you had endured-

Op: Lilly, she’s not saying Homura was justified, she’s saying that this whole situation is way out of her wheelhouse. It’s like trying to judge the Ideal Witches from our limited perspective.

Ca: I don’t know. I can think of a few things they can be judged for.

H: Well, I’d say even Homura agrees with me, seeing how much she still hated herself.

Ok: I’m just saying I can’t see her as evil, or whatever she’s calling herself.

Ch: There’s this saying I read once. ‘A child neglected by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.’ Basically, it was a cautionary tale about mistreating someone for too long.

H: But who was mistreating her? Like I said, I’m totally on board with her screwing over the Incubators. It’s just what she did to her friends that I have a problem with!

G: Then I guess what happened to all of us was for the best. We avoided that fate. And Homura, Madoka, Sayaka, Kyoko, Mami, and, um…D-Did we get a name for you?

Ch: I’d like to be left out of that list.

G: Right. Well, whoever you were, we all got our happy ending. None of that stuff happened!

Ch: Yeah, uh, speaking of which: fuck that kid!

Op: Wow. Speaking of self-loathing.

Ch: Ugh, it’s just so…You all were recognizable. But for me, they went with literally the most annoying depiction possible!

Op: Uh, who is ‘they’?

Ch: The writers!

Op: Right. The writers. Who are writing out our lives.

=long silence=

Ch: Well, those are some fucked-up implications.

Ok: Well, on the bright side, I’d like to say at the very least, Sayaka and Kyoko made for an awesome duo. So they got that much right!

G: I wish I had more to do.

Ok: You were literally God.

G: But I didn’t even know that until the end! And then only for like thirty seconds!

H: See what I mean?

Op: I liked the Cake Song. Can we rewatch the part with the Cake Song?

Ch: No.

Ok: I’m still going to go to bat for the soundtrack, though. There were some awesome tunes.

Op: Cakey. Cakey. Round cakey…

Ok: And some utterly bizarre ones.

Ch: The animation was fantastic. Trippy, but fantastic.

Op: That gun battle was amazing.

H: That part was cool.

Ca: And who won?

H: You’re not going to let that go, are you?

G: Well, as…upsetting as the end might have been, the story isn’t finished. It does seem like there’s supposed to be a follow-up. So maybe all those problems will be fixed!

H: I hope so.

Ok: Well, until then, I guess we can go get caught up and watch the show-

Everyone: NO!

[chronically-sawyer-pilled]

TCSM Sissy x OC

"Sweet Sugar" Part 7

Part 1

18+, Minors BEGONE (DNI)

Warnings for whole story: NSFW, Murder, Cannibalism, Drugging, Coercion, Slight noncon, Unwanted touching, Abuse, Blood, Knifeplay, Bondage, Kidnapping, Sweat stuff, human faces being worn, pet names (sweetie, sugar, sunshine) general horror themes. This is a work of pure fiction, pure horror fiction - the actions in this story are not to be taken as positive depictions of affection.

Josie awoke at a wooden dinner table, strapped down to a chair decorated in human bones and animal parts. She looked around desperately, the room was dim, with lamps made from what looked like human skin, and animal carcasses fashioned into strange decorum. Across from her was an impossibly old man, his skin white with wrinkles upon wrinkles, like he'd been in a mausoleum for a hundred years. The first to join them at the table was the man wearing the woman's face, he sat timidly, staring at Josie before looking away nervously. The next was a thin young man with a red birthmark streaked across his face, he looked dishevelled and ragged. "you must be the girl we were lookin' for! That's her, isn't it leatherface?" He laughed to the man beside him. Johnny soon followed with Nancy behind him, he had a scowl across his face and was holding a damp cloth to his forehead, his arms were covered in bandages. The woman with him sat down beside him, whispering unheard words into his ear, his eyes never left Josie's, he just stared, angrily - furiously.

Next at the table was the old man, he sat nervously with his hands clasped together, taking a deep sigh, not even looking at Josie. Last was Sissy, who wandered in with her head down and her fists clenched. She was muttering something under her breath as she sat. "Now. How's about we get this show on the road." The old man sighed "I believe we're owed an explanation for this. You not only hid this girl from us and lied to us about it, but you damn near tore Johnny to shreds in the process too. What's so important about this girl that you had to turn against your family for her?" Nancy scowled "I hid her because I knew what would happen if I didn't. Every last one of you would be clamberin' for her! Scarin' her half to death!" Sissy cried "So what, you thought you were just gonna have her all to yerself? You'd rather starve your family than share? I thought we raised you better than that! You know we're on hard times!" The old man yelled "y-yeah, what the heck Sissy?" The thin man hissed "It's not like that!" "What, you're keepin her as a pet? We can't afford to be keepin no pets round here" The old man berated "She's not my pet, she's my soulmate! I love her, don't you understand that?!" Sissy screeched, causing the room to fall silent, and all eyes to fall on Josie, then back to Sissy. "Oh Sissy…" Nancy sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead, the old man looked around the room, sharing a confused look with the thin man. "What like… like as a best friend or-" The old man started "No, Drayton. Like a girlfriend." Nancy sighed "But… but they're both girls aren't they?" "Yes, but… I don't know. She must have learned this while she was up in California." "Like… you're in love the way g-grandpa and grandma were?" The skinny man stuttered "More than that. Her and I are bonded, we're soulmates, I know it. I felt it." "What a load of horseshit." Johnny muttered. "Johnny, language!" Nancy snapped "I mean… I guess there's no reason for it not to work like that. If Johnny's allowed to bring girls round here I suppose there's no reason Sissy shouldn't either. Especially since they can't spring no little ones." Drayton nervously chuckled to himself. "Grandpa, what do you think of this?" Nancy asked, earning only a strained groan in response "See? You hear that?! Grandpa believes me, he believes in true love!" Sissy yelled, leaping out of her seat. "Alright well… if you're gonna be keepin' this girl round here. She's got to be loyal to the family. We can't have her runnin' off willy nilly to go bring trouble round here y'know?" said Drayton, sharing a knowing glance with Nancy "Oh you don't gotta worry about a thing, she'll be as loyal as a dog, won't you sunshine?" Sissy asked "mmf." "Will she be willin' to help keep things clean round here?" Drayton asked "mmf." "And she'll be willing to help tidy up any trouble that comes our way, won't she?" Nancy asked "mmf…" "S…Sissy, she'll play hide and seek with us right? Won't she?!" The skinny man laughed "Of course she will! She'll do anything! So you'll let me keep her?!" Sissy asked, excitement lacing her words "Hold on now, she's gotta pass the most important part of bein' a member of this family. Gettin' involved in the family business. Boy, go get dinner out of the oven." Drayton snapped, commanding the man in the skin mask to scurry off into the kitchen.

[justanotherfanfolks]

Twisted Wonderland Main Story Scattered Thoughts (Prologue Chapter 9-12)

Time for something new, baby! Hello villain statues! Someone ready to get scorched at some point? Grim doesn’t know them, my poor Disney heart. ACE! ACE! ACE! BUDDY I’VE BEEN WAITING TO SEE YOU! You know, Queenie looks kind of chill in the statue. Okay, funny story, when I first saw Riddle he was always talking about having peoples’ heads if they broke the rules. I hadn’t seen what his unique magic was, so I thought he was genuinely threatening to decapitate people. Grim: She’d decaptiate people? That’s messed up! Ace: Cool, right? I’m a big fan of hers! Oh my gosh, ACE! Pick better idols. Wait they think she was kind all the time? Uhhhhhh… Ah, Grim’s already calling Yuu his hench-human. Ace called Yuu’s name weird. RIP. Ace is the lorekeepr! He’s just explaining everyone, cool! “Earn it through hard work and elaborate scheme” sure Acey, let’s call it that. Hyena equality! This is why Ruggie vibes with the dude. The twisted views of these villains is so interesting! Except they were genuinely bad. History must have been massively rewritten in their favor. Yet the heroes are still considered heroes. Weird. I take it everyone just heard Ursula’s song and went “Oh yeah, she loved helping people!” Yeah, helping them help herself. Grim wants to follow in her footsteps. Grim is hungry for lore. Me too, this is so interesting! Heh, staff. First TWST joke I ever saw was someone saying how you’ll see a TWST character and you’d find out they were twisted from Jafar’s staff. I mean Epel is the poison apple, so they were not wrong. Hang on, hang on, hang on. Scalding Sands event discussed the beautiful relationship between a princess and a street rat (Jasmine and Aladdin). But Jafar is praised for exposing a guy pretending to be a prince to get closer to the princess. It’s like people split the stories in half and made sure no one made the connections! He used the lamp to become sultan, no one questioning how? Or mentioning how he went crazy with power, became a genie, got stuck in the lamp, and rocketed into the cave of wonders? Ace, we’re calling doing whatever it takes to stay the most beautiful dedication? Dedication. Do you know what she did? Homegirl’s statue is literally holding the apple she tried to murder her stepdaughter with! And she’s good at making poison you say, put the pieces together child! “I gotta respect the hustle” He’s a fan boy through and through for these 7! Okay, I will say Ace is spitting straight facts for Hades. I mean, the guy really got the short end of the stick. MALEFICENT! Yes, she’s cool, please continue Ace! The whiplash! Ace no! He really started up a conversation only to turn around and use it as an insult. Oh, that’s it? Next chapter now, I'm invested!

Wait, is that a battle? A BATTLE? THE BOYS ARE FIGHTING! The music died. Chaos music! He’s laughing so much! Wait, how does he know they are janitors? Ah- hey I know who they are! For some reason Yuu doesn’t, come on Yuu! Ace: I just wanted to have some audacity, so byeee! Grim no! Grim! It’s not worth! Explodey head? Oh, he’s insulting his hair! But I like his hair. Wind boy! Oh, hello NPCs. Such boys. Yuu, of couse wind magic is a thing! I’m embarrassed to be shadowing you right now. Ooo, battle time. OH BATTLE EXPLANATION! I really should have played the main story earlier, I’ve been winging this for months! Ah, Duo Magic my beloved! 5000 too? Ace, buddy. I will end you with my cards. AHHHH, THE STATUE! THAT’S HOW THEY DID IT! ACE IS MORTIFIED! Grim: You should have let me burn you to a crisp! Ah, another Crowley jumpscare! So they burn a statue, and then when Deuce joins they party they break a chandelier. The Chaos Quartet is going to be crazy. Actually, how does Crowley catch people? Yuu’s getting blamed to, RIP. 100 WINDOWS, OH MY GOSH! Ooo, more gems!

Oh, those were timeskips! Ace is flaking. Talking Painting! I didn’t know we got to meet those! I remember Rosalia from Cater’s vignette. The painting is using Wonderland logic. Hm, I didn’t have that much to say.

Yay! New Twistune! I have all the event ones so far, but a new one for the main story excites me! Hall of Mirrors! I love how the gates look different! Grim jumpscare! I don’t know who ro root for. Fair is fair, but I think Grim is out for blood. DEUCE! DEUCEY! MY BOY! Deuce, that’s a lot of ideas you got there… can you even execute that? Maybe tackle him? Wait! WAIT! Is it caldron time? AHHHHH YES I LOVE HIS CAULDRONS! Ace, you alive buddy? Oh, they about to get exposed to Deuce. I wonder when Riddle found out they burned the Queen of Hearts statue. I mean, it’s his counterpart. Oh Deuce, stick with them long enough and you’ll get in trouble, too. Who is he, Ace. He’s Juice. “Don’t you remember your own classmate?” Deuce, there’s like 26 people per class and it’s the first day, how would he? And he doesn’t remember either! Ah, the start of the most iconic TWST Duo. Move over Ramshackle Duo, Adeuce has been united. Good point, where did Grim go? Grim wanted to shirk responsibility too! Y’all are so fake! JUICE! I love that joke so much! Deuce didn’t sign up for this. “Useless janitor friend” yikes, sorry Yuu. Oh yeah, the Twistune! I forgot already! …Two rows of green notes. I’ve done blue and red notes, but two green notes? MMMM, let’s see how this goes. Oh, this music is also a bop! Juice! Oh I love it already! Oh, that did seem as bad as I thought it would be. Adeuce really be sharing that braincell! How can they be so in sync and yet not in sync at all? Gems! Oh love this game, this is a really good Prologue!

[tuttertime]

@justcastiel day 3 trueform

here’s a fic inspired by the concept of cas posting. is it a little strange? yeah. i had fun tho. enjoy <3

After he fell what Cas felt most was relief. He hadn’t been an angel for years before he fell for good.

His body felt wrong though, now that that form was all he had. Jimmy Novak of Pontiac, IL. His body had always been his trueform. When he fell his body was now just that, his body.

He explained this once to Dean, when he’d asked him how he was holding up, and Dean has responded with the customary kind but coarse sympathy.

But he still felt a tugging of discomfort. Something he didn’t think he could voice.

It was late. Dean had one hand on the wheel and was propping his head up with the other. Occasionally, his face was bathed in the golden light of a passing streetlamp. His green eyes caught the light and still held brightly despite his weariness.

They had lapsed into silence 10 minutes back. They were at the portion of every trip where every cell in your body just wants to be there already and is tugging ahead to a bed and sleep.

Yellow light filled the car and to cas’ eyes, Dean glowed. Then back to darkness. Cas shifted for a moment. Cleared his throat.

“Sorry, bud. ‘Know you’re used to zappin’ around. But we’ll get there in about 20 more minutes.”

Cas blinked at him.

“Ok. Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah. You good, man? Seeming, I don’t know shifty. You getting restless? I know you can’t just bolt like you used to, but-“ Dean trails off

“I’m adjusting” it was clipped.

Silence again.

And then softly “Dean, you’ve never seen me.”

“What? Man, you’re right here. I can reach out and touch you if I wanted.”

Cas sank a little.

“No, Dean. You never really saw me. My...true form.”

“Oh.” Dean masked the startled sound in his voice. “Well, I don’t know what to tell ya. I like my eyes and I like not having them burned out of my skull so I’d say that might’ve been for the best.”

He said it evenly and kept his eyes dead ahead.

Silence.

Under the next street lamp, he took a quick glance at the man in the seat next to him. And Cas met his eyes directly. Dean’s mouth felt stale. That comment had probably been in poor taste.

Cas spoke a moment later. His voice had the usual tone that always commanded Dean’s attention, but it seemed tinged with something else.

“Dean, I’ve seen your soul. I know your body inside and out. I formed every inch of you again- and you have never seen me.” Cas paused. As if waiting for a reply, but it didn’t come. Dean sat there.  The road outside continue to pass under them, but inside the car was deadly still.

“Dean, this body is not mine.”

Now Dean shifted uncomfortably. And took a moment before he spoke.

“Umm. I mean...you could’ve chosen a worse vessel.” He sounded uncertain, “I always, ummm, I don’t, man I always like this look for you. I mean I thought it suited you-or whatever.” Dean stumbled a bit.

Cas’ eyes seemed to see right through him. Into his soul again.

“Well, I’m glad you don’t find Jimmy Novak to be an unattractive man.”

“Cas” it comes out a little too soft, a little too tender, “man, most people haven’t seen each other’s souls, ok? Most people didn’t rebuild someone and raise them from hell. That doesn’t mean they don’t know the other person’s soul.”

As soon as it was out of his mouth Dean realized how desperately earnest it sounded.

“We aren’t most people.” Was all Cas said.

“Well fuck, man. Sam, I haven’t seen his soul. He hasn’t seen mine. And I know that kid better than he knows himself. I probably know him better than I know myself too.”

“Fine. I know, there’s not anything we could do about it now anyway.” This time there was certainly a current of anger in Cas’ voice. He want Dean to understand that this felt important. Dean wasn’t taking this seriously.

Cas sighed in his exaggerated way.

“I know you are accustomed to this body. I know this the body you have always known me in. You’ve grown fond of these physical characteristics. But, Dean this isn’t what I look - looked like.” At the correction the anger faded and left a hollowness.

The brief moment of street light caught Cas’ eyes and highlighted the furrow of his brow the familiar nose. And lips. But Dean didn’t see it. He was looking straight ahead. The words had startled him. You’ve grown fond of these physical characteristics. He scrambled for a reason that didn’t sound overly...fond.

In the end all that came out was, “You think I just see your body?”

In the silence that followed Dean rush into an attempt to fill it.

“Like you think all people see when we look at each other is the body? You think that...like.. god I don’t know. You think when I feel in love with someone for the first time all that mattered was the body. That was all i saw. You can see people’s souls, man. Angel or not. The first time I fell in love, man, I fell hard. Cassie. I told you about her. Man, when I looked at her it was like a thousand suns and all that bullshit. I mean it sounds sappy as hell but when I looked at her, I mean she was beautiful. She was like-“ he took a breath, he needed to stop but he kept going, “like she, I don’t know. She was like sitting in a field on a warm summer day or a sweet bottle of Coca Cola, the good kind real sugar and all that.”

He was rambling.

Then softly as the pulled into the motel parking lot, “I don’t know, I’d like to think  that even if you can’t see someone’s soul you can feel it.”

He fumbled with the car keys in his hand, “You know I’d like to think I’m not a total superficial guy. You can sense that kind thing about some. Even you can’t see it. Maybe that’s even more powerful you know. It’s faith.”

Then with a jerk he open the door and stepped out.

Cas sat there. And sat there. His thoughts weren’t collecting into concrete thoughts.

Once he stepped out he knew he had to say something as Dean hand him a duffle and slammed the trunk door.

“Dean, that was strangely profound.”

Dean’s body language had stiffened after stepping into the parking lot.

“If you mention any of that bullshit to Sam I will fucking kill you. Which I can do for real now.”

They paid for the room. Got the key. And walked to the door of the somewhat shabby double room.

Dean didn’t bother to turn on the light. Just dropped his bag to the floor and flopped on the nearer bed.

Cas methodically set down his bag and stripped to his T-shirt and boxers before pulling back the sheets.

“Goodnight, Dean”

“‘Night, bud.” Dean mumbled from face down on the bed.

The room was hot and Dean finally motivated himself to divest of his pants and shirt before moving to open the window for some cool air. He then flopped face down again on the bed.

A moment later.

“Cas, you still up?”

No reply.

“I think you’re like that window. The light shining through that thin curtain. The breeze coming in. God the breeze feels good.”

“Dean?” A low voice reached across the dark room.

“Shit, man.  you were wake?” A tinny crack of panic hid in Dean’s voice.

“Dean, umm--Thank You.”

“What, I’m just babbling. I’m tired as hell. But cooped up in the car too so I don’t know. It’s hot.  Can’t sleep. I-“

“Well, thank you.”

Silence. Heat. Some rustling of sheets.

“Cas? You see that alarm clock?

“Mmhmm”

“You’re that too. It’s so piercing and bright. I felt like it’s interrogating me.”

“Do you feel like I do that?”

“Don’t know. You really stare a lot, bud.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No it’s not bad. It’s just. You look right through a guy sometimes. It’s weird.” Dean trailed off.

He then he spoke a little louder and harsher, “Shit, it bright it here. Seriously, how’re you supposed to sleep.”

The clock blinked back at him. He heard movement from the other end of the room. In a moment Cas’ form was silhouetted against the open window.

Hell it’s like he was meant to be looked at that way. Outlined starkly against then soft curtains. Viewed only via absence. How doesn’t he know that he looks perfectly himself? Dean’s garbled mind wasn’t coherent, even to himself.

Cas bent and picked up something of the floor. Dean’s discarded shirt. Cas draped it over the curtain-rod, fashioning a second curtain.

He turned to face Dean.

“Better?”

“Yeah, a bit. Thanks, you didn’t have to.”

“You know dean I think if I had to describe your soul-“ Dean expected a very literal description to follow. A deeply Cas description. But instead, “I think it’s little one of these warm nights.”

Dean was a little taken aback.

“Warm, Cas, man, it’s boiling in here.”

“I find it somewhat pleasant actually. And I don’t think it’s entirely inaccurate, Dean. Aside from the temperature of your soul, you are a very passionate and fierce individual. I could see that in your soul.”  

Cas was still vaguely outlined against the window. Dean could see his mussed hair and the curve of his neck and shoulders.

“Well ok then. We should probably try to get a solid few hours though.”

Cas’ outline vanished and Dean could hear his feet padding back to the bed across from him.

“I suppose. Sleeping is still something I’m adjusting to.”

Dean rolled to his side to face the other bed.

“Yeah,” he said into a yawn.

“The heat doesn’t help.” Cas’ voice rose through the muggy air.

“ 'thought you said you liked it.”

“I do. I’m just stating that it also makes it difficult to sleep.”

“Ok, I’m not going to pretend to understand that logic,” Dean mumbled as he positioned himself to lay on top of the sheets instead of under them.

On the other side of the room, Cas flopped around on his bed. The air made him lethargic but also restless. A frustration settled over him.

“Cas, you’re flipping and flopping like a fish over there.”

Cas grumbled something incoherent. Dean stood above him and Cas blinked confused. Dean yanked him out of bed with force. Grabbed the room key and pulled him out the door.

“Sammy and I used to do this sometimes. Gets hot as hell sometimes and I make him go get us ice from the machine out here. See.”

He pointed at the dully humming machine.

Cas still look a little perplexed. He tilted his head so slightly and his face caught the blue glow of the ice machine.

“Know you’re like the too” Dean whispered in the humid night air. “The humming, ambient. Always there in the background even if you try to ignore it. And again that light.”

He pushed for ice and caught some cubes in his hand.

“You’re comparing my true form to a vending machine?” Cas jabbed but pleasantly.

Dean met his eyes. The ice in his hand began to melt and drip down to the pavement.

“Does that count as blasphemy or something? I mean I’ve tried to kill God already so I don’t think this is my biggest offense.”

He brought the ice the back of his neck to cool himself quickly.

Cas smiled warmly at him, “No, Dean, I just found it funny that you. Well that you found a ice machine beautiful. You find divinity in the strangest things. You worship a sandwich or a car. I would’ve laughed at that but you taught me-“ he was cut off as Dean pressed a fresh hand full of nice to the back of his neck. It melted against his burning skin and melted into the collar of his thin cotton shirt. He hummed at the sensation. He pressed back into the touch.

“I don’t know. I don’t think shit’s that deep”

Looking at Cas in that moment though Dean realized that was a lie as it left his lips. Standing there with a former angel in ecstasy at the feeling of ice and the throbbing of the machine behind him he could feel something of the devine. The way the light illuminated Cas’ features. His parted lips. The taunting way the coloring managed to mimic the slips of Cas’ grace Dean had witnessed on occasion.

These machines were littered at motels just like this one all across America. But places of worship are built all across America too aren’t they? Does abundance make them any less holy?

He pulled his hand back. Cas let out a sigh. The night wrapped around them again.

“Cas, you know you’re beautiful just like this, right?” Dean barely spoke it. His voice hitched.

Cas squinted at him.

“I mean, you you. Not just your body but that too. I mean it’s yours now right...I mean Jimmy’s-“ Dean waved his hand, “gone...or whatever”

Cas nodded slowly.

“So make it yours, man. That body is yours. At this point I’ve seen your true form; and that’s it.”

Cas had that pained look in his eyes again.

“ look, bud, I’m not trying to be mean it’s just- we’ll you don’t want to be God’s power ranger again do you?”

“No, but-“

“Well, then I don’t know what else to tell you. This is what you’ve got. We’re all good that. You gotta fund a way you can be good with that too, Cas. I mean I can help. I’ve been trying. But-“

“Thank you, Dean. You’ve been very good to me.” Cas’ voice has less gravel to it but still more gravity than usual. It was a gravity that always seemed to be trying to pull at Dean.

Dean shrugged it off. But Cas’ tugged slightly at his hand, still cold and wet from the ice.

A moment later Dean found himself contained in a hug, Cas’ arms wrapped tight around him. Both their bodies’ were hot and sticky from the oppressive night air. Cas’ hair tickled Dean’s ear as he pulled tightened his grip.

They stood there, the sound of distance summer crickets interrupted by the engine of a car on the highway behind them.

They stuck together despite the damp air, Cas pressed his face into the crook of Dean’s neck, Dean stroking his hair softly.

“We’ll be ok, man. We’ll be ok.” He whispered. He could feel Cas nodding against him, and kissed his cheek. It was light, chaste, and all most unconcise, but when Cas pull away it gave Dean pause. Cas looked at him intently, deep in his eyes, and blinked slowly, before moving in. His lips brushed gently, hesitant, against Dean’s. Dean breathed him in and brought his hand to rest tenderly on the nape of Cas’ neck, nudging against Cas in response. Dean kissed Cas, with more passion than tenderness now, in Cas’ enthusiasm to return his kiss their teeth crashed together. Dean broke the kiss gently, cupping Cas’ cheek. He sighed, “It’s late. Let’s head back to the room, ok? Let’s try and get some sleep.”

He placed a soft kiss on the base of Cas’ throat before turning towards their room.

[thewnchstrs]

Red Sky at Morning

Pairing: Winchester!Sister (OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie investigate the mysterious demise of drowning victims who were nowhere near water at the time of their death.

Disclaimers: toe-curling smut, mentions of death, mentions of murder

Word Count: 11.4K

S E R I E S   M A S T E R L I S T

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I watched the puddles fly past on the road below us, the street lamps reflecting in its shiny water. The car was silent, save for Dean's mixtape quietly playing through the speakers. It was the perfect breeding ground for my mind to race at a million miles a minute.

I glanced to the front of the car where Dean was rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. I could tell he hadn't been sleeping lately. In the middle of the night I'd wake up, catching him pouring over lore books about demons and crossroads deals. I felt so guilty over how much energy they were putting into trying to save me when I knew it was hopeless.

I'd also noticed the Colt, specifically, its missing bullet the night after we'd finished up our last hunt. I shifted on the seat, my eyes bouncing between the two of them.

“So, I've been waiting since Maple Springs," I began, my voice cutting through the quiet. Dean's eyes bounced up to mine in the rearview mirror as Sam looked at me over his shoulder. "You got something to tell me?”

Dean frowned as he thought about it. “It's not your birthday.”

“No.”

Sam hesitated, looking to Dean for help. “...Happy Purim? El, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking about—”

“There's a bullet missing from the Colt," I said, and instantly I knew this wasn't news to them. "You guys wanna tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans...”

“Ellie…” Dean sighed, but I cut him off.

“You went after her, didn’t you? The crossroads demon. After I told you not to!"

Sam shook his head. “Yeah, well...”

“You guys could have gotten yourselves killed!”

“We didn't," Dean countered. I chuckled in disbelief, shaking my head.

“And you shot her.”

“She was a smartass!”

I sat back against the leather seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “So, what? Does that mean I'm out of my deal?”

Sam looked back at me, “Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, El? No. Someone else holds the contract.”

“Who?”

“She wouldn't say.”

I brought my bottom lip between my teeth. “Well, we should find out who. Of course, our best lead would be the crossroads demon. Oh, wait a minute...”

“That's not funny," Dean shot at me.

“No, it's not! It was a stupid fucking risk, and you shouldn't have taken it!"

“We shouldn't have taken it?" Dean asked, incredulously. "You're our sister, Ellie. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, alright?”

I kept my eyes locked on his until he pulled them away to look back at the road. I knew Dean was right. They weren't going to stop until they found a way out of my deal, but I knew it wouldn't end well.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Our next case brought us to a wealthy neighborhood situated just beyond a lake lined with boat docks. Yachts and jet skis all parked, bobbing above the blue waters.

Our victim's closest living family member was the first person we decided to talk to. She was pushing eighty, her white hair pulled back into a loose bun revealing the large pearl earrings and pearl necklace she wore. She was holding an oil painting of her niece as she spoke, “But I don't understand. I already went over all this with the other detectives."

“Right, yes. But, see, we're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department – different departments," Dean said.

Sam nodded along to Dean's words. “So, Mrs. Case...”

“Please…" She said, cutting Sam off, "Ms. Case.”

Sam glanced to Dean and I as Ms. Case smiled fondly at him. Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Okay. Um, Ms. Case...you were the one who found your niece, correct?”

“I came home, she was in the shower," she confirmed.

“Drowned?” I questioned.

“So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?”

“How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death?" Dean asked, avoiding her question. "I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or...?”

Suddenly, Ms. Case broke out into a large grin. “Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?”

“Yep. Absolutely," Dean said immediately. "That Alex and us, we're like this.” Dean held up his two crossed fingers.

“Why didn't you say so?" She beamed as she took a seat on her floral patterned couch. "Alex has been such a comfort. But I’m sorry. I thought the case was solved.”

“Uh...well, no. No, not yet."

“I see.”

I cleared my throat, trying to get this woman back on topic. “So, anyways, we were talking about your niece.”

“Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat.”

“A boat?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I motioned toward the marina just outside Ms. Case's window. "Aren't there boats all over the place out there?"

“Well, yes, but this one she said was a ship...with great big masts and everything, just like one out of a pirate movie," she explained. "One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes...you think it could be a...ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship.”

Sam, Dean and I shared a look. “Well, um...could be.”

"Well. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you," Ms. Case said as she reached a hand out toward Sam, resting it on his arm and smirked up at him. "Anything at all.”

Dean and I desperately tried to hide our laughs behind our hands as Sam shot her a quick nod and quickly pulled his arm away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“What a crazy old broad," Dean laughed as we rounded the corner off of Ms. Case's property and back toward the busy main street.

“Why? Because she believes in ghosts?” Sam asked.

“Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound," I laughed, making Sam shake his head.

“Bite me.”

“Hey, not if she bites you first," I said, shivering. "So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job.”

“And we're thinking ghost ship, right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either," I said, recalling the research I'd done on the drive here.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings.”

“So, whatever's happening is just getting started," Sam concluded.

“What's the lore?” Dean asked.

“Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman–" Sam listed from what seemed like memory. "Almost all of them are death omens.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “So, what happens? You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?”

“Basically.”

Dean shook his head. “What's the next step?”

“Gotta I.D. the boat.”

“That shouldn't be too hard," I said. "I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?”

“I checked that too, actually," Sam said. "Over one hundred and fifty.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Wow...shit."

We continued walking along the pier toward the parking lot when Dean suddenly stopped, looking up and down the row of cars and the single, empty parking space.

“This is where we parked the car, right?” Dean asked.

I held a hand over my eyes as I double checked the line of cars. “I thought so.”

Dean stepped into the empty space, his hands held out at his sides. “Where's my car?”

“Did you feed the meter?” Sam asked.

“Yes, I fed the meter! Where’s my car!?" He shouted, turning around. "Somebody stole my car!”

I quickly shushed him as he continued to look around frantically. Bystanders were starting to stare at his outburst. “Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Dea—"

“I am calmed down! Somebody stole my ca—” Dean stopped, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, his face suddenly going ashen white.

“Whoa. Dean. Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy," Sam said, pulling him upright.

“The '67 Impala?" A familiar, British, voice said as it approached us. "Was that yours?”

The three of us turned toward the voice as we all groaned in unison, “Bela.”

Bela came to a stop in front of us. “I'm sorry. I had that car towed.”

“You what?!” Dean shouted at her.

She shrugged. “Well, it was in a tow-away zone.”

“No, it wasn't!”

“It was when I finished with it," she smirked.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

“A little yachting.”

“You're Alex," Sam said, making Dean and I look up at him in confusion. "You're working with that old lady.”

Suddenly it all began to click. “Gert's a dear old friend.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, right. What's your angle?”

“There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats.”

“And let me guess, it's all a con, none of it's real," Dean said.

“The comfort I provide them is very real.”

Bela began to turn away from us and down toward the pier. “How do you sleep at night?” Sam called after her.

“On silk sheets, rolling naked in money," she said. I raised my eyebrows. "Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from them, but you?”

“You shot me!”

"I barely grazed you," she countered, as if it made it any better. "Cute. But a bit of a drama queen, yeah?”

“You do know what's going on around here. This ghost ship thing, it is real," Dean said.

“I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way.”

“It isn't.”

“She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers."

I laughed humorlessly. "Yeah. God forbid you do something good for someone once in a while."

Bela clenched her jaw before changing the subject, "Look...just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. I'd get to that car if I were you...before they find the arsenal in the trunk. Ciao." We watched as Bela walked away, anger radiating off of the three of us.

“Can I shoot her?” Dean asked.

I sighed, nothing would make me happier. “Not in public.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The second victim was a middle aged man who lived just a few houses down from Gert's. It was a large, modern home with an even larger gated fence surrounding it.

The three of us piled out of the Impala, where from here we could see Bela, talking to the victim in a fake American accent.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Warren. Now, if you could just tell me one more time about the ship your brother saw-"

I rolled my eyes as we approached, flashing her and the victim our badges. “Ma'am, I think this man's been through quite enough. You should go.”

“But I just have a few more questions-"

“No, you don't," Sam interjected.

Bela gave the victim a tight-lipped smile before glaring at us. “Thank you for your time.”

“Sorry you had to deal with that," I said to the victim before yelling over my shoulder to Bela. "They're like roaches!”

“So, we heard you say your brother saw a ship," Dean inquired, laying a hand on the man's shoulder as he steered him in the other direction.

“Yeah, that's right," he confirmed. His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.

“Did he tell you what it looked like?”

The man nodded, running the sleeve of his sweater under his nose. “It was, uh...like the old Yankee clippers. A smuggling vessel. The rakish topsail, a barkentine rigging. Angel figurehead on the bow.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. “That's a lot of detail for a ship your brother saw.”

“My brother and I were night diving," he said. "I saw the ship, too.”

Sam, Dean and I shared a silent look. We may have just stumbled onto our next victim. Dean nodded. “Alright. Well, we'll be in touch.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Back at the car, the three of us were loading our weapons a few blocks down from the crime scene.

“I see you got your car back," Bela said as she came up from behind.

“You really want to come near me when I got a loaded gun in my hands?” Dean asked.

“Now, now. Mind your blood pressure. Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat?"

I pumped the sawed off shotgun in my hand before throwing it down into the arsenal and shutting the trunk. “That guy back there saw the ship.”

Bela narrowed her eyes at me. “Yeah? And?”

“And, he's going to die, so we have to save him," Sam said this time.

Bela cooed. “Aww. How sweet.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at her utter lack of empathy. “You think this is funny?”

“He's cannon fodder. He can't be saved in time, and you know it.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. "You're unbelievable."

Sam, Dean and I rounded the car, each of us opening our doors when Dean spoke up, “Yeah, well, see, we have souls, so...we're gonna try.”

“Yeah, well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this. But you have fun.”

Dean looked to Sam and I, almost in disbelief. “Hey, Bela, how'd you get like this, huh? What, did daddy not give you enough hugs or something?”

“I don't know. Your daddy give you enough?" She asked, matching his deadly glare. "Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're no better than I am.”

“We help people," Dean said.

Bela nearly laughed. “Come on. You do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're a stone's throw from being a serial killer. Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job and I do it. So, you tell me – which is healthier?”

“Bela, why don't you just leave? We've got work to do," Sam said.

“Yeah. You're 0 for 2," she said, looking at him now. "Bang-up job so far.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was well past sunset as we watched who we thought was going to be the next victim, the same guy who just lost his brother not 24 hours ago, Peter Warren.

From our parking spot, hidden in the dark across from Peter's brother's house, we could see him maneuvering around inside. I glanced back over to Sam who was shuffling through Peter and his brother, Howard's, records.

“Anything good?” I asked, rotating the straw around the slushie I begged Dean to buy me by the pier.

"Could you be any louder with that," Dean asked, annoyed.

"Can you be any louder with that," I mocked.

Sam shook his head, ignoring us. “No, not really. I mean, both brothers are Duke University grads. No criminal record. I mean, a few speeding tickets. They inherited their father's real estate fortune six years ago.”

“How much?”

“$112 million.”

Dean whistled. “Nice life.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I mean, nice, clean, aboveboard. So why did they see the ship? Why Sheila, too? What do they all have in common?”

I shrugged, shaking the shaved ice again, mostly to annoy Dean. “Maybe nothing.”

Sam continued squinting at the papers. “No. There's always something.”

“Hey, you!” A voice suddenly yelled from outside the house. We snapped our necks upward to Peter who was walking angrily toward the car.

“I think we've been made," Dean said as we all slipped out.

“What are you guys doing?! You watching me?!” Peter shouted from across the driveway.

“Sir, calm down. Please-" Sam tried, but Peter only cut him off.

“You guys aren't cops! Not dressed like that. Not– not in that crappy car!"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. “Whoa, hey. No need to get nasty.”

“We are cops, okay? We're undercover. We're here because we think you're in danger," I said.

“From who?!”

“If you just settle down, we'll talk about it.”

Peter shook his head, not believing a word. He began to slowly back up toward the house. “Look, you guys just stay away from me!” Then, Peter took off running toward his car that was parked in front of the house before he peeled away from the driveway.

“Wait!” Sam called after him.

“Hey, you moron! We're trying to help you!” Dean shouted as Peter's car stalled just in front of the gated fence.

“That can't be good," I said.

“No," Sam agreed. "Get the salt gun.”

I ran back toward the Impala, quickly grabbing the shotgun as I ran back toward the car that Sam and Dean were just coming to a stop by. They were pounding on the window, trying to get Peter to open the door, to no avail.

“Peter!”

I slid to a stop beside the passenger side where a spirit was sitting shotgun. He was drenched, with long dark hair covering half of his face. His skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. Peter was in the driver's seat, water spewing from his mouth in an endless waterfall.

“Get down!” I shouted to Sam and Dean who turned away from the car before I fired a round through the window, effectively making the spirit disappear and shattering both the passenger and driver side windows.

I peered inside where Peter was now slumped against the steering wheel. Dean knocked the rest of the glass away and unlocked the car door from the inside. Sam pulled Peter back against the seat, his eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. A single stream of water was traveling from his open mouth down to his shirt collar. Sam quickly felt around Peter's throat for a pulse, but shook his head at Dean and I when he came back with nothing.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean's POV

The car ride back to the house we were squatting in was silent as Ellie slept in the backseat. The only noise came from the weather announcement over the radio: “...when what started out as a severe weather front headed in from the Northwest. Expect heavy lightning and thunder, with sudden rainfall—”

I quickly shut it off, looking over at Sam who hadn't said as much as three words since we left Peter's house. “Do you wanna say it or should I?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“You can't save everybody, Sam.”

Sam looked over at me, slightly puzzled. “Yeah, right, so– so what, you feel better now or something?”

I sighed, looking back to the road. “No, not really.”

“Me neither.”

I tapped my thumbs against the wheel, trying to find the right words to say. “You gotta understa—”

“It’s just lately, I feel like I can't save anybody," Sam blurted. I let my eyes linger on him a second longer before going back to the road, shaking my head softly. I looked up through the rearview mirror at Ellie, curled against the back door. I wanted so badly to be able to tell them both how close I felt I was to figuring all this out. But, I knew I couldn't. Not yet. Not until the deal was done.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I had a plan in place. I needed to summon another demon, find out who the hell holds Ellie's contract. If all went well, I'd kill the son of a bitch. If not, I still had the option of offering myself up.

I thought about this as I mindlessly scrolled through my phone, trying to act like I was busy. My eyes wandered over to Ellie who was sprawled across an arm chair, her legs dangling over one side, her eyes closed with her headphones on. I automatically knew one thing, looking at her: there was nothing that was going to keep me from saving her.

A pounding at the door of the house we were squatting in made the three of us quickly straighten up. Ellie pulled her headphones off, letting them dangle around her neck where I could hear Walk This Way by Aerosmith blaring from them. Sam looked to us from where he was sitting at a small table littered with lore books.

I snapped my phone shut as I made my way toward the door, my hand on my gun as I looked through the peephole before sighing and pulling the door open for Bela. Sam and Ellie visibly relaxed.

Bela scrunched up her face as she came inside, looking around at the dingy surrounds. “Dear...god. Are you actually squatting? Charming." She came deeper into the room, stopping in front of the table Sam was at. "So how'd things go last night with Peter?”

Sam and Ellie continued to glare at her before Ellie placed her headphones back over her head. Bela turned to me. “That well, huh?”

“If you say 'I told you so', I swear to god I'll start swinging," I warned, sitting down beside Sam.

“Look, I think the four of us should have a heart-to-heart.”

“That's assuming that you have a heart.”

Bela dropped her hands to her sides. “Dean, please...I'm sorry about what I said before, okay? I come bearing gifts.”

“Such as?” Sam questioned.

Bela pulled out a black zip-up folder. “I've ID'd the ship.”

I watched her, trying to decipher whether or not she was bluffing, but the look on her face told me otherwise. I ran my tongue over my teeth before turning toward Ellie, motioning her forward. She groaned, rolling off the chair and throwing her iPod to the side.

Bela smirked, seeming satisfied as Ellie plopped down in the chair opposite me. Bela dropped the folder onto the table, handing us each pictures of the same ship. "It's the Espírito Santo, a merchant sailing vessel, quite a colorful history. In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was 37."

"Which would explain the 37 year cycle," Sam said, mainly to himself.

"Aren't you a sharp tack," Bela said before rifling through the rest of the photos. "There's a photo of him somewhere...here."

Bela handed me a black and white picture with two men. I squinted at the guy closest to the camera, turning it to Sam and Ellie. "Isn't that the customer we saw last night?"

"You saw him?" Bela asked.

Ellie nodded. "Yeah, that's him, except he was missing a hand."

"His right hand?"

Sam squinted up at Bela. "How'd you know?"

"The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory."

"A hand of glory?" I smirked. "I think I got one of those at the end of my Thai massage last week."

The three of them shot me a confused look before Sam spoke up, "Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object. It's very powerful."

"So they say," Bela said.

"And officially counts as remains," Ellie chimed in. “But still, none of this explains why the ghost is choosing these victims.”

Bela began gathering all of the pictures back into the folder. “I'll tell you why. Who cares? Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing.”

I watched as she zipped up the folder. “I don't get it. Why are you telling us all of this?”

“Because I know exactly where the hand is.”

I raised my eyebrows, looking to Sam and Ellie and then back to Bela, wondering what the hell we were sitting around for. “Where?”

“At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history, owned by one of the wealthiest families in the East, the Bransons. But I need help.”

I knew there was going to be a fucking catch. I groaned. “What kind of help?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie's POV

"This is awful...it's awful," I said to myself as I looked up and down the dirty mirror in one of the abandoned bedrooms on the second floor of the house. Bela failed to mention we were going to be going to a black tie event where we actually had to look presentable.

The dress itself was beautiful. A red, satin number with thin straps and defined waist line. It reached down about mid-calf, showing off the heels Bela told me I needed to wear, especially to an event like this. The dress was originally hers, but said it made her feel more like a hooker than anything so she was more than happy to let me wear it for the night. However, with me in it, I felt like I looked like a linebacker dressing up for Halloween.

I turned each way in the mirror, trying to see it from every angle. I messed with my hair numerous times before groaning and letting it fall in thick waves past my shoulders. I leaned in closer to my reflection, examining the makeup I desperately tried to do with what little I had.

"El, you ready yet?" Dean's voice called from down the hallway, Sam's footsteps not far behind as they came into the room before stopping. They were both half dressed in their tuxes, Dean trying to tie his tie and Sam buttoning his sleeves. For a split second as I watched them, I could see their eyes soften.

Sam smiled. "You look-"

"Yeah, yeah, get it out," I said, putting my hands on my hips. "C'mon, I can take it."

"No, you just..." Sam hesitated and for a second, I was worried it was worse than I thought. "You look beautiful, El."

I shifted on my feet. "Really?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Which was exactly what I was worried about. We've gotta get this dead guy's hand and I have to make sure you're not sneaking off with some guy or girl-"

"Shut up," I laughed, grabbing the rest of my things.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean's POV

“What is taking so long?" Bela yelled from downstairs. "Ellie and Sam have been there for nearly an hour...with Sam's date."

“I am so not okay with this!” I yelled back, twisting the suit back and forth.

“What are you, a woman? Come down already!"

I groaned, making my way down the stairs. Bela instantly straightened up. She didn't look half bad for the raging bitch I knew she was. Her black dress was low cut and fell just above her knees. She wore a shining diamond necklace and her hair was in a low bun. I came to a stop in front of her. “I look ridiculous.”

Bela shrugged, looking me up and down. “Not exactly the word I'd use.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, waiting for the punchline. “What?”

“You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex.”

I blinked twice, not sure I heard her correctly, but she continued to watch me, pointedly. I scoffed, stunned and unsure of what to say. I awkwardly crossed my arms, trying to remind myself that this was the same woman who got my car towed not 48 hours ago. “Don't objectify me. Let’s go.” I walked ahead of her, smirking, unable to hide my excitement.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Sea Pines Museum was much bigger than I could've imagined. I glanced up at the stone walls, water fountains, and acre upon acre of land the place was settled on.

Bela wrapped her arm around mine as we entered through the front doors. She passed the invitation to the party over to the man standing behind a podium by the entrance. He glanced at it, checking it against his list before nodding, inviting us in.

The place was crawling with old white guys with money and their incredibly young wives. Waiters weaved their way slowly through the crowd with trays of champagne and little foods on tiny plates.

“Are you chewing gum?" Bela asked me suddenly before we could even make it into the main room. I stopped chewing as she glared at me. "Try to behave as if you've lived this life before, yeah?”

I turned in a half circle, looking for a trashcan when a large water fountain caught my eye. I took out my gum, sticking it to the underside of the base of the fountain. I turned back, giving Bela two thumbs up, making her close her eyes and shake her head before leading me further into the crowd.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet where I stood in a secluded corner with Gert, scanning the crowd for any sign of Dean, or Ellie who'd run off to the bathroom nearly half an hour ago.

“This'll get their tongues wagging, eh, my Adonis?” Gert said, smiling widely up at me as she gripped my suit jacket in a tight fist.

I gave her my best fake smile. “Just remember, we're on business.”

“Ooooh, but sometimes business can be pleasure, hmm?” She said, running her hand up the middle of my back

I quickly pulled away, taking her hands in mine once I saw Dean and Bela enter the room, heading toward the bar Ellie was leaning up against. “You know, uh, could you excuse me for a moment?”

Gert smiled playfully. "Of course."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie's POV

I leaned up against the open bar, downing a glass of champagne as Dean and Bela came toward me. “Nice monkey suit.”

“You clean up well,” Bela said as she sat at the bar next to me.

I wrinkled my nose, glancing from her to Dean. “Did she just say something not insulting to me?”

“I’m feeling generous tonight,” she said before smirking up at Dean, taking a sip from her glass.

My eyes bounced between them, realization settling in. “Oh, gross. You’re kidding me! With Bela?!”

“Shut up,” Dean groaned, taking a long drink.

Sam came up from behind Dean. “Exactly how long do you expect me to entertain my date?”

I smirked as I looked around him to Gert. “She’s hot, Sammy.”

“As long as it takes,” Bela said, Sam shooting me a glare.

“Look, there’s security all over this place. This is an un-crashable party without Gert’s invitation, so-”

“We can crash anything, Dean,” Sam said through ground teeth.

“Yeah I know, but this is easier and a lot more entertaining,” Dean smiled, raising his eyebrows in excitement.

“You know there are limits to what I’ll do, right?”

“Aww, he’s playing hard to get,” Dean said, making Bela and I laugh. “That’s cute.”

Dean and Bela made their way across the room and Sam lingered before Gert motioned him toward her. He glanced back at me. “Save me.”

“Sam, it’s not polite to leave a girl waiting,” I said, suppressing my laughter. Sam rolled his eyes nearly to the back of his head before grabbing my glass of champagne out of my hand, throwing it back before meeting Gert in the middle of the floor.

I leaned back against the bar, laughing. This was the easiest case I ever worked. I was just watching Sam awkwardly talk with Gert when a soft hand landed on my shoulder. I whipped around where a tall, dark haired man threw his hands up as if to prove he wasn’t a threat. He smiled widely, showing his white, perfect, teeth. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I quickly swallowed, blinking twice before blindly setting the glass behind me, nearly dropping it to the floor. The corners of his mouth upturned slightly, watching me struggle.

“You- you didn’t.”

He nodded once, motioning to the stool next to me. “This seat taken?”

“All yours.”

He sat down, swirling the drink in his glass. I could see him from my peripherals, his dark blue eyes glancing over to me every few seconds before he finally spoke, “You come to these often?”

“No…first time, actually.”

“Yeah?" He scanned the room. "Sorry to disappoint, they’re not all they’re made out to be."

“Yeah…music’s not that great, but the company is,” I said, a swell of confidence rolling through me. He gave me a half smile as he nodded, his curly hair bouncing. I bit my lip, thinking of anything to say to get whatever this was moving along. “You wanna dance?”

A smile broke out over his face. “Hell yeah I do.”

I laughed, dragging him out to the floor, the slow music swaying us. He held one hand on my lower back, holding me against him. Our other hands interlocked next to us. I felt my heart rate pick up as I looked up at him, now so close I could smell the champagne on his breath mixed with the cologne on his suit collar.

He spun me around, making me smile before he pulled me back into him, my chest flush against his. I looked up at him, our faces only inches from each other. My eyes darted from his eyes down to his lips and then back up to his eyes before carefully leaning in, our lips just barely grazing. We stayed like this for what felt like forever before I pushed forward completely.

He brought his large hand up to my cheek, bringing it under my hair to the back of my neck. Then, he pulled away, my lips still slightly pursed before prying my eyes open. I could feel the way his breathing picked up against my own abdomen. I scanned his face. “You wanna take this somewhere else?”

He beamed, nodding. “Follow me.”

He took my hand, leading me toward the entryway where there was a grand staircase against the wall, two guards standing in front of it. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused as to where he was taking me when the guards nodded to him without another word, parting and letting us up the stairs.

I widened my eyes. “Who are you?”

He looked back at me. “I should’ve introduced myself, I’m sorry…my name’s Oliver. Oliver Branson.”

I wracked my brain, I knew that name from somewhere when suddenly it hit me. “Like…Branson, Branson? Your family, they-”

“Yeah,” he said as we made it to the second floor. “They own this place.”

“Right,” I said, giddiness rising up in my chest as he led me down a long hallway and into a secluded room, shutting and locking the large door behind me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean's POV

After Bela and I made an initial sweep around the first floor of the museum, we found ourselves back at the entryway. Bela whispered to me. "Private security?"

"I don't think so," I said, glancing at the security guards posted around the room. Two in front of a large staircase, and another by the front door. "Look at the way they're standing. They're pros. Probably state troopers moonlighting."

"Posted to every door, too."

I nodded. "Yeah, I don't think we're just going to be able to waltz upstairs."

Bela looked up at me. "What do you suggest?"

"I'm thinking."

"Don't strain yourself," she said, making me glare at her. "Interesting how the legend is so much more than the man."

"You got any bright ideas, I'm all ears."

"Okay," she said before suddenly falling backwards into my arms, her eyes rolling back into her head.

"Honey? Honey, are you alright?" I improvised, slowly lowering her to the ground. I looked around the room. "Waiter!" The waiter just a few feet away abandoned the couple he was serving, quickly coming to me. "Hi. My wife has a severe shellfish allergy. There's no crab in that? Is there?"

The waiter looked down at the tray he was holding. "No, sir."

"No?" I said, before grabbing one and popping the whole thing into my mouth. "Oh they're excellent, by the way."

"What seems to be the trouble?" One of the guards asked, coming up once the waiter had left.

"Ah...champagne!" I dismissed quickly, silently cursing Bela for making me have to think so quick on my feet. "My wife, she's a lightweight when it comes to the sauce. Is there somewhere I can lay her down till she gets her sea legs back?"

The guard thought for a second before nodding. "Follow me."

"Right. Thank you," I said, picking Bela up off the floor. "Come on, you lush."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam's POV

Gert and I swayed slowly to the music coming from the live orchestra. I continued to try to remind myself that all Dean had to do was find the goddamned hand and we'd be out of here.

"Where's Alex and your friend? They're missing a great party," Gert asked.

"I'm sure they’re entertaining themselves."

"Oooh, naughty. Then I guess we'll just have to entertain ourselves as well." Gert's hand on my back began to travel lower and lower. I quickly pulled away, grimacing as I took her hand in mine.

"Whoa, uh…ha, y-you know, Mrs. Case," I stumbled before correcting myself after the look she gave me. "I— I'm sorry, Ms. Case...I don't wanna give you the wrong idea."

"Call me Gert." She laid her head on my chest. "You remind me of my late husband...he was shy too...'til we got below deck."

Her hand whipped out from between us and squeezed my ass again. I jumped away, "Whoa!"

"Mmmm, you're just firm all over," Gert smiled, running her hands over my shoulders. I laughed uncomfortably, desperately scanning the room for any sign of Ellie or Dean.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie's POV

I quickly pulled Oliver toward me, my hands running over the smooth skin on his cheeks. I deepened the kiss, feeling his tongue swipe over my bottom lip before I fully opened it, our tongues dancing together. His lips moved from mine, kissing down my jaw, my neck, all the way to my collarbone and just above the material of my dress.

Oliver pulled away, looking down at me as he slowly began to slide down to the floor, his hands locked on either side of my body. I watched as he slid his hands under the material of my dress before his head disappeared beneath it. I let out a breath, the back of my head hitting the door as I laced my fingers through his hair.

I felt his hand go under my right leg, hiking it up and over his shoulder as he pulled my underwear to the side, licking a long stripe from the base of my vagina all the way up to my clit.

"Oliver," I breathed out.

His hands traveled back up to cup my ass, bringing my hips closer to his face. His lips were tight around my clit, sucking and pulling at it before pulling away. "I love when you say my name. Say it again."

"Oliver," I moaned again as he reattached his lips. My grip on his shoulders tightened just before he came up for air. He smiled down at me as he stood, his hair disheveled as he leaned down to kiss me, planting the palms of his hands on either side of my head against the door. My breathing quickened as he hooked two fingers over the straps of the dress, pulling it down and letting the material fall from my body.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, his hands pulling my hips closer to him as he kissed down to my now bare breasts, taking one of my hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it. I panted, grasping the short hairs on the nape of his neck before pulling him back up to my mouth.

His lips crashed back into mine as he walked me backward, gently laying me across the couch in the middle of the room, his knee slotting right between my legs. I ground down on his thigh, moaning at the friction. I brought my hands under his suit jacket, quickly pushing it off of his broad shoulders and making quick working of his white button down. His skin warm against mine. I pulled him close to my bare chest, my nails scratching up and down his skin.

And that was when we heard it: the unmistakable sound of the door handle shaking. Oliver and I quickly sat up, looking toward the door. Oliver swiftly shed his jacket, laying it over me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean's POV

I followed the guard up the stairs and down a long hallway to a large set of double doors. The guard jiggled the handle, but the door was locked from the inside. The guard made a face, knocking. "Anyone in there?"

"Just me, sir," a voice called from the other side, followed by something falling inside the room.

The guard straightened up, "Pardon me, Mr. Branson. Is everything alright?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie's POV

"Yes, sir," Oliver called, wincing at the lamp that he'd knocked over when his foot got caught in the cord. "Everything's fine."

We waited a second, the two of us holding our breath before we heard two sets of feet leading away from the door.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean's POV

The guard seemed unsure, but had no choice but to turn around and take us to a room across the hall. I plopped Bela down onto a leather couch in the bedroom once the guard opened the door. I sighed, shaking my head at him. "You think she's a pain in the ass now, try living with her." I walked the guard to the door, closing it behind him. "Thank you very much."

I turned to Bela who was sitting up on the couch. I whispered angrily to her, "Hey maybe next time give me a little heads up with your plan?"

"I didn't want you thinking. You're not very good at that," she said. I scoured my brain for something to shoot back at her, but came up with nothing. "Oh, look at you. Searching for a witty rejoinder."

"Screw you."

"Very Oscar Wilde," she said. I shook my head, ready to get this hand and get the hell out of this place. "Room 235. It's in a locked glass case wired for alarm, I'm sure that won't be a problem."

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," I mocked, rolling my eyes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie's POV

Once we knew we were finally alone, Oliver and I burst out laughing. He dropped his head onto my shoulder, his hair tickling my face as his shoulders shook.

"Sorry about your lamp," I laughed, wiping tears from my face.

He looked up, tears brimming his eyes as he looked back at the lamp behind him, laughing even harder, "That thing was- was so ugly."

I laughed, shaking my head as I laid an arm behind my head on the couch's arm rest. Oliver bit his lip, leaning in to kiss me again. I gripped the short hairs on the back of his neck, pulling his jacket from off of me.

“Need you,” I panted into his mouth. “Please.”

He smirked, the two of us making quick work of his belt before he shed his pants to the ground along with the other articles of clothing. I felt his hardened cock against my thigh as he dipped down for another kiss, his hands tangling through my hair.

I palmed his erection, eliciting a groan from him before reaching inside his boxers. The sight of his cock sent immediate warmth down to my center, my knees tightening around his middle.

“You ready, sweetheart?” He asked. I nodded quickly as he inched down, tearing my underwear off my hips. He leaned forward again, the tip of his leaking cock pressing up against my clit. I let out a moan, gripping his shoulders as he teased my entrance before slowly pressing inside.

I let out a breath as he bottomed out and he didn’t waste any time thrusting into me at a slow pace. A high pitched noise left me. “Harder…please, god, harder.”

Oliver smiled as he picked up the pace, lifting my hips as he slammed harder into me. “So fucking tight, Ellie,” he groaned. “God you feel so good.”

I couldn't speak, sweat breaking out over every inch of my body when I felt Oliver twitch inside me. I knew he was close. Oliver leaned down, taking my nipple into his mouth again before bring his thumb over my clit, rubbing at it expertly.

“I’m gonna cum,” I muttered, my nails scratching over his back.

“Cum for me, Ellie,” he groaned and, in an instant, I was unravelling under him, my orgasm ripping through my body. I moaned loudly, bucking my hips upward. I watched as Oliver thrusted a few more times before quickly pulling out, ropes of cum painting my stomach and thighs.

“Fuck,” I panted. He looked around, grabbing a box of tissues, cleaning me up. He leaned in again, pecking my lips before I sat up, pushing my disheveled hair from my sweaty forehead. I snatched my underwear from the ground, sliding them back on before throwing my dress over my head. I watched as he got dressed too, smirking.

“What?” he asked, smiling as he buttoned his shirt.

“It’s just…it’s just been a while, that’s all.”

He nodded. “Me too.”

I nodded one more time, resisting the urge to kiss him again as I stood, making my way toward the large doors. “I need to get back downstairs.”

“What do you say we do this again,” he offered, a hopeful look in his eyes. “A proper date next time. Dinner, a movie…the whole thing.”

My smile fell. No matter how much I wished for this to go on longer, I knew it couldn't. “I wish I could, but I’m not exactly from here. I won’t be around for long.”

His face fell, but he nodded understandingly. “Where are you from, then?”

“Here, there,” I said vaguely. “Everywhere.”

“Ah,” Oliver smirked but I could sense a hint of sadness in his voice. “Well, whenever you’re back from…everywhere…come and see me sometime.”

My fingers drummed against the wooden door. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“See ya, Ellie.”

I smiled before slipping out of the room, resting my back against the door as I closed it behind me. I let out a long breath, smiling despite myself. I turned to return down the staircase when I noticed a door at the other end of the hall, its large wooden doors with ornate detailing staring back at me. It looked important and I suddenly remembered why we were here in the first place. I glanced from the door I’d just come through and down the stairs where the guards seemed too preoccupied with guarding them that they didn’t seem to care about two kids upstairs.

I let my curiosity get the better of me, crossing the hallway and pushing the door open with the flat of my hand as I snuck inside, closing it behind me. Then, there, in the middle of the room secured in a glass case, was the hand.

I stepped closer, eyeing it when a door adjacent to the one I came in opened. I nearly ducked down but stopped when I realized it was Dean. I furrowed my brow. “What’re you doing here?”

Dean stopped in his tracks. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m getting the hand,” I said, gesturing to it. “Remember?”

Dean nodded slowly. “How’d you get up here?”

I hesitated, nervously tugging the ends of my dress as he stepped closer, examining my face. “I could…ask you the same thing?”

Dean's eyes widened. “What did you do?”

“Dean, first I’d like to point out that I’m twenty two years old-”

“Oh god,” Dean said, his face going ashen white, bringing a fist over his mouth. “Jesus Christ, don’t tell me…”

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the fireplace, noticing my tousled hair and smudged makeup. I grimaced at the sight, knowing there really wasn’t a way out of this one. “I’m a big girl, Dean-”

“Don’t,” he warned, holding a hand out, his eyes closed. “Who was it? Huh? One of those guards? Christ I’m gonna kill him. I don’t care who it is, I’m gonna kill him!"

“Dean,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re being ridiculous. And it wasn’t a guard…it- it was the museum owner’s son.”

Dean’s eyes became even bigger. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Lets just get this thing and get out of here, alright!?” I nearly shouted, wanting to be over with this already.

Dean shook his head, kneeling beside the case, muttering something to himself about murder as he picked the lock to the security system.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean's POV

I continued to fight off the murderous rage I felt rolling through me in waves as I made my way back to the room Bela was in. I rounded the corner, roughly bumping into the guard who'd let us upstairs.

"Whoa. Sorry!" I apologized, gesturing behind me. "It's, uh...nature called."

"Ah huh," the guard said slowly, glancing back at the door.

"Thanks for looking after my wife."

The guard nodded once. "Oh, she's...being looked after, alright."

I furrowed my eyebrows as I snuck back into the guest room where Bela was pulling up the sleeves of her dress back over her shoulder. "Any trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," she said. I pulled the hand from inside my suit jacket. "The hand? May I?"

I turned away from Bela's outstretched hands. "No."

"It might be more inconspicuous in my purse-"

"Nice try," I said, wrapping it in a handkerchief.

"Just trying to be helpful."

"Well, sweetheart," I said, opening the door for her. "I don't need your kind of help."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam's POV

At one point, I swore the night would never end. My feet were aching as Gert and I continued to dance to a song that seemed like it'd been going on for hours. Gert's head was resting against my chest, an empty champagne glass dangling from her fingers around the back of my neck.

"Man, this is one long song," I muttered.

"I hope it never ends," she giggled. "How's the investigation going?"

"These things take time," I said shortly.

"People are talking about the Warren brothers’ deaths," she said, looking up at me. "Strange...Do you think it’s connected to Shelia's?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we think so."

"I think they had it coming, you know. In a Biblical sort of way."

I furrowed my eyebrows at her words as she leaned back against my chest. "What do you mean?"

She slowly looked back up at me, "You know about their father?"

"No?"

"Come here, I'll whisper it to you," she said and before I could protest, she had her hand wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling me toward her. "People say that the old man didn't die of natural causes."

"Then how?" I grimaced.

"Rumor is the boys did it. Nothing was ever proved, but...people still whisper."

"Okay, okay, okay," I said, quickly pulling away. I was beginning to feel like I was making at least some progress on the case and not just making a fool out of myself. "So did Sheila have any connection to them?"

"Well, none that I know of."

"Did Sheila have any kind of tragedy in her life?"

Gert paused, thinking about it before her eyes got large, "Yes. As a matter of fact there was...a car accident when she was a teenager."

"What happened?"

"Her car flipped over. She was okay but her cousin Brian was killed. Why, is that important?"

Yeah, Gert. It was real fucking important.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie's POV

I descended the staircase, closely following Dean and Bela back into the museum's front room where Sam was still slow dancing with Gert. He physically relaxed in relief when he saw us. Bela beamed, "Well! Having a nice time?"

"He's delightful!" Gert smiled widely, cutting her voice down to a whisper for me and Bela. "He wants me!"

Dean and I raised our eyebrows, looking accusatorily at Sam. Bela veered Gert away and toward the front door, whispering to us behind her back, "I'm going to get Gert into a cold shower."

Sam nodded. "Great idea."

"See you at the cemetery."

We watched as Bela and Gert disappeared out the front door. Dean turned to Sam and I. "You stink like sex. Both of you, it's disgusting."

Sam looked at me, puzzled when, from over Sam's shoulder, Oliver caught my gaze.

“That him?” Dean whispered, following my line of sight and spotting Oliver from across the room.

“Nope, nope, lets go,” I said, nearly pushing him out the door but Dean was much stronger and much bigger than I was. He easily stepped from my grasp, walking up to Oliver. “Oh, god.”

"Where's he going?" Sam asked, confused.

"Go! Go!" I said to Sam, pushing him toward Dean who he could tell wasn't just going for a friendly chat.

“Hey, you’re Oliver, yeah?” Dean asked.

“Yeah-” Oliver began when Dean tried to swing a fist but Sam grabbed his arm before he could collide it with Oliver's face. Oliver quickly ducked backward, watching with wide eyes as Sam and I pulled him from the museum.

“You better sleep with one eye open, buddy!” Dean shouted as we dragged him out the front door, the crowd parting like the Red Sea. “One eye!”

“Bye Oliver!” I shouted over Dean’s words, quickly slamming the front door behind us. Once we were outside, we ran to the car, Sam and Dean quickly shedding their bow ties.

"Are you fucking crazy, Dean!?" I shouted at him as soon as I got the chance.

"What?" Dean asked defensively as we slid into the car.

I shook my head. "You're on my shit list now."

"You got it, right?" Sam asked Dean, ignoring our argument. "Tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing."

"I got it..." Dean said, pulling it from his jacket.

I scrunched my face up at Sam's words. "Mrs. Who?"

"Nevermind. Just let me see it."

I leaned between them, watching as Dean unfolded the handkerchief, but paused. Sam raised his eyebrows at him. "What?"

Dean pulled the object up into the dim lighting, but it wasn't the hand that was in the case upstairs. It was a small model ship inside a bottle. Dean's eyes filled with rage as he gripped it. "I'm gonna kill her."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You know what, you’re right," Dean said, staring into the fireplace, shaking his head. "I'm not gonna kill her. I think slow torture's the way to go."

Sam was flipping through a book. "Dean, look, you gotta relax."

"Relax! Oh yeah, yeah, I'll relax," Dean said sarcastically before shouting, "I can't believe she got another one over on us!"

A beat of silence passed before I spoke, "You."

Dean narrowed his eyes at me. "What?"

I looked from him to Sam and then back to Dean. "I...I mean, she got one over...on you...not us."

Dean looked like he could strangle me. "Thank you, Ellie! Very helpful."

A loud banging came from the front door of the house, making Sam, Dean and I whip our heads toward it. Bela's voice calling out frantically from the other side, "Hello? Could you open up?"

Dean quickly made his way to the door, pulling it open. Bela looked at the three of us, and for the first time, I could've sworn she looked scared. "Just let me explain."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I sold it," Bela admitted after dancing around all of our questions about the hand she stole from us. Dean glanced up at Sam and I from where he stood behind Bela. "I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed."

Dean grit his teeth as he walked around behind her chair, mimicking pulling a trigger at the back of her head. Sam was leaning up against the fireplace, his arms crossed. "So the whole reason for us going to the charity ball was...?"

"I needed a cover," she said simply. "You were convenient." It made sense. She was always just using us for one thing or another. As long as it was getting her what she wanted, she didn't care about anybody else.

"Look, you sold it to a buyer. Just go buy it back," I said, although I was sure it wouldn't be as simple as that.

"It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time."

Dean watched her. "In time for what?"

We waited, expectant of an answer, but Bela stayed silent. I scanned her face, they way she wouldn't meet any of our eyes. She hadn't even made one smartass comment since she's been here. "What's going on with you, Bela? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She worried her bottom lip before speaking, "I saw the ship." Sam, Dean and I shared a shocked look. I stood up straighter, shaking my head at the realization.

"You what?" Dean said, stalking towards her. "Wow, you know, I– I knew you were an immoral thieving con artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower—"

Bela looked up at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"We figured out the spirit’s motive," Sam said this time, pulling out an old photo from our research. "This is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy."

"So?"

"So they were brothers," I said, making Bela's eyes dart to mine. "Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target – people who've spilled their own family’s blood." My words made her shift uneasily, not tearing her gaze off the photograph. "See, first there was Sheila who killed her cousin in the car accident, and the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance. And now you."

"Oh my god," she muttered under her breath, putting her head in her hands.

Dean leaned down beside her, planting an arm on the back of her chair and the other on the table in front of her, cornering Bela. "So who was it? Hmm? Who'd you kill? Was it daddy? Your little sis, maybe?"

"It's none of your business," she said quietly.

"No? Right. Well, have a nice life – you know, whatever’s left of it," Dean said, clapping her on the back as he began to gather his things. "Sam, Ellie, let’s go."

I followed behind Dean, unzipping my duffel bag and throwing my clothes inside. Bela stood quickly from the table. "You can't just leave me here."

"Watch us," I said over my shoulder, shoving my iPod into my pocket.

"Please," she began to beg, looking mainly to Sam who hadn't moved to grab his things yet. "I need your help."

Dean raised his eyebrows, throwing his duffel back onto the couch in disbelief. "Our help? Now how could a couple of serial killers possibly help you?"

She sighed in exasperation. "Okay, that was a bit harsh, I admit it, but it doesn't warrant a death sentence."

"That's not why you’re gonna die," Sam said, studying her. "What'd you do, Bela?" Bela was silent again before she shook her head. I could tell, just by looking at her that whatever the hell she did...she wasn't quite over it yet.

"You wouldn't understand. No one did," she whispered, shaking her head. "Never mind. I'll just do what I've always done, I'll deal with it myself."

"You do realize you just sold the one thing that could save your life," I said.

"I'm aware."

"Well..." Sam interjected. "Maybe not the only thing." Dean and I looked over to Sam who was staring down at a lore book in front of us, the pages open to a ritual. Bela's expression changed immediately to something resembling hope.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Our plan was a longshot, but it was something, and if Bela knew what was good for her she'd take something over nothing. Dean, Bela and I watched Sam as he lit the last candle surrounding a pentagram on a concrete bench in the middle of the cemetery the captain of our ghost ship and his brother were buried in. I glanced up at the sky, noticing how the rain clouds were so dark you could hardly make out the moon shining just behind them.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Bela asked, tightening her jacket around herself as it began to trickle rain.

"Almost definitely not," Dean retorted. A clap of thunder came overhead just as it began to downpour. I quickly zipped my jacket up, looking around the cemetery for any signs of our ghost friend.

"Sammy," I called to him, my hair and clothes already gluing to my body. "You better start reading."

Sam opened up dad's journal, reciting the Latin incantation. Dean and I stood on either side of Bela, shotguns held at the ready as we kept an eye out in every direction. The wind began to pick up, whipping the rain in every direction so hard it was difficult to see. The raindrops felt like tiny shards of glass smacking our exposed skin. The flames from the candles quickly blew out one by one as Sam read louder over the roaring winds.

"Behind you!" Bela shouted to Dean. I whipped around and sure enough, the same spirit who'd been in Peter Warren's car was standing inches behind Dean. Before I could even bring my gun up to blast him away, he grabbed Dean by his jacket and tossed him halfway across the cemetery like he was a ragdoll. Dean's shotgun went off just before he landed hard on the ground.

I shot a round into the spirit, effectively making him disappear for only a second before returning, this time, so close to my face I could see his lifeless eyes. The spirit grabbed me by the shoulders, pushing me backwards with so much force I slid across the wet grass, my back forcefully colliding with a tombstone. I sat up on my side, pushing up on the wet earth as I watched the spirit reach out to Bela, gently cupping her face right before she doubled over, water spewing violently from her mouth.

I climbed to my feet, Dean making it back to Bela before I did. We both dropped down beside her as she fell to her knees, gripping the ground in her fists as she tried to expel the excessive amounts of water that only seemed to be coming faster and faster out of her mouth. Dean pulled her close to him as she choked. I laid a hand on her back, looking over to Sam whose eyes were bouncing between the journal and the spirit ahead of us. "Sammy, read faster!" Sam nodded, reciting the incantation even faster, the rain coming down harder.

"Keep her upright! Don't let her fall forward!" I yelled to him as he shifted Bela upward more. The rain continued to fall for what felt like hours before suddenly, it stopped all together. I looked up at the sky, watching as the storm clouds quickly disappeared. I looked down at Bela who continued to cough, but there was no more water coming from her mouth.

"You..." a low, snarling voice came from ahead of us. I looked up to where the spirit had turned, looking to a much younger man. His brother. "You hanged me!"

"I'm sorry," he pleaded.

"Your own brother."

"I'm so sorry!" The spirit said again, but it wasn't enough. His brother ran forward, slicing through his body with his own, water exploding from the two of them where they connected until all that was left was a large puddle that dropped to the already flooded grass.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It felt good knowing things in this town were finally put to rest. I pulled down the towel atop my head drying my hair, throwing it over the couch as I collected my clothes to throw in my duffle. I sat down beside Dean, picking up my boot from the night before and dumping the water out of it, shaking my head.

"You three should learn to lock your doors," Bela said as she let herself in to the abandoned house. "Anyone could just barge in."

"Anyone just did," I murmured, cringing as I slid my still-soaked boots back on. "Did you come to say goodbye or thank you?"

"I've come to settle affairs. Giving the spirit what he really wanted, his own brother– very clever, Sam. So here." She tossed each of us a stack of crisp hundred dollar bills wrapped in a rubber band. "It's ten thousand– that should cover it. I don't like being in anyone’s debt."

"So ponying up ten grand is easier for you than a simple thank you?" Dean questioned, making Bela smirk. Dean shook his head. "You're so damaged."

"Takes one to know one," she said. "Goodbye lads."

We watched as Bela left without another word, slamming the front door behind her. Sam looked to us, "She's got style. You gotta give her that."

"I suppose."

"You know, we don't know where this money's been," I pointed out.

"No," Dean agreed with a smirk, snatching the money from mine and Sam's hands, "but I know where it's going."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Seriously? Atlantic City?" Sam said from the passenger seat, looking down at the map Dean marked up for the trip.

"Hell yeah! Play some roulette. Always bet on black," he beamed.

"Yeah, and while you're losing our money, I'll be hustling it all back," I said. "This place has one of the biggest pool halls in the country!"

Sam laughed despite himself as he put the flashlight back into his backpack. My smile faded as I fiddled with my phone in my hands, tossing it back and forth as I tried to conjure up the words I wanted to say.

"Hey listen, I've been doing some thinking," I began. I shifted uncomfortably, hating what Dean deemed as chick-flick moments. "Um...I want you to know I understand why you did it. I understand why you went after the crossroads demon. You know, situation was reversed, I guess I'd've done the same thing..."

Sam and Dean were silent, letting me speak my peace. I tried not to think about the hell I knew this deal was putting them through or the fact that I was the root cause of it. "I mean I'm not blind, I see what you're going through with this whole deal, me going away and all that. But you're gonna be okay.”

“Oh, you think so?" Dean said.

“Yeah, you'll keep hunting, y'know, you'll live your lives...you guys are stronger than me," I said in all seriousness, making Sam and Dean shake their heads. "You are! You are...you'll get over it. But I want you to know I'm sorry, I’m sorry for...putting you through all this, I am-"

“You know what, Ellie? Go screw yourself," Sam said suddenly, cutting me off.

I looked at him in confusion. "What?"

Sam turned around in his seat, looking at me, "I don't want an apology from you! And by the way, I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself."

I raised my eyebrows, throwing my hands up. "Oh, well excuse me."

"So would you please quit worrying about us? I mean, that's the whole problem in the first place. I don't want you to worry about me, Ellie, I want you to worry about you! I want you to give a crap that you're dying!"

I looked from him and over to Dean who was watching me through the rearview mirror. He shrugged, agreeing, "What he said."

I stared back, challenging before I decided that it wasn't worth it. I looked away, smiling softly as Sam widened his eyes. "So, that's it? Nothing else to say for yourself?"

I chuckled lightly. "I think maybe I'll play craps."

There was a beat of silence before Sam scoffed, shaking his head before going back to face the front again, Dean's eyes lingering on me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

[literaryoblivion]

Abandoned WIP-SuperWolf Crossover

I’ll tag them with #my abandoned WIPs to organize it. If you see any and are so inspired by any of these to either create you own or finish, PLEASE tag me! I’d love to see if someone was able to take it and run with it since it stalled out for me.

SuperWolf Crossover AU with #Destiel & #sterek where Dean and Stiles are demons, and Cas is a hunter, and Derek is still himself (it would've followed events of TW S1 to a certain extent)

(A/N: This was meant to be a Supernatural/Teen Wolf crossover AU w/ both #destiel & #sterek. Demon!Dean is training brand new demon!Stiles how to be a demon. It would've followed the events of TW S1 only Stiles would know everything was supernatural & they'd recruit Hunter!Cas to help)

“Really?” Dean says with a look of pure disdain at the teenager standing before him. 

“What?” the kid replies, his mouth in a little smirk. 

“Of all the people you could possess, you pick some snotty brat high schooler?”

“If you think about it, it’s kind of fitting doncha think? If I’m going to demon school, might as well look the part, yeah? Besides, this kid is a genius, and all this kid has is a dad, which is a lot better than the little brother you made your guy leave behind all those years ago.”

Dean narrows his eyes because even though he could care less about the brother, with every mention of him the man inside screams, and it gives him a headache. It’s been a long while, and Dean and the man whose life he hijacked have grown to accept each other.

But with every slight indication of Sam, the man’s brother, he decides to flare up, which is really annoying if Dean’s being honest. “Whatever. This kid have a name or you going to make one up?”

“He goes by Stiles, and I kind of like it, so I’m keeping it. He’s pretty cool. We’re pretty similar, you know? I think he’s starting to get used to me.”

Dean clears his throat. “Alright, Stiles, Demon 101 first lesson. Tap into his mind to access information and background history, but you can’t let yourself go too much or he could overtake you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Stiles closes his eyes in concentration to perform the task. 

“Okay, whaddya got? Who’re his friends? Family? Hobbies?” 

His eyes still closed, Stiles starts spouting off information, “Goes to Beacon Hills High School, where his favorite subject is English. He’s had a crush on a girl named Lydia with strawberry blonde hair since middle school, but she doesn’t give him the time of day. His best friend is named Scott, and they are both on the school lacrosse team, but Stiles always ends up on the bench. 

“Man, poor kid. It is a good thing I came along to help him out. When I’m through, he’s going to be the star player and get the girl!” 

“Stiles, focus,” Dean says, a little exasperated.

“Well, I mean it’s the least I can do right? That’s cool, yeah? That’s allowed? Helping the possessee out a little?” Stiles opens his eyes, solid black pupils reflecting the street lamp nearby, and looks up at Dean.

Dean rolls his eyes. “You can do whatever you want. If you want to feel better about yourself, fine. Can we get back to…” he says waving his hand for Stiles to continue with the lesson.

“Oh, right. Okay, umm let me see here. He had a mom, but she died of cancer when he was younger. His dad is the town sheriff, and he likes playing video games especially this fantasy one online—“ 

“What did you say?” Dean shouts, cutting him off.

“It’s some roleplaying game where they battle mythical—“ 

“NO. Not the stupid game. Did you just say this kid’s dad is the Sheriff?!” 

“Oh… ummm yes? In my defense, I did not know that ‘til just now.”

Dean rubs his hand over his face. “You idiot. Not only do we have to worry about hunters tracking us, now we gotta worry about cops! That face,” Dean points to Stiles, circling his finger to indicate Stiles’s face, “is going to be plastered everywhere because not only is this kid going to be missing, but his Sheriff dad isn’t going to stop looking for him. Ever.”

“Dude, I’m sorry! I didn’t know, okay? And… who says this kid is going to go missing?” he says, one eyebrow lifting up like he just had an idea.

“I don’t like that look. Stop. Look, kid, you’re just going to have to come out and possess someone with a few more years on him that doesn’t have relatives in law enforcement.”

“But I like this one! No, hear me out. Let’s stay here a while. I’ll go to school and do everything he normally does, and then I’ll sneak out and you can be my demon Yoda at night.” 

“Demon Yoda?” Dean deadpans. “Sneaking out every night doesn’t sound like a better plan.”

“What? Of course it does! Teenagers always sneak out. Plus I’m the son of a Sheriff, that’s like textbook cause for rebellion. Dean, come on, this is a good plan. No one knows you here. You can get a job and an apartment. You know… settle down a little before you beg your hunter lover to come find you.”

Suddenly angry, Dean lunges forward, grabbing Stiles’s throat and wrapping his hand around it.

Stiles flails a little in surprise, but he’s wearing a smirk on his face and shows no sign of Dean’s tightening hand having any effect on him. “Excuse me? You don’t have a fucking clue what you are talking about.”

“Oh I don’t, huh? That’s why you’re choking me? Cause I’m clueless? Which may I point out, probably not a good idea for a grown man to be choking an innocent teenager whose dad is the sheriff. Might be hard for you to make friends around here…”

Dean slowly loosens his grip around Stiles’s throat, but his hand stays pressed against the boy’s neck. “You don’t know anything about Cas, and if you say another fucking word about him, I’ll send you straight back to hell myself.”

“Geez, don’t get your panties in a twist. Didn’t know it was such a sensitive subject for you. I mean I’m not judging. Fool around with whoever you want; I might be new to this, but even I know it’s a rare occurrence that a hunter would rather jump your bones than send you back to hell.” 

Dean makes a move like he’s going to punch him, but Stiles throws up his hands in apology. “Hey, again I don’t care. Get with who you want. I just hope for your sake it doesn’t go south like that one demon that tried to put the moves on that angel Balthazar. And here I thought demons were supposed to be the deceitful cheating ones.” Dean looks a little taken aback by this information.

Clearly he’s been out of the loop for a while and hadn’t heard anything about someone trying to hook up with an angel. He knew plenty well what dicks angels could be, had heard about it from Castiel occasionally. “Cas wouldn’t do that. We have a mutually beneficial relationship, and if that changes, believe me, I won’t be sticking around long enough to see where the fall-out lands.”

“Yeah okay,” Stiles says, taking a step back from Dean and straightening his shirt. “I hope he knows that,” he murmurs under his breath. 

Dean hears it, but he doesn’t comment. He’s already embarrassed himself with how attached he is to Castiel, he doesn’t need any more.