#you CAN see that Volo’s model has 2 eyes

[pennumbra]

“Oh, this? An unfortunate run-in with a Luxray when I was a boy! It makes me look quite rugged, don’t you think? Of course, a pretty face is good for business!”

[whatever-the-fucky-i-writes]

Caught Somewhere in Time - Part 9 (Final)

Word Count: 828

Pairing: None (Maybe a very slight OFC x OMC)

Main Characters: Sam, Dean, OFC - Andi, OMC - Max

Warnings: Mentions of injury, Mentions of death, Swearing

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8

Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: Phew! This has been a few wild hours on my end! This is the final part in this series. And as of right now, I don’t plan on ever revisiting this one. However, maybe if someone down the line really wants me to, I could revisit this character. In other news, after this comes my Bucky series! Hopefully it won’t take me 10 days to get around to posting it like it did for this one, but it might be a few because my life gets busy and then I just don’t have the energy. I’ll get around to it eventually, though. Anyways, thanks for reading this far! I hope it wasn’t complete and utter trash.

Disclaimer:  I own none of the characters from Supernatural, only my OFC and OMC. Also, the plot line is basically a mash-up of a couple different episodes so I don’t own those either.

Previously: (Dean’s POV)   “Et volo huius.”. I light a match and toss it in. Andi’s voice and mine mix together as they echo and boom through the warehouse. Fire erupts from the outline of the circle, forming a wall of fire around the circle. And with that, Andi, an AJS Model 16, two bags, and three partially full bottles of alcohol appear in a flash of blinding light.

         Almost as soon as I appear, I feel myself taken into an extremely tight embrace. I smell leather and gunpowder. Dean. I hug him back, never wanting to let go. But I do, only so I can go embrace Sam. No words are exchanged. No words are needed. I put my bags in Baby and turn to the brothers saying,

        “I think I’ll take my bike to the bunker. And when we get there, there’s one last thing I’ll need your help with.”

        It takes the combined efforts of Sam, Dean, and I two weeks to track down Max. As soon as we get the news, I’m off in my Chevelle as fast as the thing can take me. I pull up to the retirement home, a little apprehensive. What if he doesn’t remember me? What if he’s died since the record we found online? What if…? What if…? I walk in and ask the nurse at the front desk for Max Harvelle. She asks me why I want to see him.

        “An old family friend,” is all I say. She instructs me to his room. I enter and close the door behind me. It’s a friendly little room with a bed in the corner next to a window with light streaming in through it. There’s a figure lying in it, looking out the window, hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor. It turns to face me as I close the door. I see a familiar set of grey eyes looking at me.

        “Andi!” Max says excitedly, but lacking the vigor of his youth.

        “It’s been a while,” I say with a smile and a laugh. He laughs at this too. I sit down in a chair next to his bed. “How’ve you been?” I ask. “Did you live a good life? Did you ever get married? Have kids? Did you reconcile with your brother? Did you-”

        “One question at a time,” he says, a happy glint in his eyes. “I’ve been well, overall. I have lived a long, full life. Yes, I got married. A lovely lady by the name of Lorena. She passed about twenty years ago. We had four children together, three boys and a girl, Cassandra.” Tears spring up in my eyes. He named his daughter after me. He continues, “Yes, I reconciled with my brother, just like you said I would. He’s gone too now, though. About ten years now.”

        “Did you miss me?” I ask, a little sheepishly.

        “Of course I missed you,” he says, “You know, I’ve been very ill as of late. The doctors say I don’t have long, but I’m fine with that. I’m 104 and you want to know why I’m still here? Why I haven’t given up and gone to be at peace with the rest of my friends and family? Because I’ve had this to look forward to, to hang on for. I’ve missed you so much and I have waited all these years just so I could see you again. It has been so long.” A few tears begin to run down my face. I realize the heat’s cranked in this place and I’m quickly overheating. I take off my jacket and hang it over the back of the chair I’ve been sitting in. I lean forward and hold his hand in mine. He squeezes it lightly.

        “You’ve made a new addition to your tattoo collection, I see.” I’m wearing that same Metallica tank top that he last saw me in so he can see all my tattoos. I’d gotten it while waiting for a search to run this past week. “Pretty boy,” he reads. “Awww, you think I’m pretty?” he asks in the same tone he used in what’s been only a week for me, but decades ago for him, batting his eyelashes in the same manner.

        “Of course I do,” I say, “You’re my pretty boy.” The heart monitor’s beeping slows down. I turn to face it with shock. I turn back around to look at Max. He’s fading, and even if the heart monitor wasn’t telling me, I’d still be able to sense it. These are his final moments.

        “I’m glad I get to spend my last moments in this life with you,” he says, his voice eerily quiet. “Goodbye, Andi.”

        “Goodbye, Max,” I say, my voice cracking, tears rolling freely down my face. His hand goes limp and the heart monitor stops beeping, letting out one monotonous tone.

        I sit in the room for hours, staring blankly out the window. He’s gone and I feel alone. Once I finally feel relatively close to feeling well enough to drive without putting others in danger, I head back out to my Chevelle. I slide in the driver’s seat and start her up. As I turn onto the highway, my journey home beginning, I turn on the radio. I cruise down the highway, AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” blaring from my speakers.

THE END

[whatever-the-fucky-i-writes]

Caught Somewhere in Time - Part 8

Word Count: 1,098

Pairing: None (Maybe a very slight OFC x OMC)

Main Characters: Sam, Dean, OFC - Andi, OMC - Max

Warnings: Mentions of injury, Mentions of death, Swearing

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 9 (Final)

Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: We’re almost there because this is the second to last part!

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters from Supernatural, only my OFC and OMC. Also, the plot line is basically a mash-up of a couple different episodes so I don’t own those either.

Previously: I turn on the radio and a song comes on, I recognize it from some movie I’ve seen, “Viper” by Dixieland. “To get you out of your slump, Doctor Singer has prescribed a little bit of dancing,” I say with a smile. I extend my hand to him and he takes it. We dance to various songs for the next hour or so. At the end of the final dance, he says, “Thank you, Cassandra. Really. I needed that.” He pulls me into a tight hug. I stand frozen for a second in shock, but return it once I regain composure. As he releases me, I say, “Call me Andi.” I lay down on the couch as he walks over to his door. “Night, Max,” I say, sleep already pulling me under. As I drift off, I hear him quietly reply, “Good night… Andi.”

         I’d spent most of the day sleeping, a rarity given my habit of waking up at 0500, but it was a welcomed gift. Max had shown me around Chicago and I’d had a wonderful day. It was going on 1700, and we were sitting in his apartment, both reading, when he spoke up, saying while rubbing the back of his neck, one of his nervous habits I’ve picked up on,

        “Since you’ll be gone soon… I was wondering if you...maybe...wanted...to have a night of proper dancing?” He adds hurriedly, “Not that last night wasn’t fun. It was amazing. I just wanted to know if you wanted to go to someplace with an actual band?”

        “I’d love to, Max,” I say enthusiastically with a smile. I look down and remember that I don’t have the right kind of dress to dance. My fed get up wouldn’t cut it and the dress I wore last night is too long for the kind dancing I think we’ll be doing. He sees my hesitation and says,

        “Don’t worry about your clothes. You don’t have to change. If you’re leaving, then you don’t really have to worry what other people are thinking.” That last sentence comes out of him with that same tone as before. I can tell now; it definitely holds a note of sadness.

        “Cool,” I say, getting up from my seat on the couch. I walk over to the table where he’s sitting and, pulling him by his hand and forearm, say, “Let’s go!” We walk down the street and into a bar. What strikes me first is the aroma. It smells of smoke and and beer, but it’s a smell that I’ve grown to love. The interior is breathtaking, but not in an over-the-top way. There are lights hanging from the ceiling, giving off a soft, friendly orange-tinged light. There’s a bar to my right with stools lining it on one side and an alcoholic's paradise on the other side. There’s a bartender, a younger man with black hair, checking on an old man who’s nursing his tonic and gin. There are other couples sitting at the bar, talking and laughing. On my left, there’s a dining room. Booths with leather upholstery line the walls and small dining tables are towards the interior. Straight ahead, there’s a dance floor with a raised stage behind it. There’s a band getting ready to play there; I see their sign says they’re Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. One of them says into the microphone accentedly,

        “Movers and shakers, we’re going to get you off your rears. Maybe you’ve heard ‘bout this guy. His name’s Jack. You all know who I’m talking about? Swell! Because it’s time for Jumpin’ Jack!” The drum starts with a funky beat and a trumpet fall. The saxophone and trombone join in, giving the place a whole new life as the jazzy swing music plays. He pulls me out onto the dance floor, my hands in his. He starts dancing and, even though I’m not a good dancer in my time, much less this one, I join in, feeling carefree and light. I let the music take me where it may and I enjoy every second of our hours spent dancing together. The night was magical and as the last song finishes, he pulls me into a tight hug. I want to stay in this moment forever.

        But now I’m standing in the warehouse. And it’s time to say goodbye. Inside my spell circle are the AJS Model 16, my bags containing my stuff, and the three bottles of alcohol Max had insisted be mine after last night.

        “Do you want me to find you in the future?” I ask.

        “That’d be nice,” Max says, tears seeming to threaten his grey eyes. We embrace once more.

        “Goodbye, Max,” I say.

        “See you later, Andi,” he replies. We release each other and he steps back to the wall. I walk out the center of my spell circle and count down to 2300, the time I’d told Dean to start the ritual. The clock strikes the hour and I begin to recite,

        “Viatori ego sum. Semitam calcandi supra tempus et spatium ego. Et ambulabo in finem; ut sumonitor meum.” I throw the hemlock into the rusted bowl in front of me.

Dean’s POV

        I’d found the instructions in a metal box in the center of the circle. After having read them carefully over and over, memorizing them, and spending the day making sure everything was right, to the letter, and repainting the time-faded spell circle, the time had finally arrived. Just as Andi instructed, I start to recite the incantation at exactly eleven, standing on the x she painted for me just outside the spell circle,

        “Sumonitor ego sum. Semitam calcandi supra tempus et spatium vos. Et ambulate in finem; ad mihi.” I toss the hemlock into a rusty bowl next to me.

        “Cupio ad iter a tempore ad tempore invicem. Send omnis quae in hoc circulo ad circulum sumonitor meum. Mea enim esse integrum et totum.” 23:02 rolls around and next in goes the wolfsbane.

        “Iter facio a tempore ad tempore invicem. Send omnis quae in circulo vos ad circulum. Habes es integrum et totum hic.” I add the wolfsbane to the mix at 11:02.

        “Mitte ad ego ad sumonitor meum.” Rabbit’s foot. Poor little guy. Always gets the shaft. I can hear what sounds like Dean’s voice softly speaking.

        “Me concalo vos ad me.” In goes the foot of the poor little rabbit who got the short end of the straw in this deal. I could swear I hear Andi’s voice in the room, quietly chanting.

        “Quia viatori ego sum.” A strand of my hair goes in next. Dean’s voice is louder now.

        “Quia sumonitor ego sum.” A piece of my hair is next. I hear Andi’s voice loud and clear now.

        “Et volo huius.” I light a match and toss it in. Dean’s and my voices echo through the warehouse. Fire erupts from the outline of the circle, creating a wall of fire around me. And with that, me and everything inside is gone in a flash of blinding light.

        “Et volo huius.”. I light a match and toss it in. Andi’s voice and mine mix together as they echo and boom through the warehouse. Fire erupts from the outline of the circle, forming a wall of fire around the circle. And with that, Andi, an AJS Model 16, two bags, and three partially full bottles of alcohol appear in a flash of blinding light.

To Be Continued...