#'you know what yeah Uriel sounds like a black name' like come on

[chintzwife]

on a more serious note i do genuinely think at worst s2 good omens directly ripped off supernatural and at best supernatural set a standard for an entire genre of TV related both generally to a post-Earth afterlife and specifically to the christian bodies of heaven and hell. it's fascinating to watch shows like Good Omens, Lucifer, Miracle Workers, The Good Place all try to follow in Supernatural's footsteps and do what it did without ever attempting to harness the central tenet of the 15-year-long saga which is: none of it is on purpose. the show is about humans and organically, accidentally, contrary to the very explicit beliefs and aims of the showrunners, the story becomes about the very nature of the universe. it's not about angels in gray suits.

also i don't think that the british have anything very interesting to say, at this juncture, about human nature and the potential limits of christian mythology and infrastructure

[the-firebird69]

Another news or send us come up with the movie title "Double Chin" and it is for martial arts film and the movie headline cover is going to have a silhouette of red with black background and a black screen but it's of one of the all right there's an Asian caricature and it's kind of the fatter face and it's round it's like a single line drawing and with the small beard and small mustache and the hair done up and that's what it looks like as a face but they're two fighters facing each other roughly about exactly the same size and it almost exactly the same shape and they form up the photo negative for the face and usually those particular characters have a small double chin it's like Gilene had so you're starting to get it, it's about these two for martial arts experts and their Chinese American and they're in the Chinese mob so to speak and they're fighting to keep family secrets and one of them is a woman and you can't tell it looks like a man and they're always sparring and stuff in the middle of the movie but it's a serious movie it's a serious action film and it's about to Chin a dynasty a little bit and that they have stuff and they're fighting over it and they're not letting anybody know that they're pretty kick ass and beefy, and it's about the stolen artifact but they're trying to also keep their family out of the public eye that's a finger pointing session and it can begin there. It also alludes to the fact that they're a little bit bigger and it's about Double dragon and the legend of it and we can work it in there and Uriel and goddess wife will assist and of course our chins and they are God and Goddess as well they do have kids with the same name, in China that went the wrong way this is true it's not a whole ton of them but they do have power and they know what the legend of the double dragon is it has to do with the east and west coast of the United States and that's what the whole movie is about and they're saying it which is great. Onto the other stuff. And we are working on a script and we are looking for actors and actresses and there's a bunch of you that do very well with this kind of stuff like House of flying daggers you like that film because it showed they have superpowers too and parts of kill Bill although they kind of get their ass kicked by Sarah there's no if that's believable and this is Sean Connery movie in Japan Jackie Chan is a lot of movies but the martial arts is a little bit light. And jet Li's movies are always intense but he carries the movie and this is a different clan but he can be idiot that would be great because it's a supporting actor and he's a high profile actor and he wants to be it's about Double dragon and their white dragons what's funny is The chins are her side and she's looking at his double chin all the time. Now she feels better

The image of the cover of the movie it's the symbol and the flyer is awesome it says double chin in those big black martial arts letters on the bottom and there's a whole face just like the Jim Morrison face but it's with red and black and two fighters facing each other in the face. This is an intense idea I kind of like it and want to get it going

Thor Freya segmented woman pretending their fighting it's an ugly thing

Olympus we approve this and it's going to start up shortly and way chan Lynn wants to be involved since I'm alive you a****** and with a chans you dummy. So he had to explain the family stuff again and it's going to be tough cuz there's a lot of those names over there in all different there's tons of them and he's laughing so wow this guy is a super genius so it says so this is fine well have you making the bamboost ver here . Yeah you said they were going really slow he said he should have got the slow workers sign out it's funny cuz all the Asians make fun of it hey look I was right and then people like Sandy Wong say well dummy thier using robots. Sandy Wong says boy does it sound like me I guess it's going to cost you a few bucks because you have to pay me for my likeness. She didn't say all that but she said you have to pay me. She wants to be in the film and he wants her in it and she can be like a historian talking about the family and talking about the dragons and the legend telling them to shut up it's a quiet down and sit down that's a big noises with their nose when she's reading.... Had a criticize them for a few minutes. Let's read professionally and stuff and then she will read professionally it's a great idea we're going to publish now Thor Freya

[ms-rampage]

New Dawn: New Horizons Chapter 7 - The Help

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Word Count: 3k

Summary: The angels help out with the Highwaymen, and the twins. Suggesting they get help from New Eden. Gabriel gives some shocking news to Kate.

Guest OCs: Just the usuals

Guest Characters: Joseph Seed [FC5, New Dawn], Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Uriel, Castiel, and Gadreel [Supernatural]

Note: Far Cry: New Dawn and Supernatural crossover

This was written by @athenalillystar and myself. Hope ya'll enjoy!!! 💕❤

Taglist: @mrsladydiana @vicki-the-sinner @rabbitsoldier @wargames94 @maybeitslizzy

Flashback; 10 Years Ago

The Winchester children, Carmina Rye, and all of the other children of Prosperity, and the Winchester-Smith compound are outside playing near Prosperity.

6 year old Daenerys wanders off from the rest of the group when she sees a rabbit, and chases after it. Not realizing she is running away from the safehouse, when she loses the rabbit’s trail. She looks around, completely lost, not being able to see the bright yellow walls of Prosperity. Not remembering which way she came from. 

She starts to cry, calling out for her parents, not knowing which way to go. The faint sound of a hum, gets her attention. She follows the humming, that of a man. She peeks out from behind a tree, and sees a man. An older man. 

He looks like he’s scavenging for food. Almost like he could sense her presence, he turns his head and sees her. The blue eyed, black haired Winchester.

“Hello child” he says, in a soft, soothing voice. 

Never seeing this man before, but his presence, and his aura are calm. Daenerys slowly moves from behind the tree, and walks slowly towards the man. 

“What’s your name, child?” he asks, kneeling to her height.

“Da-Daenerys” she responds, softly.

He takes her hand, and asks “Where are your parents?”.

She shrugs, and before she could give him a verbal answer, the voice of her grandmother calls out her name.

“Daenerys!!!”. She turns around, and sees her grandmother Mandy looking for her. “Daenerys!!!”.

She sees her granddaughter, and when she gets closer she sees a face she’d never thought she’d see again. Joseph Seed. He stares at her as she approaches them.

“Daenerys come on it’s lunch time” she tells her, reaching out for her hand.

She takes her hand, and guides her away from Joseph, having her stand a few feet away from them. 

“Mandeline” he says softly. She turns to face him, “Joseph”.

Now looking at each other for the 1st time after several years. Joseph shirtless as usual, nothing has really changed about him. No yellow sunglasses, most of his scars had heal. He aged basically, some grays just like her.

“Your granddaughter” he says, not in a question, like he already knew who she was. 

Mandy nods her head, “Yeah, she’s my youngest’s daughter”. As much as she hates to admit, but Joseph has gotten handsome over time. He’s gotten sorta better with age, kinda like how she has. 

“She’s John’s” he says. 

She takes a deep breath, looks back at her youngest granddaughter, and says to him.

“Yes, but she will ever know that, after what happened all those years ago. She’ll never know that information”.

Her voice shuttering, she turns to walk away, and Joseph speaks up. “You still look beautiful”. 

She stops, turns her head, and responds “Thank you. You still look good yourself”. She takes Daenerys, and walks back to Prosperity.

*****

Gabriel arrives back with his brothers, teleporting back to the compound. Outside the compound one of the guards in the tower see him with the hunters he said he was gonna bring back to help out.

“Open the gate!!!!” he yells out.

The front gates open, and the loud rumble makes everyone wake up from their slumber. After 7:00 am, the only ones awake are the 3 guards posted at the towers on the North, South and East towers of the compound.

The 3 houses, the 1st house where Paige, Kenneth, Cristina, Jeffrey, Bianca, Thomas, and Mandy live. The 2nd house where Kate, Gabriel, Daenerys, and Barbara live in. The 3rd and final house is where Markus, Dana, their 2 kids, Nathaniel, Elena and their 3 kids. Adrian, his wife Amanda and their kids, Martin, his wife Meghan and their kids. Cody, his wife Bree, and their kid all live in that house.

In combination all 3 houses have 32 bedrooms, 25 bathrooms, 4 kitchens, 1 huge bunker that has 14 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 2 kitchens, a library, a medic room and an interrogation room. Several other rooms that are yet to be bedrooms, or any other storage space. Thinking the whole property was a military base several years before it became a plot of land for a ranch.

Cristina wakes up to the sound of the loud metal gate rumbling, and sees her uncle Gabriel with several other men. One face she recognizes, Lucifer, once she sees him, he looks up at the window she’s at and sees her. She immediately moves away from the window, panting.

“I hope he didn’t see me” she whispers to herself.

All the other kids wake up, and the angels go to their rooms. Trying to adjust their new human lives, experiencing hunger, restlessness and all other human emotions, and traits since they’ve been cast out of Heaven. Kate, Paige, Kenneth, Barbara, Mandy and Gabriel are all downstairs in the kitchen of the main house. Going over the plan to get back at the twins. 

As Cristina walks down the hallway to go downstairs, she runs into the Devil himself. She turns a corner, and is met with him. Letting out a loud gasp. 

A huge smile on Lucifer’s face, “Hey you” he says, in a comedic voice, “Great to see you again kiddo”.

She looks up at him, can’t get the image of his red glowing eyes out of her head. 

“I know what, who, you are” she tells him, voice slightly shaken. He looks at her, head tilted in amusement, “Mommy finally told ya huh?!”.

She nods her head, “She told me everything, and how you tortured her, and my aunt in Hell”. He scoffs, crossing his arms “It wasn’t like that. Oh my Dad, bending the truth. Typical of you Winchesters”. Trying to find a way to get out of the conversation with Satan. 

“Cristina right?” he asks, acting like he hasn’t heard her name several times already.

She nods her head, “Yeah”.

“Well, in case you haven’t been told. I’m gonna be living here. I’m pretty sure your mommy will tell you the rest”.

He walks down the hall towards his room, leaving Cris standing there shaken, and pale. Downstairs, she walks into the kitchen where her parents, grandmother, godmother, aunt and uncle are.

“Cri you okay?” Paige asks, seeing that her daughter is startled.

She nods her head, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just walked down the hall, and heard the roosters call out. It caught me off guard”.

Over to the 2nd house, Daenerys wakes up, Timber following close to her, she goes outside, and from the patio of the 2nd house. She sees her dad in the kitchen of the main house. She runs towards the main house with Timber following behind. She runs into the kitchen, and almost tackles Gabriel. Hugging him tightly. 

“Whoa, hey you” he chuckles, when he realizes his daughter almost knocked him down with her tight embrace. Kate looks at this heartfelt moment between father, and daughter.

Knowing that her human daughter might have inherited Archangel powers, or at least Eleven from Stranger Things powers. She could be a human with psychic abilities, and telekinetic powers. An advanced human, a human with a few upgrades. There’s no way she can be a Nephilim. Not a chance, she’s too human.

****

Later that night all the adults, and angels are sitting in the living room of the main house, going over the plan to get back at the Twins, Highwaymen and Chuck. 

It's after midnight, and all the kids are asleep, or at least that's what they think. Gabriel is back, along with Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Uriel, Castiel, and Gadreel. Some of the Angels that fell, and were cast out of Heaven by Chuck.

“So what do you guys plan on doing when you’ve gotten Chuck’s attention?!?” Paige asks.

Michael sighs and tells them, “We all work together, and we demand an answer”.

Unsure in his voice, like he didn’t have a plan to begin with.

“That’s it?” Mandy asks, “Is that the whole plan?”.

“So far” Castiel adds.

As they’re talking about the plan, Cristina wakes up, and walks downstairs. Hearing the muffled voices coming from the living room. She walks down the hallway towards the living room.

As they’re talking about the plan, Lucifer interrupts them.

“I think we should cut this meeting short, since we’re no longer alone”. He snaps his finger, and the door to the den leading into the living room opens. They all turn and see Cristina. Lucifer gives her his smug little smirk. She looks at the doors, startled that they just magically opened on their own. 

“I thought you were asleep?!” Paige asks her daughter. Rubbing her shoulders because of the cold breeze passing through the house.

“It’s kind of hard to sleep when Satan himself is in the same house as you” she tells them, avoiding to look over at the blonde man sitting behind Gabriel, Kate and Mandy. 

Lucifer smirks at her, “Nice to see you too Cri”.

All of the Angels exchange confused looks. Looking awkwardly at each other.

“What did you hear?” Kate hesitantly asks.

Cristina sighs, “About stopping God, the Twins and the Highwaymen. That’s pretty much it”.

Paige and Kenneth exchange looks, giving each other the look that their eldest might know what's going on. 

“Do you know, or hear that some of us here are celestials?” Kenneth asks her, hesitant in his voice. She looks at him in confusion, “Angels?!”.

Paige introduces her to the celestial beings, “Cristina. This is Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Castiel and Gadreel. You’ve already met Lucifer”.

The eldest Winchester connects the dots, and realization hits her hard, “Wait, so Michael, Lucifer, Raphael” she looks over to her “uncle” Gabriel “And Gabriel? The Archangels?!?!”. They all nod at her, “Yes, he’s an Archangel” Kate tells her. She lets out a soft gasp, “So. All this time, when we lived in the bunker. He was an Angel?!”.

She looks at every single one of them, wide eyed and speechless. “Yeah. But no one can know” Paige tells her.

“So, so we have powerful beings that should only exist in stories, live with us?!?”.

She sighs, stands up from the couch, “Look I know it’s a lot to take in. This is why we never wanted you, or your siblings to live this life or know about the creatures that live among us”.

Michael stands up, and approaches her, “As your mothers Guardian Angel, and also yours. It would be best for you to not know any of this”.

Paige stands in-between her daughter and the Archangel, “Michael, you’re not wiping her memory. She was gonna find out eventually”. They all bring Cristina up to date with everything, and Uriel suggests that they should get assistance from the North to help out with the issues with the Highwaymen, and the Twins.

“Hell no!!!” Paige protests. 

“After what they did to all of us?!?” Kate tells them, “No. Hell no”.

“I’d rather breathe in radiation than get help from those savages. Especially what he did to us all those years ago". 

“Paige” Castiel sighs, in his monotone voice.

“No Cas” she snaps, “After what Joseph Seed’s family did to us!?!. Jacob tortured me with his classical conditioning bullshit. John manipulated Kate, tortured her and me as well. Joseph tried to have my mom killed. What they did to all of us. He can go to Hell. I’m surprised he didn’t fucking die when the bombs fell”.

She stops for a moment, and continues, “Oh wait. That’s right, because God wanted him to live, and he went back on his word. Taking a shit on humanity either way, and don’t forget he cast all of you out of Heaven. He betrayed all of us”. Michael takes a seat, “She’s right. Father did all of this because he was bored with humanity. Create a new world and manipulate Joseph Seed, and his family”.

“I should've known something was wrong” Raphael says, “When he didn’t want Mandy to change anything about the Project. He didn’t want her to tell anyone about it. He wanted her to follow his plan”. 

“Well” Lucifer says loudly, slapping his knees, and getting off the table behind everyone else. 

"We all want the same thing. Sorta. I want to get back at the old man, and you two want to stop that Joseph dude, the Twins and their followers of weird humans in the dirt-bike gear”. 

Paige clears her throat, “Umm, yeah. Yeah in a way we all want the same thing”.

“So how do we get Chuck’s attention?!?” Mandy asks. 

They all stay in silence for a moment, exchanging looks. 

“We will figure something out” Michael tells them. 

The angels stay up for the night. Since they don’t need any sleep because they’re still angels, and not fully human. 

____

Kate and Gabriel are in their room, she was about to go to sleep for the night, and he was gonna join his brothers in the main house to go over a plan to get their Father’s attention.

“There’s something that I need to tell you” he says to her, who has her back to him.

“What is it?” she asks, her back still to the archangel. 

He sits down on the bed, clears his throat and says “It’s about John”.

Kate looks off into space as he says the name John. The one who she thought was the love of her life, but she was wrong when he impregnated her the night before Nick Rye shot his plane down, and he died from his injuries. 

He fooled her, her family and everyone else. She thought she could change him, for good. “What about him?” she asks, turning her head to face him.

“All those moments” he starts, “All the moments you two had. I-I saw it all”.

She looks at him with concerned eyes, “What?”.

He stands up from the bed, looking at her intensely, standing in front of her, “We’re meant to be together. You’re my other half. You’re supposed to be my wife”.

He repeats the same exact words John Seed had said to her 17 years earlier when he cleansed her. Everything he said that night, repeats in her head. 

“Wh-What?” she stammers over her one word response. 

“You and John might have been meant for each other, and I use might very, very loosely. But you two were not soulmates” he tells her, approaching her slowly, “You two were never soulmates”. 

“What are you talking about?!?” she asks, confused. 

“You and John. When he took your virginity, when he saved you, when he marked you, cleansed, atone and confessed. I was there. I was there when “he” killed you”.

Feeling a wave of emotion rush over her, making the hairs on her body rise up. Now knowing that her Archangel was there, and he didn’t step in at any point to help her out. 

“What?!?” she exclaims, trying to keep her voice down from waking up Daenerys. 

“All those moments between you and John Seed. I was there. You two were not meant to be together”. 

He tells her while trying to hold back whatever emotions are behind those whiskey colored eyes. Her eyes go soft, showing signs of sincereness and possible understanding.

“You were there?!” she asks, feeling tears developing in her eyes. 

He nods, “And I couldn’t do anything. Dad didn’t want me to step in, as much as I wanted to, I wanted to kill Saleos, and Merihem. You and John were not meant to be together”.

She looks at him with utter confusion, shaking her head, "I-I don't understand" she whimpers, “All this time?”. 

“We were meant to be together, not you and John. Dad, God tortured me by pushing you into his arms, and made me watch him do all those things to you. He knew that would hurt me, and he wasn’t wrong. Me being your Guardian Angel, and developing feelings for you. A human. I'm a, or was, a warrior of God. Soldier of Heaven, and I grew to love and care for a human". 

He has never told her any of this, not once. Didn’t even hint at it. She knew he was her Guardian Angel, and that was it. Yeah they got married, and he helped her raise Daenerys. Before Kate even met John Seed, she knew Gabriel cared about her, and that he would protect her no matter what. 

“So-so everything that he and I did. You-you saw?” she asks, stammering.

He nods again, “Yeah, we’re meant to be together. You’ve seen my wings”.

She lets out a soft gasp, “Your- your wings”. That was not a question, Kate has seen Gabriel’s wings. His beautiful golden, brown wings. 

When she was sent to Hell when she was 16 after she was killed by a vampire while on a hunt. Gabriel pulled her out of the fiery pit. He saved her from another several years of torture, and she saw his wings. Knowing she was just a human child, a teenager, he couldn’t have a relationship with her. He protected her and that was it. 

She didn't know he was her soulmate because she didn't really know the significant meaning of seeing an angel’s wings. He gripped her tight and raised her from perdition. Just like how Castiel did with Dean.

“You’ve seen them, and when you see an angel’s wings that means you're their mate, or their Guardian Angel. Me to you, I’m both” he tells her, “And when he, John killed you. I wanted to be the one to bring you back, but Chuck wouldn’t let me, he threatened to kill you for good, and the rest of humanity. I’m just glad it was Castiel that brought you back”.

Kate leans back against the headboard, trying to process everything that this Archangel is telling her. 

“Everything that happened with your mom, Paige, you and everything else that happened between the Winchesters and the Seeds. It was all orchestrated by Chuck, he wanted both families to merge as one family. Then Mandy betraying Joseph was broken seal number 1, John’s death was broken seal number 2 that was orchestrated by you, Jacob’s death was broken seal 3, that was on Paige, and Rachel, or Faith was the final seal. That was all on Joseph”.

God, Chuck not only played the Seed family, but in a way played the Winchesters as well. Everything was orchestrated by God, the deaths and betrayals was all on the Winchesters.

But it was that Deputy that was the final nail in the coffin, because moments before Paige was gonna put a bullet in Joseph Seed’s head, Mandy stepped in and stopped her. Telling her about how he needed to be protected, and she brought up Raphael that he was sent on his behalf, and to guide her through that whole fiasco.

If Mandy knew that helping Chuck, and working with the Cult would lead to the end of humanity as we know it. She would’ve told God to fuck off, and would’ve searched for her husband’s killer, and wouldn't have to worry about that whole shit show. 

[dorksndisasters]

Session 3

[[<PREV]] | [[NEXT>]]

Ok no I did totally forget about this, my bad

episode 5 has just gone up on patreon.com/scmalarky if you want to get ahead! That’s the first one I ever wrote!

This is where Marask joined! They entered the underground market area! It quickly became their favourite place to go!

players involved: Carric, Marask, Ophibwynn, Uriel

##

The market is busy as ever; there doesn’t seem to be one specific market day here, thought the stalls do change from day to day.

Ophibwynn (still nursing a slight headache from the night before) meets Carric and Uriel, squinting slightly. “No Siana?”

“Don’t know where she is,” Carric says, and offers her a mushroom.

Ophibwynn takes it, dubious, and offers it to Gordon to sniff at.

“To help with your headache,” Carric says. “Promise.”

Ophibwynn shrugs and eats it. “Alright, so-”

She’s interrupted by two crows that come careening out of the sky and circle the group, cawing.

“Hey!” Uriel unsheathes her sword, pointing it at them. “Be warned, crows.”

One of the crows lands and shifts form, becoming a scruffy looking man in his mid-thirties. “Hey, hey, easy!” He holds up his hands as the other crow lands on his shoulder. “Just me.”

“Marask.” Carric smiles. “Been a while.”

Uriel sheathes her sword, still giving his crow a narrow Look.

“Yeah. What are you doing here?”

“Meeting someone,” Ophi replies. “Well, meeting someone that’ll take us to meet someone else.”

Marask tilts his head, like he’s trying to parse that. “Alright. Mind if I tag along?”

Uriel whips her head around, staring into the throng of people. Her hand rests lightly on the hilt of her sword.

“Hey, Uriel, buddy...? What have you seen there?”

“Thieves,” she says, and stalks into the crowd.

“Well don’t - don’t murder them!” Carric hurries after her. “You don’t have to-”

"Good to see you again," Ophi says to Marask, as they follow. "Seen anything interesting?"

"Oh, you know, this and that."

Uriel is stalking a lizardfolk and a kenku that seem to be working together; the lizardfolk, being bigger, is drawing attention simply by walking past and being intentional about brushing past people, bumping into them, drawing their ire. The kenku, when their mark turns to challenge him, lifts whatever she can from their pockets and melting back into the crowd.

"Hello," Uriel says, almost pleasantly, and holds her sword against the kenku's back.

"Wait." Carric grabs Uriel's arm. "Think about this."

"Is there something you want?" the lizardfolk asks, a growl underlining his words.

"Nope, nu-uh, not at all," Ophi says, smiling. "Sorry."

Marask grins and shifts to his half-form; taller, his arms becoming wings, feet becoming talons, feathers weaving in amongst his hair. He looks almost like a kenku, although much larger. "I come," he says, voice deeper and slightly clipped, "To bring you with me out of this citadel, and what do I find?" He fixes his gaze on the kenku.

The kenku freezes, one hand extended towards Ophi's satchel, and gazes up at him with something like awe in her eyes. "Herald?" she croaks out.

"Don't be stupid," the lizardfolk growls. "That isn't anything to do with-"

The crow on Marask's shoulder cuts him off with a series of harsh caws, spreading its wings wide.

"What are you bringing me?" Marask asks.

The kenku lifts up her satchel and opens it, holding it for Marask to peer inside.

His eyes light up as he stares at the contents. There are four whistles, two stones marked with painted glyphs, and two eggs that are mismatched in size.

"Acceptible." Marask takes it.

The kenku almost starts to protest; "I need to take egg - all - to Spires! You-"

"I am not asking," Marask says, sorting everything into his own bag. "It is a paltry tribute."

"But-"

Marask holds up a wing. "Hush."

The kenku claps her beak shut so fast that everyone can hear it click.

Marask turns away to hide the grin growing on his face, and the other three follow him.

"So - what, you con kenku into believing you're their god?" Ophi asks.

"How well does that normally work out for you?"

"It gets me some fun things." Marask sorts through his spoils. "What can you tell me about these?"

"Well," Carric says, poking at the whistles. "One of these is magic. Not sure what it does, though."

"And these?" Marask touches the eggs. "This one's gotta be something good, right?" He strokes the bigger one.

It's cooling, to the touch, and a deep black, spattered with white specks that, in the darkness of his bag, seem to glow slightly.

"Not sure." Carric frowns at it. "Ophi?"

"It looks like... like something out of a story," Ophi starts to say, before she is interrupted.

There's a commotion not far off, and the group collectively looks over to see two lizardfolk sweeping a stall clear of what looks like votive statues as the stall owner protests.

Marask hands his bag off to Ophi and leaps into full crow, circling around the lizardfolk for a better angle. He dives, shifting forms at almost the last moment to crash into one of them, sending them stumbling away from the stall. The statues fall from their grip as they yell out.

Uriel dashes in, almost unsheathing her sword.

"Hey!" Carric calls out a warning after her.

Uriel reverses her grip on her sword and smacks the other lizardfolk so hard that he falls unconscious.

The lizardfolk that Marask hit turns and lashes out at him with their claws, snarling.

Marask, unable to dodge back in time, is hit across his arm, the claws tearing through his skin.

Ophi leaps, using some magic to boost herself high enough to get the drop, kicking the lizardfolk in the head.

In the commotion, Uriel sweeps the statues into her own bag.

"Here's your stuff," Ophi says, holding out his bag to Marask.

"Thanks." He resumes his human form, rubs the faded claw marks, and turns to the nearest stall. "Can I interest you in some whistles?" He lays out three of them on the stall.

"Aren't they from-" the stallholder starts to say.

"Only the finest, hand-carved," Marask speaks over him, "A perfectly tuned toy for any young, budding musician."

The stallowner is doubtful, but they name a price and Marask takes it.

"And these statues-"

"Those are mine," the stallowner says. "I won't - hey!"

Marask is leaving, three statues sticking out of his bag. "Consider it payment!" he calls back.

"You're as bad as Uriel."

"Hey!" Uriel and Marask speak in tandem, both sounding just as shocked.

"I don't try to murder everyone," Marask says.

"I don't try to sell people their own wares," Uriel says.

Ophi laughs. "Maybe you should both stop."

"Maybe," says Marask, and his eyes glitter as he sees another trio.

This one is a kenku and two humans; Marask shifts to his half form again and stalks over.

"Paltry tribute," says Marask, right in the kenku's ear.

The kenku jumps, turns, catches sight of Marask and instantly prostrates himself.

"Fuck." One of the humans bursts into motion, running through the crowd.

"Gordon-" Ophi lets her familiar down. "Follow!"

The rabbit disappears after the man.

Carric squares up to the other human. "I'm going to need you to stop doing this." She tries to stare him down.

He laughs in her face. "Or what?"

Carric appears to think for a minute, then shrugs and twists her hand to release magic. He's encased in a gelatinous cube that starts to eat away at his skin.

He's screaming, but Carric adds another layer of spell that silences him, and the cube makes short work of him until all that remains is his clothes, his bag, and the ring that had been on his finger.

She crouches to pick it up, and finds a further two rings in his bag. "Sweet."

The marketgoers are giving them as wide a space as they can, seemingly unwilling to linger long

"You see what we do to rulebreakers?" Marask says, still standing above the kenku.

"No more," he croaks. "No crime."

"I need you to leave this city a new kenku," Marask says. "With nothing to your name."

The kenku wriggles out of his robe and places it on the ground before Marask.

"I don't think he meant-" Ophi starts to say.

"No, I did," Marask cuts her off, holding up his hand.

The kenku lays a leather pouch on top of his robe, and dares to look up. "Everything."

"Good." Marask nods. "Now, never return to this city. Live a virtuous life."

Carric laughs, quietly.

The kenku gets slowly to his feet, still hunched in a bow, and backs away until he's out of sight.

"So," Marask says, turning to the others. "Where now?"

"Well," Ophi says, and her eyes glow faintly as she focus on the link between her and Gordon. "I think we've got something."

They follow Gordon’s trail to a deserted alley. He’s waiting before a stack of cracks, sniffing at its base.

“He was following someone, right?” Carric asks. “I don’t see anyone.”

Ophi tugs at the crates, and they swing as one, pulling open the door behind them. “He went down here,” she says, gesturing down the dark stairs.

“Huh.” Carric peers in.

“Well-” Marask starts to say.

Uriel plunges straight in.

“Woah, wait-”

“We have to find this guy, yes?” She doesn’t look back. “And maybe I can kill him.”

“You don’t have to kill him,” Carric hisses, hurrying down the steps after her.

Marask and Ophi trade a glance and follow after them, Ophi tugging the door shut in their wake.

The stairs wind down into the depths below the city, twisting back on themselves a couple of times before they reach a rotting wooden door.

Beyond the door is a lively buzz of voices and clatter.

“They went through here?” Carric asks.

“Did you see any other places they could have gone?” Marask asks. “Open it, open it.”

Uriel pushes open the door to reveal a cavernous room filled with people of all races, more stalls, and a constant thrum of chatter and yells.

“Is this – is this another market?” Ophi asks, taking tentative steps into the room. “Below the ground?”

“It’s the blackmarket,” Marask says, his eyes gleaming. “Holy fuck.”

Carric grabs hold of Uriel as she starts to drift into the crowd. “So where now?”

Uriel is grinning in delight, eyes wide and flickering over the gathering.

“We should... we should find that person,” Ophi says, but she’s sounding less convinced as she walks further in. “Come on.”

They’re attracting a few stares as they wander in, and the nearest few conversations die.

The group don’t seem to notice the changing attitudes as they look around.

“Staffs!” Ophi rushes to a stall. “Ooh, I want that one!” She points at a staff with a lantern attached to the top of it. “Can I – uh, I can trade... my flute?” She pulls out a carrot that’s been carved into an instrument.

The stallowner raises her eyebrows, sceptical. “A carrot. For a staff.”

“Not just any carrot!” Ophi shakes her head. “It’s a musical carrot, listen.” She plays a quick jig that sets people’s feet tapping, bright and tricky.

The stallowner whistles, partway impressed. “Alright, I guess.” She hands over the staff Ophi wants, taking the carrot. “Quite a tune you can get out of this.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Ophi nods. “And - and it won’t rot! It’ll keep like that as long as you need it to.”

“Hey, you’re a sorceror as well, right?” Marask asks Carric. “Can you like... make my daggers fancy?”

“Uh-” Carric blinks at the dagger he shoves in her face. “Maybe?” She takes it.

Her wren hops onto her hand, beside the dagger, and taps its beak against the blade.

Carric blinks, and her eyes gleam slightly. The blade glows, too, just for a moment.

“There.” She passes it back. “It... should paralyse people now. For a while.”

“Sweet.”

Carric blinks and shakes her head. “Alright.” She sells off her non-magical rings to a nearby jeweller.

Uriel, meanwhile, has stalked further into the room, casting her eyes about for the person that they’d been following.

“Ooh, you have pies!” Marask all but runs to a nearby stall, slapping his hands down on the edge of it.

The stallowner doesn’t quite flinch, but his hand tightens reflexively about a knife at his side. “Yes. 25 silver.”

Marask whistles. “Ooh, they must be good then, right?” He buys two and turns into the crowd, grinning. “Hey!” he yells out. “Food fight!” He throws one of his pies into the crowd and waits, raising himself onto his toes.

Behind him, the stallowner rolls his eyes and shrugs.

No one takes the bait, and Marask pouts.

“Hey, where did Uriel go?” Carric asks, looking around.

“This way,” Uriel says, reappearing. “I’ve found your guy.” “Is he dead?” Ophi asks, following.

“No. Why, did you want him dead?”

“No!” Marask hisses, following. “Not everyone has to die!”

Uriel shrugs carelessly and leads them across the room to an offshoot corridor. “There, see?” She drops her voice to a whisper and points around the corner.

There’s an orc standing outside one of the doors, and the human they’d been chasing slightly further along the corridor.

Marask launches into action, wielding both of his daggers. He cuts the orc across the leg and spins about to try and get the human, who’s just out of his reach.

Ophibwynn runs after him, and manages to hit the human with her new staff, sending him stumbling backwards.

Uriel all but cackles as she too launches into the fight.

Carric, meanwhile, uses the distraction to sneak into the room the orc is guarding. It’s well appointed, with drapes and a desk and a few shelves of books. There’s a wardrobe against one wall, the door cracked slightly open, and a glass fronted cabinet with bottles displayed in it. The desk is big and heavy, and on one side of it stands Annan, almost to attention, in front of a pair of chairs. On the other side someone else sits, invisible from Carric’s position.

“... anyway, they weren’t there, so they can’t be that big a threat,” Annan is saying to someone else. “If they can’t keep an appointment, I don’t know if they're worth it.”

“Don’t underestimate them,” someone else replies, and Carric sees the man from the Knave and Cauldron, Aelfswild. “They found the camp, after all.”

“Uh. Hi.” Carric stands. “You’re Aelfswild, right?”

He looks up and across the desk at her. “However did you find your way in here?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find you at the market like we agreed,” Annan says, not quite glaring at Carric.

“We followed a thief.” Carric gestures back across her shoulder.

Aelfswild gets to his feet and walks around the desk. “I see.”

“Can I – can the rest of my friends come in?” Carric asks.

“But of course,” Aelfswild says, and opens the door.

The fight stalls when he steps out.

Ophi and Marask pull back, Ophi hiding her staff behind her back.

“You.” Aelfswild snaps his fingers at the thief. “Get lost.”

The thief disentangles himself from Uriel’s hold and dashes back down the corridor.

“Come in, please.” Aelfswild gestures to the open door.

They follow him inside, and the orc stands stiffly against the wall to the side of the door, not quite leaning on its axe.

“We found this note,” Ophi says, as Aelfswild closes the door and steps back around the desk. “Here.” She pulls it from her pocket and places it on the desk.

“Thank you.” He gives it a cursory glance as he sweeps it to the side, into a pile of papers.

“What is it about?” Ophi asks.

“A venture,” Aelfswild replies. “I was trying to branch out, to set up a caravan trail to take goods between settlements. Alas, it appears to have fallen through with that particular partner.”

“Oh. I’m... sorry?”

Aelfswild shrugs. “We all must fail sometimes. Now, is there anything I can do for you?” He turns to his cabinet and pulls out a bottle and several tankards, pouring drinks for the group.

“Well... not really?” Ophi glances around the group. “We just... wanted to get that back to you, I guess.”

They take the drinks as he passes them over.

Annan snorts, and Aelfswild shoots her a pointed glance. “In that case, may I interest you in a job?” He sits down at his desk again and lifts his own tankard in a toast.

“What sort of job?” Marask asks, taking a slug of the beer.

“Collection,” Aelfswild replies. “I have several items that have been paid for, but they need picking up and brought back to me before I can send them out.”

“Seems dumb to sell them before you have them.”

“It’s something of a second-hand service.” Aelfswild replies. “I connect buyers with sellers.”

“And you need more people to help?”

“We are a small... start up.” Aelfswild smiles. “Especially now that my main backer has pulled out, for the time being. You understand that I would like to get set up so that when they do need my services, I am in a position to... to help further.”

“... Sure,” Carric says slowly. “I guess we can pick some stuff up for you.”

Aelfswild smiles. “Excellent. I don’t have one lined up right at this moment, but I trust I can find you at the Knave and Cauldron when I do?”

The group collectively nods.

“Excellent!” Aelfswild repeats. “Until the next time.”

Annan gets to her feet, strides to the door, and opens it for them.

They file out, and she all but slams the door in their faces.

“Uh-” Ophi raises a hand.

“Hm.” Carric frowns.

Marask shrugs. “Hey, buddy.” He waves at the orc, who has slid to sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall. “Here’s for later.” He balances his tankard, still mostly full, on the orc’s head. “I would like more pies.”

“I... I would also like a pie,” Ophi says, turning away. “I guess there’s nothing else to do.”

Carric glances at the orc. “I guess that paralytic worked, then.”

“Oh?” Marask glances back, grins, and waves. “Guess it did. No hard feelings, right?”

The orc glares at him, but is unable to so much as growl after him.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Song Remains The Same: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,934

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Just then, a loud-pitched noise sounded which was an angel talking. Your ears rang from the noise, but you casted your magic around the room to lessen the pain for everyone else. Your mother tried to help, but she was focused on using her magic to protect you inside of her. It became too much to bear, and everyone covered their ears just as glass and lightbulbs shattered, plunging the room into darkness. This happened for a few minutes before the angels shut up. The front door flies open, a sound of angel wings is heard, and a younger Uriel enters the room.

“Who the hell are you?” Dean glared.

“Uriel?” you asked, remembering that he died.

“So, you do know me,” he chuckled.

Sam backed up and urged Mary, John, and your mother to leave the house through the back. They turned to leave but stopped when Anna appeared.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” you muttered just as they attacked.

Both you and Dean went after Uriel while Sam went after Anna. He held the angel blade in his hands, but Anna knocked that shit right out of his hands. John saw an opportunity and took it, snatching the angel blade off the ground and going to use it. However, Anna saw this coming and threw him through the wall and into the backyard.

“John!” Mary yelled.

Turning to face Uriel, you threw magic balls that appeared out of your hands. He dodged your attempts to hurt him and grabbed Dean by the throat when he got the chance. Your eyes were the brightest they have ever been since you wanted to do maximum damage. Uriel was a lot stronger when he was younger, so he was able to overpower you more quickly. He grabbed at your throat and forced you on your knees.

Your mother took the chance to attack, but Uriel was having none of it. He held his hand out and forced her to her knees as she clutched her stomach. She wasn’t as strong as she was before since she had a baby to protect now. Anna had an opportunity and she took it. She ripped a fixture from the wall and shoved it into Sam’s abdomen.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled.

Sam began to bleed profusely through the wound since it was too much for him to bear. He slid to the floor as his skin began to pale. He was dying, if not already dead.

“Sam!” you yelled, trying to get to him.

“I’m really sorry,” Anna said to Marry who could only watch in horror.

“Anna,” John said from behind, but this time he was different.

There was a white glow around his body, and you knew that he was possessed by an angel. The question was… which one?

“Michael,” Anna gasped.

Michael placed a hand on Anna’s shoulder, and she began to burn from that spot. She quickly bursts into flames as white ones shot out of her eyes. She turned to a crisp and her body fell away in ashes. The archangel turned to Uriel once he finished.

“Michael. I didn’t know.”

“Goodbye, Uriel,” he claimed, snapping his fingers to make the angel disappear.

“What did you do to John?” Mary demanded to know.

“John is fine.”

“Who—what are you?”

“Shh,” he whispered, touching her forehead to knock her out.

She fell to the ground unconsciously. He looked at your mother before snapping his fingers. She dropped to the ground, and you were going to go to her when he stopped you.

“She’s fine, and you’re unharmed. Don’t worry,” he cleared his throat. “Well, I'd say this conversation is long overdue, wouldn't you?”

Your eyes never fell back to their normal color in case you needed to do some damage to this archangel, no matter how small it may be.

“Ah, much like me, my aunt took up a bloodline. I didn’t know that before I put her away for all eternity,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, and I’m pretty powerful.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

“Fix him,” Dean demanded as he pointed to his brother.

“First… we talk. Then, I fix your darling little Sammy.”

“How'd you get in my dad, anyway?”

“I told him I could save his wife, and he said yes.”

“I guess they oversold me being your one and only vessel.”

“You're my true vessel, but not my only one.”

“Like me?”

“Precisely.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It's a bloodline,” you answered for him.

“Stretching back to Cain and Abel. It's in your blood, your father's blood, your family's blood. You’re a bit different, Y/N. Amara chose you from the very start of creation.”

“So, she is real.”

“Oh yes, she is. She belongs where she is. She has no place in this world. I’m not sure how, but she chose a bloodline while being locked away. We locked her away millennia before humans were created.”

“Let’s cut to the chase. What do you want with me?”

“You really don't know the answer to that?”

“Well, you know I ain't gonna say yes, so why are you here? What do you want with me?!” Dean yelled.

“I just want you to understand what you and I have to do.”

“Oh, I get it. You got beef with your brother. Well, get some therapy, pal. Don't take it out on our planet!”

“You're wrong. Lucifer defied our father, and he betrayed me. But still… I don't want this any more than you would want to kill Sam,” the archangel turned away in thought. “You know, I practically raised my brother. I took care of him in a way most people could never understand, and I still love him,” he turns back to you two. “But I am going to kill him because it is right and I have to.”

“Oh, because God says so?” you scoffed.

“Yes. From the beginning, he knew this was how it was going to end.”

“And you're just gonna do whatever God says?”

“Yes, because I am a good son.”

“Being a good son doesn’t mean obey every command, Michael. Being a good son means you love unconditionally and make mistakes because that’s how you learn to be better,” you explained with a sigh.

“And you think you know better than my father? Two unimportant little creatures. What makes you think you get to choose?”

“Because I got to believe that I can choose what I do with my unimportant little life.”

“You're wrong. You know how I know? Think of a million random acts of chance that let John and Mary be born, to meet, to fall in love, and to have the two of you. Think of the million random choices that led your bloodline to circle back to Amara. Think of the million random choices that you two make, and yet how each and every one of them brings you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is? Because it's not random. It's not chance. It's a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will is an illusion, Dean. That's why you're going to say yes. It could be worse. You know, unlike my brothers, I won't leave you a drooling mess when I'm done wearing you. Can’t say the same for Amara if she ever comes out.”

“Well, what about my dad?”

“Better than new. In fact, I'm gonna do your mom and your dad a favor. Even yours, Y/N.”

“What is it?” you wondered.

“Scrub their minds. They won't remember me or you.”

“You can't do that.”

“I'm just giving your mother what she wants. She can go back to her husband, her family—”

“She's gonna walk right into that nursery!” Dean yelled.

“My mother is going to die by the hands of Meg!!”

“Obviously. You always knew that was going to play out one way or another. You can't fight City Hall,” Michael sighed, going over to Sam. He pressed two fingers to his forehead, and the younger brother disappeared within a moment. The pipe that was inside his body clunks to the ground. “He's home. Safe and sound. Your turn. I'll see you soon, Dean.”

Michael touched yours and Dean’s foreheads, and everything went black.

Now that you were back in your own time, things were different. Well, everything stayed the same with your mom and the brothers’ parents still dying, but the atmosphere changed between you three. The room was thick with tension as you packed in silence. The only thing on your mind was Castiel, and where the hell he was or if he was okay. Looking up, you noticed the angel in question standing behind you with a look of pain etched into his face.

“Castiel,” you gasped, rushing over to him.

Sam and Dean did the same when they heard your outburst.

“Cas!” Dean said as he hurried over to help.

“We got you.”

“You son of a bitch. You made it.”

“I… I did? I'm very surprised,” he mumbled before collapsing.

The brothers held him up, and thought the best idea was to lay him on the bed to rest. Once there, you got next to him to heal him.

“You’re going to be okay, Castiel,” you whispered, placing your hand on his cheek.

His skin absorbed your magic, and a white light shined through his mouth and nose. Whatever you did worked only a little bit.

“Well… this is it,” Dean sighed.

“This is what?”

“Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, Mr. Comatose over there, and a witch. It's awesome.”

“It's not funny,” you sighed.

“I'm not laughing. Want a drink?” Dean offered.

Sam nodded, but you had a strange feeling that you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol. There was something deep in your gut that told you alcohol was a bad idea.

“No thank you.”

“They all say we'll say yes,” Sam sighed, accepting the drink.

“I know. It's getting annoying.”

“What if they're right?”

“They’re not,” you muttered.

“I mean, why would we, either of us? But then again, I've been weak before.”

“We’re not you, Sam,” you snapped. His face fell at your jab, and you immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry, I was out of line.

“You’re right. I mean, Michael got Dad to say yes.”

“That was different. Anna was about to kill Mom.”

“And if you could save Mom… what would you say?” Sam asked.

“We should get some sleep. We can head out tomorrow morning,” you sighed.

“Yeah, good idea,” Dean said, ignoring his brother’s question.

Staring at the flickering 24-hour sign posted in the gas station across town, you took a deep breath. There was no one on the road, no one passing through because everyone was asleep.

Why weren’t you?

Something was calling you here, to do what you were about to do. The thought was planted in your mind before going back in time, but you tried to ignore it. There was no way this was happening now; you wouldn’t allow it.

Walking inside the place, you headed to the section specifically for these products. Grabbing two, you paid for them and headed back to the motel since you didn’t want to do it in a gas station. Making sure you were really quiet, you headed to the bathroom before doing what needed to be done.

The wait process was always the worst since three minutes can feel like hours. Nonetheless, when the time was up, you looked at the results. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing right now.

You are pregnant.

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[whatawriterwields]

Not the Only Ones - pt. 2

Continued from “Not the Only Ones” 

A certain phone had been ringing nearly off the hook since the end of the world. Since Heaven’s office staff had shrunk astronomically, and since an enormous population of angels and demons, glued to office desks for thousands of years, had suddenly begun manifesting bedrooms and flats and even entire cottages lodged within Heaven’s once immaculate hallways, only one person was responsible for answering it now. 

“Gabriel,” Gabriel grumbled into the white tablet, which was grimy and smudged from overuse. 

“Beelzebub,” the demon buzzed. 

“Yes, I know who it is. Any progress down there?” 

“Got maybe forty demons from the army who still want the war. The rest are holed up with angels all around the place, letting in bloody sunlight from the upper floors and cooking over bonfires.” There was a pause, as though Beelzebub had put down the phone for a moment - then, in a voice more strained than before, “They’ve also started singing.” 

Read on Ao3

“Singing.” Gabriel put his face in his hands. “Demons are singing.” 

“Your stupid angels taught them how.”

“Am I going to have a horde of dancing angels up here soon?” 

“We’d better get this war back on, soon,” said Beelzebub, and their voice dropped, became lower, more insect-like, more deadly. “Or you’re going to find out.” 

“Yes, well.” Gabriel straightened with difficulty in his chair. He’d never had to sit at a desk this long in his life. He’d never worked this many hours without a break. His human form, which was just a kind of concentration-of-essence most of the time, was getting sore and itchy and generally unpleasant. “I might have an idea for that.”

“I’m all ears.” There was an audible wince and Gabriel heard, faintly, the sound of a high note being belted, extremely inexpertly, by some demon down below. 

“We can’t do anything against the Antichrist,” he said, “but we can still make examples out of Aziraphale and Crowley. Dispose of them, with hellfire and holy water.” 

“Won’t that just make people angrier?”

“Not if we play our cards right.” Gabriel sat back in his chair, wanting to kick his feet up on the desk but lacking any space free of paper. He’d never had a messy desk before. “See, demons like destruction, right?” 

“So I’m told.” There was another wince, and this time Gabriel heard the beginning of the chorus of Dancing Queen. 

“Dispose of Crowley in some sort of public trial,” he said, “and they’ll all show up to watch. The angels will be disgusted. They’ll turn against their demon friends and come back to Heaven.” 

“Hmm.” Beelzebub contemplated. “Go on. And Aziraphale?” 

“We’ll deal with him in private. To the other angels, the story with him will be that God smited him.”

“Smited?”

“Smote - smeet - grh.” Gabriel rubbed his eyes. “It’s been too long since I slept.” 

When another rousing round of Dancing Queen blasted tinnily through Gabriel’s tablet, Beelzebub swore under their breath. “Look, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.” 

“The hellfire and holy water - it’s a plan?”

“Yeah. It’s a plan.” There was a longer pause, but it was heavy, watched. Not a silence of momentary distraction. Finally they said, stiffly, “It’s a good plan. Thanks.” 

A little click and the connection went dead. Gabriel lowered his tablet slowly, gazing around at the paperwork littering his desk like a snowdrift. A million reports on the botched apocalypse, all that had to be written and sorted and filed by only him. While Sandalphon kept the heavenly host out of his workspace and relatively quiet, and Michael watched over the treasury, and Uriel kept watch over Earth, trying desperately to see every corner of it at once. 

They were all as busy as him, and as distant. Gabriel hated to admit it, but there was something nice about having a constant conversation partner in the Prince of Hell. 

_____

Beelzebub closed their eyes and took a deep breath. This had been the worst week of their immortal life. A tiny fraction of Hell was still standing, still usable as a headquarters, while the rest of it had fallen into grotesque use as some sort of angel-demon blanket fort. Last night they hadn’t gone to bed at all, just stayed up urging each other to try different human foods they were miracling up from Satan-knew-where. 

Disgusting as it sounded, Beelzebub didn’t know where they’d be if it weren’t for Gabriel. 

They cleared their throat. With a thought, their voice projected through every realm and corner of Hell. “Demons, this is your Prince!”

The call echoed through destroyed corridors and low-lit, leaking office rooms. It blasted through to several huge clusters of creatures clad in dusty black and soot-smeared white, all of which looked up lazily at the sound. 

“As you all know, Armageddon has been indefinitely postponed -”

A muted cheer.

“ - and the demon Crowley is partially responsible.” 

“Crowley!” several groups cheered, and pumped their fists at once. (Far, far above them, in the quiet warmth of a bookshop, Crowley-in-Aziraphale’s-body raised his head from his position sprawled out on an armchair, swearing for a moment he’d heard someone call his name. Swearing he’d felt some inexplicable warmth shoot through him. But the sensation was gone before he could really process it.) 

“I and the remaining loyal creatures of Hell will be obliterating him later today. With Holy Water. Any demons who wish to attend will be welcomed back, as long as they swear their fealty to their Dark Master beforehand.” 

Those words were followed by silence. For a moment the angels and demons had fallen completely silent.

Back in their office, Beelzebub nodded, feeling pleased. No demon could resist watching the extinction of a traitor. They hadn’t had one in a while - the last big spree had been in the fourteenth century, before which they’d had a great many more demons - but these days numbers were tight. Everyone had always showed up to see, though. Like humans at a hanging. Easy enough. 

In the offices just adjoining Beelzebub, where the loyalists were stationed, there was enough cheering that Beelzebub was not aware of the jeers, hisses, and outraged yells echoing throughout the rest of the underworld.

“How dare they!”

“Crowley’s got style!” 

“We won’t stand for this!” 

Aboveground, though, Crowley felt that strange, tingling warmth again, and wondered if kissing Aziraphale was having some sort of aftereffect on him. 

___

It took all day for Gabriel to scrape together enough loyal angels to pull off a kidnapping. He wouldn’t touch the angel himself, of course - that was beneath him, and, to be frank, physical enforcement had never been exactly his style. Once they reached Heaven again, Aziraphale was taken straight to the highest floor, deftly avoiding all the angels and demons who had made the rest of the place a disaster. They knew Aziraphale was here, but the rumor Gabriel had spread was that he’d come to negotiate. It’d be easy enough to spread the story afterward that God had called down fire on him for daring to blaspheme in Her most sacred space. 

Aziraphale was calm and cold, calmer and colder than Gabriel had ever seen him. It was unnerving watching those eyes, still as snake’s eyes, stare into the flame he’d summoned from below. It made Gabriel tense.

What had him so even-tempered? He’d always been a babbling moron, coming here before. All that rubbish about the Antichrist being a ruse…

Well, that had turned out to be true, actually. Huh. 

Gabriel grimaced. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting Heaven back into line, which would be easy to do once they knew the way God dealt with renegades. All he had to do was tell Aziraphale to step into the flame - and he would, of course, the spineless bastard, and he’d be gone, out of Gabriel’s hair forever. Good riddance. He’d finally get a night of sleep, actual full-on sleep not sitting at a desk, and everything could go back to normal.

Perfect plan, perfectly easy. Aziraphale glared at him before stepping toward the column of fire. Gabriel did his best to smirk. Perfect plan.

_____

“Okay, so,” said Gabriel half an hour later, in what he hoped was a moderately professional and not-on-the-verge-of-a-mental-breakdown voice, “Aziraphale is immune to hellfire.” 

Beelzebub’s groan sounded like a swarm of flies going into battle. “Excellent. Amazing. Our git climbed into a tub of holy water and asked for a rubber duck.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

“The turnout was abysmal, and half the loyal demons defected when they saw Crowley wasn’t hurt. I’m here with Hastur and Dagon and maybe twelve others - we’re the last Hell’s got.” 

“Better than what we have in Heaven.” Gabriel put his face in his hands. 

“What do you mean?” 

He didn’t want to say it. If he said it, he’d have to accept it was true, and he wanted to kid himself for a while longer that it was all a misunderstanding. He wanted to believe this wasn’t real, that it couldn’t be real, after so many millennia of faithful service. Of faith, in general, which - whatever else you wanted to say about Gabriel - he had in spades. 

“Well?” 

“I. Uh.” Gabriel sighed.

“Come on, Gabe,” Beelzebub said, “just tell me. Satan - God - er, well, Someone knows we’ve been through enough together these past few days.” 

It was stupid, how much that comment meant to him. Stupid to take comfort from his sworn enemy. But his sworn enemy was all he had left now.

“I’m the only one,” he said. 

Gabriel could feel the shock radiating from the other end of the line. “Seriously?”

“They’ve all gone. Aziraphale left with his head and shoulders still blazing and showed himself to everyone on the way back down. Even Sandalphon said he had better things to do with his time if God was going to make traitors like him immortal.” The rest of Heaven was currently holding some sort of impromptu celebration, complete with music he’d never heard before and - yes - from the sound of it, definitely dancing.

No one seemed to remember he was even here.

“They’re all happy,” he said. “I mean, they’re really happy, all of them together. They just love the war being over. They love… being with each other, I guess.” 

There was a long, long silence. Gabriel felt, suddenly, like he wanted to cry. He didn’t know when the last time he’d wanted that was. He’d always considered crying a rather stupid human invention - what was it for, except making you feel as weak on the outside as you did on the inside? But he wanted to now.

“Look,” Beelzebub said at last. “Why don’t you come down to Hell. We’ll talk this out. I’m sure we can come up with a plan.” 

And it was even stupider that he brightened at the notion. Maybe a change of scenery would be good for him. He’d never actually seen Hell from the inside.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll be right over.”

_____

“Have you been feeling anything strange lately?” Crowley asked, as Aziraphale appeared in the bookshop’s back room with tea. “Like, these little flutters in your chest?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and passed one of the mugs to Crowley. “Flutters?” 

“Yeah. Like, I’ve been thinking I hear someone calling my name, and then -” He put a hand to his chest, to emphasize - “then I feel something here. Like an electric shock, but nice. Like a flower’s blooming in there or something.” 

Aziraphale sat back in his seat, frowning. “You know, actually, I think I did feel something like that, while I was in Hell. But I didn’t hear anyone call my name.”

“Weird.” Crowley shook his head and sipped his tea. 

“It felt a bit like it felt in Tadfield, you know.” Aziraphale rubbed his chin. “The feeling of love in the air, do you remember?”

“Mmm.” 

“Do you think it’s a sign?” Aziraphale’s eyes turned upward; Crowley recognized the look. “Do you think we’re feeling something loving us?”

“S’possible.” Seemed unlikely. Their respective head offices had just tried to kill them. Crowley had seen a couple of angels on his way down from Heaven, but he’d done nothing but scare them with his flame-covered appearance. Who was going to be loving them Upstairs or Downstairs? And as for God, well, she’d made clear what she thought of Crowley already. 

Which didn’t matter to him. He had all the love he needed. Aziraphale was everything God and Heaven ought to have been.

They spent a while in quiet conversation. Now that they were back in their own corporations, the world felt finally settled again - everything was calm and peaceful, and the two of them were together. Crowley luxuriated in the freedom of it. Barely anyone came into Aziraphale’s shop even when it was open, so he expected their evening to be completely free of interruption - like a thousand evenings he’d be spending with Aziraphale, now that no one could stop him. 

When he heard the knock at the door, both he and Aziraphale jumped. They exchanged nervous glances as it repeated - three solid knocks, a pause, then another three, as if the knocker was impatient to reach them.

“Should we switch again?” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley shook his head. “No time. Just play it cool.”

They rose in unison and crept toward the bookshop’s door. Aziraphale was cautious opening it, and Crowley chewed on his lip, thinking of avenging angels and demons, thinking of another fight with hellfire and holy water, thinking about Aziraphale in danger again and -

But there were only two people there, when finally the knockers were revealed. Just an out-of-breath looking angel, wings out and wide, a demon on her arm.

“What’s up?” she said. “Crowley and Aziraphale?”

“That’s us,” said Crowley, an eyebrow raised.

The demon stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “They named me Worm, but I go by Wayne these days.” He was grinning like an idiot, like he couldn’t believe he was up here, like he was still processing the sight of the celestial beings in front of him. “You two, can we have your autographs?”

[thefragileblackdahlia]

I Know What You Did Last Summer: Part two

Chapter Summary:

Ruby, Sam, and Dean look for a girl who hears the angels. Castiel and Uriel return.

Pairing(s):  Eventual Dean x Ariel, Ruby x Sam

Warning(s): Steamy Kissing, MAJOR Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Typical SUPERNATURAL Violence, Mild Language

A/N: The story isn't over yet don't fret. Haha. Kinder surprise egg! ♥ ♥  Also about Dean and Ariel's relationship, They do like each other to the point where they might kiss and have sex but I won't consider them canon until one of them asks the other one out. Cause it's pretty clear that they feel for each other.

When the kissing starts you will see *** feel free to skip it.

Please feel free to leave feedback.

Beta'd by Zoe (a friend)

Word count: 2,740+

A BAR

NOT ON EARTH

In the middle of the wooden floor laid a figure with large black and gold wings surrounding them.

The figure opened its eyes, squinting as they readjusted to the bright light above their head. They shut their eyes and shook their head as millions of voices filled their mind.

"It isn't your time."  Were the words that played over in their mind. They recognized the voice but couldn't place it. If only they saw the face.

The being stood to their feet and walked over to the nearest reflective surface to observe themself to see if anything had been majorly changed.

The angel's breathing hitched in its throat as it was met with azure eyes in the mirror.

"I'm alive." Ariel murmured.

She studied herself in the mirror. It was a human vessel, Camille. That faint voice in the back of Ariel's mind had vanished. Camille was dead.

It felt strange.

Camille and Ariel were close, but to now have her gone, it was an unsettling feeling.

With wide eyes, she studied the large set of wings on her back. Ariel brought the left wing forward, stretching out her arm to finger the golden feathers.

Everything felt so different this time, being alone in the vessel and experiencing all the five senses alone.

She could hear the faint acoustics of an indecipherable song playing on the overhead speaker. Her sapphire orbs darted from the mirror to the speakers.

Ariel shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, "I feel different..."

It was hard not having someone to guide them for centuries and then Him to just appear and resurrect her; It made her angry.

"Why won't you help us?" Ariel challenged with a pained grimace.

The abandoned child looked heavenward, "WHY WON'T YOU HELP US?!" She shouted.

EARTH 

MILTON HOME 

DAY

Dean knocked on the front door, sliding a hand into his pockets as they waited. A few seconds passed before he deduced that they weren't home. "Maybe they're not home."

Sam glanced at the driveway and shrugged. "Both cars in the driveway."

"Huh." Dean peered through the glass window and reached for the doorknob. Jiggling it, he had come to find out that it was unlocked. The hunter looked back at his brother and then entered the home.

"Mr. and Mrs. Milton?" Dean shouted throughout the house.

Sam followed close behind his brother, carefully searching the house for any signs of life. "We're from the sheriff's department." He closed the door behind him and continued. "We just wanted to ask you a couple of questions."

As Sam rounded the corner of the living room, he was met with two corpses. He let out a heavy sigh once he pieced together who they might be. The tall hunter peeped over his shoulder to see Dean entering with a solemn grimace.  He walked over to the bodies, hunkered over a yellow powder on the floor and swiped his fingers through it.

"Sulfur. The demons beat us here. Whatever the deal is with this Anna girl--" Sam started but Dean finished.

"Yeah, they want her. They're not screwing around."  The 30-year-old took a deep breath, "All right, so, if I was 'Girl, Interrupted," Dean paused and plucked a few addressed envelopes and recommenced. "And I know the score of the apocalypse, just busted out of the nut-box..." He looked down at his brother. "Possibly using superpowers, by the way. Where do I go?"

Sam brought himself to his feet and caught a glimpse of a family photo. "Hey, you got those sketches from Anna's notebook?" He motioned with his finger.

"Yeah." Dean nodded his head and tossed the envelopes to the side. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out some papers he tore from her sketchbook.

The poppy flower fell out of his jacket, the stem was a vivid green.

Bending over to pick up the flower, Dean shoved the papers into Sam's hands and studied the piece of nature. For a second, there was a spark of hope in him that Ariel might be alive.

Sam glanced at the flower but the realization didn't dawn on him until he saw a scarlet petal growing from the stem. "What is that?"

"Um.." Dean cleared his throat as he thumbed the forming bulb. "Nothing." The hunter furrowed his brows and stuffed the flower into his jacket. He couldn't contain his happiness

Lowering the photo, Sam looked down at his brother, unsure of how to say this correctly. "Look...I'm sorry- ."

Dean shut his eyes, "Don't." He dragged his hands over his face and drew his lower lip between his teeth.

"Check this out." Sam shuffled through the sketches and stopped on a drawing of a stained glass window.

The 30-year-old opened his eyes, glancing between the photo and illustration. "She was drawing the window of her church."

"Over and over." Sam murmured, tracing his index finger over the colored ink. "If you were religious, scared, and had demons on your ass, where would you go to feel safe?"

Dean ran his tongue over his bottom lip as recognition dawned on his face. "Let's change and then go."

A BAR 

NOT ON EARTH

Ariel could feel her grace replenishing, it wasn't quick but it was fast enough to the point where she may be able to heal, fly, and flash her eyes; Basic things.

'Ariel.'

A prayer? No one could possibly know she was alive. The voice sounded familiar.

It was Dean.

"Let me go," Ariel demanded.

"Not at this moment," The disembodied voice said.

"He needs me." Ariel turned to the entrance but it disappeared. "I need to save him."  She muttered.

Tossing her head back with closed eyes, a bright golden light engulfed the bar and her body. When she opened her eyes they were filled with grace, glowing gold.

EARTH

CHURCH ATTIC 

DAY

Sam and Dean entered the church in their hunter attire, with guns drawn. The brothers stepped carefully around the corner of each flight of steps until they reached the top.

Sam entered the attic first, searching the room for any movement and his eyes fell on a silhouette of a girl, hiding behind a stained glass divider. He looked at Dean, "Dean." With a pointed gun, he motioned toward the divider.

Once the figure moved behind the glass, Sam held up his hands and put his gun away, prompting Dean to do the same.

"Anna?"  Sam cautiously took a few steps forward. "We're not gonna hurt you. We're here to help." He motioned between himself and Dean, "My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean." =

"Sam? Not Sam Winchester?" Her voice came from behind the glass.

The long-haired male glanced at Dean confused, "Uh, yeah."

Stepping. "And you're Dean. The Dean?"

Dean's eyes widened at that title. The flirtatious side of him surfaced as he thought of a reply. "Well, yeah." He pursed his lips sheepishly, "The Dean, I guess." His response earned a bitch-face from Sam.

Anna slowly walked toward the righteous man, "It's really you. Oh my God." She laughed, a bit overwhelmed by the fact that Dean freaking Winchester was standing in front of her. "The- The angels talk about you. You were in Hell, but Ariel pulled you out, and some of them think you can help save us."

The girl then gazed at Sam, "And some of them don't like you at all." She smiled wanly and continued. "They talk about you all the time lately. I feel like I know you. They also talk about Ariel a lot. Is she with you?" She rambled.

Dean averted his gaze as his brows drew together. "So, you talk to angels?"He asked, wanting to avoid the subject of Ariel.

"Oh, no. No, no way." Anna shook her head. "Um, they probably don't even know I exist. I just kind of...overhear them."

Sam scrunched up his face in confusion. "You overhear them?"

"Yeah," Anna breathed deeply and shut her eyes. "They talk, and sometimes I just...hear them in my head." She opened her eyes hoping the boys would understand.

Dean raised his brows at the thought, "Like, right now?"

"Not right this second, but a lot. And-" Anna's eyes darted between the two men and gulped. "And I can't shut them out, there are so many of them." The redhead's words trailed off near the end as she thought of something she maybe should tell Dean.

Anna smiled, "She- Ariel talked about you a lot, Dean." She shut her eyes as she remembered hearing Ariel's voice in her head, "Her voice was very loud, very commanding. But a few weeks ago she went silent...is she okay?"

Dean winced at her name and shifted on his back foot, "So, they lock you up with a case of the crazies when really you were just...tuning into angel radio." He did not want to talk about Ariel.

"Yeah, basically." Anna nodded and looked up at Dean whose eyes were fixed on the floor.

Sam pursed his lips, "Anna, when did the voices start? Do you remember?"

Anna nodded, "I can tell you exactly- September 18th."

Hearing this date, Dean's eyes shot over to Sam who had the same worried look. "The day I got out of Hell."  He mumbled.

Anna took a small step forward, "First words I heard, clear as a bell-- 'Dean Winchester is saved.'"

Dean's ears perked up at that phrase.

If Ariel and Castiel were the ones who pulled him out, did that mean they were the ones who shouted that so loud that it made Anna hear the angels? A part of him felt happy that Ariel might have screamed those words, but a large portion of him was sad that now he may not be able to see her again.

In the span of an hour, he forgot about the flower that was sprouting in his pocket.

"What do you think?" Dean asked Sam.

Sam scoffed and shook his head, "It's above my paygrade, man."

"Well, at least now we know why the demons want you so bad." Dean murmured whilst nodding his head. He resumed, "They get a hold of you, they can hear everything the other side's cooking. You're 1-900-angel."

It felt like things just kept getting bigger and much harder to fight.

Anna smiled at Dean, still in awe of his presence. "Hey, um, do you know-- are my parents okay? I didn't go home. I was afraid."

Before the boys could react and tell her that her parents were dead, Ruby came charging in. "You got the girl. Good, let's go."

"Ah!" Anna backed away from the trio, almost falling over. "Her face!"

Sam reached out a hand to silence Anna. "It's okay. She's here to help."

Dean sneered, "Yeah, don't be so sure." He looked in Ruby's general direction.

Ruby glanced at Sam, "We have to hurry."

"Why?" Dean challenged.

"Because a demon's coming-- big-timer. We can fight later, Dean." The demon snapped, starting for the door but Dean's words pulled her back.

Dean scoffed, "Well, that's pretty convenient-- showing up right when we find the girl with some bigwig on your tail?" His jaw tightened.

"I didn't bring him here. You did." Ruby asserted.

"What?" Dean glanced at Sam whose eyes were transfixed on Ruby.

Ruby took a step forward and gestured to Anna, "He followed you from the girl's house. We gotta go now."

Sam turned to tell Anna to follow but he caught a glimpse of the Mother Mary statue bleeding from the eyes. "Dean..." He pointed to the statue.

Dean looked at the statue with wide eyes. He parted his lips as he wasn't sure what it meant. There were no words.

"It's too late." Terror overtook Ruby's face as she couldn't think of what to do either. She took a few steps toward Sam who already had an idea to hide Anna.

"Anna!" Sam walked the girl over to the closet and pushed her inside. "Stay in there. Don't move." He then shut the door and walked back to where his brother and demonic acquaintance were waiting for him.

Sam dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask of holy water but was stopped by Ruby.

"No, Sam, you got to pull him right away." Ruby watched Sam as he walked by, not concerned with how Dean felt.

Dean's face contorted at the suggestion. "Whoa, hold on a sec. Ariel said that-"

Ruby snapped her head in Dean's direction, " Ariel is dead. Now's not the time to bellyache about Sam going dark side. He does his thing, he exorcises that demon, or we die."

What was Dean to do?

The hunter parted his lips and looked to Sam with a wary grimace. He wasn't sure whether to let Sam use his powers or honor Ariel's wishes. Sam had already bent the rules; He used them to kill Samhain.

There was a beat.

Sam glanced at the flask with a conflicted look in his eyes. He wasn't sure what to do either, but it seemed like his only option. It took him a moment to put the flask away and turn to face the entrance.

Suddenly the door tore open, a caucasian male emerging from the darkness. He rounded the steps, his fingers grazing against the dusty banister. The demon looked at his fingers, disgusted.

Sam inhaled deeply and raised his arm outward, attempting to pull the demon but it did nothing.

The demon brought his hand up to his throat, "That tickles." He flashed his white eyes at the trio.  "You don't have the juice to take me on, Sam." He raised his hand and made a pulling motion, sending Sam flying through the banister and down the steps.

This put Sam out of commission for now.

Dean drew Ruby's knife from his jacket, not noticing that he dropped the flower.  He went to attack the demon, drawing his arm back but was stopped mid-strike by the demon.

"Hello again, Dean." The demon grinned, throwing Dean into a wooden beam and knocking the knife out of his hand. He landed a few punches on the human before gripping him by his collar and setting up him against the support beam.

'Ariel'  Dean prayed silently, hoping she would answer.

The demon mocked him, "Come on, Dean. Don't you recognize me?" He landed a few more blows. "Oh, I forgot-- I'm wearing a pediatrician. But we were so close...in Hell."

Dean shut his eyes as he tried to understand the words that were coming from the demon's mouth. Between the punches and the pounding headache, the only name that came to his head was 'Alastair.' But that couldn't be- Alastair should still be in hell.

"Alastair." Dean sneered with blood staining his teeth.

Meanwhile, in the background, Anna's screaming could be heard. "NO! NO! SO LOUD!" The girl pulled away from Ruby's grasp just as the church bells began tolling. Anna held her hands to her head while shaking it. "THE SCREAMING!"

Alastair landed a few more punches on Dean before he noticed the chaos ensuing around him.

The ringing intensified as the light from outside faded to darkness and a sonic boom was heard above the church. The window cracked from the high frequency.

Ruby and Anna looked at the giant stained glass window as the room began trembling from whatever was about to descend upon the church.

"No, no- Why is an archangel tethered to you?!" Alastair pressed out between clenched teeth. He yanked Dean and tossed him to the ground, ready to make an escape but as he turned he was stabbed in his shoulder with the demon knife by Sam.

Sam rushed to Dean's side and helped him to his feet. They both stared at the window, eyes wide with fear.

Dean panted heavily as he thought of who could be tethered to him. There was no way it could be her until he caught a glimpse of the red poppy, crushed under the weight of his boot. His face contorted at the thought of his angel actually being alive.

Just then, a fiery orb crashed through the window and landed in the middle of the room. The being cracked the concrete floor, sending a blastwave of grace through the room and knocking everyone over.  

Alastair raised his arms to protect himself from the light but couldn't withstand the power. He disappeared along with the knife.

PART THREE

SERIES MASTERLIST

[celestedeacon]

On the Side of the Angels Chapter 11

TITLE: On the Side of the Angels Chapter 11 PAIRING: (Castiel/Celeste) RATING: T CHAPTER: 11/? SUMMARY: Celeste, the daughter of a fallen angel and mortal. Ever since she was born, the angels were given orders to protect her, specifically Castiel and Gabriel. When she was 16, she was in a horrific car accident, which Castiel saved her from. When Castiel comes back to Earth, she’s in his thoughts 24/7. This poses a problem for him. How can he love her and still follow orders?

Loud sirens were going off as Castiel stepped onto the scene of the crash.

It was at least a 10 car pileup.

Castiel briefly worried about the humans that may have been involved and whether they were okay or not. His mind went back two years to when Celeste was in her car crash. He could still hear her cries and screams for help. He remembered the fear he felt that day.

He shook his head to clear his mind of those thoughts. Castiel waved his hand and silenced the car sirens. He walked over to a woman’s body, clad in white. He knelt down next to the body and moved part of her clothing off her neck.

There was a stab wound in the center of her chest.

“Goodbye, sister”, he said and disappeared as the authorities arrived on scene. He appeared in Celeste’s bedroom.

Celeste’s eyes shot open and she sat up.

Castiel placed a finger on his lips and Celeste nodded. He’d been visiting her more often, but only if Gabriel was out of the house doing whatever it was he did.

Both Castiel and Celeste suspected the archangel knew about their secret meetings, but he said nothing about it.

Castiel laid down next to Celeste and she curled up on his chest. “Another one was killed tonight”, he told her.

“I’m sorry”. Celeste knew how much he cared for his fellow angels. “I hope you catch them soon”. She couldn’t bear the thought of Castiel getting hurt or maybe even killed.

“Me too”, he said, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Sam and Dean entered their hotel room. Sam flipped on the lights and Castiel and Uriel stood in the room.

“Winchester and Winchester”, Uriel said.

“Oh come on”, Dean sighed.

“You are needed”.

“Needed? We just got back from needed”.

“Now, you mind your tone with me”.

“No, you mind your damn tone with us”.

“We just got back from Pamela's funeral”, Sam told them.

“Pamela. You know, psychic Pamela? You remember her. Cas, you remember her. You burned her eyes out. Remember that? Good times. Yeah, then she died saving one of your precious seals. So maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for five freaking minutes!” Dean yelled.

“We raised you out of hell for our purposes”, Uriel said.

“Yeah, what were those again? What exactly did you want from me?”

“Start with gratitude”.

Dean scoffed. “Oh”.

“Dean, we know this is difficult to understand”, Castiel said trying to calm the situation down.

“And we…” Uriel said giving Castiel a look, “—don't care. Now, seven angels have been murdered, all of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight”.

“Demons?” Dean asked.

Uriel shrugged.

“How they doing it?”

“We don't know”.

“I'm sorry, but what do you want us to do about it? I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels has to be out of our league, right?” Sam asked.

“We can handle the demons, thank you very much”, Uriel snapped.

“Once we find whoever it is”, Castiel said.

“So you need our help hunting a demon?” Dean asked.

“Not quite. We have Alastair”.

“Great. He should be able to name your trigger man”.

“But he won't talk. Alastair's will is very strong. We've arrived at an impasse”.

“Yeah, well, he's like a black belt in torture. I mean, you guys are out of your league”.

While the angels weren’t paying attention, Sam swiped Dean’s phone and texted Celeste: Halo. SOS.

“That's why we've come to his student. You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got”, Uriel said.

Celeste appeared between Uriel and Dean. “Now wait just a damn second”, she said putting her hands on her hips.

Dean looked down at the small blonde.

“The Nephilim”, Uriel said.

Celeste turned to Castiel. “You can’t be serious Cas! He can’t do this. I understand you want to find out who’s killing your garrison, but this is insane!”

“We have no choice. Dean, you are our best hope”.

“No. No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not this”, Dean said agreeing with Celeste.

Uriel shoved Celeste out of the way and walked up to Dean. “Who said anything about asking?”

They were suddenly standing in an abandoned warehouse without Sam.

“This devil's trap is old Enochian. He's bound completely”, Castiel explained to Dean.

“Fascinating”. Dean turned away from Alastair and said, “Where's the door?”

“Where are you going?” Castiel asked.

“Hitch back to Cheyenne, thank you very much”. Dean walked past Uriel and then stopped because Uriel stood in his way.

Celeste jumped between the two men.

“Get out of my way, abomination”, Uriel snapped.

“If you want him, you’re going through me first”.

“Angels are dying”.

“Sounds like your own damn problem”.

“Everybody's dying these days. And hey, I get it. You're all-powerful. You can make me do whatever you want. But you can't make me do this”, Dean said turning to Castiel.

“This is too much to ask, I know. But we have to ask it”.

Dean watched Castiel for a moment and then turned back to Uriel. “I want to talk to Cas alone”.

“I think I'll go seek revelation. We might have some further orders”, Uriel said.

“Well, get some donuts while you're out”, Dean told him.

Both Uriel and Celeste laughed. “Ah, this one just won't quit, will he? I think I'm starting to like you, boy”, Uriel said and then vanished.

“You guys don't walk enough. You're gonna get flabby”, Dean said and Celeste laughed.

Castiel didn’t react, except to narrow his eyes at Dean.

“You know, I'm starting to think junkless has a better sense of humor than you do”, Dean said.

“Uriel's the funniest angel in the garrison. Ask anyone”.

Celeste rolled her eyes at Castiel. Even after all these years, the angel still didn’t understand sarcasm.

Dean walked up to Castiel. “What's going on, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?”

“My superiors have begun to question my sympathies”.

“Your sympathies?”

“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You”, Castiel said, his eyes landing on Celeste for a moment, “They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment”.

“Well, tell Uriel, or whoever...you do not want me doing this, trust me”.

“Want it, no”, Castiel said agreeing with Dean, “But I have been told we need it”.

“You ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out”.

“For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this”.

Dean closed his eyes and then wheeled a cart into the room.

This left Castiel and Celeste alone. Celeste hopped up on the table. Castiel turned to her.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel asked her.

She pulled out her cell phone, showing him the text from Sam.

Castiel sighed.

“Trust me. It took a lot to get out of the house. Gabe’s had me trapped there. He told me about everything. The boys, the seals. He warned me to stay away from those Winchester boys”, she said.

“You shouldn’t be here”.

“Well too damn bad, Cas. Because I am”.

“Celeste, you do not understand. You could get killed in all this”.

“But you’re here”, she said.

Castiel looked at her as Alastair started yelling in pain. Castiel wanted Celeste to go home and stay out of all this, but he knew her pure heart wouldn’t let her.

The light flickered, catching Castiel and Celeste’s attention. The bulb exploded.

Anna appeared behind Castiel.

“Anna”, Castiel and Celeste said together.

“Hello, Castiel. Celeste”.

Castiel turned to look at her. “Your human body…”

“It was destroyed, I know. But I guess I'm sentimental. Called in some old favors and...”

Alastair’s screams became louder.

“You shouldn't be here. We still have orders to kill you”, Castiel told her.

“Somehow I don't think you'll try. Where's Uriel?”

“He went to receive revelation”.

“Right”.

Somehow, Celeste didn’t like the way she said that.

“Why are you letting Dean do this?” Anna asked.

“He's doing God's work”, Castiel said.

“Torturing? That's God's work? Stop him, Cas, please. Before you ruin the one real weapon you have”.

“Who are we to question the will of God?”

“Unless this isn't his will”.

“Then where do the orders come from?”

“I don't know. One of our superiors, maybe, but not him”.

Celeste hopped down off the table. “I hate to say it, but maybe she’s right Cas”. As for who was giving the orders, Celeste had a strong feeling it may have been one the archangels.

“The father you love. You think he wants this? You think he'd ask this of you? You think this is righteous?” Anna asked.

Castiel couldn’t look Anna in the eye. He was like a little boy being scolded by his mother.

“What you're feeling? It's called doubt”, Anna told him. Anna touched Castiel’s hand. “These orders are wrong and you know it. But you can do the right thing. You're afraid, Cas. I was too. But together, we can still…”

“Together?” Castiel yanked his hand away. “I am nothing like you. You fell. Go”.

“Cas”.

“Go”.

Anna vanished.

Castiel turned to Celeste who had tears in her eyes.

“Should I go too?” she asked.

Castiel moved closer to her, but Celeste backed away.

“I might as well be fallen. Does that mean you should kill me too?”

“Celeste. Please understand”.

Before Celeste could say something, they heard commotion coming from the room. They burst in and Castiel grabbed Ruby’s knife, jamming it into Alastair’s chest.

Alastair dropped Dean and Celeste ran over to him. “You’ll be fine”, she said stroking his hair.

Dean went limp.

Celeste looked and saw Alastair trying to send Castiel back to heaven. She rolled her eyes.

When would people learn to not fuck with her angel?

Just as she was about to go after him, Alastair was forced up against the wall by Sam. Celeste went over to Castiel and helped him up as Alastair started saying how it wasn’t demons killing the angels.

Castiel and Celeste shared a look.

The whole room started to shake as Sam killed Alastair.

When Alastair was dead, Celeste turned to Sam and said, “We need to get Dean to the hospital”.

The next day, Castiel and Celeste went to the hospital to check on Dean.

They met with Sam before going in the room.

“Sam…” Castiel started to say.

“Get in there and heal him. Miracle. Now”.

“I can't”.

Sam turned to Celeste and said, “You do it then”.

“I don’t know how. Because I would, believe me”.

“You and Uriel put him in there”.

“No”, Castiel argued.

“Because you can't keep a simple devil's trap together”.

“I don't know what happened. That trap...it shouldn't have broken. I am sorry”.

“This whole thing was pointless. You understand that? The demons aren't doing the hits. Something else is killing your soldiers”.

“Perhaps Alastair was lying”, Castiel said, not wanting to believe it. He and Celeste had discussed who could be killing the angels and it pointed to one person.

“No, he wasn't”, Sam said, walking away from them.

“Go and do what you have to do. I’ll stay with him”, Celeste said kissing Castiel on the cheek.

Castiel returned to the hospital and found Dean in much better condition.

Celeste sat next to Dean’s bed. “Hey”, Celeste said softly.

Castiel walked over to her and stroked her hair with his hand. “Are you all right?” Castiel asked Dean.

Dean opened his eyes and looked over at Castiel and Celeste. “No thanks to you. She’s done more than you did”.

Celeste smiled at Dean. She had somehow managed to heal him enough to have his breathing tube taken out.

“You need to be more careful”, Castiel told him.

“You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap”.

“That's not what I mean. Uriel is dead”.

“What?” Celeste asked Castiel, not quite sure she was hearing him correctly.

“Was it the demons?” Dean asked.

“It was disobedience. He was working against us”, Castiel explained.

Celeste wanted to say “I told you so”, but chose not to. Her angel didn’t need to be kicked even more while he was down.

“Is it true? Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?” Dean asked.

“Yes. When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to hell and we fought our way to get to you before you…”

“Jump-started the apocalypse”.

“But we were too late”.

“Why didn't you just leave me there, then?”

“It's not blame that falls on you, Dean, it's fate. The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it”.

“Lucifer? The apocalypse? What does that mean?”

Castiel looked away from him.

“Hey! Don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch. What does that mean!?” Dean yelled as loud as he possibly could in his condition.

“I don't know”.

“Bull”.

“I don't. Dean, they don't tell me much. I know our fate rests with you”.

“Well, then you guys are screwed. I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not—I'm not strong enough. Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me”. Dean hung his head and started to cry.

Celeste got up and dragged Castiel out into the hallway. “Lay off him. Can’t you see he’s been through enough”.

“You know as well as I do that it has to be him”, Castiel said, his blue eyes bearing down into hers.

She could see emotions flying around in his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked him, cupping his cheeks.

“I’m no longer following the orders of heaven”.

Celeste’s heart started beating quickly.

“I…I don’t know what to do. For the first time”, he said.

“Shh”, she cooed, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, “You have me. I’ll always be here”. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his and for once, Castiel returned the kiss. Maybe she and her angel could finally be together now.

Tags: @waddles03

[gayestnerdsinfiction]

Isaac and the Angel - Chapter 23

Read on AO3

Israfil blinks. He finds himself in a long, dark corridor that seems to go on endlessly in either direction. In front of him are a set of ornate double doors with brass knockers shaped like dragons. In front of the door is a desk. And at the desk sits a demon. She has high, curved horns and amber eyes with rectangular pupils. She wears a shapeless pinstripe suit and a tarnished silver bolo tie shaped like a lion’s head. The only light in the hall seems to be coming from an oil lamp perched precariously on top of a stack of papers on the desk.

Hesitantly, he takes a step towards the desk. The demon doesn’t seem to notice him, apparently captivated by something on the computer screen in front of her. “Um, excuse me,” he says quietly, “I was wondering if you could—”

“Name?” the demon drawls without looking up.

“Israfil.”

This catches her attention. She takes her eyes off the screen for a moment, regarding him with something almost like interest. “The Dark Lord is expecting you,” she says, typing something quickly. “You can show yourself in.”

“Oh. Thank you.” He sidesteps away from her, coming to stand directly in front of the doors. He lifts a hand, placing it gingerly on one of the handles.

“Hey,” the demon says, turning in her chair to look at him. “You wouldn’t happen to know Uriel, would you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Israfil says. “We’re—or at least, we were good friends.”

“Does she still have that sword?” she asks tentatively. “The one with the sun carved into the hilt?”

“I think so.”

The demon smiles a sad smile. “It’s a good sword,” she murmurs. “Reliable, you know?”

He nods. “Beautiful, too.”

“Yeah.” She clears her throat, seeming a bit embarrassed. “Well, anyway, you don’t want to keep His Lordship waiting. He’ll be in a foul mood if your meeting makes him late for his lunch reservation.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” he says softly. He gives the door handle a tug, pulling it open just enough to slip inside the room beyond. The door swings shut behind him with a low creak. One by one, a row of bright, buzzing lights flicker on above him. He looks around.

Israfil had expected Hell to be fiery and cluttered and thoroughly unpleasant. He supposes the rest of it may very well be like that for all he knows, but this room looks like a fancy corporate office occupied by a very stylish businessman. The desk at the center of the room looks to be pure obsidian, polished and shining beneath the stark white ceiling lights. Lucifer sits behind the desk in a plush black chair with dark green accents and wheels on the bottom. Behind him hangs an ornately framed painting of a tall, dark skinned woman with tumbling black curls and blood red lips. She sits cross legged upon a golden throne, a jackal lying peacefully at her feet.

“Took you long enough,” Lucifer says, scribbling something on a piece of paper before placing it in a metal tray. “How’s tricks?”

“Uh… good.” He approaches the desk slowly. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Lucifer. He looks pretty much the same as the day he fell—same sleek black hair, same pointed features, same emerald green eyes. The only noticeable difference is his outfit, which seems to be a three piece suit made entirely out of glittering snakeskin. It looks dreadfully uncomfortable. “Seems like you’ve done well for yourself.”

He grins, shrugging with one shoulder. “Can’t complain. There’s always room for improvement, though.” He reaches into one of his desk drawers, taking out a small, metal rectangle. He places it between his lips, inhaling deeply. “I’m thinking of adding a tenth circle.” Wisps of pale smoke curl out of his mouth as he speaks. “Might renovate limbo, too.”

“Oh. How nice.” He clears his throat. “So, what was it that you wanted to see me about?”

Lucifer snaps his fingers and a stapled packet of papers appears with a little burst of flame in the air in front of Israfil. “Give that a read, will you?” he says, inhaling from the rectangle again. “Standard contract for demons of your status. Basically it just says that under my patronage you get to draw power from The Pit, and in exchange you have to carry out tasks and assignments on behalf of Hell. But aside from that you can pretty much do whatever you want.” He leans back in his chair. “Honestly, it’s pretty much the same business model as Heaven, except we run things much more smoothly down here.”

“I see.” Israfil flips through the packet, reading it both as quickly and as thoroughly as he can. He doesn’t really trust the self proclaimed Father of Lies to draw up an honest contract. “What exactly is The Pit?”

He waves a grey skinned hand dismissively. “It’s a big fiery pit that generates our infernal power. Sometimes we throw people into it. Not terribly interesting once you get used to it, really.”

“Right.” He bites the inside of his cheek. The contract doesn’t seem to be unreasonable—Israfil isn’t really a fan of all the torture and torment stuff, but he supposes it can’t be helped. And, if he’s being honest with himself, it doesn’t sound too different from the things God asks of Their angels. “I don’t have to… live here, do I?” he asks with an uncomfortable glance around the office.

“If your presence is needed here you’ll be summoned, but I don’t really give a shit what you do in your free time.” He shuffles through some of the papers spread across his desk, selecting one and reading over it. “If you ever want to reside here more permanently though, it looks like you’ve been assigned a house over in… sector E.” He hums approvingly to himself. “That’s a good one. Nice view of the second circle.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Israfil says. And he means it. He has little interest in houses, and even less interest in staying in Hell any more than he absolutely has to, but he can’t deny that it’s a nice gesture.

“It was my wife’s idea, actually. Lilith is very adamant about good employee benefits and things like that.” Lucifer turns in his chair, looking fondly at the painting. “She really is the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met.”

Israfil tries to hide his surprise. Marriage seems like such a… human thing to do. And it doesn’t seem like it would be Lucifer’s style. “I didn’t know you were married.”

He smiles softly. “Well, you know, we’re both sinful rebels or whatever. And we share a lot of the same values. I like to think it was a match made in Heaven, if you’ll excuse the expression.” He turns back towards Israfil. “You should meet her sometime. We can do dinner or something.” He pauses, giving Israfil a positively devilish look. “You can bring your human, if you like.”

He feels his face warm. “Does everyone in the universe know about that?” he mutters.

“Come on, you remember how much everyone gossiped about Michael and the psychic. They were the talk of the town for centuries. Now it’s your turn.”

Israfil rolls his eyes, but Lucifer has a point. Supernatural beings really can’t resist good drama. “Well, it’s not like that. We’re not partnered.”

“Not yet.”

“He doesn’t even like me half the time.”

Lucifer grins, perfect teeth glistening beneath the lights. “That’s always how it starts.”

He had forgotten how truly insufferable Lucifer can be. “Just give me something to sign this with,” he grumbles, gesturing with the contract. “I don’t want to make you late for lunch.”

Lucifer produces a sleek crimson fountain pen, tossing it to Israfil. He catches it. Signs the symbol of his name at the end of the contract. As soon as he’s finished writing, the papers and pen disappear in a puff of smoke.

“Lovely,” Lucifer chirps. “You might notice some changes to your form—your real one, I mean—over the next few days. Could be a bit painful, but that’s normal. And I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.” He waves his hand and the double doors swing open. “Ipos will show you out. Or I could have someone show you around if you’re interested.”

“No, that’s alright,” he says. “I should really get going. Busy day.”

“Don’t I know it.” He stands, crossing the room to give Israfil a sturdy handshake. “Well, it was delightful seeing you again.”

“Yeah, likewise. And I suppose I’ll be hearing from you.”

“You can count on it.” Lucifer claps Israfil on the back, steering him towards the door. “Enjoy the first day of the rest of your life.”

“…Okay.” Israfil steps out into the hall. The doors swing shut behind him and he finds himself, once again, in darkness.

[crashdevlin]

Right Angle

Author’s Note:  Sequel to Tessellation, 2 Dimensional and Vertex. Short-ish, smutless, but required to get to the next part, which will be smutty, I promise.

Summary:  Set during It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester. y/n is called in to help with the witch who's trying to raise Samhain. What will happen when she meets the angels?

Pairing(s): Castiel x Reader (ish)

Word Count: 3388

Story Warnings: canon-compliant violence

You were sitting in your motel room when your cell phone went off. You smiled at 'Dean' flashing across the screen and you swiped your finger over to answer it. "Hello."

"Hey. You busy?" Dean asked.

"Just finished up with a chupacabra. Need me somewhere?"

"Yeah. I know you don't practice any more but we need a witch expert. We're at two out of three blood sacrifices. The third one goes and our witch raises the demon Samhain."

"It's pronounced 'Sow-en'." You corrected.

"What?"

"It's Celtic, Dean. The pronunciation is not anything like English."

"Sow-en? None of those letters are in that word."

You chuckled. "Doesn't change it. The word is Sow-en, not Sam-hane. I went to a Samhain celebration when I was fourteen and got hammered by a couple Wiccans for saying it wrong. It isn't something you forget. Where are you?"

"North Georgia. Nice and warm for your Halloween."

"Lucky you. I'm in Alabama. I can be in your neighborhood in four hours."

"Chupacabra in Alabama?" He questioned.

"I caught one in Seattle a couple years ago. They're less goat-suckers and more dog-suckers, now. Text me an address and I'll meet you there."

"All right, y/n/n. See you in a few hours."

********

You pulled into the Moonlight Motel as Dean and Sam stood talking to a child in an astronaut costume. "We did, but it's gone." Dean said as you walked up. "Sorry, kid. We can't help you."

"I want candy." The child demanded.

"Well, I think you've had enough." Dean said, walking toward the room.

You scoffed at him, angry that he'd tried to fat-shame the kid, and pulled out your wallet, kneeling down to eye level with the kid. As Sam and Dean entered the room, you handed the astronaut a 5 dollar bill. "Don't let him make you feel bad about your weight. That big guy he was with, he was a chubby kid, too. Just look at him, now. Fat jokes aren't cool." You turned your head to look at the Impala. "That car is the second most important thing in that guy's life. I'm thinking a half dozen will do it." The kid smiled and ran toward the convenience store you passed on your way in.

When you walked in the door of the motel room, you froze. There were two additional men in the room, a black man standing stoically by the window and a brunette in a suit and trench coat standing in front of Sam. Blue eyes, fluffy hair sticking up in the front, chapped lips... lips you'd transferred your ChapStick to many years ago. Your mouth went dry.

"The raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?" The angel asked.

"It's 'sow-en'." You corrected as Dean asked "Why?"

"Dean, have you located the witch?"

"Yes, we've located the witch."

"And the witch is dead?"

"No, but-" Sam started.

"We know who it is."

Castiel walked over to the table between the two beds. "Apparently, the witch knows who you are, too." He picked up a hex bag and showed it to the group. "This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it, surely one or both of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?"

You found the will to speak up. "That's actually what I'm here for. Find hex bags, figure out where the witch is."

"And do you know where the witch is?"

"I just got here." You whispered, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of those blue eyes.

"We're working on it." Dean covered.

"That's unfortunate."

"What do you care?" Dean growled.

"The raising of Sam-hane is one of the 66 seals."

"So this is about your buddy Lucifer." Dean said.

"Lucifer is no friend of ours." The angel by the window said.

"It's just an expression."

"Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."

"Okay. Great. Well, now that you're here, why don't you tell us where the witch is, we'll gank her and everybody goes home." Dean suggested.

Castiel gave a little sigh. "We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful. She's cloaked, even to our methods."

"Okay, well, we already know who she is, so if we work together-" Sam started, but was cut off by the other angel.

"Enough of this."

"Okay, who are you and why should I care?" Dean growled.

The angel turned, his severe glare focused on Dean. "This is Uriel. He's what you might call... a specialist." Castiel introduced.

You gasped. You recognized that name. "What kind of specialist?" Dean asked.

"Uriel's an annihilator." You whispered, causing the angels to focus on you.

"Who are you?" Castiel asked, turning his eyes on you.

"She's y/f/n y/l/n, a hunter and witch expert, who happened to delve into all the books on angels she could find after I got pulled out of Hell. What does it mean that he's an annihilator? What are you gonna do?"

Castiel looked from the hunters to Uriel. "You, all of you, you need to leave this town immediately." He turned back.

"Why?"

"Because they're about to destroy it." You piped up.

"So, this is your plan? You're gonna smite the whole town?" Dean exclaimed in Uriel's direction.

"We're out of time. This witch has to die. The seal must be saved."

"There are a thousand people here." Sam argued.

"1,214." Uriel corrected.

"And you're willing to kill them all?"

"This isn't the first time I've... purified a city." Uriel shot back.

"Look, I understand this is regrettable." Castiel started.

"Regrettable?" Dean couldn't believe that was the word the angel had used.

"We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already."

"So, you screwed the pooch on some seals and now this town has to pay the price?"

"It's the lives of 1,000 against the lives of 6 billion. There's a bigger picture here."

"Right. Cause you're bigger picture kinda guys."

"Lucifer cannot rise." Castiel stepped towards Dean. "He does and Hell rises with him. Is that something you're willing to risk?"

"We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone. Your seal won't be broken and no one has to die." Sam offered.

"We're wasting time with these mud monkeys." Uriel said.

Sam looked offended but Dean was focused on Castiel. You were fighting to keep yourself in the shadows.

"I'm sorry. But we have our orders." Castiel said, turning away.

"No, you can't do this. You-you're angels. I mean, aren't you supposed to- You're supposed to show mercy." Sam started to argue.

"Says who?" Uriel asked.

"Soldiers, Sam. They are the warriors of Heaven. Mercy isn't a thing." You whispered. Castiel seemed to be upset by that.

"We have no choice."

"Of course, you have a choice. I mean, come on, what you've never, never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?"

"Look, even if you can't understand it, have faith the plan is just." Castiel said, finally turning to look at the hunters again.

"How can you even say that?" Sam asked.

"Because it comes from Heaven that makes it just."

"It must be nice to be so sure if yourselves."

"Tell me something, Dean. When your father gave you an order, didn't you obey?" Castiel shot back.

You bit your lip and looked at your feet. It was difficult to watch them argue.

"Sorry, boys. It looks like the plans have changed." Dean said.

"You think you can stop us?" Uriel asked.

"No." Dean said, honestly, before stepping to Uriel. "But if you're gonna smite this whole town, then you're gonna have to smite us with it because we are not leaving. You went to the trouble of busting me out of Hell, I figure I'm worth something to the man upstairs. You want to waste me? Go ahead. See how he digs that."

"I will drag you out of here myself."

"Yeah, but you'll have to kill me. Then, we're back to the same problem. I mean, come on. You're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Sounds to me like your compensating for something. We can do this. We will find this witch. We will stop the summoning."

"Castiel, I will not let these-"

"Enough." Castiel commanded, causing Uriel's face to fall and he disappeared. "I suggest you move quickly."

Dean looked grateful, but didn't voice it as he pulled his keys out of his pocket and started out the door. Sam followed but you stood staring at Castiel. *It's really him. He's really Chris.*

Castiel looked at you, his head tilted slightly. "How do you know me?" He asked.

"I'm sure that isn't... I don't know." You said, breathlessly.

Castiel took two decisive steps forward. You felt uncomfortable under his gaze but it felt right at the same time. "You are a witch, or you were." You swallowed and nodded. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"I couldn't tell you-" You started, but stopped as you noticed the look on his face. He was staring at your lips. His eyes shot up to meet yours, a confusion and curiosity suddenly burning there.

"What do you know?" He demanded.

"I... know that my memories have been tampered with, so anything I might think I know is unreliable." You whispered.

"Why do you say your memories were... tampered with?"

"In high school, I had a friend. I had a-a lover. Until I died, I could swear his name was Chris. After I came back, I started getting bits and pieces of... wrong, things were wrong. I thought I knew Chris my whole life and he was taken away by his dad, but now it seems like I never knew him before senior year and his name was never Chris... It was Cas."

Castiel's eyebrows knit together in confusion. You took a step backwards. "I know that angels can travel in time. I know that if I can create false worlds with my magic, and I can, then maybe someone sent you back, made a world where you were a... It was to get to Dean for something, I'm sure. I just got caught in the crossfire."

Castiel blinked at you several times. Then, he was gone. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding and you looked around the room. "Oh... this is bad. Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut?" You walked out of the motel room and pulled the back door of the impala open, sliding inside.

"What took you?" Dean asked.

"The angel, he knows I used to be a witch. He was questioning me. Let's go. Where are we going?" You rambled.

"Gonna go take a second look at the pottery class. It'd take a kiln to char these bones."

"Bones? Lemme see... ew." You examined the tiny charred bone. "See, this kinda shit is the reason why witches are always portrayed by the media as ugly wart-covered crones. You wouldn't see Willow Rosenberg wrapping up goldthread and charred baby bones, but you can totally picture the evil queen from Snow White doing this shit. For every Willow, there's 5 Elphabas."

"Willow, that's the hot redhead from American Pie, right?" Dean piped up.

"Her character on Buffy is a fairly accurate representation of a Wiccan. This, though... I hate witches."

"Me, too. Aren't you glad you're on the wagon?" Dean said, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the motel parking lot.

**********

As the three of you walked into the art room, you looked around. "You guys... you really need to just start calling me as soon as you confirm a witch case."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because you have been here before and you can't feel it... Some serious craft has gone down in this room." You walked over to one of the kilns. "This one. Heavy magic here."

"So, Tracy used the kiln to char the bones. What's the big deal?" Dean asked, walking over to watch Sam rifle through the teacher's desk.

"Dean, that hex bag turned up in our room... not after we talked to Tracy-"

"After we talked to the teacher." Dean finished.

"Hey." Sam said, grabbing a padlock on the bottom left drawer of the desk.

Sam stood, grabbing a heavy old hammer and bashing the latch until the lock came free. Sam pulled the drawer open to reveal a bowl with several bones in it. "My god, those are all from children."

"And I'm guessing he's not saving them for the dog." Dean said.

"You know this guy's address?" You asked. Dean nodded. "Then we gotta go. We gotta stop this before the moon's high." You said, rushing out the door.

**************

You followed Sam and Dean into the house, the moon high above you. As you entered the basement, pistols up and ready, each of you took a single shot at the man's back. You put your guns away and Dean cut down Tracy, who pulled the gag out of her mouth. "Thank you, he was gonna kill me! Ugh, that sick son of a bitch. I mean, did you see what he was doing? Did you hear him? How sloppy his incantation was?"

Dean and Sam looked up in surprise and you tapped your shoulders, taking a step back from the dead teacher. "My brother always was a little dim." Tracy continued as the brothers reached for their guns. She threw her hand up and yelled a Latin incantation, causing the boys to fly back and writhe in pain on the floor. You crumpled to the ground. "He was gonna make me the final sacrifice. His idea. But now, that honor goes to him. Our master's return? The spell-work's a two man job, you understand, so for 600 years I had to deal with that pompous son of a bitch. Planning, preparing. Unbearable."

Tracy knelt down next to her brother, picking up the knife he was going to gut her with and the chalice. "The whole time, I wanted to rip his face off." She started cutting into one of his bullet wounds and used the cup to catch the blood. She turned to look at the hunters. "And you get him with a gun. Love that."

Her eyes fell on you. "You aren't hurt. Stop pretending. My spell washed right over you. Stand up. Who are you?"

"I keep telling people." You said, standing. "I'm nobody."

"Why didn't my spell work on you?"

"Sorry, sister. I'm warded." You said, pulling your denim button-up shirt away from your shoulders to reveal a symbol in red henna on each shoulder. "I don't go against centuries-old witches without a little insurance. Learned that with the Grand Coven ten years ago."

"How'd you know my age?"

"Don't worry. You definitely don't wear it. Samhain. The demon Samhain. No one knows him, especially a modern witch."

"You pronounced it right. You're a witch."

"Not anymore."

"So, my magic isn't going to work on you?" You shook your head. "Too bad." Tracy finished, grabbing Dean's discarded gun and pulling the trigger. The bullet ripped through the flesh of your shoulder, causing you to scream and fall to the ground. She walked forward, shooting you in the chest, before walking back to the altar.

"You know, back in the day, this was the one day you kept your children inside. Well, tonight you'll all see what Halloween really is." Tracy started to chant in Latin as you lost consciousness.

********************

You woke with a start, sitting up quickly and reaching your hand to check your chest. There were no bullet holes. You looked around the room. Dean and Sam were gone, the dead teacher, too. The blonde was on the ground next to a huge crack in the cement. Castiel stood next to the body, but his eyes were focused on you. "Did I die again?" You whispered.

Castiel shook his head. "Almost." He tilted his head, examining you. "If you had died, I doubt Heaven would have allowed me to resurrect you. Thankfully, you were not completely through the veil. I only had to heal you."

You stood. "Seal's broken, isn't it?" Castiel nodded. "Why did you save me?"

"I... don't know. What you said earlier... You believe I was your lover?"

"Look. I'm not gonna pretend to understand time travel, but I do understand that Dean is important to you guys. I can see how your future self might have been sent to Dean's past self to... I dunno. You probably haven't been sent yet. But..." You stepped forward, looking up into his eyes. "I know those eyes. I know those thin chapped lips that were only any good when they were being kissed."

"I've only had this vessel since Dean has been back on Earth. He's a middle-aged man, I assume he'd have drawn attention at your high school."

"When I came back from Hell, I spent a year in glamour. I didn't want anyone to see my scars. I could do that, and I could convince every person I came across that I was a federal agent while wearing biker boots and jeans. That's without Heaven's grace, without Enochian spellcraft. Whoever is gonna send you back, they're gonna make you look young. They're gonna make you seem like a seventeen year old human boy. They might even make you think you are one. But I know those eyes." You insisted.

"I don't know yours." He whispered, coldly.

You nodded, walking toward the basement stairs. "You don't now, but you will. Do you know where the Winchester boys are?"

"They have defeated the demon Sam-hane. I believe they are both being contemplative, separately."

"It's Sow-en. I'm sure you don't speak Celtic, but it's... sow-en." You said, walking up the stairs.

***************************

You shuffled through the parking lot toward the Charger. As you were unlocking the driver's door, Sam walked out of the motel room. His eyes widened as soon as he saw you. "Christina? How are you-?"

You sighed, turning to him. "The angel healed me."

"We thought you were dead. If we knew-"

"You had a town to save. I don't blame you. I thought I was dead, too." You rounded the front of your car, sitting on the hood. "So how did you take down Samhain? That had to be the strongest demon you guys have ever gone against."

"Exorcism." Sam answered, quickly.

"Yeah, but how'd you get him to sit still long enough? I mean, you didn't have time to set down a devil's trap."

"We just... did it."

You blinked at him as he looked at his feet. You gasped, slightly, in understanding. "Does your nose bleed?" Sam's eyes shot up to yours. "The first few times I did invocations, my nose leaked like a sieve. It wasn't that there was anything actually wrong with my nose, no broken blood vessels or anything, but it... it was an uncontrollable bleed. There was just so much pressure inside me that the blood took the easy way out."

"What-"

"I'm not gonna judge, Sam. If I could still practice, I'd be a much better hunter. That bitch would have never gotten a bullet in me. I would have taken her out before Samhain ever was raised." You jumped down from your hood and placed a caring hand on Sam's chest. "But there is a reason I don't practice anymore. It gets difficult to tell where 'too far' is. It stops being about doing the right thing and becomes about that next big rush of pressure in your head, that next nosebleed. You might not think what you have is magic, but... it's the same."

Sam put his hand over yours and squeezed it. "I... thank you. Dean, he... he doesn't understand. I know it's a fine line, but... I won't let it get that far."

"If you ever need help... if you ever need to stop... you know where I am." Sam patted your hand and smiled. You pulled away and headed back to the driver's side of your car. "Tell Dean I'm alive, please. Not that he's mourning me, I'm sure, but..." Sam nodded and you got in your car, waving a little as you drove away.

Supernatural Tag- @letsby

[mattzerella-sticks]

Joust Another Normal Day (Dean/Cas fanfic, 3.8k words) (ao3)

Charlie plans a trip to the Renaissance Fair with her best friends Dean and Sam Winchester. However, of the three, Dean is the least enthusiastic about going - at least for show. In truth, he finds the Fair interesting. Especially when he comes across an enchanting member of the Fair.

Will Dean be swept away like the damsel he is, or will his mood forever be stuck in the Dark Ages?

           Dean tugs on the leather wrapped around his forearms, adjusting it slightly from how it shifted, and pulling the straps tighter. He fiddles with it for a good while before an arm throws itself around his shoulders. Looking up from his wrist, Dean casts an annoyed glance at his beaming, redheaded friend. Charlie only squeezes tighter, jostling him.

           “It’s fine, Dean,” she says, “Your whole costume is in perfect order… just like it was when we left your apartment, and when we got out of your car, and even when –“

           “Okay, I get it,” he cuts her off, taking a quick peek at his outfit one more time. His leather boots were still a bit dusty from walking through the parking lot – but better than the mud on Sam’s when he accidentally stepped through the dewy field. His pants and tunic feel sweaty, but the leather over shirt and chainmail collar piece hide any evidence of stain. However, he does wish he left his sword back with Baby – the heavy wood tiring and cumbersome to drag around all day.

           “Do you?” Charlie continues, “Or are you just saying that to appease your Queen?”

           Dean scoffs, “Please, you know I’ve never appeased you a day in your life.”

           “Very true,” Charlie says, pouting, “Why do I keep you on as a handmaiden then?”

           “Because good help is hard to find?” Dean shrugs, “Or maybe because Sam makes me look like a good handmaiden by comparison?”

           Sam walks in on the tail end of Dean’s statement, frowning at him, with two legs of turkey in hand. “I resent that,” he says, handing one of the legs to Charlie, and holding the other one away from Dean. “And because of your comment, this is mine.”

           “Oh come on!” Dean barks out, “You don’t even like it!”

           “No, I said it was empty calories,” Sam tells him, taking a large bite of the turkey, “Butsh shpite issha good enough reashon to pack ‘em shon.” Dean pouts fiercely, watching his brother eat his turkey leg.

           “Really?” Dean whines, “This was the only reason I even agreed to drive you two in the first place!”

           “We both know that’s not true, Dean,” Charlie says, swallowing a juicy piece of meat, “Don’t try and keep up a cool front with us.”

           “Yeah,” Sam agrees, “You wanted to come to the Renaissance Fair as much as we did.”

           “Like that’s true,” Dean scoffs, squeezing his midsection, “Way I remember it, the two of you had to beg me because Charlie’s car was still over at Bobby’s and you bike.”

           “You didn’t have to dress up though?” Sam smirks, victoriously tearing off another strip of leg from the bone, watching Dean’s face fill with color. His brother short circuits, sputtering noises every five seconds.

           “Well,” he finally recovers, saying, “It’d be weird to come and not dress up.”

           “Only if we were at one of our LARP events,” Charlie points out, “Which you also take great pride in.”

           “That’s different! LARPing involves strategy, skill… planning against an enemy army to win! Not…” he glares at two Fair workers, a man in Renaissance clothing looking around wide-eyed for a woman in blues and purples and wings dancing to his right, to the amusement of a baby in a stroller, “an absence of shame.”

           “Didn’t think you still had any shame left after Lisa,” Sam says, clapping a hand to Dean’s shoulder, finishing off the turkey leg.

           He glowers harshly at Sam, his ex’s name like a needle to his already flimsily inflated enthusiasm, popping it to whiz about before fluttering sadly to the ground. “And on that note,” Dean mutters, pulling away from them, “I am going to get my own turkey leg.” He offers each of them a middle finger and stalks over to where Sam went.

           His absence barely affects the others.

           “So,” Sam says, “What do you want to do?”

           “Let’s go get our hair braided! I saw a lovely little stand just over there…”

           Their voices trail off the closer he gets to the food stand. And with his already diminished luck, the line seems to stretch thirty people long. Dean sags, trudging towards the end to wait – his thoughts darkening under the blistering sunlight.

           It’s been a few months since Dean has heard Lisa’s name – but the wound badly healed. So even the mere reference of her sends phantom pains throughout. He doesn’t miss her – their relationship had ended way before she officially called it off. Dean only wishes that it didn’t go down like it did. Sam and Charlie only know that Lisa threw him and everything he owned out of her house, loudly. What they didn’t know was –

           “Excuse me? Are you going to move ahead?”

           Dean startles, turning towards the man behind him. He was similarly dressed to Dean, except his tunic was a thick black, and his tanned arms were exposed to bronze further. The man watched him bemusedly, a questioning smirk on his face, surrounded by days worth of scruff.

           “What?”

           “The line,” the other man says, pointing ahead, “it’s moving. In fact,” a few people shuffle forward, “there it goes!”

           “Alright, alright, I get it,” Dean chuckles, taking wide steps towards the woman in front of him. He pauses, looking back towards the man once more. “So,” he starts, “you must really want a turkey leg, huh?” He tries to pocket his hands, but the absence of pockets leaves his hands to hang awkwardly at his sides. Dean stews in the awkward, jerky movement.

           “But of course,” the other man says, crossing his arms, “I mean, don’t you?”

           “Yeah,” Dean says, laughing, “Wish I didn’t have to wait so long…”

           “It can get maddening…” the other guy trails off, looking to the side, “But you get used to it.”

           “Sounds like you know a thing or two about waiting in lines,” he says, “You do this stuff a lot?”

           “I’m not sure,” the other man hums, scratching at his chin, “By ‘this stuff’ do you mean the Fair or waiting in lines? Because I don’t think that’s a respected profession…”

           “The first one,” Dean snickers, beaming at him, “Although the waiting in line job sounds like it’d come with good pay.”

           “As it should,” he responds, “however the benefits are somewhat lacking. I mean no dental… barbaric.” The other man finally breaks down, he and Dean laughing as they move forward in line.

           “I’m Castiel,” he holds his hand out to Dean, “I work here.”

           “Dean,” he says, gripping Castiel’s warm hand in his, “I don’t.” They take a few more steps forward. “Although, I didn’t think you would either. You don’t act like any of your… uh, co-workers.”

           Castiel huffs, “We do have things called breaks in ye olden times.”

           “So will I be seeing you prancing around at some point?”

           “I wouldn’t say that…” Castiel smiles, “Prancing isn’t really my thing.”

           “Oh really?” Dean asks, knocking shoulders with Castiel, “Pray tell what is your thing then?”

           “I’ll tell you,” Castiel teases, “If you tell me what you were thinking about earlier?”

           “Y’know,” Dean says, ducking away shyly, “I’ll just guess. Probably something embarrassing anyway… like the guy who gets hit with rotten tomatoes.”

           “No, that’d be Uriel,” Castiel smirks, “He’s the funniest member of our troupe.”

           “With a name like Uriel I’m sure he’d need a sense of humor to get by.”

           “Good one,” Castiel chortles, slapping Dean’s back, “Keep moving… yeah, so that’s not what I do. You have any other guesses?”

           “No, I think I’m good,” Dean tells him, “Besides, we’re almost to the front anyway.” Two people stand in front of them now, and the aroma of the roasting meat waft over towards them. “Thanks,” he says, “For making waiting in line interesting.”

           “Well, my job was easier thanks to audience participation,” Castiel says, glancing up-and-down Dean’s face. He feels a blush creep up his neck, and Dean rubs a hand over to hide it.

           “I’m glad I could help.”

           “In many ways, Dean,” Castiel whispers, “In many ways.”

           “Next!”

           Dean slowly leaves, walking towards his server. Her brown hair is in braids, and the blouse is the kind of cut Dean would appreciate if his thoughts weren’t otherwise distracted. “One turkey leg please,” he asks, drumming his fingers on the counter. She says something in an accent, ringing a bell, but Dean barely pays attention. His hunger has transformed, and the turkey leg won’t be enough to sate it.

           It feels like an eternity before she returns with his food. Dean pays her, leaving the change and hurrying off to the side where those withturkey legs go. However, Castiel is not there. Dean turns and turns, but cannot catch sight of him. He feels his smile deflate, and he gloomily stares at his turkey leg.

           “Hey!” Charlie calls him, “What are you doing?”

           He jumps, whirling to face her and Sam, slipping into a half-smile. “Oh, nothing, just…” he waves the leg around, “thinking how great this’ll taste.” He finally notices their hair, and nearly loses it. “What happened to you two?”

           Sam sighs, touching the petals of the flowers woven into his hair sadly. Charlie, however, beams proudly with her new braids. “We were just made slightly more awesome, that’s what happened!” She grabs for Dean’s hand, pulling him and Sam along, “Now let’s keep going! There’s so much more I want to do.”

           “Okay, don’t tear my arm off…” Dean chuckles, taking a bite of his leg. He glances around once more for a sight of Castiel, but finds nothing.

           ‘Whatever,’ Dean rationalizes, ‘We only talked once, not like I’m missing out on anything.’

           More turkey leg helps him not think.

           “Whoa, Charlie, you were right. The extra five dollars sure were worth it!” Sam remarks, clapping as the men on the field clash their swords together. Dean agrees, cheering loudly as one of the knights on field kicks away his opponent’s shield. Both he and Sam had questioned the rationality of paying for something that was already free. But VIP tickets meant ‘VIP’ to the people at the Renaissance Fair. They along with all the other ticket-holders were seated as close to the action as they could get. Not only that, but they had a nice view of the nobility on their way in. And vice versa. Dean still feels the dark stare of the queen from behind him.

           “It always is,” Charlie agrees, on the edge of her seat as the victor ‘stabs’ his opponent, “But just wait until we get to the jousting! I heard it’s one of the best parts of the fair.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah,” Charlie gushes, “the guy who plays the Black Knight is apparently is the best jouster in the nation.”

           “Wonder how they decided that,” Dean snickers, “Was it a voting system, or did they battle it out ‘Contest of Champions’ style?”

           Charlie is about to answer, but a boldly dressed man in bells hops his way to the center of the field, interrupting the victor in his celebration. “All cheer the might and glory of Sir Michael of Havenswood!” he cheers, clapping loudly, “Claiming victory over his sworn enemy, Sir Lucifer of the Morning Star! Twas bloody, twas barbarous, twas good family entertainment! Now, please, drag your enemy off the stage.” Michael nods, grabbing Lucifer’s arms and moving him away from the crowd.

           “Now as we set up for the main event, I must ask: how are ye good folk doing this fine day?” The crowd cheers loudly. “I thought so. But prepare for it all to get better! Trust your friendly neighbor Jester, Gabriel, to deliver on his promises. I mean I have to seeing as King Charles hasn’t punished me yet. Seriously, the man knows how to make heads roll – a true inspiration to King Henry –“

           “Please Jester,” the King calls out, “Enough about me. On with the show!”

           “As you wish, sire,” Gabriel bows. He looks behind him, then back at his audience, “In good time, too. As we are now ready… for the joust!” An uproar booms from the stands. “Like I thought. But please, save it for our competitors. Now, let me welcome to the field our challenger. Hailing from the House of Roche, Lord of Thorns – Sir Balthazar. A speckled horse gallops onto the scene, a blond man atop it. He slows to a trot, and Balthazar soaks up the crowd’s attention. To Dean, the guy seems like a glory hound – and can’t wait to see the guy who’s going to knock him off his high horse.

           “Ah, a joy as ever. But he is but one half of the show, folks. As our returning champion now enters the field! Legends have it he was born from the tears of the Lady of the Lake at Arthur’s funeral. Others say he emerged from a riverbed with a sword in hand and a stick up his – oh I shouldn’t say. He’s successfully won every match he’s been in, and kills competitors as fiercely as he kills the mood at any party. Please give it up for Sir Emmanuel, our very own Black Knight!” The crowd goes mad as a black mare gallops forth, her rider fierce and focused.

           Dean barely cheers, too stunned by Emmanuel – ‘no… Castiel?’

           The more Dean follows the path he makes, the more certain he becomes that Emmanuel and Castiel are the same. However, trying to match the easy and relaxed grin from before with the strong frown he sees now was a herculean feat.

           “Hey, Earth to Dean. You okay?”

           He snaps out of it, turning to a concerned looking Sam. “What?”

           “You zoned out man,” Sam tells him, “You good?”

           “Course I’m good,” Dean blushes, turning, “I was just… appreciating the horse. Reminds me of Baby… if she was a horse?”

           Sam raises a brow, but turns away, muttering a quick, “Weird” under his breath.

           The moment quickly passes, and they both return their eyes to the scene. It seems that in the quick conversation between the brothers, both Castiel and Sir Balthazar have dismounted and met in the middle of the set-up.

           “So… Balthazar, Emmanuel… anything to say to each other?”

           “Just that our famed champion will need a handkerchief by the time our bout is finished,” Sir Balthazar starts, “For the loss of his legacy shall be a sorrowful affair.”

           “What bold words!” Gabriel comments, turning to Castiel, “Emmanuel… a response?”

           Castiel says nothing, only squinting and tilting his head.

           “Please, slow down – I’m not sure the crowd understands you,” Gabriel chuckles. He turns to the audience, “Tis the strong and silent type.”

           “Now,” he continues, “Enough chatter – let’s begin!” Gabriel dashes away towards the stands as Castiel and his competitor move back towards their horses. Dean keeps his eyes locked on Castiel, watching him mount his horse, shifting in his seat.

           It’s not long before he’s staring into the other man’s blue eyes. Castiel checks his armor when he notices Dean’s presence in the audience. He breaks character slightly – only enough if you’re really looking. His gaze widening and mouth dropping slightly, only to sheepishly shift into a smile before stopping at a frown. Castiel turns towards his page, a young fair-headed boy, and grabs his helmet, shield, and lance.

           “You think he’s gonna win?” Sam asks them, “I mean… he can’t win every time right?”

           “You’d be surprised, Sam,” Charlie says, “The only way he’d lose is if he was about to quit or be fired. And judging by the crowd… I doubt either is close.”

           “Maybe… what do you think, Dean?”

           “Hmm… what?”

           “You think he’s going to win?”

           “Oh… he’s a winner all right.” He leans further up in his seat, playing with his thumbs, “I mean look at that lance…”

           The horses pound their hooves into the dirt, sending it flying up, riling the crowd further into frenzy. Castiel and Sir Balthazar sit ready at their posts, waiting for the starting horn. Gabriel doesn’t delay, holding the long instrument up and blowing hard.

           The sound drowns out the responding whinnies as the horses gallop forward. The two knights hold their own as their weapons come closer. The blows are quick, but not damaging. Neither man moves from his seat. They and their horses trot over to their starting points once more.

           “Remember, no man gets it right on their first try,” Gabriel jokes, “Once more!”

           The second attempt ends like the first, except Balthazar’s shield has a nasty scrape on it that wasn’t there before. The two men ready for their third go as Gabriel warms up the crowd once more.

           “Third time be-ith the charm, ladies and gentlemen!”

           It was.

           Castiel and Sir Balthazar meet, but only Castiel finishes on the other side. The other knight rocks on his back, wheezing at the force of the blow, which sent him rocketing off his horse.

           Dean jumps up, cheering for Castiel’s win. He picks up his visor, scanning the crowd, spending a few seconds on Dean before moving past. Castiel finds what he needs, motioning his page forward. The young boy brings out a rose, handing it to Castiel in exchange for his helmet.

           “What’s he doing?” Dean asks.

           “It’s what the winners do,” Charlie tells him, “Get the audience involved… usually handing a ‘fair maiden’ a rose, kissing her hand, playing it up. Y’know… like in Game of Thrones.”

           “Oh.”

           “What’s this? Seems like our dear Black Knight has a parting token! Well… to the victors go the spoils. Sir Emmanuel, if you must, give that beautiful rose to the lovely lady that’s caught your eye!”

           Dean finally tears his eyes away as Castiel trots closer. He doesn’t think he can watch the scene unfold, as some young girl giggles at the offer, or an older woman laughs and kisses his cheek and calls him ‘sweetie’. He’s so lost in his thoughts; he doesn’t notice the crowd go silent.

           “Or… handsome fellow,” Gabriel laughs weakly.

           “Dean!” Sam needles his elbow into his side, “Look up!”

           He does, and comes face to face with Castiel. The other man leans forward from his horse, offering him the rose and a small smile. Dean can’t think, too lost in the fairy tale wonder of it all. His body moves without thought, and the spell is broken as soon as he takes the flower from the other man.

           “And the token is accepted!” Gabriel says, recovered from the earlier bout of shock, “What a lovely gesture. As you know, we are an accepting group of people. The Renaissance was an enlightened time, and we fought against ignorance. So please, don’t live in the Dark Ages – embrace the light! Let’s give it up to our Dark Knight!”

           The rest of the show blurs before him, Dean too enraptured with the rose to pay attention. By the time Sam manages to wake him from his daze, the audience was half-empty.

           “What?”

           “You okay there?” Sam starts, talking to him like he would a frightened puppy, “You know… I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”

           Dean blinks, “What?”

           “Yeah,” Charlie agrees, “Maybe he wanted to do something since it’s June or… y’know maybe he liked how the tunic doesn’t leave anything to the imagination?”

           “But you don’t have to freak out,” Sam continues, “Or flip on the guy. Probably just meant well –“

           “Yeah, it’s not like he could have known you weren’t –“

           “Just what are you two going on about?”

           “Look, Dean,” Sam sighs, “If he comes over here –“

           “Hello.”

           They all whip around to gape at Castiel, still in his armor – albeit, missing his gloves.

           “Hey – hi,” Dean stutters shyly, “What’s up Cas – or should I say Sir Emmanuel?”

           “I knew you’d figure it out eventually,” Castiel chuckles, shifting nervously on his feet. “Look,” he says, “If the rose was a bit forward –“

           “No! No I – I really liked it,” Dean says, ignoring the bizarre expressions on the others’ faces, “If that was your way of saying sorry…”

           “I wanted to stay, I did,” Castiel tells him, “But after I got my food Gabriel pulled me away to deal with an emergency. But I’m,” he swallows harshly, “I’m glad you were able to see the match.”

           “Well, y’know,” Dean smiles, “I paid good money for my seat.”

           “Anyway… I need to head back to my tent, but I wanted to give you this,” Castiel holds a slip of paper out for Dean, “You know… the Fair is here all summer.”

           Dean grabs it, clutching it tight against his chest, alongside the rose. “Is it?”

           “Yep,” Castiel nods, “However, I don’t know how I should spend my time when I’m not working. Do you have any suggestions?”

           “I have a few,” Dean says, “I’ll tell you about them some time.”

           “Don’t keep me waiting, then,” Castiel grins, nearly tripping over his feet in his excitement. He blushes deeply, waving at Dean once more before jogging back towards his tent. Dean watches him go with his own red face to deal with, a problem that only gets worse once he remembers Sam and Charlie beside him.

           “Heh-heh… heh…” he turns to them, “Well… that was – that sure was… yep…”

           “Dean!” Charlie starts, punching him, “How come you didn’t tell me!”

           “Ow – it – ow – never really came up – stop it!”

           “Never came up?” Sam scoffs, “Dean, this isn’t the kind of stuff that comes up – it usually comes out –“

           “Hey –“

           “Wait,” Charlie stops him, “Is this why Lisa broke up with you? Because you like guys?”

           Dean blanches, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Well…”

           “Dean! Dean, could you help me out?” Lisa carries the grocery bags into the house, dropping them onto the kitchen table with a sigh. “Thanks Dean!” she sighs, closing the door behind her. She hangs her purse on a nearby coat rack and goes to sort through the mail on the counter. “You better not be sleeping Dean!” she yells, “We have our appointment with Dr. Akopian in an hour – and then Ben wants us to go see that new movie after we pick him up from my mother’s…” She glances towards the stairs. “Dean?”

           She huffs, placing the mail back onto the counter before moving up the stairs. “Dean, I’m serious – you remember the last time you went to our session after a nap? It was a waste of one-hundred and fifty dollars and hour, that’s what happened.” She sees that their bedroom’s door is ajar. “Y’know,” she mutters to herself, “Sometimes I don’t think you take this seriously. I mean… all that’s at stake is our relationship.” The closer she gets to the door, the easier it gets to hear a familiar buzzing sound. She raises a brow, “...Dean?”

           Lisa barges in, catching Dean at an inappropriate angle. He looks at her from between his open legs and yelps “Lisa-aagh…ooh…”

           “Oh my God,” she cries, covering her eyes, “Is that my vibrator!?!”

[in-the-gardens-of-inspiration]

Yo, so let me preface this: I used to watch the 2003 4kids TMNT when I was a kiddo, and I've also been watching TMNT2012, and I'm also pretty hype about Rise tbh, but it got me thinking about the weird rabbit-holey SI/reader being in a relationship with one or more or all of the bros- and like, made me think back to the one I wrote a few years back when I was sick. It also made me think of Raphael having the Hebrew version of his name instead of the Latin/Italian version, Raffaello, and of course because Angelology is its own dark rabbit hole of research, yeah, I was thinking about the archangels, the Hamato brothers and a SI/OFC. Also a bible-thumping, born-again bus seat neighbour.

Then I decided, I have to write this glorious mess.

(It's for 2012, 'cause I'm most familiar with that incarnation atm)

__

There's something crappily unlucky about getting stuck in New York City after 10:30 in what many, if not most people consider the bad part of town.

It was a reprieve at first, honestly, but after the first 10 minutes, it just was such a drag.

Want to know what happened? Well, the Greyhound broke down, and the driver couldn't fix it, so he called another bus to pick his passengers up, which would be coming. Eventually. Some time after 11:30. Wonderful.

Great. Well, I wasn't beside a born-again Christian Evangelist Bible-thumper trying to shove her brand of religion down my throat, so plus.

On the flipside, minus: I don't know NYC, like at all, I was daytripping. So I wandered off because I was rather sick of my benchmate, the Bible-thumper, and, haha, of course, got lost.

Now I've heard some shit about the Big Apple recently, and like, it's wacky. Ninjas? Aliens? Oh get real. That's a movie publicity stunt.

But ho boy, was I wrong.

So while I was wandering, trying to find my way back to the bus shelter, I hear footsteps approaching me, and like these suited Pod-people clones with these gnarly laser rifles are following me. My eyes go wide, 'cause holy shit, this is either a ballsy as fuck publicity stunt or I'm about to get murdered or worse by these plug fugly clone rejects, and to be honest, either choice sounds kinda shitty.

So I'm there, speed walking the FUCK outta there, when I hear whooping, jeering and clanking metal, I turn, lo and behold: ... Uh turtles...?

I blinked a couple times, nope. Not a stress-induced hallucination, okay, that's good? Yeah, a quick pinch to the arm also verified it wasn't a dream, because oww... And uh, my stare was being returned, and I barely withheld a squeak of startlement, with a no-doubt awkward look I gave my rescuers a smile-and-wave combo. And immediately regretted it.

Between one blink and the next the turtly-shaped anomalies, there were four of them, all around 5-ish feet tall. All sorta staring- like what happens when you stare too long at the abyss, it stares back.

"Um, hi..?" Mouth engaged before brain rebooted, great start. "Thanks for saving me from those creeps..." I think I nervous blabber, that's gotta be the only reason I'm still talkin'. "My name's Daphne, you, uh, fine fellas see a bus shelter 'round here? Think I got a little turned around.." Finally, my mouth ran out of words to spew out, and I was left to get a closer look at my rescuers. I mean, outside of 5-ish foot tall turtles.

Decked out in domino mask-like bandanas, the quartet made for a fairly imposing image, weapons adorning them and blank eyes. Fairly imposing at least until the shortest one, in the orange, spoke, baby blue eyes glittering at me. My mental image of my knights in tortoiseshell armour tarnished a bit,. "Whoa, bros, she's kinda pretty."

She's also right here, I snorted, taken aback, god he sounded like a teen- oh shit, could he actually be a teen? Huh, that's not something ya see everyday, teenage ninja mutant turtles.

The one with the red bandana smacked the one that had spoken upside the head. "Why don't you think before you speak?!" ... Okaay, that's, uh, new.

He spoke again, absolutely unfazed by the whimpering, teary-eyed stare he was receiving, "Bus shelters about five blocks that way." And he pointed in the direction I'd come from, ah nuts, I'm probably getting more lost in the seedy part of an already dangerous city, great. I smile at them a bit wanly, "NYC's got my internal compass a little on the buggered side, but eh, thanks for the directions." I move to push past them, when a blast of pink energy from a nearby alley slams into the pavement in front of me, and I leap back with a choked off curse.

The one in blue grimaces, and barks out, "Let's take care of these pests first, Mikey, Don, can you cover for..?" I'm assuming he's the leader, but it still startles me a bit when he looks at me amidst the blaster fire. Holy shit, my day's just become an episode of a comedy sci-fi anime.

So Blue told Orange, 'Mikey', and Purple, 'Don', to cover me, the civilian liability, yeah, fair, but I was planning on booking it back in the ensuing chaos, nuts. Right, he asked my name again, "Daphne."

"Sure thing Leo!" Next thing I know after Orange chirps that is the sound of a facepalm, ah, that sweet sound of exasperation. I see Blue grit his teeth, and Red poorly hold back a bark of laughter. Ah, I assume they were going for subtle and mysterious. They failed. Oh well.

I fished my phone from my hoodie pocket, 11 pm, oh good. I had time. I put my phone back and sat crosslegged on the ground, and propped my head up. Makes both less and more of a target, I'd wager, plus with all this cloak and dagger, haha, ninja b/s maybe I'll make my bus before they drive off and I have to find a hostel or something.

Again I find my mouth running off before my brain can process, "So... Come here often?" Of course I had to imbue as much sarcasm as I could, raising my voice so all four could hear me- probably not my best call, but I was tired and getting quite cranky. All but Blue were at least amused, Blue, eh, ya can't win 'em all. "So, eh, what are these pod people supposed to be anyway? Rejected robot clone Men In Black?"

I flinch as a silver robot with a smirking brain goes to reach for me, but man am I glad I took a a few years of various martial arts. With a spot of grace, and it beint close enough to use it's brain as a spring board, I do a back roll, and end up knocking into Purple on the get up. "Sorry man, didn't mean to, ugly over there caught me by surprise." He turns to see where I rolled from, and spots a KO'd 'droidy bastard. "That'd be ugly then?" Giving him a cheeky smirk, I humm, "Mmhm, that's him, warts and all!" I stretch, mutterjng to myself as I do, "Ah man, it's been a bit since I've done that..." The four of them by this point have have taken care of the robo-menaces, and Blue still looks extraordinarily unimpressed. Almost like what happened was my fault.

"What are you even doing out here so late? Most people aren't." My eye twitched, yeah, that was equal parts tiredness and irritation, "Like I said, New York buggers with my internal compass and I got turned around. I don't want to be a target for less-than-savoury people, so I learned a helpful tip, called look like you know what you're doing. I'm pretty fucking lost right know, so some help would be much appreciated. If you want incentive, I've got some artisan dark chocolate, and some low-sweetness white chocolate, that ok?"

Eventually, after 10 minutes of bickering, a bar of white chocolate lighter, I was able to get an 'escort'. Red who I found out was properly called Raphael, who was equal parts volunteered and voluntold to make sure I was able to see the bus shelter before buggering off. As I walked the last couple of blocks, an errant thought popped into my head. Raphael was classically an Archangel. There were classically, at least in bare-bones Christianity, four of them. Micheal, Gabriel, Raphael and Uriel. That- oh boy, did that give me an idea if that lady was gonna try and make me change my beliefs and spirituality.

Plot twist, or maybe not, my favourite person in the world decided to sit rihht beside me. Again. For the long ride homewards. I think she took my silence as license to gab. Oh joy.

Putting on my most awed, touched by God face, from the shadows of my hood, and the most dreamy voice I can manage I put my plan into being.

I flip my hood down, and turn to face her a little bit more, "You know," I cut her off mid-I'll-be-damned-if-I-don't-convert speech, "I think I was visited by the Archangels, you see, I got a little turned around, and I think they guided me back safely." She was gaping like a fish, "One of them even spoke to me," I continued blithely, "He introduced himself as Raphael. That's after they scared off a group of muggers." She looked like I slapped her with a particularly slimy fish, "I-I, bwuh?" Eloquent, lady, very eloquent. "They were so kind and helpful, I can't believe they appeared to this sinful daughter..." After a beat or two, "Miss are you okay?" The fanatical lady was still a bit BSoD, which was a-ok by me, so I flipped my hood back up, and went back to trying to sleep.

I didn't think much of the whole incident for a while, until my friend flipped me a vid of a radical upstate New York lady losing her shit upon being interviewed by a televangelist. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to cry. She was talking about me.

Not quite in so many words, of course, since she wasn't there for what actually happened, but she flipped out when the 'pastor' questioned the validity of her, by extension, my story, through my phone speakers I could hear the question being asked, 'how do you know she was sober?' and the lady just loosing it. I wheezed. What?

[coppicefics]

Masked Omens: Week Eight, Part One

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.

Image 2 - A page from the Celebrity section of the Capital Herald, dated 13th February 2021. Full image description and transcript below the cut. End ID.]

Read the fic here!

The Capital Herald - Saturday, 13th February 2021 Celebrity section, page 18

Top: “Informants come to me”: Carmine Zugiber on front-line successes Tips, troubles and truths about writing headlines abroad - and now making headlines at home When working in a war zone, most people wear camouflage and try to keep their heads down – but not Carmine Zugiber. The successful war correspondent is one of the most recognisable journalists in the world, and that's even more true after her recent unmasking on The Masked Singer UK. I sat down with her to discuss her work, her brand partnerships, her passions and her fears – if, indeed, she knows the meaning of the word 'fear'. “I don't, really,” she laughs, “people have said that about me ever since I was a little girl. My mother absolutely despaired – she always wanted me to be safe at home playing with my dollies, and there I was climbing trees and falling out of them. I was always in the middle of fights, even then. So I suppose it was only natural that I'd drift towards war reporting.” But not everybody encouraged Zugiber to follow her dreams. “When I told my tutor at uni that I wanted to work on that side of things, he tried pretty hard to steer me back towards something a little safer. The politics beat, or entertainment, or fashion. I've actually been covering politics for the last month or so, as a colleague is on leave, and I have to say, that can feel pretty cut-throat! But I knew I wanted to see the world and get right to the heart of the action, and I'd like to think I've achieved that.” Zugiber has certainly made her mark on the headlines, covering conflicts in countries including Eden and, more recently, Celestan. “I just think it's important to take as unbiased an approach as possible and really tell the stories that are coming out of – well, especially a situation like Celestan. It's a complicated sort of conflict, and you never know how things are going to pan out. And sometimes being a journalist can feel like having a target painted on your back.” And Zugiber's signature red hair must stand out somewhat – does that make her more of a target? “I make it work for me, honestly. Informants come to me of their own accord, which is handy when everybody else is frantically chasing leads! Having done my share of broadcast journalism, people all over the place recognise me and there's a sort of built-in trust. It's flattering, really, and it's just a matter of making sure that trust is justified.” Zugiber has long been an ambassador for the Vibrant brand of hair dye – leading some to question her objectivity as a reporter. “Yes, I've heard that, but unless Vibrant starts a war, I don't think it's an issue. Clearly my editors and the press watchdog agree, because I've had no complaints from on high. And it's a product I genuinely believe in and use all the time, so why not?” Zugiber's most recent departure from the newsroom was even less likely to conflict with her usual work. What drew her to The Masked Singer UK? “I was asked if I wanted to take part in the show at about the same time that a colleague announced that she'd be taking some leave around now, and my editor suggested that I might like to take over her post for a while to get a broader range of experience. It seemed like perfect serendipity. I didn't want to be bored, hanging around in London for months – I'm used to travelling a lot – and the show sounded like a lot of fun. I jumped at the chance to make people smile for a change. Unfortunately, as a war correspondent, that's not something I often get to do.” Zugiber admits that she had mixed feelings as she got on the plane back to the UK. “Oh, yeah, definitely, it was a hard decision. With the situation unfolding in Celestan, which is becoming more complex by the minute, a big part of me felt like I should stay and keep working on the story there. But funnily enough, that story has followed me right into the Politics section, and it's looking increasingly likely that some sort of diplomatic solution might be reached. And the break has been really good for me – I needed to remember how to lighten up and be silly, and The Masked Singer is definitely silly! So ultimately it was the right decision for me.” And now, with The Masked Singer UK behind her, what's next for Carmine Zugiber? “The Masked Singer was a lot of fun, I really enjoyed it. And the response from the audience has been overwhelmingly positive. I loved the secrecy, but it's a relief that the truth is out now! I'll be staying in the UK, covering for Uriel [Scrolle, News World Weekly's Political Correspondent], for a little bit longer, and then in a couple of months I should be back out on assignment. No rest for the wicked!” BOGDAN PIGTON [Image Description: A picture of Carmine Zugiber’s face, in her motorbike helmet, with part of the village of Tadfield visible in the background. End ID.] [Caption] ROCK AND ROLL: Carmine Zugiber, pictured here outside a Labour party campaign meeting in Lower Tadfield, Oxfordshire, often uses her motorbike to keep up with subjects on the move. Her iconic scarlet look has led to her gathering something of a cult appeal among her viewers and readers. Photo: QuiteUnlikely.net

Centre left: ConStellation boots web star Wytchfynder host removed from astrology event Popular YouTuber Sergeant Shadwell was thrown out of the Greater Dyvyn Conference Centre last Sunday after trying to attend ConStellation. ConStellation has been the UK's largest convention for astrologers ever since its foundation in 1994. In 1999, the convention expanded to include practitioners of other divination techniques such as cartomancy (tarot card reading) and tasseomancy (tea leaf reading). The convention has been dogged by controversy throughout its history, with critics claiming that the 'con' of the name stands for more than 'convention'. Sergeant Shadwell, through his Wytchfynder channel, has long been committed to investigating the claims of fortune-tellers and paranormal practitioners such as those who attend ConStellation each year, and in several cases he has denounced claims of psychic ability as completely and demonstrably fraudulent. It is, then, perhaps not surprising that he is completely banned from ConStellation, which according to its website is 'intended as a safe and welcoming place for practitioners and interested parties to share their appreciation for, and knowledge of, the unknowable'. Sergeant Shadwell himself, however, does not seem to have been aware of the blanket ban. Witnesses to the scene on Sunday reported that the YouTuber could be heard arguing with security all the way to the doors of the building. When reached for comment, the organisers of ConStellation issued the following statement: 'A man was removed from the ConStellation event on Sunday morning after attendees expressed concern that he might be attempting to create an 'exposé’ on their work by manipulating footage of the convention. The man in question is known to the convention organisers, and a decision was made to ask him to leave. Calls for the man to be searched for recording devices were not enforced, and the man eventually departed with minimal fuss. The convention otherwise proceeded without incident.' Sergeant Shadwell was not available for comment, but a video on the Wytchfynder channel on Tuesday mentioned the incident in passing. 'All right, I just want to say thanks for all your comments, you don't need to be worrying about me. I did go to a convention this weekend, but not for anything to do with the channel, I was just planning to meet up with a friend. Well. We've been exchanging texts, I thought it might be nice to meet in person. And we did, after the convention, so. Not a total waste. Anyway, about this haunted castle-' Speculation is rife about the identity of Sergeant Shadwell's alleged friend, with some The Masked Singer UK fans pointing out that fellow The Masked Singer contestant Marjorie Potts - better known as TV's Madame Tracy - was one of the key speakers at Sunday's event. Shadwell is far from the first person to be escorted out of the Greater Dyvyn Conference Centre by security; earlier this year, three women were removed from a panel at DivaCon after starting a food fight. Several other attendees had their weekend passes revoked and were allowed to leave under their own power. But whether Sergeant Shadwell was there this weekend to meet a friend or conduct an investigation, it's probably best that he choose another venue; he's unlikely to be welcome at ConStellation any time soon. SCUZZ FISHER

Centre- and lower- right, advertisement: [Image description: A microphone on a stand, against an orange background. A pair of Union Jack printed Converse hi-top shoes cover the lower half of the image. The microphone/background image is credited to Jon Tyson on Unsplash, while the shoe image is credited to Nick Fewings on Unsplash. End ID.] The British Inquisition Book now www.brianthames.co.uk/british-inquisition Brian Thames “Nobody expected this!” [4 stars] The Capital Herald.

Bottom left: Masked Cat out of the bag? Did a Pam & Sam guest let the big secret slip? Did Rose Montgomery really just admit to being the contestant known as Black Cat in the current series of The Masked Singer UK? It seems almost impossible; surely a contestant would be more careful when taking part in a show like Pam & Sam AM. But people do make mistakes, and Pam & Sam does air live. Let's look at the evidence. Appearing on the show to advertise her upcoming show, Notes and Measures – which promises to be part cooking show, part mixology class, and part vineyard tour - the celebrity chef was asked if the rumours surrounding her participation in the competition had any truth to them. “Well, naturally, I can't tell you that,” Montgomery told her hosts with a knowing smile, “there are all sorts of NDAs involved.” I don't want to jump to conclusions, but several of the previous weeks' clues seem to have hinted at Montgomery's involvement. For example, in week five of the competition, Black Cat's clue package included “if they take note of my performance, they'll finally get the true measure of me” (emphasis mine) – while Montgomery's show Notes and Measures was still just a distant speck on the TV scheduling horizon. And in week six, Black Cat was shown on CCTV with a daisy – and Daisy, like Rose, is a popular flower name. Is Rose Montgomery Black Cat? We'll find out tonight. GRESHAM PENDER

[End of transcript]

[revwinchester]

True Vessel

Summary: In the midst of the apocalypse, Gabriel sends a message to his true vessel.

Characters: Reader, Gabriel, Uriel, Azrael (Orig. Angel Character), Sam; Dean (mentioned)

Word Count: 3323

Warnings: cursing, angst, apocalypse stuff, breaking and entering, angel(s) being dicks, kidnapping, mental and emotional manipulation, major character death (canonical)

A/N: This almost ended up a 2 parter but then it didn’t, so yay for that!  There are a few challenge prompts in here, starting with @ellen-reincarnated1967‘s back in the game challenge: “Dear you, the body you re wearing used to be mine.  I’m writing this letter to you because it’s necessary for your survival.  The rest is... complicated.”  Then there’s two of the @gabriel-monthly-challenge prompts, “My life consists of bad puns and candy,” and “All that bravado, all those witty comebacks… Just to hide how terrified you really are.”

There’s a mix of my real lore and my own head canons mixed together in here and there are some things that I know about this story that I didn’t have the space to put into it so, feel free to send me questions about the lore of this one!

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

True Vessel - 

You had seen this guy before, a few times.  You didn’t know why but you would recognize the man anywhere.  You were drawn to him whenever he was around.  There wasn’t anything that made him stand out more than most average men - he was about 5 foot 8 with sandy blond hair that was a little on the longer side and eyes the color of whiskey - but you always noticed him.  This was the closest he had gotten, though.

When the doorbell had rung, you hadn’t been expecting any visitors so you had padded over to the door and looked out the peep hole only to find the golden eyes staring back.  You had seen this guy wearing a lot of different outfits, everything from a janitor at the college you had attended to a business suit to casual wear, but today he was dressed to deliver mail and he was holding an envelope in his hands.

In the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t normal.  You knew that running into the same person repeatedly in numerous different places with him assuming numerous different identities couldn’t be a good thing.  Every horror movie or thriller you had ever seen told you that the last thing you should do is open the door to this man; that it was a one way trip to hell on earth at the hands of your stalker turned kidnapper, but you didn’t have any family left - your parents had died just before you started college - so there was no one to ask for ransom and, for some strange reason, you had always found the man’s presence comforting.  When he was around, no matter how crazy your life or the world around you would get, you were always able to stay calm.  

You opened the door and took him in.  His uniform didn’t have a name tag but you weren’t sure if postal workers usually wore one.  The man at the door looked nervous and you weren’t sure if it was because he was afraid you would recognize him or if he was worried you wouldn’t.  Though you knew he had frequently been around, you had never been this close to him and you noticed that even his scent drew you in.  As he thrust a certified letter into your hands, the air around you smelled like rainfall and cotton candy and you intuitively knew that it was the man.

When you thanked the man for the letter, he looked at you with such longing and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to reach out and comfort him.  It was a strange desire, you knew, wanting to bring peace to a man who could very well be stalking you, but it was deep within you nonetheless.

After you signed the receipt, the man turned quickly and retreated to his mail van.  You watched as he drove away before returning inside and ripping open the envelope, curious as to what was inside.

Dear Me, or, I guess… Dear You,

The body you are wearing used to be mine.  I’m writing this letter to you because it’s necessary for your survival.  The rest is… complicated.

I had planned to tell you all of this in person one day, to explain everything, and I still hope to do that and answer any questions you have.  If you’ll even see me. 

I don’t usually do serious.  Pranks and jokes are much more my style.  Generally, my life consists of bad puns and candy.  I tell you this because I hope it lends some gravity to what I am about to tell you, even though you don’t remember knowing me.

You are a strong person in ways that almost no human could comprehend.  You are a vessel… My vessel.   I am an angel and in order to interact face to face with humanity, I have to take a vessel.  In doing so, my grace shares the body with the human soul.  You are my true vessel - a human designed especially to hold and safely contain my unique grace and power.  However, no angel can take a vessel without permission.  I am currently residing in a different body but you have granted me that permission before, though, should I return to you, you would have the opportunity to choose to give it to me again.

You knew this - and more - at one time but, as it became clear to me that the current chain of events had become unavoidable, we thought it would be best to leave you and keep many of the memories of our years together to myself.  It was for your safety and for my own.  But now, with things as they are, having some knowledge will likely prove useful for your continued safety.

If the first half of this didn’t sound crazy enough, the rest of it will.  The apocalypse is here.  It’s happening.  Book of Revelation, breaking of seals, all of it. But there is a small group of humans who are fighting back.  There are two brothers leading the charge but they’re also right at the center of it all.  Sam and Dean Winchester.  If they ever turn up on your doorstep - and they probably will - you’ll simultaneously be safer than you’ve ever been and in more danger than ever.  I’ve always trusted your judgment so I won’t stop now.  They’re good guys (usually) and they can be a lot of fun but they’ve got major roles to play in the apocalypse if Heaven and Hell get their way.  The choice to trust them or not is entirely yours.  You’ll know it’s the Winchesters because they’ll be in cheap suits and pretending to be FBI agents.

Sam and Dean will probably try to kill me (again) for telling you this but they’re vessels, too.  They’re vessels for two of the most powerful angels and, technically, you’re related to them.  That’s a completely different, even longer story.  If you decide to dig into family history, just know that when an angel possesses a vessel, the body doesn’t age and you and I, well, we have quite the history.  I’ve designed it so that as you read this letter, more and more memories will come back to you

Look, I never wanted to hurt you but I’m afraid that no matter what I do or don’t do at this point, you getting tied up in the middle of all of this is inevitable.  I’ve been keeping watch over you as best as I could but I won’t be able to do that any longer, not unless I want to draw undue attention to you.  Heck, I never should have even delivered this to you myself.  Do what you can to stay under the radar and keep yourself safe.  I’m sorry.

 - Gabriel (yeah, that Gabriel)

You read the letter twice for good measure, taking in the words on the page as memories flooded back into your mind.  It all seemed so… crazy.  And, yet, you found yourself starting to believe what Gabriel had told you.  Granted, he had left you with more questions than he had given answers but, at least, it made sense why you had always felt so calm - complete even - when the honey eyed man had been near.  If you could call being the vessel of an angel - an archangel if you weren’t mistaken - making sense.

You were half way through your third read through when your doorbell rang for the second time that afternoon.  You looked out the peephole and took in the man on the other side.  He was wearing a suit, like Gabriel had mentioned, though you weren’t really up on your men’s fashion so you had no idea if it was a cheap suit or an expensive one, especially through the fisheye view your peephole gave you.  The man’s skin was dark and you wondered if and how you were related to him.  Gabriel had said that Sam and Dean would most likely show up; maybe this was one of them.

You opened your door carefully, leaving the chain lock in place, just in case.  The letter had also been a warning and you knew that you’d be taking every precaution from now on.

“Can I help you?” You asked the man through the crack in the doorway.

He looked you up and down and you could hear disdain in his voice when he responded.  “Are you Y/N?”

You immediately felt a sense of unease.  Something told you that this was neither Sam nor Dean Winchester and you were grateful for the chain that held your door mostly shut.  “Who wants to know?” you replied, keeping your voice as steady as you could.

The man at the door rolled his eyes and pushed against the door, snapping the chain easily.  “The hairless ape wants to play games, does it?”  His tone was full of malice and he wore a terrifying grin to match it.  “It’s too bad I don’t have time to play…”

Before you could get away, the man was reaching towards you and pressing two fingers to your temple.  Then the world went black.

----

When you came to, you weren’t sure where you were or how long you had been out.  You were seated in a chair but found that you couldn’t move your arms, which seemed to be bound behind your back, or your legs, which you assumed were tied to the chair.  There was something covering your eyes, maybe even your whole face, and there were muffled voices in the room.

“The runaway cares for this human, our brother will come.”  The voice belonged to the man who had broken into your home.  His voice was like ice and sent a chill down your spine.

“And you’re sure this will work, Uriel?” a second voice asked.  This person was unfamiliar to you but his voice was no less harsh, though it wasn’t nearly as deep as the first man’s, as Uriel’s.

“The runaway needs to put aside his childish self centeredness and choose a side.  We have his preferred vessel; the ape is the only bargaining chip that we need,” Uriel assured his companion.  “He will come and he will see reason.  I must go, now.  Castiel and I have another mission to see to.”

There was a moment of silence before the other voice spoke up again.  “The Winchesters again?”

Your ears perked up at that name.  You were in trouble but if they were nearby, perhaps the Winchesters would be able to help you.  Unless… unless they were working with the assholes who had taken you.

“They are tiresome creatures but they are serving their purpose nicely.  We have a job for Dean but I plan on ensuring that he will not make it out alive.  The younger one will blame the demons and Castiel will join with our cause.  Once we have him and Gabriel, nothing will be able to stop us from raising Lucifer.”

So, the Winchesters weren’t working with these two, that was a relief.  However, it didn’t sound like they were going to be in much of a spot for rescuing anyone besides each other for the time being.  You were on your own and Gabriel’s worst fear had come to be - this Uriel dude and his partner were using you to get to him.  You could only pray that he wouldn’t take the bait.

But apparently, praying wasn’t the best decision.

“Ah, the human is finally awake,” the second voice cooed sarcastically, “and it’s trying to warn the runaway.  Well, don’t count on it, ape.  We’re warded here; no prayers get out of this place.”

The second voice was approaching you and suddenly you could see again.  The voice was owned by a man, which you had already guessed from the timbre of his words.  He had beady eyes and thin mouth and, even if he hadn’t been holding you captive, you wouldn’t have trusted him.  

“Why am I here?  What do you want?” You asked, your voice surprisingly clear and strong.  “I don’t have any money.”

The man chuckled.  “As if we would have a need for such human things.  No, your only purpose is to bring the runaway back into the fold and onto the right side of history.”

“The runaway?  You’ve got the wrong person.  I don’t know any runaways,” you tried.  “I mean, there was the time my little brother tried to run away from home but he got out onto the roof outside of his bedroom and freaked out because he was afraid of heights…” You were babbling, making up a story in an attempt to buy yourself some time and come up with a plan but it was clear that the man in front of you knew what you were trying to do.

“Silence,” he commanded and you found that you could no longer speak.  You tried to hide the fear in your eyes but the man continued to speak and he had your number.  “All that bravado, all those witty comebacks… Just to hide how terrified you really are.  You truly are a perfect match for Gabriel.”  The man spat the name out of his mouth like a curse  

A third voice rang out in the space but you couldn’t tell where it was coming from.  “Oh, Azrael, that hurts, really cuts deep.”  The voice was somewhat familiar and, despite the seriousness of your current situation, it immediately put you at ease.  However, it also put you on edge.  Gabriel shouldn’t be here.  It was what this guy wanted so it was the last thing that you wanted.  

Gabriel came into your field of vision behind the man, behind Azrael.  You did your best to not acknowledge him, instead fighting against your bonds in an attempt to keep his attention focused on you instead of looking for the archangel.  

Azrael came towards you, his arm extending with two fingers pointed toward your temple like Uriel had done in your home but before he could make contact, Gabriel was there with a silver blade at his throat.  “Almost cuts as deep as an angel blade, brother.”

The angel stilled, recognizing the danger.  “Brother, you would not want the blood of one of our own on your hands,” Azrael tried reasoning but Gabriel wasn’t having it.

“Like the seven from your garrison that are now dead?  And just whose hands are covered in their blood?”  Gabriel questioned, looking truly fearsome.  When Azrael didn’t answer, the archangel pressed on.  “No response, brother?  Well, then how about you tell me why you thought stealing from the Archangel of Justice was a good idea.”  Gabriel punctuated his title with a press of the blade against Azrael’s neck.  

“I… I didn’t.  Uriel… Uriel said that…” Azrael was well and truly scared and you understood why as you watched the scene unfold in front of you.  

Gabriel’s eyes gleamed with blue energy and his 5’8” frame seemed to fill more of the room than it normally would.  The lights were flickering because of the power that was radiating from his body and you could make out the almost glowing shadow of giant wings extending from the vessel he now wore.  It was terrifying.  It was beautiful.

“Justice will come to Uriel,” the archangel spat, “but in this moment it has come for you.”  Gabriel moved the blade away from Azrael’s throat and the angel looked relieved for a moment.  That relief was short lived, though, as Gabriel plunged the blade into his back and bright, white light streamed from the angel’s mouth and eyes.

You shut your eyes tightly at the light, bringing an arm up to shield yourself and realizing that Gabriel had thought to use his grace to release you from the chair before Azrael’s death could accidentally burn your eyes out.  

The next thing you knew, Gabriel was at your side, a hand on your shoulder, and flying you back to your home.  He willed the door back to its original, unbroken state and you could have sworn you saw Enochian runes flashing briefly on the walls.  “They’re really not going to be able to get to you this time,” he promised.  “I’m sorry.  This was all my fault.”

You cut him off with a hand on his cheek.  “No, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who showed up and saved me.  This was Azrael’s fault, and Uriel’s.”  You stared the archangel down, practically daring him to look away from you.  “I knew from the very beginning what I was signing up for and I’m ready to get back in the game.”

Gabriel pulled away with a humorless laugh.  You knew in that instant that Gabriel was planning on leaving you behind again.  “The stakes are higher than ever and I won’t risk you - or put you at risk - again.  When I left last time, the apocalypse was just a glimmer in the other archangels’ eyes but now there’s no stopping it.  I can’t have you there if Lucifer and Michael are involved.”  He paused for a breath and gave you a deep, searching look.  “We can’t win this fight and I can’t drag you into a losing battle.  Your best chance of survival is to stay here and keep on living your life.”  

Before you had a chance to respond, Gabriel gave you a quick kiss on the forehead.  “I’ve warded your house like crazy and set it up so that the warding will follow you.  Not in everyday life but if you move or something like that.  You’re still warded so that no angel, demon, or other creature can find you through supernatural means.  Well, except for me but I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other for a while.  Stay safe.”

With those words he was gone.  You shouted at the space he had just taken up but there was nothing besides an empty room to hear you.  You tried praying but the prayers went unanswered.

You prayed every day, never receiving any response, and you never saw the golden eyed man around anymore, either.  If Gabriel was still checking up on you, he was being sneaky about it.  

Then it happened.  

About a year after he had left you, a searing pain shot through your chest.  You grabbed for your cell phone to call an ambulance but, just as soon as it had come, the pain was gone and you were left with a feeling of emptiness.  You knew immediately what the pain had meant.  Gabriel was dead; you were sure of it.

A few days later, a tall man with shaggy brown hair knocked on your door.  You opened it, keeping the chain in place.  “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Y/N,” he told you.  “My name is Sam Winchester and I’ve got a letter for her from uh… from a mutual friend.”

You recognized Sam’s name from Gabriel’s first letter and you opened the door to him, accepting the envelope he handed you and putting it aside on the table.  “Can I offer you anything, Sam?” you asked, feeling an odd pull towards the man.  “Water?  Coffee?  A beer?”  The man before you looked like he had seen better days and you felt an urge to care for him that you hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

Sam declined the offer but lingered for a moment, clearly debating his next words carefully.  After a minute, he turned to you, his decision made.  “Look, I can tell you know what’s in that letter, Y/N.  We’re going to figure this out, my brother and I.  We’re going to stop this damn apocalypse and make his death mean something.”  Sam took a steadying breath.  “I just thought you should know that.”

Sam turned to leave but you grabbed his arm before he could get too far.  “Let me help.”

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[queen-of-deans-booty]

On the Head of a Pin- Part 1

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,411

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Pamela’s funeral was more brutal than you thought. Going there, you thought you were capable of handling it, but you had to leave early because you couldn’t stop crying. Pamela told you when you got her she didn’t want to do this, but you forced her anyway. It was all on you when she died since you were the one who had the idea to bring her along. Saving a seal was a good thing, but not if Pamela had to die for it. It wasn’t fair.

After the funeral, everyone was quiet. Finally able to get behind the wheel, you let Sam rest in the back seat while Dean took the one next to you. It was raining, but there was no one on the road. Your driving skills weren’t as extreme as Dean’s which is why it was taking a little bit longer than usual to get back to the motel you had reserved.

“Ruby will meet us outside Cheyenne. She's been tracking some leads. I know she's not exactly on both your Christmas lists, but if she can help us get to Lilith—”

“Hey, man, work with Ruby, don't. I don't really give a rat's ass,” Dean sighed.

“What’s your problem?”

“Pamela didn't want anything to do with this and we dragged her back into it, Sam.”

“I did. I’m the one who got her. She told me that she didn’t want any part of this, but I made her anyway,” you sighed as you rested your left elbow on the car door.

“She knew what was at stake.”

“Oh yeah. Saving the world, and we're doing such a damn good job of it,” Dean scoffed.

“Dean—”

“I'm tired of burying friends, Sam.”

“Look, we catch a fresh trail—”

“And we follow it, I know. Like I said, I'm just—I'm just getting tired.”

“Well, get angry,” Sam sighed before lying back down. Looking at Dean, you made eye contact before focusing on the road. Pressing on the gas pedal, you hurried back to the room. It took longer than usual, but by the time you made it back, you just wanted to go to sleep. Unlocking the door, you walked in only to sigh.

“Ah, home shitty home,” Dean muttered as Sam turned on the lights. In the middle of the room stood Uriel with Castiel hanging behind him, not giving you guys a glance.

“Winchester, Winchester, and Singer. You do go by Singer, am I correct?”

“Oh come on,” you scoffed with a shake of your head.

“You two are needed.”

“Needed? We just got back from needed!” Dean yelled.

“Now, you mind your tone with me,” Uriel glared.

“No,” you snapped, “you mind your damn tone with us.”

“We just got back from Pamela's funeral,” Sam explained.

“Pamela. You know, psychic Pamela? You remember her. Cas, you remember her. You burned her eyes out. Remember that? Good times. Yeah, then she died saving one of your precious seals. So maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for five fucking minutes!”

“We raised you out of hell for our purposes,” Uriel glared.

“And what were those again?” you sassed, not in the mood to deal with them.

“Start with gratitude.”

“Fuck you,” you spat.

“Y/N, Dean, we know this is difficult to understand,” Castiel said as he joined his brother’s side.

“And we,” Uriel said as he looked from Castiel to you, “don't care. Now, seven angels have been murdered, all of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight.”

“Oh, boo hoo, cry me a river,” you rolled your eyes, making Uriel take a step forward just as Castiel put a hand to his shoulder to stop him.

“Demons? How they doing it?” Dean asked.

“We don't know,” Uriel said as he stared at you.

“I'm sorry, but what do you want us to do about it? I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels has to be out of our league, right?” Sam wondered.

“We can handle the demons, thank you very much.”

“Once we find whoever it is,” Castiel added.

“So, you need our help hunting a demon?” you asked.

“Not quite. We have Alastair.”

“Great. He should be able to name your trigger man,” Dean shrugged.

“But he won't talk. Alastair's will is very strong. We've arrived at an impasse.”

“Yeah, well, he's like a black belt in torture. I mean, you guys are out of your league,” Dean scoffed.

“That's why we've come to his student. You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got,” Uriel smirked which caused Dean to lose his.

“Dean, you are our best hope,” Castiel said.

“No, are you out of your mind?” you blew up. “You are not sending him in there to do that!”

“You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not this,” Dean said, his eyes full of emotion even if he didn’t show them on his face.

“Who said anything about asking?” Uriel smirked. One minute you were inside the motel room and the next, you were in an unknown building. Looking at the Angels, you couldn’t help but get angry at this. Dean didn’t know where to go, so when he approached a double door, he saw his torturer in there, chained.

“This devil's trap is old Enochian. He's bound completely,” Castiel said once he saw Dean’s interest.

“Fascinating,” Dean scoffed before turning away from the door. “Where's the door?”

“Where are you going?” Castiel asked, watching Dean stalk to the other end of the room.

“Hitch back to Cheyenne, thank you very much. Come on Y/N,” Dean said as he continued his path. Being near Castiel, you saw Uriel disappear only to reappear right in front of Dean.

“Angels are dying, boy.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you bit out, looking at Castiel for help. “Why am I here again?”

“Your magic is strong enough to get him to talk if Dean fails. Put them together, it’ll work.”

“No, you can’t make him do this. I won’t allow it,” you said.

“Hey, I get it. You're all-powerful. You can make me do whatever you want, but you can't make me do this,” Dean said.

“This is too much to ask, I know. But we have to ask it,” Castiel said before taking a few steps to Dean. Blocking his path, you jammed a finger to his chest, completely pissed about this. He stopped before looking down at you. It was clear he would win in a fight between you two, but you didn’t care.

“I’m not asking,” you glared.

“I want to talk to Cas alone,” Dean suddenly said as he looked at Uriel. Your eyes never left Castiel, you wanted him to know how pissed you were. After hearing a flap of wings, you knew there was only one angel in the room.

“What's going on, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?” Dean asked, putting two hands on your shoulders in an attempt to get you to calm down. Putting down your finger, your eyes never left Castiel’s.

“My superiors have begun to question my sympathies.”

“Your sympathies?” you asked.

“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You two. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment.”

“Is that such a problem?” you asked as a thin layer of tears began forming.

“Well, tell Uriel, or whoever... you do not want me doing this, trust me.”

“Want it, no. But I have been told we need it.”

“Do not make him go in there, Castiel!” you raised your voice.

“For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this,” the angel sighed. Dean closed his eyes in torment before letting you go. Looking over at a cart that was covered, he knew that it was his time to go in there.

“I have to do this,” Dean sighed as he walked over to the cart. Grabbing the ends, he began pushing it into the room with the demon.

“Castiel!! You call this being sympathetic? You don’t even know what the word means!” you yelled.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but it has to be done.”

“No! You do not get to make that call!” you growled, turning your eyes blue. His eyes were challenging you to make a move, but you couldn’t. It wouldn’t end well for you. If you were a cartoon, smoke would be coming out of your ears by now.

“It is done.”

“God, I can’t believe you right now!” you screamed as you took a few steps away from him. “You don’t care about me or Dean. You don’t care that Dean is in so much pain right now! And how dare you not tell me who and what I really am!” Turning away, you began walking to the door to join the two people. “Light witch, are you serious?” you muttered.

“I see you found out,” he said, keeping his voice the same pitch throughout.

“Yeah, I found out, no thanks to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go in there to make sure Dean doesn’t break,” you grabbed the handle of the door before taking a deep breath. “I thought you were one of the good ones, Castiel. I really did.”

Throwing open the door, you walked into the room to see Alastair singing and dancing while being chained up.

“Ah, full house tonight. I’m in for some fun,” he laughed once he saw you. “I'm sorry. This is a very serious, very emotional situation for you two. I shouldn't laugh, it's just that—I mean, are they serious? They sent you two to torture me?”

“You got one chance. One. Tell me who's killing the angels. I want a name,” Dean said with a hard voice, hating the fact that you were here to witness this. Somehow, he felt it deep in his soul that you wouldn’t judge him ever.

“You think I'll see all your scary toys and spill my guts? No offense, sweetheart, I’m not scared of you.”

“That may be, but I’m creative.”

“You'll spill your guts, one way or another. I just didn't wanna ruin my shoes,” Dean said. “Now answer the question.”

“Or what? You'll work me over? But then, maybe you don't want to. Maybe you're, ah, scared to.”

“I’m here aren't I?”

“Not entirely. You left part of yourself back in the Pit. Let's see if we can get the two of you back together again, shall we?” the demon laughed.

“You're gonna be disappointed,” Dean shook his head as he walked to the cart. Looking at the demon, you walked over to Dean as he looked at the tools available.

“You know I love you, right?” you whispered. “No matter what.” Without a word, Dean nodded to let you know he understood you were here to support him.

“You have not disappointed me so far. Come on. You gotta want a little payback for everything I did to you. For all the pokes and prods. Hm? No? Um... how about for all the things I did to your daddy? Don’t forget mommy,” Alastair laughed which made you look at the demon just as your eyes glowed bright blue.

“What did you just say?”

“Y/N don’t listen to him,” Dean sighed.

“It was fun torturing a witch. But, she wasn’t one anymore. Did you know that? That’s why she came to me instead of where she was supposed to go.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t know? She told me how when she had you, she gave up her powers. Decided not to be a witch anymore. I mean, if she didn’t, she might have been able to fend off Meg. Yeah, I know all about how mommy died. When his pop came down, she begged me to stay on her. They both lasted a hundred years at least.”

“You can't stall forever,” Dean said. Did your mom really give up her powers when she had you? It had always bugged you ever since your powers kicked in how she wasn’t able to fend off a demon. She was this powerful witch once you saw her lair, but she died at the hands of a demon? Not even Meg was strong enough to do that. Why did she give up her powers?

“John Winchester and Y/M/N. Made a good name for themselves. A hundred years. After each session, I'd make him the same offer I made you. I'd put down my blade if he picked one up.”

“Just give us the demon's name, Alastair,” you said, close to tears.

“But they said nein each and every time. Oh, damned if I couldn't break them,” he laughed, ignoring your statement. “Pulled out all the stops, but John and Y/M/N, they were, well, made of something unique. The stuff of heroes. Then came Dean. Dean Winchester. I thought I was up against it again. But daddy's little girl, he broke. He broke in thirty. Oh, just not the man your daddy wanted you to be, huh, Dean?”

“Stop it,” you whispered, letting a tear fall.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart, can’t handle the heat?”

“Go wait outside, Y/N.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you sniffled, keeping a stone face. Dean picked up a jug that contained a rosary which made it holy water and poured that into a chalice.

“Now we're getting somewhere. Holy water? Come on. Grasshopper, you're gonna have to get creative to impress me.”

“You know something, Alastair? I could still dream. Even in hell. And over and over and over, you know what I dreamt? I dreamt of this moment,” Dean said as he picked up a needle. Alastair began to grow nervous, and you walked to him before blue mist formed at your fingertips. “And believe me, I got a few ideas.”

“What’s the matter, you look a little nervous,” you said as you placed your fingers to his temples. As much as he tried to fight it, the power of your magic entered his vision, and he could see what you placed into his mind. Alastair screaming out in pain as Dean continued his torture, you only adding to the icing. Placing a few more images in his mind, you took your fingers away just as Dean walked over with the holy water filled needle.

“Let's get started,” Dean smirked.

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[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 18

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Eighteen, Help Me Unravel My Latest Mistake

Ava

I was in bed at seven pm. I justified it because Nel was fed and fell asleep in her swing when I was doing my dishes from the cereal I ate for dinner, and it was already dark outside.

I kept rolling over and back over again. I took off my sweatshirt and put it back on. I was uncomfortable in my skin.

Lacey is on a date. How could she go on a date in my time of need?

I knew the answer, of course. She had a fucking life! She's been a good friend, but maybe it was time that I listened to her, stopped wallowing, won back my man, or at least got the nerve to call him.

I wondered if he missed me too.

I sat up and looked at the bedside table clock. Seven twenty five. Wow. Time sure does crawl. I flung my legs over the side of the bed and unplugged my cellphone. It was fully charged, and had been all week. That's what happens when you don't have a husband to text. 

I sighed and dialed Bobby, giving in.

"Hey kiddo."

"Uncle Bobby, hi," I exhaled a deep sigh. 

"Everything okay?"

"Umm... I was actually hoping you knew where Dean was." Maybe it wasn't fair to call him.

He sighed into the phone. "Have you tried to call him?"

"He won't take my calls, Bobby. I get it, we fucked up. You warned me."

"You're not hearing an I told you so from me. Don't worry about that,” he said gently.

But I was worried about it. I saw the annoyed look on Johns face when he picked up Nel for Dean. It was judgmental. Like, yeah okay maybe I'm a bad wife, but you were a shit father. We all make mistakes.

"Thanks. So do you know where he is?"

"He's on a case with Sam. They had an apocalypse lead."

I sat up straighter, fighting the urge to rip off my sweatshirt again. Heat rose up my neck and onto my face. "What? He's with Sam?"

"That's what his text said at least."

I stared blankety ahead of me. "So he can forgive Sam and not me..." I didn't realize I'd said it out loud until Bobby commented.

"Honey I'm not sure it's like that. Those brothers have literally been through hell..."

"Trust me, Bobby, I haven't forgotten."

I was angry. There was no denying that. I refused to let them keep me in the doghouse alone. Lacey was right, I don’t just roll over and take it. I wasn't that kind of girl. "Bobby can you come by my house and watch Nel? I need to find them. If there's something to fight I'm going to fight it, and I'm going to fight for my marriage."

"You got it."

Dean

Anna caught me off guard when she pressed her lips to mine. She knew what I did and yet she still wanted to kiss me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and grabbed the back of my shirt in her fist, pulling it over my head.

I didn't think before I shrugged her jacket off her shoulders. She reached down and pulled off her own shirt, pressing her chest against mine. She reached up, pressing her hand to Castiel's handprint on my shoulder. Angels are seeming more and more like the bad guy, but there I was. Who was I kidding anyway? I was a bad guy, and Anna knew. She knew, and she didn't care.

I picked her up easily, her thighs wrapping around my waist. This room of the barn was obviously treated as a safe room. There was a vanity, a pull out couch, and a small dresser. I walked us to the couch, laying her down. She unbuttoned her jeans and lifted her hips so I could pull them off. I followed her instructions like it was habit, kissing my way down her exposed skin.

She was pale under me, her green eyes intense. She propped herself up on her elbows to kiss me again. It was slow, but precise. When I kissed her I didn't have to think about where I'd been or what happened while I was there. I was just a guy in the moment. A guy who would have some serious fucking consequences when this was all over, but maybe that's what I wanted deep down. Maybe I wanted to be unforgivable. It always made more sense for Ava and Sam to be together. They were smart, they were more than this shitty life. Unlike me. I was born for it.

I wiggled out of my own pants and stared down at Anna. She was breathing heavily, her world rocked. She still had a fresh bandage on her arm. She wasn't human, and there was something horribly comforting about that.

She hooked her thumbs in her underwear and pulled them down, staring at my own. This was the moment. I could turn back mostly unscathed. I love my wife, but looking at Anna, I knew I didn't deserve Ava. I never did.

I held myself up with one hand so I could discard them to the side.

When I pushed inside her she gasped, as if she was surprised. I honestly was. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, worried I was going to lose my shit and cry all over this beautiful woman.

She flipped us over and stared down at me, her hands on my chest. I felt a tear roll down my cheek, and she didn't kiss it away or wipe it. She just stared at me as she grinded against me. It was like she was seeing past my skin into my soul. She was watching me crack and break in two. I grabbed ahold of her shoulder blades and pulled her back to my mouth, just so I could stop her eyes. Just so I could stop the pain.

————————-

The man who was with Castiel stood in front of me. I knew now that his name was Uriel. "Dean,” he said casually, tilting his head to the side.

"I'm dreaming," I said suddenly. The last thing I remembered was stroking the length of Anna's spine as we drifted to sleep.

"That's correct,” Uriel said slowly. "Give us, Anna. She is no use to you."

"Yeah, I'll pass."

He frowned. "I must say that it won't end well for you. She doesn't have her grace. She is no good to you."

"Actually." I stepped toward him. "She does. Full blown angel now," I lied out my ass.

He smirked. "That's funny, because I have her grace here,” he said, pulling an amulet from around his neck. "Try again, Dean."

I winced.

"I see what's going on here," Uriel said, looking me over. "You got a slice of angel food cake."

"Cute." I snorted. "Come up with that one all yourself?"

He eyed my wedding ring. "I suppose Hell does change a man."

I frowned. "Well you're the one trying to kill an innocent girl, so who is the real bad guy here?"

"Oh Dean she is far from innocent."

"How does Castiel feel about this? He's your boss, right?"

"Castiel isn't here. It's best that way. He has...attachments to you. He likes you."

I frowned harder. I wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Well, I'm a likeable guy."

"I'd disagree."

"Of course you would."

"We can't let Hell get it's hooks in her."

"So just give her the angel juice back," I said as if it were that simple.

"She committed a serious crime."

"What? Thinking for herself?"

"This is our business, not yours. She's not even human. Not technically." Uriel clenched his fist. "This is your last chance. Give us the girl or..."

"Or what? What, you're gonna toss me back in the hole? You're bluffing."

"Try me," he growled. "This is a whole lot bigger than the plans we got for you, Dean. You can be replaced."

"Well go ahead and do it."

"You're just crazy enough to go, aren't you?"

"What can I say?" I countered. "I don't break easy."

Uriel smiled at that. It wasn't a big gesture. It was small and somehow much more menacing. "Oh yes, you do. You just got to know where to apply the right pressure. I will see you soon, Dean, and I promise you that you will give us the girl. Or you will live to regret it."

Ava

It was concerning how easy it was to find Sam and Dean. I really needed to go over how to better cover their tracks in the future. I walked up and pushed my way into the unlocked back door. What is this amateur hour? I shook my head. They needed me way more than they were willing to admit.

I heard movement above me, and so I climbed the stairs.

I put a lot of work into my appearance. I was wearing lipstick and eyeliner. What Dean liked to call my ass-hugging-jeans, and a top that showed just enough cleavage. I straightened my hair, and once again I felt like I was attractive enough to hopefully stop his rage enough to have him talk to me.

I got to the top of the stairs and pushed open the old wooden door. I saw his jacket hung over a chair, and I smiled with relief. He was here.

That smile quickly faded when my eyes caught a mop of red hair sprawled across his bare chest. They were tangled on the couch asleep, their feet hanging off the side. I could see everything. His hand absentmindedly stroking her back in his sleep. Like he did with me.

"Oh my god."

I was going to be sick.

His eyes opened at the sudden sound of my voice, and his guilty green globes met mine. I shook my head and immediately ran down the stairs, making a lot of noise on my way down. 

"Ava wait!"

I didn't wait. This was a mistake! I should've stayed in bed. I pushed back outside and started coughing and spiting. My hands were on my knees as I was doubled over. Do I deserve this?

I stood up and made my way to my car when the door behind me busted open. Dean was wearing his jeans and black t-shirt. He didn't even bother putting on his shoes. His hair was still messy from the sex, and looking at him gave me physical pain.

"It..."

"Do not insult me by saying it wasn't what it looked like."

"It was what it looked like," he said defeated.

"Goodbye, Dean." I turned away from him, my gut twisting painfully. 

"Hey!" He called, jogging to me. He grabbed my arm. "You don't get to do that."

"You don't get to fuck another girl and then ask me to be reasonable." I tired to pull my arm away, but he wouldn't budge.

"That's what you've been trying to do all week."

"Oh my god, Sam and I are not the same as whatever is going on here." I gestured at the barn loosely, his arm still connected to mine. 

"You're right. You were in a relationship. Yours is worse."

I looked at him, infuriated. I wanted to slap him. Scream. I tried to calm my breathing, instead. "What do you want me to say?"

"Say that it wasn't okay."

I laughed. I didn't mean to, but it was just so fucking stupid. "You were dead, Dean. You were fucking gone. I was pregnant and alone. I was broken. I was a corpse, and I didn't recognize myself. You cannot blame me for finding whatever I could to deal with losing you. Sam was the only thing that kept me alive."

He flinched, and I could tell my words hurt him. Maybe they needed to hurt, because he needed to understand. "I didn't do it to hurt you. We both tried to sell our souls. I met with so many people. I did research. I met with a witch and she said there was no getting you back. I couldn't go in our room for months, and when I finally did I read your note and... I don't know. Maybe I should've found another way, but I will not apologize for keeping both Sam and I afloat."

I watched his neck move as he swallowed hard. "Were you in love with him?" He asked quietly.

"I never stopped loving you," I told him, honestly. "But I love him too. I love him in a way that is unique to Sam and I. But no.. I don't think I was ever in love with him."

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. "He's in love with you."

"I can't help that. All I can help is what I feel."

He nodded a bit as if he understood, but there was something else going on in his expression. His face was twisted.

"You turn to explain."

"Anna is a fallen angel."

"Anna." I frowned. "She's an angel." I knew I must've sounded like a fucking parrot, but I couldn't help it. I was flabbergasted. When I first met Dean I suspected he was the kind that fucked around, but when I fell for him I never thought he would do it to me. Maybe I was stupid. Maybe there is a better explanation.

"We helped her. The angels and demons want her. She is missing her powers."

"So you thought you should protect her."

"Yes."

"With your penis?"

He laughed humorlessly. "No... we were just talking as I was sewing up one of her wounds. She was telling me why she wanted to fall. Why she would give up power to be a puny human. I guess the stuff she was saying made sense to me."

I frowned. I didn't like his answer so far.

"She knows things about what happened to me in Hell." I could tell it was hard for him to say, he looked like he was choosing his words carefully. "Things that I can't say out loud. Things that I did."

"I don't understand. What are you saying?"

Dean took my hands in his. "I wasn't in Hell for four months, Ave. I don't know.. time worked differently there. It was more like forty years."

I winced. Oh my god.

"They, uh... They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you couldn't imagine. Until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly... I would be whole again... like magic... Just so they could start in all over." He blinked tears away. "And Alastair... at the end of every day... every one... he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack. If I put souls on. If I started the torturing."

"Dean," I whispered, suddenly forgetting about Anna or our fight. I could see the pain in his expression. I held his face in my hands.

"Every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For thirty years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, Ave. I couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls... The things I did..." He collapsed against me, letting it all out. I could feel his body racked with sobs.

"Dean, you held out so much longer than anyone could have. You lasted thirty years." I understood more now. It was easier to be hated for adultery than to have to face his demons. Especially since he thought I was in love with Sam.

"How I feel... what's inside me. Fuck, I wish I couldn't feel anything. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing."

Sam

Anna came running down the stairs. Ruby and I were trying to make a plan. She didn't think we should help. I chalked it up to the fact that she's a demon and is a little self centered, because we were obviously helping.

"Sam, the angels are talking again," Anna said out of breath.

"What are they saying?"

"It's weird. Like a recording on a loop. It says: Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or..."

I stood up. "Or what?

"...or we hurl him back to damnation."

I swallowed hard. "Anna.. Do you know of any weapon that works on an angel?”

"To what? To kill them?"

I nodded.

"Nothing we could get to... Not right now."

"We need to tell Dean." I pushed past her. Fuck, what are we going to do?

"I think he's outside," Anna said, pulling her sleeves over her hands.

"Thanks." I walked out the door. "Dean?" I shouted.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw them illuminated in the moonlight. Ava and Dean were tangled together. They turned to me looking surprised that I was there, like I'd interrupted a moment between them.

My fingers twitched at my side. They were getting back together. I didn't know why I was surprised. Of course she would pick him.

"Sammy?"

"The angels are talking again. We have two hours before they come for Anna or you're going back to Hell."

"Shit."

"Yeah not great," I said glumly, turning away from them.

"Sam wait!" Ava called out to me.

I turned, and there we were again. She was standing between us. In the middle of a fucking storm.

—————

Chapter Nineteen, Fragile Love

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