#Crowley is such a mood and i wonder what my nickname would be

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Black: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: You're walking around with a new outlook for life. You're not going to let someone like Dean spoil your good mood.

Author’s Note: welcome to the first episode of season 10! i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it! <3

I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Dean walks back into the bar, leaving you outside of it. You take a minute to yourself before going back inside and finding Crowley at one of the tables. Dean took up a game of darts by himself.

"He's really starting to piss me off," you say to the older demon. "You're better company than that douche, and that's saying something."

"That's your husband you're talking about."

"Yeah, try was," you scoff.

Crowley's phone rings and he stares at the caller ID. It's one of the henchmen that he knows is dead.

"You're dead," he answers.

"Nope. Just using a dead man's phone."

"Moose." Your head snaps to Crowley when he says Sam's nickname. "It took you long enough. Your brother, his wife, and I were beginning to wonder if you'd hit another dog."

"My brother is dead, Crowley. I know you have some fucking demon parading around in his meat suit, and trust me, you are gonna pay for that. What, did you kidnap Y/N and use her for your own sick pleasure?"

"Moose. Moose. Moose. I'm afraid you haven't allowed yourself to dream quite big enough here. Your brother is very much alive, courtesy of the Mark. The only demonized soul inside of Dean is his and his alone. A wee bit more twisted, a little more mangled beyond human recognition, but I can assure you, all his. I didn't touch his wife. In fact, Dean collected her. Poor thing." You roll your eyes at his comments. "There, now. Feel better?"

"What about the Abaddon supporters you've been sending to kill my brother and his wife? How do they feel about that double-cross?"

"I don't think Y/N would care. If that's what you think is happening, then you're more out of your depths than I thought."

You grab the phone right out of Crowley's hand so you can speak to Sam directly.

"Don't worry, Sammy, I'm keeping an eye on Crowley's pet even though there's not much to look at."

"Y/N? Are you okay? What happened to you?" Sam stutters. "I went to go find you and both you and Dean were gone."

"You're concerned about me?" you laugh. "You're the one who's crying over losing your brother when I'm the one who is trying to keep him from killing people." You pause and think. "Well, try is a relative term. I couldn't care less what he does but when it starts affecting me, that's when I step in."

"What has gotten into you?" All you can do is laugh, and you hand the phone back to Crowley. "I don't know what is happening or how this happened, but I will save you and my brother or die trying."

"You know what tickles me about all this? It's what's really eating you up. You don't care that he's a demon. Hell, you've been a demon. We've all been demons. No, it's that he's with me and he's having the time of his life. You can't stand the fact that he's mine. He's my best friend and my partner in crime. They'll write songs about us and graphic novels called 'The Misadventures of Crowley and Squirrel'. Dean Winchester completes me, and that's what makes you lose your chickens."

"What about me?" you ask.

"You don't even want to be here, why would you want to be grouped with us?"

"True," you shrug.

"I am going to find you, I am going to save my brother and Y/N, and then I'm going to kill you dead."

"Well, that's the operative phrase, isn't it? 'Find you'. Good luck with that." Crowley hangs up the phone with a sigh. "I guess it's high time I come clean."

"Good luck explaining to Dean you're the one who's been sending demons to kill him."

"You're coming with me."

Dean walks to the bar to grab another drink when Crowley drags you over to where he is. He raises an eyebrow when both of you sit on either side of him. Crowley's confession is so boring and lengthy that you black out most of it.

"You sent those demons to kill us?"

"To keep you sharp."

"Really?"

"If it wasn't for me throwing demon chum your way, what do you think would've happened? The Mark needs to be sated. Otherwise--"

"Yeah, I know. I turn into a demon. I sort of got that six weeks ago."

"I'm just trying to help."

"You lied."

"Like you care," you roll your eyes.

"Who do you think you're talking to here? Does the tin man have a sheet metal dick? Of course, I lied. I needed to keep you sharp for our future, about which we need to talk."

"Our future?"

"Our professional future. How do I put this? If I have to spend one more night in this fetid petri dish of broken dreams and BO, I will cut off my own face."

"I don't know what you're talking about because I'm good. Hell, I'm great."

"Really? How many suicide wings can you eat? How many one-hit wonders can you karaoke to death? How many men can you beat down?"

"The deal was we howl at the moon; no time stamp and no expiration date."

"We've howled. We've bayed. I've watched you defend Y/N's honor countless times, all of which have been massively entertaining. I will treasure our Flickr albums forever, but now it's time for us to accept what we are and go back to work."

"Pass."

"Think about it, the King of Hell, Dean Winchester by his side, and Y/N." You shake your head and down the rest of your drink. "Together we rule. Together we create the perfect hell, and all of this that's bloomed between us never ends. We're not ending the party. We're just moving the party. Out with the club circuit, in with the stadium tour."

"I'm moved, really," you say in a bored tone. "Besties forever."

"Did I forget to mention I spoke to Moose earlier?"

"What?"

"Apparently, he's been tracking us for some time now. He got my text from the cell of that demon that you stabbed in blah, blah, blah. Too many words were spoken, and a lot of emotions were felt."

"He traced the call."

"My bad," Crowley shrugs. "I guess he'll be here by morning, the latest."

"You sold us out. Well, that's just lovely."

"I don't know what's going on with you. I truly don't, but I've had just about enough of it. Sold you out? Try 'doing you a favor'. Everything I've done for you for the past six months--the Mark, the First Blade, midwifing you back to life, offering you a seat by my side--has been a favor, a gift, whether you see it or not. Take the night. Decide. You know where to find me."

Crowley leaves you two at the bar and disappears into the night.

"Baby brother's coming," you smirk. "Are we gonna have a family reunion?"

"Unlikely."

Dean takes his drink and goes over to the karaoke machine to sing another song badly. The more he sings, the more he drinks, the more he gets irate with people. It gets so bad that when the security guard comes to remove him from the stage, he gets aggressive. Dean gets in one good punch but because he's so drunk, it doesn't go further than that.

You regretfully take Dean back to the motel room to let him sleep it off which doesn't take long. He's only out for an hour and then he's good to go.

"Who knew demons were such light weights," you comment and pack your bag.

"What are you doing?"

"Packing my shit. Sam is coming. I'm sure you want to get the hell out of dodge."

"Let's go somewhere, you and me."

"No thanks."

"Sweetheart, come on."

"Dean, I have been trying to plot my way out of here the second you stole me from the Bunker. I am only here because I have to be, not because I want to be."

"You could have left if you wanted to."

"Yeah, like you're going to let me go off on my own, fuck other men, and all that jazz, right? You beat the shit out of the first man you see who looks at me wrong."

"I protected your honor."

"No, you wanted to prove that you're the one in control and will always be the one in control. Talk about a head case," you scoff and zip your bag up.

"You got all that from a bar fight? Wow. You're good," Dean chuckles and sits up in bed.

"Dean, I've been around you my whole life. I know who the good guys and the bad guys are. Right now, I'm seeing a whole lot of bad. You know, the kind of guy that--"

"--fucks every skank in every small-town dive he passes through? Wow, you really do know how to read people because that sure as hell sounds like me."

You chuckle at his insult and sling your bag over your shoulder.

"You know what, maybe you're right. Maybe I am a skank, but it beats being a man who thinks he's the shit because he's got a cool-ass blade and the Mark when in reality, he's nothing but a loser with a shitty personality and daddy issues." Dean gets out of bed so quickly and towers over you but you're not intimidated by him. You stand your ground and look up at him instead of backing up like he wants you to. "Go ahead. Kill me." He doesn't move a muscle. "That's what I thought. You wouldn't have beaten that man to death and scared off every bartender if I didn't mean something to you. That's the difference between you and me, Dean. I don't give a rat's ass about you, but you still somehow care for me. Funny how that is."

You turn and leave the motel room, ignoring Dean's eyes on the back of your head. Dean lets this one go and packs his things before joining you in the car. You have your feet on the dashboard with your headphones in so you don't have to talk to him. Dean peels out of the parking lot and heads to the next town where Sam wouldn't think to look for him.

As soon as he gets onto the freeway, his phone rings. The caller ID says 'SAM' which makes him hesitant to answer it. He hasn't talked to his brother in six weeks but now is as good as any to do it.

"I left you an open tab at the bar. Knock yourself out," Dean answers.

"Well, hell, I just may take you up on that," someone Dean doesn't know replies.

Someone who isn't Sam.

"Who is this?"

"Me? I'm Karma, brother."

"On my brother's phone? Is he dead?"

"Not yet, and as long as you show up where I tell you to show up, your brother will be just fine."

"How do I know he's still alive?"

"Speak."

The man's voice is far like he's moved the phone away from himself, but Dean doesn't hear Sam. There are two pauses before the man punches Sam in the face, causing him to cry out in pain.

"Proof of life."

"Dean!" Sam shouts.

"Got a pen?"

"No, you listen to me. There's no trade. There's no meet-up. There's no nothing except the 100% guarantee that, somewhere down the road, I will find you and I will kill you."

"Well, that'll be a cold comfort to your dead brother."

"I told him to let me go. So, whatever jam he's in now, that is his problem."

"I'll be sure to pass that on to him as I'm slitting his throat."

"You do that because he knows me. He knows damn well that if I am one thing, I am a man of my word."

Dean hangs up the phone, tosses it on the dashboard, and continues driving.

x

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[mimisempai]

To see the smile on your face

Summary

Crowley is in the mood to romance Aziraphale a little, but he has no idea how to go about it, or who to ask. In order to prepare for the perfect evening, however, he'll need to make some connections. An opportunity for him to strengthen his ties with the neighborhood?

Notes

A little bit of levity for our two boys, and an opportunity for Crowley to interact with the local shopkeepers...

On Ao3

Rating G -  2033 words

"What are you still doing here? You finished your coffee ages ago, didn't you?"

Crowley looked up at Nina and replied, "Hey, Nina, you should be nicer to the customers."

Nina shrugged and retorted, "You're not a customer, you're a parasite."

Crowley retorted, "I'm still paying for my coffee, and I want a second one."

Nina eyed him suspiciously and sat down across from him, "Out of the question. You're already too nervous."

She pointed at the demon's fingers tapping nervously on the table and continued, "Spit it out."

Crowley shook his head, "And being the subject of street gossip for the next few days? No thanks."

Nina chuckled softly, "You're going to be the subject of gossip anyway, so go ahead and shoot!"

Crowley avoided her gaze and murmured in a low voice, "I'd like to do something romantic for you know who... well..."

"Oh no no no, I'm going to stop you right there. Go to Maggie, she's the incurable romantic between the two of us. She's better at that sort of thing."

Crowley handed him his empty cup, "Coffee for the road?"

"Go to hell!"

Crowley stood and muttered, "Been there, not going back," before leaving the coffee shop and heading for Maggie's shop.

He stepped through the door and exclaimed, "Maggie, I'm so glad to see you!"

Maggie looked at him quizzically and said quietly, "You know, when you're not grumpy, you're almost scary. What do you want?"

"Oh, I'm really hurt that you'd take it that way."

Shaking her head in amusement at Crowley's now familiar antics, she replied softly, "Is this about Aziraphale?"

That had the effect of calming him, and he came to lean against the counter.

"Okay, you know, I was at Nina's and I finally told her that I wanted to do, uh, you know, something for Aziraphale, not the usual, you know."

Maggie laughed softly, "I now understand why Nina sent you here. If I'm trying to decipher what you're trying to tell me, I assume you want to surprise Aziraphale and you don't know exactly what."

Crowley sighed, glad he didn't have to humiliate himself any further, "I knew you were sharp, Maggie."

"I told you I liked you better when you're grumpy. Gerald Lambert."

Crowley raised his eyebrows, "What?"

"The cellist Gérald Lambert. Aziraphale seems to be quite fond of him. Unfortunately, he's never been recorded on vinyl, so I don't have anything for him. But I seem to have seen that he is currently performing in London, though I don't know more than that. I think Mr. Arnold would be in a better position to inform you about such concerts than I am."

Crowley rolled his eyes, wondering how many times he'd have to socialize today.

He thanked her with a grunt and headed for the music store not far away, hoping to avoid Justine, the owner of the French restaurant.

"Oh,  it's Mr. Good Guy!"

Crowley retorted, "I already told you, I'm not either... What?"

Mrs. Sandwich looked at him cheekily and replied, "I got the message about you not being a lad. So here's your new nickname, Mr Good Guy!"

Crowley refused to argue; he felt it was a lost cause anyway.

The sassy woman continued, "So you want to do something for your sweetheart?"

He stared at her, "My wh... what?"

Mrs. Sandwich replied, "The bookseller."

Gossip in this neighborhood was a disaster.  

Nina would pay for it.

With a mischievous smile on his lips, he leaned into Mrs. Sandwich's ear and whispered, "I hear Nina's added a coffee to her menu called the Vinyl Latte." 

Seeing that the woman was still not reacting, he added in a conspiratorial tone, "You know, Vinyl, like the record store, and Latte, like the coffee..."

"Oooooh... oooh, I think I have to be somewhere."

The woman didn't greet him and went straight into Justine's restaurant. Crowley snickered as he entered the music store.

He felt a little more at ease because he didn't have to explain himself, he had just come to get some information. He walked confidently up to the man at the cash register and, after greeting him, asked, "Have you heard of Gérald Lambert?"

The shopkeeper eyed him suspiciously, thinking that Crowley probably didn't really seem like the kind of guy who liked that kind of music, before replying, "The cellist? Yes. Quite."

"I hear he's giving a concert in London at the moment?"

"Yes, absolutely, at the Wigmore Hall, playing Bach's 6 suites for solo cello. But all the concerts are sold out."

Crowley nodded, looking slightly annoyed, while inwardly telling himself that getting tickets would be as easy as clearing a table at the Ritz, which was what he was going to do as well.

He greeted Mr. Arnold and left the shop, rubbing his hands together. A few more preparations and it would be perfect.

Meanwhile, as the afternoon drew to a close and night began to fall, Aziraphale was surprised that he hadn't seen Crowley since he'd left for coffee at Nina's. 

Busy with yet another tax audit because his well-kept accounts were too suspicious, Aziraphale hadn't seen the time fly.

He took off his glasses and muttered, "I wonder where he's been."

"Well, after spending some time with Nina, he went to Maggie's, then met with Mrs. Sandwich, and finally went to Mr. Arnold's."

Aziraphale turned to Muriel and asked, "Tell me, did you work or spend your time watching the street?"

Muriel replied, "It's not like the street is very big. Besides, given his appearance, Mr. Grumpy is quite an eye-catcher.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and replied, "You spend a little too much time with Mr. Grumpy. You're getting pretty cheeky."

Muriel's face fell and they began to apologize. Recognizing this kind of behavior, Aziraphale immediately stopped them, "I was joking, Muriel. I just thought it was like I heard Crowley talking and found it amusing. It's not a reproach. It never will be. Go on and express yourself freely. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

He was relieved to see the other angel's smile return after a few seconds and promised himself to be careful in the future. He knew exactly what it felt like to constantly have to stop yourself from expressing who you were. 

They continued to put the books away together and it was getting dark when he told Muriel they'd done enough and they could go home.

The angel had barely left the bookstore when Crowley entered.

"Crowley, my dear! Where have you been?"

Crowley approached and said with a small smile on his lips, "Let's just say I went to do a few things. How about you? Did you finish your accounting or whatever it was you had to do?"

Aziraphale joined him in the middle of the bookshop and replied with a sigh, "Actually, I'm knackered."

Crowley raised his hand and wiped a small smear of ink from the angel's cheek with his thumb, leaving his hand there. As the angel leaned his face against the demon's hand, Crowley asked gently, "Too tired for a little surprise?"

It was as if something had animated the angel from within, and his eyes lit up as he exclaimed, "A surprise? What is it?"

The demon chuckled and replied, "Angel, if I tell you, it won't be a surprise anymore, will it?"

The angel turned his head into the demon's hand and kissed his palm before Crowley dropped it and grabbed the angel's hand. He pulled him toward the door of the bookshop and the angel asked, "Where are we going?"

Crowley turned to him, winked, and simply replied, "Do I have to remind you that this is a surprise?"

He led the angel to the Bentley and gallantly opened the door for him to get in before getting behind the wheel.

They had barely driven a few yards when music began to play on the car radio, Aziraphale almost immediately gasped and said in a surprised voice, "It's Bach's Cello Suite No. 1! Crowley, you never listen to this kind of music!"

Crowley playfully replied, "But you do."

Aziraphale looked at him puzzled for a few seconds before exclaiming again, "It's played by Gérald Lambert! I'd recognize his style anywhere!"

Crowley, a satisfied smile on his lips, asked, "And how about listening to it live? I'd say... right here, right now."

The Bentley had just miraculously pulled up not far from Wigmore Hall.

"Crowley! But how...and why?"

Crowley opened the door again to let him out, then held out his arm for them to walk down the hall before answering, "How? Let's just say with the help of some people and a little magic. Why? Because I wanted to surprise you and make you happy."

Aziraphale squeezed his arm and said, looking delighted, "Well, it worked."

A short time later, they were seated in a booth that allowed them to enjoy the concert to the fullest.

Crowley, who found the music absolutely boring, enjoyed the spectacle of the angel's reactions as the concert went on, and in the end the two hours didn't seem all that long.

As the applause died down, Crowley whispered in the angel's ear, "I have another little surprise for you. How would you like to meet your idol?"

He was delighted to see the angel's expression of joy as he threw his arms around his neck and embraced him.

A short time later they were at the stage door and Gerald Lambert approached them, the angel excited as a flea, handed him the concert program and exclaimed happily, "I'm so happy to meet you."

The musician simply nodded distantly, and Crowley instantly hated him.

Aziraphale continued as the musician signed, "You really are a talented musician, and I've never..."

The cellist interrupted, handing back the program, "Yes, thank you, I already know all that. You can save your breath, you've got your autograph. Thanks for coming."

Crowley was about to jump in and tell the ruffian what he thought, but Aziraphale beat him to it. He handed the signed program back to the musician and calmly replied, "It's a shame that such a talent should be served by such a bad temper. Please take back your signature, sir, as I don't want to remember you. May I never see you again."

He turned with dignity and walked away, followed by Crowley, impressed by the grace with which the Angel had handled the situation. He looked back and couldn't help but make a small gesture to trip the cellist; it wasn't much, but it satisfied him enough.

"What a despicable little bastard!"

Crowley turned his head toward the angel who had just cursed and couldn't help but laugh as he grabbed the angel's arm.

He said softly, "I'm sorry your idol didn't live up to your expectations."

Aziraphale took advantage of the deserted alleyway to stop and kiss the demon on the cheek before continuing, "I had a great night anyway. Thank you."

Crowley asked, "How about I tempt you once again to end this evening even more nicely by dining at the Ritz?"

Aziraphale laughed softly and replied, "I would say, as always, temptation accomplished."

They both laughed as they got into the Bentley.

Moments later, they were seated at their usual table, just a little closer than usual, waiting for the waiter as the piano played the notes of soft jazzy music.

Under Aziraphale's surprised gaze, Crowley stood and whispered a few words to the pianist, who nodded with a smile. 

When Crowley returned, the waiter had filled their glasses with champagne and Aziraphale had his in his hand. Crowley grabbed his, and Aziraphale was about to toast him when he stopped abruptly and whispered, "It's..."

Crowley nodded, smiling.

“That certain night

The night we met 

There was magic abroad in the air”

There was undeniable magic in the air, and as Crowley and Aziraphale took a sip of champagne, the angel took the demon's hand and intertwined their fingers.

It wasn't Bach.

The pianist wasn't famous.

But to Aziraphale, it was worth all the concerts in the world because it was a hymn to their love.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[itskaityyy]

[twisted-fanboy]

His Hoodie

|Hello everyone who sees this. I hope you enjoy and have a pleasant day or night.

Azul, Kalim, Riddle(Separate) x a Tall Male Reader.

The scenario: The reader is out in the town with his small crush. It was a rather colder day. His travel companion hadn't prepared for the weather. He figured now would be the perfect time to get his crush to wear his clothes. The reader is a student that isn't the MC and this takes place after chapter 4 but no spoilers will be mentioned.

Warnings: None|

Azul:

Azul had wanted to go get somethings in town. He got prior authorization from Crowley. He decided to bring (Y/N) from Scarabia. He wasn't too familiar with being on land. The twins were both preoccupied by something else. Having a tall person that he may or may not have feelings for wasn't a bonus or anything. He was trying to convince himself it was just for his help at the lounge. (Y/N) had always offered a hand.

They were supposed to meet at the mirror. He was dressed in a short blue button up. Terrestrial clothes were troublesome He had a few that weren't his uniforms or ceremonial robes. He was surprised when he saw his companion. He saw (Y/N) dressed up in a light blue hoodie. The color was familiar for some reason. His shirt under the hoodie seemed nice. It was a a long sleeved shirt that looked to be duel colored. Though who could really say from the quick glance he did. Azul wasn't checking the other out.

"Hey Azul. Sorry it took me a bit longer than expected to get here. I had to answer some questions from my dorm leader. I hope you weren't waiting too long." (Y/N) said with a smile. He was super happy Azul invited him. He worked at the Monstro Lounge to get closer to the Octavinelle Dorm leader. Azul gave a smile back. "I had just gotten here actually. Shall we get going?" He answered.

Little did Azul's companion know that he arrived 30 minutes prior to what was agreed up. Another 5 minutes due the Scarabia Student's tardiness. He figured that Jamil was the one who freed (Y/N) of questioning. He made a note to do something for the other later. They stepped through the mirror.

The two walked through the streets together making small talk. (Y/N) looked over at Azul. The smaller of the two seemed cold. (Y/N) found it a bit odd. Azul was from the colder part of the Coral Sea. He wondered if being in a human form affected the smaller male. Without a word he stopped walking confusing the other.

It was a cold day and the Scarabia student wouldn't be able to forgive himself if his crush got a cold. He grabbed the hem of the hoodie and pulled it up and off his head. He was unaware of the eyes watching him. Azul was watching the taller male in confusion. He blushed when the hoodie was pulled off cause some of his companion's midriff showed. "Pardon me but what exactly are you doing Angelfish?" Azul quickly cleared his throat at the slip of the nickname he gave the other secretly.

Azul moved a hand to try and hide his fluster. "You're shivering so I'm giving you my hoodie. Also Angelfish? That's cute do you call your partner that?" (Y/N) answered. The end of his sentence seemed bitter. He would definitely be jealous of whomever had managed to win over the other's heart before he was given a chance. He convinced the twins to decline Azul's request to join him on this outing when he over heard them talking about it. He hoped the smaller male would pick him. He was chosen so the favor he owed the twins was worth it. Though now he heard the name Angelfish and now thinks Azul is in a relationship. He was a bit irritated but didn't let it show.

Azul looked surprised. Was the other trying to get something out of him? Should he play off his little slip of the tongue? Azul's mind raced with thoughts. He was snapped out of it when he felt something pushed into his hands. He looked at the hoodie and back at the taller male. Azul noticed his mood changed from earlier to a bit sour. "You don't have to wear it if your partner will get upset. However it's warm and you're welcome to keep it for a bit." (Y/N) mumbled avoiding looking at Azul.

"I am actually single. Thank you for lending me your hoodie. I will return it in a timely matter" Azul quickly stated. He had no idea what came over him but for some reason he didn't want the other thinking he was in a relationship. He was denying the reason in his heart. It was simply a rumor he didn't wish to start. He composed himself quickly. He put the hoodie on. "Why don't we finish this little trip?" He said.

Azul noticed the immediate change in the other's attitude. He seemed less bitter and more excited. When they returned to campus They parted ways. He hadn't realized he still had (Y/N)'s hoodie until he was back in Octavinelle. "Oya it seems like your date with (Y/N) went well Azul." Jade said with a grin. "Azul and (Y/N) are finally got together!" Floyd cheered. "What are you two talking about?" Azul demanded with his cheeks slightly pink.

Jade gave a giggle and a grin. "For someone as intelligent as you Azul you're quite dense." He started. "He asked us to lie to you in hopes you'd ask him to go instead. That's also his favorite hoodie. Jade tell him the reason!" Floyd teased with a wide grin. "I think it would be more fun to give him a hint and have him figure it out. Look at the color in a mirror." Jade said with a smirk.

Azul was getting frustrated with the teasing. He pulled out his phone and opened the camera. His eyes widened when he realized what they were talking about. The hoodie matched his eye color perfectly. He got a message from the Scarabia student. 'I had fun today Azul. I'm glad you asked me to accompany you. Sorry the twins were both too busy to join you. I had fun and we should do it again. My hoodie also looked good on you. Feel free to keep it for a bit.' Azul's face became red and his heart raced. He didn't respond for awhile too lost in his own head.

Kalim:

Jamil didn't wish to go out with Kalim. He was fine with it so he went to the person who became his best friend. "Hey (Y/N)!" He called out running full speed towards the Octavinelle student. He threw his arms around the taller male. They both stumbled a bit when Kalim collied with him. "Hey Kalim. What do I owe the visit?" He asked with a smile.

Kalim looked up still hugging his waist. It made the taller male's heart race. "I wanna go to the town to visit a new store that just opened up. I don't think my father would be very happy if I went alone. Jamil doesn't want to go with me. Would you accompany me?" He asked with pleading eyes. (Y/N) agreed without hesitation. It was nearly impossible for him to say no to his crush. Just one look from those ruby colored eyes and he was putty in the other's hand.

"Let's go get permission from Headmaster Crowley and change into some clothes that aren't our uniform." He responded. He patted the dorm leader's head. He was well aware Kalim would never know about his crush unless he told the other straight up. The taller male was ok with that fact. He pulled out his phone to inform Jamil about this plan. He hoped to give the other a small break from having to worry about Kalim.

Though (Y/N) would follow along with most of Kalim's plans so long as they weren't dangerous. They both got the outing approved. The two split paths and went to get ready. Kalim was excited to be able to go out with (Y/N). He loved the taller male quite a bit. His plan to spend alone time with the other was put on pause. Jamil decided to tag along. Something about if the two being a bad combo.

Jamil had a bad feeling about the two being together. He may not be in the same situation. Though with Kalim's impulsive behaviors and how love sick (Y/N) was that was just a spell for trouble. Jamil was good friends with (Y/N) but didn't want anything happening to the two. So he told Kalim he wanted to go look at some stuff.

Kalim showed up to the mirror with a pout. Jamil was following behind with his arms crossed. The Octavinelle student saw the two and waved. He was dressed in a white hoodie and a red undershirt. "Hey you two. Are you ready to go?" He greeted with a smile. The three set out. Kalim had insisted on buying most of the stuff that the taller males looked at. He wanted his to best friends to be happy. The two had to tell the smallest they didn't need anything else.

When the three made it back to campus Kalim still wanted to hang out with the Octavinelle student. He wasn't sure how though. "Hey (Y/N), Kalim has been wanting to take a magic carpet ride I wish to retire for the night but you should go with him." Jamil mentioned. He saw the two perk up. He was just really tired of their pinning. Jamil as done with their obliviousness for one day. He walked away not waiting for their answers.

Both students left felt indebted toward Jamil. They were definitely going to plan a way to thank them. "I'd love to go on a magic carpet ride if you wouldn't mind." (Y/N) said with a smile and a blush. That was all Kalim needed to grab the taller male's hand and start running. "Come on let's go!" Kalim said running to Scarabia.

The two where about to set out on the ride when (Y/N) notice Kalim rub his arms seeming cold. "Kalim would you like to borrow my hoodie? You seem cold." He asked. Kalim looked surprised. As much as he would love to wear his crushes jacket he would hate to make the other cold. "I couldn't possibly. You'd get cold!" Kalim protested. He watched the other give a laugh before taking off the hoodie and putting it on the other. "Your smile will keep me warm enough." He said with a smile.

Kalim felt the warmth immediately it was also a bonus that the hoodie smelled nice. Then he realized what the other said and smiled brightly. "I'll smile the entire time to keep you warm." He said with determination. "You know I really like you Kalim. You're too cute." The Octavinelle student said with a dark blush and a racing heart. The carpet ride was so romantic when parting Kalim did something unexpected. He had the taller male lean down and kissed his cheek. "We should hang out more often (Y/N)!" He said with a wide grin. That action would definitely prevent the other from getting much rest for that night. He owed Jamil a lot.

Riddle:

Riddle has been asked by a Scarabia student that he might or might not have feelings for on what he thinks might be a date. Riddle was trying to think if it was just a hang out or a date. He decided to go get a second opinion from Trey. He walked over towards his friend. "Trey might I borrow you for a second?" Riddle asked shyly.

"Of course what is going on Riddle is everything ok?" Trey responded standing up. Riddle pulled out his phone out and showed the messages from (Y/N). 'Hey Riddle I just found out about a café that opened up in town recently. I'd really love to go with you. I got everything approved if you'd join me.' Trey read through the message. He saw that Riddle had responded with a yes. "You could ask him if it's a date. It's not like it will break any of the queen's rules." He suggested. Riddle was unaware of five people listening in.

Riddle sat there for a second before shaking his head no. That would be far too embarrassing. It made Trey laugh a little. "Well you should get ready it's almost time you agreed to meet up with him. There are several rules about tardiness." He said with a slightly smug grin. He knew his childhood had dug his own grave now he has to go. Riddle checked the weather. He word a button up and a cardigan. He arrived at the meeting spot at the same time as his crush.

(Y/N) was wearing a grey hoodie with a red shirt underneath. He gave a smile. Riddle got a bit nervous due to his earlier thoughts and worries. "Um (Y/N) I have a quick question. So earlier it was brought to my attention that you may have been asking me on a date. Is this true?" Riddle asked shyly. His face became a deep shade of red. "I was intending it to be but if you don't want it to be we can just hang out." The taller male responded with a soft tone.

The Scarabia student didn't want to make the redhead panic. He liked Riddle so much that he even learned so many of the queen of hearts rules so he didn't break them. The rules were mostly nonsense but Riddle likes rules and structure. It was a small amount of his time anyways. He looked worried when Riddle seemed to be malfunctioning for a second.

Riddle cleared his throat. "A date is just fine. Shall we go?" He said with pseudo confidence. His dark blush gave him away. The two headed out to the new café. The two had a wonderful time. Though it was colder than the forecast had said. Riddle was shivering a bit. (Y/N) took his hoodie off and gave it to Riddle. It was cute how large the hoodie was on the red head. "Feel free to keep my hoodie for awhile it looks good on you.

They were walking past a flower shop. (Y/N) had asked Riddle to wait outside for a second. The tall male ran inside and got a small bouquet of roses. He gave it to Riddle with a smile. He pulled one out and placed in Riddle's hair. He was far too cute.

There was a flash. The two looked and saw Ace, Cater, Deuce, Grim and the Ramshackle Prefect. Both of their faces went dark red. "Off with your head" Was heard very loudly. They were all in for a scolding of a life time. The date had ended and they returned to campus. "Riddle we should do thing again." (Y/N) said kissing his forehead before going to his dorm. "No I didn't a picture of the cutest moment!" Cater whined.

[doctorcrowleywho]

December 1.“What do you mean we’re out of hot chocolate?” (Aziraphale x reader)

25 Days of Ficmas - Day 1

“What do you mean we’re out of hot chocolate?” (aziraphale x reader)

Word count - 1681

Warnings - None!

Pairing(s) - Aziraphale x gn! reader

Summary - A Christmas surprise turns into beautiful chaos

The magic of Christmas was in the air, and you loved every single bit of it. There was just something so wonderful about this time of year that made your heart sing. You were an absolute sucker for all things Christmas - the lights, the music, skating in the park, and being able to give presents to your loved ones. You loved it all, so when you found out your partner was a little more than just angelic you had to spoil him. 

But, the question was what do you do for someone who was there for the very first Christmas? Aziraphale was the personification of love in your opinion. Just being around him lifted your mood in ways you couldn’t even begin to explain. He was the sunrise peaking over the mountains after an endlessly dark night. Before you met him you didn’t exactly believe in angels, demons, and other supernatural entities. But, when you met him the nickname ‘angel’ slipped off your tongue easier than eggnog, it came as no surprise when he told you what he truly was. 

You got it in your head that he’d be utterly disappointed if you didn’t go all out. So, that was what you did, and you did it with fantastic style. The plan was to get Aziraphale out of his bookshop long enough to transform it into a Christmas wonderland. You even knew exactly who to recruit to get him out of the shop.

“Please Crowley all I need you to do is take him to the Ritz for the evening.” you pleaded with your demon friend over the phone. 

The fiery redhead sighed over dramatically running a slender hand over his face “And what exactly is in it for me?”

Demonic bastard you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes “You’ll get to help in making your best friend happy?” biting your lip you hoped that would be enough.

 “Ngk” was all that you heard on the other end, and you knew what you had to do.

“And I’ll wash your Bentley for the next week,” you muttered earning a low grumbling laugh on the other end.

 “Deal,” he said and you could practically hear the grin on the other end.

With that, you were off to the races. You practically ran to the store to buy every kind of tinsel,garland, piece of fake snow, and twinkle light imaginable. As you passed people in the streets they could have sworn you were getting ready to decorate for an office party. But in reality, you had one amazing angel you desperately wanted to impress. 

When you arrived at the bookshop you glanced down at the huge shopping bags in your arms and realized how terribly obvious you’d be if you walked in and Aziraphale saw you. So, against any logic or reason, you decided the best thing to do was to secretly walk in through the back entrance. Trying your best to be as silent as possible shuffling in with the shopping hitting just about every piece of furniture in its path. 

“My dear are you home already?” Aziraphale's voice rang out like a wonderful Christmas bell which made your lips twitch up into a smile without even realizing it.    

Quickly, you shoved your bags behind a loveseat throwing your jacket over them for good measure. With that, you strolled into the kitchen acting as nonchalantly as you possibly could. “There weren’t a lot of people at the shop, surprisingly.” you shrugged hopping up on the counter right next to him. Sky blue eyes flicked up to yours quickly as he raised an eyebrow. Practically saying that he could sense something wasn’t quite right. That’s when it hit you that he’s an angel, he could probably tell when you were lying to him. 

oh fudge

You had to think of another lie and you had to think of one fast. Hopping off the counter you made your way over to the cupboards pretending to look for something-anything. “So, when is Crowley coming to pick you up my love?” You asked eyeing the container of hot chocolate. That’s when it came to you.

“Oh probably in the next couple of minutes…why?” he asked wrapping his strong arms around your waist as he gently rested his head on your shoulder. 

Good lord, if only you weren’t trying to get him out of the house. “My love do we have any more hot coco? I was hoping to make some while you’re gone.” you opened the lid to reveal that the container was in fact empty- and let me tell you, you thanked your lucky stars. 

“Oh I believe we’re out- it’s okay I can just-” he raised his fingers to snap and you quickly took his hand in yours. 

“What do you mean we’re out of hot chocolate??” you conveyed dramatically. 

“Well, that's alright I can just-”

“No no what are we going to do!!” 

“My dear don’t be silly I-”

HONK

Oh thank god you sighed to yourself, the wonderful sound of the Bentley sounding off right outside his bookshop. There was only a select few moments where you were ever thankful Crowley has interrupted you and Aziraphale, and this was one of them. Another one was that one time you accidentally dog-eared a book he leant you, and you’re pretty sure he still hasn’t completely forgiven you for your crime.

Thunderous footsteps could be heard from the entrance priding their way all the way into the kitchen. “Ah, I knew I would find you two in here,” there was a subtle pause as Crowley thought of his next words very careful “, putting buns in the oven.” with that he grinned proudly to himself.

Your mouth fell open as you slapped Crowley hard on the arm earning the hardest glare he could give you imaginable. The kind of glare that would turn the normal human to jelly, but normal humans haven’t done car pool karaoke to “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” with the demon.

“Oh we weren’t making buns my dear boy, that would spoil the dinner!” Azirapahlae innocently reasoned. You and Crowley shared a look one that could only be read as ‘if you ever tell him the truth I’ll discorporate you’

Tugging on his coat Aziraphale gave you a happy kiss on the cheek making you promise not to wait up if they happen to be out late. You could officially rest a little easier knowing he was none the wiser as you watched the bentley peel out into the streets of central London.

With that you got to work, running to his gramophone putting on your favorite Christmas record. Smiling happily to yourself you sang along as you strung silver and gold garland throughout the bookshelves (being very careful of the books of course). 

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go

As the hours passed you allowed yourself to be caught up in the swirl of Christmas spirit. Now you understood why everyone in those Hallmark movies were so happy.  Everything was going better than you ever expected, you could practically see Aziraphales eyes light up as he walked through the door. All you ever wanted to do was make him as happy as he made you, and you would do anything to do it.

But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be

On your own front door

You sang along joyfully as you hung the wreath up on the shop door, the perfect finishing touch. Letting out a sigh of relief you took a step back leaning against the door. As you admired your work you couldn’t help, but feel a sense of pride well up in your chest. You somehow managed to make A.Z Fell and Co. bookshop look like a Christmas holiday card. 

Happy with your work you decided to put the kettle on for some tea. Your feet just reached the kitchen when you heard the door bell twinkle. Immediately your heart stopped and your eyes widened. Oh no.

Oh no

Oh no

He wasn’t supposed to see it, not like this….well too late now. “Darling I’m home! And I brought hot coco with extra marsh-” Aziraphale turned around after taking his coat off at the door and what he saw when he turned around nearly blew his mind.

This was more magical than any trick he could of ever learned from any magician. The rainbow Christmas lights tucked into the garland, which effortless decorated the shelf's sparkled like starlight. The tree was decorated with just about every beautiful ornament, light, tinsel, and garland strand he could think of. Somehow the more he looked the more he found, and without even realizing it tears welled up in his eyes. 

“Surprise!” you smiled finally stepping out of the kitchen recovering from your min-heart attack. 

“Y-you did all of this?” he stuttered out mystified not being able to take his eyes off of everything. 

Suddenly your heart sank, he didn’t like it did he? This was probably a slap in the face since he was an angel. Oh dear what were you thinking! “I’m sorry I can take it down if you want-”

“Absolutely not! It’s wonderful! This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!” he interrupted practically tackling you in a hug. You let out a few breathy giggles of relief as he attacked your face in kisses. 

“So you don’t hate it?” You squeaked out as you buried your face in his neck. Gently, he place two fingers under your chin making you look up at him. Sky blue eyes twinkled back into yours. 

“How could I ever hate something created by the most wonderful being in the universe?” he whispered before placing his lips onto yours with a smile. 

“Merry Christmas angel.” you hummed placing another kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Merry Christmas my darling.” he replied back kissing your forehead as you two swayed back and forth to the soft music in the background. 

Sure, it's Christmas once more

[the-queer-dungeoneer]

Not Alone (Crowley x Fem! Reader) - Ch. 2/?

Previous / Next

Characters: Reader, Crowley, Aziraphale, Gabriel and likely more once we get into the thick of it.

Relationships: Crowley x Reader, Aziraphale x Reader, Aziraphale x Crowley

POV: First-person

Warnings: Talks about lonliness, but otherwise n/a

Tags: @curse-brekker​, @oopstheregoesmysoul13​

*gif is not mine and neither are any of the characters or source material!

Y/N = your name

Y/N/N = your nickname

Y/L/N = your last name

H/C = Hair color

E/C = Eye color

F/C = Favorite color

A/N: Aaaaaaand I’m back! I have survived my first round of midterms! Yay! Thank you all for the love on chapter one. It really made my week.

Thank you to my lovely editor @aka-ellie ❤️

Lots of love! - TQD

October 2018

“Aziraphale!” I called, bouncing into the shop. “Aziraphale, I have the most wonderful news!”

It had now been six weeks since we’d first introduced ourselves.  I came to the shop almost daily to work on homework and read his unique collection of books. I learned all about how his childhood dream was to open a bookstore. He explained that he had loved history as a boy, so much so that he would write himself into the frontline of historical events. He recounted these fictions with such detail I nearly believed him. It was lovely to see his eyes alight with passion. Knowing he had achieved his dreams made me feel so optimistic. I told him of my dreams to become a research psychologist. I explained how I wanted to research the beneficial effects of the humanities on the brain and use that as a jumping off point for starting insurance-supported arts therapy centers. He didn’t call me a dreamer, he called me a visionary.

“Aziraphale?” I questioned. He was known to keep the shop open at odd hours, but the door being unlocked meant he was almost certainly there. I didn’t see him at the front desk, and after peeking around a few rows of shelves, I heard voices coming from the back room. I didn’t want to interrupt him if he was in a meeting, so I quietly sat on the window seat and started reading my textbook.

The back door creaked open several minutes later and a very tall and official looking man with strikingly purple eyes walked out. Aziraphale was following closely behind him. The stranger looked quite stern but put on a smile when he saw me sitting in the shop.

“I am so sorry Aziraphale,” he said in a pseudo-animatronic tone, “I didn’t realize I was keeping you from your customers.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sir.” I assured him, “I am just visiting as an, um, an acquaintance. I only had a question for Aziraphale.”

“Ah. An acquaintance? I didn’t know you kept company other than these dusty books Aziraphale.” The calm and clinical man rainsed an eyebrow. “Well, any acquaintance of Aziraphale’s is an acquaintance of mine!” He said, extending his hand to me. “I’m Gabriel, and you are?”

“Y/N. It’s um – it’s nice to meet you Mr. Gabriel.” I said, attempting to return the handshake.

Gabriel took my hand and kissed my knuckles swiftly. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to be cordial, but it came across as domineering and quite creepy. I played it off with a small, uncomfortable giggle.

“Lovely to meet you Y/N. Now, please excuse me, I have a meeting all the way uptown that I simply must get to.” And with that, he marched out the door not unlike a wind-up tin soldier. Something about him made me feel uneasy way down in the pit of my stomach.

“Y/N, dear, I am so sorry about that. Gabriel is – um… well – he’s a colleague of mine. We had to confer about some urgent business.” Aziraphale said, stumbling over his words. He seemed unusually frazzled for a normally calm and collected ball of cheer.  

“Are you alright Aziraphale? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Oh no, ghosts aren’t real. Anyways, everything is tickety-boo! Especially now that you’re here. Please, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this afternoon?”

I didn’t quite believe him, but I didn’t feel I’d known him long enough to pry. My motivations for coming suddenly felt very self-centered seeing the stress that was attempting to conceal itself in his forehead wrinkles.

“Well, I just got that essay back, and I wanted to share it with you. But it seems like it’s a bad time, so why don’t I come back later?”

“Nonsense, my dear! I am just fine. Truly, nothing more than a long day of work. I have so been looking forward to reading your essay.” His demeanor seemed to be easing, so I handed over the manila folder containing my last few weeks of sleep and effort.

“I was quite excited about my professor’s thoughts, so I actually brought you the graded copy. It seems silly now. Don’t pay any mind to it. You really don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.” I was rambling out of embarrassment at this point, thinking I should’ve just put the essay in my desk drawer and moved on. He probably didn’t care that much, right?

“Y/N, dear, it’s alright to be proud of your accomplishments. Now, let’s see.” He opened the folder revealing the packet of papers with a large red pen marking that said ‘95/100 – innovative.’ “Well that is an A+ if I’ve ever seen one! Amazing, dear! I am so proud of you!”

Hearing that made my heart smile. He was proud of me. This lovely and sincere man was proud of the work I had done. It was reassuring and helped me feel much less awkward about the ordeal. Aziraphale had an aura that instantly made you feel comfortable.

He poured us two mugs of tea and invited me into the back room where there was a little couch. I didn’t think he’d want to read it while I was in the room, I was a bit anxious thinking about it to be honest, but he seemed insistent that I stay, so I settled into the side of the couch and worked on annotating a book for a case study I was researching. It took him about twenty minutes to read through all of what I had written – every word, footnote and figure.

“Wow.” He breathed, closing the folder and looking at me. His blue eyes seemed contemplative. I couldn’t decipher what he was thinking and started panicking. Surely he was questioning my intellect “That was phenomenal Y/N. Truly, if I were part of the government and I had read that, I would put your plan into action effective immediately. My goodness, you were so creative and convincing. It was so emotionally charged yet logical. Oh - my dear, you are brilliant!”

I was floored by his praise. My cheeks felt warm and I couldn’t stop smiling. This man that I admired so dearly thought so highly of my work. I hadn’t realized until that moment how much his opinion mattered, but it did. It mattered a lot.

“Please let me take you out to dinner to celebrate this accomplishment! My treat.”

“Oh, that is so kind of you Aziraphale, but I am sure you have plenty of work to do and I really don’t want to trouble you.”

“You always worry about causing me trouble. I promise you, it is no trouble for me to take my friend out and celebrate her merits. I insist. We will go anywhere you like!”

Friend. I felt the corners of my eyes sting a bit with that word and a bright smile overcame my face as I nodded in agreement. Finally, I wasn’t so alone. I had a friend. I didn’t realize how lonely it had been living in this city all by myself for so many months but hearing that one word brought it all to the forefront. I was suddenly overcome with gratitude for this kind man that had allowed me to find a small corner of home in his shop, who had allowed me to stay later than the normal business hours to finish my readings in peace and quiet, who would bring me tea if my eyes were getting heavy or if I looked like I had had a long day. He was truly one of the most astounding people I had ever met. He was so selfless and gracious. He was always in a chipper mood and seemed happy to see me. Knowing he considered me a friend sent a wave of relief crashing over me that I didn’t know I had been holding my breath for. Without warning a few tears found their way to my cheek. 

“Oh dear, Y/N, if I did something that hurt your feelings, I am truly sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you into dinner. We certainly don’t ha-“

“Aziraphale, I’m alright.” I cut him off. “I am just happy is all. It’s nice to have a friend. I’ve been feeling rather lonesome since coming to school here. I didn’t realize just how much until this moment. You didn’t do anything wrong, in fact, you seem to be the only thing that has gone right since I moved. Thank you.” I tried to pour all my gratitude into those last two words. After the apparently stressful day he’d had he deserved to hear them.

“My heavens,” he sighed, “I didn’t realize. Judging by your charm and intelligence, I would have bet you were extremely popular. I am honored to be your friend. Please know that if you’re ever feeling lonely you can visit any time. I mean that.”

I knew he meant it. I could tell deep down in my heart. The same way I could tell before that I could trust him.

“Thank you, Aziraphale. You are an angel.”

“I don’t know about that. Anyhow, let’s get you some dinner! I know I am feeling absolutely peckish.”

[idkxwriting]

Treacherous - Chapter Twelve

Author: idkhaylijah

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: none...you guys know what you’re in for if you’ve made it this far ;)

A/N: Thank you guys for your patience. It’s been a rough few months year tbh. I appreciate all the comments and messages, it keeps me going. Special shout out to @thatfanficstuff for telling me the best way through a block is to just keep writing, @dendrite-lover for reading ahead of time and the Sherlock account on ao3 that spammed me with comments and totally encouraged me to continue with her kind words! We’re coming to the end guys!

It was strange, being back home. She had left Mystic Falls behind her, never looking back, and here it was, staring her in the face. She gave a soft smile at the creak on the third step, leading up to the familiar porch. Her porch.

She glanced over her shoulder, watching as Elijah’s car disappeared down the road. He had offered to come inside, insisted, even, but she was adamant about needing to be alone. As persistent as he had been, she was twice as stubborn. He reluctantly agreed, under the condition that she’d be at the Salvatore Boarding House within the hour.

Having him in her home, their home, would be more than she could handle.

Even so, as she moved quietly into the house, she saw that his ghost was everywhere.

She sighed, and dropped her duffle bag on the couch as she made her way into the kitchen. It was strange, she thought, the way the familiar scent of home filled her senses as if the house hadn’t sat a vacant shell for years.

Stefan, she reasoned. She felt a sadness settle into her at the thought of her best friend caring for her home long after she had stopped coming back, in the hopes that one day she may return after all.

“Beautiful home,” a voice startled her.

She turned, her eyes narrowed and a feeling crawling up her spine that always accompanied the sudden unwelcome appearance of the King of Hell. “Crowley. What are you doing here?” She asked through gritted teeth.

“I’ve got to admit, I never pictured you with the white picket fence, but it suits you,” he ran his hand along the kitchen island, glancing around the room. He made his way to the fridge, plucking at photos with feigned curiosity. “Ahh, the vampire boyfriend,” he waggled his eyebrows at her, pulling the photostrip from its magnet. “Personally, I’m Team Squirrel.”

“What do you want?” She snapped, ripping the photos from his hand and placing them back.

“Oh come now, Birdy, can’t I visit a friend?”

She sighed at his nickname for her. “We’re not friends. Even if we were, there’s always strings with you…”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re always so quick to point that out, but it pays to have friends in high places, Birdy.”

“More like low places,” she retorted.

He smiled devilishly at her, turning his attention back to the pictures on the fridge. “I understand you need a certain blade. One I’d be happy to procure for you.”

“What do you know about the blade?” She asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

He opened the fridge, rifling through ingredients with disappointment. “I know you need it to kill Empusa.”

“And you just happen to have it?”

Crowley rolled his eyes and moved from the fridge to the cabinets, opening and closing doors until he found what he was looking for. He picked up bottle after bottle, reading the labels with vague disinterest. “I’ve always preferred Glencraig myself,” he mumbled, placing a bottle of bourbon she recalled swiping from Damon’s personal stash back down.

“Why would you offer me the knife?” She asked skeptically. “What’s in it for you?”

He shrugged, straightening out to look at her. “You need the knife, I need Empusa dead, it’s that simple.” When she didn’t reply, he sighed. “Empusa is bad news for everyone, Hell included.”

“Hell or you?”

“The situation in Hell is...delicate. I don’t need Empusa roaming free, building an army…”

“Challenging your seat on the throne?”

“Regardless of my own selfish reasons, it doesn’t change your position, love. You need the knife.”

She pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed as she studied the demon before her. She didn’t trust him, she never had, but she needed him. Still, she knew him and even with selfish motives, it wouldn’t come without a price. “What’s the trade?”

He poured himself a glass of bourbon, scoffing at the label internally, but it would do. “I get you the blade, and you do your part.”

She nodded, the fear gripping her chest again. She knew what she needed to do, but knowing and doing were two different things. “You know, then…that I have to die in order to release the soul stone?”

“I know,” he nodded grimly, and she wondered (not for the first time) if the demon was capable of genuine emotion. “So do we have a deal?”

She swallowed and cleared her throat. “We have a deal,” she whispered.

Crowley smirked. “Well then,” he pulled a knife from the inside of his jacket, holding the handle out towards her. She gripped it, but he held onto it. “You understand how a certain Moose and Squirrel may make this more difficult?”

“I know what I have to do, Crowley. Give me the blade, and I’ll get it done. Sam and Dean don’t have to know the details, only that I’m the one that needs to use it,” she said, trying to pull the blade from him once more.

He continued to keep a sturdy grip, tugging her towards him. “And what of your vampire boyfriend?”

“Elijah won’t be a problem.”

“Just do your part, Birdy.” He said and released the blade.

She stared down at the seemingly ordinary knife in her hand. As the metal warmed in her palm she felt the magic that rested within the blade - within her. She glanced up to find Crowley had disappeared once more, leaving her to contemplate her life.

And death.

She knew what she had to do - that the only way to stop Empusa and save her friends was to sacrifice her own life. And she would do it, gladly, but --

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice interrupted her, staving off the rising panic in her chest.

She placed the knife in the back of her pants, tucking it away carefully before rubbing at her eyes. “Hey,” she smiled sadly.

“What are you doing here?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh come on, you didn’t expect me to sit this one out, did you?”

Sam chuckled softly at that. “No, I guess not…”

“Alright, Sammy, Cas is headed back with Freya. They want us to head over to the Salvatore’s in…..” Dean stopped, caught off guard by the woman before him. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N’s eyes locked with Dean’s, and she wondered what kind of life they may have had if she didn’t have to die. If he hadn’t been a hunter, and she hadn’t loved a vampire. If maybe they had just been normal.

Sam looked between the two, shifting uncomfortably. “Umm, I’m just going to...be somewhere else…” he said awkwardly before making his way past Dean and back out the front door.

The door shut, the noise bringing them both back to the present. Dean cleared his throat, breaking eye contact. “What are you doing here?” He asked again gruffly.

She breathed a laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Oh you know, just the usual end of the world stuff…”

His green eyes snapped to hers, and she knew he was angry. “I thought Sam told you to stay away from Mystic Falls until we had a plan.”

She rolled her eyes. “Dean, I’ll be fine. In fact, a few days ago you had no objection to me coming with you. Besides, I couldn’t leave you two and the Salvatores to come up with a decent plan all by yourselves. You need me,” she teased.

Dean moved toward her until she was just out of reach, his eyes locked on hers. He inhaled deeply - as if he hadn’t been able to breathe since he left her in that motel room, and suddenly he was coming up for air. When he released it, he broke eye contact, fixing his stare on the floor. “Yea, I do,” his voice was heavy, but his breath was shaky and he cleared his throat. “We need you,” he corrected, meeting her gaze once more, knowing she saw right through him. She always had.

“Dean....” she breathed. He didn’t need her. He couldn’t need her, because she had to leave him. She had to leave all of them. The realization of what she had to do hit her suddenly. She wasn’t afraid of death, she knew it would come for her eventually and probably sooner than most. But the thought of leaving everyone behind, of losing them all, was crushing. It stole the air from her lungs and the weight of it all was suddenly too much.

He stepped into her, his hand on her cheek grounding her.

“Damon called. They’re waiting on us,” Sam interrupted from the front door.

Dean dropped his hand suddenly, putting some distance between them, and Y/N nodded, shoving the thought of leaving Dean, leaving Elijah and Sam...Cas...everyone. She took a breath, focusing on the task at hand. “God forbid we make Damon wait,” she sighed, side stepping Dean and following Sam out the front door.

*****

Arriving at the Salvatore Boarding House felt like stepping back in time, into a life she hadn’t known for ages, and Y/N found she had missed it more than she could have imagined.

She was greeted by Damon, first, who had kindly reminded her just how stupid it had been to come back. The raven haired man scowled at her, but she knew he was happy to see her when he wrapped his arms around her anyway, tucking her into his side. “If you disappear like that again, Buffy, I’ll kill you myself,” he whispered into her hair. “Welcome home.”

He stepped aside and gave Sam and Dean a once over, not entirely pleased with their presence, before turning his attention to the figure approaching from the end of the driveway. “How was Bambi today, Stefan?” Damon teased, referring to the feeding trip his brother had just gotten back from.

Stefan ignored him, his eyes locked on Y/N, his face brooding, and she wondered just how angry he was with her. Her cheeks flushed as the guilt crept up once more, knowing her best friend had deserved more than a disappearing act without a trace.

It seemed Elijah wasn’t the only one she had hurt.

She bit her lip, and when he broke out into a soft smile, she grinned, running to him at full speed and launching herself into his arms. He caught her with ease, hugging her tightly.

Dean watched the interaction with curiosity - the annoying, jealous pang that seemed to have taken up residence in his chest growing sharper.

“Don’t worry,” Damon startled him, appearing suddenly by his side. “Stefan’s like a big brother to her.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Dean scoffed.

“I’m just saying. There was never anything more than friendship there,” he watched them for a moment. “Which is weird, because we almost always end up sleeping with the same women. I guess she only wanted to sample one Salvatore brother,” he smirked, slapping Dean on the back roughly.

Dean coughed and glared after the vampire as he walked away, muttering under his breath. He made his way into the house. He couldn’t wait to get back to the bunker and his normal routine, where the only vampires he came across he staked.

*****

Y/N cleared her throat, sinking deeper into the plush sofa. Elijah and Dean both stood in front of her, making her feel like a small child.

Dean’s arms were crossed, and she could see even in the dim room that he was fuming, his hard stare fixed on her.

Elijah, on the other hand, was more controlled. His hands were in his pocket while he glanced around the room with feigned interest. This scared her more than Dean’s open anger. A cool, calm, and collected Elijah was simply waiting for his moment. She had seen it dozens of times, though admittedly not usually directed at her, and it often ended with him tearing out someone’s heart.

She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and focused on the intricate patterns in the persian carpet beneath her feet. They sat in the Great Room, a collection of the Salvatore's history filling the space. Mementos of the multiple lifetimes Stefan and Damon had lived.

Damon sipped from his glass of bourbon, seemingly less concerned than the two men standing before her. “So she hears voices or whatever. Big deal. We use it to our advantage,” Damon shrugged. “Y/N knows Empusa’s move before she makes it. It gives us the upper hand. We draw her out, stab her with the fancy knife the devil gave her, and we’re home by dinner..”

“Crowley is not Lucifer,” Cas corrected. “Crowley’s the King of Hell, a demon.”

Dean shot him an angry glare, effectively shutting him up. “A demon who doesn’t give anything for free. What was the deal, Y/N?”

She shrugged. “Empusa is bad news for all of us, Hell included. Crowley needs her gone.”

Cas watched her for a moment, eyes narrowed, but he kept his mouth shut, and Y/N was grateful.

“There’s always a catch with Crowley,” Sam said quietly.

“Who cares?” Damon shouted, exasperated. “She has the knife, we can end this.”

“Damon,” Stefan warned.

His brother rolled his eyes, pouring himself another drink.

“Damon’s right,” Freya said quietly. “Castiel and I dug up everything we could find on Empusa, and this is the only way.”

“Thank you,” he smiled smugly, giving Freya an appreciative once over.

Sam furrowed his brow. “How are we going to draw Empusa out?”

Stefan sighed, stepping forward. “Empusa wants Y/N. So we give her what she wants…”

Dean shook his head. “Hell no!” He argued. “We can’t just hand her over like that. It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t like it either, Dean,” Stefan said. “But it’s our best shot. If she thinks she has a shot at taking Y/N she’ll come, and we will protect her.”

“You’ll have an army of supernatural creatures looking for blood. Y/N’s blood…” Sam added.

“Good thing you're hunters,” Damon remarked. “Make yourselves useful.”

Freya glanced at her brother sympathetically. He remained silent, but she knew him well enough to know just how worried he was. “We can keep her safe, Elijah.”

His body tensed, and Y/N could see the look he shared with his sister, the fear in his eyes. How was he supposed to protect her from something he couldn’t protect himself from?

Before he could speak, Y/N stood. “Stop talking like I’m not here. It’s my call, and this is our best shot to put Empusa down. It’s happening,” she said definitively before storming out, leaving the rest of the group to work out the details.

***** Stefan found her sometime later out back, sitting and watching the stars. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey.” Y/N patted the ground next to her, and he tossed a blanket he had brought from inside onto her shoulders before joining her.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “So...you and Caroline, huh?”

He let out a breathy laugh. “We’re friends…”

She nudged his shoulder playfully. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

He sighed. “Don’t believe everything Damon tells you,” he countered.

“So you don’t care that she’s off somewhere with Klaus right now?”

His shoulders slumped at that and he pulled his knees up, resting his arms on them. “Caroline sees the good in people, and I love that about her.”

She waited for a moment, but he was silent. “But?” She pried.

“But that means she sees the good in Klaus, too, and…”

“She’ll come back to you, Stefan. Trust me.”

He nodded quietly. “So this Dean guy, huh?” He asked after a moment, turning it around on her.

She let out an exasperated sigh and pulled the throw blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I’ve made such a mess out of things.”

And so she told him. All of it. The visions, the nightmares of becoming a ripper, needing to let go of Elijah, holding onto Dean…

“I slept with Elijah,” she finally confessed after some time. “This morning, on the way here…”

Stefan looked at her, his mouth hanging open as if at a loss for words. He had the courtesy to bite back his judgement, which she appreciated, but she knew she deserved it.

“Go ahead,” she sighed. “Tell me how horrible I am.”

He shook his head. “No, Y/N…” she followed his line of sight, turning over her shoulder.

“Dean,” she breathed, slamming her eyes shut. God, she thought. This was not how she wanted him to find out.

Dean cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably for a second before squaring his shoulders. “Cas sent me out to find you, he had a few questions about the knife…”

Stefan stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I should give you guys a minute,” he started.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, shaking his head. His green eyes locked on Y/N’s, burning into her with fury. “We got nothing to talk about.”

“Dean wait,” she called after him. If he heard her, he didn’t respond, keeping his head forward as he made his way back up to the house. Y/N felt the pain immediately at once again hurting Dean, and she realized as he walked away just how much she needed him.

She turned toward Stefan, tears burning in her eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered pulling her in for a hug. “You just need to talk to him.”

His grip on her tightened, and she began to cry freely, burying her face in his chest. She didn’t know just how much she had missed her best friend until that moment, and the thought of leaving them all behind rushed to the surface. She wouldn’t just lose Dean and Elijah. It was saying goodbye to Stefan, and Sam. Cas, Damon, Freya, Caroline and even Klaus...the list was too long to even wrap her mind around it. She’d lose her friends, her family. The thought was crippling.

She was grateful in that moment for Stefan, for his unwavering strength. She knew he beat himself up constantly for being weak, for wanting blood, but he didn’t give himself enough credit, because he was always her strength.

Not returning his calls was one thing - Stefan was patient, she knew deep down that he was okay because he had a lifetime to find her again.

But dying? She wondered if he’d be strong enough. If she could do that to him.

She pulled air into her lungs, holding onto it for a moment, before exhaling shakily. She knew what she had to do, and she would do it, come hell or high water.

She pulled back from him, wiping at her tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, Stefan, I’m sorry. I owed you more than silence, I shouldn’t have disappeared like that.”

He smiled sadly at her, and she knew he was hiding the pain he had felt when she left them without a word. “Y/N, being a vampire - it’s difficult. Everyday is a battle to fight off the craving. We feel everything. Anger becomes rage, when you’re sad you’re in despair. Every single day I fight to not just turn it all off, but I hold on because…”

“Because you can’t be a ripper again,” she whispered.

He nodded, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “I don’t want that life for you. I never did. I would have let you go.”

She teared up again, remembering the calls and texts that had gone unanswered. Remembering staying one step ahead as her friend spent weeks trying to track her down. How she had known he had been hurting, but continued to run.

“Go talk to him,” he whispered, turning her and playfully shoving her towards the house.

She turned, walking backwards so she could face Stefan. “For what it’s worth, I really missed you.”

*****

She found him in one of the spare rooms, thumbing through a stack of vintage vinyls. She stepped into the room hesitantly, unsure of what she could possibly say to fix the hurt she had caused him. She watched him quietly, and for a moment she wondered if it was better this way. If she had to die, maybe he’d fair better if he hated her.

She shook the thought away and stepped further into the room, deliberately making her presence known. “Damon went through a bit of a punk rock phase…” she said, nodding towards the vinyl. “Stefan had more of a classic rock vibe, I think.”

Dean hummed in acknowledgement. He held up a certified gold Bon Jovi album with a look of confusion.

She laughed. “Someday you’ll have to ask Stefan about his party days with Lexi, and his night with Bon Jovi.”

Dean’s eyes crinkled in the corners, a hint of a smile. “Who’s Lexi?” He asked conversationally.

“She was his best friend,” she smiled softly at the memory of the blonde vampire. “You would have liked her.”

“Vampire?” He asked.

She nodded.

Dean placed the vinyl back in the pile, shoving it back in it’s spot and shaking his head. “Then probably not,” he replied stiffly.

“Don’t be like that,” she sighed. “They’re not all bad.”

He scoffed. “Like Elijah? And Damon?”

“Damon?”

There, he picked at the scab until it started to bleed, and now it was all going to rush out. “Yea,” he said, anger rising. “Anybody else you’re fucking in this house that I should add to the list?”

Even as the words left his mouth he regretted them, but as he watched her recoil at them, he felt the guilt wrap around him and the shame that flooded his veins.

So why the hell couldn’t he stop? The anger burned just underneath his skin, begging to tear its way out.

“Stefan?” He asked. “Tell me, is it just vampires? Or are you into all of the weird shit?”

The hurt in Y/N’s face twisted into rage. “First of all, I don’t owe you a single explanation about my past, but just for my own sanity, where the hell did you get the idea that I’d ever in a million years sleep with Damon?”

“Damon told me.”

“Eww! Gross, but besides the point,” she took a deep breath, an attempt at calming herself. “Look, I’m gonna give you that one free pass, because you’re hurt, and you’re obviously pissed off, and I get it…”

“You know what,” he snapped. “You’re right, you don’t owe me a damn thing. Forget it. Whatever this was,” he gestured between them. “It’s over.”

She nodded, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, focusing on the sting of her bite instead of the pain in her chest. “Yeah, you know what, I guess it is,” she snapped.

“Great,” he agreed.

“Perfect!”

When he pushed past her, she didn’t bother turning around to watch him walk away.

*****

Dean stomped down the stairs, eager to get out of the Boarding House.

He knew he had no right to be angry. He had no claim on Y/N, they hadn’t said they were exclusive. Hell, he had slept with more than his share of women, so who was he to judge?

It wasn’t the sex.

It was Elijah, and the way he got under her skin. It was the way they looked at each other, the way that even after all this time she dreamt of him. It was the way she refused to leave his side back at the motel. How in her darkest moments, she called out for him.

Elijah.

She was in love with him. Worst of all, he had known it, and he has kissed her anyway.

So who was he really angry at? Y/N, or himself?

“Dean,” the refined voice stopped him in his tracks. “A word?”

Dean took a deep breath, trying to stave off the outburst at the tip of his tongue, the fist that wanted to swing. He turned to find Elijah, the last person he wanted to see.

He could tell by the Original’s posture there was no room for argument. Elijah was intent on talking whether he was willing to listen or not. Dean nodded, tight lipped and reluctant as he followed the vampire into a room off of the main hall. It was large, like the rest of the rooms in the house, the rich mahogany bringing a deep warmth into the space. A piano sat in the center of the pristine room, but if it was used, it wasn’t often.

Elijah studied Dean for a moment, and the hunter shifted, feeling instead like the prey. He puffed his chest a bit and raised his chin, locking his jaw and letting the vampire know he wasn’t afraid.

Elijah placed a hand in his pocket, relaxing his own stance a bit. “Did Y/N ever tell you the story of how she and I first met?”

Dean scoffed, turning his gaze towards the large windows for a moment. “I don’t think it ever came up,” he shot back.

“I was sent to kill her,” he stated, pulling Dean’s full attention back on him. “My family and the Salvatores were having a bit of a...spat...you could say. Niklaus needed to show Stefan that he was not playing games and Y/N was to be collateral damage in our feud.”

“So what, you saw a pretty face worth sparing?” Dean sighed.

Elijah showed a hint of a smile. “No, actually. Though her beauty was undeniable. She is quite captivating." He paused, lost in the memory of her. "It was her eyes," he continued. "She saw death at her doorstep, I held her life in my hands, one movement and it’d all be over,” he moved, gliding his hands along the piano, no longer able to meet Dean’s gaze. He still held a great deal of guilt and shame over their initial meeting.

“I’ve taken life more times than I can count, ripped it away without question. There’s a moment, before the end, where you can see everything in their eyes, just before the life is drained from them.” He paused, lost in his darkest moments. Faces in his mind that had haunted him for centuries. He cleared his throat, shaking off his demons before continuing. “Most fear it,” he explained. “They cry, or scream, beg for mercy. A few are brave…”

Dean glared at Elijah, and he wondered if it were possible to hate anyone more than he hated the man in front of him.

“Y/N was different,” he explained. “I looked in her eyes, and I didn’t see fear or acceptance. Instead I saw forgiveness...understanding, even.” He turned, facing Dean once more. “I’m aware of what I am, Dean. I’ve been lost in the blood and the chaos so long…” he trailed off. “I know what I am, and Y/N...she’s everything that is good in this world. It’s why I love her.”

Dean knew, because it was why he loved her, too.

“How she ever found it in her to love me in return, I’ll never understand,” he admitted.

“What’s your point?”

Elijah smiled sadly. “All of this to say, Y/N has a capacity for forgiveness unlike anyone I’ve ever known. You’d do well not to abuse it.”

Dean furrowed his brows.

“Our time together over the last few days,” he explained. “It was nothing more than closure for Y/N.”

“It’s none of my business,” Dean said angrily.

Elijah nodded in agreeance. “Perhaps. But I will make it a point to make it my business if you ever hurt her again,” he threatened.

Dean swallowed, nodding. He didn’t need Elijah to tell him he had acted like an ass, but he also couldn’t blame the guy for looking out for her.

If the roles were reversed, he’d do the same. *****

If Damon was surprised to see her, it didn’t show on his face. He stripped off his leather jacket, tossing it on a chair in the corner. “Well, I always knew this day would come…” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Y/N, who sat on the edge of his bed. “Admit it, you couldn’t resist me anymore.”

She scoffed. “You’re so gross, Damon.”

He shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “You love it,” he winked.

“Did you tell Dean we slept together?”

Damon made a show of struggling to recall the conversation. “I may have suggested it…”

She threw a pillow at him. “Well thanks a lot, he hates me now…”

Damon rolled his eyes. “Please, he’s like a lost puppy trailing after you.”

“Damon! Why did you lie?”

He threw his arms up. “I don’t know, Y/N, I thought it’d be fun to mess with him. He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine.” He sat next to her. “Besides, what are you really doing here? I mean, I’m flattered, but I’ve moved on. You missed your chance. Elena and I are very happy…”

“Where exactly is Elena?”

“She’s on a road trip with Bonnie,” he sighed.

“So she doesn’t know about any of this?”

Damon shook his head. “Look, I don’t need to be distracted worrying about Elena, too. It’s best if she’s as far from here as possible. Bonnie, too.”

Y/N couldn’t argue, but she knew Damon would be in the dog house after this.

“So what are you doing here?” He asked again.

She swallowed, her face turning serious as she played with the leather bracelet along her wrist. “I need a favor…”

He furrowed his brows with curiosity, about to ask why she wouldn’t just go to Stefan when she pressed her finger to her lips, silencing him. She glanced toward the door, pointing in the direction of the rest of the house before gesturing toward her ear.

So it was a favor she didn’t want anyone else to overhear…

“Why don’t I drive you home?” He asked.

“Thanks.”

[silverynight]

Follow the dark path

Aziraphale is in a good mood that morning; the woman who wanted the copy of Wilde's short stories never came back which means he can still keep it for a little longer. Anathema has insisted several times he shouldn't be so glad when he doesn't sell one of his books and despite of how much that irritates him, he knows she's right (he has a bookshop after all, he needs to sell books to survive).

She's always been good to him; she's tried to hook him up with several men for a couple of month's now, although her plans have never worked out. Aziraphale knows it's not her fault, she has told him he can be quite oblivious and picky sometimes.

With an amused smile on his face, he walks in a flower shop that's on his way back to his place and decides to buy her a beautiful flower.

The shop is breathtaking; Aziraphale immediately feels a warm sensation when the wonderful smells and the colours hit his senses. What makes him hesitate though is the people that are already there, probably waiting for their turn.

There are a few men and a woman all gathered around the counter, looking at the man behind him with some sort of fearful respect.

It's a little bit weird, if he's being honest.

Although the man behind the counter certainly catches Aziraphale's attention because he looks so different from the others; he's wearing a green apron that makes his red hair look even more intense somehow. He gets closer, but finds out, disappointed, he can't see the man's eyes because he's wearing shades.

When he moves forward though, all the people in the shop turn around to look at him like they want him to disappear.

"Uh... Excuse me, I was just–"

"You should get out of here, sunshine," the woman says with a smirk. "This is no place for people like you."

What does that even mean?

"Sorry... I'll get going then–"

"There's no need," the man with red hair cuts him off, walking around the counter to stand in front of him with a huge grin on his face. "You can stay as long as you want, angel."

Aziraphale blushes at the nickname, but he's not that distracted not to notice how the others get irritated.

"But, Sir–"

The redhead has not stopped looking at him, but he shushes the man just with a movement of his hand. Aziraphale finds really weird how the man seems to treat to his own client (well, he's not always very kind with the people that walk in the bookshop either).

Wait a minute, one of them called him Sir?

"You can go now," the man says then and since he's still staring at Aziraphale, for a brief moment he thinks he's talking to him.

But the people leave the shop as soon as he says it.

"My name is Crowley," the man with red hair keeps grinning for some reason. "What's yours, angel?"

"Aziraphale," he's not sure why he feels so flustered out of the sudden.

"That's a beautiful name," Crowley purrs. "So... What do you need?"

"I'm not sure... It's for someone really special to me."

The smile vanishes from Crowley's face so quickly it confuses Aziraphale for a moment.

"I see," he mumbles, looking irritated. "Do they have a name?"

"Anathema," he responds, already looking around.

"How long have you been dating her?"

"What? No, no... She's just my friend," Aziraphale giggles, finding the question really funny, not only because he's gay, but because she's too young for him.

"So... Are you single then?" The smile returns back on Crowley face as soon as he says that. He even has a funny way to ask the question, it somehow sounds more like a demand.

"Yes... But what does that–"

"Come with me, angel," Crowley interrupts him again. He takes him by the arm and leads him to another room. "I have my own selection of flowers that I know you'll like."

Aziraphale doesn't walk out of the shop only with Anathema's flower, but a couple for him and a plant he now has to take care of because Crowley insisted it was perfect for him and refused to let Aziraphale pay for them.

"Have dinner with me tonight," Crowley had begged and how Aziraphale could say no after that?

"I'd love to," he had said, blushing to the tip of his ears.

They exchanged numbers and now Aziraphale finally goes back to his own shop even happier than before.

***

Crowley would say he only has a small problem; Hastur and Ligur don't agree, but they would never argue with him.

They both work for him after all.

"That man is under my protection now," he says, trying not to smile as he remembers him.

Hastur tries not to roll his eyes.

"Sir, I think it could be complicated considering he doesn't know what you–"

"I can handle it," Crowley growls. "Aziraphale doesn't have to know."

He shouldn't... He must not... Crowley suspects Aziraphale is one of those people who are good and kind to others. He'd never date a crime lord.

But Crowley felt a connection, he knows Aziraphale is the one for him and he doesn't plan on letting him go.

***

Kofi / Patreon

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

💐

For whatever reason, the bouquet emoji made me think of weddings and florist!Cas. I added a twist and here we are! (also on ao3!)

Dean's best friend was supposed to be getting married in two months. The key phrase being supposed to because, according to Gabriel who had just called Dean ten minutes ago, the wedding was off.

As horrible as it sounded, Dean didn't think he had ever been so relieved. Which he knew made him a complete and utter jackass in addition to the worst friend in the world but it wasn't exactly his fault.

Cas' fiance — well, former fiance now — was an even bigger asshole than Dean. A smarmy Brit with a posh accent and a superiority complex the size of the UK, Arthur Ketch was a certified piece of shit.

He was some kind of higher up businessman for a London-based corporation called the Men of Letters. Apparently, his company had connections with Roman Enterprises and the Alpha Corporation in Chicago.

Together the three companies formed a mega-conglomerate that Cas ironically referred to as the Leviathan. Dean had thought the nickname was clever.

Ketch? Not so much. He took personal offense to the name.

Dean wasn't sure why. It wasn't like Ketch actually owned any part of the mega-corporation, he was just a guy in a suit with a plush corner office and a PhD in business.

Or so he said. Dean had always suspected that Ketch was actually just a pencil pusher. An accountant who played with numbers all day.

Dean had tried to get along with the guy for Cas' sake. He hadn't wanted to rain on Cas' parade and point out all of his new boyfriend's blatant flaws, sure that he would notice them himself soon enough.

But Ketch had made things insufferably difficult. He resisted any and all of Dean's attempts to spark some sort of rapport.

He thought American football was simultaneously barbaric and infantile, claiming rugby was superior in every way. He hated beer, especially American beer, sticking to Scotch or wine instead.

He thought American TV was all mindless drivel, especially melodramas like Dean's beloved Dr. Sexy. He even despised American food, turning up his nose at the fantastic blueberry pie Cas made in favor of ranting and raving about his aunt's spotted dick.

Dean had tried to grin and bear it. To just smile and nod whenever Ketch went off on another rant about his travel around the world or his most recent business meetings.

But it was extremely difficult considering how boring the guy was. Not to mention, condescending as all hell.

He subtly belittled Dean's profession any time they were in the room, straightening the lapels on his fancy overpriced suits while curling his lip at the sight of Dean's dirty jeans and band t-shirts. He even insulted Dean's car, calling it an overcompensating phallic symbol on wheels.

But Dean could forgive all that.

Could forgive the way Ketch sneered when he learned Dean was a high school dropout. Most people did, anyway. Ketch wasn't special in that regard.

Could forgive the way Ketch rarely deigned to even acknowledge him when Cas invited him to dinner. More often than not it was better than the alternative.

He could forgive nearly everything. Every subtle dig about his family or his line of work. Every eye roll whenever he showed up at Cas' for movie night.

But what he couldn't forgive was how Ketch treated Cas.

Couldn't forgive the way he constantly talked over Cas, cutting him off mid-sentence in order to correct him. The way he critiqued everything Cas did from the way he decorated his home to the way he dressed.

Couldn't forgive the way he always insisted that Cas get a better job than the one he had, despite the fact that he owned his own flower shop, that he was doing what he loved. The way he treated Cas more like an arm piece than a boyfriend or fiance.

Dean couldn't forgive any of that. Because Cas was his best friend and he would be damned if some British bastard treated him like shit.

And yes, Dean was man enough to admit that part of the reason why he hated Ketch so much was because he had been ass over ankles in love with Cas for the past eight years.

He had managed to ignore his feelings for the better part of a decade, tamping down on them so he wouldn't completely fuck up their friendship. He refused to lose Cas over something as stupid as his pathetic little brush.

So he had tried to be as supportive as possible when Cas had started dating Ketch. Had bitten his tongue and kept quiet about how much he despised the limey bastard.

He hadn't raised any objections when Cas announced his and Ketch's engagement. He had graciously agreed to be Cas' best man.

He had helped with all of the wedding planning, all of the minutiae from picking out the color scheme after staring at paint swatches for two hours to mailing out needlessly ornate invitations. He had spent days dealing with Cas' overly dramatic wedding planner, Crowley.

Hell, he had even helped Cas pick out the flavor of the wedding cake when Ketch couldn't make it to their appointment with the baker, giving only a bullshit excuse about work.

Thoughts of all the hours he had spent helping Cas put together a list of songs for the reception, sitting in the waiting room at the tailor while Cas got fitted for his tux, listening to Cas go on and on about how excited he was for the wedding flitted through Dean's mind as he climbed into the Impala.

When Gabriel had called him, Dean had been expecting an update on the situation with the caterer who kept trying to haggle. But Cas' older brother had instead relayed that Ketch had broken things off.

After recovering from the shock, sure that Gabriel was playing some sort of cruel joke, Dean had snapped to attention and raced out to his car. His mind was racing and he was still in shock, but he had the presence of mind to know that he had to get to Cas. Had to make sure he was alright.

The drive across town was blessedly short, mostly because Dean's lead foot had him going well over the speed limit. Fortunately, no cops pulled him over and he made it to Cas' cozy little house in record time.

He didn't bother knocking. He just let himself in with the spare key Cas had given him for emergencies.

Getting dumped by one's fiance two months before the wedding? Definitely counted as an emergency.

Everything seemed normal, every ridiculous throw pillow in place and the ever-present scent of flowers hanging in the air. The only thing that struck Dean as odd, that made him pause in the doorway, was the shattered vase in the middle of the living room.

There were flowers in various shades of red strewn around on the floor amongst the shards of broken glass. A crumpled up note sat discarded along with the livid blooms.

"Cas?" Dean called, kicking the door shut behind him before he took a few steps further into the room. When no response came, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called again, "Cas?!"

There was still no response but Cas' car was parked in the driveway, so Dean continued on. Bypassing the living room and kitchen, Dean made a beeline to Cas' bedroom.

He found Cas there, sitting on his bed with his face buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking as he sniffled, sounding so despondent and miserable it immediately broke Dean's heart.

"Cas...?" He said questioningly, tentative and quiet as he walked closer to the edge of Cas' bed. When Cas didn't say anything, Dean took a seat by his socked feet, reaching out a hand to lay on Cas' knee. "Cas? Buddy?"

"He dumped me, Dean," Cas announced through his tears, keeping his face hidden in his hands. His voice slightly muffled and thick with sorrow, he continued, "Arthur dumped me. With fucking flowers."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, shifting closer. Cas didn't answer at first, too choked up, prompting Dean to give his knee a reassuring squeeze.

"He sent me flowers..." Cas explained, hiccuping a bit. "He sent me flowers to break up with me."

His hands curled into fists as he dropped them to his sides. His face was streaked with tears, blue eyes puffy and red-rimmed.

But where Dean expected despondency and dejection, he found righteous anger. He felt almost an electric tension in the air as Cas absolutely growled, "He sent me flowers from my own fucking shop to break up with me! He sent Mick to deliver them!"

Ah, Mick. Ketch's cousin and one of Cas' only two employees at the flower shop. The one who had introduced the two. Ketch's would-be best man.

Poor guy probably had no idea he was delivering a break-up bouquet. Dean highly doubted Ketch would have volunteered the information to his well-intending cousin.

"Fucking asshole," Dean hissed under his breath as Cas' anger melted away, dripping away like wax from a candle, leaving only a puddle in its wake. He watched helplessly as Cas wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, his breath labored and shaky.

"What am I supposed to do?" Cas wondered aloud, not really directing the question at anyone in particular. "I have to cancel everything. The venue, the catering, the band, the tailor. I lost ten pounds for that stupid tux. Oh, god, what am I gonna tell my family? If Gabriel hasn't already told everyone."

"You're not gonna tell em anything, Cas," Dean announced, surprising both Cas and himself. He knew what he was doing was stupid and desperate but at that moment he didn't care. "The wedding's still on."

"What are you talking about, Dean?" Cas whined reaching for the box of tissues on his nightstand. Dabbing at his eyes, with the corner of a tissue, he announced, "Arthur made it very clear that he doesn't want to marry me. And after all this, I don't want to marry him, either."

"You're not going to," Dean informed him, hoping he sounded much more confident than he felt. At Cas' confused squint, accompanied by one of his trademark Castiel Novak head tilts, Dean mustered up all the courage he could and announced, "You're gonna marry me."

"Very funny, Dean," Cas said, rolling his eyes as he gave a weak attempt at a laugh. "But I'm not in the mood for one of your jokes."

With a frustrated grunt, Dean shoved his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket. He dug around for a few seconds, his keys jingling, until he closed his fingers around the box.

The one he had bought two years ago. The one he had been carrying around ever since. The one holding the single most important piece of jewelry he had ever owned apart from the amulet Sam had given him for Christmas half a lifetime ago.

Pulling his hand out of his pocket, he thrust the box out at Cas. He kept his eyes down, cheeks burning with a bright blush, refusing to look at Cas' face.

He couldn't bear to see the rejection. The disgust. The pity.

This was better. If Cas was going to let him down gently, he didn't want to see the soft, sad forgiveness in those blue eyes.

He would rather keep staring at the bedspread. At the dark damask pattern of the comforter he had helped Cas pick out when they went shopping together after Cas moved into his house.

Cas had picked the blanket, deep blue with a navy pattern, because it reminded him of damask roses. Brilliant complexion, Cas had said while admiring the blanket in the store. They symbolize brilliant complexion. And love.

Dean's bittersweet reminiscing was cut short when he heard Cas suck in a sharp breath. Cas' fingers brushed his as he gingerly took the box from Dean's hand.

He let out another gasp when he opened the box. "Dean...? Is this...?"

"Meteorite," Dean confirmed. He kept his eyes lowered, fisting his hand in the denim of Cas' jeans. "I know how much you hate gold and silver 'cause they're not really rare and you'd rather have something more unique. And I know you hate that stupid ring Ketch got you because you hate chocolate diamonds."

He barely paused to take a breath before steamrolling on, "Look, I've known you for a long time and I've loved you for just as long. I-I bought this ring a while ago. I was gonna ask you out the day you introduced me to Ketch. And I know it's wrong and selfish and stupid, but I wanna marry you, Cas."

There was a small rustling sound, followed by an almost metallic clunk accompanied by Cas' soft laugh. It was only then that Dean chanced a look up to find the dark silver ring he had bought Cas on the man's ring finger, Ketch's gaudy diamond ring set aside on the nightstand.

He flicked his eyes up to Cas', his mouth slack with shock. "Do-Do you really...? You wanna...?"

"Yes, Dean. I'll marry you," Cas announced, scooting close enough to wrap his arms around Dean's shoulders. "On one condition."

"Anything," Dean breathed, settling his hands on Cas' waist as the dark haired man shifted closer, pressing their foreheads together. Cas could have asked for Dean's heart and he would have carved it out of his chest himself and presented it to Cas with his dying breath.

But all Cas asked was, "You have to help me mail out all the new invitations."

Then, after years and months and interminably long seconds of pining and perishing, Dean finally pressed his lips to his best friend's. His fiance's. His angel's. His Cas'.

[hekate1308]

A Drowley Christmas Carol - December 24

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!!! “And so, as Tiny Tim said, God bless us, everyone!”

Masterpost

Crowley had refused to believe there was something magical about Christmas ever since he had realized that being shouted at and dragged about by a parent wasn’t normal, but it was difficult not to get into the Christmas mood with Dean staying with him the whole day.

Right after breakfast, he got a text from Gavin.

Hope you and Dean are having a good Christmas Day ;).

He showed the text to his boyfriend. “Should I be worried? Normally children aren’t that concerned with their parents’ relationship status, certainly?”

Dean burst into laughter. “Sometimes you sound like an alien trying to figure out the human race.”

Crowley frowned, unsure whether Dean was implying –

“Stop it”. Dean kissed him. “I like you just the way you are.”

Why, Crowley would never be able to understand, but then, he’d never hesitated to take what he knew was too good for him anyway.

They stayed inside, occasionally making out or retiring to bed for even more pleasurable activities.

“Best Christmas ever” Dean decided late in the evening as they were cuddling on the couch. Crowley had never before seen many benefits to snuggling up to someone, but he was re-evaluating his priorities rather quickly. “But I better get back home. Can’t let Cas look after Mom 24/7 now.”

Crowley had to reluctantly admit that he had a point, since he couldn’t exactly tell him the truth.

So, with another kiss, Dean departed.

About half an hour later – he had just received a text from Dean telling him he’d gotten home – Castiel appeared in front of him. By this point, he didn’t even flinch.

“Dean Winchester has a very bright soul” he informed him casually.

“Could you do anything for his mother?” he asked.

Castiel sighed. “I tried my best. I used my Grace to try and call her mind back from the place she has hidden herself in, but I don’t know whether I succeeded. Only time can tell.”

Crowley nodded. “Thought you guys were supposed to be all powerful.”

“I used to be stronger. I got – I rebelled against some of my orders.”

“Look at you. Well, whenever you need a break from the other angels, you can always come here.” Crowley was feeling rather generous after the day he’d had.

Castiel looked surprised, then nodded. “No matter what happens to Mary Winchester, however, Dean will be happier now.”

“If you say so, Feathers.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “Our wings aren’t –“

“It’s just a nickname.”

“I see.”

And with the sound of fluttering wings, Castiel was gone. Crowley wondered if he’d insulted him. Probably not. Guy just had something else to do, he was ready to bet.

After that, Castiel became just another new aspect of his – and Dean’s life together. Against all expectations, the angel eventually turned into a close friend of theirs; as Dean would often explain in later years, “Yeah, he’s a bit weird, but then, so are we.”

Dean and Crowley spend New Year’s Eve together, of course.

“You know kissing me on midnight will mean you’re stuck with me for another year?” Dean asked casually.

Crowley only smiled.

His plans extended far beyond that time span.

One year later

Dean insisted on decorating the house they had bought only two months before, and Crowley saw no reason to deny him (as Gavin would have reminded him, this was usually the case when Dean’s boyish grin and his sparkling eyes were concerned).

When Crowley had first brought up the subject of moving in together, Dean had been hesitant, explaining that he didn’t feel comfortable leaving his mother alone, trained nurses or no trained nurses.

And then Castiel’s Grace had done its magic.

Mary Winchester was not the woman she had been before her mental breakdown, and she probably never would be; but she had recovered enough to realize her sons were grown, and to think that it was quite a good idea for Dean to move in with his “beau.”

Thanks to Crowley’s money, Dona was now employed as her full-time nurse, along with three others to make sure every one of them had enough free time. Dean had denied his help for months, but had eventually caved when Mary herself had insisted that he should go out and “live his life.”

Still, they all agreed the Christmas Party on Christmas Eve would probably be a bit much for Mary; Sam and Dean, along with Sarah and Crowley, would visit her on Christmas Day.

“I think that’s everything...” Dean fretted. Crowley shook his head and pulled him into a kiss. “Dean, everyone loves your cooking.”

“I just want to make a good impression. It’s the first party in this house, and –“

“Trust me” he drawled, “You always look good.”

Dean shook his head. “We’re already living together, you don’t have to flirt with me anymore.”

“Have to make sure you don’t get any ideas about running away.”

Really, Crowley thought, as Dean laughed and kissed him, maybe putting a ring on his finger one of these days would be a good idea.

[meganlpie]

The Sun Meets the Sea pt. 2

Anonymous asked: Since you love Disney AUs can you do a SPN Little Mermaid AU? Only a twist, both Sam and Dean are princes who fall for the mermaid (fem!reader) but she only loves one, you can decide. :)

Here is part 2! It’s really long XD I still do not own any SPN characters. They belong to the creators of the show.

Part 1

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Supernatural witchcraft, Little Mermaid AU

Pairings: Sam Winchester x fem!reader x Dean Winchester, Meg(2.0), Ruby(2.0), Dad!Crowley, Rowena, Castiel

Your lungs were on fire when you finally took a breath of air. Gasping heavily, you dragged yourself out of the water. When you glanced down, you quickly realized you were naked and searched for something to cover yourself. Finding a sail, you decided it was better than nothing. You struggled to stand and walk along the beach. You tried to take a step and ended up falling flat on your face. If you could have screamed, you would have. Walking was harder than it looked.

               It took you several tries, but you managed to wobble over to the discarded sail. You stared at the sail for a moment, unsure of how to cover yourself with it. Then, you heard voices and they were getting closer. Your eyes widened in panic as you quickly wrapped the fabric around you and secured it with a rope before you ducked behind a rock.

               "I’m telling ya, Sammy, I’m starting to believe we dreamed of that girl,“ a voice you recognized spoke and you brightened. The men you saved. You poked your head out and watched them. "Maybe you’re right, Dean. I guess all that sea water did clog our brains.” The two men laughed before a pair of hazel eyes found you. “Dean?” The green eyed one followed his gaze. “Hey there, sweetheart. You okay?”

               You nodded and smiled. The hazel-eyed one, Sam, was staring at you in interest. “Dean…I think it’s her.” Dean grinned and turned to face you again. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. What’s your name?” You tried to tell him, but of course you couldn’t. “What is it?” You gestured to your throat and frowned. “Oh. You can’t speak.” You shook your head sadly.

               "You can’t be her then,“ Sam said sadly. You wanted so badly to tell him that it was you that saved them both. Then you remembered your grandmother’s words. You had three days to find true love if you wanted to stay human and you still had no idea how you were going to do that without your voice.

               The two boys were talking quietly between themselves while you were thinking about your situation. "Hey, sweetheart?” You glanced back at Dean. While you really wanted to hear your name fall from his lips, you had to admit, you liked the nickname. “You’re not from around here, are you?” You shook your head. “Do you have family here?” Again, you shook your head and Dean sighed. Sam gave you a soft smile and asked, “Why don’t you come stay with us? At least until you can get on your feet. We lived just up that hill.” Your gaze followed his finger and your jaw dropped. A castle. They were royalty.

*time skip*

               You ended up staying in the castle that night and the next. Over the course of those two days, you got to know both princes. They were both so kind and caring. You had to admit that you were falling for both of them, but you had no idea how to let them know that. And you were running out of time.

               You decided that the only thing to do would be to show them how you felt. So, one morning, after you had dressed  and brushed your hair, you made your way downstairs. You  stopped short when you saw two beautiful brunettes standing next to Sam and Dean, their arms linked together. They looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t place them.

               "Hey there, pretty lady,“ Dean greeted you with a smile. You returned it, but your gaze returned to the stunning women on their arms. Sam was staring at the girl at his side. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her, as if he were under a spell. She was smirking at you. "We found our mystery girl,” Dean told you, gesturing to the girl Sam was hooked on, “And it turns out she has a friend who helped her.” The girl on Dean’s arm was smirking as well, but there didn’t seem to be much malice behind it. Her eyes kept jumping between you and Dean’s best friend, Castiel, who was standing off to the side.

               You felt your heart breaking as you watched the boys, your boys, falling deeper under the spell of these strange women. You did your best to smile, but you couldn’t seem to do it. Instead you gave a little nod of your head. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Cat got your tongue?” The brunette on Sam’s arm quipped and it clicked. Ruby! You fought the urge to clench your fists. What was she playing at? Then, you realized something else. If that was Ruby, then the other girl had to be Meg.

               You flicked your gaze over to her and tried to convey how hurt you were. To ask why they were doing this. What had you done to deserve such treatment from the two mermaids that were supposed to be your friends?

               Mouthing the words, “excuse me”, you turned and left the room. You wanted to run, but you didn’t. You had no claim to those two boys after all. Once you were out of sight, you finally did run. You ran until you were outside, at the shore. You stood there, watching the tide roll in, wishing you had never let Ruby talk you into going to Rowena. You wished you never became human. But then you thought about all the good times you’d had since you had washed up on the shore.

               You had come to care for both brothers. Dean was charming and sweet. He cared about you and, even though he’d never say it out loud, he showed it in the little things he did for you. Sam was intelligent and he loved sharing that with you. You had learned so much just by listening to Sam talk. He was more affectionate than Dean and he could sense your moods. He would take you hand in his and give it a reassuring squeeze when he could tell you were upset or scared.

               "Y/N?“ You whipped around to see Meg standing a little ways off. You glared at her, fists clenched at your sides. "I know you’re mad. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my choice.” You rolled your eyes and arched a brow as if to say, “Right.” Meg sighed and stepped a little closer to you. “Really, Y/N. Ruby dragged me to Rowena. Rowena threaten me and, no offense, but I like living.” You looked back out toward the horizon.

               "Look…I shouldn’t be out here, but I want to help you.“ You didn’t acknowledge her, but she continued anyway. "I can get you alone with one of the boys, whichever one you think will listen to you. Make a move.” Your brows furrowed. Make a move? What on earth could you do to get across how you felt? “Please, Y/N?” Sighing, you glanced over at her and nodded. It was better than nothing. Meg smiled. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” You shrugged. You’d deal with her later.

               You followed Meg back up to the castle, only to find Dean and Castiel waiting. Meg cast a glance at the latter before turning her attention back to Dean. “There you are,” he greeted, “I wondered where you got off to.” His green gaze was fixed on Meg. “Here I am. I just wanted to check on this pretty lady here. I suppose that we’re going to be close friends now.” She turned to Castiel. “Would you mind giving me a tour of the castle? I’m sure Prince Dean has things to do.”

               Castiel’s blue eyes lit up with glee as he agreed. The two exited the room, leaving you alone with Dean. Meg winked at you over your shoulder and you flashed her a smile. Turning back to Dean, you found his eyes following Meg’s retreating form. You tapped his shoulder and he looked at you. “Everything okay?” You nodded and your eyes flicked down to his lips. Should you take the chance? You started to lean in when a voice called out. “Prince Dean?! There you are! Where’s Meg?” You glared at Ruby before stomping away.

               All day long, you and Meg tried everything to get you alone with one of the boys, to no avail. Ruby would burst in and ruin the moment every single time. You were in your room, watching as the sun began to lower in the sky. Sunset was a mere moments away and you were no closer to finding to true love than you had been. In a short time, you would be a mermaid again and in the clutches of your grandmother.

               "She wants to see Rowena on the throne,“ Meg had told you. That was why Ruby had done what she had. You felt the tears rolling down your face as you thought about it. All this for power. What had you done? You had only wanted to spend time with humans and this is where it had lead. "I have one more idea, Y/N. Can you trust me on more time?” You nodded and followed Meg from your room.

               She walked right up to Ruby and whispered in her ear while you hid from the former blonde. Ruby frowned and let Meg lead her away from Sam. The tall prince was standing with his brother at the edge of the shore. They were both dressed to kill and you nearly melted.

               Meg motioned for you to go for it while Ruby was distracted. You quickly approached the two princes and got their attention. “Hi. You’re just in time. We were about to head onto the ship for the ceremony,” Sam told you, gesturing to the ship at the dock. You panicked internally so, you grabbed the prince nearest to you, by the lapel and pulled him toward your lips.

               Before your lips could connect, you felt yourself being pushed into the ocean. The sun sank below the horizon just as you hit the water. You felt the magic course through you once again as your legs merged back into your (f/c) tail and your voice returned.

               "Y/N!“ Meg cried out when your head broke the surface again. "SAM! DEAN!” you yelled, making their eyes widen. Ruby glared and grabbed Meg’s arm. She ran toward the sea, pulled Meg behind her. She pulled off the bracelet on her wrist, transforming her legs into a tail. You saw her head for you and started to swim away. Ruby caught up with you quickly and dragged you further down into the ocean.

               "Let me go!“ you demanded, trying to wrench yourself away from her. Meg was trying to fight her off as well, but the mermaid was strong. Meg broke free of Ruby’s hold and swam away. You hoped she was going to get help.

               Rowena was waiting at the ocean floor. "Y/N, dearie. Did you enjoy your time on land?” she asked, a sickly sweet smile on her face. Your eyes narrowed at your grandmother. Ruby let you go and swam off, eager to be far away from the action. “How could you? What did my father ever do to you? He’s your son! Don’t you love him?” Rowena shrugged. “Dear, love is a weakness.” You shook your head. “Now, come along.”

               Rowena took your hand and pulled you behind her. “Mother! Stop!” your father’s voice rang out and you almost sighed in relief. You knew he’d be furious with you, but you were so happy to see him. “We had a deal, Fergus. Your precious little Y/N is mine now. Unless you’re willing to trade.” Rowena bargained and you watched your father’s eyes flick between you. You shook your head. “No, Daddy.”

               Crowley sat for a moment weighing his options. He had worked hard to get and keep his throne, but you were his daughter. Meg swam away again, back toward the shore. She had to get more help. You prayed she’d return quickly. “Please, Grandmother,” you begged, if only to play for time. You had no idea how long it would take Meg to come back with help. Luckily, it didn’t seem to take long.

               As soon as you had turned back into a mermaid and had called out to the princes, the spell Ruby had put over them had broken. They had immediately boarded their ship and sailed in the direction they hoped you’d be. Meg had seen their ship and flagged them down. They almost hurt her, but Castiel had convinced them to listen to her plea. She lead them to where she had left Crowley with you. Dean manned the harpoon gun and started shooting, praying he wouldn’t hit you.

               The first harpoon barely missed you and Rowena. Rowena looked up and saw the shadow of the ship. Dropping your hand, she swam away as Meg returned to your side with a smile. She knew Rowena would be more interested in saving her own skin than in you and Crowley. She would come up with another way to get to the throne.

               "Where have you been?“ your father asked you in a growl. You quickly wrapped your arms around him. "I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you replied, hugging him close. He hesitantly hugged you back, grateful you were safe. You told him everything that had happened and, as you’d expected, he was angry. Then, he saw the look on your face when you talked about your princes. “You love them? You’re in love with at least one of them?” You nodded and he sighed.

               "And you?“ he asked, turning to Meg. Meg’s eyes widened in fear and you quickly jumped to her defense. "Meg helped me, Daddy. And she saved us. Those men up there saved us.” Crowley nodded. You grabbed his hand and swam up to the surface with him. Your head popped up and you were met with smiles. “Sam. Dean,” you breathed.

               Crowley looked between you and the princes and couldn’t help but smile. His little girl was in love. He snapped his fingers and you suddenly found yourself aboard the ship, fully human and fully clothed. Dean was the first to reach you. He hugged you and kissed your forehead. “Welcome back, sweetheart.” You smiled at him and turned your attention to Sam.

               You released Dean and went to Sam. “Sam,” you whispered. Sam grinned and reach out to cup your face in his hands. Before you could say another word, his lips descended on yours. You felt your heart leap with joy. Was this what true love’s kiss felt like? You hoped so because it was amazing.

               You pulled away and Sam wiped away a tear you didn’t know had fallen. “Y/N…I love you.” You giggled. “Say it again.” He brushed a strand of wet hair from your face. “I love you.” You shook your head. “I mean my name.” Sam chuckled. “Y/N.”  You hugged him and whispered, “I love you too.”

               Crowley glanced at Meg who fought the urge to swim away. “You saved her. What do you want?” Meg looked up at the ship where Castiel was still leaning over the railing. “Ah.” Another snap of his fingers and Meg was standing next to Castiel. “Hey there, Clarence,” she said before pulling him to her and kissing him deeply.

(a/n: I hope you like it!) 

Tagging: @fairytalesexistxx @brewsthespirit-blog @jotink78

[lazybarbarians]

The Secret History of Twin Peaks: A Novel by Mark Frost

Ragnell: It was with a little trepidation that I picked this week’s selection. This is a tie-in to a television series, one that hasn’t been on the air for 25 years, and part of the marketing for the upcoming third season. That’s not a recipe for a great reading experience. But I’ve been itching to read it, partly so I can listen to the podcasts and fan-theories that reference it and partly to get myself back into the Twin Peaks mindset by the 21st I put this. What better way to do so than with a friend?

With that in mind, and preparing for Twin Peaks spoilers pertaining to this book, the first two seasons of the series and the movie, join us below the cut for a review of The Secret History of Twin Peaks: A Novel.

This book takes place from the time of Lewis and Clark all the way past the end of season 2, with annotations from an FBI agent reviewing the material in 2016. As a result there’s a lot of spoilers and information in it, as well as the results of some cliffhangers.

Kalinara: I have to admit, my memory of Twin Peaks isn’t nearly as sharp as yours. I watched, enjoyed it, but I had to resort to the wikipedia entry more than a few times to remember individual character names and who was who. :-) For best effect, I would recommend that casual Twin Peaks fans refresh their memory about the series before they tackle the book.

R:: Well, I do rewatch pretty much the whole series every year. Often live-tweeting it. This year should be fun.

It starts with Lewis and Clark meeting the ancestors of the Nez Perce tribe, who relay to them some legends about the area and show them Owl Cave. From that point forward we go through American History from the tragic fate of Merriweather Lewis through the disgraceful treatment of the Nez Perce tribe with a backdrop of Illuminati vs Mason conspiracy theories and the founding of Twin Peaks and boy scouts witnessing events near Glastonbury Grove until we get to the 40s. A good chunk of the book is spent in the 40s, 50s, and 60s following the investigation of UFO sightings, and the involvement of one Dougles Milford in covering them up. We learn the true origin of the Log Lady, and some interesting bits about some otherwise minor characters. We get plots involving Richard Nixon and Jackie Gleason over this time, with a particularly interesting one involving Jack Parsons, L Ron Hubbard, and Aleister Crowley that implies that rather than the mystical being explained scientifically as evidence of aliens as we usually see when sci-fi and horror collide, the alien encounters may actually have a mystical explanation. It’s all very engaging and interesting and makes me wonder how many of these anecdotes are based on real stories about this historical persons. (A quick google search shows that L. Ron Hubbard actually did run off with Jack Parsons’ girlfriend after they all tried to summon the Goddess together.) We also learn that, aside from Dougie Milford being more important than previously realized, Gordon Cole also knows quite a bit more than he let on.

K: The historical background was interesting, but I felt a little disconnected from the material. It was almost like a setting book in a roleplaying game: “look at these possible plot hooks”, but I didn’t really see the connection to the modern day...or the early 90s show that I remembered. Though I did wonder about “Denver Bob”. It was far more interesting once we got to the scout trip with young Andy Packard and Dwayne Milford. (The picture that was used for young Dwayne Milford looks REALLY familiar to me, and it’s bothering me to no end.)

R: Yeah. “Denver Bob” cannot be a mistake. Also, I have a suspicion about who the “walking owl” (or something with large eyes) was meant to be.

K: I suppose the Illuminati/Mason stuff will be connected to whatever the new series does with the Black Lodge, but it still felt a bit opaque to me. I think maybe I’d like to reread it after we see the new series. The relevance will probably be clearer then.

R: Personally, I think the American History bits are there to establish that most of the bad stuff in Twin Peaks stems from screwing over the Nez Perce.

Aside from that we get the generational background of the Martells and Packards, and Jennings and Hurleys, in the form of town histories and journal entries from characters who observed the messes. We learned what happened after the explosion at the bank, that only Audrey survived and that Catherine never recovered from the loss of her remaining family. We get another version of the story behind Nadine and Ed’s ill-fated marriages, which contradict the stories told in the show, and we find out how Hank Jennings died. And we also get a little bit on the Briggs family, and some tantalizing bits in the footnotes about Cooper’s fate (implied to be tragic.) And what eventually happened to Lana, because you know you wanted to know what happened to Lana Milford, right?

K: Did we know the thing about Josie’s body weighing only 65 pounds or something when she died? I didn’t remember that detail, but as previously established, I’d forgotten a lot. I remember always having mixed feelings about Josie’s plot on the show and I’m not sure the extra backstory really helped. It almost seemed like a checklist of cliches: prostitution rings, Triad connections and so on. I do remember that Josie wasn’t the innocent girl that she seemed on the show, but this seemed like a bit much to me. Either Josie is a delicate flower or a complete Dragon Lady. One stereotype to another. There’s no nuance there. But that was kind of my problem with the character even on the show. I still feel like Joan Chen deserved better.

R: Yeah, her body weighed less but I don’t remember the exact weight. The dossier was overkill. She was implied to be somewhat victimized by Thoams Eckhart, though responsible for her own share of evil. Much more nuanced, but this account (in Cooper’s voice) coldly paints her as a pure predator. Which could be more kicking the character when down, especially as she had arguably the most horrifying end, or could be another inaccuracy in the book. It’s certainly more in line with David Lynch for characters to be rounded, capable of great evil and goodness, sympathetic even in their sin. Particularly women. He doesn’t do “Dragon Lady” very often.

I did really enjoy the book, and I want to watch the series again now that I’ve read it. It puts a new relevance on the Milford plot, gives us closure for a lot of the characters we know won’t be in season three (Catherine, Pete, Andrew, Hank, Major Briggs), leaves some threads open that may be picked up in Season 3 and just fills out some of the mythology without actually explaining it. It gives us some neat stuff from the POV of characters I love like Major Briggs, Deputy Tommy “Hawk” Hill (although it reveals he hates the nickname Hawk), Agent Cooper and leaves plenty of fodder to argue about which of the supernatural characters match with which of the supernatural occurrences in the book.

It wasn’t as scary to me as the show, but the frightening parts of the show are due to the mood and atmosphere of the film, not the black and white facts and our two main guides through this history, the Archivist and Agent TP, are not atmospheric storytellers, they are direct fact relaters. Also, it’s a Frost book and I believe in the collaboration Frost was responsible for the details of the mythology and the backstory of the characters while Lynch was responsible for making sure the audience felt genuine terror at it.

It is also riddled with contradictions and inaccuracies and I hesitate to call them mistakes because there are simply so many and some are so obvious. The one that stuck out the most to me was Maj. Briggs description of his experiences in the second season. He places his disappearance at the campsite and his return from that closer to the finale, and completely cuts out his experience with Windom Earle. This could be attributed to general confusion from both experiences being so close together, though. He doesn’t mention seeing Sarah in the finale either.

I also noticed the weirdness with Norma’s family. No mention of Annie, Norma’s maiden name is Lindstrom, not Blackburn, and her mother is listed as dying before the show starts. Some of the other reviews I’ve heard have pointed out that the book contradicts itself, such as with Doug Milford’s middle name. The dates are off. The story of Nadine and Ed directly contradicted the story told in the show. Audrey’s reason for being at the bank was different. I don’t think this stuff isn’t on purpose, though. (There’s a whole list others have found.)

It’s not really in character for the Archivist, as his identity is revealed (and for the record, I guessed it around the Roswell stuff) to make so many mistakes so I hope it’s a plot point and not just attributable to human error. Come to think of it, the Ed story is related by Hawk, and he’s one of the characters who never lies in the series.

Despite the reported statement by David Lynch that he hasn’t read this book, I suspect we’ll see the document in some way during the show and that an inaccuracy in it may be a plot point. (Even if Lynch didn’t read it, Frost wrote it and he’s involved in plotting and scripting the show.)

In the end, it’s a good bit of history and “local color” for Twin Peaks when you rewatch the show or watch the new stuff. I know I’ll never look at Doug Milford the same way again.

K: It’s definitely interesting. Given how Twin Peaks originally ended, I can’t begin to guess how much of this book will be relevant or not. But it’s definitely worth a look.

[writingfromkitchenator]

Secret

A Crowley Fanfic

"What are you smiling at?"

I looked around at Dean from the passenger seat, not realising that I had zoned out.  "What?"

He wasn't in a good mood, which I didn't blame him after everything that happened, particularly now that we got a phone call asking us to go back to the house.

I shrugged when he doesn't respond.  "Just feeling better than what I have been."

Dean continues to frown.  "You've been like that a lot lately, and given all the shit we've gone through, it's been uncalled for."

I raised an eyebrow.  "Uncalled for?  Your sister is in a good mood and it's uncalled for?"

"Well, there's not really a need for it."

"We're alive aren't we?"

Dean humphs, but falls back into his moody silence, making your smile wider.

"Relax Dean.  The darkness may be a new problem, but at least the mark is gone.  No more beating the shit out of everyone, including yourself."

Dean grunts in response as I settle back again, looking out the window.  I knew I struck a nerve, but at the moment, I wasn't fazed.

The truth was, I was actually reasonably happy, even after all the chaos of the last four weeks, and if Dean and Sam knew, blood or not, if they knew the truth, they would disown or kill me.

I shut my eyes, letting the movement of the car drift me off, but not before the faint smile touched my lips again.  As a hunter, we all knew it was rare to find something that would last, and I knew that this was on a knife's edge as it was, but it didn't stop it making me happy.

"You're still doing it."  Dean grumbled.

"Lighten up you ass."

"Slut."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Assbutt."

That got him to laugh.  "You lose, but good choice."

"I'll call it an accomplishment."  I grin.

The silence was more comfortable this time.

"So...are you seeing anyone?"

I look at Dean, who looked a mix of concerned and curious.

"Why would you ask that?"  I said in a slightly disbelieving tone.  "We're hunters Dean, we don't have time for that stuff."

He frowns.  "Sis, the only time I've seen you this happy was when you were in a relationship."

I scoffed.  "And when was the last one I had?"

"Long term or short term?"  He asked with a cocky grin, causing me to hit him in the arm.  "I'm serious though, are you?"

I couldn't help the nervousness in my stomach.  I didn't want to lie to Dean, but I knew that the truth would hurt more.

The truth was, I was seeing Crowley.

It hadn't happened intentionally, it was during the chaos of us trying to close the gate to hell.  I'd been left behind to babysit Sam as he tried to cure Crowley, but even Sam had to step out of the room from time to time, the trials taking their toll.

Leaving me with Crowley.

I hadn't thought much of it, I had jested and argued with the King of Hell just as much as Sam and Dean over the years, although, we did pass the occasional flirtatious comment to each other just to rile the other two up.

This time was different.

"How can you watch this?"

I looked up at Crowley from where I was sitting against the wall, polishing my knife.  "What?"

He was looking tired, frustrated and something else I couldn't quite place.  "You're meant to be the kind one, the compassionate one.  How can you sit there and watch Moose do this to me?"

I was a little taken back, unsure about whether he was jesting or not.  "It's not like I'm enjoying it."

Crowley screwed his face up.  "Then why don't you stop it?"

I still wasn't overly sure how to take this, glancing at the door to make sure Sam wasn't coming in either.  "Crowley, you hate hell as much as we do."

He rolled his eyes and dropped his head back with a frustrated groan.  "Who cares about Hell, I'm talking me here."

"You?"

"Yes me."  He growled and finally looked over at me.  "What, all that time and your saying our little chats never meant anything?"

I had shrugged, but grinned all the same.  "What of it?  It'd  hardly be something that would be taken lightly Crowley."

This time, he grinned.  "Be a hell of a story love."

I had to bite my tongue as Sam came back into the room, earning a smirk from Crowley.

"Looking a little peaky there Moose, sure you're up for this?"

"Shut up Crowley."

I looked between the two, suddenly in that moment not entirely sure who I was more worried for.

Which was Abaddon arrived, throwing Sam through a window before turning her attention to Crowley as I rose from my chair, wondering why she didn't know I was there.

But it was clear after she sent Crowley to the floor, that she didn't care.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."  I said calmly, finally earning her attention.

Abaddon scoffed, pushing Crowley aside.  "Like I'm meant to believe that the little bird can do anything."

I spun the knife easily in my hand.  "Even a little bird can peck an eye or two out."

She chuckled disbelievingly.  "Right.  That's why you just stepped back and let the boys do all the work."

"It's what Sam and Dean are good at."  I shrugged.  "They make for the heavy lifting, I make for the quick thinking."

"Well, you don't seem to be good at either to me."  She was approaching so cockily that it just made me smile.

"Says the one that is still approaching me believing me to be an idiot."  Again, I spun the knife, making it a point that I knew how to use it.

Anger crossed her expression and she cast her hand out, intending to throw me against a wall, but I pulled my arm up just in time, the marks flaring to life on my arm and preventing me from moving anywhere.

I grinned.  "Well what do you know, that actually worked."

Abaddon tried again, but to know effect.  "What is this?" She hissed.  "No one can possibly-"

"I'm the brains darling."  I shrugged.  "So why don't we do this the old fashioned way?"

The fight had been brief, for everything I had hoped would work, I wasn't expecting the blade sliced across my arm, ending the enchantment and allowing her to pin me against the wall.

Her eyes burned.  "I think it's time I put you out of your misery little hunter."

I gave a strained grin.  "I made my peace with Death a long time ago, I should probably think you should do the same."

Her eyes narrowed.  "Then maybe death isn't the answer.  Maybe you deserved something much slower."

"Like possession?"  I asked, the pressure building on my chest from where she had me pinned.  "Take your best shot."

Her eyes had narrowed and she was about to do exactly that if Sam hadn't taken that exact moment to appear and douse her in holy oil, setting her alight and making her flee.

I dropped from the wall coughing.  "God, here I was thinking I'd have to stall forever."

Sam gave a weak smile.  "Possession?  Really?"

"She wouldn't have got very far."  I clasped my hand to the wound on my arm before looking for Crowley, who I discovered his gaze was locked on me.

"That was incredible Sparrow." He said, his voice full of admiration and a tone that I didn't quite recognise at the time.

I didn't have long to think about it either, as Sam hauled him back up to continue the ritual.

"Oh come on Moose, we're practically working together here!"

"If you hadn't called Abaddon that wouldn't have happened in the first place."  Sam looked back at me.  "You going to be alright with your arm?"

"Like I haven't done it a hundred times already."  I said before looking back at Crowley.  "You're really going to keep on with this?"

Sam nodded even as Crowley had sent you an almost pleading look.

"I can deal with this, go take care of your arm."

Reluctantly, I left the room to clean up.  A bandage had to do for the moment.

Sam stepped out as I was about to head back in, looking semi triumphant.  "We're making progress."

I raised an eyebrow as he just went and sat down, catching his breath, before I moved back inside.

"You know, if I didn't know better Crowley, I'd say you had feelings for me."  I said quietly as I approached.

Crowley glanced back.  "What gave you that idea Sparrow?"

"Well, the nickname is certainly something new, and given what just happened, done so in a meaningful manner."  I stepped in front of him, rocking on my heels a bit.

He was watching every movement.  "You are nice to me."

I frowned.  "I try to be nice to everyone."

He shook his head.  "I don't know how you do it."

I thought for a moment.  "I don't know.  I guess I believe that being nice to someone that needs it can bring them round.  Make them see a path that isn't so dark.  Hunting ain't easy, I guess I do it to remind myself too."

"Well, I get out of this, I'll show you exactly what it means to me."

I faced him, his expression the most sincere I had ever seen it.

That was when it had happened.  That was when I knew what road I was taking.

The moment had been interrupted, not just by Sam, but then Dean too, who stopped Sam from completing the trials altogether.

The following months was where it all developed. Dean, who had been furious at me for experimenting with different symbols, often had me on babysitting duty, trying to convince Crowley to help us.

In those times, an arrangement was made on how this would work.  It wasn't going to be easy and there was definitely a certain level of taboo around it.

I didn’t care though, it was the best I'd felt in a long time.

I sighed in the front seat, sending Dean what I hoped to be a sad smile.  "No Dean.  Don't you think I would have told you?"

It was clear he wasn't convinced as we pulled up to the house, the discussion dropped for the moment.

The mention of a priest before we walked in the door was certainly a new one for Dean and I.

Except for when we walked in.

Almost instantly, I burst out laughing.

Crowley's smirk was well hidden as he took a sip of tea.

Dean looked worried.  "You'll have to forgive her, it's been a long day."

Through my tears, I managed to get back outside, clutching my sides as I continued to laugh at the sheer irony, not bothering to fight the laughter.

Dean soon stormed out after me.  "What the hell are you doing?"

"Leave Sparrow alone Squirrel."  Crowley had followed close behind, the nickname having stuck.  "Can't you see she's unstable?"  He was grinning.  "Why don't you tell me all about it?"

Wiping away tears, I fought now to control the laughter.  "Oh, I'm sure I've got more than a few sins I could confess."

Dean blanched as Crowley chuckled.  "I hate it when you two do that."

"Lighten up Squirrel, we're allowed a bit of fun."  Crowley said,  smirking.  "Relieve the tension a bit."

"Not with her you're not."  Dean growled.  "You so much as lay a finger on her and there won't be anywhere you can hide from me or Sam."

I rolled my eyes.  "Please Dean, you know we only do it to rile you and Sammy up."

"Well I don't like it."  Dean grunts, shooting me a dark look, showing his suspicions clearly.  "Just stick with guys in bars."

I snorted and just raised an eyebrow at him.  "Really?  Bit forward there Dean."

"I'm out of your sisters league any way."  Crowley cut in, earning a furious look from me behind Dean's back.  "After all, I'm the-"

"King of Hell, yeah, great."  Dean said angrily.  "Whatever.  Look, we've got bigger problems to deal with here."

A noise inside got our attention and Dean was the first one in.

I trudged quickly behind Crowley.  "Out of your league?  Really?"  I hissed in  his ear.

He just smirked.  "Got to keep our secret darling.  I don't need them locking you away."

I rolled my eyes as I followed only to be told by Dean to stay put on the first floor.

"But-"

"Stay there!"

Grumbling and then poking my tongue out at Crowley as he waved down at me, I stood awkwardly in the main hall.

Until a loud bang got my attention.

I took the stairs two at a time, only to find Dean and Crowley arguing.

"You killed her."

Crowley's response was cut off as Dean saw me approaching.  "I told you to stay downstairs."

"What am I going to do, stop the boogeyman from leaving?"  I pushed into the room and frowned at the body on the floor.  "What happened?"

"She was soulless."  Crowley said first.  "Went a little mental."

Dean growled something unintelligible before there a brief scuffle and Dean pinned Crowley to the wall with angel blade through his hand.

"Dean."  I said angrily.  "What the-"

"Make sure he stays there."  Dean snapped, moving down the hall.

I sighed, having no intention of doing so, moving over to Crowley.

"I can get it you know."  He made no attempt to move.

"Sounds pleasant."  I said darkly as I yanked the blade from his hand.  "It would take you ages to-"

In one swift movement, he'd grabbed me and swung me around, pressing me against the wall as he locked me in a searing kiss.

It was too brief.

"I better go before big brother comes back." He breathed, his eyes dark as he stared at me.  "We'll finish this later?"

"I'll message."  I pulled him back in for another kiss before we heard Dean's boots coming back down the hall.

Crowley had just enough time to step away with a smirk and disappear before Dean stepped into the room.

"What happened?"  He asked furiously.

I shrugged.  "I turned my back for a second and then he was gone."  I handed the blade to him.  "He has a knack for doing that."

Dean glared at me.  "You know the baby is gone?"

"And you know that baby isn't normal."  I said back. "Come on, let's pick up Sam and figure this out."

He watched after me, and I knew, that while my secret was safe for now, it was certainly getting to the point it wouldn't be.

[hekate1308]

The Taste of Two

Here it is, the serial killer Drowley AU I am sure everybody asked for ;). Warnings: Cannibalism. Crowley is basically Hannibal Lecter. 

“Now, Mr, Crowley“ Naomi Tapping announced, “You have to tell me what’s in those wonderful canapés. Me and Rachel have been guessing all evening.”

“I’m so sorry” he replied with a winning smile, “but if I did, you wouldn’t like it anymore.”

She chuckled, taking another sip of her champagne. “Such a nice way to remember Judge Cohan by, this soiree.”

“I am glad you approve.”

“I am sure he would have, too; you knew him.”

Yes. And he had known him, to the very end. Crowley smiled.

As rude as the judge had often been – only once to Crowley though, which had been why he was no longer allowed to enjoy is retirement.

“Such a terrible end for a wonderful man” Naomi said now, looking down in her glass. “And the police still have no clue who did it.”

“On the contrary, they do know” he answered smoothly. “It was the Angel Maker, at least that’s what the newspapers say.”

She shook her head. “How they can call someone so disgusting an Angel Maker...”

Because he turned his victims into angels, pieces of art. Not that he could tell Mrs. Tapping that.

She would lose her appetite, and then where would they be? Plus, he didn’t have place in his fridge, the dearly departed judge had ensured that.

“You know the media, Mrs. Tapping. They will take anything just to have a headline.”

“I guess you are right.”

Crowley smiled and allowed himself another canapé.

For as stubborn a bastard as the judge had been, they tasted wonderful.

“What’s up with you?” Sam asked.

“Nothing, why?”

“You’ve been in a bad mood all week” his brother told him and Dean reminded himself that he couldn’t let his mask slip.

Sam must never find out about his little hobby.

“Just, you know... work.”

He’d been planning the judge’s abduction for weeks now. Weeks. And instead this pretentious asshole had swept in and “made him into an angel” or whatever the papers called it.

Dean hated the Angel Maker. From the name to the attitude to his high-profile victims.

When his thirst for blood had made itself known and Dean had realized he could no longer ignore it, he’d decided he would go after scumbags. Paedophiles, murderers who’d never been caught, that sort of thing.

He was doing society a favour, but no, all the publicity had to go to the guy who left opera music to play at murder scenes and was good at carving. That was it. Dean at least made the bastards he hunted suffer; this guy didn’t care, as long as he got his snack and the body looked artsy.

In the last week, Dean had killed two drug lords, but did anyone care? Oh no, everyone was screaming about the Angel Maker.

He didn’t even have a nickname. The press didn’t care.

He’d make them see.

It was time to look for a high-profile douche.

Crowley was usually more concerned with aesthetics when it came to choosing his victims, and it had only been a month since the judge. He could easily have waited a bit longer.

But the congressman who happened to run a paedophile ring was also incredibly impolite, and that had caught his attention during a fundraiser.

So, really, he was doing something good. He was a benevolent party for once. He could hardly pass the chance up.

Dick Roman would make a formidable victim.

Breaking into his apartment on the fourteenth floor of a well-secured building in upper Manhattan was only too easy. And Mr. Roman didn’t keep bodyguards during the weekend because of his extracurricular activities.

As he walked down the corridor to his door, Crowley smiled.

And then someone attacked him.

He knew immediately it wasn’t a body guard or other trained professionals; the movements didn’t fit. Even so, the man was strong, but nothing Crowley couldn’t handle, and soon he had him backed against the wall –

Only to be thrown down on the floor.

Interesting. No one had managed to put up such a fight in years.

They wrestled silently for several minutes, neither of them able to get the upper hand. Finally they were having a standoff when his attacker roughly asked, “Who are you? Not a fed, not military, I can tell.”

“I could say the same.” Crowley cocked his head to the side.

“I am the one who’s gonna make sure that scumbag doesn’t touch any more children.”

“I can only repeat my statement.”

He couldn’t be absolutely sure in the darkness, but he thought the man narrowed his eyes.

“Right. Because that just happens – two killers meeting because they are after the same target.”

“I prefer art pieces” Crowley replied smoothly, only to find himself pressed against the wall again, the man’s arm chocking him.

“You are the Angel Maker” he hissed. “You’re the one who gets all the attention because he’s extra.”

“Oh. I presume you’re the other serial killer, then? The one no one has even noticed stalks through the streets? I know your work; rather presumptuous to call me extra when you give yourself the semblance of a vigilante when really all you do is torture people to death.”

“They deserve to suffer.”

“Then what do you deserve?”

“Not to be ignored because of the likes of you, for one matter. That woman you killed six months ago – Meg Masters. She’d done nothing.”

“She bought a painting she perfectly knew I wanted to spite me.”

“She bought a painting” he mocked his accent. “Of course. But then, why are you here? I’m certain you can’t care less about what Dick roman has done.”

He was right, but Crowley was more preoccupied with wondering why being menaced by the unnamed killer was not nearly as unpleasant as it should have been.

“That’s true, but I can’t abide rude people.”

“You – “ Unexpectedly, he chuckled. It was a very nice sound.

His assailant stepped back. “You know what? You’re kind of entertaining, despite everything.”

Crowley stretched, stepping away from the wall. “I have never had a partner in crime before... want to try?” He wasn’t entirely sure why he was inviting him to join, but why not? A little variety couldn’t hurt.

“Hm... why not? Might as well see your skills everyone’s going crazy about in action...”

He was rather good at picking locks, and soon enough, they were standing over Dick Roman who was peacefully asleep with no idea what was about to happen to him.

Once they had him up, gagged, bound and afraid, they turned the light on.

Crowley had definitely not been prepared for this.

It was rather unfair; certainly someone with so little taste when it came to killing should not be so beautiful.

The Adonis in front of him looked surprised. “Fergus Crowley? The philanthropist?”

“I give back for what I take.”

“I guess. Name’s Dean” he replied, his gaze growing hungry.

How... interesting.

“Shall we?”

“Only if you’ll give me a hand” Dean said, pointing at Roman’s right one and grinning. “Since he felt kids up with that. Pervert.”

“Oh, I’ll save the best piece for you” Crowley promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled.

Roman tried to make a noise. Dean moved but Crowley raised his hand.

“Let me. Hurting him would ruin the tableau.”

“Oh, will you teach me how to art?”

“Quid pro quo. You’ll have to show me how to make it last.”

“I can do that.”

And they did.

Dean looked even more mesmerizing with blood on his face.

“Well, if that isn’t the Mona Lisa of murders right there” Dean said, looking at their word two delicious hours later.

“And the night is still so young” he agreed. “How about we clean up and afterwards I show you how to cook in the most humane way possible?”

“I like the way you think. I’ve never tried it, but hey... this asshole definitely deserved to be devoured.”

“It’s not often I meet someone who has the same tastes I do... even if they are a little misguided.”

“Misguided, hm? I’ll show you misguided.”

And to his surprise – and delight, as he had to admit – Dean dragged him into a kiss. He tasted of blood and Crowley would have loved to continue, but sadly they couldn’t allow themselves to tarry too long at a crime scene.

They met again one hour later in Crowley’s apartment.

Dean had indeed cleaned up; he’d even put on a suit.

“Look at you; you’re not that bad when you’re not imitating some has-been rock star.”

“Not all of us have the money to buy expensive clothes only to throw them away after a good session” Dean replied.

It didn’t take long for them to start flirting again.

“Careful with the hand.”

“I’m always careful with my hands” Dean replied, raising his right only to trail it down Crowley’s tie.

“Some would say you’re playing with fire.”

“It’s a stove; no real danger there.”

In his eyes, there was both a challenge and something like a threat.

He was the most exhilarating thing Crowley had ever encountered.

Dean knew he probably shouldn’t have gone to Crowley’s apartment, despite the murder they had shared. And so far, the guy only knew his first name. It would have been easy to disappear of Crowley’s radar.

But something about the man just drew him in. Maybe the contrast of the wealthy philanthropist being a cold-blooded killer that was not at all unlike Dean’s own life as a devoted brother and perfect employer while enjoying a good murder now and then. Maybe it was the accent. Maybe it was the suit.

Whatever the reason, soon Dean found himself in the middle of a cooking lesson.

He’d never tried human meat before, but he had heard it tasted like chicken, plus he couldn’t deny that the idea of trying a victim of the Angel Maker himself was... exciting.

And it did, indeed, taste like chicken. Extremely well-prepared chicken though.

And of course Crowley happened to buy wine so expensive even Dean liked it.

He knew very well at the end of the meal that he had to make a decision.

Granted, it might not have been his best, but –

He kissed Crowley again.

“I must say” Crowley drawled Dean didn’t know how much later. “I didn’t expect that.”

He chuckled. “Me neither. Thanks for good old Dick Roman.”

“Indeed.”

Dean, despite having had many one night stands in the past, found himself reluctant to ho.

And Crowley didn’t want him to leave either apparently since he told him “You might as well stay.”

Well then.

Somehow, Dean and Crowley kept contacting each other after that first night. After all, it wasn’t easy to find friends who shared one’s hobby when this hobby was a bit outside the norm.

And yes, they continued to have sex. Crowley would even go so far as to admit that he liked Dean, if only to himself.

They soon found that their philosophies didn’t have to contradict one another. Dean continued to kill “douche bags” as he put it, while he made sure to call Crowley whenever he found someone promising an aesthetic scene.

The police never figured out that the Angel Maker had found a partner.

“My, my” Naomi declared on another one of Crowley’s soirées, “I am almost jealous.”

“Of whom?” Dean asked.

“That is open for discussion, my dear.”

Dean grinned at his brother. “Hear that Sammy? I’m a catch.”

Sam had originally been surprised when he’d told him he was dating Fergus Crowley of all people – he’d been so kind as to come to Dean’s restoration shop one day so they could explain how they met – but seeing how satisfied they both were with the arrangement, he’d soon come to accept and even like him a little.

“Yeah, yeah, Dean. So why don’t you tell is what you and your boyfriend have prepared?”

“Not so quick. Master pieces take their time.”

He caught Crowley’s eyes and grinned.

There was every reason to think that the chateaubriand à la Arthur Ketch would win universal approval.