#Dean x OFC AU

[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

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🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn. 

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now. 

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.  

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Quicksilver Princess Ch. 5

Series summary: A fantasy AU in which Dean is part of a long line of warriors who protect the kingdom. What happens when his rescue of the little princess with the quicksilver eyes gets him a possible future bride?

Series Warnings: Nothing major. Show typical violence. Fantasy violence. Smut. Angst. Fluff. Each chapter will have its own specific warnings. So, watch for those.

Chapter Warnings: None.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x OFC (Melissande)

Word Count: 5,730

A/N: This is the ridiculously long postponed Chapter 5. (Ch. 4 was posted more than 2 years ago! 🙈🙈) This fic won my poll to see what orphaned series I'd finish next. And I'm so thrilled that I'm finally able to finish it. I swear Chapter 6 will be up in the next week or so at the latest. It's all outlined and ready to go, just gotta write it out. But it will DEFINITELY not be another two years. *crosses heart*

Hope you enjoy this chapter! ❤️

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Dean came awake with a start, sitting up quickly and then immediately groaning and pressing his hand to his head as it throbbed. He squeezed his eyes closed for a minute, feeling slightly nauseous and trying to make sense of the jumble of images in his mind. 

Mellie's face floated into focus and his eyes popped open.

“Mellie?” He called out, sitting up quickly and looking around as his head throbbed again. A few feet away, Rowena held out her hands towards him.

“Try not to move too quickly. I had to use strong magic to fell you and that can sometimes leave a person feeling a wee bit peaky.”

Suddenly everything came rushing back to Dean and he jumped up, charging towards the tiny witch. He stopped just short of wrapping his hands around her neck, but his fingers itched from the restraint.

“You let her go!” He roared at her. “To save your own skin you gave her up just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

Rowena shook her head. “You've really a very low opinion of me, haven't you? This is the second time you've accused me of selling out our wee princess.”

Dean clenched his teeth. “Because I know who you are and how you operate. You'd do anything to save yourself.”

Rowena shrugged. “I won't apologize for prioritizing my safety. But it just so happens that this time, the princess's safety and mine go hand in hand. I need her to stop the Queen because nothing that duplicitous, mangy monarch has planned could possibly do me, or any of us for that matter, any good.”

Dean swallowed hard. “So you sent Mellie out to be slaughtered, and you think THAT is a solution? If anything, you've just made the queen's attempt at power that much easier.”

Rowena shook her head. “No, because you are going to save her, remember?”

Dean growled in frustration, turning abruptly to begin pacing around thel grand entranceway. “You're as bad as Mellie! Just how am I supposed to get into the castle, past hundreds of guardsmen, through the queen's own personal guards and into her suites to stop her from…”

He lifted his arms and spun back to face the witch. “From what exactly? We have no idea what she's doing, what she's planning! So, how can I even try to go in prepared?”

Rowena nodded. “It’s a quandary to be sure, but you’re a resourceful young lad, I have faith you’ll figure it out.”

Dean just glared at her. Rowena raised a delicate shoulder. “Look, all I can tell you is that the Queen may pretend she’s a part of the Great Church as the monarchs are meant to be, but she’s a witch, through and through, except that she's a coward and hides it. But her father was a devout follower of the old gods, and he taught her to be the same.”

Dean frowned. “How do you know that?”

Rowena looked away coyly. “I maybe, perhaps, let him court me for a few years after his wife died.”

Dean’s eyes got wide. “So you know the Queen? Personally?”

Rowena scoffed. “I wouldn’t claim that much. When I was with Roland, little Layo’ita was hardly ever around. Her days were mostly spent learning how to marry King Yasa and be his First Queen. 

Yasa’s maiden aunt lived at Roland’s keep to teach Layo’ita how to be royal - the protocols and expectations, as well as the history of the Coll family’s reign of Sanso’ye for three hundred years. She had a lot to learn, so we didn’t see her often. She’d essentially been the Coll’s property from the day the betrothal papers were signed when she was just two weeks old.”

Rowena sighed. “I could almost feel sorry for her back then. She was just this plain little slip of a girl, and it must have been a very heavy burden for her to carry.”

Dean grit his teeth. “Yes, well now she’s a murderer, so I’m afraid I don’t share your sympathy.”

Rowena arched an eyebrow. “I said I could ALMOST feel sorry for her. But even back then, she had a kind of mean streak in her. And Roland encouraged it. When she was ten years old she was practicing a complicated courtier’s dance and slipped and fell flat on her arse. Her handmaid, the woman who had been assigned to her at birth, who’d doted on her constantly for ten years, chuckled slightly at the slip up and Layo’ita had her taken away and severely whipped. When he found out about it, Roland told her she’d done right, that she was a product of the old gods and they wouldn’t allow for mockery.”

Rowena’s lip curled. “I didn’t stay with him long after that.” She sighed. “I know for a fact that he encouraged her to pursue magic and the old ways. But she hides it very well. I don’t think many people in the kingdom even have a clue about her witchery. Hypocrite.” She huffed. 

Dean closed his eyes. “Alright, how does any of this help me? It just means that on top of the couple hundred guardsmen and personal guards between me and the Queen, apparently I also have her powerful magical abilities to contend with.”

“Yes, which is an important fact to know going in, don’t you think?” Rowena asked with pique. “You’re welcome, Winchester.”

Dean sighed. “Yes, thank you, Witch.” He rubbed a hand over his face. His stomach felt sick as he thought of Mellie holed up with a crazed, dark-hearted woman bent on power.

“I don’t know where to start.” He said, a little desperately. “Obviously I need help, but I’m telling you, the other Warriors won’t listen to me. Or the vast majority of them won’t.”

Rowena shook her head. “I think you’re underestimating your own persuasiveness as well as the Warriors’ sense of what’s right. The members of your clan have powerful instincts that skirt the edges of being magical themselves.”

“We are not magical.” Dean said with a frown. “We're just very good at our duties, and we take our oaths seriously.”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “As you say, dear. The point being that those good instincts will help them hear the truth of your mission.”

Dean shook his head and sighed deeply. “I suppose it's my only hope, isn't it?”

“Likely is.” She held up a finger. “Just wait one moment, I have something that might help you.”

She walked out of the room, but was back almost instantly with two small leather bundles that she handed to Dean. He looked at them and raised a brow.

Rowena covered them in his hand. “These reveal spell work. You've got a powerful witch on your hands, one who has been able to hide her magic for a very long time. But this bag will glow purple in the presence of magic and if you burn one, it will reveal to you what magic has been used, so you can't be fooled by trickery.”

Dean nodded. “That will be helpful, thank you.”

Rowena smiled at him, and he recognized it as genuine. “You can thank me when that wee princess is safe and that lying, cowardly Witch Queen is dead.”

Dean nodded. “Done.”

***

Melissande was trying not to panic.

The ride from Rowena’s to the castle had taken half a day. Her surrender had been simple enough; she’d merely told the Guardsmen that she was ready to be taken to the First Queen, and one of them had swept her up in front of him on his horse and shackled her wrists before galloping away. They’d traveled for hours and had arrived at the castle just as the sun was at its zenith in the sky.

The solar eclipse will happen in less than a day, Melissande thought with a little thrill of fear. But then she shook her head. No, I believe in you, my Winchester Warrior, I know you’ll get here on time.

When they got to the castle, the guard she’d been riding with lifted her down and then took her to a cell in the dungeons of the castle. It was bleak, but it was clean and there was one high window that let in some light and air.

As dungeons went, she supposed it could be worse.

She’d been to the King's Castle less than a dozen times throughout her life, and only a handful of times in the last dozen years. All her life she'd lived with her mother in the Blue wing of the Northern Castle. When she was younger, her father’s other wives and children had lived there too. The Second Queen had lived in the Yellow Wing with her son, and the Third Queen had lived in the Green Wing with her two daughters.

Melissande was many years younger than her other siblings and as such, they’d never been close. 

The First Queen had given birth to one son and one daughter. But the baby girl had died very shortly after birth, and she’d never met her eldest brother, heir to the throne, Prince Lien. By the time she was born, he was living far away, governing some of Sanso’ye’s territories in The Lands Beyond.

Her second brother, Prince Ar'tak, was a captain in the King’s Forces and fighting in some endless war across the sea. She only had vague, unreliable memories of him, since he left when she was barely four years old. 

Her two elder sisters, Par’ita, and Sol’min had been married off to lesser Princes in Misola, when Melissande was eight. They had been seventeen and eighteen respectively and with a decade separating their ages, they'd had very little interest in spending time with their eight year old half sister.

So, she didn’t really know any of her half-siblings very well, but she’d been close with her father. Or she thought she had.

But since he’d stopped coming to visit the Northern castle when she was six, she'd only seen him from afar during those official events that her mother had insisted they travel south to attend, “because it was the proper thing to do”. Her sisters’ weddings had been two of those occasions. 

Every time they'd gone to the castle, no matter how brief their visit, Melissande had always secretly hoped her father would notice her and come running, excited to see her once again, as he used to be.

She still remembered how it used to feel when he would come to visit. They usually knew he'd be coming, but sometimes he surprised them, and he'd stride through the door of their sitting room, and his deep, calm, voice would fill the stone room with warmth.

Melissande would jump up and run to him, despite her mother's loving admonishment that proper ladies didn't run and leap into people's arms. Her father had no such compunction, however, and would whisk her off the ground in a sweeping arc that made her squeal in delight.

Her mother may not have leapt into his arms, but she walked into them quickly, and happily. Her father would hold her in one arm and wrap the other around her mother's waist and pull her close. Hera would rest her head on his wide chest, and it was always the happiest Melissande ever saw her.

When he stopped coming to visit them, Melissande missed him terribly, but she didn't think her mother ever really got over his loss. She stayed the same loving, caring mother she'd always been, but underneath she always seemed just a little sad. It hurt Melissande's heart to know her mother died with that sadness still inside her; she’d never be relieved of it.

Maybe, if the priests or sorcerers were right, her mother was resting peacefully with her lost family and ancestors in another realm, and maybe Melissande would be able to see her there again, one day.

But not anytime soon. She thought. Because Dean is coming to save me.

As Melissande sank onto the dingy, slightly dusty floor, an idea came to her. Maybe Dean would reach out to the king and explain what was happening. She refused to believe her father knew everything that was going on, and was simply refusing to help her, or worse, was in on the Queen's plans.

Why hadn’t she thought to tell Dean to seek him out. Had she actually feared his involvement, deep down, or had he just been out of her life for so long, that reaching out to him for help simply hadn’t occurred to her.

Before she could ponder the troubling idea for long, however, Layo’ita came sweeping grandly into the dungeon to smile wickedly at Melissande in her cage.

The silver-eyed princess jumped to her feet quickly as the queen approached the bars of the cell. The First Queen was draped in seemingly endless silks, many layers of long trains trailing behind her in the dust. Her skin was pulled so tightly over her bones that her face resembled a grinning skull as she laughed at Melissande.

“Oh, my wee little bastard fey, how beautiful you've become. You favor your whorish mother, though of course, your eyes come from your father's side of the family.”

Melissande felt her muscles stiffen at the insult to her mother, but ignored it, since she knew Layo’ita was just trying to rile her. 

“You won't get away with this, witch. My father will stop you.”

The Queen's ghoulish mouth spread wide and a laugh that was almost a cackle poured out. 

“You think…” More laughter. “You believe your father will stop me?”

She stepped close to the bars and spoke softly. “Trust me when I say, he's most assuredly on my side.”

Melissande’s heart balked at that idea. But she hadn't seen her father for nearly thirteen years. Did she even really know him? Until she'd been sitting in this cell, it hadn't even occurred to her to go to him for help.

Layo'ita was still chuckling as she tilted her head as though contemplating Melissande. Then she nodded like she was answering her own question. 

“Why not?” She said aloud and snapped her fingers.

As fast as blinking, Melissande was suddenly in a different cell - a much darker one. There was no window here and the air was fetid and dank. It smelled like mold and old rotting things. As her eyes adjusted slowly, she could make out the stone walls, and the chains that were attached to them at various points.

All she could hear was a rhythmic drip, drip, drip of water off to her right, and the scuttling and scurrying of what had to be mice or rats of some kind.

Grateful that she wasn't attached to the chains that hung there, Melissande began walking around the long narrow cell. As she got a sense of her surroundings, she realized the room was split in two parts; a crumbling wall that was half collapsed, separated them.

She walked carefully towards the wall and then pulled up short when a voice called out from the other side.

“Who's there? Go away! Leave me alone!”

She jumped at the sudden noise, and her heart was beating out of her chest. But despite the stranger's words, she moved forward. There was something familiar in that voice, though it sounded parched and slightly raw.

She walked tentatively around to the other side of the half wall and her heart stopped all together as she saw the man huddled in the corner.

“Father?”

***

The taproom in King's Town was busy, but not stuffed full when Dean walked in. Good, he'd be able to be heard. The barman, Sterin, waved to Dean. He knew him well.

He began pouring his usual mug of ale, but Dean waved him off. 

“Apologies, Sterin, I have no time for drinking tonight. I'm only here to address your patrons.” He waved at the table of a dozen or so Warriors.

Both Sterin and the Warriors grumbled, most of the Winchesters turned away from him and concentrated intently on the ale in their cups.

But he was eternally grateful that two of his friends were there. Robert and Jody were a married couple who'd trained together and then fought together very impressively for more than twenty years. They'd always maintained a stalwart support of John and Sam, though most of their fellow Winchester Warriors said they were fools.

Their friendship had kept Dean sane in the early days after the loss of his father and brother.

They were stationed at the Southernmost Winchester Keep, located on The Shield, so they rarely came this far North. He wanted to believe it was Providence that had brought them so far just when he needed them the most.

They both stood up, and Jody came forward to hug him.

“Dean! We were going to head out to see you on our way back down south. But this is better! Now we can dine together.”

“And drink.” Robert added, shaking Dean's hand and slapping him on the back.

“It's so good to see you both, but I'm afraid I have no time to eat or drink.”

Robert's face became serious and Jody's was worried.

“What's wrong, son?” Robert asked.

Dean nodded at them, but called out to the other Warriors at the long table as well. 

“I need help from all of you.” A couple Winchesters looked his way, but most of them just ignored him.

“The kingdom needs you.”

That got a few more heads to turn in his direction.

One of the men he didn't know very well, he thought he was called Ketch, scowled at him. “And why should we believe anything you say, traitor.”

Robert bristled and took a step towards the snide man, but Dean grabbed his forearm. “No, it's fine.” He said in an easy tone.

“I just need you to listen.” Before he could be interrupted, he spoke quickly. “Fourth Queen Hera is dead, and her daughter, the Princess Melissande has been taken prisoner by the Guardsmen.”

He knew he'd hit the right nerve by mentioning the Guardsmen, as all the Warriors grumbled and a few actually spit as though they were warding off evil. The Warriors were not keen on the Guardsmen, feeling correctly that they'd been usurped by them.

Robert shook his head. “How can Queen Hera be dead? When did this happen? And what possible reason did those tin cans give for taking the little princess?” He asked, using the insulting nickname given to the Guardsmen because of their metal armor.

“The Queen was killed, and they took Mellie because the First Queen claims that she was the one who murdered her mother.”

There was general scoffing and disbelief among the group, including some of the other patrons. 

“Mellie?” Jody asked quietly, raising a knowing brow, while the others talked amongst themselves and shared their doubts.

Dean looked down at Jody and he knew she could read him like an open book, so he was grateful to look away and return to the questions being thrown at him. 

More slowly than he really had patience for, he eventually explained the whole story to everyone's satisfaction. He left out the part where he and Mellie got married. If they all lived through this he wanted her to have the ability to annul their marriage quietly and without harming her reputation. So, he simply told them that he'd tried to protect her without providing particulars.

He also left out the fact that he believed the First Queen was a powerful witch, only saying that they were unsure what the First Queen wanted with Mellie. That little detail might be too much for the credibility of the story. Also, they’d demand to know why he believed it and he didn’t want to sell Rowena out and bring her trouble. He just needed The Warriors to help him get in the door; he'd deal with the witch himself.

As the Warriors’ questions fell silent, Ketch raised one last important one.

“And where exactly is the King in all of this? I know over the last dozen years, he's taken a much more subdued role; most people agree that the attempt on his life by men he trusted completely, has made him overly cautious. But surely, in such a situation, with his wife murdered and his own child implicated, surely he'd show himself to deal with it.”

Dean nodded. “Exactly my thoughts, and yet we've heard nothing from him. He hasn't come to any of us or the Guardsmen to try and find the murderer. And in fact, no one even knows Queen Hera is dead.”

He took a deep breath. “I believe the King has been incapacitated in some way. I believe he is unable to act or to give voice to his needs.”

“Uh, Dean,” Jody raised her finger in the air. “Just one problem with that theory, Robert and I spoke with him earlier this afternoon and he wasn't incapacitated at all.”

Dean was taken aback. “Why and how did you meet with the King?”

Robert answered. “We've been after the Council for months now to sit down with us about the state of things in The Shield. There are marauders there, coming in from the sea, and killing and pillaging the villagers up and down the coast. But the council has refused every time, saying it was on us as Warriors to deal with it.”

Jody cut him off, clearly frustrated. “How we're supposed to ‘deal with it’ is beyond me. We have four Warriors to cover the entire Shield, and almost no resources. We've written endless letters that have gone unanswered, or were answered in a very unsatisfactory way. So today we finally just showed up and refused to leave until we met with the Council.”

“We met with them alright,“ Robert continued the story, “and the King was there too. We weren't expecting that. But he said he came because he was very annoyed with us. He told us that he was aware of the problem, but he was sick to death of hearing about how we were failing him once again. He was angry and certainly didn't seem incapable of voicing his concerns.”

Dean frowned, a frown that turned into a scowl as Ketch stared at him. “So, what exactly are we to believe, hmm? That the king is well and fine, but will not come to us for help because we are now despised thanks to your family? Or should we take you at your word, and believe this very intricate lie you've concocted?”

“I have spoken no lie here.” Dean said firmly, his voice dark and deep. “The Princess is being held by the First Queen, there is a plot to end her life, and it's up to us to save her. I don't know what the King's role is in all of this, but I feel in my gut that something has gone very wrong for him. I just don't understand what.”

He breathed in deeply and put every ounce of conviction into his words. 

“I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Mellie will die if we don't save her. So, I am asking you all, begging you, in fact, to believe me when I say the kingdom is in trouble. Believe me when I say, my father and brother were innocent. And believe me when I tell you that our answers, and our chance to once again fulfill our oaths to protect Sanso’ye and its people, are waiting beyond the Guardsmen at the gate. Our answers lay inside the castle, they lay in saving the princess that I've already saved once.”

He clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening. “And with or without you all, I will save her again.” He let his chest deflate. “But, I could sure use your swords, Winchesters.”

Robert and Jody flanked him. Jody patted his arm. “You have ours, gladly.”

Slowly a few of the others stood, and then more, and then finally all but Ketch, stood with swords at the ready. 

Dean stared at the last man sitting down and Ketch stared back, studying him. Finally, he drained his cup and stood. 

“It's about time someone showed those Guardsmen how it's done. I certainly won't miss out on that.”

Dean sighed and let a small smile lift the corner of his mouth. 

“Alright, what's the strategy?”

***

Melissande felt her world tilt as she looked down at the man she barely recognized as her father. Surely he hadn't deteriorated so much since she'd last seen him a year ago, at the Thistle Day celebration. It was the annual anniversary of the day the Coll family supposedly sprung from the earth in a field of Thistles to be caretakers of Sanso’ye. When she'd seen him from afar, he'd been fit, hale and hearty, as he'd given the royal benediction to the week long celebrations.

Now though, chained to the wall, he was gaunt almost to the point of starvation and even in the dim light that emanated from a small lamp sitting beside him, his skin looked gray and papery.

Beside the lamp sat an empty bucket and a few piles of bones, including what was obviously the skeleton of a rat. Melissande felt her stomach lurch and she was worried she might be sick.

As she took a few steps closer to the man on the ground, he picked up some of the bones and threw them at her. 

“Get away from me you shrew! I told you this won't work anymore. I know your disgusting tricks now.”

He was obviously furious, but his voice was reedy and thin as he railed at her. In spite of her confusion and fear, her heart broke for the pain she could hear in his words, and in the way he curled in on himself.

She took a step closer and he buried his head in his drawn up, skinny knees. “Can't you just leave me here to die.”

Tears fell as she knelt on the filthy floor beside him. “Papa?” She whispered and she saw him flinch like he'd been slapped. 

She reached out and tentatively touched his cheek. He raised his head and stared at her with tears falling. “Layo, please stop. I don't understand your hatred. Just stop.”

Melissande shook her head. “Papa, I don't know what you're saying. It's me. I'm not…I mean, how could I be the First Queen?”

She stayed close to him, and could see the change coming over his face as an obviously very wary hope cropped up. 

“Come…come closer, child.”

She got even closer to him and he inhaled deeply, sniffing at her. More confused than ever, Melissande looked at him and shook her head.

“What are you doing?”

Her father's mask of pain and fear slipped a little further into hope. “You…smell like sunshine.” He croaked, and more tears fell. “Her Duplicates always smell of rotting eggs.” 

His chains rattled as he lifted his manacled hand to reach out and touch her cheek. He gasped in a watery breath. 

“You're warm!” He said shakily. “Oh, beautiful girl, say you're really my sweet Melissande or just end me here, please, I beg you. I can't take having it ripped away from me again.”

“It's me, Papa. I promise. But what don't you want ripped away from you?”

“Hope.” He said, his voice creaky. “Every time she sends down a Duplicate, they work even harder to convince me that you, or Hera are here to save me. They seem to know things, and I want to believe them so badly. But no matter how real she makes them, she can't get rid of their cold skin or disgusting smell.”

Fear crept back into his gaze. “Please don't just be a better version.”

Melissande threw her arms around his neck like she had when she was little. 

“No, Papa. I'm real, I'm here. Believe me.”

“Alright.” He said gruffly. “I will believe you, because I want to so badly.”

Melissande pulled back, wiping away tears and shaking her head. “But I'm so confused. Why are you down here? How long have you been down here?”

Yasa looked at her and gave a watery sigh. “How old are you now, little one?”

Melissande blinked. “Nineteen, heading towards twenty years old. Why?”

“Well, I've completely lost track of time down here. I always tried to guess based on how old the Duplicates of you looked, and I knew it had been years, but I was never sure. If you're nineteen, though, then that means I've been down here for twelve years.”

Melissande gasped. “Twelve years! How is that possible? I just saw you a year ago on Thistle Day.”

Yasa shook his head. “No, that wasn't me. it was Thistle Day twelve years ago that she did this to me.”

“Twelve years.” Melissande whispered. “My god, that was when…” She stared at her father and raised a questioning brow, Dean's face swimming in her mind's eye.

“Papa, twelve years ago, The Winchester Warrior Chieftain, John, was hanged for an attempted assassination, on you. His son was incarcerated in the mines for aiding him. But, were you even there then?”

Yasa closed his eyes. “Yes, I was there. In fact, John and Sam were only in the castle that night because I'd called them to me.”

He ran a knobby, skinny hand down his face. “I suspected Layo was plotting something, but I didn't know what, and I didn't know who I could trust in the castle. So, I went to Sam and John on my own, hidden within a long traveling cloak so no one would know it was me. I asked them to come to the castle after midnight when it was quiet, and help me work out the truth, and to meet me in the library in the West Wing.”

He sighed and let his head drop back against the damp, weeping stone wall. 

“I knew Layo dabbled in a bit of magic here and there, but I had no idea she was so practiced and powerful.”

Yasa closed his eyes tightly. “When I went into the library to wait for them, she was already there, holding a knife to your throat. And when John and Sam arrived she was holding a knife to mine.”

Melissande was shaking her head as her father opened his eyes. “No, what do you mean? The Queen never kidnapped me or threatened me with a kni-”

Melissande's eyes widened. “A Duplicate.”

Yasa nodded. “Yes, and another when Sam and Dean saw me there being threatened. She needed to keep the real me alive to connect with her Duplicate, so she couldn't risk an actual knife to my throat. But Sam and John couldn't have known that.

How confused they must have been when, hours later, it seemed as if I just stood there while they were charged with trying to kill me. They must have believed I was in on their downfall, and they couldn't possibly know who to trust either. But I was locked up down here by then. Layo'ita came to my cell later, to tell me all about it and taunt me by reminding me that not only would no one ever be coming to save me, no one would even know I was gone.”

Melissande's eyes filled with tears as she thought about how hopeless that would feel.

Yasa reached out a manacled hand to wipe away the wetness from her cheek. “But that was my own fault, little one. I'd abandoned you and your mother, my other children and wives. You know, I never loved any of my wives the way I loved your mother. I married Layo’ita because it was my duty, I married Frishnia and Gayla because it was good politics. But I married your mother simply because I loved her so much. 

I respected my second and third wives as the mothers to my children and good women, and tried to make sure they were happy. And Layo'ita never seemed to care when I went to visit them and my other children. And I think it was because she knew that there was mutual respect between the three of us, but no deep love.”

He shook his head. “But as soon as I married Hera it was different. She was moody and jealous immediately. I tried to honor her as my first wife, tried to respect her and her position. But it was never enough. Until one day she demanded I stop visiting the Northern Castle altogether. It led to a tremendous fight and she wept bitterly, telling me I was being cruel and heartless and showing her no regard, to treat her so.”

He sighed deeply. “I felt horribly guilty. So, I said I'd stay away from all of you. I abandoned my children, abandoned my love, and for what? To appease the heart of a traitorous, vile witch. And a year later, I was down here.”

Yasa looked deeply into Melissande’s eyes. “Oh, my little silver-eyed princess, I'm so very grateful I've had the chance to unburden my heart to you, tell you my regrets for leaving you behind. Please forgive me. And please make sure your brother and sisters know I never should have left them either.”

Melissande took her father's hand. “I understand, Papa, and I do forgive you, of course. But I won't have to tell my siblings anything. You can tell them yourself. We're going to be rescued!”

She clasped her father's hand tightly between her own. “I swear to you, you're getting out of this disgusting place and we're going to feed you warm soups and wrap you in warm wool blankets and before you know it this place will be nothing but a memory.”

Sudden, high-pitched laughter broke through the air, making Melissande jump and gasp. The Queen's shrill, disembodied voice followed it. 

“Well, that’s partially true. You won't spend one more night in this place, my dear husband, I promise you that.”

Then just as before, without warning, there was the sound of a snap and suddenly both Melissande and Yasa were out of the dungeon and thrust into a brighter, but still windowless, round room.

Chains raised themselves from the wall and wrapped around Yasa’s wrists, pinning him against the stones.

Melissande felt herself being pushed along the floor as though a strong wind was at her back. She stumbled against a stone table and from out of nowhere, the First Queen appeared at her side, snapping her fingers again. Melissande found herself quickly strapped to the table, chains wrapping around her waist, and shackling her wrists and ankles to the table.

Queen Layo’ita smiled her dark, ghoulish smile. “One more sunrise for you both in just a few hours. And then, when the light is wholly eclipsed by the dark, I will be free to rise.”

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[let-me-love-you-loki]

Welcome to Oblivion--Ch. 41

Chapter 41

            “I still hate this,” I said as I walked down the stairs toward the cage in the center of the gym. “Why do I keep doing this?”

            Roman tugged me a little closer to his side and kissed the top of my head. “Because you love him,” he replied. He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “And you secretly like the blood.”

            “Don’t you dare,” I hissed, punching him in the ribs lightly. “You know I freak out every time he gets out of that cage.”

            “When was the last time he lost?” Seth asked from just behind us. It had been a week or so since we’d kissed and were still figuring out how we would manage our relationship. In public and in private. It seemed that we were going to take our time to find our groove and our place in this.

            Roman chuckled and looked over his shoulder. “He hasn’t lost since baby girl here started coming.”

            Heat rushed into my face. I reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear as my heart skipped a beat. “There was that one against… what’s his face…”

            “He didn’t lose that one, Addy,” he teased. “Almost, but he beat the count. Knocked Jones’ teeth down his throat afterward. Literally.”

            Seth led the way down the line of chairs toward our usual seats. We’d been to so many fights that they were practically reserved. “You’re his good luck charm.”

            “I wish I wasn’t,” I murmured. “I hate seeing him bloodied and bruised.”

            Before any of us could say another word, music blared through the room. My chest constricted as my heart pounded against my ribs. I knew that Dean’s fight would be later in the evening, but I still couldn’t get my anxiety under control. I bounced my leg and rubbed my palms back and forth on my jeans. My palms were sweaty. For a moment, I thought I was going to be sick.

            “Why didn’t you let me bring my bag?” I grumbled at Seth after the third fight. I’d wanted to bring my backpack to get some reading done before Dean was up. Anything to distract myself from the worry that something would happen.

            Seth reached out and curled his fingers around mine. He squeezed my hand and brought it up to his lips. His lips were soft against my knuckles. “Because you’re going to be fine.”

            Looking up into his chocolate eyes, I thought for a moment that he was right. For that brief second, my heart settled into a normal rhythm and my agitated movements slowed.

            Then they called Dean’s fight.

            I gulped hard against the bile threatening to climb up my throat. This was the moment that I dreaded the most. Watching him come into that cage with his fists taped up, his face clear of scrapes, scratches, bruises, and blood. Knowing exactly what was going to happen in the next few minutes was enough to send adrenaline rushing through my veins. I wanted to run, to get as far away as possible. I wanted to slap him with the hope of knocking some sense into him because talking just didn’t seem to work.

            Dean appeared from the locker room in his jeans and boots. I couldn’t understand how he could fight in them, or why they allowed him to, but he insisted. At the door to the cage, he toed off his boots and pushed them aside. Barefoot, he walked forward as he rocked his shoulders back and forth. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed beneath his skin. He looked toward us, cornflower eyes landing on me. A faint smile curled the corners of his mouth.

            Then his gaze drifted, and his smile faded. His lips twisted into a snarl as he slammed the cage door behind him.

            “Something’s pissed him off,” Seth said, leaning toward me. “Was he like that earlier?”

            I looked toward Dean and then back at Seth. “No. He was… grumpy. Not this.”

            “Fuck.” Roman’s voice drew my attention. I turned to him, a question on my lips as I followed the line of his gaze.

            Dean stood on the far side of the cage, brows drawn together and jaw set. My stomach turned upside down at the rage in his eyes.

            The bell rang and he launched himself at his opponent, right arm already cocked back. The moment he was within reach, Dean threw his body into the punch. It landed square on the other guy’s jaw, knocking his head sideways. He stumbled backward, and Dean followed, pressing him back toward the wall of the cage. Dean beat into his opponent, throwing a series of elbows against the side of his head and jabs into his kidneys.

            He backed up, putting space between them. He pivoted on his back foot and let go a kick against the other guy’s ribs. His opponent blocked the kick and swept his other leg out from under him. Dean landed hard on his back, his head bouncing against the mat. I screamed and nearly jumped out of my seat. The sound must have gotten Dean’s attention as he turned his head toward me. His blue eyes were unfocused for a moment before the rage returned to his face and he rolled back onto his shoulders. In the blink of an eye, he had pushed off with his shoulders and hands to kip up to his feet again.

            Dean took a deep breath, cracked his neck on each side, and then curled his fingers in a bring it on gesture. I felt sick watching his opponent run at him, throwing elbows against Dean’s jaw. He followed up with a series of body shots that looked like they knocked the wind out of him. A deep red mark started to bloom over Dean’s left kidney and another along his ribs.

            My stomach clenched. I gagged. I wanted to run.

            Blood oozed from a split in Dean’s lip from one of the elbow shots. He wiped his mouth with his hand, crimson streaking against the white tape. I saw him glance down at it, almost as if he were fascinated at the sight. The distraction was enough for his opponent to throw a cross that rocked Dean’s head up and to the side.

            “Dean!” I screamed and lunged toward the cage. My fingers laced through the steel wiring. I couldn’t stop myself, even though I knew that he didn’t need any other distractions. A pair of arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me backward, practically ripping my fingers from their hold on the cage. I kicked and fought. “Let me go!”

            The arms tightened and tried to turn me around. “Addy. Addy, calm down.” Seth’s voice whispered firmly in my ear. “Relax.”

            “He’s hurt. Dean’s hurt,” I whimpered, clawing at Seth’s hoodie covered forearms. “Let me go. He’s hurt!”

            “If you don’t calm down, we’re taking you out of here,” he threatened softly. “You’re going to get him knocked out running at the cage like that. Relax, sweets.”

            Adrenaline rushed through every cell in my body. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to run. I wanted to break into the cage to get him out. Even though the rational part of my brain knew that Seth was right, I couldn’t get past the sight of Dean so bloodied and beat up. It hadn’t ever been like this before.

            The sound of the bell reverberated through my bones. It sucked the air out of my lungs and the fight from my limbs. I sank back against Seth, grey edging the sides of my vision. I gasped for breath as tears rushed down my cheeks. There was no looking away from Dean as he stood on the other side of the cage. Red marks were already darkening into deep purple bruises. There was a gash on his jaw and another on his cheekbone, both oozing blood as his chest rose and fell as he panted.

            Our eyes met. For a moment, I thought I saw Dean’s blue eyes soften behind the obvious pain that clearly ran through his body. He looked back at me. Yearning lanced along my nerves. I just wanted to be where he was. He blinked and glanced away. My heart fell into my stomach as he squared up for the next round. Rage colored his features as the bell rang once again, launching him toward his opponent.

            I turned in Seth’s arms and hid my face against his shoulder. “I can’t watch anymore.”

            “Come on,” he said soothingly. “We’ll go out to the truck for a minute. Get some fresh air. It might help, sweets.”

            It was so hard to turn my back on the cage with Dean still inside. Since that very first time, I hadn’t missed one of Dean’s fights. I’d done everything it took to get there, to see him before he walked up those steps and after he ripped off the tape in the locker room. But now I couldn’t bear to watch. I couldn’t bear to listen, even though the sound of fists on flesh echoed against the rafters. My mind’s eye conjured up the worst possible images as Seth led me toward the exits.

            The moment we got outside, I doubled over retching and gagging. Seth rubbed the middle of my back even as he held my hair back with the other. The world spun around me. I couldn’t explain why I felt this way. Why, after all the fights I’d been to and how I’d actually started to enjoy them, I couldn’t bear to watch this time.

            “Deep breaths, Addy,” Seth murmured. “You’re good. Deep breaths.”

            I reached up and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “I can’t—”

            He shushed me gently. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Deep breaths, sweets.”

            Muffled noise erupted from the gym. I could just make out the sound of cheering and the loud dinging of the bell that indicated a fight was over. I practically collapsed onto the sidewalk when I realized what it meant.

            “Stay here, just a second. I’m gonna go see what happened.” Seth squeezed my fingers before he went back inside. A few minutes later, he reemerged with Roman in tow. “He won.”

            Momentary relief flooded my veins. But Seth’s next words opened the floodgates of worry once again. “He looks like he got run over by a Mack truck. But he won.”

            Roman sank into a crouch next to me. “He’s okay, Addy. Dean’s good.”

            “Comparatively,” Seth interjected. “Phil’s gonna need six weeks in the hospital and some massive rehab. Dean just broke at least twelve bones in that guy’s body.”

            “Seth?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Shut up. You’re not helping.” Roman gripped me by the elbows and pulled me gently to my feet. Everything went grey and hazy as the blood rushed from my head to my feet. If it weren’t for Roman, I would have fallen right back down onto the concrete. “Dean’s fine. He’s a big boy and can take care of himself.”

            “I… I-I need to see him,” I whimpered. Before either of them could say a word, I ran toward the doors. My feet carried me away from the gym and down the hallway to the locker rooms. I pounded on the door with the flat of my hand, screaming his name at the top of my lungs.

            After a few moments, the door yanked inward. “What?!”

            My eyes lifted, taking in each inch of Dean and cataloguing his injuries. There was a rip in the front of his jeans that revealed a raised red welt along his thigh. His torso was crisscrossed with bruises that were already turning purple. The one over his right kidney ran from the base of his ribs all the way down to his hipbone. Another spread down his breastbone, and I swore that it was the size and shape of someone’s foot. His knuckles were busted and bloody. He had a split chin, busted lip, a gash on his jaw and cheekbone, what looked like a black eye, and another cut through his left eyebrow.

            Tears filled my eyes, spilling down over my cheeks and dripping onto my shirt. His face blurred, but not before I saw the angry disconnection in his gaze. I reached my fingertips toward his chest. He took a step back.

            “Are you okay?” I brushed at the tears and tried to take a deep breath. My clearing vision brought his injuries back into sharp focus.

            Dean crossed his arms over his chest, showing off a few other welts on his forearms and biceps. “I’m fine. You can go now. I’m sure they’re waiting.”

            I felt myself recoil just as if he’d shoved me. “What…?”

            He leaned his shoulder against the door, wincing as it put pressure on the bruise along his side. “Go back to the apartment or the dorm. I’m good. It’s about time you and Seth had a little alone time, isn’t it? That’s your timeline, right? Don’t let me get in the way.”

            Before I could say a word, Dean backed away and slammed the door in my face.

__________________

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[spnhunter4life]

Bullets and Ballgowns

Summary: In the summer of 1813, the arrival of a new family in Brighton causes much excitement for the townsfolk. Anna Foster is shocked to realize she has already met the elder of the two sons, Dean. As she gets to know the family better, she must fight her feelings for him. Though she finds herself drawn to him, it is impossible that they could ever be together.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Here it is, the first chapter of the regency era fic I promised. Set in England because it just seems wrong to write for this time period in any other location. Thanks to everyone who has shown excitement for it! I hope it doesn't disappoint!

Masterlist

Anna Foster was greatly enjoying the ball her parents were hosting. It was a beautiful evening. Despite the late hour, the sky was clear of clouds and the full moon shone bright enough to see clear to the horizon. Their country home located a few miles outside of Brighton thrummed with energy. The windows were cracked to let some of the mild summer air into the warm room. The room itself was occupied by a crowd of people. Gentlemen in suits and ladies in beautiful gowns twirled together on the dance floor, accompanied by the town’s most well-respected musicians. Even more people lingered around the edges of the room, chatting amongst themselves and admiring the dancers. It was an overall pleasant and joyful way to end the day.

There was always a great deal of excitement surrounding any ball, but this one was doubly exciting for the town, and Anna’s mother in particular. A new family had moved to town today and would make an appearance at the ball. A wealthy man with his wife and two eligible sons. Naturally, everyone was quite anxious to meet the new family – particularly mothers with eligible daughters – but none more so than Anna’s mother. She had been a ball of excitement since the announcement of the new family’s arrival several weeks ago and had been nearly literally bursting with joyful anticipation today. Anna could do nothing but shake her head and smile fondly.

She was just finishing a dance with Mr. Littleton – a sweet older gentleman who spent each ball dancing with as many ladies as he could, determined that none should be left out – when the sudden outbreak of whispers in the room alerted her to the new arrivals. She curtsied to Mr. Littleton and retreated to the edge of the room, taking up a position next to her friend Charlotte near the door to watch the unfolding excitement. 

As tonight’s hosts, Anna’s parents were, of course, the first to greet the new family. They were already standing beside the newcomers, welcoming them not only to their home, but to the town. As the family of four made their way further into the room, Anna found herself staring curiously at them, much the same as everyone else. Her eyes flitted over the line they had formed, first the father, then the mother, and then the two sons. 

Mr. and Mrs. Winchester were quite an attractive pair. He was tall with dark hair and had a certain ruggedness about him. Her blonde hair and slighter build complemented him well. And it appeared their good looks had been passed on to their two sons. It was hard to say which was older, but the one standing next to their mother was taller. His brown hair was on the longer side and fell attractively around his eyes. He had a friendly smile that Anna was sure would have caught the attention of girls even if he did not come from a good family with money. The second son was just as attractive, maybe more so. Though he wasn’t as tall as his brother, he was by no means short. His hair was shorter and a lighter shade of brown and he wore an equally charming and friendly smile. Anna felt the blood drain from her face at the sight of him.

Why was he here? How could this be happening? He was a stranger from London, one of thousands of people there. How could he be here of all places? Surely he must have been sent here to torment her, to remind her of that night. 

“They are quite handsome,” Charlotte noted of the sons. “I suppose that means the fight for their affections will be even more fierce than expected.” She was not upset or bitter about this fact, merely making an observation. Charlotte did not fall all over herself anytime a new eligible man came to town. She was as eager to be married as any young lady, but she was determined to marry for love. Therefore she had no interest in the Winchesters at present beyond perhaps a desire to get to know them.

Managing a calm that she did not feel, Anna agreed with her. Her hand twisted nervously in the skirt of her gown as she watched her parents. The musicians started up a new song and couples shuffled off to the dance floor, no doubt still keeping a curious eye on the newcomers.

“Anna, darling, come here,” her mother requested when she noticed her standing nearby. She was absolutely beaming, smiling so widely it looked like it hurt. Even though she dreaded what might happen, Anna obeyed immediately, coming to stand next to her mother who wasted no time before getting to introductions.

“This is my daughter, Anna.” Anna said a polite hello as she curtsied. “Anna, this is Mrs. Winchester,” she continued giddily. “My childhood best friend I’ve told you so much about.”

She had indeed told Anna much about Mary Winchester, and always spoke of the other woman fondly. Mary had moved to London with her husband shortly after marrying, and Mrs. Foster had missed her friend dearly. Anna had never seen her so happy as the day she learned they were soon to be neighbors.

“This is her husband Mr. Winchester. And their sons, Sam and Dean,” Mrs. Foster finished. All three gentlemen bowed as they were introduced. 

“How do you do?” Anna asked. “I hope you are finding Brighton to your satisfaction.”

“We've only been here but an hour or two, but my dear Mary is quite excited to be back,” Mr. Winchester said. “I must admit, I do have fond memories of the place myself and I believe we are both hoping Sam and Dean will grow to love it here as much as we once did.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Anna answered. 

“I hope your expectations haven't been raised too much,” Mrs. Foster said to the younger Winchesters. “For while I find it hard to believe anyone could not be pleased with this fine city of ours, I find expectation a hard thing to live up to.”

“I don't doubt that we should be very happy here,” Dean answered with a polite smile. Anna forced herself to maintain eye contact as their gazes met. She saw no recognition on his face and couldn't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed. 

“Come now, dear,” Anna's father interjected. “Surely Mr. Winchester and his family should like to make the rounds to reacquaint themselves with old friends and meet their new neighbors. We mustn't keep them to ourselves all night.”

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Foster immediately agreed. “Shall I introduce you to the Baileys? They are your closest neighbors.”

“I should like to make their acquaintance, but first I think we're forgetting something rather important,” Mrs. Winchester said. “We have not given either of my sons the opportunity to ask your daughter for a dance.”

Anna's heart started to race. Surely she would be allowed a little more time to settle her nerves before being thrown into a dance with this man.

“I assure you I would not mind if you wished to make a few more acquaintances before being thrown straight into the dancing.”

“Nonsense. It would be poor manners indeed not to ask for a dance from such a lovely new acquaintance, especially one whose family is graciously hosting this ball,” Mrs. Winchester insisted.

Before Anna could protest further, someone else spoke up.

“Would you do me the honor of dancing the next with me, Miss Foster?” It was Sam, and he wore a smile Anna recognized well, full of apologetic exasperation and fondness.

“I would love to,” Anna agreed immediately, smiling back at him. She was relieved it had been him who asked and not his brother.

As her parents took the Winchesters off to meet more people, Anna made her way back over to Charlotte.

“Well then, are they deserving of all the attention they’ll no doubt be getting from every eligible lady around?” Charlotte asked immediately. She was nothing if not to the point.

“I hardly know,” Anna answered. “I only spoke to them for a moment. I daresay they do appear to be quite kind though. I am to dance the next with the younger Mr. Winchester. I shall give you a better formed opinion after.”

“Wonderful,” Charlotte said. She sighed wistfully. “I do hope at least one of them has a character as lovely as his face is handsome.”

Anna smiled. “That would be quite lovely indeed. But of course nothing less could ever be deserving of you.”

As the two girls talked, Anna noticed Dean excuse himself from the conversation with the Baileys and make his way across the room. He stopped beside George Young and they warmly clasped hands. George had just returned home from university and Anna assumed that must be how they knew each other.

“Anna, you’re staring,” Charlotte informed her gently. Anna blinked in surprise before turning back to her friend, feeling a rush of heat to her cheeks. 

“What is going on with you?” Charlotte asked. She sounded torn between concern and amusement. “I thought I detected a hint of unease when you saw his family tonight, but I dismissed it as nerves. But now to catch you staring as well. That’s not like you.” She paused, waiting for Anna to respond. When she didn’t, Charlotte continued. “He is very handsome. Perhaps you find him particularly so? Should I focus my attentions on the other brother then?” The ‘assuming he’s worth paying attention too’ went unspoken.

“No, it’s not that,” Anna protested. “I mean, he is quite handsome. But you know as well as I that I could not hope to be pursued by him even if I wished it. It is only…” Charlotte waited patiently for her to finish her thought. Anna sighed, steeling herself to admit something she had hoped never to speak of. If anyone deserved to know though, Charlotte did. “It is only that I’ve met him before. And I am quite ashamed of the way I behaved.”

Charlotte seemed puzzled by this news. They usually confided in each other quite openly after all. It wasn’t usual for something to happen, especially something big enough to cause discomfort at the mere mention of it, that the other was unaware of.

“What happened?”

“Nothing I want to speak of in such a public place,” Anna replied. “But I promise to tell you soon.”

“Alright,” Charlotte agreed worriedly. The closing notes of the song rang through the room and Anna saw Sam excusing himself from the small group of people he was talking to. “But… everything is alright?”

“Everything is alright,” Anna assured her.

Sam stopped in front of them with a bow and offered his hand to Anna. She took it and he escorted her to the dance floor where they lined up with the other couples.

“How are you enjoying your evening so far Miss Foster?” He asked as the musicians started up with the next song and they moved together in the first steps of the dance.

“Very well,” Anna answered. “Although I think it is unlikely for anyone to feel otherwise at a ball.”

“Yes, I believe you are right,” he agreed. Anna glanced around and saw all the ladies who were not currently dancing eyeing either her and Sam or Dean.

“I suppose you have a long night ahead of you dancing with every eligible lady in the room,” she said sympathetically. She did not know of anyone who did not enjoy dancing, but to be new to town and expected to get to know everyone through an endless stream of dances seemed rather tiring. “I should be happy to make introductions for you if anyone catches your eye. Or if at any point you need a break from all the dancing, I shall brave the displeasure of all the young ladies here and sit and talk with you.”

He smiled widely. “A very generous offer.” He was either amused or grateful. Possibly both, Anna couldn’t tell for sure. They danced in silence for a few moments before Sam spoke again. “I must apologize for being so quick to ask for a dance when I know it’s possible you would have preferred the invitation to come from my brother.”

“Why should I have preferred that?” She asked calmly, desperately hoping it hadn’t been that painfully obvious how nervous his older brother made her.

“Well, as the eldest son he is a better prospect than me. I shouldn’t blame you if you would prefer to get to know him.”

She supposed that was true enough, but why anyone would turn their nose down at Sam – who seemed to be a very kind, well-mannered man – simply because he was not the oldest was a mystery to her. He was still a very advantageous match.

“I do wish to get to know him,” she answered truthfully. “I have actually been quite anxious to make both of your acquaintances. But not in the hopes of securing an offer from either of you.” He looked at her questioningly, so she continued. “It means a great deal to my mother that all of us get along.”

“Ah,” Sam said, the understanding clear on his face.

“So no, I am not offended that you offered me a dance before your brother could. I should not feel slighted in the least to not dance with him at all tonight. I believe there shall be ample opportunity for us to talk in the future.”

“That may be true, but you can be assured you will not have to wait until after tonight for a chance to talk to him. Our friendship means a great deal to my mother as well, and she would not hear of us leaving here tonight without both of us having had at least one dance with you.”

Anna chuckled. “It should not surprise me to hear that your mother and my own appear to have a great deal in common.”

“No, it should not,” Sam agreed with a smile. He hesitated a moment before speaking again. “I hope it is not too forward of me to say I am glad that the young lady our mother so dearly wants us to become closely acquainted with is you. Though I do not know you well, I daresay I think it shall be quite easy to be your friend.”

“I quite agree Mr. Winchester. You appear to be just what I might look for in a friend.”

“I am glad to hear it.” 

They chatted quite contentedly for the remainder of the dance, at the end of which he escorted her back to Charlotte’s side. 

“Might you introduce me to your friend, Miss Foster?” Sam asked politely.

“Of course,” Anna agreed. Well, she thought, now Charlotte can form her own opinion of the man. “This is my good friend Charlotte Thompson. This is Mr. Winchester.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Charlotte said. 

“The pleasure is mine,” Sam replied. “Would you like to dance, Miss Thompson?” 

“I thank you, yes,” Charlotte agreed, taking the hand Sam offered her. 

The pair walked off, leaving Anna by herself. She retreated to the refreshment table, grabbing a glass of lemonade for herself. She noticed a small group of ladies gathered together in one corner of the room and was about to join them when a gentleman stopped her.

“Miss Foster,” he said. She turned to see Mr. Winchester grabbing a glass off the table. “Pardon me. I don’t mean to keep you from enjoying your evening.”

“Not at all,” she assured him. He took a sip of his lemonade, looking around the room as he did so.

“This is quite a lively ball your parents have put on tonight. My family and I are quite pleased to have such an event to attend on our very first night here.”

“As we are all quite pleased to have you here,” Anna said. He smiled.

“I think it will not come as a surprise to you to hear that my wife dearly wishes to get to know you,” he told her. “While I fear it will be some time before we host an event as grand as this, we should be settled enough in a few days' time to host small gatherings. I tell you this so you can know to expect a more formal invitation from my wife very soon as you are no doubt at the very top of her list of people to invite.”

“I thank you for telling me. And if Mrs. Winchester should ask, you may inform her that I look forward to forming a better acquaintance with her as well.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Winchester said gratefully. “I shall detain you no longer from your evening.” With that, he bowed and returned to his wife’s side.

The next couple of hours passed by just as pleasantly as the first couple. Anna danced several more times with several different gentlemen. When she was not dancing, she chatted with her friends. She and Charlotte were in agreement about Sam being a very pleasant fellow to be around, but Charlotte did not seem any more taken with him than she did any of the other gentlemen of the town.

Sam stayed quite busy dancing with various ladies but did take her up on her offer of talking when he needed a break. He spent some time acquainting himself with the gentlemen as well. His brother, while seemingly not quite as inclined to dance as him, still spent a fair amount of time escorting ladies to the dancefloor. He still had not asked her for a dance though, despite Sam’s assurance that he would. She was fine with that. The more time she had to steady herself before facing him, the better.

It was nearing the end of the evening, the musicians expected to play only three more songs when he finally approached her. He stopped in front of the group of four ladies she was talking to with a polite bow. 

“Forgive the interruption, but I was wondering if I might borrow Miss Foster for a dance.” 

Her friends looked to her in question. “I would be delighted,” she told him. Charlotte gave her a reassuring smile as she walked with him to the dance floor.

As the dance began, she found herself unable to stop from speaking the first words that came to her mind. “I was beginning to think I would not be offered a dance with you this evening after all, Mr. Winchester.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean to say you’ve been expecting an invitation all night?” Anna cringed internally. What an incredibly presumptuous thing to say. “If that is the case, I apologize for keeping you waiting so long. And for causing doubt that I, or any gentleman, would not wish to dance with you.”

“You misunderstand me,” she hurried to explain. “I did not mean to imply that I myself had any expectations. Indeed, if you ask your brother, you’ll find I had none at all. He assured me, however, that your mother would be rather displeased if the evening ended without both of her sons acquainting themselves with her friend’s daughter.”

“I see,” he answered casually. “So you are under the impression that I have asked to dance with you because my mother wished it, and that my own feelings had no influence on the matter.”

Up until now, the dance had required no physical contact between partners. They now reached the part where they were to clasp hands together as they made their way from one end of the lined up dancers to the other. His touch sent a jolt through her that she had not experienced with any of her other partners. She felt flushed as the contact reminded her of her actions on that night several months ago. Luckily any redness in her cheeks could be blamed on the exertion of the dance.

“My mother would be flattered to hear you have such a high opinion of her ability to influence my actions, but I am no longer a boy required to obey every wish of his mother’s. I asked you for a dance because it was my own desire, not anyone else’s.”

Anna could not deny the sincerity she felt in his words. Not being able to come up with a response to this declaration, she decided to change the subject.

“I asked your brother for his opinion on your family’s move to Brighton.” At the other end of the row of dancers now, they detached themselves and took their places back in line. “He confessed himself torn between an eagerness to know the people and sights here, and a sadness at the loss of his old home.”

“And you find this odd?”

“On the contrary. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to leave the only home you’ve ever known. Of course there must be excitement at meeting new people and experiencing new places. But that can only soften the feeling of loss so much.”

“That is very insightful of you,” Dean said. They clasped hands again as they began to weave in and out of the other couples.

“Perhaps not so insightful as you might think,” she disagreed. “I rather think every woman contemplates the difficulties, or perhaps in some cases joys, of leaving home, given that once she is married it is possible she will be settled quite far from her family.”

“And once you are married, what would you wish?” He asked. “To be near your family or to have a new city to explore?”

“I believe I should be content with either,” she answered, “assuming I am close enough to visit my family on occasion.” The topic of her marriage wasn’t one she wanted to dwell on right now, so she steered the conversation back to her original point. “What of you? Do you share your brother’s feelings?”

“I do not,” he answered. “But perhaps that is because I am only to spend the summer here with my family. After that I shall move into a place of my own.”

Of course. Sam had mentioned that he had just finished school. It only made sense that he would be preparing to start his own life then, a house being the first step before starting a family.

“And where do you plan on settling?” Anna asked.

“I do not know yet,” he answered as they came to a momentary stop, allowing the couples on either side of them to circle them as they waited their turn to do the same. “I hope to find a place in the country, just outside of London. I admit I have not seen much of the world, but I do not believe there could be a better place to live.”

They started moving again as Anna considered her reply. “I hope you are able to find the sort of home you are looking for.” 

They spent the remainder of the dance discussing such things as how the Winchesters’ journey from London was, upcoming social events, and their families. It was a surprise to Anna when the music came to an end. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed. They walked together to the edge of the room, out of the way of the couples who were lining up for the next dance.

“Thank you for the dance, Miss Foster. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Before Anna could reply, she became aware of the presence of another person stopping beside her.

“Good evening,” the new person said. Anna recognized his voice immediately. William Sanders. Her heart sank a little, but she kept a polite smile on her face. “I had meant to speak with you earlier, but I fear I got caught up talking with Mr. Wilson and Mr. Collins about tomorrow’s race,” he informed her. Then, as if just noticing she was not alone, he added, “Oh. I see you are already engaged in conversation. Would you introduce me?”

“This is Mr. Winchester. His family just moved here from London. This is Mr. Sanders.”

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Sanders said. “I had heard a new family was moving to town. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yours as well,” Dean agreed.

Never one for small talk, William appeared to consider the conversation over. He turned his attention back to Anna and his original purpose in approaching. “I do hope I am not too late in asking you to join me in the last dance this evening. Have no fear, if you have already promised the dance to another I will not be upset, for I have only myself to blame. I do believe it would be quite unfortunate if I did not dance at least once with the woman I am to marry though, particularly at a ball thrown in her own home.”

“You are quite right,” she agreed, determinedly ignoring the surprise she saw briefly cross Dean’s face. “And as it happens, I have no partner for the final dance, so you needn’t worry.”

“Very good. I shall return to you in time for the dance then,” he informed her before walking away.

“I should return to my family,” Dean said when he was gone. “We had a long journey today, and while she would never admit it to anyone, I believe my mother is quite tired and would like to return home and rest. Good night, Miss Foster.”

Anna wished him a good night in return and watched as he walked away. She couldn’t help but feel like something about this last interaction was off, strained. She could come up with no explanation as to why she felt this way though. He had been perfectly polite and had already been about to leave her side before William showed up. Why, then, could she not shake the feeling that something about their short interaction had caused Dean’s departure? With a frustrated sigh, she forced these thoughts from her mind and took some time to catch her breath before the next dance started.

Chapter 2

Tags: @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @aylacavebear

[440mxs-wife]

Treasure Quest, Chapter 9: The Truth Comes Out

Pairing: Captain Dean x Rhaya Payton (OFC) Other Characters: Captain Crowley, Lucifer, Benny, Jack (mentioned). Lord Darius Payton, Lord Ashton Kane, Damon Sharpe, Connor (OMC's), Captain Keira, Carissa Payton, Darcy (OFC's).

Word Count: 4921

Warnings: A bit of swashbucklin' in the church, defending honor. Mention of murder (Carissa + Isabella's backstory). Some separation anxiety leading to a bit more of Rhaya's self-doubt and self-isolation, Karma finally comes around for Stepmother and Annoying Fiancé. (also some great nicknames for the Annoying Fiancé).

Series Summary: Rhaya Payton is the daughter of the governor of Ochana. She grew up listening to her father tell her stories of pirates and treasure maps. At a gala one night, her stepmother, Carissa, announces Rhaya’s engagement to Ashton Kane, a wealthy nobleman. Only problem is, no one checked with Rhaya first. After overhearing plans made by her fiancé, Rhaya decides to go on the run and stows away on Captain Dean’s ship. What will happen when he finds her?

This Chapter: So, who is it under the veil....?

Lots of secrets are revealed in this chapter, both with Lord Ashton and Lady Carissa, starting with a nugget of truth from an unlikely source. Captain Dean and Rhaya inch ever closer to each other, each learning that their feelings for the other are not unrequited. After a short reunion, Captain Dean has to leave Ochana, but promises to return. As the separation goes on longer than expected, Rhaya begins to doubt Captain Dean's word. Her father grows worried for her, then receives notice that a new player has emerged, and decides to throw a banquet in his honor. Who is the new mystery man? Tune in to find out....Enjoy!

A/N: To all of you who have read, liked, reblogged, commented, or interacted with this story in any way: thank you. There will be one more chapter to wrap things up for our favorite captain and governor's daughter. It has been my pleasure to bring this story to life for you, and I appreciate you all. ❤️

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"WHERE IS RHAYA?!?" Ashton thundered.

When the veil was lifted, the bride standing at the altar was not the same one who had fainted earlier and stopped the ceremony. No, it was Darcy who had taken Rhaya's place, wearing the horrendous wedding gown chosen by Carissa. And she only hoped that enough time had passed to allow Rhaya and the others involved to leave the church.

Ashton grabbed Darcy's arms and yanked her forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. "Where is she?" he demanded again.

"Let. Her. Go. NOW." Lord Darius glared at Ashton until he released his grip on the young woman's arms. "Darcy, I need you to tell me where my daughter is," he pleaded.

Darcy debated whether or not to tell the governor about his daughter's location. Though she was dependent on the governor for her livelihood, the safety of her friend was more important. Thus, she remained silent and did not respond.

"Please, Darcy. I need to know if she is at least safe and hasn't been kidnapped," he implored.

"Lord Darius, I can assure you that she is safe and in good hands, though she is no longer in this building," she revealed. "Please understand that I hold you in the highest respect and consider you my family. But for her protection, I will not reveal her whereabouts."

All parties glared at each other in silence while they tried to decide on the next move to be made. Amused laughter broke the stalemate, as necks craned to determine the source. Lucifer rose from his seat and sauntered over to where the groom and his future in-laws were gathered. As soon as Lord Ashton's eyes landed on Lucifer, his anger exploded.

"YOU!! You were supposed to keep my bride from escaping, yet she managed to give you and your men the slip! What the hell kind of pirate are you anyway, that you can't seem to keep track of a woman for crying out loud?!? Your reputation makes you out to be some kind of ruthless sea captain who'll do anything to get what he wants. 'Ruthless'? HA! I'd say more like, 'worthless'," Ashton spat out.

Lucifer's hand moved quickly to the grip of his sword, but he did not draw it. "Have a care with your words, Your Lordship. As I recall, you sought me out when your bride left you the first time. Therefore, if anyone should be worried about a 'reputation', I'd be concerned about your own," he pointed out. "Lest you find out firsthand exactly how ruthless I can be," he added darkly.

"Oh come on, Lucifer, we all know you're not going to waste your time teaching a lesson to some pompous, arrogant jerk," a voice called from the church's open doorway. "He doesn't deserve a woman like Rhaya anyway."

Ashton's head whipped around at the comment, determined to learn who made it. His eyes narrowed as they landed on Captain Dean Winchester, whose arms were crossed over his chest. A lazy smirk graced the captain's face, almost daring Lucifer or anyone else to make a move against him, but knowing that no one would.

Dean was wearing a black leather jacket, left open to show off a crisp, white tunic under it. The shirt was loosely laced at the top to show off the medallion hanging from a solid gold chain. His black trousers were tucked into his knee-high boots, and a red sash was tied around his middle. A brown leather belt was buckled over the sash, with his sword securely fastened to it and a knife tucked into a thigh holster.

"Who, exactly, are you and what business do you have here?" Ashton demanded.

"I am Dean Winchester, captain of the shipping vessel The Black Diamond," he declared. "My purpose here is to ensure the safety and well-being of the governor's daughter, Rhaya. We met when I discovered her as a stowaway on my boat. In the time we spent together, we became such good friends that she confided in me the reason she ended up hiding on my ship."

A glimmer of understanding crossed Ashton's face, which morphed into a sneer. "Ah-ha! You mean you kidnapped Rhaya and held her for ransom on your ship, away from her loved ones," he retorted. "Your only goal was to keep her long enough to collect on the 50,000 gold pieces, except Lucifer beat you to it."

"I didn't ask for any ransom and don't know anything about 50,000 gold pieces. None of that makes any difference to me. No, I know she ran away on her engagement day because she overheard her fiancé reveal his true intentions for her. Such as, once married, it was his plan to steal some treasure map from his father-in-law and collect on it. Then, at some point, he would arrange for his new wife to meet with an 'accident'. One from which he would make sure she would not survive," Dean explained coolly. 

"Lies! Absolute fabrication, and I will suffer this indignity no longer!" Ashton shouted, drawing his sword. "Defend yourself, sir, as I will with my blade. Mark my words, I shall be vindicated against such slander!" He lunged forward, slashing at Dean's midsection, the tip of the weapon narrowly missing him.

Dean drew his sword as well, with the intent to protect himself against Ashton, but not to inflict any lethal wounds. He was mostly successful in blocking Ashton's attacks, only sustaining superficial injuries as the two of them roamed about the sanctuary. 

In one particularly heated exchange, Dean turned quickly and lost his balance, then fell on his back into the front pew. Ashton lunged forward, his knee on Dean's chest pinning him down to the bench. The nobleman hovered over Dean, his blade aimed straight at the captain's chest. The two men stared at each other, Dean noticing the extreme level of anger and hatred in his opponent's eyes.

"ENOUGH!!" Everyone looked up to see that Rhaya and Keira had returned to the church in time to prevent the fatal blow from being struck. While everyone was distracted, Darcy snuck out of the church to let her know what was happening inside. "Get away from him, Ashton," she ordered.

"Rhaya," Dean whispered. He took advantage of Ashton's momentary distraction to shove his opponent away and scrambled away out of range of his sword.

As he hit the floor, Ashton broke out of his trance and hurried to his feet in an attempt to re-ignite the conflict with Dean. "NO! He told everyone in here a preposterous story about me stealing from your father and then arranging to have you suffer a deadly fate. How could you believe such lies, Rhaya? You know I'd never do anything to hurt you," he pleaded.

The sound of someone clearing his throat drew everyone's attention to the side door of the church. "I don't think that's entirely accurate, Lord Assbutt," Crowley smirked. "I have someone here who can corroborate Dean's version of events." He moved aside as two members of his crew stepped forward, with Damon Sharpe being held in restraints between them. "Caught him trying to sneak out of here to avoid prosecution."

After recovering from the initial shock of seeing his daughter returned to him a second time, Lord Darius approached Crowley's prisoner. "Is this true? Did Ashton plot to steal from me and kill my daughter?" he demanded.

When he didn't answer, Crowley forcefully nudged Damon's shoulder, nearly making him lose his balance. "Yes, it's true, and Lady Rhaya was smart to run away. Ashton hired Lucifer to find Rhaya and bring her home, only he wasn't too specific as to how it was to be accomplished," Damon remarked. At this detail, everyone looked around for Lucifer, but he was nowhere to be found.

Damon continued. "After your daughter ran away, we searched through your study. We found where you'd hidden the map, but it had already been removed."

"That's because once I overheard you two idjits and your plans, I had to make a break for it. I knew all along where my father had hidden the map, and I took it with me when I fled the mansion. I intended to find the treasure on my own. Instead, I made a deal with someone I trust a hell of a lot more than Lord Assclown. I have no doubt that by now, the treasure has been found and is long gone from its hiding place, but in good hands," Rhaya assured the group. She caught Dean's eye and gave him a soft smile, which he returned.

Lord Darius raised an eyebrow at this turn of events, only barely suppressing a smile and filing the information away for later. While Damon was relaying his part in the scheme, the governor's guards were slowly positioning themselves to arrest Lord Ashton. With a nod from Lord Darius, his men grabbed the groom and dragged him to the dungeon, kicking and screaming the entire way. Damon was escorted as well, but with much less resistance.

Carissa whipped around to face Rhaya, her face full of fury. "Do you realize what you've done? You made your fiancé look like a fool, this time by leaving him at the altar, and now he's been arrested!" she screeched.

"What I've done? What about what you've done?? You announced my engagement without consulting me first, so of course I ran away. When I was forcibly returned by Lucifer, you moved up the wedding date and chose that--that--hideous wedding gown for me to wear. Then, as if that's not enough, after everything you've heard about Lord Pain-in-the-Ass, you still take his side?"

"You are a selfish and ungrateful brat, just like your mother!" Carissa seethed. "We used to be friends before she got married and moved away. It was then that I realized she never cared about me. She only pretended to be my friend until she got what she wanted, no matter who got hurt along the way."

"You're lying, Carissa! My mother would never have intentionally hurt anyone!" Rhaya vehemently defended.

Carissa scoffed. "Believe what you want, but I knew I had to get even. I arranged an invitation to the governor's mansion as a respite from some 'personal issues' in my life. That allowed me to get close to Isabella and your father so I could drive a wedge between them. I wanted her to lose that which was most precious to her. At first, nothing I tried was working. Therefore, I had to resort to more....aggressive measures."

Lord Darius' face grew pale. "What are you saying, Carissa?" he whispered.

"I made sure I had access to Isabella's meals, drinks, and snacks when they were served. Little by little, Isabella started to get sick from what I was adding to her food and drink. From there, it was only a matter of time before her illness reached the point of no return." A dark smile twisted her lips as she recalled her endeavors.

It was one thing to suspect her stepmother of such a horrible act of murder. However, it was quite another to have the perpetrator confess her crime and show no sign of remorse. "Y--you poisoned my mother?" Rhaya gasped, to which Carissa simply nodded. "How could you do that?? I loved my mother, but you don't care, do you?? Because for you, it was all just a means to an end! If you had only gotten over your stupid jealousy and let her and my father live out their lives together," she sobbed.

"Now Rhaya, dear, you know I could never have done that. I had to get your mother out of the way so your father could see her true character. And with you being so stubborn and unladylike, I had to find someone who was willing to put up with you long enough to get you out of the picture. Thus the engagement to Ashton, who assured me he could keep you on a tight leash. Although you made a mess of that too, didn't you?" she growled. "I see I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands once again."

With a loud snarl, Carissa lunged forward, her hands outstretched to try and grab Rhaya by the throat. At the last minute, the governor's guards seized Carissa around her waist and pulled her out of reach. They dragged her to the dungeon, with a wild, crazed look in her eyes as she howled to be let go.

Dean rushed to Rhaya's side, both to comfort her and keep Carissa away from her. As soon as he got within a few steps of her, she flung herself at him. He quickly caught her and closed his arms around her and held her against his chest. One hand rubbed up and down her back to soothe her, while the other stroked the back of her head. He whispered in her ear how he was here for her, that she was safe, and he wouldn't let anything hurt her.

Lord Darius quietly observed their interaction as the captain comforted his daughter. It was clear that they had become quite close in the time she spent aboard his ship. He made a mental note to meet with Dean in private to determine the nature of their relationship.

As Rhaya's father, he wanted to know the captain's intentions towards his only daughter. The governor smiled, feeling as if he was witnessing the beginning of a new love story, and decided that it deserved to be celebrated. At some point, though, he would also have to deal with his own feelings about Carissa's betrayal, but that was a problem for another day.

"Well, if there are no more criminals to be hauled off to the dungeon, I say we should all return to the mansion and sort some things out, hmm?" Lord Darius suggested.

Everyone chuckled and murmured their agreement as they climbed into the waiting carriages. Dean opened the door to one of the cabs and grinned when Rhaya slid her hand into his so he could help her inside. At first, she sat on one seat, while he sat on the other. Once the carriage was underway, Dean moved to sit beside her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she nestled into his side, closing her eyes when she felt his lips softly brush her temple.

As the carriage traveled the road between the church and the mansion, Rhaya tilted her head to catch Dean's gaze. "I've missed you so much," she murmured. "All those nights we spent together, staring up at the stars and talking?" She snuggled deeper into his side. "Mmm. It's been far too long since we've done that," she sighed.

"I've missed you too, sweetheart. And....I'm sorry," he mumbled against her skin.

Rhaya pulled back in surprise. "What on earth do you have to apologize for?" she asked.

Dean's gaze dropped to the floor. "Because I....I didn't protect you, which allowed Lucifer the opportunity to grab you and force you to come back," he remarked.

"There's nothing you could've done to stop Lucifer. I gave in because they were going to hurt Jack and Kelly if I didn't. I was returned home, unhurt, to my father, where I was safe. Except for Carissa, anyway. I suppose the worst part of it all was having to listen to Lucifer for the entire voyage home," she muttered.

Dean laughed at her assessment of the situation and tucked her into his side again, with a bit tighter grip around her shoulders this time. He heard her sweet sigh of contentment and closed his eyes, with his head resting on top of hers. The movement of the carriage lulled them both to sleep, one which the footman was reluctant to disturb. The creaking door caused Dean to stir in his seat, then he gently nudged Rhaya awake.

Upon exiting the coach, Dean held his hand out to assist Rhaya as she stepped down. Her hand was still in his when they walked into the mansion and were greeted by several of the staff. They had heard about what happened in the church, and were secretly glad that the wedding did not go through. Lord Darius had already arrived and given instructions for the staff to prepare rooms for his guests.

Captain Crowley was escorted to his own room, with his and Dean's crew members bunking together in pairs or threes. Rhaya had already left for her room to freshen up, when Dean was approached by a staff member, informing him that Lord Darius wanted to speak to him. He agreed and followed the path to the governor's study.

***

The evening began with a feast in honor of Dean and Crowley, to whom Lord Darius was grateful for their assistance. Ashton, Damon, and Carissa were in the dungeons for the time being, with their fates to be decided at a later date. Lucifer was long gone, with Connor's guards confirming The Red Dragon's departure.

Dinner gave way to dancing, where most of Rhaya's dances were saved for Dean, to no one's surprise. She twirled around the floor with Benny, who was a surprisingly good dancer. Jack was a little more awkward in his movements, but Rhaya didn't seem to mind. There were a few dances with her father, but as expected, the majority of her time was occupied by Dean.

The festivities lasted until just after midnight, at which time everyone said goodnight and retreated to separate quarters. Lord Darius gave his daughter a hug and a kiss to the top of her head and bid her goodnight. Over her head, he caught Dean's eye and his stern gaze softened before giving him a wink and heading to his room.

Holding hands, Rhaya and Dean walked to her bedroom door. "Thank you for a lovely evening, Dean. I thoroughly enjoyed dancing with you. Had no idea you were so talented," she teased.

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me, sweetheart, but I'm sure lookin' forward to showing you," he replied. One hand rested on her hips, tugging her closer to his body until it was almost flush against him. His other hand trailed up her side, his fingers ghosting their way up her arm until his hand was cradling her face. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, which drew Dean's attention and he was overcome with the urge to kiss her.

Dean began to slowly lean closer, his eyes constantly searching Rhaya's for any signs of resistance and finding none. He paused a fraction of an inch before their lips would be touching, still allowing her the chance to back away, but continued to hold his attention. With an almost imperceptible nod from Rhaya, Dean smiled as he prepared to close the gap and find out exactly how soft her lips are.

"Hey, Rhaya, Dean--oops," called Keira from in front of her room. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt....whatever. Goodnight!" With a knowing smirk, she dashed inside her room and hurriedly closed the door behind her.

Muffled from his head resting on Rhaya's shoulder, Dean groaned. "Goodnight, Keira," he ground out. This caused Rhaya to giggle and when Dean lifted his head, he was grinning as well. 

"I'll make sure and get even with her sooner or later," she promised. "See you in the morning?"

"Absolutely, darlin'," he remarked. "I'll have to meet you down at the docks, though, because I need to return to Alcaria. There are some things I must take care of; however, my word is my bond that I will come back to Ochana for you."

Rhaya's face fell at the mention of another separation from Dean. "You're leaving? But you just got here," she pouted. "Do you really have to go so soon? How long will you be gone?" she asked, tears threatening at her lash line.

"It shouldn't take more than a couple of months to put everything in order in Alcaria, then I swear I will be back for you, my angel," he vowed. 

She thought for a moment or two then gave him a sigh of acceptance. "Two months isn't too long, I suppose," she conceded. "You won't forget about me if some other woman comes along, right?" she wondered.

Dean hooked his finger under Rhaya's chin and tilted her head up so he could see her face. "Not a chance, sweetheart, because you are absolutely impossible to forget. And there is no other woman in the world for me except you," he finished softly.

Rhaya gave him a watery chuckle. "There's no other man in the world for me except you," she responded. After several more seconds passed, she pushed up on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Dean," she whispered before stepping around him to enter her room. She gave him one last shy smile before closing the door.

Dean's fingers brushed his cheek, which still tingled a bit where Rhaya's lips had kissed him. A goofy smile broke out over his face, knowing the woman he loved returned his affections. With a spring in his step, he continued on his path to his own room, eager to fall asleep and dream of Rhaya.

***

Early the next morning, Dean and his crew made their way down to the docks and prepared to sail home to Alcaria. Hugs with Benny and Jack were exchanged, with each man reluctant to leave Ochana so soon. The chefs were kind enough to send baskets full of breads, muffins, cookies, and other treats, which were appreciated by all.

Saying goodbye to Dean was the last thing Rhaya wanted to do, but she knew he had to leave. As she lay in her bed that night after the banquet, she realized how much she had grown to love him in their short time together. In her mind, he was a part of her future in so many ways, and she couldn't imagine her life without him. However, because she loved him, she had to let him go. She had to have faith that if he returned, then he would be hers forever.

Dean had done some soul-searching that night in bed as well. When he'd first met Rhaya, he thought she was some spoiled and entitled member of the so-called ruling class. Every day, every moment spent with her since then has been the real treasure. She wasn't brought up to be a fragile, delicate, wisp of a woman who needed a man to cater to her every whim. She was an independent woman, strong yet kind, a testament to the way her parents raised her.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Rhaya remarked, her voice thick with emotion.

"I know, darlin', I wish I could stay and spend more time with you," Dean replied. "But I will be back in two months. I have some business matters to settle in Alcaria, then once that's all out of the way, I will return, my sweet girl," he whispered. His hand cradled her face, his thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. He gave her a soft smile as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

The two of them stood on the docks for what seemed like hours, with Dean gently swaying with Rhaya in his arms, her head resting on his chest. He never wanted this moment to end, because it felt perfect to keep her close to his body and in his warm embrace. Finally, Benny reluctantly approached the couple. He informed his captain that they needed to leave soon if they wanted to sail during the most daylight. He gave Rhaya a quick smile then left her alone with his captain.

Rhaya gave Dean one last squeeze then pulled back a bit out of his embrace. This time, it was her hand that reached up to caress his stubbled cheek. "Hurry back, hmm? I'll see if I can maybe send messages through Keira. Hopefully your paths will cross at some point, right?" she gave a watery chuckle.

"I promise that if she stops by Alcaria, I will make sure that she doesn't leave without a message from me to you." He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. "You are the absolute best thing that's happened to me in such a long time. I am so happy you came into my life, Rhaya. I will be back for you, darling."

"I'll be waiting," she whispered. She closed her eyes as Dean pressed a kiss to her forehead. He gave her one last embrace before backing away from her. A shiver went up her spine at the change in temperature without him by her side. She watched as he walked up the gangplank to the ship and handed off his bag to Jack. He hurried to the rail to catch one final sighting of her, his face breaking into a smile when he finally made eye contact.

As the ship left port, Rhaya stood rooted in her spot on the docks. She was determined to remain in place until she could no longer see Dean waving at her from the stern of the ship. Tears continued to streak down her face, but she made no effort to wipe them away. At some point, Darcy joined her in watching The Black Diamond sail away, her arm draped around her dearest friend. Eventually, the ship disappeared into the horizon, and the two women solemnly returned to the comfort of the mansion.

***

The first few weeks without Dean seemed to pass quickly, mostly because her father kept her occupied with business matters for Ochana. He sought her opinion on certain subjects and she was allowed to sit in on a few meetings with his council members. Darcy tried to keep her busy as well, doing whatever she could to shift Rhaya's focus away from Dean's absence.

In the beginning, Keira was able to pass along a few messages between the captain and her sister. The missives helped to banish the melancholy feelings they each held at being apart from one another. However, as the weeks seemed to drag on, fewer and fewer letters were passed, until at one point they finally stopped.

When that happened, Rhaya tried to ignore the doubts creeping through her mind, the ones telling her that Dean forgot about her. She fought them back, replacing those thoughts with the memories of being in his arms and sharing tender kisses with each other. She remembered how it felt to dance with him at the party given by her father after her wedding to Ashton fell through.

As time wore on, it was becoming more difficult than others to banish the fears. Especially the ones that told her that the reason he hadn't yet returned is because he found someone else to make a life with. The time they'd spent together on his ship and the memories made there were becoming more distant in her mind. She confined herself mostly to her room, only emerging for meals, or the occasional council meeting when her father requested her presence.

Around the two and a half month mark, Lord Darius was becoming more and more concerned about his daughter's self-imposed isolation. He quickly called a meeting of the heads of staff, Connor, Darcy, and fortunately, Keira was due to arrive any day. He suspected that Rhaya's misery had quite a bit to do with a certain green-eyed sea captain. His thoughts drifted back to a conversation he'd had with Dean about his daughter.

>>>Flashback&lt;;<<

The governor poured himself and his guest a glass of whiskey, then took a seat in the wingback chair opposite of the captain. Dean had a feeling that this meeting with Lord Darius would have occurred at some point; that it was less a question of "if", rather than "when". The governor's opening volley got straight to the heart of the matter. "So, Captain Winchester, tell me about your relationship with my daughter."

Dean chuckled nervously at first and after taking his first sip, he gave the governor a rundown on how they met and got to know each other. He talked about his first impression of her and how it compared to what he thought of her now.

"I'll admit, we didn't really get along at first, but eventually we found our way. She's amazing, Lord Darius. Kind, hard-working, eager to learn, and is okay with not being the smartest person in the room. Although we know she usually is." They shared a laugh.

"She's my first thought when I open my eyes in the morning and my last when my head hits the pillow at night. Of course she's a gorgeous and enchanting woman, anyone can see that. But her inner beauty is only equal to or greater than her outer beauty. And I love her," Dean admitted.

Lord Darius hummed in response. "And how do you plan to support her? I know the life of a sea captain means long stretches of time away from home and doesn't always pay very well."

He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Sir, if she'll have me, your daughter will want for nothing. My business is solid and profitable, thus, I am able to support her well." He leaned back, a shy grin on his face. "Though I'm hoping that I won't have to leave her behind very often, because she'll want to join me out on my ship. She's a very capable and intelligent woman, thanks to your encouragement of her education."

>>>End of Flashback&lt;;<<

A fond smile briefly tugged at the corners of the governor's mouth as he recalled the conversation that occurred nearly three months ago. He wished for Keira to arrive soon, since Rhaya was out in town on a few business matters for him and would soon return. He hoped that there would be some news to share, that Keira had made contact with Dean and carried a letter from him.

A knock at the door broke Lord Darius out of his reverie as he opened the door to let Darcy in. Keira followed having just returned from her important mission. He invited both ladies to join him in some afternoon tea and fresh chocolate chip cookies. Darcy took care of serving, while the governor discussed the assignment and news from Alcaria.

"Everything is in place, Lord Darius. He'll be arriving here in two weeks, though I'm sure if he could be, he'd be flying here right now," Keira grinned. In her last visit, she learned that Dean had been made a duke, courtesy of his newfound wealth. "I think we should have a reception to announce his new title and formally introduce him as our newest trading partner."

Lord Darius stroked his stubbled chin as he considered her suggestion, finally nodding in agreement. "Two weeks should be enough time to plan for his first 'official' state visit," he replied. "We'll need to alert the staff, set the menu, make sure we have everything cleaned from top to bottom, and arrange the accommodations."

Darcy volunteered to coordinate with the various staff members, while Keira promised to keep her sister busy. Formal gatherings were never Rhaya's forté, invariably opting to keep her nose out of the process as much as possible. This time, her father arranged for her to be fitted with a new gown for the occasion. Then she would stand where she was told and greet the visitor with full charm and grace, as expected.

But this would be no ordinary state visit by a foreign dignitary and his entourage. The festivities were being held to introduce the new Duke of Rosevale, both to the world and as Ochana's latest trading partner. Not much was known about him, other than he was only recently granted his title due to his enormous and vast wealth. However, within two weeks, everyone would know the identity of the Duke of Rosevale.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags:

@janicho88 @yourelivingwrong @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @lyarr24 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @jensengirl83 @wayward-dreamer @idreamofplaid @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @winchesterprincessbride @ejlovespie @deandreamernp​ @emoryhemsworth @never--doubt @winchest09 @watermelonlipstick @makeadealwithdean @krazykelly @imherefordeanandbones @rooweighton @colereads @soaringeag1e @sams-sass @phoenixisred

[deanwinchesterswitch]

Run to You ~ Chapter Twelve

Chapter Summary: The pair are a filthy, sweaty mess. Kasey surprises Dean with an unexpected gift.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Kasey Belmont (OFC)

Warnings: Language; Here, there be smut; and lots of it.

Rating: Mature 18+ NSFW

Word Count: 10,028

Series Master Post

Beta: @princessmisery666 and @wayward-and-worn

Movie Reference/Quote: Titanic

Song Reference: Love Will Keep Us Alive - Eagles

Author’s Notes: This is an AU. While there are several SPN characters mentioned, basically no one has the same connections as they did in the show, and Dean and Sam are not related.

Written for: @jay-and-dean -Jay’s 3K Celebration and @spnaubingo.

SPNAUBingoSquare Filled: Fugitive AU

Kasey’s chest rises with a deep inhale, legs sliding off him and fingers stilling in his hair. Rolling off her and onto his back, he scrubs a hand down his face and inwardly groans.

What the hell is wrong with me? 

It’s as if she’s cast a spell over him. He hasn’t been able to contain any of the feelings he typically hides away from the world. All he’s done from the moment she asked him to tell her the truth is spout a fountain of thoughts and emotions that he never imagined he’d feel, let alone say aloud. 

It’s astounding how everything fell so quickly into place. Alarming how easy it is to picture himself happy with her, building a life together. So the demons of his mind come calling to remind him that he’d tried for the apple pie life once before, and look how that turned out. Right now, there’s a big red target on his back, and the need to protect Kasey from any more of his crazy life looms heavy in his heart. The thought of harm coming to her as a consequence of simply knowing him causes his breath to catch in his throat and his muscles to tense. 

Dammit, why couldn’t I have met her sooner? Before I got married. Before, my life ended up being a living nightmare.

Dean feels the mattress shift, and then her shoulder is pressed to his, fingers smoothing back a lock of hair from his face as she murmurs his name.

Turning his head to look at her, he’s greeted with a soft smile, and she confides, “We’ll figure it out. Right? We promised to trust each other, remember.”

It’s not a question. It’s a reminder, and just like that, the anxiety melts away.  

How does she do that?

The grip on his heart eases, muscles loosen and flex, and his breath comes fast but easy. Placing his hand over hers, he kisses her palm, then pulls her on top of him. One arm securing her around the waist, the other wrapped around the back of her neck as he claims her mouth in a bruising kiss, teeth clacking together with the surge of emotion. He pours every bit of that emotion into the kiss because even though he’s been running off at the mouth, there are still words that wouldn’t make sense to say to someone he’s only known for three days.

She kisses him back with just as much passion, hands cradling the top of his head, thumbs massaging his temples. He doesn’t break the kiss until they’re both struggling for breath. Kasey immediately buries her face in his neck, bringing her elbows closer to his body. He hugs her tighter, caging her against him with both arms. Sweat coalesces between them—hot, slick, and admittedly a little gross, but neither moves to remedy the situation.

Until her stomach loudly growls in the weighted silence. Chest vibrating against his with a bubble of laughter, a smile is pressed against his flesh. 

“Maybe I should have let you have a taste,” he husks into her ear. 

Sharp teeth nip at his skin before she pushes off him with a small cry, “Shit, the food!”

Dean reluctantly releases her, each groaning at the squelching sound when their bodies slide apart.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was so damn hot in here?” she grumbles, slipping from the bed. “I would have found another fan for you, or we could have taken the plastic off the windows.”

“Honestly, it hasn’t been that hot until now. You brought the heat with you.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her, earning an eye roll in response. 

Hands ruffling through the twisted sheets, she tilts her head and lightly slaps the side of his thigh. “Lift your leg.” Arching an eyebrow, he obliges, bending his knee. Her eyes scan the space, the corner of her mouth curling up when she apparently finds what she is looking for. Blunt nails graze his flesh, causing his leg to jerk, and he grunts in surprise. 

She holds up the hair band that had been stuck to the back of his shin with a triumphant smile, then quickly pulls her hair into a high ponytail before wiping her body down with a corner of the sheet.

Dean stares hungrily at the smooth, tanned skin covering lithe muscle, the curve of her ass as she bends to pull her dress up her body, the arch of her back as she glides the material over the swell of her breasts to retie the knot behind her neck.

Dick twitching in response, he drops his gaze, pulling the sheet over himself to wipe away the moisture dripping down his chest. She’s already down the hallway by the time he looks back up, calling out to him, “Are you coming?” He chuckles and shakes his head. He probably could come again just thinking about how good it felt to be sheathed inside her.

“Be there in a sec,” he hollers back. Closing his eyes, he commits it all to memory—the sultry air heavily scented with warm bread and cinnamon, the drag of nails over his flesh, the pull and slide of sweat-slicked skin, the softness and weight of her, the lust-filled, honeyed rasp of whispered words and pleading cries.

He’ll keep it securely tucked away in his heart and mind, a happy memory, so when he’s back in that godforsaken cement cage, he’ll have something to remind him there’s light, even hope, out there. Dean heaves himself out of bed and pulls on the discarded pajama bottoms, padding down the hallway after her.

When he enters the kitchen, he finds Kasey poking her fingers into a large round of dough. Leaning against the doorframe, he watches as she folds and reshapes the mass before placing it into a loaf pan next to the other three. She huffs a breath and swipes the back of her hand along her forehead, leaving a trail of flour behind.

“Saved it.” Brushing her hands together to clean them, she gives him a pleased grin which turns into a pout as she looks around the space. “Hmm, not so much the other stuff, though.”

Dean smiles and pushes off the frame. “What can I do?”

“Take care of what’s on the table?” 

Feeling Kasey’s eyes boring into him, he asks without turning, “Like what you see?”

Her reply is swift, voice coated in adulation, “I most certainly do,” and further informs him, “especially since the thin cotton covering that perky ass and those beefy thighs is nearly transparent in the sun.”

Stopping at the end of the table, he widens his stance, hands on his hips, and stares out the large window for a moment, chuckling at the huff of breath and cute grunt he hears in response.

About forty minutes later, he places the last pan in the drying rack. Leaning back against the sink, he follows Kasey’s movement around the room as she hums along to the song on the radio, once again contemplating how ‘normal’ this all feels—the domesticity of it all—something he’s never experienced on this level before. It was never like this with his wife, and he starts to wonder why they ever got married. 

Making a conscious effort not to spiral down that rabbit hole, he picks up a discarded towel from the counter as he makes his way over to her. She scrunches her face when he grips her chin, turning her head so he can brush the powdery streaks from her forehead and cheek. Kissing the tip of her nose, he tosses the towel back onto the marble, asking as he steps back, “It’s like Dante’s seventh circle outside. Why all the baking?” 

“I was frustrated. Baking has always been a way to help me calm down. Besides, it wasn’t quite as hot when I started.”

“Must have been pretty frustrated,” he teases. “How’re you feelin’ now?”

Entirely unprepared for her response, he doesn’t have time to move before being covered in a mixture of flour and crumbs from the scrap pile on the island countertop. Blinking, he feels the silky powder drift from his lashes to float away on the sun-dappled air. “What the-” He shakes his limbs, trying to dislodge some of the dusty mix, but it clings to his damp skin like the mist of heavy fog.

Bent over laughing, she almost misses seeing him lunge for her, but she skirts out of his reach and tries to put the island between them. He’s quicker, though. Snagging his fingers in the back of her dress, he pulls her flush against his chest.

She squirms in his hold as he rubs the side of his face against hers, smearing the sticky mess across her skin, and growls, “That wasn’t very nice.”

Scooping up the remaining floury debris, he mashes the mess into the hair on top of her head. Kasey laughs louder, her ponytail loosening as she struggles fruitlessly against his hold. She shrieks when he spins her away from him, grasping her hand just before she’s out of reach. 

A wispy halo of white surrounds her head, bits of dough are caked in her disheveled hair, and lumpy cream-colored streaks trail from her hairline to her chin. She looks beautiful. Eyes sparkling and a lighthearted smile. 

Feeling his chest swell with his escalating heart rate, he tugs on her arm, and she falls into him, warm and pliant. He immediately captures her lips in a hungry kiss, running his hands up her arms to cradle her neck, thumbs gently stroking along her jawline.

Body trembling with the intensity of the kiss, he tries to ground himself in the feel of her. Kasey’s breath hitches as the tips of his middle fingers lightly brush down either side of her spine unhurried. When he reaches the small of her back, his hands fall to gently rest on her hips, and her entire body seems to sigh as she drapes her arms over his shoulders. 

The song changes, and he sways them to the slower tempo. Breaking the kiss, he presses his forehead to hers. “This is the song that was playing when the power came back on.”

“Hmm, one of my favorites.” She pecks his lips and then lays her head on his shoulder. He reaches back to take a hand in his, and her fingers wrap around his thumb, the other hand resting against his shoulder blade, letting him dance her around the kitchen. It’s easy and comfortable, intimate, and the same feeling of contentment that struck him when he agreed to stay settles in his soul.

Timothy B. Schmit’s high tenor comes around, and Kasey softly sings along. Dean’s heard the song hundreds of times, but as the low harmony of her voice fills the air, he latches onto a new meaning behind the words.

“I was standing, all alone against the world outside. You were searching for a place to hide.”

Kasey snuggles closer to him, and a sense of hope fills him as she slides her hand over his bare skin to wrap around the nape of his neck.

“Lost and lonely, now you've given me the will to survive.”

A lump forms in his throat at the realization of how closely their lives mirror the lyrics- 

“When we're hungry, love will keep us alive.”

-and his pulse quickens over the last line of the chorus. 

She met him at the worst possible time in his life, has seen him at his lowest, yet chose to trust him, is willing to face the consequences of helping him overcome the biggest challenge he’s ever faced, has given him hope, and has shown him kindness.

Time has lost all sense of meaning for him. It’s like she’s always been with him—in the back of his mind, his peripheral vision, his dreams—waiting for him to truly perceive her. The fact that he only saw her for the first time three days ago is incomprehensible. He wasn’t lying when he told her he had been hers the minute he stepped onto the porch. He hadn’t realized it then, too focused on the need to survive, but once he knew he was safe, he recognized the feeling for what it was—it had felt like coming home. She feels like home.

He promised no more running. He promised to trust her and told her this was where he felt he belonged. So he shoves down his insecurities and lingering misgivings and chooses her. Chooses to trust his heart. Chooses to stay with her and fight his demons in the same vein she has chosen to fight for his life.

Closing his eyes, he tightens his hold and brings their clasped hands to rest on his chest. “You know,” his voice is steady, further solidifying his resolve that this is where he is meant to be, “this sounds like us.”

Kasey pauses on the following line but doesn’t say anything right away, and he wonders if he should have kept his mouth shut. Then he feels her smile. 

“Yeah, I guess it does.” She sighs, fingers playing with his hair while she goes back to singing.

The inevitable happens, and the song comes to a close, but even though the faster-paced strains of Traveling Riverside Blues begin to float through the space, he keeps her close, continuing to sway slowly in place, not wanting the moment to end. 

If it were possible, it feels like she melts even further into him as he begins to sing. “Your voice is beautiful,” she whispers into his chest. “I could stay right here like this all day.” Squeezing her hand in agreement, he continues to serenade her as they drift around the room. 

About halfway through the song, though, he feels her body shake just before her laughter reaches his ears. “As seductive as your voice is, I think we should finish cleaning the kitchen and then get cleaned up ourselves.”

Regretfully, he has to agree, feeling the tug on his skin as she pulls away, the flour having turned into a sticky paste between them.

Another twenty minutes later, the dishes have been put away, the countertops are gleaming, the floor has been swept and mopped, and the bread is in the oven.

Dean picks at a dried clump of goop on his chest as he leans against the counter, catching the flaky pieces and tossing them into the sink. Sitting next to him atop the surface, she bumps his shoulder.

“Go get in the shower. I’m going to wait for the bread. It’s almost done.” 

He’d like nothing more than to wait for her so that they could shower together. However, his skin itches, and he feels gross, probably smells gross, too. Pushing off the counter, he kisses a clean spot on her forehead. “Yeah, okay. Feeling pretty disgusting right now,” he grimaces.

“Me too,” she laughs, pulling a chunk of dough from her hair. 

He laughs with her as he heads out of the room, stopping to look back when she calls out to him. 

“You can use the one in my room. It’s bigger. Has the fancy shower heads and everything.” She wiggles her eyebrows with a flashy little show of jazz hands. 

She wasn’t kidding when she said it was bigger. The wide glass door opens into a walk-in stone slab and river-rock-lined space that should be located in a spa or some million-dollar mansion. It’s slightly larger than his jail cell had been and sports a stone bench, recessed niches for storage, a rain shower, and two multi-function shower heads.

Modern and sophisticated, not at all something original to the home. It appears that the only item left of the original bathroom is the cast iron claw-foot tub placed beneath the large window looking over the side yard. 

The update is an interesting contrast to the way Kasey seems to have preserved the rest of the old farmhouse. A unique reflection of her refined yet down-to-earth personality. Perhaps, a piece of the city she couldn’t leave behind.

It takes him several minutes to figure out the controls, but when he finally does, he’s treated to a pulsing cascade of water from almost every angle. He’s just beginning to relax when Kasey surprises him by slipping her slender arms around him from behind, and he nearly elbows her in the side. She squeezes him tighter as he grips her forearms to keep her from slipping. 

“Sorry,” she chuckles. “I couldn’t wait any longer to get this crap out of my hair. I hope you don’t mind.”

Gently tugging on her arm, he pulls her around to face him. “Not at all. Was actually hoping you’d join me.” The smoldering look she gives him as her hand slides over his hip to grope his ass makes his cock swell. 

After helping each other remove the more tenacious gunk from their bodies and a round of satisfying and only slightly complicated shower sex, they head back downstairs to eat lunch. Opting to forego clothing, they’re each wrapped in only a large fluffy towel, which does nothing to diminish his hunger for her. Now that he’s tasted her, felt her around him, he craves more. He’d love to bend her over the counter and rail her.

Turning from putting the dishes away, her eyes spark, and the corner of her mouth twitches when she catches him staring. He feels the heat spread across his chest and neck, knowing that she knows precisely what he’s thinking, but then she covers her mouth to stifle a yawn, reminding him of how little sleep they have both gotten the past couple of days. Standing from the table, he holds a hand out to her, and they make their way back upstairs to her room. 

“Is it always this hot around here?” Dean huffs as he plugs in the fan from downstairs to supplement the ceiling fan in Kasey’s room. Ensuring it’s set securely on the small side table, he momentarily stands in front of it, letting the forced breeze cool his skin.

Kasey laughs as he walks toward the bed to lie beside her. “Not this time of year. It appears you brought the heat with you when you obnoxiously collapsed on my porch.”

“Ha ha, funny,” he grouses, lifting his arm for Kasey to lay her head on his chest. “I could have died.”

“Not on my watch,” she states almost vehemently, causing him to smile at the protectiveness in her tone. He likes the feeling it gives him.

“It seems like this is healing nicely.” Her fingers drift down his body to trace the edges of the fresh bandage she insisted on applying after their shower, where she fussed over the fact that he got it wet. “It feels okay? Doesn’t hurt?”

“It’s fine,” he huffs in exasperation, then yelps and slaps her hand away when she pinches the skin about an inch above the wound. “Hey.”

“Don’t get testy with me,” she derides, but he can hear the humor lacing the edges of her retort. “I’d hate to see it get infected.”

“Seriously,” he grips her forearm and pulls it over his body, “it’s fine. It’s pretty much healed. I got the bullet out and cleaned the wound. I just didn’t have time to stitch it up. Having to constantly do a parkour routine to keep ahead of the law kept opening the wound. That’s the only reason it was still bleeding. I didn’t have time to rest and let it heal properly.”

“You know, you could have made it worse by taking the bullet out,” she sniffs.

“I couldn’t leave the slug in my gut. It definitely would have gotten infected or caused more damage.” Tears dampen his chest, and he tightens his hold, pulling her a fraction closer. “It wasn’t deep. The guy’s hand was shaking; it ricocheted off of a seat, slowed it down. Besides, it’s been over two weeks. If it was going to kill me, it would have already,” and runs a soothing hand over her hair.

Bringing her hand back to lightly rest over the bandage, she mumbles, “Not letting it happen ever again.”

He kisses the top of her head, relaxing into the soft bedding, fingers tracing random patterns on her arm. Moments later, the rhythm of her breathing lets him know she’s asleep, and he follows shortly after.

Dean wakes to a dimly lit room. The sun is low in the sky, deep, vibrant shades of purple and orange painting the view outside the window. Stretching lazily, he tries but fails to recall the last time he’s felt this relaxed. Rolling to his other side, he finds the space next to him empty and a slip of paper on the pillow. Sitting up, he turns on the small lamp on the nightstand. Not sure why he’s surprised to find that her handwriting is just as beautiful as she is, he chuckles.

Get dressed and meet me on the porch. ~K

He’s quick to obey and make his way downstairs to find her lying across the swing, a leg thrown over the side to keep it in motion.

“Finally,” she huffs, sitting up as he steps up next to her. “I was beginning to think I would have to drag you out of bed.”

“Why, what’s up?”

“You’ll see.” 

Kasey holds out her hand for him to help her stand, and he tugs on her arm, making her wobble with the momentum. 

“I’m not big on surprises,” he drolls, setting a hand at her hip to help steady her.

“Oh, I think you’re going to like this one,” she quips, reaching into the pocket of the Daisy Dukes she’s wearing. Coupled with a bikini top, the outfit leaves little to his imagination. “But hey, I can always just tuck these back in your jeans.”

She hooks a finger into his left front pocket, and he bites his lip as she runs it over the fabric against his skin. The jingle of metal draws his attention to her other hand, where she twirls the small ring that holds Baby’s ignition key around her finger. “Thought you might like to go for a drive.”

Stunned, mouth agape, his eyes repeatedly flick between her and the key as he absentmindedly pats down his pockets. A flick to his nose makes him focus, and he rubs a finger over the tip, remembering how she’d done the same thing that first night when they’d been drinking.

“Did I break you?”

“Phftt… No,” he hedges, rolling his eyes like it’s the most ridiculous concept to ever be voiced, then immediately implores, “Are you kidding? Please say you’re not kidding.” 

“I’m not kidding.” Turning his hand, she drops the key in his palm and curls his fingers around the cool metal. “We have a track on the ‘back forty’. It’s dirt, but it’s well-maintained. There’s even a couple of areas where you can get a little heavy on the pedal.” She winks. “Come on, Winchester, take me for a ride.” Taking his hand, she pulls him off the porch and down the steps.

Son of a bitch. 

Dean knows that her comment was about the Impala, but the image that springs to his mind of her moaning his name, tits bouncing and silky walls squeezing, as she comes undone while riding his dick again almost sends him to his knees. He stumbles on the last step, nearly knocking her down when he topples into her.

She holds her ground and manages to prevent him from falling in the process. “Hey, are you okay?” 

Her eyes scan his body, and when they meet his once again, the tips of his ears burn bright. The coy smile lets him know she has seen the evidence of his wayward thoughts.

“Wow. Should I be jealous of the car?” Her lips twitch, the corner slowly curling up.

“I- What? No,” he splutters. The warmth of embarrassment spreads across his chest and into his cheeks. “That’s not- I-” 

She’s full-on laughing now, and he huffs a breath.

Wait. Jealous?

Eyes narrowed, he scrutinizes her demeanor. “Why would you be jealous?” The thought of her being possessive in relation to him makes him simultaneously happy and intrigued. He truly believes that having sex with him is more than a convenience fuck for her, but he never dreamed that her feelings might be on the same level as his.  

Kasey’s eyes widen, and the laughter immediately dies in her throat. “What?” She looks shocked, a little frightened, but quickly schools her features. Turning away, she calls over her shoulder, “Let’s go, or we’re going to miss it.”

“Hey, wait. Miss what?” He has to jog to catch up with her. 

Once inside the building, she doesn’t give him a chance to bring up the subject again, practically sprinting to the back of the barn and disappearing into a room on the left. When he finally catches up, he finds her in a sizable office, leaning over a glass-topped wooden table. “Here, come and look.” 

Dean steps up beside her to find what appears to be a large sheet of paper covered in geometric shapes in various shades of green and brown, sealed beneath the glass. Upon closer inspection, he realizes it’s a plat map of the farm. Golden-yellow lines mark the property lines of each acre. Pale blue squiggles and circles show the creek's path, tributaries, and what he assumes to be a couple of ponds or small lakes. 

“This is where we are.” Her finger taps a small square near the bottom middle third of the area before gliding over the surface to a tan-colored line about a quarter-inch thick that splits in two. “See this?” Not waiting for a response, she continues. “Off to the left is the path we took to the creek the other day. It’s narrower and rougher. But here,” her slender finger moves to the right, tracing over what he assumes is the dirt trail she mentioned before, “see how it’s wider, less curvy? That’s the route we’re going to take.” 

He follows the trail that cuts through the top third of the property before circling back to the fork in the road where she started. It’s almost like a long race track. If it’s as well maintained as she says it is, he could let Baby loose on that top stretch. The thought of feeling the power of her engine, the wheels eating up the dirt beneath them, sends his pulse racing like a freight train and blocks all other thoughts from his mind. 

“Dean, let’s go!” The impatience in her tone and the light slap to his bicep bring his attention back to her. “That’s the second time you’ve spaced out on me. Maybe I’m the one that should be driving?” 

“Oh, hell, no.” Bending, he flips her over his shoulder and heads out of the office door, not stopping until they are next to the Impala. Setting Kasey down on the trunk, he wedges himself between her legs, cradles her face in his hands, then plants a firm kiss on her lips.

When he breaks away, her confused eyes scan his face. “What was that for?”

“For… everything.” Emotions surge through him, but thankfully the tears remain at bay this time, replaced by the ramble of words that spill from his lips. “The bed, the clothes, the food, taking me in, helping me, this,” he waves his hand in the direction of the Impala, “for saving me… for- for being you.”

Kasey stares at him, stunned, lips parted around a word she can’t seem to voice. He shakes his head and adds, “I’ll never be able to repay you.”

Her features morph into a provocative pout, eyes gleaming with mischief. Hooking her fingers into his belt loops, she tugs, sliding closer as she pulls him to her. “Oh, I can think of a way you could start to repay me.” 

Licking his lips, he plants his palms on the cool metal on either side of her and arches a brow. “Oh?” The thin material of his t-shirt does nothing to hinder the scrape of her nails as she dances them up his torso while pressing her core against his still semi-hard cock. He leans into her and growls, “And what would that be?”

The hard shove to his chest is a surprise, throwing him off balance. Kasey’s laughter echoes around the space, “Show me what you can do behind the wheel of this car.” Sliding off the trunk, she ducks beneath his arm and is opening the barn’s large double doors before he even has a chance to comprehend what just happened.

Fuck. She’s going to be the death of me.

He knows there are much worse ways to go, though, so he shakes his head and smiles. Adjusting himself, he walks around the car and slides in behind the wheel, running a hand over the dash as he closes his eyes. The smell of leather and motor oil is tinged with a fresh sweetness that was never there before. He’d caught a hint of it last night, but hadn’t given it much thought, too overwhelmed and lost in memories.

He inhales deeply, trying to identify the not unpleasant scent. It doesn’t take long for him to realize the same scent surrounds him whenever he’s near Kasey. Unlike the murderous sentiments that usually fill every molecule of his body when thinking about someone else driving his Baby, there’s a strange calmness in knowing that she sat in this same seat and had taken such good care of his most prized possession.

A loud whistle breaks his reverie, and he looks up to find Kasey standing in the open doorway with her arms out and a ‘what the hell are you doing?’ expression etched on her features.

Smiling sheepishly, he turns the ignition key, and the engine roars to life. He maneuvers the car out of the garage, stopping just outside the entrance to allow Kasey to get in. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” she huffs before even closing the door.

“No, sorry. I’m fine. Just got caught up in some memories,” he shrugs.

She smiles warmly, getting comfortable in the seat and rolling down the window. “Alright then, let’s roll.”

When they hit the first long stretch, Kasey tells him to floor it, and they shoot down the trail doing eighty-five. It’s exhilarating. He’d missed this feeling—the adrenaline rush, the sense of freedom, of being one with his Baby and the road—missed it deep in his bones. Never imagined that he would ever experience it again. 

The trail is better maintained than he could have imagined. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought they were traveling over freshly laid asphalt.

He sneaks a glance at Kasey. Her arm hangs out the window, hand riding the air currents, laughing as the wind whips her hair around her face. She’s carefree... captivating. He’d give anything to stay in this moment forever, but he needs to pay attention to the road. He’d prefer not to crash and possibly injure Kasey or Baby. Taking the curve at a more reasonable speed, he prompts, “You do this with your truck, don’t you? That’s why the trail’s so smooth.”

“Maybe,” she giggles, brushing the hair from her face. “We race the ATVs too.”

“We?”

“Oh. Yeah, uh, my friends, the farm workers, neighbors...” She waves a hand in the air like it’s no big deal. “We have a huge celebration after the harvest. Everyone brings food, and there’s a local band that does great rock covers. Usually lasts the entire weekend.”

“Where do all these people come from?” Worry churns in his gut, and his grip tightens on the wheel. A sudden influx of people on the property would not bode well for either of them. She brushes back the hair at his temple but quickly drops her hand when he jerks away. 

“Hey. It’s alright.” Her voice is hushed, and he glances over to see a tender smile. “This is the lull before the storm. We still have a couple of weeks before the bunkhouses start to fill up. We’ll be well into your case to free you by then, and I have an idea about controlling exposure. But we’re not discussing that tonight. Tonight, we’re going to enjoy this beautiful evening and each other’s company.”

The luminescent smile she gives him when he looks her way again nearly forces his heart from his chest, and he almost misses the next curve, swerving at the last minute to keep them out of the field. Kasey grips the door frame to keep from sliding off the seat, her high-pitched squeal ringing in his ears. 

“You know, I honestly thought you’d be a better driver.” she taunts.

He would have been offended, except there’s humor feathering her words, and when he looks, her eyes are shining with mischief and crinkled at the corners with glee. Gripping the hand flattened on the seat, he roughly pulls her across the leather and growls, “I’m the best damn driver you’ll ever meet.” 

Putting his arm over her shoulder and hugging her close, he stomps on the gas pedal as they hit the bottom straightway of the makeshift race track, Kasey’s joyful shout urging him on.

After two more laps, she points to a side trail and asks him to take it. The sky is fully dark now. The car’s headlights cut through the eerie reddish glow of the waning gibbous moon as it rises. The path is narrower and rougher, too, so he slowly eases the Impala over the small ruts, not wanting to damage the suspension. A few minutes later, the tree-lined path ends at a clearing containing one of the small lakes he had seen on the map—a little oasis among the acres of corn.

Kasey exits the Impala from the driver’s side, sliding out behind him. Scanning the area, he hears a door of the car open and turns to find her ass in the air as she bends over the backseat to grab something from the floor on the opposite side. He’s really not sure how much more he can take. His dick strains against the soft, worn denim. It hasn’t fully softened since he found her stretched out on the porch swing. He’d love to take her right there on the back seat and have her ride him just like he imagined.

“Stop staring at my ass and come help me,” she laughs.

Shit. Busted again.

“I wasn’t- that’s not-,” he stutters. 

Kasey stands, “Really?” handing him a lantern, then reaches back in to pull out a small green cooler she sets off to the side. “You weren’t just thinking about having sex on the backseat?”

Turning on the light, he places it on top of the cooler. Eyes dragging up her body as he straightens, he nearly bites off his tongue, seeing her tease her nipple through the bright purple fabric barely covering her plump, perfectly sized breasts.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“No? Nothing to say?” Gaze intent on the movement of her fingers, he startles when she palms his crotch and pouts, “Too bad because I was.”

Hips instinctively shifting, he presses into her hand with a moan, ready to lose his goddamn mind over the simple touch. It only takes a couple of seconds for the circuits in his brain to reconnect, though, when she starts to pull away. He flattens her hand along the firm line of his shaft with his own and grinds into it.

“Such a tease.” He wraps his other hand around the back of her neck, eyes scanning her form. “Wearing this skimpy little outfit,” he rolls his hips, “that pretty little mouth so full of sass.” Using his entire body, he pushes into her space, only stopping when her ass hits metal.

Laying his forearm on the roof of the car by Kasey’s head, he leans in until her back is flush with the vehicle, her hand trapped between their bodies. “Maybe I should fill it with something else.” He thumbs over her lips, hears the moan she tries to swallow, feels the rapid rise and fall of her chest, “Or maybe,” he snaps his hips forward, hard, the delicious friction nearly knocking him from his course of action, “you wanna ride this?” 

“Yes.” One thing he’s learned about her is that she’s not one to back down easily, so it’s no surprise when she curls her fingers as best she can and defiantly replies with a squeeze to his sac. “I do.”

Her other hand pushes against his chest, and he doesn’t fight her, amused and turned on by her confidence. He shuffles back a couple of steps as she continues to grip him tight, eyes locked with his. “I want to ride this big beautiful cock,” she forces the heel of her palm against his shaft, making him choke down a groan, “in that glorious black beauty,” her fingers massage the denim covering his balls, and his hand tightens around her nape, “until I’m screaming your name.”

Jesus fucking christ!

There’s no containing the growl that rises from his chest. He has no explanation for how she seemingly knows precisely what he wants exactly when he needs it, but it’s a helluva turn-on. Kasey grips his forearm, the other slipping beneath his t-shirt, fingers popping the button and dipping into the waistband of his jeans. 

With a low grunt, he pulls away. “In the car, now.” Turning her, he gently shoves her toward the open door. 

Kasey’s laugh coasts on the breeze. Eyeing him over her shoulder, she croons, “Yes, Sir.”

The sultry voice, coupled with the innocent bat of eyelashes, is like a backdraft settling in his groin before being ignited by his sharp intake of breath to burn through his veins. He’s never before felt the level of desire she sparks in him and takes a moment to close his eyes and palm himself through the denim, trying to relieve some of the pressure. 

The sight that greets him when he peels his lids open only makes him harder. The tiny shorts she’s wearing barely cover any flesh, the seam pressed into her crack, giving him a peek of the purple lace beneath as she crawls across the seat. When she stops and steps back out of the car, he challenges, “What are you doing?”

She leans back into the car without a response, and he follows the long line of her legs down to her bare feet. Catching sight of the cooler she’d set down earlier, he notices what appears to be a familiar dent. “Hey, this looks like my old cooler,” he states, the tension easing from his voice.

“Probably is. It was in the trunk when I bought her.”

Dean shakes his head, not even fazed that she has yet another cherished object that belongs to him. It’s like an unseen entity has been gathering them up and placing them in her care until he could come along and collect them again. Maybe there is something to all that destiny crap. But right now, he has far less philosophical matters to attend to. 

Bracing a hand on the door, he bucks his groin against her backside, causing her to fall forward onto the blanket she is spreading over the backseat. “A little warm for that, isn’t it?”

Looking over her shoulder, she pushes back against him, stating matter of factly, “It’s this, or we’re going to be peeling our skin off the leather.”

Gritting his teeth against the pressure on his cock, he growls, “Have I told you how sexy that brain of yours is? And that it gets me really, really hard?”

“You may have mentioned it,” she wiggles her ass, “and I can certainly feel it, but why don’t you get those clothes off and show me?” she challenges, folding her arms over her chest as she straightens, leaning against the rear quarter panel.

“Seriously. The death of me,” he grumbles under his breath, but he doesn’t hesitate to quickly rid himself of his clothing. As he steps out of the denim, he laughs to himself. Every time he thinks he has the upper hand, she pushes back and turns the tables, but he can’t deny that he’ll willingly dance this little dance with her for as long as she’ll let him.

“Your turn,” he taunts.

Kasey pushes off the car with her ass, eyes locked with his. Stepping up to his side, she ghosts a hand over his chest, letting her fingers trail down his arm as she walks around behind him. Her movements are slow, deliberate, and his breath quickens. 

Like the stroke of a feather, the tips of her fingers trace the curve of his butt cheeks. His pulse jumps, and the muscles twitch beneath her caress. She comes round to his other side, her chin tucked, eyes roaming over his flesh. He attempts to make a smart-ass comment. The words lodge in his throat, breaths coming shallow and quick, heart pounding against his ribcage when those delicate fingers he’s obsessed with tickle the palm of his hand, and he watches in anticipation as they drift over his thigh only to stall.

The air is punched from his lungs, heartbeat arrested, the moment she drops to her knees in front of him and takes him in hand. His legs nearly give out, and a hand falls to rest on her shoulder for support when she flicks her tongue through his slit. He barely registers her comment over the rush of blood pulsing against his eardrums.

“You’ve already denied me once. I want a taste before anything else.”

Eyes dark with desire, peer at him through thick lashes, tongue continuing to tease before slipping him into her warm, wet mouth and sucking as her plush lips seal around his head.

“Shit.” The pressure builds. His fingers compress into the curve of her shoulder as she sucks him in further and moans. His sac tightens when her tongue massages the sensitive v near his tip. “Fuck.” He stumbles backward, dick releasing from her mouth with a pop.

Dean grunts, mouth agape as he holds her at arm’s length with one hand and squeezes his tip with the other.

“What?” Though her voice is laced with angelic innocence, her eyes harbor a wicked glint. “I just wanted a taste.” Kasey curls her fingers around his wrist at her shoulder and stands, licking her lips. “Yum.”

Roughly pulling her closer, he locks her against his body with one arm around her back and cradles her head with his other hand as he claims her mouth in a searing kiss. Kasey pushes up on her toes, fingers pressing into the flesh of his shoulder blades, the heat of her body fueling the fiery embrace. Dean lifts her and walks the short distance to the car. Once he reaches the open door, he releases her lips and sets her back on the ground, careful not to bump her head as he maneuvers her down onto the blanket-covered seat.

Kasey smiles at him and crooks her finger, summoning him to follow as she wriggles to the other side. He doesn’t need coaxing and scrambles inside, leaving the door open for air. It’s not like anyone is going to see them anyway.

As he situates himself in the middle of the seat, Kasey kneels against the bench, hunched over as she shimmies out of her shorts and underwear. Losing her balance as she kicks them off her ankle, her hand slaps down on his leg, nails digging into the tender flesh of his inner thigh. 

His dick jumps, slapping against his stomach at her touch. “C’mere.” He’s done with the foreplay. He needs to be buried inside her, and he needs it now.

Kasey reaches behind her back to untie her top, but he grips around her waist and moves her until she’s straddling his lap. “Leave it.” She stares down at him, each searching the other’s face, a silent communication of their desire for each other. With a small whimper, she cups his face and smashes her lips against his as she rises to her knees.

Dean takes the hint. Gripping his dick, he runs the head through her wet folds, she’s practically dripping, and he strokes her slick over his shaft. “You ready?” he mumbles against her mouth. When she tilts her hips to catch the tip at her entrance, he lets go to grasp her waist and help ease her down his stiff cock. Kasey, however, isn’t waiting. She slams her ass down on his lap, taking him in completely. 

Swallowing her moan, his fingers clutch at her flesh, holding her in place as she tries to rise again. She feels like tightly wrapped silk around him, and he struggles to keep from immediately blowing his load. “Shit. Give a guy some warning.”

“Hmm,” she nips at his earlobe, “what was it you said?” licks along the shell, and he shivers despite the heat, “Oh, yeah. ‘Why? It’s more fun this way.’” She bites the muscle in his neck, fighting his grip to roll her hips, and whines, “Let me ride you. Let me ride you hard and fast until we’re both screaming.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he growls. “Can’t argue with a request like that.” As soon as he loosens his hold, she’s up and quickly drops down on him again, rolling her hips.

He settles into the seat and runs his hands up her stomach to the soft flesh of her breasts, cupping them beneath the fabric and letting the weight of them nestle into his palms. If possible, the view is even more amazing than the first time she sat atop him. 

Hands flattened against his chest, head tilted to the side, mouth parted around a moan, and body gracefully arched, she’s like a beautiful erotic painting, an image preserved in the throes of delight.

Her beauty should be captured and kept for a lifetime. Yet she’s flesh and blood, hunger and heat, sensual and supple within his grasp. The pace she sets is swift and steady, rougher than the first time, and he can’t help but wonder just how rough she’d be willing to get. 

Within minutes he feels her walls fluttering, and he flicks his thumbs over her taut nipples and rasps sordid sentiments in her ear. She clenches around him, nails digging into his skin, lascivious words and broken pleas falling from her lips, juices coating his shaft. 

He’s so ready to burst, it’s almost painful, and he sits up as she collapses against him, ready to flip her over and fuck her hard like he wanted to earlier. Kasey pushes against his shoulder, stopping him as she pants against his cheek, “I’m not done with you yet. I said we’d both be screaming.”

“Make it quick,” he begs. “I’m ‘bout to explode.” Dropping his hands to her waist, he sucks a mark into the top of her breast, right next to the one he left that morning, and she grinds her clit against his pelvic bone, tugging at his hair, pulling his mouth away from her flesh.

“Settle in, Sugar, ‘cause I’m about to break in a mustang.”

He can’t help but laugh at the over-the-top Texan drawl but howls in surprise with the forceful slap she applies to the side of his thigh. “Hey!” The contact makes his dick pulse in response, and her knowing smirk offers a little more insight into her proclivities. Her countenance turns questioning, and his fingers dent her flesh while giving her a nod.

Gripping his hair tighter, she rises until the very tip of his cock rests just inside her. If either of them moves the wrong way, he’ll slip free. Ever so slowly and with minimal movement, she lets go of his hair and removes her top. Tossing it out the door, she eases down an inch, smiling coyly as her fingers trace lazy circles around his nipple.

She winks, and in that space of a heartbeat, he finds freedom. Freedom to release his remaining doubts, to give Kasey the trust she seeks, lay bare his soul, and open his heart completely. He’d give her anything she asked for and more.

He bites his lip, teeth grazing the swollen flesh as she slides back over him in one smooth motion, reducing his existential contemplations to raw, primal lust.

He shifts lower in the seat, causing her to lean forward, and her breasts hang freely above his face, inciting his dick to twitch inside her.  

She squeezes tight around him, rolls her hips, and then starts a frustratingly slow pace. Her hands roam his body, nails scratching, moist lips and heated breath teasing, every touch leaving his skin tingling like he gripped a live wire.

“Damn, you feel good.” He captures a hand in his, kissing her wrist before setting her palm on the curve of the seat next to his head, then does the same with her other hand. Using the seat as leverage, she speeds up her movements, arching into him, her pelvis tilts, taking him deeper. “That’s it. Shit. So tight.”

Her entire body shudders, followed by a whimpering sigh when he ghosts his fingers up her sides, and he does it again to hear the sweet sounds it elicits. Her breath hitches, “F- f- fuck,” when he palms each breast, kneading the soft flesh, rolling the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. 

Sliding a hand down her stomach, he laves his tongue over pebbled flesh, and her pace falters. She quickly recovers, though. 

“Guh… that feels good.” Fingers tangle in his hair, “...so f- fu- …big …shit …right there, right there, right there,” she whines as he massages her clit. Nails dig into his flesh when she braces her other hand on his shoulder as her walls ripple and contract. 

On the next downward thrust, he latches onto her breast, teeth grazing over the taut bud. Warm slick coats his throbbing dick as she convulses around him, clenching hard enough to nearly push him out. Squeezing his fingers into the globes of her ass, he plants his feet on the floor and gives a hard thrust upward, staking his claim, burying himself and pulsing deep inside her, shouting her name to the heavens as she curses his.

When they’re both spent, he drops his hands to his sides, and Kasey falls against him, elbows set on his shoulders, chin resting on the top of his head as he presses his forehead to her chest, panting. When his softened cock slips from inside her, she slides off his lap to sit next to him, a knee cracking as she unfolds her legs. 

“Ooof.” She rubs a hand over the joint before picking up his hand and holding it between hers, intertwining their fingers as she kisses his shoulder. “That was one helluva ride.” she breathes.

“Better than riding shotgun in Baby?” he goads.

“Oh, that’s a tough call,” she muses. “I may have to go another round or two on both to ensure I have thoroughly done my research and have all the evidence to make an informed and objective opinion.”

He stares at her in stunned silence, unsure how to take the seriousness of her face and matter-of-fact tone, but when she purses her lips, throwing him a kiss, he bursts out laughing, head tilted back and body shaking. Kasey joins in seconds later, laying her head on his arm and squeezing his hand.

When he’s recovered enough to speak, he kisses the top of her head and asks. “Hey, what were you afraid we were going to miss?”

“Oh.” She leans back to look out the rear window. “Perfect. Come on.” She scurries out of the car, tugging on his hand. 

“Nooo,” he whines, playfully fighting her pull. “Wanna stay here.” Honestly, he’s not sure how she can even stand right now. After all, she did all the work. He feels like a blob of jello. The woman definitely has some stamina. He makes a mental note to test her limits at a later date. When she continues to yank on his arm, he falls to the side in a heap. 

“Fine,” she drops his hand and huffs, “be an old man.”

After a few moments of silence, a low growl escapes him, and he shifts his head, peeling an eye open to see what she’s doing. She’s facing the lake, standing butt naked a couple of feet from the car, staring up at the sky. As quietly as he can, he scrambles from the vehicle, scooping her up in his arms just as she turns at the sound of his approach. He runs toward the lake as she squeals in his arms. 

He knows the lake is deep; she had told him while they were driving how she would spend her summers here as a child, floating on a makeshift raft, acting out grand pirate adventures, pretending to be the lady of the lake, or jumping from the rope attached to the tree a few feet away. So he doesn’t slow as he nears the water’s edge. “Old man, my ass.”

Arms locking around his neck, Kasey shrieks his name over his shout to hold her breath as he leaps toward the center of the water. Letting go of her legs, he holds her chest to chest as they sink. Kasey presses her lips to his, arms still wrapped around him as they drift downward. It's a welcome relief when the water is warmer than he expected, and he gets momentarily lost in the otherworldly quality of it—the seductive silence, the pressure of the water buoying their bodies, the feel of her skin sliding against his as darkness encompasses them.

He jolts when she starts kicking her feet, fingers tapping on his spine, recognition sinking in that they will soon need air. Kicking out, he swiftly propels them upward, each gasping for breath as they break apart when they breach the surface.

Kasey swims to the far side of the lake, pushing herself up onto some kind of narrow platform. Lying on her stomach, she paddles back to him. 

As she drifts closer, he notices the tattered tarp covering a row of slender logs that have been expertly lashed together. Assuming this is the raft she made, he bobs his head in admiration of her handiwork.

“Sorry, Jack, there’s not enough room for you,” she pouts, coming to a stop to float next to him.

“Oh, there was plenty of room for him,” Dean argues. “The issue came down to buoyancy. The added weight would have submerged the wood and made it unstable. Any movement would have made them slide off. Besides, Jack had to die.”

“Seriously?” Kasey stares at him like he just kicked her puppy. 

Dean chuckles, gripping her hand between his he pretends to shiver. “...promise me you will survive....that you will never give up...no matter what happens...no matter how hopeless...promise me now, and never let go of that promise.”

“I promise,” Kasey replies, overly dramatic.

“Never let go,” Dean responds just as dramatically. She squeezes his hand and something shifts in her demeanor.

“I promise. I will never let go, Dean. I’ll never let go.”

The impassioned edge to her tone, the way she grasps his face, eyes boring into his as she says the words are gut-wrenching. He doesn’t miss the fact that she uses his name or that he can taste the salt from her tears when he kisses her.

“Dean, I-” 

She tucks her chin, but he tilts it back up with a finger crooked beneath it. He’s close enough to see the multitude of emotions swirling in her anxious gaze. Just as she can read and decipher what he leaves unsaid, he understands her uncertainty, the hesitancy to voice the words that lie heavy in both their hearts.

“I know.” He thumbs the moisture from her cheek, and she gives him a brief nod before rolling onto her back with a sniff. He takes a moment to calm his heart and swipe away the tear that spills over his lashes. Stars shine brightly overhead, twinkling little dots in the water. Crickets chirp and frogs croak, lending a melodic soundtrack to the charged moment.

Struggling to find the right words, he falls back on humor to break the tension instead. “You know, for someone that doesn’t own a television or any way to stream, your movie quote game is pretty impressive,” he chuckles.

Kasey snorts. Stretching an arm over her head, she reaches for the back of his neck, fingers slipping as she attempts to tug him around to the side. He takes her hand and moves of his own accord, folding his arms on the edge of the raft, keeping her hand in his as he kicks lazily to stay afloat. 

“I worked long hours, and aside from a handful of friends, I kept mostly to myself. Movies were my ‘thing’, plus I have a good memory.” She waves a hand in dismissal of his admiration. “You seem to have a pretty impressive knowledge of movies yourself. Curiously enough, ones that could be considered chick flicks in that repertoire. Titanic?”

He huffs, “There was a girl...”

The little boat rocks with her laughter. “Say no more.”

“Seriously. Made me go see that damn movie five times, but would never agree that there was enough room on that door. If they had just put Rose’s-” 

Before he can finish his explanation, she cuts him off, pointing to the sky and exclaiming, “Look!”

Dean lifts his gaze to catch a thin strip of light streaking across the sky. Two more quickly follow, and then the sky is filled with shooting stars. “Perseids,” he whispers in awe.

He holds her hand as he rolls to lie back and float on the surface. When he starts to drift too far, Kasey pulls him back. Arms on the edge of the raft, chin sitting atop his crossed hands, he gently kicks them around the small lake as they watch the universe's light show. When she begins to card her fingers through his hair, he turns his head to watch her instead.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she whispers, still staring at the stars.

“Stunning.” 

How the hell did I get so lucky to be pulled into her orbit?

Shifting her glance to him, she softly smiles. “I agree.”

As the meteor shower dwindles, they return to the car. Kasey pulls the blanket from the back seat, spreading it over the ground, while Dean grabs a beer for each of them from the cooler. Relaxed and sated, they let the warm summer air dry their skin as they spend the next couple of hours discussing the classics—music, cars, movies, and cheesy pick-up lines.  

After polishing off the six-pack and the remainder of the pie, they get dressed, pack up, and head back to the house. The return drive is quieter, a comfortable calm permeating the air around them. Once Baby is back in her delegated space and the house is secured for the night, they crawl into bed. 

Kasey falls asleep almost immediately, using his chest as a pillow, and Dean stares at the ceiling, stroking her hair. There’s a lot they need to talk about yet, but that’s a conversation for tomorrow. He still has to deal with what feels like a cosmic battle for his life, but the day was the break he needed to refuel and find hope, and he has her to thank for that.

Sated and content with Kasey tucked into his side, he kisses the top of her head and falls asleep feeling safe in the knowledge that he can survive anything that comes his way as long as she’s with him.

Love Me Some Pie

@123passwort // @akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deans-baby-momma // @deaneverafter // @deans-spinster-witch // @deanwanddamons // @flamencodiva // @globetrotter28 // @iamsapphine // @idreamofplaid // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justagirlinafandomworld // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @ladysparkles78 // @lyarr24 // @michellethetvaddict // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @mvdeanw // @princessmisery666 // @shawnie74 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix

[kickingitwithkirk]

Greetings from Austin

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Word Count: 2161

Warnings: a/b/o, J2 are married/mated, homophobia, bisexuality, biphobia, outdated beliefs, angst, cursing, jealousy, depression/anxiety, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility, IVF, surrogacy, subgender inequality

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

Square filled: Non-traditional Alpha Traits @spnabobingo Maid Au @spnaubingo

A/N: Here we go again with one my weird as hell dreams, series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

A/N III: thank you to everyone for hanging in there since it’s taken me ages to drop a new character, I’ve been doing rewrites/updating on all my series, more to come in future.

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @writeyourmindaway​​​​​​

*images found online

Part IV

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

“DON'T YA’ BE YELLING AT ME, MR. MAN, EVEN IF THIS IS YOUR FUCKING HOUSE…”

“I gotta go,” tossing his phone on the bedside table, Jared, wearing his blessed socks, runs across the main room and slides on the hardwood floor into the kitchen and saw his husband standing three feet from Quinn as she’s vigorously gesturing with a paring knife while telling him off in her colorful language.

“Put the knife down!” The older Alpha’s voice resonates through the room, making Jared flinch, feeling the command’s power, watching Quinn set it on the counter and Jensen reach over, sliding it towards him.

She stood a bit longer before blinking in confusion, and then her demeanor shifted to madder than a wet hen, her natural lower voice dropped another octave, and the lilt became very pronounced. “Don’t ya’ ever use that fucking voice on me again!” 

“You were threatening me with a knife!” Jensen picks up the item, making her laugh, “Holy fucking shit, are ya’ serious? Ya’ could barely use it for a toothpick, let alone...” 

Jared stood there, mouth hanging open, have’n seen others take on his mate, wrongfully assuming he’d be the easier of the two to intimidate, but when let off its leash, Jensen's wolf made Dean Winchester look like a pussy cat.

“JARED!”

The younger Alpha's mouth snapped shut, “sorry, what?”

“I asked you what the surrogate is doing here?”

“The surrogate has a name.” 

 “What is Quinn doing here?”

 “So..uh..okay,” Jared slowly starts around the island doing his sometimes awkward, hesitant thing.  “A few days ago, I got a call from this number I didn’t recognize. It was about the ultrasound appointment scheduled while you were in LA.” 

He paused to see if Jensen remembered, and yep, his mate was wearing his get to the fucking point expression.

“They informed me she’d canceled it because she was leaving town.” 

Jensen's attention returned to the O, ”Don’t fucking start on me again, Ackles!”

“You know who I am?” 

“Duh, Sherlock!” 

Jensen would later try to justify it was jet lag and surprise finding their surrogate in their home, not her smart-ass mouth, for snarling at her.

“Och, save it for the cameras, drama queen. Ya’ put pants on just like the rest of us; the only difference is yours have designer labels.”

Jared interrupted the speeding downhill faster than an Olympic bobsledder situation, “I remembered her saying something about managing Mulroney’s Bookstore, so I called Clif to see if he’d get her to contact me and calls back saying some Alpha...” 

“...who’s a flaming jackass!”

“Yeah, that’s what Clif called him. Anyways, he claimed to be the manager and had no idea where she was when another employee said they knew where she was living...”

“... that’s when ya’ boy shows up..”

“…I explained about the mixup...”

“…Padalecki followed me to my room to get the new date, then he caused a scene...”

“...I couldn’t help my wolf freaking out at where my..our pups were living...”

“…told ya’ it was there or the I-35 underpass!”

Jared bristled at the reminder, “The door had three locks, a barely functional heater, and a broken fridge. Cockroaches wouldn’t even live there!”

Quinn raises onto the balls of her feet and loudly reminds him about putting her in the shitter with the manager and getting fired when Jared shouts back in his booming voice, “there was a guy by the ice machine offering to sell me heroin!!”

“ENOUGH!” Jensen's Alpha voice echoes throughout the kitchen, quieting them both.

“She’s right,” Jared opened his mouth to retort, but Jensen countered with, “And so are you. Quinn, couldn’t your family help,” the Alphas wrinkled their noses at her souring scent, so he attempted another approach. 

“I want to clear something up. I recall one of the stipulations for surrogates is that they reside in an appropriate domicile. Why were you living in a motel? Could you tell us what happened?”

“The flaming jackass tipped off the landlord I’m an O, and that fucker evicted me even though I never caused any problem or was late with rent.”

“There is a moratorium on evictions..”

“..that moratorium is a fucking joke!”  

“What a minute,” Jensen said, and at the same time, Jared remarked, “It protects people...”

“Newsflash, Mr. Wizard, was created by and for the protection of Alphas and Betas! Take a hot minute to read the fine print, and you’ll find loopholes granting landlords, to quote, discretionary privileges pertaining to the eviction of those designated with the sub-gender Omega. In other words, they can boot O’s for any damn reason!” She gave the Alphas a hard stare, “So, enlighten me as to why y’all didn’t know a fucking thing about that bit?”

The kitchen got quiet as the Alphas glanced at each other, trying to find a non-assholey-sounding response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought; since it’s well known you two prefer Betas.” Quinn addressed the older Alpha.

“Padalecki and I have an arrangement. I keep the house and do meals in exchange for temporary boarding. No need to fret that pretty head of yours, Ackles; I’ll do me damnedest to stay outta the way."

🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎

December 23rd                                                                                                   Late Afternoon

Quinn heard Jensen’s surprised greeting covering the stewpot of goulash, slid it into the oven to stay warm, and peeked around the wall and saw him in the foyer hugging a small, older O, then a tall, bald Alpha carrying several bags crossed over to them.

“Let me help you with those, sir,” she offered, taking them couldn’t help but overhear his not-subtle sniff, “Jensen, who’s this?”

“Umm,” Jensen scratched the back of his neck, fumbling for a response, “this is the housekeeper, Quinn.”  His mother-in-law peered inquisitively at the tall Omega before asking, “What happened to your boys' service?”

“I worked for it.”

Gerald Padalecki dubiously eyed the O up and down as she continued. “They pared down the staff, and Jared offered to retain me in exchange for lodging...”

“You live with them?” Gerald barked, “Jensen, that’s unwise considering...”

“Considering what Gerry,” his mate sharply asks, “the boys wouldn’t let someone stay they couldn’t trust.”

 “I normally wouldn’t question their judgment, but she's an unmated O.”

“Whoa,’ Jensen jumped in, “are you suggesting that Jared or I...” 

“Mama..daddy..what’re y’all doing here?” Jared couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice, wrapping his long arms around his mother, “thought you were coming tomorrow.” 

“We decided to surprise you but got it instead.” Gerald’s gruff reply made Jared throw his husband a confused look, catching a whiff of his dad and Jensen, “What’s going on?”

“I bet y’all would like to freshen up after your trip.” Quinn blurted out, “Jensen, would you help me with their luggage, please.”

Taking the car keys, he follows her out the door, remarking, “you think fast, coming up with that story.”

“Ya’ were about to lose ya' shit on your father-in-law, and I didn’t precisely fib, just moved a few facts around,” Quinn shoots back, grabbing a bag while Jensen, fuming, retrieves the other, following her to the guest house.

How could the Alpha he considered his father even think, after everything they’d been through, found his dark thoughts distracted by two simultaneous acts; a deflating blow-up bed and his bewildered husband storming in shouting, “What the fuck was that?”

Jensen ticked his head towards the O and made the finger-in-hole gesture.

 “I’ve gotten that shit since I presented,” the pair look towards Quinn with confused expressions. “Loads of Alphas still carry antiquated beliefs about unmated O’s, and I’m…pick an adjective to fill in the blank.”

“So much for a peaceful holiday,” Jensen grumbled.

“Yeah, too bad ya’ boy stuck his nose where it didn’t belong, right?” Quinn's tone was caustic. “I don’t want to be a bone of contention with ya' family. I’ll figure somewhere else to stay.”

Jared’s wolf simmers under his skin, “How? You have $636.96 in your account. That won’t cover a security deposit, let alone fir..” 

“How the fuck ya’ know what’s in my account?!”

“Your laptop was open...”

“...and ya’ snooped...”

“...I happened to see it...”

“...still not your fucking problem...”

“...you’re carrying my..our pups, that makes it my fucking..”

“...ya’ are the most unfucking...”

“I’m tired of y’alls motherfucking bitching, so shut the fuck up!!” 

Jensen wrinkles his nose, “Dude, dial it down; you’re stinking up the joint! And Quinn, Jared screwed up...”

“I never asked...”

“...doesn’t matter! He's trying to make amends, for fuck sake!” Jensen felt the vein in his left temple throbbing again.

“There will be many people dropping in or staying with us this fucking week, and this is how we’re all going to handle our situation.”

🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿

January 15th

“Humph,” Jensen jerked awake, slapping a hand around, and found his phone before cracking an eye open.

7:18 A.M.

Groaning, he dropped face-first into his pillow and wrestled his mates over his head to muffle the noise, but the pearls of his pup's laughter signaled he wouldn’t sleep much longer.

His fuzzy brain's insistence that coffee was more imperative than a shower has Jensen sleepily shuffling around the oversized couches, once again grateful they’d decided to move their bedroom to the main floor, spots the group in the kitchen muttered too damn early.

“That’s a bad word, Daddy,” JJ says, her frown a replica of his, “you owe the swear jar.”

“Your right, Birdie, sorry,” dropping a kiss on top of her and the twins' heads, stepping around them, pouring himself a mug, “remind me to pay it later.” 

Hopping up on the counter, Jensen sips his coffee, savoring the black elixir rolling over his taste buds; he feels the caffeine penetrate his system, working its magic to turn his morning grumpyass into a civilized human watching his brood.

JJ and Arrow are busily festooning Quinn’s long, wonky braided hair with ribbons. Zeppelin and Icarus are sitting on the O’s lap, watching something on his iPad that's precariously balanced against her feet; felt his wolf purr in contentment, starting him when his mate materializes and gives him an odd look.

“Alright, y’all,” hopping off the counter, Jensen scoops up his son and flies him around, making airplane sounds, “Uncle Jeff and Aunt H/W/N will be here soon. What do all of you need to do before going?”

“Brush teeth and hair,” Arrow says, then looks at JJ, “grab our snacks from the fridge,” she reminds her, “and put them into our backpacks.” 

“And do bath break!” Zep giggles as Jensen hands the pup to his mate and quietly says, “I wanna discuss something with Quinn.”

Jared reaches through their bond and finds a placidity in Jensen he hasn’t had for so long, but before he can deduce the causation, he gets distracted by the twins' squeals and escorts the pups upstairs. 

Quinn eyes the older Alpha while securing a hair tie around her long braids, “what the fuck I do this time, Ackles?”

“Jared mentioned something about your leaving..”

“...I know ya' expected me gone before now...”

 “...ya’ know what I expect?” Jensen snaps, mimicking her subtle accent, “I expect you to stop interrupting and let me get something out for fucking once! Now, could we please discuss this without fighting?”

Sitting at the dining room table, she says nothing, watching Jensen refill his coffee, grab another mug, and drops in a spoon of honey before pouring the brewed tea from the kettle, “Ya’ know how I take me tea?”

“I’m not a completely unobservant asshole,” Jensen self-deprecates, “you make a damn good cup of coffee,” he said, carrying both mugs over. “And I’m astonished how you balance everything, working at Emmer and Rye while keeping up with our hectic schedules. And what did you do to Jared?” Quinn looked confused, “you got him to put his wet clothes in the laundry instead of leaving them all over the bath. You’re either a witch or a goddamn miracle worker!”

“I gave him two options. Leave’um in the laundry or find itching powder in his clothing.”

“He’d just borrow my stuff...”

“...he did, once.” 

“So, you?

“Clif said ya’ boy spent the day denying it was jock itch.” 

Jensen was still laughing when the quartet came back downstairs, so Quinn placed both forearms on the table, leaning forward, and spoke softly, “okay, Ackles, the fucks going on with this little tête-à-tête? Cause ya’ been freaked the fuck out the entire time, so,” nodding to her mug, “What’s with the buttering up?”

“It’s about not leaving...”

“Quinns not gonna leave?” Jensen whipped around to find Arrow bouncing excitedly beside him, then she suddenly raced towards the front door, yelling, “Papa Jared, Daddy’s got Quinn to stay with us!”  

Jared stood there scrutinizing the seated duo with an indecipherable expression.

“Looks like ya’ the one dropping me in the shitter this time, Ackles.”

tbc

Part V

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva  @b3autyfuldisast3r  @lassie-bird @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67  @leigh70

Sam/Jared:  @idreamofplaid Dean/Jensen:  @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @akshi8278  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl @siospins2

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest @ladysparkles78

[flamencodiva]

The Frog Princess 7

Description: The life of a prince is never easy, unless you are Dean Winchester, crowned prince to the Kingdom of Lawrence. But when an encounter with a frog changes his world, what will he find on his adventure? And what happens when an Evil Queens curse sends them to a land without magic and no memory of what he’s lost?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Amaya Campos

Warnings for entire fic: Angst, Slow Burn, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Idiots to lovers, Language Violence.

Beta: @colereads and @jensengirl83

A/N: This fic coensides with a fic written by @defenderrosetyler on Tumble titled A Prince and His Swan. Make sure you guys check it out!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

<< Chapter 6

Enchanted Forest 

Deep in the swamp, Dean looked around the inside of Missouri’s house. The woman’s house was full of odds and ends that Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it. He continued to observe Amaya as she hopped around the one-room shack. He could tell she was thinking about something. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” he let out. “Going out on your own is a bad idea, Amaya,” he hopped over to her making her stop her movements, “I understand you want to find your father. If it was me, I would do the same. But I also know that charging in without a plan will only get you killed.” 

Amaya stayed silent, contemplating his words. Why was he saying this? He was resistant to helping her from the beginning, and now he was offering advice? 

“I don’t know what you’re up to,” she hissed, “but I am going to warn you. If you get in my way, I will kill you. Prince or no Prince, I will kill you in ways that will make your blood run cold.” 

Dean huffed, “This, Sir Trenton,” he let out, pausing to meet her eyes, “he really did a number on you. If you want to believe that I have a motive for helping you, by all means, go right ahead. My motive for helping you is keeping my promise.” 

Amaya’s eyes went down to the five-pointed star surrounded by fire on his chest. Giving Dean a nod, she hopped around him towards a large pot that Missouri was hunched over. 

“What is she making, a potion?” Dean asked, following behind. 

“Hush up,” Missouri scoffed, “This is my gumbo.” 

“Now Missouri,” a voice called, followed by a light buzzing sound, “don’t go adding what shouldn’ be in da gumbo!” 

“And what do you think I would add in here that shouldn’t be?” Missouri huffed back, hands on her hips as she looked up at a firefly buzzing around her head. 

“Cinnamon,” they said matter of factly. 

“Boy,” Missouri said, “you are lucky I am too kind-hearted to knock you with a spoon because of your size.” 

Dean knew the voice sounded familiar. He had heard it many times before.

 But Benny was back in Castle Winchester. So then, who was the mysterious firefly? 

“This curse is more complicated than you realize, Young Prince,” Missouri said, stirring the pot. “Since you’re here, you must be feeling a sense of familiarity.” 

“Are you a witch?” Dean asked, “I don’t trust witches.” 

“Not all of us who dabble in magic are evil, in fact,” Missouri shook her shoulders, revealing wings. “I am the fairy of this land. My magic couldn’t stop the curse Abaddon concocted. A curse so powerful that she used the darkest magic we’ve ever seen.” 

“Missouri,” Amaya sighed, “he doesn’t need the details. I just need to know how to get back into the castle.” 

“And how do you know that? He’s affected by this too,” Missouri sassed.

Dean tilted his head in confusion. What did she mean by the curse affecting him too? 

 “Do you have a plan? I mean, you must have? Then again, you got caught by one of the shadows trying to go after your father,” Missouri huffed out. 

“What can we do? There has to be something? Maybe there is a potion or a book with spells that can give us a clue?” Dean let out, trying to come up with a plan.  

“I think I have a way to break through the spell Abaddon placed on Lawrence,” Missouri said, taking Dean into her hand. “Abaddon’s curse also erased the memory of anyone close with the royal family of Aviria.” 

“I don’t understand,” Dean let out. “I mean, I know I’ve felt like I’ve been here before. I remember Amaya being young, but --” 

“Just relax, your highness,” Missouri said as she picked up a spoon, dipping it into the gumbo and scooping it up. “Take a taste and let the gumbo work its magic.” 

“I don’t know how--” before Dean could finish the sentence, Missouri pushed the spoon past his lips and swallowed. 

As the spices hit his taste buds, Dean felt a warm sensation fill his body. Flashes of memories began to fill his head. His webby hands held his temples as he groaned in pain. The pressure built as more and more images filled him. Until there was one last one that had his heart stop. 

‘Do you think we can be friends forever?’ a girl around age eight said as she looked up at him with brown eyes full of tears. 

‘I’ll write to you every day, Amaya,’ a ten-year-old Dean said as he kissed her forehead. 

Dean looked at Amaya, who turned her head away from him. How could he have forgotten her? How did his family forget them? For that matter, how did an entire kingdom forget the royal family of Aviria?

“How?” Dean asked, looking at Missouri, “how did Abaddon make us forget?” 

“On the day your family went back to your Kingdom, a pendant was given to a young squire,” Missouri explained. “That pendant was cursed to make anyone within the border of the castle forget the Avirian family.” 

“But Amaya remembered her father. So how--” Dean stopped when Missouri shook her head. 

“Child, the pendant was to work for those who resided in the palace. Amaya didn’t reside there. You did.” Missouri explained. 

“How does that explain me?” Amaya let out, “I didn’t recognize him! We were told he died!” 

“Child, you’re the Princess of Aviria. You didn’t think I was going to send you to Lawrence without protection?” Missouri sassed. “It made you forget that you knew Dean but not who you  are.” 

Amaya stayed silent as she watched Missouri speak to Dean before hopping off towards the porch. As she sat on the banister, a slight buzz came from her right. 

“You know, Cher,” a voice called from beside her, “It’z hard to see someone you care abou’ not know who you ah’” 

“Thanks, Ty,” Amaya huffed, “But I don’t need this. Not now. I just want Aviria to be free of this curse. It’s all--” 

“Don’t chu dare say it’z your fault,” Ty growled as he buzzed his way to fly in front of her face. “None of dis iz on you. This is on Abaddon and Trenton. Doze two need tah pay for what dey done to us!” 

Amaya nodded, a small tear falling from her eye. 

“No, Cher,” Ty soothed, “don’t cry. We’ll find a way. We alwayz find a way outta trouble.” 

“Like the time you guys, Benny, Sam, and I all went exploring in a cavern outside the bayou?” A voice called from behind them. 

Ty and Amaya watched as Dean hopped his way over. The green frog made a few jumps before finally landing on the banister. 

“Knew I would get there,” he said to himself. “Now that I remember,” Dean paused and looked at Ty, “Your brother’s safe, Ty. He’s still my best friend, and he’s captain of my personal guard.” 

“Daz good to hear,” Ty said, chuckling. “I’m captain of her guard,” he threw his thumb out to point at Amaya. “Lot’ta good that did.”

“Hey!” Amaya called out, “If I can’t take the blame for this curse, you can’t take the blame either, come mierda.” (colloquial expression for asshole. Literal translation shit eater). 

“I remember that word!” Dean chuckled. “Maya,” he sighed, turning to face her. “I’m--” 

“There is nothing to apologize for,” she let out, swallowing the small lump that formed in her throat. “You had a spell cast on you. This was all planned from the beginning.” 

Dean cleared his throat before producing a flower from behind his back. Missouri helped him conceal it to keep it a surprise. In his hands, he held a rare purple rose that only grew in Aviria. He knew they were Amaya’s favorite, but the thorns themselves were hard to avoid. 

“Dean,” Amaya let out, her eyes darting from the rose to his eyes. 

“Let me help you fight this, please,” Dean pleaded. “Our kingdom made a promise. Let me make sure that promise is kept.” 

Amaya could feel her little frog heart pound in her chest at his words. She could tell he meant it just by gazing into his green eyes. Looking at the rose in his hands, she let her eyes trail up to his frog form and gasped. 

“Estas sangrando,” she muttered, giving the flower to Ty and dragging Dean back inside. 

“It’s just a bit of blood, I’m--” 

Dean closed his mouth as she glared at him. A small part of him felt a slight sense of pride that she was taking care of his wounds. Now, if only he could fulfill his duty and help her save the realm. 

Storybrooke

Amaya awoke the following day sore and tired. Working in the Queen’s Court wasn’t as easy as she thought it was. Her muscles hurt in places she never thought they could. 

Making her way towards the kitchen, she noticed the purple rose on the counter from the night before. Her thoughts went to Trenton. Who else could have given it to her? They were dating, and he knew the kinds of flowers she liked. She figured this was his way of showing his affection on the most romantic day of the year. Even if she didn’t hear from him. 

Glancing up at the clock, she cursed softly and rushed to get her breakfast. She knew she had a lot of work to do at the Emporium. Amaya was devastated when her windows were broken, and the newts she had collected for Gold were missing. She knew making the newt deal was too good to be true. Not to mention it was weird that Mr. Gold wanted newts as payment. She couldn’t help feel a sense of dread at what the day would bring. 

As she got dressed, she felt good to have more clothes on. She missed having her layers. Her boot-cut jeans, band tee with flannel and leather jacket, and her boots were comforting to her. 

Making sure she had everything she needed, Amaya locked her door and made her way to her bike. She only imagined what she would find and the work she would do to fix the shop. That alone had her thinking about the cost of repairing everything. As she parked her bike in the back, she could tell something was different. Walking inside from the back door, she found the glass was cleaned up. 

Walking to the front of the store, she gasped upon seeing the fixed glass. She didn’t know what to think. Yesterday the last thing she remembered was glass everywhere. The windows were smashed in, and now, the store was clean, and the windows were replaced. Moving to the front of the store, she gasped, seeing another purple rose. 

'No one deserves to have something they've worked for destroyed. Just remember that your smile sparks life. Your amphibians need you, a kind and wonderful soul who sees more than just a slimy animal. You see the royalty inside the frogs.'

Amaya laughed at the words. She had always joked that one of these amphibians was a royal in disguise. Amaya had to thank Trenton for doing this. He is the only one whom she could think of that did this. After all, Trenton loved her, right? 

Placing the flower in a vase she had lying around, Amaya went about her morning feeding and taking care of the Amphibians in their habitats. As she was on the last glass tank, she heard the bell jingle as the door opened. 

“Hey, babe,” Trenton’s voice filled the shop. “How did you fix up the place so fast?” 

“I found it like this,” Amaya let out. “I guess Mr. Gold decided to fix up the glass.” 

Well, it looks like Trenton wasn’t the one who fixed it. And Amaya knew Mr. Gold never fixed anything. Then, who was the purple rose from? And why her? She spent some time with Trenton until he had to go to work. She found out he worked at the docks and knew his reason for being out so late. Sometimes, working at the ports was late night work. 

Once Trenton left, Amaya began looking over inventory. Her mind was on the purple rose and the mysterious person who seemed to be watching out for her. 

Meanwhile, Dean had woken up and made his way to the garage. All morning all he could think about was Henry’s book. Something about it seemed mysterious. Hell, it said he was good at archery. Dean wondered what else was in it. Looking at the clock and the list of customers, he sighed. There weren’t many, to begin with, and Dean found he had free time. 

Running to the office, Dean announced he would end his shift early and made his way to Mayor Mill’s house. He saw the young boy making his way out of the sidewalk and towards town. Dean jogged a bit to catch up to the boy. 

“Henry!” he called, but his voice wasn’t the only one to call for the mayor’s son. 

Dean saw Sam making his way towards Henry at the same time he was. 

“Sam? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?” he asked, raising his eyebrow at his brother. 

“Could say the same about you,” Sam huffed. 

“Slow day at the garage,” Dean snapped. “I need to speak to Henry. Why don’t you go off and get lost in bliss? You’re good at it.” 

“Why don’t you go on and drink your life away? You’re good at that,” Sam snapped back. 

“Um,” Henry reminded the boys of his presence, “are you guys okay?” 

“I need to read your storybook,” the brothers said at the same time. 

“You’re not reading it,” they synced again. “I am. Stop that!” 

Both brothers let out growls of frustration. Dean ran a hand across his face while Sam ran his fingers through his hair. Green eyes met hazel in an angry staring contest. 

“Why are you two fighting? You’re brothers. You used to get along,” Henry pointed out. 

“Why don’t you go back to Ruby, Sam? Seems like you don’t want to get rid of her that bad if she’s still at your apartment.” Dean growled, glaring at his brother. 

“Shut up, Dean. You know she had her name on the lease, and it’s--” 

“And who told you to not let her do that? Huh?” Dean pushed at Sam, “I’m getting real sick of having to clean up after your sorry ass.” 

“Um, guys,” Henry tried to get the brother’s attention. 

“You know what, Dean,” Sam huffed, “I’m sick and tired of you looking out for me. I don’t need you! I never needed you!” 

“And whose fault is it that we’re indebted to Rowena instead of Gold, Huh?” Dean barked, “It sure as hell wasn’t me! I wasn’t the one who got her mixed up with us again after the first time. So this is all on you!” 

“Oh yeah?” Sam challenged, standing toe to toe with Dean, “Fuck you, Dean. You have this savior complex that gets you in trouble. You know that. I don’t need you to save me. And you know what, Maya doesn’t need you to save her!” 

“At least I’m trying to fix things!” Dean said, “you ruined this family, Sam. The minute you made a deal with Rowena and started seeing Ruby, you broke us, man.” 

“What about you, Dean? You broke promise after promise. Not just to Amaya, but to me!” Sam cried. 

“What? No, I--” 

“My birthday,” Sam breathed, “you promised me we were going to have this amazing brother bonding trip, only for me to find out you and Benny went off on your own! You treat Benny like your brother and me like a stranger!” Sam accused. 

Dean stayed silent as he looked at his brother. Had he been so selfish that he abandoned his brother too? Had he really broken his promises not just to Amaya but to his family? 

“The night Dad had his heart attack,” Sam let out, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You promised him you were going to help him fix the room for mom. Mom, who’s still in the hospital and is in a damn coma!” 

“Sam, I--” 

“No,” Sam sneered, “My turn. You get to stand there and hear everything you did.” Sam poked at Dean’s chest, nostrils flaring in anger, “you always treated me like a god damn baby! News flash, I grew up! I grew up, and you treated me like it was my fault mom got sick!” 

“You’re the one that gave her the damn candy some stranger gave you!” Dean countered. “So yeah, it’s your fault that mom is in the hospital in a coma!” 

“What if it was me, Dean?” Sam asked, eyes filled with tears. “What if I ate it instead of mom? Would you be happy then?” 

“Sam,” Dean said, his anger calmed by Sam’s questioning, “you know I would be worried the same way. You’re my brother.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said, “but you still blame me, and nothing I do can ever set things right.” 

“Look, let’s just--” Dean ran his hand across his face again before rubbing the back of his neck, “Henry, we need to know about us, in your book.” 

“Okay,” Henry agreed, “But not here. We need to go somewhere quiet.” 

“Where?” Sam and Dean echoed. 

“Just follow me,” Henry said, shaking his head at the two men. 

Enchanted Forest 

“You sure you want to do this?” Dean asked as they neared the cave with the secret entrance to the tunnel. 

Ty was using his butt, for lack of a better word, as a way to light their path. Dean still couldn’t wrap his head around how a fairy could curse not just one kingdom but two. 

Following behind the gator, Dean learned was named Garth. They reached an area with a waterfall. 

“This is it,” Amaya said. “Behind the falls is a secret cavern to a trap door.” 

“What do we do once we get inside?” Brandy asked. 

“You guys don’t go inside,” Amaya breathed, “I go in,” she clarified, “alone.” 

“You are not going in alone!” 

“No way! We’re coming with you!” 

Everyone in the group voiced their opinions. Dean staying silent as he looked at Amaya. He could see how determined she was. 

“You’re going to what?” he finally spoke after everyone quieted down, “You’re going to trade yourself for your dad? Then what?” 

“I don’t know,” Amaya sighed. “But I can’t let him be captured. At this point, Abaddon has won. There is nothing else we can do.” 

“I can help you fight,” Dean insisted, “you want to be bait, okay, but not without backup. We can get your dad out safe, and you won’t be trapped.” 

“And how do we do that?” Amaya asked. 

Dean had laid out the plan, Amaya would go in with Dean. Two tiny frogs would be easy to overlook. As they hopped through the palace, Dean could feel the memories of running around after Amaya come to him. He had to make this right. Had to make sure that he destroyed Benny’s pendant when he got back home.  

As they neared the end of the hall, neither frog noticed the shadows following them. They got captured, Abaddon laughing as she stood by Trenton’s side, a cage in the center of the room holding another frog. 

“So glad you could join us!” Abaddon said as she had the shadows bring Amaya and Dean towards her. “If only you’d just handed her over to me, Your Highness, you’d be your handsome self.” 

“What are you doing? Running two kingdoms, you’re a fairy! You shouldn’t be doing things like this!” Dean croaked. 

“Who made the rules? You?” Abaddon mocked, “please. I know fairies who are tired of living under Blue’s thumb.” 

“And you’re one of them,” Dean huffed, “you’re just greedy. Magic comes with a price Abaddon, what you’ve done, you’ll have to pay for.” 

“Have you been talking to Rumplestilskin? He’s such a know it all,” she sighed, walking up to Dean and grabbing him. “Young Prince, you have a lot to learn before you realize you won’t be king.” 

“I don’t care,” Dean said, struggling against Abaddon’s hold on him. 

He could feel his body secreting mucus, smiling at the abundance of it. He could see the moment Abaddon was disgusted by what she was feeling, releasing him and shaking out her hand. 

“Ewwww, he got slime on me!” she howled. 

“Not slime,” he called out, hopping between the shadows and making his way to the King’s cage, “It’s mucus!” 

As he yelled out, he used his legs to kick the cage over, freeing the king. 

In the flurry of confusion, Dean led the king to Amaya, all while dodging Abaddon’s spells. As he was making his way toward Amaya, he noticed Abaddon aiming her wand at the king. It was all in slow motion for Dean. He pushed Amaya out of the way as he shielded the king’s body with his, Abaddon’s spell hitting him right on his family’s crest. The wind knocked out of him as he slid to the floor of the throne room. His whole world going black. 

“No,” Amaya whispered before screaming it in sheer terror. 

Storybrooke 

“So Amaya is cursed,” Dean let out as he skimmed through the book. “She’s the Frog.” 

“Yup,” Henry smiled. “You made a promise, and it bound you guys together. It’s why you both share the crest! The pentagram in a circle of fire.” 

“Pentagram in a circle of fire? Dean, that’s--” Sam began but shut his mouth when Dean sent him a glare. 

“Henry,” Dean sighed, “this all seems… far-fetched. I mean, Amaya doesn’t even like me. Not to mention I--” he wasn’t sure how to finish his sentence. 

“You could always go talk to Missouri,” Henry said. 

“Where did you hear that name?’ Dean asked. 

“Well, she lives in the forest,” Henry pointed more profound into the woods. “She lives by the old lake that leads to the swamps. Amaya and I visited her when Amaya was looking for newts and tadpoles.” 

Dean nodded, taking all the information he received into consideration. He drifted to an image on a page. A froggy Amaya was holding on to a froggy Dean, the froggy Dean’s body emitting light. 

Something about the picture called to Dean, making his head flash with small images. Amaya calling for him, Dean jumping as a frog in front of what looked like a flash of red light. 

“Okay, I need to head into town. Thanks for the info Henry, I appreciate it.” Dean gave Henry’s shoulder a firm pat before he walked towards his brother. “Whatever is going on, I hope we can solve it. These dreams we’re having… I got a feeling.” 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “Me too. Dean,” Sam continued, his eyes pleading with his brother, “be careful working for Gold. Please. I’m going to work on my end and move in with Dad. Get as far away from Ruby as I can.” 

“Yeah, psycho bitch needs to go bye-bye,” Dean huffed. 

Sam nodded, pulling his brother in for a hug. 

“I hope this means we can stop fighting, right?” Sam asked, his voice full of hope. 

“Yeah,” Dean answered, “I think so. You’re my brother. And as annoying as you are, I got your back.” 

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam said, letting Dean go. 

Dean left Henry and Sam, making his way towards town. He had to report to Mr. Gold. 

Dean entered The Rabbit Hole. He needed a drink, maybe four. Working for Gold had him moving around town doing things Dean knew weren’t right. But if he didn’t, he knew Amaya would be in trouble. After taking Mr. French’s delivery van yesterday, Gold had him going around collecting debts from people who’ve been hiding. It wasn’t easy, and he knew it would make him an enemy, but he’d hope that people would realize he was being used as a pawn too. 

Then there was hearing about Sam being engaged to Ruby. No wonder his brother wanted to live with their father. Dean would have run for the hills too. At his lunch break, Dean had found a way to talk to Y/N. But she seemed to dismiss his questions, claiming Sam was a grown adult and could marry who he wanted. But he could see how heartbroken she was. 

As he sat at the bar, thinking about everything that happened, he couldn’t help but pick up a conversation that was happening near him. 

“Man, the new girls in Queen’s Court, are hot,” he heard someone say. 

Dean raised his eyebrow, adjusting himself so he could listen closer. 

“Yeah, one of them seems to play the shy innocent act,” another customer commented, letting out a chuckle, “but it’s the brunette I would love to have a private dance with.” 

“The brunette?” their friend asked. 

“I mean, they say the brunette has some amazing tits. Perky and supple,” Dean could see the man pause to lick his lips. “Makes you want to bury your face between them. Think her stage name is Calla Lilly.” 

Dean pushed away from the bar, signaling to the bartender that he would move to Queen’s Court. With his glass still in his hands, Dean made his way into the court. 

“Gentlemen,” the DJ’s voice echoed through the speakers, “that was White Swan.” 

As the performer was collecting her money, Dean tilted his head, recognizing the woman. 

“Y/N?” he let out, “Sam’s not gonna be happy about that.” Dean grabbed his drink and turned back towards the stage. He watched as Y/N walked down and made her way off the stage. 

Dean shook his head when he noticed Crowley ogling Y/N. Dean was surprised to see Y/N flirting with the weasel. That meant something must have happened between her and Sam again. Dean shook his head, wondering what had to be fixed now. Why couldn’t his brother just get rid of Ruby and fix things with Y/N? It shouldn’t be that hard. Then again, he was having a hard time with Amaya.

Turning his attention back to the stage, he decided Sam was going to fix it. He had no time to help his brother. Dean had his own shit to deal with. And if he couldn’t fix his own mistakes, how could he help Sam? 

The whiskey was smooth as it flowed down his throat, Dean letting out a slight hiss before licking his lips. He could see many men trying to get a spot closer to the stage for the next performer. 

“Gentlemen, welcome to the Queen’s Court,” the DJ began his announcement, “Calla Lilly!” 

The cheers that erupted in the room were deafening. Dean was curious about the woman who was performing. His eyes focused on the opening in the back of the stage. The music began to play. Dean recognized the song as The Stroke by Billy Squire started to play. 

Dean liked Calla Lilly’s taste in music. He asked for another whiskey, wondering what Calla looked like. 

Dean sat up straight as the performer brought out one leg seductively, her hands on either side of the door frame before pushing out onto the stage. His breath caught in his throat as he saw a pair of familiar brown eyes and brown purple highlighted hair. 

“Amaya.”

Chapter 8 >>

Tag List

Dean (Female Pairing Only) 

@440mxs-wife

@virgosapphire79

@deans-spinster-witch

@sandlee44

@waynes-multiverse

@cookiechipdough

@magssteenkamp 

@akshi8278

Dean Everything 

@sexyvixen7

@kickingitwithkirk 

@deandreamernp

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@stixnstripesworld

[pycobutterpie]

Dean's babygirl

After Dean Winchester surprisingly reunites with his childhood friend Scarlett Andrews, his life changes dramatically. Not only did the Huntress learn several years ago that her father is Crowley, the King of Hell, but she also possesses supernatural powers. Dean struggles with this revelation, but her love for him is stronger and she proves she is on the good side.

Just after the first intimate night, she is pregnant and desperate to keep the baby. Running away won't get Dean far and he realizes that deep down he wants a family after all. Maybe he does have a glimmer of a chance to make everything better. And when little Cassidy, called Cassy, is born, he knows he'll never leave his girls again. <3

[zepskies]

Series Masterlist: The Honorable Choice

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for @jacklesversebingo.

**Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Series Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Racism, angst, violence, protective Dean, eventual smut, perilous situations, fluff and spice, along with other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read: The Spirit Soundtrack

Chapters:

Part 1 - Pride & Prejudice

Part 2 - Death & Sacrifice

Part 3 - Worthy

Series Complete!

🎙️ Podcast Fics:

A “podfic” is where you can listen to the story narrated - in this case by my amazing friend Sandra - @talltalesandbedtimestories.

Listen to Part 1 -

Listen to Part 2 -

Listen to Part 3 -

Join My Patreon 🌟 For early access to new stories, bonus content, first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

Comment below if you'd like to be tagged in this series! 💜

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[paganenglishteacher]

Chapters: 32/? Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Original Supernatural (TV) Character(s),  Bobby Singer, John Winchester, Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Original Character(s), Alternate Universe, World Walking, minor crossover, Friendship/Love, Sick Dean Winchester, Case Fic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst, Sick Sam Winchester, Sick Castiel, Sickfic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, no beta we die like men, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Insert, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural) Summary:

Andy first fell into the Winchester's lives when Dean was 16. Suddenly she's back in their lives when the boys find her wounded on the side of a highway. Will she and Dean keep avoiding their feelings? And why is she suddenly having vivid dreams and waking visions?

Starts shortly after Faith (Se1Ep12) and will go to the end of the series.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Map for The Quicksilver Princess

Just wanted to share my progress with everyone. I have a complete outline of the last two chapters written, as well as most of Chapter 5. I've created this map to help both myself as I'm writing and hopefully you guys while you're reading.

It was a lot of fun to see the world I was imagining in my head take shape. Hope you have fun looking it over too. ❤️

(Misola isn't mentioned in the story, I just wanted to give context to Sanso'ye within the world, in regards to it's geographical location and it's size.)

The last two chapters, 5 and 6, will be posted together sometime before next Friday.

The Quicksilver Princess Master List

[spnhunter4life]

Bullets and Ballgowns Masterlist

Summary: In the summer of 1813, the arrival of a new family in Brighton causes much excitement for the townsfolk. Anna Foster is shocked to realize she has already met the elder of the two sons, Dean. As she gets to know the family better, she must fight her feelings for him. Though she finds herself drawn to him, it is impossible that they could ever be together.

Word Count: (currently) 15.5k

A/N: The old picture of Dean is from @the_ai_dreams on Instagram.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[440mxs-wife]

Treasure Quest, Chapter 7: Making Plans

Pairing: Captain Dean x Rhaya Payton (OFC, eventual) Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Captain Keira, Captain Crowley, Lucifer, Lord Darius Payton and Lady Isabella (mentioned), Lord Ashton Kane, Damon Sharpe (OMC's) Carissa Payton, Darcy (OFC's).

Word Count: 5492

Warnings: Angst, Danger in Treasure Hunting with injuries, Captain Dean's self-doubt, Unwanted Wedding Plans, Still Scheming Stepmother, Still Annoying Fiancé

Series Summary: Rhaya Payton is the daughter of the governor of Ochana. She grew up listening to her father tell her stories of pirates and treasure maps. At a gala one night, her stepmother, Carissa, announces Rhaya’s engagement to Ashton Kane, a wealthy nobleman. Only problem is, no one checked with Rhaya first. After overhearing plans made by her fiancé, Rhaya decides to go on the run and stows away on Captain Dean’s ship. What will happen when he finds her?

This Chapter: Captain Dean & Company go after the treasure, which doesn't go as smoothly as they would have liked. Meanwhile, Rhaya is stuck with Carissa's wedding plans and trying desperately to find a way to escape again. Captain Dean has business to attend to before he can rescue Rhaya, but will he be able to save the day? Tune in to find out....Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Get us back to the ship!!" Dean shouted as he heaved himself the rest of the way up and into the rear of the wagon. Everyone was ducking to avoid the unrelenting volley of projectiles crisscrossing their path. Sam flicked the reins and shouted for the horses to take off. 

In the bed of the wagon were two wooden boxes, along with Donna, Jody, and an injured Jack. Dean frantically looked around him to see what he could use as a weapon, when his eyes finally landed on the two treasure chests. He needed something to stop the villagers that had emerged from the cover of the jungle and were now chasing them. His only option to get them to break off the attack was to use the two treasure chests as a distraction.

>>>About 36 hours earlier<<<

The map indicated that the treasure was buried somewhere on the largest of the seven isles that made up the Crystal Islands. Legend was that the island was mostly uninhabited, except for the coastal areas. There were some small but organized settlements with homes dotting the landscape. They were generally agrarian in nature, taking advantage of the fertile soil near the coast.

Dean managed to barter with one of the clan leaders for some much-needed supplies, such as food and tools. In exchange for a share of any treasure found, he was given the use of four horses with full tack. He attached the horses to a wagon that would carry what they needed, along with any valuables unearthed in their quest. Payment was expected upon the return of the wagon and horses, to which Dean agreed.

During their preparation for treasure-hunting, Dean couldn't shake the uneasy feeling he had when his eyes fell on the chief's brother. He picked up on a few subtle hints that not every village member was on board with helping him and his crew. As they followed the map, he shared his thoughts, and everyone agreed to remain alert for any possible threats. There were enough outside forces working against them. They didn't need angry and suspicious villagers added to the list.

Using the landmarks referenced on the map, the group maneuvered through the thick jungle foliage with their gear. It wasn't long before they arrived at the opening to a cave, which was wide but didn't appear to be very deep. Before venturing any further, Dean put Jack in charge of finding a shortcut or alternate route back to the ship. In case of a quick escape, such information would be extremely beneficial.

Once inside, the group followed a narrow walkway around the perimeter of the cave's interior. This pathway led to a deep pool fed by a natural spring, which is where the treasure was found. Under the clear, blue water, several chests brimming with valuables could be seen resting on the sandy floor of the pool. Glimmering objects made of gold, silver, jewels, and other precious metals were just waiting to be brought to the surface.

After a brief celebration at their success, the crew began the work of retrieving the treasure. Through a system of ropes and pulleys, the trunks were hauled up from below and loaded onto the wagon and returned to the ship. As they worked, each crewmember entertained fantasies of what they would do if even a fraction of the treasure were given to them. It was difficult to contain their excitement and wonder at seeing so much wealth in such a small place.

Finally, the last two trunks were loaded onto the wagon, ready to start on the path back to the ship, with Sam on driving duty and Jody in the back of the wagon. Dean led the crew as they exited the cave, first scanning the dense jungle for hidden threats. When he felt safe enough to continue, Dean motioned for Sam to climb up into the driver's seat and wait for his signal. He continued to survey the area as preparations were made to leave.

A whizzing sound passed Dean's ear, and suddenly Jack screamed in pain and clutched his arm. An arrow was embedded in his right bicep, a crimson stain blooming beneath the point of entry. Donna quickly yanked the scarf from around her neck and tied it snugly around the wound on Jack's arm, trying to put pressure on it. Jack winced at the tightness, but knew it was the best way to stop the bleeding.

Donna and Dean helped the injured young man to safety by each grabbing a foot and lifting him up over the back end of the wagon. As soon as Jack's backside hit the wood, Jody tugged him off to the side, out of the line of fire. Dean then assisted Donna with her ascent, trying to cover his head whenever possible. He knew that parts of his body would likely be covered in bruises from being pelted by rocks and other small but dangerous objects. He managed to haul his body halfway into the wagon, then hook his leg over the edge as an anchor.

"Get us back to the ship!!" Dean shouted to Sam as he heaved himself the rest of the way up and into the rear of the wagon. Everyone was ducking to avoid the unrelenting volley of projectiles crisscrossing their path. Sam flicked the reins and shouted for the horses to take off.

In the bed of the wagon were two wooden boxes, along with Donna, Jody, and an injured Jack. Dean frantically looked around him to see what he could use as a weapon, when his eyes finally landed on the two treasure chests. He tried to think of how he could use them to stop the villagers that had emerged from the cover of the jungle and were now chasing them. His only option to get them to break off the attack was to use the two treasure chests as a distraction.

Dean tried to pull one of the chests towards the edge of their escape vehicle, but with the weight of its contents, it barely budged. Donna and Jody caught on to what he was doing and they shouted for him to join them behind the box to push it over the back of the wagon. Fueled by adrenaline, together they managed to move one of the trunks enough for it to tumble off the edge.

Upon its impact with the ground, the wood smashed into pieces, with glittering treasure spilling onto the jungle floor. The greedy villagers started scooping up whatever they could carry, pushing and shoving each other out of the way. By the time anyone realized there was a second trunk, it had also crashed to the ground and was demolished on impact. The villagers' attack was forgotten, which allowed Dean and his crew to safely return to the ship and leave the island.

***

Lucifer strolled from his assigned quarters in the governor's mansion to the kitchen for something to eat. Since he arrived two days ago, he'd made multiple attempts to speak with Lord Ashton in private to settle his accounts and receive payment. But each time he tried, the nobleman was on his way to another "important meeting" with the governor or something to do with the wedding.

The captain of The Red Dragon decided that today was the day he would press Lord Ashton for the payment of 50,000 gold coins. If he refused, Lucifer was prepared to settle the matter with his fists or his blade, whichever method first presented itself. He had business elsewhere to attend to and had neither the time nor the patience to wait around for Lord Ashton to hold up his end of the bargain.

At that moment, Lord Ashton emerged from his office, his eyes focused on a set of papers. His second-in-command, Damon Sharpe, was at his side, trying to shepherd him to another meeting. Perfect timing, Lucifer thought. He put himself directly in Lord Ashton's and Damon's path, giving them no choice but to see him and stop in their tracks.

"Ah, Captain Lucifer, I was told you and your crew had left Ochana," Lord Ashton drawled.

"Lord Ashton, I certainly don't know why anyone would've told you that," Lucifer smirked, then leaned close to Ashton's ear. "Especially since I haven't been paid yet," he whispered.

"Ahh, yes," Lord Ashton replied nervously. "Well, about that," he began, but was interrupted by the feel of metal against the skin of his neck. Damon had started to leap to Ashton's defense but was stopped by Ketch's grip on his arm.

"Now, you weren't planning on weaseling out of your end of the deal, were you?" Lucifer asked ominously.

"No, no, nothing like that," Ashton squeaked out as a little more pressure from the blade was brought to bear. "Why don't we, um, step back into my office, where we can discuss our business?"

Lucifer hesitated a moment before he finally removed his dagger from anywhere near Lord Ashton's throat. "All right. Lead the way, while my man Ketch keeps your Mr. Sharpe company," he stated in a tone that left no room for negotiation.

The two men returned to the office, with Lucifer locking the door behind him. Ashton shuffled some of the papers on his desk, trying to look busy while stalling for time. "So, that was 35,000 gold coins, right? I'll grab those out of my--" He had rounded the corner of his desk but was stopped in his tracks by Lucifer's hand on his chest.

"You hired me to locate and safely return your wayward fiancée, and I did exactly that. The deal was for 50,000, not 35,000. I really don't like what you're trying to pull here, Ashton, so let me assure you of something. One more attempt to cheat me out of what's rightfully mine, and you won't live long enough to regret it," Lucifer warned.

Ashton gulped at the mention of further violence, because he knew the ruthless captain was more than capable of carrying out his threat. He held out the bag of coins, but just as Lucifer was about to take it from him, Ashton pulled it back a little. The look in the captain's eyes caused him to step back in fear. "Wait. There's more where this came from, if you're interested," Ashton whispered. "A-A bonus, if you will."

"And what would I have to do in order to obtain this....bonus, as you say?" Lucifer asked.

"For an extra 25,000, all you have to do is keep my fiancée from escaping again. She has been promised to me, and I intend for us to be married. Plus, she made me look like a fool by sneaking out of the mansion and sailing off on some ship," he muttered.

You don't need your fiancée's help to look like a fool, Lucifer silently commented. To Ashton, he shrugged and said, "All right. For 25,000, I agree to your offer to make sure your lovely bride-to-be sticks around long enough to say 'I do'," he replied.

"Excellent!" Ashton quickly declared. "I'll have the staff make sure that the rooms for you and your men are serviced with clean linens and towels. If any of you want anything special, as in foods or whatever, please let me know and I will speak to the governor."

Lucifer could tell that Ashton was anxious to bring an end to this conversation, but there was one crucial point left to be made. On his way out, he stepped closer to Ashton until he was nearly nose-to-nose with him. He could see the fear growing in his opponent's eyes, which gave him immense satisfaction. "But if you try to double-cross me again, your Lordship, I will not hesitate to make good on my earlier threat." He gave Ashton a smug smile, turned on his heel and left the office.

***

By the time Dean and his crew made their way back to the ship, the treasure had been safely stowed and hidden aboard. As Dean boarded, he looked behind him to see the angry villagers had nearly caught up to them. They had broken out of the dense jungle and were headed for the docks. A few of the warriors had launched their spears and arrows towards the retreating vessel in an attempt to stop her, but she had already sailed out of range. The weapons either landed short in the water or clattered harmlessly on the deck.

Once the ship was well underway and a safe distance from the island, the med kit was pulled out and Jack's wound was dressed. Everyone else escaped with mostly minor injuries, mainly cuts and scratches from being grazed by arrows or bruises from thrown rocks. A change of clothes was also in order for anyone still wet from diving for treasure in the cave.

As Jack was being patched up in the infirmary, Dean paced outside, wondering how he was going to explain this to Kelly. Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault, but as his captain, Jack was still his responsibility. When Rowena was finished with her healing duties, she poked her head outside and told Dean that her patient wanted to speak with him.

Before Dean could apologize, Jack mentioned that he didn't blame his captain for what happened. He understood that this was a dangerous mission in uncharted territory, but that he agreed to go because of his friendship with Rhaya. Soon the two men were laughing, especially when Dean pointed out that his scar might give him an advantage in the pursuit of young ladies.

The closer they got to their destination in Ochana, the more apprehensive Captain Dean became. The better part of his life had been spent at sea, first on his father's crew, where he worked his way up through the ranks. After Captain John passed away, Dean assumed the captaincy of The Black Diamond and added a couple of new members.

Dean thought about the life Rhaya had growing up, the daughter of a governor. As such, she was practically a member of the nobility, part of the upper class. Someone like that was more accustomed to lavish estates, gourmet meals, the finest fabrics for designer clothing. And what exactly did he have to offer her? A rootless existence, where he was away at sea more often than not, simple meals limited to the supplies onboard, and garments better suited for life aboard a ship.

"I thought I might find you here," a voice from behind him startled him out of his dreary internal monologue.

"What's the matter, Keira, can't sleep?" Dean replied.

She chuckled. "Not really. Trying to come up with a plan to get Rhaya out of her predicament with Lord Ass-hton. Anytime his father had a meeting with the governor, Ashton made sure to tag along so that he could be around Rhaya. He made his intentions toward her quite clear. He believed that he deserved the best. Since he considered her as 'the best', he declared that they would be married one day. Rhaya shut down that line of thinking rather quickly, though. She wasn't interested in marriage to anyone, let alone Lord High-and-Mighty."

"I'm sure that was a blow to his oversized ego," Dean grinned.

"Oh, you know it was, because he stopped tagging along with his father after that. We only saw him briefly at state-sponsored events, such as Ochana's centennial ball and various holiday galas. Then Carissa made that ridiculous announcement that they were engaged. Darcy told me Rhaya was furious and begged her father to undo it all," Keira related.

"But....if it's not Lord Asshat, Rhaya deserves to marry someone who can give her that kind of life. Not someone like me," he muttered.

Keira rolled her eyes at the captain's last comment. "Listen to me. The kind of lifestyle and attitude represented by Lord Jerk-Ass are not who she is, and it's not what's important to her. This whole 'prim and proper, lady-like' agenda is being pushed by no one but Carissa. Lord Darius and Lady Isabella didn't subscribe to that stuff. They encouraged Rhaya to think and stand up for herself, to practice in the art of defense, and know that she is inferior to no one."

"That's all well and good, but it doesn't mean anything when she would be giving up so much just to be with me," he protested.

"Are you saying you're not deserving of her? That you're not worth the effort? Because I think that's Rhaya's decision to make, don't you?" Keira shot back.

Dean dropped his gaze to the deck as Keira's comments were stingingly accurate. "Keira, you know what kind of life we lead. Traveling from port to port, sometimes only staying home long enough to re-supply, then it's back out to sea on another job. And the dangers we face when we're out there, like storms, illness, injury, even attacks from our enemies. She shouldn't have to put up with that in her everyday life," he finished softly.

"Captain, I know my sister. What you just described is exactly the way she would want to live her life if she was allowed to choose. The only reason she hasn't been out on the open water with me on my ship is because of her concern for her father in the clutches of her stepmother. Now, we have a little more than two days before we reach the port of Ochana and we still need to come up with a rescue plan. You still with me on that?"

Dean considered Keira's remarks about what Rhaya wants her life to look like. Back at Harvelle's, he mentioned to Sam how he could see her accompanying him on jobs. How he wouldn't have to leave her on land while he worked, that she could be his partner in every sense of the word. Why was he having second thoughts all of a sudden?

Maybe he didn't yet know what name to give his feelings for her, but that didn't mean they were of any less importance. He was certain about one thing, though. There was no way he was going to let Rhaya marry Lord Ashton Kane. Dean would not allow the light in her eyes to become dim for any reason. "You're right. Let's get the others and see what we can come up with."

***

In the days leading up to the wedding, Rhaya was spending more and more time in her room, away from Carissa and her plans. All of the pomp and circumstance surrounding all aspects of the wedding was giving Rhaya a headache. She made herself available for her dress fittings, going over the menu for the reception, and designing her bouquet. She left everything else up to Carissa, though the one aspect she didn't mind was the cake tasting. The pastry chef had been with the governor since Rhaya was young. After sampling the various options, she knew this detail was in good hands.

Two days before the wedding, Rhaya was sitting on the bench in front of her bedroom window, a book in her hand. However, her mind was not terribly focused on the pages in front of her. The words were swimming within her vision, and she was certain she'd read the same passage about ten times. Her mind was racing with strategies and half-baked escape plans that all involved sneaking out of the mansion again to avoid having to marry Ashton.

A knock at her door broke Rhaya out of her thoughts. She hoped it wasn't another one of the "consultants" coming to ask her about something wedding-related. When she saw it was Darcy, she grabbed the young woman by the hand and swiftly pulled her into the room. Before closing the door, Rhaya checked up and down the hallway. She was relieved to find it deserted, which meant that Darcy had not been followed by Carissa, Ashton, or anyone associated with them.

"Rhaya, what is going on? Are you okay?" Darcy asked.

"No, Darce, I'm not okay. Carissa moved up the wedding date, so I have to get out of here, because there's no way I'm going to marry Ashton. Especially not when my heart belongs to someone else," Rhaya murmured.

Darcy moved to sit beside Rhaya, facing the headboard and gave a deep sigh. "I thought something was different about you since you got back. Is it this Captain Dean, hmm?" she smirked, then gasped as a thought entered her mind. "Are you in love with a pirate captain?"

Rhaya sat up straight as her eyes widened in shock. "What? No, no. No. Wait--maybe," she confessed. "I don't know what to call it, Darcy, but right now, part of me feels like it's missing. This wedding business isn't the only reason I'm miserable. It's also because I haven't seen Dean in two weeks and I'm afraid that maybe he's moved on and forgotten all about me."

A look of sympathy crossed Darcy's mind as she patted Rhaya's hand. "Nonsense, there's no way that man has forgotten about you. I'm sure he has some business to attend to, after which he'll be headed back this way to rescue you from Lord Ashton."

"Maybe," Rhaya reluctantly replied. "Anyway, enough about that, what were you coming to talk to me about?"

Darcy mentioned that she stopped by to check on how her friend was doing with all of the unwanted wedding preparations going on. She listened to Rhaya talk about her gown, the flowers, and the ever-increasing guest list. Darcy's thoughts drifted back to the message she'd received the previous day and wondered how such information would fit into an escape plan.

"And I told Carissa that I wanted to dye my hair blue before the wedding, so I'd have my 'something blue'," Rhaya declared.

"Mmhmm, that sounds like a good idea," Darcy murmured.

"I knew it! You haven't been listening to me!" Rhaya pouted, though her tone softened when she saw the look of concentration on Darcy's face. "Hold on a minute, are you all right? What is it?" she asked worriedly.

This seemed to break Darcy out of her trance, as she shook her head to clear it. Then she flashed Rhaya a tired smile. "Nothing, honey. I promise I'm all right. Hey, can you show me what your dress looks like, or do you want it to be a surprise?"

"No, you can see the monstrosity now if you'd like," Rhaya muttered. "It's hanging over there, on the hook next to my wardrobe. You can even try it on if you want, we're practically the same dress size."

"I think it would bring bad luck if I did that," Darcy replied. She removed the dress from the garment bag and held it aloft to inspect it. The strapless bodice was made of white chiffon, ruched in a crisscross pattern. There was a beaded crystal band that sat at the waist, then it gave way to a full ballgown skirt. "The top part of your dress is certainly beautiful, Rhaya. Only....is the bottom part supposed to look like--?"

"Like someone stitched together a bunch of huge roses made out of white tissue paper? Because that's what it looks like," she supplied wearily as Darcy nodded. After a beat, both women dissolved fully into laughter for a few minutes until Rhaya had a sobering thought. "How could she do that to me, make me wear something so hideous? A girl only gets married once in her life, and wearing that dress is not a memory I want to have of that day."

"I know, sweet pea. I don't know what she was thinking either, but I have a feeling that all will work out for you in the end," Darcy replied. She motioned with her arms and laughed softly as Rhaya got comfortable with her head in Darcy's lap. As she stroked Rhaya's hair, she considered the communication she received from Keira. The message was simple: Mission accomplished, we're on our way.

***

Dean and Keira sailed back to Alcaria to pick up her ship and the rest of her crew, then she would sail The Aurora on to Ochana. The key was to stall or even stop Rhaya's wedding to Ashton long enough for Dean to get his affairs in order. He and his crew would then sail The Black Diamond to Ochana. Once there, he would reunite with the beautiful stowaway who constantly occupied his thoughts and had also captured his heart.

When Dean first took over as captain, he began to set aside a portion of his wages to buy a piece of land in Alcaria. Eventually, his dream was to build a house on the land, complete with horses, chickens, and perhaps some cows. Up until he took on this "treasure quest" on behalf of his father, he had pictured himself alone in this scenario.

Lately though, whenever he pictures his home on this stretch of land, he no longer imagines living in it alone. Now there's a woman, and she's leaning on the porch railing, waiting for him. Long, wavy strawberry-blond hair pulled back in a braid, dark chestnut eyes with thick, fluttering lashes and a soft smile on her face. A smaller figure was running up to the porch, arms outstretched. The newest addition to the vision was almost in focus--

"Dean, are you almost ready to go?" Sam's voice rang out from the other side of the door.

His brother's voice broke through his reverie and Dean took a deep breath. "Yeah, one second, Sam." He checked his appearance in the mirror one last time. Satisfied with the results, Dean left his room to join his brother. He clapped his hand on Sam's shoulder and grinned. "Let's go see that man so I can sign those papers for my little slice of paradise."

***

The night of the wedding rehearsal went smoothly, with everyone playing their respective parts. Of course Lord Darius proudly escorted his daughter down the aisle to her fiancé, who stood waiting with an air of arrogance about him. The governor gently placed Rhaya's hand in Ashton's, then retreated to take his place at Carissa's side. 

While the officiant explained what would be happening during the ceremony, Ashton focused on Rhaya, a self-satisfied grin on his face. In less than 24 hours, she would belong to him, along with the sizeable dowry provided by her father. Soon he would get his hands on The Shadow Pirate's treasure map and recovered the precious items. Too bad his new bride will be unable to share in the wealth, he thought smugly to himself.

Rhaya somehow managed to tolerate Ashton long enough to get through the rehearsal ceremony. The toasts at dinner were harmless enough, with a few exceptions from Ashton's friends and business associates. There were comments that strayed into eye-rolling territory, but weren't exactly crude. They referred to Rhaya as the "little woman" and how she would be an "excellent bearer of sons" for him, which grated on her nerves.

Fortunately after dinner, Ashton excused himself to mingle with the guests, leaving Rhaya alone at their table. Her father stayed to chat with her for awhile, until Carissa drew him away, with a reminder of his promise to dance with her. Just before Rhaya was about to return to her room, a familiar face approached her table.

"Good evening, Lady Rhaya. I see congratulations are in order," the man remarked as he took a seat next to her. "I also understand you've recently returned from a voyage at sea."

"A good evening to you as well, Captain Crowley. In answer to your question, yes. I have been returned to my home and my fiancé by Captain Lucifer," she replied. "He was rather insistent that I come back."

"I see. Yes, Captain Lucifer can be a rather persuasive man. Tell me, did you meet any other interesting people on your journey?" he asked.

A bashful smile graced Rhaya's face as she thought of the time she spent with Captain Dean. "Yes, I did. I, um, sneaked out of my room and stowed away aboard The Black Diamond," she confessed.

Crowley pretended to be shocked. "Why, that's Captain Winchester's ship! And he didn't banish you to an uninhabited island or make you walk the plank?" he exclaimed.

"No, no, nothing like that," she laughed. "I explained that I was running from my engagement to Ashton, and we reached a sort of agreement. He allowed me to remain on board his ship, while I earned my keep by serving as a member of his crew. We became friends along the way. At least that's how I think of him," she murmured, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

Crowley nodded his head in understanding. "Rumor has it that Captain Dean 'acquired' a map for the treasure of The Shadow Pirate," he commented. He cast her a sidelong glance, as he wanted to see her reaction.

Rhaya momentarily dropped her gaze to the floor before meeting Crowley's once again. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked softly. When he nodded, she explained how she took the treasure map from her father's study and brought it with her on Dean's ship. She mentioned their mutual plan to retrieve and split the treasure between them. With it, they could each determine their own destinies and not have to live a life that was planned for them.

"Do you think he found it? The treasure, I mean?" Crowley inquired.

"I haven't heard from him since the night before Lucifer and his men took me and brought me home. I would assume he continued on his quest for fame and fortune," she shrugged. "In any event, I hope he did find it, and that it was what he was looking for," she replied. "I suppose I shall see him soon, even if it is just to complete our 'business transaction'," she added with a sad smile.

At her words, Crowley couldn't help but wonder if finding and sharing a cache of valuables between them would be enough for Rhaya and Dean. That perhaps the real treasure was something they would find in each other to complete their own puzzle. "My lady, Captain Dean is an honorable man. For a pirate, anyway," he muttered. "I'm certain that should he succeed, he will honor your agreement and deliver to you your fair share," Crowley assured her as he stood. "Before I take my leave, may I have the honor of dancing with the bride-to-be?"

Rhaya sent him a genuine smile and rose from her chair. She took his offered hand and gave him a small curtsy before responding, "I would be delighted, Captain Crowley."

For a man who spent a good deal of his time away from land, Crowley was quite skilled at guiding his partner across the floor. When the music ended, he bowed as she returned the gesture with a curtsy. Before he departed, he took Rhaya's hand in his and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it. "Don't settle for second best, my lady," he murmured as his eyes quickly darted in Ashton's direction. "You deserve to receive nothing less than what your heart desires." With a final bow, he bid Rhaya farewell.

***

Shortly before midnight, a ship pulled up to the port in Ochana and dropped its anchor. A figure clad all in black maneuvered along the docks in search of a particular ship and its captain. The new visitor to Ochana found success in the man standing next to his ship, a lazy smirk gracing his lips. The two quickly conversed, and with a nod, they each went their separate ways. The captain returned aboard his ship, while the mystery figure headed towards the governor's mansion.

As the minutes ticked by, Rhaya's dread about her wedding day continued to grow. She had been unsuccessful in figuring out how to escape the mansion and her groom-to-be. She was a little perplexed by Darcy's behavior earlier in the evening, but pushed it out of her mind for the moment. Rhaya took a deep breath and closed her eyes, desperately willing sleep to come.

The black-clad figure moved among the shadows to avoid detection by the security force that seemed to have been doubled since she last visited. From memory, she located Rhaya's bedroom window which was fortunately open. She effortlessly climbed the trellis attached to the outside of the mansion, as she had done so many times before. With only a small creak, she opened the window a bit more and eased her way into the room.

Rhaya heard soft footfalls approaching her bed and prayed that it wasn't Ashton in a drunken state and confusing her room for his. She lay absolutely motionless in her bed with her eyes squeezed shut and the blanket up to her chin. Her heart began to race when the intruder padded over and stood next to her bed. Before she could utter a word, a hand clamped over her mouth and her eyes flew open in terror.

"Shhh, relax," the figure cooed. At hearing the stranger's voice, Rhaya began to relax but was not without questions.

"How did you get here? How long are you staying? Never mind that, I'm getting marr--" Rhaya tried to explain but was interrupted.

"Simple, I'm here to rescue you, Sis," Keira replied with a mischievous look in her eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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Masterlist

Greetings from Austin

*revised versions 6/23

*Prologue

*Part I

*Part II

*Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

[raisinghellonstarbug]

As a reminder and for anyone who hasn't had the opportunity to read it, here you go :)

Chapters 15, 16 and 17 will be published soon!

Here it is!

Electric Indigo - A Sastiel AU story

Summary:

Castiel is a freelance writer living in Manhattan with his best friend Tracey. Mid-20’s and socially awkward, he often chooses to stay in on Friday nights. However, Tracey decides that she’s had enough of Cas’ antisocial behaviour and drags him out to a nearby synth/retro nightclub. There he meets Sam, the most gorgeous man he has ever laid his eyes on. He can’t leave now without finding out all about him. It appears that this guy might also be on the same wavelength. Sam happens to also have an older brother that Tracey insists on toying with for the whole night.

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