#Either Crowley reacts like this or gets really mad for no reason like “WHAT? WHERE TF WAS ALL THIS IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY”

[vileviale]

Hc that aziraphale has Jedi-level skills with his flaming sword and is surprisingly very showy with his technique

[elizabethrobertajones]

Hello there. I have a question (more like a thesis): What would have happened if Cas told the Truth anywhere between season 7 and 15? Do you think it would have had the same impact on Dean? Logically speaking Cas could have told him anytime.

Oh gosh, yes. I mean Dean’s reaction in season 15 is still the best it could have been really :P He was in the best place and most accepting of himself and he still had a BSOD for a moment and then Cas had to shove him away so he could go die... (Assuming you take the on screen boring presentation of what happened as canon and not throw in the reciprocation, tears, pull in for a kiss, etc that we know exists either in our hearts or on Jackles’ phone.)

I’ve been thinking about this and the parameters we’d have to apply if we were gonna get something like the show being self-healing back to its self as we know it but we were allowed a confession. Also the show has to be as punishing as ever. So these are my personal theses on each season... 

Season 7 the confession would have to be after Cas comes back, and everything in 7x17 that looked like Dean was jealous of Daphne and Meg textually was meant to be read that way in the set up for the confession. To make it the most painful obviously we still get Cas exactly as he was all through to the end of the season and he never really says anything too different but then right when they’re having the “cursed or not” discussion he’d bust out of nowhere that he supposes it is inevitable Dean would talk him into going on this dangerous mission to get Dick because obviously Cas loves him. And Dean, who is in a weirdly zen sort of place in the remaining minutes of season 7 after Bobby’s send off and final words that helped him go make up with Cas, is in a similarly season 15 oddly okay spot, mental health wise. At least. COMPARED TO ALL THE REST OF SEASON 7. But I still personally have always read it as a genuinely good place for him that could have endured much longer if not for *gestures everything that happened after stabbing Dick* and obviously making up with Cas was step one and a huge part of his process. 

(idk if you’ve noticed but 7x23 pretty much has no Sam and Dean interaction after Bobby’s send off, and their last good broments are really scarce; it feels sort of natural for abrupt calamity and no time for teary farewells in a season with a strong commentary on grief, which also hyperfocuses the attention on Dean n Cas there.)

So I think Dean would maybe be stunned but maybe quirk a sceptical smile like “He can’t mean it like that and anyway he’s currently coo-coo, this doesn’t mean anything hahaha oh Cas :)))” and then idk shake his head and move the story on and Cas just turns one longing look after him like “dammit that didn’t work out like planned” 

Anyway then the exact plot beats of 7x23 follow, exactly as seen on your screens, but we’re left going into season 8 and Carver era with Dean far far more messed up about Cas and it can force clarification in 8x02 in Purgatory where Cas is entirely adamant he meant what he meant and furious at Dean for being mad at him and Dean’s mad at Cas for all the season 8 reasons so they continue angsting at each other but Benny’s reaction shots are just 10x funnier. This is followed by Dean’s reciprocation of “I love you” instead of “I need you” in the crypt scene in 8x17 and from there honestly it’s been built up into canon in such a way that the emotional arc of the show has to go off the wheels and I can’t keep to the self-healing model to continue following the “real” plot and contain this much raw power.

Coincidentally, if the first confession is in season 8, it would be “what broke the connection” after a season 8 where nothing was different up until that point. Cas flaps off while Dean is still processing that the answer was “You. I love you.” and Dean is left yelling at the empty crypt like “What the hell, Cas?!” 

Then he’s as mad at him as he was in canon except instead of being borderline a really bad overreaction into his anger phase which we have to weather as miserable fans tethered to this ship who know sometimes Dean gets mad and yells at Cas for no reason, he’s reacting proportionately. It’s always seemed like 8x22 only makes sense if Dean is furious at Cas for confessing and fleeing except, obviously, in our “”real”” canon, it can only be like Cas confessed and Dean took it that way and also felt embarrassed how far he went with his own feelings only for Cas to run. 

This would make the bar scene with the cupids in 8x23 make a lot more sense too, and after they get the cupid bow Dean’s going to turn to Cas and give him a nervous smile, and then - Naomi flaps in like she does and distracts them away from reciprocation. 

I think this one could go long - maybe even season 13 Cas being dead and Dean being like “FUCK I never got a chance to work things out with him” and 13x06 onwards is where we get any actual work on the ship, because Carver era was so determined to be emotionally gruelling and unsatisfying and relentless from one issue to the next. And the confessions are so bound up specifically in the moments of miscommunication or failed attempts, cut off conversations etc that whether Destiel is canon or not, they’re never gonna get to talk it out under those conditions. Cas is only explicitly the grieving wife and jealous ex to Crowley’s smug take over of Dean’s affections rather than subtextually. 

The season 9 confession... I feel like we’d come perilously close to the Monkey Paw curse we once envisioned of Buckleming making it canon because they love jumping the gun on plot points and making them too obvious. So the end of 9x03, Cas is really blatantly angling to come in with a big “Hey I’m human can I live in the Bunker look at me I learned to do The Sex can we do it now” kind of vibe. All the enthusiasm he was giving to eating that burrito in the background while “Zeke” was trying to get him kicked out, but with lusting over Dean :P 

If we avoid that we can leap to Mr Bobo Berens and his first episode, and have this thing handled by a pro, as it’s already very much about Cas as a homeless queer man with a bad ex he still loves rolling into town where he’s just trying to make a new life and play straight - I mean human - for his own survival. I suspect the confrontation with Iphraim would make it really obvious that Cas didn’t just want to live as a human but had an eye for living as a human with Dean, and then he’d attempt a confession right before Dean would accidentally talk over, like, the L in “love” honestly, to tell him that sorry things do still stand that you can’t come back with me. Leaves Cas utterly devastated but Dean is none the wiser and he drives off and Cas pines piningly at the pine trees in his Gas n Sip. 

Again the end of season probably would force the real confession, since there’s a ready made moment in 9x22 where Hannah tries to force Cas to kill Dean and he gives it all up for one man. Cas can just lower that knife and be like, “No, I love him,” talking to his shoes and Hannah rather than meeting Dean’s eyes. Mark of Cain Dean is fuuuucked up at that point but we still get the moment where Dean carries Cas’s bag into the bunker and sits down with him and tries to care about his health and now also this confession. Sussing out what the heck is up with Cas, and maybe he looks like he’s playing it cool and is still so messed up but Cas is vulnerable, and finally Dean starts to reach across the library table for his hand, and it’s a moment where maybe things could have started to go better for them...... Cue Gadreel walking into the library, Dean going feral, blah blah demon!Dean, blah blah explicitly stated Drowley, blah blah muuuch healing and Cas giving Dean a wide berth for a lil while. Though, in this scenario, 10x22 is far worse but has the reverse crypt scene moment, so Dean can be more obviously unable to kill Cas because he loves him, and then he walks out, followed by season 11 and Cas being returned to them. Unfortunately. Yep. Another finger curls on the Monkey Paw... 11x03 by Buckleming would absolutely be where Destiel goes undeniably canon as it is their first real interactions post Mark of Cain. Our only consolation - directed by Jensen Ackles.

Season 10 confession, hm. Poor Cas. He has the option of 10x03, of confessing and then immediately apologising and walking off to handle stuff with Hannah (thanks Buckleming!) or the Burger Date, where Dean may be slightly less stunned stupid but still likely to laugh it off and not believe it. There’s not much heavy tension between them most of the season so it’s possible that the only time Cas would really get is to confess in 10x22 while telling Dean that he would have to watch him murder the world, and that would suck because I love you. At which point the story dictates that Dean beats Cas to paste so it’s a very bad look. Season 10 destiel confession is the worst. 

Season 11 may be better because Cas has options to be jealous of Crowley and Dean’s connection to Amara multiple times and then Casifer happens and that can really play up things in a season where a confession is coming. 

I think the Beer Run in 11x23 might be the only viable place, where Dean grabs Cas and takes him out for that drive for last drinks before the end of the world. Cas gets the “you’re our brother” thing and just lays into Dean with the certainty of someone who knows this is it - now or nothing - with “You know that’s crap, Dean. You wait until the end of the world and you can’t even say it. Well I can; I love you.” 

Cue awkward tension, well-placed interrupting Moose, and then the world very much not ending so that when Dean n Cas hug and kiss in front of Mary in 12x01. Well. There’s even more explaining to do to her. Since we’ve made it to Dabb era, I believe any confessions from this point onwards can just slot into the show as we got it from there since it’s entirely compatible to start season 12 assuming Dean n Cas are literally married and never be contradicted by the text in their behaviour. But since we’ve had canon Destiel since whenever, obviously the final episodes are good instead of. That.

Season 12... Going to have to go with the first sniff of true canon coming in Lily Sunder with just a few lines leaning even further in the Cas’s Angel Family Are Homophobic Assholes metaphor, leaving Cas’s relationship with Dean even more live wire exposed. Followed by The Mixtape Scene where Cas is going to confess to Dean and get him startled up out of his seat, accidentally knocking the mixtape to the floor and for a moment it’s like, did he throw it is he mad? but then he’s smooching Cas, fade to black, return to scheduled programming but the whole line about Cas stealing the Colt from under Dean’s pillow makes fuckin sense, as well as the fall out argument and how mad Dean was at Cas followed by how devastated he was at Cas’s death. This just means Dabb era continues as planned except we get a kiss in 13x06 under that big glowy cross, and some more smooching here and there when things are good from then on. 

Season 13... Hm. Cas has to do the confessing and I don’t think he’d throw that at Dean on return from death so unlike if Dean was the one who was being made to confess obviously the aforementioned glowy cross scene obviously would be it for him... Cas could keep that bottled up much longer, especially as he has so much to do with Jack this season. It’s entirely possible we go through the whole season and then Cas lobs it at Dean as a final card when he’s making his Michael decision and we actually see the scene that we didn’t get, where Cas has to watch Dean getting possessed. Except Dean is like, tearful and furious like why would you tell me that now, and anyway i’m doing this for you as well dumbass but fuck you but also how dare you anyway I need to be an archangel now and save our - your - son, bye. Cue Cas sitting there not just in total horror at what happened but also kicking himself for fucking up the moment :P I guess this way at least we can have that moment where Dean is un-Michaeled and tells Cas he’s going to shower and finger guns at him, and now we can have Cas wordlessly and furiously follow him. 

Season 14, we get Cas at Rocky’s bar confessing to Dean while figment!Pamela cheers the whole thing on. If there was EVER a time to use the power of love to snap Dean out of it, Cas upsetting his cosy routine with “this isn’t real, I’M NOT HERE IN YOUR FANTASY” is absolutely the time to pull a reverse crypt scene which has such low stakes in terms of neither of them needing to punch each other when Michael is an external aggressor.

My ONLY issue with this is that Sam has to witness the whole thing and we would get reaction shots and I am a weak mortal who will start cackling at them when I’m supposed to be having the transcendent moment of canon and the whole thing would be ruined just because of the way Jared gurns when doing reactions to dean n cas interacting. Wow thanks. Thanks a lot. 

[nairisdoesstuff]

NAIRIS AMOR [TWST AU]

[Art for the time being]

ナイリス・アモール

Nairisu Amōru

Trickster (Rook)

Shrimp (Floyd)

Herbivore (Leona)

Biological information

Female

15 yr old

Capricorn

159cm

Gold

Black with one ruby red stripe

Philippines

Family

Niero Amor(twin brother)

Cecil Amor(big brother)

Ilios Amor(father)

Maria Amor(mother)

Nairis Amor is a magicless first year from the Ramshackle Dorm who was transported to Twisted Wonderland for an unknown reason with Grim. And has talent for making other work with each other (and a good therapist)

Appearance

Nairis is petite but somewhat muscular young-girl with brown skin who she describe as kayumanggi. She has long fluffy curly black hair that has three braids, two on on either side of her neck and one that goes around her head. Nairis has Gold eyes. With a scar running up he left cheek that almost reaches to her left eye.

Personality

Nairis' appearance usually comes of as soft and meek but how she acts can be quite different. She can be quite lax at times (when there's nothing to worry about) but she is overall responsible. She is emotionally mature for someone her age and tries to help and advice people in need. She's actually very cunning and can be often seen as a trickster especially with the people back on her world and often use her young appearance to lower peoples guard, but she usually use it for more noble deeds and take peoples feelings to account in her trickster escapades (though it may not look like it at first) . When she first arrived at NRC she was very reluctant on almost everything but the more she stays at NRC the more she opens up to them and her reactions to them now is more of like "you know those days where you're like, this might as well happen? " Very much the mom of the group if there is no mom in the group(does that make sense?) . At her worst she can be shut herself out and gets irritated easily. Overall she's a sweet introverted yet cunning girl who just wants to have friends and find her twin brother.

Trivia

• She is a Filipino more specifically Visayan/Cebuano

• her full name is Nairis Milagros Amor

• rly good artist

• her height is 159 cm

• she's 15 years old soon to be sixteen in Jan. 16

• Capricorn ♑

• she's scary when she's mad

• she goes by the hurt/insult my friends ill hurt you

• has called almost all of them Kuya though she pronounce it like k'ya the ku is almost silent

•her twin brother is actually in RSA and he is in the similar situation as her (he is describes as a somewhat gruffy person with a heart of gold and also a trickster runs more with his mind)

• Hates horror games but is tolerable to real life scare

• Is very good at multiple weapons and martial arts. She's actually attend martial arts events specifically Arnis and Taekwondo.

• very flexible it makes her a good dancer

• Also good at sword fighting and axe throwing

• even with all her martial and cunning feats that would probably make her part of either Savanclaw or Scarabia but she would most likely be in Pomefiore because she genuinely enjoys human biology and hence made her really interested in poisons and how it reacts with the human body.

• She likes to know how things or why things happen in a pin to the point level and likes to connect things together.

• Had huge phase where she was super interested on why boats sink and human/natural disasters documentary.

• Gets super hyped when she talks about the things she likes.

• Has never had a proper game console before so she was super happy to play with Idia

• usually the mediators or peace maker of the group and very understanding

•Very open minded and would like to know how people become the people they are

• also super into psychology

• has legit done criminal profiling like the one on criminal minds lol

• she doesn't know how to swim or more specifically she doesn't know hot to stay afloat in deep places

• prefers fluffy wholesome stuff

•can be quit emotional sometimes

•hate arguments especially with pointless insults

• can be sassy and blunt

• she can be straightforward

• sometimes acts dense but she really isn't.

• considers Vil as he role model

• for someone that can be as devoted to her friends as her she lacks confidence in herself especially what her friends think of her so she’ll be surprised if they actually show that they care for her (example is in scarabia when Ace and Deuce gave effort to help her).

• she has a copy of Crowley’s “Lash of Love” she only uses it in times of overblot or for self defense.

• is actually very empathetic.

[writingfromkitchenator]

The Demon, The Hunter, and The Halfblood

Masterlist

Crowley x Original Female Character

Chapters: One | Two

Series Warnings: A/B/O series, some Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha x Omega, obligatory smut warning here (as usual, no under 18′s please, specifics will be within chapter warnings as needed), violence, blood, fluff, angst, major character death, possession, swearing

Chapter 3

Words: 2,353

By the time Dean was back, Madelyn had convinced Bobby to take Casey for a walk, so the three of them could have time to work all this out.  Dean wasn't happy about it, especially when Bobby threw him a set of keys as he passed, telling him to let him out.

When Sam too insisted, Crowley was greeted by a very pissed off Dean opening the door.

“About bloody time!” Crowley growled, glaring at Dean darkly. “What have you-"

He's cut off as Madelyn steps in around Dean, smiling, but very clearly injured.  “You really do like getting yourself into all sorts of trouble, don't you?”

Crowley frowned. “You're hurt.”

“Nothing I can't and haven't dealt with before,” She said lightly, eyeing off the devils trap.  “Casey is safe, that's all that matters.”

Anger curled in Dean's stomach as he watched Crowley's shoulders visibly relax.  “Are you done?”

Madelyn ignores him and pulls out a knife, tossing it into the trap, cutting straight through one of the outside lines.  “Yes.”

Crowley was watching between the two of them, barely even registering he was free.  Dean's animosity was burning away a black ball in his stomach.  “Has it really gotten so bad again?”

Dean glared at him. “What do you think?”

“Don't mind him,” Madelyn said, stepping over to Crowley and starting to straighten out his suit. “He's just being childish at the moment, probably hasn't knotted a good Omega in a while.”

A growl was in Dean's throat as he marched forward, only to find Crowley suddenly planted firmly between himself and Madelyn.  “At least I haven't been letting a demon fuck me for five years.”

“Step back,” Crowley's tone was cold, his eyes flashing dangerously into the red for a brief moment. “You won't dare lay a hand on her.”

Dean and Crowley sized each other up for a long moment before Dean slowly backed down, letting out a slow breath and glaring over at Madelyn, who looked unfazed.  “There used to be a time when you would go toe to toe with me.”

Madelyn raises an eyebrow. “Just because Crowley stepped in the way, doesn't mean I won't Dean, wounded or no. I do recommend, however, pulling your head out of your arse and seeing the bigger picture for a moment, okay?”

He fought down whatever it was that he wanted to say and turned and stalked from the room.

Crowley let out a slow breath.  “If I'd know it was that bad...”

“Trust me dear, we've always had that effect on each other.”  Madelyn said, joining his side and kissing his cheek.  “I've learnt not to take it personally.”

He grabbed her gently as she goes to walk away, pulling her back to him and looking her over, his brows knitting in concern.  “What happened?”

Madelyn shrugs.  “Some demons broke in and took Casey.  I dealt with it.”

Crowley's frown deepened. “They took her?”

“Yeah, and I dealt with it.” She rests a hand on Crowley's cheek with a small smile.  “She's fine, I promise, just eager to see her dad.”

Sighing, Crowley leans into her palm, one hand brushing down to hover over the wound.  “And this?”

“It'll heal,” Madelyn said. “One of ‘em just got lucky is all. It's nothing to worry about.”

Crowley didn't look convinced, but he didn't get a chance to say anything else as Madelyn led the way out.

“Daddy!”

Casey screamed and bolted over to Crowley before he'd barely set foot in the room, Madelyn smiling as she resumed her position on the couch.

Crowley scooped her up and held her close.  “Hello pumpkin, are you alright?”

She nods, but doesn’t loosen her grip from around his neck, her head buried against him.

“I'm sorry I wasn't back in time,” Crowley said softly to her, his fingers brushing through her hair. “But I heard Mummy dealt with them for me.”

Casey nods again, her voice muffled against his jacket.  “They scared me.” She then finally looks up at him.  “And they hurt Mummy.”

Madelyn and Crowley share a look.  “Uncle Sam patched me up baby, I'm okay.”

Casey pouts at her. “You're still in pain.”

Madelyn smiles.  “For now, it'll go away soon though, I promise.”

Mumbling something, Casey curls back into Crowley and goes silent.

Bobby was the first to break the odd silence that had filled the room, clearing his throat. “Well...while I'm he- glad that you and Casey are alright Madelyn, I would still really love an explanation on what is going on.”

Dean snorts, standing in a corner of the room, drinking a beer.

“I would've thought it would be obvious by now Bobby,” Madelyn spoke softly and nods to Casey.  “I had to go because of her.”

“Don't give me that,” Dean said loudly.  “You know full well you could've asked us-"

“For help?”  Madelyn asked, staring at Dean.  “Would the three of you even have believed me? Not to mention the questions that would've come about on who the father was.”

Crowley cleared his throat, nodding at Casey, whose eyes were drifting shut, still exhausted after the events of the night before.

Madelyn sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment.  “Bobby...is there somewhere that we can put Casey down for a nap?”

Bobby takes the hint and nods, leading Crowley and Casey upstairs.

“Do the two of you really think this has been easy?” Madelyn asked tiredly, looking between her brothers, but the question was more directed at Dean.  “Do you really think I wanted to hurt you all this way?”

Upstairs, aware that Bobby was waiting outside the door, Crowley put Casey down into the spare bed.

She blinked sleepily up at Crowley.  “Daddy?”

Crowley smiles at her, tucking her in.  “Yes pumpkin?”

“Does Uncle Dean hate me?”

He had always known that there would be things about Casey that he or Madelyn wouldn't be able to predict, and they had both agreed early on to keep it all as calm as possible for her, so his expression remained passive.  “No Casey, he just takes some time to come around to new people, that's all.”

“Oh,” She frowned a little, but then yawned widely.  “Okay.”

Crowley smiles at her and kisses her forehead.  “You get some sleep now.  By the sounds of it, you had an overly exciting night.  We'll all just be downstairs.”

Casey returns her smile, her eyes drifting shut before she'd even rolled over and curled up into the blankets.

Crowley watched her for a moment, his chest aching, before the sound of raised voices drew him back down to the drama downstairs.

He stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him and silently sealing it, so Casey wouldn't be disturbed.  As he turned, he found Bobby giving him an odd look.  “What?”

Bobby was frowning. “Nothing.  You just never struck me as the fatherly type.”

Crowley refrained from rolling his eyes.  “It's funny how actually having a child changes that, among other things.”

Bobby's gaze moves down the stairs, where the voices were growing louder.  Sighing, he hurries down.  “Yeah...funny that.”

The two of them half expected Dean to be at Madelyn again, but they were both surprised when instead it was Sam and Dean facing off, Madelyn still in her position on the lounge, looking rather bored with what was going on.

“Why do you always defend her?” Dean shouted.  “Why do you always have to take her side?”

“I don't Dean!”  Sam shouted back.  “But losing your head every time she even says something you don't like, isn't going to help!”

“And with damned good reason!”  A growl entered Dean’s voice.  “She lied to us about Dad, she knew where he was.  She lied to us about what she’d been doing during that whole Hell Gate thing; she didn’t even turn up when we told her Dad was dead!  She then lied to me about where you were and then you died. She-”

“If I can remind you,” Madelyn said coolly.  “That in that case I was possessed by Azazel.”

“Like it makes any fucking difference,” Dean growled, glaring at her coldly.  “Who knows what the hell he did in that head of yours, and for all I know, he set this up too!”

“I can guarantee you, he didn’t.”  Crowley said, looking more than a little annoyed.  “Or did you actually forget he wanted to free Lucifer?”

“You stay out of this,” Dean snapped.  “This is between the three of us.”

“Dean,” Sam said quietly. “We’ve all done things that screwed each other at some point, but constantly taking it out on each is not the way to go about it!  Now, please, can we handle this calmly?”

Dean’s breathing was heavy and he glared at Madelyn, the two of them holding each other’s gaze for a long moment, green into green.  “Answer my question.”

Madelyn looked unperturbed. “As I said, it was hardly a convenient situation, for either of us, so no, I wasn’t in league with him, as you so aptly put it.  It was a…unfortunate case of incorrect timing, poor timing and a lot of strange events.”

“Stop being vague,” Dean growled, causing Sam to roll his eyes.  “You and Crowley hated each other when you first met, how the hell does something like happen?  Last I checked you didn’t just have a kid with someone you hated.”

“Oh, but fucking is okay?” Madelyn said, earning a wince from Sam and Dean.

“Don’t be crass Mads,” Bobby said, taking his own seat, watching her carefully, taking note of the way she was sitting, as if she was perfectly in control of the room.  “And I think you owe me answers most of all.”

“Bobby-”

“Shut it Dean,” Bobby said, keeping his gaze on Madelyn.  “You know as well as I do that she’s never reacted well to an aggressive approach.”

“Oh, I don’t know about reacting well,” Madelyn said, a smirk tugging at her lips.  “More like just ensuring that no one treads on me, especially an Alpha who thinks he knows better.”

“Didn’t stop you from covering for Dad,” Dean said coldly.  “And clearly didn’t stop you from-”

“It’s very important for you not to finish that sentence, Dean.”  Madelyn said, her tone sharp.  “Otherwise I’ll show you just how ready I am to beat your arse in, no matter who’s around.”

Bobby cleared his throat, breaking the two’s glare at each other, and gives a particularly pointed look at Madelyn.  “Mads?”

After a moment, Madelyn sighs and looks at Crowley, who shrugs.  “We knew this would happen eventually.”

“So supportive,” She huffed. “You owe for letting it slip to them by way.”

“Just one of the many things I owe you for, it seems.”

She grins at him and then adjusts in the chair, wincing slightly.  “Well…I suppose the beginning as a good a spot as any.”  She ignores Dean folding his arms and Sam looking more than worried.  “You were correct Dean, Crowley and I despised each other when all this started, and we both had our own reasons for it of course, he was a demon-”

“-and she was a Winchester who had already been a pain in my side multiple times.”  Crowley said.  “And although we hadn’t met until you two decided she should be involved in the Apocalypse, we were both very aware of the other.”

“You were hunting crossroad demons, right?”  Sam asked, looking at Madelyn.  “After what happened to Dean?”

“I was hunting all sorts of demons,” Madelyn said.  “But it did seem I had a particular knack for crossroad demons, yes.  A lot of them seemed to think that they could easily get another Winchester under their belt and earn a quick promotion, which, of course, they then paid for.  A part of it was for Dean, sure, but a lot of it was for myself, you three know as well as I do I wasn’t the same after Azazel was in my head.”

“Of course, I was also determined to work my way up the ranks if I could,” Madelyn continued. “Couldn’t risk another one trying to awaken Lucifer or using Sam-”

“That worked well.” Crowley said.

“Yes, thank you dear.” Madelyn shot him a look.  “Anyway, you speak to enough demons, you learn a thing or two, and that was how I got word of Crowley.  Now, just imagine my reaction when, not only was the demon I hunting very aware I was coming for him, but my own two brothers were working with him in some sort of ludicrous deal.”

“But that was after Lucifer,” Sam said, frowning.  “You were trying to track Crowley down for that long?”

“Among dealing with the occasional angel that came along,” Madelyn said, shooting Crowley another look as he went to answer Sam.  “But just because Lucifer appeared, didn’t mean I was going to stop hunting demons, as far I was concerned at the time, Lucifer then became the end game.”

“I always knew you were crazy Mads,” Bobby grumbled.  “But I never thought you were that crazy.”

Madelyn shrugs.  “You gotta have goals in life, right?  Hardly seems important now.”

“If it’s any consolation, you did exorcise and kill a lot of demons,” Crowley said.  “Which was the only reason I knew who you were.”

“Get to the point,” Dean said.  “How the hell did you get from hating each other to this?”

“Have some patience Squirrel,” Crowley said, earning a glare from Dean.  “It is hardly a short story and you two do tend to interrupt with questions.”  He shares a look with Madelyn, who nods.  “Not to mention, this is…delicate.  If what really happened got out of this room, then there could be very dire consequences, not just for myself, Madelyn and Casey as well, I’m talking for a lot of others out there, particularly Omega’s.”

“Since when do you give a damn?”  Dean asked.

“Just give us a chance Dean,” Madelyn said quietly, the tension in Dean’s shoulders easing a little.  “Let us explain from the beginning.”

[badsext]

The Substance of Love - Chapter 3: Klaus x Female Reader

Chapter 1 is here

Chapter 2 is here

Word count: ~ 1950

Warnings: This is where the tender, loving SMUT is.

_________________________________________________________

“So you finished it?,” Klaus inquired, his mouth full of instant noodles.

“Yeah”

“And….”

“Oh my god, it’s so epic.  I never thought I’d root so hard for the antichrist….Heaven is full of hard ass warmongers…The devil is a deadbeat dad.  That shit is priceless!  And, of course, Azirafale and Crowley are so perfect together.  I’d ship them.”

“I really like you, Y/N.“  Klaus said, his eyes focused on you.

"Aren’t you, uh?…You stammered.

"What?"  He grinned, still staring and enjoying your embarrassment a little. 

"I mean, I’m not completely…either, but I thought…” Your voice got caught in your throat and your cheeks grew hot.

“Never mind.  What I meant to say is, me too, Klaus.  I like you too.”  You started frantically checking around the pillows on the couch.  “Oh for fuck’s sake - Where is the remote?  I still need to show you my favorite movie.”

“Since when do you swear this much?,” Klaus teased.

You bopped him in the face with one of the pillows then settled into a comfortable position.

“I guess the ghosts decided to give you a break, hu?”

“Oh no.  We’re definitely not alone.  It’s like listening to two or more conversations at once.  My brother, Ben is here.  He’s a real chatty bitch.”

“Is he the one with the…"  You mime a creature bursting out of your chest.

Klaus laughed. “Yeah.  You know he can see you.”

“Oh, right…I’m just saying ‘Aliens’ might not be the best choice of movies.”

Your phone buzzed with a text from Kendra.  It said ‘call me - important.’

“Ooh.  I’ve gotta make a quick call.”

“Alright, I’ll go outside for a smoke,” he said. You narrowed your eyes at him.  “Just a smoke,” he assured you.

“Okay.  Give me five minutes."  Klaus shut the door and you turned your attention to Kendra.

"Hey Kendra, what’s so important?”

“Is Klaus there?"  Her tone of voice made you nervous.

"He went out for a smoke, why?”

“I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you this….She paused and took a deep breath.  "Klaus and I have been seeing each other. I know you two are close.  Has he mentioned it to you?

"Um, no."  You reply, still processing the information.

"That’s what I was afraid of.  I just hope he’s not giving you the wrong idea.  He’s also been telling me things.  He told me why you got fired from Mount Saini.  I just wanted to warn you, before you got too involved.  He’s not who you think he is, Y/N.  Just be careful.

"Okay, I appreciate you telling me."  You wiped the tears that had already formed on your face as Klaus opened the door.  He noticed immediately that something was wrong.

"What is it?  What happened?"  He rushed over and tried to comfort you, but you just stared at the ground with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, hurt but not wanting to confront him.  You were embarrassed for thinking Klaus might have romantic feelings for you.

"I have a job interview in the morning.  I think you should go,” was all you could manage to say without crying.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” he pleaded.  His hands gripped the back of his neck and he looked as if he was about to cry himself.  The more he insisted, the more you felt like you were being played.  Kendra’s words still rang in your ears.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.  Just get the fuck out,” you said, effectively ending the argument.  Klaus searched your eyes for a compromise, but he found them unrelenting.  Instead of slamming the door, as you may have expected, Klaus closed the door so carefully it barely made a sound, which was somehow worse.  You started crying as soon as he was gone.

A few minutes into your breakdown, just as a headache was beginning to form, you went into the kitchen for some water and it dawned on you.  Maybe Kendra was lying.  Klaus looked genuinely confused and upset. After leaving your place, Klaus would have gone to Kendra’s or to the club to score drugs.  If you found him at the club, that could mean he wasn’t with Kendra after all.  It was worth a shot. 

You headed downtown to the spot he always talked about in group, 'The Shark Tank.'  You were so conflicted. Part of you wanted to find him there, suggesting that maybe he did have feelings for you and not Kendra.  Another part of you was devastated to think of him using again and that you had something to do with it.  You were so torn, you thought about buying some street pills and just getting high.  This is the point when you would have called your sponsor, which reminded you that you needed a new sponsor ASAP.

Klaus’ description the club in group really flattered the place.  It was actually a grimy hole in the wall, chock full of sweaty club kids.  It would seem that at thirty, Klaus had outgrown it.  But then there he was, leaning against the wall looking despondent.  You were relieved to see him there, but still anxious about what you might learn.  He looked up at you confused.  The music was so loud you had to get close and practically yell into his ear.

“Did you take anything?"  Klaus just opened his hand.  In it was a standard little plastic baggie of amphetamines.  He looked up at you, clearly feeling the blunt force of his emotions.  He was clean.

"What stopped you?"  You asked, wondering how he had the strength.

"I guess I didn’t want to disappoint you."  The significance of this made your heart jump, but you couldn’t let it stop you from your purpose. 

"Klaus, I have to ask you something." 

"Please!  I have to know what you’re mad about.  I seriously have no clue.”

“Kendra knows about my past, not about my power, but she knows the reason I was fired from the hospital…You didn’t -”

“No, I didn’t tell her that!  I wonder how she would-”

“You’re not sleeping with Kendra, are you?”

“God, no!  I haven’t talked to her since the last NA meeting.  She came onto me, but I wasn’t into it.  I turned her down and she didn’t take it well, but I didn’t think she’d try anything like this,” Klaus replied, looking genuinely distraught.

You looked into those haunted green eyes and you knew you believed him.  Klaus was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.  Kendra had raised some doubt during a moment of weakness, but she was manipulating you.  You had real, tangible feelings for Klaus and it was time he knew it.

You held his head in your hands and kissed him delicately on the lips.  Then you pulled back holding your breath for his reaction.  A split second passed which felt like a millennia while he sorted his thoughts.  Then he smiled, pulled you close, and kissed you with an intensity that affirmed everything you had hoped for.  His passion persuaded you to move your body to the music with his.  Dancing was something you had rarely, if ever done sober.  But it felt so good to finally have your body pressed against his that the rhythm came naturally to you.  His hands were wrapped around your waist and yours had found their way to the back of his neck.  Klaus nuzzled into your ear and whispered, “Wanna get outta here?”

Buy the time you got to your apartment, you were so desperate for each other, you barely made it through the door without tumbling onto the floor.  You each began shedding your clothes.  Your eyes raked over his smooth skin and lean muscles, adding to the growing wet heat between your legs.  He was likewise aroused by the sight of you removing your sundress.  His tight leather pants were made tighter by the sight of your naked silhouette.  You grabbed teasingly at his bulge while he explored your mouth with his tongue.  “Let me help you with this,” you said into his lips, as your fingers fumbled with his fly.  He trailed sensual kisses down your neck and shoulders.  

When his pants fell down around his ankles he kicked them off then lifted you off the ground to straddle him. Your breath caught in you throat as he spun you around towards the bed.  He put you down gently and trailed his fingertips softly through the hollow between your breasts, over the soft curve of your stomach, and down to your aching pleasure center.  He looked into your eyes as his fingers danced and played with your sensitive flesh.  You gasped and moaned, reacting to his subtle and not so subtle movements.  He dragged his lips down to your breast and sucked your nipple into his mouth while he slipped his fingers into your tight wet void.  You bucked forward and he swirled his thumb against your swollen bundle of nerves.  There was no holding back, you came before you even realized what was happening, moaning and twitching and spasming around Klaus’ fingers.

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part,” he said, withdrawing his fingers and giving them a little taste.

You reached up, wrapping one hand gently around his neck and purred, “I need you now, Klaus.”

That was all he needed.  You felt his throat muscles clench and his erection press harder against your belly.   He slipped into you so easily and filled you completely.  Then he began thrusting, grinding, and building friction exactly where you wanted it.  Another orgasm pulsed through you, and Klaus watched your body arch and react.  He cracked a proud little smile as he continued.  After riding out your climax, you seized his shoulders and rolled on top of him.  You wanted to make him feel the way he made you feel.  You rocked your hips forward until he was buried to the hilt.  You intuitively wrapped your hands around his neck and squeezed lightly as you bounced up and down.  It wasn’t long before Klaus was bucking and releasing himself deep inside you. 

“Wow, that was….”

“Um hm.”

You dismounted carefully and rested your head on the pillow next to him.  You laid there together a moment, just catching your breath.  He grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together.  

“So, this is going to sound random …My father died a few weeks ago. You were still in rehab. I went back home for the funeral and saw all my brothers and sisters. It got me thinking.”

“Oh god, that’s right.  I remember seeing it in the news. I’m so sorry, Klaus.  I can’t believe I didn’t even acknowledge it.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it…He will not be missed…The point I was trying to make is that if you’re interested, I ‘d like to take you home…to meet my family.”

“Oh my god, Klaus, yes!”  You peppered his face with featherlight kisses, then you settled in behind him, one arm under the pillow and the other slung over his hip.

“Oh, wait.  I really do have a job interview in the morning.”  You suddenly remembered and leaned over to set your alarm.  “And let’s confront Kendra at the next meeting.  She shouldn’t get away with this shit and I’d love to know where she got her information.”

“Mmm,” Klaus writhed against you.  “You’re sexy when you plot revenge.”

“Go to sleep,” you chuckled, kissing his curls.

Want more?

@moorehollandplz @helena-way07 @bubblyani @yeetskeetbuddy @zoemassingale @zohrayoung @ohyoubringmejoy @mywinterivy @waywardtrashfam @fiowersnack @becka1703 @zohargreeves @slutonside @klaushollandyoung @bekindbeslutty @hmblergah @justahufflebird @salty9winter9adult @kit-kat-is-me-lol @victor-criss-bish

[artist-in-space]

Bask in Sunshine

Fandom: Good Omens 

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Summary:  Crowley wakes up and realizes a few things.

Read on AO3 or click read more!

Sunlight was Crowley’s friend.

The Sun—a star, and stars were absolutely always fascinating— was the center of this system, and the Earth revolves around it once a year. It brought about his favorite season, which was spring, because it breathed life into his plants and every type of flora he’s seen around. It was the right temperature, not too cold nor too warm. It brought him warmth when the days were cold.

It was also the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

Granted, he takes grand periods of sleep sometimes, or just the human duration of eight to ten hours. Little naps in between, yes, but he’s always found himself to wake up in the morning, either in the Bentley or in his home—in his throne, or on his bed.

Thus, this morning brought several revelations.

1.

The first one was that he woke up in a very different area. Not his house. Not his flat. Certainly not the backseat of his Bentley. It was—it smelled a bit too heavenly. And it was a bit too comfortable than he would usually make his bed to be. So, it was rational of him to have a mild freak-out when he understood where he was, despite his head not being the brightest after a night of slumber.

No, this reminded him of a homey room, the ones where writers describe as old but alive, kind, cared. This area exuded something that might be love, since demons don’t feel love. Crowley himself wouldn’t even be able to detect it if it wasn’t for a certain being, a being who embodied the concept of love that he might as well have chosen to introduce it to him up front.

He detected the feeling of love around him, and he flushed in surprise.

Aziraphale, he finally surmised. Involuntarily, he tucked himself further into the bed. I’m on Aziraphale’s bed.

-

2.

The second was that he most definitely did something wrong last night.

Not the type of wrong that angels consider—that would be right, in a demon’s eyes, and right was wrong. No, this was the wrong that demons nor angels nor humans should not do, and it is where he failed last night.

The memories of yesterday filtered in his thoughts slowly, each one more vivid than that of the last. Their successful switch, their talk on the bench; their lunch at the Ritz, and… Aziraphale bringing him to his small house outside London. The way how the angel tutted at him for not telling him that he had been exhausted the whole time because the switch had taken something out of him, while Aziraphale was still full of energy.

He remembered bickering with the angel. Then the angel didn’t have any of it and then—then the angel raised his eyebrow and said, oh, let me tempt you. He had lifted his hand to Crowley’s chest and pushed him downwards. On the bed.

Tempting him to bed was what Aziraphale meant. Crowley should’ve kicked himself for being so forward and falling to the wily words of his friend. He remembered the silly grin the angel sported for tricking him. It seems like my side did win after all, you exhausted demon.

On our side, he had protested, yawning. It seemed to make Aziraphale’s grin wider. I hate you.

Then, he could vaguely remember a tingle on his lips, without his reciprocation, because he was dead to the world at that moment.

Over several millennia he had wanted to kiss the blond-haired angel—and he wasn’t even coherent enough to remember! You’re a stupid fool, Crowley, he berated himself, mortified.

Maybe that was the reason why the angel wasn’t beside him. He was sure that he was beside him when he fell asleep. He was sure that Aziraphale had been smiling at him (or he’d like to imagine to, if his hazy recollection provided truth) and wasn’t annoyed by him.

That’s certainly was what it was, right? He thought apprehensively, cracking an eye open, slowly. He still wasn’t sure what to feel this morning.

-

3.

For all of his panicking, the third one brought him out of his thoughts and into the outside world. There was an aroma filtering into the room, and he took out his tongue to determine what it was: it tasted a bit like scrambled eggs, potatoes, and mushrooms. A hint of oil, onion, garlic, and different herbs he can’t place. Then, the smell of bacon.

He was never a food person, but he definitely liked food. He liked eating, though it wasn’t his area. That was Aziraphale, the angel appreciating the intricacies of flavor and design melting in his mouth. Crowley was more of a one-gulp being, as he was a Snake and snakes tended to feed in one bite.

However, he would just say that dining with Aziraphale has definitely brought him to a level of understanding and appreciation for cooking; dining at the Ritz tended to show that. People with blowtorches for crème brulees and crepes prepared on their side was a testament to that, and Aziraphale always tended to watch how they cook.

The angel probably took himself to cooking some time ago; it was bound to happen.

He blinked, and then sat up; the smell was food being cooked.

His mouth dropped open—Aziraphale was probably cooking breakfast, in the kitchen. At this exact moment—for the both of them.

-

4.

The fourth realization followed immediately after that: they never had a meal together in the morning before, and certainly not one that Aziraphale created.

I should tell him I don’t like eating this early, he thought as he shifted a little in bed. He won’t be mad but he’s going to be grumpy if I don’t even sample a snack from his work.

…Does he even get grumpy in the early morning?

He shuffled downwards, and miracled himself clothes as he stretched into an impossible angle. He went to the opposite room—where the kitchen was—and indeed, he saw that Aziraphale was cooking. And not merely heating an English breakfast. He was also wearing an apron! Who even wore aprons in normal kitchen settings?

He was also humming a tune that Crowley was pretty sure was Queen’s, and try as he might, he couldn’t remove the smile on his face. Seeing the angel so free from any ounce of stress (and in a different setting, other than the St. James bench, or in the Ritz, or in the bookshop) was so new. If he was able to see this every morning, well, he was sure to love it now. He’s pretty sure he’s going to have more breakfasts if this is what he’d always get to see.

Of course, that was the time when the angel turned around, and well—it wasn’t like he’d calm his expression so fast.

“Oh goodness—“, Aziraphale exclaimed, pan in hand, bacon sizzling. Despite the surprise, the angel was terribly composed. “Crowley!”

The angel had a really happy grin, and he waved his spatula with his left hand. “Good morning! I made breakfast!”

-

5.

The fifth realization involved how normal this was, that they were spending time together in the morning, having breakfast, without any pretense of danger of being caught or reprimanded.

“I didn’t know you cooked, Angel.” He thought as he slid over the counter. The angel predictably clicked his tongue in a second-reprimand, but nothing more than that. It made Crowley grin; it was practically a signal to be as free as he could be. “Smells lovely.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale tilted the accumulated oil to the sink. “I’ve been practicing for more intricate meals, but I wanted to make something simple and something I knew with the back of my hand.” He scraped the bacon off the pan and put it on the plates on the dining table. “Such as those chefs I’ve watched in several restaurants. Tada!”

He looked so proud of himself. Crowley thought it was endearing, and now he felt like the biggest jerk in the created universe, because how can he say no to that face? To those bright eyes?

Aziraphale cocked his head, as if hearing his internal monologue. “Yes?”

He worked his jaw. To be a jerk or not to be. That is the question. He tried to school his face, but to no avail. “Er… how do I say this…?” He mumbled.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming around his face. Then, his lips stretched into an understanding smile. “Oh, I haven’t exactly invited you to breakfast before, haven’t I? Do you not eat breakfast?”

He looked at him in surprise. “How’d you know that? “

“Dear boy,” he softly chuckled, removing his apron and hanging it on one of the hooks installed on the side of the refrigerator. “Your eyes go fully yellow when you’re distressed, and you've been staring at the food for a while. You can tell me anything.”

Oh, he thought, relaxing but also tensing at the same time. He hadn't conjured his sunglasses, as the angel pointed out to him. Aziraphale is really clever, isn't he. He must've noticed the second he saw me, since it comes with my usual outfit.

He was that comfortable this time; and for Aziraphale not to point it out, meant that it was alright with the angel as well. It baffled him, but also made him glad. It just showed how much he trusted the angel-- not that he ever doubted him, but now it was truly cemented in his mind.

He shook his head, knowing his decision.

"I don't really it breakfast?” He said rather truthfully. Before the angel could react, he was already going down the counter.  “But I’d definitely try your cooking…” he murmured, pulling a chair and sitting. He looked at his plate and shrugged, putting food on it. He pretended not to hear Aziraphale's little chuckle.

He refused to down it in one go, of course, because even if he didn’t like breakfast, Aziraphale had cooked it for him.

-

6.

It took a few minutes before Crowley realized that Aziraphale was probably lost in his thoughts, because the angel hadn’t halved his food yet.

“Angel?” He tentatively asked, cutting his last bit of bacon. He marveled at it for a second; it was cooked just how much he liked the meat he consumed. A bit on the raw side. It wasn’t lost to him that Aziraphale had obviously cooked two batches of bacon, and he was even prouder of himself for not backing down from eating breakfast. If only it took him more than fifty seconds to eat the whole plate (and that was the slowest he could get). “Are you alright?”

Aziraphale looked at him, with a look that Crowley couldn’t figure out, before morphing into a bright smile.

“Yes! Yes, jolly good.” he said, hurriedly eating the rest of his breakfast. “Sorry, sorry. I was lost in thought.”

“You looked quite lost, yes.” He nodded. “Why’s that?”

“Ah,” the angel spoke, a blush tinting his cheeks. He patted his mouth clean. “Well, I was just marveling on how—“, he paused, before continuing with so much affection that Crowley felt physically pinned onto his seat, “—you are absolutely the most wonderful being I have ever known.”

He blinked, putting down his fork. He could feel his cheeks redden without his bidding, which, stop it. “That came out of nowhere, Angel! What—?“

“I believe you were quite half-asleep when I kissed you,” Aziraphale said resolutely, and oh, he was going over.

Aziraphale cupped his face gently and pressed a kiss on his nose. Then, he tilted his chin back and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, and Crowley’s eyes closed without meaning to. His hands involuntarily brought themselves up on the angel’s shoulders, and he could feel the warmth that radiated naturally from the angel’s holiness.

He basked in this feeling of being loved, with so much affection wrapping around them together.

Aziraphale pulled back, and Crowley slowly opened his eyes. When he did, he was met with the most breathtaking sight he’d ever laid eyes upon—the most beautiful smile Crowley had ever seen on anyone.

“My dear.” Aziraphale greeted, full of love, care, and a light feeling that warmed Crowley all over.  His eyes were bright, full of love, and all of it directed at Crowley, who seemed to draw strength from Aziraphale to kiss him one more time.

And, that was the sixth realization. In this kitchen, eating their first breakfast together, and hopefully more to come-- that his Angel was the Sun, whom he revolves around, the center of his system; that he was the one that brought his favorite season into light, because Aziraphale loved greeting flowers and plants; he was the warmth that he sought out even if they were on opposite sides. He was the comfort of belonging, the strength of believing again in something.

Aziraphale was the Sun, and he wanted the Angel to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

“You utterly sweet demon of mine,” Aziraphale murmured against his lips. Crowley had all but melted into his touch. “Good morning, my dear.”

-

Crowley closed his eyes, thinking that yes, sunlight was his friend, and he would always be happy to have it around.

But, as he basked in the first rays of sunshine, hand-in-hand with his Angel— he just knew that Aziraphale his lifelong-love.

(And if he had to experience a hundred more breakfasts, he would gladly take them. )

[hekate1308]

Hand Of Fate

You didn’t think I would stop saving Crowley anytime soon, did you? Enjoy!

It is one thing to be desperate. Dean knows the feeling.

But Sam’s insistence over the last few weeks that they go through every single book in the library to try and find a way to rescue Mom is a bit much.

Especially because in his heart of hearts, he is sure she is dead. Or at least gone.

He just can’t bring himself to tell his little brother that, considering everything, there was little difference she made in their lives.

Still – if it helps –

And so, he keeps doing what Sam is adamant they should until one day his brother returns triumphant, bearing the news of an ancient artefact that the Men of Letters wrote about but apparently never laid hands on. “It’s the Hand of Fate.”

“Sounds great.”

Sam frowns. “It’s a plan.”

“Let me check…” Huh, actually a severed human hand. Well, Dean has seen weirder. Apparently, their old pal Atropos touched it at one point and that gave it superpowers.

Although… “Sammy, it says here that it can connect those who have a strong, well, connection…”

He expects to be told off for his repeated use of the word, but instead Sam says, “And? She’s our mother!”

Yes, she is – was – is. But that doesn’t mean she understood them, or that they ever understood her. Learning that she didn’t know how to cook was just the tip of the iceberg.

Dean knows this. He knows this because Dad never got him either, if he’s being honest with himself.

But Sammy wants to try, so they are going to try.

As it turns out, the Hand showed up a few years again at an auction and is now housed in a museum in Massachusetts, of all places. They don’t really have much of a security system, if you overlook the one sole night guard they pay to walk around with a flashlight, so stealing it is like taking candy from a baby.

However, when Sam, eager to use it, writes down the ritual – seems like they need to build a triangle of three things that belonged to the person they are trying to reach and put the Hand in the middle, holding a burning candle – Dean has an idea. “Say, Sammy, what do you think about making a trial run?”

“A trial run?”

“Yes. For –“ he swallows, another surge of grief making it difficult to speak for a moment. “For Cas.”

Sam’s eyes soften. “Dean, Cas is gone. We burned his body.”

“Yes, but this is supposed to bring anyone back who has a “connection” to us, right? And Cas always said we had a “more profound bond” or whatever.”

Sam thinks about that for a moment then sighs “Alright” in that tone he uses when he has decided to indulge Dean, but who cares. They have to try. Especially since this Hand thing seems to come without repercussions, which is rare enough.

And so, Dean does the necessary preparations. One of the three things is of course Cas’ angel blade; then there is the laptop he used when he wanted to watch Netflix; and then –

“Dude, is that a pillow?”

Dean shrugs. “You know he likes to lounge around on his bed when he has the time.” A part of him reminds himself that there is no reason to talk of Cas in the present tense, they have no idea if this will work after all, but he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it.  

Sam seems to concede the point and they perform the ritual.

Even if Dean would still allow himself to hope – he makes a point of not hoping, these days – he wouldn’t have believed how easy it is.

A flicker of the candlelight, a light puff, and – there he is.

He blinks at them. “Dean? Sam?”

Dean is quick to wrap him up in a hug. “Welcome back, man.”

It’s of course not quite as easy as that – Cas is understandably confused, and the Hand apparently can only be used a few times before the power fizzles out forever, so trying to get everyone they have lost over the years back is out of the question.

Still. Cas is back. That’s a lot, if you ask Dean.

It’s a good thing they first brought Cas back, because, as Dean knew deep down it would, attempting the same with Mom only results in failure. It starts with the fact that there are barely three objects in the bunker – hell, maybe the world – Mom considered of importance to her; and then – well –

Dean sees the knowledge in Cas’ eyes, the knowledge that try as they might, they never did connect with her the way they did with Bobby or Jody or Cas or –

But Dean doesn’t go there. That way lies madness.

So, it seems he has gone mad after all, because Dean is doing this.

Sam has been busy with research – doing everything he can to find out whether there might be exceptions to the rules, and if so, how to circumvent them – Cas has slowly been getting his bearings, and Dean, well…

In his defines, he tried very hard to convince himself not to try this. After all, it means using one of the precious few times they can use the Hand on – on –

He looks down at the circle.

A half-empty bottle of Craig that really, he should have thrown out long ago, a bullet from the now long-gone Colt, and Juliet’s collar.

She showed up at the bunker a few weeks after Crowley’s death; Sam told Dean to deal with her, since she seemed rather attached to him (he never thought he’d see the day when a hellhound acted like a scared puppy looking for its owner, but here they were). He really did take her out in the woods to do just that – deal with her – and instead ended up taking off her collar and letting her roam free. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t.

Somehow, it was a strange comfort to think that a part of Crowley is still out there.

And at least he’s got three things, now.

He’s doing the ritual in the middle of the night in his room, but he probably shouldn’t be surprised when Cas knocks. “I knew before you did” is all he says as he slips in and gently closes the door behind him.

Dean nods.

And then he performs the ritual.

Now, this hole “connection” thing isn’t really explained well in their sources, and even if it were, he doesn’t really know if he’d go so far as to say that he and Crowley were friends; but they knew each other for almost a decade, and he certainly wouldn’t have called them –

Another small puff and then a demon in a dirty suit is staring at them. “What the – Squirrel?”

“Crowley.”

He turns his head. “Feathers?”

“Crowley.”

He seems about to say something, then just shakes his head and snatches the bottle of Craig off the floor. “I need a drink.”

“I think we all do” is Dean’s reply – for lack of anything else to say, really.

“The Hand of Fate. I’d heard rumours, of course, but didn’t think it’d just show up out of the blue.”

Dean shrugs. “Sometimes even we get lucky.” It’s a pathetic attempt at a joke, and Cas and Crowley barely react to it.

Crowley frowns. “But I thought there had to be a certain connection between the person someone is trying to save and –“

“Crowley, I think it is sage to say that “that ship has sailed”” Cas interrupts him, using his quoty fingers once again.

He is silent at that – well, for a second, then he starts to complain because – well it’s Crowley and if he wouldn’t be complaining about something, Dean would be worried. “What’s Juliet’s collar doing here? You didn’t –“

“No” he hastens to say. “I am pretty sure she’ll show up now, anyway, since you’re back.”

She certainly seemed to know where to turn to back when she first appeared.

“She better.”

Dean groans. “Crowley, come on –“

“Thank you.” The demon seems surprised at himself, and Dean can’t say he’s seen that coming, either – although none of them knew if he just thanked him for sparing Juliet or bringing him back.

“Yeah, well – “

And then all three of them are just sitting there awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

At least that decision is taken from them, however, when suddenly, he hears his brother say, “I heard voices and wondered – Crowley?!”

Dean winces and readies himself for a fight, but when he glances at the demon, there is a hint of mischief in his eyes that turns his own smile genuine as he addresses Sam, “Yeah, about that…”

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: For Her, I’ll Cross Over

The last thing she remembered was stumbling into her hotel room that night, hand pressed tightly across her stomach where the slice of a werewolves claws had caught and torn deep as she’d driven her last resort knife, her bullets spent as it had charged her, into it’s heart.

She’d made it to her bed and began bandaging the wound, and then the next minute it was morning and there was a knocking on her hotel door. She had approached and there was a dark haired woman outside, she’d said she was a friend of Dean’s and that Jo needed to come with her. She’d not even had time to think about the fact her stomach didn’t hurt and that she didn’t know the woman before there was a nod of her head and then she was there.

There was screaming, endless haunting screaming from all around but she could never turn her head enough to see where or who it was coming from. There were flashes of light that burnt her eyes to look into that seemed to radiate heat and pain and promise torment should it ever come down upon herself. There was laughter - some cold and cruel, some somehow familiar, and some the desperate crying laughter she knew could only come from the end of one’s rope when the pain became to much and all there was left was to laugh or cry or scream - but that hurt her ears as much as the screaming.

And then it began for her, right as Jo realized what had happened and where she was, and continued for endless hours and days.

She felt the skin torn, peeled, melted and carved from her very form. She felt every nerve ending be set alight and screaming for torturous moments, and she likewise felt every nerve ending suddenly disconnected leaving her in a void of unfeeling. She felt her muscles cut apart and her innards pulled and twisted and played with by the cruel hands that worked at her. She felt her voice screaming but the sounds bled into the voices around her much the same as all the other souls crying out in pain, anguish and damnation.

Except her screams were always of a single name.

—

“What is with these pathetic humans and that fucking series?” “I don’t know. It’s been increasing these last few decades hasn’t it? Always wanting the nice demon.” “Some television adaption or something-” “I thought those red-eyed bitches already cashed in on that fucking Pratchett guy?” “Pretty sure it’s Gaiman this time - about time they got around to taking him out too.” “Heard he keeps getting extensions for some reason-” “Fucking Brits. Fucking Crowley.”

The voices echoed along the hallway and the sheer snarls had been growing and growing, making him a little more and more cocky each time there was word of a sniveling crying soul looking to him of all people for salvation. There was power in choosing the name he had, in inspiring the works of those he had and leaving a lasting impression once upon a time. And now he was reaping his rewards and the smugness at collecting so many more new arrivals willing and ready to flash red for him.

Crowley made a sharp turn at the next corridor as the voices had grown closer, and threw his hands in a showy flair of cockiness and greeting out as he stepped around the edge.

“Are my ears burning, or is some talking about yours truly?” He said, smirk firmly in place on his face as Crowley spotted the group of three fellow black eyed demons hovering in his domain. It was not often that they lurked here, but Crowley knew that his own section of Hell was somewhat more pleasant for some than the earsplitting screams and crying. Not to all however, but even a torturer needed a lunch break some days. “What’s the matter - not enjoying your little games crying out for the best Hell has to offer?”

“Oh fuck you, Crowley. Your work with Pratchett is driving us insane.” One of the demons responded, a beautiful brunette but somewhat hideous underneath - clearly entering their first thousand year mark wielding the knife - rolling her eyes at the King of the Crossroads with the level of arrogance he would quickly rectify.

“Is that so?” The words rolled off of his tongue as he flicked a finger and the brunette was thrown harshly against the walls of his domain with barely a thought. Turning his eyes to the other two - one red headed man that had spoken in a Russian accent that even a few thousand years in Hell couldn’t erase unfortunately, and a short balding man that dressed in a suit even Crowley would be proud to wear - he raised a brow at them before gesturing with his hand for them to continue.

The pair exchanged a look before the Russian replied thickly, “Well there’s been plenty of them after you lately, but there is this one-” “Fucking beauty, too-” “That is true. One soul just screams not a stop.”

“Really? And hearing my name that much is cause for your anguish?” Crowley let out a small laugh as he shook his head, his hand closing tightly as he exerted a small bit of energy to guide the very walls of his domain to crush in against the wriggling, crying brunette woman while he continued to pin the other’s with a sharp look. “Wish she was screaming your own?”

“In that body? Lucifer please.” The balding one spoke this time, a feral and disgusting grin on his face as he watched his partner being crushed into the very fabric of the walls of this reality. “What I wouldn’t give for it to be mine, I got to work her over three weeks straight and all she’d do is call your name out, fucking laugh and some gibberish about ‘just you wait ‘til he gets here’. Like you’re some god to be summoned.”

The words sounded hollow and bitter, and the next moment Crowley had waved his hand and set the insolent demon aflame. He watched on, the tiniest flicker of annoyance that such a fine suit was gone into the ether, before he turned back to the last remaining demon.

“Now, finish where your friend failed - what is this little soul on about?” He snapped the words out, raising his hand and crushing his fist a little as the walls melded and forced themselves around the screaming brunette. Behind the Russian, Crowley could see the curious eyes of some of his own workers peeking out from various doors or the adjoining hallways before disappearing at the sight of their King. “Why is this one so… annoying to you trash?”

“She just screams for you, sir. Between laughing like a mad woman that is. Over and over ever since she arrived. I saw her on her first week, and it’s almost a year at this point and she’s still on it.” The red head shook his head, arms crossed over his broad chest as he shrank a little in his stance to defer to the shorter but more powerful demon he was addressing. Crowley smirked, pleased. “A year long and nobody else got anything from her neither - and no black or red or nothing showing up as of yet.”

“And does this little soul have a name?”

Crowley felt the smirk bloom wider into a grin as he heard the name coming from the other demon’s mouth, before he pressed both his hands together in glee while the Russian burnt into flame and the brunette’s screams were silenced once and for all. Walking through the falling ash of the tall red head, the King of the Crossroads took off towards the torture fields. Today was a good, good day.

—

She had lost track how long it had been, and every time she thought it would stop that the demon, carving her up and tearing her apart and even that one time she wouldn’t think of, would take pity or give up, or would just give her a moment to breathe there was an endless second before they would either pick up another weapon or hand their implement to the next demon to start all over again as her body was made anew.

However, as she gurgled and spluttered over coughing up the viscous blood that clogged her throat that day as she let out a harsh sounding laugh, Jo heard something she had almost been praying for. She had realized somewhere around day one-hundred and fifty seven that she was honestly begging and praying that that voice, that man, would arrive. And at last, he was here.

“Joanna,” the voice was somehow smarmier than she remembered it, his accent rolling over her name in a way that made her want to tear off of the chains that bound her and wrap a hand around her neck. How dare he wait this long to come to her, she’d been calling and screaming for so long. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company down in my world?”

“Fucking werewolf I guess is what.” Jo gritted the words out at him, spitting the thick blood from her lips with a ragged cough as she fought to look through the busted eyelids from today’s torture. She could barely see, the sliced lids not reacting so well, leaving her to turn her head even a little to try to see him. “As for why down here, fuck knows.”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain we all know exactly why your down here, Joanna.” Crowley’s voice was closer now, and Jo jerked her head to the other side, trying to follow and pinpoint where he was speaking from. She must be looking the right way, as the next thing she felt was two fingers tilting her chin upwards towards his voice as the demon continued, “It’s all a big cosmic joke, you know. Of course you had to come down here, little girl, it’s where you were destined to go. The moment you sliced that hunter’s throat you were marked for us. I did tell you, remember?”

“Fuckin’ bullshit..” She struggled to get the words out, choking as the blood pooled backwards into her throat again as he stroked her chin with a thumb. “That was for his own good.”

“Perhaps, but if I recall from our little- ugh, you are drooling everywhere, let’s get that fixed first shall we? Have a real conversation like civilized people.” Jo found herself frowning at the way the demon paused in his words, the way he seemed to just be oozing smugness as he brushed a hand across her face and down her throat.

That smugness was evident on his face as well as her vision cleared, her eyes fixing and her throat healing under the touch. She could feel the rest of her renewed as well, fixing itself from the damage rendered that day as she looked into the self-satisfied black eyes staring back at her. As she felt the last bone knit back together and the last pieces of her broken skin scab and fade immediately, Jo watched as the black receded and left only the smirk in its place.

Crowley practically purred the next words out, his hand stroking along the side of her neck where she was trapped and bound by the hooks and chains puncturing through her shoulders. “Where was I? Ah, from our little fake deal you were being hunted and alienated by Heaven as it was, weren’t you? You did cause such a ruckus when you were up there last, and whatever it was you needed my help with sure hasn’t gone anywhere. It’d only been a few years for them, do you really think they’d allow you admittance again so soon?”

Jo snarled at that, sneer upon her lips as she spat the last bit of blood coating her tongue out at the demons feet. “So I get sent to eternal damnation cause Heaven are a bunch of fucking asswipes, and because I stopped the sufferin’ of another person?”

“Well those are your big ones, darling. You’re littered in little other choices - the stealing, the fraud, the theft, the debauchery, the cursing oh you do love the cursing, the questionable moral choices. Such a litany of options to pick from, Joanna.”

“Great, so cause I like the word fuck I’m in Hell, what fuckin’ bullshit.”

There was that chuckle again, and Jo tugged at her restraints to try to punch the smirk right off of the demons face. She found herself smiling grimly in response to the slight flinch as the other dropped his hand and took a full step back from her - eyes focused upon her own for a long second before the laugh came again. “Oh I so thought there was a flicker of black there, darling. You disappoint me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Regardless, you’ve been causing a bit of a stir down here already, did you know that?” Crowley tilted his head up at her, the smug look back in place but from what she could tell it wasn’t nearly as settled as it had been when he’d waltzed in if his tone was anything to go by. “What’s all this crying for me I’ve heard you’ve been doing? You so desperate for my company?”

Jo felt herself flushing at that - she had been calling for him, every day for the past year, and that it had been noted enough to get his attention finally was both embarrassing and frustrating. It shouldn’t have taken a full year of torture for him to finally decide to come sniff her out, should it?

“So? You wanted me, Joanna, what do you want to do with me now I’m here?” The words and the tone made her shiver in disgust, though as she glanced between his serious yet lecherous look and the few demons - some familiar from her torment, some she had no recollection of - that were peering from further behind him she could tell something was off with the situation. Crowley cleared his throat, drawing her eyes back to him as he gave her a stern look. “If you just wanted your presence noted, then well done message received and I’ll let your torture continue for the day; but if there was something else?”

“I was goin’ to offer you a deal.” Jo felt her voice quiver over the words as she stared him down, watching as a vicious smile crossed over the other’s face.

Crowley laughed again, straightening his back as he looked back up at her, grin firmly in place. “But, Joanna, you’re already in Hell. You’re already dead. You have nothing to offer down here, even your body is worth nothing here.” She jerked a leg out trying to kick him at the way his eyes ran over her, before laughing again at her reaction.

Snarling, Jo jerked herself upright as much as possible so she could stare down at both the demon in front of her and also glance easily towards those congregated nearby to watch the spectacle. Clearly a demon like Crowley being here and a demon in general talking to a soul seemed unusual. “I am worth everything to you right now, Crowley. I am worth your very life and existence.”

“How so, darling?”

“Because if I am still right here, in this position, when he comes for me?” Jo quirked her brow up, an equally vicious sneer on her face to the smile she had been receiving until the word ‘he’ crossed her lips, as she stared down at the other. “Then you know this whole place will be torn and devoured in retribution.”

“You-”

“Know that he’ll come? Of course he will. You and I both know it, and do you want to still be on his bad side, just like that lot will be, when that happens?” Her eyes flicked up in gesture at the group of demons behind the other before returning to stare him down. She felt the fire rising in her cheeks again as she hoped against hope that the one chance she had thought of the very first day as a hand had ripped her lungs from her rib cage would work. “Or do you want to be on his good side, Crowley?”

There was a long, drawn out moment between them as his name and her meaning hung heavily between the two of them where she thought perhaps the demon was unconcerned or would laugh her off, or that he may just decide to roll the dice and see if a monster and a demon were better matched in Hell than on Earth.

And then the chains disappeared.

—

Everyone was taking his shit again.

It was getting on his last nerves to turn around and find yet another of his things taken, usurped, stolen from his possession behind his back. First it had been the very pliable, very sweet and oh so willing monster - the blonde bitch had stolen him from underneath his view while he’d been busy being a fucking God. Second it have been that very godly power source itself - yet again by that tiny blonde nuisance and her little ragtag family of fucked up hunters. Third had been the usurping and claiming of an entire section of his dominions space by that fucking wine guzzling demon - that was nearly the last straw when he had returned to Hell to find his favorite room occupied by the pervert.

But this? This was the last straw.

“You finished the entire bottle?!”

“Hell is boring, there’s not much to do here.” The blonde kicked her feet in the air above herself where she was laid out atop what was once his bed. She was as impertinent as always, even saved from the rack and put up in his wonderfully lavish rooms she was still unsatisfied. It was a wonder that he’d bother to come all the way down to Hell after such a selfish brat, but then Crowley thought that the monster had clearly lost his mind after their… time apart. “It’s not like I can go walkin’ about the place, and I am well and truly sick of your collection of books-”

“Of course she can’t appreciate great literature, of course.” Crowley muttered the words quietly to himself as he rubbed a hand over his face in irritation. Not being devoured and destroyed was almost not worth putting up with the woman. As he rubbed his eyes and opened them again, he bit down an annoyed groan at seeing the previous hunter sat on her knees and bouncing in boredom on top the bed. “What is it you want instead, Joanna?”

“I dunno, I’m just bored. This place is boring!”

“I could throw you back on the rack if you’re that bored here with me.” He growled the words out as he turned his attention back to the crystal decanter and watched it fill before his eyes with the honey colored liquor he so desperately needed right then. Pouring himself a glass, and then considering for a moment and pouring a second, Crowley turned around again to see the blonde sitting at the end of the bed and blinking at him in surprise as he approached, glass held out to her. A peace offering in Hell, possibly the first of it’s kind. “I could also call up Lilith and let her know you are here. Or perhaps I should see if any of those other friends of yours are down here and already sporting a pair of fun colored eyes. Or-”

“Enough!” The girl cried out in exasperation as she took the glass from him, flopping her other arm up and down in frustration to hopefully silence him. Crowley felt his lips tug into a smirk, amusement at watching such behavior growing as she took a small sip of her drink. The smirk grew seeing the correct process for enjoying his favorite and finest choice of drink, a stray thought that he remembered their discussions of drinks and life and that she had a sweet laugh. Crowley found himself shaking that thought away with a sneer.

“Well then, Joanna. What do you want from me? I can’t let you wander around unaccompanied and I am definitely not letting you bother me at work-”

Crowley growled as the blonde appeared to perk up, eyes wide and staring at him with a devious look on her face. “Work? You do actual work?”

“What do you think being the fucking King of the Crossroads means?” He snapped the words out at her as he moved to sit down at the desk to the side of the room, and rolled his eyes as he heard that godforsaken laugh come out in response to his surliness. It sounded just the same. Crowley pulled one of his ledgers out and began marking down the steps for the next few days of Earth time - it was a blessing in so many ways, if that word was ever able to be applied in Hell, that their time functioned differently. What was a day or two away on the natural plane was months in the burning center of Hell. It allowed him ample time to organise when the hounds would be deployed, when the upcoming souls would be reaped and dragged kicking and screaming below. It allowed him extra time to set up the rosters of rotation for his underlings as to who will visit Earth and swindle the next dealer out of their soul. “Yes, I do actual work, you insolent little brat.”

“Really, though? Cause I ain’t never seen a demon do no goddamn work.” Jo’s voice was closer than the bed he realized about a moment too late, before there was blonde hair hanging over his shoulder as the inquisitive, bored bitch began looking over his shoulder. “Why, I didn’t know you could do math, Crowley! Here I thought you couldn’t count to know that some thirty or forty million would mean way too fuckin’ many for one demon to take on himself.”

He felt himself reacting before his brain caught up to the movement, the girl flung across the room and landing back on the bed again by his powers, before he was holding her down firmly with a hand pressed over her neck. Crowley did not need this upstart reminding him of his misadventures. He did not need her, of all people, taunting him with those choices which had placed him firmly on the top of every power scale for so long before it was wrenched out of him by her devious little schemes. He should simply burn her soul to shreds right here and now, and deny she ever arrived downstairs when the monster came looking. He should throw her back on the rack, or even into Lilith’s private rooms as a present to the fallen Queen. Perhaps he should even just give her to that demonic wolf when it finally showed up again.

Instead of any of those, Crowley found himself withdrawing his hand at the shocked and almost terrified look that was splayed across the girl’s face before moving back to his desk, tugging at his shirt cuffs as he sat back to face the pile of contracts to his side as well as the schedule and the list of numbers needed to collect and collate soon enough.

He had hoped that would have silenced her and allowed him some peace and quiet for the last few hours of the day, and as he began to sip from his glass as he continued his accounting, Crowley was surprised by that grating voice chirping up from beside him again.

“Who the hell agreed to these terms?”

“Humans are fools, Joanna, you should know being one.” He snapped back, as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes trying to avoid looking at her and giving her the attention she was clearly after. Crowley remembered how desperate for attention she could be.

“I know that, you asshole. I meant who the fuck allowed this… Princeton, really? He’s goin’ by Princeton? - anyway, who allowed him to make a deal to give some human ‘power to bring back his loved ones’? What kind of dumbass demons do you have working for you, Crowley?”

That question caused him to pause, pen hovered above paper, as he turned to face her. “What?”

“Some fuckin’ idiotic demon’s gone and given some bloke the ability to revive the dead!”

“That’s not possible. None of my workers would-” Crowley growled, starting to feel that irritation start back up again as the blonde looked back at him impishly. At his words, she began to wave one of his contracts due for review in front of his face teasingly, a cocky quirk to a brow. “They wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but he did. Stupid demon let that be the wordin’, not just some specific loved one, but loves ones in general. Guess you’re going to be missin’ some souls as soon as the bloke works it out.” Joanna’s face was twisted into a dark look of glee as she continued to wave the paper at him until he snatched it, before turning her attention down to start reading through the pile in her lap. “Looks like your little demon needs some remedial training in using the right words, Crows.”

Crowley almost dropped the contract hearing the heavy meaning behind the mistake by his underling as he reviewed the contract in question itself, signed-sealed and too late to change now, and then did fumble it at the name slipping from the other’s lips. That brought back memories. His shirt felt too tight around his neck, and tugging at the fabric he turned his attention firmly back to the contract laying, judging, upon his desk.

His eyes ran over the words and found the sick feeling that the woman was right. His demon had made a grave mistake, and it would cost Hell and the so called Princeton dearly for it. Crowley dragged the communication chalice towards him from the corner, calling into the swirling surface for the hounds to tear apart the demon “in the main waiting room” and to leave him as a message for the remaining workers. It was too little too late, but hearing the quiver in the voice of Lola at the other end, he felt a little better for the foolish mistake.

As Crowley drained his glass and began to move towards his drinks trolley for a very needed refill to think over how to resolve that mess of a deal before it got too out of hand, he felt his hand still at the quiet voice in the even quieter room, “So, uh… I shouldn’t bring up the next problem, should I?”

He poured his drink and downed it in one, the burn nothing he was unfamiliar with other than the twist of his stomach at the idea of wasting his precious Craig in one swallow, before he refilled the glass again and looked across at the curious tilt of the blonde’s head.

She’d been residing in his space for a year - a year of snipping, of bickering, of her jabbing at him when bored and him venting his anger of a days work out on her in increasingly nasty comments as the days drew on without the appearance of the shadow. A full year tormenting and teasing one another, and wearing down that fury and disgust of one another through sheer exposure so far.

But tilting his glass at her as he moved back towards the desk, Crowley decided to return her olive branches with his own. “Actually, it would be the perfect time for you to bring it up, Jo.”

—

She couldn’t quite work out how much time had been passing for her so far upstairs. One time Sam had told her in a hushed voice how time moved so much faster in Hell that a month was like ten years, but she knew for certain it was no where near that long yet. Maybe two or so weeks at most, Jo knew that he’d have well and truly found out about her by now, but just what had happened since she couldn’t hazard a guess. It had been four years so far for her, but it had almost felt like a blink after she had been drawn down from the sharp hooks.

Her entire peaceful existence in the rooms that had once been lavishly decorated in deep wood tones and reds and velvet, now changed to reflect the light blues and whites and honey wood tones she favored sometime last year when she had whined for a month straight about the masculinity of the space - a fight that raged on for two whole weeks through her silent treatment to the demon offhandedly saying it seemed like it would suit her perfectly - and tagging along with the demon with a clip board and disdainful sneer was reliant upon what he would do upon finding out where she was.

He had always said he’d come for her, and that was the one thing she held onto tighter than anything else.

There was a knock that day on the door to her room - fuck you very much, Crows she thought to herself - and Jo was unsurprised to see the redheaded demon outside it, looking a mixture of uncertain and frightened as she always did. Jo frightened nearly everyone in the Crossroads section by her sheer existence and the rumors she had gotten over fifty-six demons torn apart or destroyed entirely in the last three years for sloppy workmanship or even looking at her wrong.

Last year alone was twenty-three, and Jo meant to top that number this year.

"I.. I was wondering if I could talk." The younger looking girl asked, an uncomfortable smile upon her face and Jo could see her tugging at the hips of her black dress absent minded. Tempest had been one of the few demons Crowley had allowed to speak with her, and Jo found she was sought out every few weeks after some deal had been struck. “If it’s a good time, that is.”

“Of course, of course, not like I have much else to do.” Jo replied with a smile before cringing when she realized how close to whining that sounded as well as how insensitive it was to the young demon. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but Jo could just tell this one was still relatively young - especially compared to the way Crowley and even moreso Ruby behaved - and Jo had already noticed the way the girl would show up as soon as her contract paperwork was completed on a new deal. “Sorry, come in, let’s chat.”

“Oh, no no, it’s fine, of course you didn’t- it’s not like- you’re not-”

“I’m not the same as everyone else,” Jo supplied helpfully however the smile had dropped completely from her face as she ushered the other into the room and shut the door with a heavy thud of the solid wood door behind her. “But anyway, you wanted to talk?”

There was a long tense moment, quiet in the softly furnished room feeling less oppressive than it would have a year ago but quiet and heavy nonetheless. Sometimes the demon wanted to talk about her deal that day. Sometimes the demon wanted to talk about how unfair her own deal had been. And sometimes she just wanted Jo to talk about her own life and what the young girl had missed out on by losing out on life so early. Tempest was endlessly fascinated by the life Jo had left - so so far from the type of life the pretty, popular cheerleader and valedictorian had lived. Jo almost felt like her life was being raked over with a fine tooth comb each time that she relived a single memory with the other, what could be a simple story stretching for hours.

“There was... she was so young... she was too young to know better but-” The redhead struggled over the words, her voice catching every few words as she turned with those baleful blue eyes towards Jo. “I remember being that young. I’d made mine by then, but she had such a better life ahead of her and...” Jo gently guided the other towards the small couch before pushing the girl’s shoulders so they both sat. Seated, Tempest appeared to fidget all the worse, the red of her eyes flashing as she spoke in a calmly cold voice, “She just wanted him to stop beating her mother. She just wanted her little brother to be safe. She just wanted them to be okay, her...” The tone shifted again and Jo could see the telltale shine of unshed tears covering the redhead’s eyes as she fought to stop them falling, the last words a quiet, shaky whisper, “Her words originally left her free to his wrath.”

“Originally?” Jo felt the corners of her lips tugging as if wanting to pull into a comforting and approving smile, but she fought it down until she was certain that the other had managed to pull off what demons never should.

Tempest’s head jerked to look at her, the tears freely running now and Jo couldn’t help but think the girl should have been given a chance to live before it was taken. Even red-eyed and confirmed demonic, she still held so much of her humanity secretly squirreled away from what Jo could tell. “Yes. I... might have got her to rephrase herself before it was finalised.”

“You did a good job there, Tems.” Jo replied, the smile finally pulling up as she sank back into the soft cushions of the couch. There was a second before she saw something much the same cross the demon’s face - a smile of satisfaction or pleasure at either the praise or from Jo’s almost approval, she couldn’t have said.

“I sure hope si-Crowley doesn’t mind the change-”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry ya pretty little head.” The blonde cut her off with a flippant wave of a hand, smirking a tad.

It had been an interesting two years of relearning a deeply buried relationship with the demon - there had been more than a few screaming and shouting matches, there had been more than a few tears spilled by her and even a handful from the demon himself, there had been a month long argument whereby neither could come to an agreement as to how wrong the King of the Crossroads was about the shadow and his relationship, there had been an even longer fight when Crowley had gone so far to suggest that the shadow was not coming for her when he had not summoned the demon to find out her whereabouts yet - but there had been marked improvement.

Jo wouldn’t say she had forgotten the treatment from the ex-King of Hell after she’d been returned to Earth. She hadn’t forgotten his proposing a fake deal requiring her to believe she’d damned herself in exchange for protection and to be reunited with her then friend. She hadn’t forgotten he forced the angel to lie to her, nor that when the angel had infuriated him he had decided to drive her to the psych-ward and drive her insane all on his own. She hadn’t forgotten that he lied about it to her and to him. She hadn’t forgotten the chlorine gas, she hadn’t forgotten the constant teasing and how he strained her friendship with him.

She hadn’t forgotten for one moment the treatment for her love at his hands - that she had yet to forgive compared to so much else.

She hadn’t forgotten how the moment he claimed the power of Purgatory for himself everything changed and they all became his play things. She hadn’t forgotten the mind games - the threats to her mother, the threats to herself, to him, to the angel; the crying and the runes, the blood under her fingers and the absolutely distraught look on the shadow’s face as she helped him to her car; the knife and the way she had to slice through his back; the collar of all fucking things and all it represented. She hadn’t forgotten any of it, and while she may have forgiven large swathes of the wrong doings, Jo had yet to forgive anything to do with the few people she still held dear.

However, there had been a shift between them along the line. Slowly the hard line of hatred had begun to blur and blend and mix away until it was all but gone. Instead, they’d almost fallen back into the same routine as before all that shit had happened - Crowley was Crows and Jo was Jo, however she knew he’d never call her Princess again with the girl sitting next to her having slowly taken that spot. It didn’t matter so much any more, that was from when she was a younger, more naive girl and he was still trying to grasp something to feel more human again. Now, they were on the same page of the novel and reading from the same script for grown ups.

“You’ll take care of what, Jo?” The clipped tone came from near the drinks trolley - the one piece of furniture she had not demanded to be removed, the one thing that was constantly and never changing from his in the space but seemed to blend in so well with the rest of her choices - as the demon poured out two glasses of scotch without any indication he had looked towards both women at any point. Jo was unsurprised by his sudden arrival, and even less surprised when he summoned a comfortable chair for himself across from the lounge, though that it matched her decor choices always filled her with a strange sort of warmth given his previous penchant for summoning whatever was his style or interest. “Congratulations on another busy day, by the way love, good job with that young lady and her family.”

Jo could see it immediately as Crowley came to sit across from the pair of them and pushed the second glass across to her. The way the demon beside her immediately straightened her back and smoothed her dress skirt nervously, the way her relaxed posture changed in a blink, her hands twisted and fidgeted unconsciously in her lap and the tears and almost happy smile had shifted to the mask that was required before her colleagues.

“Th-thank you, sir.” The demon stumbled over the words, and Jo found herself trying not to roll her eyes at the nervous energy rolling off of her. “I was just.. just telling Jo about it.”

“Well, that’s pleasant. I hope she hasn’t been trying to talk your into striking-”

“Oh bugger off, I know how this place works-”

“No, you know how you’d like it to work.”

“I’m still sayin’ there should be age limits-”

“Fucking Hell, Jo, that isn’t how this place works! We are demons, as I remind you constantly, age and the ability to comprehend reality is not necessary to us. And if you begin on the impact of that Kripper fellow targeting the disabled again-”

“But-”

“It’s not how we work, Jo. They will come to use eventually.”

“Well then why care, right? You guys do your bit, the horrible worst parts of humanity do their parts, you’ll end up with plenty of pretty little souls so why make trouble talkin’ your best wheeler-and-dealer into goin’ on strike?” Jo shrugged a shoulder as she stared the other demon down over the top of her glass. From the corner of her eye, she could see the way the redhead’s attention jerked back and forth between them at the rapid fire exchange like a rapt tennis viewer. “Why bother caring at all?”

“And this is why I’m so dissatisfied that our little friend would hate for you to become one of us, love. You’d make such a good one.”

---

There was a strange man in her room. Well, man was incorrect as he was clearly a demon. And strange would also be possibly wrong too, as he seemed fairly normal if slightly like what Bobby would be like if he was even older, more cynical and sarcastic, and happened to have a bit more panache.

However the point still remained, there was a demon in her room that she had no recollection of ever seeing before.

“Excuse me-” Jo began, her fists rubbing at her eyes as she blinked blearily towards the man sitting on her couch with a glass of wine and the air of ownership that she’d had to browbeat out of Crowley for the last 7 years. She shifted to sit upright, eyes fixed directly back on the curious yet bemused one’s in the stranger.

“You are excused, little girl.” The voice sounded familiar, and Jo almost thought she’d heard it through the walls sometimes - loud or quiet, but that familiar timbre definitely one she had heard echoing down the halls alongside Crowley’s own enraged tones. There was a similar smile to the demon’s face that she thought would look in place on the British demon’s one, but a slight awareness and danger to the look that Jo had not seen on the other for ages. “I just thought I should finally introduce myself to my new neighbor.”

“Neighbor?” Jo parroted back, and at the way the demon ran an inquisitive eye over her she grabbed her blankets back up and held against her chest. “I didn’t think Crowley’d given anyone else actual rooms down ‘ere.”

“Oh as if I listen to what that fool does,” the demon replied between sips from his glass. Jo hoped abstractly that he would not spill any of the red liquid on her couch, it would be a bitch to get out of the white fabric. “I decided I liked the view from the space four doors down, and no overly inflated crossroad-boy is going to stop me taking what catches my eye.”

Jo felt her cheeks flush a little at that, however the demon did not continue to stare at her, his eyes drawn back to his wine and the swirl of the liquid in the glass at the right turn of his hand. Clearly, this demon was much older and in control of himself than Crowley had ever hoped to be.

“Well, that’s good for you but that don’t excuse your poppin’ into a girl’s room without askin’.” Jo hissed the words back, clutching the blanket tighter and higher against her front to cover the ugly band t-shirt she had wiggled out of Crowley three years earlier. “I’d ask you to leave, Mr. uh...”

“How very rude of me, almost like that overgrown oaf who’s room you appear to have likewise usurped.” The older man smiled again, and Jo could see how it was not quite as predatory as she first thought - too many times dealing with touchy, gross and disgusting demons over the years sending her mind straight to the worst unfortunately - but there was definitely something unsettling to the look. As if behind the deep lines and furrowed brows there was something dangerous and powerful lurking but only when the mood struck. “My name, dear girl, is Vassago. You may have heard of me, just a little old Prince of Hell and continuous thorn in the side of that little jester-King of Nothing, Crowley.”

Jo found herself laughing against her best intentions, a hand raised to cover her mouth as she reacted on instinct to the charming tone and just how amusing the older demon seemed to be. The term ‘Prince of Hell’ made a shiver run down her spine however the clear good humored delivery won over the cold fear that brought about. Additionally, as she looked about the room and saw no signs of the hulking beasts that most of those higher ranked demons took to dragging everywhere with them that Jo was still coming to terms with being exposed to helped settle her nerves further.

“And you, my dear, I need a name to put to such a pretty, young face.” The demon was talking again, and Jo found herself biting upon her bottom lip at the dark curiosity that she could see rolling off of the man. He gave an air of not caring, sipping and swirling his wine and being cautious not to look at her took long; but Jo was still a hunter and she still knew when someone was watching her in a way that spelled trouble.

Pausing over replying, Jo waited a long moment before breathing out her name with a deep sigh. “Jo Harvelle.”

“Hmm. Well, I can see why Crowley, that Lothario wannabe, pulled you off the racks for a bed warmer - though I sure hope, my dear, that you are aware you’ll be back in Lilith’s domain before long.”

“Ex-fuckin’-scuse you?!” Jo found herself out of the bed and she stalked towards the demon in a flash at the sheer suggestion. “I am no goddamn fuckin’ bed warmer, you sanctimonious fuck!”

The next moment she found herself pressed against the opposite wall, still spitting mad and not eve caring about the hard walls pushing into her back.

“Are you not? Were you not in his bed upon my arrival-”

“It’s not his fuckin’ bed, you shitface! It’s my bed!”

“You mean to claim ownership of part of Hell? You? A little, barely out of infancy human soul?” There was something to his tone that concerned her all over again as the man rose from his seat and she could see two dark shadow-like forms following his movements around the room. Jo barely bit down on the desire to snarl at him again as the man approached her, all the while swirling that dark red liquid in his glass. “My, you really are a curious little thing, aren’t you?”

“I’ve heard I’m a fuckin’ bitch more often.” Jo snapped back, wishing desperately she could cross her arms and do more than simply sneer at the demon. “What the fuck are you doin’ here anyways?”

“Oh I’d heard whispers of some little human being kept by that fool like a pet-” Jo snarled loudly at that word, and was almost surprised by the intrigued look she got in response before the demon continued, “-like a little dolly being dressed up and played with and paraded about his little slice of Hell. Such a thing? Very much an intriguing anomaly.”

“Well, an intriguing anomaly sounds about right.” Jo ground the words out in response and was caught off guard as the power holding her against the wall disappeared and she dropped to her feet with a small stumble.

She was even more thrown when a hand shot out to steady her from falling flat upon her face, common manners not frequently displayed by any of the demons she had ever faced down excepting Crowley on rare occasions.

“And what makes you so special, Miss Harvelle? What does the so called King of the Crossroads, that drunken foolish oaf, see of worth in you?” There was a calculation in the demon’s eyes, a flash of yellow that made Jo’s skin break out in goosepimples, that she was not used to seeing in the stupid and snivelly crossroads demons she had mostly interacted with lately. He was old, practically ancient, Jo could feel it immediately from the way he held her arm in the appropriate place until she pulled it back to herself. “Why are you his choice little toy, dear?”

“I’m not a fuckin’ toy, I’m not anythin’ special all myself-”

“You must be one or the other, my dear, so please - identify your worth to me.”

“I..” Jo stumbled over the words, eyes darting about the room and almost praying for Crowley to pop in unexpectedly as he usually did whenever the mood struck him in either to vent about the foolish demons, ask her opinion on the work performance of some under-performing demon, or just to share a drink and talk or not talk. If he would just appear, maybe this demon could fuck off without her putting her foot in her mouth. However, Crowley ever contrary did not ever appear when she needed him. “I’m just a soul with a rather large problematic element attached to it.”

“Oh? Explain, girl.” Vassago waved a hand at her as Jo jerked back away from him and moved to place as much space between them as possible, sinking into the desk chair and swiveling to one side and then the other as she kept a watchful eye upon the carefully blank look the demon was trying to convince her with.

Jo thought over saying exactly what she was - a bargaining tool for Crowley’s survival when he finally came to claim her back from Hell - but that just seemed like too much information and possibly dangerous to let the facts be known. “I... “ She tilted her head to one side as she swiveled left and then right, watching intently as the demon sank into the center of her couch as if it were his own. “I guess you’d have to just wait and see.”

“Enigmatic too. Curiouser and curiouser, little Jo Harvelle.” The almost predatory look was back as the demon sized her up, a look Jo span about the whole way in the swivel chair to avoid staring down fully before she heard a harsh sounding laugh and when on her next spin she saw him as he spoke and then he was gone the very next that did nothing to settle her nerves. “I do look forward to discovering what secrets you hide.”

---

[whydoyouwantmyname]

imagine dating Dean, yet hiding a HUGE secret...

Your hand entangled his as you looked upon his lifeless, battered body. Through your head swam all the images of what you imagined your life with him being, the screams of secrets never shared, the rhythm of a familiar heart that pulses no more still haunting your fingertips.

“I was wondering when you would show up.” Your voice filled the void in a cold tone, to anyone looking in, they would think you had finally gone mad, yet when you looked out of the four walls that contained the corpse of your lover, you knew exactly who was lerking in the hall.

“I came as soon as I heard the moose summoning me. He is in your little forbidden lair trying to bargain for Dean’s life.”

“But let me guess, you aren’t going to answer.”

“Why? We both know what happened to Cain when he took his own life with the blade.”

“Yes father, it is for that reason and far more I never would have told Dean of the mark, or given him the option to take it in the first place.”

“Your judgement is fogged over by love my dear, you and I both know that Dean was the only chance we had! Even now, you sit here with a corpse who you know....”

“I will not do that, I will not make him....” your words cut through the screams of your father as he looked at you in disbelief

“What? One of us? I get it,demon princess falls for the hunter, yet can’t tell, so she acts like a normal human, and denies her life, her status, her own kind. Yet given the chance to live free with the man she desires most and she...”

“He would never want to be a demon.”

“Ahhhh yes, the last wish of the deceased I am sure. But darling daughter, you are forgetting, the Mark is in the driver seat, and it will never let the wielder die.” He moved to the chair, and after sitting upon the cushion of it, he revealed from his coat a item you thought was gone forever, as you watched in horror.

“Where did you....”

“It was easy to retrieve, after you left with Dean, I simply just...”

“Do it.” You whispered, your father’s face contorting in confusion as he rounded the left side of the bed, your own eyes fixated on Dean’s peacefully, lifeless, paling face, which was littered in cuts, “I didn’t have the heart to do it myself, so just do it.”

“It is for the best dear, you know just as I that we never believed the rumor of Cain’s death, that’s why I never told him, and I know you didn’t either. I understand that you don’t want to blow your cover but...”

“I never told him cause I knew he wouldn’t be Dean anymore, he would stop at nothing to avoid dying. He wouldn’t be Dean anymore, he would be a husk. Also it was just speculation, none of us knew if he was really dead or not during that period.”

“Exactly and why set hearts a flutter at mere speculation.”

“That’s all it is, if you are really going to bring Dean back then we need to find Death and...”

“No, we have what we need, it isn’t rumor anymore. I didn’t realize it until Dean summoned me without you, and he left his cheeseburger untouched that I knew, the stories are all true Darling, and thankfully this story of the Mark is going to lead to your miracle.” As he spoke he placed the blade in Dean’s hand, and slowly moved his limp arm to cross over his chest. you slowly leaned forward and peppered his forehead with a kiss, before releasing his hand and walking to join your father.

“Listen to me, Dean Winchester, really listen to me. What you are feeling right now, is not death, but life. A new kind of life, one where you and [Y/N] can live forever, all you need to do is open your eyes Dean.” Crowley spoke with authority as your hand gently found his, as his voice rose slightly, “Arise Dean, see what we see, feel what we feel, let’s go take a howl at that moon, shall we?”

“Hey fellas, you look worried.” He gasped out as he looked at Sam and Cas, his eyes losing every trace of black they ever harbored. You stood in the shadows, arms crossed as you watched in horror, the only thought that could go through your head was the screams, “He Knows.”

Sam stepped forward and threw a whole cup of holy water in his face, his skin no longer sizzled at the contact, and the droplets just freely rolled of his tanned skin as he looked, “Deserved that.”

“Welcome back Dean.” Cas smiled as Sam sighed in relief.

“Now someone wanna tell me where my beautiful girl is.” Dean sighed after they released his bonds, and you could no longer contain yourself, your feet carried you into the trap and your arms collided into his chest as he engulfed your scent.

“I missed you.” Dean whispered

“I have been with you the whole time Dean.” You replied, his eyes showing confusion

“No you weren’t, I wished you were but I was with Ann Marie.However I kept dreaming that you were, but you were a demon too, and Crowley’s daughter.” He responded, he pulled back slightly and took your hand, trying to lead you away, yet you couldn’t leave, your path blocked by an invisible wall, and as Dean looked from your entangled hand, to your face you whispered with tears in your eyes, “You weren’t dreaming Dean.”

And with those words he stormed away, your hand feeling the emptiness, as your knees buckled beneath you.

Cas stood outside the door, his hand knocking lightly as he heard the bottle softly clink against the concrete floor.

“Yeah?” Dean’s voice sounded beneath the crack as Cas slowly opened the door, revealing the dim nightstand light, and the darkened silhouette of his friend.

“Oh, hey. What’d Sam say, he wants a divorce now?” Dean asked as Cas slowly closed the door behind himself.

“You know she is still in there, she hasn’t moved since you left.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about...”

“Dean, we have to. She is the person you love, the one you have always been bonded to. Hell before you slept with her, you two were best friends.”

“Yeah, and I don’t know how I never realized that her and Crowley came into our lives at the same time, how I missed the fact that she never talked about her family, or her childhood, how I missed that she told me once her mother was dead, and her father should be dead? How did I miss the fact that she could never touch the demon blade, or a bible, or the holy water, or that she stood as far away from Devil traps as she could? How did I miss the fact that the woman I wanted to marry was hiding a pair of black eyes!” Dean errupted, as he looked back down at the photograph on his lap

It was of the two of you. Sam had taken it one day at Bobby’s, your back was to Sam as Dean’s hand gently laid on your waist, your hand on his chest, eyes lost in each others just as you leaned forward to kiss, “How was I so blind?”

“I don’t think you were, she went to great lengths to hide her true form from you and Sam, and she threatened anyone who could have ruined her facade. She was blinded by her love for you and Sam to even think about how she would handle this if it ever arised. I think now she is just devastated, because she doesn’t know what to do if you stop loving her.”

“And how am I supposed to react, she lied to me, she is one of those things that we are supposed to kill and she knew it, and still let it happen.”

“Don’t forget Dean, just a couple hours ago, you were one of those things too.” Cas responded, before exiting back out the door, leaving Dean alone.

The doors slightly drug against the concrete as Dean pulled them open, revealing the dimmly lit room he was previously locked in, his heart breaking at the sight before him.

Your head was down against your knees, which were pulled safely up to your chest, and engulfed in your arms. You barely reacted to the sound of the door, however Dean reacted greatly to the sounds of soft sniffles that filled the empty space. Upon investigation as well, he saw that someone broke the trap, yet you still sat there. 

“Why?” Dean asked, your whole body jolting in surprise at the sound as you lifted your head slowly, revealing to him the darkness of your eyes.

“Because I am no fool. I was born into this life Dean Winchester, I never asked for it, it is not my fault that Crowley killed my mortal mother when I was 9, and made me into this creature who never ages, who never dies when I turned 21. I loved being a real human girl, who had dreams, and a life, and friends. With you and Sam I felt that again, and I didn’t want to lose it. I lied to protect my own selfish gains, and I never meant to fall in love with you, but I did. I can’t stop loving you Dean Winchester! I wanted to so badly, because I knew one day we would end up here, and you would leave me forever, but I didn’t care. And now here we are, and I don’t know how to even say sorry because I know what I did was wrong.”

“I don’t want you to say sorry.” He exhaled into the silence.

“Let me guess, you want me to get out then?” Your tone was harsh, however Dean just looked at you.

“I want to know why you didn’t just stay here after I disappeared, I want to know why you followed me, knowing that this was where we were going to end up?”

you were quiet for a while before you answered, his own form moving to the sitting position on the ground as he waited for a reply, “Because I was tired of hiding, and I thought if I went with you, I could protect you from whatever sick plan my father had for you. When my father came that night that you were laying in our bed, I knew I could have asked you to come back, because of that thing, but I couldn’t do it, because I didn’t want that for you. And then...”

“He woke me up, and we all went on vacation, yeah I remember that part.” He whispered, and then you both just stared at one another in silence.

“So I can go get my stuff, I will be out before the hour.” You finally broke the silence as Dean looked at you, “No.”

“What?” 

“I want you to stay, I want you to still make me blueberry pancakes, and bake me apple pies, I still want to wake up to your kisses, and I still want to steal some of your body wash when I shower, I want to smile when I see you research, and feel jealous when you hang out with Sam too much, I still want to hug you and feel safe, and beat up any guy who tries to call you a babe. I know I shouldn’t, and that I made judgement on Sam for what he did with Ruby, but I get it now, and I don’t want you to leave, because Demon or not, I still am in love with you, and I don’t think that will ever change.” 

“Dean.” You whispered

“However I have to ask that you explain one thing why we are in bed.”

“What’s that?” you asked as you slowly stood up and joined him outside the trap.

“How is it knowing your father is also in love with his daughter’s boyfriend?” To which you both erupted into laughter.

[andonewillbringhisfall]

I Wanted It to be Real

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

I’ve been through a breakup once before, with Agatha. It was right at the beginning of the school year, when she said she thought we loved each other as friends, not as something else. I didn’t have to think about the way I should react at the time, how upset I should be, what I should say, because I’d already known for years that we were going to be endgame.

It turned out I was wrong.

I don’t have to think about it now, even though I should. I haven’t done this before, breaking up with someone over a fight, going back to hating someone I should have hated all along. It’s not hard, acting like I’m mad at Baz. It’s not the first time.

Penny is unusually quiet when I tell her about the fake breakup. Agatha rushes to console me, offering hugs and extra dessert and a shoulder to cry on if I want it. I have to keep reminding her that we were never really dating, and the breakup was staged, so of course I don’t need any of those things.

I go back to glaring at Baz across the dining hall. I expect him to sit by himself, at least at first, but he goes right back to Dev and Niall’s table.

The first time he sits with them, I almost drop my fork on the floor. ‘They let him back?’ I say.

Penny glances not-so-subtly behind her. ‘Dev and Niall?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I thought he’d be kicked out of their gang. I’m the Mage’s Heir, and everything,’ I say, rolling my eyes.

‘He can’t be kicked out of their gang,’ Aggie reasons. ‘He’s the leader. I’ve heard him call them his minions.’

I huff. (Not that I’m surprised.) (What a tosser.)

‘Maybe he told them it wasn’t real,’ Penny says.

But he can’t have, otherwise what was the point of it all? So unless the Old Families are more open-minded about dating the enemy than Baz had me think, he has to have made something up to get them to accept it. Maybe he’s told them something about me, or given them some information about the Mage and pretended he was just using me.

‘Simon,’ Agatha says, her hand on my arm. ‘You’re leaking.’

‘Sorry,’ I say, taking a deep breath, the glow around me fading.

I know he sees it from across the room. He doesn’t look at me, and he doesn’t eat, making snarky comments under his breath as the other two snicker, just as if nothing ever happened.

‘Simon.’ It’s Penny this time. ‘Magic.’

‘Sorry.’

I tear my gaze away from him.

 *

 People keep coming up to ask me if I’m okay.

‘I feel bad,’ I whine to Penny. ‘Everyone feels sorry for me, and it wasn’t even a real breakup.’

‘You do seem pretty upset,’ she says.

‘I know,’ I mumble. ‘I just thought things were different.’

Obviously, I was wrong.

I can’t stop watching him in classes when I should be paying attention. He’s moved back to his old spot in every classroom, sometimes at the front, sometimes sitting right behind me, always with Dev or Niall. He won’t even look at me unless I’ve been staring at him for too long, working myself up so my magic starts to fill the room, and then he’ll turn his head just enough for me to see his lip curl. It’s just like before, and I hate it.

‘He’s supposed to have been in love with me for weeks,’ I say. ‘He’s not even trying to act heartbroken.’

‘He’s just too proud,’ says Penny. ‘Don’t you think he’d be acting like this if he’d actually been through a breakup?’

‘No,’ I say, crossing my arms. ‘He wasn’t like this when we were together.’

‘What are you telling people about why you broke up?’ Agatha asks, her brow wrinkling.

‘That I don’t want to talk about it,’ I say.

‘What’s Baz been saying?’ Penny asks.

‘I don’t know. Probably that he broke up with me.’ My shoulders hunch, realising it’s true only as I say it. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Everyone must have known we were never going to last.

‘Are you okay with that?’ Aggie says.

I shrug.

I don’t care what anyone else thinks. But at some point I’m going to have to confront him.

We go back to our old schedule, each one of us avoiding the room as much as possible when we know the other one is going to be there. I guess Baz just can’t stand the sight of me. Which is fine by me, because I can’t stand being in the same room as him while he ignores me, and I’m thinking about what we were like before. The touching, the soft smiles, the quips. When he made me feel like everything he was supposed to hate me for was really something to be loved.

He goes out to feed at night, and I don’t follow him. I don’t go to his football practice either. We don’t talk to each other, and I think about starting a fight just so I can make him look at me again. But I don’t, because what good would it do?

I spend a lot of time practicing with my sword in the Wavering Wood, hacking at trees and generally making a mess. It’s the only time I’m not moping or sulking, as Penny calls it.

Baz doesn’t do any moping or sulking. He doesn’t space out when teachers call on him in class, he shows up to meals, he walks through the place with his usual arrogance.

Nobody even bothers to ask him if he’s okay.

 *

 I hear talking as I climb up to our room, and I hesitate. I don’t have to go in now; I could go back to Penny and Agatha in the library and come back once I know Baz is gone. But then I hear him speak again, and I shove open the door.

He’s on a mobile phone – I didn’t even know he had one, they’re not allowed in Watford – leaning against the wall on his bed. He’s rolling his eyes at whatever the other person is saying. His eyes flick over to me and then pass through me.

I cross my arms and lean against the door, watching him.

‘No, Fiona,’ he’s saying. ‘For Crowley’s sake. He’s a twat anyway.’

I look away. Maybe I should just go.

‘I know,’ he says. ‘Yes.’

Silence.

Baz rolls his eyes again. ‘No, it’s fine. He wasn’t even that good of a kisser.’

‘Fuck you,’ I blurt out. I storm into the bathroom and slam the door.

I don’t care. Why should I care? He’s a vampire. A Pitch. Not to mention a complete git. (Also, he’s a boy.) Not to mention that he’s the one still pretending to his family that he was dating me. I’m the one doing him a favour.

When I can’t hear Baz’s voice anymore, I walk out. He’s in the same position on his bed, thumbs flying over the screen of the phone. I go over to my desk and open a textbook at random.

‘So you can say things like that to your aunt, but you can’t even pretend to be upset that we broke up?’ I say.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Baz says, still tapping at his phone.

‘You act like you don’t even care even though we’ve been ‘dating’ for the last few weeks. You should be acting like you’re hurt.’

‘This is what I act like when I’m hurt,’ he says.

‘But you act like that all the time.’

Tap. Tap. He blinks, but doesn’t look up.

‘Is that all?’ he says. ‘Do you want something, Snow?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘Nothing.’ I pick up the textbook and walk back out of the room.

*

Instead of heading out towards the Wavering Wood like usual, I climb up to the ramparts.

I’m not angry with Baz for refusing to let me meet his family. Pretending to date each other at school is one thing, but I get that letting me meet his family might be a step too far. But more than that, I can’t stop thinking about the way Malcolm Grimm spoke to him that day, when this whole thing started. There has to be more to this whole story, more to Baz, that I don’t know about. If he’s this good at pretending to be in love with me, it makes sense that he’d be good at hiding his emotions too.

Maybe Baz Pitch is not as perfect as he wants everyone to think.

And maybe he’s not as proud.

I sigh, leaning out over the edge of the ramparts, watching the sun disappear over the top of the Wood. I don’t know what good this does me, thinking of Baz as human.

I jog back down the stairs before it can get too dark. (Before I can start thinking about the kiss and leaking enough magic to draw attention to myself.) It’s probably not late enough for Baz to have left the room yet, so I go straight to the dining hall, even though it’s too early for dinner.

On my way in, I bump into Dev and Niall. I glare at them, and they exchange glances.

‘Snow,’ says Niall, smirking. ‘Where’s your ex-boyfriend?’

‘He’s –’ I bite my lip. Not my ex-boyfriend. I try to sidestep around them, but Dev steps up so they’re shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking my path.

‘So what happened?’ Dev says. ‘Do you love him?’

‘No,’ I say, feeling myself turn red. I go to step forward again and Niall crosses his arms.

‘What happened, then? Why’d he go from ditching the Families for you to dumping you within days?’

Heat surges to the surface of my skin, the magic threatening to leak again. I want to protest, but I can’t, not without giving the whole game away and exposing Baz.

‘I don’t know,’ I say, looking away.

For a second, Dev almost looks like he feels sorry for me, but then he’s back to his usual smirk.

‘The Chosen One got dumped twice in four months,’ he crows, and they walk away, still snickering to each other.

‘I don’t get it,’ I hear Niall say. ‘Why Baz would go for Snow. Still seems like a betrayal to me.’

‘He did say Snow was just a passing fancy.’

That does it.

I turn and storm back to Mummers House, realising only when I get there that I’ve left a trail of sparks behind me. If I don’t cool down, there’s going to be a fire.

I don’t care. I just want to get to him.

I run up the stairs and yank on the door handle just as it opens from the inside. I stumble forward, almost falling into Baz’s chest. I regain my balance and then shove him hard.

‘How could you say that?’ I shout in his face. ‘I was trying to help you.’

I go to shove him again, and he grabs my wrists.

‘Simon, anathema, remember?’

‘Fuck you,’ I say, trying to twist out of his grasp. ‘Why are you telling everyone you dumped me? We never agreed on that.’

‘Alright,’ he says. ‘Calm down.’ He keeps a firm hold on my wrists, his face impassive, grey eyes boring into mine. I push forward, but he stays standing.

‘No,’ I growl. ‘You can’t tell people I was just a passing fancy.’

‘Snow, stop,’ he says. ‘It doesn’t matter, okay?’

‘It does matter!’ I stop trying to get to him, and he lets go of my hands. I step back. ‘That’s too – you can’t – there’s a line.’

‘You can say whatever you want about me to your friends,’ he says, crossing his arms.

‘My friends know everything already.’ My hands ball into fists.

‘Anathema,’ says Baz.

‘I know,’ I growl. ‘I don’t care about the stupid anathema.’

He sighs. ‘Snow –’

‘Look,’ I say. ‘You can’t – you can’t just –’ I take a deep breath.

‘What exactly is your problem? Because if you’re just going to bluster at me, I might as well go –’

‘You’re acting like I don’t mean anything,’ I blurt out.

‘I don’t understand why you care,’ he says, his voice harsh. ‘It was just pretend, Snow, we were never really together, or have you forgotten that?’

I flinch. ‘No.’

‘It wasn’t real,’ Baz says, and it takes everything I have not to go off right then, letting my magic bounce off the walls, letting everything turn to flame.

‘I know,’ I say.

‘Then why does it matter?’

‘Because maybe I wanted it to be real.’

[crowstielean]

Dealing with Crowley - Part 6

As I am currently working on DwC Part 7, I realised that I never uploaded Part 6 here on tumblr... so enjoy! 

Pairing: Crowley/reader

Characters: Reader, Crowley

Warnings: none

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

"So you will be my teacher?" you frown at him. "You?" Crowley smirks. "Don't be so bratty or I need to give you a detention."

The wink that follows his words doesn't make them any better or makes the warm feeling in lower stomach disappear. So instead of answering you lay back into the soft pillows that decorate his office. Minutes of silence pass by and Crowley just smiles to you. His suit shows first signs of your nearly amorous activities, if you can even call them so. He was right, this is a torture but judging by a glimpse to his pants, it isn't only torture to you. Catching you staring at him, he sits down behind his desk, denying you the look on him just like you do it with your legs crossed. Goddamn tease.

"So…" he starts in his deep voice and you swear that is even deeper than usual. " I think we should start with your training as soon as possible, so that you can actual be useful for me."

Somehow this sentence hurt you a bit and so you fake a little pout, looking all innocent.

"I don't know what you mean… I thought you enjoy to just look at me being all pretty in that dress", speaking of it you play with the hem on your thighs, showing you a bit more of your knee and the skin above it. "Do you not like me being just a pretty girl for you… daddy?"

You try to suppress your smirk when you see his legs twitching a bit at your last word but when he actually has to move them a bit and to cross his legs new, you don't even try to hold it back anymore. The smirk grows and he just smiles back. God it is incredible how one word can change an atmosphere that quickly. "Daddy enjoys it a lot, that's why he gave you this dress but we need to talk about your education now. Even when you already have some skills in making people feel uncomfortable, I can still help you to improve them." He takes a piece of paper from his desk and writes something with the pen he just used to give you bruises on your leg.

"Unfortunately I have some issues in hell that I also need to take care of. You aren't my only project here. So I will need you to spend some time with a few less important demon creatures. I know that this is way under your level. But I wasn't born as the king either."

"No. You sold your soul for three more inches and that made you a demon. Not quite impressive."

"Only because you didn't see them yet, kitten:" He gives you a wink before he takes his smart phone out of his pocket and dials a number.

"Your king is speaking", he starts the call and you feel like you cannot roll your eyes even more without that it starts to hurt. Crowley doesn't react to it, he is too busy with talking in his phone.

"I hope that you are hurrying up because I hate waiting… yes that's what I thought." He nearly yells into the phone and you couldn't help yourself to feel sorry for the demon he was talking to you, as stupid as it might be. Also it is turning you on. Great.

He glimpses to the door before his eyes lock with yours again. Now you really hope for that poor demon to appear soon. The expression in Crowley's face gives away how mad he is and he doesn't just end the call, he furiously throws the phone on his desk and it must be witchcraft that it is still in one piece.

"So," he gives you a light smile, whereby he still clenches his fist. We were talking about…" but before he can finish his sentence, the door opens slowly, interrupting Crowley as he stands there with his mouth wide open.

"I am so-sorry sir.. there wa-wa s a problem" the demon stutters nervously, closing the door behind him." And this problem was more important than a call from your king?", Crowley frowns sarcastically, making the blonde demon freeze to his position. "Of course, not but my king.." Crowley moves his hand just enough to signalise him to shut up. You can't hold back a smile.

"Silence", he says surprisingly calm and the demon finally dares to take a breath, he seems to be afraid of Crowley but in a different way than you are. In a non-sexual way.

"I assume you already heard about our new co-worker here in hell?" he asks the demon, while he doesn't look at him but at you.

"Yes sir", the demon still has a shaking voice and that you smile to him doesn't seem to help. "Everyone in hell heard about her, sir. There are rumors already, that…" but as if he is reminding who he is talking to, he suddenly goes all silent, blushing deep red. "Not that I would care about the rumors, sir. Of course not."

"No, of course not;" Crowley mocks him, coming closer to the shivering demon. Only inches away from the demon he stops, grabbing the ugly red tie the demon is wearing and starts to fix it. "Now you better start telling me about these rumors…" Crowley whispers, just loud enough for you to hear every single word of the following threat, " or hell won't stay that cosy for you."

"Of… of course sir," he stutters, "the other demons… they are talking…" Crowley impatiently moves his hand to signalize the demon to keep talking, "they say that she is distracting you from work," the demon nods in your direction and you slowly raise from the comfortable couch, also coming closer until you are standing right next to Crowley. "What are they saying?", you ask curiously, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"Apparently some other on earth heard from someone else that the Winchesters are planning something. " He looks nervously back and forth between you and Crowley, taking a step back. "They say if you wouldn't be so distracted, you would have noticed…" He blushes again, his cheeks in a very deep shade of red.

"Interesting…", Crowley takes his hand away from the demons tie and the demon takes a deep breath. "You can leave now" and the demon more or less runs out of the room, closing the door loud behind him.

"What do you think of this, kitten?" Crowley asks you suddenly, still standing extremely close to you. "I am not sure", you admit, shrugging . Damn. You really should not let him get close to the Winchesters. You ain't sold your soul for these idiots just so that they could ruin their lives again. Crowley sighs.

"I guess we should pay Squirrel and Moose a visit…" Crowley already makes a move to go back to his desk but you hold him back by the sleeve of his dark jacket., "Wait… I thought you want to teach me something?" You smile innocently, pulling him close to you again. His big hand moves to your face and he holds your cheek almost in utter tenderness. It feels so warm and welcome that you nearly give up and lean into his touch.

"I can teach you the most important things later, first we have to get rid of these bloody Winchesters…" He sighs again. "Afterwards will find the time to teach you everything you can imagine and maybe even more…" He leans forward a bit, his scruff close to the soft skin under your lower lip. His breath is like dancing on your cold face, the words make you feel warm. "I think," he starts and the words deep and evil and god, they are smoothing your soul like velvet, " that you have a lot to learn. I will be your teacher. Maybe we should see this visit in the Winchesters hotel room as the first step, the first exercise on your long way to become an useful member of hell." Crowley's lips touch yours for not more than a second, ghosting over your red lips.

 "If you are a good girl, I might even reward you when we are back from them… " The hand that isn't holding your face in a for him perfectly kissable position, goes down to your hip and suddenly grabs you tight. You let out a little huff sound because of the unexpected roughness. His smile grows. "but if you are a bad girl…" his mouth goes down to your throat, placing a dangerously and surprisingly soft kiss on the region of your throat where your carotid has to be. His lips stay at this spot as if he would enjoy being that close to a vulnerable spot. You take a breath, careful not to move even a bit so that your skin would be closer to his teeth. Crowley has to be a mind reader because your breathing finally makes him close his chapped lips around this sweet spot. Hickeys shouldn't hurt as much as they do when he is giving them to you, the reason might be that his teeth are in your flesh as well. It is hurting and you curl your hand to a fist but god knows how much you enjoy it.

"But if you are a bad girl…" he starts his sentence again because of course he knows that you forgot about his words and yet just remember them because of him repeating them, "I will give you more pain than pleasure, do you understand me kitten? You will listen to every word I say to you and you will follow every order I give to you. If I find you lying to me or doing something… naughty, I will need to punish you for that, Darling." Suddenly he grabs your butt tight with the hand that was laying on your hip. "You are mine now… Never forget that. Now let us go and visit those bloody Winchesters…” He gives you a little pinch in your butt and you nearly jump, surprised by this sudden action. “We can continue this later…”

[castielsbeelove]

Lucifer x Prophet!Reader Chapter Two

Warnings: Most likely cursing, blood and gore

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Fandom: Supernatural

Notes: YOU FINALLY MEET YOUR BABE YAY

The next day you tried to forget. You locked all your doors and windows, closed your blinds and turned off all the lights. It was hard to drink and eat. It was hard not to cry, scream, call the police. But with what you just saw, and if you were honest with the police, you’d be locked up in the loony bin.

It took you weeks to go out in public. And when you did, you regretted it. You regretted stepping outside your door and walking down the street. You regretted walking into the bookstore, because as soon as you did you noticed the windows seemed the be getting brighter.

“(Y/N), is it?” A man in a suit approached you with a nigerian accent.

You backed up slowly to the exit door. “Who are-” “Timis.” He said and smiled. “Pleased to meet you, would you like to come with me?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” You said slowly and edged backwards to the door. “I know what you are and what you want, go away, don’t touch me.”

He chuckled at that and walked to you. “Listen sweetheart, I’m just doing my job. I don’t want to hurt you, well, I don’t not want to hurt you-”

The thought occurred to you then, and you started to pray. Castiel? Nope, no answer? Gabriel? Nope, just silence. Raphael? Silence as well. That left you with one choice. ‘Lucifer, please help me, I think I’m in trouble…’ You prayed silently and before you could finish books started falling off of the bookshelves. People gasped and then started screaming once the windows shattered. The demon looked around, unimpressed.

“Really? You think a little angel magic will scare me?” He snorted and grabbed you roughly by the arm. Suddenly his hand, still on your wrist, started slowly burning away. It didn’t hurt you but it sure as hell hurt him. He dropped to the ground, cradling his wrist, and the red glowing heat slowly spread up his arm. All inside of him was pain, his meat suit’s skin being turned inside out and his bone marrow being turned into acid. All you could do was watch as he turned into dust.

The room stopped shaking and everyone stopped screaming. They were sobbing, calling 911 and running out of the store. You just stood there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling before running out of the bookstore and back home.

It was night when you considered the thought. You couldn’t eat or sleep, you could barely drink water. For some reason you didn’t want to see Castiel. You wanted to see the archangel that was protecting you.

So you sat at your dining room table, leaving all the lights off to make it seem more welcoming. You sat in a chair, taking a deep breath and attempting to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Lucifer.” You said the word in an exhale, like you were finally admitting to yourself that he was the one watching over you. “Thank you today, for saving me. Thank you.” You said, picking at your fingers and looking at the dark surrounding you. “I’d like to meet you.” It felt like you’d just admitted a lie, anxiety building in your chest as you waited for something to happen. “I promise I won’t like, try to hurt you or anything. I… just want to meet you.”

A flicker of flame.

One of your candles on your dining room table lit up, barely illuminating the room in a soft, warm and orange glow. I felt warm, safe and euphoric. You instantly smiled and closed your eyes, the feeling in the room making your body seem to melt in sweet soft pleasure. “Lucifer?” You opened your eyes, not seeing anyone in the room with you. You got your senses back and you dropped your smile. “Are you there? Or is this someone else…” The thought made you scared, goosebumps rising on your skin and back.

The silence killed you. It was silent for minutes, but it felt like hours. You sat in the chair, waiting patiently (somewhat) for something to happen. Anything.

Then it did.

A body appeared in the chair across from you. The attractiveness of the body instantly got you alert, but it wasn’t only that. It was his presence. It was cold. So much colder than earlier. But it wasn’t an unpleasant cold, it was pure and clean, holy. He smiled softly, his blue eyes locking with yours.

“Hello, (Y/N).” He said softly, his voice smooth and comforting. It captivated you and you couldn’t help but smile back to him.

“So, you’re my…” You weren’t how to say it without offending him. “Guardian angel?”

He smiled at that, looking down at the wood table where his hands lay. He looked back up to you and shook his head slowly. “I’m not your guardian angel. There is no such thing.”

“Then-?” You were confused. Why was he protecting you?

“You are a prophet, you know that.” He started, looking you straight in the eyes. His gaze was so intense you didn’t even notice the cold bumps all over your body. “An archangel is chosen to protect that prophet from everything. Demons, angels, monsters, even other humans. That archangel was me. I’m sorry if you aren’t pleased-” He said the word like it was a burden. “With the archangel assigned to you. I have no control over it. Higher power. Either MIchael or God.”

It was a lot to take in, but you had pretty much processed most of the information earlier that month when Castiel explained it to you. “Michael? The archangel? Nevermind, dumb question. So, there’s no reason?” You asked and noticed you wanted to be closer to him, you were drawn to his presence.

“There is a reason, but I do not know it.” He said and glanced around your house. His blue eyes landed back on yours. “Humans.” He said and glanced to the poster of a t.v show on your living room wall. You blushed at that, embarrassed as hell.

“Oh, yeah, you hate humans. Forgot. Sorry you got assigned me.” You said in a low tone and pinched your hand. He probably was disgusted by you. Why shouldn’t he be, he was third in command of the entire universe and you were a mere human. A mouse compared to a lion.

He didn’t react, just kept his eyes on yours. “I do hate humans. Yes. But the bond we share, it doesn’t allow me to have negative feelings to you. In simple terms, I don’t hate you. I will protect you from any harm, and do my best to make you happy. Even though that isn’t required.”

“Isn’t required? Then why do it?” You laughed at that. This was all confusing and stupid. It made you want to cry. Normality seemed like a golden liquid now.

Lucifer just shrugged, smirking. “I like to think I’m a nice angel. And we are, somewhat… bonded.” He looked as if he was struggling for the word. He leaned back in his chair, looking around again. “Quite a nice house you got-”

“Why am I a prophet? Why me? What does ‘God’, or whatever, want from me?” You interrupted him with a shout and stood up. For a moment you forgot he was satan and just saw him as a person to vent to. He looked at you with a calm expression, letting you shout until you were done.

“To answer your first question…” He said slowly, leaning forwards so his elbows were on the table. “I don’t know. No one knows but God. To answer your second question, read back to answer one. And third, all of the above.”

You sat back down and but your head on the table, your arms cradling yourself. “Why do demons want to hurt me?”

“Demons.” Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes. “Nasty little things. But some of them are good for following orders. Devoted to their father-” He pointed to himself. “But some are rebels, they choose to follow this new false ‘king’-” He did air quotes. “Named Crowley. He’s just a regular old demon with a few tricks up his sleeve. The demon that tried to get to you in the bookstore, that was one of Crowley’s. He wants you to decode this stupid demon tablet thing. It’s nonsense. And God decided that for some reason-” He said this angrily like he was mad at God for doing so. “I should be the one protecting you. I haven’t had a prophet to protect in billions of years.”

You kept your head down on the table and couldn’t help but sniff. You still felt like a mouse in front of a lion.

Lucifer leaned forwards on the table, looking at you. “Hey.” He said, nudging your elbow. “What’s wrong with you?”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Nothing. I want to go to bed.” It was only 12:30 pm, so he knew that was a lie. You stood up, wiping the tears out from under your eyes, and began walking to your room. You didn’t bother locking your front door, you had an archangel protecting you. You’d be fine.

Thankfully, he didn’t follow you. He just left your house, silently, disappearing like something from a movie. You laid glumly on your bed, on your side, trying to process things. Was this a good thing? No. Was it necessarily a bad thing? No. You just… wished for it to be normal again.

Things were calm for the next few weeks. No buildings crumbling around you and no random people grabbing you in the streets. You continued working in your shop, reading people’s fortunes and telling them their future.

A woman walked in, the bell above your shop door jingling. You looked up from your front table and smiled politely. Wow, she was gorgeous, the face of an angel. She long curly red hair put up into a bun. “Good evening! How may I help you?” You said cheerfully, but it was forced.

She grinned back at you. “I’d like you to tell me my future. I applied for a job at Apple, and I want to know if I’ll be accepted.”

You internally rolled your eyes. You didn’t get to pick and choose what you saw. But you smiled anyways and led her to your table alter after taking the $100 from her. You charged so much because people knew your fortunes and visions were always right.

She sat down in a chair and you sat in front of her, taking her hands into yours. They were cold. She just smiled wickedly at your surprise. You closed your eyes and cleared your mind, focusing on the feeling coming from her skin. And then the visions hit you. Blood, a head was cut off. It was stitched back on. It was her head. Then you saw the future. She was in flames, covered in flames, screaming in agony.

In shock you yanked your hands back. “Abaddon.” You whispered and stood up. A demon. You doubted she worked for Lucifer.

She shrugged. “I prefer Queen. Queen of Hell. Earth. Everything.” She stood up. “And I hear you have some tricks up your sleeve. So tell me little girl, will I get what I want? I want everything.”

You shook your head and backed up slowly, fear running through your veins. She was going to hurt you. Where was Lucifer? ‘Please Lucifer, I need you.’ You prayed as you continued to back up until your back hit a shelf, knocking a few crystals off of it. She prowled towards you, smirking. How did you think she was so pretty before? She was hideous, her face was twisted black and was covered with horns. Destruction.

“No?” She said in a fake sad tone, tilting her head and pouting her lips. “I don’t?” She asked and walked to you, her hand clasping around your throat. “I’ve had a very, very stressful day.” Her fingers tightened painfully, her red painted nails digging roughly into your skin. “And I know you have some good psychic powers. So, little girl, can you see what I’m about to do to you?” She whispered in your ear, her breath hot and painful. You closed your eyes tightly and prayed harder. Yes, you saw it. You saw your organs covering your cute little shop. Your fingers scattered around the room like eggs on easter.

You just nodded, tears leaking out of your eyes as you felt her nails break the skin on your neck. Blood trickled slowly down to your collarbone and she dipped her head, drawing out her thin tongue to taste it. She hummed in satisfaction and looked up into your eyes. “I just love taking out my anger on innocent sweethearts like you. Knowing you did nothing to deserve the pain you’re about to endure.” She hummed and threw her hand to the side. An invisible force threw you across the room. You landed on a pile of unused amythyst, the sharp pieces of crystal cutting into your back and thighs. You cried out in pain and tried your best to crawl away.

But Abaddon was having none of that. She reached her hand out and you slowly rose into the air, your feet leaving the ground. “Lucifer, please!” You screamed out as loud as you could, your voice strained and your hands at your throat. She was choking you without even touching you.

Suddenly you fell to the ground. You landed back down on your crystals, earning you more cuts and stab wounds, but it was better than hanging mid-air.

You didn’t see it happen, but you heard it. You heard the wet noise of limbs being torn apart, skin being ripped from her body, and her screams. God, they weren’t human. You put your bloodied hands over your ears and wept, begging for it to be over. You wanted to be safe at home in bed with your pets. With your kitten named Keanu, your toy chow chow named Cujo and your ball python Khal. You just wanted to be home.

And just like that it was over. You were picked up into cold arms and then you were back to your house. You heard police sirens in the distance and knew they’d be looking for you. Your life was over.

He set you down on your bed. The blood stained your sheets. You looked up at him through teary eyes, barely able to make out his figure. He put two fingers on your forehead and healed you, all of your pain gone. All of your physical pain, that is.

He kneeled beside you, pulling the hair out of your face. “I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier, I was deep in…” He trailed off and sighed. “I promise, I’ll never let anything like that happen again. I’ll stay by your side, if that makes you feel any better.” Lucifer didn’t know too many things about human emotions and all that, he was trying his best. Normally he would say, screw God and his plans. But you were tied to him and him you. Not even his hatred for his father would allow him to stand aside while you were killed.

“Yes, please.” You said in a tired voice. “And get me away from here, I don’t want the police knocking on my door asking me questions I can’t answer.” You said and he smiled softly, nodding before touching your head again.

@multifandom-slytherin

[themegalosaurus]

Ok so here's a random question for you - I'm rewatching season 9, and I get to the end of "The Purge". Now I'm a Dean!girl and I love him, but I'm still so mad at him about the whole fallout from Gadreel. I don't feel like he ever really understood where Sam was coming from. Why do you think he just never got it? I know you're a Sam!girl and I love your meta/analysis so I was just wondering if you had any thoughts :-)

Oh gosh, this issue has in the past proven to be a bit of a minefield so let me try and pick my way across it with some caution. I’ll put it under a cut so those members of fandom who get war flashbacks at the very mention of S9 can scroll on by, haha. 

I definitely agree with you that during the fallout from Gadreel, Dean doesn’t ever really admit the grounds for Sam’s anger and unhappiness. He (sort of) addresses the fact that Kevin dies, and that Sam feels responsible - at least, he addresses it insofar as he tells Sam that Sam wasn’t responsible and shouldn’t feel guilty and ‘that’s on me’, although of course to stop feeling guilty about something is much easier said than done (and as Sam reveals at the end of the season, Dean labelling himself as the guilty party for Kevin’s death doesn’t help Sam with his intrusive dreams about murdering his friend). But apart from that he more-or-less frames the issue as Sam being angry with Dean BECAUSE DEAN SAVED HIS LIFE and beyond that perhaps that Dean lied to Sam IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS LIFE. In fact, of course, the reason that Sam is deeply upset by the Gadreel scenario is quite other than that. Sam has a history of having his reality manipulated by external forces which take hostile control of his body: the demon blood Azazel put in his mouth and the psychic powers it facilitated; his position as Lucifer’s vessel and the related knowledge that demons were possessing key figures in his life, throughout his life, as per 5x22; sort-of the soullessness of S6 and the fact that Sam’s body was making decisions and taking actions that Sam would not have carried out himself; certainly the hallucinatory mess of S7. As such it is not surprising that he should be extremely hurt by what happened in S9, where Dean (‘stone number one’, supposedly) not only allowed a foreign being INTO SAM’S BODY but also colluded with that being in deceiving Sam over several months, such that Sam was driven to question his own physical and mental health (he’s losing time, he feels exhausted and sort of emotionally thin, he despairs that he’ll be this way for ever, ‘maybe this is just me’ [9x08]). That he should find out the truth of this is bad enough but that he should do so through an extraordinarily traumatic series of events that includes his body being used for repeated acts of bloody murder, his skull being penetrated with huge great needles so that Crowley can access the angel inside him, and a double possession in which Crowley enters his body to help him expel Gadreel, is just… it’s so horrible. It’s horrific. 

So the fact that Dean can look at all of that and come out the other end with ‘Sam is unreasonably angry that I didn’t let him die, which was actually the Right Thing To Do because Sam is important to me and I wouldn’t be without him’ is… interesting and I think you’re right to question it. That’s particularly the case given that on one level Dean clearly DOES know what it is that has upset Sam, because it’s the reason he was reluctant to agree to Gadreel’s plan in the first place. In the hospital room he says quite clearly that Sam would never consent to being possessed and that he’d ‘rather die’. And then during the period where Gadreel is possessing Sam and Sam doesn’t know about it, again, Dean’s shown as being conscious on several occasions that there’s something very sinister in having an occupying power inside your own body. But at the same time, at that point he’s already committed himself to Gadreel’s plan, and I suppose to have let the angel into Sam’s body and then for it not to have been worthwhile anyway might feel a little like the worst of both worlds. Either way, it’s definitely clear that Dean does understand the issue with the idea of possession (leaving aside of course all the context from earlier in the show, all the stuff in S5 about not wanting to be Michael’s vessel, just look at his face in 9x02 when Abaddon is threatening to possess him). 

So when, in the Purge, Sam tells Dean that he wouldn’t 'save’ Dean under the circumstances of 9x01 (and god, there’s a whole other meta to be written on ‘saved’, especially (tho not exclusively) in relation to Sam’n’Dean, and all the messy uncomfortable meanings that the word takes on), anyway when Sam says ‘same circumstances, I wouldn’t’ and Dean takes that as meaning that Sam wouldn’t save Dean’s life at all under any conditions, I think it’s difficult to argue that that’s a genuine mistake on Dean’s part. At least part of Dean’s brain knows what that means. But I think the reason he responds the way he does is a lot to do with Dean’s fears and insecurities and about the unhealthy patterns that have developed in their relationship as a result of the fundamental tension between what Dean wants – Sam, beside him, enjoying the hunting lifestyle – and what Sam wants, which does often seem to be something else (and crucially, I think, DEAN thinks deep in his heart of hearts that Sam wants something else). Specifically, it’s clear that Dean is afraid a lot of the time that Sam will leave him. Like, that’s quite evident from S1 onwards (‘There’s got to be something you would want for yourself –‘ ‘Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam’ [1x16]) and it carries on being true throughout the show. He says so, even, right then in 9x13 when Sam asks what the point is, 'what’s the upside of me being alive?’ (!!!! ugh my heart breaks): 'You and me, fighting the good fight, together.’ He says the same thing in 11x11, when Sam is apologising for the umpteen billionth time over the fact that he briefly settled down with Amelia: 'All that matters now, all that’s ever mattered, is that we’re together.’ So I think if we see that as a primary motivating factor then it helps to make a lot of sense about why Dean sort of wilfully fails to recognise Sam’s feelings about the Gadreel incident in season 9 and thereafter. 

Basically as I see it, Dean feels (at whatever level of consciousness) like if he admits that he really, seriously fucked up in inviting Gadreel into Sam’s body on Sam’s behalf - if he even partly concedes what an awful, fundamental violation it was - then surely Sam will go ahead and leave him. Right? He deserves to be left for it (which… we could discuss, I guess, but I think it’s not unreasonable for Dean to think that). If Sam feels righteously angry at Dean, if he sees Dean for the piece of crap that Dean so often declares himself to be, then what’s keeping him with Dean? Nothing. 

On the other hand - as Dean has just had opportunity to observe in S8 - something that is very GOOD at keeping Sam attached to Dean is guilt. If Sam feels guilty then he can be easily persuaded into changing his behaviour in ways that pay off well for Dean’s vision of Sam-n-Dean on the road together. He gets Sam back into hunting at the start of the season by guilting him about abandoning Kevin (‘He was our responsibility. And you couldn’t answer the damn phone.’), and when Sam makes the decision to choose Dean over Amelia in 8x10 it’s couched in terms of obligation: ‘She does make me happy, and she could be waiting for me if I went back… But… with everything staring down at us, with all that’s left to be done… I don’t know.’ It’s not hard to see therefore why Dean should think that the main way to keep Sam engaged in hunting is by creating something about or for which he can feel responsible. Obviously the crisis in ‘Sacrifice’ – which ironically is what precipitated the whole Gadreel mess in the first place - shows the dangers of pushing this strategy too far (Sam feels so guilty that he’s actually willing to die) but I can see why Dean would fall back onto it as a tried-and-tested method of keeping Sam at his side. That is not to say that I think this is a totally cold, conscious decision, but I think part of Dean’s mind understands this and that you can see this madeevident in the way that he reacts to Sam’s anger about Gadreel. As per 8x23 , Sam is enormously worried by the suggestion that he is not a good enough brother to Dean – that he doesn’t love Dean enough. It’s not true, of course. If he didn’t love Dean as much as he did then the suggestion wouldn’t really hurt; if he didn’t love Dean then we wouldn’t get that moment in 5x16 where Dean drops the amulet in the trash and Sam’s heart sort of gently chunks in two before our very eyes. But (I guess since Stanford?? at least since Stanford) it’s easy for Dean to point at something and go ‘you don’t love me as much as I love you, BECAUSE,’ and to have Sam drop whatever argument they might be having and bend over backwards to make up for it (for Stanford, for Ruby, for leaving Dean with Lisa while he was “running around with no soul”). And that guilt’s a good way to keep Sam in the kind of apologetic, frantic frame of mind that (Dean thinks, for his own messed up reasons but perhaps not without some element of truth) is his best bet for keeping Sam at his side. 

So what is Dean’s reaction to the events of 9x10? A) He tells Sam not to feel guilty about Kevin because that’s Dean’s fault, Dean is ‘poison’; b) he leaves Sam to deal with the trauma alone (or, with Castiel’s support, but then alone after that when Cas leaves to re-engage in his heavenly business); and c) he goes off with Crowley on a job which culminates in him taking on the Mark of Cain whilst deliberately turning down Cain’s offer to explain what precisely he’s getting himself into. The effect of which is a) to evade responsibility for what happened (this goes alongside the ‘it’s not something you’re doing, it’s what you are’ of 4x21 I think – if Dean ‘is poison’ then the bad things he does are somehow outside his agency, he can’t help them because that is just How He Is); b) to avoid having to confront the reality of how Sam is now feeling (this is about self-preservation mostly I think, and about Dean’s sort of inner need to feel like he’s more or less a righteous person – it’s a lot easier to feel like what he did was justified if he’s not been confronted, as Cas was, with the unpleasant hard reality of a newly suicidal Sam); and c) – this is a biggie – to push the onus of responsibility back onto Sam by making himself (Dean) a problem to be dealt with again. That is, by taking on the Mark of Cain (something that Dean repeatedly throughout S10 in particular will frame as a burden that he is nobly struggling to bear), Dean puts himself in a position where HE NEEDS SAM’S SUPPORT and Sam has shown again and again that he’s unable to resist that demand. 

Again, I am not saying that Dean like sat down fully calm and plotted this all out as the best strategy to ‘get away’ with what he did to Sam with Gadreel. I don’t think it’s as conscious or deliberate as that. But equally I don’t think that the fact he has (HEEEEUUUUGE) abandonment issues and that it panics him to think of Sam leaving him is sufficient excuse for him to behave in a way that leaves Sam feeling guilty for being as upset as he is about what happens in S9. He was fully justified to be very very angry. Dean might have massive issues but Sam is a separate person and he doesn’t owe Dean support to the extent of sacrificing his own autonomy to keep Dean happy. That’s particularly the case given that Dean had so recently been directly confronted with the result of the assault that his behaviour had enacted on Sam’s self-esteem (yes, I’m talking about 8x23 again). So. Yeah. I certainly don’t agree with (for example) the meta that crossed my dash a few days ago that described Sam’s behaviour to Dean in S9, post-Gadreel, as ‘downright abusive’. Absolutely not. 

Anyway. I think you can see a lot of the dynamic that I’m talking about in operation in episode 10x18, ‘Book of the Damned’. Here for example is the moment where Dean’s telling Sam and Charlie that they need to burn the book: 

SAM: Look, just let us translate the book, okay? If there’s a cure, we’ll do it and deal with the consequences later. I can’t lose you.

DEAN: Really?

SAM: Yeah, really.

DEAN: You change your mind on that, cause that’s not what you said last time.

SAM: Oh, come on, man. You know I didn’t mean that.

DEAN: This is my cross to bear, Sam! Mine! And that book is not the answer! Now we got to destroy it before it falls into the wrong hands, and that includes me! I’m gonna go for a drive.

Here we get ‘Dean with the Mark-as-a-burden’ (‘This is my cross to bear, Sam!’) (conveniently ignoring the fact that four episodes earlier Cain’s suggested that it may also be Sam’s cross to bear, when Dean eventually MURDERS him, haha) and also ‘Dean guilting Sam about being a bad brother in order to win an argument’ (‘Really?’). Sam switches straight into defensiveness and Dean’s able to move the conversation the way that he wants it (and like… come on. By this point Dean should be pretty clear on the fact that Sam wouldn’t just let him die. Sam’s saved his life more than a handful of times between 9x13 and 10x18). 

And then later that same episode, we also get to see the effect that this has had on Sam’s perception of the Gadreel incident. He’s talking to Charlie about that line of Dean’s, ‘that’s not what you said last time’, and they get onto Gadreel – but couched in terms that made me like… choke on my own tongue with outrage, aahahahaha 

SAM: So, awhile back, we had a chance to, um…close the gates of Hell. And in order to do that, I would’ve had to die. And, I was okay with that, and I am okay with that, but Dean was not. And so, he uh…

CHARLIE: He saved you.

SAM: Yeah, he saved me.

CHARLIE: And let me guess, in doing so, he did something you didn’t want, and that pissed you off. And you said something that hurt him?

SAM: Yeah, that sounds about right.

CHARLIE: Brothers.

Like… hooooooooboy. There’s that ambiguous ‘saved’ again but what I’m really interested in is the way that Sam ‘saying something that hurt Dean’ – which in this context specifically is, ‘Same circumstances, I wouldn’t’ has somehow become equivalent to ‘he did something you didn’t want’ -  that is, let another being possess your body, wipe your memories, commit murder with your very hands and then lie to you about it for several months. What do we learn from this? I guess, that Dean’s strategy of downplaying his own bad behaviour by making it an issue of LOVE, and who loves each other more (’brothers!’), has been pretty fricking successful. So I suppose I think that’s why he never ‘got it’ about Gadreel: he chose not to, and Sam (who does love his brother, and whose brief moment of assertiveness was built on a foundation of seriously shaky self-esteem) fell back into the pattern that they typically operate in, and here they are. 

One last time. I am not saying that Dean rationalised this all out in his head and behaved on that basis. It’s more like… he’s learned through doing that this is an effective strategy to deal with Sam, or to keep things ticking over more or less the way he wants, and he’s scared enough about what his life would be like if Sam did leave him to resort to this tried-and-tested behaviour even though he’s smart enough and EMOTIONALLY smart enough that if he actually acknowledged what’s going on here then I think he would be able to realise how very fucked up it is.

So. Apologies for the enormous length of this answer, and for its slowness in arriving, but I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and I wanted to have it written out in full.

[ktylia]

Memories

A Cralt (Crowley/Halt) fic

Summary

Halt O'Carrick liked mornings. Not mornings in itself, but the calmness that came with it, before the world started to wake up around him. He liked the feeling of being able to just lie in his bed as the sun rose and turned the world from night to day. It was at this time of day that he felt like he could let everything go. He could let his walls fall and allow himself to really think about everything and anything.

This morning he had memories on his mind. Memories of his family, his friends and how he met the man that was sleepning soundly beside him.

Halt O'Carrick liked mornings. Not mornings in itself, but the calmness that came with it, before the world started to wake up around him. He liked the feeling of being able to just lie in his bed as the sun rose and turned the world from night to day. It was at this time of day that he felt like he could let everything go. He could let his walls fall and allow himself to really think about everything and anything.

This morning he had memories on his mind. Memories of his family, his friends and how he met the man that was sleepning soundly beside him.

Halt looked at Crowley's peaceful face for a moment before his gaze fell on his right index finger and the tiny scar that could be seen on the fingertip. A scar that he had gotten as a promise ten years ago.

~~~~ (14 years old)

"Won't it hurt?" asked Ferris, a watchful eye on the knife, the piece of paper and the cloth that was lying on the table between them.

"Ofcourse it will hurt!" sighed Halt as he picked up the knife. "But remember thatit was you who wanted us to do this!"

"I know, but that was before I remembered that I'm afraid of blood!" Ferris responded, sounding almost desperate. Halt put the knife back on the table and took his twins hands in his, looking Ferris straight in the eyes.

"Ferris, we will just make a super tiny cut on the tip of our right index finger, drop three drops of blood on the paper, swear the oath and then we will be done and put a paiste* on it." Halt said, doing his best to calm the younger twin.

"Daidi* will be mad when he sees it!" mumbled Ferris quietly, the fear in his coffee brown eyes slowly fading at Halt's reasuring words.

"Don't worry, I'll take the blame. He won't belive us anyway if we say it was your idea and he's probably already looking for a reason to yell at me again." sighed Halt as he gave his brother's hands a gentle squeeze, before letting go of the left hand and reach for the knife again. He looked Ferris in the eye, silently asking if was ready and when his brother nodded, he carefully placed the knife to Ferris's skin and made a tiny cut. Blood broke through and they let three drops land on the paper before Halt picked up the cloth, ripped it in two, wrapped Ferris's finger with one of them and cleaned the knife before repeating the process on himself. He then picked up the paper with the blood on in his left hand, grabbed his twin's left hand and started their oath.

"I got your back. You got mine..."

"I'll help you out. Anytime..."

"To see you hurt, to see you cry..."

"Makes me weep, and wanna die..."

"And if we agree to never figth..."

"It wouldn't matter, who is wrong or right..."

"If a broken heart, needs a mend..."

"I'll be right there, till the end..."

"If your cheeks are wet, from drops of tears..."

"Don't worry, let go of your fears..."

"Hand in hand, love is sent..."

"We'll be brothers...Till the end!"

~~~~

Halt smiled at the memory, a smile that turned sad when he remembered how their father had reacted and how little he had seen of Ferris these past years since he moved from Ireland to UK. And Caitlyn, his sweet, charming and incredibly sly little sister.

~~~~ (15 years old)

Halt was just walking around at home, listening to instrumental music in his headphones, when he saw Caitlyn peek around a corner.

"What are you up to this time?" he asked, unconsciously using his "Big Brother Voice" as Cait and Ferris called it, and Caitlyn immediately spun around and gave him her most innocent smile.

"Nothing!" she responded, just a little bit too fast. Halt simply raised an eyebrow and looked at her. She could fool most people with her sweet and innocent looking smile and eyes but not Halt. She had tried many times and failed all of them. It almost made him belive that she was making mischief just to see if she could hide it from him.

"Why do I get the feeling tha..." before he could finish what he was saying, there was a surprised yelp from around the corner and Caitlyn started to giggle. She stoped immediately when their father came around said corner, angry eyes falling on his eldest and youngest children, locking on Halt.

"HALT O'CARRICK, CÉARD SA DIABHAL A CHEAPANN TÚ TÚ AG DÉANAMH?" he screamed and Halt felt his blood run cold.

"Ach athair..." Caitlyn tried to tell him that Halt hadn't done anything but he wouldn't listen and just told her to be quiet and go to her room.

As Halt saw her walk away he braced himself and could only hope that his father would keep it verbal this time. But it seemed like that wasn't his father's plan as he raised his hand. Halt didn't move, knowing that it would only make it worse, but he didn't react in anyother way either as the open hand struck him like it had done so many times before.

`As long as he stays away from them, I will take every stike he deals´

That evening, Halt spent almost two hours telling Caitlyn that it was fine, that it didnt really hurt, that it wasn't her fault while she was crying hysterically in his arms, apologizing for what their father had done to him because of what SHE had done. She may be a sly prankster but she never wanted anyone else to get the blame for her pranks. Especially not Halt, who already got yelled at almost everyday. ~~~~

His hand had gone to his cheek when he remembered how his father treated him. But it was okay. By taking the blame, he could make sure that Ferris and Caitlyn didnt have to go through the same thing. They where often mad at him for doing it but he didn't care. Their parents had always thought that it was Halt anyway and the abuse hadn't scared him or broken him down. It rather seemed like it had made him stronger and it ahd made him sure of one thing. He would do everything in his power to not become like his parents. It was after all they who made Halt decide to move to another country, one of the best decisions he have ever made.

He was 18 when he moved into his new apartment, not far from school. It was a very popular area for students to live in, due to the close distanse to the school and the cheap prices.

Halt had moved in a week after summer break started, meaning that most of the apartments stod empty as those who lived in them had left for the summer. That had given Halt the time to get used to his new surroundings and get to know some of the students that had stayed over the summer. He still felt amazed at how fast he had become friends with Berrigan, Rodney, Pauline and the other students in his apartment building. He had gotten to know them during the first week in his new home and as the summer had gone by, more and more of the students had returned and Halt had somehow just fit into that groupe of friends, like the last piece of a puzzle, and it had felt natural for all of them from the beginning.

But his most presious memory from that summer was when he met Crowley.

~~~~ (18 years old)

Music flowed through the air and all around Halt's apartment as he was making dinner to himself. It was a slow and calm tune, probably an instrumental version of some love song. Halt preferred to listen to instrumental songs, because the music wasn't being ruined by singing in them, and as he sat down to eat, a familar tune started. Before he knew it, he was singing the lyrics and letting his own, soft voice drift out through his open window.

"Tale as old as time True as it can be Barely even friends Then somebody bends Unexpectedly"

Just as he was about to sing the next part, a slightly deeper voice started to sing outside of his window. He rose up from the table to see who it was.

"Just a little change Small to say the least"

Sandy red hair, hazel eyes and a happy smile met Halt's gaze as he looked out the window and the stranger continued.

"Both a little scared Neither one prepared Beauty and the beast"

~~~~

By that time, Halt already knew that he was attracted to both men and women. He wasn't bi or gay, he just didn't think that gender made any differens if the feelings were true.

Now, six years after their first meeting, five years after their first date and two years after moving in together, Halt just laid in their shared bed, remembering the past, as his, yes his, Crowley slowly woke up.

"Good morning my Clover." yawned Crowley and Halt rolled his eyes at the nickname, to pleased about life at the moment to complain.

"Mil maidin mhaith." Halt responded as Crowley's hand traced the hickeys that he had placed on Halt's throat the night before.

"I really have to learn more irish!" Crowley said quietly.

"To me, it's enough with `Is breá liom tú´ and `Is féidir liom´." Halt mumbled, making Crowley sincker as he placed a soft kiss on the golden ring he had given Halt the night before. The ring on the left ring finger.

Wordlist

paiste - bandaid, patch daidi - daddy CÉARD SA DIABHAL A CHEAPANN TÚ TÚ AG DÉANAMH? - WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? Ach athair - But father Mil maidin mhaith - Good morning honey Is breá liom tú - I love you Is féidir liom - I do

[hekate1308]

Witch

Walpurgis Night feels different this year.

She has been celebrating it on her own for centuries now, since she and covens don’t mix well, so that’s not it.

Neither is it about the fact that she just watched another fight between Mary Winchester and Dr. Hess.

She can’t decide which one is more obnoxious.

But it is Walpurgis Night, the only sacred day she has ever known, and she is determined to celebrate it.

But even on the hill she found, the night dancing around her, magic pulsing beneath her fingertips, she doesn’t feel like chanting.

She hasn’t been able to get Fergus off her mind.

It’s ridiculous, really. She wasn’t worried about him when he ran around and wreaked havoc as a boy, so why should she be now?

Maybe the Winchesters finally realized he’s a liability and ended him. The angel might have fallen, but he still has his blade.

But... no. Somehow, illogically, she’s convinced she’d feel it if her son died.

She closes her eyes and focuses on the energy around her.

Walpurgis Night. It’s supposed to be special.

And then something bursts through the trees at the foot of the hill.

A week ago

Aaron doesn’t get angry.

At least not the way Dean tends to. There are no quick, sudden bursts of anger, not even the aloof silence Cas usually goes for when he’s mad.

So it is something of a surprise when their friend, still hunting down Nazis in Germany, starts screaming at him over the phone.

Really, all he did was clarifying where they stand with the Men of Letters because he mentioned them and Aaron asked.

And now this.

“I have a go-lem! That is practically an ar-my! Someone wants to wipe you off the face of the earth and you don’t call me!?”

“You have better things to do – “

“They want to kill you! You saved my life once! What do I care about freaking Nazis – “

“Aaron – “

“Hold on, I am checking for flights – “

“You don’t have to – “

“See you in a few days.”

“You don’t even know where – “

Aaron hangs up. Dean stands there, stupefied.

“Looks like we’re getting another guest” he tells Cas.

“You look spooked” he observes gently.

Dean shrugs.

“Never imagined I’d have Aaron scream at me because of the British pricks, that’s all”.

“I... had a similar talk with Claire the other day.”

“Oh?”

Claire’s been hunting and keeping in touch, but they decided for good reason not to let her know everything that’s gone down. She’s too young to worry about freaking genocide. Jody knows, naturally. They wouldn’t risk her wrath when she found out on her own.

“I was tired. I might have mentioned Crowley and the spell he’s under... And then I had to explain.”

Dean smiles. Cas has never been able to say no to Claire since they met again.

He’d make a good father.

Dean shoves that thought far away. That’s not...

Claire. Yeah, that’s better.

“And what did she say?”

“She was upset. She let me know she’s not a child anymore, Castiel.” He pauses.

“She usually calls me Castiel when she’s angry with me.”

“She’s still a teenager, Cas. She’ll get over it. And hey, now that she knows, we can invite her to visit. I think she’d like her own room.”

Dean knows best how important it is to have a home base. Yes, there’s Jody’s, but she could always use another place to crash. Just in case.

“I love you” Cas tells him.

He grins, his fight with Aaron long forgotten.

At least until he breezes into the States three days later, calls him and demands to know “Where the hell they are.”

“Nice digs” is all he says when Dean opens the door for him.

“You can say that again. Everyone’s in the living room, except for Crowley. We had to put him in solitary confinement a while back.”

“Did he try to betray you?”

“What?”

Sometimes it’s way too easy to forget that the demon who is currently solving the New York times crossword puzzle is still the King of Hell.

“No, he’s a friend. He was placed under a spell.”

“I really missed a lot.”

“You have no idea”.

He suddenly realizes he never even told Aaron he’s dating Cas now. Sure, his angel came up in conversation now and then, but did he ever make their relationship clear?

What’s Judaism’s take on gay couples again?

Bisexual couples.

Whatever.

“Yeah, so... right now, you’re our only – “ he glances at the golem who’s entered the mansion after Aaron “guests. So this means it’s you, me, Sammy, my boyfriend, Mick – I’ll explain later – and the King of Hell in his room.”

Aaron doesn’t even blink.

Well then.

After they’ve all been introduced – and Dean has already decided he’s going to ignore every suspicious glance Aaron throws Mick, he’ll learn he’s not one of the bastards anymore – they tell him and the golem what they need to know.

“Also, we’ve prepared a room for you. For him too, of course – “

“Thank you, Matan is comfortable everywhere.”

Huh. So he did end up giving him a name. Makes sense. You spend so much time with someone, you want to know what to call them.

“It means gift in Hebrew” Cas will tell him later.

Aaron and Matan go to see Crowley.

“He’s not exactly what I pictured when I imagined the King of Hell” Aaron comments when they return.

“His soul is much lighter than I expected” Matan chimes in.

Food for thought, certainly, but it doesn’t really help them with the spell.

“I think” Dean announces after another few days of fruitless research, “We need to find Rowena”.

“Yes, but how? She’s either with the Men of Letters or she’s shielding herself pretty well” Sam points out.

“Walpurgis Night” Cas says abruptly.

“In three days, it’s April the 30th.”

“That’s big for witches. They celebrate on hills, perform spells, all the fun stuff” Dean answers, thinking quickly. “She’s bound to participate, right? And if she banks on the Men of Letters keeping her safe from us – they certainly must have some kind of deal – she’ll probably stay near their base.”

That they haven’t switched locations speaks of their arrogance. Hell, Crowley practically blew the place up and according to their friends, they just rebuilt it.

Dean is going to enjoy bringing them down.

First things first, though.

Set Crowley free.

“I can find her” Matan announces. “I will bring her here.”

“Thanks man”.

“It’s no problem”.

That evening, Dean and Aaron share a nightcap.

“Matan seems more... human these days.”

“He’s been learning how to interact properly with people. I don’t like keeping him in a box.”

Dean nods. He understands that.

“Not as human as Cas, though” Aaron says, smirking.

“What can I say? I’m an awesome teacher”. Dean winks.

“I bet.”

After a short, comfortable silence, Aaron begins, “Do you mind if I ask a question?”

“No idea until you do, but go ahead.”

“What happened? When we met, even the idea of a guy hitting on you made you uncomfortable.”

“Officially yeah, but I actually thought you were kind of cute”.

“I – ah – you –“ Aaron stutters, blushing a little.

“But to answer your question, Cas happened. What do I care whether I’m gay or bi or freaking pan if I can have that?”

“You seem very happy together.”

“We are. You know, when the world’s not ending for a change.”

“Kind of feels like it is.”

“What?” Dean puts his glass down.

Aaron raises his hands.

“Not like that. It’s just... I’ve made some contacts in the European hunting community. Over there, it’s still very much like it was in the States when I left – the supernatural on one side, the hunters on the other. This feels like a new beginning.”

“It does.”

It really does. What they’re creating... It feels good. Fair. Balanced.

“I can help. I’ve got a lot of practice fighting against maniacs who want to commit genocide”.

Dean just grins.

Now The creature just grabbed her and dragged her away after binding and blindfolding her.

And it’s fast.

She registers it’s a golem, which means it’s immune to spells.

No problem.

At least she thinks so until it doesn’t even react to her demand for the roll in his mouth. Not even when she speaks Hebrew.

His rabbi must have found a way to shield him.

“Let me down!”

It doesn’t listen to her.

“I said let me down, golem!”

“I heard you, but I am not going to. My rabbi and I are helping our friends.”

She can imagine who these friends are.

She’s proven right when, after what feels like hours, she gets carried into a house and the blindfold and bindings are taken off.

“Don’t even think about it. Matan is immune to spells, as you well know, and he’s stronger than you”.

“Dean. Castiel.”

She turns her head.

“Sam.”

She doesn’t recognize the other men in the room.

“Rowena. Long time no see.”

“Frankly, I think it could have stayed that way.”

“In that case you shouldn’t have bewitched Crowley” Dean barks and she’s taken aback by the expression on his face.

That’s not just anger.

There’s worry there as well.

He can’t be worried about her, so it must be –

He’s worried for her son.

A hunter is actually worried about the King of Hell.

He’s not just an asset for them, a weapon to use as she thought when they first met.

He’s a friend.

Against all odds, Fergus found a family.

An insane, rather bloodthirsty family, but still.

“I – “

“You got a good offer, let’s not pretend it was anything but.”

“Dean” Sam interrupts him gently.

“What? You know I’m right!”

“You are” she admits. “They promised me Hell in exchange for the spell. And no one would ever come after me.”

“Yeah well, that’s not turned out so well, has it.”

“No. A golem... I have to admit I am impressed.”

“Thank you very much” the smaller of the men says. So he’s the rabbi then. Doesn’t look like one.

“So how can we break the spell?”

“What do you care? You’ve clearly kept him locked up somewhere. He can’t do any harm like this.”

“You’ve bound his free will” the ex-angel says gravely. “You’ve made him obey his enemies. It’s not right.”

Here, too. Nothing but concern for her son.

As a matter of fact, they all look worried. Even the golem seems affected.

“Come on. Time for a family reunion”.

As usual, she’s allowed to walk beside them unbound, even though she’s their prisoner. The Winchesters have always been rather chivalrous when it comes to things like that.

The mansion surprises her. It has clearly been erected by Fergus – she can clearly feel his power, although it seems to be... cleaner than before – but the care he has taken to ensure humans can be comfortable here is astounding.

As is seeing him properly. When she cast the spell, he was upset – understandably so, she can still hear the panic in his voice as he called out Mother, please – but here in his – home? He looks more relaxed than in years, like he actually found something like peace.

“Mother” he says, shooting Dean looks that clearly warn him to get her out of his sight.  

“Fergus”.

She takes a deep breath – and stays silent.

She could order him to attack. He can’t leave the room, but they’re all in here, and he could keep the golem occupied long enough for her to slip away –

But.

Fergus would attack his – his –

“One word and I’ll shoot you” Dean hisses at her, having understood what he meant.

One glance was enough.

She takes another deep breath.

“I said – “ Dean begins, but she beats him to it.

“I release you from your bond. I release you from the power I put you under. Be free.”

She never told Hess it’s that easy.

Fergus grimaces and crumbles down on the floor.

“Crowley! What did you to him, you – “

He gets up, clutching Dean’s arm.

“It’s over. I’m free”.

“Are you – sure?”

“Mother, order me to do something”.

He turns to her, his eyes stormy. She wonders if she’s about to die.

“Punch Dean in the face” is the first thing that comes to mind.

He looks at Dean and waits.

After half a minute, the hunter relaxes. Then he apparently surprises everyone in the room, including himself and Fergus, by pulling him into a quick hug.

“Thank God. Good to have you back, Crowley.”

“Good to be back.”

Sam, after grinning at her boy, immediately starts scratching out the sigils they used to keep him in his room with the two other guys and the golem helping.

The group trades glances as they are working, suggesting to her that her end might be near.

Especially since Fergus has his full power back.

“I say, let Crowley decided” Dean suggests. “She’s his mother.”

She expects her neck to get broken any second, but he just studies her.

That’s not the same demon she came to see a few years ago.

She was right. There’s something different about his powers, something... nicer for lack of a better word.

“Get. Out.”

“What?”

“Get out. I never want to see you again. Stay away from me and my friends. And Hell” he adds almost as an afterthought. “And if you should help the Men of Letters again – “

“I’m dead. I know.”

She turns to go. But she hesitates when she reaches the door.

“Fer – Crowley. I’m – glad you found what you were looking for”.

Because, she thinks when she’s finally back in the fresh air, watching the lake glisten in the sunshine, he has, whether he realizes it or not.

A few years ago, Crowley got himself new enemies.

Somehow, someway he’s found a family in them.