#I wish I could just hibernate for six months

[mother-harrington]

I truly believed that I was gonna get a new year’s kiss this year lmao I want to just stop existing now thanks

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Salvation | Devil's Trap | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 7124

A/N: Whoop whoop! The end of season one!!! Thank y'all so much for reading and sticking with me. I've already been working on season two... ;)

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John had taped countless papers, newspaper clippings, scribblings, and charts of his research on the motel room’s walls. He sat at his paper-strewn desk with the Colt lying on it in front of him. “So this is it. This is everything I know. Look, our whole lives we been searching for this demon right? Not a trace, just, nothing. Until about a year ago. For the first time I picked up a trail.”

“And that's when you took off,” Dean said.

John nodded. “Yeah. That's right. The demon must have come out of hiding, or hibernation.”

“Alright, so what’s this trail you found?” his elder son asked.

“It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us.”

“Families with infants?” Sam chimed in.

“Yeah. The night of the kid's six-month birthday.”

“I was six months old that night?” the younger brother asked, eyes puppy-dog-like.

You looked at Sam sadly. You knew he still blamed himself, and it broke your heart. John nodded again. “Exactly six months.”

“So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death… Jessica. It's all because of me?” his eyebrows turned upward even more.

“We don’t know that, Sam,” Dean argued gruffly.

“Oh really? Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean,” the brunet threw back.

Dean shook his head frustratedly. “For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault.”

“Right. It's not my fault but it's my problem.”

“No, it's not your problem, it's our problem!” Dean yelled back.

“Boys, enough!” you commanded, standing.

All three men looked at you, surprised, but followed your directions and calmed down.

“So why's he doing it?” Sam asked after a moment. “What does he want?”

“Look I wish I had more answers, I do. I've always been one step behind it. Look, I've never gotten there in time to save....” He looked down unhappily.

Dean sighed. “Alright, so how do we find it before it hits again?”

“There's signs. It took me a while to see the pattern but it's there in the days before these fires signs crop up in an area. Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms. And then I went back and checked, and—”

“These things happened in Lawrence,” Dean said softly.

“A week before your mother died,” John replied, nodding. “And in Palo Alto, before Jessica. And these signs: they're starting again.”

“Where?” Sam asked.

“Salvation, Iowa.”

***

You and the brothers had been following John closely for hours as you sped toward Salvation, Iowa. Suddenly, John pulled his truck off the road. You shot a look at Dean, who pulled off behind his father.

“Goddammit!” John cried when he got out of his truck.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“I just got a call from Caleb.”

Dean’s shoulders tensed. “Is he okay?”

“He's fine. Jim Murphy's dead.”

Sam was surprised. “Pastor Jim? How?”

“His throat was slashed. He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place,” John explained.

“A demon,” you said. “The demon?”

The older man shook his head. “I don't know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close.”

“What do we do?” the older son questioned.

“Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week,” John barked.

“Dad, that could be dozens of kids. How do we know which one's the right one?” Sam challenged.

“We check 'em all, that's how. You got any better ideas?”

You all shook your heads. John nodded at you and turned back to his truck. He slammed his hand on his trunk and hung his head low.

“Dad?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. It's Jim,” John replied, never turning to face you three. “You know, I can't— This ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes.” He got back into his truck, and you and the boys followed suit. No one talked for the rest of the drive into Salvation.

***

You went with Dean as you normally had been doing on cases when you and the Winchesters split up. You headed to one of the two hospitals to search their birth records. 

Dean noticed a beautiful receptionist and walked over to her.

“Hi. Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked him.

“Oh, God, yes,” he smiled breathlessly.

You cleared your throat. “We’re working right now, so…” You held up your fake badge to show her. “Can you get us the records of every birth in the last year?”

She nodded. “Of course.” She threw one last longing look to Dean before heading off.

“You wanna keep it professional, officer?” You quirked a brow at him.

***

Later that day, you and the other Winchesters were called to meet Sam back at the motel room. He’d had another vision where the same thing that happened to him happened to a baby he’d met in his search for the six month old that would be attacked.

“A vision,” John said flatly.

Sam was rubbing his temples painfully. “Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling.”

“And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because…?” his father trailed off.

“Because these things happen exactly the way I see them,” Sam explained.

“It started out as nightmares. Then it started happening while he was awake,” Dean continued, crossing to the counter behind Sam to get some more coffee.

“Yeah,” Sam winced, “It's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon the stronger the visions get.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?” John snapped at his oldest son.

“We didn't know what it meant.” Dean looked down shamefully.

“Alright, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone, and you call me,” John stated sharply.

Dean threw his cup back on the counter, but you spoke before he could. “All due respect, dude, but Dean did call you.” John looked at you surprised as you continued. “He called you in Lawrence. Sam called when Dean was fucking dying. He’s got a better chance at winning the lottery than getting you on the phone.”

Dean put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this attitude of yours, you're right,” John told you. He turned to his sons. “I'm sorry.”

“Look, guys, visions or no visions, fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through,” Sam said calmly.

“No they're not. No one is, ever again.”

Sam’s phone rang. “Hello?... Who is this?” He shot up next. “Meg. Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window… Just your feelings? That was a seven-story drop… My Dad. I don't know where my Dad is.” He then hesitated for a moment before handing the phone to John.

“This is John,” he said. “I'm here.” A few moments passed before he breathed out a name. “Caleb?”

Sam and Dean reacted immediately, and you recognized that as the name of John’s friend they’d been using as a resource when their dad was missing. “You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go… I don't know what you're talking about… Caleb. Caleb!... I'm gonna kill you, you know that?” His boys approached him, taking either side. “Okay… I said okay, I'll bring you the Colt.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there… That's impossible. I can't get there in time, and I can't just carry a gun on the plane.” Another moment passed before John handed Sam’s phone back to him. He began to pace around the room. He explained to you that Meg had instructed him to go to a warehouse in Lincoln with the Colt alone.

“So you think Meg is a demon?” Sam questioned.

“Either that, or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter,” his father answered.

“What do we do?” you asked.

“I'm going to Lincoln.”

Dean scoffed. “What?”

“It doesn't look like we have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people will die; our friends die.”

“Dad, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got; you can't just hand it over,” Sam protested.

“Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a coupla of vampires, no one's really seen the gun; no one knows what it looks like.”

“So what, you're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?” Dean questioned.

“Antique store.”

“You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?”

“Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference.”

“Yeah but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?” argued the older son.

“I just— I just need to buy a few hours, that's all.”

Sam shot back, “You mean, for Dean, (Y/N), and me. You want us to stay here and kill this demon by ourselves?”

“No, Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home.” John’s voice broke. “I want… I want Mary alive. It's just— I just want this to be over.”

***

After you and the boys had handed off the fake gun to John, you headed to Monica’s house under the cover of night.

Dean and Sam sat with the gun between them, and the three of you watched through the window as Monica and her husband finished dinner.

“Maybe we could tell ‘em it was a gas leak. Might get ‘em out of the house for a few hours.”

“Sam, since when has that ever worked for us?” you countered.

“We could always tell ‘em the truth,” he suggested after a moment.

You and Dean just gave him a skeptical look. The three of you cringed and said, “Naaahhh,” in unison, making you giggle.

“I know I know. I just��� with what's coming for these folks…” Sam trailed off.

 Dean shook his head at his brother. “Sam we only got one move and you know it, alright? We gotta wait for that demon to show itself, and then we get it before it gets them.”

You looked back at the house for a moment before Sam spoke again. “I wonder how Dad's doing.”

“I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up,” Dean admitted.

“I'd feel a lot better if he were here backing us up.”

You continued watching the house in silence.

“This is weird,” Sam broke the silence again. “After all of these years, we're finally here. It doesn't seem real.”

“We just gotta keep our heads and do our job, like always,” Dean responded.

“Yeah, but this isn't like always.”

“True.”

“Dean, ah… I wanna thank you,” Sam began.

Dean turned to his brother. “For what?”

“For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And, uh, I don't know I just wanted to let you know, just in case—”

“Sam, stop it,” you said. “You are not dyin’ tonight. Nobody is.”

“Except that demon,” Dean continued. “That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?”

Sam nodded, tears in his eyes. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and laid your head on his back. You continued watching the house from your position resting against Sam, who returned your gesture by holding your arm.

Dean then called his father. “Dad's not answering.”

“Maybe Meg was late. Maybe cell reception’s bad,” you suggested.

“Yeah, well.” He didn’t sound convinced.

The radio suddenly started chattering with static.

“Guys, it’s coming.” You looked out at the light emanating from the home beginning to flicker.

The three of you sprang into action, grabbing the Colt and running into the house. Once inside, you were confronted by Monica’s husband.

“Get out of my house!” he yelled.

Dean fought against the man and pinned him against the wall with the baseball bat the man had been holding. “Be quiet and listen to me. Be quiet and listen! We are trying to help you.” He clearly had no patience.

A woman’s voice called from upstairs. “Charlie? Is everything okay?”

“Monica, get the baby!” the man yelled back.

“Don't go in the nursery!” you and Sam cried at the same time. You and Sam sprinted up the stairs after the woman and began to hear her moaning in pain. You raced into the nursery down the hall to find the woman flung back against the wall rising up to the ceiling. You saw a shadowy figure with glowing, yellow eyes standing over the baby’s crib.

“Rosie!” Monica screamed.

Sam raised the Colt and pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, the demon disappeared into curls of smoke.

Monica screamed and fell to the floor.

“Where the hell did it go?!” Sam yelled.

“I don’t know!” you yelled back.

“My baby!” Monica tried to move toward the crib, but Sam caught her. She fought him as you wrapped the baby in her blanket and pulled her out of her crib. Milliseconds later, the crib burst into flames. You held the baby to your chest and followed Sam and Monica down the stairs and out of the house.

Just as you made it outside, the nursery window exploded outward in a fiery blaze. You ran over to Dean and Monica’s husband who had just regained consciousness. 

“You get away from my family,” the husband told you firmly.

“No, Charlie, don't. They saved us,” Monica said, running into her husband’s arms. You handed her baby over to her, and she began to cry. “Thank you.”

You nodded with a sad smile. You turned to the boys who looked up at the burning house. You could see a shadowy figure in the window surrounded by the flames.

Sam tried to go back inside, crying, “It's still in there!”

You and Dean pushed him back. “No!”

“Guys, let me go! It’s still in there!” He continued struggling against you.

“No. It's burning to the ground, it's suicide!” Dean replied.

“I don't care!” Sam yelled back.

Dean shoved his brother one final time. “I do!”

You looked back up at the house and watched the demon disappear. The flames rose higher as you heard Monica’s husband calling 911.

“We’d better get out of here before the cops show up,” you told Monica. “Take care of yourselves.”

“We will. Thank you!”

You shoved the boys back to the Impala and took Dean’s keys from him.

“(Y/N), you are not driving my car.”

“I’ve already done it, Dean, and you are way too emotional to drive right now. I’ve got this.”

“Fine!” He got in the passenger’s seat next to you. “But I swear to god if it gets one scratch—”

“I know, I’m dead.”

***

You and the Winchesters still hadn’t heard from their father.

“Come on Dad, answer your phone, damn it,” Dean grumbled as he paced around. “Something’s wrong.”

Sam stared at the wall; unresponsive to his brother.

“You hear me? Something is wrong.”

Sam’s voice broke as he talked. “If you had just let me go in there, I coulda ended all this.”

“Sam, you would’ve been killed,” you said.

“You don’t know that,” he argued.

Dean walked toward his brother. “So what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?”

Sam stood. “Yeah. Yeah, you're damn right I am.”

“Well, that's not going to happen, not as long as I'm around,” Dean responded.

“What the hell are you talking about, Dean, we've been searching for this demon our whole lives. It's the only thing we've ever cared about.”

“Sam, I wanna waste it. I do. Okay? But it's not worth dying over.”

The brunet scoffed. “What?”

“I mean it. If hunting this demon means getting yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing,” Dean spat.

“That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom!” Sam yelled.

“You said yourself once, that no matter what we do, they're gone, and they're never coming back.”

Sam completely lost it and threw Dean back against the wall.

“Sam, stop!” You ran to the boys and tried to pull Sam off. He shrugged your grip off him harshly. 

“Don't you say that, not you! Not after all this; don't you say that!” Sam yelled.

Dean’s voice quieted. “Sam, look. The three of us… Dad… That's all we have. And it's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, man… And without you or (Y/N) or Dad....”

“Dad,” Sam cried and turned away. He walked across the room.

Dean stayed where he was and took a few deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” you asked Dean quietly.

He nodded, but kept his gaze on his brother.

“He should have called by now. Try him again,” Sam instructed.

Dean pushed a few buttons and raised his phone to his ear. “Where is he,” Dean spoke angrily into the phone.

You looked up at Dean, concerned, as did Sam. 

“They’ve got Dad,” Dean informed you, snapping his phone shut.

“Meg?” you questioned.

Dean just nodded.

“What’d she say?”

“I just told you, sweetheart.”

“Okay, okay,” you ran a hand over your hair.

Dean grabbed the Colt and tucked it into his jeans.

“What are you doing, Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean was already grabbing his duffel bag. “We got to go.”

“Why?”

“Because the demon knows we’re in Salvation, alright. It knows we got the Colt. It’s got Dad— it’s probably coming for us next.” Dean put his jacket back on.

“Good. We’ve still got three bullets left. Let it come.”

“No, Sam, I’m with Dean. We’re not ready,” you said, shouldering your own bag. “We don’t know how many of them are out there, and we’re no good to anybody dead. Let’s go. And we need help.”

Dean looked at you and agreed. “I know a guy.”

***

“Bobby?” you asked. You hadn’t realized he was the man Dean was referring to knowing could help. 

“(Y/N),” the man breathed out. He wrapped you in a tight hug. “How the hell are you, kiddo?”

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes. “I’m okay. Listen, we’re in a tight spot. I know Dean told you a bit, but…”

“Come on in,” he said. He checked behind you and the boys to make sure you weren’t followed.

“How do you know Bobby?” Dean asked, walking around the man’s cluttered home. Books were stacked high in every corner, and empty beer bottles covered his kitchen table. 

‘Would it kill you to clean every once in a while?’ you thought.

“He found me when I was nineteen and bleeding out in the middle of nowhere,” you explained. “Saved my life and took me in, essentially. And then, uh, I split. My stupid twenty-year-old self couldn’t admit that being alone sucked. I didn’t want anyone to think I needed help. We got in a huge fight, and I left.” You turned to Bobby. “I’m sorry, by the way. I never told you that.”

“It’s okay, kid,” the man drawled. He handed Dean a round silver flask with a cross on it. “Here you go.”

“What is this, holy water?” 

Bobby said, “That one is.” He held out the other flask he was holding. “This is whiskey.” 

You giggled while Bobby and Dean took swigs of the drink.

Dean handed the flask back to him. “Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure we should come.”

“Nonsense. Your Daddy needs help.”

“Well, yeah, but last time we saw you, I mean, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. Cocked the shotgun and everything,” the man chuckled.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? John just has that effect on people.”

“Amen,” you commented.

Dean shot you a look.

“What?” you replied.

He just rolled his eyes.

“None of that matters now. All that matters is that you get him back,” Bobby shrugged.

Sam dragged his fingers along the worn pages of the book he was reading. “Bobby, this book: I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He sat on the edge of the desk across from Sam. “Key of Solomon? It’s the real deal, alright.”

“And these protective circles. They really work?” He gestured down to the intricate drawing covering the worn page.

“Hell, yeah. You get a demon in; they’re trapped. Powerless. It’s like a Satanic roach motel.” Bobby tapped the center of the page. 

You laughed. You loved his sense of humor. You wished your dad had been more like him, and you wished you hadn’t spent so much time as a teenager trying to go it alone.

“I’ll tell you something else, too. This is some serious crap you kids stepped in.”

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?” you asked.

“Normal year, I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Maybe four, tops. This year I hear of twenty-seven so far. You get what I’m saying? More and more demons are walking among us; a lot more.” Bobby sounded scared for the first time since you met him. 

“Damn,” you commented. “Do you know why?”

“No, but I know it’s something big. The storm’s coming, and you kids, your Daddy— you are smack in the middle of it.”

Bobby’s dog began barking outside.

“Rumsfeld,” Bobby muttered.

The dog stopped barking with a sad whine. You looked out the window to see the chain the dog was tethered to broken and the dog himself nowhere in sight. 

“Something’s wrong,” the older man said.

At that moment, Meg kicked the door open and sauntered in. Dean slipped the holy water flask out of his pocket, and you grabbed a knife out of your jacket.

“No more crap, okay?” Meg sang.

Dean tried to go after her, but Meg sent him flying into a stack of books in the corner of the room.

“Hey!” you yelled, trying to take a swing at her. She sent you flying back into Dean. You groaned in pain as you heard Meg continuing to go after Sam for the Colt.

“You okay?” Dean asked you.

You nodded. “C’mon.” You stood shakily and used the wall for support; Dean just behind you.

“First, Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then, he leaves the real gun with you three chuckleheads. Lackluster, man. I mean, did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” you heard Meg telling Sam and Bobby in the other room.

You stepped into the door frame. “Actually, we were counting on it.” You smirked and looked up at the ceiling that had a Devil’s Trap etched into it. 

Dean spat, “Gotcha.”

You set to work tying Meg to a chair in the middle of the floor. She fought you hard, but there wasn’t much she could do given her limited space to move.

“Bitch,” she spat at you.

“Yeah, ditto,” you responded dryly. You stepped back from her.

“You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask,” she said sultrily.

Bobby came up next to you with a large canister of salt. “I salted the door and windows. If there are any demons out there, they ain’t getting in.”

Dean nodded and stood, moving around you to stand in front of Meg. “Where’s our father, Meg?”

“You didn’t ask very nice.”

“Where’s our father, bitch?”

You hated to admit it, but Dean’s interrogation was turning you on.

“Jeez. You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t,” Meg smirked.

Dean lunged at her and put his hands on the chair arms. “You think this is a fucking game? Where is he?! What did you do to him?”

“He died screaming. I killed him myself!” she growled through gritted teeth.

Dean froze before slapping her across the face.

“That’s kind of a turn on; you hitting a girl,” she smiled.

‘Well, she’s not wrong,’ you thought.

“You’re no girl,” he said.

Bobby stood and moved to the older Winchester. “Dean.”

He turned away from Meg.

“You okay?” you asked him.

“She’s lying. He’s not dead,” he grumbled.

“Dean, you got to be careful with her. Don’t hurt her,” Bobby warned.

“Why?”

“Because she really is a girl; that’s why,” he explained.

You looked back at Meg and her labored breathing. Bobby explained that Meg had been possessed. Dean was furious at the idea of an innocent person being trapped inside her, and you loved that about him. You and the brothers immediately began an exorcism ritual.

“Are you gonna read me a story?” she quipped at the sight of the Book of Solomon Sam was holding.

Dean stepped in front of her. “Something like that. Hit it, Sam.”

Sam began reading the ritual off the pages of the book.

“An exorcism? Are you serious?”

“Oh we’re going for it, baby—” You’d never liked that nickname, but you loved how it sounded coming from Dean; just not directed at Meg. “—head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards.”

Meg flinched at the Latin words coming from Sam’s lips. “I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna rip the bones from your body.”

“No, you’re gonna burn in hell. Unless you tell us where our Dad is.” His smirk was challenging.

Meg just smiled at him.

“Well, at least you’ll get a nice tan,” Dean bit.

Meg continued to shake in pain and gasped finally. “He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his sons one last time. That’s when I slit his throat.”

Dean leaned down to her. “For your sake, I hope you’re lying. Cause if it’s true, I swear to god, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me god!”

Sam continued reading while wind started blowing through the room.

“Where is he?!” Dean shouted.

“You just won’t take ‘dead’ for an answer, will you?”

“Where is he?!”

“Dead!” she yelled through gritted teeth.

Dean screamed, “No, he’s not! He’s not dead! He can’t be!”

You looked up at him. “Dean—”

“What are you looking at? Keep reading,” he said gruffly to his brother.

“He will be!” Meg cried.

Dean stopped Sam from reading with a raised hand. “Wait! What?!”

“He’s not dead. But he will be after what we do to him,” she explained breathlessly.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t.”

“Sam!”

“A building! Okay? A building in Jefferson City," Meg admitted, breathing laboriously.

“Missouri? Where, where? An address!”

“I don’t know,” she cried.

“And the demon— the one we’re looking for— where is it?” Sam interrogated.

“I don’t know! I swear! That’s everything. That’s all I know,” Meg whined.

Dean stalked around her, face set in anger. “Finish it.”

“What? I told you the truth!” Meg screamed, pulling against her restraints.

“I don’t care,” Dean responded.

“You son of a bitch, you promised!” She continued to fight harder despite the pain she was obviously in.

“I lied! Sam? Sam! Read.”

Sam pulled Dean aside. “Maybe we can still use her. Find out where the demon is.”

“She doesn’t know.”

“She lied.”

“Sam, there’s a girl trapped in there somewhere,” you said. “We gotta help her.”

“You’re gonna kill her,” Bobby broke in. “You said she fell from a building. That girl’s body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it and that girl is going to die.”

“We can’t just leave her like that, though!” you protested.

“She is a human being,” Bobby said softly.

“And we’re gonna put her out of her misery. Sam, finish it,” Dean barked.

Sam hesitated.

“Finish it,” his brother commanded.

Sam obliged, taking a deep breath before continuing. Meg threw her head back and screamed, the demon leaving through her mouth in a cloud of inky blackness. It shot up into the Devil’s Trap on the ceiling, and Meg’s head fell forward.

You looked at her, unsure of whether or not it was really over. She slowly lifted her head, and you watched blood drip from her nose and lips.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered. “Call 911, get some water and blankets!” you ordered. “Boys, help me!”

Meg whispered, “Thank you.”

“Shh, shh,” you told her. “Take it easy, okay?”

The boys lifted her off the chair and she yelped in pain. You had them lower her into your lap, so you could cradle her head as a makeshift pillow.

“We’re sorry. We got you, it’s okay,” you assured her.

“A year,” she muttered sadly.

“What?”

“It’s been a year.”

“Shh, just take it easy,” Sam told her.

“I’ve been awake for some of it. I couldn’t move my own body. The things I did…  It's a nightmare.” Her voice was broken in soft sobs as blood spilled from her lips and nose.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing her hair back with your hand.

“Was it telling us the truth about our Dad?” Dean asked.

“Dean—” you scolded.

“We need to know.” He looked at you sharply before looking back down at Meg.

“Yes. But it wants... you to know... that... they want you to come for him.”

“If Dad’s still alive, none of that matters.”

Bobby came back in with a blanket and glass of water. You helped Meg drink while the boys covered her in the blanket.

“Where is the demon we’re looking for?” Sam asked her.

“Not there. Other ones. Awful ones,” she answered weakly.

“By the river. Sunrise.” Her head lolled to the side in your lap, eyes never closing and reopening again. 

“ ‘Sunrise’,” Dean muttered. “What does that mean? What does that mean?”

But Meg was gone. You continued to brush her hair back with your hand, looking down at the poor girl’s face sadly. Tears rose to your eyes. You felt awful for her. Getting possessed and not being in control of your own body was quite literally your worst nightmare.

“You better hurry up and beat it. Before the paramedics get here,” Bobby told you. The four of you rose from the ground and headed to the door.

“What are you gonna tell them?” Dean asked.

“You think you guys invented lying to the cops? I’ll figure something out.” He handed the Key of Solomon book to Sam. “Here, take this. You might need it.”

“Thanks,” Sam grinned.

“Thanks... for everything. Be careful, alright?” Dean told Bobby.

“You just go find your Dad. And when you do, you bring him around, would you? I won’t even try to shoot him this time.”

You gave him a lopsided smile before pulling him into a hug again. “Thank you. I promise I’ll call.”

“You better, kid. Or I’ll hunt your ass down.”

***

About a day and a half later, you and the boys had rescued a badly beaten John from Sunrise Apartments in Jefferson City, Missouri. You’d found an abandoned cabin deep in the woods to shelter in to attempt to make a game plan to go after the demon. You could tell Dean was conflicted about the fact that he’d had to use one of the Colt’s bullets to save Sam but didn’t regret the choice at all. His confliction came from whether or not his dad would kick his ass to hell and back.

“How is he?” Sam asked. You were busy cleaning up the cuts on his badly beaten face that the demon Dean had killed gave him.

“He just needed a little rest, that’s all. How are you?” Dean questioned, referencing the beating Sam had suffered on the rescue mission.

Sam shrugged. “I’ll survive. Hey, you don’t think we were followed here, do you?”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “We couldn’t have found a more way-out-the-way place to hunker down.”

A moment of silence passed before Sam turned to his brother. “Hey, uh.... Dean, you, um, you saved my life back there.”

Dean smirked. “So, I guess you’re glad I brought the gun, huh?” That had been yet another thing the brothers had fought over.

“Man, I’m trying to thank you here,” Sam chuckled.

“You’re welcome,” the older brother replied.

“All done,” you told Sam. You crossed the room to his brother and sat down next to him.

Dean paused a moment before talking again. “Hey, (Y/N)?” 

“Yeah?”

“You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there.”

You sighed. “You had no choice, dude.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s not what bothers me.”

“Then what does?”

“Killing that guy, killing Meg. I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t even flinch. For Sam, for my dad... for you..." he couldn't stand to look at you during that admission— "the things I’m willing to do or kill, it’s just, uh, it scares me sometimes.”

You put a hand on his. “I get it. Me too.”

He gripped your hand tightly as John walked into the room. “It shouldn’t scare you. You did good.”

“You’re not mad?” Dean asked.

“For what?”

“Using a bullet.” The elder son’s face was twisted in confusion.

John chuckled. “Mad? I’m proud of you. You know, Sam and I: we can get pretty obsessed. But you, you watch out for this family. You always have.”

Something changed in Dean’s face. “Thanks.”

The wind suddenly picked up outside, and the lights in the room flickered.

“It found us. It’s here,” John breathed out.

“The demon?” Sam questioned, standing on high alert.

“Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door,” John ordered.

“Already done,” you said.

“Well, check it, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam said and left the room.

“Dean, you got the gun?” John asked. “Give it to me.”

Dean took the Colt out of his jeans. “Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It disappeared.”

“This is me. I won’t miss. Now, the gun, hurry,” John commanded.

Dean hesitated and looked down at the gun. You looked between the two men, confused as to what was going on.

“Give me the gun. What are you doing, Dean?”

Dean backed up. “He’d be furious.”

John turned away from the window. “What?”

“That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn’t be proud of me; he’d tear me a new one.” Dean cocked the gun and pointed it at John. He pushed you behind him, covering you with his free arm protectively. “You’re not my Dad.”

“Dean, it’s me.” John looked at him like he was crazy.

“I know my Dad better than anyone. And you ain’t him,” Dean responded.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Stay back.”

Sam came into the room, shocked to see Dean pointing the gun at John. “Dean? What the hell’s going on?”

“Your brother’s lost his mind,” John scoffed.

“No, he hasn’t. It’s not your dad, Sam,” you said.

“I think he’s possessed. I think he’s been possessed since we rescued him.” Dean began to get upset.

John protested, but Sam turned to you and Dean. “Dean, how do you know?”

Dean was fighting back tears. “He’s... he’s different.”

“You know, we don’t have time for this. Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you’ve gotta trust me,” John stated firmly.

Sam stepped back behind you and Dean. 

“Fine. You’re all so sure, go ahead. Kill me,” John spat, seeming emotional. He looked down and waited. Dean held the gun on him, but couldn’t pull the trigger.

“I thought so.” John looked up grinning; eyes yellow with snake-like slits running down the middle.

Sam lunged at him, but was thrown and pinned against the wall. 

“You son of a—” John threw you back against the wall next to Sam, too; cutting you off. Dean shouted your name but ended up pinned as well.

John picked up the Colt that Dean had dropped. “What a pain in the ass this thing’s been.”

“It’s you, isn’t it? We’ve been looking for you for a long time,” Sam stated.

“Well, you found me,” the demon grinned.

“But the holy water?” the younger son asked in reference to the bit he'd splashed on him during the rescue.

“You think something like that works on something like me?” he taunted.

You tried to fight against the force that had you pinned down, but couldn’t.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Sam screamed.

“Oh, that’d be a neat trick. In fact—” he put the gun down on the table, “—here. Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy.”

Sam looked down at the gun, but nothing happened.

“Well, this is fun. I could’ve killed you a hundred times today, but this... this is worth the wait.” He stalked over to Dean who struggled against his power. “Your Dad: he’s in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says ‘hi,' by the way. He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood.”

“Let him go, or I swear to god—”

The demon cut Dean off. “What? What are you and god gonna do? You see, as far as I’m concerned, this is justice. You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter. The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand.”

Dean mockingly groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? You’re the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?” The demon smiled maliciously. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean spat.

“I wanna know why. Why’d you do it?” Sam asked.

“You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?” He turned back to Dean. “You know, I never told you this, but Sam was going to ask her to marry him. Been shopping for rings and everything.” He turned back to Sam and walked over to him. “You want to know why? Because they got in the way.”

“In the way of what?” Sam asked.

“My plans for you, Sammy. You... and all the children like you.”

“Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? Cause I really can’t stand the monologuing,” Dean remarked.

The demon strutted back over to him. “Funny, but that’s all part of your M.O., isn’t it? Masks all that nasty pain; masks the truth.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Dean ground out.

“You know, you fight, and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don’t need you. Not like you need them. Sam: he’s clearly John’s favorite. Even when they fight, it’s more concern than he’s ever shown you. And (Y/N)? Your thing with her is pretty pathetic, I gotta say.”

“I bet you’re real proud of your kids, too, huh? Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted ‘em,” Dean challenged, smiling. John looked at Dean and backed up, putting his head down. When he looked back up, Dean yelled in pain.

“What are you doing to him?! Stop!” you cried, fighting against your invisible restraints even harder.

Dean began bleeding heavily from his chest. “Dad! Dad, don’t you let it kill me!”

You struggled as hard as you could to get free, but you helplessly watched blood flow out of Dean’s mouth.

“Dad, please.” Dean’s cry broke your heart just before he passed out.

“Dean!” you and Sam yelped. You were suddenly let go, and you dove across the floor to Dean. He slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely.

“Dean, Dean, look at me, baby, please,” you cried. You looked up at Sam pointing the gun at John as you pulled Dean into your lap.

“You kill me, you kill Daddy,” the demon taunted Sam. 

“I know.” He fired the gun and shot it in the leg.

Sam rushed over to you. “Dean? Dean, hey? Oh god, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Where’s Dad?” Dean groaned, coming back to.

“He’s right here. He’s right here, Dean.”

“Go check on him.”

You stayed with Dean, crying as you brushed a hand over his cheek. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled despite the situation.

“Shh, shh, stop it.” You shook your head. You turned the palm of your hand up that had been sitting on his chest. It was completely turned red. “Oh, my god.”

He grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over yours. “I’m okay.”

You turned back to John and Sam as the older man yelled, “Sammy! It’s still alive. It’s inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it now!”

“Sam, don’t you do it. Don’t you do it,” Dean pleaded.

“You’ve gotta hurry! I can’t hold onto it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me! Son, I’m begging you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!” John begged.

“Sam, no!” you said.

“You do this! Sammy! Sam!” The demon suddenly fled from John, and the man collapsed on the ground.

John looked up at Sam accusingly. You called the brunet over to you. “You gotta help me. We gotta get him to a hospital now,” you cried. You and Sam shouldered Dean and brought him to the car while he groaned in pain.

You sat next to him in the backseat. His body was slumped over against the door, and you leaned against his chest to make sure his heart was still beating. Or, that was what you told yourself, at least. Despite the situation, you found the feeling of him against you comforting.

Sam got his father down in the car and began to speed away from the cabin.

“Look, just hold on, alright. The hospital’s only ten minutes away,” Sam told his father.

“I’m surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn’t you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this? Killing this demon comes first— before me, before everything.”

Sam looked up at you and his brother in the rearview mirror. “No, sir. Not before everything. Look, we’ve still got the Colt. We still have the one bullet left. We just have to start over, alright? I mean, we already found the demon—”

Suddenly, the car was thrown to the side and continued to skid down a hill. You held Dean against you despite the blood soaking into your hair and clothes and silently prayed for this all to be over. You could feel the side of the car had been pushed in on top of your legs, and finally, the car stopped moving. 

“Dean!” you cried. “Guys!” No one was responding to you. “Dean!”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

Whaaaaaat in the even world we reached the max number of tags!!! Thank you guys so much for the support! The taglist is now closed, and to anyone's tags that are broken or that I wasn't able to add: I'm so sorry!! Please accept my sincere apology!

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[v3nusxsky]

Hello hello helloooooooo! I'm not sure if I requested this already but this had been stuck in my mind for a looooooong time.

Larissa x Reader but like Larissa and Lucifer is the same person. While Reader is also a fallen angel, not as high in position like Lucifer but a fallen angel nonetheless. Then reader's disguising themselves, afraid to be caught.

But Reader couldn't handle the overwhelming feeling of being thrown out plus the physical pain of disguising themselves brought (Maybe their wings hurt so much from unused). Then Larissa notices, and comforts reader.

As always, thank you!! I hope you're having a great day, if not then that's fine. I wish you well. 💗💗

- 🦝

Broken down| H&C

*Authors note~ if this is atrocious and doesn’t make sense then I’m sorry truly but I’ve had a car accident in my practice today so I’m sore and I’m on some pretty good meds*

Trigger warnings~ none?? Homophobia?

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Lucifer can never forget the day they fell and all the physical pain it took of there wings being torn from their body, leaving them broken down and bruised. The shame they felt for not being good enough, to actually be forced down with the mortals was one of the worst things that could happen to an Angel alongside losing their wings. Thankfully they didn't take the innate shifting abilities they processed which allowed lucifer to disguise themself as Larissa Weems.

The next angel to fall was yourself, apparently gods love everyone rule didn't count to angels. No the fact you weren't attracted to men seemed to be an issue and for that you were punished in a similar way to Lucifer in the mindset of the sinners would be surrounded by his loyal followers and be corrected on your paths. However once you've fallen there's no going back so to you it seemed pointless. You could just reinvent yourself no one would have to know what happened to you now.

Upon finding Nevermore you truly felt at home. You were shown around by a perky blonde and a seemingly depressed raven haired teen. They appeared to be a couple based off the kiss the blonde gave the other teen before dashing off to a class. The tour ended at Larissa's office and you were truly feeling like you were in the right place here. What you weren't expecting was for the blonde principal to be gorgeous. Her tall yet still curvy figure had you practically drooling over your new boss.

For the first few months it was all okay, you managed to keep your disguise up and only relishing yourself from it when you knew you were alone. But that alone time decreased when you began to spend more time with Larissa due to developing a crush on the woman but it sucked to know she didn't know your secret. And if it came out how would she react to the news. You knew it wasn't frown upon on earth but you didn't want the title of fallen Angel to bother the blonde woman.

The day it came out, was the six month anniversary of your fall. Your wings were practically burnt as you fell, and today the sensations were just too much for you. Where you'd normally tuck your wings in an attempt to disguise them felt agonising for you. The irritation of the skin around the base only adding to your discomfort and reminding you of why you fell. The disgust and shame he told you that you should feel. It all made today that much more uncomfortable and unbearable for you. It was only natural you wanted to hibernate and wait the agony out. But of course your girlfriend would notice your absence.

After school hours Larissa found herself stood outside of your door, contemplating if she should enter of not, after all you could've emailed her if you needed her. She knew you knew that fact. But the muffled cry of pain from you had those thoughts abandoning her mind. The sight of you broke her heart and reminded her of when she fall too. Now adopting to be Larissa Weems that life of hers was gone, having fully transitioned the only remaining reminder was the scars where her wings once were.

"Oh y/n" she whispered approaching you carefully. "Ris it hurts I'm sorry I know I'm bad but it hurts please Ris please help make it stop then I'll leave" you mumbled out in a pained rush. "Shh darling you're not leaving it's okay. I knew what you were when you arrived. I can help darling, let me help you" she soothed gently and watched as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in your beautiful mind. "Luci?" You whimpered causing the blonde to nod.

Tears immediately sprung into your eyes as you threw yourself into her arms. "You knew?" You sobbed and the blonde nodded. "Why do you think I fell love?" She mumbled kissing your head gently. "Because of me?" You hardly got out all choked up by the emotion. "Because of you my darling because I knew I loved you and they don't like that too much especially Samuel." The explanation made so much sense, how your Luci disappeared and didn't give any reason as to why they left you.

"Help Luci please hurts so much" you whimpered nuzzling into Larissa's body. "Luci? Or Ris?" You mumbled confused. "Luci for you my darling girl? Larissa to everyone else okay", you offered a nod of understanding and that's when you felt it. Her long slender fingers gently rubbing and soothing the base of your sore wings. A happy mewl left you at the soothing sensations she was providing. "Let them out my love."

You immediately tensed up, you knew what they looked like. "LuLu, they aren't pretty" you whispered. But with one look from her you allowed your wings to spread to their full capacity. "Oh my darling what did they do to you" Larissa gasped before running her fingers over the edges of your wings. "Lulu make it stop" you whimpered, "help me do what you did." Safe to say after a few days where the pain faded back to its usual limit you and Larissa, your Luci, made plans to fully commit you to the human life.

Word count~ 1039

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Salvation

Masterlist

MANNING, COLORADO. 

John sits at a paper strewn desk, the Colt in front of him, while Sam leans against the counter and Dean paces as I stand nearby, my arms folded across my chest. "So this is it. This is everything I know. Look, our whole lives we been searching for this demon right? Not a trace, just...nothing. Until about a year ago. For the first time I picked up a trail." John explains.

"And that's when you took off." Dean said and John looks up at him and nods. "Yeah. That's right. The demon must have come out of hiding, or hibernation." He said. "All right, so what's this trail you found?" I asked him. "It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us." John said.

"Families with infants?" Sam asked him. "Yeah. The night of the kid's six-month birthday." John said and mine and Sam's eyes widen. "I was six months old that night?" Sam asked. "Exactly six months." John said then he turns to me. "Same thing goes for you, (y/n). From what your dad told me, you were six-months old when your mom died." John said.

"So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death...Jessica. It's all because of me?" Sam asked, devastated. "And my mom's death?" I said, sadly. "We don't know that, guys." Dean said to us. "Oh really? Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean." Sam shouted at him.

"For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault. And it's not your fault, (y/n), that your mom died, either." Dean said, frustrated. "Right. It's not our fault but it's mine and Sam's problem." I shouted at Dean. "No, it's not your problem it's our problem!" Dean said and John stands up. "Okay. That's enough." John said, firmly.

All of us take a breath and calm down. "So why's he doing it? What does he want?" Sam asked John. "Look, I wish I had more answers, I do. I've always been one step behind it. Look, I've never gotten there in time to save...." John said then he looks down, unhappy. 

"All right so how do we find it..before it hits again?" Dean asked him, changing the subject. "There's signs. It took me a while to see the pattern but it's there in the days before these fires signs crop up in an area. Cattle deaths, temperature fluctations, electrical storms. And then I went back and checked...and..." John said before Dean speaks up. "These things happened in Lawrence?" He asked and John nods.

"A week before your mother died. And a week before (mother's name) died. And in Palo Alto...before Jessica. And these signs, they're starting again." John said and we look up at him.

"Where?" I asked him.

"Salvation, Iowa." John replied.

John's truck speeds along a misty road, followed closely by the Impala. After a few moments, he pulls off to the side and we follow him then we get out. "Damn it!" John exclaims once he got out of his car.

"What is it?" Dean asked him. "Son of a bitch." John mutters. "What is it!?" I asked John and he turns to us. "I just got a call from Caleb." He said. "Is he okay?" Dean asked him. "He's fine. Jim Murphy's dead." John said and we gasp in shock at this.

"Pastor Jim? How?" Sam asked him. "His throat was slashed. He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place." John said. "A demon." I said and John nods. "The Demon?" Dean asked and John shrugs. "I don't know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close." He said.

"What do we do?" Dean asked. "Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week." John said.

"Dad that could be dozens of kids. How do we know which one's the right one?" Sam asked him. "We check 'em all, that's how. You got any better ideas?" John asked him. "No sir." Sam said. John nods at us and we turn back to our cars. But John stops, leaning on his trunk. Dean turns back as he opens his door and pauses.

"Dad?" He calls out, worried. "Yeah. It's Jim. You know, I can't...." John said then his face hardens. "This ends, now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes." He said and we get back in pur cars and pull back onto the road, speeding into the distance.

We pull up to the front of Salvation Children's Hospital then we began to pull out some fake IDs and pin it to our jacket. Sam and I were sitting in a filing room when a nurse brings us another load of files.

"Here you go, officers." She said. "Thank you." We said to her. "You're welcome." She said and she leaves as we continue copying birth certificate information into our notebooks.

After while, Sam and I walk out of the Salvation Medical Center, as Sam flips through his notebook. But then I began to clutch my head as a vision hits me. I groan as I see a baby nursery then I flash to a mother looking out the window. Then I hear a train, and see the demon.

As soon as the vision finishes, I come back to reality then look over at Sam, who groans then looks at me. Both of us have a silent conversation and Sam quickly pulls out a map.

Later, we come up to a park as Sam checks his map again. As he does, I get the same vision flash over my eyes. When it's over, I realize the house from the vision is in front of us. "Sam..." I said and he looks up at the house in shock as well. Then he pats my arm and we see a woman, the same woman from our vision, pushing a baby carriage along the road while holding an umbrella.

We began to approach her. "Hi. Here, let me hold that for you. You look like you don't need that anymore." Sam said to her as he grabs the handle of the carrier. "Oh. Thanks." The woman said as she closes her umbrella then Sam holds the carriage. And I look inside to see a baby inside of it.

"She's gorgeous. Is she yours?" I asked her as I look back at the woman. "Yeah." She said. "Oh wow, hi!" Sam said as he leans down to the baby and I give a wave to the little one.

"Oh sorry, we're rude. I'm Sam and this is my friend, (y/n). We just moved in up the block." Sam said to her and she smiles at us. "Hi. I'm Monica. This is Rosie." She said as she gestures to the baby.

"Hi Rosie." Sam and I said as we look back at the baby. "So, welcome to the neighbourhood." Monica greets. "Thanks. She's such a good baby!" I said and she laughs. "I know, I mean she...she never cries. She just stares at everybody. Sometimes she looks at you and I swear it's...it's like she's reading your mind." She said.

"What about you Monica? Have you lived here long?" Sam asked her. "My husband and I, we bought our place just before Rosie was born." Monica replied. "And how old's Rosie?" I asked her. "She's six months today." Monica replied and Sam and I share a quick and worried glance. "She's big right? Growing like a weed." Monica said and I shake my head.

"Yeah. Monica..." I said, distracted, and she looks over at us. "Yeah?" She asked me. "Just ahhh, just take care of yourself okay?" I said. "Yeah, same goes for you and Sam. We'll see you around." She said and Sam and I go back across the street.

As Monica turns to her house, a station wagon pulls into the drive, honking. "There's Daddy!" She said to Rosie just as another vision pops into my mind.

The clock in the bedroom stops, and the nursery rhyme playing stops while a wind sweeps through. A black figure approaches the bed. Monica pushes the door open from the hallway and see's the figure standing over her daughters bed. "What are you..." she started to as but the figure turns to her.

She is pulled back to the wall and slides up it to the ceiling. Blood starts dripping from her stomach. "Rosie!!" She screams and the room bursts into flame.

I groan as I place my hands on my head. Once the pain was gone, I turn to Sam and he shared the same frightened look that I had.

That evening, Sam and I were sitting at the table, rubbing our temples, while Dean and John sit on the end of each bed. "A vision." John said, flatly, to us after we explained what we experienced. "Yes. (Y/n) and I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling." Sam said, slowly and in a pained voice.

"And you two think this is going to happen to this woman both of you met because..." John said and I raise my head up and look over at him. "Because these things happen exactly the way Sam and I see them." I said. "It started out as nightmares. Then it started happening while both of them were awake." Dean said as he rises and crosses to the counter behind us to get more coffee.

"Yeah. It's like the closer we get to anything to do with the demon the stronger the visions get." Sam said as I rub my eyes. "All right. When were you going to tell me about this?" John asked us and the three of us turn to look at him.

"We didn't know what it meant." Dean replied. "All right, something like this starts happening to your brother or (y/n), you pick up the phone and you call me." John said. At this point, Dean dumps the coffee jug and cup back on the counter and strides toward John. "Call you? Are you kidding me?" Dean asked, annoyed.  Dad I called you from Lawrence all right? Sam called you when (y/n) was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery." Dean said, angrily.

I was pretty shocked that Dean was actually standing up to John, it was very surprising.

"You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry." John said, apologetically. "Look guys, visions or no visions, fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through." Sam said to them. "No, they're not. No one is, ever again." John said as Sam's phone rings.

"Hello?" He answers. "Who is this?" He asked after a moment of silence and a look of confusion. Then the color on his face drains. "Meg." He said and we turn to him. "Last time I saw you you fell out of a window." Sam said then he listens to whatever Meg was saying.

"Just your feelings? That was a seven-story drop." Sam said then he looks over at John. "My Dad. I don't know where my Dad is." Sam said as John walks overto him. Sam hestitates then hands the phone to John.

"This is John." He said and there was a few moments of silence as the boys and I watch him. "I'm here." He said. "Caleb?" John said, worriedly, and the boys and I go on alert. "You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go." John said, firmly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said after a few more moments of silence go by. Then his face turns from stern to fear. "Caleb. Caleb!" John yells, frantically, then anger washes over his face. "I'm gonna kill you, you know that?" He threatens and the boys and I exchange a worried look. John goes quiet, obviously thinking, as we stay close by his side.

"Okay." He said in an audible whisper. "I said okay, I'll bring you the colt." John said, louder and firm. "It's gonna take me about a days drive to get there." John said to Meg. "That's impossible. I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane." He said as I reach out and take both boys hands and hold onto them, tightly.

Sam holds on to mine, tightly, while Dean runs his thumb over the back of my hand. John hangs up then turns to us, a look of fear and worry over his face.

"So you think Meg is a demon?" Sam asked him as he let goes of my hand. "Either that, or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter." John said. "What do we do?" Dean asked him. "I'm going to Lincoln." John said and we look at him, shocked.

"What?" Dean and I said, shocked. "It doesn't look lilke we have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die, our friends die." John said as I, reluctantly, let go of Dean's hand. "John, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got, you can't just hand it over." I said to him.

"Who said anything about handing it over. Look, besides us and a couple of vampires, no ones really seen the gun, no one knows what it looks like." John said. "So what, you're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?" Dean asked.

"Antique store." John corrected and we look at him like he was crazy. "You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?" I asked him. "Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference." John tries to assure us.

"Yeah but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?" Dean asked him. "I just...I just need to buy a few hours, that's all." John said. "You mean for Dean, (y/n) and me. You want us to stay here, and kill this demon by ourselves?" Sam said, questionable.

"No, Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home, and I'm sure (father's name) would want (y/n) to live an actual life. I want....I want Mary alive. It's just....I just want this to be over." John said, tearfully.

Later, Sam, John and I stand at the back of John's truck, checking weapons in the muddy backroads, when the Impala comes towards us and Dean gets out. "You get it?" John asked him and Dean pulls a brown paper bag out of his pocket and hands it to John.

John then pulls out an antique gun. "You know this is a trap, don't you. That's why Meg wants you to come alone?" Dean said and John looks up at his eldest son. "I can handle her. I got a whole arsenal loaded. Holy water, Mandaic, amulets..." he said but Dean gives him a worried look.

"Dad..." he said.

"What?" asked John.

"Promise me something." Dean said.

"What's that?" John asked him.

"This thing goes south just...get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed, all right, you're no good to us dead." Dean said and John stares at him as a ghost of a smile forms on his lips. "Same goes for you." John said then there was a long pause before John speaks again.

"All right listen to me. They made the bullets special for this colt. There's only four of them left. Without them, this gun is useless. You make every shot count." John said to us as he holds up the real colt. "Yes sir." Sam said as Dean and I nod.

"Been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it's here I'm not gonna be in it. It's up to you three now. It's your fight, you finish this. You finish what I started. Understand?" John said and all three of us nod and John hands Dean the colt.

"We'll see you soon, Dad." Sam said. "I'll see you later." John said as he looks between the three of us. Then he gets in the truck and leaves.

The boys and I stand there and watch him pull away. "Later." Dean mutters and I place a hand on his shoulder then take Sam's hand in my other hand. We stand there for a moment before we get into the Impala.

[aspenmissing]

𝚂𝚊𝚕𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝙿𝚝 𝟷)

In a motel room, the walls are covered with information on the yellow-eyed demon. Weather charts, hieroglyphics, pictures, newspaper articles, written notes, a shelf of books, and more. John sits at a paper-strewn desk, the Colt in front of him. Y/N sits opposite him, Sam leans against the counter while Y/N paces.

"So, this is it. This is everything I know. Look, our whole lives we've been searching for this demon? Not a trace, just...nothing. Until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail."

"And that's when you took off," Y/N says.

"Yeah. That's right. The demon must have come out of hiding, or hibernation."

"All right, so what's this trail you found?" Sam asks.

"It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us."

"Families with infants?" Sam asks.

"Yeah. The night of the kid's six-month birthday."

"I was six months old that night?"

"Exactly six months."

"So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So, Mom's death...Jessica. It's all because of me?"

"We don't know that, Sam," Dean says.

"Oh really? Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean," John is frustrated.

"For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault."

"Right. It's not my fault but it's my problem," Sam shouts.

"No, it's not your problem it's our problem!" John sees Y/N look down and shake her head. He then stands.

"Okay. That's enough." Everyone takes a breath and calms down.

"So, why's he doing it? What does he want?"

"Look I wish I had more answers, I do. I've always been one step behind it. Look, I've never gotten there in time to save..." John looks down, unhappy. She stands up and looks at her father, sadness in her eyes.

"You couldn't have stopped it, Dad."

"All right so how do we find it...before it hits again?"

"There are signs. It took me a while to see the pattern but it's there. In the days before these fire signs crop up in an area. Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms. And then I went back and checked...and..."

"These things happened in Lawrence," John nods.

"A week before your mother died. And in Palo Alto...before Jessica. And these signs, they're starting again."

"Where?" Sam asks.

"Salvation, Iowa."

==

John's truck speeds along a misty road, followed closely by the Impala. After a few moments, he pulls off to the side, the Impala follows, and everyone springs out of their seats.

"God damn it!" John shouts.

"What is it?" Y/N asks.

"Son of a bitch."

"What is it?"

"I just got a call from Caleb."

"Is he okay?" Dean asks.

"He's fine. Jim Murphy's dead."

"Pastor Jim? How?" Sam asks.

"His throat was slashed. He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."

"A demon," John nods. "The Demon?"

"I don't know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close."

"What do we do?" Dean asks.

"Now we act like every second counts. There are two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week."

"Dad, that could be dozens of kids. How do we know which one's the right one?"

"We check 'em all, that's how. You got any better ideas?"

"No, sir," John nods at them, and they all turn back to their cars. John stops, leaning on his truck. Y/N turns back as she opens her door and pauses.

"Dad?" She asks. John seems upset.

"Yeah. It's Jim. You know, I can't..." His face hardens. "This ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes." They all get back in their cars and pull back onto the road, speeding into the distance.

==

John pulls up in front of 'Salvation Children's Hospital.' He opens the container between the seats and shuffles through the number of IDs there, selecting one and pinning it to his jacket.

==

Sam is sitting in a sitting room; a nurse brings him another load of files.

"Here you go, officer."

"Thank you," Sam says.

"You're welcome." He continues copying birth certificate information into his notebook.

==

Y/N is holding a clipboard with a list of names of children and their birthdays. She glances to her left and sees a nursery. She stops and looks at the babies, smiling softly.

"Is one of them yours?" A voice says from behind her. She turns to meet a brunette woman.

"Oh, uh, no, I'm just here on a case and I happened to walk by and uh..." The woman laughs.

"No need to lie. I know that look. It's the look of a mother. That's one there's mine," she points to a baby, wrapped up in a blue blanket.

"He's beautiful," Y/N says, smiling softly. There is a short pause. "I better get going. I need to finish my case." Y/N walks away, and the woman looks after her before turning her head to the nursery.

==

A pretty receptionist hands a file to a hospital worker, then looks down at her clipboard. She looks up again as Dean walks in and pauses, looking around. She smiles as he turns to her desk. He notes her gorgeousness and raises his eyebrows.

"Hi. Is there anything I can do for you?" The woman asks. Dean smiles.

"Oh God, yes." She smiles and looks down. Dean holds up his ID. "Only I'm uh...working right now, so..."

==

Sam comes out of Salvation Medical Centre, flipping through his notebook, then clutches his head as a vision hits him. The Yellow-Eyed Demon is in a baby’s nursery. He flashes to a mother looking out the window, he hears a train, and then sees the demon again. As soon as the vision finishes and he can focus again, he quickly pulls out a map. Later Sam is in a park, checking his map again. As he does, he gets the vision flashes again. When it's over he realizes the house from the vision is in front of him. The woman from his vision pushes a pram along the road while holding an umbrella. He approaches.

"Hi. Here, let me hold that for you. You look like you don't need that anymore."

"Oh. Thanks." She closes her umbrella while Sam holds her pram. He looks inside.

"She's gorgeous. Is she yours?"

"Yeah," Sam looks at the baby.

"Oh wow, hi!" Sam looks to the mom. "Oh sorry, I'm rude. I'm Sam. I just moved in up the block."

"Hi. I'm Monica. This is Rosie."

"Rosie? Hi, Rosie."

"So, welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thanks. She's such a good baby!"

"I know, I mean she...she never cries. She just stares at everybody. Sometimes she looks at you and I swear it's...it's like she's reading your mind."

"What about you, Monica? Have you lived here long?" Sam asks.

"My husband and I, we bought our place just before Rosie was born."

"And how old's Rosie?"

"She's six months today. She's big right? Growing like a weed." Sam seems distracted.

"Yeah. Monica..."

"Yeah?"

"Just ahhh, just take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, you too Sam. We'll see you around." As Monica turns to her house a station wagon pulls into the drive, honking "There's Daddy!" Sam's vision returns again.

==

In their motel room. Sam sits at the table, rubbing his temples. Y/N is next to him. Dean and John sit on the end of each bed.

"A vision," John says flatly.

"Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling," Sam says slowly, painfully.

"And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because..."

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them."

"It started out as nightmares. Then it started happening while he was awake," Y/N says. Dean rises and crosses the counter behind Sam to get more coffee. Sam winces.

"Yeah. It's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon, the stronger the visions get."

"All right. When were you going to tell me about this?" John asks. Sam, Dean, and Y/N stop and turn to look at John.

"We didn't know what it meant."

"All right, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me."

"Call you? Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence all right? Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

"You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

"Look guys, visions or no visions, fact it, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through," Sam says.

"No, they're not. No one is, ever again," Sam's phone rings. "Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Who is this?"

"Think really hard it will come to you."

"Meg." Dean, John, and Y/N start and turn to Sam. "Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window."

"Yeah, no thanks to you. That really hurt my feelings by the way."

"Just your feelings? That was a seven-story drop."

"Lemme speak to your dad." Sam looks at John.

"My Dad. I don't know where my dad is."

"It's time for the grown-ups to talk Sam, let me speak to him now." Sam hesitates then hands the phone to John.

"This is John."

"Howdy John. I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your kids. I'm also the one who watches Jim Murphy choke on his own blood...still here, John-boy?"

"I'm here."

"Well, that was yesterday. Today I'm in Lincoln. Visiting another old friend of yours. He wants to say hi...."

"John, whatever you do don't give..."

"Caleb?" John asks. Sam, Dean, and Y/N react to the name instantly, going on alert. "You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go.”

"We know you have the colt, John."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, okay. Well listen to this." Seconds later, John hears Caleb gasping and drowning in his own blood.

"Caleb. Caleb!"

"You hear that? That's the sound of your friend dying. Now let's try this again. We know you have the gun, John, word travels fast. So as far as we're concerned you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties."

"I'm gonna kill you, you know that?"

"Oh, John please, mind your blood pressure. So, this is the thing. We're going to keep doing what we're doing. And your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved. They'll all die unless you give us that gun." John is quiet, thinking. Y/N, Dean, and Sam are close by his side. "I'm waiting Johnny, better answer before the buzzer."

"Okay."

"Sorry? I didn't quite get that."

"I said okay, I'll bring you the colt."

"There's a warehouse in Lincoln, on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there."

"It's gonna take me about a day’s drive to get there."

"Meet me there at midnight tonight."

"That's impossible. I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane."

"Oh. Well, I guess your friends die don't they. If you do decide to make it, come alone." She hangs up.

"So, you think Meg is a demon?" Sam asks.

"Either that, or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter."

"What do we do?" Y/N asks.

"I'm going to Lincoln."

"What?" Dean questions.

"It doesn't look like we have a choice. If I don't go. If I don't go, a lot of people die, our friends die."

"Dad, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got; you can't just hand it over."

"Who said anything about handing it over. Look, besides us and a couple of vampires no one really sees the gun, no one knows what it looks like."

"So, what, you're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?" Y/N asks.

"Antique store."

"You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?"

"Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Yeah, but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?"

"I just. I just need to buy a few hours, that's all."

"You mean from Dean, Y/N, and me. You want us to stay here, and kill this demon by ourselves?"

"No, Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want Y/N to have a home and have her own family one day. I want...I want Mary alive. It's just...I just want this to be over.”

==

Sam and John stand at the back of his truck, checking weapons. The Impala comes towards them and Dean and Y/N get out.

"You get up?" John asks. Dean pulls a brown paper bag out of his pocket and hands it to John. John pulls out an antique gun.

"You know this is a trap don't you. That's why Meg wants you to come alone?"

"I can handle her. I got a whole arsenal loaded. Holy water, Mandaic, amulets..."

"Dad..." Y/N says.

"What?"

"Promise me something."

"What's that?"

"This thing goes south just...get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed, all right, you're no good to us dead."

"Same goes for you." There is a long pause. "All right listen to me. They made the bullets special for this colt. There's only four of them left. Without them, the gun is useless. You make every shot count."

"Yes, sir."

"Been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it's here I’m not gonna be in it. It's up to you three now. It's your fight, you finish this. You finish what I started. Understand?" John hands Y/N the colt.

"We'll see you soon, Dad."

"I'll see you later." John gets in the truck and leaves. The three stand watching him pull away.

"Later," Dean says.

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Chronic fatigue is fun because I had therapy and then got so tired after twenty minutes of lying down talking on the phone that I then needed to lie down in silence, and then I got hungry so I had to go down two flights of stairs, grate some cheese on my food and bring it back upstairs and I feel like I ran a marathon because my heart is beating so fast and I nearly collapsed on the ground before I made it back to my bed. And by fun I actually mean hellish

[greyeyedmonster-18]

mercy pt. 3

What would you do for someone you love? Would you lie for them? Steal? Would you kill for them?

(a story of seduction, sin, and crime in six parts)

disclaimer: i apologize for everything you are about to read and take full responsbility.

part 1 + 2 here

cw: being mean to a child; kissing

It felt like a new day had come.

Warm like the first rays of morning sun that came through the curtains of her bedroom; that first breath of air after treading in deep waters for what felt like ages. Sirius had a laugh that shook the walls of her house and shook Petunia awake from deep hibernation. Petunia hadn’t even known something was missing in her life until Sirius came along, beginning to fill in the holes, growing flowers in a garden that had been neglected.

Tuesdays and Fridays became their days, where Sirius would bring over dinner and lend Petunia a shoulder to cry on if need be. The days he put away the dishes that had gathered in the sink, entertained her nephew, reminded her to breathe because she was alive and so was Sirius. The days that got longer and longer, drifting into evenings in the sitting room, grey eyes—she had spent long enough looking into them now to catch the color-- illuminated by lamplight and starlight exclusively.

“I really like talking with you,” Sirius said one evening after the days, the weeks, the months had gone by and her nephew was in bed. There was no statute of limitation on when it was appropriate to start fancying someone else after the death of your husband, but Petunia liked to believe that six months was…just fine. Because she couldn’t stop her heartbeat from speeding up when she went to answer the door for Sirius, or the way she would lay down in bed at night and close her eyes, wishing he was there next to her. Six months later and she was pushing the boundaries of how late was too late for just conversation. Reminiscent of when she was a teenager, trying to keep her voice down in the night to not wake her parents while she talked on the phone, but now it was her nephew. But now she was an adult and supposed to be grieving and maybe the act of keeping her voice down was to prevent Vernon—wherever he may be—from hearing it at all. Pretending that Dudley was at his door listening to his mother giggle at the antics of a charming bachelor who was seemingly made for sin.

“It’s nice,” she said barely above a whisper.

Sirius laughed softly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I…hope you don’t…please don’t take this the wrong way, but…I’d really like to get a drink with you. Or…I dunno, a cup of coffee outside of your home?”

“Oh.”

“Is that foolish of me?”

“No..I…”

“Just…as friends, if you’d like. I just thought it would be nice to have a change of scenery. I do have a car I could pick you up in. An hour or two? We could walk around a museum…keep talking just not at a kitchen table.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Petunia said, “And museums…rather boring.”

“I agree, but I think they’d be exciting with you.” She giggled softly, a fingernail caught in a knot of blonde hair, “Or dinner? I know you eat dinner, and I…particularly enjoy dining with you. As much as I adore Harry—”

“God knows why. Wretched boy.”

Sirius cleared his throat, “It would be nice to be…alone with you. There are some things…best not said in front of a child,” he gave her a wink and Petunia averted her gaze, still trying to untangle the fingernail from her hair. Sirius reached forward slowly, and Petunia’s breathing hitched as his warm, tattooed hand connected with her own, gently coaxing fingers out of hair, brushing it out of her face, and tucking it safely behind her ear. If his hand seemed to linger for a moment, neither of them addressed it. What could Petunia say?

Except for one thing.

“Yes.”

“Good answer,” Sirius said, his voice kept low, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone.

“I’ll have to get a babysitter for the boy…”

“I..might know someone? Unless you have a list already.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

--

Petunia had married young, and after that, she stopped prepping for dates with Vernon. Not that Vernon offered to take her out much after Dudley was born and even less so when Harry had arrived on their doorstep without her consent. Two children, well, one child, had effectively ruined the spark their marriage had, impossible to schedule romance and candlelit dinners when someone was so much trouble and both Vernon and herself were constantly nursing headaches. Date night was a bottle of scotch and half an Ambien.

But she found herself pinning up her hair on Friday. Pressing powder into her face and blush along her cheeks. She took her wedding ring off leaving it in the jewelry box on her bathroom counter, fastening a pearl necklace around her slender neck. A matching bracelet too. Some said pearls were outdated, and Petunia disagreed. They were classic. Elegant. Refined. Perfectly normal and acceptable, and she had a hunch Sirius would agree.

She could tell he was brought up well; a gentleman with high standards for himself, despite what his rugged appearance may have initially led her to believe.

Sirius pulled out chairs and opened doors. Sirius offered to carry her groceries and covered his mouth when he was chewing. He made a few remarks on not liking a woman to show too much skin when they had gotten onto the subject of modern fashion trends that pushed modesty aside. But even so, that didn’t stop Petunia from leaving the top few buttons of her blouse undone. Just enough.

She walked down the stairs of her home, her small heels clopping on the wood loud enough to ensure Harry came out of his room.

“Your babysitter will be here soon, Harry,” she shouted, walking into the sitting room, smoothing down the wrinkles in her skirt, “Make yourself presentable!”

The door under the stairs creaked open and Harry emerged, brushing dust out of his unruly hair, pulling on his t-shirt.

“Who’s my babysitter?” asked Harry, twisting the hem of his shirt, not quite meeting Petunia’s gaze.

“I don’t know, does it matter? I’ll take all the help I can get. A few hours not having to look after you,” she spat, examining her face in the small mirror in the sitting room, pushing her blonde hair behind her ears. “You’ll be on your best behavior tonight.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia. Do I…what’s for dinner?”

“That is not my responsibility to figure out,” she told him, just as there was a knock at the door. She glanced at the clock—Sirius was right on time as usual. “Stop fidgeting and come say hello, child.”

Petunia took a deep breath and opened the door slowly, gracefully, to not show how eager she was to get out of the house. To dine across the table from Sirius who was slowly lifting her off her feet. Sirius was there, in finely pressed trousers, button-down tucked in neatly with a belt that looked like it was made of expensive leather, alongside his shoes. He had a suit jacket around his shoulders as well, Petunia catching a glimpse of the emerald green lining on the inside. Designer. Of course, it was.

“Hello, love,” Sirius greeted warmly, giving her the smile that made her knees start to wobble. But she was temporarily distracted by the other man next to him. Tall, lanky, with scars across his face that made her gasp and take a step back, “This is my friend Remus. Loves kids, teaches even. Excellent babysitter.”

“How could you possibly teach?” Petunia asked

“Ah, don’t let the scars scare you,” Sirius said, “Kids think it's fun to imagine this sweet, sweet, man is some sort of murder or criminal.” The two men stepped in, shutting the door behind him.

“Remus Lupin, I’ve heard a lot about you,” said the scar-faced man, and Petunia gingerly took his hand. It didn’t have nearly the same appeal Sirius’s hand did.

“I’m sure you have.” Petunia said, and looked down at her nephew, “This is Harry, he’s been ordered to behave himself this evening while I’m out. There will be no need to call.”

“Is there anything…I should know?” Remus asked

“What’s there to know? He’s a child. He can stay in his room all evening, he knows how to keep himself occupied. Say ‘hello’, Harry.”

“Hello, sir.” Harry said shyly, looking up at Remus, “Thanks for watching me. I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, boy,” she said, looking down her nose at her nephew, who hung his head once more. Satisfied, she turned back towards Sirius, “Let me get my purse and we can go.”

“Certainly,” Sirius said shortly, and for a moment Petunia was caught off guard by the clipped tone.

“Everything okay?”

Sirius smiled though, looking at Remus who was now squatting down low to the floor, trying to get Harry to take the tiniest steps forward and pick his head up again instead of shifting nervously, “Everything’s great. You simply took my breath away with…” he trailed off, at a loss for words and simply gestured to Petunia. “It’s just…such a yellow…skirt. Forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven,” she smiled, blush spreading across her face, walking to get her purse from the hooks by the front door.

“When should I have him in bed?” Remus asked, finally able to coax Harry over to him so he could properly shake his hand, Harry smiling a little.

“Why should I care?” she asked, heading out the door that Sirius had opened for her.

--

An expensive restaurant, judging by the prices on the menu and the valet service at the entrance. It hadn’t occurred to Petunia until that moment that Sirius would have money. But the clothes, his car, the way he confidently ordered a bottle of wine for the two of them told her that prices clearly didn’t matter.

Petunia laughed so hard she choked on her wine, the liquid burning her nose.

Her elbow landed in the olive oil for her bread more than a few times, a stain visible on her blouse.

Sirius tucked her hair behind her ears for her. Sirius told stories of his time in France, filling Petunia's head with fantasies that maybe if this was really something, she could come along.

He didn’t mind the stain on her elbow.

Or her embarrassing laugh.

Or the way she dropped her fork onto the floor from nerves several times.

You’re the most…interesting woman I’ve ever met. I hope I’m not too bold in saying that.

Just bold enough.

Your eyes in this candlelight…I’ve never seen anything so...

Sirius stumbled over his tongue around her.

Mr. Cool and Confident, falling apart when given opportunity to compliment her; appease her.

I’m sorry, I’m usually more articulate

Petunia wasn’t sorry. Not one bit. Especially not when he walked her to the door.

“I had….an evening with you, Petunia,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I’m wondering if…maybe you would be open to doing it again. I know Remus won’t mind babysitting.”

“Yes,” Petunia said eagerly, barely letting Sirius finish his sentence. For all Petunia cared, Remus could’ve been a mass murderer watching her child if it mean she could leave the confines of a house that held too many memories and step outside into the starlight with Sirius. “You can call me, on my phone, if you’d like.”

Sirius shook his head, “I prefer…in person. I can’t see you through the phone.”

Her heart soared. He was so attentive. Petunia was never the woman everyone noticed in the room, but with Sirius…she was the only woman he even looked at.

“Then…I’ll see you on Tuesday? Our usual day?”

“Our usual day,” he said and reached forward to take her hand, pressing a whisper of a kiss to the tops of her knuckles.

--

“Sirius, I think you’ve washed your mouth out enough,” Remus said, his arms folded as he watched Sirius at the sink with amusement.

“She turned her bloody head, Remus! SHE TURNED HER HEAD!” Sirius exclaimed, rubbing a towel roughly across his mouth, “It’s been almost two months of dating or whatever the hell I’m doing with her, and not once has she ever hinted at wanting a kiss, but she turned her head! My mouth was on her mouth and this was after I spent an evening listening to her babble about the different types of grains in 9-grain bread. I’m going to fucking lose it.”

“Going to? Already there aren’t you?” Remus teased.

“Fuck you."

“Please. That should cleanse your palette, shouldn’t it?”

Sirius scrubbed his lips roughly with the hand towel before tossing it in Remus’s direction, “Arse.”

“Why were your lips so close to hers in the first place?”

“I was aiming for her cheek! A cheek—”

Remus gasped and clasped his heart, “Sirius Black! You scoundrel! A cheek kiss.”

“I’m French, it’s practically a handshake and she was the one who made it….” Sirius grimaced, turning around towards the sink once more, repeating the process of washing his face and his mouth out.

“Having second thoughts?”

Sirius spat into the sink, making eye contact with Remus in the mirror, “Never.”

“Good,” Remus said, “Harry and I had a great time tonight, by the way. Thank you for asking.”

“I’m in distress right now.”

“Clearly. We’ve started reading Treasure Island together. He reads a lot, tells me it's one of the quiet activities Petunia lets him do.”

Sirius inhaled deeply, standing up straight once more, his expression darkening at the mention of Petunia’s treatment of his godson. Remus pushed off from the wall, walking into the bathroom to wrap his arms around Sirius’s waist.

“Sometimes…I think we’re bad people,” Sirius said slowly, “And then…you say something like that, and I…don’t think we’re bad at all.”

Remus kissed him on the cheek from behind, “He’ll be okay…how much longer do you think?”

“Well...she knows I’m rich and is making great use of that. Free childcare is a bonus…how long did it take you to fall in love with me?”

“About an hour.”

“Then I think we’re there. Now we…just…wait for enough time to pass so she doesn’t feel guilty for forgetting about her husband and son so quickly.”

Sirius turned his head fully, Remus taking the hint and kissing him soundly on the mouth but pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Never mind, wash your mouth again. You taste like a dusty handbag. Kissing me with that mouth you kiss Petunia Dursley with…”

“When he’s seventeen and trying to decide which one of us he loves more…I’m going to tell him all about this.”

continue to part 4

[crimsonrae]

Oh, I am excited then! May I please request a Captain Syverson or Clark Kent/Femme! Reader oneshot where it's the reader's birthday, but she doesn't tell Sy/Clark because she doesn't celebrate/forgets and they find out and do something for her? Maybe a surprise dinner or something? Thank you so much, darling!!

Hey Nonnie,

As requested a birthday fic with Mr. Kent. Fluff fic - I hope you like it.

Clark KentxReader

Falling, Flying

Happy Birthday!

You sighed wearily as you eyed the balloon decorated card from the florist. A beautifully arranged bouquet of sunflowers and chrysanthemums rested on your desk. Admittedly, the amber and wine tones were striking and brought a brightness to your office that was usually lacking, but it was also like having a bright neon sign to remind you of a day that you usually wanted to ignore.

This was the problem with having with life-long friends... they liked to torture you.

You chucked the card into your trash and moved the flowers to the window. You’d text Maria later to call her an asshole and thank her for the little gift.  

“Hey, nice flowers.”

Your butt had barely touched your desk chair. Biting back another sigh, you glanced up to see Lombard loitering in your doorway, “Thanks... Did you have that election article for me?”

“Y/N, it’s all work and no play with you.” Lombard complained loftily as he leaned against the threshold.

You shook your head, ignoring him as you logged into your computer. Your fingers clacked hard at the keyboard when he didn’t disappear nor answer your question. He stood like a creepy grotesque and it only took another minute of stunted silence before you broke.

“Lombard, what do you want?” He grinned victoriously while you threw a mocking scowl at him, “Article?”

He sauntered forward and dropped into the chair before your desk, “So, what are the flowers for? Did Smallville screw up? Apology flowers? Or an anniversary? Don’t let Lois see if it’s the second, cuzzz I don’t think it’s been quite a year since they’ve broken up.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled under your breath about reporters. Never mind that you used to work as one, editing was more in your comfort zone anyway. You and Clark had only managed to date for two weeks before the office found out.  

Bloodhounds – every single one of them.  

Including your boy.

“You should work for a gossip rag, Steve. You’d really shine there.” You stated dryly, focusing back on the screen as a few new articles showed in your inbox. It was going to be a busy day of fact-checking and proofreading.

“Oh, don’t be mean. I’m just taking a healthy interest in my colleague’s life.” A smugly amused smirk crossed his lips before a pen came flying at his face, “Hey!”

Unapologetic, you pointed at the door “Get out of my office and get your article done.”  

He moved to protest or retort, you weren’t sure, as a new voice interrupted.

“Harassing my girl again, Lombard.”

A feeling of déjà vu fell over you as you and Lombard looked to your door to see Clark leaning in the threshold. You smiled faintly at him becoming amused as Lombard actually shifted to stand. As nice as Clark was, Lombard was well aware that his arms were the size of his head. He felt it better for his ego if he never stood to close to the other reporter...or pissed him off.

And yet...

“Nice choice of flowers, Smallville. So, what did you do?” The smaller man queried jovially.

You threw another pen at him as Clark zeroed in on your present and frowned. He tilted his head curiously and came over to have a better look, allowing Lombard a direct escape if he wanted, “Those aren’t from me.”

You could practically feel a whole new level of intrigue pour from Lombard at Clark’s words. You sent the nosy reported a pointed glare and lifted a pen threateningly. He finally took the hint and left as you spun your chair to face your boyfriend.

You couldn’t stop a cheeky smile as he arched a brow at you, “Yeah...I’ve been meaning to tell you – I've been seeing other guys. You’re gonna need to step up your game, farm boy.”

Clark snorted and slanted a mockingly stern gaze at you through his glasses. You still couldn’t decide if you liked him better with or without the frames, but the meandering thought flew from your head as he nudged your legs apart with his knee and leaned into you. You spared a quick glance towards your open door before meeting him halfway for a kiss.

A soft warmth enveloped you as he nipped your lip and gently coaxed your mouth to open. He stole your breath as he delved deeper and you tasted each other thoroughly. Somehow, you always forgot how good a kisser he was.... it was almost unfair. Especially when he pulled away with that knowing glint in his eye that made you want to smack him and climb him like a tree all at once.  

He smirked, “Somehow, I’m not worried.”

“You don’t play fair.” You grumbled though an affectionate smile pulled at the edges of your lips.

“Says the woman who’s receiving flowers from someone other than her boyfriend.” Clark drawled pointedly as he leaned against your desk.

Unwillingly, you glance at your flowery neon sign. You had no desire to share the real reason for the bouquet. Your birthday had never been a particularly good day for you and the only good ones that you had celebrated had been when you were alone.  

A cup of tea and a good book to read as you let the day pass you by and ignored the fact that you were another year older... that was your perfection.

You sighed and shrugged, “They’re from Maria, so no need to be jealous.”

His brow furrowed. He had only met Maria a few times and was still trying to wrap his head around the friendship you two shared. Insults, practical jokes, and a fair bit of clothes thievery made up the majority of your relationship.

“You guys aren’t in a prank war again, are you?” Clark asked leerily.

He had been the unintended victim of a couple of your pranks the last month and you couldn’t help, but smirk at the memory.  

You shook your head, a lie spilling from your lips before you could stop it, “No. I think I need to check my closet for those new Jimmy Choo's I bought. They’re probably gone now.”

Clark rolled his eyes, “I really don’t understand you two.”

“You don’t need to.” You replied calmly but made the mental note to check your closet anyway. You never knew with Maria.  

“Y/N! Stop canoodling your boyfriend! You’ve got papers on the printer.”

A low groan left your lips as a faint heat filled your cheeks at Lombard’s voice, but you moved to get up anyway. You had no desire to have him hover in your office again.  

Clark moved to follow before a colorful glint caught his eye. A quick check showed him that you were already out of the office as he reached down to pull the florist’s card from the trash. A deep frown marred his features as he took in the festive balloons and quickly scrawled birthday wish.

Why wouldn’t you tell him it was your birthday?

He quickly nabbed Maria’s number from your phone and disappeared from your office.

  ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Your eyes had begun to sting as you stared at your computer screen. A small headache forming at the base of your neck, as you continued to work. You hadn’t been wrong when you assessed that today was going to be busy.

Five more articles had appeared on your desk before lunch and about a dozen phone calls placed and taken before and after that – notes were scribbled into margins and glaring errors corrected. So far, you had only been able to toss back a couple pieces and it was well after six already. Tiredly, you rubbed at the bridge of your nose, more than ready to go home and collapse into bed...but there was still so much you needed to do.

“Hey, you about ready to go?”  

You started at the sound of Clark’s voice, nearly sending your keyboard skittering to the floor, “Christ! I swear you need a damn bell.”

He chuckled lowly, watching as you clutched at your chest and glared mildly at him. He came to stand next to your desk, noting that you hadn’t even begun to shut down for the night while his shoulder bag was already tucked under his arm, ready to call it quits, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Grab your stuff, I’m taking you to dinner.”

A rueful smile quirked at your lips as you wave him off, “Raincheck, babe. I need to get this done or Perry’s gonna have a fit.”

He frowned glancing over the mess of papers on your desk. He hadn’t planned for you to still be working and almost wondered if you had taken on extra articles on purpose, “How much more do you have to do?”

“Don’t know. Maybe another hour – two tops.” You shrugged and smiled softly at him, “You’re free to roam the skies, Captain.

Clark raised an incredulous brow. Not because you had alluded to his alter-ego, you had known for a few months now and had slowly been coming to terms with the fact that your boyfriend was a superhero. It was a road that had not been easily traveled by any means. No, his disbelief came from now being certain that you had taken on extra articles.  

You didn’t often seek solitude, but when you did it was by diving into your work... he had learned that particular quirk relatively quickly and almost painfully. But not tonight – tonight you and he had plans and he wasn’t about to let you break them.

He reached over your shoulder and hit a couple buttons on your keyboard to send your computer into hibernation. You stared in shock at his gall, “Clark!”

He was already grabbing your coat, “Dinner, let’s go.”

Your gaze swiveled from the computer to him, your headache becoming full-blown as your expression creased into annoyance, “I told you, I have work. I’m sorry if that ruins your plans, but we’ll just -”

“You didn’t have lunch.” He cut you off and crossed his arms with a mild glare of his own, “You’ve been mainlining coffee like there’s about to be a tariff placed on it. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that all you ate today was a bagel from Guillermo’s. And I know for a fact that no one has a deadline that needs to be met today or tomorrow. Dinner. Now. Don’t think I won’t drag you out of here.”

You glare at each other in a silent standoff. It wasn’t until he stepped toward you that you gave in with a heavy scowl, “What are you? My mother?”  

“A concerned boyfriend.” He retorted as he held out your coat.

You accepted it grudgingly and grabbed your purse before stepping out of the office. Clark followed behind you, not wanting to give you a chance to close the door on him. You had done it before.  

He watched you from the corner of his cerulean eyes. Your annoyance didn’t last long, but a deep weariness seemed to fall over you as the two of you left the Planet. He slid a warm comforting hand across the small of your back to grip lightly at your hip. Relief flowing through him as you leaned into his side. You weren’t too annoyed with him, then.

You made it down an entire block before you realized you didn’t know where you were heading. Both of your apartments were in the other direction and any decent restaurant required calling for a cab to get to...

You blinked in confusion, “Clark...where?”

He smiled wondering when you would ask. Glancing around discreetly, he pulled you into an alley and firmly against his body. Your brow rose, a questioned poised on the tip of your tongue that turned into a startled scream as you suddenly found yourself in the air.

Your arms wrapped around his neck like a lock as you buried your face into his shoulder. Muffled curses and small whimpers spilled from your throat as the two of you flew. Even when he slowed, now safely away from prying eyes and telescopes, you refused to look up.  

“You can relax. I won’t drop you.” He murmured into your ear, feeling mildly guilty for scaring you. He could feel you trembling and knew it wasn’t from the cold air.

A muffled curse was his only response as you gripped tighter. You did not like this.

Luckily, you were soon on the ground again, though it took you a few minutes to remember how to unlock your frozen limbs. Your heart pounded in your chest as you swallowed against a noxious turn of your stomach. You couldn’t stop shaking...

Clark rubbed soothingly at your arms as you tried to find some semblance of control over your body. Your eyes slowly opened into a dark glare, your hand already moving to smack him in the chest. It was infuriating to know that it wouldn’t hurt him, “Don’t ever do that again, you jackass.”  

His eyes widen in a way that reminded you of a scolded puppy, but you refused to bend and stumbled back a step. You turned intending to see where exactly he had dropped you and figure out how to get home but froze at the sight you found.

Twinkle lights shimmered in the burgeoning night sky as they danced about the branches of an old willow tree. A small wooden table set for two was guarded by the fluttering leaves while being showcased by the light. It was startlingly quaint and romantic all in one.

Martha smiled as she placed a covered dish in the center of the table and waved at the two of you. You were on the farm...  

“Happy Birthday,” Clark murmured behind you.

Your mouth moved silently before you turned confused eyes on him, “...How?”

“I saw the card in your trash can. Called Maria... then I called mom.” Clark explained casually as if he were talking about the weather.

Stunned all you could do was blink, even as Martha came up to greet the two of you.  

She wrapped you in a quick hug, “Happy Birthday, dear.”

Then turned to place a kiss to her son’s cheek before shooing you towards the table, “Go, eat before it gets cold. I need to finish your cake.”

Cake. The word jolted you back to reality, “Oh Martha - you didn’t need to go through all this trouble.”

“Nonsense.” She called back, already halfway back to the house.  

Distracted, Clark slipped his hand into yours and gently tugged you towards the table. Smells of garlic and tomato and cheese wafted toward you and your mouth began to water. Sheer wonder filled you as Clark pulled your chair out for you and then moved to uncover the dish Martha had left. Steam rose into the air as he revealed a freshly baked lasagna. Salad and garlic bread next to it.

Your throat constricted as you took in the care that had gone into this... A home cook meal shouldn’t bring you to tears, but you felt the sting at the corners of your eyes.  

“Y/N?” Clark called quietly. Worried that he may have overstepped his bounds with this surprise.

Your heart felt too big for your chest as you met his gaze. It was with tremulous movements that you left your seat to place a grateful kiss to his lips, “Thank you...I didn’t...You didn’t need...”

You couldn’t find the words to express just how overwhelmed you were feeling as you fell back to your seat, but not letting go of his hand.

Clark watched you with a soft smile, “I think it's my right to spoil my girlfriend on her birthday, though it would help if I had known sooner.”  

A stray tear spilled down your cheek as you shook your head, knowing that you would have to explain your distaste for this day...but you also didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts, “I didn’t expect you to...Clark -”

He squeezed your hand as if he already knew, “Tell me later, I have more spoiling to do.”

You huffed a laugh and shyly smiled, “You know Clark Kent, you really know how to make a girl fall.”

He grinned widely, “And to think you hate flying.”

“You’re still not fully forgiven for that... but I think I’ll get over it.” You murmured, joy burning your veins as his expression turned relieved.

He pressed a kiss to your joined hands.

It was the first birthday you could say that you truly enjoyed. Over a plate of hot lasagna in the late summer night as crickets chirped and frogs sang and with a man... a man who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. That was the only present you ever needed.

  ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

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[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Eleven

Read on AO3

They had been so careful. On the supposedly most fertile days of her courses, they had, well they had done other things. She religiously took her vial of posies and fennel each day and used the protection provided from her twentieth-century life. For months now. Still, it wasn’t enough, and she knew the only one hundred percent assured prevention was abstinence. She felt the ghost of a flutter in her womb. 

 Jamie found Claire on the floor next to their bed, her cheeks stained with tracks of tears and snot crusted against the deer pelt that her face was squished into. The chamber pot full of her sickness had been shoved away from her on the wood in her dejected anger. 

“Is it true Claire?”

 “Can ye..” he swallowed thickly. “Yer wee herbs can ye-“

 “No, that’s the last thing I want Jamie! God!” Her palms rubbed into her eye sockets. “I just wish- there wasn’t so much uncertainty. I could never survive- Jamie promise me, if it ever came down to it, you would save the child, not me.”

 “Claire,“ he levelled a determined gaze at her. ”That will never happen. Ever. That I will promise ye.”

 “But it might. You made me promise, should the time come, that I’d go through the stones. Of course, I was reluctant, but I did give you that promise. I followed through on it. Now you promise me.” 

 “Aye Claire, I’ll save the bairn, but it’ll no’ come to that.”

 “I’m going to instruct you. On how to help me. No matter if it goes wrong or the delivery is perfect.”

 “Ye wouldna prefer someone else? A woman?”

 “You’re the only one that I would trust.” She smirked in anticipation of her next words. “And you’re the one who did this to me, you can see it through.” 

 “Ye seemed pretty enthusiastic, if not overly pleased the many times I did that to ye. And I seem to recall the many times ye were the one clawing at me.” 

 She laughed at the big goof and then sighed into his embrace, relieving her stress and worry into him. 

 What if the baby never even made it long enough to make its true presence known? What if Jamie did have to follow through in his presence? Would she be able to survive the birth? She’d never given birth to a live, full-term baby yet. Or, even worse, would she be a terrible mother? When her mind drifted to these thoughts, she shook her head out of the daze. Stress wasn’t good for the baby. And if she constantly worried about her child’s health, her thoughts may very well become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

 It was March, and flowers and trees were slowly crawling out of their hibernation. Claire’s pregnancy felt… off from how she carried Faith. It didn’t raise alarm for her baby’s health, but she did have her suspicions.

 “What is it Sassenach? Ye’re smiling so hard I fear yer lips will fall off.” 

 “Well, I have been a bit… bigger than usual.” 

 “Aye, yer round wi’ my bairn. And I’m no’ complaining one bit. Wi’ yer fine plump arse even bigger than usual.” He grasped a healthy amount of said body part and smirked.

 “Well, I think I’m carrying twins.” 

 “Ifrinn!” All the colour drained from his face. “Two bairns? Two bairns! Sassenach!” He gripped her in his arms as joyous laughter rumbled through his chest and her feet left the floor. More words of love in his native language rumbled out and her eyes crinkled with her smile. 

 When she was absolutely sure it was twins, Jamie’s daily ritual of one kiss to her belly each morning and night turned into two kisses on either side of her stretched skin. 

 Not only did one life depend on her at once, but now two. She was terrified. Even with constant reassurance from Jamie that the bairns kicking in her stomach were braw, a twitch of doubt seeped into her mind. 

 To ease her worry, she thought of something that could reassure her. She traced the design onto the back of a discarded pamphlet. A pinard horn. So Jamie could hear the strong heartbeats of the babies tumbling within her belly. Fergus laboured hard on the project immediately, while his ‘milord’ was off working the lands of their croft. It was expertly crafted, even with her rudimentary designs. 

 Jamie manoeuvred the hollow horn over the expanse of her belly, brow furrowed in concentration. He paused over one spot and nearly fainted. 

 “Ah Dhia!” His eyes widened in fascination. “He’s really in there!”

 “Yes, they are.” She placed her hand over his on the pinard horn and slid it across where she thought she felt the other heartbeat to be. 

 His hands were shaky now and he choked on his tears, almost painfully bursting with joy. “Two braw bairns. Wi’ wicked thumping hearts.”

 They felt more concrete to him now, actual people instead of the imaginations of what they could be. He spoke every day to them in Gàidhlig, when Claire said they should be able to hear now.

 It was bittersweet. She was carrying them for over seven months now, longer than her other children. She was constantly caught between unflagging joy and unrelenting grief. Sometimes it felt like a betrayal to be so happy. But she carried through, with her husband and son by her side, and the promise of the future tucked under her heart.

 The day after Jamie’s birthday, she started labouring. Jamie commented on the decency of his children to not eclipse his day with their own arrival. It was as difficult as any other birth, but thankfully there were no complications. Claire had gripped, clawed, and screamed at her husband. She’d scream the promise to have him castrated many, many times. While she paced around the room, Jamie tried to assure her or crack jokes to lighten the atmosphere, but every word he said she turned it against him. He was silent after that, but then Claire would call out for him as each contraction ripped through her body. He stood behind her squatting form above the straw and she dug her nails into his arms as she bore down. A beautiful squalling boy was born after nine hours of labouring. William Brian Beauchamp Fraser. While she felt distraught placing the name Brian within the middle, Jamie assured her it was to not only honour his father, but now the child that they had lost, and she warmed to the idea as well. His brother met the world soon after, almost a quarter of an hour apart, looking exactly the same as the brother who beat him out of the womb. Henry Alexander Murtagh Fraser. Beautiful healthy boys, both with tufts of the same brown downy hair and slanted Fraser cat eyes. 

 They opted to have their sons sleep in their bed that night rather than the cribs Jamie had carved, tucked in securely between their parents. Neither of them could sleep and Claire was watching the steady rise and fall of each small chest. 

 “They’re real.” She whispered, brushing her pinky across William’s cheek. His lips tugged up into a smile, just like his father’s did. 

 “Thanks to ye Claire. Ye were braw.” He squeezed her hand, their arms hovering over their sons. “But I dinna wish to ever see ye like that again.”

 “Is it wrong to feel so happy? To rejoice in my sons while-?” 

 “They’ll be happy fer their brothers. I ken it. And they’re watching o’er them as their angels now. Lord knows how much these lads will need it. These two will be trouble, I can feel it.” He affectionately patted their bums. 

 Claire finally let her exhaustion take over and curled protectively around her son as she drifted off to sleep. Jamie never slept that night, too preoccupied with the sight of his wife and the children she had blessed him with. His wife learned just how real her sons were in the middle of the night when they would scream their lungs out unceasingly until attention was paid to them. Jamie insisted she rest and recover, and leapt up at every cry to take care of it, but was instantly horrified at what he found in the cloth swaddling Willie’s bum. 

 Fergus was elated the next day to meet his new brothers. Jamie and Claire had already spoken many times about how the new babies wouldn’t change anything about how they felt for him, but they could still sense some worry. 

 “Would you like to hold your little brother Willie?” At the indication that it was true, he had a little brother, all his worries vanished.

 “Oui maman.” He was so gentle with them with so much adoration in his eyes, and it made Claire cry just to see her boys together.

 He traded for Henry next and Jamie pulled Claire into his lap. 

 It was six weeks after the birth, and Jamie and Claire were equally ravenous. Both the babies had finally fallen asleep together, being unusually generous to their parents.

 “I need my wife.” He crawled over her. 

 “You still want me? After seeing all that…?” Her confidence has waned slightly. She was still pudgy around the middle and there were new scars lining her belly. There was also the fact that he had seen her sweating, cursing, and wailing like a cow on their bedroom floor before the fire, and had taken multiple peeks down there to check her progress. It was apparent, however, that he wanted her desperately despite of and maybe even because of that fact. 

 “I could never stop wanting ye Sassenach.” He peppered kisses across her abdomen and paid special attention to the fading purple streaks on her skin. The burns on her stomach had long since faded and were barely even noticeable unless one were to look very closely, as her husband was now. She let her knees fall to the side and a moan escaped her lips when he ducked further down. 

 “Now, as much as I love yer wee noises mo nighean donn, ye’ll have to be quiet tonight.” He covered her mouth with his, silencing the cries that he brought out of her body.

 When they both had finished, laying boneless on the sheets, Jamie pulled Claire’s back close to his chest and she curled back into him. Henry began to cry, waking his brother as well and throwing them both into fits of hungry wails. Jamie silently walked over, wrapping his kilt loosely across his hips and placed a baby in each of his arms. The sight made Claire want to ravish him with a sudden ferocity, even though they had just joined together moments ago. But, her babies’ hunger won over and she placed one on each breast. Jamie watched fascinated, as he always did. The babies hungrily gulped down their meal and then slumped against their mom, tired from weeks of growing, crying, and eating. Their tiny fists laid on top of her skin and Jamie slowly adjusted himself to hold Henry. He fell asleep, Henry’s body rising and falling with each of his father’s breaths. Willie stirred again, inquisitively staring up into his mother’s eyes. Claire stroked Henry’s cheek eliciting the same smile she loved so much, and then reached for Jamie’s as well.

 “God, I love you, Jamie. So much.” Her attention shifted down to the babe on her breast. “You have such a wonderful father, don’t you Willie?” She spoke down to her captive audience. “And I love you.” She kissed his small nose, then leaned over for Henry’s “And you.” She pulled on Jamie’s bottom lip. “And God how I love you.”

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Yard update one: The Yardening

The kiddo is returning on Monday but I’m squeezing in some yard work this week. Here’s how it’s gone so far, for anyone interested.

And yes we’re already planning to get a cover for the sandpit, because of the cats. That’s something his mother can pay for though.

In the meantime I’ve weeded it and reseated the uneven bricks. This involved a lot more sand shovelling than I anticipated.

Declared war on the ivy and rescued the palets. The lower ones have collapsed completely and chosen to become one with the earth and I have respected their decision. The others seem usable though.

I think I might take the bricks out of here and plant some kind of non-building-murdering ground cover. Something chickens won’t destroy because this is right next to their enclosure and very much within their free range area.

My rescued babies. With some minor repairs I think they’re in good enough nick for a herb wall or something.

Started weeding this thing and gave up because I don’t like the rocks. When I eventually get round to it I might replace this with a little garden bed. The little man insists on walking on this thing barefoot so I giving him  soft surface is probably best anyway. I don’t need to decide yet; it’s autumn.

Also finding a LOT of snails in this place. That’s another point in the ‘get chickens’ column.

Went through and removed everything thorny or poisonous or otherwise toddler-annihilating that I could find in our little forest. Found six billion more tons of FUCKING IVY back here but I have made the executive decision not to care about it. The southeast corner can be the Official Ivy Sanctuary until I have the time, energy and willpower to deal with it.

Have the urge to put potatoes here, for some reason. Probably won’t -- it’s shady and the toddler-proofed vegetation here is doing fine without my interference. The soil in this place needs a lot of work so it makes sense to start soil improving and planting in the actual good spots and leave stuff like this as it is.

Definitely going to make use of all this leaf litter, though.

Next job is probably cleaning up this thing. I’ll have to evict the entire spider population of South Australia from the roof first, which sounds fun.

There’s a whole bunch of ivy and spiky weeds and shit in the cramped space between the cage and the fence, too, which I need to clear out before the cage can be repaired.

This little compost bin that a friend gave us is already full, and about twice its volume is sitting behind it. I’ve barely started cleaning this place up -- I’m going to have to build a properly sized compost bin. At least in 12 months we’ll have some great compost.

This is all just ivy and weeds and shit right now, I have to mix in a bunch of leaf litter and the bad apples and lemons.

This is our front garden by the way. I have no plans for it right now, other than weeding.

This single goldfish has been living in this unaerated and unfiltered pond for so long that neither the previous owners nor the owners before them know who put him in here. Apparently the plants in the pond are giving him enough food, oxygen, and cover from the many neighourhood cats who like to drink here. The previous owners say they went on holidays for a while and the weather was unexpectedly hot, and when they got back the pond was almost completely dry, but he was hibernating in the mud at the bottom and when they filled it he got right back up. He’s well coloured, has no obvious injuries or rashes that I can see, swims well and spends enough time deep in the pond that I’m convinced he has sufficient oxygen. I’m starting to think he’s one of those mythical immortal Chinese fish that grants wishes.

I want to get him some proper fish accommodation, or at least clean the water, but I’m a bit scared that the shock of change might do what nature clearly cannot, and kill him.

We also have this bar. I have nothing to say about it, except that we’re a bunch of unsocial nerds with absolutely no use for it. Those red windows open out so that drinks can be served to the large volume of guests outside during the raucous parties that we never have. I might put a kettle down here so I don’t have to go upstairs to make tea when I’m watching the kiddo in the backyard. Open to ideas for this. Or the garden. Or anything. I’ve got a lot of space here and six full months before spring.

[malereader-inserts]

broken crown | xv

“Well,  Acta deos numquam mortalia fallunt,” you looked at your boyfriend, “Mortal actions never deceive the gods, you’ve always done good things in your life - they won’t leave your side.”

“Hmh,” Harry responded, “You’re so wise.”

“Shut up.”

Word count: 1,961

< Previous |

a/n: thanks for reading this series!

Harry knew where to find you, it was somewhere in one out of the six cursed chambers made by Merlin to test you if you were worthy of his powers. He saw in one of the chambers a portrait of Merlin abandon, looks like he was angry to be left behind. What Harry not expected to see what a man sitting in another cursed chamber, wearing a crown cracked. 

“Harry-” You murmured as Harry was taken aback at your voice, impressed that you were able to tell that it was in entering rather anyone else.

“Why are you all alone?” Harry asked, sliding in to sit next to you. 

“Thinking, that’s all,” You hummed, “I figured out why Dumbledore gave me the compass.”

“Right...?”

“Lead me towards a Merlin portrait, who told me to break in the compass, now you’ll think me mad-”

“(Y/n), I was a kid when I found out magic was real, at this point I’m sure this won’t phase me.”

You chuckle, “This crown I am wearing? King Arthur’s, he foolishly wore the crown when he rode into his last battle because pride got the best of him - rather than his friendship with Merlin. Just shrunk down by Merlin to keep away in a compass.”

“He loved Arthur.”

“He still does,” You responded, you shrugged, wincing in pain, “God, I’m tired.”

“You can’t heal yourself, sweetheart?” Harry asked as you shook your head, “Well, I don’t expect you too, I heard from witnesses you almost blew the school in half - an energy ball someone said.”

You scoffed, smiling to yourself, “That wasn’t much really, it could have been worst and there would be more casualties. What took me out was figuring out that Merlin’s obscure spells were controlling blood, so I got a kick out of that though it makes me sound murderous.”

“You can say that again.”

You two stare at each other in silence before laughing.

“And there was a lot of protective shields going about,” You shrugged, your eyes threatening to close, “I said to myself fuck it if I can not bend the will of Heaven, I shall move Hell, but now upon inspection is a really shit way in life.”

“You got to let out that steam, you know?” Harry leans his head against your shoulder.

“Congrats on winning the war and bring peace to the world.”

“Thanks,” Harry spoke timidly, “I never thought I would achieve it.”

You kissed his hair, “There are moments in all our lives, where we are compelled to ask ourselves ‘how far are we willing to go for what we want?’ ‘how much are we willing to risk to sacrifice to endure?’ because it’s one thing to yearn for something, but quite another to find the strength to achieve it. You have a lot of strength and you’ve accepted your flaws as a wizard.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Harry asked, his tone of voice pitching higher looking at you bewildered, as you rolled your eyes and nudging his shoulder.

“Oh come on, Harry, once you’ve accepted your flaws, no one can use them against you. It’s a truth many people want to avoid - after all, most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it.”

There was silence between the two of you, the atmosphere was different - there was no rush to get back into fighting, the war is over and you could hibernate. 

“Honestly, I thank god.” 

“Didn’t see you as a religious person, Harry.”

“I’m not, but still, I’d like to think God was on my side tonight.”

“Well,  Acta deos numquam mortalia fallunt,” you looked at your boyfriend, “Mortal actions never deceive the gods, you’ve always done good things in your life - they won’t leave your side.”

“Hmh,” Harry responded, “You’re so wise.”

“Shut up.”

Harry chuckled, “So, what you’re gonna do afterwards? Now, this over and done with?”

“Travel... Merlin had a long rant about mystical things and try to be so mysterious whilst blatantly telling me to travel and teach the ancient magic wielders of the new modern types because they are stuck on ancient magic that they’re struggling to fend for themselves till the second coming of Merlin.”

“What about your dad? Me?” Harry asked, “I mean, if you need to go  alone then I’ll wait for you, but I can come along.”

You smiled at him, “I wish, but believe it has to be an alone mission. Don’t worry, I won’t go right away.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Harry said, somewhat happily, “How long will you be gone? Weeks? Months?”

“Could be years, Harry, who knows.”

There was silence between the two of you, your broken crown slowly repairing itself, almost as if you had finally came terms to yourself - that you hold power to help people, you finally start to see your responsibility as your own. You’re no longer thinking you and Merlin’s protegee are two different people. You are one and the same.

“I’m bleeding.”

“You decided to tell me that now?!”

Harry hoist you up, as you lean against him, groaning in pain as you have an arm over his shoulders as he leads you to the great hall. 

“Question...”

“Please not be a stupid one.”

“So, you’ll become a hermit then?”

“No.”

“But-”

“Don’t even-”

You got healed fairly quickly, a nurse who was loitering outside the great hall had happily healed you before she went back to tend the injured. Most of your joints were achy and you felt a little slow. But stretching didn’t hurt as much as it did before. Harry stood next to you as you looked at the inside of the Great Hall. 

What used to be warm and grand, all fall to a cold ruined interior. You breathed out as Harry tugs you towards the family. When you had snapped out your trance as you see your dad hurling himself towards you. 

“Ack!”

You felt his arms wrapped around you, as you caught him, wrapping your arms around him. There was a slight squeeze before release as your father holds you by the upper arms, inspecting you.

“Hello,” You replied nonchalantly as Remus looked mildly inconvenient.

“How can you be so calm?” Harry asked you as you shrugged, not breaking eye contact with your dad.

“I’m so relieved that you’re alive,” Remus breathes out, “You disappeared-”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“-and I thought you were dead, you could have told someone that you needed time alone, and not scare your poor old man like that.”

“Again, I’m sorry about that,” You give him a tight-lipped smile, “How’s Dora? Sirius?”

Remus moves to the side to see Sirius and Dora waiting patiently when Sirius catches you looking at him. you see him beam, eyes looking for a hug. You chuckled as you and your dad goes sit down with Sirius and Tonks whilst Harry leave you be, to talk to Hermione and Ron before promptly joining Sirius.

Oh, did you talk a lot, you talked about how you were going to travel the world and your plans for the future. Your father expressed his concerns and worries that you would be off-grid for a while and there might be no way for you to communicate.

For a really long time, you felt safe and at home. 

This was starting a new beginning for you. A new chapter in your life.

5 years have passed.

Teddy is now five years old and is a talkative child, sometimes, when he sees pictures of you when you were little, he would morph to look like you sometimes enticing a heart attack from your father. The world is at peace, and Hogwarts was back to it’s greatest.

Of course, when everyone volunteered to help redo the castle. You did the most help, even adding more luxuries that McGonagall had scowled at you for, but also that she was annoyed that she couldn’t get rid of the little details due to a high arch of magic.

Harry gets letters from you, pictures sometimes or postcards. Rare times, he would get a gift, even just a box of chocolate from where you were currently located at the time. He gets excited to see your owl fly to his window, he gets excited to think you’ll be returning. 

Ron and Hermione got engaged, your two best friends know you would have found out whilst you were travelling, after all, one evening at the Burrow. Harry had mentioned that you found out - causing the two to wonder how you found out that everyone started to think you were like Dumbledore who knows all. 

You don’t.

You ran into Charlie when you were in Romania and he told you, but it’s a secret between the pair of you. 

Your dad gets trinkets, things you think he’ll like. Books and types of chocolate. Sometimes you would gift the house with new home decoration. You’re 23 years old now. Five years can change the appearance. 

So, on one of the nights that everyone had a family get together at the Burrow. They had not expected to see you with a staff and you waving about. Your bag on your shoulder, and a ring that vaguely looks like the crown you wore back when the war had finished. 

“Is that (Y/n)?” Ginny asked, looking in the distant. 

Everyone in the garden party stopped to look over where you were, you were nearing. Remus, Harry, Sirius, Tonks, your two best friends had a grin on their face. You haven’t changed that much other than the fact that you sported white silvery hair and tattoos. 

“(Y/n)!” Teddy exclaimed as they hear your laughter. 

Your younger brother wiggling out of Sirius’ hold and making a run-up to you. You let go of your staff, which stood straight, as you picked up your little brother.

“Hello, Teddy.”

“Daddy tells a lot of stories about you, you know?” Teddy says, turning his hair like yours, you grin at him.

“Oh, well shall we join them? We can stay by my side if you want.”

“Really? Uncle Harry says that you’re really cool, so can I?”

“Sure, bud.”

As you joined the family again, overwhelmed that the Weasleys were expanding as you found out there are new additions in babies. You congratulate Ron and Hermione’s engagement, they don’t ask how you found out. Even found out that Draco’s family has made amends with the Weasleys, Sirius and Tonks that they are now part of the family. 

Harry noticed the ring on your hand, it was definitely the one you use to wear on your head. However, it was no longer broken. It was shining, newly polished. You looked at him with a glint of knowing, kissing him felt good again.

“Will you going away soon?” Ginny asked as you shake your head.

“Not for a while. I’m staying.”

Remus made a noise of happiness as he engulfs both of his sons. As you got around, catching up with everyone. Getting teased by the twins, having a conversation with Percy, and a good catch up with Charlie since you last saw him a year ago.

“So, the staff?” Harry asked, you finally found time alone, “Really turning into Merlin there, love.”

You give him a smirk, “I think it suits me!”

“You look like a prat.”

“Then I shall be a prat.”

Harry laughs loudly, kissing your forehead, “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

The broken crown was fixed again. It will never be broken for the longest time, you’ll always have the world’s best interest, you’ll step up when chaos arises. Sure, you’re still young. But, wizards and witches live a long time, and you seem to have all-time in the world.

Tagged

@carefulthatsharassment-sir​​ @lanlanlan020202​ @hanniejji​ @dumbssbtch​ @lea-the-foxe​ @stan-joonies​ @littertortilla @purpleshusbandd​ @svnfiwer

[magalidragon]

4 or 10 please!!!

Okay so I was going to do #10 in the when the sun sets in the east universe and I still will BUT then I got hit with feels and did #4 “hey I’m here now” in my silent shadow universe which hasn’t been posted yet. It’s angsty and sad but hopeful too. Don’t hate me! 🙈 (For those that didn’t see it, the moodboard and teaser for this fic is on my tumblr somewhere. Jon is deaf and has a wolf sanctuary, Dany is the veternarian)

#10. “Hey, I’m here now” — set in the as of now unpublished silent shadow universe

The world was closing in on him.

It was a constant sensation in his life, one he had grown used to since he was six-years old. Since that terrible day when he'd been playing with Robb, like nothing was wrong, and then he woke up in a hospital, with tubes and wires, his head exploding in pain, and...silence. Just nothing, nothing but vibrations when it was loud enough, nothing but humming when the frequency was just right.

He spent twenty years in his world, a world he'd created for himself, and part of that world entailed Ghost. Ghost was his counterpart, his equal, his shadow, and his heart and his soul. His entire world was courtesy of Ghost. Ghost let him know when someone was there, he saved him from stepping off the sidewalk without hearing the car coming around the corner...he was his ears, his eyes, and his entire life. Without Ghost he didn't know where he'd be.

Arya tried to get him to calm down, but it was no use. He dug his fingers into his scalp, tearing at his curls, yanking them free from the messy bun on the back of his head, and whimpered, like how he imagined his wolf felt. No, not imagine, he knew. His cousin held his wrists, her lips moving, gray eyes just like his wide and focused on him, and his brain processed what she was saying, but he didn't hear it. They were just words.

She let go of his hands, signing furiously, like he didn't know what she was already saying. It didn't matter. “Where is she!?" he shouted, knowing in his heightened state what he said was probably unintelligible. He caught sight of the huge Suburban rolling up and raced towards it, panicked, not even waiting for the tires to squeal to a stop before he threw open the door and grabbed her hand, yanking her out of the cab.

Silver hair flew around her face, her cheeks flushed, and she was dressed haphazardly. Arya had called her about thirty minutes ago. It took almost that long just to get from the front gate to the location in the depths of the sanctuary. He'd be impressed with her speed, if it weren't such dire circumstances. She was speaking to Arya, running with him, her bag slamming against her hip. He felt the pounding of his heart in his ears, the rush of his blood. Each foot on the ground anchored him to the present, the vibrations moving from his soles into his actual soul.

They broke through the trees, to the clearing, where his heart lay on the ground, white fur damp and stained red. They always said that his eyes were bloody, but no one really knew, he supposed, what the real color of blood happened to be. It was crimson, so dark it was almost black, pumping from the gashes and wounds in his side. Ghost's eyes were red like rubies, like the glow of a sunset, not the hideous hue of the liquid leaving his body as fast as his body could generate it.

His beautiful red eyes were closed, breathing labored, fighting with all the strength left in hi.m Jon didn't know what he would do if he lost him. He knelt to his companion's side, looking over at Daenerys as she began to work, pulling on gloves and instantly triaging. A finger darted out, guiding his chin up and he stared at her, watching her lips form the words clearly while her hand moved in unison.

"Hey, I'm here now."

He nodded quickly, knowing that if anything would save his wolf, it would be her. He didn't sign his response; he didn't need to, just mouthed the words, not a whisper from him. "Thank you."

In their language, the strange mix of sign, lip-reading, and gentle touches they'd perfected over the months together, he helped her stabilize him, get him onto the stretcher Arya and Gendry brought out, and into the back of the Suburban. He felt the vibrations from the siren in his head, wondering if it was even legal for her to have one when she wasn't a police officer, but he didn't care. He'd deal with it if they were stopped. it was Winterfell, everyone knew everyone. They understood what this meant.

At the hospital he fell back, while she and her assistants ran in to work on him. Arya came up to him, tried to get him to come wash his hands, change out of his bloody shirt, but he didn't move. He replayed it all in his head, how they had even gotten to this point. The tracks in the snow, the worry he felt as one of his beloved wolves had already been injured-- Lady was a gentle creature, she was too used to humans and other creatures, no doubt she thought the animal was friendly.

A fully grown male grizzly bear early awakening from hibernation, hungry and still exhausted, confused, a single wolf would not be able to survive against it, but Lady had gotten away with a gash on her muzzle, her beautiful white and gray fur marred forever with the scars she would have. He went out with Ghost, to track the animal, to try to find it and figure its location, intent on calling the game wardens and having them come to relocate the animal somewhere else. Not in his sanctuary, for instance.

And Ghost saved him.

"She's a good doctor, Jon. He'll be fine."

He signed the words, too tired to speak them. "He saved me."

Arya clutched him, her tears wet on his cheek. She tapped the words into his hand, signing them even when he wasn't looking, but he knew. "He did what he was meant to do."

Ghost saved him from a bear, but he saved him from despair and loneliness, and he gave him a voice when he had none to give.

He did what he could, pushing it from his mind, and hours passed. Hours where he wondered if his heart would stop beating, if his breath would just suddenly cease, and he would die with his wolf. What am I going to do? he wondered.

"Jon."

The light touch on his shoulder jerked his head up, seeing her sign his name, her lips forming the words, and he knew. He lunged for her, tears hot on his cheeks, wracking sobs escaping his body, shaking him to his core. She clutched him, burying her face into his neck, kissing the pulse there. He pushed by her and ran into the room, and almost collapsed atop the white form lying on the bed, stark white bandages around his body, a tube helping him breathe, but the line on the computer monitor beside him beeping.

Jon might not have been able to hear it, but he knew what those lines meant, and he verified them with his ear pressed to Ghost's chest, the steady thud lulling him into a trance.

Thud-thum. Thud-thum. Thud-thum.

He turned his face from his wolf's soft fur, kissing at his muzzle and crying, Dany behind him holding his shoulders steady as his body, exhausted and overwhelmed, just gave out, relieved. He didn't know how long he knelt there, or when someone moved him, but soon he was in his house with Dany, both of them frantic, adrenaline and need raging through them.

They tore at each other's clothes, falling into each other, consumed with desperation to just feel alive. He knew the psychology of it, the reasons why when faced with death and chaos and possible loss, the human mind and body finally synced up with the single focus of wanting to fuck, to take and give to another person's body and mind, to remind itself there is still life, there is still feeling and love and passion, even when faced with ones own mortality. We aren't dead yet, was all it repeated.

He collapsed beside her, his face buried in her chest, inhaling the slightly floral scent from her shampoo, the lavender of her body lotion, and the sweat and lingering antiseptic and coppery blood from the surgery room. His fingers sought hers, clenching, embracing over her heart.

Jon might not be able to hear her voice-- one of the only things in his life he truly missed, truly wished he could go back in time and tell the little boy not to climb that tree, not to go dancing along the edge of the castle wall, and not to slip and fall trying to beat Robb in a race. He could not hear her voice, but he could feel it, in the beating of her heart, in the steady thrum of her pulse, and the way her lips moved at his ear, the breath tickling. Her fingers sought out his, clenched tight, and she moved her hand in front of them, heads resting together on the same pillow.

“I’m here now”

He smiled, a rare sight only she got to see. He touched her lips, as she formed the words again, reassuring him, and he understood. He mouthed the words back: "I know." He then slipped his hand between them, covering her heart, and moved his fingers into the sign, the one she knew, that everyone in the world seemed to know, but for him was the hardest one of all. The only one he never used, in some ways never felt he would ever have need to use, but when Daenerys came into his life, it was the only one he felt he truly understood.

I love you.

[ldaoec]

I loved you

I fought for us like white knuckles on a roller coaster ride Unbuckled and unrestrained-- The ride, I mean No safety gear keeping us safe And I just let us happen Kind of like you stand back And watch storm clouds gather Watch lightening strike the same place Once Twice Going on thirty times But that doesn’t make it any less fascinating Train wreck, perfect storm, natural disaster All happening inside your head

Inside your heart Inside your soul A supersonic earthquake going through your body Burning you up like fuel So that you can’t win. It was a score It did become a game of sorts A game of survival Of faith Trying to get to the finish line first I loved you like white knuckles on a rollercoaster ride And scraped knees on a bicycle. I loved you like a first car wreck First hello First love I loved you like the 11th hour Like the final drought finally breaking And bringing rain I loved you like the giving tree One leave Two leave All the leaves And then winter I loved you like sleeping pill phone calls, When your voice was my favorite song I loved you like sad stories make better men And I didn’t know you were that smart I loved you like little things I started noticing Small little not-rights Like flickering stop lights in traffic I loved you like calm after the tsunami, gentle waves And can you please forgive that overreaction? I loved you like— Stop Slow And nothing I love you like the power going off Like A.I turning on, and How may I help you, today? I loved you like back pedaling on a broken bike And slippery rocks to get to the truth And Blinking lights Frustration Message flashing in neon lights and  Street after street after street I loved you like better luck next time Like I’m not feeling myself and Should have’s Maybe have’s Maybe if I loved differently here I loved you like the first seconds of sunrise The sun starts peeking over the horizon and Hope? Is that hope, already? At this time? And something quiet stirring in my chest A doe waking up from hibernation A deep breath of clean air A second genesis, and-- Stop short Free fall I loved you like nothing I loved you like still nothing I loved you like dead in a ditch, wouldn’t I know? who would have told me? I loved you like I’ll call her I’ll see if she knows where you are And then, “Hey. My phones been elsewhere. Like ‘I ended u going with her for the weekend. It’s been interesting, to say the least.” I loved you like stop. I loved you like recalibrating I loved you like not-dead Just my heart sputtering, shutting down, a kind of sick feelings and wrong I loved you like want to cry Don’t want to cry I loved you like zeroing on on anger like missiles finding a heat signature I loved you like I can play this game better than you If you don’t care I won’t care even less I loved you like I was born in a pilots seat With my finger on the trigger Like a vulture Been waiting for this kill short for ages I loved you like over prepared Bug out bag packed and ready I loved you like an old fashioned arcade game Flashing lights Wrong answer Wrong answer Wrong answer Wrong answer I loved you like nightcaps of arsenic and whiskey Like the vertigo of a tornado Like wet socks Tight chests Push pins all over the floor And screw this bullshit I loved you like done when you are Ready to jump before the plane crash lands Like I packed my life raft in my carry on Got flares and rations And I am not afraid I loved you like days Twelve days of nothing. Twelve days of silence and then This week has felt weird, not talking to you Like a bulldozer plowing through the brick wall I’d been carefully building Surprise I’m back The arcade powering up and then I loved you like round two A careful score card read between Lifelines growing and depleting with every volley of text messages I loved you like 300-word response, backspace, twenty word reply I loved you like the stop-go of a nervous driver Like this isn’t going to work Like slap in the face after punch to the stomach And “Goodbye.” Six months later, I loved you like the slow, flickering power on from an ancient computer The dial up tone And then White screen Blinking curser ‘Would you like to play a game?’ I loved you like nostalgic seasons with rewrites Like a speeding up bicycles And scraped knees and palms from flying off I loved you like the first time I’ve cried in months, Tight hugs And He doesn’t want me back I loved compassionately I loved like the abuse of compassion, and ruthless retaliation I loved like world war three I loved like bombs and mortar shells blowing up around me And trying to sleep through the night I loved like shit I knew that line sounded family And ‘I didn’t include that line as a point of conversation’ I loved like stop and go, again Go Stop It’s right Not Like wait Did you just— Hold on, a second I loved you like landmines I loved you like twisting stomach, Anger waltzing with sadness Foxtrotting with nostalgia Doing the Lindy Hop with confusion I loved like, “Buddy, you haven’t seen angry poetry, yet” I loved like, did you know I cried on my birthday? Did you know I spent more time sobbing than watching dinosaur movies? Did you care? I loved like, you didn’t care Not enough Not like the war submarines I’d sent to the front lines The offers of peace turned to handshake grenades Like explode in your face And I’ll show you what anger looks like on a woman I loved you like hate Or something very close to it Exploding in my chest In my room Filling me like panic line Do not overfill I loved you like wanting something I can’t have Like conviction that I am doing the right thing I loved you like walking out, and wishing it wasn’t the right choice. I walked away like Andersen’s little mermaid Feet bleeding from the pain of it I loved you like a leap of faith Panicked free fall And a sudden impact of disappointment As you weren’t what I knew you could be I loved you like mistakes happen When we’re young Or when we trust I loved you like screaming myself hoarse in the bathroom, Banging on the glass between us why can’t he hear me I love you like celebrating the moments you got mad Because at least you were reacting I loved you like did you text me two days before my birthday Just to be apathetic And hurt And hurt And hurt me All over again? I love you like snide remarks you are in no position to say to me Like freedom tastes a lot like magic And did you know this? Do you think you’ll ever experience it? I loved you like long story, written out Some of the piece missing Like I kind of know what happened But the subtitles are a little off So I’m not quite sure who the villains were And if the heroes won Or if Maybe Some of those characters deserved a better ending I loved like the ending of a foreign movies I have no idea what the hell just happened I loved like I really missed out on the Taylor Swift, first time around I loved you like why didn’t he care? What did he want? What could I have done better Different To get a better ending? I loved you like disappointment being the spice of growing up Getting older Getting smarter And making the hard choice To Once again Yank out the poison thorn that you stuck in me, Get myself to a hospital Sew up my wounds because you threw a grenade through the key hole And tore me apart. Getting older is not always easy And losing you was not always as hard As it should have been But on nights like these I’m still quite convinced You lost nothing when you chose her And I lost everything I loved you like realizing That you never loved me, at all.

Kiwi Foster © 5/29/19

[drkoestersmithrpg]

White

“White.  So white.  I’ve never seen anyone that shines so white.”

 Tony only trusted her because everyone trusted her, including Fury.  Well… that’s not entirely true.  Nat trusted her, and while Tony Stark never thought he would give a second glance to anyone claiming to “see auras,” still Nat’s word carried a lot with him.

 Round and soft and cheery and freckled and grey, she didn’t seem like a witch (although supposedly she had been lean and ravenhaired and darkeyed in her day.  Or so she claimed.  But then she got older “and wiser” and gave it all up as too much effort.)  In any case her ability to see into the future was invaluable in bringing in that last souped-up badguy with the ridiculous name, and so Tony had invited her to the New Year’s Eve party along with the rest of the team.  And if he sidled up to her at said party and tried to subtly get some relationship advice out of her, well, no one had to know.

 And if that entire party was just an excuse to get Peter in his arms on New Year’s Eve? Well, no one needed to know that either.

 And there was the boy now, standing by a window surrounded by the best scientific minds at the Avengers compound, laughing and joking and looking entirely edible.  That crystal glass wasn’t even holding alcohol… even though the kid was well within drinking age.  But when Tony finally got the witch to realize who he was trying to describe (he couldn’t exactly describe him as “the most delectable piece over by the window”) she said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear.

 “Oh, oh.  So white, Tony.  I’ve never seen anyone that shines so white.  It’s like clouds… like flowers… like stars…”

…but then she only got distracted describing the gentleman on Peter’s left who was responsible for adapting some nanotechnology but was apparently having marital troubles.  It wasn’t easy, keeping the witch on topic.  But Tony poured her another glass of Champaign and did his level best.

“And what does it mean… a white aura… exactly?”

“White means pure and virgin, and peace.  Red auras are usually determination and passion… that’s you darling.  That’s you through and through.  The pink is friendship and unconditional love.   The green aura is often the peacemaker, or else someone at harmony with themselves, but more often that not one who can help others harmonize with each other.  Not the purple aura, of course that is one who is far too independent…”

And that was it for the rest of the evening.

He didn’t make his move. Even though he had been planning his move since the moment he realized the boy wanted him to make it.  Even though he had been planning this entire party ever since that moment.  Even though the point of the party was to have Peter there on New Years Eve when the countdown came.  Even though Peter Parker cornered him when the countdown started.  Even though at midnight he suddenly had an armful of Peter and a New Year’s Kiss right on the corner of his mouth.  Even though Peter had held himself there for a moment, just waiting for Tony to move his head a fraction of an inch and close the distance.  Tony could feel the boy waiting.

Could feel the boy’s disappointment when it never came.

He didn’t make his move. Even though Peter must have laid awake all night in the guest-room waiting for him.  Peter had been invited to stay the night on the premise that, after the party, he wouldn’t be safe to drive.  Peter hadn’t had a drop to drink that night, but played along with the premise.

But he played along alone.

Tony wasn’t going to make a move.

How could he, when the witch had laid it out for him so plainly?

Peter was white. Peter was pure.  Peter was virginal.  Peter was unsullied.  

How could Tony possibly be responsible for corrupting that?

 * * *

  And so Tony resigned to live in misery.  Resigned to never accept that beautiful gift that Peter was making it clear that he was willing to give – a gift that Tony was entirely unworthy to receive.

For years he lived with that misery (okay he was being a drama-queen.  It was six months.)

By day Ironman and Spider-Man still worked together with perfect precision, taking down badguys with a witty quip or clever badinage or  a droll rejoinder, until villain and minion alike raised a flag in surrender.  At night they worked side-by-side or back-to-back in the lab, finishing each other’s thoughts with eerie precision and perfecting technology at lightning speed. Late-night lab sessions often ended with Peter sleeping in the ‘guest room’ rather than webslinging his way home in the early hours of the day.  

Tony still steadfastly called it the ‘guest room’ even though it was very quickly becoming ‘Peter’s room.’  Steadfastly called it the ‘guest room’ even though Peter once joked that more of his clothes were there than in his dorm.  Tony steadfastly referred to it as the “guest room” for the same reason he steadfastly refused to visit the “guest room” no matter how many times Peter slept there.  No matter how many Avengers joked that they were practically living together… no matter how many suspected that they were already a couple.  Tony was steadfast.  Because Peter was too pure for him.  The witch had said so.

He even asked her… once… when she was brought in to consult on a terrorist-cell case that they were considering infiltrating.  She guessed his name wrong twice, then asked him delicately why he wasn’t with “that beautiful boy” she had met at the party.  “I thought that was your night… he certainly thought it was.”

“Did you see us together? See our auras?”  Tony asked cautiously, daring, for a moment, to hope.

“That lovely, angelic-white aura?  Oh yes sir.  Well, I saw many futures for him, so very very many.  He has such a storied future, that boy.  But I saw the two of you together… just for a fleeting moment I caught a glimpse…”

“And it changed, didn’t it,” Tony said, his voice dropping.  His head dropping.  His hopes dropping.  Why did he bother to ask?  He already knew the answer.  Had reminded himself of it night after night after lonely night.

“Oh yes, certainly. You’re very red, Mr. Stark. Very red.  Painfully red.  I knew it the instant I saw it… when I saw you together… together you had become so pink…”

* * *

 In times of weakness, Tony reminded himself of that conversation.  Of a witch who, when she looked at Peter in a roomful of people, saw a white aura so blinding that it took her breath away.  Virgin.  Pure. Unsullied.  And if Tony came anywhere near it he would taint it, like blood on white silk.  

He tried to avoid the boy, he honestly did.  But crime refused to acknowledge Tony’s resolution, and criminals kept throwing them together in the most ridiculous situations.  Alien sex pollen made things so awkward as to be almost unbearable.    Pretending that Peter was his sex-slave when they went undercover to get info on the Mob Boss?  Tony Stark suddenly had the patience of a monk.  When they traveled to Sokovia to investigate the arms deal?  There might only be one bed, but Tony had plenty of floor to sleep on. And when his head injury left Peter with amnesia?  Well the less said about that the better.

Whenever Tony even considered giving into temptation, not for his own sake but for Peter’s (the boy who was making his desires crystal-clear) Tony remembered.  The witch’s words.  White.  Pure.  Tony could only sully him.  Like blood on white silk.

 * * *

Peter graduated early, because of course he did, and Tony gladly accepted the boy’s invitation to his combo-graduation-party-dash-housewarming-soiree in his brand new small apartment that he had rented across the street from Stark Tower.  Was he surprised, when he arrived with chardonnay and a dozen roses, to find he was the only one invited?  Maybe he was. Or maybe he realized it was too late.

Too late to tell the boy “no” when he melted into Peter’s kiss.  When he gave in to those powerful arms and let Peter mold their bodies together. When he obediently let Peter lead him to the couch and sat, pushing the cream cushions aside so Peter could climb into his lap.

“But you have to tell me the truth,” he whispered between kisses.  Whispered as best he could.  “I know you’re a virgin…”  He didn’t whisper how he knew.  How he had been on the phone with a certain woman with a crystal ball the day before he bought the white roses…

“Um, sorry?” Peter said, pulling up, blinking.  Then he grinned. “Tony… no.  Nope.  You missed that boat a while ago.  Sorry.”

He giggled a little at Tony’s expression, then kissed the slack mouth with a chuckle that was low in his throat.  “Dude… you worry way too much.”

Underneath Peter’s gentle hands, Tony couldn’t deny that it was true.  His worries melted like snow under Peter’s warmth.  Under Peter’s knowing kiss.  They moved together in each other’s arms just as confidently as they fought in the clouds, Tony moving underneath Peter in sure, knowing strokes.  Peter peeled off his shirt and pressed his pale skin to Tony’s mouth, moaning his name.  Holding each other close they moved like moonlight on the water, breathing sighs as soft as feathers as they came in each other’s arms.

And that freezing fear? That chilling panic that always came when the sex was over, that always made Tony cover himself up and pretend to hibernate, all to avoid looking his partner in the face?  That fear melted just like snow in white sunlight.   Tony opened his eyes and looked up into Peter’s eyes, shining like stars.

“I should have known you would make it easy,” Tony breathed.  He wasn’t sure if his words made any sense, but Peter seemed to understand.  He stroked Tony’s cheek and smiled a knowing smile.

“I told you, you worry too much.”

“Agreed,” Tony chuckled drunkenly (even though that hadn’t touched the chardonnay) and nuzzled his nose into Peter’s hair.  Honey curls tickled his nose, and he was oddly reminded of dandelion fluff, the kind he used to blow away as a child when he made a wish.  He blew now.  He wished now.

“I love you Tony Stark,” Peter whispered, holding him close.  “I wanted to tell you at Christmas.  I wanted to tell you New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh I know, angel,” he said, and when he felt Peter relax in his arms he had no doubt.  

“I’ve always known it,” he murmured as he moved them off the sofa and down to the floor.  “I’ve always known,” he whispered, laying Peter’s back to the floor and licking up the milky-white droplets still clinging to Peter’s stomach.  “Mio angelo, il mio paradiso. I’ve always known.”  He pressed a kiss to the pale skin in the center of Peter’s chest.  What he was thinking should have alarmed him then, but it seemed so simple now.  An hour ago he had been reminding himself of the words of the silver-haired woman, now all he could think about were young men and diamond rings.  

“I love you Peter Parker,” he whispered.  It came so easily…

…and only then did he realize.  Only then did he understand.

“Pure, and virginal.” the witch had told him that night.  “White means pure, and virgin…

                                                  “…and peace.”

 * * *

 “Why are you calling me you ridiculous man?” she scolded when Peter was snug in bed in Tony’s bed, even as the white light of dawn lit up the penthouse.  “Listen to your lover.  You worry too much.”

“So you know,” Tony said, even as he struggled to explain why he had dialed her number in the first place.  She was supposed to be advising the Avengers on criminal activity, not relationship advice.

“I’m going to burn white sage over every inch of your domicile.  I’m going to strap a quartz crystal to your forehead,” she groused.  “I’m going to stop toasting to WORLD-peace and start toasting to Tony-peace.”

“But you told me, that night, you told me that when you saw us together you saw stained-white…”

“No, I told you I saw pink.  Who in heaven’s name thinks of pink as stained-white?  You’re absurd.”

“But you… you never told me what pink meant.”

“Oh for gods’ sake man… pink means friendship.”  She spoke more patiently, as if explaining it to a child.  “That’s why I thought you were so lovely together, that’s why I always thought it.  Because you had been friends for so long…”

“But you said something else that night, I just didn’t remember…”

“…I said several things that night silly man.  I told you I had seen so many futures for him, and one of them was with you.  And that was rose-colored loveliness, if that’s what you wanted to know.  

“And rose is friendship. Friendship.  And unconditional love.”

[spn-safeandsound]

15. Meg Complicates Things

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x21; Salvation

Word Count: 7,605

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, demons, John Winchester

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy! Please reblog and like!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

Julia,

When you were born, I remember taking one look at you and knowing that our family was complete. You weren't an expected child but you weren't an unwelcome one, either. Your mother and I knew that you would be a blessing, just like each of your siblings. And we were right. Our lives would not have been the same without you.

You're special, kiddo.

You were young when your mom got her diagnosis but you still knew that something was wrong. You were scared but you still put a smile on your face for Naomi whenever you saw her. You were strong for her. You've always been so strong and I always thought that you got that from me but I know it's not. You got that from Naomi. All of you kids got her strength. You and your siblings have been there for each other through thick and thin, even when I wasn't there. Never let that go, Julia. You will always need your family.

I'm sorry that I left but I have something important to do. John knows that and he's accepted that I have done all I can to help him with the demon. This important task is big—bigger than just me—so I don't know if I will see you again for a while. It could be months but it could also be years.

I just want you to know that I'm proud of you, Jujube. I always have been and I always will be. I know your mother would be very happy to see the woman you have become. I know I am.

I love you, kiddo.

Lucas Alexander

Julia wiped the tears from her eyes and set the letter down on her lap. Her dad was gone again and she didn't know whether to be sad or angry. The sad part of her was winning, though. Luke was saying goodbye in the letter and even though he had never been good with words, she felt the love he had for her and her family. Even with that love, though, she didn't want to say goodbye. She had just lost Levi, she didn't want to lose her dad, too.

When she had woken up that morning, John was the first person she saw. He had pulled her aside to break the news that Luke had left for an important hunt and apologized before giving her the letter Luke wrote for her. At first, she was in shock but now she was confused.

What could her dad possibly be doing? What was oh-so important task that needed to be done? Why would it take so long?

Julia didn't just feel sad for herself, either. At least she got to see him. Abby and Beth hadn't and that was going to destroy them. Abby was the closest to their father but Beth had always been a daddy's girl, too. Julia only hoped that Luke sent them letters or called them to tell them what was going on. Otherwise, the three of them were pretty much left in the dark.

Julia grabbed her phone from the nightstand and opened it, sending Beth a text message.

Jules: Did Dad send you a letter?

It didn't take long for her oldest sister to reply.

Beth: Yeah. He sent one to Abs, too. Call me when you have the time

Julia sent a confirmation back and sighed in relief, glad that Luke had made contact with her sisters, too.

"So, this is it," John told Sam and Dean as the two of them looked over the various research that he had gathered on the demon that killed Mary and Jess; Julia snapped her phone shut and slid off the bed she was sharing with Sam, heading over to the table where the Winchester boys were huddled. "This is everything I know. Look, our whole lives we've been searching for this demon, right? Not a trace, just nothing...Until about a year ago. For the first time, Luke picked up a trail and called me."

"And that's when you took off," Dean finished, crossing his arms over his chest.

John nodded. "Yeah, that's right," he confirmed. "The demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation."

"What's the trail?" Julia asked, her eyes shifting from the information on the wall to John.

"It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California," John explained. "Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us."

"Families with infants?" Sam wondered.

"Yeah," John nodded. "The night of the kid's six-month birthday."

Sam stiffened, looking at his father in shock. "I was six months old that night?"

"Exactly six months."

"So, basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me?" when John avoided his eyes, Sam scoffed. "So, Mom's death...Jessica. It's all because of me?"

"We don't know that, Sam," Dean stated.

"Oh, really?" Sam huffed. "Because I'd say we're pretty damn sure."

Dean gave him a frustrated look. "For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault."

"Right," Sam raised his voice. "It's not my fault but it's my problem!"

"No, it's not your problem, it's our problem!"

Julia sighed and walked over so she stood between the brothers, gently grabbing their arms. "That's enough," she said calmly. "Come on, settle down."

And, like magic, Sam and Dean took deep breaths and calmed down. Julia looked at them in surprise as they turned to John to focus back on the demon. Either they weren't really upset or she had forcefully calmed them down and she had no idea how she did it.

"So, why is he doing it?" Sam asked John. "What does he want?"

John's curious gaze went from Julia to Sam. "Look, I wish I had more answers, I do. Luke and I were always one step behind it," he sighed sadly. "We never got there in time to save..."

Everyone shifted uncomfortably as he trailed off, knowing exactly what he wasn't saying.

"All right, so, how do we find it before it hits again?" Dean spoke up, looking to John for answers.

"There's signs," John told him. "It took us a while to see the pattern but it's there in the days before these fires. Signs crop up in the area; cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms..."

"Demonic omens," Julia muttered thoughtfully, wrinkling her nose.

John nodded at her. "And then I went back and checked and..."

"These things happened in Lawrence," Dean realized.

"A week before your mother died," John confirmed before looking at Sam sadly. "And in Palo Alto, before Jessica."

Julia pursed her lips together, her eyes stinging, and grabbed Sam's hand. She squeezed it tightly, knowing that if she was having trouble, he was two times worse. He bowed his head, holding onto her tightly and drawing comfort from her.

"And these signs, they're starting again."

Sam looked up. "Where?"

"Salvation, Iowa."

-

It was a ten-hour drive from Manning, Colorado to Salvation, a little town an hour outside of Des Moines, Iowa. Sam and Dean took turns driving through boring Nebraska, taking their time off to sleep, while Julia switched between taking naps, reading, or talking to whoever was driving so they wouldn't fall asleep.

She was able to talk to Beth and Abby, both of whom were equally upset about the letters that they received from Luke. Julia was even informed that Taylor, Lizzie, and Maggie got their own letters, which somehow made Luke leaving all the more official. Beth was really torn up about her letter and Julia could tell that Abby was, too, but she wasn't one to share her emotional distress. Abigail Petersen was the closest you could get to a female Dean; always staying strong for others in their time of need while hurting on the inside.

After a long drive, they had just entered Salvation's town limits when John pulled his truck over to the side of the road. Dean followed his lead and all three of them got out of the car to see what was going on.

"God damn it!" John angrily slammed his hand against the bed of his truck. "Son of a bitch!"

Dean gave his dad a concerned look. "What is it?"

"I just got a call from Caleb."

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine," John confirmed for Dean. "Jim Murphy's dead."

Julia exhaled sharply at the news. "Pastor Jim?" her voice wavered. "How?"

Pastor Jim had been an uncle-figure to her and her siblings just like John was. He was a faithful man like her family and had trained in the hunting life with her dad, though he was a couple years older. Before he retired and went to preaching full time, the Petersen family used to see him every year around summertime.

He was also important to the Winchesters for the same reason. Sam and Dean had spent more time combined with Pastor Jim and Bobby Singer than their dad growing up. Sam had always told her that he liked staying at Pastor Jim's house because he'd make good spaghetti.

"His throat was slashed. He bled out," John sighed. "Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."

"A demon," Sam stated flatly. "The demon?"

"I don't know," John shook his head. "Could be he just got careless and he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close."

"What do you wanna do?"

"Now we act like every second counts," John declared. "There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up and cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week."

"Dad, that could be dozens of kids," Sam pointed out. "How do we know which one is the right one?"

"We check them all, that's how," John said sternly. "You got any better ideas?"

Sam quickly shook his head. "No, sir."

John nodded and silently dismissed them; Julia paused as she turned back to the Impala, sensing his energy. He was angry and upset, a little guilty. Even if the man acted like a cold drill sergeant most of the time, it didn't mean that he didn't have feelings like everyone else.

"Uncle John, are you okay?" she asked tentatively.

Dean and Sam looked back at Julia before their eyes slid over to their father as they waited for him to answer her.

"Yeah," John's tone was exhausted; it was clear that he just wanted this all to be over with. "It's Jim, you know? I can't..." he paused for a second, his determination strengthening. "This ends, now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes."

-

They split up just like John said they would. John went to the women and children's hospital while Dean went to Salvation Memorial, and Julia and Sam went to the medical center.

Julia and Sam acted as police officers, asking the receptionist on the pediatric floor for all the records of the babies that would have turned six months old that day. It took a while for them to gather all the information but, in the end, there were only ten records they had to jot down.

It was when they were leaving the medical center that they had trouble. Julia was in the middle of reciting some of the records for Sam when he stopped in his tracks. He winced painfully and held the bridge of his nose, like he usually did when he was having one of his visions.

"Sam, are you all right?" Julia anxiously asked him, stashing the notebook under her arm so she could steady him. "Sam?"

"Yeah...yeah, I'm just..." he paused, grunting as another wave hit him. His energy was twisting just like the last time he had a vision and it worried her. "I'm getting something..."

He winced, unable to speak again while the rest of his vision passed. Julia just made sure that she was staying calm and steadied him, making soothing noises as he continued to see whatever was coming to him.

"A train," he whispered once his vision was finished.

"A train?" Julia stood on her tiptoes to put the back of her hand against his forehead to check for a fever; he felt normal. "Tell me what you saw, S."

"I saw and woman and her baby," Sam breathed, pulling his backpack around his body so he could pull a map of Salvation out of one of the pockets. "I kept hearing a train and the—the demon was there."

"Okay," Julia nodded, pulling the notebook out from underneath her arm. "Give me a location of the train. Maybe something will match."

Sam nodded and pointed at the map, his finger trailing the marked train tracks. "All right, there's a Violet Avenue."

Julia went through the list of names they wrote down, wrinkling her nose in concentration. "There's one on here," she told him. "Rosie Holden, born to Monica and Charlie Holden."

"Let's go."

The Holden household was only two blocks from the medical center. They had to cross through a park that was strangely full of kids for a rainy day but the neighborhood the new parents lived in was nice. If this had been another life, Julia could see herself living on a street like this.

Luckily, just as they crossed onto Violet Avenue, Sam pointed out a woman only a few years older than them, pushing a baby stroller on the sidewalk and holding an umbrella over her head. He whispered to Julia that it was the woman he saw in his vision.

"Hi," Sam greeted the woman when they approached her just as she was attempting to close her umbrella and keep a hold of her baby's stroller. "Here, let me hold that for you. You look like you don't need that anymore."

"Oh," the woman smiled kindly as Sam made sure the stroller kept still. "Thanks."

Julia grinned and looked under the hood of the stroller, taking a peek at the baby. She was the cutest little girl—but most babies were cute, it was just science—with long eyelashes and big brown eyes. "Wow, she's beautiful," she complimented the woman. "Look at those eyelashes. Is she yours?"

"Yeah," the woman nodded proudly.

"Oh, wow, hi," Sam cooed to the baby. "Sorry, we're being rude. I'm Sam and this is Julia. We just moved in up the block."

"Oh, hey, I'm Monica," Monica perked up in realization and introduced herself before looking down at her baby. "This is Rosie."

"Rosie," Sam confirmed while Julia smiled, glad that they found the woman that Sam had a vision of. "Hi, Rosie."

The baby just stared at him, quietly picked at the blanket that covered her.

"So, welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thank you," Julia silently awed as Rosie blinked up at her and Sam. "She such a good baby."

"I know," Monica nodded. "I mean, she never cries. She just stares at everybody. Sometimes she looks at you and I swear, it's—it's like she's reading your mind."

That made Julia pause but her smile didn't falter. If the demon was coming for Rosie and Monica tonight, just like it did for Sam and Mary, did that mean Rosie was like Sam? Did she have mental abilities like him already? Or was that why the demon was coming in the first place?

"What about you, Monica?" Sam wondered politely. "Have you lived here long?"

"My husband and I, we bought our place just before Rosie was born," Monica informed them, pointing to the house they had all stopped in front of.

"And how old is Rosie?"

They already knew how old the baby was from her records but they needed to make sure that they were the family the demon was coming after.

"She's six months today," Monica looked down at the stroller fondly. "She's big, right? Growing like a weed."

"Yeah," Sam laughed sadly, looking down at Rosie; Julia grabbed his free hand, squeezing it tightly. "Monica..."

"Yeah?"

"Just, uh, just take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, you too," Monica smiled gratefully. "We'll see you both around."

Julia nodded and waved as she started walking again, up her driveway where an SUV had just pulled in. A man Monica's age got out of the vehicle and greeted his girls with fond kisses that brought a sad smile to Julia's face. They had to make sure the demon didn't ruin this family. They just had to.

-

"A vision," John's voice was flat as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

After speaking with Monica, Rosie's mother, Julia called Dean while Sam freaked out. He and John were already done with their recon missions and had rented a motel room for their use. She had explained to the oldest Winchester brother what had happened to Sam. Sam had then pried the phone from her hand to tell Dean that they needed to tell John what exactly was going on.

Telling John about Sam's visions didn't exactly go well.

"Yes," Sam answered, pressing his fingers against his pounding head. "I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

"And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because...?"

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them."

"It started out as nightmares," Dean stepped in, moving from his spot on the bed next to John and making his way over to the table where Julia and Sam were seated. "Then it started happening while he was awake."

"Yeah," Sam breathed, agreeing with his brother. "It's like—I dunno—it's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon, the stronger the visions get."

John bristled and set his annoyed gaze on his sons. "All right, when were you going to tell me about this?"

"We didn't know what it meant," Dean offered tensely.

"Something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me," John glared at him.

Julia shook her head in disapproval; there had been zero times that John had picked up the phone, despite each of them calling many, many times over the last nine months. He had practically abandoned his sons and now he was getting onto Dean for not getting a hold of him? It was his fault that Dean—or Sam, for that matter—didn't inform him about what was going on.

Dean scoffed. "Call you? Are you kidding me?" he asked in disbelief. "Dad, I called you from Lawrence, all right? I called you when Julia was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the fucking lottery."

Julia was surprised by Dean's words but proud, nevertheless. Dean had always followed orders and never argued with his dad; he had always taken John's crap without protest. It was nice to see him breaking out of his daddy's-little-soldier persona and coming into his own person.

Not to mention that she had a thing for angry Dean. He was gorgeous, what could she say?

John was silent for a few seconds before he answered. "You're right," he admitted; Dean relaxed, having tensed when he realized what he had told his father. "Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours—"

Of course, Julia mentally scoffed.

"—you're right. I'm sorry."

"Look guys, visions or no visions, the fact is that we know the demon is coming tonight," Sam spoke up. "And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through."

"No, they're not," John declared firmly. "No one is, ever again."

Sam's phone rang at that moment; he flipped it open and looked at the caller ID—which declared it was an unknown number—and answered the call, putting it on speakerphone.

"Hello?"

"Sam?" a woman spoke.

"Who is this?"

"Think real hard, it will come to you."

Sam's face hardened. "Meg."

Julia stiffened at the mention of the woman who had killed her brother. She had heard from Dean that she fell out of the building when Sam trashed the altar she was using to control the Daeva. If she was still alive—because Julia doubted that she'd just survive a seven-story drop like that—it meant that Meg was probably possessing the poor girl's dead body.

Dean took the place behind Julia, putting his large hands on her shoulders comfortingly. Absentmindedly, forgetting that John nor Sam knew about them, she reached up and held the hand on her left shoulder.

"Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window," Sam said, his voice low and tense.

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Meg said sourly. "That really hurt my feelings, by the way."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Just your feelings? That was a seven-story drop."

"Let me speak to your dad."

Sam nervously looked over at John, who was slowly making his way over to the table where the rest of them were gathered. "My dad?" he faked confusion. "I don't know where my dad is."

Meg clicked her tongue. "It's time for the grown-ups to talk, Sam. Let me speak to him now."

John held out his hand to Sam and the youngest Winchester reluctantly handed the phone over.

"This is John."

"Howdy, John," Meg chirped. "I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood."

Julia inhaled sharply, squeezing Dean's hand at the mention of Pastor Jim. Dean returned the gesture and rubbed her palm with his thumb.

"Still there, John-boy?"

"I'm here," John confirmed shakily.

"Well, that was yesterday," Meg boasted. "Today, I'm in Lincoln, Ohio, visiting another old friend of yours. He wants to say hi."

A man spoke now, his voice shaky and frantic. "John, whatever you do, don't give—"

Meg shushed him, cutting him off.

"Caleb?" John stiffened; Julia and Sam exchanged concerned looks while Dean tightened his grip on her. "You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go."

"We know you have the Colt, John."

John paused for a second. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, okay," Meg scoffed. "Well, listen to this—"

They could all hear the quick slash of a knife and then there was choked gasping. They assumed the worst; Meg had just slashed Caleb's throat and there was nothing they could do to save him.

"Caleb?" John called, paling considerably, his eyes sparkling with tears.

"You hear that?" Meg taunted him. "That's the sound of your friend dying...Now, let's try this again. We know you have the gun, John. Word travels fast. So, as far as we're concerned, you just declared war—and this is what war looks like. It has causalities."

John angrily clenched his jaw. "I'm gonna kill you, you know that?"

"Oh, John, please. Mind your blood pressure," Meg scolded him mockingly. "So, this is the thing. We're going to keep doing what we're doing. And your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you've ever loved? They'll all die unless you give us that gun. Next on the list is Luke Alexander, so I'd think hard."

Julia gasped softly at the mention of her father. She had no idea where he was and now demons were going to be on his ass unless John gave them the Colt. While Dean clenched her hand tightly, John gave her an assuring look. She relaxed as much as she could; John wouldn't let her dad get killed.

"I'm waiting, Johnny. You better answer before the buzzer."

"Okay," John agreed quietly.

"Sorry? I didn't quite get that."

"I said okay," his voice hardened, a murderous glint in his brown eyes. "I'll bring you the Colt."

"There's a warehouse in Lincoln on the corner of Wabash and Lake," Meg informed him. "You're gonna meet me there."

"It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there."

"Meet me there at midnight tonight."

"That's impossible," John scoffed. "I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on a plane."

"Oh," Meg clicked her tongue. "Well, I guess your friends die, don't they? If you do decide to make it, come alone."

She ended the call, then. John flipped the phone shut and tossed it back to Sam. Julia sighed and let of Dean's hand, though he still hovered behind her worriedly.

"I'm just gonna say it," she spoke up, her eyes nervously flickering over John. "I think Meg's a demon."

"Really?" Sam gave her a surprised look.

John agreed with her. "Either that or she's possessed by one—"

Julia mentally disagreed. Every demon had to possess a body. Otherwise they wouldn't be anything other than a cloud of black smoke. She certainly wasn't going to correct John, though; she was way smarter than that.

"—it doesn't really matter."

"So, what do we do?" Dean wondered.

A determined expression fell over John's face. "I'm going to Lincoln."

"What?" Sam, Dean, and Julia spoke in unison.

"It doesn't look like we have a choice," John stated firmly. "If I don't go, a lot of people die. Luke will die and so many of our other friends."

"Dad, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family," Sam reminded him, a conflicted look on his face. "That gun is all we have. You can't just hand it over."

"Who said anything about handing it over?" Dean, Julia, and Sam gave John confused looks. "Look, besides us, Luke, and a couple of vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like."

"So what, you're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"An antique store," John corrected him.

"You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?"

"Look," John sighed. "as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"But for how long?" Julia spoke up. "What happens when she does figure it out?"

"I just—" John paused before continuing. "I just need to buy a few hours, that's all."

Sam gave him a knowing look. "You mean for us," he stated. "You want us to stay here and kill this demon by ourselves?"

"No, Sam, I want to stop losing the people we love," John declared. "I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home. I want...I want Mary alive. It's just—I just want this to be over."

-

Julia tightened her grip on her rosary, blessing the jug of water for John. He had confessed that Luke was usually the one that made holy water, so she had volunteered to bless the water for his trip to Lincoln. She had also written the blessing down for him, so he could make more for himself if he needed it.

Sam and John stood in front of the mechanical weapon stash, making sure everything was prepped and waiting to go. They were talking about something but it was too quiet and she was too concentrated to eavesdrop on their conversation. The three of them were waiting for Dean to come back from an antique store from the next town over with a gun that resembled the Colt.

She finished blessing the water, finishing her prayer, and brought the jug back over to John. He gave her a thankful smile and wordlessly put it in the stash after filling up his flask.

"Sam, do you mind if I speak to Julia alone?"

Shit, Julia panicked to herself, did I do something wrong?

Sam simply nodded; John led Julia around a hundred feet away from his youngest son so he couldn't overhear what they were going to talk about.

"Did I do something wrong?" she blurted out nervously.

John had always made her nervous. She didn't know why, though; he had never been rude to her or did anything to hurt her. In fact, he was nicer to her than he was his sons, but she chalked that up to the fact that she wasn't a Winchester and he didn't have to father her like he did Sam and Dean.

"No, of course not," John shook his head. "I just wanted to tell you that you can back out of this, if you want to. This isn't your fight."

Julia's mind raced. She wasn't going to walk away from Sam and Dean; they were her best friend and lover, respectively, and she loved them to death. They had been part of her family since before she was even born. You can't walk away from family and she wanted to help the Winchester finish what that demon started twenty-two years before when it killed Mary.

And, this was a little selfish, but she wanted Meg to die, too. She could hardly stomach the fact that Meg was still around but Levi wasn't. Abby and Beth weren't there so they couldn't do anything about it, but Julia was. She owed it to herself, her family, and—most importantly—Levi to make sure that Meg was sent straight back to Hell.

"I'm not walking away," she told John firmly. "You guys are my family, too, and Meg killed my brother. This isn't something that I can just ignore while leaving you guys in danger. If I can help, then I will. I'm not leaving."

John sighed and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "You're a good person, Julia," he smiled softly; Julia turned away, embarrassed. "And you're good for my boys. Especially Dean..."

Julia quickly looked back at him, shocked. "How do you—how do you...?"

"How do I know that you and Dean are together?" John supplied when she trailed off. "It's hard to miss it. You two are like magnets or something. Either way, it's good. You guys have always been close. Do you love him?"

"I don't—I don't know," Julia stammered, flushing. "I'm certainly heading that way, though."

"Be patient with him," he advised.

"I will," she promised him and then joked, "This is one of the things I can be patient about."

John shook his head with a small grin. "Just make sure to look after my boys, all right?"

"Of course."

"Let's get back over to Sam. I'm sure Dean will be back any minute now."

John was right; only a minute after they rejoined Sam, Dean showed up. He parked the Impala only a few feet away from the truck and got out, carrying a wrinkled paper bag that was conformed into an outline of a gun.

"Did you get it?" John asked him.

Dean gave him the bag without a word; John pulled the gun out. It was nearly identical to the Colt but it was easy to tell the difference since they knew what the actual Colt looked like.

"You know this is a trap, don't you?" Dean told him. "That's why Meg wants you to come alone."

"I can handle her," John assured him. "I got a whole arsenal loaded; holy water, Mandaic, amulets—"

"Dad."

"What?"

"Promise me something."

"What's that?" John blinked at him.

"If this thing goes South, just...get the hell out," Dean shoved his hands into his jacket, voice shaking slightly. "Don't get yourself killed, all right? You're no good to us dead."

Julia grabbed Sam's hand and they both squeezed each other tightly. If things went wrong, and Meg found out that the gun wasn't the Colt, this might be the last time they see John. It was nerve-wracking and John wasn't even her dad; she couldn't imagine how Sam and Dean felt.

"Same goes for you," John turned so he could see Sam, Dean, and Julia all at once and pulled the Colt from his jacket. "All right, listen to me. They made the bullets special for this Colt. There's only four of them left. Without them, this gun is useless. You make every shot count."

"Yes, sir," Julia and Sam spoke in unison while Dean nodded.

"I've been waiting a long time for this fight," John sighed. "Now it's here and I'm not gonna be in it. It's up to you three now. It's your fight, you finish this. You finish what I started. Understand?"

Sam, Dean, and Julia all nodded at once; John handed the Colt over to Dean, who took it without a word.

"We'll see you soon, Dad," Sam promised his father, trying to stay optimistic.

"Be careful," Julia added, glancing at Dean worriedly. He hadn't spoken much since he got back and she could tell that he was having a hard time with what was going on. He had already lost his mother to this demon and now he may lose his father, too.

John nodded at them. "I'll see you later."

He clapped Sam on the shoulder and gave Dean a serious but fond look before closing the back of his truck and getting in. The truck rumbled as he drove away, mud squelching each time the tires rotated.

Julia sighed sadly and reaching over with her free hand, taking Dean's. She held onto her boys as the truck disappeared down the road, leaving them to finish the fight by themselves.

-

It was past nine o'clock and they were still watching Monica Holden's house, waiting for the demon to show up. Throughout the three hours they had been parked on the other side of the street, they tossed around ideas that could work in getting the young family out of their house. So far, they had come up with nothing.

Halfway through their stakeout, Julia was antsy and—admittedly—a little bored. Ignoring Dean's protests, she had climbed into the front seat and settled herself in the middle of Sam and Dean. It wasn't anymore exciting in the front but this way, she was able to carry on conversation better than when she had to lean forward to get a hint of what the brothers spoke about.

"Maybe we could tell them that there's a gas leak," Sam suggested after a silent five minutes. "It might get them out of the house for a few hours."

Dean scoffed and looked over Julia's head at him. "Yeah and how many times has that actually worked for us?"

"And we already spoke to Monica outside of her house," Julia added. "It'll be suspicious if we randomly show up at night to tell her to get out of her house."

"Yeah, you're right," he gave in and paused for a few seconds. "We could always tell them the truth."

Julia turned to Sam this time, an eyebrow raised; it amused Sam to see Dean pulling the same face at him.

"Nah," the three of them chorused.

"I know, I know," Sam sighed. "I just—with what's coming for these folks..."

"Sam, we only got one move and you know it, all right?" Dean stated. "We gotta wait for that demon to show itself and then we get to it before it gets them."

Sam nodded in agreement and looked back at the Holden's house.

"I wonder how Dad's doing."

"I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up," Dean muttered.

"I'd feel a lot better if he was here, backing us up."

The three of them continued watching the house for another half-hour when Sam spoke up again. "This is weird."

Julia gave him a curious look. "What?"

"After all these years, we're finally here," Sam told her and Dean. "It doesn't seem real."

"We just gotta keep our heads and do our job like always," Dean advised his little brother.

"Yeah, but this isn't like always."

Dean cocked his head and agreed. "True."

"...Dean, Julia," Sam said hesitantly. "Uh, I just wanna thank you guys."

Julia's eyes darted back to her best friend. "For what?"

"For everything. You've always had my back, you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone, I could always count on you guys. And, uh, I don't know...I just wanted to let you know. Just in case."

Julia's eyes stung and she bowed her head. She was grateful for what Sam said but they weren't needed. She didn't love Sam because it felt like she owed him or that she had to be by his side all these years. She loved Sam because he was her brother and best friend rolled into one. She looked after him for the same reason as Dean—even though she was two-and-a-half years younger than him.

And she didn't like the way he was talking. It was like he didn't expect to make it out of the fight and was already saying his goodbyes.

"Woah, woah, woah," Dean objected, looking at his brother in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"Don't say just in case something happens to you," Dean shook his head firmly, irritated. "I don't wanna hear that fucking speech, man. Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody. Except that demon—that evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?"

Sam reluctantly nodded; satisfied, Dean turned to Julia.

"Julia?"

"I know, Dean," she whispered, wiping her wet eyes.

An hour later, Dean started calling John. He called three times, each time getting John's voicemail.

Frustrated, Dean harshly closed his phone. "Dad's not answering."

"Meg might be late," Julia offered, trying to stay positive. "Maybe he doesn't have cell reception."

"Yeah, well—"

Out of nowhere, cutting Dean off, the radio started making noise. It was staticky, like they weren't tuned into the nearest radio tower. Julia reached in front of her, turning the knob so the volume was higher.

Around them, the wind started blowing harder, jostling some of the thinner trees. The lights in the Holden's house flickered on and off. The staticky radio, the wind, the flickering lights...they were all omens.

"It's coming," Sam breathed in realization.

The scrambled out of the Impala at once, drawing their guns—and in Sam's case, the Colt—and entering the house after Julia picked the lock. It was quiet on the first level but suddenly, there was chaos.

A man—Julia assumed it was Charlie Holden—popped up out of nowhere and swung a bat at Dean. Dean quickly ducked, missing the blow, but a lamp was trashed in the process.

"Get out of my house!" Charlie roared at them; Dean quickly grabbed the man and pressed him against the wall, hardly effected by his struggles.

"Please, Mr. Holden, please," Julia pleaded. "Please be quiet."

Charlie continued to struggle but Dean locked him up. "Be quiet and listen to me. Be quiet and listen," Dean said sharply. "We're trying to help you."

"Charlie, is everything okay down there?" they heard Monica call from upstairs.

"Monica, get the baby!".

"No, don't go into the nursery!" Sam shouted at the same time as Charlie called, "You stay away from her!"

He was struggling against Dean's grip again but the oldest Winchester had no more patience. He backhanded Charlie so hard that he fell unconscious, slumping to the ground. Dean quickly picked him up, heaving him over his shoulder.

"You guys go," he told Julia and Sam. "Get Monica and Rosie."

Julia and Sam took off, up the stairs. It was easy to find Rosie's nursery, considering that Monica was crying and screaming desperately for help. When they entered the room, she was pinned against the top half of the wall by the door and there was a dark figure with yellow eyes standing next to Rosie's crib.

"ROSIE!"

Sam quickly held up the Colt and aimed it at the demon. He pulled the trigger but it disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. Monica fell to the floor now that the demon was gone.

"Where the hell did it go?" Sam asked frantically.

Monica didn't care; all she could focus on was Rosie.

"My baby!" she exclaimed, lunging forward; Sam quickly caught her, helping her stand up. "My baby!"

"Get her out of here," Julia told Sam, hurrying over to Rosie's crib. "I got her."

"Rosie!"

Sam tried to pull Monica out of the room but she was fighting him. "My baby!"

"Julia's got her."

Julia quickly picked up Rosie, including her warm blanket, and flinched away as the crib shot up in flames. Making sure that she held Rosie properly, she raced out of the nursery and down the stairs, following Sam and Monica out of the house.

"You get away from my family!" Charlie shouted at Julia and Sam as he was held back by Dean.

"No, Charlie, don't. They saved us," Monica cried, turning to take Rosie out of Julia's arms; she wordlessly passed the baby, giving Monica a sad smile. "They saved us."

Dean let go of Charlie and he immediately went to Monica and Rosie, wrapping his arms around them.

"Thank you," Monica looked at Julia, Sam, and Dean gratefully.

Julia nodded and smiled softly. She was so glad that the Holdens were safe from whatever the demon had wanted to do to them. It was nice to see the love that the three of them shared. She envied that.

"It's still in there!" Sam shouted, his gaze locked on the nursery window where the same figure they had seen earlier was standing.

Dean immediately grabbed Sam before he could run back into the house; Julia joined him in holding the youngest Winchester, who was fighting hysterically.

"Sam, Sam, no," Dean grunted.

"Let me go! It's still in there!"

"No!" Dean raised his voice. "It's burning to the ground. It's suicide."

"I don't care!"

"Well, we do," Julia helped Dean continue to pull Sam away from the house.

The three of them looked back at the nursery window; the demon was gone.

-

Dean paced back and forth in their motel room, his phone up to his ear as he tried calling John again. He had already tried four times and his dad had yet to answer. "Come on, Dad. Answer your phone, dammit," there was still no answer; Dean shut his phone and tossed it on his bed before turning to Sam and Julia, who were sitting side-by-side. "Something's wrong."

Julia nodded in agreement while Sam stared blankly at the wall behind the television.

"You hear me?" Dean asked his brother, frustrated. "Something's happened."

Sam didn't react the way that Dean wanted him to. "If you guys had just let me go in there, I could have ended all of this."

Julia sighed in frustration, tired of his pity party. She and Dean saved his life; he was willing to kill himself because of his rage but he didn't even care. "Sam, you would have died," she said firmly. "All you would have ended was your life."

"You don't know that," Sam protested feebly.

Dean walked over to their bed, standing in front of Sam with his arms crossed over his chest. "So, what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?"

Sam abruptly stood up, towering over Dean. Julie got to her feet, too, ready to intervene if things got more heated between the bothers.

"Yeah, you're damn right I am."

"Well, that's not going to happen," Dean raised his voice. "Not as long as me and Julia are around."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Dean?" Sam matched his volume. "We've been searching for this demon our whole lives. It's the only thing we've ever cared about."

"Sam, I wanna waste it. I do, okay?" Dean tried to placate him. "But it's not worth dying over."

Sam reared back like he had been struck. "What?"

"I mean it," Dean insisted while Julia nervously shifted from foot to foot. "If hunting this demon means getting yourself killed then I hope we never find the damn thing."

"That thing killed Jess," Sam reminded him lowly. "That thing killed Mom."

"You said it yourself once," Dean stated. "That no matter what we do, they're gone and they're never coming back."

Sam clenched his jaw and grabbed Dean's shoulders, roughly pushing him against the wall. "Don't you say that, not you!" his eyes glistened with tears. "Not after all this. Don't you say that."

"Sam!" Julia rushed toward the brothers, tightly grabbing Sam's arm to pull him away from Dean. "Get off of him!"

Surprisingly—because Sam was much stronger than her—she managed to pull Sam away from Dean. It must have been because he was more sad than angry and he truly didn't want to hurt his brother.

Once Sam released him, Dean said softly, "Sam, look," he gave Sam a pleading look. "The four of us, that's all we have. It's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, man. Without you and Jules or Dad..."

He trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence. Sam exhaled shakily and walked back to the bed he shared with Julia while Julia gave Dean a small smile and reached for his hand.

"Dad," Sam said quietly, tears still in his eyes. "He should have called by now."

"You should try him again," Julia suggested.

Dean nodded and grabbed his cellphone, calling his dad once again. Dean looked surprised when John took his call, but it wasn't the eldest Winchester who was answering.

"You three really screwed up this time," Julia, Sam, and Dean heard Meg's angry voice.

While Julia and Sam stiffened, Dean angrily clenched his jaw. "Where is he?"

When Meg spoke again, they could practically hear her devious smirk. "You're never going to see your father again."

(Gif is not mine)

[valiancyvulnerability]

A Reflection and an Apology

I do not know where to begin.

In my attempt to begin, I hope you are doing well and are in a good mental space. “Things” continue to be difficult during this time; it’s frigidly cold, and there are a multiplicity of reasons to not be okay lately, if that is the case for you.

I went MIA for a long while because I foolishly fell into a self-inflicted trap once my mental health seemed to be improving during the fall semester. I had fully convinced myself that I had no other advice to offer, I had no reason to heal thru typing my jumbled thoughts onto a computer screen, and that, my friends, was a mistake I deeply regret.

Once I had become fully adjusted to college life, I was felt truly comfortable and at ease. I involved myself in extra-curriculars, made a handful of friends, and started eating again. I remember telling my therapist at my last appointment before school that I would call her a month into the semester to check in, but I never dialed her number. I ghosted her all of first semester because it felt as if therapy was something for me to temporary utilize when I am not doing well, and I was doing, so what was the point?

A toxic part of my personality is that I choose to believe that I can solve all problems alone. In all aspects of my life, that has always been the case. Give me an issue--and I am quick to get my ass in gear and think of the most reasonable solution to execute. I was not cognizant at the time that this was playing a principal role in how I viewed my own “healing”. I was not relying on anyone else other than Carson to get better, and once I got to a convincing enough spot, I ran with it and gave myself a pat on the back. Gold star. This was all me, and simply because I got results, it seemed healthy at the time.

Once the end of October rolled around, there was a sudden turbulence that didn’t seem to be the result of anything specific. I started to slip with my schoolwork, I engaged in hour-long staring contests with the ceiling, I locked myself in my room all day and took frequent unnecessary naps, and I stopped eating once more. Back at square one. Friends and family reached out, but it all sounded like white noise to me. I have possessed the ability to just push through my entire life, and this just happens to be a rough patch. Call me egotistical, but I was fully absorbed in the idea that the only person that could help me was me.

The rest of first semester was a series of many beautiful ups and many ugly downs. It was definitely a “going through the motions” type of situation. Every thought in my brain was so askew at all times that it disguised itself as a sense of consistency and comfort. I told myself I was excited to go home for break, but I knew the transition was going to absolutely wreck me just as much as it did when I moved in, whether I chose to acknowledge it or not. 

I moved all of my belongings out of my dorm and drove back to my hometown. I drifted from all of my friends from school that were important to me. Once finals were over, I blocked out everything school-related from my brain. I spent my time with my home friends, but was rather inconsistent as a friend to them. I blew up on my family daily, using some of the most explosive and hateful language that I have ever used. The excessive sleep persisted. I texted my therapist to seek medication. She replied that her soonest opening was the morning of my birthday.

My birthday quickly approached on December 22. This was the first year I was home on my actual birthday, just because COVID had tampered with our typical holiday plans. My friends threw a birthday party for me the evening of the 21st, which meant the entire world to me. I knew about it prior, and felt a peculiar dread filling up inside of me as the day lurched forward. Are they doing this because they know I haven’t been doing well and this is just an act of pity? Do they feel like they have to? Do they even want to do it in the first place? I wanted to stay home and sleep as I had been doing all afternoon. Nonetheless, I got myself up, got ready, went and met my friends and had a great time.

On the day of my actual birthday, I woke up and went to therapy. Upon my arrival, I caught her up on what had been going on in a fit of run-on sentences and utter word vomit. She suggested medication and set me up with a psychiatrist to meet with. I knew this was finally a form of relying on someone that is there to help. Although I wasn’t being my own usual rock, it did not feel like defeat. It felt like I was slowly being lifted from underwater. That evening there was a set plan to be with my family and get dinner, have cake, the works. The day continued. to drag, and I hibernated in my room, cocooned in blankets. I finally came downstairs to use the restroom and not two seconds of me being downstairs I got in an argument with my family. In a swift movement, I got dressed, got my keys, and started to leave. I wanted to just drive around aimlessly and pretend I had a different final destination rather than just returning home. On my way out the door my mom expressed that she had tried to make the day special and felt as if she had failed as a parent. 

This was a huge turning point in where I finally stared my own struggle straight in the face, sobbing, right in my own living room as it grinned back at me. I broke down, and the feeling I was experiencing was something like being submersed in a dream that you are conscious in, yet out of control. I felt as if I was choking, I wanted to vomit, but I stood, blubbering and trembling like a frightened chihuahua. Tears spilled down my face in furious waterfalls, and the expression on my face was still as stone.

After gathering myself, I went on my drive as planned, and it was storming. What am I doing? I thought about my therapy session from that morning and recalled telling her that there was not a day where I don’t think about not being alive. It’s rare that I feel like a danger to myself, but I explained that it was more of a sensation that I desired to be in a comatose-like state in a foreign country where I was ultimately unknown, and I wouldn’t be a burden to anyone in my life anymore.

What am I doing? I felt a pull to leave Illinois altogether without warning. Don’t tell your friends or your family, just go. Their lives will continue to move forward as they have and you are doing this in order to no longer be at a halt. Drop out of school. Get a job. Get an apartment, maybe with some plants and a neat rug. Start fresh. Be the genuinely good person you have failed to be for too long. Maybe cut your hair, too.

I have felt this weird pull to be elsewhere since my birthday. I started my antidepressant, Lexapro, right before I moved back into school for second semester. I am having a difficult time making friends. I cry every day. I sleep too much. Truthfully, waking up, getting ready, and making coffee in the morning feels like an immense feat. The psychiatrist told me I would go experience a “blackbox” period for up to six weeks where I would feel alone, exhausted, nauseous, and would potentially be a danger to myself. I have felt all of these things the past few weeks.

Now that I am beginning to scrape the surface of my body being acclimated to the medication, I feel better. Like really, I do! The desire of this “elsewhere” still lingers in the back of my brain, although it has taken on somewhat of a different form. I continue to daydream of this apartment, the plants, the rug--but it is not an attempted escape. In my head, it looks like a potential adventure for healing as opposed to avoidance when life challenges my well-being. 

The biggest lesson I have had to learn (the hard way, unfortunately) from 2020 as a whole and the preceding months is that I need to start taking the initiative to do things for myself. The toll my health has taken has been overwhelming, and I had tricked myself into believing I was “doing what I needed to do” by taking an extra 3-hour nap and locking myself in my room every day.

I have had to cut out things that were no longer serving me. Some were more painful than others, but I couldn’t be apologetic for it anymore. I have had it with waking up every day in a state of complete misery, permitting others to walk on my emotions, hating my body, and the way I was living. In order for me to move in any type of positive direction, I myself had to come first. 

I still have my down days, but my lowest point is behind me now, so I can properly reflect on everything that has happened up to his point. I feel as if I owe you an apology:

If you have been a part of my life in any way, shape, or form in the past year, I am sorry. I have been inconsistent, moody, dishonest, and just a poor quality individual. In order for me to give love to anyone I cross paths with, I had to be able to provide that for myself. Instead of repairing a broken machine, I kept using it until it combusted in the faces of everyone I care about. I wish there was an immediate fix to the problems I created over time, and if there was an instant solution, I would follow it with my entire being.

From this point forward, I want to assure you that I am trying to be better. I want to be there for all of you in the way you have tried to be there for me. I have not been kind to myself, and especially nobody else. If this feels applicable to you, please reach out to me so I can do my best to make amends personally.

With love,

Carson

This is not intended to be a pity trap. I am not seeking that. However, my goal is to normalize the conversation about mental health. The truth is that we all have a brain, and more often than not, we don’t always listen to what it needs. I hope that if you find yours asking something of you, you listen.

As always, stay safe and well. If anyone ever wants to extend the conversation of mental health with me personally, do not hesitate to reach out.