#and then the exiles will go in a ziplock bag

[sleepnoises]

I made too many squares for my quilt and now I need to figure out the worst squares and exile them

[jjmaybanksbaby]

How About A Dare

not my gif! all credits to owner

summary: A late night game of “Truth or Dare” leads the group to the Cameron’s house. 

a/n: the bulk of the inspiration for this came from @jjmaybanx​ Watch Me (which y’all need to go read asap bc her writing is incredible) plus me playing around with how far i think Kie would go to “prove herself” to the pogues. feedback’s always appreciated and request are open too! 

tw: mentions of underage drinking and drug use, some violence and swearing

word count: 1,530 words

**flashbacks in italics**

——————————————————————————

It was nearing midnight and the only light filling the room came from the lantern that sat on the floor in the middle of the room.

“Okayyyy,” John B said obnoxiously dragging out the y. He turned to face Pope. “Truth or Dare, dude?”

They’d been playing for the better part of the afternoon but nothing really exciting had happened yet.

“He’s so gonna go with truth.” JJ said from the other side of the room, raising his bottle of beer to take a sip.

“Whatever, JJ.” He turned to John B. “Dare.”

John B’s eyes got big for a second and then declared, “Kiss Kie.”

Kie rolled her eyes, “Wow John B! How creative.”

It seemed like at least once in a game of Truth or Dare, the boys dared each other to kiss her. It was so true they all had a little thing for her. 

Kie pointed to her cheek, “Okay, Pope. Put it here.”

Pope crossed the room quickly, left a peak on Kie’s cheek and then tried to hide the pink that was quickly spreading across from the rest of the group.

JJ gave him a slow clap. “Outstanding work, Pope.”

“Kie,” Sarah said from her spot perched on John B’s lap. “You next. Truth or Dare.”

Kie pressed her lips together and thought for a second.

“How about a dare?” she finally answered.

Sarah whispered something in John B’s ear and he shook his head and grinned.

“I dare you to steal Rafe’s stash of weed.”

JJ spit out his beer and erupted in a coughing fit.

“Jeez, calm down JJ. It’s in a little jar on the shelf of his closet. It’s not that hard.”

“You’re not actually gonna do that Kie?” Pope asked.

Kie shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll just go in and grab. It’ll be fine.”

JJ raised his beer in the air, “Fuck it.”

…..

John B pulled the van off to the side of the road in front of the Cameron’s estate.

Kie gave the group a salute then slide open the van door and jumped out.

“Jesus,” JJ muttered before hopping out after here.

“Oh, come on.” Pope moaned.

Kie turned around and lifted her eyebrows, daring Pope to come too. He shook his head ‘no’ but climbed out after them anyway.

“Obviously, it makes sense for only me to go in. If one of the Cameron’s find me, it won’t be too suspicious.”

“What is Rafe’s in there?” Pope asked, his voice laced with blatant worry.

JJ punched him lightly, “Chill, bro. Kie’ll be fine.”  

The motion sensor light on the house flicked on.

“Shit,” JJ yelled.

“Stay here,” Kie said. “I’ll be back in like 10 minutes tops.” Then she opened the Cameron’s back door and disappeared inside.

Pope looked over at JJ. “Do we just let her go?” he asked.

“Eh, she’ll be fine.”

It was pitch black inside the house but Kie knew her way around from the time she spent here before Sarah had exiled her from the friend group.

Kie gripped the bottom of the handrail and placed her foot on the first stair.

A memory of a fun night with Sarah flashed through her mind.

The two of them were coming back from a party at Topper’s pad and were way past Wade’s prescribed curfew. They’d both had their fair share of drinks at the party and couldn’t stop giggling.

“Oh, Sarah,” Kie said, dropping her voice to mimics Topper’s. “Just put me out of my misery already and go out with me.”

“Shhhhh,” Sarah hushed Kie. “Besides that’s not even what he said…” her voice trailed off.

“Pretty sure that’s what he meant,” Kie giggled.

“If you wake up Wade, you’re explain what’s happening here to him.”

Sarah stopped half way up the staircase.

“These two stairs creek so you gotta jump over them.”

Sarah stepped her leg out and then pushed herself up, skipping the creaking stairs. She turned around and offered her hand to Kie to pull her up too.

“Come on.”

Kie shook her head as to force the memory from her mind. Things with Sarah were better now but the pain of the whole situation still lingered.

She made her way up the stairs, skipping the creaking ones in the middle and now found herself trying to remember what door lead to Rafe’s room.

She walked slowly to the end of the hall, making as little noise as possible until she arrived at the door that sat across from the one that she knew was Sarah’s.

Kie pushed it open and Rafe’s empty room stood before her.

Yes! she thought.

Kie lightly closed the door behind her and felt her way around the room to the closet. She flicked on the light outside the closet door and then opened the closet door just wide enough for her to slip inside.

A shelf ran around the top of the closet and Kie reached her hand up feeling for the jar that Sarah had described. Her fingers tips made contact but when she tried to grab it, it slide to the back of the shelve.

Shit, Kie thought.

She balanced on her tip toes and stretched her arm to the back until finally her fingers wrapped around the jar.

Let’s go, she thought as she screwed open the jar and removed the ziplock bag inside. She quickly recapped the jar, placed it back on the shelve and left the closet.

She was back down the stairs and half way across the kitchen when suddenly a light flickered on. There in the entry way to the kitchen stood the nightmare himself: Rafe Cameron.

Without thought, Kie shoved the bag into the back pocket of her shorts, praying he didn’t notice.

“Rafe-,” she started.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” he interrupted.

“I was looking for Sarah,” Kie lied.

“She’s probably with that fucking pogue,” Rafe spit back.

Kie nodded her head, thinking she couldn’t get out of here fast enough. 

Kie walked past Rafe in attempt to leave but just as she had passed him, he grabbed her wrist.

“Well, you don’t have to go just yet. You’ve been slumming it with all those pogues for a while, aren’t you ready for some kook?”

Kie could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath and from the way he slurred those last words, it was obvious how far gone Rafe was.

Kie jerked her wrist out of his grasp, “No, thanks. I’m good.”

Rafe’s face flashed with anger. Then he started to laugh. Before she knew it, he had his arm snaked around her waist.

“Kiara, come on. Let’s have a little fun. I’ll be super gentle.”

He leaned his head down and pressed a kiss onto her neck. Kie squirmed away, trying to get out his grasp.

“Rafe, let go. Leave me the fuck alone.” She jabbed an elbow into his side which caused him to release her.

“Fuck you, Kiara. Just run back to your fucking-“

JJ throwing opening the back door interrupted Rafe.

“Kie, what’s going on in here?” he asked with urgency before spotting Rafe. “Oh ,you have got to be kidding me.”

Kie ran over to JJ and grab his arm, trying to drag him out of the house but JJ just shook her off.

“Was he hurting you?” he asked Kie.

“No, JJ. It’s fine. Let’s go.”

“Come to save your little pogue princess?” Rafe spit at JJ. “You know, one day Kie, they’re all gonna realize how fucking full of shit you are and drop you just like my sister did.

At this JJ ran over to where Rafe was standing. He cocked his arm back and punched Rafe straight in the nose.

“Don’t every talk about Kie like that again.”

“JJ,” Kie screamed. “We have to go.”

JJ and Kie booked it out of the Cameron’s house.

“Come on, Pope!” Kie called as she and JJ ran down the Cameron’s drive.

“Start the van,” JJ shouted to John B once they were in earshot.

JJ, Kie and Pope jumped into the back of the van screaming at John B to get out of there. As they took off, JJ saw Rafe stagger out of the house with steam practically coming out his ears.

JJ examined his hand for a moment and then wiped the blood off on the inside of his shirt.

“Jesus, JJ,” Kie finally said. “It was fine. You didn’t have to go punching Rafe.”

At this Sarah turned around from the front seat, “You punched my brother?”

JJ glanced at Kie and Pope not sure how to answer that.

“…Yes?” he answered.

She shrugged. “He probably deserved it.”

Kie sighed then remembering she still had the bag in her pocket, took it out and threw it at JJ.

JJ caught the bag midair. “What is...” he began, then registering the contents of the bag yelled, “No way Kie! You fucking did it! I’m so proud.”

John B looked back at the commotion, causing the van to swerve just a little.

“Oh my god. You actually got it?” Sarah asked.

“Damn right I did. Told y’all I could.”

JJ made small bowing motions, “All hail our pogue princess.”

“Eat shit JJ.” Kie responded, but a smile was plastered across her face, still riding the adrenaline high from completing the dare.

[jemariel]

Lost and Found: Coda

Dean can still smell the smoke.

In the car for hours on end, there’s nothing but silence and low music and road noise, Jack occasionally asking a quiet question from the back seat and Sam’s equally low answers. All that and the stink of char, gasoline, and woodsmoke. It’s a familiar smell. He’s been burning bones and bodies for most of his life, but this.

This is different.

Even when they stop for the night somewhere in Montana, the stench follows him. He has vague hopes of washing it out in the shower, but the water pressure is terrible, and the smell clings in his nose and eyes. He can’t even muscle up the energy to scrub harder to get it out of his hair; his limbs feel weighted down.

Cas.

The name floats like a whisper through his brain and he squeezes his eyes shut, tries to block it out. His knuckles are still raw and sore from earlier, but he’s tempted to punch the shower wall anyway. Might help. Probably won’t.

With a sigh he shuts off the water and starts going through the motions of getting ready for bed. By the time he steps out of the bathroom, dressed again in his day-old smoke-filled clothes, only the minty taste in his mouth lets him know that yes, at least he brushed his teeth.

Sam’s busy explaining a toothbrush to Jack, but turns his big puppy eyes and long face on Dean when he emerges. “Your turn,” Dean grunts.

“You go,” Sam says to Jack, handing him a ziplock bag full of Sam’s own soap and shit. “You think you got it?”

Jack nods, slow. “Yes, I think so. Thank you.” And disappears into the bathroom.

Silence falls again, thick and suffocating, full a tension that means Sam’s going to break it soon, try and get Dean to talk. Dean clamps his teeth firmly shut and looks at the two beds. There’s a roll-away in here somewhere, but --

“I’ll sleep in the car,” he says, and makes for the door.

“Dean, wait --”

Dean waits. Sam looks a little struck, like he wasn’t expecting that to work. “Better than making the kid sleep on a cot the first night of his life. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?” Sam asks with an eyebrow cocked.

Dean just... sighs. He’s tired. He’s so tired. “Yeah. It’s been a long --” Christ, has it really only been a day? One day without -- One day since everything -- “Been a really long day.”

Sam nods. “I just.” Swallows. “I don’t know if you should be alone.”

That hits like a slap in the face. “And why is that?” The anger is sharp, hot, like a knife through the woolly numbness he’s been keeping wrapped tight around him. He knows it’s unreasonable but he latches onto it as the first thing he’s felt in -- possibly weeks -- that doesn’t hurt.

Sam shrugs. “You don’t have to be. That’s all. I know you’re --”

“You don’t know crap, okay?” Dean stabs a finger at Sam, nostrils flaring, and it’s not fair, he knows it’s not fair, they’ve both lost --

“Yeah, Dean, I do. I know how you felt about him.” His voice is quiet, strained. As if speaking the words will summon the ghost, and it sort of feels like that, like Dean’s heart is going to just spill out on the floor and once it starts he’s not sure he’ll be able to put it back in.

He feels his lips pinch together, the anger fizzling and fading as quick as it came. And really, he’s grateful for that; he shouldn’t be taking this out on Sam. “Yeah, well.” He fiddles with the car keys. Chews on his tongue. “Too late now.”

And then he’s out the door.

Fuck.

The cool night air is soothing for all of thirty seconds before the chill seeps into his bones; he’s shivering by the time he gets to the car, but when he opens the door to the back seat the smell of woodsmoke hits him again like a blow to the gut. He only hesitates a moment. He doesn’t want to go back inside and face a heart to heart with Sam, so he grits his teeth and climbs in. Baby cradles him like loving arms, all the dents and squeaks in the leather that he knows so well, and under the woodsmoke is the lingering smell of the old car he grew up in. He settles into it with a sigh, turns his face so it’s pressed into the leather, and searches for a single moment of peace.

It doesn’t come.

Or rather, it does, but right on the heels of it -- of course, the moment he’s safe, the moment he doesn’t have to fight for something or have a task right in front of him -- he feels his ribs clench around his lungs and the fire of tears in his eyes and he can’t stop it, not anymore. They come like a storm, drenching the leather and wracking out of him in broken sobs. But like a storm they pass quickly and he sits up to brush the evidence off his cheeks.

He sits there for a long moment, staring at his knees and getting his breath back. Letting the silence fall over him again.

And then he whispers.

“Cas?”

The name is like sandpaper in his throat, a whisper shockingly loud. “Cas, I.” He swallows. Praying to Chuck hadn’t done any good. But maybe. Probably not. But. Maybe. “Wherever you are. I just need you to hear this.”

He won’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “We had to -- I had to -- burn you, okay? It’s what we do. We couldn’t just leave you hanging around.”

He doesn’t know if angels can even become ghosts, but it was a risk he couldn’t take. Besides, what better option was there? Dragging him back to Kansas? No. Just. No. Burial? No -- if they were going to say goodbye to him they were going to do it right. Cas had more than earned a Hunter’s funeral, even if it tore him up inside.

“I tried praying to Chuck,” Dean continues, “I know he’s -- he’s brought you back before. But at this point, I have a hell of a lot more faith in you than in him. Okay?” He looks up through the roof of the Impala -- why do people do that when they pray? Dean does it even though he know it doesn’t make a lick of difference. He stares at the dull glint of the dome light and says “I need you to come back. I need you to find a way. Please.” He can feel the hard knot welling in his throat again, pushing against his larynx. “I just need you.”

He closes his eyes and feels the tears drop from his eyelids to his hands, clenched into fists.

It’s stupid. Pointless. Even if by some miracle Cas could hear him and find a way home, why would he want to come back? That’s how this has always been, Dean calling out to Cas with the I need you and the do this for me and what the hell had it ever gotten him? Exiled from his home, fallen from grace, and now --

“Dammit Cas. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry --”

And now after everything, with nothing left to lose, the words just tear out of him and it feels sort of like vomiting, and they bring with them a fresh wave of sobs and this time they won’t stop.

”I’m sorry I loved you.”

The only answer is silence.

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