#bestie we are playing witches we are making potions in the playground

[thevampireauthoress]

For the ask game: 2, 21, 23 :D

You are the sweetest 🥺 tbh we've been mutuals for years, at this point that is practically a blood pact 💖

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Pact - Chapter 1

Sam Winchester, Gothic AU

A/N: This idea was a long time coming. My first true AU, so please be gentle. This will be a slow burn, multi-chapter fic. A HUGE thank you to one of my besties @kazosa for continuing to remind me of this idea we had been planning for a long time now and for suggesting I finally start it. Hope you enjoy!!

Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots a secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon. 

Eventual Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Other Players: John Winchester, Crowley, Rowena, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore (deceased)

Warnings: None, yet.

Words: 4K

Everything Tags:

@sorenmarie87​ //  @lefthologramdeer​ // @rockyhorrorpictureshowstyle​ // @his-paradox​// @letsby​

SUPERNATURAL TAGS:

@wings-of-a-raven​ // @kazosa​ // @negans-wife​ // @grace-for-sale​ // @geeksareunique​ // @tiquismiquis​ // @mrsbarnes-rogers​  // @teller258316​ // @spnhollis​ // @sweet-things-4-life​ // @hobby27​ // @sweetlythoughtfulbird​ // @theoriginalvicki​ // @dreamchester67​ // @xxwarhawk​ // @babykalika2001​ // @superwhovianfangirl81​ // @toobusynerdfighting​ // @missihart23​  // @hyphymanatee​ // @idreamofplaid​ // @thewinchesterchronicles​  // @wayward-gypsy​  // @closetspngirl​ // @fatestemptress​ // @rebelminxy​  // @22sarah08​ // @witch-of-letters​ // @cole-winchester​ // @rainflowermoon​ // @adoptdontshoppets​ // @foreverwayward​ // @waywardvalkyrie​// @fandomoniumflurry​ // @gnrfanfic​ // @blackcherrywhiskey​ // @jessieray98​  // @lyoly​  // @a--1--1--3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare

The caretaker shoveled the last bit of dirt on her grave. It wasn’t until Samuel heard the last grain drop, did his wounded hip finally give out and he fell to his knees. Silent tears punished his cheeks with a relentless assault of grief for his lost love. There was no stone for her yet, the mason promised it would be complete in a matter of days. Until then, the Winchester Prince laid a garland of her favorite wildflowers atop the mound of damp, dark soil that marked her final resting place.

All the mourners had since left, for which he was eternally grateful. He needed time alone, to say goodbye to Jessica. Sam wanted to remember how soft her blonde curls felt, like locks of silk as they trailed between his fingers; how blue her eyes could be, and just how her smile had become the sun in his sky.

From above, a clap of thunder shook the ground and warned of the storm’s arrival that had been threatening all day. Samuel Winchester did not care. He refused to leave until he remembered every bit of her—her melodious voice, the way she laughed, but mostly, the way she kissed him. No one would ever be able to kiss him the way Jessica had. She was an angel that walked the Earth, and for a short time, he was blessed enough to love her.

Until Crowley took her away for good.

Now, he’d never see her face again. Never touch her or smell her skin. He would be alone for eternity, until he took his last breath and could be reunited with her in the afterlife. No one could ever capture his heart again; for now, it was just as black as the eyes of the demon who took her life.

A guttural scream wanted to burst from his mouth, but from the depths of his soul he found the restraint to shove it back down.

“Save it,” he mumbled to himself, “you’re going to need it.”

As the rain started to fall, Sam used his cane that lay beside him to boost himself back up to his feet. He closed his eyes, turned his face up to the clouds and let their showers cleanse him of the dirt and despair that had enveloped him. When he looked back down at the wildflowers, his long hair hung wet around his face. He closed his eyes and the last, happy image, he held of Jessica lingered behind them.

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched into a smile. His cheek dimpled, something she loved so much about him.

“For you, my love,” he whispered. “One last smile for you. I am going to leave you at peace. I have things to do and when they’re done, if I’m lucky enough, I will get to see you in Heaven. Then we will never be separated again.”

His voice cracked, and he stifled the tears that once again threated to fall. Leaving his despair, along with the wildflowers, he turned and hobbled his way back towards his father’s estate. Sam had many plans to make and no time to spare in making them.

  The MacLeod Castle sat high above the jagged cliffs and raging sea. It was a fitting place for a ruler such as Crowley and his dark reputation. No one could ever really recount as to when he came to power, it was a debate that raged in all the local taverns for many years, and still there was never a definitive answer.

Crowley always just, was. He was a presence that the people in the Kingdom of Lawrence just accepted, for fear of what repercussions would come if they didn’t. It was more rumor and inuendoes about the horrors that took place in his dungeons, but it was always a story told by word of mouth, never a real, first-hand account. That didn’t stop the mysterious figure from playing the type. Crowley reveled in the way people moved aside when he came down into town, and even bowed their heads slightly in respect. Ask them, ‘respect for what?’, and none would be able to answer. They just knew that it was how you behaved when the Red King graced the streets of Lawrence.

Just on the other side of the river, lands were ruled by the Winchesters, and their long line of peacekeepers. King Henry had been beloved for the wisdom and protection he offered those living under his rule, and when he died, the throne was taken by his only son, John, at a very young age. John Winchester was a different kind of King all together. He ran the lands and governed the people with a bit of an iron fist. Keeping the peace and defending the sacred lands they farmed was, in his eyes, of utmost importance. When his wife bore him two sons, he tried to raise them in his own image and mindset. Defenders of the land before anything else; even themselves.

The first time the Winchesters had a confrontation with Crowley and the demons known as the ‘Minions of MacLeod’, the Winchesters were able to stave them off. For a good chunk of years, Crowley had made it his mission to take the fertile lands, piece by piece. But the Winchesters, for all their superior weaponry and intelligence, were able to fend them off every time. Eventually, Crowley grew tired of losing and a tentative peace fell between the two kingdoms.

The people of Lawrence feared that one day, Crowley and his Minions would once again storm the gates of the Winchester’s Castle. If that happened, the defenders would have to burn the lands to the ground to purify them of Crowley’s plague, subsequently destroying what made them so valuable in the first place. The magic that lived in the lands was highly coveted, this was no secret. The secret was in how to obtain them, and people feared when Crowley figured that out, the War to end all Wars would come and wipe them all out.

  Growing up in this place had been different, but for the most part, your life was fine. The castle your father settled into when you were younger had been your playground; his minions, your playthings. Learning to work with herbs and forest elementals, you were able to keep yourself amused by concocting a variety of potions and spells that would be tested on the people Crowley kept in service. Nothing painful or devastating by any means but adding a love potion to the soup at dinner made for an entertaining and educational evening.

Crowley was hardly ever around. Your father made sure, however, that you were watched over and the figurative leash around your neck was short. Teachers and craftsmen were brought into to teach you what Crowley deemed important for you to know, and when he discovered your penchant for spells, he summoned his own mother to come and teach you the ways of her craft.

A centuries old witch, Rowena MacLeod looked not a day older than her own son. You knew that magic ran deep within your veins, on your mother’s side as well, but you were never told much about her. Over the years, Rowena would come and go, and you always enjoyed her stay for however long it lasted. She became a reluctant confidant, and by the time you were a grown woman, you felt comfortable disclosing feelings you were having about leaving the castle to explore what lived beyond its walls.

Rowena would always warn you against it, explaining how you needed to adhere to Crowley’s rules and stay safe.

“The abilities you have, my dear, will be sought-after by many. Going out beyond the walls of this place is only askin’ for trouble,” she’d say, then pinch your chin between her small fingers. “Be sure to heed me, love. You don’ want to be going against your father now. But I shall have a word with him when he returns, see if I can’t get him to loosen the reigns a bit.”

True to her word, Rowena pulled Crowley aside, and pleaded a case for you to spread your wings beyond his control. There were a lot of raised voice that night reverberating through the castle walls, none of which sounded promising for you. Being an adult should mean you could come and go as you pleased, but Crowley had refused your request every time. The arguing that radiated from his chambers didn’t give you much hope that Rowena was going to have more luck.

The knock at your bedroom door came well into the night. You had been in bed for hours but sleep never did come. Pulling your robe tight around your waist, you opened the door enough to see Crowley standing just beyond it.

“May I?” he asked with a sweeping gesture of his hand.

“Of course,” you replied flatly and opened the door further.

“Did I wake you, pet?”

“No, and please don’t call me that. I hate it.”

“As you wish. I guess you can assume why I’m here. I imagine you heard your grandmother and I discussing you.”

You rolled your eyes and went back to where you had been laying in bed. “She hates being called that.”

“I’m aware. Why do you think I do it?” he smirked and clasped his hands behind his back as he slowly explored your room.

“You’re a delight, you know that?”

“So, I’ve been told. Look, (Y/N) I know that being kept here has made you bitter and cold towards me. Though I have my reasons for keeping you close, I suppose that maybe I’ve been a trifle bit unfair. I’m willing to discuss terms of a deal that will give you some freedom, maybe satisfy your need to leave the grounds and explore what’s out there in this small, sad little world.”

“Boy, you make that sound enticing,” you groaned as you delicately crawled onto the bed and drew your knees up into your chest.

“Would you rather I lie?”

“You always lie. Its who you are,” you scoffed and averted your gaze. Normally that would earn you a glare of intense anger from him. This time, he simply waved you off.

“You’re just angry right now, but if you hear me out, it may vastly improve your mood, pet.”

“Father. Please, stop.”

“Daughter, please listen. Because I offer this once and only once.”

“Fine, what are your terms?”

“Your freedom…” he mused, holding out his hands as though he was weighing your options for you.

“For?”

“One, very small, favor.”

“Please don’t make me drag it out of you,” you moaned, already feeling tired from the conversation.

“I need you to marry the youngest Lord Winchester.”

“You, what?!” you exclaimed, jumping up from the bed. “I will do no such thing!”

“If you want out of this castle, or even this room, you will. Do you know why I’ve kept you so sheltered all these years? Hmm?”

You subtly shook your head, almost fearing the answer he was finally willing to give.

“Its because I knew this day would come. You were going to be the key to everything. You and the overbearingly tall muppet are going to wed and produce an heir for both families to fawn over. Then, you and our linage will have just as much right to their lands, as they do. I won’t have to try and steal them, they won’t burn them to the ground. It’s a win-win, really.”

“I doubt His Highness Winchester will agree. Father, you’ve tried and failed far too many times, the Winchesters will never trust you to—” You froze as the expression contorted on Crowley’s face. Your stomach bottomed out at the realization that he knew that the Winchesters would indeed agree, because they already had.

“John Winchester sent a messenger this morning. He’s agreed to allow you to marry his youngest son. Apparently, he’s not found a new wife since his fiancé died last year. Imagine that giant, just shuffling around that enormous castle all alone with his little cane, no one to talk to but his servants. Poor, muppet,” he said with a dramatic sigh.

“You’re cruel,” you glared.

“I am. It’s a gift.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you walked towards the solitary window in your chambers. Leaning against the ledge of stone, you looked out over the sea and watched the moon’s glow dance on the waves that were crashing on the cliffs below. You briefly wondered how many times you had imagined stealing a boat and just setting sail to a brand-new place, leaving Crowley and his wretched castle behind. That view had granted you many a day dreams in your life, and now here was a chance at maybe bringing some of them to fruition. All you had to do….

“I would live there? If I said yes, I could live there and be away from you?” you turned your head sharply to gauge his reaction, venom dripping from your words. There was a moment where you thought he may have been hurt, and that internally made you smile.

“Yes, you’d live there. That was part of Winchester’s conditions.”

“And what do you get out of this? Other than, hopefully, a grandchild that you will most likely ruin and that will inherent the Winchester’s lands. I can’t imagine any of them agreeing to it for solely that reason.”

Crowley sat on the edge of the trunk that lived at the foot of your bed. He leaned back on his elbows, resting against the footboard and crossed one leg over the other. Turning his hands up and shrugging he sighed. “That, my dearest daughter, is not your concern.”

“But it is. How do I know I am walking into a safe environment? Yes, there is a nervous peace between you and John Winchester, but how can I be certain that I won’t be hung immediately once I walk inside? They don’t have a reputation of kindness towards witches.”

“Is that what you are, now? Taking after grammy, I see,” he chuckled darkly.

“Better her than you,” you spat, glaring at his smug expression. “I may be your daughter, but I will never be anything like you.”

“Aw, come now, darling. You are more like me than you will ever know,” he replied absently, while examining his cuticles.

Crowley finally sat up from his place on the chest and sauntered over to the window. “I know you’re not thrilled that you were born of these loins,” he paused at your disgusted expression and stifled a grin, “however, you are of my blood. No matter how much of your mother was left in you, the part of you that I contributed to making, will always rise to the top.” He took your cheek gently by his palm and lifted your eyes to his face. “YOU will always me my daughter, love me or hate me, you will always be a MacLeod; even when you’re being bedded by a Winchester. Remember that, my pet. Remember it.”

The glare of his eyes flashed red, instilling you with a quick streak of fear. You’d only seem him enact this trick a few times in your life, and it always unnerved you to no end. Realizing that going along with his plans was the only way to get what you wanted as well, you closed your eyes in resignation.

“Yes, father. I will.”

“Is that a yes to the deal? Will you marry Samuel?”

“Yes, I will marry Lord Winchester.”

  “I will do NO such thing!” Samuel raged, slamming his fist against the hardwood dining table.

On the other end, John Winchester sat in his high-backed chair, the scowl nearly permanent on his face. He exhaled deeply, trying to maintain some composure in the face of his very angry son.

Sam pushed back from the table, leaving his cane resting against it and limped with a stalking anger towards John.

“How dare you even ask me to do something like that!”

“Son, if you’ll just hear me out—”

“I’ve heard what you had to say, and I can’t believe you would honestly suggest something so vile! First of all, to marry anyone else would be a disgrace to Jessica’s memory! Then, to have it be a Minion of MacLeod! It’s finally happened, you’ve lost your mind.”

Towering over his father, John sat up straighter in the chair and gazed up at his youngest son.

“Samuel, I am sorry for your loss, I am, but at some point, you need to move on and accept that you have a responsibility to this family. You chose not to go and fight on the battlefields against the purgatory creatures, like your brother did. I agreed to let you stay here and help rule this Kingdom. But with that came certain responsibilities. One of which—”

“Yeah, I know, an heir. You and your damned blood line,” he mumbled and turned to head back to his seat. When he finally reached it, he slumped down and pushed his plate far from his face. Reaching for the silver goblet, he slugged back the remainder of his wine and immediately filled it.

“Its important, son. More important than many things. After me, you are set to rule should Dean not return from the war. After you, there needs to be someone. These lands cannot fall out of the hands of our family. What we defend here is too important. Your mother died defending them and I’ll be damned if I let them fall into the wrong hands.”

“And including the MacLeod’s is a good move? You might as well just hand Crowley the match and step back to watch them burn.”

“No,” he said, pushing back from the table, standing up to his full height. A knuckled fist slammed to the table, rattling the china plates and glass decanters, “that’s where you’re wrong. Crowley wants these lands because he understands how pure and fertile, they truly are. There’s no other place in the realm where the land is as rich as it is here. After the Great Angel War, everything was tarnished. But not Lawrence. The magic here kept it void of the blackness that seems to infest everywhere else.”

Sam had heard all these stories before. It was far before his time, and even John’s, but Henry was alive to have seen the world how it had been before the angels reigned hellfire down on Earth.

“Sam,” John paused, trying to find the right words to convince his son that his plan was the only way for a successful future. Too much was riding on his compliance. “Crowley needs them to fuel his magic. If this marriage is successful, we save Lawrence from another attack, and it gets that old demon off our backs. Then, we can get from them what we need.”

Sam sighed. “And what would that be?”

“An Army.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, a deep furrow of concerned resting between his brows. He slowly sat forward in his chair, his mouth hovering open in shock.

“You want the Minions. Those… creatures,” the word spat from his mouth as if it were poison, “For an army. Why? To what end?”

“End the War in Purgatory and bring your brother home. To strength our numbers and our men. Less and less of the people are pledging to fight for our causes. We need to reinforce—”

“No! We don’t!” Sam stood once again from his chair. This time grabbing the cane he needed more frequently than ever before. “You claim to be a peace keeper, but really, you’re power hungry. You’re no better than Crowley! You want revenge for mom, and I can relate to that. I want nothing more to find who killed Jessica and make them suffer. But even I wouldn’t put an entire Kingdom in jeopardy to do it. Not because I couldn’t, but because she wouldn’t want me too.”

John stood silently, not agreeing or denying what Sam claimed to be true. He simply exhaled and steadied his quaking anger.

“This is not the conversation that needs having at the moment, Samuel!” John roared, his deep echo bouncing across the stone walls of the cavernous room. “The only conversation that we should be having, is deciding when and where you will marry (Y/N) MacLeod. That, my son, is your priority, not dictating to me how to maintain and run my kingdom.”

John stood up straighter, pushing his shoulders back and taking several deep breaths, to calm the tension that ran through him. “If I could send you off to the battlefield, Samuel. I would. But clearly, that isn’t your place anymore.” John’s eyes glanced down at Sam’s hobbled hip briefly, before meeting his son’s gaze again. “You’re going to help this family protect the lands, and anything good and pure left in this realm. If that means marrying the enemy, then so be it.”

Sam stood quietly, internalizing everything his father was laying on him. He hated John for making him do this, and even more for what he had planned in partnership with Crowley. Deep down though, he knew that he would go along with it, and maybe, if he was lucky, everything could still work out in his favor.

“I’ll do what you ask, I won’t fight you on it. But rest assured of one thing. All that was left good and pure in this world, died with Jessica. If you think for one second that me doing this supports your plans in any way, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Sam took a final few steps closer to his father. For the first time Sam noticed the lines and age in his father’s face, how the streaks of gray ran rampant through his once jet black hair. The weariness in John Winchester’s eyes was not lost on his son, either.

Sam snickered. “One day, you’ll be gone, and I will be the one to rule in Lawrence. The first thing I am going to do is erase anything that reminds me of you and the terrible decisions you made while in power. But rest assured, old man, I’ll be sure that when the drunks down in the taverns sing songs written about you, they’ll say how you nearly ruined one entire Kingdom because you were too much of a coward to say no to a demon.”

Satisfaction danced in his eyes as John once against straightened his back, trying to stand taller against his son. Sam turned on his heel and began walking towards the corridor. Just before he left, he turned back to John. “The wedding will happen in our hidden chapel the night after next. I won’t have anyone in the town see this farce take place. So, it should only be you, Crowley, the girl and the Maester. Tell Robert I want him to bless the union--.”

“First, only a day’s notice isn’t much time. Besides, Robert isn’t yours to use, Samuel. He’s my Maester—”

“He’s the Winchester’s family Maester. As you so often tell me, I am a Winchester, am I not?” Sam turned back and went down the corridor. Before he disappeared into the depths of his family’s castle, he called back, “night after next, or not at all!”

Despite the deal he just made, which made him feel dirty and soiled, Sam smiled to himself. The idea of marrying Crowley’s daughter made his blood run cold, but if it helped in his own mission of revenge, he would bare it for as long as he had to. Not revealing his hand to his father, John unknowingly gave him just what he needed to make a strong move against Crowley. Sam knew by then, with complete certainty, that it was MacLeod himself responsible for Jessica’s death. Getting close to Crowley, however, wasn’t going to be easy. Without his brother around to help him, Sam needed to find another way.

Marrying the demon’s daughter, was just the diversion he needed.

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