#but her spidey senses were kicking off with some recent choices

[booasaur]

Thuis - 2023-12-14

[itsapapisongo]

“WEBBED SURVEILLANCE”

Pairing: None, though I won’t blame you for any spotting Ho-Yay banter/interactions.

Genre: Superhero | Comedy | One-Shot

Word Count: 2.0K

Warnings: Language

Summary: An exasperated Spider-Man (Mark Lee) trails the elusive Black Cat (Lee Taeyong) across town, hoping to knock some sense into the master thief.

Notes: This was supposed to be the first of a series of one-shots focused on original characters face-claimed by several members—from NCT to Stray Kids to SEVENTEEN—but I decided to drop the whole face-claim thing and simply go full what if x member was a superhero route instead. A choice that is partly inspired by @vernosaur​ and her awesome fic Playing Hero.

Edited: 20.09.25 (last update ) | 20.12.06 (recent update)

HE had planned to land on the floor, but it was already occupied.

“Oi!” Spider-Man exclaimed, his voice a nervous, high-pitch. “Nope!”

In the nick of time, without missing a beat and with superhuman ease, he performed an in-air flip and clung to the ceiling, arms extended to either side of his body as though to maintain balance. He didn’t need to be so theatrical but he had been caught off guard. Ignoring a reaction as visceral as this one had become harder and harder to contain; more often than not, sheer instinct kicked in and he just went with it.

Spider-Man stared in disbelief at four of the ugliest Komodo dragons he had ever laid eyes on and they glared back at him, thin tongues slithering in and out of their snouts. He could hear them hissing—or snarling, he couldn’t tell—and gulped, shocked at how late he had come to notice them. A tingling sensation notified him of potential danger but he hadn’t imagined it would be a quartet of monitor lizards casually dragging themselves on such a small apartment.

He’d set up his phone and laptop to monitor emergency channels, in hopes that it would direct him to where he could make a difference. Robberies, fires, break-ins, super villains being up to no good was what he had in mind but apparently the universe had other plans for him. And so, in a matter of minutes, a routine night of surveillance turned into a bizarre chase across the city. He had been swinging non-stop for the past hour and half, chasing the elusive Black Cat across town, mumbling to himself that he probably shouldn’t have made such a dynamic entrance in Inner Demons territory.

You gotta time your quips, man, he scolded himself when everyone hauled ass in different directions and he lost sight, albeit briefly, of the Cat. The master thief had connections with just about everyone in the crooked lane that was Enn City. Following the guy meant getting in a heap of trouble but that was already part of the job so what the hell, right? He just hadn’t considered Komodo dragons to be part of the equation.

The chase led him to the shady part of town, where the properties looked ancient and in need of a new coat of paint, and into the lost (apartment-sized) world of Komodo Land. The Black Cat had been quick to find and subsequently hide in this narrow, five-story monstrosity that oozed with not-so-chill vibes and shamelessly overpriced and claustrophobically small apartments. It reeked of neglect, nicotine, and chemicals, as though it had been repurposed for some clandestine drug operation.

Spider-Man wondered if it had been a deliberate ploy to distract him. After all he had checked the lobby and the first floor and found no sign of the master thief. What he’d found instead, much to his disgust, was the stench of the dragons’ dinner, excrement, and urine.

Just my luck, he thought, crawling across the ceiling and scanning the rest of the apartment: the door had been left ajar and there was nothing but a bucket and a mop by a corner. The pungent smell stung his nostrils even through his mask and he resisted the urge to gag by clearing his throat. One of the Komodo dragons stared, as though it could see right through him. Big bioluminescent green eyes stared back and narrowed until becoming thin slits of contempt and disgust. Behind the mask, Spider-Man cringed.

Who knew something could smell so bad?

“Good Lord,” he whispered, gently shaking his head. “You guys should think about cleaning after yourselves.”

As he shifted his weight and positioned himself to face the door, crawling slowly toward it, he saw it. A shadowy figure in the hallway outside the apartment. The figure moved itself with grace and purpose and just enough that Spider-Man caught a glimpse of his face in the dim-light of the hallway. Aware of the now incessant hissing—or snarling, Spidey still couldn’t tell—of the lizards, the figure turned toward the half-opened door then dashed into the hall.

Pushing himself off the ceiling and clinging to the door, not trusting his new Komodo besties to not take a chunk out of him, he peered into the narrow hallway and saw the Black Cat running toward the elevator. Spider-Man gracefully leapt off the door and slammed it shut behind him because there was no way in hell he was going to leave those beasts out of there.

Who waits for an elevator while they’re being chased?

Spider-Man groaned and shook his head.

The chase was on—again.

ALRIGHT, folks, let’s do this one last time.

His real name is Mark Lee.

He was bitten by a radioactive spider—or at least, he thinks it was radioactive—and for the last year and half he’s been Spider-Man. By chance, fate, or design, he’d been bitten. Just like his idol: Peter Parker, the original Spider-Man. Mark would love to call himself the One and Only Spider-Man but knows it would be a lie and disrespectful to Parker. So, in a town as big and as shady as Enn City, Mark did what he could and took up the mantle, making it his mission to live up to his idol’s example and use his powers for the greater good.

The encounter made him superhuman, granting him spider-like abilities. He can leap great distances, cling to almost any surface, and sense when something is about to threaten him, allowing him to avoid and react to danger with ease in the blink of an eye. The bite not only made him quicker on his feet but it granted him superhuman strength, stamina, reflexes, as well as enhancing other skills, such as his balance and dexterity, that he’d honed over the years as an athlete. Physical education was certainly less of a hassle after that.

The suit—black and green—represents his passion and ambition and paid homage to the original Web-Slinger by keeping the same spider symbol upon his chest and back; the web-shooters, designed by Joshua Hong and Moon Taeil, make it easier for him to move across the city and enable him to snare criminals; and the mask offers anonymity, protection, and comfort, a way to fight crime and keep his life as boring as it always has been.

Being a hero was no easy feat. Mark is aware of this. He does his very best to kick ass and take names. Life has meaning, even if it includes being pounded into the ground and fighting guys in colorful suits that possess, whether innate or manufactured, unique abilities that rival his own. New threats crawl out of the woodwork but he’s ready for all of them. Because he’s Spider-Man and it’s his duty to kick ass and keep people safe.

But sometimes, no matter how cool it might feel, being Spider-Man can be exhausting.

THE Black Cat was fast.

Not Quicksilver fast, but definitely-athlete-fast. Like, come to think of it, track-star fast. He moved with such complete control of his body that for a second Mark felt jealous of his flexibility. He dashed and shouldered a door open at the end of the corridor, promptly disappearing through it. Just then, as if on cue, the elevator binged itself open. It was empty. Obviously. The Cat had no plans on waiting for it and had been a last second attempt to lose his pursuer.

Mark sprinted after him and launched himself forward with a leap that had him cling to the ceiling then bounced on a wall and thrust himself toward the exit the Cat had improvised for himself. He noticed that the master thief’s choice of exit was the emergency staircase. Instead of descending, the Cat ascended not by foot but via grappling gun. Seconds before he was propelled upward, they came face-to-face.

The Web-Slinger, albeit reluctantly, admitted the elusive and perpetually frustrating thief was quite the looker—even if a good part of his face was still concealed by the domino mask-like goggles he was wearing. The lenses were pristine and made his eyes visible: one was dark, the other bright blue. His complexion was pale, his hair a mess of red and white. When he smirked he came across as both charming and devious, a strange mix that only added to his allure.

You seriously gotta focus, the Web-Slinger scolded himself. There’s no time for man-crushes.

In the blink of an eye, the Black Cat was whisked away and the sound of the line echoed in the empty staircase.

Seriously?

“Son of a—hey—that’s cheating!” Mark exclaimed as he leapt on the stair’s railing then aimed his web-shooter at the Cat’s feet. “Gotcha!”

Only he didn’t. The webs flew past the Cat’s head and attached themselves to the railing three stories up. Spider-Man groaned, shook his head, and released the weblines. He cracked his neck and knuckles, inhaled through his nose then exhaled through his mouth. With all the strength he could muster and crouching as low as he could, while still balancing himself on the railing, he sprung upward like a bullet. He flew, matching the Cat’s altitude, and caught him mid-air before he could disengage the line on his belt. The impact was harder and a bit more painful than expected; it was bound to be either way. Mark shrugged it off with a faint grunt. The Black Cat? Not so much.

Shooting his webs to a railing, the Web-Slinger managed to hold them suspended before completely falling. The Black Cat groaned from the whiplash but was still conscious and strong enough to smack Mark across the face, using him and the web to ascend as though he were back at climbing the rope in PE. Mark groaned despondently, his upper-lip stinging, then saw the master thief run through a door that led to the roof.

You gotta be shitting me.

He spun another web, triggering the web-shooters to pull him up, and dashed through the door as soon as he touched ground. The Black Cat, who had a decent head start, was running toward the edge of the building’s roof. He leapt on the edge and looked down, as though to prepare himself to jump. Yet, before he could he even think about doing that, two strong web-lines dragged him back. The master thief landed squarely and pathetically on his back. When he blinked and groaned, pain shooting through all of his back and some of his buttocks, he saw a pair of green eyes squinting right at him.

“Hey,” said the Black Cat, trying to conceal a smirk. “How’s it going, Webs?”

Mark tilted his head, arms crossed. “It seems like we’re in a rush, aren’t we, Puss in Boots?”

The Cat scoffed and cackled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Though he could make another run for it, he remained on the ground. “I thought you’d be taller,” Black Cat exclaimed, sounding disappointed. “Like way taller.”

“And I thought you’d be—uh—less of—dammit.”

Mark groaned and rubbed the back of his neck when his quarry stared at him with a smug half-smile. The master thief shrugged, chuckled, then his hands moved to either side of his head faster than Mark could register it. With acrobatic ease and proficiency, the Cat performed a perfect kip up and was instantly on his feet. If he was winded and exhausted from the chase, he didn’t show it.

“Cat caught your tongue?”

“Funny,” mumbled Spider-Man. “Real funny.”

“Not as funny as this.” The Cat titled his head to the side. He was still smirking as he sang, “Oh Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream—make it the harshest pummeling I’ve ever seen.”

“What are you—?”

And there it was. A second too late but still there. His entire body buzzed, goosebumps spreading everywhere, and his head felt heavy as a wave of nausea hit him like a punch on his gut. Everything momentarily slowed down but before he could react to the danger, before he could even register it, he was swept aside with such force that felt like a van had smacked him squarely across the side. The pressure and velocity of it overwhelmed him. He flew, high and far away from the building’s roof . . . until he wasn’t. 

He didn’t know where or how he landed. He just knew, as everything turned dark, that everything hurt and there was definitely a good amount of sand in his pants.

[existing-on-cloral]

Brooklyn’s Night Terrors

A Steve Rogers X Reader Fanfiction

Chapter Five: Odds of Change

A chance encounter with the Blue Reaper leaves Steve confused and guilty.

Peter pulled his mask up over his face, revealing his mouth and nose. "Is this going to be a firefight, Mr. Rogers?"

Steve bit his lip, checking over his suit to make sure there weren't any rips or breaks. "I gotta be honest with you, kid, I don't know. We could be walking into a trap. Actually, we are almost certainly walking into a trap."

Peter shrugged. "As long as I don't get hit by a train, I'm good."

Gallows humor. Steve winced, thinking back to Peter's reports on the events in Europe. "If we follow the clues, they're leading us away from the subway, so I think we're gonna be okay for a while."

"Okay." Peter fell silent, slowly recovering his face with his mask. "Mr. Rogers?"

"Yeah?" Steve turned to Peter, focusing on the kid. "What is it, Peter?"

"Do you think they'll ever believe me?" He gestured down to the streets of New York City. "The public. About what happened in London."

Steve shrugged. "One of my biggest regrets is keeping a huge secret from Tony. When he... When he used the stones, he probably still didn't trust me at all. He never called me, but I wish I'd been able to help him somehow." He saw the mask's eyes widen out of the corner of his eye, and he realized who he was talking to. "Sorry, Peter, you shouldn't have to deal with adult drama yet."

Peter glanced down at the ledge he was perched on. "It's better than school drama. Which I don't get anymore because no one talks to me, not even Ned or MJ. I'm the school drama." He looked back up at Steve. "Is that what Germany was about? What's the secret? If I knew maybe I could help, MJ says I'm good at distress calls except when they're my own-"

"It's nothing, Pete. Don't worry." Steve gently touched Peter's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Muffled sobs came from behind the mask. "No."

Steve nodded to the streets below. "All those people have phones down there. I'd hate to make this a publicity stunt, but why don't we take a more public route to follow our clues?"

Peter pulled up his mask to swipe at his eyes. "You'd risk your rep for me?"

"Hey." Steve grinned down at Peter, climbing onto the ledge and readying his shield. "I'm America's Golden Boy. And a war criminal, but that's beside the point. Your pictures of me holding Mjio... Mew... the hammer really helped. Also, why did you have you cell phone on you at the time?"

"Because it was in my backpack, and then I stuffed it into my suit but it started slipping so it was kinda near-"

Steve cut him off with a wave of his hand. "No more details, I think I got the picture. Ready?"

Peter jumped to his feet and adjusted his mask, bouncing lightly in place. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Both took a deep breath and jumped off the building. Peter shot a web to the opposite side of the street and threw it to Steve, then shot one for himself. The two of them scrambled down the side of the building, Steve relying more heavily on the web than Peter. Several times, he swore it would snap in half, but the sticky stuff held fast.

When they reached the street, Steve patted Peter on the back as pedestrians stared. "You just... I'm never doing that again. I'll stick to shield landings." Phone cameras began flashing and Steve was quick to start jogging, pulling Peter behind him.

"That's Spider-Man! Get him!" somebody shouted, and a mob began to form.

"Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit," Peter groaned, taking off and quickly passing Steve. "Maybe next time the back alleys are a good idea?"

Steve swore under his breath, the phrase containing a couple of words he didn't want a seventeen-year-old kid to hear. "I got this." He skidded to a stop and turned to face the mob. "People of New York!"

The crowd stopped where they were, some of them knocking others over. Steve resisted the urge to slam his head into the nearest piece of concrete. "You have been terrorized by the possibility of a new threat. The Blue Reaper kills without mercy and without motive. She has kidnapped the man that I passed this shield-" Steve held up the shield, drawing gasps from the onlookers, "-to, and has used the time travel technology she stole to bring back an old friend of ours. On top of that, she turned him into an enemy using the same programming Hydra once used to brainwash James Buchanan Barnes."

Peter watched, amazed at the sudden turn of events and Steve's impromptu speech. Captain America indeed!

Steve continued, "Spider-Man and I are on our way to make sure that Sam Wilson, your new Captain America, is rescued before the same fate can befall him. Now, many of you do not trust Spider-Man due to recent events. I say that that video was as doctored as J.J. Jameson's face. The man has had it out for Spider-Man since day one, and the Daily Bugle is the least credible news site I've ever seen." He stopped, taking in a deep breath. "Now, Spider-Man and I have to find our friend and get him back to HQ, if you don't mind." Steve turned away, ignoring the shocked looks of the crowd. "Come on, Spidey."

The pair rushed off, Peter swinging through the streets and Steve not far behind.

"Hey, Cap?" Peter called from the air. "I just wanna thank you for that." He dropped to the street and began running, still fast enough to keep up with Steve.

"Don't thank me. You could have done better," Steve waved him off. "Let's save our breath for the fight, shall we?"

Peter nodded in agreement, shooting off another web and taking off. He scanned the city for any sign of a blue streak, making sure to watch each alleyway closely. Steve followed behind him, clearly trusting the web-shooter's instincts and spidey-sense.

After another couple of blocks, Steve turned the corner and stopped, holding up a hand. Peter landed next to him, giving him a quick side-eye. "Why are we stopped? The signs are getting more prominent."

"That's why we've stopped. From here, we proceed on foot and slowly." Steve took a careful step onto the next slab of pavement. "Come on. Slowly."

Peter followed, staying behind Steve and watching his feet, keeping an eye out for traps. "This is kinda scary," he whispered.

Steve shot a look over his shoulder. "And quietly," he added, amending his earlier statement.

Quickly, Peter signed, "sorry", and shut his mouth.

Two more pavement blocks and Steve pointed down an alleyway, where blue spray paint was just visible enough for them to see. By the time they reached it, however, the alleyway was totally dark. "Dammit," Steve cursed, running his finger over the wall.

"Don't worry, I got this." Steve turned around just in time to see Peter snap a glow stick. It immediately illuminated the space around them, giving them enough light to see each other and the paint.

"Why do you have... Where were you... You know what, forget it." Steve took the glow stick and ran it over the paint, following the drips down to a sewer grate. "Help me pry this up." He stuck the glow stick in between his teeth and tugged on the grate, gesturing for Peter to help. Together, they quietly lifted the grate and set it off to the side. Steve stuck one foot in and it landed on the rung of what he hoped was a very strong ladder. He started down, waving Peter towards the passage as well.

The bottom of the ladder brought Steve into a small room with two hallways leading in opposite directions. Screams were coming from somewhere, but even with enhanced hearing he couldn't tell if it was in the left hallway or right hallway.

"Which side you want?" Peter piped up, jumping down from the ladder.

"Split up?" Steve pulled his shield off his back, readying it in case of guards or a fight. "That doesn't sound like a-"

Peter shook his head. "Just trust me. I have a tingle about it." He started down the left-side hallway, leaving Steve the right. "Meet back here in thirty minutes if you don't find anything and we'll regroup!"

Steve watched Peter go, mentally kicking himself for bringing Peter and not Bucky. Bucky would have searched each hallway with Steve, but maybe Peter was right. They needed to get in and out undetected, and less time in this odd place would help with that. Steeling himself, Steve started down the right hallway.

It quickly became apparent that the passageways were some sort of maze. The next room he came upon had two options, left or right. Steve drew a line in the dirt with his boot where he'd come from and checked the right hallway first. It dead-ended after about thirty seconds of walking, and Steve hurried down the left hallway.

Right, left, left, right, right, right. Steve had no choice but to guess each time. Sometimes he guessed right, sometimes he guessed wrong. At some of the dead ends were obstacles, guards or soldiers that he quickly and stealthily knocked out. He checked his watch as he hurried down another tunnel. Ten minutes had passed. He was wasting time. Hypothetically, the maze should be easier to leave than to enter, but he knew that if this lead to another room, he would have to go back and wait for Peter.

Up ahead, he spotted a light burning and his movements slowed. The first sign of someone being down here other than the guards, and he wasn't about to waste the element of surprise. Steve crept into the room, which was lit by two dim lights on either side of a disused fireplace. About twenty feet up, attached to the ceiling, was a metal cage.

In it was Sam.

Sam spotted him immediately, but both knew better than to call out for their friend. Instead, Steve began scanning the walls, looking for a way up.

"I wouldn't bother, Captain," a metallic voice came from the other end of the room. Steve's head snapped to the fireplace, which now had an opening above it. Villains and their need for dramatic entrances. In the opening stood a woman, with a mask covering all of her face except for her mouth, much like Steve's. Mirrored goggles allowed her to see out through the mask. Her blonde hair popped out of the back in a high ponytail. A collar encircled her neck, which Steve figured must contain a voice box that was modifying her voice. Hiding her identity. The rest of her body was covered in a blue-black spandex suit, and she wore black ballet slippers.

The irony that she looked quite a bit like Natasha did not escape Steve.

"I knew you'd come for your friend, but I didn't expect you to bring company. He's probably trying to figure out how to fight off my latest addition to my troops." She hopped down from the fireplace, landing as silently as a cat. "I don't believe introductions are needed, as our reputations proceed both of us." She held out her hand, and a scythe, sharp and deadly, flew from the corner of the room.

"The Blue Reaper." Steve tensed. He hadn't expected to encounter the Reaper herself, perhaps a few of her guards, but that was it. "Are you affiliated with Hydra?"

Across from Steve, the panel concealing her hidden door slid shut and a screen flickered to life. On it was security footage of what had to be the other tunnel. Peter appeared, shooting webs at a man with two handguns and a hardened smile on his face.

"Quentin Beck," Steve said, quickly dropping into a battle stance. "But he's dead."

"As you have seen with Maximoff, death does not stop the Reaper." She stood tall, swinging her scythe behind her. "Though I prefer guns, this is a bit more for the public." Her laugh was cold and calculated, bouncing off the chamber walls. "Speaking of Maximoff, I'd get out of here if I were you. He might hurt your little girlfriend."

Steve focused on Sam's heaving breathing, keeping his eyes on the Reaper. "Let Sam go. And leave her alone!"

The Reaper laughed again. "You should know by now that diplomacy never works with villains."

"So you acknowledge you're a villain," Steve quipped, voice grim.

She only scoffed and snapped her fingers. Sam's cage began to retreat into the ceiling. "I'm not going to let you have your friend back today. Maybe once he's on my side I'll set him loose in your headquarters and then-" She drew her scythe across her throat, grinning at Steve. He shivered, but raised his shield. To his surprise, the Reaper kicked her scythe away, stuck her hand in a pocket of the spandex, and waltzed up to him, drawing her hand back out. Before he could react, she opened her hand and blew a powdery substance in his face. Steve coughed, feeling him limbs go limp, and his shield fell to the floor.

"All men eventually fall to the Reaper," she giggled, twisting her fingers into his suit and pulling him into a kiss.

Steve knew he should push her away, stop her, kick her, hit her while she was vulnerable but he just couldn't do it, just couldn't do it. Her lips were suddenly the softest he's ever felt, softer than Peggy's, softer even than Bucky's when he'd kissed him on a dare back in the 40's, softer than hers could be...

The Reaper pulled Steve backwards, still kissing him, and let him pin her to the wall. "Forget your friends, Captain. It's just you and me here. Forget that common bitch you say you could love someday. She likes Sam and you know it."

He knew she was right. She likes Sam. Steve let the Reaper switch them, let himself be pinned to the wall and let her slide her legs around his waist-

"Get off him!"

A web yanked the Reaper away from Steve, sending her flying into the wall. Her head crashed into the stone and she crumpled, unconscious. Steve's hand flew to his mouth, trying to block his thoughts and possibly the bile curling in his throat.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, quickly retrieving the shield. "What did she get you with? I know you wouldn't just do that..."

"I need to... I need..." Steve started to stagger towards her, but something hit him in the head, hard.

Peter watched Steve fall down and sighed, beginning to build a backpack of sorts out of webs. "I'm sorry, Captain, but Mr. Barnes said that Miss Romanoff told him that cognitive recalibration is the best way to go about this..."

He hauled Steve onto his back, grunting from the effort, and quickly made his way out of the tunnels and back into the streets of New York.

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

“Unlike Peter, Miles was bitten at age thirteen, making him younger and more unprepared to cope with his powers and the responsibilities of being a superhero.”

 Is there really that big of a difference between being 13 and being 15 when it comes to risking your life by swinging from sky scrapers and  dodging bullets.

 15. TURN INVISIBLE/CAMOUFLAGE

 “One of the more notable uses of this tactic was when he disappeared from Earth 616 Peter and then reappeared on the side of the wall and kicks Peter in the face. ”

 You mean when Bendis jobbed Peter by deliberately ignoring the Spider Sense, one of his most iconic abilities?

 14. VENOM BLAST

 “This ability comes in handy in battle, especially when fighting high-powered villains such as the Scorpion, who was knocked out using the electric sting, and Green Goblin, who was badly injured by it.”

 In other words this ability enables Miles to cheaply and easily gain the upper hand in fights since it’s an electrical discharge which can even electrocute a guy who’s entire powerset is electricity based.

 “At one point, as Earth 616 Peter Parker and Miles are fighting, he even used the venom blast on Peter and briefly knocked him out.”

 Again through the power of bad writing by ignoring the spider sense.

 “Miles also was able to separate Venom from his host with a venom blast, which has notoriously been difficult for Peter to do.”

 Not really, Peter can do it so long as he has access to fire or sonics.

 13. ENERGY BURST

 “Closely related to his Venom Blast, Miles discovers almost accidentally that he is also able to release large bursts of energy that incapacitate those around him. When Miles is under extreme amounts of stress and or close to losing a battle, he can release this energy. This ability makes him a powerful opponent, and also gives him the upper hand as most villains are caught off-guard by it.”

 So again over powering Miles and making him a Spider-Man equivalent of a Super Saiyan. Lovely.

 “However, his energy burst does have two major downfalls; one being that it is incredibly unpredictable and he does not know how to utilize it in regular battle, and the second being that it drains him of most of his energy, making him useless for the remainder of a fight.”

 Well that’s something.

 12. COMMUNICATE WITH HIS BEST FRIEND

 “Ganke provides comedic relief, advice and builds Miles’ confidence up while also chastising him when needed.”

 In other words the exact same role Ultimate MJ filled except with less romantic tension. Also the same role 616 MJ used to fulfil. Not saying Ganke is bad but this is hardly something Miles has over Peter.

 “Miles allows himself to be emotionally vulnerable with Ganke, which is not the same vulnerability he has with his parents. Miles is unafraid to cry and hug Ganke while leaving himself vulnerable as he tells Ganke about his deepest fears of a “bad person” because of his family history.”

 See above.

 “Communicating his struggles to a close friend who knows him as both a boy and a superhero differs from Peter, who never had that immediate support while in high school.”

 In the 616 universe this is accurate, but putting aside how he did have it later in life, again Ultimate Peter Parker did have this in high school.

 11. BE PLAYED BY DONALD GLOVER 

 Outside of voice acting Glover is too old to play Miles.

 However in voice acting or in live action he could play an age appropriate Peter Parker.

  10. BE A TEAM PLAYER / MORE SOCIABLE

 “Though Peter joined teams, such as the Avengers, he was never a true part of them and had difficulty at times accepting help from other members. Peter also had self-doubts, which affected his relationships with members of these teams.”

 Yeah...not if you read New Avengers also written by Bendis or Spidey’s involvement in the FF. Then none of that shit applies.

  “This is unlike Peter, who before being killed in Ultimate Spider-Man, was told by Captain America that he was not ready to be an Avenger– in Ultimate Fallout, Cap admits that they failed to train him properly because they did not view him as a team member.”

 Doesn’t that mean Cap and the other guys were the people with the problem not Peter?

 9. WALL-CRAWL

 “Miles’ ability to adhere to various substances is slightly more impressive as he is able to use it to lift and throw literal tons of items as weapons, even though he is still a kid. ”

 That is literally no different to what Peter could do.

 “Miles’ wall-crawling, unlike Peter’s, is mostly centered on his hands and feet, and Miles also discovers that he can use this ability through regular clothing, such as his shoes.”

 See above.

 “Miles can also deactivate and activate the adhesion ability at will.”

 Also see above.

 Y’all know Spider-Man can stick to stuff with any part of his body right and it works even if he’s asleep or unconscious.

  8. MAINTAIN A RELATIONSHIP WITH GWEN STACY

 “Initially introduced as Peter’s first love, Gwen Stacy and Peter always seemed to be star-crossed lovers, as Green Goblin threw Gwen off a bridge and Peter attempted to save her, but she died from a broken neck. ”

 There was little star crossing those lovers.

 “Even with a clone of Gwen Stacy, Peter is unable to continue to maintain a relationship with Gwen because he and Mary-Jane rekindled theirs.”

 That’s not so much an inability so much as a choice. He didn’t want Gwen he wanted MJ.

 “Unlike Peter, Miles’s relationship with Gwen Stacy in Earth 1610 is a friend and confidant. ”

 Wasn’t that mostly exactly Ultimate Peter’s relationship with Ultimate Gwen and Carnage clone Gwen?

 “More recently in the Spider-Man and Spider-Gwen comics, Miles is transported to Earth-65, where she and Miles share a kiss in Spider-Man, issue 12. Like with her 1610 counterpart, Miles establishes an easy rapport with Gwen as they commiserate about being superheroes and having parents who are willing to sacrifice themselves to keep them and their secrets safe.”

 The author does realize 616, Ultimate and Earth 65 Gwen are all vastly different to one another right?

 “Miles is also able to save Gwen, which Peter was unable to do, in Spider-Gwen #16, when Doc Ock attacks and nearly succeeds in beating her.”

 Didn’t Peter save Gwen MULTIPLE times before the one time he failed?

 Like Miles saving her once = he can do what Peter couldn’t.

 7. LEARN QUICKLY

 “When Miles was introduced, it was established that he was an intellectually gifted individual with an aptitude for learning. Though Peter was also brilliant (he did create his own web after all!), Miles’ ability was beneficial to him as he could view videos of Peter’s fighting and analyze it for his own improvements, much like a sports team watching game footage. Miles translated that knowledge of Peter to improve his own abilities as a hero at the tender age of thirteen.”

 That’s not really learning quickly then is it.

 That’s saying an airplane pilot is better because he figured out how to fly faster than the Wright brothers.

 Well sure, he had all of the Wright brothers’ work to build upon, he didn’t have to learn via trial and error and figure things out from scratch.

 Really Peter getting so good at heroing so quickly with nothing to go on is actually more exemplary of his ability to learn quickly than it is in Miles’ case.

 “Because of this study, he was able to defeat Osborne.”

 Pretty sure his ability to beat Osborn (there is no ‘e’) had less to do with him studying him and a lot more to do with just shocking him over and over and over.

 Also

 “He utilized this same method of self-improvement through quick learning in Ultimate Spider-Man, #6, where he studied Norman Osborne before confronting him in battle. Because of this study, he was able to defeat Osborne. Miles translated his knowledge into an ability at thirteen that helped him be a better superhero, even if he stumbled a few times along the way. In Ultimate Spider-Man, issue #6, Miles also tells Norman Osborne that he studied up on him and knew his fighting style, which is why he’s able to defeat him.”

  Great proofreading there buddy.

 6. SPEAK SPANISH

 “Though Peter Parker was able to appeal to the residents of New York, he had some difficulty connecting to some of the residents in his own city and within his own community. Although Miles’ cultural background is not an ability, Miles can speak Spanish and English, which is important as it gives his character more depth and acknowledges culture and his community.”

 ...Peter Parker can speak Mandarin...

 “In Spider-Man, issue #2, Miles is still trying to figure out how to be Spider-Man, and his grandmother comes to visit him at his mother’s request, due to his failing grades. Though Miles does not speak Spanish in this issue, his grandmother does and it’s obvious he understands her. Being bilingual differentiates him from Peter as he is connected to not only family, but another community that would help keep him grounded.”

 I mean yes but Peter Parker doesn’t require a community (ethnic or otherwise) to keep him grounded.

 “During his time in Earth 65, Gwen Stacy makes a comment about needing a spy name and dubs herself  “Tigra La Muerteface,” to which Miles responds with an “Uh, you don’t speak Spanish, do you?” while grimacing at her garbled spy name. ”

 He doesn’t grimace in the issue because he is wearing a mask.

 5. SPIDER-SENSE

“Initially, Miles’ “Spider-Sense” seemed to be weaker than that of Peter’s. However, in Ultimate Comics Spider-Man, issue 3, Miles dreams of being attacked by Electro, who has come to kill Spider-Man. When he awakens, he is told that Spider-Man was killed. Miles knows that the dream was a warning that danger was coming, and this suggests that his Spider-Sense might actually encompass more than just immediate danger (like Peter’s) and may eventually develop into something much larger and more significant as time goes on.”

 Pretty sure Peter’s spider sense has been linked to prophetic dreams at least once or twice like during the Other.

 Also Peter’s spider sense does not merely warn him of immediate danger. He’s used it to track down loved ones and to find bad guys concealing weapons. He’s even linked them with his spider tracers.

 “This Spider-Sense also seems to affect him physically and comes across “louder,” depending on the threat level. In Nova #4, Miles’ Spider-Sense goes haywire, indicating that there is a serious threat and that he and his team need to escape from the battle or risk serious injury.”

 Peter’s does that too, see the original Morlun appearance.

 “Miles’ Spider-Sense also seems to work faster than Peter’s, as shown in Spider-Man, issue #2, when Miles’ Spider-Sense goes off before Peter’s as they are about to be attacked by a demon.”

 No Miles spider sense works period whilst Bendis once again underwrote peter in that issue to make Miles look better.

 4. REGENERATE

“Another of Miles’ abilities that differs slightly from Peter’s is his ability to heal at an accelerated rate. Though Peter and Miles are similar in this regard, Miles appears to be slightly more durable, and the limits of his regenerative abilities have not fully been explored.”

 So he has like Wolverine levels of durability and healing. Charming.

 3. (ALLEGED) IMMORTALITY

“After a lengthy battle where the Green Goblin escapes and then comes back later to continue the fight, Osborn alleges that the Oz formula that the strain of spider that bit Miles was from had one side effect, and that was immortality.”

 So again, making Miles over powered and on top of that less vulnerable and human like Spider-Man is supposed to be. Charming.

 “Given that Osborn initially created the Oz formula to cure disease, and Peter Parker died and came back, there is some merit to this madman’s ramblings which may pose a fun and interesting plot line in the future of Miles.”

 If this is so speculative how can it justifiably be placed on a list like this?

 2. TAKE SERIOUS THINGS SERIOUSLY

 “Miles Morales is no stranger to witnessing the unfair treatment of others and has been on the receiving end of unfair, biased and at times, prejudiced opinions of himself and his family. ”

 So has Peter, just not to as bad of an extent because it didn’t manifest itself as racism.

 “Peter has only had that experience as Spider-Man and tended to deflect his feelings about the issues by using humor, whereas Miles goes home and speaks to his father about it.”

 Didn’t Peter repeatedly brood, angst, beat himself up and feel bad about himself for failing the people in his life multiple times?

 And hasn’t he spoken about this to people like Aunt May, Mary Jane, Johnny Storm, etc on multiple occasions?

 It’s not like he just laughed crap off and moved on.

 “Miles himself becomes a victim of Ulysses’ visions and is almost arrested by Carol and Miles expresses his feelings of horror, fear, and disbelief by falling to his knees and crying, instead of making a witty remark like Peter would have done.”

 Peter wasn’t cracking wise when Gwen died and he was accussed of her murder.

 Nor when he accidentally killed Charlie in Berlin.

 It is a false narrative to suggest that something as serious as this would automatically or probably result in Peter simply cracking wise.

 1. STAY ALIVE

 “Considering he has been Spider-Man for less than two years, Miles has faced more than his share of near-death experiences. ”

 Miles has definitely been Spider-Man for longer than 2 years.

 “However, Miles’ ability to stay alive when placed in these situations speaks volumes about his awareness and adaptability, especially considering his age.”

 I fail to see how this is something he can do that Peter couldn’t.

 “When Miles fights the Green Goblin shortly after Peter’s death in Ultimate Spider-Man issue #7, he uses his energy burst to defeat him instead of being killed.”

 When Peter battled Juggernaut and Firelord he used his superior speed and smarts to avoid being killed...and owning their asses...

 “During Secret Wars, Miles is also able to use his wits and hides aboard a ship as Earth 1610 and Earth 616 collide, which allows him to survive the initial collision of the two worlds. When he wakes from stasis in Battle World, he befriends Molecule Man and provides him a hamburger that he happened to have on him. Molecule Man saves Miles, and as a sign of good faith and in appreciation of Miles’ kindness, Molecule Man also brings back his mother. So, not only does Miles have the ability to stay alive against foes who just can’t stay dead, but his actions also bring back his loved ones.”

 Again...not seeing how this is something Peter couldn’t do. It’s not even like he intended to bring his mother back to life, that was a fluke.

 Hell between cloning, mystic ninjas and everything he’s seen peter could probably bring his loved ones back to life but opts not to.

 Overall...weak list.

[margaritas-and-melancholy]

Part 1

So I was writing a piece for @straightasdeanwinchester‘s 2000 follower challenge but then I got super carried away for several day and Its ended up being really, really long and I’m not even a quarter into the story yet sooo this is going to be a part 1 for a fic coming soon hopefully!

Word Count: 10,001

Pairing: The Winchester Bro’s x platonic reader (well kinda platonic but also with a bit of a thing for Dean)

Warnings: None I think

Enjoy!

It was February in Kansas, still winter and you were outside a worn and rusted old metal door. You were standing outside the Men of Letters American bunker; a relic from the 1950s left abandoned until recently. The two new occupants were Sam and Dean Winchester; Legacies through their grandfather's side. You hesitate to knock but you’re sure you have already tripped the warding sigils and sooner or later they will find out you’re am here.

 Whilst standing outside the bunker you absently think of everything that had happened in the last year. You think of the day you found out you were an Impartial angel, a special type of Angel little told of in theology textbooks, at least the ones you’d seen. We are not only Angels, we are also humans.

Unlike other Angels which must take vessels in order to survive on the earth we come with one prepackaged.

 Impartials are born just like humans with no memory of who they are and you had ha a completely normal human life until we turn 18.

 That is when you’d receive what's known as The Knowledge. Impartial angels receive all the knowledge of their past life; who they were, what they used to be and who they need to be.

 An impartial angel might live up to 3000 years in the same human body but they still need to take a new form when that body dies. You remember the two different lives you have lived so far, one you barely remember, only the darkness and the cold and the fighting and surviving. The next is more vivid to you, you were a young boy living in Ireland, nothing more than a peasant really, scrounging for a bit of turnip or an apple to fend off the scurvy. Now you’re a girl, born 1998 London, England.

 When you received my Knowledge you saw the apocalypse, you heard of the Leviathan, you heard everything and then you heard of the Winchester's; Sam and Dean.

 Now forced to flee from your home and family the obvious choice was to seek them out for help and protection. And that (with a bit of persuasion from Chuck) is why you’re hesitating in front of the door of the two most infamous hunters in history.

 You feel silly but deep down you’re scared of rejection. The brothers are not exactly known for being friendly or for enjoying Partners in Crime and you can't tell them the whole reason you are here. You don't want to.

 You breathe out long and heavy watching the condensation of my breath and knock on the door. After a minute, it's opened by a tall man dressed simply in jeans and a plaid shirt, brown hair coming to his shoulders and confusion written all over his face.

 “Hi” you start brightly, beaming a sunny smile to him and hoping he won't slam the door in your face or try to kill you. Of course, that scenario would end up being a lot worse for him.

 The man- Sam - looks baffled “um hi…”  he looks inside the dark bunker and back at you “I'm sorry” he says, “who are you?”

 “Oh sorry” You stutter, determined to make a positive impact “I'm (Y/N), um it's nice to meet you, can I come in?”

 “How did you find us?” This doesn't seem to be going anywhere…. His eyebrows knit together with confusion and just a hint of fear.  His hand is reaching reflexively towards his belt to the knife you know is hidden under his shirt.

 “Look it's a really long story can I just come in?” taking control you push past him still standing frozen in shock and walk into the bunker dragging my case behind me. After the terrors of demons and angels I suppose a you were the last thing they were expecting. Oh well, at least if I look cute and fuzzy he won't try and kill me outright.

 Carefully I step through the two heavy doors and look beyond the balcony below to the cavernous rooms. Dean stares up from a table surrounded by open lore books looking concerned “Sam?”  he shouts, “What the hell?”

You walk down the stairs followed by Sam and place my bag on the nearest table. You see Deans eyes widen and a smile spreads across his face.

  “Chuck sent me” you announce.

 “Chuck... as in God?” Sam questions

“yeah”

Dean looks irritated and rolls his eyes “Oh great, so what does he think we are now, babysitters!” he huffs. “Anyway, I thought God was taking an extended vacation, family bonding and all that”

 “Well I am family” You smile encouragingly

 From your peripheral vision, you see Sam give you the side eye and the two of them exchange a glance.

 “No offence” Sam started “but God didn’t show for Michael, Lucifer or the apocalypse, what makes you special”. He leans against one of the walls arms folded and eyebrow raised.

 “Look, there's trouble upstairs-” You begin hesitantly

“When isn't there!”  Dean mutters under his breath looking bothered. Looking back to all the times they have had to clean up heavens messes you can see why.

 “Maybe it's best if you tell us from the beginning” Sam said gently. You shrug and sigh.

 “Ok but it might take a while”

   “So, let me get this straight you're some kind of humanoid...angel... whatever and you got in trouble with some of your angel buddies and you need to stay here?”. You look up from bitten fingernails and see Dean's resigned expression.

 “Yeah more or less” You give them both a smile and really hope they're not going to kick you out.

 “impartial angel...” Sam repeats, “you know dean, I think I have seen something about that in the lore”

“Oh yeah”

 “Yeah! you guys were supposed to be able to pack some serious mojo right?” Sam turns to you for confirmation and you swear he's almost impressed.

 You chuckle awkwardly and give a sheepish grin “Yeah”

 “Well you wouldn't have thought it looking at you, a tiny little thing like yourself” Dean scoffs eyeing you up and down. “But then again look at Chuck and he’s master of the universe”

 If you could see yourself now you are pretty sure you would agree with him, you don't look like a centre of power. You’re small and absolutely terrified. You fold my hands behind your back so you can't start wringing them together and hope the sweat isn't visible.

 What's making you most nervous, creating this horrible pit in your stomach is you can't taste the atmosphere of the room.  You had decided to switch off your ‘spidey senses’ to give the boys a bit of privacy and not read their minds. Besides you didn't want to hear their judgement of you.

 “Look it won't be for very long and I won't make any mess, I won't be any trouble, I promise I just really need to stay for a while and lie low... please”

 You look pleadingly between Sam and Dean who exchange stares. As an only child, you’ve always envied that connection between siblings, the ability to understand what each other are thinking and it's clear that Sam and Dean are no different.

Dean is the first to break the uncomfortable pause by huffing loudly “Sure it's no problem, consider us your very own witness protection service for human- angels” he grins at you and Sam

 “Hangels!” He shouts tears in his eyes at his own terrible pun. “Eh eh Sammy...Hangels”

 You crack a smile at Sam's disapproving face as Dean gets up from the table throwing his hands in the air “Some people!”  he says, “No appreciation for good humour” and he disappears down the corridor. He turns just for a second to stare inquisitively at you then smiles at whatever unknown thought he had.

 In the corner, Sam looks pensive “What worries me is what's possibly so bad that could be a threat to an impartial angel” he asks.

 Your face falls and you glare down at my shoes ashamed “maybe I am the threat” you whisper

From where you’re standing the silence feels long and ugly but that maybe just because you already know your sins. Unwilling to see the disgust you are sure is written on his face you keep your eyes fixed downwards.

 Thankfully the awkwardness is broken by an ever-reliable noisy Dean who tramples into the room “Hey, we've got a room for you -not fancy or pink -but it's safe, we can promise you that”. Behind the jokes, you can see the sincerity in his eyes and you nod.

“Thank you, really”

 “Well it's almost 7:30 so I was going to head out and grab something to eat is there anything you want?”  Sam begins while putting his coat on.

 “Oh s***!” you shout “I need to call my mother, she is going to be freaking out!”.

 Dean looks up in disbelief “angels have mothers?!”  looking round at Sam who simply shrugs back and looks at me.

  You laugh “I do” .

 “Where?”  Dean exclaims.

 “At home…”  You reply slowly.

 He still looks lost “Yeah, where’s that?.

 “London”.

 Sam seems concerned “You came all the way from London to here by yourself?”.

 “Of course,” you reply, “To be honest I only really left half an hour ago...I teleported- angel here remember”. You don’t mention all the time you spent creepily standing outside.

 They both still seemed to be having difficulty coming to terms with the fact that one of the most powerful creatures of Heaven was standing in front of them with a baby face and a purple suitcase. Of course, Lilith was a twelve-year-old and she started the end of the world. And you wouldn’t say you were young looking really, just more innocent.

 “Right” dean said

 “Two minutes” You shout over your shoulder pulling out your phone from my pocket and dialling mum's number.

  It appeared they would rather be facing a vampire than you right now judging by the twin grimaces they were sporting with Sam’s rather outmatching Dean. To be honest you couldn't blame them.

 The phone call was short and went as expected. A lecture for calling late and for leaving your room a mess. Her voice was high and stretched thin, a violin string waiting to snap. You could tell the anger was just a cover for her worry. The last year had been hard for her, accepting her little girl becoming a 3657-year-old (I think, I stopped keeping track a few centuries ago) warrior angel.

 Sam had left to go pick up supplies leaving Dean back at the table with Demonology of the Far East researching for a case. You hung up and picked up my bag “Dean?”

“Yeah”. He looked up and stared directly at you. You were not ready for the physical reaction that accompanied his gaze. Your hands began to sweat as your heart raced. You then realised you had been staring at him for longer than you should.

 “Is it alright if I dump this stuff in my room?” You ask jerking back into reality and pointedly not staring into those green eyes which swallowed you up. “I need to get ready to go hunting, I’ve got a great evening planned”

 He sits back incredulous “Firstly since when do angels hunt, I’m not saying you’re all warm and fuzzy, but hell- your kind don't normally give a crap what goes on down here”

 That stings, you may not be all that close to the heavenly host these days but they are still your family.

 “Well firstly it's not their fault, angels can't help the way they are made to follow the chain of command, we are soldiers Dean not harp playing hippies”. You glare at him.

 “And what do you mean my kind! I am human too you know, I have free will and it's my world too so yeah I care if it's full of monsters!” Even you are surprised at the amount of venom you can hear in my voice and he also looks taken aback.

 Holding his hands up he tries to start again “Okay sorry...truce?” He offers.

 “Sure” You smile weakly, you need to learn to cover the Impartial side. “So, what was secondly?”

He also cracks a smile the sudden tension draining from his shoulders.

 “How did you find a case already?!” Dean asks

 You can't help showing off just a bit and reply casually “I smelt a vamps nest when I came in, about twenty miles away- around 15 of them I think”

 “Yeah sure Sherlock, don't you think we would have noticed a nest of that size in our own neck of the woods”

 You simply smile innocently.

  “An angel is never wrong Dean” and step into the corridor leading to the spare bedrooms leaving him snorting in contempt behind you.

 You hadn't considered it before, how much fun this could be. You never had any siblings and now it's almost like gaining two -slightly dysfunctional- older brothers.

 Well maybe one older brother. And one…something else.

  Invisible from the outside the bunker is massive on the inside, a maze stuck in the 50s painted in retro browns and pale yellows with harsh fluorescent lights and it reminds you of a WW2 government building.

 You could almost expect Churchill himself to come plodding out of one the rooms filled with switchboards, control panels and flashing buttons. Of course, instead of Nazis this place is scanning for demons.

 “Oh, hell no” You say aloud walking into your room, 1950’s is great but if you’re going to be living here for a while the puke colour decor has got to go. You don't care how shallow it sounds it's times like this you love being an angel.

 A couple of finger snaps later you’re sitting at a crystal dressing table groaning under boxes of makeup, brushes and perfume surrounded by gleaming white wallpaper, soft cream carpet and silk sheets. Perhaps the ballroom Moissanite chandelier was a bit much but you think it adds character to the room.

Excited for the evening ahead you spend the better part of an hour and a half transforming your hair and face. You pull out your favourite dress- short and a beautiful emerald velvet with a V neck and loose bell sleeves and then lace up black leather combat boots.

Next up; accessories, hunting style.

 You pick out the knife that you would feel lost without. Even from five months to now ago my weapons feel like part of my skin and extensions of me. You slip your Buck 120 General into a pocket of my leather jacket.

 A couple of months ago You modified a black biker jacket so that you could store blades in the lining which comes in handy in days like today where you’re going to need a machete for the vamps later.

 You switch off the music and walk back down the passageway to the main rooms. Both Sam and Dean are there, Dean digging into a greasy takeaway bag and Sam looking at him with disdain.  “You’ve already eaten 2 burgers Dean, I really hope you enjoy diabetes”.

 Dean looks up at him mid chew “Shut up Sammy, a man needs his bacon”.

 You deliberately step loudly into them room so they hear you enter and Sam turns “Hey, do you want something to eat” He glares at Dean “If there is anything left”

Unabashed Dean then turns “Sorry” and then notices your drastically more polished appearance. He straightened up quickly in his chair doing a small double take “Hey!” He said, “Where the hell are you going?”.

 “Hunting, I told you” You remind him with a smirk and look at them both “You ‘re both welcome to come if you want”.

 “Wait I thought you said Vamps- I doubt they care about makeup” Dean admonished mockingly.

 “Yeah but first I've got to stop off, I've been tracking a high-profile demon for a month or so and I know he is going to be at a club not too far from here tonight so I needed to dress to blend in”.

 “You know you are going to freeze to death” Sam pointed out “It's practically arctic out there”.

 You’re beginning to lose your patience, all the getting ready and prep has built up the anticipation and thrill you always get before hunting. Your muscles ache to be used and your Impartial is bubbling to the surface.

 “I’ll be fine” You say decisively “Are you guys coming or not”.

 “You wanna take out 15 Vamps by yourself? Yeah, we are coming” Dean said, “I’m beginning to see why Chuck sent you to us”. Sam shook his head slightly in agreement. You thought it was sweet how they clearly wanted to protect you.

 You go to climb up the stairs but Sam moves to block your path arm resting on the banister.

“Look, Chuck entrusted you to us for a reason and I hardly think wandering off to a Vampire nest at night is a good idea”.

 My smile tightens “Sam” You say warningly “Please move”.

 “Stay”.

 “You know I don't actually need to leave via the front door right- I could just zap on out of here” you remind him.

 Dean gets up from the table and pulls out his own machete from a duffle bag and sticks it through his belt “Kids’ got a point”.

 Sam rolls his eyes “Fine” and goes to take his own weapon

 “Brilliant” You smile and focus on the grimy bit of town you were aiming to teleport to whilst ignoring Dean's low grumbling “Death wish!”.

 “Okay let's go” I said and reached forward to grab their arms.

 ---

 Your feet impact on hard pavement and the cold air whipped around you. You were in a dark side street lined with bins and locked doors. Even from here the buzz of the city square was audible and you shivered. Sam noticed and raised his eyebrows “Cold?” he reproached “I told you so”

 You ignored the jib and walked towards the city glow. You hadn't shivered from cold, angels don't feel the temperature the way humans do. You shivered because you could feel it- the heart of the city and smell the putrefaction of its evil- and you were excited.

 You let the boys follow you walking down the shaded side of the streets becoming increasingly busier. You pull your hood over your face to blend in further. Invisibility allows you to become no more than an observer which was useful when hunting.

 Sam caught up with you “So, the demon, who is he?” he asked walking round a group of cackling plastic-looking women supporting a clearly very drunk friend. She was tottering on her thin plastic stilettos paying little mind to the stains on her pink mini-dress which looked suspiciously like vomit.

 She shouted at us as we past “Ooo nice boyfriends honey, mind if I take one!” which provoked the whole gaggle to burst into more raucous laughter.

 Dean was smirking at you and raised his eyebrows suggestively whilst you blushed crimson. Sam just smiled politely, with thinly veiled distaste and stepped further away from the group. “The demon?” He prompted and you teared your eyes away from Dean.

 “His name’s Eligor, just your standard douchebag demon, until he got promoted to Great Duke of Hell” You say giving him a pointed look.

 Dean has overtaken you both now as you all cross one of the main city squares buzzing with energy in all corners. People are spilling out like stains into the street drinking, smoking and talking.

 “So, where’s the club?” Dean stops and turns to face Sam and you then looks down at his watch shaking his head “Christ I’m too old for nightclubs”.

 “Have a drink and you’ll be fine” Sam says and Dean's face lightens up slightly.

 “Don't think I won't Sammy”.

 You’re shocked. “You guys drink on the job?”. And they were telling you off for being irresponsible. Dean pauses at the end of the street grinning.

“Well I do most of the drinking and Sam does most of the whining to go home, but don’t worry sweetheart I’ll buy you one too” he winked.

 “I do not!” Sam protests pointing at Dean and opening his mouth to argue-

 “Right!” You shout loudly. “It's right here”.  You were beginning to wonder how often you were going to have to break up the little bickering matches. Sam rolled his eyes and turned away to look fixedly at the buildings on the other side of the road strolled looking amused.

 “So, this Eligor” Dean shouted back to Sam and you. “What's a great Duke of hell doing topside anyway? Isn't he supposed to be...well in hell?”.

 “Yeah that's kinda the problem” you explained. “So, he is in charge of 60 legions of demons and normally it's the small fry that do this kind of manual labour but he has recently been getting involved in a human cartel... and a nasty one at that, responsible for hundreds of deaths this year”.

 The three of you were getting closer to the area of downtown where the club was. You weren’t sure if the boys could sense it but the shift in the mood between the two crowds was blatantly tangible to you. You all were surrounded by warehouses lit with garish neon signs advertising bars and clubs, pounding techno music coming from inside.

 Most people here were dressed in black, faces shrouded by hoods, scattered on the streets, and leaning against walls talking quietly in small groups. From the corner of your eye you could see the boys and you being inspected by a tall scruffy guy with narrowed eyes.

 Dean instinctively straightened up, searching for threats. Meanwhile Sam had subtly grabbed our arms pulled Dean and you both closer to him so he could whisper “Uh guys, we are being stared at...a lot”

Dean pulled his arm away roughly and hissed back quietly “Then stop looking so nervous”

 “It's just because we are new, strangers are never appreciated in places like this” You reassured him and then stopped, grabbing the back of Dean's jacket to stop him wandering off. “Here. this is it”

 Dean looked up at the corrugated metal door with a yellow sign saying Corruption and snorted quietly in amusement “Huh, ‘Corruption. Figures”. He had no idea. Unlike you he couldn't hear all of the people in the street trading in their secrets and deals.

 There was a short line with two burly bouncers flanking the door. Both were heavily tattooed with standard satanic symbols and gang signs but the shorter one had his entire face covered with a grinning skull laid over his own features.

 Dean was eyeing the bouncers with curiosity “Check out the tatts” he said elbowing Sam. Then he turned to you. “Demons?” he asked.

 You laugh derisively “Yeah right, I doubt he even knows what half of those symbols mean” Sam shook his head in disbelief frowning at the large 666 on the taller man’s neck.

 “When the hell did Satanism become cool? “He said.

“God knows” Dean replied and chuckled “Crowley would probably hate them”. He then proceeded to take on a mock British accent “Satanists just have no finesse these days”.

 “Omg don’t, that was horrible” You say rifling in my purse and pulling out a personal invitation. It seemed both you and the Duke of hell had some contacts in this area.

 “Where did you get that?” Sam asked, “You only arrived today”

 You shrug.

 “I preplanned”.

 Then you strut over to the skull faced bouncer and looked evenly at him thrusting out the invitation.

 He inclined his head towards the group and lifted the scarlet silk rope for you and the boys to pass.

  Immediately past the door there was a passage leading to a flight of stairs also painted a deep blood red with dim cat lights on the ceiling.

 You all walked up the stairs which opened onto a huge square room dark and jam packed with writhing dancing bodies. The music was deafening reverberating through your ribcage like a second heartbeat.

 Sam leaned over and shouted, “Now what?”.

 Before you could reply Dean pushed you both towards a less crowded corner of the room with a bar counter

 “Now I’m getting my drink”. Sam and you turned to each other and rolled your eyes but deciding it was best to placate him you both let him steer you along.

 Sam leaned against the sticky wooden counter and you hopped onto a stool scanning the room for a sign of Eligor. Dean smacked his hand on the counter and shouted

“Double whisky!” over the din.

 The barman came over and asked, “How do you want it?”.

Dean smiled broadly “Alcoholic”.

“Right”.

Dean turned back to us “So how do we find this guy”.

You pointed at the both of them. “You don't find him, I do” You emphasized. “You’re my backup”.

 Whilst Dean drank and explained the finer tunings of a smoked Tennessee whiskey to a politely disinterested Sam you closed your eyes.

 Impartial angels are both angelic and human having been born as one. You may display as many attributes of an Impartial angel or a human as you like. But when they hunt the Impartial takes over.

 Shutting your eyes the thumping music stopped, my breathing slowed. You could hear every word spoken in the room, hear the heartbeats of every creature the colour of every soul swimming in the blackness.

 Then you heard “kill...cut...Yoanna...trick...bury...hell”. That was followed by other words of violence and cruelty. Snippets of a conversation that could only be Eligor’s. You could feel it was his mind, bitter and acrid. It had the colour of soot, dirty and black.

 In that moment everything stopped, and there was only the hunt, the connection pulling you towards the pool of darkness, the itch to destroy it.

 Your eyes opened and Sam started and shouted, “What the hell, (Y/N) you have demon eyes!”

Both him and Dean had gotten up and stood in front of you ready to defend themselves if necessary.

“Sammy” Dean said carefully, his face stony and serious moving to stand in front of you. “They’re not Demon eyes look. I would know, I’ve had them” He drew his hand back from under his jacket relaxing

“What happened to you?”. Sam still looked concerned and still had not moved from his defensive position.

 “Eligor” You said shortly. “I’ve found him, the hunt has begun and the Impartial has taken over”. You knew that would mean nothing to the boys but you were no longer paying attention.

 You stood up from the stool and fixed your eyes on a door across the club. “Come” You barked and without looking back started to push through the centre of the crowd. You tried not to look anyone in the face knowing they would see the eyes of an Impartial. Black and liquid, but with hints of rainbow. Like an oil slick.

 You barely noticed when Sam grabbed your arm- presumably not to lose you in the thick throng of people. However, you stopped when you all ducked through the doorway in the club and entered into a dingy dark corridor painted the same menacing red as the entrance.

 “So, you've found him?” Sam asked “Where?”.

 “Not sure exactly” You admitted “But I can feel he is near”.

 Dean slid the gun from his belt next to me and nodded “Then let's go get the bastard”.

 The three of you wandered along the corridor looking through open doors but you heard nothing. Sam stopped at a dark flight of stairs on the left leading to the next floor and gestured his head towards it both hands on his gun

 “You hear anything?” He asked

You shook your head “Nope”.

 “But that doesn't mean he isn’t, there, right?” he pressed.

“Yeah I guess” you replied.

 He shrugged “We should split up then, I’ll take up here and you guys keep going”

“No!” Dean half shouted lowering his voice quickly and shoving Sam's gun out of sight as a woman walked past. With clear effort, he modulated his voice to an angry whisper.

“Are you crazy! He growled “You want to go wandering off to a Great Duke of hell all by yourself, no way!

 You looked along the passageway then spotted something not too far down.

“You know guy’s I don’t think it’s going to be a problem, let’s go”.

Sam followed your gaze and nodded.

 You folded your arms with one hand tucked just under the edge of your jacket fingers resting on your Buck hunting knife as you walked to another flight of stairs leading upwards.

 The boy from outside was leaning lazily against the wall at the bottom staring at the floor. He looked up when you came over and stretched his face into a thin smile.

“Sorry guys, this floors off limits” he rasped.

 “We'll see, we’ve got an appointment” Dean stepped forward and held his hands up in a shrug. The man's face contorted into something nastier and he sneered.

“I don't remember a Moose and a Squirrel being on the guest list”

Sam also stepped forward pulling out his own demon blade and retorted “well it looks like we are crashing the party” with a dangerous smile.

At that the boys smile slipped off his face and his eyes turned jet black “Try it Winchester”.

 Sam advanced but with a flick of the Demons wrist he was sent crashing into the wall and crumpled onto the floor, dazed.

With a roar, Dean lunged at the Demon and was again knocked back with a force that knocked him back off his feet. The demon grabbed your arm and yanked you in front of him pulling your head back with one hand and raising a blade. Both Sam and Dean were on their feet.

 “If you two don't want to see your little sis get chopped up then back off” The demon snarled. Deans facial expression completely shut down at that, replaced by a mask of anger.

Sam was slightly closer to you so you sent him a pointed look and counted on your fingers at your side; one, two, three.

 You whirled out of the demon’s grip grabbing the arm holding you and using your momentum to swing behind him grabbing his other arm. At the same time, Sam ran forward sinking the blade into the demon's chest and twisting the handle.

The demons breathe cut off as the red glow erupted from his eye-sockets and mouth and his vessel slumped on the ground.

 “Good teamwork” Sam smiled and You reached up to give him a high five laughing.

Dean looked up the stairs grimly “If that's all the guarding they have got that's good, it means Eligor isn't expecting company”.

 The brothers and you ascended the staircase silently and found it led to a small landing with only one red door. It looked newer than the rest of the building. Shiny red paint and a silver embossed M on the door. You guessed it was one of the private meeting rooms the club supplied for clientele on business meetings.

 Placing your finger on your lips you looked at the boys then placed your hands softly on the door and closed your eyes to hear. “Listen, Eligor, what’s our collateral, what is our guarantee they aren't just going to double- “.

 ” Not now Pithius” a deep voice drawled “We've got company”.

Then, loudly enough for the boys to hear Eligor shouted lazily “Come in then!”.

 You drew back sharply from the door all three of us hesitating. You looked back and Dean nodded encouragingly so you swallowed, pushed open the door forcefully and marched in.

 “Eligor” You said coldly.

 He was a tall and thin man in black suit and overcoat with salt and pepper hair, probably in his late 50’s. Every angle of his was sharp and his face was heavily lined.

He smiled unkindly “Well if it isn't my lucky day, the famous Winchesters!” he raised his arms in mock admiration and awe “I’ve heard so much about you”.

 “Well we’ve heard about you too Eligor” Sam retorted.

 Dean tilted his head and asked with curiosity “So why are you on earth doing the dirty work?”. He pouted in fake sympathy “Did you get demoted?”. Eligo’s expression didn't change and he ignored the question as he glanced at you. “Looks like we both have friends in high places boys”.

 “Impartial” he greeted you curtly “I haven't met you before”

You snorted in disdain “I doubt you have met many Impartial.” You let acid leak into your voice. “We don't tend to keep company with your kind”.

What made you most uncomfortable was his lack of response, just a simple smug smile and he turned away from me to address us all loudly.

 “So” he said, “What do you all want, if you could make it quick, as you can see Pithius and I are having a meeting”. He swept his arm across the room towards the even skinnier greying demon beside him. He had been looking at you all with pure malice from the second you walked into the room.

 “Well sorry to interrupt but we really do insist you take a break,” Dean snarled brandishing an angel blade “Permanently,”.

  Eligor paused and then spoke politely with a threatening undertone.

 “I don’t that is going to work for me.”

 Dean shrugged sarcastically “Pity.” and suddenly he threw his fist towards Eligor’s face catching him on the jaw and sending him stumbling backwards.

 The other demon, Pithius, stepped backwards looking at Sam who was advancing towards him and looked over to Eligor for help.

 Dean tried to plunge the knife he was carrying into Eligor’s stomach but was met across the face with a jab from the demon’s elbow. At that you ran forwards to give Dean time regain his balance and of course being too far from the demon to surprise him Eligor flicked a hand sideways.

You were knocked off your feet and you smashed into a cabinet on the other side of the room your head cracking on the corner making my vision blur. You were sure If you had been fully human at this point you would have broken a rib or at least suffered a concussion.

Dean took the opportunity of Eligors momentary distraction with you to grab the demon by the throat and throw him against a wall.

 Sam had knocked over the less powerful demon and attempted to stab through his shoulder when the demon rose and collided with Sam's legs causing him to fall to the ground. In that free second Pithius smoked out of his vessel, a black plume rising from the man's mouth which escaped through a vent. “Crap!” Sam shouted.

 Now the three of you converged on Eligor who made a move to lunge at Dean but you kicked out at his shin hearing a loud crack when your foot connected with bone. The demon howled out in rage and reached towards you but Sam grabbed onto his shoulders slamming him against the wall once more allowing you to plunge your angel blade directly into his heart.

The demon’s vessel spasmed, light emanating from his face. Sam let go and the empty vessel fell to the floor.

 You all stood looking at the two bodies on the floor and breathing heavily. You rubbed the back of your head, as expected not feeling any blood or injury but you felt the pain memory. Dean was massaging his face where Eligor had hit him and gingerly pinching his nose to check for breakages.

Sam motioned at the vessel of Eligor. “Poor guy.” He said.

You squatted down to the body and held up one of its arms pulling back the suit sleeves to reveal deep cuts along the wrists.

 “Don't be.” You said without warmth “He was long gone.”.

 Dean placed his knife back in his jacket and looked at the other demon vessel. “What about this one.” He asked and bent down to place two fingers on the older man's neck “Still breathing.” He announced.

Sam moved over to grab the man's arm and gestured for Dean to do the same. “The same as usual.” He said, “Take him to the nearest hospital, wherever that is”.

 “Okay let's go” You said. “Hold him” and I grabbed the two of them.

 You landed solidly in a deserted front lot of the nearest Mass General. “What time is it?” You asked to no one in particular.

 “1:45” Sam replied.

 “Hey, the night is still young!” Dean grinned. Sam rolled his eyes and the two of them began to haul the older man towards the main entrance of the hospital.

You lingered behind looking absently at the silent street that was beginning to get foggy. The road and hospital entrance were flanked with bright orange streetlamps and the sky was overcast with dark raincloud but still there were some stars visible. You looked at Venus, known as the Morningstar and you wondered how the name of something so pure and beautiful could be given to something so ugly.

 Sam wondered out behind me, hands in his pockets. “Where’s Dean?” You asked looking down. He laughed softly, “I think he is trying to get the nurses number”. You laughed with him at the thought of Dean trying to charm the shift nurse, no doubt on her tenth consecutive hour with the cranky attitude to go with it.

Sam leaned against a bench and smiled at you “You did good back there”.

“Of course, I did” You replied lightly “But you too”.

 You turned around at the sound of Dean muttering under his breath striding towards you. “How's the heartbreak?” You asked innocently.

 “I don’t know what you mean” he replied whilst looking daggers at Sam.

 “The Nurse?” Sam hinted as if to jog Dean's memory.

 “Sammy, shut up!” Dean looked thunderous and stomped off.

“Where are you going?” You shouted after him.

 “To go kill the next monster on the list!” he shouted snarkily back.

You laughed. “Well have fun walking the 40 miles to get there…”.

Sam got up and you both strolled over to where Dean was hopefully getting over his sulk. “Don’t worry he is probably just mad I’m embarrassing him in front of you” Sam snickered.

 “So where are we actually going?” he asked whilst you grabbed their forearms to teleport.

“It's a small farmhouse, that's why you wouldn't have noticed it” You explained “Along with the fact they have been travelling to the next city to hunt”. Sam nodded.

“Well let's go kill some Vamps” Dean said looking visibly cheered up by the thought.

 When you arrived, it had already begun to rain here, a heavy downpour starting to build. You looked up towards the sky whilst pulling up your hood.

“The rain is good” Your point out and Dean nods with agreement

“We can’t be heard so well” he says.

 We appeared at the edge of a field by the dividing shrubbery line under a canopy of clustered sycamore trees. It was a good place to have landed. The overgrown bushes and long grass would provide good cover.

 The field itself was sloped and overlooked the farms property giving a good view of the little

house.

  all crouched in the bushes and you hear a soft humming coming from next to you “So I took the shotgun off the wall and fired two warning shots, into his head…mm mm mm mmmm mmm…”. You turned around in confusion and almost burst out laughing. Dean was behind you absently wiping his own colt on the hem of his shirt and singing to himself. You doubted he even realised what he was doing.

 “Chicago, really?” you asked with a smirk. He looked up ears flushing in embarrassment. After a beat, he shrugged, clearly trying to play it off.

 “Who doesn’t love hot prison chicks” he shrugged again. You were not convinced.

 “You sing Broadway songs?” you asked laughing.

 “You should hear his ‘Cats’” Sam chuckled.

Dean huffed. “I like Broadway Songs, don’t judge me”. He shook his head “Let’s get our game faces on”

  “How are we going at this?” Sam asked putting on his own game face and then pointed to the building “There are two entrances front and back, how do you guys want to split?”

 You shook your head and pointed round the back of the house near the ground. You had better sight than them and could see small double doors coming out of the grass.

“No look, there's an entrance to the basement, we are going to have to choose a door each”

Neither brother looked overly enthusiastic.

 “Brilliant” Dean grumbled “And how many Vamps are in there, 15?. You closed your eyes to concentrate on the house.

“Um, I might have underestimated” You said apologetically. “There's 16….only one more”.

 “16!” Sam exclaimed in disbelief. “That's a suicide mission, you know that right?”.

 He then went to tuck his machete back into its sheath “Look we can just go back to the bunker now and bring more people later, get Cas on board, okay?”.

He didn't seem to understand that there was no threat. You could take care of the whole nest yourself if needed. They were mainly there as your backup net to catch whoever tried to escape.

 “No, it’s okay.” You waved away his concern. “I can go in through the front door and take out as many as possible. I just need you both to man the back doors and pick of any stragglers”.

 Both were staring at you like you were insane. “It's fine” You insisted. “Trust me okay?”.

 “Let’s hope you’re not wrong” Dean said gruffly pulling out his machete and walking down the grass towards the house. You smiled to yourself.

 The rain was getting heavier and the grass was quickly becoming a wetland of boggy soil. You slipped and your ankle twisted painfully and you bit down on my lip not to give it away. The last thing you needed was any more of their lack of confidence in you and the plan.

 Approaching the ramshackle wooden house, you turned and winked at the others “See you on the flip side boys”.

 “You'd better” Sam gave you a meaningful look before you all separated and the two of them walked round to the other side of the house to cover escape routes.

 You unzipped your jacket lining and pulled out your own machete. Then you pulled out two plastic vials of dead man's blood and pulled off the lids. You drenched the blade in the blood and dropped the empty vials on the grass.

It was a little invention you were rather proud of; even if you didn't manage a fatal blow immediately any small cut from the blade would slow the Vampire down from blood poisoning.

 The lights were on in the living room and you heard a humming coming from inside. You closed my eyes to immerse myself in the sounds of the souls in the house. They were blood red and aggressive, cruel. You saw images of victims, kids left drained on the street, people screaming and begging to be left alone.

 Your eyes snapped open and you let a small growl escape your lips which built up, rumbling in your chest. Focusing on the atrocities committed by those inside, you let the Impartial riseup, the righteous fire of heaven burning through you, your eyes darkening to a shimmering black.

You raised your foot and smashed it against the door with such a force it cracked in half and came away at the hinges.

 There were about 7 figures who immediately ran out from various rooms to the hallway crouching and baring teeth ready to defend themselves against intrusion. There were a mix of ages and genders with a burly dark haired man standing protectively at the front.

 You guessed he was the leader as it only took a second for him to straighten up and then the rest of the group followed.

 “What do you want, little girl?” He looked curiously at you whilst holding up a hand to the thirsty vampires behind him. You turned your face to meet his eyes and he blanched.

 “Impartial!” He snarled and turned to his family. Most looked confused but some, probably the older vamps, widened their eyes in trepidations recognition.

“Kill her!” He ordered and you smiled broadly showing glistening teeth.

“Your funeral”

 In a wave the vampiric horde rushed forward and you lept forward striking out to the leader like a snake, faster than any human and sliced through his neck like butter. This triggered a cacophony of enraged growls and snarls as you continued advancing, cutting through vamp after vamp. They were now coming from all sides, you matched them, your own snarls getting louder and ripping through you.

 In your enhanced state, you could see every tiny movement. You punched, kicked, cut and hacked at the bodies rushing at you from every angle your muscles aching for more. To destroy.

 You could hear my maniacal laughter as if it came from someone other than yourself. Barely feeling the spray of blood on your face the vampires blurred together, they no longer had age, gender. You no longer saw any features only the prey.

You were vaguely aware there were getting fewer until you felt a knock on my back. Roaring you curled your arm and swung it behind you with full force knocking the man into heavy oak and glass cabinet. He fell to the floor, shards raining down on him.

You stepped forwards to finish it when a voice perforated my cloud of single minded destruction.

“(Y/N) stop!”

 You whipped your head to see Sam standing behind you weapon raised and you looked around for another attacker. There was no one. He was protecting himself from you. It confused you enough to make you pause.

“What?” You managed to spit out.

“Just look” You pointed at the Vampire you had knocked across the room. His face was set with such fear and confusion that you stopped. You did look at the vampire, except it wasn't a vampire. It was Dean.

 You stomach twisted and your breath caught. He was sitting on the floor supporting himself on the cabinet, face covered in small cuts and one large red stain spreading by his hairline. He simply looked up at you with a wincing and breathing heavily. And in that instant all trace of the Impartial killing machine fell away.

 You stepped back in horror at what you had done to your friend, someone who had had your back. Both boys were silent whilst you backed away from Dean almost tripping over a body, tears stinging the corners of your eyes and your hand clasped over your mouth.

 You blinked and suddenly you were all in a different part of countryside outside the bunker. Dean started to get up with a grunt and Sam leaned over to help him.

“I..I” You couldn't speak “I’m so, so sorry” You managed, tears beginning to escape your eyes.

 Then you turned and ran down the road, throwing off your jacket and dumping it by the roadside.

You continued to sprint as fast possible down the road and through fields in the downpour of rain. You felt your muscles burn and your lungs shriek for air. You ran until you collapsed to your knees in a muddy patch of grass where you knew you wouldn't be found. You were alone in the middle of nowhere.

 Your knees got cut on the sharp rocks and pebbles which you ignored, lying in the filth and curling into a ball allowing yourself to get drenched in the arctic night.

 Now you were alone you felt you could finally let out the frustration and anger that had been building up over the last few months. Warm tears streamed down your frozen cheeks mixing with rainwater and you screamed brokenly into the wind at your powerlessness.

 You had known couldn't control the Impartial. You had known it and so had everyone else in heaven. And here finally was proof of why you needed to run away. Of why Chuck wanted you to stay with Sam and Dean.

 To show you why you needed to stay human, they were your example.

The only two people in the world who would understand your situation having struggled themselves against the darkness from within. They had suffered possession, soullessness, and the Mark of Cain.

 Before your eighteenth birthday even the slightest impoliteness caused you to feel guilty for days and now was actually hurting everyone you cared about.

 For what seemed like hours you let yourself lay down in the mud listening to the sound of the thunderclouds.

 Eventually hours after your legs gave out and your body couldn’t contain you despair anymore the sun began to rise. You felt soft tendrils of light brushing your face.

Opening your eyes, you pushed away from the muddy floor. It had stopped raining but you still had clumps of sludge coating your matted hair and cracking on your skin.

A small groan escaped you as you used an elbow to push yourself off the ground and you stood up looking around you. You were at the top of a lush green field with nothing but wilderness for miles around. You had no idea how close you were to the bunker or how long the walk back was going to take. Sighing, you thought the longer the better. That way you could begin to try and think how you were going to explain last night to the Winchester brothers.

Slowly you made your way down the hill and started down the empty road deciding to follow it until you found somewhere recognizable. Teleporting would be much easier of course but it felt gratuitous. You didn’t deserve an easy time and besides you wanted to remain as human as possible.

And so, you walked as the sun rose, treading heavily as last night’s rain saturated the material of your dress and squelched in your boots. You didn’t bother to heal all your scrapes and cuts.

After around an hour and a half of walking you approached to familiar hill and dip where you knew the bunker was located. You almost snorted at the irony of having come full circle- standing in front of the bunker door wondering how you were going to convince the occupants to let you inside.

Steeling yourself you knocked sharply on the door. One of your damaged knuckles split from the force and you wiped the blood on your leg. Almost immediately after your hand left the metal the door was thrown open to reveal a white-faced Dean.

“(Y/N)!” he said in a strangled voice.

His eyes widened and he reached out to grab you and he pulled you to his chest knocking the wind out of you.

“Um, Dean” you said cautiously. He didn’t reply just rested his chin on your head and kept holding you. You had to admit you were taken aback by just how much affection he was showing you. Perhaps the fighting last night had cemented your camaraderie more than you realised.

Nonetheless you were so glad to see him and be welcomed that you melted against him and wrapped your arms around his waist smiling and soaking up his warmth. Suddenly the feeling of acceptance and support overwhelmed you and all your exhaustion built up. You felt your muscles start to shake.

Dean must have felt you tremble because he placed his hand on your head stoking your hair with his thumb “It’ll be okay, I promise, I forgive you” he said gruffly.

The kindness of this man took you aback but them you remembered all the stories you had heard of the two brothers and the people they had saved. Clearly under the rough edges, Sam and Dean Winchester had more compassion than you had ever encountered in a human.

Releasing you from his grip Dean kept a hand lightly on your back and led you down the stairs to where Sam was waiting inside the war room, concern also etched on his face. He smiled encouragingly at you.

“Look, chuck clearly sent you to us for a reason” Dean started.

“But I’m getting the feeling there’s more you need to tell us” Sam finished sympathetically. Your teeth began to chatter audibly from the cold.

“But not right now” Dean cut in giving Sam a reproachful glance. “Go, have a shower, get changed then we will talk about it later okay (Y/N)”.

“Thanks” you said and hurried to your room. You lingered in the shower because the warm water felt so good running over your sore skin and unknotting your muscles.

Afterwards you pulled on a pair of leggings and a simple grey t-shirt and made your way back down the hall towards the war room. There was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen which caused your stomach to grumble loudly. You hadn’t even realised how hungry you were.

Inside the kitchen was Dean opening the oven to pull out an enormous pizza bubbling with cheese and piled with bacon.

“Wow” you said, announcing yourself. Dean looked over his shoulder and grinned at you

“One of my specialities” he said in a bad French accent flourishing his hand towards the pizza.

“All he actually knows how to make is junk food” Sam muttered as he came into the kitchen behind you. Deans face sported a look of mild outrage.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asked.

“Nothing” Sam said. “Pass the spinach would you, it’s in the fridge”.

“No way Sammy, I’m not going to be an enabler to your rabbit food diet” Dean retorted which caused Sam to roll his eyes and push past Dean to get to the fridge.

You laughed and walked up behind Dean “Well I’ll never say no to free pizza” you said. Dean beamed at you.

“’Atta girl” he said, clapping you on the shoulder. “You’re sorely missing out Sammy”.

You pulled up a chair and sat whilst the boys prepared their food. “So maybe we should talk now?” you asked. Sam put down his food and walked over to you carefully, similarly to how one might approach a wild animal not to scare it off. Or not to make it attack.

“Just…” he struggled to ask. “What happened to you? What was that?”. You let out a long sigh.

“I’ve been running” you said, staring fixedly at your shoes “From some really bad people, angels really”. After a pause, you looked back up to see both men with identical sombre expressions and took the hint to keep going.

“When an impartial angel turns 18, we get what is called the Knowledge. You suddenly snap from being a human to being this, thing. You’re all powerful and it’s all consuming.”. You were spitting out the words now.

“Sometimes if the wrong people are around you when you get the Knowledge and you change; things can go badly”. Wrapping your arms around your body you felt tears prickle at the edge of your vision and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“What do you mean by badly” Dean asked softly. From behind your eyelids you saw a face, a teenage boy laughing and you heard a voice call out to you “(Y/N)”. Other images followed, the same face screaming, a never-ending moan of agony that settled right into your bones sending a shiver rattling through you.

“People get hurt. When I changed I was with someone, Daniel.”. You voice cracked. “He was too close and I couldn’t do anything, and I tried, I tried so so hard to save him”.

“Hey” Deans voice interjected. He wrapped his hands around your wrists pulling them away from your face and waited until you looked up at him.

“It’s not your fault” he said, “It’s not your fault, okay?”.

You nodded at him then looked away disgusted that you would even let yourself think for a second you could be blameless in Daniels death. No- his murder. You had murdered him.

Sam walked over from the kitchen counter and sat in a chair besides you. “So why did you come here?” He asked.

“I never really liked humans in my past lives, never gotten attached to anyone” you explained. Truthfully to say you never liked humans was an understatement. You had had complete contempt for what you saw as the weakness of humanity.

“But this time was different. With what happened to Da- with what happened, I had to leave. I can’t risk putting the people I love in danger”. Again, your voice was rising to a near hysteric pitch.

“So, I did what you do in disasters, when the world is falling apart” You smiled sadly “I prayed, and then I called on the Winchesters”.

Dean frowned but sensing your panic was dimming so he got up and went to cut a slice of pizza. You kept you gaze down. He came back and pushed a plate in front of you on the table.

“Eat.” He ordered. “But why us?”

“Yeah” Sam interjected. “We’re still human. You could still kill us just as easily”. At this Dean snorted “Pfft Sammy I don’t think it would be that easy, I like to think we put up a good fight”.

Sam lifted and eyebrow and said “Dean, she took you down like a ragdoll”. Dean scowled and muttered

“Yeah, whatever.”.

“I think God, Chuck, wanted to show me another way of living. You know, how to be human” you offered up chewing on a slice of pizza. It really was delicious and you had always been one to eat your pain away.

“And he thought we were good examples of a human life” Dean said sceptically. You shrugged.

“I guess so, yeah”. Dean shook his head and crammed some pizza in his mouth.

“So, I guess you’ll be staying for a while?” Sam asked standing back up. You bit you lip and looked up at the taller Winchester imploringly.

“If that’s okay…” you said.

“Yep, well, business as usual then” replied busying himself once more with a pile of vegetables.

You were exceedingly glad the Winchesters were men of actions rather than words and you wondered if they could tell you were done talking for the night. You stood up and walked over to the sink and washed up your plate. Dean came up behind you filling a glass of water.

He smirked looking at your left forearm. “Huh, cool” he said pointing at your birthmark. “It looks like-“

“A bat.” You both said at the same time. “Yeah I know”. Dean glanced up slightly at the sudden sharpness in your tone but decided not to comment.

“Goodnight” you said ducking away from Dean and walking swiftly out the kitchen. Later you could feel bad about being rude. Add it to the growing list of things you can feel like crap about.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway you cupped you hand over the mark. You could almost feel a ghostly thumb brushing your skin and a voice saying jokingly “Maybe we should call you Batgirl”. With only accepting the human side of yourself came the consequence of not being able to shut off your memories.

You stuck both arms rigidly by your sides and walked to your room and closing the door. You were so tired. Not even that sleepy, just so bone-achingly tired of everything. Collapsed in bed under your new silk sheets you just waited to pass out.