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crazyyanderefangirlfan · 4 years ago

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The Rabbit of Night Raven: Chapter 1: Demons in high places. Pt 1

A collection of drabbles of Valerie and boys, the story takes place after the Diasomnia arc.

"Read pages 46-55 for tomorrow's quiz, otherwise expect immediate failure and remedial classes. You are dismissed" "Meow." Stated a familiar elderly teacher and his cat. One-by-one students were standing from their seats and filed out of the door.

"Gyaah! Finally, it's over. But studying all that sounds so boring." Cried a familiar black and blue trash cat as he slumped over the desk. He felt himself getting picked up by a soft pair of hands whose fingers began scratching under his chin.

"Aww. Don't be like Grim. If you want to be the greatest wizard, then you have to attend class." He felt the fingers gently bopping his nose before swatting them away. Valerie giggled at the sight of Grim feebly swatting away her fingers. She opted to cradle him to her bosom.

"Don't treat me like a pet henchwoman!" He cried but purred at the sensation of her fingers gently scratching his ears. The girl internally squealed at his cute expression.

"Are you done babying him now? Come on." A familiar voice called out to the girl and turned to the source, her first and best friends in Night Raven, Ace, and Deuce. The two boys were glowering at the monster who was engulfed by the girl's bust, but luckily for them, the girl and her monster did not notice.

"Yes, I am." She re-adjusted her bag and walked with them outside the classroom.

"So princess, we're heading to clubs; don't miss us too much." Ace teased and playfully pinched her cheeks. Valerie grimaced at the gesture and rubbed her cheek once he was done.

"I won't, besides at least I can take a break from your lack of brain cells." She smirked at their indignant expressions.

"Hilarious princess. But you still have to deal with Grim." It was Ace's turn to smirk but directed it to the vexed monster in her arms.

"What's that supposed to mean!? I am the great Grim, don't you dare say I'm unintelligent!" He was ready to blow a stream of fire towards Ace if it weren't for Valarie scratching his ears to calm him down.

"Grim, if you start a fight, I'll limit your cans of tuna for 2 months" She smiled, but the cat monster saw through the girl's mask, a sense of dread blowing a cold chill down his spine. Defeated, he let out a whimpering "Sorry."

"Great, now that's outta out of the way, we can text you when we're done." The atmosphere lightened up as Deuce's voice, with the girl returning the comment with a smile, "I have a new movie we could watch, maybe later tonight?" Deuce finished up, walking up to the girl, he places a palm on her shoulder.

"Jack, Epel, and Sebek can't come. They said they got caught up with some dorm stuff, so it's just us."

"Tonight it is." She remarked, giving the two a peck on their cheeks as she playfully walked out, causing the onlookers to eye the now blushing boys with an envious eye.

____________________________

The brunette happily hummed as she walked out of the school, and as she made her journey to Ramshackle, her thoughts drifted on how everything was now.

It's been months since her arrival in Twisted Wonderland, and honestly, she loved every second here. Don't get her wrong she missed her family and friends back home and wishes to go back. But she secretly desired for the crow to give up on his research if he did any that is, she loved it here too much, and it was beginning to feel like home. Surely her loved ones can live without her...

Valerie shook her head at the ridiculous thought. What was she thinking? Of course, they would miss her, she has to stop those ludicrous thoughts, she has to go home someday.

"Valerie, we're here." Grim's voiced snapped her out of her head. Apparently, she was so focused on her thoughts, she nearly crashed into the gate.

"O-oh. Thank you, Grim. I didn't even realize we're here."

"Tch, honestly henchwoman, what will you do without me?"

She laughed heartedly at his comment, but before she could step on the porch. She overheard a crashing sound. Both students froze. Valerie could feel Grim shaking in her arms from how loud it was.

"W-what was that!? I-I mean, I'm not scared, but where did it come from?" the poor monster tried to brush off his fear, but it was apparent on how violently she shook in her arms.

"It came from the back, let's go and check." He blanched at her words and started to squirm when he felt her move.

"Are you crazy!? I mean, I won't have a problem fighting it, cause no one is a match for the great Grim. But you? You have no magic!"

"I know hand-to-hand combat."

"Even so, you'll be obliterated!"

"Oh, look, we're here." Grim had to do a double-take on her words. Sure enough, they were in the back of the woods, and lo and behold, a large crater stood amidst of it.

"You have no self-preservation." She didn't respond. Instead, she peeked inside the crater. But the sight left both the girl and monster were dumbfounded on what they've discovered.

It was a young man, he appeared to be in his early 20's. His midnight blue hair was in disarray and matted with dirt, his bronze skin was littered with various scars and wounds. An ugly gash was near his forehead and bleeding profusely. His clothes consisted of a white dress shirt, a red vest coat, and khaki pants were torn and stained with blood. He was also missing his shoes.

"Oh my gosh!" The girl dropped the monster in her arms and rushed inside the crater and quickly hauled the young man onto her back, indifferent to the blood staining her clothes.

"Grim! Go back to the house and tell the ghosts to prepare a medical kit, and hurry!"

"Are you seriously going to take him back with us!? What if he's doing some shady business? Or some kind of criminal?"

"Then I'll have the great Grim to protect me. Besides, helping others is the duty of a human being, regardless of their background." Grim sighed but did what she told him. Not before muttering 'how a reckless human she was' under his breath.

Valerie huffed as she tried to balance both her weight and the stranger's as she tried to get out, which proved to be difficult due to how deep the crater was, which caused her to slip from time to time. But thankfully, she managed to climb up and run full speed back to Ramshackle.

____________________________

The door was opened once she got there, and the short ghost came to helped her carry the man to the couch. The ghosts and Grim were waiting for them in the lounge, the medical kit was on the table.

"Jeez, who did he pissed off to get such a beating?" The skinny ghost commented as they watched the two placed the man on the couch.

"Thanks for the help, Bennett." The ghost merely tipped his hat and smiled.

"No problem, kiddo."

"Gerald, please go to my closet and get some clothes. An oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants will do." The skinny ghost saluted and went upstairs.

"Wilbur, please fetch me a bowl of water, soap, and a towel from the kitchen." The stout ghost nodded and did what he was told. Valerie painstakingly proceeded to remove his clothes. She winced on the number of wounds inflicted on his body. What did he do to deserve such a severe punishment?

Her heart stopped when she caught the sight of his right leg. It was gruesome, it was a third-degree burn, the skin was in a ghastly shade of black, the skin was so dry and leathery that flakes were falling off. She nearly cried at the sight of it, but she pulled herself together. Now is not the time.

Wilbur was first to come back with the things she needed. He winced at the sight of his leg. She sent him a grateful smile and began her procedure. She gently washed his body, thoroughly removing the dirt from his body, before she patted him dry. She carefully treated his wounds and wrapping them tightly with the gauze.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So... Are you planning to tell the headmaster about your discovery?" Bennett inquired as he watched the girl sipped her tea.

The residents of Ramshackle were situated in the kitchen, discussing what to do about Valerie's unconscious guest, and whether or not he can be trusted. Valerie, currently sitting on the counter with a mug of tea in her hand and Grim on her lap, petting his fiery ears.

"Of course I am, and knowing that crow. He'll probably milk money from him as a reward because one of his students saved his life. Because he's so gracious." She stated as she sipped more of her tea. The sarcasm on her voice was heavy when she spoke the last sentence.

"That guy will gladly take money for himself, and say it's for the school," Grim chimed in.

"But still. I'm bothered about not knowing who he is. He could be a dangerous criminal for all we know." Gerald voiced his thoughts.

"That's what I told her! But no! She refuses to listen to the Great Grim and decides to be a suicidal maniac." The monster exclaims while waving his arms for emphasis. She flicked his forehead.

"Grim, we can't just leave him there. We live near a forest remember? Who knows what monsters are out there." The stern look she gave made him freeze. Before anyone could utter another word, an unfamiliar voice made Valerie dropped the mug from her hands and spilled the boiling liquid on the floor. Everyone's heads snapped towards the lounge.

"THE FUCKING HELL!? WHERE THE FUCK AM I!?" The sounds of crashing furniture, broken glass, and vulgar words filled the atmosphere. Scooping Grim on her arms, they all swiftly made their way to the lounge, to find their guest on the floor.

It looked like a hurricane pass through. Furniture was overturned, pieces of glass were littered around, and the man was on the floor flailing around like a fish out of water. The blanket that Wilbur provided for him was now acting as a straitjacket.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! You've got to be bullshitting me!" He let out another flurry profanities, before noticing his bewildered audience.

"Oi Sugar tits, get me out of this."

They were truly surprised by the man, but for different reasons. Grim was amazed by how fast he recovered and how he managed to get into that position. The ghosts and Valerie were... Appalled by his choice of words.

"Young man, you should not talk to a lady like that!" But he merely rolled his eyes, annoyed at the ghost's nagging.

"Whatever the fuck grandpa. So anyway, get me out of here." Valerie quickly snapped out of her stupor and gently placing Grim down before helping him. Carefully, she placed him back to the couch before untangling the blanket from his frame.

"Thanks for the help, Sugar tits." Upon closer inspection, she finally noticed the details on his face but was too busy saving his life. He had lovely almond-shaped eyes with long lashes, his left eye was taffy pink, while his right was cornflower blue. His surfer hairstyle complimented his diamond-shaped face. From his sitting position, she can tell he could possibly be Azul's height. He had pointed ears, which made her briefly wonder if he was a fae like Malleus and Lillia.

The man stretched his arms but winced. He finally took a good look at himself and let out a low whistle.

"Damn, the fucker did a number on me. But you did a pretty good job in healing me up Sugar tits, even if you did a fucking sloppy job at it." He remarked, flexing his fingers.

Valerie frowned, what was with this guy? He was starting to remind her of one the pervs in and out of school. She counted in her head to calm herself, before asking the question that was in everyone's mind.

"Excuse me, sir, what's your name?"

He looked at her in disdain, as if she made a joke that so awful that she needed to shut up. She wondered if she insulted his pride, but, oddly he chuckled and slung his arm around her shoulder.

"Good joke Sugar tits. Pretending to know who I am hilarious." He gave another mirthful chuckle and brought his hands up to her head to play with her bow. But, she slapped them away before they could even reach. He sat there stunned, eyes wide and mouth gaping as if no one has done that to him before.

Valerie's lips were pressed into a thin line, her expression was calm. But everyone in the room, including the heterochromatic male, could feel a shift in the air. The aura surrounding the girl was foreboding, and her eyes were locked on him, like a predator watching its prey to make a mistake and go for the kill. Finally, she spoke.

"No. I do not know who you are."

The silence was thick as fog, the noises within the house seemed more prominent as the rest of the residents stared at two, giving uneasy glances to one another. Grim, who has been with her since the beginning, has known what her anger is like. He shivered at the thought of her hellish gaze and silently prayed to the Great Seven to let this man survive.

Her opal-Esque eyes held burning fire as she stared down the man. Her body tensed up, legs twitching erratically, waiting for him to make any reason for her to kick him in the gut.

The man studied her face to know if she's joking or not. Once he confirmed she genuinely doesn't who he is, his curled up in amusement.

"The name's Amane Mania." She sighed, at least one problem is out of the way...

"So I'm guessing you want your reward huh? So what do you want? Money or a fu-"

Amane didn't get to finish and suddenly collapsed on her. Stunned, she peered behind him to see Bennett with a cane on hand and a mildly irritated look on his face.

____________________________

"I could have done it myself," Valerie grunted as she carried the unconscious man again, but this time to one unoccupied but clean rooms of Ramshackle.

"I know you could, but I couldn't stand his attitude anymore," Bennet grumbled.

"Yo, Val we're h-WHO THE FUCK IS THAT!?." Ace exclaimed. She turned to find her friends gaping at her in shock, more specifically at Amane.

"Guys! Don't be so loud, I don't want to wake him up."

"H-Hang on I'll help you." Deuce scrambled to get to the stairs with Ace following behind, once he got there. He grabbed his legs and began to make their way through the hall.

They came across one the doors and she gestured Ace to opened it. Once they were inside, they dropped him on the bed and Valerie covered him with a blanket. Quietly as they could, they walked out of the room and made their way to the now cleaned lounge.

"Okay who the fuck was that? and why does he look like he went through a war?" Ace questioned.

"Grim and I found him in the back of the woods. He was laying on a giant crater and I brought him to get fixed up. Then he woke up and started to call me Sugar tits-"

"He called you what!?

"And Bennett him in the head. You guys know the rest."

Deuce took a deep breath and tried to organize his thoughts, before speaking.

"Valerie. You mean to tell us you brought a stranger to your home, who doesn't seem to have any respect towards females and healed him?"

"Yeah, that's it." He sighed.

"Valerie, as much as I admire your selfless nature, but you should be careful with strangers. Especially when you get people like that and don't know their intentions."

"Come on guys. You witness me took down people five-times my height. I can take care of myself."

"What he means Princess, we don't know what kind of magic he does or what he's capable of using." Ace injected.

"Well in that case. I'll just use a potion on him to make him feel weak. Professor Crewel already taught us that so I know I can make use of it."

The boys could only glance at each other in worry.

Amane felt a throbbing pain when he woke up.

Grunting, he sat up and held his head. He hissed when he grasped the side where the was gauze wrapped.

"What the fuck was that?" He mumbled, before taking note of his surroundings.

He was in a bedroom and spotted a first aid kit near his bed. He gazed down at his body, he was sporting a black shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

He tried to get out of bed but hissed when tried to move his legs. The pain was agonizing. He pulled up the right part of the pants and perceived how heavily it was wrapped.

He clicked his tongue. The bastard really went all out, and he was going to bring the pain back tenfold.

The sound of the door brought him out of musing. The girl was back with a tray of food, two boys one had ginger hair and a heart mark while the other had blue and a spade mark, and a weird cat monster of her shoulder. There was clear mistrust on their eyes when they stared at him.

"Glad to see you awake." she offered him a smile and placed the tray on his bedside. He scanned its contents. An egg and chicken fried rice. He knitted his brows and faced her.

"You ain't gonna poison me, are ya?"

"If I wanted you dead, I would have just left you in that crater." She asserted. She sat down on a chair next to him with boys leaning against it, and the monster stretched itself on the bed.

"Besides." The monster spoke, a male by the tone if it's voice. "She's too much a goody-two-shoes to let anyone die. Unless they pissed her off too much." Amane raised a brow on the last part but said nothing.

He took the bowl and brought the spoon to his mouth. He hummed it was pretty good. He began to devour the whole thing, finally realizing how hungry he was. He placed the bowl back once he was finished.

"You're a pretty good cook, Sugar tits." He licked lips in satisfaction. The girl, surprised by how fast he finished the food, narrowed her eyes. The boys scowled at him.

"Could you just ask me my name, instead of calling me that?" The exasperation in her voice was transparent. He raised a brow, but his lips curled in a teasing grin.

"Why should I? When that name fits you so well." Eyeing at her ample bosom. He snickered at how red her face is. She was so fun to tease and seeing the looks on those guys was priceless.

"Ow! The fuck!?" Pain shot through his body, clenching his teeth, he found her adding pressure on his wounded leg. All with an innocent smile on her face.

"Oi Sugar tits quit that!" He let out another string of curse words when she pressed harder.

"You know what she wants." The ginger boy's deadpan voice rang out. Another yelp of pain came out when he felt she dug her nails on his leg.

"Okay! Okay! What's your name!? Fuck." He sighed in relief when she stopped but glared at the still smiling girl.

"Ugh. What's you're name?"

"I'm Ace." The ginger started.

"Deuce." The navy waved.

"It's Valerie, and this little guy is Grim."

"That's the Great Grim, Henchwoman!" She playfully stuck her tongue out, while Grim growled. Valerie returned her attention back to him.

"So. How are you feeling?"

"Besides having a helluva headache, and nearly losing my leg. I'm good."

"That's great. Cause you need your all your sanity on what comes next." This confused him greatly. He was about to ask what she meant when the door slammed open.

There stood a man in rather extravagant clothing and a crow mask. As soon as his eyes landed on Amane, he visibly froze. Mouth hanging wide.

"No.." He whispered

"Long time no see Crow shit."

"Sir, are you okay? What wrong?" Deuce glanced at Amane who looked like he wanted to laugh. He ignored his students.

"You look tacky as usual." He flinched at his words.

"I see you’re as rude as ever."

"As if I care. You old crow."

"The nerve! What would you're parents say about your attitude?'

"Probably nothing."

"Such insole-"

A loud cough broke their dispute, and turn their attention to the sole girl in the room.

"Headmaster, don't you think instead of lecturing him about how to respect authority. Shouldn't you be focused on his well-being?" She gave him a pointed look, the man coughed.

"A-ahh. Yes, of course." He cleared his throat.

"I see Ms. Kemonohito has taken good care of you. It warms my heart to know my students are capable of such compassion and selflessness. Ah-huh huh!."

Aman arched a brow while the other four just sighed, already too used at this display. Crowley quickly regained his composure.

"So please tell me, how he ended up like this?"

She told him everything from the beginning. Crowley nodded once in a while. After she finished, he had a contemplative look on his face, or at least she assumed it was one with the mask and all.

"Hmm, how strange." He turned his attention to students.

"All of you come with me for a moment." Crowley quickly stood up and made his way to the door, gesturing his students to follow him. They all stood up, silently following him.

"What was that about? You know him or soemthing." Grim questioned.

"Do any of you know who he is, or at least his family." He finally spoke, the serious tone in his voice startled them momentarily but shook their heads. Crowley frowned.

"Oh dear, this quite a predicament. To think he’ll be back here in school." He muttered under his breath.

"Just what so great about his family?" Ace prodded.

"The Mania family is an old crime organization who ruled Twisted Wonderland before Crewel was born. Though they are disbanded and faded in history, their influence is strong. They have many businesses, and still manage to have loyal followers who will gladly do anything for them, and he was a former student here as well."

This information floored them. To think this guy was part of a mafia group and to top it all that. Now Valerie understood why he looked surprised when she said she didn't know him. She jumped when Crowley called her.

"Ms. Kemonohito, I thank you for saving his life. I'm so proud of having such a benevolent and caring student." He cried once more earning annoyed looks from all four of them.

"Seriously. How old is this guy?" Ace grumbled.

"However, due to his critical condition, and lack of phone. He will remain in Night Raven until he fully recovers." He gazed at Valerie, she frowned. She knew what comes next.

"Which is why you, Ms. Kemonohito will let him lodge here until he recovers. I cannot ask the dorm leaders due to their duties, and the infirmary is full due to the last Magift practice."

"I have no choice do I."

"Unless you want me to cut off the dorm's budget, then no." She sighed.

"Fine, I'll do it." He beamed.

"Wonderful! I shall inform him right away." He went back inside. Grim glared at his back.

"Grrrr. This again, whenever something happens we always get the short end of the stick! Why can't he be useful for once in his life!"

"The day he's reliable is the day I go back home."

Which she secretly hoped that it never happened. They returned to the room, Crowley was already finished explaining to Amane about the situation, who couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or amused.

"I can assure that Ms. Kemonohito is a gracious host such as myself, will surely make feel right at home!"

"Oh, I'm sure she'll be a great host. Huh, Valerie." The way he said her name, made her instantly wary of him. Even more when he turned to her.

His smile was borderline sadistic, and his eyes held a mischievous glint in them. Valerie felt a shiver up her spine, oh Great Seven, please save her soul. She can already tell that this guy won't make it easy for her. Ace and Deuce scowled at him and formed a wall between them.

"Splendid. I'll be off then." With a flourish, he vanished.

_____________________________________

"Still a weirdo I see." Amane stared at the spot where Crowley vanished.

"Yeah, you'll get used to it," Deuce assured, scratching the back of his head. He turned to Valerie.

"So. Still up for that movie?" She perked up at his words, but before she could say anything, Amane beat her to it.

"Umm. Hello~ Are trying to exclude me? How standoffish of you Ms. Kemonohito. What would that crow say once he learned that you are being unkind?"

He had raised a single brow and propped his face to his hands, all with a shit-eating grin on his face. Ace fumed.

"Hey! You don't own this house asshole! She can do what she pleases!"

Amane turned to him, sporting a bored look on his face as he studied him. Seconds after, he had a lecherous smirk on his face.

"Why hello~ I didn't get a good look at you earlier, but now I do, I gotta say you're pretty hot. Say, after I recover, why don't we booked a love hotel hot stuff~" He purred as he licked lips and eyed at Ace's bottom with such fiery hot intensity.

Ace flinched at his words and shivered when he stared at him with such hunger. Amane then turned his attention to Deuce, who also trembled at his wanton gaze.

"You're not so bad too handsome. Maybe we should do a three-"

Valerie coughed loudly to get everyone's attention.

"Uhh...Why don't we get set up the movie here, Ace go and help Deuce get the projector, while I get some snacks. Grim, you stay here."

The boys briskly walked out before sprinting away from the room. Valerie trailed after them, ignoring Grim's protests. She found them hastily getting the stuff, both having shaken expressions.

"What the actual fuck was?" Ace was carrying an extension wire and mini wireless speakers.

"How...How could someone be so...Shamless." In Deuce's arms was the laptop.

After getting everything they needed. Wordlessly, they made their way upstairs and found Grim struggling to get out of Amane's grip, who was squishing his pink paws.

"Aww, aren't you a cute little piece of shit~"

"Fgua! Put me down ya weirdo!"

"Ahh. So mean."

Ace snickered at the sight, he would have laughed if Deuce didn't nudge his ribs. After setting up everything, Deuce showed them the movie. It was a comedy, Cater suggested it to him. Then he pressed play.

It wasn't even twenty minutes, and Amane began to make licentious and snarky comments about the characters, and the general plot of the movie. He called them out from their costumes to their acting. The boys covered Valerie and Grim's ears whenever he made a perverted comment.

"Dayum~ Look size of that guy. Bet he's packing something bigger."

"Seriously? How the fuck people find that funny? Even burning trash has better humor."

"How much longer is this movie. It's fucking boring!"

As much as boys wanted to beat the shit of him, they can't due Valerie holding a vice grip on their arms, a silent plead to not to do anything stupid, lest they get in trouble. They grudgingly oblige but cast resentful glances at him. After the movie, the boys were very hesitant to leave her but assured them she'll be fine.

"I dealt with overblots. I can handle a rich boy."

That didn't reassure them but eventually left because she reminded them of Riddle's curfew. After waving goodbye, she was headed to her room, when...

"Oi Sugar tits! Bring me another pillow!"

_____________________________________

(A/N: I decided to make this a two part chapter)

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #ace trappola #deuce spade #twisted wonderland grim #jack how #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #dire crowley #twisted wonderland x mc #twst x mc #valerie kemonohito #amane mania

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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How Ginger Snaps Explored the Subversive Horror of Womanhood

https://ift.tt/30jSLcc

In 2000 Mission: Impossible 2 topped the box office, Gladiator triumphed at the Oscars, and the first X-Men movie ushered in a new era of superhero movies. Meanwhile in Canada, while no one was watching, a new hero was emerging. Her name was Ginger, she was a 16-year-old girl, and ok, she might have turned into a monster and killed a few people but, wow, was she a ferocious figurehead for females everywhere.

“That’s what she’s about. She’s about fuck you, fuck the patriarchy, fuck the standard, fuck society, fuck the norm. And to me, that’s a hero,” says Katharine Isabelle, speaking with Den of Geek via Zoom from her home in Vancouver, 20 years after the film’s debut. Isabelle was just 17 when she stepped into Ginger’s very cool boots and she had no idea it would become a massive cult hit.

“When it first came out, no one fucking watched it. It did well with some critics at a few festivals, but no one cared. No one went to see it,” she recalls. “It wasn’t until it hit the VHS circuit in small town Canada that people were like, ‘Oh, Ginger!.’ Emily [Perkins, who plays Ginger’s sister Brigitte] and I thought we’d be the only people that liked it because we were weird and dark. We had no idea that through the generations it would continue to have an effect on people.”

Watching 20 years on and Ginger Snaps absolutely holds up. More than that, in fact, it looks positively progressive and even transgressive in a year where we were onto our third Scream, our second Urban Legend, and our first Final Destination. Glossy teen slashers were the thing, which didn’t often make for great parts.

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“In the ’90s, as a 17-year-old girl it was ‘be hot, get murdered’,” says Isabelle. “There weren’t a lot of really interesting characters coming out of that, especially in my small Vancouver, Canada acting world. So to see this and be like, ‘Holy shit, this really speaks to me, I am this dark, insecure, troubled, deep, dark humored girl who feels outcast and misunderstood by everybody,’ I was just like, ‘Yes. 100%.’”

Written by Karen Walton who would go on to write for Queer as Folk and Orphan Black, and directed by John Fawcett (one of Orphan Black’s co-creators), Ginger Snaps was a fresh take on the werewolf subgenre and a brand new slant on teen horror. This was about girls for a start – sisters Ginger and Brigitte who are weird outsiders fascinated with death. Though there’s sex in the movie it’s really a love story between the two females while the only male character who we have any sympathy for is a drug dealer who has no sexual interest in either. There are dog maulings along the way, and as we head towards the climax with Ginger becoming more and more monstrous, there’s plenty of gore.

But the most scandalous splash of blood is Ginger’s own first period.

Period piece

“You never see that. The visual of bloody panties is so shocking,” says Isabelle.

“It’s what, 2020 and we’re just seeing feminine hygiene products using red dye instead of this fucking blue shit? We’re always so mortified by this human experience that half of the people on the planet go through. And you know what? At the same time you should be, because being female is a fairly horrific fucking experience in itself. So guess what? Why don’t you fucking look at it once in a while? For it to be labeled as shocking is just so boring to me.”

It would be bold even in 2020. That color matching company Pantone only last month released a new shade of red inspired by periods as part of a campaign to end menstruation stigma shows it very much still exists. So to be this open in discussing it in 2000 in a horror movie – traditionally assumed to be the playground of young men – was a brave move.

“I remember a friend of mine, his older brother had taken his friends to see it and he was like, [Isabelle does impression of bro-tastic young man] ‘Oh yeah, we were all screaming and throwing shit at the fucking screen and then we walked out. All this fucking women shit.’ I was like, ‘Cool. Thanks, buddy. Awesome.’ Fuck you! They thought they were going to see hot girl tits and werewolf stuff and they weren’t prepared for an actual look into what the female experience is like. And they couldn’t handle it. Pussies.”

Suddenly it’s like I’m talking to wolf-Ginger, fierce, articulate, full of fire, the Ginger that punches the mean girl in the face for hurting her sister, the Ginger that isn’t going to stand for any of your shit any longer, the Ginger that could tear the flesh from your bones if she wanted to.

The metaphor of werewolf transformation and puberty is a no brainer to Isabelle.

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“You’re going along your life perfectly fine, something happens to you, boom. In one day, you have all these strange urges, you have all these weird thoughts. Your body is completely abandoning you and morphing into something else that you are not comfortable with,” she says. “It’s a complete betrayal of everything you know and how you feel. And it creates this monster in you that you have to reckon with and deal with. It’s a brilliant allegory.”

Ginger Snaps is body horror. It’s a movie about a woman’s own body destroying her from the inside out. Before she knows what’s really going on Ginger is bleeding, weak, crippled with cramps. Weird hair starts sprouting – a shaving scene really hammers home the horror of teenagers taking razors to their legs.

But with this pain comes power. Ginger is suddenly confident, beautiful, strong, the boys at the school all desire her and she knows it. She will take who she wants and do what she wants – there’s some serious wish fulfillment going on at the same time as the trauma of her transformation.

Being Ginger

It’s not really surprising that Isabelle is so like this iconic character. She says she had an immediate affinity to Ginger – both sides of Ginger, the troubled outsider as well as the she-wolf.

“At that time, I wasn’t a good enough actor to have acted it. I just had to be myself,” she laughs, “They showed a pieced-together trailer halfway through to the cast and crew and I had a complete panic attack. It was my first panic attack, and I was like, ‘I’m fucking this up.’ This is the best character in the best movie and I clearly have no idea what I’m doing. I’m obviously the worst, this is terrible. I’m ruining this, I should just die. So all of the insecurity and the manicness…”

This just in: it’s shit being a teenage girl. Even more so when you’re 17, on location without your mother for the first time and working 18 hour days.

“I nearly fucking died!” she says. “Towards the end, it’s like a seven hour prosthetic piece when I’m full blown werewolf. I was living off of Oreos, McCain Deep Delicious Chocolate Cake, cigarettes, and Coca Cola. It was not good. And honestly, I wasn’t a good actor. So everything in that was just me being manic and sleep deprived and upset and insecure.”

Whatever was driving it Isabelle is excellent, flitting from difficult outsider with an undercurrent of fury to a whirlwind of teenage angst, sex, hunger, and violence that feels absolutely authentic.

Becoming the wolf

The effects are practical rather than CGI, which helps Ginger Snaps not to look dated on a rewatch. Ginger transforms gradually from woman to full blown wolf over days – she’s not a traditional werewolf who only becomes a wolf during the night of a full moon, instead once she turns fully she’s not coming back. Her different looks in the movie are cool and iconic – unsurprisingly Ginger Snaps cosplay is a ‘thing’ – which pleases Isabelle. The prosthetics procedure was somewhat less pleasing, however.

“I didn’t understand what the process was,” she says. “You see it in your head like you do when you read a book or whatever, or how the movie is going to be. You don’t think of the six hours on top of your 18 hour shooting day that you’re going to be inhaling alcohol-based paint until you’re high out of your fucking mind.”

The transformation came with other obstacles too.

“The process of losing my senses was a first for me. By the time I’m in the very late stage werewolf with the hair, the contacts and the claws, I can’t see anything, I can’t hear anything, I can’t smell anything, I can’t talk. I have fangs. I had to ADR most of the movie when I have fangs in. Because I had a lisp, so I’d be like, ‘Ask Tham. He’th the exthpert.’” She says, mimicking a line from the movie.

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“It’s just terrible. I couldn’t touch anything and there is blood all over me, and it’s drying and I was trapped in my own body nightmare. You don’t really realize that when you go into it. So now when I read scripts, ever since then, I’m very like, ‘What does that exactly mean for the physical torture I will be experiencing through the duration of this?’ Let’s take a step back and just really look at this more closely,” she laughs.

Pain and gain

Isabelle is funny – like Ginger, she has a dark sense of humor and though we genuinely get the sense that the shoot was traumatic (“We were all fucking ill and we were shooting nights for about three weeks in a row, so you do not see daylight. You lose your mind. It wasn’t quite Apocalypse Now, but it felt like that to me when I was 17.”), she’s got great stories. Like the time she gave herself a concussion…

“There’s a scene where I slam my head on a desk and I was like, ‘Ginger probably really slammed her head on the desk.’ So I really did it a bunch of times and then woke up the next day with a fucking full on concussion headache. They had a doctor come in because I was fucked. He gave me Tylenol T3s and I took them on an empty stomach. I’m vomiting on set and they’re holding the roll, and I’ve got a bucket I’m puking into. And then immediately I had to do the slow motion walk down the hall scene. I was so fucked they had to put tape on the floor. I couldn’t walk in a straight line. I’m so mad every time I see that. I’m like ‘Fuck, you only get so many slow motion walking down the hallway looking cool and hot in your whole career, and you really fucked this one.’”

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Of course, it doesn’t play that way on screen. It’s a key moment in the movie and even 20 years on, Ginger’s look still stands out. Costume designer Lea Carlson put together her outfits from thrift stores to create a kind of indie/goth cool with spot on accessories for an aesthetic that matched Ginger’s newly awakened give-no-fucks vibe.

“When that infection hits and she’s got that fucking attitude, it’s like, don’t we all wish we could just walk around with that attitude like a hero?” says Isabelle.

She says she can watch the movie now and enjoy it, though she couldn’t for a while.

”I haven’t seen it in 15 years because I tend to not revisit my most awkward moments on film as a teenager,” she laughs. But she now speaks fondly of this “wonderful sisterly love story.”

Ginger and B

She and co-star Perkins had known each other “forever” before filming began, having even been born in the same hospital and gone to the same elementary school so they auditioned for Ginger Snaps together. Perkins as the younger Brigitte (even though Isabelle is actually four years younger than Perkins) is sympathetic, awkward, vulnerable, and eventually heroic and there’s an obvious chemistry between the two. Isabelle recalls how between one of the auditions and the first time director John Fawcett came out to meet them Emily had shaved her head.

”I was like, ‘What are you doing? You’ve fucked this for us!’, I didn’t even recognize her in the room. And then thank God, we got the part. And that’s why she’s wearing this wig, this very offensive wig throughout the film…”

Why did she shave her head during casting for this movie? We can’t not ask…

“I don’t know. I don’t know. She was having a moment. She’s a very smart, progressive woman, and she was feeling her oats,” Isabelle laughs.

Despite the traumas of the prosthetics and the shoot, Isabelle has clear affection for the movie and a character who rings incredibly true even 20 years later, largely because of her authentic performance “It connects still to this day with people who weren’t even born when it came out. And that’s always shocking to me,” she says.

So what would today’s Katharine Isabelle tell her 17 year old self, 20 years ago?

“Oh, God. Fucking suck it up, you whiny bitch.” she says, all wolf-Ginger before swapping back to pre-transformation Ginger. “No, I would be like, ‘Yo, this is good, and you’re going to be okay. You’re gonna be good, and you’re not going to hate yourself as much as you think you do. And eventually, in 17 years, you’ll be able to watch this without having a total meltdown about how obviously terrible and insecure you are.”

She pauses.

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“Isn’t that what everyone says to themselves 20 years ago? ‘You’ll be okay, don’t be so insecure, believe in yourself, you got this?’ I think that’s what everyone would say to their younger self. Also, ask for more money.”

The post How Ginger Snaps Explored the Subversive Horror of Womanhood appeared first on Den of Geek.

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supernatural-schism · 8 years ago

Text

Prologue

It was a year ago that Castiel lost his humans.

(Click here for content warnings.)

In the cool air of a Michigan night, a streetlamp flickered. It buzzed, spat a handful of yellow sparks into the darkness, and went black. Under the streetlamp, there stood a man.

He loomed motionless on the sidewalk outside a cozy suburban house. The windows of the house were bright, and they threw golden splashes across the neatly trimmed lawn, but the light fell short of the man’s feet. Soft clatters of cutlery and murmurs of voices filtered through the window. Inside, a small family was having dinner, surrounded by light.

But outside, there was no more light in the man’s eyes than there was in the dead streetlamp above him.

----

It was a year ago that Castiel lost his humans.

Only one of Castiel’s humans physically left him, but he still lost them both. Sam Winchester was lost in the deepest pits of Hell, but Dean Winchester was lost in his grief. Castiel wasn’t sure who would be harder to save.

Perhaps it was a sense of responsibility that turned Castiel’s wings towards Heaven again. He suspected influence by a quiet, guilty craving to have his freshly-won freedom replaced with structure, even though he knew he would find none there.

Heaven would be in chaos. Michael had been the keystone of the angelic hierarchy, the second best thing to God himself. Everyone knew who to take orders from when Michael had been in charge. But Michael was gone now, fallen into the deepest, blackest pit in God’s creation and sealed there for eternity. And without its keystone, the castle was crumbling.

Tall grass brushed Castiel’s shoes as he walked through a lush green field on the outskirts of Heaven’s gardens. The trees were aglow, frozen in peak autumn colors, beautiful splashes of crimson and gold and maroon against the clear blue sky. The colors swirled and danced when a breeze washed through them, shaking loose bright leaves to send them spiraling through the air. Castiel knew better than to trust the serenity of it. He was still out of breath from fleeing the last angel he’d encountered.

Castiel’s brothers and sisters were lost in the wake of their aborted apocalypse. Angels did not do well without structure. Most of them knew that Castiel had played a part in unraveling the end of days, and none were grateful for it. The angels that Castiel had encountered had greeted him with steel.

A crumbling castle indeed. If Castiel didn’t watch his head, he was bound to get hit by the falling stones.

The wind gusted again, sending a flurry of red and orange leaves flying from the trees. They scattered across the greenness of the grass, never accumulating enough to cover it, the boughs never growing bare. Castiel wandered over to a tree, leaning against the smooth bark and staring up at the shifting flecks of blue sky that showed through the branches. He’d have to wander back into the densely populated parts of Heaven again, once he caught his breath. He had to find Raphael. With Michael gone, the only archangel remaining was Raphael, and if he was trying to restore order then he would surely be in the thick of things, not enjoying the peace of this little woodland.

“Castiel.”

Castiel stiffened. He turned slowly, his back tingling in two crisp lines where his ethereal wings were ready to burst forth, carry him off to another part of Heaven if need be.

An angel was standing between the trees, her dark hair tossed by the wind.

“Ambriel,” Castiel replied.

The form Ambriel manifested was androgynous, as she tended to prefer. The face had a strong jaw but elegant brows, the shadow of a shaved beard but long, flowing hair. Her form was slim, fey, but the aura of her grace radiated power. And irritation.

“They say you were involved, Castiel.” Ambriel’s almond eyes narrowed. “They say you stopped Michael from fighting Lucifer. That you’re the reason he’s gone.”

Castiel’s wings itched. “I couldn’t stand by while millions of humans died unnecessarily.”

“You were ordered to.” Ambriel’s words were getting sharper. “I do not understand how this became complicated. Since when were orders difficult for you, Castiel?”

Castiel took a step back. There was an angel blade in his trench coat, but he had no desire to use it against his sister. “I’m looking for Raphael,” he explained cautiously. “Could you please tell me where I might -- ”

Ambriel’s wings snapped out in rage, striped feathers brushing the trees around her. “What use do you suppose he has for you?” she snarled. “What use can Heaven have for an angel for whom orders are so unpleasant?”

Castiel’s own dark wings had flung out when he saw Ambriel’s. The wind tugged at them as if urging him into flight, and the blade felt heavy in his coat. “Ambriel, please -- ”

“Enough.”

The voice boomed. Ambriel’s wings wilted, lowering until her banded feathers touched the fallen leaves. Castiel couldn’t do the same, not when he might have to flee again.

Raphael strode through the clearing towards them. Castiel didn’t know when the sky had gotten so dark, but it was clogged with rumbling clouds as the archangel approached them.

“Ambriel.” Raphael’s voice crackled and boomed in the clear wide space of Heaven, unhindered by the restraints of the mortal plane. “Return to your duties. I will attend to Castiel myself.”

Castiel could sense Ambriel’s frazzled grace relaxing in the presence of the archangel. “Of course.”

There was a flutter -- nothing compared to the storm that her wings had been ready to unleash -- and Ambriel was gone.

The calm that Raphael had brought with him was palpable. It must be a relief to the lost angels, Castiel thought, having an authority to follow in the chaos, and Raphael radiated authority like the sun radiates heat. Castiel himself wasn’t immune to the comfort of it.

He felt significantly less comforted when Raphael’s piercing focus turned to him.

“Castiel.” Raphael’s voice put the thunder overhead to shame. “I must admit, I did not anticipate your return.”

Castiel’s dark wings retracted respectfully, no longer flared out in preparation for combat or flight. “I know Heaven is in turmoil,” he began, taking a step closer. “Please, I wish to help fix things.”

Raphael sighed, a great weary gust. “ ... Castiel, I know you mean well, but surely you are aware that the current state of Heaven is largely your doing.”

Castiel couldn’t find the words to disagree.

“I am the highest ranking angel left in Heaven,” Raphael continued. “Thus, I am the one who should lead. But there is no protocol for this, and angels require protocol. Our people are lost, frightened, and there are many who would disagree with me allowing you back into Heaven right now. I must secure their loyalty.”

“Surely you are not frightened of dissent,” Castiel blurted.

Raphael regarded him silently as the wind blew and the trees rustled. Then he let out a soft rumble of laughter. “Oh, Castiel. The humans really have changed you.” The chuckle died, and Raphael’s voice grew sharp. “I cannot rule angels through fear. I will not. They must know I am right, and obey with unshakable faith. I cannot afford doubt in the ranks now, and that is something your presence would surely cause.” He gestured with one dark hand to the sky. “As Ambriel has demonstrated, you are not well loved in Heaven.”

Castiel shrunk under the words. He could sense Raphael’s grace softening.

“This is not banishment, Castiel,” he rumbled. “Later, I will find a place for you, once I am sure that our brothers and sisters will trust my decision. But you must be absent for now.”

Castiel was silent under Raphael’s gaze. The tension went out of him, and a pulse of acceptance washed through his grace.

“I will give you one gift before you leave,” Raphael promised. “An order.”

The word was bittersweet. Castiel braced himself. “What order would you have me follow, Raphael?” What use can Heaven have for an angel for whom orders are so unpleasant?

“Your humans,” the Archangel rumbled. He turned to leave, the thunder receding as he did. “You have tended to them well in your time on Earth. Go back to Earth, and tend to them again.”

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time an order had felt so easy to follow.

----

The abandoned pier creaked under Castiel’s feet as he shifted his weight. He squinted in the bright sunlight, watching the gulls circle overhead. Their shrill cries cut through the low rumble of the crashing waves below. Transitioning from Heaven to Earth was always a shock, and Castiel found it easier to bear if he spent some time in a place like this. The pier was lonely, peaceful, beautiful. The sun-bleached wooden planks were worn smooth from countless footsteps, the pillars crusted with barnacles where they touched the cold, salty spray. Pale sand spread out behind him, and behind that, tall dunes crested with bobbing grass. ��The ocean lay before him, almost blinding in the sunlight, blue and clear and enormous, stretched to the horizon. Such a view could almost belong in Heaven.

Though in Heaven, the gulls probably wouldn’t try to shit on him.

When Castiel heard another set of footsteps creaking across the ancient, salt-whitened wood, his eyes jumped to find the source.

Crowley’s face was crinkled with unhappiness in the sunlight, his jacket tugged by the wind. “I just want you to know,” he rasped, “that the only reason I’m here is because I can’t help but notice how un-ended the world is, and I hear you had something to do with that.”

Castiel took a step towards the demon, each footstep creaking. “Thank you for coming. I have two favors to ask.”

Crowley lifted his eyebrows. “Favors? Ah, no, I don’t do favors, mate. I’m more the exchanging type, really. Tit for tat.”

“I expected this.” Castiel reached into his trench coat, his fingers wrapping around the smooth wooden handle of the Colt. The Winchesters wouldn’t approve of this, but the Winchesters weren’t here. He pulled the Colt out into the sun, and light flashed off the barrel.

Crowley scowled, straightening his back. “Ah, so this is a blackmail situation. A poor choice of enemies, Castiel -- ”

“What?” Castiel wrinkled his nose. “No, this is my bargaining chip.” He held it out, handle-first.

Wind gusted across the pier, and Crowley blinked. His shoulders slumped. “ ... Ah. I see. Very well, what do you want in exchange for your infinite death stick?”

“Bobby’s soul.” Castiel lowered the gun. “You promised you would give it back. I mean to hold you to that.”

Crowley shrugged. “Done. And what else?”

“I want the soul of Sam Winchester.”

Crowley spluttered, nearly falling off the pier. “Th-that is not a favor!” he spat, stabbing one rough, accusing finger in Castiel’s direction. “That is either a joke in extremely bad taste, or else rumors of your head being re-assembled after your little explosion have been vastly exaggerated!”

“It is not a joke,” Castiel bit out. “In exchange for the Colt -- which is one of the few weapons on this planet that could end your pitiful existence -- I will require Sam’s soul.”

Crowley gestured in violent exasperation. “I can’t just waltz into the Cage and pluck Sam’s pure little heart from Lucifer’s claws! Don’t you remember how much of a pain in the arse it was getting Mr. Little Red Horns back in there? The place doesn’t have a rotating door!”

Castiel crossed his arms, letting the Colt dangle from one hand. He gave Crowley an assessing look. “ ... And here I thought you were ruling Hell, Crowley. Are you telling me you don’t have control of your own domain?”

“Hell, I control.” Crowley’s face hardened. “The Cage is God’s domain.”

“Everything is God’s domain,” Castiel corrected.

“Yes, well, there’s bits that He won’t let the rest of us touch, and that abyssal pit is one of them.” Crowley held his hands out in defeat. “I can’t give you Sam’s soul because it’s not mine to give.”

Castiel pursed his lips. A gull cried overhead, louder than the others, and the wind gusted. “ ... Then give me what you can,” Castiel began slowly. “Give me safe passage through Hell, up to the gates of the Cage.”

“Gates,” Crowley repeated scornfully, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’d be lucky to find a hairline fissure.”

“But I could find one,” Castiel pressed.

“Bollocks, the strings I’d have to pull -- ”

“Can you make it happen, Crowley?” Castiel pressed. “Can you get me in?”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “ ... I could make it happen, you suicidal little pigeon,” he relented at length. “But that leaves us with a issue.” He gestured at the Colt dangling from Castiel’s hand. “One bargaining chip from you, two from me. And one of them quite a tall order.”

Castiel blew out a breath. “I have little else to give. What do you want?”

Crowley’s smile curled slowly across his face as the ocean crashed and rumbled below.

“ ... A favor.”

----

Castiel had been to Hell before, but he’d never gone this deep.

He recalled the rough iron gates, crude and jagged, with the bodies of Hell’s victims split open and skewered on the cruel spikes. He recalled the festering stench of it, the way the recently-impaled were sometimes still whining in pain. He recalled, too, the fiends that guarded the gates, and how easily they fled before the boiling white light of an angel army. The gates were always crusted with old blood, and sticky with the new, but the blood and the victims alike had all burnt to a merciful crisp when the angels rammed it open.

This time, Castiel didn’t need an army at his back to scare the guards away, for they willingly slunk off when Crowley flicked his hand at them.

“If only I’d had you around when we were rescuing Dean Winchester,” Castiel muttered as they stepped through the towering, creaking gates.

Crowley scoffed, and with a snap of his fingers, the gates screeched shut behind them.

The hard, baked red plains of Hell stretched out before them, blotted with lumps of volcanic stone. This was the Hell Castiel was used to, a mottled landscape of melted stone forms and steaming, sulfurous pits. As they walked through the smog and the dust, and Castiel looked down his nose into the putrid, bubbling depths of a noxious pool. He’d been shoved into a pit just like this during the battle for Dean Winchester’s soul, and held under by laughing demons. The demons didn’t laugh for long. Castiel pulled his eyes away from the lumpy, mineral rim of the pool and followed Crowley through the smoke.

A few demons noticed Castiel as he passed, and jeered at him. They silenced quickly when Castiel’s eyes turned to them and they saw the fire of Heaven inside. Castiel would have preferred to blaze across the dead plains of Hell in his true form and bypass this nonsense, but this was a burglary, not a frontal assault, and it wouldn’t do to draw attention.

“How soon do we arrive?”

“Settle down,” Crowley griped. He too was manifesting a form that strode as humans did across the sick dead sand, but Castiel could see his demonic form leaking through the cracks. An aura of raised spines, scraping claws, and hot smoke followed him with each step through Hell.

Their path led ever down through the rings. Crowley took Castiel through a layer of Hell that was all twisting corridors of stone, leading always to another torture rack, another hellhound kennel, another chamber that shook with sourceless screams. They passed out of the dungeon and into a fleshy field, where the ground pulsed and great tendrils writhed on the ground like parasitic worms, and slobbering maws opened up beneath your feet to swallow you up.

They passed through a landscape of glass-sharp stone. They passed through a dark, damp woodland, barren of leaves, howling with wind. And they passed through an abyss filled only with bloody chains that ripped like wet paper when Castiel’s wings beat through them.

Crowley had opted to hover serenely, safely out of Castiel’s wingspan, as they descended.

“You look stupid,” Castiel grunted.

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “This coming from the being whose wings are made of fluff? Oh yes, very menacing, very graceful.” He scoffed and turned away, regarding the chains around him as though seeking agreement. “No decent wing is made of feathers.”

The abyss went down, even after the last dangling chains ended in ripped links. It got quiet. Castiel’s muffled wingbeats were the only noise, painfully loud in the emptiness. They descended until all trace of the landscape above had long faded in the darkness, leaving only black. For a few, terrifying minutes, Castiel could see nothing either above or below, and could barely even tell that he was moving downwards. Crowley’s face was shadowed, cut out of the blackness in stark blue light from Castiel’s eyes. It was impossible to tell whether or not he was smirking with the shadows dancing over his face.

Through the dark and the quiet, they descended.

Castiel was close to breaking the choking silence when he saw the dull catch of light on the ground far below. It was distant, but it was there -- the bottom of Hell. Relieved, Castiel tucked his wings and dropped, opening them just in time to catch himself. A great cloud of blue-black dust billowed out, settling again as if loathe to be in motion. Castiel’s shoes settled on the ancient floor with barely a noise. The ground was cold and hard, painfully bare, save for the blanket of dust and the occasional splinter of bone that must have fallen from far, far above.

“Have we arrived?” Castiel asked as Crowley floated down next to him. His voice felt wrong in the dead, ancient silence, too loud. Castiel hushed his next words. “Where is the way in?”

Crowley held out his hand, a flicker of orange flame rising from the palm to light their way. More barren ground was revealed by the light, as well as an eroded jawbone, cracked with age, and... a jagged black edge, beyond which there was nothing. A ravine on the floor of Hell.

“Down,” Crowley answered.

----

Castiel didn’t know Hell went this deep.

The hot red plains so far above seemed like another world. A louder one, and less chilling. The canyon of Hell yawned wide as Castiel took flight off the edge and began to descend, Crowley at his side. But bit by bit, grain by ancient stone grain, the walls closed in. The chasm that started off impossibly vast slowly closed around Castiel like planet-sized jaws as he sunk lower into the cold and the dark. He cringed when they became too narrow for him to beat his wings without brushing against unforgiving stone.

Castiel wanted to ask Crowley how much further it was. But he was scared of the answer.

They went lower, deeper, and the ravine narrowed. Castiel had to turn sideways to keep his wings from beating against the rough stone walls. Crowley hovered slowly, silent, watching him. Finally there was no room even for that, and Castiel had to banish his wings and drop until the closing slopes of the ravine caught him, gravity dragging his body to a scraping halt between the rough walls. Castiel steadied his breathing there, his back pressed against one side of the ravine, his feet braced against the other. Crowley hovered down next to him, his eyebrows raised. Castiel looked up, panting, and saw only the cold black walls vanishing up into the darkness. Perhaps the whole ravine had narrowed as he descended, and was only a few feet wide on the surface now. Perhaps the ravine was simply closing around him, and would soon seal up, leaving nothing but dust and old bones above, crushing him into a molecule-thin film between cold, ancient stone, never to be found again, save perhaps by God himself.

Castiel banished the dark thoughts. No, Crowley was here with him. Crowley wouldn’t walk into a death trap, and Crowley wouldn’t break a deal.

“Having trouble there, sweet pea?” Crowley inquired gently. His hushed voice rang painfully loud in the cramped space.

Castiel bit his lip and started scooting further down in the ravine.

It narrowed. Castiel’s knees bent as he scooted lower. Then he had to use his arms to brace against the opposite wall. By now Crowley was joining him, shimmying down the narrow crack in the earth, mountains of weight on either side of them crushing closer and closer. It got colder as they went, until Castiel’s breath was steaming in the blue light from his eyes. His skin prickled, his fingers turning red where he grabbed at the icy walls. He could see frost on the black stone of the ravine that had swallowed up his perception of the world. Still the crack went lower.

When the ravine was nearly too thin for Castiel to squeeze through, his foot slipped on the icy stone and met only air beneath. He didn’t have time to grunt in alarm before he lost his grip on the harsh rock and fell, down into the rib-crushing narrowness of the ravine --

Which wasn’t there. Castiel dropped a couple feet and landed with a curse on a smooth, fiercely cold floor. Rubbing his head, he looked up, just in time to see Crowley wriggle through the crack above and fall through next to him.

“There we are,” Crowley panted, wrenching himself to his feet and adjusting his suit. He gestured at the little bubble of a cave they found themselves in. “I hope you appreciate how many backs I had to scratch to get us access to this place.”

Castiel looked around, standing up. The chamber was round, piercingly cold, and barely high enough for him to stand without stooping. He reached up and dipped his hand into the narrow crack that he and Crowley had slipped through, brushing his fingers against the icy stone.

“This is a dead end,” he stated, dropping his hand again. He rotated slowly to make sure, eyeing every smooth, cold wall of the chamber, his breath steaming. “Where is the way into the Cage?”

Crowley chuckled. For a moment the cold stone was lit up in orange, and Castiel heard a bang and a splash behind him. When he spun back around, the ground had cracked open, and a thick chunk of it was sloshing wetly in black water. Ice. The floor of the room wasn’t stone, it was thick, solid ice. And underneath...

Crowley extended a hand towards the frozen black waters. “Perhaps you are not comprehending what is meant by the deepest pit of Hell.”

Castiel stepped up to the crack in the ice cautiously, peering into it. It was easily big enough for him to fall into. The ripples were fading, the surface settling into a steely mirror that reflected his own concerned face. He couldn’t see anything in the blackness below, but new ice crystals were already beginning to form around the edge.

Crowley slipped his hands into his suit pockets. “This is where we part ways, feathers. I promised I’d take you to the edge of the Cage, but there’s not a bargain you could strike that would make me jump into that little swimming hole with you.”

Cold rose off the pit like steam, sending needles under Castiel’s skin.

“I’ll be back,” he managed. “Will I be able to use this door to leave?”

Crowley shrugged. “Certainly, if you blast your way through the ice. I sure won’t be propping the door for you.”

Castiel nodded in understanding, not taking his eyes off those still, black waters. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and jumped in.

----

A year later, a man stood under a street lamp as it sputtered out.

The spring night was warm, and a gentle wind ruffled the man’s hair. It was the only movement in his body. In the distance, thunder grumbled through the clouds. The storm was far off, but it drifted closer on the soft wind of the night as the family in the house ate their dinner and the man outside watched.

The man under the street lamp didn’t react when a hand descended on his shoulder.

“Sam,” Castiel urged softly. “We need to go.”

Sam sluggishly pulled his eyes away from the warm light of the window. His expression didn’t change as his gaze shifted from the dining family in the house to the angel by his side.

Castiel squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “ ... That’s Dean,” he ventured, tilting his head towards the house. “You remember Dean, right?”

Sam blinked. “ ... I remember Dean.”

“We will... We will see Dean later. All right?”

Sam looked up vacantly at the sky, then back at Castiel. “All right.”

He didn’t resist as Castiel led him away, and made no acknowledgement of the grief in the angel’s eyes.

#episode

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