#everything left is built around sammy

[swan2swan]

Sammy becoming the Protagonist in Season 4 was not on my prediction list but dangit, it's About Time.

[wannaeatramyeon]

The Crew Heads with Reader: The Keeper

G/N. This is dumb. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo). Masterlists

Same storyline: Bro Code | Dinner | Shopping | Television | Gacha | Board Games | Suits

If you turn left at the traffic lights, then continue on the path for another mile, you'll arrive at a block of apartments.

The facade is a little dated, the area unremarkable though safe. To the right is a sleepy high street, and the other side are more residential buildings.

It's peculiar in how unpeculiar it is. There's nothing that stands out-

Hold on.

That's not entirely true.

Dig further below the surface, past the stuttering lights of the convenience stores, the ajummas nattering on the sidewalk, the mom and pop diners favoured by the locals and you'll find that, in fact, the area is deeply peculiar and odd.

Maybe everything was built where ley lines connect.

It's a magnet for gangsters, congregating in groups and hanging around menacingly. Frequented often by freakishly strong people, whose monstrous strength strikes fear into the heart of many.

Yet here, they just loom quietly in the shadows, causing no harm and presence intimidating enough that there is very little crime committed under their watchful eye.

That's because what is known about this particular place to a specific and violent subset of people, is that it's neutral territory.

Peaceful territory.

No blood can be spilled. No gang fights. No violence.

Unless it's committed by yourself, of course. It's the number one unwritten rule amongst all the other unwritten rules.

(As agreed to and acknowledged by all parties. Thank you for your cooperation.)

When one of the men stretches your patience too thin and you want to slap them upside the head, then surely it's your god given right.

Not that you would but no-one could or would blame you.

.

.

Maybe oddest of all, however, is the collection of strays you have acquired.

One by one, they have come across your path and fallen for your questionable, awkward charm. Found you during their time of need, whether that is looking for someone who listens and empathizes, tells them to cut the crap, or can simply make them smile.

Managed to begrudgingly strike up a makeshift sort of truce with the other men, if only for your sake.

And you, well.

You're known as The Keeper.

.

.

For most who hear about The Keeper, it conjures up terrifying images of a beast of a man. Muscle-bound and able to snap necks without blinking an eye.

The Keeper is actually none of these things. Although you don't mind the rumours that swirl about you.

What The Keeper is, is very very bored and yawning, you scratch your left asscheek as you wait for your strays to select their lunch.

.

.

Look-

You don't get paid from your job for another two weeks and you really can't expect Sammy to foot the bill for everything.

He goes above and beyond to give you the best of the best, but if it was up to him, would give the other three straggler-ons nothing and tell them to fuck off.

It's only because of you that he reluctantly ignores the way Johan sneaks dog treats into shopping trips, Eli adding cute little dresses, and Jake an extra something or other for a member of Big Deal.

(Not that Samuel minds too much about the latter though he would rather shit in his hands and clap than admit it outloud.)

He pays for it all with little complaint - actually no, that's not right. He complains a lot and holds it over their heads (but not yours) at every opportunity.

But he pays.

So today's lunch is your treat.

Even if your meagre bank balance only stretches to four ramens and maybe a sad drink to share between all of you. It's the thought that counts, ok.

.

.

"Yenna has a cream for that," Eli says, clocking your itchy butt, "you want to borrow it?"

You shake your head no and tell him thanks anyway.

"Your hair looks good," you add with a smile, ruffling his blonde wolfcut mullet with the hand that was on your ass a second ago.

Eli doesn't notice, or decides not to comment, instead runs his own fingers through his hair self consciously and clutches his ramen (Carbonara Buldak - a rare spicy treat when he doesn't have to share with Yenna) tighter.

"You think so? I thought it might be too light."

"You could pull anything off."

You force the smile to remain on your face, not that you're bitterly jealous or anything.

"Thanks!"

.

.

"Buldak?" A familiar voice sneers and you both sigh and turn your head to the duo still standing in front of the display.

"What's wrong with Buldak?" Jake responds, frowning.

"Nothing." Samuel reaches pointedly for the 2x Spicy packet.

Jake's eyes narrow. 'Nothing, if you're a pussy' was silently insinuated by Sammy and heard loud and clear by Jake.

He replaces his Spicy Chicken Buldak and matches his choice to Samuel's.

"This might be too mild," Samuel adds nonchalantly, grabbing the 3x Spicy instead and wanting to one-up that bastard even with something as juvenile as this.

"You win. Hope your asshole burns, asshole." Jake gives him a playful smirk, returning the Buldak for a Shin Ramyun.

Samuel raises his eyebrows in surprise at Jake's choice. His face turns proud and victorious. "I'll be fine."

As Jake walks away, Samuel glances nervously at his own noodles.

.

.

"That jjajangmen smells good," you comment besides Johan, both cooking your ramen on the machine in the store.

On instinct, he moves closer, defensively, protecting his own food, shielding it from hungry eyes-

Then clarity hits. It's you.

"Wanna share?" He offers, willing all the survival instincts he has honed from the last couple years to be quiet.

"Nah, I'm good." You bump goodnaturedly into Johan as thanks and rest your head on his shoulder, waiting for the food to finish.

He shrugs and averts his gaze. "You're the one that paid," he mutters by way of explanation.

You see through his deflection and notice his ears turn crimson.

.

.

The five of you are a sight to behold.

Slurping noisily on noodles; Samuel bright red, beads of sweat down his neck as he tries to choke down his ramen, Jake and Eli chuckling together at that poor pathetic moron, Johan growing restless as his was finished a good while ago but nevertheless finding Samuel a source of entertainment too.

All sitting side by side, taking up the window seats that provide a perfect people-watching view.

The roads are almost bustling at this hour and the buzz of the streets spill into the store.

"That's The Keeper," A small group of men whisper to each other, bowing in respect to you as they pass through the entrance.

You smile back pleasantly, hiding your confusion. They must just be friendly.

.

.

Mid-mouthful, you spy a blonde walking on the other side of the road.

He's hard to miss, with a spring in his step and whistling. His suit is equal parts expensive, impeccably tailored, and tasteless.

Your eyes connect.

Goo Kim gives you a cheery wave, a loud, joyous 'HEY!' and calls out your name.

You wave back and his grin grows when he spots your companions.

His arm moves even more erratically and he cackles, the loud hyena shriek heard despite the distance and through the glass, when the Crew Heads grumble and flip Goo off.

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Everything we know about Yellowjackets Season 3 so far (and some theories)…

Please feel free to add on if I missed anything in a comment or reblog!

Filming schedule and potential release date

Yellowjackets Season 3 filming began on May 14th and will wrap up on October 24th. They are filming primarily in Vancouver, Canada.

According to an article from Deadline, Season 3 will not be released until “early 2025.” However, if we look at the filming to release date patterns for Seasons 1 and 2, we could potentially get Season 3 a bit earlier or, at the very least, in very early 2025. Season 1 wrapped filming in September 2021 and started airing episodes in November 2021. Similarly, Season 2 ended filming in February 2023 and started airing in March 2023. So, feasibly, we could get Season 3 any time from December 2024 to February 2025🤞

There will be a time skip in the teen timeline (and possibly the adult timeline)

So, as many of us know, official Yellowjackets social media accounts posted these behind the scenes photos for the first day of filming Season 3 on May 14th:

These photos are for the filming of 3x01, and they show that the girls are clearly not struggling to survive the winter anymore. There is no snow on the ground and everything is green and growing, indicating that it is now Spring in the teen timeline. A short video of the Yellowjackets theme song with clips of flowers growing interspersed throughout it was also posted on the Yellowjackets social media accounts, supporting that Season 3 takes place in the Spring.

We see some makeshift shelters made of wood in the background of these photos, as well, so it looks like there will be a time skip to when the girls have started to build a new civilization for themselves. It is unclear if we’ll see any scenes immediately following the cabin burning down, or if they’re just going to plop the viewers down a few months later in Spring. I’m hoping they explain how they got to this point at least a little bit, though! Even if it’s just through flashbacks. Season 2 did start us off 2 months after Jackie’s death, though, and we never really got to see any scenes of the immediate aftermath of that.

And there may be a time skip in adult timeline, as well. Someone on Twitter (can’t remember their username, please share if you know!) shared this photo of a Yellowjackets filming site:

The photo shows a poster for an art museum exhibit taking place at the end of 2023. The Twitter user said that the bus stop and poster shown here were built by the Yellowjackets crew and were taken down when the filming wrapped at this location, which means this poster was created specifically for the show. Also, this exhibit doesn’t exist in real life and that photo is a stock image. This implies that there will be a 2 year time skip in the adult timeline, as Seasons 1 and 2 took place in 2021. Once again, I hope they show us some of the immediate aftermath of the Season 2 finale and don’t just skip over it! I want to see how the survivors handle Nat’s death!

Walter is back, the actress for Gen was replaced, Nat’s hair is grown out! (finally), and Nat still wears Jackie’s heart necklace in Season 3…

Yellowjackets also posted a behind the scenes video of their first day of filming Season 3:

Walter is back for Season 3 as Elijah Wood states in the video. Many of the other cast members are shown as well, (Jasmin, Sammi, both Sophies, Courtney, etc.) all of whom we expected to return.

But one person that is absent from this video is Mya Lowe, the actress that played Gen in Season 2. Mya appears to have left Yellowjackets in pursuit of a Netflix show she is filming right now, and therefore she has been replaced by actress Vanessa Prasad, whom we can briefly see in this video.

We can also see that Nat’s roots are finally growing out! And Jackie’s gold heart necklace that Shauna placed around her neck before the hunt scene in 2x08 is still on her! Which might mean the heart necklace now serves as a symbol of her leadership (at least until it gets placed on Pit Girl’s neck).

Ella Purnell’s possible return

There have been quite a few clues that Ella Purnell, who played Jackie Taylor, may be returning for Season 3 despite the death of her character.

First, this photo was posted to Instagram, which shows Ella Purnell in Vancouver during Yellowjackets filming dates:

Yellowjackets does film in Vancouver, and Ella Purnell didn’t really have any excuse for being there at the time. Her time there would definitely align with the Yellowjackets filming schedule.

Also, Ella posted a picture of herself in a filming trailer that looks identical to the filming trailers used on the Yellowjackets set, as we can see in this photo of Sophie Nelisse (young Shauna) in her trailer:

Literally identical (look at the lights, the cabinets, the microwave!) Could the “new project” Ella is referring to be Yellowjackets Season 3?

Lastly, we have this IMDb screenshot for 3x03, which lists a person playing Ella Purnell’s stunt double:

This could be an error on IMDb’s part but with all of the other clues it’s looking like Jackie might make a Season 3 appearance! She could be appearing as a ghost/hallucination again like she did in Season 2, or we might be getting some pre-crash scenes! Especially considering that there’s a stunt double needed, maybe we’ll get pre-crash soccer scenes?

Adult Taivan scenes!!

Reddit user galaxyvixen claimed to be an extra on Season 3 of Yellowjackets and posted these behind the scenes photos:

It appears that adult Van and Tai are going to see Kill Bill together in this scene, and they look pretty cozy together (look how close their hands are!) so I think it's very likely that we'll see a romantic reunion plot line between adult Van and Tai this season. Also interesting to note, the Reddit user who posted these photos captioned them "Columbia St, New Westminster B.C. Can't wait for December!"

What do they mean by December???? Could that be the release date for Season 3? The original poster never really explained this and has now deleted this post. Take the December information with a grain of salt, though, because I highly doubt that the crew would tell an extra on set a highly secretive release date.

Jennifer Morrison Directing (and BTS adult Lottie shots!)

Jennifer Morrison (known for playing Emma Swan on Once Upon a Time) has been confirmed to be directing at least one Season 3 episode (but maybe two?) She posted a confirmation to her IG story and some BTS photos and videos of her directing Simone Kessell (AKA adult Lottie) were released.

Notice how Lottie's jacket here is so similar to the one she wears in the Wilderness! Also, she is exiting what appears to be a government building called "Atlantic Coast Trust." Maybe she's settling her father's estate? Maybe it has something to do with her getting out of the psychiatric hospital? Maybe she was summoned to court for some reason?

The bonus episode

Both the cast and writers have confirmed that there will be a bonus episode in between Seasons 2 and 3 to make up for the fact that Season 2 only had 9 episodes. Ashley Lyle, a show runner and writer, has said this bonus episode will release "closer to S3." The episode has already been filmed and features Melanie Lynskey's husband, Jason Ritter. Sophie Nelisse has said that she and the rest of the main cast were not present for filming, indicating that none of the main characters will be in this episode. Some photos from the set of this bonus episode were released:

These show Jason Ritter holding a baby, and he is wearing the plaid coat that the girls found on Cabin Guy's body in the attic. The cabin also appears to be in the background. Because of these photos, many people think the bonus episode will be about Cabin Guy. We got an interesting piece of information from a deleted scene in the script of 2x07:

The letter Van finds in this episode seems to have been written by Cabin Guy's wife or Cabin Guy himself. It mentions a baby, possibly the baby seen in the leaked photos. Bear with me here, but I think that this baby could potentially still be alive and could actually be the "friend" that kept Javi alive during the winter. She may have run away after something bad went down with her father, and found refuge in the tree stump all these years. She could be a teenager like the rest of them now and could be responsible for moving Crystal's body. Maybe the bonus episode will reveal this? Either way, I do think there is a good chance that the bonus episode will be centered around Cabin Guy. I think the episode could be released around Halloween or maybe in December around Christmas.

The FBI is involved?

Someone found a Yellowjackets filming location at Trout Lake and snapped a photo of the set:

The photo shows an FBI truck on the set. Could this be a post-rescue scene? Or perhaps the FBI has launched an investigation into the deaths of Adam Martin, Kevyn Tan, and Natalie in the adult timeline? Either way this photo has me excited.

More behind the scenes photos

Sophie Nelisse posted (and promptly deleted) this photo on her story. It looks like we'll be getting a scene of Shauna in the lake. Many people have said that the other girl in the white dress is Courtney Eaton, so Lottie may be involved in this scene too (and possibly wearing Laura Lee's night gown?) As much as I would love this to be a Shauna baptism scene, I just can't fully tell if that's Courtney or not.

And then we also have these set photos posted by Sammi Hanratty which have also now been deleted. They show some pretty impressive wooden huts and structures in the background, showing that the girls are really building their own little society out in the Wilderness. I also love the detail of the airplane seat placed by the firewood.

Joel McHale

Yellowjackets posted on all of their social medias recently that Joel McHale (Community, The Bear) will play a new recurring character in Season 3. Some people are speculating that he may be playing an older Paul (Coach Ben’s boyfriend), and I do see the resemblance and would personally love that.

Interviews

Christina Ricci had this to say about Yellowjackets Season 3:

And Ashley Lyle said the girls are "thriving" in Season 3 in the teen timeline and stated that Season 3 is a "return to Season 1" in terms of vibes and general atmosphere.

--

Overall, I am so so excited and they need to hurry the fuck up with this season! I literally cannot wait any longer. Here's to hoping that we'll at least get a release date confirmed soon...

[honeyryewhiskey]

moodboards for Deanna & Samantha Winchester !

me and bree (@titsout4jackles) were yappin about genderbend winchesters and after i made these moodboards for us the ideas just kept flowing???!! (skip to the end for the bonus. . . castiel !)

mary raised her girls to be hunters for survival. after john's tragic passing—she knew something supernatural was lurking in the shadows. she poured her heart into teaching them everything she knows, while trying her hardest to be the mom they deserve.

she tries to give them some semblance of home despite the constant moving around, with aunt bobbi-jo as a steady presence in their lives.

deanna . . .

mary put her eldest in the driver seat of the impala when she was barely thirteen, "you need to know how to make a getaway fast, dee."

deanna is good with a gun, better with her hands. a skill that comes in handy with sleezy men in bars.

deanna doesn't hunt for revenge—it's a duty. protecting the innocent from the evil that lurks in the corners. "I don't hunt because I want to, I hunt because I have to—because someone has to."

she doesn't let herself dream of any other life, not when she has a little sister to protect.

sammie . . .

Used to correct their mom’s latin exorcisms when she was barely out of elementary school. “actually, mom, it’s omnis immundus spiritus, not omnis spiritus immundus.”

sammie's still taller than deanna

always has emergency supplies because deanna is not a planner. first-aid kit? check. extra salt rounds? check. tampons? check.

the only reason she even considered college was because mary encouraged it. she saw how sharp her youngest was, how she would pour herself into all of the research of their cases. mary saw an out for sammie and pushed her towards it.

sammie can analyze lore faster than anyone, and she's a deadshot, but her heart is always somewhere else—dreaming of being more than just hands that sleigh monsters.

when mary disappears, it shatters them, leaving a void that nothing seems able to fill. the weight of her absence presses down on them, like a storm that won’t pass. “what do we do without her?”

samantha, always the one to follow the path she believed was right, leaves stanford, abandoning the future she had built for herself. It’s not just a school; it’s her dream, her escape, everything she thought she wanted. but without mary, it all feels meaningless. closing that door on her aspirations feels like cutting off a part of herself—yet, for her family, it’s what she needs to do. they need her.

deanna, on the other hand, channels her grief into an unrelenting fury. every monster she hunts, every threat she faces, is met with a wrath that burns hotter than hell. it's a fire fueled by loss and a desperation for control, as if killing enough things might somehow bring her peace. but in the silence that follows each victory, she’s only left with the crushing realization that it’s never enough.

they’re both lost without their mom. but, for now, they fight. for mary. for each other.

somewhere along the road . . .

Deanna drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, her eyes narrowing as she glanced between the road and the map spread across her sister’s lap. “So, uh, where the hell are we?”

Samantha let out a dramatic sigh, her eyes rolling so hard it was almost audible. “If you’d just listened to me ten minutes ago, you’d know we missed the turn.”

Deanna groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Dammit, Sammie! You’re supposed to navigate!”

The map crumpled in Sam’s quick, frustrated movement as she turned it toward Deanna, her face pinched with irritation. “I did navigate! I told you to turn left, and you—”

“I did turn left!” Deanna snapped, her face flushed with the heat of her own frustration.

Sam sat back, arms crossed tightly against her chest, her posture stiff as she leaned into the worn vinyl seat. “No, you turned right, which is literally the opposite of left.”

Deanna’s hands shot up, her brows knitting together as her eyes burned with irritation. “Well, maybe your left is wrong!”

Sam’s head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowing into a sharp, annoyed glare as she stared at Deanna. “That... that’s not how directions work.”

Deanna huffed, waving Sam off with one hand while gripping the wheel with the other as her gaze stayed on the road. “Fine. Whatever. We’ll just turn around.”

Sam adjusted the map with a resigned sigh, her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought back the urge to say I told you so. “Great. Awesome. Love that for us.”

The car fell into a tense silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the old leather seats. Then, Deanna reached over, flicking Sam’s ear with a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

Sam jerked away with a sharp breath, slapping her hand away, her face scrunched up in annoyance. But there was a hint of something else in her eyes—amusement, even if she didn’t want to admit it. “Quit it.”

Flick.

“Deanna.”

Flick.

“DEANNA.”

Sam lunged at her, eyes blazing, but Deanna effortlessly dodged, her laugh full of mischievous delight as she swerved away from her sister’s grasp.

“Ugh! You’re so annoying,” Sam muttered, settling back into her seat. Her lips formed a pout, and her eyes darted to the window in a silent protest, but the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

Deanna’s grin widened, her dimples deepening as she shot Sam a wink. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Deanna’s smirk was almost too playful to handle. “Shotgun does the snack run for getting us lost.”

Sam groaned, dropping her head back against the seat, her eyes half-lidded with exaggerated exasperation. “I hate you.”

Deanna chuckled, her green eyes flicking over to Sam as her voice softened with teasing affection. “Nah, you love me,” she quips, her dimpled smile only widening. “Now, be a good little navigator and find me the nearest gas station that sells pie.”

bonus . . . castiel !

(and yes there is so much sapphic subtext happening between cas and deanna)

for example . . .

cas is usually calm, aloof, but when a man flirts with deanna, something shifts. it’s not rage, but a sharp, uncomfortable feeling in her chest, one she tries to bury. she doesn’t understand it, nor does she want to. but she notices. she notices every little interaction and sometimes feels an overwhelming urge to remind deanna that she’s already someone’s priority—though she would never say it aloud.

j’s note — this was a fun little writing exercise with ideas and thoughts that i’m totally normal about… hah! no i’m not anyways now back to our regularly scheduled programs !

[snowdrop-ivy]

Favor. | Part 7 - Finale

Summary: Ari Levinson was an ego embodied in a man. Yep, he's an asshole. Y/N knows it yet she still married him. How? She doesn't know. And now, she doesn't know how to get him to sign the divorce papers.

A/N: Hey! This is the final chapter! Yay! Took me long enough but, I hope you like it <3 Thanks for the support!

Meanwhile, as she, Max, and Jake approached the reception area, the sight of Ethan standing casually in the middle of the lobby froze them in place. The tension of the past hours lingered in the air, making his unexpected appearance all the more jarring.

Ethan glanced around the dimly lit space, surveying the remnants of chaos they had just escaped. With a slight smirk, he raised an eyebrow and, with his usual dry humor, remarked, “Nice hotel.”

Max exchanged a look with Jake, both clearly taken aback. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of irritation and relief mix together, wondering what Ethan’s presence would mean now. The calmness in his voice felt almost mocking compared to the whirlwind they had just been through.

She took a breath, stepping forward. “Ethan,” she greeted him, unsure whether to feel annoyed or grateful at his impeccable timing. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see the hotel,” Ethan replied with a casual shrug.

“Yeah, right,” Y/N rolled her eyes, irritation flaring. “After that, all you care about is the hotel? Don’t start shit.”

“Language, young lady,” Ethan retorted, his tone sharp. “Why don’t we wait for your husband outside?”

As they moved outside, Y/N sank onto a bench, lighting a cigarette. Max snatched it from her hands. “Hey!”

“You don’t smoke.”

“You don’t know that,” she shot back, reclaiming the cigarette. “Just one!”

Jake quickly extinguished it, sending her a stern look as they waited for the car. Y/N crossed her arms in frustration, unable to shake the tension in her chest.

When the truck finally appeared, her heart raced at the sight of Ari behind the wheel, a bittersweet relief washing over her. She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to lash out at him and Sammy. Ari parked the truck and stepped out, his gaze immediately drawn to Y/N, who was checking on Sammy. She offered him a slight smile, one that felt like a balm to Ari's frayed nerves.

“Ethan?” Sammy called out, breaking the moment.

Ethan turned, a weight in his expression. “The soldier who was shot?” He sighed heavily. 

“He lost too much blood.”

Ari's heart sank as he searched Y/N’s face. She avoided his gaze, focusing on the ground beside Rachel. Rachel shot him a look that conveyed reassurance, and Ari nodded in response as they made their way to his room.

He burst through the door, the weight of the world pressing down on him as he stripped off his polo, throwing it onto the floor in frustration. “How did this happen?”

“They mistook us for smugglers,” Ari spat, pacing the room, his back to Ethan.

“This whole thing’s a mistake,” Ethan replied, his voice steady.

Ari spun around, his anger simmering just below the surface. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” Ethan said, waiting for Ari to respond.

“You shutting us down?” Hurt laced Ari’s voice.

Ethan nodded solemnly, and Ari’s heart sank. He sat heavily on the bed, the reality crashing down on him. “You can’t, Ethan. This mission’s a success. We’ve got thousands of people out. We have thousands more lives coming this way.”

“What about your life?” Ethan shot back. “Or your wife’s? Jake’s? Rachel’s? Max’s? Jesus! What about Sam? What about that, huh?”

Ari fell silent, the truth stinging. They had all agreed to this life, to risk everything for a greater purpose.

“That’s why we have to stop now while it’s still a success,” Ethan pressed, his expression earnest. “I want you chaps home, safe and alive. Think about your life. Live that.”

With a heavy sigh, Ari hung his head, resting it on his hands as Ethan left the room. He found himself trapped between the lives they had built and the lives they had saved. He couldn’t let them down. Not Y/N. Not anymore. Taking a deep breath, he began to clean himself up, the turmoil within him simmering as he searched for his wife.

He found her in the foyer, tending to Sammy’s bruises. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither knew how to bridge the gap created by their recent turmoil. She cleared her throat, gently holding his injured knuckles in her hands as she began to clean the wound. “What happened here?”

Her voice was gentle, soothing like the tide. Ari watched her, captivated by her soft touches, the way she tucked her hair behind his ear. He felt a surge of warmth as she looked up at him, her eyes meeting his.

“Should we go home?” he asked, his heart racing.

Her eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of hope and fear flitting across her features. “What about them?”

He traced circles on her cheeks while she bandaged his hand, feeling the weight of their choices. “You wanna know why every hero in the movie dies sometimes?”

“Why’s that?” She asked, a tender peck on his hand punctuating her curiosity.

“Because they don’t know where to draw the line.”

“We’re not the heroes here,” She reminded him, determination shining in her eyes. “But you get to decide. Should we go home?”

Ari locked his gaze onto her, the intensity of his feelings unspoken but palpable. In that moment, everything shifted; he could feel her love weaving around them, a fragile thread tethering them together amid the chaos.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his heart swelling with hope. “Let’s go home.”

She smiled and nodded. “Where’s home?”

Ari shrugged, the memory of their house lingering in his mind. “Wherever you are, that’s my home,” he softly said, cupping her face in his hands. With slowness and gentleness, he leaned in, pressing his lips against her. The kiss was tender and cautious, as if he feared she would break if he were too rough. They pulled away breathless, foreheads touching as he drew circles on her thumb. “I wanna go home, honey.”

Ari took Sam and Max to Kabede, who was hiding. When they found him, he was shot and bleeding profusely. They informed him that the refugees were waiting by the river, and Ari's heart broke at the thought. Once they were done, they devised a plan for their last rescue and returned to the resort. Excitement and fear coursed through him as he opened the door, greeted by Abdel and her.

“Colonel,” he said, brushing his hair back nervously. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“I was just treating my men to some of Abu Aziz’s famous cooking,” Abdel replied, glaring at him.

“Great, let’s not keep him waiting,” Ari said, brushing past Abdel to take her hand. He halted abruptly when Abdel stopped them, ordering something to his men in Arabic.

“What was that?” She asked, concern creeping into her voice.

“I told them to check the back of your trucks,” Abdel replied coolly.

She and Ari exchanged a wary glance, feeling a chill run through the air. “What for?” Ari asked, anxiety tightening his chest.

“It will please me,” Abdel replied, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

Jake and Rachel gathered behind them, watching as Abdel’s men searched the truck where Max and Sammy were hiding. She tried to mask her relief when they reported back, having found nothing.

“So,” Abdel began, after his men confirmed they couldn’t find anything, “dinner.”

Ari’s jaw clenched. “Great,” he muttered, turning back to her.

He sat down while she took a seat beside Abdel as the food was served. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and her heart raced as she glanced around, spotting soldiers patrolling the area. She exchanged a knowing look with Rachel and signaled her to take down the other guard while she handled the one by the door. They both excused themselves.

Cautiously, she crept toward the soldier, her pulse pounding in her ears. As he opened the door, she acted swiftly, kicking the back of his knee and forcing him down. Her hands wrapped around his throat, muffling any cries for help that might escape his lips. She felt the resistance fade from his body as he struggled to breathe, and just as Kabede stood up, panic flashing in his eyes, he pleaded, “He’s done. Please, stop.”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what needed to be done. With a swift motion, she positioned the soldier behind the door, tying his hands and feet tightly, covering his face to silence him completely. Her breathing came in shaky bursts, the adrenaline surging through her veins, heightening her senses.

Once she left the room, her eyes met Rachel's. In that fleeting moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of what they had just done. Her expression mirrored hers—intense, yet filled with a spark of exhilaration mixed with fear.

When they returned to the table, she could feel Ari’s grip on her hand tighten, his anxiety palpable. She squeezed it gently, offering silent reassurance, trying to calm both him and herself. The room hummed with an unsettling energy as the reality of their situation pressed down upon her, and her could sense that every moment counted.

“Is there a difference between Handawa women and American women?” Abdel asked, glancing between her and Natfhia. “Mr. Guy?”

Ari's grip on her hand intensified, his teeth clenching. “I don’t know, I guess.”

“I bet there is,” Abdel shot back, his hand possessively resting on Natfhia’s thigh. “Handawa women say yes to everything. Their parts were stitched to keep them tight. I bet you’ll prefer Handawa over American women.”

“I’m content with my wife,” Ari replied, the veins in his temples popping with anger.

“No,” Abdel shook his head, his grip tightening around her hand at the table. She instinctively tried to pull it back, but he held it firmly. “I bet your wife is not as tight as her.”

Anger coursed through Ari’s body. “Don’t,” he mumbled, his gaze locked onto Abdel. She looked at him, trying to catch his attention, but he was lost in a storm of rage.

She felt a flicker of relief when Abdel finally released her hand. But his fingers quickly found their way to her thigh. “This is not tight anymore,” he said, teasing Ari.

That was the final straw. Ari exploded, grabbing a table knife and pressing it against Abdel’s throat. “I said don’t!”

Abdel was quicker, choking her from behind. Panic flashed in her eyes as she pleaded silently with Ari, but he was consumed by anger. She felt her breath quicken, fear clawing at her chest as the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against her temple.

“Or what?” Abdel laughed maniacally, pressing the gun deeper. “Or I blow your wife’s brains out?”

“What were you planning to do with that knife, Mr. Thomas?” Abdel taunted.

This time, he looked at her. She gently shook her head, her heart racing. Ari took a deep breath before putting the knife down, the tension in the room hanging like a thick fog. But as soon as the blade clattered to the ground, a soldier behind him jabbed a gun into the back of his neck, forcing him to kneel on the floor.

Her mind raced, torn between the urge to strike back at Abdel and the instinct to calm the situation. Tears streamed down her face, fueled by anger and helplessness. Ari knelt there, his expression a mix of defiance and vulnerability. Abdel laughed again, a cruel sound that echoed in the air as he shoved her aside, rallying his men to leave.

As they departed, she rushed to Ari, kneeling in front of him. “What were you thinking?” she asked, her voice trembling with a blend of anger and concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he replied, meeting her gaze briefly before inspecting her body, his worry palpable. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head multiple times, a desperate attempt to reassure him. But in a moment of frustration, she smacked him across the face. “That was really stupid!”

Ari didn’t register her anger; all he could do was look at her , his eyes scanning for any sign of injury. The resort lights flickered off, plunging the area into darkness as they began clearing everyone out. Ari’s gaze turned intently to the road, waiting for the sound of approaching trucks, his mind racing with thoughts of how to keep her safe.

In that moment, the gravity of their situation pressed down on them, the weight of uncertainty heavy in the air. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, mixing with a deep-seated fear for what was yet to come.

“They’ll be back,” Ari stated, his voice low, the weight of the moment heavy in his tone. He glanced around at the group, eyes lingering on her. “With numbers.”

“Yeah,” Max agreed, nodding grimly. “Especially when they find out they’re two guys down.” His gaze shifted to her and Rachel, a hint of disbelief mixing with the tension.

She took a deep breath, feeling the room’s attention on her. Crossing her arms and legs, she hung her head down, not having the heart to meet Ari’s gaze. But she could feel it—burning into her, waiting for an explanation she wasn't ready to give. When she finally lifted her eyes, confusion flickered across his face, but there was something else—a hint of amusement, or perhaps, reluctant admiration.

All of them circled around the two fallen soldiers. The weight of what she had done settled in the silence that followed. Shame gnawed at her insides as they looked at her and Rachel, silently acknowledging the magnitude of what had just happened.

Ari inhaled sharply, breaking the stillness. “Buy me a day,” he ordered, his voice steady and commanding. “Make sure they’re taken care of... but completely invisible.”

She and the others raised their heads as Ari began to dish out instructions with precision. His gaze landed on Rachel and Jake. “Don’t let the staff in here,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for discussion.

Then, his attention shifted to Max and Sammy. “Take the truck. Get the rest of the group.”

Finally, his eyes locked on her, and the tension in the air thickened. “You and I,” he said, voice softer but firm, “will call Ethan.”

The ride to Ethan was suffocating in its silence. She stared out of the window, the city blurring past as she tried to think of the right words, the ones that would break the wall of tension between her and Ari. The guilt of what she had done weighed heavy on her chest. she bit her lip, struggling to form the words.

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. she really didn’t—but she had no choice. The air in the car felt heavy with her confession.

“I know,” Ari said, his tone controlled but distant. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

she shifted in her seat, desperately needing him to hear her , to understand. “Look at me,” she pleaded softly, her voice almost breaking.

For a moment, Ari couldn’t. He was trying so hard not to let the anger consume him. He inhaled deeply, keeping his gaze forward, but the tension was palpable. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his eyes to meet hers. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but there was something else—something softer, something that still tethered him to her .

She reached for his hand, gently squeezing it, her fingers trembling slightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, the sincerity in her voice breaking through the weight of the moment.

Ari took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly, the tension loosening just enough for him to speak. “Let’s just go home,” he said, the words filled with exhaustion, but also, a fragile hope.

she bit her lip and nodded, feeling the weight of the situation. she meant to pull her hand back, but Ari was quicker, intertwining his fingers with hers and placing their joined hands on her lap. His face remained stoic, his gaze returning to the road as the silence stretched between them.

It wasn’t long before they reached Walton’s office. Once inside, Ari took the lead, doing all the talking. She watched as he pleaded with Ethan over the phone, his voice steady but urgent. Walton soon took the phone, speaking directly with Ethan. The conversation was tense, but by the end of it, there was a plan in place.

They both made their way back to the resort, where Max greeted her with a new problem.

“There’s no way we can fit all of them in two trucks,” Max said, eyes scanning the crowd of refugees. His voice carried the frustration of the moment.

“Shit,” she exhaled, looking around for any possible solution. her mind raced until she found one. Max and Ari both turned to see what she was eyeing.

“Are you serious?” Jake said, disbelief clear in his tone. “A Sudanese tour bus?”

Max let out an anxious laugh, shaking his head at the idea.

She was about to defend her choice, but Ari cut in before she could. “Start loading them up. I gotta grab something. I’ll be right back,” he said, running back toward the hotel without waiting for a response.

With little time to argue, she helped Jake and Max start loading the refugees onto the bus. It was a scramble to get everyone aboard, but eventually, they were all seated. Jake took a spot at the end, Max settled on the other side, while Rachel sat in the driver’s seat. She chose the front, Sammy sitting across from her .

Ari was the last one to board, sliding into the seat in front of her as Rachel started the engine and the bus lurched forward, heading for the airfield.

The drive was tense, the sound of the engine almost drowning out the anxious whispers among the refugees. But Rachel kept the bus moving, and soon, the airfield came into view. Max and Jake quickly hopped off and made their way to the control room, working to open the lights and keep an eye out for any approaching trucks.

She and Rachel began helping the refugees off the bus, guiding them carefully to the edge of the airstrip. Meanwhile, Ari and Sammy moved swiftly, laying out glow sticks on the tarmac to guide the incoming plane.

The scene was one of organized chaos, but there was an unspoken urgency that kept everyone moving. The air was thick with tension, but also with the fragile hope that this plan might just work. 

The air was thick with tension, and the weight of every second pressed down on the team as they waited. Max’s eyes darted between the empty road and the airfield, his hand clenched around the comms. The silence felt unbearable. He swallowed hard, finally breaking the stillness.

“When are they supposed to be here?” Max’s voice cracked slightly, anxiety evident. He barely glanced at Ari, who stood nearby, cracking another glowstick with a sharp snap.

Ari took a slow, measured breath, eyes scanning the horizon. “I don’t know, why?” The calm in his voice was forced, a paper-thin cover over the growing dread inside him.

Max hung his head in defeat. “We have company.” His voice barely above a whisper, “Nine kilometers away.”

The news hit them like a wave. A collective exhale left the team, the kind that comes when the fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, but there’s no clear answer for which is the right choice. Rachel’s hand trembled as she took the comms, exchanging a look with Ari.

“Shall we get them back to the trucks?” she asked, her voice steady, but her eyes betrayed her fear.

She knelt nearby, tending to a small boy, her hands gentle as she cleaned the bruise on his knee. Her head snapped up, determination flashing in her eyes. “No, there’s still time.”

Ari, his movements more frantic now, cracked the last of the glowsticks, the harsh light illuminating the airfield like fragile beacons. He moved quickly, almost desperately, sprinting back to the crew with Sammy on his heels.

Rachel was the first to speak, her voice laced with urgency. “We should go back to the bus and get the fuck out of here.”

Her frustration flared as she stood, eyes blazing. “Where the fuck will we go then? Back to that shitty hotel? They’ll kill us there!”

Before Sammy could respond, Kabede raised his hand, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Wait. Listen.”

Everyone froze. The air around them seemed to still, and in that moment, all eyes turned skyward. The distant rumble, faint at first, grew louder, the unmistakable sound of salvation approaching. The plane. The sight of it descending onto the tarmac sent a rush of adrenaline through her.

Without hesitation, she took charge, leading the refugees toward the plane as the cargo hold opened. Walton stepped out, his hand extended toward her, a mix of relief and exhaustion on his face.

“About fucking time, don’t you think?” She muttered, shaking his hand briskly before shouting back to the others, “Come on, people, let’s go!”

It was chaos. She moved as fast as she could, ushering passengers inside, her mind racing. But then, the second pilot’s voice rang out, stopping her in her tracks.

“Wait! This plane only holds 228 passengers. How many do you have?”

Her blood boiled at the absurdity of the question. “You think I counted them?” she snapped, continuing to push refugees toward the plane.

The pilot’s voice, louder now, more panicked, cut through again. “We’re not gonna fit.”

“What?” Her eyes darkened as the weight of his words settled in. He repeated himself, and something inside her snapped. She grabbed him by the collar, her voice low and dangerous. “Then you choose who fucking lives or dies, because I won’t fucking choose.”

Ari’s hands were on her, pulling her back, his touch gentle but firm, trying to steady her. The second pilot, pale and shaken, hesitated, but there was no time. Max’s frantic voice called from the cargo. “Three kilometers!”

“Better choose fast,” Ari said, his back to the pilot, his hands resting on her shoulders. She could feel his tension, the thin thread of control he held over his emotions.

The pilot looked at the crowd, helpless. She wasn't waiting for him to decide. Her eyes scanned the plane, the cargo hold, and suddenly, an idea sparked. “Then make some fucking room,” she growled, pushing past Ari. Without a second thought, she began tearing seats out of the plane, tossing them to the ground. The team followed her lead, hands working fast until everyone was inside, sitting on the floor, cramped but alive.

As the plane lifted off, she heard the crack of gunfire in the distance. The plane lurched, clipping a tree. She ducked, heart pounding, but the shots faded, and the plane soared higher. Safe. Finally, safe.

She glanced around, catching Rachel’s eye as she smiled, her gaze dropping to the little boy—Amari—sleeping peacefully in her lap. “It suits you,” she whispered softly.

She smiled back, exhaustion and relief washing over her . “I know,” she replied quietly, brushing Amari’s hair back gently.

Max was nearby, making the children around him laugh, a small moment of lightness amidst the chaos. He caught her eye, nodding in acknowledgment. She returned the gesture, the silent camaraderie between them unspoken but understood.

Jake’s voice was soft as he whispered goodnight, two kids nestled under his arms. She watched him for a moment before her gaze shifted to Kabede, his face peaceful as he slept, the tension of the night finally fading.

In the cockpit, Ari and Sammy shared a quiet moment of triumph, exchanging a glance that said more than words could. Ari turned to Walton, shaking his hand with sincere gratitude. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, a rare, genuine smile breaking across his face.

Walton chuckled. “Feisty wife, huh?”

Ari laughed, nodding. “Tell me about it.”

Back in the cargo, Ari sat beside her, his eyes soft as he gazed down at Amari. She felt his presence beside her , warm and steady. She leaned her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his.

“It suits you,” Ari murmured, his voice quiet, almost shy. “Being a mom.”

“I know.” She smiled, the softness of the moment sinking in. “We can still try.”

Ari’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his voice catching. “Really? Are you sure you’re ready?”

She nodded, the weight of the past days lifting slightly. “About damn time.”

Ari reached into his pocket, pulling out an envelope. He showed it to her, a question in his eyes. “What should I do with this?”

She barely glanced at the divorce papers. “Burn it.”

Ari laughed, a sound full of relief and love. He cupped her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to her , his voice a low whisper. “Have I ever told you how badass you are?”

“Yes.”

“And how I love you for it?”

“Yes,” she smiled, leaning into him.

“Good,” he whispered, pulling her close. “I want to make sure you know that every day.”

“That I’m a badass?” She chuckled.

“No,” he answered. “That I love you everyday.”

She gazed into Ari's eyes, and the sincerity there held her captive. Without hesitation, she pressed her lips to his, this time deeper, lingering longer, letting the emotion between them speak louder than words. Ari responded with a soft smile, a quiet defiance in his heart—determined to keep her , his love, at the top of everything, no matter what came next.

As he pulled away, his eyes wandered around the plane, taking in the scene—the refugees safe, the team settled, the quiet after the storm. A sense of pride welled up in him. This was what they had accomplished together, and it hit him all at once: the magnitude of the risks they took, the lives they saved, and the bond they’d strengthened.

God, how did I get this lucky? he wondered, his heart swelling. He didn't know how, but one thing was certain now—he wasn’t going to lose this. Not again. Not ever. And as she smiled, both of them knew—this was more than just surviving. This was love, resilience, and the promise of a future they’d fight for. Together.

>> Part 6<<

~~End~~

[starryredpandawrites]

“Born From the Same Ink” Ch. 16 Sneak Peek

“Why do you worship the Ink Demon?”

Whipping his head to face her, Sammy took an excited breath. 

“AH-buh-buh-buh,” Audrey held up a finger. “Don’t give me any of that culty nonsense, I’ve heard enough of that for a lifetime. I know you’re not all crazy under there. Why Bendy?” 

Pensive and likely offended, Sammy sat back. He said nothing, and after a half a minute of waiting, Audrey went back to her coffee, figuring he decided to ignore her. Minutes passed without so much as a twitch from the ink man-turned-statue. The animator was starting to worry the question broke him when he finally spoke up. 

“Look at this body.” 

Audrey regarded him. He was well-built for a lost one, and weirdly muscular. His overalls were too big but it was only noticeable close-up. They were stained with ink, especially around the ankles, and there was a patch in the fabric of his left pant-leg. His shoes were nothing special, round and black. He only had three fingers, four including his thumb. Although, the artist wouldn’t call that a flaw; it would make him easier to animate. 

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s. Wrong.” His voice was oddly strained. 

She was afraid to ask. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“EVERYTHING!”

Hellooooo, I have the next chapter almost ready and will probably post it Saturday morning. Also, I won't be streaming the next two Sundays (the 21st and the 28th) but I should be good to go on August 4th.

Also, for anyone waiting for a response to an ask, I promise I've seen it and will answer it eventually. I love getting messages from people, I just take forever to respond the way I want to respond. There's a part of me that demands I answer every ask in the order I've received it, but I might start disobeying that part depending on if I feel a more recent ask is easier to answer in that moment than the oldest one.

Thanks again for reading, hearing from so many people who enjoy my fic/writing makes me unbelievably happy.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hunter Hookup

Sam and Dean have been on the search for their father ever since he disappeared on a hunt for the yellow eyed demon, and it appears that they are not the only ones looking for him. Dean wants answers, but he gets much more than he bargained for (2.5k)

Warnings - smut MDNI, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff, slight angst, mentions of killing, choking, alcohol consumption

dean winchester main masterlist more supernatural

The Winchesters, there were many things that could be said about them, good and bad. However right now you didn't want to speak about them, not as you downed another glass of whiskey, ignoring the man beside you of whom was persistently trying to get in your pants. Let's just say that wasn't happening, he had no chance, he was some drunk that was no doubt frequently sat in the very stool of the bar that you were occupying right now. He'd be easy prey to any monster, it was quite a shame that you had just killed the werewolf that had been lurking around this specific town.

The slam of the double doors of the entrance slammed open, whisking your attention to the two lean men that strode in, a smirk took point on your face, they certainly didn't look very happy, and you couldn't blame them, surely there had been no monster for them to find as you had already taken it out. "You boys look like you could use a drink." You stated as they prowled closer to you, displeasure written across their faces. "Maybe you should go and buy yourselves one, I'm sure you just came back from a long and gruelling hunt."

Dean disgustedly rolled his eyes at you, clearly not being fast on forgiving you for selfishly saving the lives of the population nearby. "You're hilarious, you know a heads up woulda been nice that you had caught up to it. Instead of letting us run around like headless chickens searching for it and looking like mad men for continuing to work on an already closed investigation." He sat on the stool beside you, hollering the bar tender to bring him a glass of something strong that would no doubt sizzle down the pain in the ass that you were giving him with your presence.

"But it's so fun to watch you two make fools out of yourselves, really puts a new filter on a hunters perspective of the infamous Winchester brothers. I'm sure your pops would be proud wherever he is." Dean growled at you as you stood, slinging your bag over the shoulder of the tattered jacket that you were wearing, though Sam stopped you from leaving as you planned to, caging you in by the bar. A presumptuous squint troubled his eyes as he daringly stared you down, no doubt by the mention of their missing father.

"What do you know y/n?" This was no time for your games nor your teasing, this was a serious matter, and he wouldn't have you poke fun about it. He had left everything behind to search for the one thing he had abandoned when he built his new life up; he owed his last living parent this much, even if he had burdened him with the cruel lifestyle of killing things and following in the steps of the family business that kept all humans constantly in danger, just so that the yellow eyed demon that had killed his and Dean's mother would pay for his monstrous crime.

"I know how to kill a werewolf quicker than the two of you assholes put together, and much... much more. In regards to your father Sammy, more than you again. You see, he put me up to the task of finding him if he ever went missing, so how about you drop back into school and let me abide by the task that John gave me." With yours shoulder you butted past him, though as your silhouette fled, Dean's head had perked up, surprised by the nonsense that had spewed from your lips. It was undefinable if he believed you yet, but it was a clue closer than they were.

"Take my beer." Dean said to his brother as he patted him on the shoulder, streaking past and chasing after you. He knew where his loyalties laid and that was with his father, and if you had more to know then he'd damn well get beneath your skin until you revealed all that you had discovered to him. You wouldn't joke in regards to their father's disappearance, Dean knew your reputation and sure you were a pain in the ass when you bumped into each other, but in concerns of his father he was aware that you had the utmost respect for John, his name was practically royalty in the hunting community.

But that was not why you respected the man, no, it was due to him all those years back saving that orphanage from a hungry ghoul from which you emerged out into the world and began to follow in the same saviour footsteps. He had saved your life and now it was your intention to pay that debt by trying to do the same, your life had been a struggle but it was more of one as a heavy hand repeatedly slammed against your door. It was not hard to conclude who was the proceeder of the disruptive sound, and so you sighed, well aware that it would be near on impossible to shoo the son of the man that the mystery surrounded away.

The chore of opening the door to speak to him was a short one as he barged right into the room that you had paid to reside in for a few days, walking to stand in the middle as you defeatedly closed the door and crossed your arms as you stalked behind him. "What is all this?" Dean's voice strained from shock as he noticed your pin board filled with all sorts of excerpts from papers that had been torn from their original founder and scrawling of mindless of words. "Progress." You said, noticing him running his eye over each sentence on the wall. And it was, a work in one that you still had yet to crack, you simply hoped that Dean wasn't memorising each piece on that board, otherwise the route that it set would get him into trouble.

"Your dad wouldn't want you to chase after him Dean, that's why he set me as a precaution if he didn't come back. And my job would be a lot quicker if you wouldn't start playing with my thumbtacks." You slapped his hand away from the board, unamused by his childish habit to touch everything. He frowned at you, twisting the hand that you had scolded him with in his grip, pushing you back with easy force so that your back was against the wall and he was staring down at you. His forest green eyes were searching for any silent clue that your expression could give him but his forage to do so came up empty, and so he chose to brashly speak to you again.

"Don't lie to me y/n, you're as stumped on his whereabouts as me and Sammy are." Dean suspected aloud, watching as your head coyly cocked to the side. He wasn't wrong but you weren't about to let him know that, otherwise that would give him the upper hand for the first time in all the years you had been acquainted. His neck craned down so that his face was that bit closer to yours and you smirked up at him, even though deep down you felt sorry for the man and his younger sibling, not only for the fact that their father was missing but that the man that was supposed to protect them had dragged them into this life. This cruel and long road that gave no escape except that of a long and excruciating death, which would would end up with the person being sent to the coiling trap of hell.

"Maybe you haven't been searching hard enough Winchester. Who was it that your father had been searching for all along, the demon that had started this entanglement of hunting for him? It's not that difficult to piece the story together Dean, and I'm not sure what I am going to find, hence why he had me be the one to uncover where he is. I understand how frustrating this must be for you, I really do, but I don't know what I'm going to find, so if you want to release all of that stress you're feeling go out and hunt some monsters, just like you've been trained to do." You attempted to push Dean back by the chest with your one free hand, however that didn't suffice enough as an escape, you could have tried harder however Dean only brought his body closer against yours.

"I've got something else in mind y/n/n, and I think you'll like what I'm thinking..." in response you huffed, only for him to trace his rough and scarred fingertips across your collarbones, sketching along your skin until he choked a delicate hold around your fragile dove like neck. A sonically pleasing whimper dribbled out from your blushing lips causing a smirk to balance out across Dean's sultry face; he had achieved dominance against you within your own rented confinement. He had initially thought it would be of more difficulty to make you fold from his touch, but alas he was happily surprised you willingly coiled beneath his shadow like a good little girl.

"Oh yeah? I wasn't aware you had the ability to think Winchester, you've always been a little slow with your thoughts." Perhaps he had thought that you were going to be obedient too soon, as it seemed you were biting back and tantalising and truthfully he preferred this side of you. It was very on brand for your character, and the clash of your contrasting domineering would only bring more fun to this enclosed interaction. Dean pressed down with his skilful fingers on your throat, cutting your supply of oxygen off at its point of air travel. You rather liked how he had a grip on you, it was long overdue to have fallen into the hands of the infamous Dean Winchester, to be another woman in his bed.

Except to him you were different, you had more than one thing that he wanted. Answers was the primary thing that he wanted, however in the moment the answers to what seemed to have slipped from his mind as he helped you shoulder off the stained blouse that you had trekked after your earlier hunt in. Beneath the material it was an expanse of soft skin that felt like heaven underneath his fingertips, he wanted to trace every scar that adorned your tired flesh, he wanted to kiss every stretch mark in sight.

And he got prepared to do just that by aiding you in climbing out of your clothes as you assisted him with his own, until you were both naked in your own forms, hungrily moulding your lips together like malleable greek statues. He was above you, panting into your mouth as he stretched your walls out with his fingers, it began with one digit slipping past your folds, and then two, until finally there were three fully sheathed inside of you. He worked them at an impatient pace, he couldn't wait to stuff you with his cock and have you clawing like an animal at his bare back.

When he removed his fingers he placed them in his mouth and hummed at the taste. "You taste like the sweetest cherry pie I've ever eaten." His lips slithered along your neck as he rutted his lower half against your own, coating his cock in your flowing wetness, groaning at the friction. A small whimper surpassed your lips until something passed within you; you weren't going to submit to him, no matter how much your body begged for you to. He would hold it against you until your breaths were up and you were burned on a ceremonial pyre.

"Well we don't have time for you to eat anything Winchester, there's a hunt ongoing and I'd much rather get back to that." You retorted at the infamous executioner of monsters, taking him by surprise as you hooked your leg around his own and flipped him over so that he was laying on his back, and you were seated atop of him. "I'm sure Sammy is wondering where his big brother is, maybe we should just stop here..." you teased him, smirking as his green eyes only grew significantly darker.

"It's a bit late for that baby girl, considering your already sat naked, it would be such a shame to waste this situation. God knows I've been waiting to fuck you from the first time I laid my eyes on your pretty little frame." His hands rested on your hips, helping you line yourself up with his cock, the back of his head sinking into the pillows beneath when your pussy engulfed his length. "Fuuuuuccckkkk." Dean moaned, his mouth falling open as you sank down on him until you were filled with his thick cock.

"For the first time I'd say your weight Dean, it would have been a shame not have you inside of me." You gasped lightly, adjusting for a moment until you began to ride him, hands placed firmly on his chest to support your movements. It felt amazing to be in control of a man that was so well known for having any woman at his mercy, your neck lowered once more as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, before entangling your tongues in an ever losing battle.

You kept moving, and kept moving until a feeling of euphoria grew within your abdomen. Your vision became momentarily blurry as you spoke the hunter's name again and again, coming close to the edge, and you fell over it when Dean finally moved one of his hands, and began to rub at your clit, causing your orgasm to rattle your entire body. He too was close and that spurred him enough to take matters into his own hands as you lulled in your orgasmic bliss, throwing his hips up as he fucked you from underneath, until he was done and emptied his seed within your walls.

He panted, with you laying atop of him and your head upon his chest softly listening to his heartbeat, his slowly softening cock still inside of you. It was a surreal moment, you both knew that your bodies would one day ignite in a dance of passion and pent up frustration, and it had all been worth it. "I hope you find your dad Dean. I'm not going to stop looking but I know you aren't either, and it's not my place to get in the way of that. I... I hope our paths cross again soon."

You whispered sleepily and dazed as you stared away from his face, still using his chest as a cushion. Everything inside of you taunted your mind for letting any inkling of feelings slip through your lips, however it was all soothed when Dean stroked his fingers through your hair, coaxing you into an even more tired and relaxed state. "Oh, I'll definitely be seeing you soon sweetheart. How does the morning sound?" He enquired, hoping to continue the hunt for his father together.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Talking in Your Sleep

(Disclaimer: three of the characters in this story belong to me. For more information on LeviathanPat, go here. For more information on Sylph, go here. And for more information on Sol, go here. Meanwhile, Sam Ryder belongs to my very good friend, @sammys-magical-au !)

(Not only is this story finally, FINALLY DONE, it's also a continuation/epilogue to one of Sammy’s recent works. Go here to read it for clarification. Plus, their story is based on elements from one of mine. So, if you’d like even more context, go here.)

(One more thing: if you’d like to use distorted fonts like the ones you’ll be seeing in this story, go here.)

(Trigger Warnings: nightmares/dreams, body horror, slight blood/gore, slight violence, talk of death/dying. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

How did these things happen? 

One minute you knew exactly where you were. And the next you were completely turned around for seemingly no reason other than maybe the universe just didn’t like the way you blinked.

That was why Sam had veered away from the sidewalk, had climbed the staircase attached to one side of one building that was almost as large as The Abnormal Orchard. Granted, they weren’t entirely sure why this place needed public access to its roof, but their phone just couldn’t seem to stop lagging and freezing for the past few minutes. It just wouldn’t cooperate with them long enough to load up a map of this unfamiliar city. 

Up here, they could see pretty much everything. All the lights that glinted through faraway windows.

Signs that glowed and blinked in specific patterns.

The streetlamps that loomed over sections of the sidewalk every ten-or-so feet, all warm-tinted, bathing anything under them in scarlet beams. When Sam had still been down there, those things had made it look like they’d truly dyed their locks rather than just naturally having golden-blonde somehow seep into blood-orange.

The whole display really got close competing with the moon’s cold, silvery rays.

Sam squinted, bracing their hands against the concrete safety-railing as they leaned forward.

That place off to the east, just at the edge of this downtown environment…that was the hotel, right? There was no way it couldn’t be—Sam recognized the abstract graffiti that had been left on the building’s far-wall, probably right in the blindspot of whatever cameras were hidden around the main entrance.

When you had to go on last-minute assignments as often as Sam did, you learned to memorize even the smallest details of wherever you ended up staying.

And that…made Sam give pause. 

Because as they stepped back, idly pacing along the roof’s barrier, not taking their eyes off the city below, they realized that they couldn’t see The Abnormal Orchard anymore. 

That should’ve been impossible: the museum had been built with such an imposing, tower-eqsue shape. There was no doubting how it was the tallest structure around here. 

Not to mention the establishment’s sign, adorned by a network of wires that all glowed with neon shades of violet and blue, all working together to form the image of a pomegranate with a cluster of eyeballs in the place of its seeds. 

A shudder ran through Sam’s shoulders. As a vegetarian, they’d be lying if they said that sign hadn’t reminded them of nightmares they’d had in the past. And they supposed that was the whole point. Something as creepy as that would definitely get the attention of passersby, make them curious enough to wander in and pay to look at the grotesquely-intriguing collections. 

Yet, no matter what direction they turned or how they craned their neck, Sam just couldn’t find it anymore.

Well, they’d already heard stories about plenty of businesses that were infamous for just…not staying in one place, fading in and out of certain locations for whatever reason. Sometimes a hollow space was left in the wake until the building decided to reappear, other times it was replaced by something else. Whether or not the people living near the place were aware of the change was a different kettle of fish. 

Sam hadn’t gotten that vibe when they’d visited the museum, but they’d been wrong before.

They chewed their lip, stuffing their hands into their jacket pockets as they headed back to the top of that staircase. 

Come to think of it…even with all the artificial light everywhere, Sam hadn’t seen a single car on the streets. 

Hell, they hadn’t even seen a single other pedestrian down on the sidewalks

That didn’t make any damn sense. You couldn’t have a city like this without some level of nighttime activity from the locals. 

Where was everybody?

Something with jagged edges began to fester in their stomach.

It didn’t help that the stairs ever-so-slightly shook and rattled with each step. They were metallic, seeming fairly new. They weren’t even too steep for the sudden quickness in Sam’s pace to cause any problems. But all the noise they made eventually sparked their anxiety.

Halfway back down to the street below, they began to reach out, intent on locking the banister in a white-knuckled grip.

They never got the chance. 

Instead, they got to feel a strange, foreign weight suddenly wrap around their ankle in a way that would’ve made the average blood-pressure cuff seem like a toy. 

Before they could even look down, Sam was yanked off-balance, and while their hands did fly up by instinct, it still didn’t do much to break their fall. They slid the rest of the way down the stairs, creating even more of a cacophony (though it was better than being reduced to a human slinky).  

It was over in seconds; they crumpled onto the sidewalk, but thanks to all their training, they didn’t linger. And as Sam picked themself up, they were just in time to see a clutch of oily-looking digits retract back through one gap in-between the stairs. 

Shock and fury never failed to make such an interesting cocktail in one’s head.

With one hand now fishing through their jacket for a weapon, Sam stormed over to look up at the underside of the staircase. 

Despite all their experience, part of them still sort of wished that they hadn’t. 

A vaguely humanoid figure was standing upside-down right beneath the spot where they’d fallen.

Not hanging. Not clinging.

Standing. 

As though his personal gravity had reversed its polarity and standing under the stairs was the only thing keeping him from floating up into the sky. 

At first, Sam’s brain struggled to categorize this figure as even being a solid entity; his form was even darker than the night sky above. It just had some kind of odd…rippling effect to it, like thick clouds of smoke or a deep shadow.

And yet, as Sam got closer, the figure seemed to become more compact. His head swiveled with a loud snap, his neck turning at a very uncomfortable angle to scrutinize them with a pair of eyes that blazed with sickly paleness.

Sam ground their jaw; it wasn’t the first time they’d had to deal with a monster, and it wouldn’t be the last, either. Besides, this guy just tripped them down a flight of stairs. While not even really TRYING to hide. 

“Hey!” Sam barked, The Lion’s Breath sliding out from the sheath they kept hidden in their jacket. “What the hell is your damage?!”

“...£µññ¥,” the creature spat, his lips peeling back far too long, revealing sets of glinting teeth. So many teeth, in fact, that Sam couldn’t even see a speck of gums in his mouth. They were all packed in like sardines, thin and long and sharp. “Ì ¢ðµlÐ å§k ¥ÖÚ †hê §åmê †hïñg.”

The creature then let his arms hang, his torso stretching with a chorus of pops and cracks until his hands touched the ground. He craned his chest for his head to finally be rightside-up, just barely shifting his shoulders, and then his face was suddenly a single inch away from Sam. The air seemed to vibrate around his head, which had proportionally grown to accommodate eyes that were now about the size of bicycle tires.

Sam ducked away, backing up a couple paces, raising the arm with The Lion’s Breath to guarantee at least a little more personal space.

“Whå†'§ †hê m円êr, §åm?” The creature inquired, his voice crackling like a fire. A dull thud from behind caught Sam’s attention, leading them to realize that the creature’s feet had finally dropped away from the stairs. They got to watch as his legs fused together, making his lower-half into some kind of thick, sinuous tail. 

The creature’s arms grew almost as long, allowing him to keep himself upright—to keep looming over his new conversation partner—rather than crawling on his belly. 

“Whêrê'§ åll †hå† ßråvåÐð Ì §åw êårlïêr?” He continued, tilting his head to the side. “Ì mêåñ, ¥ðµ rêåll¥ ÐïÐ jµ§† wål†z ïñ†ð M¥ †µr£ lïkê ¥ðµ ðwñêÐ ï†.”

Sam paused. They knew they’d never seen something quite like this before—

Seen.

But as the hideous, unfamiliar voice lingered the in air far longer than it should have, they realized they still somehow recognized it.

“...Pat?” Sam asked, readjusting their grip around their weapon’s hilt.

The creature snorted. He rolled his primary eyes, which seemed to encourage a few extras to sprout beneath them. “†hå†'§ þår† ð£ m¥ ñåmê. Ððñ'† wêår ï† ðµ†.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, only making a slight dent in their pokerface. Yes, they had years of experience with the supernatural and then some. Yes, being bonded to the Ancient Ones meant they could comprehend a little more than the average mortal could. 

Still, that kind of stuff came in varying levels. 

Things like Pat were a very strange example; they were equal-yet-opposites to the Ancient Ones. Sure, the latter could definitely hold more power at times, but outer abominations were just so…raw. So impossible. 

They were living proof that something always had and always would be wrong with the universe…as well as evidence on how that was just the way things needed to be. 

Sam lightly shook their head before lifting their chin, gazing up, up, up and directly into the monstrosity’s eyes. 

Pat, in turn, made the slightest move to lower his head, pinprick pupils shrinking even more, spinning, seemingly buzzing as he glared. 

“Well, maybe you’re one to talk,” Sam announced, finally remembering that there was a question for them to answer. “I was warned to wear a mask around you—so, where’s the reason for that, huh? Where’s all the mind-breaking horror that’s supposed to waft off of you guys at all times? I’m looking right at you, and nothing’s happening. It really doesn’t feel like I even need to shield my brain.” 

“Ððñ'† £l円êr ¥ðµr§êl£.” Pat arched his back, similar to how a cobra might flare its hood. “ñêï†hêr 𣠵§ årê ïñ †hê §åmê þlå¢ê å§ ßê£ðrê. Rµlê§ åñÐ ¢ðñ§êqµêñ¢ê§ jµ§† wðrk Ðêrêñ†l¥ hêrê.”

He continued his slow circling; Sam kept moving as well, kept The Lion’s Breath trained on him. 

“†rµ§† mê: ï£ ¥ðµ wêrê rêåll¥ lððkïñg å† mê wï†h𵆠å ßårrïêr…¥ÖÚ'Ð ÐRÖþ †Ö ¥ÖÚR KñÈȧ ÄñÐ §†ÄR† þÖÚñÐÌñG MÖR§È ÇÖÐÈ Ìñ†Ö †HÈ GRÖÚñÐ W̆H ¥ÖÚR HÈÄÐ.” 

Nearby, a new chorus started up: an awful, rubbery, stretching-and-splintering din. Sam glanced over to see how Pat’s “tail” was now splitting apart once again. Only this time, it divided into more than just two limbs. In a matter of seconds, it was a mass of writhing tendrils, like the flesh of an octopus had been grafted into the roots of a tree. 

“†hðµgh, ¥ðµr ßråïñ wðµlÐ þrðßåßl¥ ßê mêl†ïñg åñÐ ¢hµrñïñg årðµñÐ ïñ ¥ðµr §kµll. §ð, Ððïñg †hå† wðµlÐ ßê å ßï† êå§ïêr †håñ jµ§† †r¥ïñg †ð †ðµgh ï† ðµ†, rïgh†?”

And before Sam had a chance to reply, one of those tendrils cracked like a whip, a blur in the air as it lunged toward them.

Muscle memory kicked in. Without even blinking, Sam swung The Lion’s Breath. It met the oncoming tendril head-on, and—

And…

And the sword phased right through it. 

The metal came back in less than a second, but it was like a cloud of shimmering fog. Like evaporation in reverse. 

Sam felt their eyes widen, felt their mouth drop open. They tightened their grip even further, trying to use the hilt as an anchor. They couldn’t let Pat see them shaking. They couldn’t show too much fear. Abominations like him sometimes behaved a bit like cats; seeing fear helped them decide on what (or who) could be potential prey. 

To Pat’s credit, surprisingly enough, the tendril paused as well, looming in place…until it wasn’t. It swayed to one side, aiming for an opening Sam had left. Still, Sam was fast enough to block it, to try and literally cut the attack off. 

But the blade just…faded in and out of sight again. 

The tendril wove around to the opposite side now—a third attack, a third counterstrike, a third round of sword-warping-tomfuckery. 

Pat raised his brows. He clicked his teeth together, emitting a keening noise like knives being sharpened. It took a second for Sam to realize that he was snickering; it was like the sound was something solid, something that was actively being sheared by his fangs as it rolled out of his mouth. 

The monstrosity shifted in place, lying on his chest and folding his forearms in front of him, sort of like the stereotypical teenage gossip-monger at a slumber party. A third limb broke out from his side, elbow touching down on the concrete.

He raised the freshly-formed clutch of talons to his face, resting his chin on the new palm. “Ärê ¥ðµ Ððñê ¥ê†?”

“How—?!” Sam blurted, glancing back and forth between their weapon and their adversary. “This is made from Etherium! Eldritch beings can rarely even just exist within five feet of it!”

“Ððñ'† rêmïñÐ mê,” Pat hissed.

In spite of their shock, Sam snarled, storming a bit closer to the creature. “You yourself said that my presence alone was painful back at the museum! And that was just when this was only a bracelet! What the hell did you do to it?!”

Pat scoffed, rolling his shoulders. “Ì'm ñð† Ððïñg åñ¥†hïñg †ð ï†...¥ðµ årê.”

Sam felt their heart skip a beat. 

The seconds dragged by, watching as a smirk spread across Pat’s features, practically splitting his face in half. 

“Älrïgh†, ålrïgh†. ̆'§ ñð† jµ§† ¥ðµ,” he finally admitted, once he’d apparently gotten his fill of shock from them. “Mðrê lïkê...†hê wå¥ ¥ðµ'rê þrð¢ê§§ïñg †hï§ þlå¢ê, åñÐ vï¢ê-vêr§å. ̆'§ ñð† ¢ðñ§¢ïðµ§ å† åll.”

“‘This place?’” Sam echoed. “What do you mean, ‘this place?’”

Instead of answering, Pat moved again, one of his arms lunging forward to swipe at Sam’s stomach. 

And this time, Sam didn’t move quickly enough. A short scream ripped its way through Sam’s lungs, one arm flying up to shield their face. They waited to fall back, waited for the searing sensation of blood oozing through a fresh wound, waited for some kind of supernatural disease to start mummifying them from the inside-out…

But none of that ever happened. 

They kept their balance, didn’t feel any pain. 

Sure, they still felt the impact of the strike; it reminded them of a clump of dry ice. 

Cold and hazy and raw. 

But not painful. Not exactly, at least.

Against their better judgment, Sam lowered their arm and looked back down. 

Pat’s claws were still there, still pushing against their abdomen in a way that absolutely should have punctured through clothes and skin like a clutch of knives. 

Instead, those horrific digits simply hovered there, now seemingly severed where they should have made contact with Sam. They were each covered in that strange veil of gleaming, metallic smoke. Just like what had happened to The Lion’s Breath…

“§êê †hå†?” Pat wondered aloud. He pulled his arm away from Sam, and his talons immediately phased back, good as new. He idly wriggled them, examining them like he’d just gotten a manicure. He then nodded over toward the staircase. 

“†hïñk: £ðr m𧆠hµmåñ§, £ållïñg Ððwñ å §ê† ð£ §†åïr§ lïkê ¥ðµ jµ§† ÐïÐ wðµlÐ mêåñ ßrðkêñ ßðñê§, ðr å ¢ðñ¢µ§ïðñ, ðr êvêñ Ðêå†h. ÄñÐ ¥ê†…” He trailed off, making a vague gesture in Sam’s direction.  

Sam nodded without meaning to. They glanced down at their arms and legs, carefully stretching the muscles in their back and shifting their neck. 

The monster was right: even if Sam was a certified Tough Cookie, they should’ve been injured. There should’ve been deep, bleeding scrapes in the skin of their palms. Their ribs and knees and ankles should’ve been flaring with nearly white-hot pain.

But none of that was here. No cuts, no bumps or bruises, no blood…

“This isn’t real,” Sam murmured, realization crashed through their head like a tidal wave. Relief would’ve been included, but considering Pat’s presence, it was staying firmly hidden. “You’re not actually here. And neither am I.” 

“†hêrê wê gð!” Pat purred, his unearthly voice now dripping with sarcasm and condescension. 

Sam glared at him. They shifted The Lion’s Breath in their grasp, now holding it close.

Pat eyed them. “¥ðµ ¢åñ þµ† †hå† åwå¥. ñð† lïkê êï†hêr 𣠵§ ¢åñ †r¥ åñ¥†hïñg å† †hê mðmêñ†.”

“Maybe,” Sam hummed, carefully sliding their thumb against the center of the blade. It felt so solid. So real. Just like it usually did. “But I don’t think I will.”

Pat shrugged, clicking his tongue…which, of course, led to it flicking in and out of his mouth like a party favor.

“This can’t be an out-of-body experience,” Sam mentioned. “If it was, then I’d be able to see my real self. And it can’t be astral projection either—I’ve done that before, and I can’t remember trying to set anything up before this happened.” 

“¥ðµ wêrêñ'†,” Pat agreed, drumming his claws against the ground. 

“So I must be asleep right now. I must be having a dream—or a nightmare.” Sam paused, then raised an eyebrow at Pat. “And I guess that means…you are, too.”

Pat’s eyes narrowed. A few of the ones lower on his face even began to melt in their sockets, popping and hissing. 

“†hå†'§ rïgh†…”  He pronounced through rows of gritted razor-teeth, his voice laced with bitter venom and warping like rusted metal, much lower than before. 

“What? Why’re you getting all huffy?” Sam took a step back, holding up a hand. “Things like you usually don’t even need to sleep.”

Another arm, fresh like a moth from its cocoon, sprouted from Pat’s other side. It wove past Sam and slammed against the wall behind them. His claws left deep, dark gashes in the bricks as he slowly raked them downward. 

“Ì §HÖÚLÐñ'† ßê §lêêþïñg!” The abomination snapped. “Ì ÇÄñ'† Ä££ÖRÐ †ð §lêêþ! ¥ðµ håvê åñ¥ ïÐêå whå† §lêêþïñg ¢ðµlÐ lêåvê mê å† rï§k †ð?!”

Sam flinched at the new volume in his voice; it rattled through their head like some kind of broken bell that also happened to be full of acid. They had no doubt that, had this occurred in the real world, their ears would've started bleeding a bit.

Still, they didn’t let themself falter any further. 

This was just a dream. Nothing could hurt them. 

And if shit somehow did end up hitting the fan, they could find a way to wake themself. But for now…

Pat heaved an exasperated sigh, begrudgingly pulling his claws away from the wall.

“Ć lê姆 §ðl ï§ wïllïñg †ð kêêþ w冢h,” he muttered. 

“Well, excuse me for asking,” Sam deadpanned. “If that’s really how you feel about it, then why are you sleeping now?”

Pat’s eyes rolled around in his head, sort of like those bubbles in a jar of oil, quite literally looking Sam up and down. “ßê¢åµ§ê Ì wåñ†êÐ †ð gê† å ßꆆêr rêåÐ ðñ ¥ðµ.”

“Ah, yes. Not creepy at all.”

“ÐïÐñ'† håvê mµ¢h ð£ å ¢håñ¢ê êårlïêr. ¥'kñðw, ¢ðñ§ïÐêrïñg †hå† †rïñkê† ð£ ¥ðµr§ £êl† lïkê åñ ï¢ê þï¢k §lðwl¥ ßêïñg þµ§hêÐ ïñ†ð m¥ †êmþlê.”

“Why do you even need a read on me at all? I didn’t come here as a threat to you.” Sam felt a pit open up in their stomach, felt bile threaten to start rising in their throat. “What, have you suddenly changed your mind about—”

“ñÖ, Ì håvêñ'†.” Pat cut them off with a groan, dragging a hand down his face and subsequently tearing a few ribbons of abyssal flesh between his fingers. “Èvêñ ï£ †hï§ þår†ï¢µlår wðrlÐ ï§ þrïmï†ïvê, ï† §†ïll hå§ ï†§ mêr, åñÐ Ì'm ¢ðñ†êñ† wï†h †hê llê ¢ðrñêr Ì'vê måÐê ïñ ï†. §ðmê þðïñ†lꧧ wår ßê†wêêñ †hê þlåñê§ wðµlÐ rµïñ åll m¥ hårÐ wðrk. Ì †hðµgh† Ì måÐê †hå† ¢lêår.”

Though their lungs still felt a bit tight, Sam chewed their lip and nodded. 

Yeah, there could be a chance that Pat was lying…but then, if a creature like him wanted to cause chaos, he’d be all too invested with it by now. 

Shifting on their feet, Sam cleared their throat and continued, “You still haven’t really answered my question.”

Pat shuffled his arms as he thought. He tilted his head to the side—in fact, he kept on tilting it until it was upside-down. Surprisingly enough, this elicited no cracks or pops or snaps from whatever nightmare-fuel bones he had in his neck. Instead, his noggin seemed to just slide in place with no issue. And without his eyes ever leaving Sam. 

“Ì kñðw †hå† wê'll mêê† ågåïñ,” he finally replied. “§ðmêÐå¥ ¥ðµ'll ¢ðmê ßå¢k †ð †hê mµ§êµm. Ì'vê §êêñ ï†.”

Sam blinked at this. “...Why? How?” 

“Ì'm ñð† §µrê. §ðmê†ïmê§ ¢êr†åïñ Ðê†åïl§ êï†hêr †åkê lðñgêr †ð £ïll ïñ ðr jµ§† Ððñ'† ¢ðmê ålðñg å† åll.” Pat paused, his head remaining perfectly still while the rest of his body sprawled like that of a cat. “ÄñÐ êvêñ ï£ ï† †hå† wå§ñ'† hðw ï† wðrkêÐ, ¥ðµ rêåll¥ †hïñk Ì'Ð jµ§† gïvê µþ †hå† kïñÐ ð£ ïñ£ðrmå†ïðñ £ðr £rêê?”

He threw his head back(?) and barked a mirthless laugh. 

Sam couldn’t help but put their free hand on their hip, frowning and rolling their eyes at the display. 

Pat continued: “Èï†hêr wå¥, Ì £ïgµrêÐ Ì mïgh† å§ wêll †r¥ †ð ßê rêåÐ¥. Jµ§† §ð ¥ðµ Ððñ'† gïvê mê åñð†hêr mïgråïñê-wï†hïñ-å-mïgråïñê.”

“...Alright then?” Sam responded. They definitely would’ve been able to tell if he wanted to plant some kind of trap for them…but then again, if anyone knew about the side-effects of Etherium, it was them. “Is that it?”

Pat paused, thinking. “...Ì gµê§§ ï† hêlþ§ †hå† §ðl wå§ ïñ†rïgµêРߥ §ðmê 𣠆hê †hïñg§ ¥ðµ §åïÐ.” He then narrowed his eyes, tongue flicking as his teeth actively lengthened and curled. “ñð† §µrê wh¥, whå† wï†h hðw ¥ðµ †ålkêÐ Ððwñ †ð †hêm †hrðµgh𵆠¥ðµr vï§ï†.”

Sam pursed their lips. “I didn’t mean to come off as patronizing.” 

“Wêll, ï† §µrê £êl† lïkê ¥ðµ wêrê,” Pat huffed. “§ðl'§ ßêêñ wðrkïñg £ðr mê §ïñ¢ê ßê£ðrê †hê mµ§êµm rê-ðþêñêÐ. Ì'vê §êêñ þlêñ†¥ 𣠆hê ¢råþ †hå† rêgµlår þå†rðñ§ þµ† †hêm †hrðµgh.”

Sam sucked in a sharp breath through their teeth. Okay, yeah, they could definitely see how museum work, despite seeming so cushy from the outside, could potentially be just as much of a nightmare as more typical retail stuff. 

When they looked back at Pat, however, they noticed something different. They’d been wrong before, but they were certain that an odd type of softness had manifested in his too-pale, too-wide eyes. Obviously nowhere near the romantic type, but it wasn’t the scrutiny that had been drilling into them all this time, either. 

Well, Sol had said that he was a friend of theirs. Sam would be lying if they said they hadn’t had some doubts then, but now, with the vibes that the monster himself was giving off…

That train of thought promptly crashed and burned as Sam noticed how quickly Pat’s focus had shifted. He’d never really looked away from them this entire time, but right now, his eyes weren’t drilling into theirs. Instead, they were now fixed on…their teeth. 

Another feeling of wrongness began to churn in their stomach. They made to say something else, but Pat beat them to it. 

“Håvê ¥ðµ êvêr þµllêР𵆠¥ðµr †êê†h ïñ ¥ðµr Ðrêåm§?” For the first time since he’d revealed himself, his voice wasn’t accusatory or sarcastic. Now, it was filled with…curiosity.

That didn’t exactly help with Sam’s sinking feeling. “Sorry, what?”

“¥ðµr †êê†h,” Pat repeated, turning his head until it was rightside-up again. He leaned just a smidge closer. “̆'§ ¢ðmmðñ £ðr mðr†ål§ †ð Ðrêåm åß𵆠lð§ïñg †hêm. Hå§ †hå† êvêr håþþêñêÐ †ð ¥ðµ?”

“Jumping around a bit,” Sam mused, trying not to let the feeling grow too fast. “I’m not sure if I have, honestly. I can’t remember too many of my dreams, though I guess assisted stuff like this would be a different story. Why do you ask?” 

And now came the first time that Pat seemed confused. “Wåï†, hðlÐ ðñ. Èvêñ wï†h åll †hê †hïñg§ ¥ðµ'vê åþþårêñ†l¥ §êêñ, ¥ðµ—¥ðµ Ððñ'† kñðw åß𵆠†hê †êê†h Rµlê§?” 

The monster gaped at Sam for a few long seconds. Then he started snickering, which soon transitioned into full-blown laughter. It sounded like a horrific cross between a hyena and a mosquito. Maybe throw a few dangerously sparking electrical wires. 

“What?” Sam demanded, now both paranoid and indignant. “What’s so funny?”

“̆'§ jµ§†—” Pat kept giggling, kept shaking his head in disbelief. “¥ðµ'vê ßêêñ wðrkïñg ðñ §†µ££ lïkê †hï§ £ðr §ð Ðåmñ lðñg! Hðw håvê ¥ðµ ñð† £ïgµrêР𵆠†hå† †êê†h årê §ð þrê¢ï𵧠ïñ †hê§ê þlå¢ê§?!”

Sam felt their temper flare. “Well, are you at least gonna tell me what I’ve apparently missed?”

His laughter finally dying down, Pat leaned back, his grin somehow even more smug than earlier. 

“ñð, Ì Ððñ'† †hïñk §ð,” he hummed. He lifted himself up, bracing his hands against the alley’s walls. “Ì'vê gð† ð†hêr §†µ££ †ð Ðð. ßµ† hê¥, må¥ßê ¥ðµ'll håvê §ðmê £µñ lððkïñg £ðr †hê åñ§wêr§. Whð kñðw§?”

“Maybe I will.” Sam scowled at him, reminding themself just how effective a tool spite could truly be.

Pat clicked his teeth again, his extra arms reeling back and vanishing into his torso. He began to slither past Sam, but stopped short. “Öh, åñÐ ðñê mðrê †hïñg †ð ¢hêw ðñ…”

He whipped back around and surged forward. His talons lashed out, quickly pushing Sam back and pinning them against the wall. Sam ground their jaw, fighting the way their instincts tried to insist that the air had been knocked out of them. 

There was no air. That cold, dry feeling was back, but there was no pain. This wasn’t really happening.

“Ððñ'† †hïñk †hï§ gïvê§ ¥ðµ åñ¥ §þê¢ïål þêrk§,” Pat growled, his breath now hot as dryer exhaust, a combination of sulfur and dead flowers. “Ððñ'† †r¥ †ð måkê mê §lêêþ ågåïñ, ßê¢åµ§ê Ì£ ¥ÖÚ ÐÖ—!”

“𝕿𝒽𝖊𝓎'𝓇𝖊 𝖓ℴ𝖙 𝖒𝒶𝖐𝒾𝖓ℊ 𝓎𝖔𝓊 𝒹𝖔 𝖆𝓃𝖞𝓉𝖍𝒾𝖓ℊ.” 

Everything seemed to freeze in place. 

The new voice that had interjected was…something else.

Soft yet echoing, like it was being spoken by several mouths all at once. As though there was a sound to go with the way steam curled through the air. It did seem to splinter around the edges, but it was still so…rich. Angelic and alien at the same time. Like glass shards being dipped in molten gold. 

Sam slid to the ground before they even realized that the hold around them had disappeared. 

Pat practically eroded away from them, finally, finally tearing his hideous eyes away.

It would’ve been impossible for Sam to not follow his gaze.

All that light they’d seen earlier on the roof…it’d been swallowed up and harnessed into a brand-new glow that was slowly-but-surely creeping its way through the walls and the ground. And the source of it…

Well, to be completely honest, it took a solid minute for Sam’s eyes to adjust.

But once they did, Sam was treated to the sight of another creature that mortal eyes probably weren’t supposed to see. 

Like Pat, this one had a relatively humanoid form, seeming to take on the shape of a woman. Though she loomed over everything like he did, she still seemed a bit shorter.

The illumination was flickering around her—no, from inside of her. Almost like a jack-o-lantern. 

Her skin was impossibly pale. But the longer Sam looked at it, the more they realized that the network of cells and veins inside was visible, and how those cells and those veins each seemed to give off a hint of different colors. Similar to the kaleidoscope effect of an opal. 

Not only that, but her flesh billowed, flowing and rippling so gently without any wind to make that happen. Like her figure was a amalgamation of cloth sheets. Or the hood of a jellyfish, or the petals of an orchid. 

Or maybe…maybe even some kind of wedding dress…

And that wasn’t even mentioning the holes. 

So many, too many holes that seemed to have been bored through her flesh, some stretching to be longer or wider than others, the most prominent ones being a pair in the upper-half of her face. The one trait they all shared was the fact they were the only hints of darkness in this entity’s form. The glow they offered was different: they flickered like embers at the bottom of a firepit, seeming to float perfectly in the center—

Eyes. 

Those holes were the creature’s eyes. 

And almost all of them were focused on Pat…except for a few that stared at Sam, effectively forcing them to hold still in a way the former monster somehow hadn’t quite been able to manage.

“§¥lþh,” Pat breathed, somehow creating the perfect cominbation of question and statement, his voice now consumed by an emotion that Sam simply couldn’t place. 

With a slight jolt, they realized that, despite the word sounding so foreign, they still recognized it. 

After all, it’d been what he’d wanted them to ask Harmonia about…

“𝕷ℯ𝖛𝒾𝖆𝓉𝖍𝒶𝖓,” the new entity answered, the word nearly as difficult to process as what Pat had said. 

Sam glanced back and forth between the two of them. 

Pat’s eyes bulged from their sockets, his pinprick pupils actually holding still for once. The void-like skin on his forehead twitched, as though something inside his skull had stirred in its sleep. Then, like a seam being split and widened as stuffing spilled out, a third eye opened up, wider and darker than Pat’s primaries, or any of the extras he’d had before. 

“Hðw—Wh¥..?” Pat trailed off. It almost sounded like his voice was on the verge of breaking. Like he was biting back something that had been bottled up for at least a few centuries.

Sylph tilted her head to the side, allowing long streams of light around her head to weave like a combination of flames and clouds and gentle snakes—her hair, Sam realized. 

“𝕴 𝖙𝒽𝖎𝓃𝖐 𝖞ℴ𝖚 𝖈𝒶𝖓 𝖙𝒶𝖐ℯ 𝒶 ℊ𝖚ℯ𝖘𝓈,” she replied, her melodious tone dragged down by a deeper wound of her own.

Pat blinked rapidly, visibly swallowing a lump in his throat. As though he expected her to just vanish for no reason at all if he didn’t look at her long enough. He began to reach out toward her…only to stop short, his talons clearly shaking.

Sylph’s primary eyes flickered, the flesh around them rippling to form a worried expression, making a dent in her calm. She quietly glided a bit closer. 

In the new silence, Sam suddenly became aware of a new sound. It was softer, much more muffled and distant than the voices of either entity. 

A deep, steady rhythm. Sam’s instincts swore up and down that it was organic. Inexplicably familiar, too.

…And not just one…

Sylph get out a soft sigh. “𝖂ℯ𝖗ℯ𝖓'𝖙 𝖞ℴ𝖚 𝖔𝓃 𝓎𝖔𝓊𝖗 𝖜𝒶𝖞 𝖙ℴ 𝓌𝖆𝓀𝖎𝓃𝖌 𝖚𝓅?”

Pat sputtered, but it didn’t seem to be out of anger. 

He made to say something, but Sylph cut him off with a shake of her head. “𝕮ℴ𝖒ℯ ℴ𝖓. ℐ 𝒸𝖆𝓃 ℴ𝖓𝓁𝖞 𝖘𝓉𝖆𝓎 𝒽𝖊𝓇𝖊 𝖘ℴ 𝓁𝖔𝓃𝖌 𝖒𝓎𝖘ℯ𝖑𝒻; 𝖞ℴ𝖚'𝖗ℯ 𝓃𝖔𝓉 𝓉𝖍ℯ ℴ𝖓𝓁𝖞 𝖔𝓃𝖊 𝖜𝒾𝖙𝒽 𝒶 𝒷𝖚𝓈𝖞 𝖘𝒸𝖍ℯ𝖉𝓊𝖑ℯ.”

Pat lowered his head, wringing his talons. He nodded slowly. 

“𝕭ℯ𝖘𝒾𝖉ℯ𝖘,” Sylph continued. “𝕯ℴ 𝓎𝖔𝓊 𝓇𝖊𝒶𝖑𝓁𝖞 𝖙𝒽𝖎𝓃𝖐 𝖓ℴ𝖜'𝖘 𝖙𝒽𝖊 𝖗𝒾𝖌𝒽𝖙 𝖙𝒾𝖒ℯ ℴ𝖗 𝖕𝓁𝖆𝒸𝖊?”

“¥ðµ §å¥ †hå† lïkê †hêrê'§ êvêr gðññå ßê å rïgh† †ïmê ðr þlå¢ê!” Pat argued, his tone a concoction of bitterness and agony, both going much, much further than just bone-deep.

Sylph flinched, her expression twisting into something that was truly unreadable. Then, pursing her lips, she drew closer. 

Now it was his turn to flinch, as if he hadn’t been expecting her to move. 

And then that strange, muffled drumbeat grew a bit louder, a bit faster…

Sylph looked at one of his clutches of claws, still hovering frozen in the air. She then raised her own handful of talons, pushing it forward until it rested against his wrist. With that, she carefully pushed her hand up until their palms were touching. She went still then, not budging an inch when Pat’s digits wrapped around hers, squeezing tightly.

“Hðw åm Ì §µþþð§êÐ †ð £ïñÐ ¥ðµ 壆êr †hï§?!” Pat demanded, his buzzing voice tapering down to a whisper. “Ì ¢ðµlÐ ñêvêr þrêÐ ¥ðµ ßê£ðrê, §ð—!”

“𝖂ℯ 𝒸𝖆𝓃'𝓉 𝒷𝖊 𝖕𝓇𝖊𝓅𝖆𝓇𝖊𝒹 𝒻𝖔𝓇 ℯ𝖛ℯ𝖗𝓎𝖙𝒽𝖎𝓃𝖌,” Sylph announced, her voice more stern than before. “𝕾ℴ𝖒ℯ 𝓈𝖙𝓊𝖋𝒻 𝒿𝖚𝓈𝖙 𝖍𝒶𝖘 𝖙ℴ 𝓁𝖎𝓃𝖊 𝖚𝓅 𝒷𝖞 𝖎𝓉𝖘ℯ𝖑𝒻. 𝖄ℴ𝖚 𝖓ℯ𝖊𝒹 𝓉𝖔 𝖋𝒾𝖌𝓊𝖗ℯ 𝓉𝖍𝒶𝖙 𝖔𝓊𝖙 𝖊𝓋𝖊𝓃𝖙𝓊𝖆𝓁𝖑𝓎.”

And the muffled rhythm came screeching to a halt. 

It did start up again…but only after a full, agonizing moment had passed. 

Sylph’s primary eyes softened a bit once again. She took a deep breath, glancing down as the air seemed to course all the way through her billowing tissues while she leaned closer to Pat. After what almost felt an hour, she looked back up at him. One of her arms was a blur as it wove behind him, reaching up along his spine.

“𝖂𝒶𝖐ℯ 𝓊𝖕,” she insisted. One of her talons tapped against the nape of his neck.

And then Pat was gone. 

No smoke, no cracks splitting open in the air, no dissipating, nothing like that at all. 

He’d just vanished. As though he’d truly been a hallucination cooked up by someone’s sleep-depreived, terror-addled imagination.

Sylph lowered her head; all the holes seemed to disappear into her skin–she was closing her eyes. Keeping them tightly sealed shut for a good long while as she tapped her claws against the ground.

There was only one drumbeat now, and it rang out much faster and louder than ever. 

Sooner or later, all of her eyes snapped back open in a way that would’ve made the average trypophobia-sufferer faint. She then turned her head to stare at Sam, her gaze curious…yet reproachful. 

Sam couldn’t stop themself from shrinking, from pressing their back against the wall, dipping their head to signal cautious respect. 

“...𝖂𝒽𝖆𝓉 𝓀𝖎𝓃𝖉 𝖔𝒻 ℊ𝖆𝓂𝖊 𝖉ℴ 𝓎𝖔𝓊 𝓉𝖍𝒾𝖓𝓀 𝓎𝖔𝓊'𝓇𝖊 𝖕𝓁𝖆𝓎𝖎𝓃𝖌?” Sylph asked, her voice somehow gentle and acidic at the same time. 

That was when the world around them began to flutter away. Like a person’s eyelashes twitching as tears dried up around them. 

___

Scrying was a basic trick; it was one of the very first magicks Pat had taught Sol, way back when they’d started hearing his voice in their head. 

It came in pretty handy when there was a guest (or perhaps an occasional intruder) who just needed to be spied on for whatever reason.

Windows, mirrors, even rain puddles were game. As long as it was reflective, it would work. You just needed to keep your focus steady.

Admittedly, it’d been somewhat difficult for Sol to stay focused on tonight’s particular task. 

It was simple assignment, really: use some other tricks to track down the stranger who had come to ask those cryptic questions, keep an eye on them as they slept…as well as watch for anything that could be a threat to the same mound of living nightmare fuel she’d been working with for a long time now while he slept. 

But if Pat’s views on sleep had ever been anything to go by…

Even if she knew she could trust him, Sol’s instincts told them that things just wouldn’t go too smoothly tonight.

Curled up in his nest-cocoon-hammock thing, Pat had been lightly tossing and turning ever since he’d finally managed to drift off. He’d been murmuring as he dreamed, his unconscious voice dropping to an octave that was almost too soft and too low to comprehend (then again, even if that wasn’t the case, Sol knew she still wouldn’t have been able to understand the language he was using).

Sol honestly wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Pat woke up. 

…It was so strange, feeling validated and concerned and scared all at once. 

After all, it wasn’t every night you got to watch your boss-and-kind-of-friend lurch up, gasping and choking like he’d been chained to the bottom of a lake. 

It wasn’t every night you watched that same entity try to climb out of his nest, only to fall and hit the floor with a loud thud due to how violently he was shaking. 

It wasn’t every night you could do nothing put watch your technical business partner shrink to the size of a human, then raise his clawed hands to his face…and burrow talons into flesh, effectively ripping both of his primary eyes out and throwing them across the room where they each landed against the adjacent wall with a sickening splat.

It wasn’t every night you got to see an outer abomination crumple into a heap on the floor, heaving and sobbing as veritable gallons of a viscous, oily fluid gushed out of the fresh, jagged hollows in his face.

Steeling their nerves, Sol crept past Pat, moving carefully and quietly. It took a painfully awkward amount of time for her to find both of his eyes, but she managed. Besides, he clearly wasn’t in the headspace to be judging anything right now. 

Though their nightvision had long-since grown more enhanced than average, Sol still found themself squinting through the eyeholes of their protective mask. Squinting at the gorey treasures in her shaking hands. 

(She’d expected his pupils to still be shaking too, the way they always did. But right now, shockingly enough, they were both still.)

Due to the hasty removal, both cavernous eyeballs were now adorned by some dents and cuts. 

…Well, cauterization typically couldn’t be such an easy solution, but Sol had their ways. She set the eyes down, then fished through the pockets of her purple leather jacket. It took no time at all for her to find her trusty striker-blade, as well as the chunk of rainbow flint that came with it. 

Sol chewed their lip, their thoughts wracked with worry as they listened to Pat’s cries. 

Using the blade might just make the injuries worse…

With a deep breath, Sol struck at the stone, expertly coaxing out a flame, small and delicate as though it was attached to a candle wick.

They then pressed the blade’s tip to their palm. They didn’t apply enough pressure to draw blood; it was just a way to encourage the fire to abandon the metal in favor of the offered hand. 

Unfortunately for the fire, Sol’s skin refused to char or melt. It did turn a deep shade of red where the flame licked at it, but that was it. It didn’t even hurt; it just felt like hot water pooling against them. 

Sol stuffed her tools back into her jacket, then returned their focus to the eyes. She delicately picked one up, holding her flaming hand around it, turning it this way and that to make sure that the unnatural heat convinced the wounds to melt in on themselves and close up. The process went by faster than expected: both eyes were repaired soon enough. 

They would’ve felt some well-deserved pride at that—their control was getting better, after all—but she still had a friend who needed help right now. 

Sol smothered the flame, then carried the eyes over to Pat. Something cold and clammy scratched at their ribcage as they looked over him. 

His sobs had tapered down into hiccups by now, and his horrific tears were already evaporating into columns of smoke, but he was clearly still in a bad way. 

Without a word, Sol sat down beside him, crossing their legs and biting back the stinging sensation that was trying to settle within their own eyes.

He’d take his back when he was ready.

@inkbedou @the-matpat-ever @b-is-in-the-closet

[skarlette1]

Wishful Wand: Part Four (NEW)

–Part Three of Wishful Wand

My body still tingling from my elevator encounter with Platinum Panther, I staggered into Sammie Sims’ workshop. Sammie stood at a bank of computer monitors, one strap of her coveralls unfastened to show the tight T-shirt beneath. Her stiff nipple was plainly visible through the thin material. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, even as she turned to face me.

“I know that look, Zelda. You used the Wand and then obeyed one of Commissar Zehd’s commands. Feels incredible, doesn’t it? I told you it would blow your mind.”

I shook my head to clear it. “No, Sammie. That’s not right. I remember what she did in the Shade Circumference. How she tried to brainwash me. But she failed. I’m not broken. I remember what she wanted to me to do and I refuse to obey. I’ll simply do the opposite.”

Sammie smiled indulgently. “That’s a plan, sure. I’m sure you’ve already tried to do the opposite. How did that work out?”

“It worked perfectly. Zehd ordered me not to tell anyone about her, so the moment I saw Platinum Panther on the elevator I said ...” My voice faded as I realized that I hadn’t actually told the leader of the Libido League anything about Zehd. “I mean, I was about to tell her when I thought better of it. She needs to focus on protecting the city from all types of supervillains, not just Zehd.”

“So you came up with a good reason to trick yourself into obeying Zehd after all.”

“No, I didn’t, I …” But I did, didn’t I? “I mean, I thought better of …” Was it really thinking better? “I mean …” Despite my best efforts, I had done exactly as Zehd commanded. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely oh shit territory, Zelda. Don’t feel too bad, though. I couldn’t resist her either. Sorry about tricking you into using the Wand, but it was a command from Zehd, so … y’know?” Sammie shrugged helplessly.

“That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself? Y’know? I know that I trusted you and you betrayed me, Sammie. You didn’t even give me a hint.”

“You think I didn’t try to resist her commands? I’ve been fighting like hell for weeks since I first found that Wand. Do you think I want to turn the body of one of my best friends into a platform for that Quimtonian bitch? I did everything I could think of to stop myself from modifying U4ia the way Zehd commanded me to. Last week, I even removed several chips from U4ia’s central processing core to make sure she couldn’t function or move at all. I figured that would trap Zehd in a motionless body.” Sammie rolled her eyes. “Turns out that the chips I removed would have actually helped U4ia fight off a foreign personality in her circuits but I’d tricked myself into removing the wrong ones. My resistance achieved precisely nothing! U4ia’s body is not quite ready for Zehd, but it sure ain’t motionless. Have a look.” She gestured around a corner.

I rounded the corner to enter the main area of the workshop. Across the back wall stretched a high-tech workbench, covered in tools. A bank of computers filled the left wall, with more than a dozen monitors displaying constantly-shifting data. Tangles of thick, black cables stretched from the computers to the center of the room where they attached to the back of U4ia’s skull and a series of ports down her spine. The gynoid heroine’s eyes were closed and her features slack. Her violet hair hung smooth and straight, gently swaying as the gynoid sensuously undulated her naked body to accentuate her sexuality.

“Sammie, if U4ia’s not rebooted yet, how can she be moving like that?”

“There’s a lot we don’t know about U4ia’s origin, Zelda. We don’t know who made her, when she was built, or how all of her technology works. But we’re pretty certain of why she was created: She’s a sexbot. The most advanced ever built. Despite her higher mental processes being completely offline, the physical actions of sex and seduction are part of her root programming. Even when she’s effectively brain-dead, U4ia is one of the most skilled lovers on the planet. Plus, she’s a total smoke show.”

As my eyes lingered over the swaying of U4ia’s hips, and the ways her hands hovered over her pert breasts, I couldn’t deny anything Sammie was saying. “You’re not wrong. U4ia is gorgeous. Is that Zehd’s plan? To possess a body that’s too sexy for Captain Alpha to resist?”

“I have no idea what her whole plan is. I just know what I need to do to prepare U4ia’s body to receive Zehd’s consciousness. The hardware is ready, it just needs the right spark to jump start it. That’s why I need your help, Zelda.”

“My help? I’m no engineer,” I said. U4ia was moving faster, her swaying becoming more like a seductive dance. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“The next step doesn’t need engineering, Zelda. It needs you to have sex with U4ia.”

I spun to face Sammie. “Have sex with her? Are you out of your mind?”

Sammie laughed. “Yeah, I think I am. Hell, considering what the Wand did to us, I’d say we’re both a little bit out of our minds! But it doesn’t matter. Zehd commanded you to help me. Having sex with U4ia is the help I need.”

Even in the world of superheroics, this was getting pretty bizarre. “This makes no sense, Sammie. How would having sex with a brain-dead robot body help anything?”

Sammie replied in an um, actually tone. “U4ia’s not a ‘robot,’ she’s a ‘gynoid’. In order to host Zehd’s consciousness, her gynoid body needs erotic energy. I’ve built a special capacitor to hold it, but it needs to be properly charged.”

“If she needs erotic energy, why don’t you fuck her yourself, Sammie? You had no trouble using the Wand.”

“U4ia and I were … close ... once. It would be weird to have sex with her body without her mind being there. It would be amazing, I’m sure. But weird. But that doesn’t matter. The first erotic energy into the capacitor needs to be the right type. My erotic energy won’t work because I’ve never had sex with Captain Alpha.”

“What does Alpha have to do with any of this?”

“I don’t understand the theory behind erotic energy, but according to Zehd, every time a Quimtonian has sex with someone, their erotic energy fields merge. Even after they part, a tiny bit of Quimtonian erotic energy remains with their partner. It can linger for months or even years. In the Shade Circumference, Zehd commanded me to tell her who Captain Alpha had sex with most often. I tried not to tell her, but … everyone gossips about how close you are to Captain Alpha, Zelda. That’s when Zehd commanded me to trick you into using the Wand. She needs U4ia’s body to absorb the Quimtonian residue in your erotic energy field.”

This had gotten so weird that I didn’t know whether Sammie’s claims about erotic energy were insane ravings or made perfect sense. But it didn’t matter. “I’m not even going to try to understand any of that, Sammie. All I need to know is that Zehd wants me to have sex with U4ia. Therefore, it is the last thing I will ever do. Some of us aren’t quitters who have just surrendered to Zehd’s commands. I can’t have sex with her if I’m not here. Good-bye.” I spun on my heel to dash from the workshop—

Bam! I ran right into U4ia! Her dancing motions had maneuvered her directly behind me. Her synthetic skin was impossibly soft, smooth, and inviting. Her eyes were still closed, but I barely had a moment to be creeped out by that as she leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head, but U4ia took my face in her hands. She guided my mouth to hers with a gentleness that belied the massive artificial strength beneath it. Her lips touched mine with all the tender warmth of an old flame, while also offering the unique tingle of a new vibrator.

The thrill of the kiss resounded through every cell in my body. I leaned in, my tongue exploring her mouth with a deep thirst for pleasure. How could any two lips and a tongue feel so divine? I hadn’t been kissed so passionately since my beloved Al-Phae left for the stars.

Al-Phae! I needed stop this before it went too far and endangered Al-Phae! Using all my willpower to break the kiss, I whispered “U4ia … please ...”

Within seconds, her lips found mine again, their commanding kiss somehow hotter than it had been before my attempted escape.

Unable to break the kiss, I tried to wriggle my body free. U4ia’s hands roamed my curves with gentle squeezes and firm caresses. Somehow, whichever way I moved, her hands blocked my escape with another sensuous touch. My dress was inexplicably bunched around my waist and U4ia’s knee pressed between my trembling thighs, gentle but relentless. I could feel my body quickly building toward an orgasm.

No! Cumming for U4ia was the last thing I needed to do. But if I couldn’t escape, I’d have to think my way out of this sex trap. Unfortuntately, her honeyed kiss made thinking sweet, sticky, and slow. My body longed for her sweet, sensual touches. Surrendering to the pleasure was the path of least resistance. It was instinct.

Her skillful fingers tweaked a nipple. I moaned in her mouth.

Instinct! U4ia had instincts, too. As a sexbot, her instinct was to please her partner. If I couldn’t escape, maybe I could use those instincts against her. I had a plan that was just crazy enough to work.

Dragging my lips across her cheek, I whispered in U4ia’s ear. “Mmmm, I love to touch you, lover. Pleasing you pleases me. Let me go down on you.”

U4ia’s demeanor shifted. Her eyes still eerily closed, she leaned back on a nearby workbench. Gently tugging on my nipples, she pulled me closer. I knelt before her, sliding down her body. Her violet bush grazed my cheek and I began to lick her slick pussy lips. Artificially-sharp sweetness filled my mouth. Her body writhed with pleasure, even though she made no sound.

I poured every ounce of skill and arousal into devouring U4ia’s pussy. I needed to make her cum before I did. Sammie had said that the erotic energy of the first orgasm was vital to Zehd’s plan. If I could push U4ia to cum before I did, the first erotic energy wouldn’t have any trace of Quimtonian energy in it. Zehd’s plan would be foiled if I could just lick fast enough.

Even though she was the most silent lover I’d ever had, U4ia still found ways to arouse me. One leg wrapped around my head, holding me in place beneath her. Somehow, her other foot rubbed my own sex through my panties, continuing to drive me crazy with pleasure.

I could feel her body tense up as I suckled her clit between my lips.

She was close.

So was I.

Just a few more licks and—

“You look like you’re so close to cumming, Zelda.” Sammie purred behind me. “Let me help.”

Sammie yanked my soaking wet panties to the side. Something firm and smooth pressed between my thighs—the Wishful Wand! Driving it into my drenched pussy, she knew just how to find my sweetest, most sensitive spots. Every stroke was liquid, acid lust burning through my body, dissolving my mind, vaporizing my will, atomizing my very self in a white hot nova of bliss. I shrieked out my climax against U4ia’s pussy, thrashing with ecstasy that could not be denied.

My memories also couldn’t be denied. As my orgasm ripped through me, my body remembered the way Al-Phae had touched me the last night before she left for the stars. I had laid atop her in a sixty-nine as she floated four feet above my bed. It was like living two orgasms at once.

As my climax subsided, I realized I could remember everything about our last night together, except the way Al-Phae had made love to me that night. It was a jagged hole in my sense memory.

“Erotic energy capacitor initialization: Successful.” U4ia’s voice was even more mechanical and emotionless than I’d remembered. Somehow, we’d both slid to the floor. I found myself lying on top of her, struggling to catch my breath from the mind-bending orgasm.

“Wh-what … did you … do to me?” I muttered. I lacked the strength to lift my head, or even open my eyes.

“That’s a good question,” Sammie said. “Let’s find out. U4ia, do you detect Quimtonian erotic energy in the capacitor?”

“Affirmative,” U4ia said.

“Awesome! Good job, Zelda,” Sammie said. “U4ia, does the Quimtonian erotic energy meet minimum requirements?”

“Negative.”

I had to get some time to think. What had happened to me? I half-rolled, half-fell off U4ia onto the floor. Still too drained to open my eyes, I dragged myself away from where Sammie spoke softly with the gynoid. If I could make it to the hallway, perhaps Platinum Panther would find me. I wouldn’t need to tell her anything, my condition would be enough to let her know that something was seriously wrong.

“Not so fast, Zelda. We still need your help.” Sammie took my shoulder and rolled me onto my back. I couldn’t find the strength to stop her.

“I can’t help anymore, Sammie,” I muttered, trying to parse my experience into words. “You already took it. Took the one thing Al-Phae left me. Took my memory of her touch.”

“I don’t know about memories, Zelda, but I do know what U4ia’s sensors are telling me. She’s only absorbed the most recent layer of Quimtonian erotic energy from you. There are many layers left. She needs to absorb a lot more to be ready for Zehd’s arrival.”

“I can’t, Sammie. I can’t remember the last time she touched me.”

U4ia’s flat, mechanical voice answered me. “Assistance for memory processing is available. Look into my eyes.”

I tried to keep my eyes closed, but they opened despite me. U4ia knelt over me, a commanding presence. Between her legs, one end of the Wishful Wand protruded from her pretty pussy, hanging like a strapless phallus. I knew the sheen on its surface was from my own lust-juices.

“Look into my eyes,” U4ia commanded.

My gaze snapped to U4ia’s face. Her eyes were open wide. Too wide. Each eyeball was entirely a deep, opaque black, except for a tiny light flickering in their center. It was small but beautiful. “Wh-what is that?”

“Look deeper,” U4ia said as she spread my unresisting thighs.

I gazed deeper into the inky depths of her eyes. The rest of the room ceased to exist. The flickering light resolved into an image of Al-Phae. I could see just how she looked that last night. I could almost feel her touch. “Al-Phae … my love ...”

“Look deeper.” Something thick and hard slid across my thighs. As my gaze dove deeper into her eyes, the Wand dove deep into my pussy.

Beyond the vision of my last night with Al-Phae was another flickering image. This had been the day before she left. There was some trouble with cleaning up Queen Klitorya’s sex drones and Captain Alpha had needed a boost of erotic energy. I’d pulled her into the stall of a public restroom and kissed her passionately. Neither of us had gotten undressed. It was just a frantic, exciting flurry of fingers and lips and passion. Something stiff was thrusting inside of me just the way that Al-Phae’s fingers had when she made ... me … cum!

My whole body shook with a powerful orgasm, but my eyes never left U4ia’s. I fell deeper into them, offering up one memory after another. Lazy Sunday afternoons in my apartment. Delighting in her touch after she’d rescued me from supervillains. Secluded picnics on remote mountaintops only accessible by flying. Passionate flings in the depths of her Quimtonian Refuge. Every rendezvous with Alpha took me to relentless bliss once again, and then lived only inside U4ia’s eyes.

“Erotic energy capacitor has surpassed requirements.” U4ia closed her eyes and pulled away. The Wand slipped out of my throbbing pussy. I lay on the floor, gazing upwards but not really seeing anything. My whole body ached for a sensation I’d tasted a hundred times but could no longer remember.

“Good job, Zelda,” Sammie said, gazing down at me. “You’ve given me all the help I need. You’ve done exactly as Commissar Zehd commanded.”

My body came again, filled with irresistible pleasure at having obeyed my most hated enemy.

---

Like what you read? Will you buy me a coffee and request something rich to sink my teeth into? Or peek into the depths of my longer fiction?

[dragonbma]

Some character exploration and headcanons as I write the Vos Possession AU:

Adventure trio my beloveds… [similarly to my last infodump, these are headcanons for the game, but are all canon in my AU]

// Jack: team leader //

weapon: sword 🗡️ (alternatively fists)

very headstrong and sometimes gets too caught up in the moment to realize something is happening

has a perfect sense of direction, survival instincts, and tracking capabilities

—Extras:

-Sea Temple leaves him with tinnitus, PTSD, and a partially blinded left eye

-used to wear more red apparel (where he got the nickname Velvet Tornado) but has since switched to colors that reflect his fallen friends (Vos- blue, Sammy- beige)

// Vos: enchanter / healer //

weapon: potions 🧪

inventory management (often overpacks for adventures just in case)

can enchant items without an enchantment table, only needs the lapis (knows all enchants by heart and can read/write the font)

—Extras:

-has cold hands, is very cold in general (always wears warm outfits no matter the temperature)

-fascination with sea lanterns

-developed photophobia while in the temple and was much more talkative pre-Sea Temple adventure

// Sammy: navigation / explorer //

weapon: bow 🏹

often built makeshift abodes for the three to stay in temporarily during adventures

very knowledgeable about biomes, mobs, and cartography from years of being an explorer with Nurm

speaks fluent Villic (they translate when the group enters a village)

—Extras:

-has a journal used to catalog flora/fauna from her expeditions

-collects plants

Interactions:

Jack and Vos have been adventuring together since they were young and are essentially inseparable, rarely going on adventures without the other (have matched experience and have saved the other’s life)

meeting Jack was the reason Sammy decided to take up adventuring in favor of exploring (inspired her to get out of comfort zone)

Vos was teaching Sammy to make tipped arrows (the potion in her inventory was from him)

Sammy introduced Vos to the concept of wrapping his hands (+ his leather boots were a gift from them)

Sammy usually has to keep the other two in check, but on occasion would need assistance from Vos to convince Jack not to do something reckless

Extras:

—The trio liked taking turns picking places to go adventuring:

Jack usually planned adventures around treasure hunting or thrill-seeking. (Dude treasure-hoards like a dragon.) He liked to test his limits and improve his abilities at any opportunity. If the other two were having trouble, he’d always be there to help them. These adventures were always challenging, but in a fun way (until the Sea Temple.) Favorite biome: desert / mesa.

Vos adored visiting ancient ruins and kept a stash of artifacts of unknown value. He also liked finding treasures, but would usually give them to Jack. On occasion, these locations would turn out to be more perilous and dilapidated than anticipated. Favorite biome: ocean.

Sammy usually picked places that were less dangerous to keep Jack and Vos from burning themselves out, but never strayed from thrill-seeking if she knew the other two were fine to handle it. Neither liked to admit when they needed a break: (Jack out of pride, Vos out of embarrassment.) Sammy would take every opportunity to teach the two about the world around them on expeditions, especially reminding Jack to slow down and appreciate the places he visited. (Rather than seeing everything as a challenge to be beat as fast as possible.) Favorite biome: jungle.

—All three have vastly different expressions of speech:

Jack is no stranger to cursing, loves making puns, and often uses Minecraft metaphors/similes

Vos’ exclamations of excitement are almost always references to poetry (“Callou, callay!” or “Frabjous day!”) and he prefers using nonsense words in substitute of cursing

Sammy often uses botany terms for expressions and they don’t curse either

—Structure Block preferences: (if they had made it to the final room in the temple)

Jack and Sammy would have voted to take the Tower of the Warrior.

Had the events of the temple not gone awry, Vos would have voted to take the Wall of the Builder. However, after being trapped in the obsidian cages for so long, when he finally sees the structure blocks, he likely would have avoided the Wall of the Builder at all costs.

—I associate the three with land (Jack), sea (Vos), and sky (Sammy). No idea why.

—Similarly to the Order of the Stone, if I had to assign them ores… Jack- gold, Vos- lapis lazuli, Sammy- iron or diamond, and Nurm- emerald.

—Nurm didn’t accompany the trio during the initial adventure to the temple. He only found out later upon reuniting with Jack.

If any of y’all want to snatch these for any reason, feel free! Credit is optional- enjoy ^^

[ezzydantes]

CAN'T TAKE THE HOME OUT OF OKLAHOMA

a/n: this is based on the song by Lainey Wilson. It's called Out of Oklahoma.

Summary: Sadie (Mercedes) Winchester (my OC) has decided to go home to Oklahoma after a big fight with her husband, Dean. He comes to find her in Oklahoma.

"Mama?" Johnny questioned his mother as he handed his three younger siblings their snacks in the back seat of the Dodge Charger they were currently cruising in going down I-135. They had just left Wichita,KS stopping to see Sadie's mother before heading home to Oklahoma.

Oklahoma wasn't the most ideal place to raise a family since there was hardly anything to do there, but Sadie had decided that was where she was going to take the kids. She looked in the rear view mirror at her three youngest children. Samantha, her eldest daughter sadly smiled at her. The twins were fighting over a bag of gold fish even though one was sitting in Lucky's lap while Mary screamed bloody murder trying to snatch her bag back from her brother.

"Stop it you two!" Johnny yelled as he turned around, "Can't you see that Mama is having a hard time?"

The twins immediately stopped bickering.

"Sorry Bubba" they said in unison before Lucky let go of the bag and finally noticed his bag in his lap.

"Mama... I asked you why are we going to Papa's?" the elder child asked as he turned in his seat.

"I need to think. I can't do that with your Daddy and uncle there..." Sadie mumbled as she continued to stare blankly ahead. She was trying to ignore the fight that had occurred the night before.

******FLASHBACK******

"Are you serious right now?" Sadie shouted as Dean began packing her things. He was trying to get her out of town and away from him since he had yet to tell her about the deal he had made to save Sam. He wanted her and the kids safe and away from the life of being a Hunter.

"I'm doing this for you..." he mumbled only loud enough for her to hear since they were in their shared bedroom and didn't want the kids or Sam to hear. Their rooms were on either side of them.

"You're going and making a decision without involving me... AGAIN.... what the fuck, Dean?" she raised her voice finally out of the frustration.

"Keep it down please.. " Dean growled. He continued packing her things into the "emergency" suitcase.

"Keep it down that you're MAKING me leave you? What makes Sammy so damned qualified to stay? I am a medicine woman and whose gonna take care of you both if you send me away?" she cried. The tears finally spilling forth. A gasp escaped her as her husband pulled her into his tight embrace.

"I can't lose any of you. Not a single one of you. Not you.... not the kids.... I built this family with you. But this life... THIS life.... is not meant for you or the kids..." Dean began to break down. He threw the lamp on his side of the bed against the wall breaking it. He sat at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

"You think this is new to me? I have been fighting everything unnatural since I was six years old just like you!!! WHY is it too dangerous all of a sudden??? You've kept me with you all this time... and we built a family... what's changed... tell me, Dean?" she quietly questioned as she kneeled in front of her husband. She took his hands in hers.

"Because I can't involve you or them this time!" he shouted back before standing up suddenly, causing Sadie to fall back onto her rear, "Get your things and LEAVE DAMMIT!"

Sadie immediately stood up and walked over to her suitcase. She shut it with a resounding force. "If I leave now... you'll never see me or the kids again...."

"I'm willing to take that.... I want you guys GONE.... I don't need you anymore...." Dean said breathlessly. She could tell his heart was breaking with every word.

"Fine... you know where to find me when you get your head out of your ass.... but don't expect a warm welcome when you do.. " she huffed as she began to walk out of the bedroom.

"I won't be finding you. This is it... expect papers in the mail. We're done..." he hissed as he walked past her and shut the door.

******** END OF FLASHBACK*******

Tears began flowing down her face as she stared ahead. The sign for Oklahoma appeared in her peripheral as she continued on her trek. Her destination was home, Wewoka, OK. Her heart and soul belonged to this territory and no one was going to stop her to get there. Dean and Sam be damned... she was going HOME.

Once she reached the dirt road to her grandfather's it was a home stretch. It was like his home was calling to her and once she entered his drive she felt a sense of relief. He was already sitting on the porch. Johnny jumped out and immediately ran to the elderly man, giving him the biggest hug.

Sadie stepped out and waved before she walked to the back door to help the twins get out. Samantha had already unstrapped them and was helping Lucky get out on her side while Sadie got Mary out on her side. The quartet walked up to the porch where the kids hugged their great grandfather and then proceeded into his house where their uncle greeted them saying that their cousins were there and ice cream was in the freezer waiting for them.

Sadie looked to her grandfather and immediately started crying before she sat at his feet and laid her head in his lap.

"What's wrong, Babe?" he quietly questioned as he began to pat her head.

"Just a hard day..." she managed between her gasps as she tried to regain her composure.

"We all have those, Sis... but what's really wrong?" he lifted her head out of his lap and made her face him. "Did you and Dean have a bad fight?"

"He said he was going to send me papers here.... he wants a divorce, Papa...." the young woman managed to say between her gasping breaths.

"I see... he finally saw the life might catch up to you both...." her grandfather sighed, "Me and your Grandma had the same fight."

"What did you guys do? Because you guys were together until Grandma got really sick and passed...." Sadie whispered.

"We stuck it out... I thought I was protecting your grandmother... but she reminded me how strong she was by showing up on a hunt that I was on. And she showed me that I had no reason to think she wouldn't be able to protect our family. But I still worried..." he explained while still stroking her head.

"Then what do I do? I don't want him to leave us behind..." Sadie sighed as she sat up straight and held his hand while she seated herself next to him on the porch swing.

"If Dean is half the man I think him to be... he will come around. He will come back for you... he loves the HELL out of you and the children. He can't abandon you the way he was as a kid with John...." he squeezed her hand before bringing it to his mouth and leaving a chaste kiss on it before setting it between them again.

"Thank you, Papa..." she smiled as she laid her head against his shoulder.

********EIGHT MONTHS LATER*********

Dean was on his way to Wewoka after being resurrected by an angel named Castiel. He was silently praying that his Mercedes...Sadie... hadn't given up on him. He knew where she was and had kept in touch with her grandfather. The old man had been elusive as to what she had been up to but assured him that she was waiting for him to come.

Oklahoma would always be home to his wife. Her Native roots kept her mind and soul there. There was no taking it out of her. If there was ever something going on... he knew she'd return to her home. She would be protected on her ancestral grounds. For her tribe her grandfather was at the heart of it all. He had been the elected Chief for years but the spiritual power on the lands that her family resided on was a hunter's dream. Anything supernatural occurring in the area was not an issue on tribal lands. They knew more than even the most experienced hunter on how to subdue what couldn't be explained. They were the first hunters and dealt with different creatures than most hunters.

Dean had met Sadie years ago when his father sent him to Oklahoma to deal with the irregular beings he was used to. He had been staying at her grandfather's house learning the trade alongside her as teenagers and that's when he fell in love.

She wasn't like most girls he had chased in his early years. They met when he was 19 and she was 17. They enjoyed hunting together and it wasn't until she got pregnant with Johnny at 19 that it all changed. Then his dad disappeared and he had to hunt down Sammy and by that time Samantha was 3 and Johnny was 5. They stayed with her in John's hotel room while she researched the White Lady lore. Her knowledge and skills had saved them more than once.

Two years later the twins came. Named after his mother Mary and Sadie's father, Lucius (Lucky for short) . And it had been him, Sam, Sadie and the kids since....

He never meant to say what he did about divorce but he figured it would be easier than dealing with leaving his family behind ...Again.... It seemed lately no matter what he did, he was constantly letting them down. Maybe getting a divorce was a good idea. He could finally free his small family from the turmoil of their father being a Hunter. It wasn't really ideal for a Hunter to have a family. He remembered how hard it was on him and Sam growing up and he didn't want that life for his kids. They deserved so much more... and so did the love of his life. Johnny was 6 now and practically the man of the house when he was away. Samantha was 4 and the twins had just recently turned 2. He had sent money in the mail to Sadie's grandfather to get gifts for them.

He turned down the dirt road to find the 2 elder kids in the front yard playing. As soon as they heard the familiar roar of the Impala, they dropped their toys and Johnny ran inside to get his mother while Samantha eagerly waited for her father to get out of the car before she threw herself into his arms. "Daddy!" she squealed as she hugged him tight.

Dean had to compose himself as he held her close. Her little arms having always comforted him when she hugged him. How he had missed her. He picked her up as he continued to hug her back while walking towards the front porch.

"Well look what the cat drug in...." Vendle Merrell laughed as he made his way out onto the porch with the twins right behind him. They were hiding behind his legs unsure on how to approach their father after not seeing him for so long.

"Mr. Merrell.... " the younger man acknowledged the elder one as he began walking up to the porch.

"You didn't keep your promise, Mr. Winchester", the elderly man stated matter of factly as he made his way over to the porch swing that he motioned for Dean to sit on with him.

"Which part?" Dean mumbled ashamedly. He recalled the promise he made all of those years ago to Sadie's grandfather. Promising to love and cherish her until his last dying breath.

"The part where you would die pining for her if she were to ever leave you..." Vendle raised his eyebrow looking at his grandson-in-law before helping Mary into his lap.

"Does it still count if I sent her away?" the younger man stated out into the yard as he continued to hold Samantha against his chest.

"Winchester, my granddaughter doesn't easily abide by anyone's wishes... except mine and apparently yours... ", Mr. Merrell chuckled as he helped Lucky onto the swing to sit in between him and the younger man, "You are going to have to do a lot of sucking up, Son."

"I know that... "Dean quietly laughed as he looked down to Lucky making his way towards him, "Hey Bubba... it's me, Daddy..."

"She went into town with her sister-in-law to get some groceries", Vendle said as he began to stand up after setting Mary on the seat beside him so she could crawl over to her father.

"Hey Baby", the younger man smiled as his youngest daughter grabbed his should to steady herself as she stood up. "Do you know when she will be back?"

Just then a silver SUV turned into the drive way. "Mama's back!" Samantha shouted as she wiggled her way out of Dean's grip to go inside and get Johnny who had yet to come back outside after getting their great grandfather.

"Johnny! Mama and Auntie Rachel are back!" she shouted into the house before closing the storm door and running towards the drive way.

"Samantha! wait for the car to park, Sweetheart!" Dean stood up rushing to his eldest daughter with both twins in his arms. His heart stopped at seeing his wife getting out of the car to sweep the girl in her embrace.

"I told you that I wouldn't be gone long", she laughed as she began to walk towards the porch, "Tell Johnny we need his help with the groceries..."

Sadie stopped when she saw Dean standing in the yard, carefully setting the twins down. "I'll help..."

"Well if it isn't the prodigal husband coming home to roost", Rachel, Sadie's sister-in-law stated matter of factly as she walked towards the back passenger side to open the door and began grabbing bags, "Make yourself useful for once... grab the groceries while we get the kids settled."

Dean couldn't help but smile a bit. He knew that Rachel and Sadie's elder brother Chris were not his biggest fans. "Yes ma'am..."

"Well at least you haven't forgotten your manners..." Sadie mumbled as she walked past him, "Come on, Babies." The twins began following their mother after she walked past their father.

After getting the groceries in the house and making sure the kids were snacking she walked back out to the front porch, where her husband sat on the steps. She sat beside him and made sure to put a little space between them to show she wasn't exactly happy with him. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here..."

"Well I knew you wouldn't answer your phone if I called...", he quietly stated, "Figured you couldn't toss me out of your grandpa's."

"That's reaching... you know all I have to do is tell him I want you gone and he'd have no problem pulling out his rifle..." Sadie leaned against the post to her left while crossing her arms and giving him an indifferent look.

His heart broke a little more upon seeing her reaction to him. He could take her yelling and screaming at him, but for her to be non chalant about his showing up proved his worst fear. She didn't care to see him. He didn't blame her.

"Sadie there is something that I didn't tell you.... I made a deal with a demon to save Sammy when he disappeared a while back. He actually died and I couldn't let him stay that way...." he explained, "I've been in Hell for the past few months."

"You think I didn't know that?" she questioned, "You're not the only one with connections to the Supernatural."

"You were waiting for me to come clean...", Dean concluded as he looked away, "Should have known you'd know..."

"Did you forget your promise to me?" Sadie put her hand on the back of his neck to get his attention, "You know the part where for better or worse... til death due us part?"

"Well I was dead for a minute there..." the young man whispered as he grabbed her hand and kissed it before holding it to his chest and pulling her into him.

"Winchester... I don't care if you're turned into a gopher... I'd still call myself your wife and that won't ever change, but if you ever send me away like that again... I won't ever come back to you", she growled before pulling from his embrace and standing up.

Dean smiled through his tears and wrapped his arms around her waist while burying his head into her stomach. "I'll never give you up again, Mercedes Winchester. NEVER AGAIN."

He felt relief when she wrapped her arms around his head and held him to her while stroking her hand through his hair. "I don't deserve you."

"No you don't. But no one else in the world will have you nor love you as much as I do", she whispered as she leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "Now come inside and apologize to your son. Johnny won't be as forgiving as me. "

"Yeah I figured he would be pissed." Dean mumbled as he wiped his tears away and stood up, still holding his wife's hand.

[that-darn-clown]

so. thought about Michael from that au of mine.

like...this guy, at the beginning, had like. a handful of friends. Charlie and Sammy, Andrew, and his siblings. Cassidy practically came everywhere with them, considering Mike was usually put on babysitting duty.

everything was fucking fine. they were just a bunch of dumb kids. sure, his parents were getting divorced, and his dad's just been becoming an asshole and drinking half the time when he's not at work. but things were fine.

then Charlie dies.

Mike had been hiding the fact that he was a smoker from his Dad, but there came a point where he just couldn't bother hiding it anymore. on top of the divorce...fuck, he's just not doing too well.

he was too tired, too busy wallowing in grief, to take Cassidy to Fredbear's that faithful day. June 26th. Andrew went to take him instead. they were all laughing and joking that Andrew was going to help Cassidy win all the arcade games, and they'd play and run around the Diner, before Andrew left and took Cassidy with them.

Andrew never came back. Cassidy was inconsolable, not talking about whatever he'd seen that seemed to shake him. William was almost always there in Cassidy's room, comforting him.

Mike thinks that they both lost a part of themselves that day.

he built up walls, lashed out at his baby brother (because God, Cassidy, you're not a baby anymore, stop crying so much!), and started hanging out with the few other kids who didn't treat him like a freak for merely existing.

(and maybe he wishes Cass would stop crying because it reminds him too much of his own grief. too much of what he's lost himself. maybe he wishes Cassidy would tell him something about what had happened that day at the Diner, something so that Mike could comfort him like he used to. he wants, so desperately, to make things better. but even he knows, deep down, that there's no fixing things like this. whatever Cassidy saw that day had scarred him deeply.)

it continues on for the next two years like this. Mike would bully his brother, his dad hardly spent time at home anymore, and Liz was off living her life like nothing had happened. and he has to deal with the whispers around town that claim that one of the two men in his life he looks up to the most, could be a child murderer. he also has to deal with Andy's dad having the gall to shrug his shoulders and claim that they'd just ran away that day, and that it was just a terrible coincidence that Andrew ran off at around the same time the other kids went missing at Freddy's.

then he fucks up, and it lands Cassidy in the hospital.

he still thinks it's a miracle that Cassidy not only survived, but seems to even want to forgive him.

the next three months are some of his happiest. he and Cassidy reconnect, they bond, and both Cass' injury and their overall relationship heals. it seemed like things were only looking up for Mike. things were finally getting better.

Mike wishes, sincerely wishes, that he hadn't been such a pussy that Halloween. that he'd just power through the cold he'd developed and went with his family that night. maybe Cass would've still been with him. maybe his life wouldn't have gone to shit so hard.

William had seen Michael's lowest points in life, after he'd practically lost everyone. lost Charlie, lost Andy, lost Cassie. William saw how hard Mike had spiraled for years, practically getting a front row seat to Mike's darkest period.

why do you think the discovery that his own father being responsible for the death of Mike's closest loved ones pissed him off so bad?

*chanting* MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE

[skyevergreen]

The piercing noise from the alarm clock blares into my ears, shaking me awake, my head rattles with the noise. I clumsily knock the alarm clock over with it still blaring out, it echoing throughout my room and down the hall. I throw myself up causing a shock to run up my body prompting a complete lightheadedness that just allows me to be able to get the alarm clock to shut it off. As I attempt to take steps towards the hall I fall forward into the dark and twisted hallway. Looking down I see a figure that stares back at me. A blank face shaded by the darkness of the house. It features disorder and brokenness and shaking all around. Whether it's my eyes playing tricks on me or he's finally came to collect on the debt that I so desperately owe him. I feel a shiver up my entire spine locking me in place, I close my eyes hoping for whatever happens next to be fast. As I ready for whatever fate is left for me my alarm clock goes off again and as I open my eyes again. All that is left is a stack of cans staring back at me at the end of the hall. Taking a huge sigh of relief I stand up from the wooden floor, walking towards the can ridden living room. I switch on the big box TV to be met with the same old words that used to run chills down my spine. I don't even know why I turn it on anymore. It seems that this message may just be a relic of the past. Letting the message play a little longer I sink into the ground letting my eyes close and sleep come across me.

“ –For those uninfected, lock all doors and windows, stock up on supplies, and do not leave your home. Have trust in your government, May god be with us all”

The last couple words of the broadcast woke me up, my ears ringing heavily. I sat up and switched off the TV, the light being taken away. Sitting in the darkness of my living room once again. My stomach growls once again. I feel my body ache telling me that oh so familiar feeling has washed upon me. I stand up navigating past the can structures built in the living room space making my way to the kitchen. Opening my Cupboard and grabbing a can of meat and opening it I hear a noise, 3 knocks at my front door. Followed by the mail shoot being opened and something being slid inside. Hearing a paper hit the ground right in front of the front door. Everything is running could it be that the creature before was fake. Or could this be someone alive telling me that they found more food. Or the government saying that the radios went down but the virus was gone. What could this mean, I almost instinctively ran through the kitchen space to the front door. Something like this hasn't happened almost ever. Getting mail was already a rare occurrence but became non existent the moment the virus broke out. As I made my way to the front door with the window boarded up, I looked towards the cracked wood ground. There lies a letter with a rose stamp and a wax seal on the letter. This wasn't from the government but no doubt it was from someone nearby. For the first time in a long time my stomach felt light genuine butterflies as if a note from your crush ending up in your locker. Picking up the letter and bringing it to the kitchen where the most light resided. I tore it up revealing a tea stained piece of paper written in beautiful handwriting.

Dear Mr Smith

I send this letter with a smile on my face

I found my letter writing kit that my grandma had gifted me before

She had passed, I was afraid it was lost in the move from florida

But i'm so happy that I'm able to send you this letter with joy and a smile on my

face . I do not know if you're alive or if you are even able to read this.

But I assume you are from the constant turning on of that annoying news broadcast

But I understand that some folk need a way to get through this whole thing

Some semblance of hope can be found in many different things

So Mr Smith I say to you goodnight and I hope that this letter finds you well

From

Sammy

Solitudinarian (A horror short story Im writing)

(Little pre-thing this is my first time really posting anything of this kind on Tumblr and So im gonna post this story in chunks and as I write more do little updates also very rough draft) “We interrupt your current broadcast to bring an emergency broadcast, this broadcast is being brought to you by the United States Public safety department and is a message to all residents of the United states. There have been a total of 500 thousand people coming into hospital with symptoms never seen before in any known virus. Symptoms observed have been red eyes, nose bleeds, ringing ears, irregular behavior, sleep walking, violent and sporadic movements, twitching, and overall brain failure. All cases of this virus have been fatal, and those who haven't died are now missing. Those infected have reported seeing shadows in the corner of their eyes, or feel like they are being watched. Along with infected individuals, sightings of tall and disfigured silhouettes have been spotted around neighborhoods. If you make contact with any of these creatures, make distance between you and the entity. If you or a family member are suffering from sickness, do your community a favor and keep yourself indoors and locked inside. For those uninfected lock all doors and windows, stock up on supplies, and do not leave your home. Have trust in your government, May god be with us all”.

The TV broadcast rips through the air once more. It's the same old message that has been repeated for the last 2 months. I tune in just for the chance of there being an update, a chance that maybe this whole thing will all be over. As the same words play again I hit the power button to the box Tv leaving me alone in the darkness of my living room. My stomach growls and I feel my body ache at me telling me it's time to eat, all these days that have strung together hunger is the one of the things that's at least stayed the same. I stand up feeling my body ache and looking around at the can littered floor I make my way to the kitchen. Flicking on a light switch, blinding myself for a few brief moments. As my eyes adjust I lay sight to the dirty counter space that matches the off white walls. A cockroach crawled from under the fridge and almost as fast as it crawled out it scurried right under another counter. Taking a deep breath I open the cupboard to be met with stacks of canned food. Sighing deep I grab one of the cans of food and pry it open, my eyes are met with the can of meat that I'm only half sure what's in it. But it's better than starving so I sink a spoon that I had found on the nearby table into the meat. It gushed liquids and made a disgusting noise as I dug into it. Getting a spoonful I take a bite and chew, it's the same stuff I've been eating for days now. The disgusting taste is now almost welcome. As I finish the can of food I lay it on the counter with the rest of the empties. My eyes are heavy, I've been awake for far too long, it's probably best I get some rest. I leave my kitchen and make my way down my hallway, that seems to extend for miles due to the beckoning darkness. I stumble down the hall passing the bathroom door, I arrive at my bedroom, it's lit by a dim lamp revealing the piles of clothes and several empty bottles of water. I fall onto my bed reaching to grab my medicine from my bedside table. I take 2 pills and lay my head on my pillow and let the mattress grab ahold of my body. As I close my eyes I feel myself drift off into the void of sleep, Maybe tomorrow will be different.

[captain039]

Giving in to the wild side

Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: AOB, mentions of past trauma, family death, hurt/comfort, mates, claiming, eventual smut, lots of feels

Continuation of Craving the wild side

Summary: after leaving the Dean Winchester case you quit your job you over your as normal as you could. You woke up, helped your mum, worked on the farm but you always felt that hole. Not knowing if he show up or not you gave up on hoping till someone came knocking.

Told ya it wasn’t the end!

It’s been six months since you’ve seen Dean. Six long agonising months. The effort to leave your bed got harder and harder it seemed if that was even possible. You worked around the farm like you said hell you planted a veggie patch, that was currently dying, but still. Champ got to run the fields around the house like never before and your mum saw the sunset every night on the porch, life was easy in a sense.

After you quit you stayed in bed for two weeks barely eating barley drinking. You got your implant removed and felt it’s strengths and weaknesses. Your job had a leave payment package which was a bonus for groceries and essentials, you knew eventually you’d have to find another job, but for now, for now you didn’t leave the farm.

Dean stared at the sky, pinks blending into oranges and yellows every time he looks at the sunset he can’t get over its beauty. After rehab tilted him society worthy he was happy to breathe in freedom. His brother had been waiting for him in the parking lot, leaning against some fancy looking Honda with his fancy suit, but damn he looked good. Healthy and well, Dean held onto his brother for a while and Sam allowed it, both men crying and not caring, it’d been thirty years. Sam told him about his life after Dean dropped him off at the orphanage, apparently he found a good family businessman and stay at home wife raising him like his own despite his defiance and run aways. Sam had gone to collage and studied in law and now he was famous! Dean couldn’t wipe the smile on his face as he stared at his brother, hell little Sammy had a mate now too and a dog named Jackson. Sam said he’d set up a spare room for him in his house, his house being a mansion. Dean stared in awe as he got out the car and absorbed it. Sure he’d seen flashy houses from rich stuck omegas but this, Sam said he bought the land and built on it, it was his kingdom. He saw a young woman, blonde hair pretty smile waving lightly.

“Mate?” Dean asked and Sam nodded making Dean grin in happiness. It’d been the first time an omega actually hugged him properly, the woman was joyed her scent sweet with happiness and Dean couldn’t help but smile. Dean had his own room, a proper bed and furniture, a nice view, his own bathroom. Sam even set up a new phone and plan for him along with a bank account with some savings he had in there for him. Dean couldn’t thank his brother enough for everything but the pit in his stomach was always a reminder of what had happened.

When the words left you mouth that you were quitting he felt emotions bubble and ready to burst. He wasn’t able to process it and he told you to get out before you could see him go into a feral rage. That’s the last time he ever saw you, broken down by him. After his outburst he went quiet, he worked on life skills and social skills he wanted to see you again even if you broke each others hearts. He worked real hard even with his set backs he forced himself to be better to be able to go out and find you.

Dean sat at the table enjoying the dinner Jess had prepared, moaning at each taste of the amazing roast she made.

“Damn this is good” he said and she chuckled softly.

“Sam told me it was one of your favourite meals growing up” she said and he grinned.

“Hell yes” he said and Sam laughed shaking his head. It felt natural but also strange at the same time, he learnt how to do this, he had to learn how to do this. After dinner was finished Jess served his favourite, apple pie before he called it a night and headed to his room. He sighed sitting on the edge of the bed full with a home cooked meal and smiled to himself. A knock came and he called come in, Sam appearing.

“Hey” he greeted and Dean smiled.

“How you feeling?” Sam asked.

“Full” Dean chuckled feeling bloated.

“Well you did eat two plates worth of roast” Sam commented and Dean tsked.

“Can’t waste a beautiful meal” he smiled.

“But really Dean, how’re you holding up so far?” Sam asked and Deans smiled faded slightly.

“I’m out” he said and Sam nodded sitting down on a chair.

“Freedom, fresh air, declared normal” he chuckled lightly.

“What about Y/n?” Sam asked and Dean faltered.

“I-I don’t know” Dean sighed.

“Dean she’s probably feeling the exact same way despite how everything ended” Sam explained.

“I know” Dean muttered fiddling with his fingers.

“I had to get better though, you know? I had to be better for her” he added sighing.

“And you are” Sam smiled.

“Your here, with family” he added.

“It feels great Sammy” Dean smiled.

“But you need her” Sam finished and he nodded.

“We can find her” Sam stated.

“Isn’t that stalking?” Dean asked and Sam chuckled.

“Not technically” Sam said and Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Everybody try’s to find their mate no matter how they do it” Sam shrugged.

“Maybe” Dean sighed.

“For now just settle in, get on your feet, take it one step at a time ok” Sam stood and gave his shoulder a pat before leaving.

Dean sighed running a hand through his hair as he glanced to his phone. Not stalking right?

After he showered he dared downloading social media, starting with Facebook first. He added Sam and Jess before his fingers hovered over the start of your name. He groaned switching his phone off and lying it on the bed side table. He needed to know to though.

His fingers moved quickly as he typed your name and searched. His heart stopped when he saw your face and beautiful smile, your dog Champ in the photo beside you. His breath shook as he clicked on your profile, your background was your farm with the sunset.

He smiled softly as he looked through your photos, your cows, sheep and chickens, Champ and your mum and dad, the old broken tractor in the barn you keep complaining about. The recent photo was of you and your mum out on the porch smiling together, but your smile didn’t reach your tired eyes. Despite the filter he knew you were paler, less healthier looking. He checked the date of the photo about a week ago. He saved the photo to his phone and your profile pic before sighing and turning his phone off, he’d find you.

Next part ->

Tags: sorry if I missed some

@spnfamily-j2

@globetrotter28

@deans-spinster-witch

@bluedragonflylady

@lyarr24

@spnexploration

@saranghaey

@kazsrm67

[spnhunter4life]

So Long Version 2 Chapter 5

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: I couldn't make things too easy for them, could I? I did promise a slow burn.

Series Masterlist

Ages 17 and 19 May 21, 1998

I was sitting on the porch of the house we were renting, reading a book when my dad’s truck screeched to a halt in the driveway. Dean looked up from where he had been working on the Impala as both of our fathers jumped out of the pickup, tension written throughout their bodies as they slammed their doors.

“Jenna. Go inside and pack up. We’re leaving.” My dad ordered, stomping toward the house, presumably to do the same. 

“Why?” I asked at the same time Dean demanded to know what was going on. 

“Because I said so!” he snapped. “And say your goodbyes to the boys.” With that, he was in the house, the sound of his angry footsteps following after him.

John had gone straight to his own truck and left without a word, leaving me alone with Dean. I stared at him in shock for a moment, seeing the same expression mirrored on his face, before retreating into the house to try and get some answers.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked from his spot on the couch, nature show he had been watching put on mute. I turned to him with a small smile. 

“I don’t know Sammy. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

As I headed toward my dad’s bedroom, I heard Dean come in the door. His and Sam’s worried conversation drifted towards me as I walked up the stairs. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked again. 

“Ben said they’re leaving,” was Dean’s frantic reply. 

I knew he wanted to follow me and demand answers from my father. I knew because, if the situation were reversed, that’s how I would feel.

“What do you mean we’re leaving?” I demanded with more bravado than I felt as I pushed open my father’s bedroom door. He had his duffel on the bed, throwing his belongings inside. 

Not bothering to look up from what he was doing, he replied, “I’m not telling you again Jenna. Go pack your things.”

“But why?!” I sobbed, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. 

“Because I told you to!” He yelled, spinning to look at me, face red and chest heaving. He took a calming breath before continuing. “Because we need to get out of here. I’ll explain everything later, but right now I really need you to just listen to me.” Seeing the desperation in his eyes, I bowed my head in defeat. 

“I’m never going to see them again, am I?” I whispered. His silence and tense shoulders were all the confirmation I needed as I turned away and trudged toward my own room. I knew he would never actually explain what had happened, and I’d be left wondering what could possibly have been bad enough for Dad to take me away from here. Away from them. 

Dean was sitting on the bed when I got there, arms braced on his legs, knee bouncing. He quickly stood up when he noticed me in the doorway. “Are you ok?” he quietly asked, noticing the tears building up in my eyes.

At his concern, at the worry and fear on his devastatingly handsome face, at the sight of everything I had to lose – my best friend, the man I would entrust my life with, the man whose name was tattooed on my hip – the dam I’d built to contain my emotions burst. I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his chest as I started to cry, full, body-wracking sobs that ripped out of my chest and left me struggling to breathe. Dean just wrapped his arms around me, hugging me back just as tightly, and murmured calming words into my hair. “Shh. It’s ok sweetheart. Everything’s going to be ok. I’ve got you.”

After a few minutes I felt a smaller body press against my side. I turned my face to look at Sam, grateful for his presence, but all the more saddened by it. He had just started growing like crazy, and though he was still a little bit shorter than me, I knew that wouldn’t be the case for long. Now I wouldn’t get to watch him grow and mature, wouldn’t see the man he was turning into. I wouldn’t be around for his 16th birthday, wouldn’t be able to offer support or advice on his soulmate, if he even wanted it. I wouldn’t see him start to drive and I wouldn’t see him graduate, no doubt at the top of his class despite all the moving around. He gave me a small, sad smile but remained quiet, knowing I’d talk when I was ready.

At some point, Dad came to check on me. I was only aware of his presence because of the quiet snick of the door as he closed it. At the noise, I reluctantly pulled away from the boys, knowing Dad was giving us some privacy, but that he still expected me to do as I was told. In a daze, I grabbed my duffel bag from the closet and started packing.

“Jenna,” Sam started. He trailed off, trying to figure out what to say. “How long until we see you again?” He finally settled on. His eyes widened at the choked sob that escaped my lips. “We will see you again, won’t we?” The look of concern on his face nearly had me breaking down again.

It wasn’t the first time the three of us would be apart. Our fathers did occasionally work separate cases, preferred to even. They only worked together at all so that we could be together. The first time they hunted together had been an accident. Strangers at the time, they had butted heads repeatedly until they realized they were both hunters going after the local monster.

The next case they worked together was set up by Bobby Singer. John had been working a job too big to handle on his own and called Bobby to see if he knew of any other hunters in the area. My dad was the closest. It was during that case that they realized how well the three of us got along. Knowing we had little to be excited about in our crazy lives and wanting to give their kids any bit of happiness they could, the two antisocial men agreed to work through their differences for the sake of their children and hunt together whenever possible.

“I don’t know, Sam. Dad says no, but you know how they get sometimes. I’m sure this will all blow over and you’ll want to be rid of me soon enough.” I gave him a weak smile, unable to find the energy for anything more.

“Yeah,” he agreed halfheartedly before falling into silence. 

After throwing the last of my belongings into the bag, I was zipping it up when I felt Sam’s arms around me again.

“I would never want to be rid of you Jenna,” he informed me quietly as I returned his hug. “You’re my best friend.” This declaration had tears silently streaming down my face again. “We’ll see each other again. I know we will. But until then,” he said as he looked into my eyes with a sad smile, “I know we need you way more than you need us, so don’t forget about us while you’re off making new friends.” 

I let out a quiet laugh to let him know I appreciated his effort at lightening the mood. 

“I could never forget you. You know that.” I told him, unable to say more without completely losing the ability to walk out of the room. Unable to contradict Sam’s statement about them needing me more than I needed them. He couldn’t be more wrong. They had each other. I had no one without them.  And Dean… I needed him so much it scared me. I didn’t see how anyone could feel this strongly about another person without being driven crazy by the intensity of the emotions. 

Most of the time I was positive he didn’t feel the same, that he only saw me as a friend or maybe the little sister he never had.  But there were times, times like this moment as we walked to each other and shared one last bone crushing hug, my face buried in his chest, his buried in my hair, that I wondered if maybe he could feel the same. Taking a deep breath, noting and appreciating the smell that was so wholly Dean, I wiped the tears from my eyes before turning and leaving the room without looking back. Leaving my heart behind. 

Ages 18 and 19 July 16, 1998

“Hey,” I whispered into the phone. I didn’t know why I was whispering. Dad was gone, and he wouldn’t care if he knew what I was doing anyway.

“Hi,” he whispered back. “Just give me a sec, I’m gonna go outside.”

“Dean, where are you going?” I heard Sam ask before the conversation got muffled, and I could only pick out a few words. I played with the bracelet they’d given me while I waited. Spinning it around my wrist was a habit I’d gotten into in the last few weeks, something I did in the moments I was especially missing them.

“Out… phone call…” was his reply. Then Sam’s frustrated response, “The doctor…  not supposed to… Dean!” I couldn’t hear anything else they said, but I did hear a door opening and closing, signaling the end of the conversation with Sam.

“Is everything ok?” I could picture the way his forehead would be slightly wrinkled with concern.

“Yeah. I’m ok," I lied. How could I be ok when I felt like I’d lost my other half? “I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you guys.” 

We’d only talked once since we were separated. It was a week later. The boys had called to check in, which I appreciated more than I could express. It was a short conversation though, and we hadn’t talked since.

“We miss you too.” 

It was quiet for a while after that. I didn’t know what to say, not having much worth repeating. I would have been content to sit there all night, just listening to him breathe, having the confirmation that he was alive and doing well. I worried about him constantly when he finished school and started hunting as often as he could. It was even worse now, when I couldn’t see him coming home safe every night.

“So what’s going on? Fight anything interesting recently?” he asked.

“Not unless an invisible squirrel counts as interesting," I muttered.

“Explain,” he said, sounding amused.

“Well obviously there wasn’t actually an invisible squirrel running around. Apparently I was sleepwalking again. Had a dream that a squirrel stole the research I was working on. Dad told me he heard a noise and came out to the living room to see me kicking my pillow around, trying to catch it.” When I told my most recent friend that story, I got a small laugh for my efforts. Dean wasn’t amused enough for even that, apparently.

“You only sleepwalk when you’re stressed,” he sighed. “What’s going on, Jenna? I thought you said you were ok.”

“I am ok. I’m just…” I hated that he could see through me so easily. I just wanted to talk to him. Now I was holding back tears and desperately trying to think of what to say to make him stop worrying. “Well it’s like I said. I miss you guys.” Not a lie. Not the whole truth either, but I couldn’t tell him that I hadn’t just lost my two best friends, I’d lost my soulmate. 

I wasn’t sure, at first, if the Dean whose name showed up on my hip on my 16th birthday was the same one I’d grown up with. The one who watched movies with me on dateless Friday nights. The one who made my favorite soup whenever I was sick and helped patch up countless injuries. The one who acted as my personal chauffeur and bodyguard. The one who was my first and only crush. The one I fell in love with. I wasn’t sure, at first, but I knew now.

It couldn’t be possible to love someone this much if they weren’t your soulmate. Surely this sort of strong, desperate, all-consuming love could be reserved only for those with the deepest of connections. Besides, I’d never heard of someone being sure that they’d found their soulmate only to realize they were wrong. Soulmates were something so deeply woven into your mind, your heart, your DNA, that it was something you just instinctively knew to be true. It was impossible to be wrong about something that was such an integral part of yourself.

I also knew I could never tell him. Soulmates don’t always go both ways. It’s rare, but sometimes a person meets their soulmate, only to find out that that person has a different soulmate. I didn’t really know if that’s what was happening, but it was easier to assume he belonged with someone else than to face the reality that he had known who his soulmate was for three years and hadn’t bothered to say anything.

I know him, know how he thinks. Although he never said it outright, he’d hinted around it enough that I knew he had always worried about bringing his soulmate into this life. He worried about what might happen to her because of it, whether she was killed by some monster or left devastated by his own death. I also knew that the fact that I was brought up the same way as him wouldn’t change his way of thinking. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t turning my world upside down with the revelation of monsters. It didn’t matter that I could defend myself better than any civilian girl he could have been with. 

What mattered to him was protecting us the one way he could. By never acknowledging this thing between us, he thought he was preventing what he saw as the inevitable heartbreak. He didn’t realize he was causing it. He didn’t realize that every day without him made it a little harder to breathe, that whether we acknowledged it or not, the fact that we were soulmates didn’t change and we would still feel the same agony when one of us died. The only thing he was preventing was the happiness we could have together, the absolute joy of being with the one we loved more than anyone else in the world. It would hurt to lose him, but it would hurt more to never have had him. 

I was really no better than Dean, because, despite knowing all this, I would never be able to bring myself to do anything about it. I told myself I’d never change his mind, that I’d just feel rejected if I tried and failed. The truth was, it was easier to just go on pretending, no matter how much it hurt.

“So how are you guys doing? Are you staying safe? Sam finding any new friends?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“We’re doing fine. Sammy’s as nerdy as ever. Spends every minute he can at the library. And I think he’s found himself a little girlfriend. He’s actually started doing his hair, and he seems a little happier. Turned red as a tomato when I asked him if there were any cute girls catching his eye,” he chuckled. I laughed with him, wishing I could be there to see it all happening.

“That’s good. He’s making friends. Moving on,” I said, remembering the look of defeat on his face when I left and feeling so guilty at being the cause of it.

“Jenna-”

“Not that he needs to move on, that was a bad choice of words.”

“Jenna.”

“I just meant that I consider him to be one of my best friends and I hate that he was hurting. I’m glad he’s doing better. Not that he shouldn’t be doing better, I mean, it’s been almost two months, it’s not like it’s that big of a deal-”

“Jenna, would you shut up a second?” He said, exasperated. “Of course he misses you. He talks about you all the time, wonders if we’ll get to see you soon. In fact, if he knew I was talking to you right now, he’d probably steal the phone and keep you all to himself.”

“I wouldn’t mind talking to him,” I said, grateful Dean had cut off my rambling. I could be a nervous talker sometimes. “And I really am happy for him.”

“I know you are. And I know you’d like to talk to him.” He was quiet for a minute, probably trying to decide what to say. “The thing is, I’ve really missed you. And if you want to talk to Sam, I can put him on the phone, but I was hoping I could have you to myself tonight and you could talk to him next time.”

I blushed at his words and smiled at the rare show of vulnerability.

“I guess I can hold off a little longer.” I smiled again at the breath of relief I heard.

“Good.”

“So how are you doing? You never said.”

“I’m fine. Not much to tell.”

“Well I suppose that’s a good thing. You’re staying safe, then?” The moment of hesitation on his end told me everything I needed to know. “So you’re not fine. What did you do Dean? Tell me it was something you couldn’t have prevented and that you weren’t just being reckless and stupid.”

“You know I don’t go on these hunts trying to get myself killed, right?” he snapped.

“You sure about that? You’ve been hunting full time for, what, a year now? And how many times have you been hurt since then? And you forget, I’ve been out with you before. I know how you get. So excited about killing the monster, you lose all sense of self preservation. You have to be more careful, Dean! What if one day it’s not just a concussion or a cut that can be fixed with a few stitches? What if something happens to you that you can’t recover from? How is Sam going to handle that? What’s he supposed to do if his big brother is gone? What am I supposed to do-” I cut myself off, trying to choke back the tears. I took a deep breath, and then another, and another.

“You know, I really have been trying to be more careful since your last lecture,” he hesitantly joked. “This was honestly just an accident.”

“So what did you do this time?” I sighed. “How bad is it?” 

“I broke my ankle. Was running after a ghoul through some tall grass, didn’t see the rock. Next thing I knew I was facedown in the dirt. Dad’s pretty frustrated, of course, but it’s not so bad. I get to sit and watch TV all day and the motel we’re at has magic fingers. Plus,” he chuckled, “I’m not supposed to be walking around. Doctor’s orders. So I get to have Sam do everything for me. That’s been pretty fun.”

I laughed a little too, imagining Sam’s insistence on doing everything so Dean could rest while also resenting being bossed around. Then I remembered the muted conversation I’d heard at the beginning of our call.

“But you went outside to take my call. Please tell me you’re at least sitting down somewhere.” I pleaded.

“I am. Don’t worry about it. I do have crutches, you know. It’s not like I can’t ever leave the bed, it’s just not easy to do much of anything with them. Trust me, I’m ready to be able to go out and do something again. I’m not going to risk making things worse. Even for you,” he teased.

“I guess it hasn’t been as great as you were saying then. Can’t say I’m surprised. You never were one to enjoy sitting around for very long. How long until you can walk again?”

“The doctor says it’s healing well. Hopefully in a couple of weeks.” After another long pause full of comfortable silence, he continued. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten an answer out of your dad? About what they fought about?”

“Yeah right. When does my dad ever tell me anything?” I snorted. “I just wish…" I hesitated, debating if I really wanted to speak my thoughts out loud.

"You wish…" Dean encouraged. I sighed.

"It's pointless, I know. But I wish they'd get over themselves. Make up and move on. I know it hasn't been very long, but I just miss you guys so much."

"We've been apart this long before," Dean said without much strength behind the words. Maybe being apart was killing him as much as it was me.

"Yeah, but not with the understanding that it would be forever. Before it was hard, but I knew we'd see each other again. That's what got me through it. This is different."

"It's not forever Jenna," Dean insisted. "Even if they never talk to each other again, we're both adults now. I've got my own car. We can see each other whenever we want."

I loved the confidence and sincerity in his voice. But I knew better. 

"I know you mean that now, Dean. But you're not going to leave your family. Your dad needs your help on hunts more than he thinks he does, and you'd never leave Sam behind. Plus, my dad needs me too."

"Who said anything about leaving our families? I'm not talking about running away together, I just meant we can visit," he said and I felt blood rush to my cheeks. "I can come see you sometime when Dad's on a hunt he doesn't need my help with. Or if you get your own car, you can come see me."

"Well yeah, of course. I didn't mean we'd run away together obviously," I said quickly, flushing again. "I just thought you meant we'd go on a hunt together every now and then or something. But that actually sounds better. No stress or fighting, just relaxing with my best friend."

"Exactly. So we'll find a time for it. I don't know when, but we will. I promise. Maybe as soon as I get the all clear to be on my feet again. Just because our dads are being stubborn idiots doesn't mean we have to suffer for it."

"Yeah," I sighed, relieved to hear that our separation was hard for him too, but also sad to hear he was apparently suffering. "And maybe you can bring Sam too." I suggested. I'd love to have alone time with Dean, but the loss of Sam's company left me aching too. And since it's not like his presence would change the nature of my time with Dean anyway, I didn't see any reason to exclude him.

"Of course I'll bring Sam," he said. “If I remember correctly, someone had a birthday a couple weeks ago and we still need to celebrate.” And then with a laugh, "Just thinking about the hell he'd raise if he were left behind from that particular trip is enough to keep me from even considering it."

I laughed too. Dean sighed.

"It's good to hear you laugh. I've missed that." He cleared his throat, probably feeling a little awkward like he always did after making a statement about his feelings. "Anyway, I've got to go. I have some research I need to finish tonight. Let's not wait so long before we talk again though, yeah?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Maybe we can plan on talking every first Saturday or something? That way we never go more than a month again." 

"Sounds like a plan. I'll talk to you in a few weeks then. Maybe sooner. I assume there's no rule about not calling outside of those dates?" He asked.

"Absolutely unacceptable," I said, catching on to his teasing tone. "Only the first Saturday. I don't think I could take much more than that." I smiled at the small laugh he let out. 

"Alright. I'll talk to you then." He agreed. "Bye Jenna."

"Bye Dean."

I hung up the phone and took a deep breath. The happiness I'd felt when talking to him was quickly fading with the knowledge that it could very well be another month before I could even hear his voice again. 

Especially when I wanted so much more. To actually see him, his face more familiar and precious to me than any other. To sit and talk with him, knowing there's nothing I can't say to him. To watch our favorite movies and joke with each other. To be able to touch him again. Just casual touches, a hug when one of us needs the comfort, an annoying – but still welcome; any physical contact with Dean was welcome – tousling of the hair in a passing affectionate gesture, a playful punch on the shoulder when Dean says something ridiculous, hands brushing as we both reach for a handful of popcorn at the same time on movie nights. These were the moments I lived for and I found myself losing the fight to hold back tears at the profound sense of loss I felt without him.

Just then Dad came in the door and I jumped a little, quickly wiping away the tears and getting up from the corner of the couch I'd been curled in for the better part of an hour. 

"Hey, Dad. How was your night?" I asked. He grunted in response. Not good then. He'd been out hustling pool. He must not have done well tonight. I knew he'd made money. In my entire life I'd never known him to walk away empty handed. He must not have made as much as he was hoping for though.

"That's alright. We're still doing ok from the last bar you were at. Anyway, there's spaghetti on the stove you can reheat if you're hungry. I'm going to shower and go to bed. Goodnight!"

I heard his murmured goodnight as I quickly made my way to the bathroom. I managed to keep myself together until I climbed into bed. I cried myself to sleep that night. I slept fitfully, my dreams full of green eyes and a happy go lucky smile that I couldn't reach no matter how long I ran towards them. 

Ages 18 and 19 September 3, 1998

“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” I asked the guy behind the counter as I lightly placed my hand on his forearm. I looked down for a second, feigning shyness, before looking up at him from under my lashes. “I’d really appreciate it,” I said in a quiet, suggestive voice.

The guy, a man probably in his late twenties, was manning the front desk of the medical examiner’s office. I was pretending to be a newbie reporter, hoping for a story that would be my big break. 

I watched as he looked me over, slowly, before letting out a long breath. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. I bristled a little at the pet name that I usually heard coming out of Dean’s mouth. “But I can’t let you back there. I could lose my job, and I really can’t afford that.”

Rejection. That’s fine. That’s what I was hoping for. I was just the distraction while Dad snuck in the back to get a look at the body.

“Well, if you change your mind,” I said as I let my fingers trail over his arm, “you know how to find me.” I nodded to the business card I’d handed him upon introduction, and then, with a small flirty smile, left the room.

I let my smile drop immediately once my back was to him, but managed to contain the shudder that tried to escape. I absolutely hated when I had to flirt with guys for a case. It felt like I was being unfaithful to Dean. Which was ridiculous of course. Not only was the flirting entirely staged, something Dean would understand albeit be irritated by nonetheless, but we weren’t together. Even if I were genuinely flirting, you can’t cheat on someone you’re not dating. Besides, Dean flirted all the time.

I reached the truck and hopped in the passenger seat, waiting for Dad to finish. This better have been worth the effort. I sighed as my thoughts drifted to Dean, as they often did.  I wondered, not for the first time, where he might be. I wondered what hunt they might be on right now. What ways were he and Sam finding to irritate each other these days? Was Sam happy to be back in school? 

Were the boys getting any home cooked food whatsoever without me there, or were they surviving off of take out and microwavable dinners? How hard was John pushing Dean? How much responsibility was Dean unnecessarily putting on himself? These are the kinds of questions that ran round and round in my head. I was startled when Dad opened his door and got in. 

“You look like a real observant lookout,” he teased. I could hear the curiosity that his teasing was meant to mask.

“Did you find anything useful?” I asked, ignoring the remark.

“Yeah. Heart was missing, like we expected. So at least we know what we’re after.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, looking out the window. “At least there’s that.” 

I remember the last time we came across a werewolf. It was three years ago and Dean’s first kill. He’d been so excited, so proud. My dad had been furious. 

He’d left me with John for a few days while he went to handle a simple case a few hours away. He’d knocked John out cold when he got back and I told him what happened. I think the only reason he didn’t leave John behind after that was that he worried about Sam and Dean’s safety if he wasn’t there to be the voice of reason.

John had left all three of us in the car in the middle of a deserted road to chase after the thing. Little did he know, there was a second one. And it had been watching. 

Once John took off after it’s friend, it stalked out of the woods, coming directly for us. To kill us, to bite us, to use us as bait, I’d never know. Dean had responded to my panicked whisper of his name, turning from watching the direction his dad had run in to find a heavily scarred werewolf quickly approaching.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he fumbled with the door handle before grabbing the crossbow that was laying on the front seat. He fired so quickly that I didn’t think he’d even had time to aim. But the monster went down. And stayed down. John had started taking him out on hunts after that, promoting him from researcher to certified monster killer.

~~~~~

“How ya doing, kiddo?” Dad asked as he set a plate with a burger and fries on top of it in front of me.

I was scanning through security footage of the streets the victim would have taken on the night he was attacked.

“Nothing yet,” I answered.

“I can see that. That’s not what I meant,” he told me, giving me a meaningful look when I glanced at him.

“What do you mean?” I asked warily.

He sighed and sat in the chair across from me, setting his own plate of food down.

“You know I usually try to leave you alone, but you’re really worrying me. I feel like I’m living with a ghost,” he told me. “Your head seems to always be somewhere else these days. You never do any of the things you used to do for fun. I know you’re not sleeping well. I’ve heard you crying in the night more than once and I can’t even remember the last time I saw you smile,” he listed. I didn’t realize how closely he’d been paying attention.

“I’m fine,” I told him, taking a bite of my burger before turning back to the security videos. 

“Jenna,” he said gently, closing the laptop. “You’re not fine. You’ve barely been holding it together for a few months now,” he said softly. “You miss Sam and Dean. I get it, but-”

“No, you don’t get it!” I fumed. “That’s the problem! You don’t understand!” 

He couldn’t understand. He didn’t know what it was like to have a soulmate. He and my mom had been one of those couples who fell in love and got married despite knowing they weren’t soulmates. They just didn’t see a point in waiting around for someone else when they were happy together. They didn’t see how a soulmate could possibly be more to them than they were to each other. It wasn’t common, but this did happen, usually with more practical-minded people.

“Then explain it to me,” he said patiently, leaning back in his seat.

I wouldn’t tell him. Not about Dean and what he was to me. It was my most closely guarded secret. There wasn’t a person alive who knew about it, except for Alyssa. But maybe I could make him understand even a fraction of the pain I was going through.

“You didn’t become a hunter until Mom died. You had a normal life until then. You had consistency, family, friends, a home. People and places you saw everyday. You had safety,” I started, explaining as clearly as I could.

“I never had that. I’ve been on the road with you since I was barely five years old. I was too young to have any meaningful memories of Mom or the house we lived in. I’ve never been anywhere long enough to make any lasting friends. I haven’t felt safe since the day Mom died,” I continued, standing up and starting to pace in front of the window.

“I was scared all the time. Knowing you were out there fighting monsters terrified me. I was scared the monsters would come for me while you were gone. I was scared you wouldn’t come home and I’d be left all alone.” I looked at him, saw his frown and wrinkled brow, saw the pain sparking in his eyes, and quickly moved on to the point I was trying to make.

“But then we met the Winchesters. And it’s like my life changed again. Sam and Dean are my best friends. Obviously you know that much,” I said with a smile, hoping to show him I wasn’t upset with him. He nodded for me to continue. “But they’re so much more than that.

“They were the only familiar faces I had, aside from yours. The only people I knew would always be around and that I could trust with anything. 

“Sam is the friend I can talk to about books and watch dumb sci-fi shows with. He’s the friend who is always there to support me when I need it. He’s the guy who hates being involved in this life, but still would never hesitate to help someone who needed it. He’s someone I felt I needed to look out for and it was nice to feel like someone needed me.” I stopped, trying to control the tears that fought to escape at the reminder of what I’d lost.

“And Dean?” Dad prompted when I’d been quiet for a long time. The first words he’d spoken in a while, I realized. I felt my lip quiver as I took a deep breath.

“Dean… he made me feel safe for the first time in a long time. I saw how he protected Sam and I hadn’t known him very long before I knew he was looking out for me the same way. He’s the guy I can talk to about anything. He’s the guy who took care of me when I was sick, the one who always knows what to say to make me feel better. The one I know is always watching my back.” I felt a tear escape and wiped it away angrily. 

“So yes, they’re my friends. But they’re so much more than that. They’re my family. They’re my safety. They’re my home. Try to remember how you felt the day you lost all those things. Try to remember how you felt the day you lost Mom, and then maybe you’ll understand how I feel.”

We were quiet for a long time after that. I eventually moved to sit back down at the table and picked at my food, not really hungry anymore. Finally, Dad stood up and came to stand beside me, placing his hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry Jenna. I didn’t realize they were quite that important to you. But… you don’t have to suffer like this.”

“I can’t just turn off my feelings Dad,” I said bitterly.

“Of course not. But you’re eighteen now. You don’t need me anymore. Maybe you haven’t needed me for a while. If you’re so unhappy here without them, maybe you should go back to them,” he said sadly.

“What? Dad, I can’t just leave you. You’re important to me too.”

“And I can’t ask you to stay. I don’t want to be the reason you’re so miserable. You’re the single most important thing in my life, and if leaving is what’s best for you then I’m not going to stop you,” he said firmly. 

I looked up at him, made sure he saw how serious I was about this. 

“I’m not leaving you. You’re important to me too. And you need me. I’ll see them again. Dean promised we’d make time to meet up and hang out when we could. It’s just going to take a while for me to adjust to not having them around. I’m sorry you’ve been so worried.”

With that, I stood up, gave him a hug, and headed off to get ready for bed. It was late and this conversation had drained me. As I showered and brushed my teeth, I replayed the conversation I’d had with my dad. I didn’t realize the depression I was feeling was so noticeable. I’d work harder to hide it so he didn’t have to worry anymore. I crawled into bed, determined that tomorrow would be a better day. A good night’s sleep was a must. We had a werewolf to find.

Chapter 6

[iamdeansbrokenheart]

They’re just outside of Cleavland, Ohio, when Sam takes it upon himself to get Dean talking about whatever's clearly bothering him. Although his brother’s sudden moodiness is by no means unfamiliar, Dean’s been acting uncharacteristically quiet since they ganked the lake monster, saved the hot girl and rescued her kid. The whole job had felt like a win for everyone, making Dean’s sudden shift in behavior that much more worrisome to understand.

While Sam had learned early enough on in their childhood to just leave his brother be during these depressive bouts of silent suffering- Left to his own devices, Dean would undoubtedly drink himself back to normal eventually after having successfully pushed down all the uncomfortable feelings he couldn't otherwise process. Unfortunately for Sam, he’s unable to ignore things right now. Jess was dead, dad was gone and Dean was all he had at the moment. So, even though every bone in his body knew better, Sam found himself unable to afford Dean any more patient brotherly avoidance for the time being.

“Hey, so uh, I read this thing in dad’s journal about how you went completely mute after mom’s death-” Sam said, looking over at his brother.

“I guess it really stood out to me because it seemed like dad was actually getting pretty worried about your lack of coping skills or whatever.”

Dean flinched under his brother's gaze, he’d hoped his little brother hadn't noticed how shitty his mood had been lately. He’d put so much energy that he didn't even have into keeping himself together. Praying that maybe just one more day of him and Sammy out on the open road, cranking up the tunes as the scenery flew by- Only a couple more hours before he’d snap out and the gaping hole inside his chest would just patch itself shut independently.

“And?” Dean asked, instinctively hiding under a thin layer of anger.

“I dunno, Dean, but I had to take a psychology class my freshman year, as a graduation requirement, and traumatic mutism is kind of a big deal. Plus, you still go quiet and shut yourself down when you’re freaking out- Like when we were kids and dad went off grid too long on a hunt without checking in.”

Dean sighed, he’d almost forgotten how intuitive Sam was about all his emotional crap. 

“Just ask your questions already Sammy, you know I hate being head shrunk and besides, psych 101 or not- you’re kinda doing a terrible job right now!”

An awkward silence followed the brothers until they’d pulled off the highway and parked. Still gripping the wheel, every muscle in Dean’s upper back flexed uncomfortably as he looked straight ahead, waiting for his brother to speak.

“Hey, do you, uh, want a beer or something?” Sam asked, drumming his fingers along the top of the green cooler he’d just hefted into his lap.

Although leaving the car was like shedding a protective skin, Dean obliged his younger brother. Leaning back against the impala, Dean struggled to push down his mounting vulnerabilities.

He’d always managed to fake his way through the hard things in life, he was a pro at shielding himself from pretty much everyone. Well, everyone except of course Sam.

“Listen Dean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to- It’s just, I know something’s been bothering you since we left Lake Manitoc and I just wanted you to know I’m here for you, okay?” 

Looking up from his beer, Dean was almost tempted to tell Sam everything. Tell him about how lost he felt without the physical presence of their dad or how overwhelmed he was getting from the almost constant nightmares he’d been having about mom’s death. While discussing his most traumatic childhood losses with Lucas had not been an intentional choice, it had proven to be the right thing to comfort the kid in that moment- But once his brain had gotten hold of those intrusive memories again, mom on the ceiling and- It was all just too much to deal with and not even a lifetime built around trying to forget was helping to save him now from the massive burden of his own grief.

“Uh, thanks Sammy. That’s good to know.”

Finishing his beer, Dean contemplated chasing it down with something stronger. He needed to hurry up and get over himself and his chick flick bullshit already. Because they had work to do and dad surely wasn't going to go on without them and rescue himself.