#fbi agent who faked his death can’t even come up with a good excuse

[haylessa]

she said ENOUGH

[specialagentsergio]

rationalizations

rationalizations: a defense mechanism in which one makes up a false but reassuring explanation to explain their behavior and/or feelings to both themselves and others, thus avoiding the reality of why they are really acting or feeling as they do.

summary: You’re the psych evaluation for Spencer. You think he’s full of shit, so you refuse to sign his clearance form until he actually tells the truth.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

category: angst (happy ending)

content warnings: spencer’s canonical trauma, flashbacks, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation, swearing

a/n: i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins‘ enemies to lovers event. it’s not my favorite trope, but one of the prompts sparked inspiration for me. i also took a good amount of inspiration from meredith’s various therapy scenes in grey’s anatomy, so if some of it feels familiar, that’s why! i swear i intended to make this cute and funny, but, well… here we are lmao.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

Spencer throws his bag onto his desk with a frustrated huff. It thumps loudly, startling JJ at her desk across from his. She gives him a sympathetic look regardless. “Still not cleared yet?”

“No!” Forgetting that it’s wheeled, he drops himself into his chair. It skids backwards and he has to scramble to grab something to keep from falling out of it.

“Careful there,” JJ says, trying valiantly to suppress a laugh. “That psychologist's got you really worked up, huh?”

“I don’t know what she wants from me!” he complains. “It’s been nearly a month! Hotch’s ex-wife was murdered by an unsub, but they cleared him. I was only shot in the neck.”

“I mean, that’s still kind of a big deal,” she says. “You could’ve died, from the gunshot, or from the nurse that tried to kill you afterwards.”

“Speaking of that nurse,” he starts, “Garcia is the one who shot him and she’s been a wreck over it. She insisted on going to the guy’s execution. But the therapist cleared her!”

“Penelope’s not in the field,” JJ points out.

He crosses his arms. “Still. This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot. That possibility is part of the job. It’s not like it came out of nowhere and I was completely unprepared for it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spence,” she says. “Just keep all of your appointments and I’m sure you’ll be cleared soon.”

He pulls a stack of papers on his desk towards him. Paperwork—one of the things he’s actually allowed to do. “I better be,” he mutters.

---

“And it was really scary, you know?” Spencer wipes at his eyes with a tissue. “Not knowing if I was going to live or die.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He takes a deep breath. “But… it’s over now. The preacher who shot me died in the same shootout. Owen McGregor, the leader of the corrupt deputies, died later that night, in another shootout. And Greg Baylor, the one who posed as a nurse and tried to kill me, was sentenced to death row and he’s gone now, too.”

His psychologist makes a note on the paper in front of her, but doesn’t say anything, so he continues.

“I… I feel better now, just letting that out.” He takes a new tissue and dries his nose. “I feel ready now. Ready to go back to work.”

She nods slowly, considering him. But she doesn’t even look towards her desk where the clearance form sits, frustrating him to no end. After five minutes of silence, he breaks.

“You can’t be serious.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve been coming to these sessions for over a month, and I’m still not cleared to be in the field. I…” He musters up more tears and makes sure his voice wavers during his next words. “I just don’t know what you want? I’ve tried everything.”

“No, you haven’t,” she says plainly.

He blinks in surprise, sending some of the crocodile tears down his cheeks. “What?”

She crosses her legs. “You’re full of shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not being honest with me, and I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself either,” she says. “You’re a great actor. I can see how you’ve gotten clearances easily before. But that stops with me.”

Spencer stares at her. “I don’t understand.”

She moves her notebook to the side. “What happened in Texas isn’t the first time your life’s been in danger. Why do you think that is?”

“Wh—that’s part of my job,” he argues, fake crying long since forgotten.

“Not to the extent that you take it. I’ve read your file,” she says. “You take unnecessary risks with regularity.”

The tissues crumple in his hand as he clenches it. “I do not.”

“Let’s go back to the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“Of your career.” Yet she doesn’t take out his file, or look at her notes. She speaks from memory. “2005. The BAU is assisting with a hostage situation. You go into the train, posing as someone who is there to remove a microchip from the unsub, but the first thing you do? You take off your bulletproof vest.”

“Okay, clearly you don’t understand what the situation was,” Spencer cuts in. “Ted Bryar was suffering from a psychotic break. He was somewhat unpredictable, and he told me to take off the vest.”

“And you just listened?”

“He—he had a gun, and was threatening both me and the other passengers with it!” he says. “What was I supposed to do, not listen?”

“Uh, yeah,” she replies. “You easily played into his delusions just a few minutes later to distract him. Why not do that to keep yourself safe?”

“I was twenty-four and was running on adrenaline,” he says defensively. “And it was my first time doing something like that. You can’t expect me to think of everything.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” she agrees. “So let’s jump forward a few years. How about the time you approached a teenager who was wielding an assault rifle with no protection, not even your own firearm?” she challenges.

“You mean Owen Savage? That was a unique situation,” he protests. “I knew I could talk him down.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought you had a good chance, but there’s no way to be one hundred percent sure of that. He was volatile, and on a killing spree,” she counters. “You didn’t know if you’d succeed--”

“I did!” He startles himself by unconsciously raising his voice, but he doesn’t apologize. “I did, because….”

“Because you related to him,” she fills in. “And that’s fine. Having empathy for an unsub doesn’t suggest something’s wrong in and of itself. But you still put yourself, and the rest of your team, in danger, didn’t you?”

He crosses his arms. “I got that lecture from Hotch when it happened, okay?”

“So then why’d you confront an unsub alone a few years later in Miami?” she asks. “You didn’t even tell anyone where you were going. You left your vest behind and just ran off.”

“I was having a head—wait, how do you even know that happened?” he questions. “It wasn’t in the report.”

“Well, first of all, you just confirmed it,” she points out, and he wants to kick himself. “Secondly, I can read between the lines.”

“I was having a headache,” he repeats. “I wasn’t thinking all that clearly. I just knew Julio’s life was in immediate danger, so I went to help him.”

“Uh-huh. More recently,” she says, brushing past his excuse, “You confronted your girlfriend’s stalker without your vest or gun.”

Spencer’s getting angry now. “I was trying to save Maeve. She asked me to leave them behind.”

“And you simply listened. Do you see the pattern I’m drawing here, Dr. Reid?” she asks. “These are just a few of the instances that stand out. Time and time again, you put yourself in unnecessary danger. So I’ll ask you again. Why do you think that is?”

Spencer looks over her—really looks over her, trying to understand what she’s getting at. “Are… are you suggesting that I’m suicidal?” he asks quietly.

She looks him straight in the eye. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

It’s like she set off a bomb in his brain. Memories, and the feelings attached to them, emerge—Elle handcuffed to a seat, a teenager with a rifle, a blinding headache, Maeve and blood on the warehouse floor.

“Here’s what I see,” she says. “I see a man who’s been through so, so much. Your mother is mentally ill, your father left--”

His father is packing a suitcase. Spencer doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say, so he falls back on what he knows.

“Statistically, children who grow up in two-parent households attain three more years of higher education than children from single-parent households.”

It doesn’t help. “We’re not statistics, Spencer.”

“Your file says she’s staying at an institution, and with your father out of the picture, I can only assume you were the one who had her admitted--”

“Spencer, please don’t do this to me!” she cries as she’s escorted out of the house by Bennington Sanitarium’s transport staff.

“A few years into your work here at the FBI, you were kidnapped, tortured and drugged--”

He’s tired and cold and his whole body aches. Tobias—the real Tobias—looms over him with a syringe.

“Please. I don’t want it,” he pleads of his captor. “I don’t want it, please.”

The needle punctures his skin regardless.

“—you were held hostage by a cult leader--”

Emily sits across from him on the plane with a black eye. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault.”

He pretends to agree.

“—you went through the death and reappearance of Agent Prentiss--”

He’s tried to make it clear to Jennifer that he wants to be left alone, but she won’t stop trying to talk about it with him, and he’s had enough.

“I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“—and your girlfriend was shot in front of you.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton? Who is he?” Diane demands, gun pressed against Maeve’s head.

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve replies, and Spencer’s heart drops. Thomas Merton is Maeve’s way of saying goodbye—she’s giving up.

“Wait!” he cries out, but it’s too late.

“This is just some of the more traumatic stuff. And then there’s what happened last month, which is why you’re here. You present a face of not being bothered by all of this, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life, but I think you are bothered. You really, really are. And you don’t want to admit to anyone just how much it all has affected you. Maybe you don’t even want yourself to know.” Her expression and tone of voice are certain.

Spencer can’t take it anymore. The whirlwind of emotions and memories is overwhelming.

“The number of times you’ve almost died is staggering--”

“Yeah, and sometimes I wish I had!” He glares at her, breathing heavily. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

But she doesn’t seem intimidated or alarmed at all. She leans back in her armchair. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The response only serves to make him angrier. She questioned him relentlessly and made him admit something he swore in the dark hours of sleepless nights that he’d never think again, never voice, let alone admit to anyone. She forced it out of him, forced. She made him say it against his will.

So why does he feel a sense of relief?

“I…” Tears well up in his eyes—real ones this time. “I’m done,” he chokes out.

He pushes himself off of the couch and out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

---

He storms in Hotch’s office and demands to see a different psychologist. But she was one step ahead of him—a few hours before the appointment, she had emailed Hotch and told him that under no circumstances should Spencer be allowed to get a clearance from someone else.

“And you’re going to believe her?” he cries.

“She’s doing her job, Reid.”

“You barely know her! You’ve known me for a decade!”

“Yes, I have,” Hotch agrees. “And you’ve told me yourself that you’ve fooled psychologists and therapists before. So if this one is saying you’re not ready yet, I’m inclined to believe her.”

Spencer just stares at him, but as usual, Hotch doesn’t blink.

“Unbelievable,” Spencer eventually mutters.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Hotch replies, glancing down at fists Spencer hadn’t realized he was clenching.

“Fine.”

Too agitated to stand in the elevator, he takes the stairs. As he stomps down them, he swears he’ll never go back to her office, even if it means never going into the field again.

A week passes, then two, and he hasn’t seen the psychologist since. But he doesn’t feel any better—he actually feels worse. It’s like her words broke a dam in his mind, in his gut, and feelings of unease and uncertainty won’t pass. It keeps him up at night. Her words echo in his head. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

Spencer’s had yet another sleepless night and is struggling not to doze off at his desk despite the coffee he’s drinking. He stands up with the intention of splashing some water from the bathroom sink on his face, but his feet take him somewhere else.

He stares at the nameplate on the door. He swore he’d never go back, yet he feels compelled to knock.

It only takes her a few moments to answer. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?” she asks.

“I…” He sighs. “Are you busy?”

“No. Come on in.” She steps to the side, opening the door wider to let him pass. He sits down on the couch.

She waits patiently. She doesn’t rush him. She lets him speak first.

He wrings his hands in his lap, staring down at them. “Something you said is bothering me.”

“What was it?”

“About… living,” he admits quietly. “I… I think you might have been right.”

When he gets the courage to glance up at her, he finds a soft smile on her face. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Spencer hadn’t realized he was expecting judgment and disdain until it didn’t happen. His shoulders slump down in relief. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think I would.”

---

“You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Spencer looks up from his paperwork, slightly out of it, to find Derek watching him. His coworker had, indeed, caught him thinking about her again. His psychologist. Well, former psychologist. After his second session back with her, she’d handed over a clearance form and a referral to a therapist outside the bureau to see long-term.

“And you better follow up with that,” she’d told him, the corner of her mouth turning up despite her serious tone of voice. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

He’d promised that he would, and had followed through. But despite the progress he was making with the new therapist, he was feeling a little disappointed that he didn’t get to see her anymore. He only saw her in passing, sometimes in the elevator or walking down the hallways of the building. They would exchange hellos, she would ask how he was doing, then give him a little wave as she left. Each time his heart would skip a beat, and he’d feel an urge to follow her to wherever she was going.

Yet he hadn’t quite realized why he seemed to be preoccupied with her until a dream he had a few weeks ago—a dream in which he found himself kissing her. Despite being alone in his bedroom, he’d woken up feeling embarrassed. He promised himself that he would put her out of his mind. Having a crush on his psychologist? It was ridiculous.

But then he saw her in the elevator a few days later and he couldn’t help but analyze her body language. It was open, and she twirled her hair around a finger while she looked at him to ask him how he was. A few other people entered the elevator on the next floor, but her attention remained on him. They were subtle signs, but signs that he recognized nonetheless—signs of attraction. And once he started seeing them, he couldn’t stop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer tells Derek, picking back up the pen he hadn’t noticed he dropped.

“You can’t pull that on me, kid,” he replies. “It’s your psychologist. You can’t stop thinking about her, can you?”

Spencer sighs. “So what if I can’t?”

“So go ask her out already!” Derek says like it’s obvious.

“You don’t think that’s just a little inappropriate?”

“You’re not seeing her as a client anymore, are you?” he points out. “Go for it, kid. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Spencer takes the advice—as soon as Derek said it, he knew he was right. He would regret not taking a chance on her and the connection he felt. Sure, she’d helped him with therapy, but it went deeper than that. It feels like she knows him.

He leaves the bullpen ten minutes early that evening, hoping to catch her before she leaves for the day. On her doorstep, he feels just as nervous as he did on the day he admitted that she was right, but it’s a different kind of nervous. An excited nervous. He knocks on the door.

She’s surprised when she seems him. He watches as her pupils dilate, and it boosts his confidence. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?”

“You can. I’d like to talk,” he says.

“Oh. Well, I guess I could do that,” she says. “I thought things were going well with the therapist I referred you to, though.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t mean I want an appointment.”

Her eyebrows come together in confusion. “Okay, then, what do you want?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I really like you, and I think we’re meant to be together,” he replies, voice softening a bit.

She pauses before answering. When she does, her voice is gentle. “Dr. Reid, sometimes a medical professional’s care can start to feel like affection over a period of time, but--”

“No one has ever listened to me like you do,” he interrupts.

“That’s my job,” she points out.

“I’ve seen therapists before, but none of them have been like you,” he counters. “You understand me.”

She sighs. “Well, I’m glad I was a good fit and was able to help you. But that doesn’t mean that I see you as anything more than a client.”

“You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do feel something more for me,” he says firmly, but then backtracks a little. “Well, I know you’re attracted to me at least.”

She blinks and shakes her head slightly, take aback. “Dr. Reid, this is not appropriate--”

“Please call me Spencer,” he says, then jumps into his explanation. “See, when we’re attracted to someone, our bodies display involuntary signals, and I’ve seen you do some of them when you’re around me. Whenever we run into each other here, your body will turn a little towards me and you’ll play with your hair. Your attention is almost entirely focused on me. And, when you see me, your pupils dilate. They did it when you opened the door just a few minutes ago. Oh, and I’m attracted to you, by the way,” he adds as he realizes how one-sided he’s been. “I imagine my pupils probably dilate when I see you, too.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, like she wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say. She looks flustered, and he wonders if maybe he’s pushed it too far or said too much, but he can’t turn back now. “So, please, let me take you out,” he says quietly. “Just… just give it a chance.”

She bites her lip and looks at the ground. There’s a crease between her eyebrows, which he’s come to learn means she’s thinking. She speaks seriously when she looks back up. “If I go out with you, I can’t treat you anymore. If you ever need another evaluation or session, you’d have to get it from someone else.”

“I know,” he says. “I get along well with the therapist you referred me to, though. And having to get clearance from a different psychologist at the bureau is something I’m willing to give up in favor of getting to know you better.”

She considers him. “You’re serious about this,” she states.

It’s not a question, but he answers it anyways. “I am.”

She tilts her head to the side, eyes unfocusing as she ponders the situation. Eventually, she says, “Let me think about it.”

It’s not exactly the answer he was hoping for, but he’ll take it.

---

It’s only six PM, but Spencer is already exhausted. He unlocks his apartment door, fully intending to collapse onto his bed, but instead receives a pleasant surprise in the form of his girlfriend waiting for him on the couch. He can’t help but smile.

“Sweetie, what are you doing here?” he asks, then adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Penelope told me it was a bit of a rough case,” she replies. “And I missed you.”

She holds out her arms and he takes the invitation, joining her on the couch and laying down between her legs, placing his head on her chest. “I missed you, too.”

Her next words are overly familiar. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hey, we agreed to no therapy,” he says. “Something about I can’t be your client anymore?”

She huffs. “This isn’t therapy. This is being a good partner.”

Spencer smiles into the fabric of her shirt, snuggling in closer. “I know, I’m just teasing you. I don’t need to talk about the case,” he says, finally answering her original question. “I feel fine now that I’m here with you.”

She lets out a pleased hum and starts running her fingers through his hair. “I ordered take-out for dinner, by the way.”

“Where from?”

“You know where.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. She must have ordered take-out from the restaurant he took her to on their first date. He lifts his head to look her in the eye. “Aren’t you glad you said yes to me all those months ago?”

“Oh, I suppose,” she says with pretend annoyance, rolling her eyes.

Then she kisses him.

Spencer’s never been so happy to be alive.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

please note that i DO NOT ENDORSE asking out your therapist/former therapist. this is fanfiction. thank you.

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ , @spencerreid9​

[deannaroxannewrites]

Tropetember Day 2: Coffee Shop / Tattoo Parlor / Flower Shop / Other Retail AU

Coffee and other ways to heal the soul.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: General Audiences

TW: Valhalla arc (mentioned), coffee, NCIS cameo

AN: Day 2 of @tropetember. I was really struggling with the coffee shop AU but once I got going, really got way too into it and could probably pad this out into a short series. Is that something people would be interested in?

Also, not really sure if I managed to capture Spencer but remember this is an AU and that's my excuse!

Enjoy!

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 2.4k

One of the biggest advantages of owning one of the few coffee shops in Quantico that wasn't part of a massive chain, was the constant stream of senior FBI and Navy personnel desperate for high quality, well made coffee. It had become such a lucrative venture in fact that you could afford to hire enough staff to rarely even have to be behind the counter at all.

The surge in popularity has even allowed you to convert one of the spare upstairs rooms into a meeting room. In hindsight, you should have converted more because once your regulars found out about it, there had been outright war between the Navy and FBI to try and get meetings booked in. A couple of your regulars had even managed to get both institutions to hardwire connections so they could host even more briefings and meetings in the friendly, comfortable space.

Today's winners were a Unit from the FBI, who had booked it out for a whole day. Aaron Hotchner, the BAU chief, came in most mornings and was a real sweetheart. You'd been trying to get him to drink something other than his normal americano since his return from Afghanistan a few months ago, but had not been successful so far. You were excited to meet the rest of the legendary team. He always spoke fondly of them when he bought extra coffees to boost morale.

With that in mind, you quickly throw together the pastries and beverages he'd preordered for the start of their session and head in to do a quick check that everything was ready.

Like any meeting room, there was a large table in the center but you'd made sure to surround it with comfy and artfully mismatched chairs. The floor was a deep walnut colour and matched the numerous floating shelves which were covered in plants and books. The place was homey and extended the cosy chic look you had been trying to achieve throughout the shop.

After a little bit of organising, including making sure the FBI cables were accessible and tidying any of the Navy’s equipment, you head downstairs to the main space.

Charlotte and Jessica were behind the tills this morning, making quick work of the line and exuding friendly helpfulness out of every pore. They were both grad students and you were already dreading them graduating. Their natural effervescence would be impossible to replace.

To pass the time until your booking arrives, you catch up with NCIS Agent McGee who is on the coffee run, trying not to hold him up too long in case he ends up getting in more trouble with his big bad boss. Apparently Agent DiNozzo had knocked over Gibbs coffee but McGee had then slipped in it and done some minor damage to some of the equipment. He told you he much preferred coffee run to door knocking duty round a 6 block radius like DiNozzo.

As you wrap it up, a group of people enter the shop, led by a woman in colourful clothes and a sunshine demeanour. It's not until you see Agent Hotchner's suited and booted presence bringing up the rear that you realise this is the infamous BAU.

Donning your friendliest persona, you politely excuse yourself from McGee and head to greet them, calling Aaron's name across the way.

The profilers seem surprised by your use of their bosses name but quickly shake it off as introductions are made. You receive hand shakes off most of them with the exception of Penelope, who gives you a hug because of course she does, and Dr Spencer Reid who gives you a shy wave and looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

It didn't take a profiler to see the physical distance between the genius and the rest of the group. He was always a step away from the nearest person and automatically avoided any physical contact from them.

How strange.

Brushing it off you lead them upstairs and get them settled, letting them know that they're welcome to come and go in the shop as need and that all their drinks would be added to the discounted tab and left them too it, all the while trying not to puzzle over the handsome loner and his cute sweater vest.

-----

If there was one thing Spencer Reid hated more than anything, it was team building.

Normally, back before everything happened, he would just grit his teeth and bear it. That's been a lot harder after finding out that Emily was alive.

Processing the joy at her being alive and the rage at being led to believe she was dead in the first place, particularly by the people he trusted the most, was not easy. He was trying to forgive them. He was trying to let it go, to accept the damage but move forward.

It was still a work in progress.

That's why, when Hotch announced a team building/meeting day, he had momentarily considered resigning. Though there was no longer outright hostility between himself and Jennifer, things weren’t exactly comfortable between himself and half of the team. The only bright side to this whole endeavour was the location. No coffee shop lasted long in Quantico unless the coffee was actually good. It was a small mercy.

He followed the rest of the team into the coffee shop, eyeing the surroundings and taking note of the other visitors. As the rest of the team joked about, he stayed back, simply waving at the nice owner of the shop when Hotch introduced them.

They appeared to be about his age which was very impressive considering the success of the café. And there were a couple of sci-fi references hidden in the décor that he would have loved to ask about, but he doubted they’d appreciate him going off about Star Trek this early in the morning. Instead he just gave a tight-lipped smile and followed the team upstairs.

Spencer tried his best to concentrate throughout the morning but to say he was relieved when they were left to their own devices for lunch would be an understatement.

-----

After a productive morning in the office, you wander back out to the main part of the shop to check on things. The lunch rush can be unforgiving but the girls seem to have it in hand. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Tuesday lunchtime.

What you didn’t expect to see was Spencer Reid hidden away at one of the back tables with a ginormous book in front of him, a small scowl on his face and the rest of his team nowhere in sight.

You agonise silently with yourself for a few moments before you decide to head over. You figure if he doesn’t want company he’ll let you know but you feel drawn to him. It was strange. Maybe it was just your instinctive need to collect strays.

You smile gently at him when you reach his table, indicating the seat opposite him in question. He gives a quick nod but doesn’t fully look at you.

“Everything ok?” you ask.

He takes a moment and seems to be considering his options. He looks at you with a little tilt of his head, likely questioning your motives.

Finally, he seems to decide you have no sinister intention and quietly replies “I just wish things could go back to how they were”.

You had heard about the events involving the BAU in the last year or so. It had been a hot topic of gossip in the shop numerous times. Aaron also occasionally talked about his guilt at what he put his team through when he stopped by, needing a friend to talk to. It’s the first time, however, that you think in depth about how faking a close friend's death likely affected the team members who were unaware.

This isn’t to say you didn’t care or didn’t think that it must have been terrible for them. You did, but had agreed with the justification that it was for Agent Prentiss’ safety, that finding out she was alive would make up for it. It’s apparent in the sadness of Dr Reid’s expression that that isn’t the case.

“Can I touch you?”

His eyes shoot up in surprise and he hesitantly nods. You gently grasp his hands, wrapping your fingers around his.

“I can’t even imagine,” you begin slowly, “how difficult this must be. But if you ever need to talk to someone, you’re always welcome here”

He gives a short, sharp nod and squeezes your fingers which you take to mean thank you.

“Also, this is totally not my place but, a therapist, one outside the Bureau? Might not be such a bad idea?” You give a sardonic grin and admit ” It worked for me”

After you give his hands another quick squeeze, you leave him to ponder your statement and head back to your office. Paperwork doesn’t do it self after all.

You hope Spencer manages to find some support though and decide that if he wants it, you’d be more than willing to help him.

---------------

It was a few weeks before Spencer Reid showed up in the coffee shop again.

It was early evening and you only had a few people in. You’d opted to close up tonight to ensure Jessica, who had been on the afternoon shift, had time to work on her assignment for class. She’d been complaining about it for the last few days.

The sound of the front door opening distracts you from your thoughts and you glance up to see who has entered. When you realise who it is you can’t help but smile.

“Fancy seeing you here Dr Reid” you say in greeting. He gives you a small smile in return.

“Well, it’s good coffee and, erm, the company’s good?”

You understand the question implicit in that comment and glance around at the few remaining patrons. They all have a beverage and it’s a quiet night so you can afford to take a step out behind the counter between orders.

“Sure, let me make us both a drink and then I’m all yours.”

You take his order (how much sugar?!?!) and get you both sorted out and settled into a small booth. You look at him, taking in the nervous expression on his face and let him settle in and start the conversation.

“I, erm, I took your advice”.

“That’s good. Are you finding it’s helping? Having someone outside of work to talk things through with?”

He nods his head.

“One of the things she pointed out was that so much of my life is wrapped up in work, that when things go wrong I don't have an external support system. Not that I didn't know that already but, someone else pointing it out made me realise how much if an impact it has.”

You bob your head thoughtfully, acknowledging his comment but not forcing him to say more.

“She suggested I try to find people outside of work to talk to. I was... I was wondering if you could be one?”

His nerves seem to have failed him slightly as he can’t look you in the eye, but you give him a big grin. Of course you want to spend time with this lovely man.

“I’d love to” you say, which gets him to look up and give you a smile in response.

You spend nearly an hour, with occasional breaks to serve customers, chatting to him before it becomes necessary to close up. He starts gathering his things but you’ve been enjoying his company so much you can’t bear to let him go. Instead, you check if he’s in a rush and, after confirming he has nothing else planned, invite him to hang around and grab something to eat from the diner down the street.

By the end of the night, you’re glad the diner is 24hr. You completely lose track of time, fascinated by the sheer amount of information he can provide and the passion with which he infodumps. It’s extremely endearing.

“I had a lovely time tonight” you tell him as you walk towards your apartment. You don’t live too far from the coffee shop and he had very gallantly offered to walk you home. “I’d love to do it again some time?”

He smiles and nods in agreement before asking for your phone number.

“I don't really like technology that much so I don’t have a smartphone and I don’t really check it that much and prefer speaking to texting…”

“Spence” you say, a little laugh in your voice as you interrupt. “Whatever works best for you. I’m not going to suddenly vanish on you, promise.”

You seem to have hit his worries a little too closely as he sways a little awkwardly, gaze wandering down to his feet.

“Can I hug you?” you check. His answer is to wrap his arms around you and you gently sway the both of you side to side.

He lets go and turns to head back out into the night as you call out “If you’re ever missing me, I know a place you can get great coffee. I can get you a good discount.” A laugh stutters from his lips and he wishes you a good night.

Leaning against your door you sigh happily to yourself. It’s always a good feeling making a new friend.

--------------

It had been over a year since the last time the BAU had booked (and managed to attend the booking). In that time, you’d converted another room upstairs into a meeting room, as well as setting up a shared work/study space in a room out the back.

You grin as you see them all enter, fascinated by the way this family of agents interact with each other. There’s even a tall, handsome genius who stands within the group, laughing and joking along with the rest.

Spencer greets you with a gentle kiss to your lips and it causes uproar from his colleagues. You don’t react much, you just turn to them and shrug.

“Do you know how many germs are passed in a handshake? It’s much safer to kiss.”

Your genius just laughs and wraps an arm around you, guiding the whole group upstairs, his friends playfully demanding details the whole way.

[aesthbaby]

You’re going to be okay pt. 2

Summary: Reader and Emily meet as ghosts in a hospital after a case

Pairings: Reader x Emily Prentiss (not pronoun specific)

Prompt: Reader and Emily as ghosts haunting the same place (School, hospital, house, whatever). Reader has been dead for a few years and helps Emily deal. They end up liking each other and maybe have ghost fun all over the place. ;)

Warnings: Cursing | sexual references | death 

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

Part One

"Mmm, I don't think this is the best idea Em."  You hum while chewing on your thumb, a nasty habit you picked up in Elementary school.

"Come on it'll be fun. Let loose a bit Angel." A nickname Emily gave you, it started as more of a joke but over time it stuck. She hardly ever calls you by your actual name. In reality, you're actually okay with the name, it shows that she feels comfortable around you and you think it's flattering.  Its as if your her savior or something, but not in a cult leader-god complex fashion. You took care of her for months while also teaching her everything and anything you can about the spirit world. Emily is suspiciously good at her job, she takes the kids and elderly, you take everything in between. There's something poetic about being good with both elders and babies, the beginning of life, and the end. You're better with teens because you died younger than Emily did and can relate to the trauma of an early, unfinished death. Adults can usually figure it out on their own but it's nice to have a hand to hold as someone to fill in the blanks.

Emily had never seen someone go into the darkness until a few weeks ago; you always managed to keep her away from it. You were making sure a man who sold laced drugs to teens got to the place he was meant to be. At first, he seemed to have a kind heart so when he confessed his crimes you were shocked, to say the least. He'd mix different over the counters and cheap street knockoffs in order to make more for less. Then he would sell them to the local high school kids but use the money to take care of his mom, grandma, and the local community center. Its an ethical gray area, that's for sure, but I guess you could say he meant well. Luckily none of the teens who bought drugs from him died, but that doesn't excuse what he did. During this whole fiasco, Emily was supposed to be taking an older woman to the garden before her transitioning; unknowingly to you she was around the corner listening in. When you were taking him you didn't notice her until he was gone. There was more curiosity on her face than fear so you tried to give her the bare minimum amount of information. The Agent was damn stubborn, she'd never let you off the hook with something unless you gave her information in exchange. Your arrangement was beneficial to both of you, in a way you liked teasing Emily and she liked pulling the information out of you. It reminded her of her work in the FBI. It also kept you from having to tell her everything you knew and kept things interesting between you two. 

"No Emily." You tell her, you hate saying 'no' to her because she looks absolutely adorable when she fakes a pout. 

"Emily Prentiss does not pout." Even while saying that she looks like she's pouting. She defends herself after being told 'no' when she asked you to teach her Thermokinesis. (To control the temperature of the physical world.) Gotta love her.

Though eventually, you did teach her, that is beside the point. Wait no let's go back to that, why didn't anyone warn me about how convincing this woman can be? She can talk me into almost anything and I'd comply happily. If she wasn't so drop-dead gorgeous maybe I could resist her. I bet unsubs were scared shitless of her. Your thoughts are interrupted by a nudge at your side. Oh not this again... "Emily I swear to-" you can't even get the words out through her incessant tickling. "Stop!" you laugh loudly while she continues her ministrations. "Okay- Em- okay we can do it!" She lets you go but you both continue laughing. "Only if you promise not to get carried away."

She puts her hand on her heart and says sincerely, "I promise." Then her seriousness switches back to playfulness. "Now come on," she grabs your hand and starts dragging you to roof. "I understand your reasoning behind not letting me do this very often but I wanted to show you what I've taught myself."

When you get to the roof there’s an empty space with X’s on the everywhere made out of pens and pencils. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“As you may know, I’m not very good at Object Manipulation. Yet!” She stands between a blue pen and a red one while you sit on a random electrical box. You immediately jump up when you feel a jilt underneath. Gotta stop sitting near that stuff. I’m the person who helps the dead, not the one that kills them. Emily used to make the mistake of getting too close to patient monitors, making them flat line or speed up. It freaked the new nurses out but they checked on the patients and chopped it up to being outdated. When a ghost is present, nearby electronics tend to act up. I guess Emily didn’t get the memo in Ghost School. To be fair I am not the most qualified teacher. “Are you okay?” she goes to check on you but you wave her off.

“I’m fine, just uncomfortable,” you say while rubbing her backside.

“Come here,” she beacons “I can make it feel better.” Her devious smile comes out to play, easily drawing you towards her. She wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you flush against her. Her hands slowly trail down your back but before they can reach your ass she’s gone. The warmth and tingly feeling is gone. “Miss me already?” you whip around to see her standing on one of the Exes. Her smile is cocky as hell to say the least.“That was impressive, I’ll admit.” you stride to her but she teleports again. “Oh come on Angel, you walked right into that one.” She says from above you. Now she’s standing on top of the entrance, a level above where you’re standing.

“Very amusing Agent,” You flash right in front of her, startling her in the process. You quickly wrap an arm around her so she doesn’t fall. “But I can do better.” She stares into your eyes like she wants to say something.

“Prove it.” She challenges. You lean down to barely graze her lips, before you meet in the middle you flash behind her; gripping her hips possessively.

You lean into her ear, “Who do you answer to?” A light shiver runs down her spine.

She turns around so she can peer into your eyes. She trails an index finger across your bottom lip. “I belong to no one.”

“Not even me?” you ask with a punctuating grip to her hip.

“No.” she whispers while inching closer to your lips. “Not even you, Angel.” You’re so close it feels like you’re breathing in the same air with no regard to anything around you. “Would you like to kiss me?”

You take her to the library, its small but there’s hardly anyone here so it’ll do. When you arrive you have Emily bent over a table with her ass flushed to your front. “I want to see you writhe underneath me.” You pure into her ear.

She flashes so quickly you couldn’t stop her. Now you’re the one bent over a fucking table. “You first.” she growls while pinning your hip down. She leans in so close to your ear you can feel her cool breath. 

 “What are you going to do, Agent?” Calling her by the title has always been a tease, its amazing that in all the time she’s been here you’ve never...you know.

“Whatever I want with you.” You roll your hips back on to her and feel her knead your ass in return. “If I had a strap I’d fuck you with it.” She growls in your ear; her animalistic tone is the biggest turn on. Just the sound of her voice alone makes you squirm underneath her.

But of course you can’t let her win that easily so you focus your energy on the top of the bookshelf. “You can’t always get what you want, Agent.” You’re sitting on top of the wood shelf with your legs crossed; as regal as you were when you were alive. Emily looks baffled but entertained by the empty space in front of her. “Enough of your teasing, we have things to do.” You say as you hop down from the shelf and begin to walk out. You turn to see that she’s not following you so you call out to her. “Come along Prentiss.”

There was once a time where you would call her ‘Princess’ instead of Prentiss because of the way she’d demand to know everything and anything like she was royalty. Her attitude came off as a bit standoffish and bitchy in the beginning but that was just you being territorial. As you both settled into your routine and got to know each other you realized she’s a very closed off person and wouldn’t talk about her life from before. She’s uber smart and remains professional yet empathetic with all of the ghosts she encounters. She’s such a calm person that it shocked you by how upset the nickname made her. She didn’t flat out yell at you but it was evident that it upset her so you reasonably left the situation alone. She felt bad so she explained that one of her teammates used to call her that, she later let it slip that the guy was her partner. You obviously felt bad so now you just call her- “Agent!” You look over your shoulder to see Emily dragging her feet. “Get a move on, we don’t have time!”

“Ghosts always have time.” She mumbles while speeding up. “Can’t we just, I don’t know? Flash there?”

“No.” You slow down to let her catch up. “You need to learn to walk before you run and I don’t need you accidentally flashin’ into the nurse’s lockerooms again.”

She rolls her eyes. “That was one time.”

“And the time you ended up in the kitchen. You need to walk around and see the place for yourself before you keep ‘flashin’ between different places.”

“Right,” she mumbles “Hey where are we going anyway?”

“To meet someone.” You casually say but notice she’s stopped, promptly.

“To meet someone?” she repeats, a little shocked. “Meet who?”  

“Nope,” you pull her by the arm “No stopping, we’re crunched for time.” Before she can stop again or argue, you link your arms.”This is not the time to pout or second doubt me, Emily.”

She scuffs, “I do not pout.”

“Okay, fine, you don’t pout in the traditional children sense. Happy?”

“No. Not until I know where we’re going or who we’re meeting.” She stops again, reeling you back in the process.

You turn to her and say, “A friend.”

“Is this one of your angelic friends?” She asks as you practically drag her along.

“Angelic frie- Never mind we’re here.” You have her standing in the back of the ICU, the quietest of all the wings. “I only know like two, three angels tops.”

She laughs a little at that, “Angel...” she trails “Who is that?”

You turn to where she’s looking and see a beautiful darkened figure with their back to you. “Mazikeen!” You shout with excitement me when she turns around. You run to her and she automatically catches you. Hey sharp fanged smile is just as stunning as the last time you saw it.

“How’s my favorite human?” The brunette asks with her sultry South American accent.

“Good! How’s my favorite demon?” She just smiles even wider at your excitement until her eyes fall on Emily.

“Who’s the hottie?”

“Maze,” You tilt your head in disapproval. “Play nice.” She sets you down and struts over to Emily. Em looks confused yet curious so you don’t interrupt the demon from doing whatever she’s doing. 

“Oh I always play nice with the pretty ones.”

She examines Emily with shear interest, when she moves to touch her hair Emily steps back. “Y/n...is there something you’d care to explain?”

“Emily, meet my friend Mazikeen,”

“But you can call me Maze.” She winks.

“Maze, this is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss.”

“Is she,” she covers the side of her mouth and points to Em. “Dead?”

You mimic her ridiculous gesture and whisper, “Very.” You walk to them and give your demon another hug. “I missed you, Maze.”

“I missed you too y/n/n. Why didn’t you introduce me to her sooner? We could’ve had a thre-”

“Maze!”

“Right...well, mom says hi and I’m not going to be here very long. I just gotta grab a few people and I’ll be out but of course...” She wraps her arms around your waist, “I wanted to stop by and say hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper. “You know I love you but...” You look over to Em.

“You’ve found another...” She strokes your left cheek with the back of her cold hand. “Its okay, I’m not mad. We both knew I was never made for love.” She takes a glance over her shoulder to an intrigued Emily. “She’s pretty, brave, and smart. You’ve outdone yourself little human.” She makes a full 180 to look at the agent. “Take care of Casper for me.”

“Uhm do I look like a friendly ghost to you?” You gesture down to your perfect silhouette.

Maze grins at that before turning back to Em. “Hurt them and there will be hell to pay.” She snarls but Emily doesn’t faultier.

“I’m not the one that left.” She replies and the demon laughs at that.

“Left?” She looks back to me and bursts into a cackle with her fangs out. “Whatever you say. I have work to do anyway, so do you.” She starts to walk down the hall of the ICU and says, “Goodbye human, you still look as good as ever.” She blows a kiss at you before rounding the corner. You’re stuck in your spot because shit that kind of hurt. 

You feel Emily’s hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Its fine.” You turn to her. “She was never meant for relationships anyway.” At her expressionless face you continue. “Maze is a sex demon, we met a little while after I died. I kept seeing her in the hall but only in flashes. At first I thought she was a Wanderer or something but then I confronted her and she reluctantly told me who she was. We used to have fun  together.” She just nods with an understanding expression and really, her silent facial expression speaks volumes. “Ghosts can’t feel a lot of things but sexual gratification is one of the exceptions.” This is where you shed a tear despite what you just said. Emily pulls you in for one of her gentle, yet meaningful hug. “Emily, I’m so sorry.”

She pulls you back to look into your eyes. “Why? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I should���ve told you about her sooner. I wanted you two to meet because I thought you were alike in many ways but I wasn’t expecting the jealous attitude. She’s never been like that before.”

‘Maybe its because she sees us having something she can’t have with you. Is what Emily wants to say but instead she says, “You didn’t have to tell me if you didn’t want to. I know I pressure you into revealing a lot of information to me but if I had know it negatively affects you I would-”

You interrupt her rambling with a soft kiss to her lips. You pull back to see her neutral facial expression. Shit. Sensing your internal panic she quickly explains, “No no I’m not upset, just surprised. That’s all.” There’s that wicked smile. “I always thought I’d be the one making the first move.” She takes a big step forward and captures your lip between her’s. Her hand reaches around the back of your head and pulls you closer so you put your arm around her waist and do the same. It felt different that what you and maze used to have, spiritual perception of emotions isn’t the same and humans but that doesn’t mean you’re as numb as people think. And with Emily, you actually feel something for once. Something true. ‘Alive’ isn’t the proper word for it but it feels close enough. It feels so fucking good to the point where you don’t want to come up for air but ultimately you have to. “Breathe.” She laughs.

You press your forehead to her’s, “Why, when all I need is you?”

She laughs at that, something she didn’t do much of when you first met. “You are unbelievably cliche.”

After this movie like exchange you end up laying in the middle of the Green Yard; Emily on the bottom and you wrapped in her arms. Since you can’t exactly ‘nap’ you just lay there and take in the good feeling Emily’s arms provide you. Whenever Francis is around you’ll have to ask him about this feeling because you know good and well ghosts can’t feel love. Then what the hell do I call this wonderful feeling?

“Y/n?” Em looks up from a book I gave her. Its taken her a while to learn how to hold anything over an ounce.

“Hmm?” You turn your attention to her, she looks as beautiful as always.

“What do ghosts feel?”

“What do you mean, Em?” You take a seat across from her.

“Do we have emotions or feelings?”

“Well, what do you feel?” You ask softly.

“I don’t know?”

“Remember the time I banned you from leaving the inpatient wing?”

“Yeah...it completely sucked.” She huffs.

“And how did that make you feel?” You trail.

“Mildly irritated.” She immediately answers without realizing so you politely stare until it finally dawns on her. Her eyes widen and her mouth opens into an o-shape.

“Exactly.”

You look up at the goddess that’s holding you captive. “Emily?” You call from under her arm.

“Hmm?”

“What are you feeling?” You ask softly.

“What do you mean, Angel?”

“Emotionally I mean.” You explain with an eerie feeling of deja vu.

“Remember the first time I showed you I could transport? I did it without any help and I surprisingly did it correctly.” She jokes.

“Yeah I remember.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“Happy.” You smile at the cute memory.

“That’s how I’m feeling right now. As happy as you were that day, if not more.”

You twist so you can look at her. “I really like you Emily Prentiss.” You lean up to give her a chaste kiss on her sharp jawline.

“I like you too y/n.” She presses a dominating kiss to your lips that makes yours look like child’s play.

sorry for any typos. I hate proof reading

[teddy-bear-surprise]

Prologue

A short introduction to: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐲 ✷ 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

Hurley stood over Mitch with his eyebrows furrowed. "Rapp, listen to me kid. I can't keep helping you out like this, you need to make a choice and quick. They're on my ass about your stupid fucking behavior in Thailand."

"Oh come on, Hurley, you know that situation wasn't my fault. It would've been even worse if I hadn't been there!" He pleaded with Hurley, insisting for the hundredth time that day that his actions on the last mission had been unavoidable. "Do I? Do I know that? Because those four collapsed buildings and seven video cameras with your face all over them would say otherwise, Rapp." Mitch stood up now, his face growing red as the vein in his neck protruded slightly. "You weren't there... Sir. You didn't see what was going on. There was no other option, I couldn't get to the guy in time and he was wearing the fucking bomb, Hurley. What else did you expect me to do?" "I don't fucking know, Rapp, but they're pinning this on you so now you have to choose. And if you don't choose you're done for good." He paused, "I know you don't want that and I sure as hell don't either, you're one of my best damn recruits." Hurley rubbed his forehead with his fingers, trying to think of what to say next. Mitch banged his fist against the cold, grey wall. "Couldn't they give me some better options? I mean seriously, I either an eight-month suspension or go undercover for a year? Jeez, Hurley. I know the Agency is already prepared to send me undercover but I don't want to do undercover and I sure as hell am not letting you suspend me." The door opened behind them as Stansfield walked in. As if his position as the CIA's Director didn't already give him enough power, his perfect posture and perfectly kept suit-and-tie made him even more intimidating. "Rapp, buddy, Hurley over here tells me you're giving him a tough time. You went rogue, okay? This is what happens when you go rogue, you're not giving either of us much of a choice here." He patted Mitch on the back as he shook Hurley's hand. "I did not go 'rogue'. I did my job, Director." The Director ignored him, moving on with what was most likely a pre-rehearsed speech to convince Mitch to fold. "Look, you already know that you've got two options. You get an eight-month suspension, which will put you on complete and total lockdown. No going to the grocery store, no running in the park, no eating out. Nothing. Or, you can take the open position in the Undercover Division. Cooper is out for the year on 'paternal leave', whatever the hell that means, so we need someone to fill in. We can't have you working in Orion for now, you're a liability, but we also don't want to lose you. So, give me a straight answer, Rapp. It's up to you." Mitch sat back down, burying his head in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark brown strands, and muttered quietly. "Fine. I'll take the job." "I'm sorry, what was that?" Hurley jokingly tapped a finger against his ear as he let out a deep chuckle. "But! Only if I get to go overseas. I don't want to have to deal with any of those useless, domestic undercover operations that end up helping no one." Hurley looked at Mitch, "I knew you couldn't say no." "Yeah, yeah, so what's the job?" "What makes you think we've already got a job for you?" Hurley was still poking fun at Mitch. "I know you, Hurley, you wouldn't push for it if you didn't know I would actually be working." "Well, you're right. We do have a case for you, Hurley and Bennett will brief you in a few minutes. Welcome back to the Agency... Officially." The Director approached Mitch with his hand outstretched, waiting for him to shake it. Mitch shook his hand hesitantly, wondering what kind of operation they'd be sticking him on, and hoped that this wasn't just some elaborate scheme to babysit him from within the Agency. The Director quickly left and Hurley sat down in the chair next to Mitch, tapping his fingers against his thighs impatiently. Hurley turned his head to face Mitch. "See? This isn't so bad. You still get to work and you get to travel.

"You know it's not, but it is better than a suspension." Mitch rolled his eyes lightly. "Hey, you know what I just realized? You're actually perfect for this job. Didn't you get a minor in French? I'm almost sure I saw that before I burned your nasty excuse of a resume." "Gee, thanks, Hurley. Yeah, I got a major in International Business and minored in French. Why exactly is this important?" He paused for a second as Hurley let him think. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. France? Really? That's probably going to be just as boring, if not more boring, than a domestic case." "Stop that, Mitch, just wait until you're briefed and you might even like the case. Plus, I can't believe you're judging this case for being boring when you're the domesticated dumbass who dropped out of your last year of training at the Academy just to be with Maureen." Hurley waved his arms around jokingly, mimicking a despaired Mitch. "'Ahhhh. She was so scared. Blah blah blah. She didn't want me to get hurt.' Can't believe you ever gave up this life for a chick... and a dead one at that." "Can we not talk about Maureen? Please?" Mitch slumped in his seat, still haunted by the wounds that never seemed to heal. "Fine, Agent Cry Baby. I mean you lost your lacrosse scholarship for that position in the FBI and you still threw it away for her. I don't know, I'm just shocked is all." He clenched his fists and spoke slowly, trying to maintain his composure. "I know. I get it, Hurley. You've made your point now drop it. And where the hell is Bennett with the briefing?" Almost as soon as Mitch had voiced his complaint, Agent Bennett walked in with a laptop and two paper files in hand. "Hurley, Rapp. Are we ready here?" "Yeah, whatever, get on with it Bennett." Hurley waved his hand dismissively at the young agent who was struggling to connect his laptop to the television in front of them. Bennett was finally able to put his presentation up on the screen. "Okay, Agent Rapp, you leave in a week and a half and when you arrive in Paris, you will be meeting up with Agent Russo, or as he is known to the Celestins, Axel Didier. Try not to blow his cover, please. He's the only person we've ever managed to get into the Celestins' inner circle and he's also the only one who can get you in." "The who's?" Mitch looked up at Bennett and his presentation with confusion. "The Celestins. France's biggest mafia family. Originally from Italy, they changed their names to assimilate to Parisian norms over seventy years ago. Since then, they've managed to infiltrate every aspect of life possible, ranging from politics to agriculture, and no one has ever come close to stopping them. Your job, Rapp, is to infiltrate that same inner circle and gather intel so that we might have a real shot at taking them down. Nothing more, Rapp. I know it's not what you're used to, but please don't kill anyone and don't even try to talk to Marcel Celestin's daughter. He'll rip you in half before you can say 'hello' to her." "Who are you to tell me who'll 'rip' me in half or not, Bennett? You've never even been in the field before." "My talents were needed elsewhere." Bennett retorted at the comment. Even Hurley joined in, "Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid. Just get on with the presentation, please. Don't make me do your job for you." "Fine. Rapp, you will be there for the next year and at the end of that year, we will fake your death and you will return to Orion, living the same life as before. You'll have to go through a few minor adjustments with your appearance to fit in better there but it's nothing major, just a few tattoos and getting rid of that beard should do the trick. And you need to attend a four-hour French intensive every day before you leave just to make sure your French is up to par. Other than that, you should be good to go, Agent." "Really, Bennett? 'Good to go?' You're not forgetting anything?" Hurley leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and staring incredulously at Agent Bennett. "Uhhhh... No?"

"Gah-damnit! You didn't tell Rapp his undercover name, you idiot."

"Oh yeah. I did forget that."

"What's my name supposed to be then?"

"Mitch Stilinski. We wanted to keep your first name the same for ease, but we wanted to add in a vaguely European last name to adapt your name better to the setting." Bennett smiled at his fix.

Mitch got up and walked to the door, opening it slightly as he sighed, "Well then, I'm going to go home to prep for this upcoming year in hell. Thank you very much for all of that very insightful information, Bennett."

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part seven Word count: ±5570 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part seven summary: Zoë goes undercover to find out more about the murder she saw in her dream. Little does she know, that Sam and Dean do the same. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Confident, Zoë bends down in order to fit under the yellow ‘crime scene - do not cross’ ribbon. She takes out her federal agent ID and flips it open before the officer guarding the perimeter can ask her about it. He steps away respectfully and lets her through. 

     It’s about 10 AM and the sun is already out on this relatively warm November day. Marching up the driveway with her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete, Zoë unbuttons her black suit jacket to let in some air. The Stars and Stripes hasn’t been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. The fallen leaves drape parts of the neatly mowed lawn in different tones of orange and brown. Not only does this particular estate look amazing, the entire street is brochure perfect. It is obvious that the families living in these homes on Reynolds Park Road, are wealthy ones. However, the ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scanning the area, indicate that something is terribly wrong. What would seem like the last place on earth for a murder, is indeed a gruesome crime scene.

     Two officers are having a conversation by the front entry. They pause the discussion once they notice the unfamiliar face approaching them. She captivates them instantly. Determined strides, head held high, clearly a woman who stands her ground in the men’s words that is law enforcement. There’s not a single trace of doubt noticeable when she flashes her ID once more.      “Agent Evans, FBI,” she states.

     “Detective Lee. This is officer Sanchez,” a tall man, with a serious case of a receding hairline, introduces his colleague a little reluctantly, clearly not happy about the presence of a fed. He holds out his hand anyway and Zoë makes eye contact, giving him a powerful handshake.      “I didn’t know the Bureau was involved,” he comments with an Upper South accent, common for the region.

     “Well, if you had paid attention while investigating the crimes in your own county, detective,” the specialist returns without missing a beat, facing the two man with enough arrogance to shut them down immediately, “- you might had noticed that there has been a murder similar to this one, making this a serial killing.”      “Still don’t make this a federal case,” Lee returns, standing his ground.      “What does, is the fact that there’s a whole string of deaths leading from Alabama up to your lovely little town.”

     Of course she just made that up on the spot, just to back up her reason to be here, but no one would be able to tell without doing some solid digging first. She is so convincing that the two men fail to counter her.      “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. If you could be so kind to show me the way, that would be neat,” she requires, throwing them a fake smile while narrowing her eyes.

     The two officers glance at each other, it being clear as day that the detective is not amused by the way he’s spoken to. Nonetheless, he gestures to the FBI agent to get into the house. She seems like a person not to be messed with.

      They enter the villa with Zoë in tow, who nods approving while taking a look around. She glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster. Roman pillars support the level above, and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch of the floor underneath their feet is made from marble. Renaissance paintings, portraying country sides in the 19th century and battles from the Civil War hang from the walls, a gold plated chandelier floats overhead. Flower pieces, amongst them an expensive bouquet placed on the mahogany round table in the center of the main room, gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like a palace than a principal’s home in a town called Paragould.

     “As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke lived the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions,” Officer Sanchez explains, having noticed the federal agent’s impressed expression. “We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke’s death.”

     As they climb the stairs, Zoë chuckles, but doesn’t say a word. These oblivious bastards... they have absolutely no clue, do they?      “You think something else is going on?” Lee questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh.      “Money is not the motive,”  she returns, curt.

     An awkward silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it before, especially in smaller communities. Most cops despise the feds, simply because the cases they work quite literally hit close to home. The FBI is no stranger to barging in and taking over entire investigations, without sending a ‘thank you’ card. A lot of hard work for the local coppers, without any credit. Zoë can’t say she blames the police for being reluctant.

     “This way.” Sanchez beckons them after climbing the stairs to the second floor, where he turns left on the vestibule.      The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns. 

      In the corner lies a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes open, death evident. It’s not the first time Zoë has seen a dead guy, but she wasn’t expecting such a violent killing committed by a ten year old. Apparently his head got smashed into the showcase; glass is scattered all over his body. He has bruises and cuts on his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken; the head at a 90° angle. 

     Zoë scans the room, which shows several signs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Lee and his partner. Zoë glances over, notices the CSU logo on her jacket, and walks over to tune in.      “- time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints found so far,” the forensic states.      “Look at this place. There must be something,” Detective Lee ponders, his gaze panning over the crime scene.      “Not even a fiber,” she sighs. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen anything like this.”

     “Seems like the suspect has left no trace,” Zoë intervenes, mixing into the conversation.      “Someone just did a good job covering up,” Sanchez scoffs, not finding her remark relevant. “We’ll find something.”      Dude, you have no idea, Zoë thinks to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She doesn’t cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready. Never get too smart around cops, who knows what she might need them for later on.

     “There’s one thing, though, but it adds more confusion than it clears up.”      The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder, the sleeve seems too long at the end by the force that was used.      “Looks like someone pulled him down. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him or her,” she clarifies.      “The murderer was shorter than the victim,” Lee concludes.      “Not just a little shorter, I’m talking about round 4 ft. 5 here, looking at the angle and location of the bruising,” the forensic adds up.      “About the height of a ten year old, right?” Zoë fills in, as the clues sum up.      “Yeah, that would be correct, but that’s impossible. Even if a ten year old could be capable of doing such a thing, they wouldn’t have the strength,” she rules out.

     Impossible isn’t in Zoë’s dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke’s killer is. She is dealing with one furious ghost child here, but two questions remain unanswered: why isn't Laura at rest and how is she able to relocate?      A cursed object is the first thing that comes to mind. Being on the clock, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family.      “Thanks very much, I’ve got everything I need.” She gives both the forensic and the members of the PPD a nod, before she exits the room.

     While Zoë walks down the corridor towards the staircase, the undercover huntress goes through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put her victims through the same horror she experienced before she died. She simply shows them who’s boss, just like her father used to teach her. It’s violent, not suited for viewers under the age of eighteen, and yet a girl of only ten years of age, is behind these murders. 

     Back on the first floor, Zoë can hear soft wailing coming from the dining room. For the third time this morning she shows her ID, this time to the officer guarding the shielded off private space. The door is slightly ajar, when she pushes it open further in order to enter, the investigator finds the Van Dyke family, gathered together. A woman in her early fifties with blonde pixie hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be the principal’s daughter. The son, a few years younger than his sister, stares outside, his empty eyes gazing out over the lake, quietly grieving in his own way. Instantly, Zoë feels sorry for the family. She wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.      “Mrs. Van Dyke?”

     The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, but not before sweetly stroking her hair. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke’s wife her identification.      “I’m Special Agent Evans, you can call me Sharon. I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.”      The mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears. “Of course.”      “Your husband’s passing took place between 6:30 and 7 O'clock this morning. Where were you at this time?” Zoë questions calmly.      “I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast,” Mrs. Van Dyke replies, having crossed one arm over her chest, her hand covering her mouth as she breathes out with a shudder.      “And you heard nothing?” the huntress wonders, her voice gentle, not wanting to upset the poor woman even more.      “Not a sound,” she shakes her head. “Heather was in her room next to Bill’s office, she didn’t hear a thing until the dog started barking, that’s when she found him.”

     Zoë nods at that, aware that dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have. She glances past the woman before her, noticing the kind Australian shepherd, who has laid his head in Heather’s lap, watching up at her with worried eyes while trying to comfort his owner. The dog seems calm now, a good indication that Laura isn’t anywhere near.      What the huntress does find strange, though, is that their daughter didn’t hear a thing. The article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire’s murder comes to mind. His family was home during the incident as well.

     “That will be it for now, thank you for your time,” Zoë notifies, smiling sympathetically. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”      Mrs. Van Dyke turns back to her family with half a nod, still in complete shock after this morning’s events which turned her world upside down. Zoë would like to take more time to talk to the children, but she simply doesn’t have a minute to spare. Hastened, the huntress exits the house, stepping out into the warm sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on. 

      It all makes sense now. Laura isn’t just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death. She’s recreating how she died. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was a punching bag for her father’s fist on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like the victims were isolated from the outside world. The vision of Laura’s mother stoically continuing her dinner while her older brother watched TV. As if they couldn’t bear the abuse and therefore shut out the sounds that came along with it. 

     Pondering, Zoë strides down Reynolds Park Road, back to her bike, which she parked near the water. Unlike the police, the huntress is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.

     “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

     Dean has been complaining ever since they pulled away from the In-N-Out, when Sam came up with his newest masterplan. Their usual jeans and several layers of plaid have been replaced with black suits, the sharp dressed men now approaching Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, leaving the Impala in the parking lot.

     “We are doing this, so get used to it,” Sam returns, getting tired of his brother’s whining. “You have the ID’s?”      Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing him the fake identification. Sam stares at the ID’s, his jaw falling open.      “FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?”      “Dad and I do it all the time. No sweat,” Dean shrugs, not that worried about getting caught.

     “What if they look up our badge numbers? This is suicide!” Sam hisses, keeping his voice down when they pass people at the entrance of the hospital.      “You wanna know what’s suicide? Meddling with Zoë’s case,” Dean counters.      Sam huffs. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be?”      “You should have seen her in Rochester when she found out we rang Cliffer and blew her cover. That wasn’t even intentional, and now you actually choose to get involved?” Dean argues.

     He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their aliases, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn’t know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is the full name of AC/DC’s lead guitarist. Nonetheless, Dean is proud of the inside joke.

     “She might get a little annoyed, but she won’t get mad. We’re helping her,” Sam assures, hoping his brother will stop being dramatic.      “Exactly! I’m dressed like a fucking penguin while I know she won’t ever thank us, even if we have a major breakthrough.” Dean loosens his tie a bit, smothered by the tightness of his collar.      “Look man, we can sit on our ass and waste this day or--”      “- I prefer that actually,” the oldest intervenes.      “Or--” Sam continues, sternly, “- we can do something useful.”

     With that being said, he walks through the revolving doors of the governmental facility, followed by Dean, who mutters something unintelligible; stubborn fucker. Dean might be the older sibling here, but when Sammy has got his mind set on something, he can’t be reasoned with.      Heading straight for the main desk, the Winchester brothers get into character. Sam especially looks somewhat young to be a federal agent, thankfully his height makes up for that. They both need to sell this in order to gather new information on the case.      Confidently, Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter. “Agent Young, this is my partner Agent Angus. We’re here to see a dead body.”      “You came to the right place,” she comments, apparently not impressed by their badges.      She calls for an older physician in a long white coat who just passed by.      “Dr. Hughes? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?” she asks him.      “Of course, I’m heading over there anyway,” he agrees, beckoning Dean and Sam to walk with him.

     The hunters follow the doctor through the long hospital hallways. White ceilings, mint green vinyl floors and random photos and Picasso rip offs on the walls every now and then; the typical hospital decor the Winchester brothers are more familiar with than they would want to be. They’ve been inside medical centers plenty. To investigate a case, but also as a visitor whenever someone in their close circle got hurt on the job, but also as a patient. Hunting isn’t just a profession prone to injury, it’s worse than that. It’s a profession prone to death.

     Dr. Hughes eventually breaks the silence when they reach an elevator. “Who are you here for?”      “Ronald Shire,” Sam informs.      Unpleasantly surprised, Hughes looks up at the tall agent. He halts by the elevator, calling it down to the first floor. It takes a second to arrive, the doctor uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other. Dean and Sam have noticed it, however, exchanging a look.

     “I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes when he realizes how his behavior might come across. “Ronald was a colleague of mine, but he was also a close friend.”      “Our condolences,” Dean says, knowing all about Shire’s death after Sam filled him in earlier.      Hughes pushes the button to call the elevator down, accepting the sympathy offered by the agent. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? We see death every day and yet when it hits close to home, you never see it coming.”

     Wise words, applicable to everyone. He has been there on many occasions when the final hour struck; of hunters, of people they were trying to save. One would expect all this experience to give him thick skin, since he’s used to the violence and killings. But when Jess was murdered, it hit him harder than a wrecking ball.

     The younger Winchesters train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the bell, announcing that the elevator has reached their level. He clears his throat and directs his attention to the doctor again. “Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?”      “I did the autopsy myself; it left me stunned,” Dr. Hughes tells them as they enter the elevator.

     Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As they slowly move down to the basement, Dean tries to find out if Hughes knows more about the case then he’s willing to let go at this point.      “We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence,” he fills in.      “I heard about that on the news. CSU is still on that, though”, the physician says.      “We have one of our agents at the scene,” Sam returns, with the short statement explaining their suspicion.

     The doors open and the three enter the morgue of the hospital. It’s cool in this section and an unpleasant scent fills the area, chemicals almost masking the lingering smell of the dead. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls out one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag.      “What’s so stunning about this case?” Sam wonders.      “See for yourself.” Hughes unfolds the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows.      “Ouch,” Dean comments.

     The body of Laura’s father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a street gang in a bad neighborhood. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse. The ‘Y’ shaped incisions on his torso indicated that a full autopsy has been performed on Ronald Shire, but the large stitches barely stand out between the black and broken skin.

     “That’s not all,” the doctor adds as he takes out the file. “I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single fiber on him that  could point you fellas towards a suspect.”      Dean gives Sam a look without the physician seeing it. Dr. Hughes might have never seen this before, the hunters certainly have. Ghosts never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.

     “This caught my attention, though.” The doctor points out the bruises. “See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on its knees - which would be most unlikely - or the injuries were inflicted by someone shorter than 4 ft. 7. Someone with a growth defect, dwarf syndrome. That’s the only way I can clarify this.”      “Have you considered a child?” Sam questions, carefully.      “I have for a brief moment, but it’s theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it would use an object to create some kind of leverage, which I found no indication of,” the doctor explains. “Honestly, I’ve never seen damage done like this, not even by trained fighters. The evidence doesn’t add up in the slightest. This shouldn’t be possible.”

     The boys exchange another glance; the evidence adds up just fine for them. Sam tilts his head and nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they are leaving.      “Thank you for your time, doctor.” he rounds up their visit. “If there is anything else, let us know.”      “You’re welcome, I hope you’ll get this one,” Hughes mentions while he cleans up.      “We’ll do our best,” Sam ensures.

     The two hunters leave the morgue and step back into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the oldest of the two turns to the other.      “Laura, definitely,” the youngest brother states, determined.      “Unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, yeah, it’s Laura.” Dean agrees, watching Sam take his phone out of his pocket as they arrive at the first floor again. “Who’re you gonna call?”      “The other Ghostbuster,” Sam replies, as he looks up Zoë’s number and presses the green button as soon as they step outside the hospital.      “Shouldn’t we get to the bomb shelter first?” the oldest suggests, snarky.      “This information could be useful”, Sam replies, but before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.

     “Sullivan.”      “Hey Zoë, it’s Sam. Listen, I’ve got some info on Ronald Shire for you,” Sam cuts to the chase.      “Why would you have info on Laura’s dad?”      Sam cringes slightly, detecting the suspecting tone in her voice. Oh well, here goes nothing.      “We went to the Medical Center to see Shire’s body.”

      Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë’s blood boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gestures at him, frustrated.      “What are you including me for?” he hisses, making sure Zoë can’t hear him.      Sam waves him away, without making a sound he hushes his brother to be quiet, turning away from him in order not to get distracted. He takes a breath, gathering his courage. 

      “Zoë?”       “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Did you just tell me that you deliberately messed with my case, even though I told you VERY clearly not to get involved?”      The huntress’s voice trembles with anger, Sam can hear she tries to keep calm.      “We figured we could spare you some time by going ourselves--”      “- You FIGURED?!”

     Sam cowers, her voice so sharp and loud that he doesn’t have to put her on speaker for Dean to pick up on the conversation. He did move closer to his brother, invading his personal space in order to tune in.      “Better take cover,” Dean advises his brother.      Annoyed, Sam pushes his brother away and focuses on Zoë again.

     “We didn’t mess anything up if that’s what you’re worried about”, he states defensively.      “I wouldn't give a flying fuck if you solved the fucking case! You didn’t listen!”      “You’re not my boss!” Sam makes clear, not having her raging attitude, no matter how intimidated he feels by the fiery woman.      “I am the boss when it comes to MY cases, damn it! This is not a fucking candy store I’m running, Sam! You can’t go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!”      “It was an innocent morgue visit!” Sam exclaims while making a wild gesture, even though Zoë isn’t there to see it. “And honestly, would you have said ‘yes’ if I asked you first?”

     “No of course not, you fucking asshat! That’s the fucking point!” she returns, clearly furious. “I swear to God, Sam, if you and your brother cross my path again…”      “What? You’ll kill us?” Sam huffs. “Listen, Zoë. Ronald Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken, all injuries inflicted from a lower angle. That’s all the info I’ve got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want.”

     Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam ends the call. It’s only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods, appreciating.      “No more Mr. Nice Guy. I like it,” he comments, then continues his way to the Impala.      Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still angry with the ungrateful attitude of the huntress. He cannot believe he saved her at least an hour and a half and this is what he gets in return; so much for gratitude. 

     Together they walk over to the classic Chevrolet without speaking about it further. Yet Dean can’t help but  smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and rolls his eyes.      “Just say it,” he mutters.      “Say what?”      “You know what.”      Dean looks at him over the top of the black Chevrolet and ponders, still deciding if he should say the words which he longs to say. He can’t help himself, he has to enjoy the moment and rub it in.      His smirk grows even wider. “Hate to say I told you so.”      “No, you don’t,” Sam sighs, sits down and closes the door.

     Dean does the same and turns the key, starting up the Impala’s V8 engine, which lets out an enthusiastic roar. People Are Strange by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam stares through the windshield, still bummed about the call.      “Why doesn’t she just drop the act?” Sam wonders.      “I’m not sure if it’s an act, Sammy.” Dean checks in both directions before steering his precious car onto the road. “I sincerely think her soul is pitch black.”

     But Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “This can’t be her persona. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her.”      “So? People change,” Dean simply declares, shrugging his shoulders.      “Maybe, but this is just stupid. We’re in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can’t be that hard to accept our help.”      “Apparently she’s socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already. If she can’t appreciate a helping hand, she’s not worth the effort,” the older brother suggests, not wanting Sam to be bothered by the matter. “Let’s go to Texas and hunt some wolf, huh?”

     He considers the advice for a moment as they drive by Linwood Cemetery. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road at the Hampton Inn, but there is no sign of Zoë; she must be at the crime scene.      As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay. “No. We agreed to stay in town till tonight. Zoë will leave, case closed or not. It’s almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?”      “Half a day,” Dean answers smartly.      “Denise? Or did you completely forget about the fact that you are meeting up with her later?”

     The driver of the black car raises his eyebrow at that, contemplating, because Sam is right; he did forget about his ‘date’ later today for just a second. Dean doesn’t like to admit it, but Denise is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam’s mention while his brother thinks through his options.

     “Point taken,” he gives in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around.”      “She will, believe me. She’s not as bad to the bone as she pretends to be,” Sam states, sure of his words. After all, last night she was friendly for letting him crash in her room and transferring all that lore to his computer.      “I know her better than you do,” Dean weighs up.      “I don’t believe that's true,” Sam counters, shaking his head.      “Wanna bet?” Dean looks aside as the argument is starting to turn into a ‘do not, do too’ fight. “Burgers for a week.”      “I rarely eat burgers. How’s that gonna benefit me?” the younger sibling brings to mind.

     “Okay, well… If I win, you buy me burgers for a week. If you win, I won’t give you shit for ordering a salad in every fast food joint we eat at.” The green eyed hunter wiggles his eyebrows, his arrogant grin confident, spread wide on his lips.      “I’m not settling for that.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You can buy me whatever I order for the next seven days if I’m right.”      “Deal.”

     Before Dean can assure him that this is a bet he will win, his brother’s Blackberry rings. Surprised, he checks the screen for the number, his long chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes when he looks down, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it’s Zoë. Sam picks up his phone and puts her on speaker.      “What?” he snaps, still mad at her.      “What are you up to?”      The youngest of the Winchesters isn’t sure if she’s asking him if he’s still intending to mess with her case or that she’s asking if he has some spare time.      “Depends,” he answers, curt.      “You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke.”      “So?”      “Might be something.”

     Sam keeps his mouth shut, warning Dean to do the same with only a look and a slight shake of the head. An unpleasant silence follows. Obviously, it irritates Zoë.      “C'mon, Sam. Knock it off!”      “No, Zoë! We’re helping you out and this is what we get?” Sam returns.      “You two nosey dickwads went behind my back! How can you expect me to be--”

     They can hear her sigh and swallow down the rest of the sentence as she collects herself, trying to keep her temper in check.      “I don’t like working with others and I certainly don’t want to abandon this case. I’ve never passed up a job, it’s not my style. But if I don't finish up by tonight, I don't have another option.”

     “I get that, but wouldn’t it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you’ll make your deadline?” Sam suggests, calmer than a moment ago, now that the woman on the other end of the line has done the same.      “Look, Zo,” Dean interrupts, adding his two cents. “I know you’re not particularly happy about teaming up - and hey, neither am I - but you’ll be able to cover more ground that way. You can’t expect us to leave town knowing you might have to face a dilemma. The sooner you close this case, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”      “I don’t know...”      Again a sigh while Zoë considers her next move. Sam allows the silence, granting her the time to think it through. The way he sees it, she doesn't have much of a choice. The Winchesters are the best option she’s got.      “Okay, fine,” she eventually gives in. “But this is still my case. I call the shots and might we stumble on trouble, we stick to the plan. I can’t settle for anything less.”      Dean has already opened his mouth to object, but Sam elbows him hard, shooting him a warning glare.      “Agreed,” the youngest quickly answers, ignoring the quiet muttering from his left.      “Dean?”

     The older Winchester brother grinds his teeth. Shit, he does not want to bow down to her, because he knows the second he does, she will without a doubt step up to become Evil Queen Bitch. He’s never going to live it down. One case, he tells himself. One fucking case and he will never have to deal with her again.      “Fine,” he utters, barely audible.      “One other thing. I need to leave town tonight, case finished or not. We have to try or take care of this today, okay?”      “We will,” Sam assures. “And if we run into trouble and can’t manage to wrap up, you don’t have to worry about this case. We’ll make sure to have it covered and that Laura will be put to rest.”      “So, do we meet up or what?”      “Yeah, sure.”      “Where are you at?”

     Before Sam answers he checks the name of the road they are on.      “W. Kings Highway, going west. We’re staying at the Ramada Inn,” Sam tells her.      “Shit motel.”      He scoffs a chuckle, glad the tension has lifted. “Tell me ‘bout it.”      “I'll see you at In-N-Out,” the huntress decides. “I want an Animal Burger.”      “Have you had that 4x4 burger?” Dean says, his mouth watering. “The amount of meat, hmm.”      “Are you kidding me? I grew up in California; In-N-Out is my jam!”      “Their food is fuckin’ amazing, ain’t it?” Dean agrees.      “Oh my God, yes! How they grill their cheese—”

     Stunned, Sam stares from the phone to Dean and back. Did the unthinkable just happen? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something? Remarkable, but truly, here is the one subject they can’t fight about; food.      “Zo?” he interrupts.      “Yeah?”      “See you at In-N-Out.” He chuckles and hangs up.

     The Ramada Inn shows up in front of them and Dean pulls up into the parking lot, turning off the ignition once he has found a spot close to the entrance. Before he gets out of the car, he registers Sam, who’s wearing a boyish grin on his face. His eyes sparkle through the curtain of his bangs, his pearl white teeth on display; it’s clear he’s very much amused.      “Hate to say I told you so,” Sam nags victoriously, and pushes the passenger door open.

     With a confused expression upon his face, Dean gets out of his car himself. He then glares at younger Winchester over the top of the Impala, the words sinking in. Fuck, he lost a bet; Zoë came around.      “No, you don’t,” he mutters, following his sibling inside. Looks like he’s going to have to live through the embarrassment of ordering and paying for salads the coming week. Oh well, at least he doesn’t have to eat them.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).   

Read part eight here

[ihatetaxes99]

Death Note: The Glorious Manga Ending (And the anime that failed to deliver)

Well, this is certainly something a tad different from my usual affairs. Yes, I'm delighted to bear the news that I am taking a break from writing sub-par fanfiction and selling weapons to Middle Eastern terrorists in order to follow something a little less creative, but more immediately interesting to me in my current time of writing. I mean, hell, there's probably a 60% chance that no one will ever read this, since I'll likely drop it halfway through and go back to my black market dealings. But, in that small 40% chance that I do get this out the door, or indeed any further than this very sentence before I forget about it for all eternity, then I want to have a little discussion, a fun little analysis. And of course, I'm going to analyse everyone's favourite slice of life fluff comedy, Death Note. Specifically the ending and how I think the manga surpasses the anime in many, many ways.

If you haven't yet read or watched Death Note, then you won't be reading this anyway, so it would be rather pointless at best and an insult to your intelligence at worst to give a recap of how the series works. If you must have a layman's explanation, big murder book gets dropped into the human world, shenanigans ensue. There, now go watch or read it for yourself. Preferably read, as I am about to discuss. The manga is far better, entirely because of the second half. It's no secret that the Death Note anime handled the second half poorly. Content was cut, elements were skipped, scenes were changed entirely and Near, my favourite character from the manga, was done so dirty that he generally ranks as many people's least favourite, for some understandable reasons and others that I consider rather weak. But the main part of the second half aside, I want to talk about the final showdown, the confrontation in the Yellow Box warehouse, and how I feel the anime adaptation butchered a near-perfect ending for the sake of either time, or budget, or maybe to appease Light fangirls (because that definitely has a factor in why I don't like the anime's ending as much.)

So, to recap, most of the confrontation at the warehouse between the SPK and Kira plays out very much the same. Mikami writes the names down, Light reveals himself, the notebook is revealed to be a fake and Yagami has his famous mental breakdown, followed by one of the most powerful lines in the series:

(Note: I condensed the speech to fit neatly into two boxes)

I love this speech. I think it's one of the best in the series, for reasons that very much tie into why the ending in the manga works better. I want you all to think for a moment; I've seen a lot of people say Death Note is a series that doesn't take sides on the conflict. No, that is bullshit. In the early series, maybe, but from the moment Light Yagami killed Naomi Misora, and arguably even earlier than that with Raye Pembre, he was consistently portrayed as being more and more callous, more evil, more of a scumbag. Let's look over what he did, especially in the later stages of the series.

He:

Murdered the FBI agents tailing him.

Only expressed regret over Utika's death because it may negatively affect Kira's reputation.

Watched with no emotion as his father died and indeed, encouraged him to use the Death Note moments before he died.

Mocked Matsuda for mourning his father's death.

Manipulated two seperate women into doing his bidding (albeit, one was unintentional) and killed one himself, with plans to kill the other had he not been killed.

Instigated a riot in New York with the intent of killing Near and the SPK.

Killed FBI agents who were tailing him.

Only cared about Utika's death because it compromised Kira's strong public image and not because he was actually a good man.

Manipulated two seperate women into falling for him (albeit one was accidental) and promptly killed off one with no hesitation, with plans of killing the other had he not met his end first.

Watched emotionless as his own father died and even tried to get him to use the Death Note in his last moments.

Mocked Matsuda for mourning the death of his father and used it in a last ditch effort to distract the detective and escape.

Staged a riot with the intent of killing Near and the rest of the SPK.

And these are just some of them. By the end of Death Note, Light was not a good person. I personally never agreed with him, but he went from a disillusioned kid with a minor saviour complex to A full-blown, sadistic, perverted image of what he used to be, utterly unfeeling and cold-hearted, with a major God complex, a complete lunatic. As Near said, a mass murderer and nothing more. After everything Yagami's done over the course of the series, it was just too satisfying to read this for the first time, and I will concede, the anime did a great job adapting it. I feel a lot of Light fangirls agreed with him because his ideals sounded good on paper, but in reality, they're completely childish and self-serving. I am not one to moral grandstand, I believe those who take any excuse to give lectures about morality are annoying and often hypocritical scum, but my point here is that this is not a man any reasonable person could agree with if he were a real person. So, this teardown of his ego was perfect.

Now, the first big difference is the ultimate fate of Teru Mikami. In the anime, he kills himself in the warehouse, in a scene that makes me laugh every time due to the comically large quantities of blood spewing from him. He dies defending Kira's ideals, believing in his God. Or, if you choose to interpret it another way, he has accepted that Light is not God, and he has nothing else to live for. Either way, the anime lacks a key scene, after Light is shot by Matsuda and begging for help:

This is extremely important, as it continues what Near did with his speech and sets in motion the following trend for what is to come. Light is humiliated, his second most faithful pawn has turned against him, called him scum, seen him for what he truly is, and worse still, he's done it in front of everyone else. Teru Mikami has denounced his God, and this is just the stepping stone for the humiliation Kira is about to suffer. Also, it's worth noting that just before Mikami denounces Kira, there's a scene of Light crawling on the ground, bleeding, calling out for Misa and Takada to help him, seeming to have gone totally delusional, forgetting that Takada was already dead. This may have been excluded from the anime, or it may have been the fault of the subs I was using. It still serves as a vital part of the theme that the final few chapters hammer in, over and over again, that being the complete and total humiliation of Light Yagami. And the worst for our criminal-killing protagonist is still to come.

Finally, we reach the fate of the original Kira, the end of Light Yagami. In the anime, he uses Mikami's suicide as a distraction to escape, wherein he runs off, seeing visions of his past self, and dies out in the middle of a staircase, from a heart attack delivered by Ryuuk, calmly and quietly. This is all very nice and emotional, we see for a moment, Light contemplates what he became and wondering how it could have ended differently, and him dying in the middle of the staircase, as many people have stated before, is oh so very symbolic of how he finds himself unable to reach Heaven or Hell. However, this does not hold a candle to the manga.

This is what Light is like upon his death there:

Yeah, there's no real doubting it, he's going out like a complete bitch. Like the anime was thoughtful and silent, with an underlying sombre soundtrack, in this the once great Kira is reduced to a blubbering mess, throwing a tantrum because he refuses to accept his time is up. It was made very clear to him at the beginning that he was to die at Ryuuk's hand one day and now that it's here, he can't take it. He tries to cheat death, the one thing no human nor Shinigami can do. I mean, just look at the panels. He's a mess. A privileged, pampered brat who isn't getting his way. That is why I consider the Death Note manga ending to be superior to the anime in almost every way. While the anime gives us symbolism and a sense of calm, the manga goes all the way in tearing down this character, who has been a piece of human garbage for years at this point. I find it so satisfying to watch him get what he deserves, not only the death but the shame.

Light's own hubris and mental instability stole from him the honourable death he received in the anime. And that is everything I believe he needed, far more than the mere reality check he was given in the anime.

Phew, damn this was a ride and a half to write. I always appreciate feedback, if anyone wants to share their own thoughts on the ending. Please do feel free to do so, and I'll hopefully be back soon with your regularly scheduled shitty fanfics.

[rora-s]

The Derivative  Chapter 2: Shots

Chapter 1<- 

I stared across the darkened classroom at my blinders. They were perched in captivity on my history teachers desk. Stolen away from me and promised release upon the end of class today. The teacher himself was blathering on about something that I didn’t find important about how history continues on today. It seemed rather a redundant point to make. Of course we were living history I mean at one point every person we learn about in history had been in their present time.

There was movement in the corner of my vision and I turned to see Mr. Hopkins had turned on the tv in the room. “...let’s see what’s on the news nowadays as an example.” after flipping past a couple static filled channels Hopkins finally found the news station he was looking for.

I was about to turn back to my thoughts when I caught what the reporter was saying “This is a live breaking report from the channel 8 news. Flying over Central Los Angeles Savings Bank. I can see multiple people lying on the ground. One appears to be a federal agent several bystanders also seemed to have been injured in the crossfire, where the shoot out between federal agents and suspected bank robbers is in progress...”

I felt like ice water had just been pumped through my veins. I froze completely in shock. I remembered back to just the other night when Don had asked Charlie for help tracking bank robbers. Could it be the same robbers? Could Don be in the shootout? Was he injured? The class continued to watch through a car explosion and more gun fire and more cops arriving. Even into the aftermath.

“I’m receiving confirmation that three people were killed in his tragic incident one of which being an FBI agent. ” The bell rang and Hopkins turned off the tv. Seeming only to have been half listening. Most of the students in the class only seemed to be half listening.

I however was shaking. I was terrified. What if it was Don? What if he was dead? Shot down in front of a bank. I swallowed the lump in my throat rising from my desk with the rest of my classmates. I sweeped by the teacher’s desk and rescued my blinders before heading into the hallway.

My next class didn’t seem at all important as I ducked into the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. I pulled out my phone and speed dialed my father’s number. He didn’t pick up. I tried again. More of the same. I tried Alan; he didn’t answer either nor did Charlie. I repeated Don, Alan, Charlie. No one would pick up their phone. After hearing my father’s voice mail for the fifth time. I pocketed my cell and grabbed my backpack.

The hallway was clear as the final class of the day had already started. I headed straight for the exit. I was going to catch a bus to Alan’s house and get some answers. I was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

“Abby Calvin” the voice spoke. I turned to see none other than the school principal smiling down on me with a fake grin. “Skipping class are we?”

“Sir I was-”

He held up a hand “this is the third time in the last two weeks you’ve skipped a class. It’s not happening again, come on” he led me to the office.

The rest of my time at school was taken up by me being talked at by the principal. I tried to explain what was happening multiple times. He wouldn’t hear it and I was given a note for Don to read when I got home. My stomach churned as I imagined him shot to death in front of a bank. I quickly banned the image and beat my imagination into submission.

I tried each of the men I called family again twice on the bus before I was let off at the apartment building. I hurried up to my and Don’s apartment and let myself in. I threw my backpack on the couch and turned on the news grasping for any information that it might tell me.

As I sat watching the various unrelated news streams and casters talking about things I could care less about. I felt a sharp pain hit my head like a rock and with a blink I suddenly wasn’t sitting on the couch in Don’s living room.

I was crouched by a fire. I could hear the rain. People were talking all around me, there was music, laughing. Then there were shots. They echoed loudly in-

I stood and shook my head like it was wet. Pushing away the intrusive memory. I grabbed my binders out of my pocket putting them on and taking multiple deep breaths to try and calm down. I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to think about her.

_________________ 3rd POV.

Don sighed sitting down on his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. Tonight was not going well for him. His arm hurt and his head hurt. Worse he had just gotten back from talking to Agent McKnight's parents at their hotel. Nothing hurt worse than the look on McKnight’s mother's face when he told her what happened.

“I should be looking at mugshots, right?” Don voiced to Terry who was at her own desk nearby.

“Did you get a good look?” she inquired.

“Yeah, definitely” the man muttered in reply. Just then his phone rang. He pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. It was Abby he was about to answer it.

“Agent Eppes.” Don turned to see the forensic scientist had appeared nearby. “That piece of evidence you found at the scene. We know what it is”

“Excellent” he told her and glanced back at his phone declining the call from his daughter and making a note to call her back once he got a chance. Then him and Terry followed the scientist down to her lab. ________________________ Don reached the door to his apartment and began digging for his keys with a sigh. This case had taken a major turn and it was really late. He wasn’t here to rest though he was here to pick up Abby and take her to his father’s house. Alan could watch over her while Don worked late at the office on this case. As he turned the knob of the door he grimaced at the shot of pain his arm gave him. Then he entered his apartment and heard the immediate stomping of feet running to the door.

“What the hell were you thinking!?”

It took the FBI agent a moment to register the unexpected outburst to be coming from his daughter. “What?” he asked, confused.

“You were getting shot at!” Abby yelled walking up to him. “It was all over the news! An agent was shot and another was dead and I didn’t know who was who because you wouldn’t pick up your goddamn cell phone!” she yelled.

Don thought back to all the times he had dismissed her calls that day. He hadn’t thought anything about it at the time. However now he realized how stupid it had been not to let her know he was alright. “I’m sorry Abby I-”

“You could have been dead for all I knew!” she cut him off “and where would that have left me? Huh?” Her voice broke.

“Abby I risk my life everyday” Don explained trying to keep his voice level and calming.

“I know but you can’t just act like I’m supposed to be okay with it or just leave me in the dark to suffer you unbelievable jerk” she shoved him harshly in her anger.

“Abby. Abby. Abby!” Don tried to get her attention to make her calm down as she whacked at his chest and struggled against him in anger.

“I already lost my mom, I can’t lose you to Dad!”

Both parties froze at her last outburst. The anger in Abby’s face faded as she realized what she had said. “You just called me Dad” Don muttered.

“No no I said Don” Abby objected.

“No you said Dad” Don countered a small smile threatening his face. Despite the circumstance it was the first time she had ever called him that.

“No I said Don” the girl muttered.

“You called me Dad” Don let off a light chuckle.

“Oh shut up you stupid sperm donor” Abby grumbled as he pulled her into a hug.

“Are you done yelling now?” he inquired. Abby nodded into his chest. “Then listen cause the truth is I’m sorry I should have told you I was alright rather than just leaving you in the dark. I just- I’m still figuring out this father thing alright. We both are and I’m sorry but risking my life and possibly getting shot at is my job” Abby squeezed him tighter “but I will make this promise to you though. For every moment I am alive I will be fighting to make it back here to you. Alright?”

“Alright” Abby nodded as they stepped apart. “Donald”

Don sighed “Dad things not staying huh?”

“I wouldn’t bet on it” Abby replied with a smirk that mirrored her fathers.

“And here I was actually liking the idea of being called Dad” Don murmured. They both chuckled lightly. _______________________ Abby POV.

Me and Don pulled up outside Gramp's house and loaded out of the truck. Alan came out to meet us near immediately with a look of concern clear on his face. “Donnie, you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. It’s fine- ow! Ow!” he exclaimed as his father touched his injured arm. “Look it’s just, my arm’s a little sore.” he addressed the blatant concern on Alan’s face. “I got a- a scrape during an incident.”

I rolled my eyes at the lame excuse coming over to their side of the driveway. “A scrape? From what?”

“Well, a bullet, if you have to know” Don muttered with a sarcasm very much like my own.

“A bullet oh my g-” Alan exclaimed immediately.

Don quickly spoke over him “but it’s not… dad, please listen to me, okay?Just relax. We had an arrest go bad, and we lost an agent, okay? And three people died”

“It was all over the news” I added “check your voicemail I left messages”

“My word” gramps breathed out in shock.

“Now I’m dropping this one off and looking for Charlie. Where is he?” Don questioned.

“He’s out in the garage with Larry.” the other man informed. “He’s upset. I can see why now.”

“What’s he doing in the garage?” Don asked, confused. I had to admit I was confused as well last I heard they only used the garage for storage and laundry.

“He’s just working on that problem. You know.” Alan spoke directly to Don. “the problem he can never solve.”

“The P vs. P thing?” Don inquired.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” gramps nodded.

“Aw man” Don groaned in aggravation. I got the sense there was more going on here than I was privy to.

“Wait do you mean P vs. NP?” I looked between the two men. “The millennium prize problem?”

Neither seemed to be listening to me as Don started trucking toward the house. “Where are you going?” Alan called after him.

“I got to talk to him.” the son replied “I need a new equation”

Alan seemed as though he wanted to say more but Don had already disappeared into the house. “What’s the problem with Charlie working on P vs. NP?” I asked.

Alan sighed and looked to the ground “It’s not Charlie working on the problem that’s well the problem Abby. It��s why” I thought on it for a moment but was still not sure what he was saying. “Come on” he finally spoke up. “I’m assuming you haven’t had any kind of dinner yet” I nodded and followed my grandfather inside. ________________ 3rd POV.

Don came storming into the kitchen from talking to Charlie. It was aggravating after everything that happened with McKnight and the shootings. Charlie should be motivated to stop these guys but instead he just such down. Don was a kind of frustrated that only his little brother could make him whether it was rational or not and he knew it.

“Are you okay?” Don turned to see Abby perched sitting cross legged on the kitchen island. She was eyeing him quizzically.

“Yeah” he answered immediately “no.” he answered honestly “been better” he finally decided to go with. Abby nodded and bit her lip in a way that for half second made Don feel like he was looking in a mirror before he brushed the thought away “what are you doing in here?”

“Thinking” the girl replied honestly holding up her blinders which the man could infer she had just removed. “Gramps and your partner Terry are in the living room. She’s nice. I thanked her for the books she got me for my birthday.”

Don nodded and let out a breath feeling his irritation slowly ebbing away “yeah I’ve known Terry for a long time”

“Really?” the girl inquired.

“Yeah about ten years. We met in the academy” he explained.

“FBI academy?” she quizzed further.

“Yeah” Don nodded and a small grin came to his face “what you think I learned all this on the streets. Trial by fire style?”

Abby laughed slightly. “Well I don’t know I’ve only known a real FBI agent for the upside of a month”

Don scoffed and looked to his shoes. “Yeah”

“Is Charlie helping with this bank robbing case still?” Abby inquired, glancing toward the backdoor through which Don supposed she must have been able to hear the shouting.

“Apparently not” Don grumbled. “All he wants to do is work on the stupid P vs. P thing he’s completely shut down.”

“I can’t really blame him for being worried” she stated “and neither can you Don. You could have died and Charlie’s the one who sent you to the bank where the shooting happened.”

Don sighed and looked at his daughter quizzically “yeah I know but like I told you it’s my job to get shot at and I can’t change that. The more he helps though the less likely it is for that to happen and he just doesn’t want to help”

Abby looked like she was about to respond when the door to the kitchen opened and Terry stepped in “hey Don sorry to interrupt but we have to get back to the office.”

“Yeah coming” the man replied to his partner. Then turned to his daughter “I’ll see you later kid”

“Bye Don” the girl replied.

Don nodded and followed Terry out of the kitchen. Thinking in the back of his mind that he really wished she would have said Dad. __________________ Abby POV.

I walked slowly down the stairs of the house heading for the living room. Two books in hand that I wanted to read. I was mildly preoccupied with my own thoughts to the point that I didn’t realize Charlie had returned from the garage until I was about to turn the corner. I paused out of sight of the two men in the living room as the younger spoke.

“Dad. I’ve been working on a problem.” he explained “P vs. NP, it can’t be solved.”

“I think you knew that when you started” Alan replied wisely flipping through his paper.

“I could work on it forever, constantly pushing forward, still never reaching an end.” Charlie admitted. I bit my lip realizing I shouldn’t be listening in on this conversation however my feet wouldn’t move from the place they had planted themselves.

“You know, sometimes you want to think that things don’t end.” gramps mused “but they do.”

“When mom was sick I couldn’t stop working on it.” Charlie’s voice was breaking and I felt something clench in my chest. I had gathered enough knowledge about Margaret Eppes, my grandmother, to know she had died of cancer about a year ago. None of them really talked about it in excess. It was still fresh in their minds. Like my mom’s death and the state of mourning it procured were still fresh in mine.

“Yeah. I know.” Alan spoke to Charlie gently. “I didn’t get it. Uh, not then. And your brother sure doesn’t understand why you spent the last three months of your mother’s life working on a math problem.” I shifted on my feet listening despite my growing urge to leave “But Charlie, you mother she understood why. Because she knew how your mind worked.”

I finally pried myself off the wall and left the house. I wandered through the yard to the garage. My mom knew how my mind worked to. Even though she couldn’t think like I did she always understood why I behaved like I did. She knew what was in my head. _~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_ 3rd POV.

Abby sat another book on her already read pile. Grabbing a new one from her, going to read pile. She had just opened the cover when there was a clearing of the throat from the entrance to the small nook she had claimed in the back of the library.

She looked up to see her mother standing there, arms crossed. “Busted huh?” The girl asked. 

“Uh huh” the mom responded. Removing her purse from her shoulder she sat down across from her 14 year old on the floor. “I got another call from the school. You know most moms when their kid ditches don’t check the library first.”

“But you know better” Abby commented with a smirk.

“Yeah I do kid but you still have to stop skipping school even if it is to go read books” Janice stated.

“But the classes are pointless and boring” Abby objected. “They want to either put me in the need help classes because of my spotty elementary school education or in equally boring regular courses and then are shocked when I ace it all” Abby explained adamantly. “It’s patronizing”

Janice sighed “I know I asked again about the advanced courses but they are still sticking to their plan” 

“If they’d just give me the chance I could show them” Abby muttered.

“You’re a brilliant girl Abbs one day people will see that” Janice reassured. “But you still have to go to school” Abby groaned “Hey, hey it’s not just about the school work maybe you could make some friends. You know you can’t hide in the library forever. Eventually you will run out of books. Especially at the rate you read” 

Abby nodded “yeah I know. But people are well… people” 

Janice smiled slightly “yeah they tend to be like that. What are you reading there?” 

Abby glanced down at her book. “I don’t know haven’t started it yet” 

Janice smiled “alright then you read I’m going to grab a computer and do some of my school work for my new online classes” 

“Mrs. Wiat wasn’t kidding about homework never ending was she?” Abby commented as Janice got to her feet the woman chuckled lightly with her daughter. _~_~_~_~_~_~_~_ Abby POV.

I was sitting in the garage with my blinders on just absently thinking when I heard someone else walk in. I raised up the blinders to see it was Charlie. He plopped down in the chair nearby and grabbed his laptop.

After a moment he glanced up at me “Abby’s why are you sitting on the floor?”

I shrugged “it’s comfortable”

The man wasn't interested in discussing the topic. “So your millenium problem.” I gestured to all the boards around us. “Are you going to keep working on it?”

Charlie froze in the typing he had been doing. “I don’t know but, it can wait”

“And Don can’t” I finished his thought. Charlie nodded slightly and continued on his computer. I half wanted to talk to him about my mother for some reason. As I felt he might understand. I wanted to tell him that my mom got it too. However, I didn’t want to reveal that I had overheard him earlier, nor did I want to upset him. “The numbers are easy aren’t they?” I finally voiced after a moment “easier than people anyway. Answers to questions and a solid foundation. Easy to hide in.”

“Yeah” Charlie breathed in response and looked up at me “but we can’t hide in the numbers forever can we?”

“Nope” I muttered, popping the p. We were silent for a moment with the exception of Charlie’s mouse clicking.

Then Larry, Charlie’s friend and fellow CalSci professor, entered the garage. “Well,” he voiced upon his arrival, “I was heartened to hear that you’ve shifted your focus off P vs. NP.” he meandered further into the garage “So tell me what is it that I can help you with?”

“I failed” Charlie admitted and I snapped my attention back to him. “I failed to notice something significant. These robberies display certain highly eccentric characteristics.”

“Okay” Larry murmured, taking a seat on my other side a top some stuff “well how so?”

“Many were conducted in under two minutes, but in many cases,” Charlie explained “the perpetrators remained on the premises far longer despite having the money. Why would they wait around?”

“Don’t know.” the cosmologist replied “leaving quickly would seem to be the essential strategy when fleeing a felony.”

“Or any kind of crime” I added. “It’s risky cops could show up”

“You see this game, Larry? Abby?” Charlie pivoted his computer screen to show he had been playing Minesweeper. “You have to clear mines without blowing any up. Each time you’ve cleared a square, a numerical value is revealed. That number tells you exactly how many squares containing mines are directly adjacent to the square. This allows you to predict where the next mine will be located. And then the more boxes revealed, the more accurately one can predict the location of the mines.” he finished explaining the game and then continued with its relevance “the pattern used in these bank robberies is similar to this same type of problem-solving pattern. These robbers have used the banks they’ve been robbing to tell them which ones to rob next.”

“To what end would criminals be playing Minesweeper with banks?” Larry posed the same question rattling in my brain.

“I don’t know,” Charlie admitted.

“Are they using it to find high cash sums.” I suggested.

“No the takes varied, some as low as one hundred dollars.” Charlie objected thinking.

“Well then you’ll have to gather more information on your robbers” I pointed out “see what they’re after.”

“Information” Charlie murmured then quickly stood up closing his laptop with a snap. “I have to go.” with that he had dashed from the barn.

“It seems you’ve inspired him young Abigail,” Larry sighed.

“Don’t call me Abigail please” I asked the professor “and I don’t know what I did to inspire him”

Larry made a humming noise as I got up from my seat on the floor. “Well does it matter how in the grand scheme of things really?” he asked philosophically. “Whether you meant to inspire him or not it is still the outcome” I nodded lightly in agreement. “So if not Abigail what would you prefer to be called?”

“Abby” I stated thinking it was rather obvious considering everyone else just called me Abby.

Larry let out another humming noise. “You know you are quite a unique being”

“Thanks” I murmured not sure where he was going with this.

“You have a mind such as your uncles but your traits portray your father in quite a respect for you only having known both for a month. A true statement of nature versus nurture” Larry observed “you are an enigma”

“Okay” I sighed “then call me the enigma”

Larry nodded and stood up “very well then” and with that he left the garage. I hoped he realized I wasn’t being serious. _______________ “Here you go, Pop.” Charlie called walking out of the kitchen with a bowl in his hands. “I got it.” he sat it down “now you got it.”

“Thank you,” Alan replied.

“Spoon” Charlie stated holding up the utensil.

I scoffed “I think he knows what a spoon is Uncle C”

My uncle gave me a look and messed up my hair with a small shove like gesture as he went to sit down next to me. He didn’t sit however as just then the main door opened. “Hello” my father called.

“Donnie!” Alan greeted getting to his feet. “Wow, it’s good to see you.”

“Oh, you guys ate. I’m starving” Don voiced coming into the dining room.

“Ah there’s plenty come on” Alan objected quickly.

“Yeah?” the agent clarified “did Terry call, tell you guys what happened?”

“Yeah, she said you arrested every suspect.” Charlie informed shuffling back toward the kitchen. “Only one shot fired, huh?”

“That’s impressive.” I mused “snipers are cool.” Don gave me a look as he made his way to the seat at the head of the table “sniper math is cool” I emphasized pointedly.

“One? How’d you pull that off?” Alan inquired.

“We knew roughly where’d they’d try to hit the next shipment,” Don explained as Charlie disappeared to get him some food. While I turned back to consuming mine. “And I knew they’d have an escape plan.”

“That’s very clever.” Gramps declared digging into his dinner.

“Out thinking the bad guys” I voiced “that’s got to be fun”

“Keep talking like that and someone might think you want to join the FBI” Don muttered giving me a look.

I shrugged and held up my hands in a defensive gesture “hey I don’t even know what I’m doing once I escape high school” I explained “don’t go pegging me to early”

“And I don’t think I can take two members of the family dodging bullets for a career” Alan voiced.

“Yeah well, I guess I was inspired by Mr. Heisenberg” Don continued as he went to grab a beer in the kitchen. “Just like Charlie here suggested”

“Heisenberg?” Alan gave Charlie a perplexed look. “You mean, the physicist?”

“Yeah” Don called in reply.

I chuckled lightly as Charlie took the seat next to me “Don goes to confront a bunch of crazy and armed bank robbers and your pep talk is about the movement of subatomic particles?”

“Yep” Charlie replied simply. Me and Alan exchanged an amused look. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes” Alan replied. “I guess it did.” There was a moment as Don joined us at the table and we all turned to our food but Alan “I’m telling you,” he began “if your mother could see you two guys now, she would be… so happy” he voiced and turned to me “and Abby. She would have loved to have known you”

I smiled lightly as the brothers exchanged a look themselves. “How are you doing on your P vs. P thing?” Don inquired after a moment.

“NP?” Charlie corrected with an amused breath.

“Sorry” Don murmured.

“I’m not pursuing it anymore.” the mathematician declared.

“No?” the agent questioned.

“I got plenty of problems to work on,” Charlie explained “ones that I think I can actually solve.”

Don nodded “Glad to hear it.” The two clinked their glasses and Alan raised his. I grabbed my glass of water as well and we all knocked glasses in the center taking a sip. As normal table conversation resumed. I found myself smiling. I was among family.

Chapter 3 -> 

[androgynousblackbox]

Lucky Light AU: Where Light meets a nice lady

Ryuk: I won. Light:... Ryuk: You know, with that long face you almost make me feel bad about beating you in Mario Karts. Light: And yet you keep playing and winning. Ryuk: I said almost. Don’t expect much more from a shinigami. Light: Noted. I just... the guy didn’t had to die. He probably had a life of his own and to end it on such a bad note. Ryuk: I supose the fact L now is going to suspect you personally after that has to make you real nervous too. After all, the guy died watching you.

Light: Yeah, that.... WHAT? Wait a minute, that doesn’t make any sense! L... L only knows about the heart attacks. It was an accident. A literal innocent accident. That was tragic and horrible and I will probably have ingrained in my eyes forever, but an accident! I had nothing to do with it! He wouldn’t... he wouldn’t suspect that... does he? Ryuk: Mmm? Maybe not, who knows really. Hehehe. Light:... Ryuk:  Hey, let’s play again. This time I will be the orange princess. Light: Sometimes I really think you just enjoy torturing me. Ryuk: Not my fault you make it so easy. Light:... Light: Fine, I will be Toad. Sachiko: Light! Light *grabs the controller of Ryuk and throws it to the bed, covering it with the cover and turning off the TV before his mother enters the room* Yes, mom? Sachiko: Light, I need you to take this clean clothes to you dad at the station. Light: Sure, mom. He stayed there overnight again, huh... Sachiko: Your father is working very hard right, Light. He needs to know he counts with our support. Light:... of course, mom. *at the police station, Light comes right on time of watching a lady arguing with the receptionist.* Lady: Are you sure there is really nowhere right now? Nobody I can talk to? Receptionist: I am sorry, but not this moment. If you have some important message you can leave it here and we will make sure it reaches them. Lady: No, thank you. I prefer to wait until they arrive. Receptionist: Oh, hey, Light! How is our little favorite detective? Light: Good, good. Would you mind giving this to the chief Yagami when he comes back? Mom sends it to him. Receptionist: Sure, no problem! You know, I bet they could really use your help right to solve the case right now. Nobody here likes to admit it, but what you did last year to solve those cases was really something impressive. We would have never caught those criminals if you haven’t deduced their place of gathering. Light: Oh, that... It was nothing. Almost like pointing some random place on a map without even looking. Receptionist: Oh, come on, Light, don’t play modest now. I am surprised they haven’t called you in for this on yet. Light: Well... you know, school and all that. I am kinda busy right now. Receptionist: Of course, of course! You must be working really to get into college. You are going to study to become a detective like your old man, don’t you? He must be so proud of you! Light:... Sure. It was nice seeing you. Now I have to come back. Receptionist: Have a good day! *Light is about to come out when the lady stops him* Lady: Excuse me, I couldn’t help hearing... Do you know the chief of the operation in charge of getting Kira? Light: Sure, he is my dad. Were you looking to speak to him? It’s important? Lady: You could say so. Light: If you want I can call him right now and you can talk to him. Lady: That would be nice of you. Thank you. Light: No problem! Miss... Lady: Nanaki Asumi. Ryuk: Pppff. Light: Uh, sure, miss Nanaki. *tries to call but nothing* That is weird. Dad must be doing something important right now. He doesn’t usually turn off his cellphone. Lady:... I see. I still appreciate it. If you don’t mind... what was the receptionist talking about? I heard some about a major case of human trafficking that was stopped when the police raided their place last year. Was that the case he meant? Light: Yeah, actually... He exaggerates a little bit, I didn’t really do much but suggest some names and a place. The police did the actual work. Lady: Still, for a higschooler to do that is still impressive. Light:... Light: Well, miss Nanaki, I am sorry I couldn’t help more. I am sure someone will appear soon. Lady: I don’t mind waiting. Light:... Light: Hey, I am sorry, I don’t mean to prove, but are you alright? Do you want me to fetch some water or maybe something to eat, miss Nanaki?  Lady: Oh? No. No, it’s fine. But thank you, really. Light: Are you sure?  Lady: Yes, I am sure. I will just stay here until they are back. Light: It’s really very important? That is why don’t even want to leave a message? Lady *nods* Light:... Light: It’s something to stop Kira? Lady: I wouldn’t say stop but... maybe. Hopefully it can help. Light: You really think so, miss? It could help L to catch him? Lady: I don’t know. But in any case I would feel better telling him this. As directly as I can. Light: You are a cop, right, miss? Lady:... I was. Something like that at least. How did you know? Light: I grow up surrounded by cops. Almost all of them have this serious aura around them that is kinda of a give away. Also you got told no two times already on your request and yet remain perfectly calm. So I was between a cop or a nurse. Someone that can control themselves even when things are bad. And somehow a nurse didn’t fit. Lady: That is very observant of you. Light: I would say lucky guess. Sorry, I didn’t meant to make you uncomfortable. Lady: You didn’t, it’s just... Lucky gueses sometimes are the only thing you have to start somewhere. You shouldn’t understimate them. Light: Yes, miss. But uh...*sits at her side* Can I ask you something? Lady: I supose. I hope I can answer. Light: Why... why do you care about capturing Kira? Okay, I know that probably sounds like a stupid question because cops and Kira is a criminal and all that, and if that is the answer, I won’t say anything else, but... something else? If you don’t mind, that is. I realize I have no right to go asking something if is too personal, I get that. Lady: It’s okay. I... Light:... Lady: I believe Kira killed someone important for me. Light: Really? I am sorry... Could I ask why was he in prison? Lady: He wasn’t in prison. He was the exact opposite of a criminal. Light:... I am sorry? That doesn’t sound right, Kira doesn’t kill people outside of prison. He doesn’t mess with innocents. Well... I guess you could argue that one time that fake L on television, but if you ask me, that was very unusual and shouldn’t be taken at all like the norm and wasn’t he a criminal anyway? So it’s like it doesn’t really count as innocent... Lady: It’s fine if you don’t believe me. I don’t need to convince you. No offense, but I came here to speak with L if possible. Ryuk: She is talking about the agent guy, genius. That or some other murder someone wants to put on you. Light:...o-of course. Well... I hope you do, miss Nanaki. My condolences. I didn’t mean to come off as rude. Lady: It’s okay, I understand.  Light: Good luck, miss Nanaki.  Ryuk: You do know you could have let a threat go, right? If she talks with L they only have to see who he was following and you are a suspect. Light:... Ryuk: Mmm. You don’t care? You look like you are about to throw up, though. Light: I-it’s not like I don’t care. She hasn’t done anything wrong. I can’t do anything to her if all she wants is gets some closure because a friend of her died. That is not fair. Ryuk: I thought you wanted to be the one who judges what is fair. Is not that what you use the notebook for? Light: Is that what you think I want? I never said that. I do think people who hurts other don’t deserve anything better, and okay, maybe that is a bit contradictory, but if L suspects... or caughts me... then he does. It’s only fair a man that is just doing their works gets to do it. Ryuk: Even if that means you get turned into a wanted criminal? Light: I am one already. They just don’t know that. I can’t really think of any way I could avoid that even if I wanted to. I mean, L is the best detective of the world. Maybe it’s a matter of time. Maybe there is nothing I can do without killing innocent people. And I refuse to do that. So what happens then just has to happen.  Ryuk: That all sounds pretty stupid to me, if you ask me. But yeah, you probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything. She didn’t even gave you her real name. Light:... Light: Well, shoot, see? I wouldn’t have no way of knowing that without you telling me and I can’t be “excuse me, miss, for no reason in particular, can you verify your identity to the highscholer you just met” neither, can I? I am sorry, Ryuk. It’s look like your show could end early. Light: Are you going to write my name? Ryuk: This is a letdown, Light, I won’t lie. But I am still curious to see how it plays out. So not for today at least. Light: Thanks, I guess...  *three days after* Watari: L. L: Tell me, Watari. Watari: Just this morning Naomi Misora ended up dead on a hijiking incident. I know you worked with her before, so I thought you would like to know this. L: Is that so...? That is a pitty. She was a good agent. A very inteligent woman. Send some flowers to her family for the funeral. Watari: Of course, L. L: And Watari? Send me too the footage video of the incident. It might be nothing, but added that with the death of four of the FBI agents there could be some irregularity worth noticing. Do we know already who were the people they were following? I am especially interested on the first one. Watari: Yes, they just came in. I will send you all the names immediately. L: Thanks.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Look in Her Eyes- Chapter 1

***While on a case, Dean and Sam meet a beautiful woman, Ava. She makes a large impression on the brothers, and ends up convincing them to take her on the road with them. It isn’t long before the shared experience, car rides, motel rooms, and risky cases pushes Ava and Dean together in an unlikely story of love family, fate, and friendship. ***

Chapter One, The Detective

Dean

I stepped into the bar, my dress shoes clicking on the floor. Even after all this time I still felt out of place in a monkey suit. I adjusted my tie awkwardly. I scanned the bar, looking for a local who may know more about the case Sammy, and I were working.

My eyes locked on a curvy pale woman with jet black hair that fell down her back in messy curls. Jack pot. I smoothed out my shirt and turned on the charm. "Excuse me, mam." I began, as I slid onto the bar stool next to her.

She looked up at me and met my eyes with icy blue ones. She looked about 25 years old. There was something calm about her. Maybe it was the way her left leg was tossed lazily over her right, or the way her hair tumbled down her neck."You're excused." She said flatly, turning back to her folder of papers in front of her.

I cleared my throat, trying again. "Mam, my name is Special Agent Carter. Can I ask you a few questions?"

This seemed to spark her interest. I wasn’t surprised, women found agents sexy. I’d caught a few with the title before. 

I saw her eyebrow twitch slightly. She shut her folder and ran her fingers along the cover. She moved her leg from her knee and titled her head to the side. "Special agent, huh? Can I see your badge?" She held out her hand, wiggling her fingers. 

I nodded and pulled the fake FBI badge out of the pocket in my jacket. She took it and seemed to over examine it.

"Agent Carter.” She looked up at me, pursing her lips. “You're a little far away from home, aren't you?"

"Yes mam." I grinned at her. She kept ahold of my badge, and she smiled at me curiously.

"What brings you to my little town?"

"I'm looking into the suspicious deaths that have happened in this town." I said, leaning closer to her. "I don't suppose you knew anything about that?"

Her upper lip twitched slightly. "Why would I?"

"I don't know, mam. That's why I'm asking." My eyebrows furrowed. She was making this difficult. "Listen, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

She laughed out loud. "You feds are so squirrelly. What? You're not used to getting your way. Can't intimidate a girl so you're getting your panties in a bunch." She handed me my badge back.

I raised an eyebrow. She was feisty. She was annoying. "Listen Miss..."

"That's Detective Langston, to you, agent." She said sliding out her own, very real badge.

I raised an eyebrow. "A little young for a detective."

"I could say the same thing about you, agent." Her jaw was tight. She was studying me. "I know for a fact my office didn't call you down here. So why does DC have a concern about some missing locals?"

I narrowed my eyes, trying to play it cool. I hate it when they try to ask questions. Just go with it, lady. "Listen, sweetheart."

"God, that's just typical. Isn't it? Sweetheart? Listen, you condescending asshat." She stood up and pressed her index finger against my tie on my chest. "I want to speak to your supervisor, agent."

I tried to avoid the urge to groan. Poke me again, and I swear. "You got it, Detective." I reached into my jacket. "Call em." I handed her my bogus card with Bobby's number on it. He would bail me out. He always does. I leaned against the bar top, feeling awkward in my clothes. In my own skin.

She typed the number into her phone and paced back and forth as it rang.

I took this opportunity to study her. She wore tight black dress pants and high heels. She had a long sleeved maroon shirt that hugged her curves and a necklace that fell directly in her cleavage. Two perfect breasts. Get it together, Dean. This woman is trying to bust you. Think with your right fucking head. I tried to shake off the lust that was growing.

"Hello, my name is Detective Ava Langston with Clyde Hill PD in Washington." She pursed her lips. "I'm calling about one of your agents." She narrowed her eyes. "Uncle Bobby? Is that you?"

I stood up immediately, taken aback. Uncle?

"Holy shit! I thought that was you."

She looked more relaxed now. She was leaning against the bar again. "Well since I know you aren't a fed, who am I talking to right now?" She eyed me, again. "Mmhm. Which one are you?" She was talking to me now.

"Uh. Dean." I grunted.

"Dean Winchester, huh?" She looked amused, interested. She looked down at the bar top and nodded a few times. "Yeah, sure." She looked back up at me. "He wants to talk to you."

I took the phone from her. "Bobby?"

"Listen here, idgit. You and your brother are like sons to me, but Ava is my niece, my blood. You don't mess with her. Ya here me? I will kill you dead."

I grunted, with a nod. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm serious, Dean. She is off limits."

I looked up, making eye contact with her. Ava. "I hear you, Bobby. You got it."

I could hear Bobby grumbling on the line. "Idgit." Click.

I handed her the phone back. "So this is awkward." I said with an uncomfortable laugh.

She slowly sat back on her barstool. "Dean Winchester. Bobby talks about you a lot." She commented.

"I didn't know he had a niece." I lowered myself back on to my stool.

"I'm not surprised." She said cooly. "I think he tried to keep me out of your line it work."

"So you're really a detective?" I asked skeptically.

"Mhm." She said with a nod. "And you think these disappearances are a... case?"

"I have my suspicions. Not much to go on yet. Sammy is doing some research back at the motel."

"Well, Dean. Why don't you buy me a drink and you can tell me what you think is in my little town."

I raised an eyebrow. I felt a flutter in my chest. What the fuck? "Like what? A cosmo?"

"Try a beer. But if princess Winchester wants a cosmo I'm sure we can get you one."

I laughed out loud. "Okay. You got me." I put up my hands in surrender and waved over the bartender. "Two beers."

"And whatever he's having." Ava grinned at me.

What a woman.

The bartender handed her two beers and one for me. "So, Ava. What can you tell me about the vics?"

"No real connection." She said taking a swig. "All great people. Successful. Two men and a woman. Different ages. Different parts of town." She sighed.

"They're all successful?" I asked taking another drink. Maybe it was the beer, or being near her, but my head was buzzing.

"Yeah. The woman, Jane, was the youngest CEO in her company's history. First woman, too. A real go getter. Lawrence married a supermodel. She's way out of his league. They do seem really happy, though. Nice couple."

I finished my beer and gestured for another. I had a nasty feeling in my gut that I knew what was ganking people in town. "And the third?"

"The third was just a kid. Nineteen years old. He got into Princeton. He was home for Christmas break."

I rubbed my face with my hands.

"What?" She questioned, leaning in closer to me. I got a whiff of her perfume and felt a little dizzy. "Do you know what's doing this?"

"If I had to bet my life on it, I'd say a cross roads demon."

She sat up a little straighter. "A demon? How do you deal with that?"

I sighed. "You really don't. We can send it back to hell, but it'll claw its way out eventually. If we can find out how many more people made deals we may be able to protect them. For awhile."

"A deal? What do you mean?"

I looked at this woman. Her blue eyes were serious. Bobby's niece. I reminded myself. "Someone summoned the damn thing and made a deal. Something for their soul. They get ten years and whamo hell hounds come for your ass and drag you off."

She finished the next half of her beer in one large gulp. "Jesus."

"I'll say."

"So, how are we going to find out who else made a deal?"

I laughed and finished my third beer. "We aren't doing anything, sweetheart. Sammy and I will take care of this."

"God, again with the sweetheart bit. What? Am I supposed to swoon? I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not." I put my hands up as if to tell her to stop.

"I am. End of story. This is my town. These are my people to protect."

"This is a demon, Ava. Not some regular run of the mill psychopath."

"I get that." She said with a hushed tone. "And I'm not just a detective."

Something came over me. "You didn't." I stood up, shaking my head. "Tell me you didn't."

"Didn't do what exactly?"

"You didn't make a deal. Please tell me you didn't make a deal with this son of a bitch."

"Seriously? You're really asking me that?"

"You're pretty young for a detective! Is it such a crazy thought?"

She laughed and shook her head. "You know what? Fuck you, Dean. Fuck off." She stood up after finishing her beer. She slid into her leather coat. "No, I didn't make a deal. I'm just good at my job. I know it's a crazy concept to think that a woman could progress so quickly in a job made for boys, but I did it. I'm good at my job, asshat. So call me when you need me, because you will need me."

She turned away from me and walked away, swinging her hips. She pushed out fo the bar into the cold December night.

—

"Bobby's niece, wow." Sam said as he lounged on his bed in the motel.

"That's what I said." I sat on a chair and the table in the corner, leaning with my feet on the table.

"He called me immediately and told me to stay away from her." Sam laughed. "I can't believe we haven't heard of her before."

"She's something else, Sammy. A real spitfire."

"Bobby told me about her, Dean." He scooted to the edge of his bed.

"What did he say?"

"Her mom died when she was 9."

"Fuck."

"It was a demon, Dean."

"Like what happened to mom?" I asked.

"It was a crossroads demon."

"What was her deal?" I leaned forward in my chair, resting my feet back on the floor.

"She wanted to have a child. She did it for Ava."

"Does Ava know?"

Sammy shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Do you think this is the same thing that kill her mom? Here twenty five years later to collect again?"

"It's possible."

"I don't like that possibility." I said standing up. I walked into the bathroom to splash my face with water. I held both sides of the sink, staring at my reflection. Is this what she saw when she looked at me? My tired, aging face. She was right, of course. I didn't need her for the case, but I did want to call her. I needed to see her again. I wanted to.

———————————————————————————————————

Chapter Two- The Pastor 

[aceofstars16]

*wants to ask aaaall the characters for the ask* What about Peter, Neal, and Mozzie from White Collar? (Also, free pass to talk about Tony Stark too here because I love him)

MY BOYS! (I legit almost watched White Collar tonight, but my sister wanted to watch Hawaii 5-0)

Peter Burke

First impression

Okay so…it’s been a loooong time since I started it, but I’m pretty sure I thought he was a little…strict maybe, I can’t really remember. It was kind of like, “Oh who is this FBI guy?” and then “Oh he’s giving Neal a chance awwww”

Impression now

Peter Burke is a gift to this world, the best dad, the best husband, the best FBI agent. Such a good boy, pure heart, able to put up with Neal despite all Neal puts him through. I love Peter Burke so much guys…

Favorite moment

Oh goodness…that’s hard…so freaking harddd hnnggggg, the one that keeps coming back to me is when he freaking flew out to an island using his vacation time to find Neal and make sure he didn’t like get killed by that jerk agent. 

Idea for a story

I just want one shots of him raising little Neal and occasionally thinking of big Neal…but also just fluff things. Though…him going on a trip to Europe to look for Neal is also…a good story (I legit have lots of ideas for how their story could continue/how Peter and Neal meet again…*flops*)

Unpopular opinion

I don’t know??? I mean I guess I’m both touched and a little like “would he though” when it came to naming his kid Neal because…it’s PRECIOUS but wouldn’t that freaking hurt him every time he said his son’s name??? Cause it would remind him of his pretty much other son???

Favorite relationship

DON’T MAKE ME CHOOSE BETWEEN PETER AND NEAL AND PETER AND ELIZABETH I LOVE THEM BOTH SO MUCH! How about just Peter, El, and Neal???

Favorite headcanon

I don’t know if I really have one but…I just had a cute thought of little Neal drawing pictures and Peter is like, “It’s like all of those…modern art things” so he hangs it up but then Mozzie sees it and is just like, “…no you can tell that was done by a two year old” and Peter is just like “how????”

Neal Caffrey

First impression

Who is this prison boi? Oh dang he is so smart?!? Oh gosh I really like him already…

Impression now

Neal…I love Neal, I don’t always agree with him but I love him. He has such a big heart and he cares so much about his found family like he legit PRETENDED TO DIE TO KEEP THEM SAFE HELP. He’s also gone through so much crap but he’s gotten through it (with his found family’s help) and he’s also like an amazing artist like Neal just make your own art you will be amazing at it???

Favorite moment

Oh gosh…I mean there are so many funny ones but…I just think of the sad ones…(I’m paraphrasing cause…I don’t remember exact quotes super well…)

“You’re the only one who saw good in me”

“Peter’s more of a father to me than you ever were!”

“You’re my best friend…my best friend”

Idea for a story

Okay, so Neal 100% puts together an all expense paid trip for the Burkes to come to Europe, because he misses his fam and by now Peter knows he faked everything sooo, he just kind of like shows up at their hotel room and then they catch up and everyone is happy. I also had an idea that Neal like joined a similar FBI thing and now he has his own like protege that he’s kind of training because yes

Unpopular opinion

I’m not happy with how they kind of seemed to instigate that “cons never change” and how Neal continually went back to crime. Like, it’s not terrible during the show, but the end made it seem like Neal was going to steal again and…no…like…come on, he’s learned, he had a fresh start. Let him start over plz

Favorite relationship

Neal and Peter are the best, but some other great ones are Neal and Mozzie and Neal and Elizabeth, honestly all of the platonic relationships are so goooood

Favorite headcanon

One day, Neal really tries to get into baseball for Peter, like do all the research and everything, and he actually kind of gets into it…but he legit just falls asleep on the couch while they are watching a game and Peter just sighs and smiles as he tucks a blanket around him 

Mozzie

First impression

Huh, this guy is…interesting…useful, but kind of eccentric, he’s kind of fun though?

Impression now

Mozzie is just too fun, and he cares so much about Neal, and in a way he gets his own kind of found family too which is just precious and good and yes

Favorite moment

Probably when he came out of hiding and brought his treasure with him to save El…but also him and Peter kind of helping each other cope after Neal faked his death…

Idea for a story

How about when he’s just chilling with Neal and Kate when they were smol and then Neal just casually goes “You know Moz, you really don’t need that toupee” and Mozzie just laughs until Neal says he’s serious and Kate agrees and from then on out Mozzie stops wearing it

Unpopular opinion

…I don’t think I really have one???

Favorite relationship

I couldn’t find a good gif *cries* but Mozzie and El are the best brotp, so pure

Favorite headcanon

He still thinks about his birth family from time to time, but then he looks around and realizes he does have a family and that helps him smile

Tony Stark

First impression

I honestly don’t remember I was like twelve…but I remember loving Iron Man so much more than I thought I would and I think I really did like Tony…

Impression now

I love him. Tony is the best. He is so smart, but also so kind. He has been through so freaking much and yet he keeps going, even when he has so many excuses to give up, or stop fighting, or heck even to look at the bad and pay people back for what they have done. But NO, he freaking keeps going, he helps other, he encourages the younger generation, he is broken but he hasn’t let that stop him. Tony is a gift to the MCU, end of story.

Favorite moment

Dude…only one??? I…I don’t know if I can pick just one??? I just keep coming back to the end of Homecoming - how Tony wraps his arm around Peter and says he did a good job, how happy he looks showing Peter the Iron Spider suit, his shock when Peter says no to being an Avenger and then that little shrug and smile when Happy says Peter is a good kid…there are so many other moments but that one just makes me happyyyy

Idea for a story

I really want Tony to get therapy…and like come to terms with his parents, both their death and his dad’s mistreatment of him. I feel like not a lot of people know that, so just Tony being able to tell someone at least, and get that off his chest. Heck give me Peter finding out and then finding out Tony is scared of being like his dad and Peter quickly reassures him that “No, you are a great dad! Or…you will be..I mean you’re a great mentor which is kind of like a dad, I’ll just stop talking now…” Tony is touched.

Unpopular opinion

Ummm, nothing? He’s an amazing awesome characters and all the haters don’t know what they are talking about???

Favorite relationship

I love Pepperony and so many others but….

Favorite headcanon

That Peter totally keeps Tony in the loop with all the things kids are doing, so Tony knows a lot of memes and vines (not all of them though he is still confused from time to time) and he watches lots of TV shows with Peter (hence why he knew who Squidward was) and they make references and quote things during battles and other people are just like ???

[tryalittlejoytomorrow]

small kaymeron things that give me life:

how they instantly start calling each other Cameron and Kay, no Mr. Black and Agent Daniels nonsense

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without my beautiful assistant”/”Don’t ever say that again”/”Yeah, nah, sounded weird coming out” aka the start of everybody shipping them and also, hey, he called her beautiful, and I’m trash

that soft moment at the ending of the pilot where they’re outside on the patio/balcony/roof/whatever, softly lit, and he tells her about Johnny and how he has to get him out and he’s soft and open and vulnerable and she’s instantly ready to go on that crusade with him

the dimples!!! on that man!!! when he smiles when Kay tells him she saw his special on TV and thought it was fantastic!!! fantastic!!! the way his whole face glows as he says “fantastic, wow,” because he’s so happy she liked it even tho he hardly knows the woman

the whole “we’re coming for you” over the phone with MW and the ridiculous hotness of these two standing together with their heads bent over the phone and the sheer dedication in their respective gazes

how Kay keeps telling Deakins time and time again that Cameron’s good and can do some real good with them

the look on Kay’s face when she watches him do magic tricks and interact with their witness kid, you just know her ovaries are kinda imploding then, and so were mine

“Who wants to lose their head?” *Kay grabs him* “Okay, point taken” and his fucking smirk, jesus fuck, the smirk on that man’s face is unholy and she knows it

Cam running and yelling her name even if it’s a staged act, because, come the fuck on, the intensity in that man??? have you noticed how fast he runs for a woman he hardly knows? come on, even the bad guys know these two are in for the long haul

the fact that Kay is always sitting/standing close to him at wrap-up parties and they somehow always find their way to some isolated corner of the Archive??? and drink just the two of them???

Kay telling Cameron about her sister and vowing to help him with his brother because she gets it

Kay being impressed at his goodness and how he always tries to help everybody when he sees it as being naive

them shaking hands and striking a deal to work together to find MW

that little frown Kay has every time she watches him do one of his deception tricks, half-worried, half-impressed

that small moment in the museum when she tells him about Caroline and she’s so soft and vulnerable and he listens to her stories and uh, throwback to the one time he did the same and she listened much??? this is the stuff of otp legends

“Don’t shoot, it’s me!” and Cam pouting because Kay’s not impressed with him

the proud smile on Kay’s face when Cameron saves Vivian from plummeting to her death, like she’s all like “THAT’S MY MAN RIGHT THERE, 10/10 WOULD RECOMMEND”

“Grab your wand”/”I don’t have a wand, that’s, uh, a thing she does, that’s hilarious” *runs after Kay* “You’re hilarious Kay!”

Cameron beating himself up for ignoring Kay’s orders and getting Johnny’s hopes up and Kay jumping in to reassure him that they will catch MW

have I said anything about how they don’t know anything about personal space???

“is that your face on that pen?”

Kay constantly telling him he’s doing good whenever he beats himself down

the way Kay seems to own a key to the Archive because she just always pops in and out like she owns the place, and looks so at home there??

Kay giving him shit for lying to his ex and teasing him

the way Kay always marvels at his tricks until she admits magic - Cameron - is growing on her

how Kay slowly transitions to calling him Cam more and more

“He’s one of us - you called him a civilian, he’s one of us. If one of your guys went missing would you wait 24 hours?” the sheer intensity and protectiveness in that woman, dear lord, I fear for anyone stupid enough to try and keep Cameron away from her, insert Hozier here

Kay reassuring Jonathan that they’ll get Cameron back and thus showing him and us how much she cares about Cam

the utter sheer fear on Kay’s face during the whole vault scene, the way she clenches her fingers around Jordan’s shoulder upon watching Cam suffocate

how Cam ultimately refuses to help MW because he can’t bear betraying Kay after everything she’s done for him

the fact that Kay rode in the ambulance with him after he almost died!!! and they let us know in such a careless way but it means so much!!!

Kay being pissed at Cameron throughout the next episode because he scared the hell out of her by almost dying

Cam slow-clapping at Kay for her Oscar-worthy performance during their deception at the police station

“So, I think I've officially run out of ways to apologize. So I just. Are we good, you and I? I mean, or just close to, I mean, a little good?/ “I wasn't completely honest with you, either. I was mad, but I was also...seeing you almost suffocate in that vault, it really scared me. I'm not so good at being scared.”/”But you're scary all the time.”/”This was different.” HE WAS DIFFERENT.

“Cam, put the moon down”/”But it’s gonna be cool.”

Kay grinning at that goddamn dumb fajitas joke, she’s so in love

“Take your clothes off”/”What?” and that dumb dumbo doesn’t get why but still does it

“You know you don’t have to add “The amazing” every time you say your name” but come on we all know that’s gonna lead to some sexy times right?? right???

THE ENTIRETY OF EPISODE 11

like, okay. let’s be methodical about this: Cam knows her coffee order. But MOREOVER, he owns all the ingredients to make it. He bought fucking cinnamon for her, because let’s not even pretend that any single guy in his thirties would own cinnamon on his own. The Amazing Cameron Black™ went to the grocery store and bought cinnamon to make his future wife coffee. Because he doesn’t only know her coffee order as they wait in line at Starbucks, no, hell no. He actually makes her coffee for her.

 “You know me so well”/”I’m a good observer” and drinking their coffee in sync like the old married couple they are

actually, timeline wise, they’ve known each other for so little time and still he knows her so well?? be still, my heart

this exchange “So, when were you gonna tell me?” /”Tell you what?”/ “That you dated a super spy.”/ “I wasn't hiding it from you.”/ “I've replayed eight conversations we've had about exes in my head. And it could've come up easily in any one of them. What else are you not telling me?”/ “A lot.”/”Fair enough.“ uh, excuse me, they’ve had EIGHT conversations about exes??? just exactly how many nights do they spend drinking and talking late into the night sharing life stories like this??? Kay has a toothbrush at the Archive, I’m calling it. And has definitely slept in one of Cameron’s shirt before.

uh, let’s talk about how good of a guy Cameron is when he pushes Kay to go deal with her unfinished business with her ex because he wants her to be happy and he thinks Isaac is what makes her happy???

and how Johnny helps him realize he’s jealous but still, right before it hits him, Cam’s still saying “if she’s happy, I’m happy” because he wants her to be happy even if it’s not with him??? god, let me live

but also, let’s talk about Kay’s face when Cam asks her if she’s hungry and she thinks he’s gonna ask her out for dinner, that’s pure elation, girl was totes ready to go out with him

CAMERON RISKING HIS LIFE TO PROTECT HER

CAMERON TAKING A BULLET FOR HER

even Isaac seeing right through the ��fake” confession of love and telling Kay that Cam did it for her

the whole scene with Kay coming to the Archive to see Cameron as he nurses a nasty bruise from the bullet

that boy’s face when Kay tells him Jonathan told her she wasn’t Cameron’s type, he has such a crush, but he goes beyond a crush, and he can’t tell her because he still thinks then that she’s into Isaac

“Isaac just felt like moving backward, I’d rather focus on the future.” WITH YOU. BECAUSE I LOVE YOU. That’s totes what Kay was thinking but not saying.

Cam thinking about how he couldn’t betray Kay even to save Johnny because she believed and trusted him

Kay saying again that she’d hunt him down if he did something illegal

“Kay, you’re amazing.”

“You shot me!” /”I shot her more.”

Both of them realizing that they still want to work together despite seemingly being done with Johnny’s investigation and having no more real, legit reason to work together again

“You know I expect front-row tickets to your big comeback show.” /”My show? Hmm. Of course. Yeah.”/ “When we started out, didn't you hate magic?”/ “It's grown on me.”/ “Mm. There's no reason I can't come and help out every now and then, right?”/ “I thought you were only working with the FBI to help Jonathan.”/ “It's grown on me.” OTP OTP OTP TAG RIGHT THERE.

“If Kay says she’ll protect you, she will” and the enamored look and smile she gives him when he says that????

how fucking gorgeous they look together in their party clothes at the consulate, like, goddamn, wow, why isn’t there more gifsets of them walking with linked arms and looking like sex on a stick

the happiness and giddiness at the wrap-up party, they’re goddamn leaning into each other, they look like a fucking couple I can’t

let’s not talk about the ending, it hurts, it hurts so fucking much, but the FEELS for fuck’s sake, the goddamn feels

[cupidsbower]

It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation

Supernatural 13x11 “Breakdown,” and 13x12 “Various and Sundry Villains.”

I can tell I’m up to eps that are after the mid-season finale now, because the Destiel game is picking up.

Breakdown

This is another ep setting up the Wayward Sisters ‘verse, focusing on Donna, Doug, and the widening circle of crimes that mix the human and supernatural.

The Butterfly Killer seems at first to be a human serial killer in a human crime case, until we get the big reveal of the human Butterfly Killer actually servicing supernatural clients, using the all too human medium of the internet. This is the beginning of an overt theme that questions where supernatural hunts end and human cases begin, which goes on to be explored in later eps. The show has been fairly careful to tread the line on this until now, but like so many aspects this season it, this case explores dualities and messes up all the lines between them. We see this same theme with Jack being both human and angel, Mordor and ParadiseEarth, the two Kaias and so on.

The Butterfly Killer’s music also plays with this as there are three love songs linked to torture and suspense. We get Look In My Eyes by The Chantels with the first torture scene, Too Good to Be True by Lon Rogers & The Soul Benders when Wendy cries for help, and Big Flame (Is Gonna Break Me Heart In Two) by Doris Wilson as the false lead of the radio in an empty room.

Are these upbeat happy moments, as the killer and clients think, or are they horrifying, as the victim and real audience think? Perspective, baby, it’s all about perspective, and also that pesky morality.

We get another installment of false/corrupt fathers this ep too -- Agent Clegg is not Dean’s father, despite calling him “son.” He’s not even that much older than Dean, so this is clearly a power play, with Clegg using it to claim a more senior role in the patriarchy.

AGENT CLEGG: Excuse me! Hey! What are you doing? DEAN: Oh, I um… AGENT CLEGG: I asked you a question, son. DEAN: First off, I’m not your son. Second- DOUG: Whoa, whoa, easy. Agent Clegg, this is Agent Savage, FBI. (x)

As always, John is still present in the text, when Dean follows his advice rather than Clegg’s. The use of John’s old-school VB radio works, where Clegg’s misdirection does not. This is interesting, as Dean has mostly been criticised via these kinds of parallels in recent seasons, but this time, John comes off well. He taught Dean and Sam some valuable skills, right alongside the toxic masculinity and other issues he brought to their family.

But just in case we’re being lulled into thinking toxic masculinty maybe isn’t that bad after all, we get the sexist truckers chiming that they’ll make Alice “family”. Ugh.

More interestingly, Sam and Donna are both depressed about the missing family members at the start of the ep, a niece in one case, and because of the obvious paralell, this ep pretty much confirms for me that Sam’s role towards Jack is more uncle (or perhaps older brother) than father.

SAM: You see? Told you. This is stupid. DEAN: It’ll work. Dad used it all the time. SAM: This isn’t even our kind of case. And you know, with the real Feds here, we should back down. DEAN: You’re joking, right? SAM: We’re still fugitives. DEAN: They think we’re dead. SAM: Do you really wanna get on the FBI’s radar again? DEAN: Okay, so what do you wanna do? Hmm? You wanna call up Donna and say “Hey, sorry about your niece. These kinds of things happen. Later.” And head back to the bunker so you can mope some more? SAM: I’m not moping. DEAN: You got up at 10:00 am this morning. 10:00 am. You, Mr. Rise and Freakin’ Shine. And then you turned down pancakes. SAM: I wasn’t hungry. DEAN: They’re pancakes. Look, I know you’re in a dark place right now, okay? I mean, we lost Jack. Mom is… I think about ‘em too. All the time. But you can’t let it eat you up. Now look, when I was-when I was broken up, you were there for me. Well, I’m here for you now. And I’m telling you, the only way out of this is through. Now when everything goes to hell, what do we do? We put our heads down and we do the work. We’ll find Jack. We’ll save Mom, we will. But right now, Donna needs our help. Okay?

DEAN: I mean, we save people, Sam. SAM: Yeah, we also get people killed, Dean. Kaia, for instance. She helped us and she died for it. DEAN: Hey, look, I know you’re in some sort of a- SAM: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, don’t - don’t… You keep saying I’m in a dark place, but I’m not, Dean. Everything I’m saying is the truth. It’s our lives. And I tried to pretend it didn’t have to be. I tried to pretend we could have Mom back and Cas and - and help Jack. But we can’t. This ends one way for us, Dean. It ends bloody. It ends bad.

Isn’t it interesting the way that Dean and Sam are emotionally flip-flopping? Dean was depressed when Castiel was gone. Sam is depressed without Mary or Jack. That toxic co-dependency is shattered all the way through now, with only inertia keeping it in place. They go through the motions of this speech, which is becoming more threadbare with each iteration. When are they allowed to just stop, feel their feelings, and grieve? When are they allowed to be Hunters and people? When do they get to let the negative aspects of John’s legacy go, and just keep the good bits?

The text actually talks about this via metaphor. Sam’s heart goes for $500,000, turning it into a commodity. No room for feelings there, right? It’s just a lump of meat, not the seat of emotions. But the text makes it pretty clear that this is a horific way to value people -- for the value of their physical labour alone, with no place for the qualities that make them human.

CLEGG/THE BUTTERFLY: Add a zero. Actually, add two. See, those freaks that you and your brother chase, those are just the ones that can’t pass. Either because they’re too mean or they’re too stupid, or both. But most monsters… hell, they could be your next-door neighbor. They work a regular job, mow the lawns on a Saturday. And they need to eat, which is where I come in. SAM: So you sell them people. CLEGG/THE BUTTERFLY: I sell them people other people won’t miss. And because I do that, I save lives. If my customers didn’t have me… then all those hungry, hungry hippos would be out there huntin’ and killin’. And you couldn’t stop ‘em. No one could. You should be thanking me. SAM: Huh. Yeah. Alright. Go to Hell. CLEGG/THE BUTTERFLY: I’ll see you there. Now I know you’ve been stalling because you think Dean’s gonna show up, but… Sorry, kid. It’s showtime. Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you something truly special. A new auction. Introducing… Mr. Sam Winchester!

We also get the latest iteration of “people have heard of the Winchesters” here, but yet again they aren’t taken seriously enough. I wonder where that’s going? I’m starting to think the season will end with the invasion from Mordor, because the show is doing a lot of set up to expand the awareness of monsters and Hunting. Obviously this is at least in part due to Wayward Sisters, but it seems to be foreshadowing the Apocalypse redux as well. Is the supernatural going to go public? Will the FBI get involved? The show has been reminding us of the fact Dean and Sam faked their deaths to get away from the FBI. I hope we do get more on this. I think it would be interesting to see the FBI actually figuring out what the Winchesters are, after all this lead up of everyone else getting it so wrong.

Finally, Donna shines in this ep. Her great interrogation is fantastically done, and she kicks ass in the field. I really can’t wait to see what she brings to Wayward Sisters.

Doug is such a sweetheart, and now he knows about the supernatural, in the most horrific way possible. I really, really hope we get a bunch more of him working through his issues in WS.

DONNA: Doug. I’m sorry I lied to you… but I can’t give this up. DOUG: I know. Donna, you kill monsters. You’re a damn hero. But that’s… it’s not me. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry. DONNA: Doug, wait! SAM: Let him go. Donna, when you choose this life, anyone who gets too close, eventually they get hurt. Or worse. So let him go. He’ll be safer that way.

That endless refrain from Sam, but you know, that is no way to live.

Various and Sundry Villains

Wowser, what a Destiel-heavy episode! Yockey really knows how to work it.

I want to start by talking about the books that Sam and Dean are consulting. Because I’m a giant nerd. I always find the book titles in Supernatural interesting, and these are particuarly so, because as far as I can tell they are mostly made up.

“Principia Phantasmagoria” doesn’t seem to be a real book, but rather a mash-up of several other very well known books.

The most likely progenitor is the Principia Discordia - or - How I Found Goddess And What I Did To Her When I Found Her. The introduction to this tome claims, “If organized religion is the opium of the masses, then disorganized religion is the marijuana of the lunatic fringe. Most disorganized of all religions, Discordianism alone understands that organization is the work of the Devil. Holy Chaos is the Natural Condition of Reality, contrary to popular belief” (x).

I really hope this is the text Yockey is slyly referring to, but he could just be putting together words that create a strong impression of what the book would be about.

Principia is Latin for a fundamental principle, and two foundational texts use it in their titles. Descarte wrote a Principia, which was one of the inspirations for Newton’s 1687, Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica, which explains, “the principles of time, force, and motion that have guided the development of modern physical science” (x).

Phantasmagoria is a display of dream-like images or seances, “a form of horror theatre” (x).

Put them together, and the Principia Phatasmagoria would be the seminal text on dream-walking. I wonder who wrote it in the Supernatural ‘verse?

"Archive of Unnatural Occurrences" also doesn’t exist, but in Googling that title, I found a) a Supernatural fanfiction about two sisters; and b) a this absolutely fascinating treatise on Archives: “Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression” by Derrida and Prenowitz (which pretty much tells you all you need to know, right there). They argue that creating an archive is like the Word of God, because it’s both a Commencement and a Commandment -- it doesn’t just begin to categorise a collection of material or ideas, it also changes the way a society thinks about those materials or ideas because of the way they are categorised (x).

The Book of Day and Night is real - huzzah! It’s an Egyptian text designed to help the dead king find their way in the afterlife, and is usually part of the decoration tombs. Here’s a description: “Other funerary compositions include the “Book of Day” and the “Book of Night,” which depict Nut, the sky-goddess, spread out across the heavens, as well as the “Book of the Heavenly Cow,” in which Nut is transformed into a cow on whom Re ascends to the firmament. Astronomical figures decorate the ceilings of several burial chambers” (x).

So what I take from this is that a) there are going to be a lot of “Nut” jokes coming up, b) that a lot more people are going to come back from the dead this season, and c) if Sam and Dean create a map of the paths between worlds, an Archive of them if you will, they will have the power of Gods.

Heady stuff!

Of course we don’t start off on such a high note.

SAM: I’m just saying, Dean, Jack was our way over there, obviously, so with him gone… DEAN: Okay, well, Jack’s been gone before. We found him once. We can find him again. SAM: No, no, he didn’t run away. He is literally in an alternate reality. DEAN: Okay, so we’ll just come up with a plan B, okay? You said it yourself. We just keep our heads down and we’ll do the work. SAM: You said that. DEAN: And I was right. Yeah. So you read, do your Sam thing, I’m gonna go for a beer run. SAM: Yeah. DEAN: We should probably loop Cas in at some point. SAM: We’ll fill him in when he calls. He checks in every day. DEAN: Yeah, with a bunch of questions and no leads. [We see Castiel sitting in a dark prison cell in hell, illuminated by a single unseen overhead light] SAM: I’m sure he is doing the best he can. Just go get beer or… [waves Dean away] (x)

Dean wants to go on a beer run, and thinks immediately of Cas. A nice callback to his muffed love declaration at the end of the Amara arc. We also get another go around of the “we just do what we do” mantra that Dean keeps spouting this season. Sam seems to think it’s wearing a bit thin.

And then we cut to Lucifer and Cas, and get a dick joke about the size of Lucifer’s “power”. Hahaha. Yeah, I can see where this is going already.

Next up is the latest incarnation of the theme of “people have heard of the Winchesters” and in this case, have heard of the car too. We find out later it’s via Rowena who told Jamie and Jennie about them, and I would love to know what she actually said. Jamie and Jennie are awful cocky given the givens, so methinks Rowena downplayed how dangerous the Winchesters can be.

So Jamie and Jennie blithely hexbag Dean into love, so that he’ll steal the Grimoire for them. Luckily we’ve already had that impotence joke, so the foreshadowing says this will come to naught.

And then we get this...

SAM: Hey, uh… I think you might be right. I think maybe it’s time we go ahead and call Cas, because, I mean, if…if… [Dean continues to whistle while doing a little spin as he enters the library. He drops the 6-pack and his keys on the table] SAM: You all right? DEAN: Am I all right? I’m in love. SAM: You...Oh, are you? DEAN: I mean, I am, like, full-on twitterpated here. Seriously, I can’t wait for you to meet her, either. She - I mean, she’s… She’s sweet and she’s beautiful and she’s just kinda sorta perfect. Anyway, I’m thinking of asking her to move in with me here…if that’s cool ‘cause this is big time. [Dean opens a drawer and removes the Black Grimoire and unwraps it] DEAN: Ahh. SAM: Uh, Dean, w-what are you doing with the Black Grimoire? DEAN: It’s a gift. For Jamie. SAM: For…Jamie? DEAN: My soul mate. [winking]

All the mentions of Castiel that lead up to Dean’s announcement are wrapped around this scene like a... condom? Sorry, I can’t think of a better wrapping metaphor. There was the reminder of Dean’s muffed love confession on the last beer run, and then this mention of Cas by Sam which Dean ignores, and instead Dean announces he’s in love, and calls her his soul mate -- he might as well have added they have a profound bond. Like, if Dean and Cas were a het will-they-won’t-they pairing, it could not be any clearer that the only person Dean could legitimately be declaring as his Love here is Castiel. It’s not even subtext, it’s main text at this point, given the way Castiel has been used to frame this moment... but it’s main text that refuses to state it overtly so that homophobes can continue to live in comfortable in denial.

Okay, I have to rant a bit here and let off steam about this. I’m here for the Destiel. I love this love story. But come on. COME ON. It’s cowardly storytelling to write this kind of queering of the text -- to actually dangle plot threads off it, it’s that central -- and refuse to admit it. I know a lot of the Supernatural creatives now pretty much do say that’s what happening -- the whole “eye fucking” stuff in the scripts, for instance -- but it’s mostly framed as “jokes” that aren’t actually jokes, and I’m tired of this. Get it together, show. This is old.

ANYWAY, Dean is in lurrrrve, but OH NOES, it’s some random girl who has obviously hexed him. It’s not even a question in Sam’s mind or our minds. The wrong name came out of his mouth, and he’s too damn happy about it, so we all know Something Is Very Wrong With Dean.

Sam comes to the rescue of course, and we get the slapstick moment of Dean and Sam fighting each other as the witches get away, with Sam’s limbs all over the shop, and Dean making goofy faces. I love irony like this -- it’s not a happy moment in the plot, but it’s a funny moment thanks to the performances. As I mentioned in my last meta, this is why the Winchesters aren’t taken seriously when monsters gossip about them. Moments just like this.

Rowena!!!!!!

I love her so much. She can resurrect as many times as she likes and I’ll be happy.

Intriguing that they have her and Sam bonding over their fear of Lucifer. They’ve really done a fabulous job of making Rowena a complex and interesting villain. I think she’s pretty much my all-time fave out of the rogues gallery.

DEAN: Yeah, the Devil’s gone. ROWENA: Oh, don’t be stupid. He’s never gone! SAM: Okay, listen, I know what Lucifer is cap– ROWENA: Oh, can we not? It’s like reminiscing about an abusive relationship. Why do that? DEAN: Let’s get back to the book. What kind of hurt can these chicks do with it? ROWENA: Oh, I’m sure they have big plans. SAM: Sounds like you know ‘em. ROWENA: Just remember being a young, overly ambitious, wee witch. And I have to give them some credit. Outfoxed you, didn’t they? [chuckling to Dean] Tell me, did they get to fifth base? DEAN: There’s no such thing as fifth base. ROWENA: Oh, you poor, sheltered boy.

Fifth base, in case you were wondering is anal sex (x). There’s a few different ways to read Dean’s response to Rowena’s question. He could be dissembling because he’s deep deep deep in the closet, but to me he comes off as genuinely puzzled. Given that, my reading is that Dean has never had anal sex with another dude. Sure it’s possible he’s done so without having heard this phrase before, and even if he’s never done that particular act, it still leaves a lot of room for sexy things he could have done with dudes. However, the case I make is that Dean picks up slang like other people learn languages, and if he hasn’t heard this expression before, his exposure to gay culture has to be pretty limited. He might have tried a few things, but not so much that he’s learned the lingo. In short: he’s inexperienced at best, and quite possibly still hymenated in this respect.

That noise you hear? Is a thousand fan theories crumbling to dust. Fare ye well, amigos, it’s been a blast.

But! (Butt. hahaha)

On the plus side, we can now revisit the whole issue of Dean’s first time with a dude, and I have to thank canon for giving us that golden opportunity.

We get another dick joke when Sam tells us, “Dean has a tape of Led Zeppelin’s “Moby Dick” with an 8-minute drum solo.” You’ve probably noticed that I tend to look at the lyrics of songs used or mentioned on the show, but in this case it’s instrumental so my meta instincts are thwarted.

Except for the title of the track. Moby. Dick. The great white Dick that got away. Hahaha. Ironic, as it’s the ep that Castiel finally gets free. And now I will forever assume that Jimmy Novak was well endowed. ;)

There are only two more things I want to mention in this ep. The first is the fatherhood theme. It’s mainly present in the conversation between Castiel and Lucifer.

LUCIFER: There’s no “if” here in this equation, okay? Let me - let me just - let me just tell you something about my dick brother, about every version of my dick brother, okay? When he decides to do something, he does it. Doesn’t matter what the cost or who has to die. It’s gonna happen, ‘cause that’s just the way he rolls. CASTIEL: If you’re right, how much time do we have? LUCIFER: How much time? Oh. I guess that depends on how much time he spends torturing Mary Winchester. He liked her, right? Oh, Cas, you should have seen it. I mean, the things he did to her. In all my time in hell, I’ve never seen anything that horrible. Just…Oh! CASTIEL: Stop. I don’t want to hear any more of your lies. LUCIFER: Oh, this from the angel who almost has me beat in that department, and that’s saying a lot, pal. CASTIEL: Well, you always say a lot. LUCIFER: Okay, let’s face it, Cassandra, the truths I say hurts ‘cause the’re hard to swallow, so people call them lies. Go figure. CASTIEL: You want truth? How ‘bout I tell you a few truths about your son? LUCIFER: Did you just have an angel stroke? CASTIEL: Did you know that he loves movies? Fantasy movies, movies with heroes who crush villains. LUCIFER: [scoffs] Well, that’s - that’s - that’s nurture. That’s not nature. CASTIEL: And he’s thoughtful. He’s emotional. Remarkably intuitive. You - you know, he, uh, he resurrected me just out of instinct. Isn’t that a beautiful gesture? LUCIFER: [pacing angrily in his cell] Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s beautiful. CASTIEL: Jack would rather kill you than hug you. Seems relevant. Did you know he doesn’t - he doesn’t even really look like you? And he reminds me so much of his mother. LUCIFER: [whispers] Wow.

This particular mention of dicks doesn’t please me, given the subtext here that all the dicks are pointed at Dean. I don’t want Dean to become an angel condom for Michael. But I may be getting it at some point anyway. :(

That aside, I adore how effectively Cas needles Lucifer here. Cas really has learned from the best, and he’s such an asshole. It’s interesting, though, that Lucifer brings up nature vs nurture. I wonder which he considers the cause of his Fall?

Finally, the episode ends with Dean chiding Sam for being in a dark place -- role reversal from the start of the season when Sam was chiding Dean the same way.

DEAN: Look, what happened to Rowena was messed up, okay? But you just let the deadliest witch in the world walk away with a page from this book. SAM: Yeah, and if Rowena breaks bad, I will hunt her down myself and put a bullet in her. I will Dean. But if she’s right, and if she does see Lucifer again, then… I hope she makes him suffer. DEAN: You gotta get out of this dark place. You know, whatever’s going on in your head… SAM: Dean. DEAN: What? SAM: [inhales deeply] You know what? Honestly? DEAN: Yeah, how ‘bout honestly. SAM: I know what Rowena is dealing with. And she’s not the only one who… [inhales deeply] feels helpless. DEAN: What do you mean? SAM: I mean, I had a plan, you know. I, uh… Help Jack, bring Mom back. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It - it kept me from spinning off the rails. And now… Jack is gone, Mom is still in hell, basically, and I-I-I- just… DEAN: We’ll figure it out. SAM: [defeated and angry] Dean, we don’t have a plan. We don’t know what to do. So - so how? DEAN: [confidently] I don’t know. But we will, you and me. [takes a drink of beer] SAM: Yeah. Night. [exits kitchen]

Sam articulates exactly why he’s going off the rails -- because Jack and Mom are missing. And that’s freaking huge. Because if Dean was off balance because Cas was missing, and Sam is off balance because Jack and Mom are missing, that means they are not each other’s sole emotional supports any more.

In other words, the toxic codependency really is on it’s very last legs, the old scripts aren’t working any more, and it’s time to start writing some new ones.

I’ve already seen the next two eps, and if Various and Sundry Villains was a strong Destiel episode, it has nothing on Good Intentions. That is a game changer.

Previously:

I never opened myself this way (13x01 and 13x02)

You say you’ve only got one life to live (13x03, 13x04, 13x05)  

Let me tell you people that I found a new way (13x06, 13x07, 13x08)

Alive and burning brighter (13x09, 13x10)              

[mycasandstarrs]

SPN 8x11: “LARP and the Real Girl”

THEN: Charlie Bradbury. Things with Sam and Amelia officially end. Things between Dean and Benny officially end. The brothers choose each other.

The tree of pain thing.

RIP first victim. Drawn and quartered.

“China Grove” by the Doobie Brothers.

Ah, it’s been weeks.

“I know what you gave up wasn't easy.” What you gave up wasn’t easy either, Dean.

Garth! Sending them another case.

“Yeah, you’ve been Garthed.” hahaha

“Okay, we got to lose the GPS on our phones, because Garth has been tracking us, and other hunters, apparently, to assign cases.”

That’s what Bobby would do. Dean even said so.

Special Agents Taggart and Rosewood.

“FBI? You guys are quick. Haven't even got the body out yet.”

“Well, the FBI is all work…no play.”

Huh, is Dean going off of Sam’s recent attitude?

“Uh, neighbor downstairs said she got woke up in the middle of the night by the sound of horses stomping their feet and galloping. We didn't find any hoof prints. She probably heard a TV or was having a bad dream or she was high as balls.” I love this Sheriff.

haha

Lance Jacobsen.

“We want to know about the, uh – the texts you sent Ed last night.”

“I told them when they brought me in those texts weren't from me.”

“Well, your phone and Ed's phone say otherwise.”

“No, I mean, they were from me, but they weren't from me me.”

That cleared it up.

Greyfox the Mystic (Lance), Thargim the Mystical (Ed), and Moondoor.

“Oh, ye Gods! Thargrim the Difficult has fallen!” He is not taking Ed’s death well.

"Welcome to Moondoor, Michigan's largest LARPing game."

“And I thought we needed to get out more.”

Technically, they are getting out.

Dean’s right, Moondoor does look awesome.

There’s our Queen of Moons.

The tree.

OH JESUS WHAT’S HAPPENING TO HIM

RIP Lance Jacobsen. Greyfox the Mystic has fallen.

“God forbid he was contagious. I'm gonna go dip myself in hand sanitizer.” Not a bad idea at all.

Moondoor looks amazing.

“Excuse me. Hi. Uh, you are a LARPer, yeah?”

“I prefer the term ‘interactive literaturist’.”

“These aren’t fake badges.”

“Uh, yeah, they are, and they're...very good, but, um, well, the I.D. number shifted to 10 digits with, uh, two letters mixed in at the end of the year, and, uh, the seal's from last month. Really good work.”  

Ha, exposed. I’m sure they stopped by Kinko’s after this.

The shot of Charlie taking off her helmet always makes my heart flutter.

Charlie is pissed.

“No, I buried myself. Then Dick Roman went down, his company belly-up, and I figure, ‘Hey, it's all good,’ and I was fine. I got my life back. Now you're here, and if you guys are here, monsters are here. Why do I have such bad luck? What am I – some kind of monster magnet? Is there such a thing as a monster magnet? You know what? Don't answer that. I don't care. What I care about is not getting my other arm broken... or dying.” 

“Greyfox and Thargrim – uh, Ed and Lance – they're not missing. They're dead.”

Charlie’s army has had a string of bad luck. “ A month ago, one of my guys had both her ankles broken before battle. Before that, I had three people have hospital-worthy accidents while at home. You think there's any connection there?”

“You know, if you, uh... move your archers back and your broadswordsmen to the west...”

“Huh. Fight the warriors.”

“Yep.”

!!

“My point, which is usually yours, is that she should get somewhere safe and get back to a normal life.” Oof, never noticed Dean telling Sam that it’s usually Sam’s thing to want people to have a safe, normal life.

“Hey, I am right here, and I want to leave.”

“Thank you.”

“But the queen...she has to stay. I mean, Sam is right. People are dying. That can't happen on my watch. And you know what? I am tired of running. I like my life here. I'm gonna stay and fight for it.”

I love you, Charlie.

Dean and Charlie: “The pornstar?”

“...the poison.”

LMAO

DEAN’S SO EXCITED TO LARP!

“Beware: this is a gateway to the future.”

Maria...aka Gholandria the Wicked.

You look so good Dean!

“You sent Sam a phantom text from his ex? Dick move, sir.”

“Yeah, not my finest hour.”

“So he found some normalcy with this chick, and now it's gone... again. Thanks to you.”

Uh, Sam did choose to not stay with Amelia.

“Yeah, well, now he's more committed than ever, so there's that. But, trust me, this life – you can't afford attachments. You just got to... let go.”

“Are we still talking about Sam, or did you break up with someone, too?”

Charlie kknneewww.

“Now, wait a second. If it wasn't for you, we would have never been able to take down Dick Roman. Out there in the real world, you are a hero.”

What a sweet interaction between Charlie and Dean.

“I'm noticing a lot of these maidens checking you out.”

“What? I can’t shut this down. It’s good to be queen.”

I mean it, Charlie is self esteem goals.

Sam’s got himself a research partner.

“I haven't seen anything like it in my travels throughout the realms, your highness.”

“All right. Well, if you think of anything, come see me in my tent. Anytime.”

OOHHH CHARLIE’S PICKING UP CHICKS. GET IT!!

The Tree of Pain.

Dean even threatens people with fake weapons. 

“First time for everything, right?”

“First time for a lot of things if you want to come find my tent later.”

OH, Sam got himself a date.

“Another time.” Awww no.

Your loss.” I’d say so too.

Charlie’s sent back to safety to find Sam.

“Lead the way to the Orcs, Bolty.”

“Speak when spoken to, handmaiden.”

Uh, r u d e.

Oh boy. Charlie’s been taken.

“Our, uh, pal Boltar the chatty is getting the, uh, Shadow Orc prisoner. We're gonna do a little prisoner exchange, try to draw the king out of hiding. It was my idea.” No it wasn’t, omg.

“I’m just an I.T girl...standing in front of a monster...asking it not to kill her.”

“I just want my old life back!”

“That is all I want, as well.”

Ooh, pretty fairy.

“Now, before we exchange, a few announcements. Um, there is a peewee-league soccer playoff game tomorrow on the alpha field. We don't want to freak out the mundanes, so we got to move the Battle of Kingdoms to the beta field.”  pfft.

“All right. I need real answers. This here is a real gun, see?” Dean, please.

Sam barely flinched, haha.

“Is the queen really in danger?”

“Okay, we got – there was something odd down by the creek. It's this weird tent. It's not one of ours. It's kind of creepy.”

“Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?”

“Look, I harbor an epic crush on the queen. Maybe you could put in a good word for me when you find her.”

Yeah, that ain’t gonna work out.

“My name is Gilda. I'm from the Hollow Forest of Arkhmoor. I'm a fairy.”

“Man, someone is taking this game way too seriously.” Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.

“Gilda, my name is Charlie Bradbury, and I am here to rescue you.” Hmm, swoon.

“Why don't you take off, Bolty? We got it from here.”

“A handmaiden and a time traveler rescue the queen? I think not, kind lady.”

Screw off, dude.

Get it!!!!

Boltar. You evil little bastard.

“Well, now what, Gerry?“

“My name is Boltar the Furious!”

Oh, he’s furious all right.

“My plan was, after getting rid of all of my competition, to win the battle tomorrow, convincing the queen that I should be her king.” EW COME ON.

“But then you two idiots showed up, and I was forced to improvise. Rescue the damsel in distress from Orcs, become king, kill you both – that'll work, too.” Oh yeah, kill her friends. That’ll make her like you.

Charlie destroys the book, Horcrux style.

WHAT A MOVE.

“I'm free of the spell. You saved me. The Hollow Forest is forever in your debt. I must return to those green hills now. I will take my former master with me. He must face a fairy tribunal for his sins.”

So he gets to go to Fairy jail?

“Call me...maybe?”

“Smell you later, bitches.” 

“So, what's, uh... what's next? 'Cause no fun, right? Look, before you say anything, I – I – I get it. No amount of fun is gonna help you get over what you gave up. You just, uh... you need time, right?” AWW Dean. 

“Yeah. Thanks. And you're right. Having fun won't help me. It'll help both of us. Shall we?” AWWW SAM.

WOW DEAN REALLY WENT ALL OUT

AND SAM AND HIS LITTLE PONY TAIL.

"This episode is dedicated to the men, women, elves, demigods, magi, druids and chamber pot servants who gave their lives fighting and winning for the Queen of Moons in the Battle of the Kingdoms. Go bravely into the next world, fallen soldiers."

I love this episode.

[kiss-my-freckle]

I’m just gonna copy and paste my comments from FB over to this page, while adding more dialogues - since I did keep some of them out. 

I'm pretty well certain it won't be a real or fake Red in that suitcase, and for obvious reasons. When you look at things before and after the paternity test in 4x22, it pretty well shows you what they did - all purposeful stuff. Red's DNA hasn't been in the system from when he disappeared in 1990 because CODIS didn't exist. Liz. Who is this guy? He claims he’s Reddington? Samar: Yes, and we can’t disprove it with DNA because there’s nothing on file from 1990 when Reddington disappeared. But his fingerprints match. That was confirmed in dialogue in the pilot, while shown in a document - dated in 1989. 

[AFIS - No Criminal Record - Dated 3/25/89 - Based on NYPD records]

Ressler: It’s him alright. Prints match. Tattoos. He even volunteered classified details about a Brussels Mission in ’08. Take this to the case on Diane Fowler because she's the reason they felt he had an inside man. Samar: I heard about the fingerprints. You did the right thing. Ressler: Yeah, I know. I sent the prints in. Your guess as good as mine as to why they came back negative. Samar: You think Reddington has someone else at the Bureau in his pocket? Ressler: I don’t know. Maybe. Diane Fowler's case was the reason Cooper sent the paternity test to a private lab. Because they feared he had an inside man. Had they any DNA of the real Red in the database, Cooper wouldn't have needed to tamper with evidence from the Seaduke case. Now we take this matter to the point after the paternity test. The FBI Director wouldn't be stupid enough to store Red's DNA in the database. The last thing the FBI would want to do, is admit to one of their own being the daughter of an international fugitive. Their connection is confined to the FBI Director, the task force, and Dr. Fulton. 

Cooper: There was a DNA test between Reddington and Keen. And it’s only a matter of time before I have to disclose the results of that test. Ressler: Which were? Cooper: Raymond Reddington’s her father.

Aram: Excuse me, um - sir? I’m wondering if uh - you decided to tell the new director about Agent Keen and Mr. Reddington’s relationship. Cooper: Not yet, but as a rule, I like to come down on the side of transparency. Aram: So you think the Bureau should be kept informed about personal relationships?

Cooper: I’ve decided to disclose your relationship with Reddington. Liz: It’s the right thing to do. I want to do the right thing. Cooper: I’m sorry for the personal scrutiny that will likely result from this - the doubts, suspicions of your loyalty which may rise again. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. This is gonna be a struggle. But I have great confidence in you, confidence you’ll make the right decisions if you just stay true to yourself. 

Aram: Agent Navabi and I we’re, um - Cooper: Dating? Aram: Yes. And if uh - that’s gonna be a problem, you know, with the higher-ups, then uh - I’d be willing to - Cooper: Aram, it’s not a problem.

If his DNA were stored in the database, and just one person found out, it would be the end of Raymond Reddington as we know it. That's why Garvey has no idea who Liz is. Because his DNA still isn't in the database, but Liz's is. That's why Singleton spoke of the test results coming back on the bloody rag. She's a felon, and being pardoned by the president wouldn't remove her from that database. That’s also why Cooper said her profile was already on file when he did the paternity test. 

Cooper: The blood on this shirt from Raymond Reddington has been sealed in an evidence locker for over three decades. I procured a sample and submitted it for a DNA profile. Yours was already on file. Liz: Procured a sample of Reddington’s blood? From evidence? That’s tampering. Cooper: Yes. And I should’ve done it the day he surrendered. I submitted the sample and your profile to a private lab. They’ll have the results within 24 hours, so you’ll finally know whether or not Raymond Reddington is your father.

-

Liz: I’m the last person in the world who would want Navarro dead. Now if there is nothing more - Singleton: There isn’t. Not until we receive results back from the lab. Liz: Results? Singleton: From the bloody rag we found in Navarro’s apartment. Whoever did kill him left it behind.  

So back to what Carla said of daddy and daughter working together. Carla: Are the - are the two of you, what - working together? I don’t even want to know how you pulled that off. He NEVER needed an inside man because he pulled it off through this body in the suitcase. He didn't care whether or not they had his prints, since prints wouldn't confirm a paternal connection, and he is who he says he is. His DNA is not in the system. Has never been in the system. Nor will it be in the system. Not as long as he's a CI for the FBI. What I'm basically saying is this: Now that the body is unearthed, Red needs to - and I mean needs to rebury those bones. They are proof that he's Liz's father. It would be Shell Island on a very large scale. A world-wide scale. Every criminal on the planet would want him dead, all-knowing that he's been taking down his rivals through his agent daughter. And when his intel dries up because of that, the FBI would feel he is of no further use, and their sniper rifles would be ready. He would literally become Esteban - a dead man walking.

You gotta look at the differences between Tom and Garvey. Tom knows his born identity and basic parentage. He knows Liz's born identity and basic parentage. He knows of Red's claim that Katarina Rostova is dead. He knows that Alexander Kirk was proven not to be Liz's father. But unlike Red - who said the report was fabricated by Katarina, Tom believed it was flawed. 

Red: Honestly, Elizabeth. It astounds me that you could be hornswoggled by something as simple to fabricate as a DNA profile.

Liz: It doesn’t make any sense. I saw the DNA test. Tom: From 30 years ago. Clearly, it was flawed.

Kirk: I had proof that she was my daughter. A DNA test. Red: You saw what Katarina wanted you to see. She lied to you about everything.

The only thing Garvey knows, is the identity of the body and its direct connection to Red. I'm all-out believing it's the real Alexander Kirk in the suitcase. There's a huge difference between becoming someone else and becoming something else. Red being a naval intelligence officer turned criminal. Constantin Rostov becoming Alexander Kirk. The initial response Tom had to that test - that's a name he recognizes. At first glance, if it the real Alexander Kirk, he'd consider this Liz's real father in the suitcase. At least until he read a little further into the results to find the real truth. After all, he simply thought the paternity test was flawed rather than fabricated. 

There's a reason Red's DNA isn't in the system, but the DNA of this body is. Especially when you consider the fact that Red held onto this body for 30 years. So if it wasn’t put into the system before 1990, then Red put it into the system after. He wouldn't be stupid enough to turn himself in without first putting a plan in place, especially when he asked for Liz specifically.

They’re not just showing you he’s Liz’s father, they’re showing you that he framed someone for Fowler’s murder. Because his prints are in the system. 

Liz: How’d you do it? How’d you change the fingerprint? Red: The fingerprint? Liz: Don’t play dumb. The one Gale and Ressler found that connects you to the death of Diane Fowler. Red: I assure you - I know nothing of it.

CODIS-

The FBI Laboratory's CODIS began as a pilot software project in 1990, serving 14 state and local laboratories. The DNA Identification Act of 1994 formalized the FBI's authority to establish a National DNA Index System (NDIS) for law enforcement purposes.

Funny how 1990 was the year Red supposedly disappeared, and the DNA Identification Act was of 1994 - and is the year in which Red resurfaced. Red, the man who held onto the body all this time, therefore - the DNA all this time.

[juicifeur]

Party On (Sam x reader)

anonymous asked: Can you write a Sam x Female!Reader one shot where the reader is a tomboy and always wears jeans, sweats, or slacks, but one day she has to pose as a college student in a sorority and they give her a makeover and sam's like DAYUM

anonymous asked: That idea with the tomboy!reader and sam is really cute, can I add something? There's a line in How I Met Your Mother where Ted turns to his tomboy friend/gf Robin and says "Robin Scherbatsky... you're a girl!" When she freaks out about her wedding

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I relate to this super hard. And I’m also so sorry for the lack of activity

You were starting to regret this whole ‘inside man’ thing.

Your usual ensemble consisted of sweat pants, or old jeans, and slacks for when you needed to act like Press or an agent for the FBI. You were strictly as less of a girl as you could be, and you liked it that way.

The last time you wore a dress of any kind was back when you attended a high school in Minnesota for about a week. You had to do your best to blend in with the general female population; whom of which were all wearing nearly identical denim short skirts. The early 2000′s didn’t exactly have any trend worthy of anyone’s memory. 

In addition, the last time you wore pink, you were probably four years old.

And in this particular situation, both of those horrible fashion tragedies, that still managed to make you retch, came back to haunt you.

The eight college age girls around you squealed as they finally gave you some space to breathe.

   “Oh my god, you look totes amazing!” One of them flipped her hair back, as if gloating about all her hard work. The others clapped and nodded in agreement.

   “Yeah, this highlight really brings out your eyes.” Another girl tilted your chin up to her a little and her manicured nails felt all wrong. Too smooth and shiny and long; you’d much rather have dirt and blood under yours. Right now all you wanted was a mirror so you could see the horrors that they’d inflicted on you.

   “Alright, alright, let me up.” You gently pushed your way through the girls of Kappa Alpha Theta, the KATs as they liked to be addressed as, and you walked towards the huge counter-top mirror. You got one look and your stomach twisted.

Faking a smile, you turned back to the eager girls, who all thought you were their newest recruit. It was easy to get access to the Sorority house since all forms of initiation, aside from a simple oath, had been banned from campus after three girls had gotten food poisoning from a dumpster buffet and another guy from the Frat house went comatose after a mishap during a zoo break-in, resulting in two arrests. That, and the fact that there was an opening after  one of the girls died.

   “I love it.” You had to lie through your teeth even though you thought you looked like a clown with a layer of mud on her face or some kind of painted whore. They all shrieked in delight and swarmed you like piranhas.

   “Ya know, we could take care of that scar for you,” She poked the mark above your eyebrow on your forehead.

   “We know a few tricks.” One of the girls was close to your ear.

   “Uh- that’s alright. I like it where it is.” You said, uncomfortably, skeptical of what she meant by tricks. You knew you were dealing with minor witchcraft for this case but now you may have narrowed down where it was coming from.

   “We have to find you the perfect dress for the party tonight.” One of the girls started babbling about what colour would go best with your skin tone and how to do your hair with a few other girls while you just stared at them and wondered how the hell you were going to get out of this.

By the time the Winchesters arrived at the large Sorority house, the party was in full swing. Dean looked around.

   “This is stupid.” He grumbled softly. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, trying to blend in, Sam was sporting a similar outfit. Everyone knew they weren’t exactly in their prime college years, but they were hoping that everyone there would be too drunk to remember them from their earlier investigation of the campus.

   “They’re gonna think we’re narcs.”

   “Just blend in and shut up. We gotta find Y/N.” Sam mumbled as they wove through the crowd of drunk, or otherwise substance-compromised, co-eds. He was surprised Dean wasn’t more comfortable in a house full of alcohol and college girls, but he understood where he was coming from. 

   “I need a drink.” Dean said and made his way to the kitchen. Sam scanned the mass of heads for you and his eyes landed on a some Y/H/C hair in the corner along with two other girls. You spotted Sam as well and excused yourself.

   “Thank god you’re here. I feel like a poodle.” You pulled the skin tight blue dress further down your thighs.

Sam’s mouth seemed to dry up and his eyes raked your body slowly, but not discreetly.

   “Whoa..” He mumbled. He never saw you in makeup, let alone a dress.

   “Eyes up here, Sam.” You blushed a little and smirked.

   “Right- uh- sorry.” He met your eyes and you could see he was blushing as well. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to adjust his jeans. 

Dean appeared at his brother’s shoulder as he downed the last of whatever was in the Red Solo Cup in his hand. When he lowered it he coughed in surprise, he wiped his mouth to prevent liquid from coming out.

   “Damn. Y/N Y/L/N, you’re a girl?” Dean chuckled softly and looked you up and down as Sam had. You rolled your eyes. Men.

   “Shut up. Did you two find anything on campus?” You hushed your voice even though the music was loud enough to keep your conversation confidential. Dean was still a little distracted, the dress did accentuate some of your features.

   “It’s weird seeing you like this, I mean, wow..I mean..just wow.”

   “Can we focus on something other than my breasts, please?” You looked at him, very unimpressed.

   “Right, my bad.” Dean chuckled.

   “Coroner didn’t give us much to go on. Just looked like the girl had a really bad allergic reaction to some makeup thing.” He informed. You sighed. The death of a girl that had been a member of this particular Sorority had brought you to this town. She was found in the bathroom upstairs, throat closed and boils covering her body. You suspected a coven, or at the least witchcraft, right away.

   “Well, it’s definitely someone here. I found a box full of witch-crap under someone’s bed.” You looked around to be sure that no one was listening in.

   “We can’t just kill someone. They’re people.” Sam said. You nodded again, agreeing. 

   “Yeah. I don’t think there’s anything we can do tonight. I say we have a little fun for once.” You drank from your cup and felt the burn of alcohol down your throat. Dean chuckled and looked around, clapping his hands together once.

   “Can’t argue with that.” 

The ping pong ball landed in Sam’s cup again and he looked up at you, he expected nothing less. Guys and girls alike all chanted around the table as Sam took another drink. You had a feeling that he would have a headache in the morning.

   “Forfeit yet, Sammy?” You called across the table, you’d let your hair down a while ago to let it breathe through all the hairspray.

   “No way.” He definitely wasn’t a quitter. You smirked and crossed your arms.

   “Well then take your shot.” You leaned on the table and watched Sam take his shot, the ball hit the edge of the cup and everyone groaned around him as you giggled.

   “Vision getting a little fuzzy?” You looked back up at Sam and he shrugged a little. Six of his cups were already empty.

   “Maybe.” His cheeks were a little rosy now that you looked.

   “You win.” Sam looked up and chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. A small smirk played on his lips and his eyes seemed to grow slightly darker than their usual colour.

The students around the table cheered loudly as they all took celebratory drinks, the music pumped through their bodies and they went back to partying hard when they realized the game was over. You grinned widely and also finished your drink, making your way over to Sam, who was watching you closely.

   “Well played.” He congratulated. His biceps flexed under his t-shirt as he looked down at you. You smiled.

   “You need to work on your shot.” You giggled softly and pulled him back to the kitchen. 

   “Oh...my..god.” A girl, you didn’t bother to learn names, giggled drunkenly and wrapped her arm around your neck. She pressed her face against your cheek.

   “New girl already has a really cute date. If you need a room,” She hiccuped and smiled, looking up at Sam.

   “Just ask.” She whispered and giggled again. Your cheeks went a little red.

   “Right, will do.” You responded, then she pulled you a little closer.

   “Ya know that scar...mm, from earlier?” She slurred and breathed down your neck, she reeked of alcohol. You nodded and Sam watched curiously.

   “Well, if you need it taken care of- jus’ go upstairs and I’ll meet you in the bathroom.” She giggled, hiccuped once and stumbled away, leaving a lipstick stain on your cheek and a small smack on your butt. These girls seemed completely guided and concerned by appearances. Sam chuckled.

   “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that’s one of them.” He watched her saunter into the crowd of shirtless guys and girls wearing bikini tops. You nodded.

   “It’s a damn good thing the truth comes out when you’re drunk.” You sipped from your cup again and Sam nodded, tilting his head down towards you. He tried to speak over the noise.

   “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you need to change anything about how you look.” He stood back up straight and you smiled softly. You’d always had a soft spot for Sam Winchester. Maybe now that he’d seen you look like a female, he felt a little more inclined. 

You kissed his cheek softly.

   “Thanks.”

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