#if they just get in a lucky hit on the injured Radio Demon

[blue-rose-soul]

For Bastard child au. Assuming that Lucifer finds out before the finale how would he respond to knowing Alastor got hurt fighting Adam? How would Charlie?

I've been waiting for an excuse to talk about this! Well, not this exactly, just...

Okay, so the general consensus is that Lucifer couldn't step in sooner with the extermination because he had an agreement with Heaven, and that Adam broke that agreement by targeting Charlie, a hellborn. Alastor may be Lucifer's son, but he was born on Earth to a human mother. He has a human soul and came to Hell as a sinner. An extremely powerful sinner, but a sinner nonetheless.

In other words, he's not protected under the same agreement.

But! But but but, I figure Lucifer must have been keeping an eye on the battle from somewhere, so he could know when to step in. So he saw Adam and Alastor fight, saw Alastor nearly die, and saw him barely escape with his life. In the end, Niffty doesn't need to step in to finish Adam.

"You come at me, and my family!?"

Lucifer does it himself.

They know Alastor isn't dead thanks to Husk (and possibly Niffty) but are still concerned when they can't find him in the ruins of the old hotel. Lucifer does make an attempt to look for Alastor, but he doesn't know Alastor well enough to know where to look. But his daughter is still here and still needs him, so Lucifer puts the search aside and helps Charlie rebuild her hotel.

And in the end, Alastor returns. Alastor would shove Lucifer off when he joins in the group hug, but he doesn't want to aggravate the wound he's pretending not to have*.

I think that, whether or not she knew Alastor was her brother, Charlie would show the same amount of concern for him. Wanting to know what happened after Adam broke through his shield, why he disappeared from the battle. Just, wanting to know if he's okay. Alastor just brushes off her questions and keeps her at a distance. The biggest change is really between Lucifer and Alastor, and later between Lucifer and Charlie.

The guilt is crushing Lucifer. He knows how badly hurt Alastor was, and knows that instead of coming back to the people who would help him, he hid away somewhere to heal alone. Lucifer tries to be subtle about it, but he's constantly checking in on Alastor, asking if there's anything he needs, or anything Lucifer can do for him. He's not subtle at all.

And Alastor is not at all amused. He doesn't care that Lucifer was late to the battle! He didn't ask for or want Lucifer's help! It was his own fault for getting sloppy and letting Adam get a hit in (not to mention a disadvantageous deal but he's not saying that bit), and he doesn't need Lucifer coddling him. Unfortunately, with his cane broken and his body healing slowly, Alastor is uniquely vulnerable for the first time in a long time. But Lucifer's awkward hovering and Charlie's concern is only serving to make Alastor all the more agitated. So he sticks the needle where it hurts; Lucifer's guilt.

He accuses Lucifer of waiting until after Adam had mortally wounded Alastor specifically so his 'mistake' would be erased. Of wanting him deader than dead.

Then he coldly tells Lucifer that if he can't be bothered to show up when it matters, he shouldn't show up at all.

Later, he assures Charlie he doesn't hold any negative feelings towards her even though Lucifer came running to her rescue while he was willing to let Adam nearly eviscerate Alastor. After all, it stands to reason that Lucifer would choose his real child over a bastard. The King of Hell has made it perfectly clear he doesn't need a 'busboy.' Charlie tries to speak in Lucifer's defense, but, Alastor is pleased to note, her heart isn't in it.

Afterwards, he listens from the shadows and grins as he hears Charlie asking Lucifer why he saved her but not Alastor. Lucifer telling her the terms of the agreement he made with Heaven doesn't satisfy her. Alastor's her brother, they're both Lucifer's children! Lucifer should have stepped in, agreement be damned! The recently repaired cracks in their relationship begin to widen once again and Alastor is pleased.

(*I'm going to cackle if season 2 drops and it turns out we were all wrong and Alastor's completely fine.)

[radi0activesmile]

angel-dust-addict​:

Angel looked up sharply when the dress settled itself properly around him. Alastor was speaking to him so gently it was almost enough to draw tears from him. Still, he looked as though he wanted to believe him, but couldn’t quite bring himself to have that much hope. However, as Alastor had surmised, the change of clothes was a definitive admition that he wasn’t going to work. It scared him to death, but even he had to admit it would be detrimental for him to go. Val would kill him.

"Thanks,” he said softly as he slid off the counter to his feet. With an ease that showed just how many times he had done this sort of thing, he reached under the hem of the dress to unfasten the skirt. He let it slide down until it reached his feet and he stepped one foot out of it and caught it with the toe of his other foot, lifting it up so that he didn’t have to bend over. He had to support himself with two hands on the counter to do it, where usually his balance was good, but that hardly mattered. He took the skirt and the shirt and headed back out into the bedroom with a glance at Alastor.

Not bothering with hanging them back up, Angel simply laid the two discarded garments on his makeup table and went to sit on the bed. He was really starting to feel how much he had been moving around. He was trembling with exhaustion and weakness just as much as with fear. He had lost quite a bit of blood, had been through a physical and emotional trauma, and had had nothing to drink in it least ten hours and nothing to eat in over twenty-four hours. And that was really starting to hit him. He had pushed himself too far, too fast and he was lucky he had even made it to the bed. He had more collapsed onto it than actually sat down.

All he really wanted to do was sleep. Preferably somewhere dark and private. That wasn’t going to happen right now, though. They needed to plan. He watched Alastor attentively, though he didn’t quite manage to keep from looking ill. With a false bravado that was likely obvious, he asked, “So how we doin’ this? What’re we - you - gonna tell Val?”

It’s a start. While it’s easy to see that Angel is far from convinced, it appears to Alastor that he wants to believe him. It’s just a spark. A spark Valentino can snuff out in an instant... but a spark that can be re-ignited and kindled as long as the spider doesn’t completely give in. 

Alastor glances quickly at his pocket watch. They still have more than a couple of hours before Angel needs to be at the studio. Angel said himself that the moth rarely calls this early. Alastor’s back teeth clench as the reasons why run through his mind: Valentino knows it will take Angel hours to drag his injured body around and clean up to the point  that he was anything close to presentable. There’s no doubt in Alastor’s mind that the moth was also relishing in the sheer amount of dread, misery, and fear Angel would have to live through in the hours leading up to getting there... knowing full well what awaits him upon arrival, and how powerless he is to do a thing about it. 

He slides his watch back into his pocket. He has plenty of time to make that call. They have plenty of time to discuss with one another the best way to speak to the moth in question. From the looks of Angel, as he practically collapses onto the bed, there is a far more immediate concern present: Angel needs to rest... and he needs something to sustain his body. The Radio Demon settles into the chair he had previously set beside Angel’s bed. When Angel is sitting or lying down, it seems uncomfortable to stand and hover over him. “I’ll borrow the phone Charlie set up on Husker’s desk.” The word makes him smile. Their princess was very insistent on calling Husk��s station a desk rather than a bar.

His eyes flit to Angel’s door and then back to the spider by his side. He adjusts his monocle before adding: “Would you like me to bring you something from the kitchen when I come back? A glass of juice perhaps?” He’s already pushed Angel into making a decision the spider had no desire to go through with. While he knows (and Angel must know as well) he needs to eat, but to push him to eat something when he’s already pushed so hard... the result would likely not be a positive one. 

angel-dust-addict​:

Angel looked up when Alastor set a hand on his own. It was a surprisingly warm gesture. And sure enough, it had worked as Alastor had intended. The spider was focused on him, meeting his eyes, attentive. If he had had ears like the deer’s, they would have been straight forward. And he did, indeed, listen to what the smaller demon had to say.

He hadn’t ever really thought about it that way. Of course, he knew that. He knew Val was also ultimately just in it to survive. Perhaps it was because it was typically Val who was a threat to Angel’s ongoing survival. That was most certainly true today.

What Alastor had to say about Lucifer surprised him. He knew that to be the case. Even if Charlie wouldn’t use the powers she inherited, Lucifer was not to be trifled with. And really was a very clever idea. Because when confronted with death, Val would always opt to save his own skin. He would let Angel take the night off because Val didn’t want to die. He had to admit it would almost definitely work, at least for tonight.

"Alright,” he said softly. He dropped his gaze again and continued on quietly. “It oughta work tanight. Dunno about tha future, but it’ll work fa’ now. So I guess now we go call? I ain’t got a thing on me right now. Plus we gotta call from a hotel phone. Kinda makes it a little harda’.”

He finally looked back up and said, “But it ain’t gonna work faheva’. An’ it’s gonna piss 'im off. An’ trust me when I say he’s gonna make sure I know exactly how pissed he is. So it sort'a feels like just postponin’ tha inevitable.”

While he’s not one to admit such sentimental things, there’s the tiniest sensation of relief that runs through his tightened shoulders when Angel looks back at him. It was a small gesture, but it showed that Angel had stopped receding into himself and shutting down. It showed that, if nothing else, Angel is willing to give this scheme a shot. That’s all Alastor needs.

 It’s rare for the deer to have to fight so hard in order to defend someone-- albeit, rarely do such situations involve a fellow overlord, and rarely does Alastor come into the picture before the violence actually happens. Usually, he hears another screaming, and his curiosity causes him to trot over to the scene. He hasn’t tended to someone in the aftermath of such abuse since... he was alive. 

Alastor’s smile relaxes, becoming far more genuine when Angel so softly agrees. The spider is correct: This will work tonight. This will spare his body and keep him alive tonight. Once his body is healed, he will be more capable of handling whatever it is Valentino throws at him, and, more importantly, it will give them time to think of something a bit more long-term. 

When someone has power over another, it makes them seem almost unstoppable. However, Valentino is hardly unstoppable. His strength is formidable to sinners and even, to a degree, his fellow overlords, but he is nothing compared to the fallen angel who sits atop the pride ring’s throne. It seems that’s what Alastor needs to remind this spider of from time to time: Valentino is powerful, but Angel has aligned himself with creatures much more so. “Take your time getting dressed. We have several hours to work with.” Alastor encourages as he sidles backwards towards the door’s exit. “Sometimes,” he adds, glancing back over his shoulder to look at Angel’s eyes once more, “one needs to postpone in order to give himself time to come up with the next step.” His eyes cast a soft glow and his smile grows into a far more confident grin. “Do not say inevitable just yet, my friend~”

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 9 - "stay"

Season 9, episodes 23/24 "Angels" and "Demons" (the ones where Reid gets shot in the neck *cries*, while the team are chasing a guy - a preacher, to be precise - who was framed by the unsub. In the episode they will eventually find the real unsub)

Long ass one. Idk what nerve drives me to call these fics "shots" when most of em are +4000 words. Note: Reid always has long hair in my fics, regardless of the season I took inspiration from

As per usual: edited this months after I first wrote it. My fics are perennial works in progress

Read it on AO3

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

"Blake!! " Morgan screamed with all his voice, running toward her and Reid as fast as he could - considering he got shot - pressing a hand on his wounded bicep.

One of his ears was beeping because of the gun shots - 3 out of 4 bullets hit his vest - and he was feeling light-headed from the fall. Not to mention the pain his arm was causing him. But in that moment, it was like his body had forgotten about the soreness and discomfort because his mind was only focused on Reid- no, Spencer. His Spencer.

"Blake-" he called her again, now that he'd got just a few feet from them.

He quickly fell down to his knees and put his hand on Spencer's neck, replacing Alex's. She moved aside without protesting, still sitting on the ground.

"I- I'm- I'm so sorry." she hiccuped on the verge of crying, shaking her head to dizziness while she looked down at her bloody hand; not sure if she was apologizing to Spencer or to Derek.

Morgan didn't answer, but not because he thought it was her fault: how could he? They all would take a bullet - and had taken bullets - to save each other. There was simply no time for apologies in that moment.

"We need an ambulance!" she repeated to her radio transceiver, even though at least 10 minutes had passed since she had first called for help.

"Alright- kid, you gotta stay with me now" Derek ordered, breathing heavily.

Despite the other's pleads, Spencer had almost completely lost consciousness; his mouth hung open, his eyes suddenly rolled back.

"No, nonono no" Derek panted loudly. "Baby please don't-"

His pupils desperately roamed his peripherals, searching for something with which he could pat Spencer's wound to minimize the blood loss, since clearly his hand wasn't enough.

"W-what do you need?" Alex asked, seeing Derek looking around aimlessly; but he seemed too spaced out to answer. "Talk to me Morgan, how can I help?!"

"I-I need something to pat the wound, I don't know some kind of cloth-" he said, panic possessing him.

The only thing Alex could think of, without having to go too far and waste anymore time, was Spencer's tie. She messily reached over, managing to snatch it from underneath his vest - though not without struggling - and untying it. She then slid it out of the collar of Spencer's button-up and folded it, having the hardest time accomplishing even such simple tasks with how bad her hands were shaking. She handed it to Morgan who, without complaining or questioning, placed it on the wound and started pressing again.

Spencer was slowly slipping on the ground from his half-sitting position, with his back leaning on one of the SUVs. Derek wrapped his free, not injured arm around him from under his armpit as securely as he could, and tried to lift him up a little, to help him breathe. He did his best, straining against his own pain and the pressure he had to keep applying on the other man's wound.

Luckily, that was enough to bring him back. Spencer swallowed intensely and gasped, before starting to mumble incomprehensibly. Derek kept both his hands firmly wrapped around his neck, to try and keep his head from hanging on either side.

"Ok this is good, keep your eyes on m- hey, eyes on me" he kept saying, trying to keep him awake; once, twice, dozens of times again and again and again like a mantra; only rearranging the words slightly each time; calling his name - Spencer, kid, baby, stay with me, don't, please, I need you here, come on-

Wait. Stop. Spencer looked like he was trying to say something.

"What? What is it, kid? Talk to me, say whatever- just whatever stay awake for me please" Derek begged him, his voice starting to get too shaky to handle. The ambulance hadn't arrived yet but, even though he had lost a lot of blood, Reid managed to stay somewhat conscious, which must have been a good sign: Morgan thought, trying not to let his mind go to dark places.

"I-" Spencer started to say something, then coughed.

He coughed blood. Everything Derek had been thinking to try and keep his hopes high went to nothing.

Derek started to feel sick. Sick like all the organs in his body were stuck in a million tight knots; and his lungs seemed slowly filling up with cement; and his eyes felt as if an uncountable number of needles were piercing through them; and his limbs were being crushed into ash by a hammer. 

"Oh God..." Alex whispered; her brain was like electrocuted and rendered unable to come up with anything more to keep Reid awake than she'd already come up with earlier, while Morgan was still chasing the preacher before coming to help.

Spencer reached for Derek's arm with his weak hand.

"I- I love you-" he finally managed to murmur with a hint of a lopsided smile, as if relief had washed over him the second he'd let out those words. His eyes were open in mere slits, looking at somewhere around Derek's face with an odd glimmer that the other man couldn't quite place because he'd never seen before.

"No, don't- don't say that, c'mon yo-" Derek barely said, choking halfway. "-you can say that to me later, Spencer..." his words faded away, as he shook his head in denial and the first of many tears to come fell down his cheek. He shut his eyes close in the attempt to avoid that, pressing his forehead against Spencer's while trying not to lose the grip on his neck.

"Please stay awake, please, please, please..." he begged through gritted teeth, once his sobs had somehow managed to slightly quiet down.

-

Suddenly, from far away, the sirens of an ambulance could be perceived amongst a million other noises, seeped out by the two agent's ears because they weren't the ones that mattered in that moment.

Alex quickly hopped on her feet and jogged toward the side of the street, waving and screaming like a maniac at the ambulance to make it quicker for the medics to find them.

"You hear that?? The ambulance is here kid, you gotta resist just a little more alright? Can you- can you do that for me??" Derek straightened up a little and said, well aware that he wasn't quite talking to Spencer anymore.

The other man mumbled something, not as a sign that he understood what was going on, rather that he was hearing Derek telling him things, saying words, making sounds.

He saw the figures of two medics along with Alex walking fast toward them, carrying a gurney. One of them got down and took Derek's place in soccurring Spencer; the former couldn't find a valid reason to protest when he was frantically shoved away off of him.

"Agent, are you injured?" the other one asked, gathering that the blood splattered on his bicep was most likely his own and not the other man's.

"I-I'm fine, the bullet didn't even hit me it just scratched me- I'm not the one who needs help, please! And- wait he- he doesn't take narcotics, please that's REALLY important-" Morgan yelped in response, still in shock, finding difficult to even put his words together clearly.

She only seemingly ignored his continuous whining - albeit rightful - but in actuality took in all that information, quickly examining his injury.

"I see what you mean, you got lucky. Still, it could get infected, so you're coming with us right now." she concluded in a rush, immediately turning around to help her colleague lay Spencer on the gurney.

While hurrying toward the ambulance, Derek saw Alex getting back to Hotch and Rossi. Aaron turned around, his eyes met Derek's.

He nodded at him from afar, a look on his face that said: "do what you have to do."

-

- later at the hospital

-

Derek had been sitting on that uncomfortable chair for at least 2 hours, in the waiting room of the hospital.

-

As soon as they'd got off the ambulance, they had rushed Spencer to surgery: during the drive he'd lost consciousness completely and started mumbling things that made no sense, nearing aphasia. From the second they'd taken him to the OR, Morgan hadn't been able to say anything, shell-shocked and numbed down by his brain as a defense mechanism.

Earlier, while the nurse was bandaging his arm in the Emergency Room and kept asking if he felt any pain, if he had fallen and hit his head when he'd got shot, if he was feeling dizzy; he just nodded or responded "I don't know". She'd even asked him what had happened to "his friend" at a certain point, to try and catch his attention: was she even aware that she was talking to a profiler? He couldn't even remember if he'd effectively shown her his badge.

-

It was probably more than 2 hours, he thought when he saw Hotch coming in.

Morgan looked up at him, finally shifting his eyes away from the floor. He didn't say anything, barely able to stare at him with a confused expression.

"I can't stay long." Hotch stated.

Silence.

"...what do you mean?" that was probably the first actual, sensible phrase Derek had pronounced since he'd got into that damned hospital.

Aaron sighed. "The others wanted to come, but I can't let them get distracted from the case, so I came here to check on you in person. It's the only way I got them to agree to stay at the station and keep working."

Derek finally understood what he meant; the cogs in his brain processing the situation with a concerning delay. He arched his eyebrows and rubbed his face with his palm, as if something Hotch said had awakened him all of a sudden.

"I thought you were here because the case was over" Derek snorted, shaking his head in a silent self-scolding.

"I- I don't know how I could think that..." he added, hunching on himself with his elbows dug in his sore knees.

"How long have you been waiting here?" Aaron asked after a few seconds, shooting him a concerned and squinting glance.

Derek briefly checked his wristwatch. "Since midnight, I think."

It was almost 3 am.

Hotch knew he couldn't ask him to swap and go get some air while he stayed there; he would've never accepted and it was only understandable. Plus, it wouldn't do any of them any good: he would be stuck in the hospital while the team needed him on the case. But he couldn't just leave him like that, what kind of teammate would he be?

"Alright." he sighed deeply. "I'm gonna wait here with you." he asserted, sitting down next to him and picking out the phone from his pocket, to inform the others by text.

Morgan scowled, as his head shot up. "No Hotch c'mon, it's already bad that I'm not working, you- you gotta get back, I'm gonna call you whenever I know something anyway-"

"I'm gonna stay until he's out of surgery and I know you both are ok." Hotch cut him off, without an inch of reconsideration in his voice. "Cause you're clearly not thinking straight right now." he concluded, searching deep in the other man's eyes for some sort of outraged reaction to his accusation, even being well aware that Derek had to be told by someone. And Hotch always seemed to be the one designated for that role.

Morgan faced down to stare at the blue linoleum floor again. After some seconds, he nodded silently, gulping to try and make that lump in his throat go away.

He realized that type of reaction wasn't normal for him. It almost never, ever happened to him to corner himself within his own head and turn to silent mode, in these kind of situations. He was usually the type to remain lucid - of course heating up and pacing around restlessly and punching things and cursing through clenched jaws; nonetheless lucid : interacting with the things and places and people surrounding him, letting himself feel whatever he had to feel and letting other people see it. Acting like he was acting in that moment, that just wasn't him. That could be JJ at times or...or Spencer. His Spencer.

-

After another 20 minutes of waiting in complete silence - which were nothing, compared to the 3 hours Derek had already waited - the doctor entered the crowded room. And Derek didn't even notice.

He was still sitting, eyeing blankly at the portion of floor in between his combat boots. He couldn't hear anything but his paranoid thoughts, not even the general noise and buzz of people's voices - let alone the doctor's footsteps.

Hotch instinctively stood up from the chair.

"Morgan-" he said, tapping on his shoulder.

Derek looked up at him distractedly, raising his brows. Aaron pointed at the doctor approaching them, right behind him.

He immediately got up as well and turned around; once again taking a second too many to process what was happening. He started to feel all the pressure again, heart pounding in his chest to deafness, palms oozing sweat, the knot in his larynx forming once again - for the fourth time at least that night, if one had to keep count.

"How is he?" he asked impatiently, taking for granted that he was even...alive.

"He got very lucky. The bullet didn't hit one of the major arteries just by half an inch or so." the doctor answered, calmly and reassuringly. "The excellent job you did at minimizing the blood loss on the scene was surely a determining factor." he spoke directly to Derek now, smiling widely.

Relief washed over the two agents, whose shoulders slumped and lungs released audible sighs.

"Can we see him right away?" Derek questioned further, hopeful.

"Yes, absolutely, but you have to consider that he's lost a lot of blood and stayed unconscious for quite a while. So it might take him some time to wake up from the anesthesia. Plus, he has to rest well, of course."

"Thank you." was all Derek managed to say, with watery eyes and trembling voice barely coming out of his mouth - but he really did mean it.

Aaron shook the doctor's hand, equally thankful, and quickly picked his phone out of his pocket.

"I'm calling the others right now. You go." Hotch ordered with his usual firmness and loyalty, which he maintained even in such tense situations; giving him a complicit look.

Derek simply nodded in response, infinitely grateful.

-

He opened the door of Spencer's room quietly, having acknowledged that he was still sleeping.

It was early morning; a faint, cold-hued light filtered through the blinds of the window. Derek couldn't see much, if not the outlines of some pieces of furniture and - most importantly - Spencer's shape lying on the bed. And that was more than enough for the moment being.

A gasp hitched halfway to his lungs, and his heart started beating with such intensity it could crack his sternum open, and his eyes prickled with tears of joy.

Morgan quietly grabbed the chair in the corner of the room and placed it beside the bed. He wanted to hug him so bad, but couldn't bring himself to wake him up; so he just sat there for a while, looking at him, at how the dim light enveloped his peacefully sleeping features and created weird shadows on his wrinkled hospital gown - for a second, he couldn't refrain from realizing that he looked beautiful even in that sloppy piece of clothing, with his tangled mop of hair sprawled all over the pillow.

Morgan reached out for the man's hand to lightly stroke his knuckles with the pads of his fingers. As soon as he did that, a single tear managed to part from the puddle heaped up before his pupils and trail down his cheek, falling down to sink into the cotton fabric of the blanket; not sure if that was due to the relief of being able to sense the warmth of Spencer's hand, or just because he was exhausted; or both.

Derek figured he wasn't gonna wake up any sooner if he stared at him for hours: he gave in to the impulse of resting his temple on his folded arms, over the bed, careful not to touch Spencer.

And he fell asleep.

-

- 4 hours later (7 am ca.)

-

Spencer opened his eyes. He felt wobbly, like he was caged in a glass bubble, and his neck hurt like hell, for lack of a term powerful enough.

He looked around and saw Derek, sitting beside the mattress with his head resting on the bed, sleeping. A disarmed smile played at the corners of his lips: of course he knew he would find him there, but quite frankly he didn't expect him to fall asleep like that.

He reached out to him with a hand, a little shaky from the weakness, and gently caressed his cheek, not sure if he wanted him to wake up or not. After all, he had no idea how much - or how little - sleep he managed to get; still: he needed to hear his voice and see that smile of his as much as he needed oxygen in his lungs.

Derek startled awake with a gasp, straightening up in his seat and checking his watch. It took him a while to notice that Spencer's hand was what had woken him up.

Then he saw him.

"Spencer-" he whispered and instantly stood up from the chair to sit on the bed beside him, stroking his forehead with a thumb.

Spencer suddenly realized Derek's arm was bandaged.

"W-what happened to you?" were his first words, hoarse and cracky; as he tried to prop himself up a little to half-sit on the bed.

"Nothing baby, bullet scratched me. How are YOU feeling? D'you want water or something? Jell-o?" the other asked, knowing exactly Spencer had a thing for Jell-o, not hesitating to brush off his unmotivated concern.

"No I'm fine, just...you should get back to the case, actually." Spencer said half-heartedly as reality hit him all of a sudden, making his smile fade away. He wanted him to stay, but on the other hand he knew keeping him there was only gonna slow down the team. They needed him more than he did - or at least, that's what he was trying to convince both himself AND Derek of.

"Nope. Not happening." the other dismissed, with a tone that left little to no space for protesting. He took Spencer's hand, lacing their fingers together.

His boyfriend gazed at him with puppy eyes. He should have expected that.

Derek sighed, cocking his head. "A'ight, look. They've probably already solved it by now. Best believe Hotch would've called me if it was necessary that I'd be there." he explained, reasonably. The point he was making was enough to ease down some of the guilt weighing on Spencer's chest for wishing he would stay.

"Plus," Derek continued, reaching his hand out to comb his fingers through Spencer's entangled curls. "I wouldn't be able to concentrate much right now anyway, pretty boy." he smiled at him.

Spencer giggled; the weight of his guilt now completely lifted off of his heart by Derek's smile - the brightest he'd ever seen, even being well aware of how much that whole chaos from last night must have drained him out. Only his Derek could.

"Come here" he then whispered, opening his arms, ready to melt into his hug.

Derek didn't wait another second to lean closer and wrap his strong arms around his boyfriend's skinny, temporarily fragile body; tight but not too tight, afraid to hurt him. He'd wanted to take him in his arms since the moment he opened the door and saw him, alive, 4 hours before. He released a content sigh, burying his face into Spencer's warm neck, where his nose was being slightly tickled by that soft hair - as per usual.

Spencer gently kissed Derek's temple, ignoring the fact that in doing so he would've inevitably had to tilt his neck in a hurtful way. Indeed:

"Shit-" he whispered as he pressed a hand on his bandaged neck, scrunching his muzzle in a grimace of pain but somewhat amused at the same time: he wondered if it was gonna feel like someone was twisting his throat everytime he tilted his head as little as an inch.

Derek carefully let go of the hug and placed his palm over Spencer's; his eyes revealing guilt and regret for having complied his request to hug him.

"Fuck- sorry about that, kid..."

While the other man's gaze was concentrated on his bandaged wound, Spencer's pupils fluttered around his features, displayed a few inches from his face.

"It's nothing, just kiss me." he murmured like he was in a rush, like he hadn't even thought for a second before spitting it out like that. Which was something he usually did only when he said awkward stuff - only to receive the "Reid, wtf" signature look in response.

He placed a hand behind Derek's head and pulled him closer impulsively, risking their teeth to collide.

Derek was definitely not expecting the man's warm tongue to push into his mouth like that, forcing him to part his lips way more widely than if it were just going to be the quick peck he was initially expecting it to be.

He wanted to draw Spencer even closer, but figured placing his hand on his jaw or - even worse - on his nape, would make him flinch in pain again, so he opted to wrap him back in his arms; one draped over his shoulders and the other tight around his waist.

Spencer gradually slowed down and eventually stopped, struggling to breathe evenly. He opened his eyes to stare dreamily into Derek's; still tied in each other's arms to keep their noses 3 inches apart at most.

He smiled in a sweet, silly way and laid a couple of quick kisses on both corners of Derek's mouth, making him helplessly smile too.

"I love you." Spencer murmured against the other's grinning lips. He had enough time to place on them only a couple more quick pecks, before his boyfriend managed to untangle from his limbs and pull back a little, laughing at how fucking adorable he was.

As he chuckled and put a few more inches between their faces, the memory of Spencer saying "I love you" the night before flashed back into his mind for a second. The jarring difference in how that same phrase was pronounced in those two diametrally opposed contexts made Derek feel things, not quite sure what things. Spencer most definitely couldn't remember saying it - his near unconscious state from last night overpowering his eidetic memory - though Derek recalled mumbling something among the lines of "you can say that to me later"... Anyway, he pushed those inconclusive thoughts away before they could ruin such a precious moment.

"Alright, alright, I would've gone to get you that Jell-o even without all this, you know?" he said, betraying his feigned indignation when he couldn't resist placing one last kiss on Spencer's Cupid's bow. "Or is this your apology for scaring the shit out of me and making me cry like a baby? Cause either way, it's working. You really ARE a magician, huh" he winked jokingly.

Spencer giggled and rolled his eyes. "Come on, it's not about the Jell-o!"

Derek let go of him altogether and stood up from the bed, before mocking him yet once more.

"Yeah, whatever. Imma go get that Jell-o, you stay here." as if he could actually get up and walk around the hospital, duh...

Spencer dropped his arms on the bed, as a sign of complaint. "Seriously though, I don't want Jell-o right now I- I want you ! Even if you bring it to me it's gonna stay exactly wherever you put it!" he tried to convince him not to leave the room, blushing as a result of having let "I want you" slip out like that.

Even if what Spencer said and the tone with which he said it and the face with which he said it were persuasive to say the least; Derek already had his hand on the door handle by then. He opened it and turned around toward Spencer one last time before getting out.

"I need an excuse to get out of here or Imma eat you alive, so you better thank me." he concluded with a glare and a smirk, playfully pointing a threatening finger at his boyfriend before finally closing the door behind him.

-

Spencer sighed in resignation, slowly returning to lie down on the mattress with his head on the pillow.

He stared at the ceiling and covered his eyes with his hand, smiling from ear to ear.

[shirtlesssammy]

9x23: Do You Believe in Miracles?

Then:

*ahem* Lots of angel and Mark of Cain stuff happened... I guess 

Now:

We pick up right where we left off in 9x22. Dean almost kills Gadreel, but Sam and Cas lock him up in the dungeon instead. Sam locks the First Blade away and discovers Gadreel is gone. 

 Dean’s busy vomiting up blood. Healthy. 

Metatron is busy writing his Magnum Opus. It’s a story about “love and heartbreak...and love.” An angel helper is there to show Metatron his new angel radio station --it only allows his voice to play for all angels in heaven and earth. Metatron is delighted. 

He gives them a rousing speech of how happy he is that they’ve all joined together under his rule. He tells them that he’s going away, but when he returns, it’ll be glorious. 

Sam and Cas take a drive and find a very injured Gadreel on the side of the road. Cas, his powers weakened, heals Gadreel from Dean’s wound. They need his help. 

Crowley, meanwhile, is enjoying a nice demon massage. But Dean calls him away.

Dean demands that Crowley tell him what’s been going on with him. Ever since killing Abaddon, he needs to kill, all the time. Crowley tells him the mark is making him kill, and if he doesn’t he will die. As a human, he can’t really survive this curse. Dean tells Crowley that he wants to get to Metatron, but he needs the blade first. He needs Crowley’s help. 

Cas, Sam, and Gadreel come back to an empty bunker. Sam tries reaching his brother with no luck. Gadreel thinks that Dean and the blade are their best chance at stopping Metatron. Sam, ever the co-dependent, thinks it’s A HORRIBLE IDEA. They talk about how Metatron is tapping into the angel tablet to gain powers akin to God. They need to break that connection.

The one problem is that the tablet is in heaven in Metatron’s office. Gadreel can get them to the gate. Sam thinks this is also a stupid idea. Cas thinks they have to try. 

Insert one unobservant woman getting hit by a car. Lucky for the world, Metatron is there to save her. 

Dean and Crowley hit up a local watering hole for the wi-fi.

Crowley is really going through some existential crazies, and Dean’s not ready to embrace their summer of love yet. Dean does see through his angst in regards to Hell though, but is too focused on finding Metatron to dissect Crowley’s issues right now. A couple of Crowley’s demons arrive with a video of what Metatron’s been up to. 

Marv’s been saving people’s lives! 

Dean gets up to leave, and here’s where things get REALLY DARK. Dean doesn’t eat his cheeseburger. 

Cas and Gadreel arrive at Heaven’s portal: a playground. Cas has a plan on getting them inside. 

And just thinking about Cas getting the Wookie idea from watching movies with Dean and Sam, and learning from these humans that he’s come to accept as family, just, well, even though so much has been said about it, it all still messes me up a bit. Gadreel doesn’t understand that reference, and Cas has a sad. 

Dean arrives at the recently resurrected woman’s home, only to find Sam. Dean refuses to engage his brother. Sam informs Dean that Cas and Gadreel are risking everything to help Dean win this fight. Dean hears “Cas” and records scratches. Sam powers through with their season’s worth of anger and resentment. They have a plan, and Dean’s just going to have to take it. Sam eventually concedes that Dean’s their best shot at Metatron. Crowley decides to bounce. 

Gadreel and a handcuffed Cas enter Heaven. They’re taken right to Metatron’s office. 

Oh wait, nope. It’s actually Heaven’s prison. (And UGH, Gadreel’s “no,no, not here!” stung a bit.) 

Marv heads to a homeless camp to perform miracles. He moves among the people, healing them. Another angel calls him out as a fraud and not human, and then calls him Metatron. The other people rally around Metatron, attacking the accusing angel. HOW DARE! Marv is good and pure! Metatron kicks his angel blade into the fray and someone grabs it up and stabs the other angel.  DUDES. There’s no need to go from zero to stabbin’! Light flashes as Metatron grins.

Dean struggles under the thrall of the blade, but tries to wrap himself up in the mantle of gruff normalcy when Sam fills him in on the latest Metatron intel. Dean attempts a half hearted apology for the past few months and Sam attempts a half hearted acceptance. My heart is so warmed? Oh wait, I’m feeling despair at their continued utter lack of emotional honesty. GAH. (This is the show I choose to love!) Dean coldcocks Sam, knocking out that poor boy and his delicate, delicate head. “Not your fight,” Dean tells him and then just...WALKS AWAY.

Up in Heaven, Cas tries to make Hannah see the truth about Metatron. Hannah is TIRED of all the angel deaths. Honestly, PREACH my friend! While Castiel pleads, Gadreel comes up with a very bad idea indeed. 

Down on Earth, Dean enters the homeless encampment. He’s immediately greeted by two residents who tell Dean that “Marv” is expecting him. Dean’s directed into a warehouse to find Metatron. 

Gadreel is EXTREMELY wound up in Heaven’s jail. “The only thing that matters is the mission,” he says. On this show, that kind of talk is a very bad sign. While Cas tries to calmly reassure him, Gadreel carves a sigil into his chest. Realizing what he’s doing too late, Castiel cowers as Gadreel blasts himself apart. Heaven’s jail crumbles. 

Cas emerges from his broken cell and confronts Hannah.

In the old factory, Metatron calmly waits for Dean. He accuses Dean of harboring too much cynicism to be happy, but Dean puts forth his own share of belittling banter. Metatron’s a fake! 

Metatron doesn’t care. He rails about God’s insecurity, spinning a story about humanity who will do nothing but bow and scrape for God’s favor even in the face of terrible adversity. He vows that he can save humans. He’s got a mission. 

Dean doesn’t care. He’s out to get Metatron for killing Kevin, taking Cas’s grace, and whatever other ills befall humanity. He whips out the blade and does not...look...terribly stable. 

Metatron sorts through Dean’s confrontation, concluding that Dean’s stalling to buy Cas and Gadreel time to enact their plan up in Heaven. Jokes on Dean, though! They’ve been imprisoned! The blade shakes in Dean’s hand. They fight. 

Upstairs, Cas has made it to Metatron’s study. Hannah’s back on his side! Yeah!

Dean fights Metatron, but he’s no match for “the word of God.” Sam races through the encampment to help his brother. Meanwhile, Dean gets the stuffing kicked out of him. 

Dean is looking really, really super not great. But he still summons the strength to reach out a hand to psychokinetically propel the blade to his hand. He sits up. It’s his hero moment!

And…

Metatron stabs him RIGHT through the CHEST. Just...RIGHT THERE THROUGH THE HEART.

Damn. 

Everything slows down as Sam watches his brother get stabbed. Dean looks around, seeks his brother out one last time, and then falls to the ground JUST as, in Heaven, Cas dashes the angel tablet to pieces on the floor. UNFORTUNATE TIMING! 

This is Our Hearts:

Sam hauls out a blade to stab the hell out of Metatron, but the angel flaps out.

Cas looks up from the desk to see Metatron. Metatron comments on the shattered tablet, destroyed to “save Dean Winchester.” He advances. “You draped yourself in the flag of Heaven but ultimately it was all about saving one human, right?”

Metatron drops the truth bomb: Dean is dead.

Sam is frantic as a not-dead-yet Dean slurs a request for Sam to leave him and get the hell out of there. Sam refuses. Surely there’s a spell or SOMETHING to save Dean? Too bad, Sammy. Dean’s already on board with embracing the sweet release of death if it means he can escape the ill effects of the Mark. 

Cas folds his grief carefully into a box and then accuses Metatron of fooling the other angels with his savior routine. Metatron scoffs. “They are frightened little sheep,” Metatron says with dripping contempt, but he will lead them back to leading (and lording over) humanity. 

Sam helps Dean walk out of the building and Dean asks him about his sudden change of heart. Sam’s not ready to let him go just yet! “Ain’t that a bitch.” It is indeed a bitch, Dean Winchester. 

Metatron prepares to stab Cas, accusing him of lacking the imagination to spin a good story for himself. Cas throws it back at him: Metatron learned to spin a good story...and he narrated the hell out of his nefarious plot WHILE angel radio was on full broadcast mode. Angels storm the study and seize Metatron. 

Back on Earth, things are going very badly. “I’m proud of us,” Dean chokes out to his brother right before he dies. Oh dear.

Upstairs, Cas and Hannah lock Metatron up behind bars. She tells him that not killing Metatron is what a leader would do. Cas denies her label. He just wants to be an angel. Hannah reminds him that he’ll die without replenishing his failing grace.

We cut to Sam laying Dean’s body in his room at the bunker and then drinking himself Winchester stupid in the dark library. He drunk-summons Crowley using the setup Dean left behind in the dungeon. TOO LATE, Sam! Crowley’s already in the bunker. 

Crowley settles next to Dean’s body and tells him that Sam’s currently trying to summon him. Crowley swears that he didn’t know what would happen when Dean took on the Mark of Cain. But...he didn’t reveal the whole truth. There’s another story about Cain that factors in. Cain killed himself rather than become the killer the Mark was steering him towards becoming. The death didn’t stick. The Mark kept him tethered to the world. Crowley places the blade in Dean’s hand. “Maybe miracles do come true,” Crowley says. Dean is feeling LIFE right now, and not the cold embrace of death. “A new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. Let’s go take a howl at that moon.”

I’m Just a Broken-Quoted Angel:

What can I say? I wear my stress

Who else would he summon? I mean, he and Crowley have been bromancing over the Blade ever since Dean got the mark

Wookie!

You’re nothing but Bernie Madoff with wings

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[uhgoodmoni]

Nothing That Lasts Forever

A BTS fanfiction

Trailer - ch1 - ch2 - ch3 - ch4- ch5 - ch6 - ch7 - ch8 - ch9

Ao3 link - Wattpad link - Soundtrack 

Warnings: Major Character Death, Blood, Demons, Fighting, Verbal and Physical Abuse, Mention of marijuana, Death, Cursing, Fire, Unintentional Self-harm, Gore. Yoongi’s injury

Chapter One: Otsukare 

Yoongi’s POV

I glance down at my phone, a new text from Hoba. ‘5 mins away :p’. I don’t bother responding but instead, give Jungkook a slight shove. His shoulder is digging into mine, dozing off on the couch. Drool comes from his lips to the cushion, luckily not my shirt sleeve. He barely lifts his head as I stand up, heading to the table where our things are packed. I roll my eyes looking over him slumped on the couch. I get it, I’m tired too, but he can rest in the car. 

“Hoseok will be here soon, you better not forget anything,” I lecture, and he nods his head. He isn’t listening and I know it. I shake my head, double-checking my bag for my charger.  I don’t want to forget it, even if I won’t be on my phone that often. Hobi’s charger has been lost and there wasn’t time to get a new one so he’ll want to borrow one of ours on the trip. I glance at my phone, at full charge and it will probably stay that way. 

“No no, I won’t,” he mumbles, groggy still. It is gonna be a long drive, so we had woken early, he’ll likely claim the back seat to crash in. I pout, knowing I won’t be able to rest my eyes. It’s better to drive with an extra pair of eyes on the road. I’m glad that Hoseok volunteered to drive in the first place. Jungkook had agreed to drive on the way home so maybe I can nap in the backseat then.

“Your charger?” I ask, grabbing the bag of food and placing it on the counter. Chips, bread, some soda, mostly sweets but Hobi is bringing the cooler with our sandwich makings. 

“Yeah it’s in there,” he mostly whispers. I shrug, won’t be my problem if he hasn’t packed it. He just won’t have a phone, no biggie since we are meant to be on holiday. Slinging the bag over my shoulder I take up my suitcase, heading to the door.

“Come on, why don’t you help me bring some stuff outside so we can just stick it in the trunk and go.” He gives a short hum as I head out. Whatever, I’ll just make him unpack everything when we get to the cabin. The door slams behind me as I walk down to the elevator. It takes me slowly to the lobby, but I head out the back where I know Hobi would be parking. The air is chill against my cheeks as I push myself out the door. The summer is just at its tail end, making the mornings and evenings quite chilly. Looking around for his car I hug my bag tighter. Hopefully, the weather will warm up for our trip. 

His car pulls in, stopping in the spot ahead of me. As he exits the vehicle, the trunk opens up. Stuffed inside is the cooler and his suitcase.

“Hi hi hiii,” He cheers, a huge grin spread across his face. He jogs over to me, taking the bag of food from my hands. “It’s a good day aye?” He hums, walking me back over to the car. 

“Yeah,” I grin, pulling up the suitcase into the trunk beside his, giving it a push to leave room for Jungkook’s. “Hoping for nicer weather.” I nod up to the cloudy sky, a blinding white, but the sun is still hiding.

“When we get there it’ll get warmer,” He assures, dropping the bag in, and pulling me in for a hug. “Where’s Jungkook?” He says, releasing me and shutting the trunk. 

“He probably fell back asleep upstairs,” I sigh as Hoseok leads the way back inside shrugging. 

With a cheeky smirk, he hops inside the elevator, “Can’t lie I almost fell asleep on the road.” And with my silence, he gives a chuckle.

My elbow finds his side, “Hey drink some coffee next time.” I sigh, “Oh, and don’t text and drive either.” I scold, crossing my arms. He makes a pop with his mouth ignoring what I said. “I’m being serious you could get killed,” I mutter as we walk into the hall back towards the room. 

“You’re right, I won't anymore.” He smiles, opening the door for me. I take a step in, Jungkook looming right over me. I bump into his bag just as he is coming out the door. 

“Ohp sorry Yoongi hyungie.” He laughs, eyes slightly swollen, but awake nevertheless, hair draped over his cheeks.

“You left nothing behind right?”

“Nope,” He shakes his head, “stop worrying so we can have fun,” He huffs. He’s lucky I know he’s teasing. 

“So we are ready to get on the road?” Hobi asks, leading the way back to the elevator. “Good Morning Jungkookie.” they squish right into a hug. “Are you excited?” Jungkook hums an answer, stepping in after him.  

“Where is it exactly that we are going anyway?” He questions, and I’m wondering the same thing.

“Gangwon Province, a little cabin that I rented for us in the woods,” He informs us. “I don't know, I just thought it would be nice for us three to get away for a little.” I nod, it is a good opportunity for us, this weekend we have no upcoming filmings or recordings to do. Namjoon is helping Jimin on his own solo album and Taehyung is going to be with his family. Not sure what Jin hyung’s reason for not attending is. 

“Yes yes, I’m glad that collab got pushed back till next week because I really wanted to join you guys,” Jungkook says, taking the first step out of the elevator as it reaches the lobby. 

I bud in, “I think it will make us think back to when we did In the Soop, don’t ya think?”

“Agreed,” Hobi starts, “I brought some canvas…” 

“Hey hey!” Jin calls out, running over from the stairs. He’s still in his RJ pajamas, hair strewn and eyes half-closed. I grin watching him hobble over to us. 

“Jinnie hyung?” Jungkook smiles, turning back to greet him. He must have come to say goodbye and send us off.  Jin squeezes Jungkook tight, muttering goodbyes. 

“You drive safe now.” He tells Hoseok after releasing him from an embrace. “I hope you all have fun together.” I smile, hugging him tightly as well. “Go fishing for me,” He beams at me, grabbing my ears.

“There aren't any fishing spots.” Hobi frowns.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I say, patting his back. 

“That's the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” He scoffs. “Who goes camping and doesn’t fish?” His lip curls up. “Well I only came down here this early to tell you to catch me a fish but I guess I did it for nothing.” 

“Pshhh,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Yeah right, you love us and came down to give us all kisses goodbye.” 

“Okay now seriously,” he points at each of us, “be safe, I’m tired and going back to sleep, text us when you get there.”

“Yes, yes, hyung. Don’t worry, got a full tank this morning,” Hobi smiles, giving Jin’s hand a squeeze before he walks away, sending a wave as he heads to the elevator. 

“Too bad he has a meeting on Saturday,” Hobi pouts, as we head out the back door once more. Jungkook squints his eyes as the cool breeze hits him. All of us rushed to get in the car and turn the heat on. I’m not so sure Hoseok is right about it warming up later. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, buckling his seatbelt, me next to him in the passenger like I had figured would happen. “There is full heating and air conditioning at the cabin, so if it stays cold we can just cuddle up indoors.” He turns, facing Jungkook, backing up, and exits the lot.

“That sounds really nice,” Jungkook mutters, leaning his head now covered in his hoodie against the window. I nod with a smile, turning up Hobi’s heat in the car. 

“No matter what I think this will be a healing weekend for us,” I assure, after all, we have been busy filming concepts and the new music video all week. We hadn’t gotten much time to relax but the three of us would at least be able to get some R&R together. Hobi has been especially stressed, he had a pain in his ankle and was trying to not get injured while we learned the new dance. Of course, he was still overexerting himself, but now I’m glad he’ll be able to rest. 

He got on the highway, it will be about an hour drive which isn’t that bad. Maybe another thirty minutes after, to get to our campsite. If it ends up being a bust I suppose we can just go home. 

Hobi had turned on the radio, humming along to what had come on. He’s been looking forward to this since he rented the cabin months ago. If I can help it this will be the best weekend ever.  

It’s been a quiet drive, Jungkook slept the entire ride, but he probably needs the rest. Hobi plays Otsukare as we get off the main road. Playing it from youtube it sounds awful, but I can’t stop myself from laughing. 

“Don’t, don’t.” I plead, shaking my head.

“It’s sope!” He calls, looking to me for a response. I laugh, tossing my eyes to the window. It’s too early for this. I glance at the clock, 9:15 and we haven't eaten breakfast. “We’re sope!” He continues singing.

“Okayyy, let’s go!” I mumble, crossing my arms as Hoseok breaks out into laughter. He continues singing as I hum along, embarrassed. It has been years since I heard this last. It would be fun to perform again with him. Maybe I’ll ask management.

Hoseok makes another turn, the trees taking over both sides of the road. There aren’t any other cars that turned along with us. It isn't a holiday weekend so we’ll likely be the only ones on vacation at this time. Not to mention the weather, it is the same as when we had left earlier. A white cloudy blanket over the whole sky, blocking out the sun but leaving the daylight to light the road. If you look deep into the trees though, there it would be dark. Hopefully, the cabin will be in a clearing so it will be lit up, then there would also be fewer bugs. I smirk, thinking about how Hobi will likely panic once we arrive, upon the amount of bugs. Hopefully, he brought bug spray. I made sure to have mosquito nets so there is that. 

“Pay attention,” He starts again! Hopping up in his chair, still keeping his eyes on the road. I don’t respond so he continues, “Okay, let's smile. It's human relations. There are mountains too” He raises eyebrows to me, turning a dial for the volume.

“There are valleys too,” I sing quietly, licking my lips and reaching for my water. 

“Well, that's just what life is” He grabs my hand, stopping me from reaching for the bottle. “But the earth rotates” He holds my hand back up to my face, making me roll my eyes.

“Your dream will surely come true.”

“You too,” Getting louder.

“Me too,” And louder, producing smiles. 

“Let's do our best, thank you!” We sing together, Hobi turning off onto a dirt road, making the whole car shutter.

“Ayooo, why are you sooo loud,” Jungkook moans, pressing his hands into his eyes. “It’s so early…” 

“Mhmh, not really anymore.” I turn back, patting his leg. “I’m sure we are almost there anyway. Right Hoba?” I flip back up to the front, where he is turning down the volume. Eyes confused, staring off, and slowing the car down to a crawl.

“Right,” He whispers, looking into his mirrors. 

“What's wrong?” Jungkook sits up, looking outside the windows. It’s getting dark under the trees, just the light coming from in between the road shining down on us. It’s deep emerald green, glowing at the treetops from the light attempting to penetrate. At the base of the tall trees though it is hard to see through, getting darker and darker the further you try to look. There aren't any paths on either side and no turn-offs. Is Hoseok lost? I look over to him, but he just stops the car completely. 

“Uh, I thought the turn was around here.” He pouts, pulling up his phone which has the GPS turned on. He sighs, “yeah see.” Flicking the phone in between Jungkook and I. There it is, the turn right in front of us. But there is no road and no sign that there ever has been. 

“The internet connection must be bad out here.” Jungkook bites his inner cheek, sliding down in his seat. “What’s the road called? Or like the company for renting?” 

Hoseok sets his phone in the cup holder, slowly releasing the brake and letting the car continue slowly forward. “It's just like a number marker and then we drive down further to reach a small clearing and hillside where the cabin will be.”

“What number?” I ask, sitting up in my chair. 

“Mhm, 189.” He mutters, mouth screwing up. We sit in silence for a while as he drives down the road. Looking at the clock it is 9:25. 

“It’s been ten minutes,” I announce, and Hobi only shakes his head. He’s getting annoyed. “Maybe we missed it?”

“We are going five miles an hour,” He huffs, squeezing the steering wheel. “Oh well, we could turn back around.” He shrugs, letting out a sigh, but I can tell he is still bothered. Must be stress weighing him down.

“Oh look!” Jungkook’s finger comes in between us, pointing forward to the right. Both our heads turn to look, but I can’t see a damn thing. 

“What where?”

He scoots closer to the center seat. “There there, low to the ground!” He hops up and down, and there it is. A few inches from the ground a small yellow reflective sign marked ‘189’.

“Oh thank goodness.” Hoseok speeds up, reaching the turn-off in no time. 

“Why is there just some random cabin marked ‘189’,” Jungkook complains, sorting through his things. “Where is 1-188” He huffs, making Hobi smile.

“Yeah it is kind of weird,” He responds, taking the turn. It’s a tight road, trees looming overhead and thus enclosing us in the dark. So much so that the car's headlights turn on automatically, the day becoming the evening. Here the road is even bumpier, grass grown in on the path. We all go silent, eyes training over the forest as if there is something in it. But it’s just trees. 

“Hobi where the hell have you booked us?” Jungkook laughs, peering out his window with a huge grin. These kinds of things excite him, exploring and whatnot. 

“You know, this is not what I was expecting. Even I have goosebumps.” Hoseok shivers. His face looks slightly disappointed. He isn’t a fan of spooky things so hopefully, the cabin is much more welcoming than the road to it. 

“It’s okay, you’ve seen the pictures of the cabin and it looked nice you said.” He nods to me, trying to pick up the pace of the car. Another ten minutes later and we are still driving straight down the road. The end not in sight, nor the exit behind us either. Hobi runs a hand through his hair, his whole face dropping into a frown in that familiar disgusted look. The road is so narrow that he won’t be able to turn around, so none of us say anything and he just keeps going. 

“This is really getting weird,” Hobi says, his voice shaky. “I can just back us out if you want.” 

“No, no, no.” I say, “this has to be the right spot.”

“I’m sure we are almost there,” Koo adds. So he does, a sigh of relief from us all as the road begins to widen and trees begin to clear. There is a little picket sign ahead marking that there is a cabin on the left. 

“Finally,” Hobi smiles, pulling around a wide circular clearing, a path to the right, and a short path leading to a small wooden cabin. He pulls around, parking the car in front of where we would be staying. Jungkook is getting giddy in the backseat, opening the door as soon as Hoseok puts us in park. I smile at Hobi who is already seeming a little more relaxed to be at our destination. 

We join Jungkook outside, the air still a bit nipply. Hopefully, neither of them has forgotten to pack warmer clothing. All of us are in hoodies and sweatpants as of right now. Jungkook left his things hopping around the clearing, which at the center is a fire pit and some chairs. The fire will warm us up if we want and would shoo away the bugs. Past that is the path, looking like it would lead up to another clearing and the hills Hobi had mentioned. All around us on the other sides are just trees. Without the clearing, it would be just as dark as the road in. Later tonight we’ll probably be too nervous to go outside to even light the fire. 

“Smores tomorrow?” Jungkook hums, coming back around to the trunk. 

“Let’s get unpacked first and then decide what we are going to do,” I say, taking out my suitcase and the bag of food. Jungkook scoffs, taking his own suitcase along with the cooler. 

“Yeah it’s too cold today, so tomorrow sounds good,” Hobi answers him. “And worst-case scenario we do it on the stove inside.” 

“There’s a stove?” He asks backward, as we head over to the door. 

Hobi gives a little laugh, “It’s a fully functional home. Despite what you would think driving up.” Making me smirk, “Even the door has a key code instead of physical keys.”

“Oh, so it's pretty new.” I nod, as he types in the code making it obvious for us both to see 456782. “Yeah definitely wouldn’t have guessed that.” I look back to the forest, closing in on us as we file in with our things. 

“Wow!” Jungkook’s voice brings me back inside, the lights flickering on in the small living room. 

“Oh yess.” I nod looking around. It’s well furnished, a couch and a tv, blankets, and pillows dotted all around the room. The kitchen to the left, all stainless steel appliances. There’s a hallway to the right, likely leading to the rooms. While it’s freezing, the thermostat is located next to us on the wall. Hobi immediately turns to it, flipping it up as much as he can shivering and exaggerating the cold.

“What a pad.” Jungkook grins, leading the way into the home. The hallway stops at a blank wall and then turns to the right and goes down, four doors, two on each side and a window at the end of the hall. “One floor?”

“One floor,” Hobi answers, turning into one of the rooms. “Oop,” He comes back out, “That's the bathroom,” he announces, heading to the next door across from him. I peer in, a double bed, looking cozy. Hobi turns back to us outside wagging his finger at us. “This one's mine!” Sticking his tongue out. We shrug, moving down to the next rooms. It isn’t fair really since Hobi had likely seen the images online. 

Jungkook took the next room, it was also a double bed, and I curse myself for letting him have it. There is likely a single person bed in the last room and I just knew it. And I was right. I open the door and there it is wrapped in a pink duvet. At least it looked warm and comfy. My room looks the most updated, and their room’s looking dated.

“Aww shit.” I hear Hoseok cry, making me peek my head out into the hall. He doesn’t continue. 

“Hoseok?” I call and it sounds like he had tossed something in the room. 

“I forgot a mosquito net.” He sighs, peering out his own door to see me. I grin, coming well prepared for this. He isn’t even forgetful but it’s always good to have an extra on hand. 

“I got one.” And so I got it for him. While the cabin warms itself we settle into our rooms, helping each other set up our nets. We pack up the fridge and make sure that everything is working properly. The tv doesn’t have any cable signal but there is a DVD player and some random DVD’s in the cabin. At least there will be plenty to do if we can't go outside. 

“I’m so glad we didn’t pull up on some creepy run-down haunted-looking building.” Hobi giggles, taking a seat on the couch. “I got a little nervous there.” He smiles crossing his legs. 

“A little? Pshh.” Jungkook teases, looking around, and finding his reflection in a beautiful gold framed mirror. I join Hobi, pulling out my phone. 

“Aye, none of that.” he makes a click with his tongue, pushing my phone down to my lap. I shake my head, lifting it back up.

“We told Jin that we would text the chat when we got here.” he nods, as I pull up the chat. “Made it safely!” Immediately it returns a failed message. I frown, seeing that there is absolutely not a pinch of service. 

“What’s the wifi?” I turn to Hobi who pulls out his phone as well. 

“Glamping189 is the name, 456782 is the code.” He reads off of a screenshot. But it isn’t there. In fact, there isn’t anything listed under the available networks at all. 

“Ah well, that’s shit.” I groan, turning to Jungkook who just shakes himself from staring at the mirror. Vain much? “Will you look around for a router?” He nods as I get up to help him search. There isn’t one, we search each and every corner but there isn’t one at all.

[carmenlire]

Marshmallow World

Flufftober Day 5: Wet; Tentaclober Day 5: First Time

read on ao3

Alec walks into his room and shrugs out of his coat. The movement leaves him wincing and whatever injuries he’s sustained are just one more worry in a cast of thousands right now.

There’s no way that Jace and Izzy are going to just magically believe that he saved their asses in the river due to a lucky hit on the water demon.

No, Alec scowls. He has maybe an hour before they’ll be barging into his room, all skepticism and self confidence.

It’ll have to be enough, he decides, and tosses his phone onto his bed. Stripping out of his clothes as he heads to his ensuite, Alec pauses in front of his sink. He drops down to his haunches and opens the door to the cupboard where he keeps his bathroom storage.

There’s a box there that’s far too ornate for its contents. Peeling back the black wooden top, Alec studies his options.

Finally choosing Marshmallow World, Alec turns to the bath. He places the stopper in and then turns the hot water on, waiting a few minutes before dropping the bath bomb in. Immediately, it’s fizzying out into purples and pinks and yellows. Vanilla steam clouds the room and Alec’s shoulders lose not an inconsiderable amount of their tension.

He feels keyed up. He feels calmer than he has in weeks, since he last allowed himself this little ritual. It’s a combination that’s become all too familiar since he turned thirteen a few years ago.

When the tub is mostly full, Alec steps gingerly into the scalding water. He feels a tug at his gut but steels himself.

Just a few more seconds, he chides himself.

Settling into the water, Alec sighs and with it, allows the change.

He closes his eyes, breathing deep, and feels his tentacles stretch. One navy tentacle in particular pokes out of the water and splashes him in the face without restraint.

Alec huffs and opens one eye to throw it an aggrieved glare. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I know I shouldn’t have waited so long this time.”

It dips a little, as though to acknowledge his words, and then drops back into the water. The bath bomb soothes the sting of all the little aches and pains his extra limbs had to deal with earlier in the afternoon as they’d fought off a few water demons while also keeping the three of them from drowning in the icy Hudson.

They’re exhausted and Alec knows that he’s sure as hell tired after a brutal patrol.

He loses track of time as he lets himself drift. The water feels so good and his tentacles haven’t been given a chance to play in weeks-- far longer than they should go but then Alec’s been inundated as he’s started taking more and more work from his parents as he steps into his role as Acting Head of the Institute.

There’s been no time for him to just be in months and keeping his tentacles glamoured away has been hell on him. His back had taken to aching constantly, his tentacles itching to get out, and just taking one of his militaristically short showers the past week had been torture, taking all of his control and focus to keep his body completely human.

Alec’s startled out of his haze, then, when he hears his sister in his bedroom, obviously walking toward the bathroom. He straightens hastily and tries to get rid of his extra appendages, glaring at them when they refuse to submit, when they instead seem to revel in writhing under the water so that he next fears a tsunami wave crashing gallons of water onto the Institute’s antique tile.

To his utter horror, however, a tentacle slithers up the side of the tub out of the glittery water and drapes itself over the ledge. Alec lunges forward and tries to shove the damned thing at least back into the water but it’s little suckers stay glued to the porcelain. With a burst of adrenaline at his secret being revealed, Alec pries the tentacle up until a little pop sounds as a single sucker is removed from the tub.

It stings and Alec winces as he hisses at his own body, “Get back in the fucking water or I swear to Raziel I’ll--”

“Alec?”

Alec’s eyes fly up to see his sister and parabatai staring at him like he’s lost his mind. Alec does what he does best when his siblings are being their own particular brand of annoying-- he scowls and blusters.

“Get the hell out of here, Iz, Jesus. Can’t you see I’m bathing? Can’t a guy have any privacy in this goddamn Institute, by the Angel--”

“Relax, bro, it’s not like we haven’t all been scarred by being hosed down together in OPs before. Besides,” Jace says, his voice taking on a tone that makes Alec want to drown himself, “It’s not like we can even see anything besides your shoulders. What the fuck is that water?”

Before he can scramble to reply, Alec sees Isabelle’s eyes light up at the glittery colors swirling around the surface of the water. “That, Jace, is a bath bomb.” The glint in her eye turns maniacal as she looks up to meet Alec’s resigned gaze. “Why, brother dearest, I didn’t even know you knew what bath bombs were.”

Glowering but grateful that his little ritual has captured their attention, Alec just sinks further into the water. “They help with soreness after missions. I passed a Lush on patrol one evening and one of their employees had me sniffing things before I knew what was happening. I left with four that day and keep a stockpile for rough nights.”

What Alec doesn’t also say is that whatever ingredients are in the bath bombs, his tentacles love them. Alec doesn’t know if it’s the pigment that turns the water murky or if it’s the way the water is silkier over the skin but every week, Alec’s made the habit of taking a bath and letting his tentacles go hog wild.

He doesn’t get to the ocean as much as he might like-- though he makes it a point to go several times a week during the summer-- but this is the next best thing. Plus, well, Alec’s not immune-- the bath bombs smell divine and feel rather decadent. It’s a luxury that he’s become rather fond of over the past five years.

Jace is rolling his eyes and turning back toward the bedroom and Alec is breathing a quiet but fervent sigh of relief at the fact that they’ll be out of his hair in just a moment, when Izzy’s eyes catch on the goddamn tentacle laying stubbornly limp over the ivory lip of the tub.

Everyone freezes as Isabelle whispers, “What is that, Alec?”

Swallowing hard, Alec tries to urge the tentacle to slither back in the water-- maybe he can play it off as bath bomb residue-- but it doesn’t move and to his utter bafflement-- do they have no sense of self preservation, what the fuck-- another tentacle comes out, reaching further from the tub like it wants to reach out to his siblings.

Alec spends a long minute just staring at his traitorous body parts before he looks up at Jace and Izzy. Before he can say anything, though, Jace is narrowing his eyes and staring at the dark blue limbs.

“I knew that wasn’t your arm wrapped around me earlier!”

Groaning, Alec lets his head fall back and stares at the ceiling. In a dead tone, he confesses, “I have tentacles.”

The bathroom fills with radio silence at his announcement. Alec waits for his siblings to make noises of disgust and leave, for them to take him to The Silent Brothers, anything that would betray their contempt for this- this curse.

What he does not expect is for Izzy to ask, “Are they sentient?”

Alec doesn’t open his eyes as he mumbles, “They have a mind of their own but I can control them. They’re a part of me like my arms or legs. They just like to test their limits.”

“What do you think we’re gonna do, Alec? Leave you?” Jace's voice is half scoffing, half scolding.

“What else can I expect, Jace? Now that you guys know about this anomaly, I don’t figure you’d want to hang around long.” In a dull voice, Alec continues, “I know I should’ve told you sooner, Jace, but I just couldn’t. I guess this is the end of the parabatai bond,” he mutters morosely.

He flinches when he feels something trail along one of the tentacles hanging over the tub. Opening his eyes, he’s stunned to see both Iz and Jace have stepped closer to the tub and are watching in amazement as a tentacle wraps around each of their wrists, giving them its own version of a hug.

“What-- what are you guys doing,” he asks, voice cracking.

Looking up, Jace just levels him with an unimpressed look. “So you have a few extra limbs. It’s nothing to sever our bond over, by the Angel, Alec. I’d have to be a dimwit not to have noticed something was up with you anyway and this totally explains it.”

Alec can’t stop his confused expression and Jace rolls his eyes. “There’s always low level discomfort coming from you. I can feel it through the bond. Sometimes, whenever we’re done with patrol, I can tell that you’re injured but can't figure out where. I’d apply an iratze and it would work-- mostly. But sometimes it felt like the injury was deeper, somehow. Now I can see that it must have been your-- uh, your tentacles not responding,” Jace breaks off, a little unsure at saying tentacles out loud.

“How could you think we would care, hermano. You’re our brother and nothing could change our opinion of you.” Alec’s discomfited for a moment as it sounds like his sister is alluding to something else but he focuses on her next words as they spill out of her mouth. “Besides, how could we not like something so adorable?”

Alec scowls. “My tentacles are not adorable, Isabelle. They’re weird and off putting and a pain in my ass.”

It’s Izzy’s turn to roll her eyes as she runs a finger over the top of a tentacle. “You should’ve seen them right after you confessed, Alec. They were drooping over the tub looking so sad and dejected when you were, apparently, waiting for us to storm out in disgust. But then as soon as we came nearer they reached out and wrapped around us.”

“I’m surprised they trust us,” Jace says, eyeing the tentacles. His eyes have that calculating look they he usually only gets during a mission briefing or when he’s debating what toppings he wants on his pizza.

“You’re my family,” Alec grumbles. “And they’re apparently incapable of not shamelessly begging for attention.”

“Huh.” Jace studies the tentacle wrapped around his wrist. “So, would you say these are an extension of yourself? Does that mean you’re even more of a marshmallow then you let on?”

“I’m not a marshmallow at all, Jace, what the hell.”

“You are,” Izzy says, cutting him off with a grin. “There’s no way you’d do half the things you do for us and Max if you weren’t.”

“Whatever.”

Jace and Isabelle laugh before they start gently disentangling the tentacles wrapped around them. Alec wants to disappear into the floor when he sees the marks on their hands from the tiny little suckers.

Jace frowns a little before before shrugging. He looks up and grins at Iz and Alec. “I have a date tonight and I can totally impress her by telling her about how I fought off a killer octopus and won.”

Izzy rolls her eyes. “You’re such a disaster.”

They’re walking away before Izzy turns back to Alec and asks one last question. “Why do you have tentacles, hermano?”

Alec studies her face for a moment but, after the past half hour, he figures she deserves to know. “It’s a family curse,” he explains. “The eldest son of each Lightwood generation carries the mark. It’s a last holdout from our great great grandfather contracting demon pox. I keep them glamoured away most of the time but they need let out regularly. Dad told me about it on my thirteenth birthday.”

Jace chortles. “Demon pox, man, that’s always the reason. How hard is it to not fuck a demon, goddamn.”

Alec shrugs. “They were all snorting cocaine back then. It’s a wonder we’re still here at all.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re here and I’m glad you’re alright, hermano.” She wrinkles her nose. “We’ll let you get back to your tentacle time now.”

Both Jace and Alec recoil instantly.

“Jesus, Iz--”

“Izzy what the fuck, do you know how that sounds--”

She holds up a long suffering hand and sighs, closing her eyes and obviously counting to ten. “You know I did not mean it like that. Stop being teenagers and get your minds out of the gutter.”

When she opens her eyes again, she gives them very stern looks before turning on her heel and walking out of Alec’s room without a backwards glance.

Jace follows right after her but now before looking over his shoulder and waggling his eyebrows in a truly appalling gesture.

Alec groans as the door to his bedroom is closed and sinks down into the water until he’s exhaling bubbles.

He glares at his tentacles who do nothing more than slide through the water, all of them happy as clams.

Alec has to admit that there’s a weight off his chest now that his family hasn’t disowned him after finding out about his little affliction. All things considered, his first time revealing his tentacles went much better than expected.

Alec relaxes into the bath and lets his tentacles enjoy their play time.

--

Magnus arrives to an empty home after a long day of seeing to clients. Hiding a yawn behind his hand, he heads toward the bathroom. Alec had mentioned something about making it a late night at the Institute tonight and Magnus resigns himself to falling asleep soon without his his husband wrapped around him.

Now that his day is done, he allows himself to run a hand through immaculate hair, easing through product in preparation of a shower that promises to be a lovely balm to sore muscles.

Running around New York is not for the faint of heart.

Entering their bedroom, Magnus pauses as he sees the light on under their bathroom door.

“Darling?” Magnus’s voice is curious, considering that it’s only seven or so and Alec had made it seem like it would be ages before he wandered back home.

“In here,” Alec calls out and as he nears the door, Magnus’s grin widens at the sound of splashing.

He opens the door to a familiar sight, though still not one that he takes for granted. Alec looks up as Magnus leans against the doorjamb and smiles over at him.

So do his dozen tentacles, all lifting out of the multicolored water to do their own little wave, beckoning Magnus closer.

“Hey, you.”

Crossing his ankles, Magnus takes in his husband looking so comfortable and relaxed. His voice is unforgivably soft as he replies, “Hey, yourself.”

Alec’s reclined against the tub-- the much larger tub that Magnus had installed after figuring out Alec’s secret a couple of years ago-- and Magnus bites back a laugh as the dark blue tentacles, shimmering with tonight’s bath bomb glitter, reach out of the light pink water towards him.

He watches as Alec glares at his shameless limbs before sighing back into the water. Finding himself unable and unwilling to resist any longer, Magnus pushes away from the door and closes the distance between them. Keeping eye contact as he eases to his knees at the bathtub’s side, Magnus raises a hand and sweeps it through dark, messy locks he loves so much.

“Rough day, darling?”

Alec closes his eyes, turning his face until he can kiss Magnus’s palm. “Just long,” he murmurs. “Glad I’m home now. I’m glad you’re home now, too.”

“Me too, Alexander.”

Leaning close, Magnus starts kissing a trail across Alec’s cheek and down his neck. He feels something nudge between his shoulders, smiles against his husband’s throat as he feels something else slide around his waist.

When he pulls away a few moments later, Magnus looks down and grins. Alec’s tentacles are tugging him-- lightly yet insistently-- toward the water.

Looking up, Magnus watches Alec grow sheepish. “I’ve been here a little while. They’re restless.” He glares at the offending limbs. “As soon as you came through the portal, though, they perked right up.”

Magnus holds out an arm, doesn’t have to wait more than a second for a navy tentacle to twine around his wrist, wrapping all the way up his arm until Magnus feels the tip brush against the side of his neck. “Tell me, darling,” he asks, smirking from underneath his lashes. “Are they the only things that perked up at my appearance?”

Alec groans, rolling his eyes before leveling his husband a truly deadpan look. “That was terrible,” he chastises.

Magnus raises a brow.

“And no,” Alec mumbles.

Magnus laughs out loud, enjoying his husband’s put upon look and the smile he can see peaking around the edges of the scowl.

Taking that as his cue, he stands. Waving away his clothes at the same time, it’s just a moment later before he’s lowering himself into perfectly hot water, waves of pink crashing against him as he straddles Alec.

Almost immediately, he’s covered in a dozen limbs, all as greedy as the others to have a piece of him. It never gets old, that little possessive streak Alec likes to deny, the ample evidence that Alec wants him.

He feels Alec’s hands on his chest and meets his love’s study with warm eyes.

It’s silent for a minute before Alec finally breaks it. His words don’t break the little spell that seems to have fallen over them, though.

“I love you,” he says, staring into Magnus’s unglamoured eyes. “I’m so lucky I found you, someone who doesn’t care about these,” he tacks on, tightening the tentacles around Magnus infinitesimally.

“I love every part of you, Alec, and think every inch is utterly gorgeous. How couldn’t I, when you love me with everything you have?”

Alec doesn’t respond but Magnus startles as the bands around his middle suddenly tip him forward. His gasp is caught by Alec, though, and Magnus loses himself to a hold that’s become home.

There’s no doubt about it, he thinks hazily. Magnus loves Alec’s tentacles as much as he does those beautiful hazel eyes and that mile-wide stubborn streak.

And luckily for him, they love him right back.

[notsofly]

Ties in Blood Chapter 13

@mrswhozeewhatsis @impala-dreamer  @squirrelnotsam @percussiongirl2017

@winchestergirl-13 @idreamofplaid

Chapter 13

Aaliyah could hear “Bad Moon Rising” from the radio. Was she dead? No, not dead. She had just gone unconscious from the impact. From what? She shifted. Bad idea, very bad idea. In the front seat, Aaliyah heard Sam’s voice call out for Dean, who didn’t respond. Her mind panicked as she forced herself through the body crippling pain. Bones felt like they were broken, rib cracked, was that a dislocated hip? Something was dislocated. Finally, Aaliyah opened her eyes and saw Dean unconscious and still losing blood.

“Aaliyah?” One word from Sam. A question.

“I’m … alive. Battered, bruised, and feel like death,” she replied, breath ragged. Yeah, there was a broken rib or two. “Dean’s out cold, and I don’t know if he’s gonna survive the night. How’s your Dad?”

“Unconscious.”

Aaliyah shifted, biting her lip enough to bleed. “We gotta stay awake,” she told Sam. “The risk of us both having concussions is too high.” Her mind scrambled in the attempt of finding something for the both of them to talk about. “How you do feel about talking about Jess? Is what the demon said true, you were planning on asking her to…”

“Yeah, I was.” Sam’s voice was too quiet for Aaliyah’s liking. Either he didn’t want to talk about it or he was slipping.

“I woulda liked to have met her,” Aaliyah said in the attempt to stir the conversation away from the demon and back to Jess.

“She woulda liked you,” Sam commented. “Aside from the whole hunting part.”

Aaliyah chuckled for a few seconds before a shot of pain ripped through her chest. Yeah, definitely a broken rib or two. “Sam … I … I’m sorry. I was supposed to have helped on this…”

“You did.”

Aaliyah’s stomach dropped when Sam drifted off. “Sam? Sam!” She called his name until her throat was raw. “Come on, Sammy,” Aaliyah pled, her voice above a whisper. “Don’t leave me here alone.” Tears threatened to fall. “I don’t wanna die alone.” Her consciousness drifted in and out as her mind and body went into life saving mode.

A sound slipped into Aaliyah’s consciousness, bringing her back around. It was familiar, from before the hunt. Hospital. ER. Helicopter. Yeah, that was it. Voices shouted over the sound of the helicopter’s engine. Quick but gentle hands eased Aaliyah out of the back of the Impala and onto a stretcher. The voices of the EMTs called out the obvious injures she had and knew about. Sam’s voice filtered over to her as he called out, asking about John and Dean. Then he called out about her.

“I’m fine,” Aaliyah shouted. “I’ll see you at the hospital.” She fought against the urge to panic as she was loaded into an ambulance.

The EMTs went to work sticking Aaliyah with IV lines and sticking electrodes on her chest. She tried to remember all the injures they listened off. Bruises on several parts of her body, not surprised. What seemed to be either broken or cracked ribs. Again, that wasn’t a surprise to her. A dislocated knee that would be painful to fix. So that explained why Aaliyah hadn’t been able to fully move her leg during the night. And one EMT wasn’t positive about a back injury. Panic hit then. Aaliyah squeezed her eyes closed in her fight against tears. A few rolled down the side of her head even as the ambulance pulled up to the emergency room door and the nurses rushed out to greet them.

The organized chaos that Aaliyah had been in only a few days ago seemed so … confusing. Her mind had been in hunter mode ever since Dean and Sam picked her up and struggled to make the change over to her nursing mode. A nurse inserted something in her IV line a minute before she sensed six people pressing her body down and one person holding her leg. Aaliyah heard the silence between the team members right before the one who held her leg pulled it. Her throat went raw when a scream of absolute pain shot from her mouth.

“Aaliyah!” came a scream of concern.

“Sammy!” Aaliyah fought against the nurses that held her down. “Talk to me. Sammy.” The dam that she had worked on to keep her emotions back finally broke and the tears started full force.

“…CT and MRI of her back …” the attending doctor’s voice drifted into Aaliyah’s attention span.

Aaliyah blinked away the tears. Flashes of what was wrong with her back ran through her mind. Paralyzed from the waist down. Lack of motion in her legs. Nerve damage. Anything could be wrong with her. The gurney Aaliyah was on was rolled out of the ER bay and down the halls to where the CT and MRI scans would take place. She fought against falling unconscious again even at the nurse and technician took her into the room and helped her onto the bed for the first of two scans. The nurse tucked the saline bag under Aaliyah’s hand before stepping away from the bed.  

The slab moved Aaliyah into the tube. She closed her eyes, the odd sense of feeling safe enough she didn’t have to fight or be in a constant state of fear from a demon attack. She stared up at the tube as the slab stopped. The thought that her head was being scanned as well passed through her head. It did make sense in away since John and Dean were unconscious for the whole time. The slab moved again and Aaliyah went deeper for her back to be scanned. She attempted to move her feet, even wiggle a toe.

“Please don’t move, ma’am,” a voice requested over the speaker.

The tests finished up and Aaliyah was helped off the slab and into a waiting wheelchair.

“Where are the others that were in the car with me?” Aaliyah asked the nurse pushing the wheelchair.

“The older of the three men is in a private room,” the nurse answered. “One of the two brothers is still unconscious and in ICU.”

“And the other brother?”

“Minor injuries. He was released some time ago.”

“If you see him, can you have him come to whatever room I’m…” Aaliyah trailed off as the nurse parked her in a spot in the hallway before walking off. “Hey, don’t leave me here.”

Left on her own, Aaliyah stared down at her feet, shoes lost back in the ER. She stared at her big toes and willed them to move. Nearly three years of hunting were not about to end because she had gotten injured in a car crash against a semi truck driven by a demon. Aaliyah glared down and mentally told her feet to move, looking for any sign that the signal from her brain was reaching her feet. Nothing moved. She willed her foot to slid off the front of the foot rest. She was willing to settle for any movement from her feet. No movement.

The nurse that had left Aaliyah came back without a word.

“Thanks for leaving me,” Aaliyah snapped.

The nurse didn’t respond as they rolled Aaliyah down the hall before turning into a room.

“Aaliyah.” Surprise sounded in Sam’s voice.

“Thank you, nurse,” John said, a dismissal tone in his voice. “Are you okay?” he asked Aaliyah once the nurse left the room.

“Bruised, a few ribs are either broken or cracked, a knee sore and swollen from being dislocated,” Aaliyah listed off. “And I’m pretty sure I’m paralyzed from the waist down.”

“Aaliyah, I’m sorry …” Sam started, stopping when Aaliyah held up a hand.

“Don’t. You’ve hunted your whole life,” Aaliyah said. “I’ve gotten lucky. I … I’ve accepted the fact I may not walk again.” She watched John struggle to pull out his wallet before handing a card to Sam.

“Give ‘em this insurance,” John told his son.

“Elroy McGillcutty?” Sam read.

“And his two loving sons and …” John glanced over to Aaliyah. “Beautiful daughter.”

Aaliyah shifted a little, the acceptance from John a bit unnerving. Either he actually accepted her as an able-bodied hunter – until now – or he saw her as a member of the family. “So, what did the doctors say about Dean?”

“Nothing,” Sam answered. “They won’t do anything, we will. I’ll go find a hoodoo priest and lay some mojo on him.”

“We’ll look for one,” John seemed to agree.

“We found that faith healer,” Sam countered.

“And that was one in a million,” John pointed out.

“So, we just sit here with our thumbs up our asses?” Aaliyah jabbed, leaning forward in the wheelchair.

“No,” John turned to her, anger rising a beat in his voice. “I said we’ll look. Alright?” He turned between the two. “Where’s the Colt?”

“Your son’s dying and you’re worried about the Colt?” Aaliyah raised her voice.

“We’re hunting this demon,” John reminded her. “And maybe it’s hunting us. That gun’s our only card.”

“It’s in the trunk,” Sam cut in. “They dragged it to a yard off I-83. I already called Bobby, and he’s an hour out. He’s gonna tow it back to his place.”

“Alright,” John accepted. “You go meet up with Bobby, get the Colt, and watch out for hospital security.”

“I think I got it covered.” Sam started for the door, giving Aaliyah a reassuring shoulder pat.

“Sam.” John held up a piece of paper. “Here, I made a list of things I need. Have Bobby pick it up.”

Sam took it and read off the items. “Acacia? Oil of Abramelin? What's this stuff for?”

“Protection.”

Sam turned for the door before turning back. “Hey, Dad. The demon said he had something special for me and those like me. Do you have any idea what it was talking about?”

“No, I don’t.”

Sam turned and left the room, leaving Aaliyah alone with John.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, John?” Aaliyah wondered out loud.

“Finishing the job.”

“At what cost? Dean’s life? My legs? When does it stop, John?” Aaliyah waited for an answer before turning the wheelchair around. “Let me know when you can answer that?” She managed to get through the door, a shiver running down her spine. “What’s up with the cold air around here?” Aaliyah worked to gain some control over the bulky hospital issue wheelchair by the time she reached the nurses’ station.

“Sorry, to interrupt,” she cut in, trying to do her best version of Dean’s charm. “But I never got a room.”

The nearest nurse turned to the computer. “Name?”

Aaliyah leaned forward, giving the nurse what she hoped was a flirty smile. “McGillcuttry.”

The nurse returned the smile and turned back to the computer. A few keystrokes and mouse clicks happened before she turned back to Aaliyah. “Room 254.”

“Thank you …” Aaliyah caught the nurse’s name. “Madison.” She winked at Madison before managing to wheel back from the station.

“Hang on, Ms. McGillcuttry,” Madison told Aaliyah. “Let me help you.”

Aaliyah stopped and smiled to herself as Madison pushed the wheelchair. “How soon will the doc come around with the test results?”

“By the end of the day,” Madison told her as they turned into Aaliyah’s room. “Do you want anything?”

Aaliyah eyed the bed set at a height just too high for her to transfer herself as her stomach growled. “A menu would be nice. Thank you, Madison.”

Aaliyah waited a few minutes before wheeling herself out and to the elevator bay. She cued the car for the ICU floor and tapped an index finger on the armrest. None of the staff on the floor questioned Aaliyah’s presence as she wheeled herself around looking for Dean’s room.

“Can I help you?” a nurse called over to Aaliyah.

“Yeah, I’m looking for my brother’s room. Came in about the same time I did, bad car crash.”

“Room 423.”

Aaliyah rolled into the room to see Dean hooked up to a ventilator and other machines. The wounds he had were stitched up and the blood washed off. If it hadn’t been the constant beeping and slight wheezing of the machines, Aaliyah swore Dean was sleeping. “Hey, Dean,” she spoke, her voice just above a whisper. “This may sound stupid, maybe not given what we do, but I know you’re still here. It’s a feeling I have, and I can’t explain it. Just … don’t give up on us.”

“There you are, Ms. McGillcuttry,” Madison’s voice sounded behind Aaliyah. “I wondered…”

“I wanted to see how my brother was doing,” Aaliyah said, spinning herself around. “I wasn’t told I couldn’t be up here.”

“You can visit later,” Madison said. “The doctor’s ready to talk with you. And I’ve got that menu for you.” She stepped around Aaliyah and pushed her back to the elevator.

Aaliyah sunk into the chair as the elevator doors closed behind them. The whole thing was out of her hands and there wasn’t much she could do. For the first time since she had the call from Dean back in Michigan, Aaliyah was completely useless.

Back in her room, Aaliyah saw the doctor standing in front of the lit light board that held the results of her CT and MRI scans.

“Ms. McGillcuttry,” the doctor spoke, turning around. “You got very lucky. I don’t know how it happened, but your spine should have been severed.”

“Give it to me straight, Doc,” Aaliyah cut in. “How long am I going to be stuck in a wheelchair.”

“That’s it, from what we’ve seen, your paralysis is a temporary thing,” he answered. “To answer you question, it could be a few days, or a few months. We can schedule you for physical rehab to help your body…”

Aaliyah waved her hand. “No, no rehab. I can do it on my own. Just … give me a pair of crutches and I’ll do it.”

“I would advise against it.”

She heard that before back in Michigan when a drunk wanted to leave. Most times they passed out before they got out the door. “I know you guys can’t stop me from doing anything unless you believe I’m mentally unstable. Even then, it’s a seventy two hour hold. So, unless there’s something more serious wrong with me…”

The doctor shook his head. “A couple ribs are either broken or cracked, nothing we can do about those. Serious bruising that’ll just take time to heal. Your serious injury is your lower back.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Aaliyah’s voice went quiet. Temporary paralysis, it didn’t sound that bad. But given what line of work she had gotten into recently, Aaliyah wasn’t sure it was good either.

The doctor and Madison saw themselves from the room as Aaliyah lowered the bed down as low as it went. She stared at it in the partial attempt of trying to figure out how to get herself up. She put both feet on the floor and with a deep breath, Aaliyah put both hands on the mattress and half pulled, half pushed herself to her feet. She expected to feel some of the cool tiles under her feet even through the socks, but there was nothing. Her feet were numb. Only thing that held her up was her weight against the bed.

Aaliyah fell to the floor as she released her weight from the bed. She couldn’t do this. There was no way she could. Curling up in a ball on the floor, Aaliyah stifled her crying, embarrassed she couldn’t even manage the simple task of getting onto a bed.

“Aaliyah? Aaliyah, what are you doing?”

She felt a touch on an arm after hearing a thump on the floor behind her. Turning her head, Aaliyah could make out Sam above her through the tears in her eyes. “I … I can’t… I tried.”

“You shoulda called.” Sam adjusted his body and offered a hand. “You know I’ll help.”

“I shouldn’t have to.” Aaliyah tightened herself into a ball. “I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“God, Aaliyah. After all that you did since we met, you honestly think you’re a burden?”

“Why not? I mean, before the crash, I was hardly a hunter. Even …” She caught herself when John’s name hit the tip of her tongue. “Even Dad questioned my … skills in the family business.” Aaliyah refused to look at Sam when she felt a hand on her arm.

“If he seriously questioned your skills, do you honestly think he would have let you stay and help?” Sam questioned. “Sure, Dad liked to keep his distance from other hunters, but for some reason he let you in. He and I don’t really see eye to eye, but there’s something about you. Dean told me about the college werewolf, and how you were back to class the next day and out running again in two weeks. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s willing to call it quits because you’re stuck in a wheelchair for a short time.”

Aaliyah laid there, the want to just give up and accept the fact she would be stuck unable to walk for the rest of her life just oozing through her body. But Sam did have a point. She hadn’t given up when faced with the werewolf or when she pushed through the pain and went back to class. She shifted so she could look up at Sam. “You think that?”

A smile pulled at Sam’s mouth. “I know so. Now, are you just going to lay there, or are you gonna get up?” He offered a hand to help.

“Let me try first.”

Aaliyah pushed herself up while using the bed as a support. Her face pulled into a wince when her body protested her movements as she managed to get to her knees. Aaliyah put her arms across the mattress and waited to catch her breath. Her ribs contested her movement when she focused on shifting one leg under her. Aaliyah wasn’t sure if it was the lack of feeling in her legs or her mind playing tricks on her when she brought her other leg under her. She closed her eyes and with a mental count to three, she pushed herself up and onto the bed with her arms.

She laid across the mattress, ribs crying out in pain as she regained her breath again. Aaliyah worked herself around to sit comfortably in the bed before daring to look at Sam to see a tease of a smile.

“I knew you could do it,” he told her. “I’ve got a few things to do, but I’ll send the nurse back in.” He turned for the door.

“Hey, Sam?” Aaliyah called after him. “Did you grab my things from the car earlier?”

He reached around the corner and picked something up off the floor in the hallway before revealing a duffel bag. “I packed a couple changes of clothes, the two journals, a couple lore books from Bobby, and some basic hygiene stuff. Bobby’s suggestion. He also suggested make up…”

“But you know nothing about it. Don’t worry about, Sam.” Aaliyah accepted the duffel from him. “There’s no really here I need to make myself look cute for.”

She glanced around the room and found the menu Madison promised on the bed table as Sam saw himself from the room. A few minutes later, Aaliyah swore she heard yelling from down the hall. Grumbling to herself, Aaliyah worked herself off the bed with a bit more success than before. She wheeled herself out of the room even before she got settled and raced around to John’s room.

“It’s the same selfish obsession,” Sam yelled.

“Come on, guys,” Aaliyah shouted. “Don’t do this.” She narrowed her eyes, as if there was someone else there who spoke with her.

“I thought it was yours as well,” John said. “This demon killed your mother and your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of the hunt. If you had killed it when you had the chance…”

“It was possessing you, Dad,” Sam countered. “I would have killed you.”

“Yeah, and your brother would be awake and your sister would be able to walk.”

“Shut up, guys,” Aaliyah cut in, pushing herself into the room.

“Go to hell,” Sam cursed at his father.

“I should never have taken you along,” John told Sam. “I knew it was a mistake. I knew …”

The glass of water on the bed table went flying to the floor. Aaliyah shared a look between John and Sam before noise happened out in the hallway. She chased after Sam when he ducked out to find the source of the noise. He stopped at the door that led into Dean’s room where nurses and doctors were attempting to revive him. Aaliyah’s stomach dropped as the team fought to save Dean. Guilt seeped in when the nurse side of her mind warred with her hunter side when she wanted to help. Finally, a nurse announced there was a pulse and the team settled back.

Aaliyah glanced around when a shiver went down her back. She swore she heard a faint whisper of ‘don’t worry…’ “Come on, Sam,” she told him. “Let’s get back to Dad.” Aaliyah maneuvered herself around and down the hall to John’s room. “I swear I felt something back there,” she mentioned when she rolled into the room.

“What do you mean ‘you felt something’?” John questioned, anger rising in his voice.

“Meaning it felt like Dean,” Aaliyah told him, trying to keep her voice calm. “Like he was just outta eyesight. You think it’s possible?” She glanced between John and Sam. “Think his spirit’s still here?”

“Anything’s possible,” the anger in John’s voice disappeared.

“Well, there’s one way to find out,” Sam said before turning for the door.

“Wait, where you going?” Aaliyah asked, spinning to track Sam.

“To pick something up.”

“Sam, wait,” John called. “I promise I won’t hunt the demon. Not until I know Dean’s okay.”

Aaliyah held in a noise that would have sounded her disbelief before she started for the door.

“Aaliyah, wait a sec,” John requested.

She stopped and turned back to face him. “What’s up?”

“I want to apologize.”

“Wait, hang on. I wanna record this.” Aaliyah padded her body down in her bad attempt of making a joke.

“Aaliyah, please. I remember you from college and taking out that werewolf.” John glanced to the hallway. “How you were nearly killed by it. When I saw you outside the post office … There was something about you. Like you’ve taken to hunting in a way I hadn’t thought you would.”

“Ms. McGullcuttry?” a nurse asked from the door way. “The doctor would like a word with you.”

[yahoo-shutdown-corner-blog]

Ten years later, Brady-Manning AFC title game tilt lives on as narrative-changing classic

Peyton Manning finally erased some of his demons 10 years ago this week against the New England Patriots. (AP)

Before you go back and watch a single snap of one of the most underrated games in NFL history, which happened 10 years ago this Saturday, we suggest a quick scan of one of the strangest box scores that ever was boxed up.

In perhaps the most meaningful head-to-head battle in the careers of Tom Brady and Peyton Manning, the men scoring touchdowns on that day were two 300-plus-pound offensive linemen (both scoring their only career TDs), a defensive lineman-turned-fullback, a running back playing his final NFL game, a Manning rushing (?) TD, a journeyman receiver (who scored a TD that wouldn’t have counted by today’s NFL rules) and, to cap it, a rookie running back starting his third-ever game.

The strangely fascinating box score from Patriots at Colts in the AFC championship game on Jan. 21, 2007. (NFL GSIS)

The greatest of both Brady and Manning certainly were on display in the AFC championship on that strange, wonderful stage back on Jan. 21, 2007. Each of them also stared into the abyss — Manning down big early to his annual tormentors, and Brady ending up in the unfamiliar position of not delivering when everyone (maybe even Manning) expected him to.

“We assumed we were going to go down and score and win it,” former Patriots center Dan Koppen said this week. “Even with all the mistakes we made in the second half, we knew we had the chance to do it. We just didn’t get it done. That still sticks with me.”

Without this game, which is tremendous and weird in its own right, Brady vs. Manning isn’t nearly as much of a rivalry. This was the game that cemented it as must-see TV and changed the narrative that Manning couldn’t best Brady on the big stage, even as much as this random cast of point scorers quietly dominated the day.

“It was a weird game, that’s for sure,” said former Colts defensive tackle Anthony “Booger” McFarland, now an analyst for SEC Network, by phone this week. “It was like, ‘How did three fat guys score?’ Big-man touchdown party … I loved it. But it was weird.”

“That was a first for me, that many big guys scoring,” Koppen said.

[Try the $75K Baller for championship weekend, $10K to first

Three hours and 34 minutes of taut, fraught football — from Marlin Jackson making the tackle on the opening kickoff to Jackson ending it with a final-minute interception of Brady, his college teammate — delivered us a classic that shouldn’t soon be forgotten.

There’s a reason why this game, and not the Super Bowl victory two weeks later, was selected overwhelmingly as Colts fans’ No. 1 choice as their top pick when the NFL released three classic games in each franchise’s history on Youtube. This was the day that changed the course of the team and Manning’s career forever. This was Manning’s and the Colts’ real Super Bowl, looking back, not beating the Chicago Bears two weeks later, strange as that might sound.

The Patriots rolled into Indianapolis with full “who’s your daddy?” status, as Brady had led six straight Patriots victories over Manning’s Colts to start their head-to-head rivalry, with two of those coming in AFC title game wins in Foxborough. Brady also entered this game with a postseason record of 14-1 with six game-winning drives in the playoffs, including one seven days earlier. But the pendulum in the rivalry was starting to swing back away from them; the Colts struck back with two straight road victories over the Patriots in the series, including one at New England two months earlier.

“Going into that game, it was the biggest soap opera you could imagine,” former Patriots running back Kevin Faulk said. “We were not division rivals [anymore], but we just kept running into them and we were the two best teams at the time, I felt. There was no avoiding each other.”

Tom Brady had a postseason record of 14-1 coming into the 2006 AFC championship game. (AP)

Now they finally were meeting back in the old RCA Dome for the first time in 1,148 days despite this being the seventh time these once-time divisional rivals had played each other over a four-season span. The Patriots were frankly lucky to be there, coming off a win the week before against a San Diego Chargers team roundly believed to be the best in the NFL that season. But the Patriots didn’t see it as luck.

“We had a lot of confidence coming out of that game and knowing the Colts like we did,” former Patriots running back Kevin Faulk said this week. “We prepared so well, had a great week of preparation coming into that game and we trusted our coaches to have a great plan for them.”

Added Koppen: “We felt like if we played our best game and they played their best game, we were going to win.”

And these were the Colts who had never beaten the Patriots on this type of stage and who were not long removed from the Jacksonville Jaguars running roughshod — 375 rush yards! — in Week 15 against them. Even with the playoff improvement that followed, it felt like it would take the Colts’ best defensive effort and Manning’s finest hour on the same day. Oh, and go do it against Brady and Bill Belichick, too. Best of luck.

“We knew we needed a big day from the defense,” McFarland said. “Coach [Tony] Dungy told us right before the first playoff game — everyone’s talking about adjustments — and he said, ‘Let’s me tell you what we’re going to change. We’re not gonna change nothing. We’re going to do our jobs better. That’s the only thing we’re going to do better.’

“We just lined up and did our jobs better. That was the adjustment.”

Still, this was not a vintage Patriots team in retrospect. They had traded Deion Branch, Brady’s closest ally and most trusted target, to the Seattle Seahawks before the season and Brady was pissed about it. “A lot of guys were not happy about that,” Troy Brown said. “We had receivers coming in on Monday or Tuesday, we’d pick them up that week, and they’d be playing 40 snaps on Sunday. It was unreal.” Wes Welker and Randy Moss had not yet arrived; Belichick traded for them after this game in response to how few weapons they had in the 2006 season.

It would be Corey Dillon’s final NFL game and Brown’s second-to-last career game. An injured Rodney Harrison did not suit up for New England. Brady’s top pass catchers were Reche Caldwell (coming off ACL surgery, and he was terrible in this game), Benjamin Watson, Brown, Kevin Faulk (who would get hurt vs. the Colts), Jabar Gaffney and Doug Gabriel. And yet Brady was mostly brilliant all season. Considering who he was throwing to, that season might speak to his greatness almost as much as his MVP season of 2007 should.

There were other storylines all over this game. It was the 13th anniversary of Robert Kraft buying the team. Turncoat kicker Adam Vinatieri, who met with several of his former Patriots teammates before the game, set the game in motion with the opening kickoff in his first season with the Colts. Safety Bob Sanders, the Colts’ defensive tone setter, was back in the lineup after missing the final 12 regular-season games. And yes, Brady-Manning IX — what would be the best game of their history.

As they say today, this game was about to be lit.

Prior to kickoff in the Colts’ locker room, center Jeff Saturday delivered a pregame speech: “It’s our time,” he told his team. The Colts players to this day still talk about that moment and that message.

“He and Tony Dungy made sure we knew it, too,” McFarland said.

But early on it was the Patriots resuming their old, familiar roles of Colts antidote. They came out running the ball and converting fourth downs, keeping Manning on the sideline. Dillon would run 35 yards (the Patriots’ long gain of the day) on 4th-and-inches to set up a stunning touchdown: Brady and Laurence Maroney botched a handoff, and the ball somehow squirted from the hands of Colts defenders Sanders and Nick Harper 3 yards forward and into the end zone. Koppen couldn’t believe what he had seen.

“The ball just squirted forward. It seemed to come out of nowhere,” Koppen said. “So naturally, you just go after it. The ball bounced the other way. If it would have bounced the right way, it would have been mine.

“That was as close as I’ve come to scoring in a game. I’d like to think it was a heads-up play by both of us.”

Mankins’ end-zone recovery made it 7-0, and after a Vinatieri field goal the Patriots again converted on their next drive with a huge play on fourth down. Brady hit Brown, playing the second-to-last game of his career, for 27 yards on 4th-and-6 to the Indianapolis 7-yard line.

“It was designed to go to me,” Brown said. “I probably should have scored if I was a year younger. [laughs] My knee didn’t allow it.”

Dillon walked in for a score on the next play, and just like that the Colts were down two 14-3.

“The Colts left it on the practice field, no question about it,” Colts play-by-play announcer Bob Lamey said on the radio broadcast.

After nearly fumbling the ensuing kickoff, the Colts tried to settle themselves down with eons to play. But Manning instead made it worse. Patriots cornerback Asante Samuel, one of the game’s best pickpockets, disguised his coverage well, along with safety James Sanders, who rotated over the top late. Manning never saw it and threw a gift of a pick-6 to Samuel, who coasted into the end zone for a 21-3 stunner of a lead.

“Everyone on our sideline said, ‘Keep your foot on the pedal,'” Faulk said. “We knew it was not going to be that easy for four quarters.”

The Dome was church quiet. So much so that Colts head coach Tony Dungy’s all-important message easily could be picked up on the NFL Films microphones: “We’ve got plenty of time left.” That message, it turned out, was exactly what they needed to hear at that moment. And quietly on the other sideline, there was a more subtle turn despite the 18-point lead.

“It was starting to get very hot on the sideline,” Brown said, “and even though we were up 21-3, I got the sense that … I could see on guys’ faces, it was like, we just didn’t have the energy. Guys were spent. I spent so much time trying to pump guys up, but the fatigue was just kicking in for everybody. We were starting to run out of gas at that point.”

But the Colts still botched their next offensive possession, and the Patriots amazingly drove to the Indianapolis 27 with five minutes left in the half, appearing to be driving for what would have been an incredible lead of 24-3 or 28-3. But two crushing penalties (one negating a gain into the red zone) and a sack knocked the Patriots way out of field-goal range.

“My biggest memory of that game, believe it or not, was getting called for a pass-interference call on that drive that wasn’t pass interference,” Brown said. “It was one of the worst penalties I ever got. I am not sure what [the referee] was doing, or what was called because there was contact made. I didn’t initiate it. It was still a baffling play to this day.”

Manning responded with a had-to-have it drive to close out the half — 15 plays, 80 yards — but left points on the board when the Colts couldn’t score a touchdown on three shots from the New England 6. It was 21-6 Patriots, and even though Manning would get the ball first, he had a lot of work to do.

Tony Dungy and Bill Belichick after the Colts beating the Patriots in a classic 10 years ago. (AP)

“Tony Dungy came in and said, ‘Look, guys, we’re not in an ideal situation, but it’s our time and let’s go play ball.’ We knew there was never an easy way it was going to get done. But we knew that in order to get that championship, we were going to have to come back and do it against the Patriots, our big rival. That’s what made it more special,” McFarland said. “I don’t think it would have felt so sweet had we beat anyone else.”

Manning started willing his team back. He led two 76-yard touchdown drives on the Colts’ first two possessions, sandwiched a Patriots three-and-out. Manning capped the first drive (eight runs, six passes) with a 1-yard sneak to make it 21-13. And the second drive felt like the kind of knife the Patriots typically twisted into others: Manning hit defensive lineman-turned-fullback Dan Klecko, who was drafted by the Patriots three years earlier and given his first taste on offense with them, for a 1-yard TD. Oddly, it would be Manning’s only touchdown pass of the game.

The two-point conversion to Marvin Harrison incredibly tied the game at 21-all with 4 minutes left in the third, but it wouldn’t last long. Patriots returner Ellis Hobbs brought back the kickoff 80 yards, and Brady would find Gaffney — on a force-out play, the likes of which have been removed from the game — in the back of the end zone for a 28-21 Patriots lead.

Manning responded with a 67-yard drive, and luck now would shift with the tide toward the Colts. Dominic Rhodes was stripped by surprise Patriots starter Eric Alexander at the New England 1. But this time, it was a Colts blocker who would find himself in the end zone with the ball in his hands. Center Jeff Saturday’s only NFL touchdown tied the game in what everyone knew was brewing as an instant-classic game.

“It’s a 60-minute game, not a 30-minute game, and we just didn’t play well enough those last 30,” Koppen said. “Simple as that.”

Brady and Manning would swap three-and-outs, and then field goals, making it 31-31, but the Patriots tacked on another three to make it 34-31. Manning was stopped cold on three straight incompletions, and Brown’s punt return had the Patriots in business at their own 40 with 3:22 left. They were 8-0 in playoff games decided by seven points or fewer at this point, then an NFL record — the best closers in the game.

But they made an uncharacteristic mistake (12 men in the huddle) after the punt, one of their most trusted options in Faulk was out of the game with a hamstring injury, and Sanders dove to break up Brady’s 3rd-and-4 pass to Brown in what could have been a disastrous pick-6 had Sanders been there a split second sooner.

“Just a stupid mental error on the penalty,” Koppen said. “When you look at it, that five yards was huge. That was the big one people might forget. But we didn’t forget it.”

The Patriots would have to punt to Manning on what would be his career-defining drive. Fail to tie or take the lead and he might forever have been branded a playoff loser. But take the Colts down the field against Belichick’s Patriots, and he could end that narrative.

“This could be the drive that changes so many things for Peyton Manning,” CBS’ Jim Nantz said prior to the start of the drive.

A funny thing happened on what would be his career-defining drive. Manning threw a pass to No. 2 tight end Bryan Fletcher. Fletcher — he of the 54 career receptions — dropped the catchable pass. And then Manning, pressured and throwing while falling away, went back to the little-used option on the next play. For a massive gain. The story of what happened between the downs is tremendous.

That set up the Colts at the New England 37 with the two-minute warning and a timeout at their disposal. They were in great shape. Manning went back to Wayne, and he broke toward the red zone. But then …

Wayne’s fumble happened with four Patriots defenders in the area — Tedy Bruschi, James Sanders and Rashad Baker, plus Chad Scott, who made the hit. Remember, Rodney Harrison wasn’t playing in this one, and he had made a career of taking the ball away from the Colts. True, the roughing-the-passer penalty against Tully Banta-Cain would have kept the ball with the Colts, but it would have been a field-position difference of 11 yards.

So with Manning on the doorstep, what did the Colts do? They ran it — three straight times to the rookie Addai. The idea, incredibly, came from Marvin Harrison, whom Manning said “wanted to throw the ball every play” typically. On the third try, Addai blasted in, led by Saturday’s big block on Vince Wilfork, to cap the 80-yard drive and the Colts’ 32nd points of the half.

Or did the Patriots let Addai score? After all, they had two timeouts and 1:00 left for the best clutch QB in the game to go try to win it. Brady drilled a 19-yard throw to Watson and hit Heath Evans for 15 more to the Indianapolis 44. Here we go again, right?

Manning sat on the Colts’ bench head down. “I don’t even think Peyton is going to watch,” Nantz said. It was more than just a quiet moment of reflection for the quarterback who had fallen short of his championship dreams for four years in college and through his nine NFL seasons to that point.

His prayers would be answered. With Freeney bearing down on Brady, his pass was forced into a bracketed Watson and Jackson picked it to seal the game. Cruelly, there was Evans wide open in the flat for what could have been a first down, and he might even have gotten out of bounds.

“How fitting is it that an offensive team for a decade, with an opportunity to go to the Super Bowl, the defense that had been much-maligned … we knew we couldn’t hide that side of the ball. We had to face the best and stop the best,” McFarland said. “And we did.”

With that play, everything had changed at that moment. Manning would go on to win his first Super Bowl, and Brady failed to come through in a massive situation with the game on the line for the first time. Brown called it “probably the toughest loss I ever had to deal with. That was pretty much my last game in the NFL, and going out like that was no fun at all.”

Of course, as Brady continues on to pursue more greatness, playing some of his best career football as he approaches 40 — while Manning is retired and the Colts are wallowing in mediocrity today — it’s not as if this game had much long-lasting impact on Brady’s reputation as one of the best ever to play the game. But without this win, Manning forever would play second fiddle. Frankly, he needed this game to slay that demon. And would Dungy have made the Pro Football Hall of Fame without this win and the Super Bowl victory two weeks later? That’s highly debatable.

And to this day this game holds up as an all-time thriller, having stood the test of time. Has it really been 10 years?

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Eric Edholm is a writer for Shutdown Corner on Yahoo Sports. Have a tip? Email him at edholm@yahoo-inc.com or follow him on Twitter!

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