#maddie rayner

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

13x08 ~ Cravings: Part II

Summary: Maddie deals with the aftermath of Sam’s torture, while she and Dean encounter different sides of themselves while Sam recovers.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Maddie Rayner, Dr. Adam Dauer

Word Count: 9,126

Author’s Note: Aren’t I great at posting???

Masterlist

He hadn’t realized he’d lost consciousness. He felt woozy when his eyes pried themselves open. His head pounded, his muscles were sore. Despite the headache, he found it hard to move his body, let alone his head. A groan left his lips, eyes squeezing shut at the blinding lights that stared down at him.

A blush crept to his cheeks when he realized his shirt had been cut off. He wondered where his clothes were, but he felt a little better to feel his jeans were still intact.

Incoherent words slipped from his mouth. Everything was sore. His muscles seemed to groan whenever he moved, but he found his mobility was hindered by clamps. He glanced down at his bonds, moving his wrists around as best he could. He winced when the edge pierced his skin, sending a thin trail of blood to slip down his hand and to the floor.

“Oh!” a voice exclaimed with amusement. Sam heard footsteps shuffling towards him. He lifted his head to see who it was. A gloved hand slammed his head back on the table, while another shoved something into his mouth. His head was lifted painfully by the hair and felt something being tied behind his head. “You’re awake!”

Sam looked up at the man standing over him. He couldn’t see him very well due to the lights, but maybe that was the point. He caught the lab coat and the name sewn in blue thread: Dr. Adam Dauer.

He wrenched his hands up and down on the clamps with a muffled grunt.

A chuckle left the doctor. “I assume you’ve figured out who I am. Silly me, wearing this coat and all,” he grinned. He leaned in the light, finally bringing into view his face.

Sam never got this close of a look at the coroner, but the flecks of blue in his hazel eyes made the Hunter wary. The kindness displayed on Adam’s face must have made his victim pleased to meet. Now Sam understood why Maddie grew terrified at the morgue.

The gag was taken out his mouth, letting it rest on his collarbone. He licked his lips as he struggled, looking away from Adam and straining his arms to get at least a little bit of freedom. He winced when the cut on his hand was deepened by the clamps. He cursed softly under his breath, sending a little smile to grow on Adam’s face as a scalpel was dug into his arm.

His arm felt the pain before he could register it. A scream ripped from his throat, voice cracking when he felt the skin splitting. He felt rivers of blood ooze from the cut and flow down his arm. His fists clenched and tightened, while his back arched in a way to try and get away from the blade.

Adam smiled. The man sparked up conversation to try and make the Hunter feel better, but it only made curses fly from the Winchester’s mouth. “Torture has always been beautiful to me—use those words again, Sam, and I’ll put you in a body chamber.”

The doctor lifted the blade at Sam’s wrist. Sam was more than confused as to why he was doing this and also at how Adam knew his name. He remembered he didn’t have his ID badge on him before he lost consciousness . . . his mind slammed into Maddie. Maybe Adam knew more about her than Sam thought.

His heart skipped a beat when he thought of this bastard knowing Maddie. The way she froze when Adam walked in the morgue would forever be seared into his brain.

“So . . . why’d you kill Mr. Giammusso? For kicks?”

Another chuckle breezed past the doctor’s lips. “Trying to solve the case, are we?” He smiled. The smile was sinister, an emotion cloaked with darkness. A sense of fear jolted Sam’s body. Everything about this man, from the seemingly pleasant attitude towards him earlier, to the greed that plastered the man’s face, was haunting.

Blood spurted from the open wound, splashing across his skin and Adam’s lab coat. He prepared for another explosion of pain in his arm, but a small chuckle caught the air. Adam’s words made him freeze: “My little Pilot did this when she was ten.”

His lips opened to speak, but he found no words. The nickname the bastard spoke was of unimportance to him, but it was the pronoun that caught him off guard. He had no other choice but to listen to this man, to listen to the haunting words this man spoke. He struggled with all his might, his hands shaking in the metal clamps.

He felt metal groan.

Sam suddenly felt white-hot pain in his arm. He looked down at the wound, and looked with wide eyes and screams at the bone saw that was cutting his ulna and radius bones in half. Tears pricked his eyes as he slammed his head back on the table. He felt his mouth be filled again with his gag. His screams were muffled, however it didn’t stop him from spewing curses and damnations he learned from Maddie.

The pain stopped. The bone saw was lifted from his arm when the bones snapped, revealing more raw muscle, veins, and everything in between. Sam watched the man above him set the bone saw down with a smirk and pick up the scalpel.

A glimmer on the medical tray made his eyes flick behind Adam. It was a scalpel, as small and threatening as such a thing could get. He glanced back at the man above him, whose hand was lowering the scalpel he already held back toward the Hunter’s chest.

Sam hoped and prayed this would work.

He dug down deep. He dug passed that cage that shrouded his heart in a darkness that he hadn’t known existed. He passed that good part of him that was deeper than ever, the good part that made him feel worthy of living. That part smiled at him. It beamed up at him like there was nothing scary or downright terrifying in this doomed little world.

The darkness felt like it was slowly taking over everything in his body, though. Everything he and his brother had gone through kept chipping away at that good part. It made that darkened cloud inside of him to grow and grow until it was the only thing he had left.

Moving his focus to the scalpel, his face scrunched up softly. Adam didn’t seem to notice. He felt the demon blood pumping faster now, faster than he’s ever felt it before. He couldn’t recall the last time he felt this way; this powerful and kingly. He lifted his shaking hand and turned it toward the scalpel as best he could. He felt ridiculous for doing so, but he figured it would work if he concentrated hard enough.

The medical instrument lifted from the tray and shot into Adam’s back. A shout left the doctor’s lips as his body was arched over Sam’s feet.

Adam looked at Sam from his position, eyes wide with rage. A snarl bared his teeth as he lunged toward the Winchester, bloodied scalpel gripped tightly in hand. The weapon was flying toward Sam’s throat. Surely this was the end.

“STOP!”

The doctor stopped. He turned on his heel, his upper body blocking Sam’s view of the voice’s owner. A wave of relief filled him when he recognized the tone, but only a sliver of skepticism remained. The voice had cracked with tears and fear, mixed with a fiery rage that he hadn’t witnessed before.

“Oh, my little Pilot,” Adam cooed in a gentle tone. Sam couldn’t believe it. In the blink of an eye, Adam had turned from a sadistic psychopath to a warm and gentle man. This is how he reeled the Hunter in: kindness, persuasion, a gentleman someone would invite out to drinks at the local dive bar.

Silence filled the room. Then, the same voice came. “Don’t . . . call me that. I’m not—”

“Mine anymore? Well, you’ll always be mine, Pilot.”

“Maddie, you twisted waste of space. It’s Maddie,” the voice spat. Sam heard the cock of a gun.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him. The sound of Maddie’s voice numbed the fiery pain in his arm, but it did little to ease the pounding in his chest. The demon blood in his system made everything go into hyperdrive, sending adrenaline running through his veins. He wasn’t going to lie, it felt amazing to have this exhilarating feeling. The chemical ride he got off from was—

Adam moved closer to Mads. She seemed to shrink in his presence, with a look of cowardice plastered to her face. She looked terrified: her skin was white as a sheet, her eyes were wide and she trembled in her position. If everything went silent, he could have sworn he heard near-silent sobs. Of course, he knew she wasn’t trying to look weak. But when Adam moved, the look on her face was . . . horror. It was pure horror as she stared down this man with tears in her eyes. Despite the authority she had over pretty much everyone, she looked completely powerless.

Sam didn’t lose faith, though. He still prayed for her when he had the chance. To find solace in one person was a hard decision to make in this way of life, but all his money was on the woman he loved.

Still, the doctor took another step toward her. Maddie didn’t move. She stood frozen in her position in the laboratory. Sam couldn’t connect the dots: what does she have to do with a coroner? And how does Adam know about her? Curious as to what Pilot meant, Sam was more concerned about what Adam meant by how “she’ll always be his.”

“Let him go,” Maddie finally said. Her voice shook and cracked. She was terrified.

Adam let out a chuckle. He turned in Sam’s direction and finished the distance between him and Maddie, his hand lifting a hand and cradling her head.

The sob that left her made Sam forget the pain in his arm. His fists clenched as he pulled on the clamps with all his might. The metal dug into his wrists more. He ignored the pain in his arms, from the exposure of his bones to the deep cuts in his wrists. He ignored all of it, for the fear on Maddie’s face was all that drove him to unleash that darkness. The cage he kept under lock and key shattered within him.

The clamps flew from his limbs. They fell to the floor in four piercing clatters that drowned out all sound. Adam turned from gazing into Maddie’s eyes, only to have a look of shock on his face when Sam grabbed a scalpel and slashed the coroner’s throat.

A scream burst from Mads’ throat. The trance she was in seemed to be broken, for hands lifted to cover her mouth as Adam fell to the floor in a pool of his blood. She stared at the body only to look up at Sam, his chest heaving and fists clenched. Blood still dripped from his arm, the separated skin hanging uselessly.

It wasn’t until Dean ran in with a gun in his hand did Sam feel the pain.

He collapsed to his knees next to Adam’s body. Maddie looked even more terrified than before, with tears slipping down her face and sobs filling the room.

A heart-wrenching thud made Sam look up from writhing in pain. His hand held his open arm, blood slipping through his fingers no matter how hard he squeezed to stop the bleeding. He stared at Dean holding his gun to Maddie’s head and screaming obscenities.

Sam managed to get one foot up before falling to his side. His head bounced off the floor, with the screaming subsiding and the room flashing to darkness.

Dean didn’t seem to understand. The way he sped to the nearest hospital with an unconscious Sam in the back was haunting to the Rayner. The man was pissed, yes, she understood that. But at her? The entire trip to the hospital was a screaming match.

“You don’t stand there and watch! You see my brother in danger, what do you do? You kill the freakin’ thing and help him!” He was handsome when he was angry.

She scoffed with a clenched fist. She rested her elbow on the door’s handle, trying with all her might to smother her rising anger. She wanted nothing more than to smash Dean’s face in with a hammer. She’d torture him. A slow and painful torture that would last hours, maybe even five weeks to get back at him for her torture. She hasn’t forgiven him for it, and she sure as hell wasn’t planning on doing so for a while.

She stared ahead, hair covering half her face. Her jaw was set as she controlled her breathing. In a second she could crash this damned car and make sure the police never found Dean’s body. His screaming was getting on her nerves, and it was a thought that hadn’t crossed her mind before. She had plans of killing him when all of this was over with; when everybody she cared about was dead and it was just her and Dean Winchester.

The Hunter dared to let the conversation end by turning the radio on. She glanced at the stereo, it’s red needle practically mocking her. The classic rock that filled the car was taunting, as if saying that Dean had won the argument. She shook her head and let out a chuckle. This conversation was long from being over.

Smashing the power button, she stripped the cassette tape from its place. She threw it to the car floor, with her huffed breathing drawing Dean’s attention back to her. He inhaled to complain about his piece of shit music, but she interrupted him with poison: “You think I wanted this to happen? You think I wanted Sam to get kidnapped by A—that coroner?”

The Impala sped up the slightest when they passed a sign with a large white H on it.

“Humor me, sweetheart,” Dean spat.

Another scoff left her mouth. She smiled and shook her head, bringing one foot up and putting it on the seat. She rested her elbow on her knee, fist still clenched. She thought about slamming his head on the steering wheel if he kept that attitude.

She decided to not be that guy. She enjoyed being that guy that escalated an argument to the point of throwing punches, but it wasn’t the right time. Not with Sam on her mind.

“I wanted to leave. I wanted to burn this town to the ground, but look around. People live here and that would be a big no-no on my part. Look, I told Sam to leave, I told him to turn his back on this godforsaken town and . . .” She looked back at him with tears in her eyes. “Look what happened.”

Dean went silent. He glanced at her, clearly hesitating when he saw her tears. It was pathetic, really. A Rayner crying over a Winchester almost bleeding out? She sniffed, wiping her tears and staring at the road again.

It was to her shock when Dean’s tone completely changed. He sighed, turning the radio back on and turning the volume down. He sighed and said, “He’ll be okay. He’s a fighter.”

A soft smile brushed past her lips. Her brow furrowed slightly, a look that would cause Dean to be more concerned about his brother. He didn’t seem to notice, though, to her relief. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?”

Maddie looked back at Sam. He looked peaceful laying there, appearing as though he was sleeping. She tried to imagine that he was, and that he didn’t have her flannel tied around his arm to help stop the bleeding. Her heart clenched when she saw the hesitant rising and falling of his chest. She wanted to crawl back there and hold him, to run her hands through his hair to calm herself down. It pained her to see him like this: a broken man who was just trying to solve a stupid case, but got the worst form of torture she knew.

She clenched her jaw again and looked back at the windshield. She loosed a sigh and tried to avoid eye contact with Dean. Despite his overall attractiveness, she still had to keep up her walls. They weren’t friends whatsoever—in her book, at least—and it didn’t matter if they shared a common concern for his younger brother.

The Rayner shook her head. “He’s constantly trying to prove himself, y’know? Prove to me, to you, especially, that he’s good. I just wanna tell him he doesn’t have to do that, he-he shouldn’t have to do that to begin with. He’s always trying to make himself be the hero, the knight in shining armor, even if it puts him in danger. I just . . .

“He’s the most good man I know, Dean, and I come from a long-ass road of bad. I want him to see himself as good, not a . . . not a monster he thinks he is.”

This time she was really crying. She had found herself glancing back at Sam, at his expressionless face and pale skin. She stared at him for another second before stabbing her arm at Dean’s. He glanced at her in concern, only to curse at her as she climbed over him into the driver’s seat.

He slid himself in the passenger’s seat with a bewildered look on his face. His mouth was parted in shock, only to grip the seat when she spat, “Hold on to something.” Her hand flew to the gearshift, shifting to third gear and stepping on the accelerator. She felt the car hop up on its rear wheels for a fraction of a second.

Her street racing record came in handy.

She made it to the hospital in two minutes. She screeched the Impala to a stop, her body tumbling out of the car and around to Sam’s door. She opened it and scooped him up in her arms, her forearm cradling his head. His skin was white as a sheet, and the stillness of his chest made her sob into his hair.

The emergency room doors opened and she was blasted with the same smells of the morgue. She saw doctors in lab coats milling about the foyer, while the PA system requested the presence of doctors and nurses. She felt woozy the second she stopped in front of the desk. The teller, a blonde woman with dark eyes, looked up at her with confusion.

“What the hell—”

“He isn’t breathing.” Her chest heaved as she felt lightheaded.

“I need a crash cart over here, stat!” The woman jumped from her chair and walked around the desk, grabbing a gurney an intern pushed at her. Maddie set Sam on it, a blush creeping up her face. Of course, he was shirtless in a room full of rather attractive-looking women. Dean seemed to be in heaven, given his subtle nods at potential suitors for a one night stand. It was a classic move on the Hunter’s part.

The nurse glanced at her. “He your boyfriend?”

She inhaled to answer, but Dean squeezed his way through to stand in front of the nurse. “Brother,” he replied with a glare Maddie’s way, “He’s our brother.”

The Rayner cast a glare back at him, rolling her eyes internally. She wanted to punch him, drive his head through a wall and throw him in a pit of flames. The satisfaction she’d feel would be overwhelming, yes, and she looked forward to doing so. It was only a matter of time.

Another nurse approached the Hunters with a chart. Maddie’s blood boiled but it wasn’t from adrenaline. The fear that ran through her was numbing and paralyzing; she stood there and stared with wide eyes.

“Can I get a name for him?” the nurse asked.

“U-uh, Sam. Sam, uh, Ledger. I’m Maddie, t-this is my brother, Dean,” she answered. The Hunter next to her glowered at her nervousness. Who could blame him? “H-how is he?”

The nurse looked at her with a dumbfounded look. “Well, he just came in with massive cuts on his arm and he wasn’t breathing. He’s in the operating room. I’ll update you when I can.” He turned and strode away with a slight shake of his head.

Maddie stood in the foyer of the emergency room, limbs numb. She didn't know what was worse: Sam being on an operating table in a hospital or her being in a hospital.

Her chest heaved as she finally turned toward the waiting area. Her hands clenched and unclenched into fists, nails digging into her palms if she squeezed hard enough. She didn’t feel the pinprick of pain, or the ringing in her ears when the PA system blared unintelligible words. Her chest hurt for Sam. It wasn’t because of the numbing feeling of guilt, but it was the sorrow that overtook her body as she slowly made her way toward emergency room doors.

Dean called after her. She didn’t hear what he said, but she knew he was going to try to get her to stay. She ignored him and stumbled out of the hospital, standing beneath the roof with a dazed expression. Patrons glanced her way with the concern of a stranger. Maddie pushed her way toward a break in the hospital and an alleyway.

Squeezing herself in the cover of darkness, she let the tears break free. Sobs filled the air, piercing through the static of cars droning up and down the road. Her eyes shut tight as she shook her wings free. The feathers blended well into the shade, but the sight of a woman in a dark red flannel and jeans scaling a hospital would be too noticeable. She might as well do it. Everything in her life was a living hell, so why give that up? It was the only thing she had left, anyway.

Her fingertips reached up and grabbed the brick. Her knuckles turned white as she lodged a foot on a crevice, lifting her body up effortlessly. She spread her wings slightly for support and balance, lifting one or the other if she felt herself tilting too far. It wasn’t until she vaulted herself up with a flap of her wings did she finally land on the roof of the hospital.

The helicopter pad was supported by strong metal beams above her. She felt puny next to the thing, but she let it be as she made her way across the rooftop laden with pebbles. The space was at least half a story below her once she reached the edge. She dropped down and landed on her feet, the tears threatening to spill again.

She turned on her heel and was greeted with a blank concrete wall. She stared at for what felt like forever, a time she never really kept track of. She felt the anger rising within, passed that breaking point and into the unknown. She wanted to tear the head off of something, preferably an angel or, Hell, even Dean Winchester; anything that breathed was her target.

Her hand clenched at her side, she slammed her fist into the wall.

A small crater shrouded the cement. She felt her wrist shudder in its place, with her knuckles almost shattering beneath her skin.

Blood dripped from her hand when she took it out of the wall. A rather large chunk of cement stuck between her fingers and a fair share of dust coated her hand a dull white color.Her hand when shook the pain washed over, her wings expanding as she let out a sob.

Sam Winchester was in the operating room. Sam Winchester, sweet and selfless Sam Winchester, was bleeding out because of a doctor she failed to warn him about. He wasn’t breathing in the back of the Impala because of her. He died because of her.

“I bet it’s hard seeing me here, huh?”

Maddie’s head lifted to see him leaning against the wall, one leg bent up as an armrest. The arm he was cut in was covered in bandages. The bags beneath his eyes were deep, a splash of deep purple and neutral gray. His hair was, well, brushing against his shoulders like it always did. He looked tired, most of all. Tired of fighting to stay alive.

Her breath hitched in her throat. “Y-you’re—”

“On a metal slab with my arm cut open? Yeah, I had no idea,” he said with a soft smile.

A hand ran through her hair. Her hand stung more than ever, with a small puddle of blood forming on the pebbles beneath her. She backed up a bit, wings spreading as she stared at him. This isn't real. He wasn’t sitting up here. It’s impossible for him to be sitting up here, mostly because he doesn’t have fucking wings.

Sam let out a soft chuckle. His chest caved once as he lifted his gaze to look at beyond her. “Don’t blame yourself, Mads,” he muttered, “It wasn’t you that got me—”

She couldn’t stop her feet from taking her to him, from making her lift up on her toes and kiss him. She didn’t want to hear the words he was going to say next. She didn’t even want to think about it. Her mind cast that moment out of her head. In an instant it was gone, away from her mind that seemed to enjoy torturing her. Projecting the man she was in love with as a living, breathing hallucination was simply horrendous.

His hand reached up and cradled her jawline. His thumb brushed against her cheek as she let more tears flow. It felt like he was actually touching her, as if he was sitting with her on that rooftop. A weight settled on her chest. She put her hands around his neck to keep her in this moment. Her breath shuddered between his lips as she kissed him harder, fingers clawing at him to stay still. She wanted nothing more than to be trapped in this moment, this brief chapter in this hellhole of a story God decided to write. She wanted the words to stop, the series of unfortunate events to just come to an abrupt halt and just disappear.

He pulled his head away. His image flickered like an interrupted television signal as he straightened, turning away with a sadness in his step. She followed him out of remorse and sorrow; her heart ached for this part of him. Hallucination or not, she longed for him. She longed for his presence no matter what was happening in this godforsaken world she called home.

She wanted him. She hated to admit it. She always believed Tyler would be her first and her last love. He was the only one who understood her, who understood her more than anybody else.

But she never told him about the hunting side of her. God forbid, she never planned on doing so. She was tempted so many times, but she knew the second those words came out he would leave her. He’d leave her with this crazy tale of monsters and demons existing in this plane. Of course he’d call her crazy, he’d probably call her all these crazy names and slurs she’d never heard before.

Maddie looked up when she felt Sam behind her. He had slipped behind her as she stared off into space, trying to come up with a reason for him to stay. He got close to her. Yes, he got flush against her and wrapped his hands around her stomach. The smell of his cologne infused with the musk of old books and worn leather wafted around them, so much so he even smelled like he was there.

Her head rolled back to rest just below his shoulder. He nuzzled his lips in the crook of her neck. His teeth nipped at the skin gently and softly, beckoning her to lift a hand to trace his face. Her fingers wrapped in his hair, pulling down softly until her chest heaved with sobs. Eyes closing, she didn’t want to stray from this moment. Standing on a rooftop with the apparent love of her life—four words she’d never known she would use again—was all she ever wanted.

She forced herself to focus. It was hard to do so, with this closeness and ridiculousness that overwhelmed her. Look at yourself, Maddie. Sobbing on a rooftop at a damn hallucination of a man you’re falling in love with . . . what would Dante say about this, or Adam?

Don’t talk about them, don’t think about them. They’re gone, they can’t do anything to you anymore.

A snarl left her lips when she tore herself away from him. She felt his eyes bore into the back of her head, filled with confusion and utmost sadness. She didn’t turn, she didn’t want to turn to face him. If she did, she’d break down again. Those walls she put up since she started hunting again would crumble to dust if she looked at him one more time.

Maddie thought about leaving. It felt like a punch to the gut when the thought rolled through her mind. It was tempting, yes. She could drop everything and just disappear off this rooftop, going where the wind takes her (in a literal sense). She could forget about Sam and Dean, she could forget the kind of danger all of them were in because of her reputation.

The thought of his face if—when—he woke up crossed her mind. He’d be alone and in pain with his brother, who was no doubt still furious with her. He’d probably ask where she was. Of course he would, he cares about her more than she did about him. Since the beginning he’s cared about her. It was shocking that he was still breathing at this point in their nightmare of a story. He was a Winchester, nobody would dare touch him.

It was when a gust of wind hit her did she turn.

Sam still stood there, frozen in his place. His eyes were brimming with tears as he stared at her, arms spread from his sides slightly. She stood there again and just watched. Dean’s voice was screaming at her to move her legs. She wanted to run back to him and hug him, bury her face in his chest and just scream at him to wake up.

Still, she stood. She stood and gazed at him with tears in her eyes. Her heart shattered in her chest, leaving her paralyzed in her place. No matter how hard she wanted to run towards him, she knew she couldn’t. He wasn’t really standing there on the rooftop, he wasn’t staring at her with tears in his eyes, no, he wasn’t there.

“Listen to me, you bastard,” she sobbed, “you fight for me. You hear me? Fight for me! Take that suicidal bitch and shove it down. Shove it down so I can see you again, so you can see me again. You—”

“Maddie?”

Tears sprang to her eyes again when his older brother’s voice made its way to the rooftop. Her vision was clouded as she closed her eyes, dropping to a squat and shoving her fists over her face. Her injured hand was tingling now, with more blood oozing from the split skin on her knuckles. She didn’t care about the pain, she didn’t even pay attention to it. All she wanted was Sam.

The second she turned around to look at him did she see him disappear in a plume of smoke, however it looked more like fog to her. She fought another sob, this time crying into her jacket before calming herself down.

She turned and wandered to the edge of the roof. She could see Dean’s wandering figure below, his body looking bigger than usual. Perhaps it was the perspective, but she couldn’t be sure. His back was to the roof, thankfully, when she felt another tear slip from her eye. Wiping it off her face, she stalked to the wall and leaned against it.

Dean turned around and glanced up at the rooftop, his body stopping mid-step. A confused expression split his face in two, replacing the anger and sadness in a flash. Maddie glowered down at him, taking a pack of Camels out, along with a lighter, and popped a cigarette between her lips.

It took her a few tries to light the thing, but she was satisfied by the look Dean shot her when he saw the cancer stick. “You smoke?” he questioned.

“Free country, asshat,” she muttered as she took a drag of cigarette, inhaling the burning ash that filled her throat. The pain didn’t necessarily distract her from Sam’s absence; it merely served as a yet another reason to drown her lungs in smoke. The breath of fresh air she felt when Sam was with her was replaced by the toxicity the cigarette possessed.

She took the cigarette from her lips after taking a few more puffs. The pain in her broken hand still reverberated up and down her skin, but she didn’t mind. She kept it hidden from Dean, however, who paced below. He grew to be annoying the longer he remained beneath her, his steps almost taunting her with the idea everything was fine and dandy.

Maddie tossed her cigarette down towards him. It almost landed in his hair if he hadn't turned at the right time. With a rather rude tone, she asked, “What do you want?”

Dean glanced up at her with squinted eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing at his boots before replying, “I’m, uh, gonna get some grub, wanna come with me?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she swung her legs over the edge. A soft wind blew up to brush her hair over her shoulder. She closed her eyes when she felt Sam appear behind her, his hand reaching down and touching her shoulder. Soft words made it to her ears before he disappeared again in gentle wisps of fog: “I’ll be okay.”

“He’ll be okay,” she muttered to herself. She cleared her throat and looked at Dean. A little alcohol in her system wouldn’t hurt. She stood on her feet now, a newfound energy in her step. Her heart rose just the slightest for Sam, despite his operation and the impending doom that could lead to his death. She shoved her emotions down and managed to step off the edge.

The road beneath her caved when she landed on her feet. Her knees almost buckled beneath her if she didn’t squat, straightening herself and brushing the dust from her pants. “I don’t know,” she continued with a glare at Dean, “depends if you wanna torture me again.”

A soft chuckle—no, the sound was more like a wheeze—left the eldest Hunter. She brushed past him as she made her way toward the Impala, its sleek figure still sitting beneath the emergency entrance. That’s quite unlawful, Dean, but you do you, she thought with a shudder. She could still see inside the hospital; doctors still rushed about, with nurses sprinting across her line of sight.

Don’t think about him. Pretend he’s doing research back home, and this is a case. Just a normal, everyday case. A vengeful spirit case, yes. A very vengeful spirit was pissed for having its shit fucked with. Don’t fuck with a spirit’s shit. Exactly. That’s a great saying.

The Impala’s keys jingled, sending her back to reality. She tried to convince herself to get in the passenger seat. Sit next to Dean Winchester, the same man who pointed a gun at her not an hour ago and screamed obscenities at her. She’d sit next to him for at least twenty minutes. Couldn’t hurt, right?

The door opened and Dean ducked into the driver’s seat. The car rumbled to life seconds later, its engine running and adding a timer on her decision.

“Coming?”

Shit.

“Y-yeah.”

The second she closed the door Dean sped off. The rear tires squealed on the concrete as it peeled from the roundabout and onto the road. Her body jostled in the seat as she gripped the door for stability. Dean’s driving would probably get her killed.

The bar Dean took her to was like one out of a crime movie. Rundown bricks met cracked cement at jagged angles, while wooden boards covered most of the windows from the ground floor to apartments above. It looked more like an old factory revamped to be a tavern, in her opinion. Ivy snaked up around the corners, trash bins strewn toward the back. It was hard to see inside, but she could tell it was packed by how the buzz of conversation came through walls. Fire escapes almost covered one of the entrances, but Dean seemed to know where he was going by how he parked the Impala in an alleyway three blocks down.

She climbed out of the car and shut the door. Again, it felt strange being alone with Dean. At any moment he could kill her. Shove her into the alleyway and stab her. Drug her beer and stuff her in the trunk.

Don’t be ridiculous, Maddie, she thought, Dean wouldn’t do that with Sam in the hospital.

He had the perfect opportunity. If Sam died, she’d be the problem. Revenge was a fucking bitch in this world, and boy was Dean hellbent on getting it if his brother died. A soft stab of pain pierced her heart. Sam’s a fighter. He’d survive this. She did; she survived the coroner, so why couldn’t he?

Dean had kept himself glued to her side with a tense look on his face as they walked up the sidewalk. Perhaps he had something prepared once they got inside. Of course he did, he was Dean Winchester for God’s sake. He was always shoot first, ask questions later at this point; it was ridiculous.

She expected to be bombarded by burly men keen on wrestling her to the ground. Her staff was in mid-transformation when a waitress looked at them and smiled, offering menus.

“Welcome!” she beamed. Maddie’s staff slithered back beneath her sleeve. She glanced toward the Winchester as she snagged the menu from the waitress. She followed him to a booth in the back, getting more than a few onceovers by greedy men. She flipped a few off, who, to her pleasure, burst to their feet in anger.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, sweetheart,” Dean snapped over his shoulder. She caught the hint of a smile that ghosted across his lips. She never once saw Dean smile since she came to in the Bunker. It was a nice smile, regardless of how fast it came and went. Wrinkles creased behind his eyes that set a youthful glow to his face. (Despite the flecks of gray she noticed in both his hair and stubble.)

It was a very nice smile for a man consumed in anger.

She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Who doesn’t love a little bit of conflict?”

Both Hunters took their seats across from each other. It was a wise choice from both parties, she guessed, considering how Dean immediately grabbed her silverware and tucked the sharp utensils in his pocket. She simple scoffed at him and peered at the menu. The steak looked appetizing.

Maddie glanced up at Dean, whose gaze was fixated on both the menu and various waitresses. She considered letting him go crazy with the women of the bar, but the thought of her returning to the hospital alone was what made her hesitate. If Sam were to be awake when she got back, he’d started throwing accusations the second she walked in. Of course she’d deny them. She may hate Dean with every fiber of her being, but she wouldn’t kill him for no reason.

Their food came ten minutes after they ordered. To her surprise, they got the same thing: New York strip done medium rare with a side of fries and a beer. The look on Dean’s face made her glance up at him between bites.

“What?”

He shook his head with a soft smile. “Took you for a health nut like Sammy,” he replied with a giant piece of steak on his fork.

She twitched her head to the side. She took a drink of her beer, easily chugging half of it. It was gonna be a hard night; she might as well get the process of forgetting started. “Ain’t crazy for all that . . . healthy shit. This? This is heaven.” She gestured to her meal with a soft grin.

“Amen, sister.” Dean actually laughed. It was light hearted, that laughter, and it was what made her stop chewing. A smile was still plastered to his face as he continued to eat, making damn sure that he looked as attractive as possible.

A blush rose to her cheeks when she stole a steak knife from another table. She flipped the Winchester off when he saw her cut her steak.

This can’t be happening, she thought. She took a bite of her steak, almost moaning at how good it tasted. It’s been too long since she’d had a proper meal and not a hotdog nuked in a gas station or motel microwave. Her fast metabolism was what made it worse for her: she was always hungry, always itching to get something in her stomach no matter what time of day. And if it was during a case? She’d be off her guard just the slightest.

The Hunters took turns batting off stories of hunts gone wrong or funny moments that happened. One joke cracked by Dean almost sent her choking on her beer if it weren’t for the concern written on his face. Her smile faded when she stopped coughing. She slowly stood as tears pricked her eyes at what she was doing. This wasn’t a comfortable place to eat anymore; it filled her with hatred and resentment.

This was a date. And Dean was her date while the man she was in love with was in an operating room.

Maddie jumped to her feet. The table rattled as she slid out of the booth and stormed to the women’s bathroom. The door burst open when she pushed through. The room was set in a turquoise color, mixed with a neon pink from the lights. It seemed like a different place from the rest of the bar; grime covered the tiles and cracks cast veins in the floor and walls. Black stalls were to her left, while mirrors above sinks sat in front of her.

She went to the sink and leaned on it. The sink groaned beneath her weight as she stared at her fingers. Her hand, throbbing with pain, was still covered in blood, the skin turning yellow and blue. She was surprised Dean hadn’t commented on it while she ate.

When she looked up, Dean leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. She didn’t jump, but she let out a soft growl. “Jesus, Dean. This is the women’s bathroom.”

Dean pushed himself off the wall. His eyes were set in an irritation, his jaw pulled taut. “I know.”

She forced herself to turn and face him. He was walking toward her in strides shorter than Sam’s, but it was all the more attractive. She felt her leg pulled her toward him, but she stopped herself. What was she doing? What was he doing? She could see his gaze on her as he closed the distance. It was . . . almost predatory. Only Sam had that kind of aura about him when he wanted her. Needed her.

Maddie let him get close. She let him dip his head down to kiss her, but she managed to lean away. It caught the Hunter off guard by how his eyes lifted slightly beneath lashes meant for a woman. Not that she thought it wasn’t hot. Dean’s lashes were . . . pretty for a pretty man.

The tip of her staff rested against his chin. She looked up at him with a smile she deemed sexy enough to make him melt in his boots. And he did just that; he licked his lips and shifted on his feet to control himself. It was more like a superpower than a tactic, in her opinion. The things she could do to rile men up and get them to do her bidding was astonishing.

Her lips curled as she spoke. “What’s your endgame?” she asked. Dean took a step back with a defeated little scoff. She had him right where she wanted him, and he knew it. He knew she wouldn’t take silence as an answer, yet she continued:

“Hmm? Shoot me”—she turned the staff in her hand as it grew in length, the tip sharpening to a clean point—“kidnap and torture me for another five weeks, what? Oh, lemme guess: You wanted to take me on a date as a little ‘fuck you’ toward Sam. Is that it? You think getting in my pants is gonna get me to talk? News flash, Dean Winchester: that ain’t gonna happen.”

Turning to stalk to the door, she knew she was finished. She said what she wanted to say, and that had to be the last of it. The silence that resonated from the Hunter was all she needed as her hand reached out to open the door, but Dean’s words made her stop: “I saw your face. In that lab.”

Her head turned to look over her shoulder. Dean was moving back towards her while he carried on with what he was saying. “The horror on your face . . . priceless. As much as I wanted to do you in about it, I knew Sam wasn’t the one you were worried about. Hell, worry ain’t the right word. Terrified. You looked terrified, Maddie, and it wasn’t for Sam.”

His hand gripped her shoulder and whirled her around, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back against the wall. She cursed his height. She cursed the six inches he had on her, or the brute strength that would trump hers if she were human.

He looked at her square in the eye. “So who was it? The coroner?”

She almost spilled everything to him right there. Her past was sitting on her tongue, just waiting to be spoken. The words she hasn’t told anybody in her thirty-three years of life were just waiting to be thrown in to the world for none other than Dean to know. He wasn't the person she wanted tell, not even close.

“1985”—stop it—“was the year medical science had a breakthrough; some dude walked out of a hospital with the first artificial heart. But things were going on behind closed doors . . . doors people didn’t wanna open because they were scared, paranoid at what might come out.”

Dean let her go and took a step back. The anger on his face was gone, simply replaced with an expression of sorrow. “And that was you?”

Maddie looked up at him through her lashes. Tears stung her eyes and threatened to spill, but she kept herself together. She was falling apart at the seams in front of Dean Winchester. She couldn’t do that, not now. Not ever.

She looked at her shoes as she felt herself sinking to the floor. Her knees met her chest. A tear slipped from her eye to her defeat. She glanced up at Dean, shaking, and watched him stoop to lean against the wall with her. She could tell he pitied her. That wasn’t her plan; to make him feel sorry. She wanted to beat the living crap out of him for torturing her, for carving into her like a Thanksgiving turkey.

But she didn’t have the energy or heart to do so.

“The . . . coroner isn’t a coroner. He doesn’t dissect the dead, he dissects the living. His wife and kid died in a car accident in 1984. His kid, a three-year-old, died instantly. Smashed her head against the front seat, crushing her skull and piercing her brain. The, uh, wife, Veronica, died eight hours later due to blunt force trauma to the head. He found out three days later when the hospital failed to contact him.”

The Hunter just stared at her as she continued. “He was a scientist for some lab in Colorado. One of the best in his field. And he was so overwhelmed with anger and grief that he turned to his work to make him a new kid . . . and that was me.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. She looked at her shoes again. She didn’t have the courage to look at Dean, who was most likely feeling sorry for her the more she went on. He must not see her as a threat anymore. He probably saw her as an emotional asshole with a knack for pissing people off, let alone one who doesn’t get all touchy-feely when it comes to emotions.

She hated talking about her emotions. They were too . . . sappy to her. Emotions make her vulnerable, and being vulnerable gets people killed. Walls were a good way to keep things at bay. Yes. Walls. Walls were a beautiful thing.

Her walls were in shambles.

“He was gentle, and-and calm then. Maybe a blood sample here, and a little bit of skin from my back there. But, things got progressively worse when I got older,” she said with disgust in her voice.Her fists clenched at her sides, her jaw rew taut when flashbacks flooded back.

She closed her eyes. He was gone. He was dead, his throat was slit wide open by the man she loved. She remembered feeling his blood on her face. His blood, not Sam’s. The scientist’s blood, not Sam’s. Adam Dauer’s blood was once on her skin, was once slipping to the floor in a puddle of red. It felt good to see his blood spilled. Spilled blood meant he was dead.

Hopefully. He was hopefully dead and he’d stay that way.

Dean watched her put her head against the wall. Her eyes opened, lifting to watch the cracks in the ceiling. Her fists were clenched so tight she felt blood pooling in her hands. She hadn’t registered it until her fractured hand throbbed with even more pain.

His voice brought her back. “What happened to the hand?”

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She glanced at her knuckles, a semi-large mass with a mixture of blue, gray, and yellow bruises. “Punched a cement wall.”

“Oh, we’re punchin’ walls now, are we? I see, I see.” Her smile faded as she stared at the sinks. She could tell Dean wanted to say something, but she refused to hear it.

“I was six when he started clamping me to an autopsy table.” A pause to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Shoved a rag so far down my throat I didn’t know if I was breathing. He didn’t start cutting me open until I was seven. The first time, I, uh, passed out after two minutes. As I got older, I was losing consciousness less until it didn’t even happen. One time he kept me open for three days because I called him an asshole. I was nine.”

Dean stayed quiet. After a few moments, he asked the question she prayed he wouldn’t ask: “How long were you with him? With . . . Adam?”

Maddie let out a weak chuckle. She wiped her cheeks again, then her nose. Her arms crossed over her chest, a hand running up and down her biceps. Despite being dressed in a flannel and jeans, she felt cold.

She looked at Dean. Her jaw grew taut as a sigh slipped through her lips. “About fourteen years. I was twelve when I snapped.” She let out another chuckle. “Eight dozen other scientists came to see the world’s first genetically altered human being. Almost two-thirds of those scientists died in half an hour. I felt something be shot into my back and I passed out. Woke up strapped to an electric chair.”

It took her a few seconds to continue. Scenes of herself strapped to that damned chair with electrodes stuck to her skin. Adam stood before her, arms crossed and mouth moving. She heard no words, but she could still hear what he was saying: “You will not do that again.”

Each word he spoke sent electricity jolting through her. She’d scream bloody murder, doing nothing but smelling her skin frying and eyes stinging from the tears. Adam would simply smile down at her pain, at her struggles against the straps.

“I was, uh, electrocuted fifty-eight times. Each time he said the same six words. ‘You will not do that again.’ The electricity was equal to a stun gun taking down a rabid Yogi, I swear.” She cracked a smile, violently punching herself internally for becoming this open with Dean, the same man who wanted to put her in a grave.

She glanced at him, but she didn’t have time to protest as he leaned in and kissed her.

Vulgarity reeled through her mind. Her hand lifted to keep his head where it was as he deepened the kiss. Fireworks went off in her head, children laughed and rainbows opened up in the sky. She hadn’t expected that kissing Dean Winchester would feel this good. She hated to admit, the older Hunter was a better kisser than Sam.

Maddie pushed herself away. Sam. He’d tear her a new one if he found out about this. She shuddered when she opened her eyes and stared at Dean’s stunning verdant eyes. They were gorgeous, she had to give him that.

“Listen,” he said, “I-I’m sorry for, y’know, everything.”

A forced smile lifted her mouth. She kept glancing at him, wide-eyed as to why he just kissed her. She knew he had a crush on her, a massive one at best. But—

Did he just apologize to her?

“I, uh, th-thank you? It’s fine, really, I just . . . we don’t talk about what just went down, right?” She finally mustered the courage to actually look at him instead of staring at anything else. God, he was so gorgeous.

Dean smiled softly. She noticed his tongue was set between his teeth with his lips parted just the slightest, and that was pretty much how she wanted to fall over the edge with him.

[mattzerella-sticks]

⭐2020 Fics in Review ⭐

Happy New Year’s Eve! 💫💫💫 2020 sure was a year... between everything that was happening on the macro (the pandemic, elections, etc.) and on the micro-level (shows delayed, some ending - disastrously, so much drama, etc.), the past 12 months felt like a blur. Especially since we’ve been inside and realized time is an illusion!

But, there were moments where I was able to ground myself in the present and not be swept away by the tide. Most of them were because of fanfiction. Whether writing or reading, fanworks became a soothing balm. And I’d be remiss (and breaking tradition) if I didn’t reflect on my past works of 2020! 

I’ve written 43 fics across a wide array of fandoms - the most being Supernatural, with 9-1-1, DC Comics, Marvel, Boku No Hero Academia, Stargirl, Star Wars, Hollywood, and RWBY sprinkled in. I really branched out this year, and am looking forward to what I will write in 2021. Maybe new fandoms? Maybe an original work? Who’s to say!

Thank you to all those who’ve read my works, and am grateful for both your support and continued engagement - can’t wait to see you in 2021 with me 😁

Here are my works!

9-1-1 (TV Show)

Caught (Evan ‘Buck’ Buckely/Eddie Diaz, side Athena Grant/Bobby Nash, side Maddie Buckley/Howie ‘Chimney’ Han)

Photobooths are prime for catching special moments and making them last forever, even if they are less both and more open spaces with a backdrop. When Athena, Bobby, and Michael stumble upon one such moment between Buck and Eddie, what will they do?

And how will it affect Maddie and Chimney?

Lumped Together (Evan ‘Buck’ Buckely/Eddie Diaz, side Henrietta ‘Hen’ Wilson/Karen Wilson, side Maddie Buckley/Howie ‘Chimney’ Han)

As an apology for keeping her thoughts about medical school secret from her wife and partner, Hen takes them (and Maddie) out for lunch. With the promise that it would only be them. And for the most part it was. Until Buck and Eddie strode in with every intention of eating Takoyaki.

Just not with them.

Armed with new information, what's a girl to do? Hen spends the next day fighting back the natural instinct to tease her friends about the wonderful step they've taken together in their relationship. Can she make it home without saying anything? Or will she give in?

DCU

Lonely Together (Barry Allen/Bruce Wayne, past Barry Allen/Iris West, past Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle)

Barry needs others, yet whether by his enemies or his own actions, he ends up alone. After Iris leaves him, Barry feels as if he drifts through life. Like lightning humming in the air without a rod to ground him.

Until he struck another lonely soul and entered a relationship he never thought possible. Now, months since he and Bruce began sleeping with each other, Barry feels settles. At peace in a way he hasn't felt in a long while. Since he and Iris started petering out.

But it's not love... is it?

Come Home (Jason Todd/Kyle Rayner)

Jason Todd gets a message from Bruce. He's surprised to see it. Then, he's surprised by the message itself. Hearing Bruce's final message stirs something inside of him, urging him towards a place he's avoided ever since his and Bruce's falling out. So he gathers his things, and then... waits.

He can't leave yet. Jason doesn't know why. Bruce gave him a mission, just like old times. Except it's not, because he... Jason can't move. Can't even stand.

That's how Kyle finds him.

Restless (Barry Allen/Bruce Wayne)

Returning home from a mission in outer space, the team picks up a distress signal off-course. They rush off to help, landing on a strange alient planet teeming with life. Especially within the plant kingdom.

While guarding the Javelin, Bruce and Barry encounter one such member while engaging in some familiar fight-flirting. Will its effects spell trouble for the League, or help these two relax their guards long enough to explore new possibilities?

(Hint: It's a little bit of both)

Marvel

Hot Seat (Peter Parker/Johnny Storm)

Spiderman likes Johnny. Like likes him. And he thought Johnny felt the same. He wasn't wrong, but Johnny like liked someone else, too. Someone he actually wanted to pursue, over Spiderman.

Unfortunately that someone is Peter Parker.

However, after a terrible misunderstanding, Johny isn't too keen on seeing either Peter or Spiderman; the longer this confusion left unresolved, the more Johnny's hurt would fester. Can Peter find a way to make Johnny listen?

Hollywood 

Merrily We Roll Along (Archie Coleman/Rock Hudson)

With their careers still on the rise and no peak in sight, sometimes Archie's and Roy's lives get a little too busy. Understandably so. Archie's in the midst of writing his next screenplay while the latest opens across America. Roy spend more time on set than at home working on his latest project. When their schedules allow it, all they want is to be together.

Can they enjoy a simple morning together, or will the clouds of Hollywood cast a heavy shadow over their sunny day?

RWBY

Lucky You, Huh? (Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi)

After all that happened, it's time for the dust to settle. Choices were made. Now, the consequences for certain actions need to be carried out.

Even though he fought alongside her to save Mantle, Robyn Hill couldn't help save Clover from the whims of the Council. Without a job or home, Clover needs to find a way to carry on.

If anyone understands what that feels like, it's Qrow. Never being one who can communicate his feelings well, would he be the best to comfort the other man. When he's the only one who can, what does that mean for Clover?

Star Wars

Fourth (Poe Dameron/Finn)

What's a man and his co-general to do when they're on a mission together on a planet known for frequent sandstorms?

Flirt? That is a possibility. And definitely the one they take.

Stargirl

I’m Here (Courtney Whitmore/Yolanda Montez, past Yolanda Montez/Henry King, Jr.)

Coda to 1x10 "Brainwave Jr."

Losing Henry was sad, but it's not the first person Courtney knew whose future was snatched by the Injustice Society of America. That doesn't make his death any less tragic. It does remind Courtney how screwed up and dangerous her life was. At least she was able to wake up the next day and keep moving. And so was Beth, and Rick. But Yolanda...

Where was Yolanda? Courtney needs to know.

Crusher (Lawrence Crock/Paula Crock, Pat Dugan/Barbara Whitmore, Lawrence Crock/Pat Dugan)

When Lawrence met Pat, he saw another body that could benefit from some exercise at his gym. The more they interacted, became friends, he saw that body doing other things in other places. And his wife is totally supportive of this. While in the midst of an afterhours training session, Lawrence drags his feet on telling his friend a few important things. Egged on by Paula, will he say what's on his mind? How will Pat react?

And does Pat have a secret or two of his own?

Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Little Secrets Everywhere (Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijiro)

Mina thought letting Bakugo read whatever was in her folder wouldn't be too bad. Maybe he would snipe at her for her less than perfect English translation and sentence structure, slap her on the head with the balled up assignment. What she wasn't expecting was for him to charge with hellish fury towards her in the common room with all their friends to see.

One careless mistake leads to many things coming to light. Everyone walking away with something new to think about.

Boku No Fundanshi (Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijiro)

Bakugo Katsuki is a top student at the premier hero academy in the world. Bakugo Katsuki is a boy with the ability to use his sweat as a weapon, each droplet containing enough nitroglycerin to obliterate a phone book. Bakugo Katsuki enjoys reading manga where boys fall in love with one another. Two out of the three are commonly accepted facts. The final one is a heavily guarded secret that Bakugo protects with his life. At least until his vigilance lapses, and he loses a doujinshi.

Will he be able to recover what he lost before anyone realizes it's his? Or, by the end of this, will he have found something he didn't know he was missing?

Portmanteau (Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijiro)

Portmanteau (port·man·teau) n. a word blending the sounds and combining the meanings of two others

Like Bakugo's chosen hero name. But was that his first choice? Kirishima doesn't think so, after finding a damning piece of evidence hidden within his notes. Except it's not what he thinks, at all...

Supernatural

 Real (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

Coda to 15x09 "The Trap"

Morning after, and Sam spies a little something blossoming in the kitchen. Something that stokes the fires of his curiosity. When the scene ends, he walks in with an intent to investigate. Learn about the strange magic that happened before his eyes. How quickly Dean and Cas's relationship repaired. And what brilliant new shape it took on after Purgatory.

Will Sam be satisfied with the answer?

Half-Priced Chocolates (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

The day after Valentine's Day is great for many things. Basking in the glow of a night well spent, sharing the joy of love with your family, and eating chocolate priced considerably lower than it was the day before.

Except Sam can't enjoy any of that, because Dean won't let him. Because Dean woke up in a sour mood and has picked up the banners of war against romantic love.

Albeit, the three aforementioned things might make his conflict the shortest in history.

Spill (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Dean always thought it would take more to force him into retirement. Yet here he is, locked in the Bunker until the world figures out a cure for a deadly virus. It could be worse - at least they have a home. He cannot imagine how worse it would be if this happened years earlier, where he and Sam were trapped in a tiny motel room together. Here they have options, and miles of outdoor space they can stroll through if their options become stale.

And they were beginning to. Dean could only do so much indoors. Dean knew he needed to shake things up, but couldn't begin thinking how. Luckily Castiel has an idea, and gives him a new way of looking at their kitchen.

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

Following the Supernatural Cracktober prompt list, one day at a time.

Prompts will be listed in the notes and the chapter title.

Enjoy!

Bullets Over the Bayou (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Everyone wants Castiel Novak to quit the force, including Castiel. But he stays on despite the toxic work environment he’s surrounded by. Still believing he can do some good despite the many lines of red tape impeding him. Luckily, a pair of scissors by the name of Dean Winchester drops into his hands, and he finally feels like he can do some good.

Dean Winchester thought he would be in New Orleans for a day or two. Identify the body of his deadbeat father and then move on. No one knows he’s here. His mother and brother are blissfully unaware of the danger his father roped him into. With a parting gift of a journal, delivered to him the same day he received word about his father, Dean has become the target of a group of people who want him dead. The same people who killed his father.

Racing against the clock, can Dean and Castiel figure out what is so important about John Winchester’s journal that someone would kill for it?

Kick Ball Change (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

Coda to 15x10 "The Heroes' Journey"

Dean has the Bunker to himself at a time after he and Sam regain their supernatural abilities. With nothing needing his attention, he decides taking time for himself wouldn't hurt. But the usual fare leaves him bored and tired.

So he tries something new. Something he wanted to try, but wasn't sure he would be good at. Dean starts off strong, but doing it on your own can only be so fun. Get you so far. Luckily a partner happens by and truly allows Dean to enjoy a part of himself he knew was there, but didn't want to share.

Tempered Desires (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Charlie Bradbury/OC, background Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore, background Sam Winchester/Ruby, background Sam Winchester/Mick Davies, past Dean Winchester/Arthur Ketch)

Dating, sex, and finding love were the farthest things on the minds of both Dean and Castiel. There were more important things to worry about - namely the pandemic that swept across the globe and changed everything. Navigating this new environment was hard enough without adding romance.

But fate never intervenes when you expect. From first meetings to first dates, we'll see how Dean and Castiel's relationship blossoms despite the circumstances.

Sunrise (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

Dean and Sam were free. Finally, unequivocally, free.

But this wasn't the happy ending Dean had expected. Maybe in the past, having Sam in the passenger seat tearing across an open stretch of highway as the sunsets, it'd be what he wanted. But that was years ago. He's not that man anymore. Dean's tired of sunsets, of saying goodbye. He yearns for a different ending. One that's less of an ending, and more of a beginning. A sunrise instead of a sunset.

Sam has his. Dean lost his. Despite this setback, he won't stop. He'll live in memory of his sunrise.

Except, what can he do when he feels those rays on his face again?

Coda to 15x19

Fixing It (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

Dean Winchester walked a long & difficult road. House burning down when he was 4, constantly being on the move until his father lost a fight with demons at the age of 25. Reunited with his mother only to lose her again. Have a son only to lose him, too. Of all the shadows that have crossed his path, he thought one of the main sources of light was his husband Castiel.

But he had to ruin that, too.

Can he ever have that shine again? Or are there things that are too good for him to hold? Will they mend what was broken?

Heart in My Hand (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

He was right there.

Cas was telling Dean everything he ever wanted to hear since meeting the angel of the Lord... only each and every word of his confession stabbed at Dean's heart. Because once he finished, there's no more time for them. For him. For any chance of happiness - all that taken away by the Empty. And now he has to carry on.

He tries. Stands, gets in his car and drives where Sam tells him. When he meets with the others, though...

Coda to 15x18 "Despair"

A Dumb Idea (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

They celebrated Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthdays, even the Fourth of July. What about the other holidays? What about Valentine's Day?

Mrs. Butters actually had a plan for that, but she left before it could come to fruition. Sam, however, stumbles on Dean and a leftover piece from said plan. Something Dean would rather Sam not see. When he does get a peek as to what it is, well... Dean and Sam have a lot to talk about.

Coda to 15x14 "The Last Holiday"

What the Water Gave Him (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

It was over. Chuck lost, Sam and Dean can live their lives how they want them. But their victory wasn't without losses. The biggest upset nearly taking Dean out of the game, happening so close to the final battle. Now he's on the other side, alive against all odds, but Sam knows he isn't happy. Not truly happy since the Empty stole his best friend.

But there's a chance they can save him. A slim chance. A risk that Dean's willing to take despite every logical nerve in Sam's body screaming at him to look for better options. That threading a needle this small is too dangerous. That they don't have to take on another big bad, not anymore. That they don't have to risk their lives anymore. Dean is far past the point of listening. Dead set on this mission, Sam can only watch.

And pray his brother proves him wrong.

(Now with art from gabester-sketch)

Acutely (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Jack said he's sorry, after getting his soul back.

Jack said he's sorry, and he's looking at Dean. They're all looking at Dean.

Jack said he's sorry, and Dean can't take it. It's too much. Like a frog thrown into a boiling pot he hops out, jumping out from the room towards safety. Doing his best not to succumb to the pain.

He can't hide forever, let the wounds fester. It's too much to deal with on his own, though. Can someone help him through it?

Leeches (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Sharing a Netflix makes sense, in hindsight. Dean gets it. But that doesn't mean he appreciates seeing a bunch of profiles after his that weren't there last he checked.

He's gonna get to the bottom of this - of when this happened, why, and how they were able to guess his password.

Revival (Dean Winchester/Castiel, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

Sam and Dean stand there on the bridge, the camera panning out on them as they are finally reunited in Heaven.

But then Sam wakes up.

(Coda/Fix-It Fic to 15x20 "Carry On")

Memento (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Why did Castiel have a photo of himself in a cowboy hat? Where did he get it? Who took it, and more importantly who gave it to him?

Coda to 15x15 "Gimme Shelter"

The End (We Deserve) (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Dean Winchester dies in Sam's arms.

And then he doesn't.

(How that scene originally looked...)

Constants

Meeting with alternate versions of themselves makes Sam and Dean think about what the landscape of the former multiverse might have looked like - or, really, "If there can be multiple Deans and multiple Sams, can there be other versions of things they know. Like... Baby?"

Dean says no. There's only one Baby. She's got four wheels, black paint, and has been his from the beginning. Sam thinks otherwise.

Let's explore what the possibilities of Deans, Sams, and Babys in different universes might look like.

Enjoy the Present (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Sam had a birthday, Jack had a birthday...

It would only be fitting for Dean to have one, too. It's expected, really. Yet the one Sam and Jack throw him still catches him by surprise. Maybe because he actually agreed with Butters, about having outgrowned birthdays. Or because his thoughts were pulled elsewhere because of some disappointing news.

If it's the latter, than a birthday will definitely take his mind off of that. Especially when it comes time for his present.

Coda to 15x14 'The Last Holiday'

Swallow It Whole (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

"The older you get... the less lies make everything better"

But when you've told as many lies as Dean has, it's hard to tell what's true and what's not. How can he remove all the rotten parts of himself without bringing everything down? Which lies have ingrained themselves so firmly, that removing them would change everything about who he was?

And, scariest of them all, who would he be without those lies?

Coda to 15x16 "Drag Me (Away From You)"

Desperation, Baby! (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Death took her sweet time parsing through Chuck's book, meaning Lucifer spent longer than he'd like surrounded by his former vessel, his brother, his son, and a man whose obvious longing made him want to vomit. Instead of returning with his prize, Chuck welcoming him back, he must waste his valuable time playing 'nice; with those he can't stand.

Not that it matters. They don't trust him, each member of this ragtag group of survivors watching Lucifer in shifts. Never leaving him alone.

It's Dean's turn now, and he's driving Lucifer up a wall by doing nothing at all save for broadcasting a never-ending supply of feeling. Can he cut the signal without showing his hand, or put Dean's heart to good use?

Coda to 15x19 "Inherit the Earth"

A Healing Touch/New Experiences (Dean Winchester/Castiel, Adam/Serafina)

Maybe if Cas hadn't abandoned him, he wouldn't have agreed to Adam's offer. But with free will finally theirs, Cas made his choice, and Dean his. Now he has to live with the consequences - even if they are awkward. He won't die from it, certainly.

It's only a massage.

But what Dean doesn't know, is that it's more than a massage. It's healing.

It Feels Real Good (Claire Novak/Kaia Nieves, background Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Jody sent her to Yosemite, and she brings her back. For what reason, Claire doesn't know. But it had better be important, otherwise Claire gave the Dark Figure that stole her happiness another chance at escape. Will Jody's house hold a reason important enough for Claire to let go of the heavy burdens she's been carrying since hopping through a rift into another universe?

Coda to 15x12 "Galaxy Brain"

Through the Door (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Cas tells Sam that Chuck and Amara are here. But how does he know? Sure, he could've felt them land through his grace. But all that time Sam was gone? There was enough there that he could've investigated. They'd need to know where they were anyway, when the time came.

But Cas should've known better. Now wasn't the best moment for a little family reunion, especially when there's so much bad blood it can drown them all. Yet he came, and finally got the audience he always seeked with his father.

Coda to 15x17 "Unity"

Four of Swords (Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

The Four of Swords, in the present position, means you don't want to interact with the rest of the world. Because of stress, you need to spend some time with yourself - unhealthy always being 'on'. That the healthiest thing to do is to escape.

Dean might crave escape, but it's not something he thinks he can have. Something he deserves, even. After his and Sam's most recent hunt, this cancerous feeling has grown heavy and weighs him down. He cannot escape on his own, as best he tries.

Luckily a guardian 'former angel' angel swoops in at his lowest. Helps pick up the pieces as best he can and lovingly put them back together. But he can only do so much. The rest is up to Dean.

Can Dean take those final steps, say those final words, and finally free himself?

i’d like to teach the world to sing (Dean Winchester/Castiel, Castiel/Others, WIP, 10 out of 15 chapters posted so far)

Mar del Vista, California - 1972

The groovy counterculture that dominated conversation in the past few years still clings to the landscape, floating around like smoke off a burning joint. Changed by the fires of war, Manson, and life into something new. Less trusting, optimistic, and innocent.

Cas is just one of many disillusioned hippies, saddled with a general distrust even before the movement self-imploded. Wary of about everything. Perfect for his line of work, where what's on the surface might not match the truth underneath. It's not an easy life, but he's comfortable with how it goes. Coasting until he hears a case he has no business accepting. For one, it's about a missing teen. And another, it's personal.

Except Jack's disappearance, like every other case he's worked, isn't so cut and dry. Like a rock skipping across a then-placid lake, the ripples stretch far and wide. Those waves slamming at Cas; of cops, federal agents, hippie cultists, and a certain green-eyed detective who's a little too interested in Cas's investigation.

Will Cas find Jack? Or will he drown in the tides.

Checkmate (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Billie saves Jack from suffering a fatal end from her plan, and knowing Jack was safe gave Cas space to focus on his own troubles. Nearly losing his son again... revelations from Chuck... choices Dean made, were set on, until Sam broke through at the last minute - too close - they all were...

It was too much. Cas needed to digest these roiling experiences away from faces it hurt to look at. Except he stumbles exactly where Chuck wants him. After countless times praying for guidance, Chuck finally decides now is perfect for a long-awaited heart-to-heart.

Coda to 15x17 "Unity"

Slide (Dean Winchester/Castiel, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester)

This isn't his day. It's Sam's and Eileen's. But while out on the dance floor, Dean realizes something that forces him to act. Act boldly.

It's not his day, but he cannot push back what's been there all along, dam bursting with no hope or need of rebuilding itself. He has to say something to Cas.

Why? Because it's Electric... boogie woogie woogie

(Inspired by the Suptober Day 9 prompt - Electric)

Unwrap Me (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Dean never thought he would make it this far. Nor would he have as many wonderful things that he has now. A home, friends, family, and most importantly love. With a former angel.

Given how normal his life is now, Dean decides he wants to go all out celebrating Christmas. Parties, feasts, and the perfect presents. He wants to get Cas something that will translate everything that resides in his heart. Dean believes he has the right gift, but decides against leading with it. Instead surprising Cas with it after showing him his Christmas best.

Although, during his entire time planning Cas's present, he never wondered what Cas got him...

Disappointment is temporary, but creativity is eternal 🥂 to more fanworks in 2021!!!

[goalhofer]

2020 Olympics Australia Roster

Archery

David Barnes (Adelaide)

Ryan Tyack (Nambour)

Taylor Worth (Busselton)

Alice Ingley (Belconnen)

Swimming

Kyle Chalmers (Adelaide)

Isaac Cooper (Brisbane)

Kai Edwards (Gold Coast)

Tristan Hollard (Southport)

Mitch Larkin (Buderim)

Lee Se-Bom (Sydney)

Cameron McEvoy (Benowa)

Jacky McLoughlin (Brisbane)

David Morgan (Gold Coast)

Thomas Neill (Brisbane)

Brendon Smith (Melbourne)

Zaac Stubblety-Cook (Brisbane)

Matthew Temple (Forest Hill)

Matthew Wilson (Sydney)

Elijah Winnington (Gold Coast)

Alexander Graham (Auchenflower)

Zac Incerti (Broome)

Mack Horton (Melbourne)

Hannah Burkhill (Perth)

Kiera Gazzard (Randwick)

Kirsten Kinash (Bonogin)

Rachel Presser (Banora Point)

Alessandra Ho (Canberra)

Emily Rogers (Auchenflower)

Amie Thompson (Como)

Hannah Cross (Attadale)

Kareena Lee (Noosa)

Carolyn Buckle (Sydney)

Cate Campbell (Brisbane)

Tamsin Cook (Perth)

Maddy Gough (Coffs Harbour)

Jessica Hansen (Brisbane)

Abbey Harkin (Brisbane)

Chelsea Hodges (Southport)

Emma McKeon (Wollongong)

Kaylee McKeown (Sunshine Coast)

Kiah Melverton (Southport)

Emily Seebohm (Adelaide)

Jenna Strauch (Bendigo)

Brianna Throssell (Subiaco)

Ariarne Titmus (Indooroopily)

Madison Wilson (Yeppoon)

Bronte Campbell (Brisbane)

Meg Harris (Brisbane)

Mollie O’Callaghan (Brisbane)

Leah Neale (Ipswich)

Athletics

Dane Bird-Smith (Brisbane)

Stewart McSweyn (Launceston)

Rohan Browning (Crows Nest)

Alexander Beck (Benowa)

Steven Solomon (East Lindfield)

Nagmeldin Bol (Perth)

Charlie Hunter (Gosford)

Jeff Riseley (Dandenong)

Jye Edwards (Barrack Heights)

Ollie Hoare (Sydney)

Morgan McDonald (Sydney)

David McNeil (Melbourne)

Patrick Tiernan (Toowoomba)

Nicholas Hough (Sydney)

Ben Buckingham (Melbourne)

Matthew Clarke (Adelaide)

Edward Trippas (Sydney)

Liam Adams (Melbourne)

Jack Rayner (Melbourne)

Brett Robinson (Canberra)

Kyle Swan (Melbourne)

Declan Tingay (Perth)

Rhydian Cowley (Glen Waverley)

Henry Frayne (Adelaide)

Brandon Starc (Sydney)

Kurtis Marschall (Adelaide)

Matty Denny (Toowoomba)

Cedric Dubler (Brisbane)

Ash Moloney (Logan City)

Jessica Hull (Albion Park)

Jemima Montag (Melbourne)

Kelsey-Lee Barber (Canberra)

Hana Basic (Melbourne)

Riley Day (Beaudesert)

Bendere Oboya (Pendle Hill)

Catriona Bisset (Canberra)

Morgan Mitchell (Carlton)

Georgia Griffith (Canberra)

Linden Hall (Sunbury)

Isobel Batt-Doyle (Adelaide)

Jenny Blundell (Sydney)

Rose Davies (Newcastle)

Liz Clay (Southport)

Sarah Carli (Wollongong)

Amy Cashin (Morgantown, West Virginia)

Genevieve Gregson (Benowa)

Georgia Winkcup (Cherrybrook)

Ellie Beer (Gold Coast)

Angeline Blackburn (Canberra)

Kendra Hubbard (Melbourne)

Anneliese Rubie (Canberra)

Sinead Diver (Melbourne)

Ellie Pashley (Torquay)

Lisa Weightman (Melbourne)

Katie Hayward (Gold Coast)

Rebecca Henderson (Melbourne)

Brooke Stratton (Melbourne)

Nicola McDermott (North Gosford)

Eleanor Patterson (Leongatha)

Nina Kennedy (Perth)

Liz Parnov (Perth)

Danielle Stevens (Merrylands)

Mackenzie Little (Sydney)

Kathryn Mitchell (Monte Carlo, Monaco)

Boxing

Alex Winwood (Mandurah)

Harry Garside (Canberra)

Paulo Aokuso (Gailes)

Skye Nicolson (Yatala)

Caitlin Parker (Subiaco)

Canoeing

Daniel Watkins (Grove)

Lucien Delfour (Pape’ete, French Polynesia)

Tom Green (Brisbane)

Jean Van Der Westhuyzen (Varsity Lakes)

Murray Stewart (Sydney)

Riley Fitzsimmons (North Gosford)

Jordan Wood (Tugun)

Lachlan Tame (Avoca Beach)

Jess Fox (Penrith)

Cat McArthur (Melbourne)

Bernadette Wallace (West Lakes)

Josephine Bulmer (West Lakes)

Shannon Reynolds (Canberra)

Jaime Roberts (Perth)

Aly Bull (Buderim)

Jo Brigden-Jones (Mona Vale)

Alyce Wood (Buderim)

Cycling

Matthew Glaetzer (Adelaide)

Nathan Hart (Canberra)

Matthew Richardson (Warwick)

Leigh Howard (Waurn Ponds)

Kelland O’Brien (Melbourne)

Luke Plapp (Brunswick)

Alexander Porter (Bennelong)

Luke Durbridge (Greenmount)

Lucas Hamilton (Ararat)

Richie Porte (Launceston)

Rohan Dennis (Adelaide)

Sam Welsford (Perth)

Dan McConnell (Canberra)

Anthony Dean (Adelaide)

Logan Martin (Logan City)

Kaarle McCulloch (Campbelltown)

Ashlee Ankudinoff (Sydney)

Georgia Baker (Launcester)

Annette Edmondson (Belair)

Maeve Plouffe (Adelaide)

Grace Brown (Camperdown)

Tiffany Cromwell (Stirling)

Sarah Gigante (Melbourne)

Amanda Spratt (Springwood)

Alexandra Manly (Kalgoorie)

Rebecca McConnell (Canberra)

Lauren Reynolds (Bunbury)

Saya Sakakibara (Gold Coast)

Natalya Diehm (Boyne Island)

Gymnastics

Tyson Bull (Melbourne)

Dominic Clarke (Sydney)

Georgia Godwin (Southport)

Emily Whitehead (Mornington)

Lidiia Iakovleva (Brisbane)

Emily Abbot (Brisbane)

Alexandra Aristoteli (Brisbane)

Alannah Mathews (Brisbane)

Himeka Onoda (Brisbane)

Felicity White (Brisbane)

Jessica Pickering (North Gosford)

Pentathlon

Ed Fernon (Darlinghurst)

Marina Carrier (Sydney)

Sailing

Matthew Wearn (Fremantle)

Sam Phillips (Sorrento)

William Phillips (Sorrento)

Mat Belcher (Southport)

William Ryan (Lake Macquarie)

Jason Waterhouse (Newport)

Jake Lilley (Brisbane)

Mara Stransky (Manly)

Monique De Vries (Fremantle)

Nia Jerwood (Fremantle)

Tess Lloyd (Geelong)

Jaime Ryan (Lake Macquarie)

Lisa Darmanin (Balgowlah Heights)

Shooting

Sergei Evglevski (Melbourne)

Thomas Grice (Cobbitty)

Paul Adams (Brisbane)

Alex Hoberg (Adelaide)

Daniel Repacholi (Carlton)

Jack Rossiter (Reynella)

Dane Sampson (Blacktown)

James Willett (Deniliquin)

Elise Collier (Langwarrin)

Katarina Kowplos (Adelaide)

Penny Smith (Elliminiyt)

Dina Babushkin (Brisbane)

Laura Coles (Perth)

Elena Galiabovitch (South Clayton)

Laetisha Scanlan (Melbourne)

Climbing

Tom O’Halloran (Blackheath)

Oceana MacKenzie (Melbourne)

Surfing

Julian Wilson (Coolum Beach)

Owen Wright (Lennox Head)

Sally Fitzgibbons (Gerroa)

Steph Gilmore (Kingscliff)

Table Tennis

David Powell (Box Hill)

Xin Yan (Melbourne)

Hu Heming (Dandenong)

Michelle Bromley (Gulgong)

Xu Sang (Melbourne)

Lay-Hóng Jiànfāng (Melbourne)

Melissa Tapper (Hamilton)

Taekwondo

Safwan Khalil (Lurnea)

Jack Marton (Canberra)

Stacey Hymer (Canberra)

Reba Stewart (Canberra)

Weightlifting

Matthew Lydement (Canberra)

Brandon Wakeling (Campbelltown)

Erika Yamasaki (Darwin)

Kiana Elliott (Sydney)

Charisma Amoe-Tarrant (Brisbane)

Badminton

Hsuan-Yu Chen (Brisbane)

Simon Leung (Brisbane)

Setyana Mapasa (Melbourne)

Gronya Somerville (Melbourne)

Basketball

Chris Goulding (Brisbane)

Patrick Mills (Canberra)

Josh Green (Castle Hill)

Joe Ingles (Adelaide)

Matthew Dellavedova (Maryborough)

Nathan Sobey (Warrnambool)

Matisse Thybulle (Sammamish, Washington)

Dante Exum (Melbourne)

Aron Baynes (Mareeba)

Jock Landale (Corio)

Duop Reath (Perth)

Nick Kay (Sydney)

Jenna O’Hea (Traralgon)

Leilani Mitchell (Kennewick, Washington)

Stephanie Talbot (Katherine)

Tess Madgen (Barossa Valley)

Sāra Blicavs (Sunbury)

Rebecca Allen (Wangaratta)

Katie-Rae Ebzery (Waratah)

Alanna Smith (Hobart)

Tessa Lavey (Canberra)

Ezi Magbegor (Canberra)

Marianna Tolo (Mackay)

Cayla George (Mt. Barker)

Diving

Shìxīn Lǐ (Melbourne)

Sam Fricker (Sydney)

Cassiel Rousseau (Ormiston)

Nikita Hains (Adelaide)

Qín Fān (Melbourne)

Belle Smith (Melbourne)

Melissa Wu (Sydney)

Equestrian

Kevin McNab (Godalming, U.K.)

Andrew Hoy (Leicester, U.K.)

Shane Rose (Duffys Forest)

Mary Hanna (Melbourne)

Kelly Layne (Wellington, Florida)

Simone Pearce (Löningen, Germany)

Katie Laurie (Okotoks, Alberta)

Edwina Tops-Alexander (Monte Carlo, Monaco)

Field Hockey

Lachlan Sharp (Lithgow)

Tom Craig (Lane Cove)

Tom Wickham (Morgan)

Matt Dawson (Killarney Vale)

Joshua Beltz (Hobart)

Eddie Ockenden (Moonah)

Jacob Whetton (Perth)

Blake Govers (Wollongong)

Dylan Martin (Sydney)

Joshua Simmonds (Ringwood)

Tim Howard (Brisbane)

Aran Zalewski (Margaret River)

Flynn Ogilvie (Wollongong)

Daniel Beale (Brisbane)

Trent Mitton (Perth)

Tim Brand (Chatswood)

Andrew Charter (Wagga Wagga)

Jeremy Hayward (Darwin)

Ambrosia Malone (Gold Coast)

Brooke Peris (Darwin)

Amy Lawton (Emerald)

Georgia Wilson (Mahogany Creek)

Madison Fitzpatrick (Cabarita Beach)

Greta Hayes (Maroubra)

Edwina Bone (Orange)

Steph Kershaw (Townsville)

Kaitlin Nobbs (Newington)

Jane-Anne Claxton (Adelaide)

Karri Somerville (Melville)

Renee Taylor (Everton Park)

Kate Jenner (Mudgee)

Mariah Williams (Parkes)

Emily Chalker (Crookwell)

Rachael Lynch (Warrandyte)

Grace Stewart (Gerringong)

Sav Fitzpatrick (Cabarita Beach)

Soccer

Tom Glover (Sydney)

Nathaniel Atkinson (Launceston)

Kye Rowles (Kiama)

Jay Rich-Bagheulou (London, U.K.)

Harry Souttar (Luthermuir, U.K.)

Keanu Baccus (Kings Langley)

Reno Piscopo (Melbourne)

Riley McGree (Gawler)

Nicholas D’Agostino (Sydney)

Denis Genreau (Melbourne)

Daniel Arzani (Melbourne)

Mitchell Duke (Liverpool)

Dylan Pierias (Melbourne)

Thomas Deng (Adelaide)

Caleb Watts (London, U.K.)

Joel King (Figtree)

Connor Metcalfe (Newcastle)

Ash Maynard-Brewer (Joondalup)

Marco Tilio (Hurtsville)

Lachlan Wales (Terrigan)

Cameron Devlin (Sydney)

Jordan Holmes (Sydney)

Lydia Williams (Canberra)

Samantha Kerr (East Fremantle)

Kyra Cross-Cooney (Herston)

Clare Polkinghorne (Brisbane)

Aivi Luik (Perth)

Chloe Logarzo (Sydney)

Steph Catley (Melbourne)

Elise Kellond-Knight (Gold Coast)

Caitlin Foord (Shellharbour)

Emily Van Egmond (Newcastle)

Mary Fowler (Cairns)

Ellie Carpenter (Cowra)

Tameka Butt (Orange)

Alanna Kennedy (Rosemeadow)

Emily Gielnik (Melbourne)

Hayley Raso (Brisbane)

Kyah Simon (Blacktown)

Teagan Micah (Redcliffe)

Courtney Nevin (Blacktown)

Charlotte Grant (Adelaide)

Laura Brock (Templestown)

Mackenzie Arnold (Gold Coast)

Golf

Marc Leishman (Virginia Beach, Virginia)

Cameron Smith (Jacksonville, Florida)

Hannah Green (Perth)

Minjee Lee (Perth)

Judo

Nathan Katz (Melbourne)

Katharina Haecker (Hamburg, Germany)

Aoife Coughlan (Melbourne)

Karate

Tsuneari Yahiro (Dulwich Hill)

Rowing

Sam Hardy (Sydney)

Joshua Hicks (Hubiaco)

Caleb Antill (Canberra)

Jack Cleary (Sydney)

Cameron Girdlestone (Sydney)

Luke Letcher (Canberra)

Jack Hargreaves (Nyngan)

Alexander Hill (Loxton)

Alexander Purnell (St. Leonards)

Spencer Turrin (Dungog)

Josh Booth (Melbourne)

Angus Dawson (Dingabledinga)

Simon Keenan (Melbourne)

Nicholas Lavery (Melbourne)

Timothy Masters (Melbourne)

Joseph O’Brien (Dubbo)

Nicholas Purnell (St. Leonards)

Stuart Sim (Melbourne)

Angus Widdicombe (Geelong)

James Rook (Melbourne)

Annabelle McIntyre (Hamilton Hill)

Jessica Morrison (Melbourne)

Amanda Bateman (Melbourne)

Tara Rigney (Sydney)

Caitlin Cronin (Brisbane)

Harriet Hudson (Warwick)

Rowena Meredith (Sydney)

Ria Thompson (Melbourne)

Rosemary Popa (Melbourne)

Lucy Stephan (Nhill)

Olympia Aldersey (Stonyfell)

Bronwyn Cox (Sydney)

Molly Goodman (Adelaide)

Sarah Hawe (Penrith)

Genevieve Horton (Pymble)

Giorgia Patten (Perth)

Georgina Rowe (Sydney)

Katrina Werry (Melbourne)

Rugby

Henry Hutchison (Crows Nest)

Samu Kerevi (Brisbane)

Nathan Lawson (Sydney)

Dietrich Roache (Fairfield)

Lachie Miller (Sydney)

Joe Pincus (Sydney)

Josh Turner (Sydney)

Dylan Pietsch (Sydney)

Josh Coward (Ballarat)

Nick Malouf (Brisbane)

Maurice Longbottom (La Perouse)

Lachie Anderson (Kellyville)

Lewis Holland (Queanbeyan)

Lauren Brown (Gold Coast)

Rhiannon Byers (Pallamallawa)

Cassie Staples (Canberra)

Maddie Ashby (Sydney)

Charlotte Caslick (Brisbane)

Ellia Green (Melbourne)

Yasmin Meakes (Newcastle)

Sariah Paki (Parramatta)

Shannon Parry (Brisbane)

Evania Pelite (Brisbane)

Alicia Lucas (Wagga Wagga)

Emma Tonegato (Wollongong)

Sharni Williams (Batlow)

Lily Dick (Tugun)

Skateboarding

Keegan Palmer (Gold Coast)

Kieran Woolley (Kiama)

Shane O’Neill (Melbourne)

Poppy Olsen (Newcastle)

Hayley Wilson (Mansfield)

Softball

Tarni Stepto (Sydney)

Leah Parry (Perth)

Ellen Roberts (Westleigh)

Kaia Parnaby (Sydney)

Gabbie Plain (Sydney)

Belinda White (Adelaide)

Chelsea Forkin (Perth)

Taylah Tsitsikronis (Perth)

Clare Warwick (Hamilton)

Stacey McManus (Sydney)

Stacey Porter (Glenwood)

Rachel Lack (Sydney)

Jade Wall (Deagon)

Leigh Godfrey (Winthrop)

Michelle Cox (Belrose)

Tennis

James Duckworth (Sydney)

John Millman (Brisbane)

Max Purcell (Sydney)

Luke Saville (Cobdogla)

John Peers (Melbourne)

Ashleigh Barty (Ipswich)

Samantha Stosur (Gold Coast)

Ajla Tomljanović (Boca Raton, Florida)

Storm Sanders (Rockhampton)

Ellen Perez (Melbourne)

Triathlon

Jake Birthwhistle (Girona, Spain)

Matthew Hauser (Maryborough)

Aaron Royle (Waratah)

Ashleigh Gentle (Gold Coast)

Jaz Hedgeland (Perth)

Emma Jeffcoat (Collaroy)

Volleyball

Chris McHugh (Pambula)

Damien Schumann (Melbourne)

Mariafe Del Solar (Sydney)

Taliqua Clancy (Kingaroy)

Water Polo

Anthony Hrysanthos (Sydney)

Richie Campbell (Newcastle)

George Ford (Subiaco)

Goran Tomasevic (Sydney)

Nathan Power (Newcastle)

Lachlan Edwards (Melbourne)

A.J. Roach (Darlinghurst)

Aaron Younger (Attadale)

Andrew Ford (Perth)

Timothy Putt (Perth)

Rhys Howden (Brisbane)

Blake Edwards (Melbourne)

Joel Dennerley (Auburn)

Lea Yanitsas (Paddington)

Abby Andrews (Indooroopilly)

Keesja Gofers (Sydney)

Hannah Buckling (Sydney)

Bronte Hallingan (Sydney)

Elle Armit (Townsville)

Bronwen Knox (Brisbane)

Rowie Webster (Melbourne)

Amy Ridge (Sydney)

Zoe Arancini (Perth)

Lena Mihailović (Kirrawee)

Matilda Kearns (Sydney)

Gabi Palm (Brisbane)

[avidfangirl92]

New Teen Titans/ Arsenal's Titans Dylan O'Brien as Beast Boy, Elizabeth Gillies as Raven, Sinqua Walls as Cyborg, Esha Gupta as Starfire, Maddie Hasson, Drew Roy as Robin, Callan McAuliffe as Impulse, Matthew Daddario as Green Lantern (Kyle Rayner), Melissa Benoist as Supergirl, Emily Kaiho as Ravager

[cutshawsnidowoa]

4 Cat Books to Read While You’re Stuck at Home

The post 4 Cat Books to Read While You’re Stuck at Home by Annie Butler Shirreffs appeared first on Catster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren't considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Catster.com.

Raise your hand if you’re spending a lot of time reading at home these days. Us too. Here are some books for cat lovers to read while self-isolating. We hope you enjoy.

Cats Rock: Felines in Contemporary Art and Pop Culture The cat has beguiled artists for generations with her beauty, mystery, grace and, let’s face it, her cattitude. Today, the cat has taken over the internet and popular culture. This gorgeous collection edited by Elizabeth Daley features contemporary art by artists obsessed with felines. The art in this book runs the gamut from simple and sophisticated to downright creepy. There’s truly something for everyone.

Here are just a few of my favorites: Mark Ryden, whose blend of pop culture and surrealism creates beautiful (and somewhat unsettling) work; photographer Hugo Martinez and his quirky photo series that centers around his beloved cat Princess Cheeto; Yuko Higuchi, whose fantastical and bizarre illustrations of cats and other creatures have gained her a cult following; and Claire Belton, the creator of Pusheen the Cat, the sweet and plump kitty who loves adventures. And just a note — some of the work is a bit risqué and might not be appropriate for kids. Published by Cernunnos.

Tell Tail Heart Cat café owner Maddie James finds her business at risk of becoming a crime scene in this latest installment of the Cat Café Mystery series by Cate Conte. All Maddie wants is some downtime during Daybreak Island’s off-season, so she can tackle her to-do list: Her grandfather’s house-turned-cat-café is under construction, she’s looking for places to open a new juice bar, and her relationship with dog groomer Lucas has taken a good turn. But on the same day that a big-name writer, who’s on the island working on a new project, ends up floating in the canal, an eccentric woman shows up at the café claiming that Maddie’s cat, J.J., is hers. As the investigation into the dead writer heats up, Maddie realizes that even neighbors she’s known her entire life might be keeping dangerous secrets — and there’s a killer on the prowl. Published by St. Martin’s Press.

Read and Buried In the latest installment of Eva Gates’ Lighthouse Library mystery series, the Bodie Island Lighthouse Library Classic Novel Book Club is reading Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth. As coincidence would have it, workers are digging into the earth to repair the Lighthouse Library’s foundations. But the digging is halted when librarian Lucy Richardson unearths a battered, tin box containing a Civil War-era diary, along with a hand-drawn map of the Outer Banks and a page written in an indecipherable code. Later that night, Lucy finds the body of historical society member Jeremy Hughes inside the library, and the map and coded page are nowhere to be found. After finding out that a fellow librarian had a past with Jeremy, Lucy reluctantly becomes involved in the case. And when a second break-in occurs, it becomes clear that someone is determined to crack the code. Published by Crooked Lane Books.

Hats Are Not For Cats When a big, bossy dog declares that “Hats are not for cats,” the feline star of this cute children’s book by Jacqueline K. Rayner is determined to prove him wrong. This fun, new twist on an age-old rivalry features playful watercolor illustrations and a story told entirely in speech bubbles. It will take one determined cat and a lot of hats to bring this standoff to a peaceful (and satisfying) conclusion. Published by Clarion Books.

The post 4 Cat Books to Read While You’re Stuck at Home by Annie Butler Shirreffs appeared first on Catster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren't considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Catster.com.

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13x07 ~ Cravings: Part I

Summary: The boys stumble upon a case involving victims being found chained to autopsy tables. Maddie, having already begun to process the severity of the case, slips up and tries to get herself out of the case. Meanwhile, Sam starts to feel things about Maddie he hasn’t had the chance to think about it. but when the hallucinations of Toni grow unbearable, he makes a choice he’ll regret a while.

Character(s): Sam & Dean Winchester, Maddie Rayner, mystery character

Word Count: 11,935 i’m sorry

Warning(s): explicit language, beginning of smut but dean ruins it, mentions of torture, really good description of hospitals?, gore

Masterlist

She stood in the bathroom a ways from the living area of the motel room, twisting her damp hair into a braid to keep it up and out of the way. Her eyes stared at her reflection in the mirror, trailing along her jawline and nose. She tried to come up with a reason why so many people fell head over heels in love with her; she couldn’t see why.

The bathroom door moved. Maddie jumped slightly, her hands freezing in her hair that was almost finished. She tied the remainder with a hair tie and tossed it over her shoulder.

Swathed in a blanket of warmth from her shower, the bathroom was filled with cold air when she opened the door. She regretted having the air snake up her bare skin, brushing its fingers along her freshly shaven legs.

She grabbed her bracelet from the toilet, slipping it onto her wrist. Having a weapon close was always peaceful to her for protective reasons. She decided to get dressed first before investigating the noise. She emerged in an olive green tank top tied at the stomach. Ripped jeans exposed her knees and parts of her thighs, and simple boots adorned her feet.

Her strides were almost silent on the hardwood floors. She was careful about where she placed her foot after each step. She was pleased she had adopted the habit of walking everywhere to find out what parts of the floor creaked the most. She had a mental map of where those areas were, and it was in the loudest zone did the floor creak behind her.

Before she could turn, however, a fist slammed into her jaw. She almost felt the bone crack if knuckles hadn’t struck her face immediately after. Her head whipped back rather painfully, but she wasn’t prepared to feel hard floor crush her spine. Pain exploded in her back and rattled her wings, which begged to be released. A groan left her parted lips.

She would’ve laid there for a second more, chest heaving, but she rolled out of the way when her attacker’s boot went gravitating towards her head. She managed to get in a crouch, her bracelet transforming into its staff. She twirled the weapon around to grip it in a fist.

Her attacker straightened to his full height, and he was towering at that. Hazel eyes filled with anger—and lust?—stared down at her. The man’s chest heaved and a sheet of sweat shone on his brow, which was contrasted with dark hair. He’s human, that’s good, she thought.

“Who are you?” she breathed, straightening her legs slightly to get a better vantage point. She brought her arm out and rested the staff’s point to the man’s throat.

He didn’t answer. His arm swung around the staff and tilted it up, which slammed the end of the scepter into the air and missed her face by millimeters. Her head tipped back slightly in anger. She was slightly shocked that this man would try and do something as stupid as that, but she could tell he had other plans in mind for her.

Her staff was ripped from her hand. She snarled with rage when it was snapped in half by the man’s knee. He tossed the weapon aside and grinned, eyes sparkling. “Now it’s a fair game,” he commented with a rather attractive English accent.

The cross tattoos on his hands made flashbacks remind her of the three weeks trapped with Toni Bevell, a Woman of Letters all the way from Britain. She looked up at the man, realizing that Arthur Ketch himself had managed to track her down again.

She was too busy staring at him to realize how hard of a punch he threw to her cheek. Her feet slipped right from beneath her, and her face slammed against the floor. Her nose was bleeding profusely now, with waterfalls of blood dripping down her face. She struggled to get her hands beneath her to get herself to her feet.

Something sweet was shoved against her mouth and nose, causing her to automatically close her eyes for a reason unbeknownst to her. Her mind went into overdrive when she recognized the drug doused on the rag, feet kicking and fists swinging to try and get Arthur’s hand off her face. He picked her up by the hair, adding to the pain throbbing in her body.

Maddie’s eyes opened to see the door opening. Sam had left earlier to grab some dinner for the two of them, a sort of “gift” after having eight hours’ worth of sex.

She looked at Arthur sidelong and felt him look ahead of him. His arm straightened, revealing her gun in his hand aimed right at Sam’s head.

“Mads, I’m ba—”

His words were cut off when a bullet slammed right between his eyes. The bags he was carrying dropped from his arm as his body fell to the floor.

She screamed as loud as she could, sending her heel into the bastard’s bits. He dropped her with a curse, with Maddie breathing in air as the chloroform was released from her nose. She was on the verge of passing out; the room spun, swayed, and blurred beneath her. She stared at Sam’s slumped body.

The room switched from floor to ceiling. Arthur hovered above her and planted the gun to her forehead, a brooding expression blanketing his face. “Asmodeus said you could fight, but this is what you bring to the table?”

The gun twirled around his finger, the butt of the weapon staring down at her. She looked at Arthur with swimming vision. Her head hurt and felt light as air. It was hard as hell to concentrate on one thing, especially when her mind was trying to focus on Sam regardless of her current state.

She tried saying his name when Arthur whammed the gun’s butt on her forehead. The ceiling flashed to darkness.

It took the owner of the home a moment to answer the door. Sam glanced at his brother, who was fussing with his tie and an irritable expression pulling his features. Casting a glare at him, Sam faced the door when it opened. A pretty young woman with fair hair, skin, and flecks of brown in her blue eyes smiled brightly at the two Hunters, a septum piercing catching Sam off guard. She leaned against the doorframe and looked at the badges they flashed her.

A puzzled look made her smile fade. “Let me guess. FBI?” she asked.

Sam and Dean shared a confused look. “There a problem?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion. He glanced at his brother, who shrugged his shoulders as a response.

The woman jabbed a thumb back behind her. “There’s already an agent here. Her name’s, uh, Alice Cooper? She’s investigating my husband’s death . . .” Her voice trailed off as tears clouded her eyes. Sam’s heart broke for the woman.

He took a chance and leaned in to see who was already there. He caught the sleeve of a black sweater, but the woman obstructed most of his view. He swallowed lightly and took a glance in the driveway. A Grand Caravan was parked furthest from the Impala, but no other car was in sight. Who’s here? he thought.

Regardless of company, the woman invited the two brothers inside. Sam took note of the narrow hallway leading to the kitchen and another room behind the staircase, but his eyes stopped wandering when they were met with ashen ones.

Maddie sat on a plush sofa, clad in a tight-fitting sweater, a navy green pencil skirt and black stiletto heels. Black eyeshadow contrasted her face with a swipe of eyeliner and maroon lipstick. Her hair was swept over one eye, its thick appearance billowing with mock shortness.

She looked absolutely stunning.

“Could we have a minute to discuss things? There seems to be a mishap back at headquarters,” Dean blurted sweetly, flashing the attractive woman a wink and waiting for her to go upstairs before immediately taking his gun out and aiming it at Maddie’s head. His tone dropped to pure anger. “Why the hell are you here?”

Maddie simply chuckled and flashed a sour smile. “Nice to know Dean’s always playing bad cop. Can’t complain, really, you have the alcoholism and daddy issues to prove it,” she stated with a sassed eyebrow arch and crossed arms.

Dean gave her an expressionless stare. He looked emotionally drained, really. Sam cleared his throat and nodded his head towards the ceiling. He wasn’t sure that his brother would shoot Mads point blank in the head, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself.” Dean adjusted his grip on his gun.

Mads stood from the sofa and put a hand on her hip. Her hair shone against the sunlight beaming through the bay window. She chuckled again, glancing at Sam with a slightly humorous expression. It faded instantly when Dean tightened his grip on his gun and took a step closer to her.

“Easy, Dean, you don’t wanna know what happens if you pull that trigger.” Her eyes rolled upward to the ceiling and narrowed back at Sam’s brother. “There’s a grieving woman upstairs. You think it’s a good idea to shoot someone in her house? Can it and kill me later.” Her voice was filled with venom and authority. Her head moved closer to him, lips curling as she added, “I’ll enjoy tearing your head off.”

Sam let out a disappointed and worrisome sigh. He meant to keep it in, but his jaw clenched when Maddie winked at him. Instead of rolling his eyes like he usually would, he looked away from her. It was best to not let her know the far-too-obvious redness creeping up his neck was going to end up with clothes being shed.

Clearing his throat, he took charge. “Alright, Mads, why don’t you take the morgue and Dean and I can handle the vic. We can meet at whatever motel you’re staying at and talk after.”

Her face paled. She licked her lips subtly, her eyes looking around the room. She looked scared out of her wits. He brushed a finger on her elbow to get her attention back on him. He simply stared at her instead of saying any words.

She finally looked back at him. “Y’know what, why-why don’t I head back to the motel, see what we’re dealing with, do some more r-research . . . sounds good.” She turned to leave, but Sam followed her. He glanced behind his shoulder to make sure Dean wasn’t on his heels, and thankfully he wasn’t. Maddie and Dean were a deadly combination.

A cloudy sky welcomed them. Maddie’s hair whipped around her shoulders as she walked, black streaks blending in with the brown that brightened up when patches of sun slipped through the clouds. He looked at her backside for a fraction of a second; he felt disgusted with himself.

He noticed how her jacket was the one piece of clothing (that he’s seen so far) without two slashes in the back for her wings.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. She immediately reacted by rolling her arm beneath his and arming herself with her staff, the tip resting directly on his throat. Fear and anger blanketed her face. He couldn’t see any of the humor that was in her eyes only minutes ago.

Sam put his hands up to give her the sense of authority. He looked at his friend, whose chest was heaving and tears streaming down her cheeks, with sorrow. Whatever hell she went through before he met her was unbeknownst to him, but he didn’t let it faze his emotions. He kept his own tears at bay by forcing himself to look at her. His jaw clenched, though.

There was a moment of silence, save for the near-silent sobs from Maddie. The two Hunters remained like that, one with their hands raised and an emotionless expression and the other armed with a fierce and deadly weapon, until she finally put the staff down and slammed it into the concrete.

Putting his hands down, he took a small step towards her. She took a step away and covered her face with her hands. His heart broke for her, similar to the way he felt when she was with Dean all those months ago. She was scared, of course, and he felt sorry for making her feel that way.

The words he wanted to speak were sitting patiently on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say them. He feared he’d spark the boiling rage she kept under lock and key.

He merely stared at her for a moment before the staff transformed back into its bracelet form, the metal snaking up her fingers and shrinking as it got closer to its destination. He watched it finally lock into place before taking another step. Maddie didn’t move.

“Maddie,” he began calmly, only to finish his steps and wrapping his arms around her. He felt superior in this position, he found, considering her minute stature to his gargantuan size.

She shook in his arms. An overwhelming feeling of something washed over him. He didn’t know the right word to describe it, but all he knew was that he didn’t want to let her go, ever. He tightened his hold on her, burying his mouth in her hair. Coconut and sage made its way to his nose; he grew to adore that smell.

He felt her arms slowly wrap around him, too. He jumped at the contact, waiting for the hands to pale and grow veiny. He waited for the dark hair lighten to a blonde color. He was waiting for everything to fade and melt into the farmhouse in Missouri.

Nothing happened.

After moments of more silence, Sam pulled her away from him softly. His hands remained touching her, however. A warm sense of homeiness made him let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He looked down at her, his own tears clouding his vision.

Sam wanted to kiss her. He begged his hands to just grab her face and smash his lips against hers. He wanted to just hold her and tell her it was okay, that nothing would hurt her as long as he was around. He wanted to protect her, even if it was against all odds and he would end up being killed for it.

He wanted her to feel like she could be herself without having to end things with a knife to someone’s throat.

The front door opened when he leaned in. He flicked his eyes up at Dean, who had a confused look on his face. Sam pulled himself away from Maddie. A blush crossed his face as he cleared his throat; it was for the best. The last thing she needs is a distraction.

Dean opened his mouth to mutter something, but the glare Sam sent made his brother snap his lips closed. Instead, he stabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Alright, turns out Ms. Giammusso, or-or whatever the crap her name is, was sleeping with someone else, a . . . Tony Venne. Vanessa says he doesn’t live too far, I figured we would go over there.”

Maddie cleared her throat and managed to find words. “S-Sam and I were planning on going to the, uh . . . to the m-morgue,” she stammered. Her eyes were scattered everywhere but his face. He could’ve sworn he saw a blush on her face, too.

His brother looked at him funny. Sam ignored it, of course, since all Dean seemed to do was look at him with a rather brooding expression. He finally shook his head and muttered, “Need a ride?”

Sam mumbled, “Yes,” and proceeded to slump to the car. He ducked into the passenger seat before Dean could say anything about Maddie riding along. He found her sitting behind Dean, which concerned him. Her face was free of any remains of tears.

The second Dean got into the front, Maddie summoned her staff and placed the handle over his throat. A simple jerk back would certainly crush his windpipe.

Her head leaned to the side as she began speaking. “Point a gun at me again, Winchester, I’ll make sure your brother never finds your body. Is that clear?” Her voice was a horrifying snarl, with truth and venom emblazoned into each word as it crossed her lips. Sam could only stare at her with widened eyes.

He watched with a slight sigh of relief when his brother nodded and the weapon was withdrawn. Dean inhaled a view gulps of air and a glower Sam’s way. He squared up in his seat and started the car, adding with slight sarcasm, “Oh, what a wonderful life it is.”

Dean had dropped her and Sam off an hour ago. Sam went right into the lobby, checking himself in as Agent Cooper and Laurens for an autopsy report. He must’ve thought she was next to him by the confused look he gave her through the double doors when he turned.

She looked at him with a nervous swallow and a shift on her feet. She still couldn’t get over how unbelievably hot he looked in his Fed suit, however she could tell he was thinking the same thing about her as he eyed her up and down as he rushed back outside. His hands were spread out in an excessive way, in her opinion.

“What are you doing? Let’s go.”

Maddie looked around again and tried to come up with an excuse to not wanting to go in. She blamed her fast metabolism and her fake hunger, but she, inevitably, failed miserably from the bitch-face Sam flashed at her. He grabbed her hand—sending shockwaves of electricity to ricochet up and down her spine—and dragged her into the morgue.

The second she took a whiff her breath hitched in her throat. Her chest seemed to stop working completely; her lungs seemed to reject oxygen and her heart started beating faster and faster. Her hand squeezed Sam’s as hard as it could. Sam pulled his hand and let it hang by his side. Tell him, her mind spat, tell him so he won’t drag you here ever again.

Sam led her toward a back office. Dark hardwood floors made her feel like the room was spinning. She caught a few passers-by in the eye, some flashing smiles or glancing at her body. The outfit she still wore made her regret choosing this shirt.

A door slid open with a soft whir. The smells were immensely strong now, enough to make nausea rise from her throat the second the door closed. She covered her mouth and darted for the trash can by the desk. She squatted and heaved her stomach contents into the bin; Sam ignored her moans.

She heard his footsteps on the tile as he began looking for the right body. She couldn’t recall the name of the victim now; she was too busy on either keeping her head in the trash can or booking it then and there, leaving Sam here to fend for himself.

You just had to come along, didn’t you, Maddie? Her brain was already pissed off at itself. She kept puking long after her stomach felt empty and only acid came. The smell didn’t really bother her. It took her mind away from the reeking smells of the medical supplies. Her fingers were turning white by the time the door slid open and someone walked in.

“Can I help you with anything?” His voice brought back memories of dark rooms and sharp objects carving into flesh.

Her heaving froze in her throat. Her eyes opened (she was unaware they were closed) and stared at her vomit. Her back tensed, her knuckles turning more white than they already were. Her stomach leaped to her throat. She felt like puking all over again despite that she was empty on stomach content.

Tears sprang to her eyes the second the man spoke. Sam, oblivious to the voice’s owner, turned on his heel and seemed to smile at the offer. “Do you know where Kevin Giammusso’s body is?”

Don’t talk to him. Don’t talk to him, don’t talk to him. Don’t you fucking talk to him!

The man’s footsteps slid across the tile. “Giammusso? He’s in chamber . . . six. Let me help you,” the man replied with a smile in his voice as well. Maddie shuddered as the politeness of this bastard seemed to reel Sam in right away.

That’s what he does. He acts nice to hide the sadistic psychopath underneath.

A body chamber opened. The door slammed against the others, making her jump and squeeze her eyes shut. Black and white stills of the same thing happening to her flashed across her eyelids; the darkness that she always knew was taken away, replaced by bright light and coldness on her back. A brief release of that coldness as she was picked up. A return of that coldness that she hated so much but couldn’t make it stop.

A corpse was laid on the autopsy table with a thud. A violent throb in the back of her head made her almost scream. She couldn’t count how many times her skull cracked by the force that slammed her on an autopsy table much like this one.

She expected to hear metal clamps strapping down the corpse. She expected to hear a calming voice that would convince others the man doing this was a good man, a harmless scientist doing his job. Her mind waited for hands to grab her by the hair, one possibly covering her mouth so she couldn’t scream as they dragged her towards the table. Her mind waited to hear a gunshot or the plunge of a knife into Sam’s heart.

Nothing happened.

Stifling a sob, she kept her head in the trash can. She felt eyes on her back. Of course, her Fed suit didn’t contain any slashes for her wings. The kinds of questions they would’ve arisen were incomprehensible.

A hand rested on her back, followed by a calming voice. “Are you alright?”

Maddie wanted to grab a gun and shoot herself in the head if it meant she wouldn’t be in this situation right now. She squeezed her eyes tighter, a few tears slipping into the trash can. She felt herself shaking. She wanted to grab a knife and stab this bastard in the neck for a slow death.

Her throat closed when she tried to speak. Words never came from her opened mouth, nor did anything from Sam to help her get out of this. She begged him to say something, ask a question, or just simply dismiss this man from the room. Sam was a fake FBI agent. He had the fake authority to overpower people of any profession.

After sitting there, head in a trash can and a bastard’s hand on her back, she finally managed to speak. “I-I’m . . . f-f-fine.” Her voice was broken and shattered with fear. The man didn’t notice as he rubbed a sweet spot on her back—right between her wings, a place that was his favorite to touch whenever she was “a good girl”—and stood.

He left. The door slid shut as she watched the man leave. She looked at the door for the first time since they entered; she couldn’t see the coroner anymore. A sigh of relief was followed by more heaving.

Sam came over and sat on the floor with her. His hand reached out to touch her back, but she swatted him away and scooted towards the wall with the trash can in her lap.

“Mads, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. A-are you okay?”

She began rocking back and forth as she put her head inside the trash can again. Her head shook profusely. She was too shaken to say anything.

How is this bastard alive? The news headline proclaiming his death was broadcasted nationwide eighteen years ago. It was the year she was finally free. It was the year she no longer had to be paranoid of what happened behind the closed doors of the CDC.

The man that just stood in this morgue was executed by lethal injection on July 21, 2000.

Moving closer to her, Sam leaned against the glass desk behind him. A computer was one of the main things on the tabletop, aside from notebooks and files on various bodies.

Her mind immediately went toward her file released by the FBI in 2006. It detailed her criminal record, a rap sheet possibly longer than Sam and Dean’s combined. She couldn’t remember all the juicy details that would catch the coroner’s attention, but she couldn’t be too cautious. Who knows how long this bastard has been back from the dead?

Perhaps Heaven had something to do with this . . .

Of course Heaven had the nerve to bring this bastard back to life. She knew they would pull something like this eventually, but she hadn’t necessarily thought it all through. She prayed she would be dead by the time Heaven did something like this.

Sammy’s head leaned towards her. His brow was upturned the slightest in concern, those little arched wrinkles making a dash of her anxiety flicker away. He stared at her, she knew, and she finally lifted her gaze back to him. She searched his face for any sign of familiarity, even if she hadn’t necessarily disclosed why she was in this state. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and returned the trash bin to its place beneath the desk.

“We-we, uh . . . we have to go,” she announced. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

A confused look crossed Sam’s face. He looked up at her when she stood. Busying herself with her hands by running them through her hair, it was the only thing Maddie could do besides wanting to blow this place up with as many bombs as she could.

The Hunter stood shortly after she began making her way towards the door. Without a second glance at the body atop the autopsy table, she held her breath as she was stepping out of the wretched morgue office.

Sam turned and rolled the doctor’s stool closer to her so he could sit. He looked up at her; it was the only time she could feel taller than him.

His words were filled with worry. “What? Maddie, what’s wrong?”

She fought tears. She tried her damnedest to keep them at bay, but she couldn’t hold it in for much longer. A toxic swirl of emotions ran through her: anger, fear, sadness, and most of all, shock. This coroner, who was supposed to be dead and rotting in Hell for eternity, was alive and kicking. Nothing was different about him at all; he was the same monster that he was before the execution.

“Maddie, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” Sam said, his words soft and somewhat quiet.

She didn’t care about that. She wanted to leave this place and leaving it in shambles. She wanted to blow this whole town up if it meant that the coroner would be dead. She didn’t care if there were innocent casualties.

She looked at the door. She tore her jacket off and let her wings free themselves from her back. It was true that this outfit was the only one without slashes in the back; she kept an “emergency” shirt beneath every piece of attire she wore.

Feathers floated towards the floor. She looked down and scooped them up, cramming them into her pocket. Molting season was close.

Her head leaned down, eyes cast to the floor as she tucked in her wings. It was a brief period of freedom for them, but she knew it would be best to keep them in as long as the coroner was aware. Hell would break loose if he found out she still had them.

She couldn’t meet his pleading eyes no matter how hard she tried. She didn’t have the heart to tell him what happened to her thirty-three years ago. She didn’t even know how to begin to explain it to him. It was too complicated, too emotional, too difficult to talk about without breaking down and becoming as vulnerable as vulnerable gets.

Maddie looked at him through the open door. He, too, looked scared. It was rare when she saw him like this. He was scared for her, yes, but she wanted to scream at him about his own problems. She wanted to yell at him for worrying about her constantly when all she did was get tortured by his brother. He had the option to not give a shit about her. He had the right option to ignore her.

So why did he take a liking to her?

She shook her head and started walking towards the main entrance. The smells were making tears slip from her eyes. Each inhale from her tight chest felt like an effort too great to be considered normal. She felt Sam stalking after her at a pace similar to a predator; slow and painstakingly cautious.

“Maddie,” he began, but his mouth shut when she ripped open the glass door. She took a deep breath of clean, purified air and stalked towards the section of trees across the parking lot. Sam stormed after her, his steps quicker than her despite his stature. He called her name, but she ignored him. Nothing was more adamant than getting the fuck out of this place.

She whirled around once she was hidden by the trees. She rolled her shoulders, wings expanding and arching to their height of seventeen feet. She saw his eyes trail towards her wings, a movement that he always did whenever she had them out. She didn’t mind. It was kind of hot, for an odd reason unbeknownst to her.

She shook her head when he inhaled to talk. “Sam, I . . . I can’t be here. That man can’t be here.”

A confused look pulled at Sam’s features. Maddie could tell he was debating on loving her or leaving her. Surely he thought she was crazy. Freaking out in a morgue on a case, especially when she was heaving her Wheaties in a fucking trash can. “What are you talking about?”

She stabbed a finger at the morgue. “We can’t be here. If he founds out that I’m a Hunter, we’re fucked.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. A hand lifted to his hip as he sighed in annoyance. “What the hell is wrong with you? You almost blew our cover, Maddie! I think you should go back to the motel.”

Scoffing, she set her tongue between her teeth. She glanced at him and flapped her wings, her hands reaching out and slamming him against the back of a tree trunk. If it weren’t for the flap backward that slowed her down, his spine would’ve broken easily. Her hand reached up and clenched his jaw.

“Don’t turn this on me. Don’t you dare say this is my fault. You dragged me here in the first place. I didn’t even wanna come to this fucking morgue!” She watched his face go through various expressions: pain, fear, anger . . . she saw it all. She could tell he was scared. He had the right to be scared; she scared pretty much everyone when she was mad.

Maddie let her hand fall to her side as she turned. It was hard to walk in grass when wearing heels, but she managed to make it a good distance before turning her head to look back at Sam. His chest heaved as he stared back at her, his Fed suit making her regret trying to intimidate him. She rolled her eyes and said, “I’m gonna do research . . . see if we can get a lead.”

Before she could take off, Sam called out to her. A part of her wanted to turn and run back to him, to embrace him like they did in Ms. Giammusso’s driveway. She longed for that contact again, that safety that washed over her when she breathed him in. Her entire body was hellbent on returning to him in tears. An apology lingered on her tongue, but she shoved it down.

“Be safe,” he muttered, “Dean might still have you on his mind.”

She muttered a soft thank you. She still felt Sam’s eyes on her as she flapped her wings, her body launching into the air. Cold air splashed across her face as she gained altitude. She glanced down at Sam, who was a little dot on the ground, and rolled her eyes when a blush warmed her cheeks.

She managed to land somewhat close to the motel she was staying at, flying in jet streams that shortened her trip to ten minutes. It was a cozy little building, standing at a single-story with pretty landscaping and scenery. A sign exclaiming an outdoor pool in the back had caught her attention. It’s been awhile since she been in a pool, yet alone a bikini.

Her hand fished in her pocket for her key. She looked up at her door and jammed the key into the lock, shoving open her door with a grunt. “Holy hell, why do I even bother with these damn rooms?” she muttered.

She tossed the key on the end table by the door. The couch looked tempting to lay on, but the case was all that was on her mind.

She had to disappear. She had to force herself to go off the map, out of sight until this case was over with. The coroner had to have her in his sights by now, asking whatever being that brought him back to life to end it now. To end this game of cat and mouse and finally bring what he created back to him once and for all.

A shudder ran through her.

“Cool it, Maddie. You’re . . . you’re fine. Everything’s gonna be fine,” she muttered to herself. She felt a tiny bit better, but the cloud of dread and fear still hung above her as she shed her clothes and got into the shower.

As the hot water cascaded down her body and wings, she braced a hand on the tile wall. Her heart was racing, her chest hurt from breathing so hard, and she couldn’t help but let tears slip down her face. Who could blame her? That bastard coroner, a person who wasn’t even medically licensed to be a coroner, was topside and having the time of his godforsaken life.

You have to kill him, her mind said. Her eyes snapped open when the words floated around in her head. Of course she had to kill him, it was the only way to make sure he wouldn’t come back.

It was the fear of gathering the courage to even step back into the morgue that made her legs nearly give out.

She considered finding an angel and demanding how the coroner was alive. It was a plausible plan, yes, and it would work out nicely; an angel would die and so did the bastard that she swore she’d forget. Her mind went elsewhere. She debated on going to an angel or even summoning a Hellhound.

Hellhound sounded much better. She could control if it tore the coroner to shreds, and she could also manage to see exactly what to do with him. She could knock him out with a single punch and tie him to a tree or something. She’d torture him as well, long and slow. She found her hands longing for blood to pour over the skin and dye it a deep crimson.

She smiled at the thought of the coroner bleeding out as he should have been seventeen years ago.

She turned the water off. She stood in the shower for a moment, looking at the droplets of water drip from the tip of her nose or hang in her lashes. Her knuckles turned white as she increased the pressure on her hand on the wall. A small stab of pain ignited beneath the skin, but she didn’t care.

Stepping out, she grabbed a pair of clothes from the duffle bag on the toilet. She slipped into the jeans, cursing slightly when they got stuck on her hips. It took a second to finally get them on, while the low-cut halter shirt looked rather dashing on her if she were judging. She pulled on a dark flannel as she gathered her old clothes reeking from the morgue.

The bathroom was blown with coldness when she opened the door. She tossed her Fed outfit on the bed left unkempt from the previous night’s tossing and turning. The case had kept her up all night, which ended up with an eight-hour phone conversation with Sam.

She smiled when she thought of him. Her tongue came to rest between her teeth, and when she turned, she almost screamed.

Sam shoved his hand over her mouth. He slipped behind her with ease, his head lowering to reach her ears. “It’s okay, it’s just me,” he whispered. Calmness was in his words, but she noticed a stab of pain.

Her hand pried his from her lips. Shifting her gaze from his, she turned and jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t do that,” she spat with a scoff. She ran a hand through her hair before shoving her old clothes into her duffle. Wasting the time of shoving them in dressers worn to dust was something only a fool would do.

“Sorry.”

Maddie loosed a sigh. She straightened, her wings expanding from her back as she stretched her arms out. Tiredness racked her system, but she shoved it aside. Cases come first, and this one was going to be a long one.

She felt eyes on her wings. She was used to it by now, but it still caught her off guard every now and then. She felt uneasy this time; she felt like a piece of prey being observed for dinner. She turned regardless. She could take Sam down in seconds. Of course, he had to have had his fair share of fights with women stronger than him, but she wasn’t anything he’d gone up against before. There was no woman, human or not, like her on this planet.

Taking him out would be easy. Letting go would be harder.

Instead of suffering in the silence that pursued, she sparked up the conversation. “Did you go back to the morgue or did you ask Dean to pick you up?”

A sigh left the Hunter. “I, uh, went back in to question the coroner, but he must’ve left after you stormed out. How’re you doing, by the way? You looked terrified of him.” She felt his caring stare on her.

Fuck his selfless conscious. Anger boiled within her, a dose of adrenaline that rushed into her veins. She wanted to slap his face and tell him to shut his mouth before she really gets mad. She wanted to tell him everything about this damned coroner, about this damned bastard that deserved to rot in the deepest part of the Pit for eternity.

But she couldn’t find the words. Words that she didn’t think she’d have to explain to anyone had crossed her mind before she met the Winchesters, before Heaven had gotten involved in this shit-show that was her life. She didn’t want to explain anything, really. She felt reality would strangle it out of her if she kept her mouth shut.

“I’m . . . I’m okay. I told you I’m not the biggest fan of hospitals, and I guess the coroner . . . I don’t know. Can we just leave it? I don’t like talking about it.” She avoided his eyes as she crossed the room to grab her gun from the bathroom counter.

He must’ve followed her, for when she pivoted on her foot, he was right in front of her. She ran into his chest. One hand lifted and landed on his chest. She expected it to sink into slightly pudgy skin, but holy shit was she wrong; solid muscle bound in years of hunting made her fingers grip his shirt slightly. It was too little of a movement to render a response from him.

She looked up at him with a stiff expression, her body fighting to hide the blush creeping to her face.

She prepared to push him away and storm toward the duffle bag on the couch. She prepared to leave the warmth that he radiated, the sense of protection and hominess that followed him around like a dog. She prepared to do something she never thought she’d do with him.

She wasn’t prepared for his hands to grab her face and his lips to mold onto hers.

Her eyes widened a bit. The gun fell to the floor with a clatter. Electricity coursed through her body, sparks of pleasure lighting up in certain parts of her body. Her breath hitched in her throat, heart thundering as Sam’s thumbs stroked her skin. His fingertips were rugged with callouses, but she didn’t care. The heat that surrounded her and the softness his lips made her never want to separate from this moment. It was bliss.

All things pointed to death, however. Surely this would get them killed. If a demon caught wind of this—hell, if Dean found out about this—they would certainly use it against both Hunter and Rayner. She knew things like this gets people killed. She’d witnessed the very thing and sworn she’d never . . . never fall in love again.

She was wrong.

Her skin ached for more contact. She deepened the kiss. Lifting onto her toes, she got closer to the Hunter. His hands slid from her face to her hips, those strong and calloused fingers taking hold of her ass and lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked toward the bed, turning and shoving her off him. Her body bounced on the mattress.

She couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering behind him. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to stop this thing that was gaining momentum and surely spinning out of control if he continued. Her mind fought to control the rising hunger in her core that begged for more of Sam Winchester; more of the man that saved her from the wrath of his brother.

What are you doing? her mind screamed as Sam grabbed her flannel and tore it off, tossing it to the floor across the bed. Maddie lifted herself up and grabbed his jacket, pulling him down on top of her and kissing him again. His hands caught himself, arms braced on either side of her. He looked down at her with a soft smile.

His expression soon darkened, eyes cast in a predatory light. She smirked, hands wrapping around his neck as he buried his face in her neck. His teeth grabbed part of her skin and bit down, hard, sucking and gnawing until pain ignited beneath. She threw her head back as her core thrived at the feeling of contact.

Her mind went to the case for a fraction of a second. She hesitated arching her hips to get closer to Sam’s girth, and she paused as her hands reached down to take his pants off. The voice in her head still screamed at her to stop whatever was happening. It warned her of the consequences if someone found out about this, but it was the kiss that Sam pressed to her lips that made her dismiss all the warning bells.

Hands fumbling with his belt, she tossed the accessory to the floor. His pants soon followed, a move she made that was somewhat surprising to Sam’s part; the look on his face was priceless.

Seconds passed and both of them were down to their underwear. Her eyes wandered the dips and curves of Sam’s chest, the solid abs and the impressive shoulders and biceps curved to perfection. She felt herself become more than pleased with the sight of Sam without a shirt on, and she prayed nothing would interrupt this beautiful moment.

She felt Sam’s eyes tracing her body. He seemed to take note of the curves of ink swirling and twirling from her neck and all the way to her ankles, the navel piercing drawing him to her stomach. He simply stared for a moment, seemingly awestruck that he had managed to capture this temple of a body in his hands.

“Don’t just stare, Sam,” she purred, licking her lips when she lifted her hands and crossed them above her as if they were bound. She rocked her hips when Sam attacked her almost bare body, teeth and tongue scraping over skin that was sending waterfalls of wetness to surge from her.

She cursed a few times, apparently to Sam’s pleasure, by how he snarled, “Say that again, baby.” She did as she was told. The words dripped from her lips like poison, drawing the Winchester in like a moth to a lamp. Her head tilted back when he crashed his lips to hers again, a monstrous move made by only the finest men she’s slept with. It was unlike any one-night stand she’d ever had . . . it made her regret leaving the poor souls to wonder what happened in the awestruck hours before.

She took her hands from above her to wrap around Sam’s face. She pulled him closer to her, her gaze staring deeply into his darkened eyes filled with lust. He didn’t seem to be affected by the sudden pause in this activity, no, for he paused his groping and stared down at her with another soft smile.

A breath left her lips. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered. Sam kissed her cheek as he slipped his hand beneath her bra. She bucked beneath him when his hand squeezed one of her breasts. She felt another volley of pleasure explode in her core.

Sam mimicked her smirk and sat up, taking her hand and lifting her up to a sitting position on the bed. Maddie rolled her shoulders, wings expanding from her back, and waited for Sam to position himself behind her. She lifted her wings so he could squeeze flush against her back. He seemed drawn to her wings, but that didn’t stop him from pressing his lips to her jawline.

His teeth nipped at the skin. He sucked and bit to her desirable pleasure, causing her head to roll back and rest on his shoulder. Sam’s hands wrapped around her frame, fingers clawing at skin and fabric until he managed to unhook her bra. It was a lacy one, both fit for hunting and recreational activities. And boy, was this recreational.

He managed to flip her over on her stomach and pin her arms to the bedsheets. She was stricken with shock for a second, but the snarl Sam spat into her ear was enough to throw her over the edge: “Gonna eat you out, just you wait.”

She didn’t really understand what he meant in the slightest. Yes, she understood that he was, indeed, going to fuck her until she couldn’t walk. She was just anticipating on the method as to how he’d fuck her until she couldn’t walk. Various positions flashed across her mind, with a few making her smile and writhe beneath Sam.

A moan left her lips. Her back arched inward, wings shuddering in the air. She felt feathers quiver in their positions, some becoming bigger than they appeared in a rather poofing sort of way.

She felt another moan leaving her lips when Sam flipped her over and clamped a hand over her mouth.

One hand still held hers above her head, sending a slight shock of fear to rush through her. She tried speaking, however the Hunter took his hands from her wrists and pressed a finger to his lips, a universal signal to be quiet.

“Sam?” The motel door closed.

“Dean,” he breathed. She yelled into his hand in protest. He jumped slightly at the sound and took his hand away. “Sorry.”

Maddie sat up, grabbing the nearest thing she could to cover herself up. A blush warmed her cheeks, eyes glued to Sam’s narrow waist as he turned to face his brother. She cocked her head a bit, perplexed as to how such a gentle and good man could be so . . . dominant.

The eldest Hunter jabbed a finger to the door. “Outside. Now.” The door opened and slammed shut, causing Sam and Maddie to jump in their skin.

Dean didn’t seem pleased at all. Of course, he just walked in on his brother almost having sex with none other than Maddie Rayner, one of the most notorious Hunters in the entire world. Sure, he wasn’t happy. And, yes, getting close to people in this life was a one-way ticket to Hell (both physically and metaphorically).

Sam grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. To her dismay, those rolling muscles beneath golden skin and arm veins that she fell for disappeared. She was saddened for a moment, but she perked up when Sam turned and said, “Stay in here . . . get dressed. I, uh, want you outta here before we’re done. There’s a window in the bathroom.”

Her heart dropped. She wanted to drop everything and run back into his arms. She wanted to forget the case, forget the coroner, forget the entire world was going ape-shit crazy and just kiss him again. Those moments they shared since the beginning had to be building up to something, something beautiful and toxic and scary. She hated to admit the fear that clawed at her soul was almost numbing. She was scared of losing him, of losing the Hunter that made an exception to monsters.

But it was for the best. She understood. Instead, she turned and trudged to the pile of clothes. She tossed him his jeans as she plucked her flannel from the floor with a sigh. She felt the floor move slightly with Sam’s steps, and before she could turn to leave, she felt his lips on hers again.

She protested softly. She didn’t break the kiss to slap him. She didn’t break the kiss at all. Who knows when the last time this could happen without consequences?

Maddie watched him step back. She watched the way he buttoned his jeans and stalk to the door in socks. Her heart broke for him, of course. It shouldn’t happen. Things like this just don’t happen to her; she doesn’t sleep with someone she’s grown to know, grown to like, grown to love.

A shudder ran through her at that word. Love. It was a gross and disgusting word. A vile, troublesome and agonizing word that plagued everybody in the world. She felt like throwing up. She felt like reaching down her throat and forcing herself to puke. It was better to not love anyone than be loveless.

She loved the art of torture. That was the way she was raised: to like that word. Loving the art of torture. Loving the sensation of blood running down flesh that was gnarled and disfigured beyond recognition.

She loved the way angels struggled against their bonds. She loved the way they screamed at her to stop, or the way they moaned in pain.

She loved the way moans left lips . . . she loved the way grunts were followed by struggling . . . the kind of struggling that sent pleasure rocketing to her core . . . the way hands ran up and down her body, tracing every curve with a sharp bite at her neck or back . . .

STOP. IT. You’re a Rayner, dammit! Act like one.

She shook her head, stooping down to grab her own jeans. She shucked them on effortlessly, wrapping herself in a blanket of warmth from her wings afterwards. She heard the boys arguing behind the door. It was to the point of a screaming match did she wander over and lean against the wall to listen.

“You need to stop whatever the fuck is going on between you two,” Dean spat.

“Dean, there’s . . . there’s nothing going on between us.”

“Really? Then what the hell did I just walk in on? Sam, you know this can’t happen. You, of all people, should know that.” Dean’s voice lowered slightly, possibly in remorse. Given Sam’s track record with women, Maddie could see why the man would say that.

“I-I know.”

“Oh, you know? Do you know what’s going to happen if Heaven finds out? What if Hell found out? How about every freakin’ monster that exists, what if they find out that you’ve just shtupped a freakin’ Rayner! Sooner or later, someone is going to find out about this and use her against you . . . I’ve seen you break before, Sammy, and it ain’t pretty. End it. Now, or I will.”

A tear slipped from her eye. She pushed herself from the wall and began walking back to the bed. She was interrupted by a slam on the wall from the outside.

“She can take care of herself, Dean. Has been her whole life.” Sam’s words were thick with poison.

Dean’s reply was silence. She listened for more words to be exchanged, however none were spoken. She jumped when the door opened, with Sam storming inside with an irritated expression on his face. He slammed the door shut as she wiped her tears.

“You okay?” she asked.

“You need to go, Mads,” he muttered behind his shoulder. He grabbed their clothes and separated them, tossing her undershirt and socks to one side of the bed and his things to the other. Maddie inhaled to protest, but he straightened and turned to face her. “I don’t want you here. Dean’s ticked off, as usual, and I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms. “As you said, Sam, I can take care of myself. Have been my whole life.” She lowered her voice to emulate his when quoted him. “I don’t understand why you can’t just—”

His eyes squinted a fraction as he yelled, “You can’t take care of yourself with everybody hunting you down, Maddie!” He threw his shirt into a pile by the door. She stared at him with tears in her eyes. He sighed and seemed to calm down by his softer and quieter tone. “Heaven and Hell are getting anxious. And you killing angels in your wake isn’t going to help.”

Her head turned slightly in disbelief. “How do you—”

“I’ve watched your trail, Maddie. You may be good at killing but you’re not that great at covering things up. Bury bodies, next time. Vertically. Satellites look for bodies buried horizontally, and they’ll probably notify authorities if one turns up.”

Her face softened. She wanted to drop everything and comfort him. He was stressed and frustrated and downright tired of everything, the bags beneath his eyes and exhaustion that contoured his cheeks were emblazoned on his face.

She watched him grab his boots and put them on. She stood there, helpless, staring at the man she was falling in love with. It made her sick to her stomach when she thought about that damned word. Her adoptive father, Dante, had beaten that sense out of her: nobody would love her, nobody would ever show her affection as long as she remained in this profession.

Maddie saw him go towards the door. She glanced at the clenched fists at his sides. She took a step toward him. She wanted to come with him. It was a horrible decision, yes, but she didn’t care.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I need a drink.”

She glanced at the fridge filled with beer.

It wasn’t until midnight did he finally find the place he was looking for. The gravel road and the fields surrounding it were almost therapeutic to the anguish that jolted his system. He slammed his car door shut, stalking toward the slight slope that introduced the first part of the fields.

His heart was dark with anger towards his brother, while his skin still tingled in places Maddie touched. He still ached for her embrace, the feel of feathers brushing against his back or chest.

He crouched in the grass. A cold breeze ripped through the air, sending his hair to float back off his shoulders just the slightest. He didn’t mind the sudden change. He felt like he was dying of a heat stroke anyway. He looked down at his waist, drawing Ruby’s knife and gripping it tightly in his hand.

The woman standing in the middle of the road was rather pretty. Black hair, crystal blue eyes, and a splash of freckles made up her vessel’s face, with a slim figure and a gorgeous black dress making her stand out in the night.

Eyes trailing to the human standing in front of the crossroads demon, a frail-looking man stood. His balding head caught the moonlight like a traffic sign. Dressed in a cardigan sweater was over a tan dress shirt, accompanied by matching business pants and dress shoes, he seemed rather business professional. The man resembled a teacher of some sort or even a professor at the local college.

His mind reminisced about his collegiate life. There were times during cases when he would yearn for the late night studying, or the frat parties his friends were invited to. He’d see college students out drinking one night and smile softly to himself; he wished those days were good memories and not events leading up to the love of his life’s death.

He felt the tug at his heart long before he noticed it hurt his chest. He winced faintly, features pulling back when he ran a hand along the blade’s wooden handle. He debated if he should do this again. It’s been months since he’d begun this, but the gnawing sights of the woman he despised and feared were growing too vivid. He hardly slept the night before, so why waste it trying to sleep when he could be doing more important things?

“This is new,” a British accent commented.

Sam jumped in his skin and fell to his side. He looked to his left, and the bitch herself squatted next to him. Her hair was down this time, a slight difference than the previous versions of her. A beige jacket was unzipped over a white dress shirt. Pants matching the jacket stretched down Toni’s legs, ending in black heels donning her feet.

He gazed back at the transaction in front of him. The demon was circling the man, lips moving. He was too far away to hear what she was saying, but he could tell the man was pleased with her words. The demon, stepping closer to rest her hands on the man’s chest, glanced behind him and towards the Hunter.

Her eyes were submerged in a pool of maroon. He narrowed his eyes as he stood, gripping Ruby’s knife tighter than he usually held it. He stormed up the little hill and onto the gravel road, steps long and dominating. He heard Toni’s footsteps behind him to his displeasure, but the thing he was planning on doing was going to relieve him of her presence . . . hopefully.

The demon crossed her vessel’s arms with a slight chuckle, eyeing the knife. Her expression flickered slightly but otherwise remained the same.

“Sir, you need to go,” he said to the man, pointing behind him. The man looked confused at his order, but to Sam’s dismay, he began protesting.

“She can make my dreams come true!”

“And you’d be this big-shot professor at an Ivy League school for ten years, then, what, check out and spend the rest of your days in the Basement? Go back to snorting Buds with the high schoolers.”

The man looked at the demon, who looked at him over her shoulder with an arch of her brow.

She smiled and flashed him her eyes. “Weed isn’t that bad,” she purred with a wink.

Sam caught the fear in the man’s eyes, for he turned and sprinted toward a Nissan parked down the road. The Hunter watched him go, and waited until the car was started before taking a step toward the demon.

A chuckle left her. “Nice job, Winchester, you just scared off a client,” she snapped. She uncrossed her arms and made her way towards the center of the crossroads. “Where’s that whore Rayner of yours, anyway?”

Anger spread through his veins. His fists clenched as he took a few more steps toward the demon. He was right in front of her now, and he found himself shoving the knife against her throat. His mouth twitched upward in anguish. He could end this demon right now. He could shove this knife so far down her throat she’d choke on it as she died. He’d relish in her suffering, of course. Every demon deserved to die no matter their business on Earth.

A cleared throat came from behind him. He didn’t need to look back to know it was Toni trying to pry his attention from the task at hand. He ignored her, but she spoke anyway. “Have reason, Sam. A killer doesn’t kill without a motive.”

“A killer doesn’t kill without a victim, either,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“Who the hell are you—”

The demon’s words were cut off when he slit her throat. Blood spilled from the clean slice, flowing down her chest and staining her dress a darker black. He let the body fall as the demon choked on its own blood. A hand flew to pry his from the knife, but it was to no avail.

He felt that tug again. It started months ago when he had first met Maddie and his hallucinations were at their worst. Toni had killed Maddie in a dream, slicing her head off and plopping it in his lap as he was tied to that same chair in the farmhouse. The second he woke up he felt that tug. It was deep within, and it was a tug that then transformed into a hunger. He gorged on the Bunker’s food to try to satisfy the tug, but no matter how much he ate, nothing would make it go away.

It was when he confronted a demon not a month ago when that hunger strengthened to a craving.

Sam fell to his knees. He stared at the blood gushing from the demon’s throat. Toni began protesting, telling him that none of this was real. That his drinking days were over with. She screamed at him to stop whatever he was going to do, but her screaming only made him lean down and press his lips to the cut.

His tongue flicked out and grabbed as much blood as it could. He felt it filling his mouth, expanding his cheeks as he sucked the substance from the demon. He swallowed and went for another drink when the demon managed to inhale hard enough to shove her hands beneath him and shove him off.

He almost fell on his back. He caught himself as the demon got to her vessel’s feet, a fist clenched and lips drawn back in a snarl.

“You’re insane!” she screeched, one hand lifting and holding the cut in her neck closed. Blood dripped between her fingers.

A smirk lifted a corner of his mouth. He already felt the hunger fade. His exhaustion from months of sleeplessness also went with it, and he felt a new rejuvenated feeling course through him. He felt more alive than the last time he had demon blood in his system. Perhaps it was the knowledge he’d gained from the years it's been, but he wasn’t sure.

His smirk grew as he took steps toward the demon. Fear was glued to her vessel’s face as she began walking backward. “Insane? No.” He slowly extended his hand outward until he had a palm facing the demon. “Powerful is more like it.”

The demon’s eyes widened before plumes of smoke rose to her throat. Some of it seeped out of the slice in the bloodied skin, while the majority of it poured from her mouth. Choking and wheezing came from the demon next, followed by a sizzling noise as Sam slowly closed his hand into a fist.

Skin began lighting up beneath the vessel. He saw a flame ignite beneath the demon’s feet, with more of its soul pouring out its mouth. He closed his eyes then, digging deep inside himself to exorcise this demon.

He debated if he should exorcise or kill her. An incantation lay waiting on the tip of his tongue on instinct, but he swallowed it. The demon choked one more time before letting out a single scream. An explosion of fire shrouded the demon’s vessel. The heat warmed him up quite a bit despite the utility jacket he donned, but nothing prepared him for the light to fade to reveal a pile of ashes on the gravel.

He let his arm fall to his side. He glanced down at his hand, fingers curling in and out of a fist. His chest gave a single heave, and it was then that he realized his heart was racing in his chest. It’s been so long since he’s used his powers, it felt like he was just learning how to control them again.

Alas, his experience from Ruby came back to him like a slap in the face. He understood now that he had fed again, he’d have to keep his hunger satisfied for however long he wanted to keep Toni at bay. Obviously, he’d use his powers as a side job . . . Hell was still looking for Jack, so why not learn new things while he was at it?

A small chuckle made him smirk. He turned to make his way back to the car he rented but stopped in his tracks.

Toni stood, arms crossed, with a death glare. “All that effort,” she began, “for what? A trophy? No wonder that Ruby demon liked you. You’ve got all the layers of freak.” He went to charge at her, but she kept speaking. “Your addiction was bad, back then, but now? Killing demons again and again and again . . . to prove your importance in this case? In this disaster of a mission against all odds. . . if anythi—”

His hand lashed out and grabbed her by the throat. He was shocked to see her grab his hand and grip his sleeve, mangled protests leaving her lips. Sam lifted the bitch off her feet. He would give nothing more than to snap her neck, but he knew that wouldn’t make her go away for good. But the blood in his system would hopefully make her disappear for a while.

Eyes squinting and a devilish smirk pulling at his lips, he stated, “Like I said. You’re just an accent in a pantsuit.”

He dropped her back on her feet. Her hand dropped from his sleeve and went to her throat, coughing filling the chilled air. She looked up at him and inhaled to scream at him, but she disappeared with a flicker.

He stood in the middle of the crossroads, staring at empty space once occupied by the woman he feared. He felt ashamed, embarrassed, and angry at himself. He let a woman—a human woman, for that matter—get in his head and control him, manipulate his decisions until he was too in over his head to crawl out. Years ago, with Ruby, he swore he’d stick by Dean’s side no matter what. No one would get between him and his brother . . . that’s all that mattered in this trainwreck of a journey since May 2, 2005.

Tell that to Maddie, he thought. He sighed. He looked around him, waiting for the moment a screaming Toni Bevell would return to belittle and mock him for his futile efforts to make her stop. He waited for that moment he’d regret most: everything to fade behind the pages of the scripture he’s written to keep his mind off his nightmares and memories of torment.

Nothing happened. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders, finally. Sam felt his chest rise and fall heavily, a habit of his whenever he did something tedious. He glanced at his clenching fist again, pleased with the affect the blood had. Before he was working on his skills, he felt inexperienced.

Now? He felt more powerful than ever.

Sam turned back to the car he rented. It was parked down the road a ways; he mentally damned himself for parking so far away, but also thanking himself. He could use the time walking to prepare a plan on how to get himself back with Maddie.

It broke his heart to know he was pissed at her . . . but he couldn’t control his emotions back there. It felt like millions of tiny butterflies were fluttering in his stomach when he kissed her in that motel room. Millions of alarms went off, as well. He could be killed for falling in love with her. She could be killed for letting it happen.

He felt a stab of pain in his heart. He couldn’t imagine Maddie dying. She’d go down fighting tooth and nail to get the last say. She’d go down bloody with everything she had in her, no matter how battered she’d be.

“Dammit, stop it. Don’t . . . think about that shit. It hasn’t happened, it isn’t going to happen,” he said to himself. He was still a few feet from his car.

His mind wandered from Maddie to the case. He was still shaken up—despite his high on demon blood—about how freaked she looked when the coroner came into the morgue. The look of absolute horror on her face had torn his heart in two. He wanted nothing more than to crush the coroner’s face in his hands, but he knew Maddie wouldn’t take that lightly. He knew she wanted to be the one who would end the man.

He was at his car. He took the keys from his pocket, sticking them inside the handle and unlocking the door. He slid himself into the car, running his hands down his jeans. His breath still reeked of demon blood, and it took all he could to not force himself out of the car and feed again. It was only a matter of hours before he would begin to detox . . . he knew it would be beyond painful, but it was better than seeing Toni 24/7.

Sam slid the keys into the ignition. He glanced in the rearview mirror as a habit and froze when he saw someone sitting in the back seat. The coroner sat with a wicked smile

“Agent Laurens,” he greeted. Sam felt the barrel of a gun rest on the side of his head.

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

13x04 ~ The Notorious Few

Someone teach me how to set up a queue I’m so sorry.

HERE IT IS GOOD GOD! This was supposed to post a fuckin month ago but I can’t set up queues for the life of me. I’m always apologizing jfc. Here’s chapter four for all to see, I guess.

Characters: Maddie Rayner, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester,

Word Count: 25,481 oops

Warning(s): mentions of torture; violence; possibly some typos idk; dean being the antagonist, I guess =/

One | Two | Three

A groan left her lips as her eyes opened to their own accord. She expected to see the single pillar of light that cascaded onto her for five weeks, but sunlight warmed and greeted her face. It was alarming to feel embracing swath of heat on her face when just seconds ago she was being carved into like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Was it seconds? She couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t remember what happened after Dean had knocked her out. Had she come to during a small window of time and forgotten about it, or had she really been unconscious for what felt like eons? Her mind was so wrapped up in the fact that she was confused as to where she was that she didn’t notice her surroundings.

Her arms were free, too. She was covered in bedsheets; she could tell by how they slipped down a bit when she cradled her burned wrists. Boys did their research, she thought with a throb of pain in her shoulder. She glanced down to look at the damage done by Dean.

White bandages prevented her from seeing how bad her shoulder really was. She rotated her arm and immediately felt the waves of pain in the muscle and bones, with something grinding against itself internally as well. She winced, exhaling sharply through gritted teeth, to keep away from the cloud of dizziness that hovered above her with rumbling thunder.

She sat up and almost screamed when she saw Sam sitting on the plush sofa next to the bed. His red and black flannel was discarded on the bed next to her, leaving him in a tight V-neck shirt, jeans and work boots. She crossed her legs when her core was clearly impressed at the sight of Sam so naked.

Maddie glanced down at herself on instinct, thankful the youngest brother hadn’t been invasive and taken her clothes off while she was unconscious.

“I did what I could without taking your clothes off. Didn’t wanna . . . y’know,” Sam said with a sigh and a nervous smirk, standing from the living room and tossing his phone on the bags piled next to him. She inhaled to ask how she got here, but he answered before the question even reached her throat. “You passed out. You’ve been out for at least a day.”

So it had been eons. A day for her felt like five minutes. Time seemed to flow rapidly in this damned line of work. Cases flew by like the morning breeze, with people falling victim to yet another monster the next day. She was shocked no Hunter had bothered to telephone her in need of assistance.

Her jaw clenched (and throbbed) as she stared at him. Her eyes lowered to his lips unconsciously, an eyebrow arching in satisfaction. They look kissable, she thought with a soft smile. She was happy that she was away from Dean, but she was more than happy to know that Sam was the one who risked everything he had with his brother to save her. She felt sympathy for the man, but a large part of her twinged with uneasiness.

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?” she asked and eyed Sam’s bag, which she could tell was filled with weapons and tools from how the smell of metal filled the room. She knew Sam’s . . . humanness couldn’t detect it, but her enhanced senses could pick it up a mile away.

Sam, sighing with a shrug, waved her over. Maddie was hesitant in her strides, fists clenching at her sides as she slowly picked up her legs and forced herself to take those steps. Her mind was screaming—and swimming in dizziness from being unconscious—at her to stop, to make her body halt in the center of the room and make a run for it. Her legs could be taking her to her death; Sam could pull a gun or a knife and end her right here. Who knows how long Sam rented this place for? Her body wouldn’t be found for possibly weeks.

She could die here. She could die without anyone knowing; her body could be here for weeks or months or even years. Sure, someone would smell her decomposing body, but she wondered if anyone would care. She understood her reputation in this world: Everyone was scared of her, everyone she’s ever met—Hunter or human—grew to fear her.

But her death could mean something. If Sam decides to kill her instead of having her face the consequences from his brother, he would live with the burden. Sam Winchester would live with the burden of killing the most notorious Hunter in the nation. His reputation and his mark on this sad, doomed little world would all be replaced by the one who killed Maddie Rayner, the last of its deadly and poisonous bloodline.

The youngest Winchester’s eyebrows lifted a bit in confusion. Maddie blinked, her mind returning to the present. She had stopped walking and now stood in the center of the motel room, inches away from Sam’s outstretched hand. His fingers held a new roll of bandages, a roll that looked minuscule in his rather large hands.

Maddie took note of his stature as she swiped the bandages from his hand. Now that she wasn’t in peril or danger, she could truly eye how short she felt in the Hunter’s presence. He was a towering man, at that, standing at least six-four or six-five. She eyed his muscle mass, too, and was astonished at what she saw. His biceps seemed to dominate his t-shirt with beautifully toned skin covering the perfectly sculpted muscle from decades of hunting.

His lips moved, but she was too damn focused on his muscles to notice. She looked up at him, finally, and raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Sam smiled. Dimples creased in the corners of his mouth as he looked away from her for a moment; his cheeks reddened a bit to her surprise. His smile, making his face brighter now, seemed to take over her mind. That smile, with pearly white teeth and no imperfections, seemed to make her forget about her torture. It made her think that everything was right in the world; no monsters, no demons on her ass, nothing. She forgot about the bounty hunt that Dean was possibly on.

“You’re gonna have to trust me on this,” he repeated.

Her head inclined a bit. She wouldn’t call it an act of authority. If anything, she felt the authority in Sam right down to the dominating stance he stood in. She stood there for a moment and crossed her arms over her chest with an arch of her eyebrow. She blinked once, looked up at him and said, “Okay.”

The answer must’ve caught him off guard a bit. His head leaned forward slightly, a look of confusion on his adorable face. Three or four wrinkles folded up in his forehead, and it was then that her heart actually fluttered.

“O-okay?” Sam repeated.

Maddie shrugged. “You saved my life. You don’t owe me anything, but . . . it’s been a long while since I’ve actually trusted somebody. And you, Sam, seem like an okay guy to trust. But, please, don’t forget that I will not hesitate to put a blade inside your head.” Her tone dipped from calm to filled with venom.

The man smirked nervously again as she shrugged her jacket off. Her Skynyrd tank top was soaked with dried blood, with most of her right shoulder covered in blood, dirt, and bruises from her torture. She felt Sam’s lingering gaze on her shoulders and biceps; she smiled as she tossed the jacket on the bed. Her shoulder twinged with pain.

It was when she turned to have her back face Sam did he let out a breath low enough for only her ears to hear. She bent over to take off her boots, straightening quickly when the floor creaked underneath the older Hunter’s feet.

She flicked her head back to look at him sidelong. He had taken a step closer to her. She scoffed softly, performing the most daring thing she could do in the same room with a Hunter and slipped off her shirt. She stood there in her athletic bra and—

“Do you w-want me to . . .” Sam seemed to be at a loss for words as he took in her muscle-bound back. She felt his eyes on her back as she allowed her uninjured shoulder to rotate, thus moving her shoulder blade beneath the equally toned skin.

I could have some fun with this, she thought as she turned to face him. She lifted a brow and put a bit more weight on her leg, bringing a hand to cup her hip in her attempt to be sexy. It clearly worked by how Sam averted his gaze and busied himself with finding a fishhook and what looked like a fishing line in his bag.

The finishing strides that took her to the other side of the room made her stomach turn slightly despite her confidence. She knew Sam wouldn’t want to hurt her unless he had to for self-defense.

Sam’s voice made her jump slightly. “Why don’t I, uh, help you stitch your shoulder?” he asked and sat on the bed. Maddie looked at him for a moment, a twinge of fear jolting her spine. She pushed it down, though. He was trying to help her, after all. It’d be hard to clean her wounds without another set of hands, anyway.

Her head inclined again and she sat on the floor with her back facing the bed. She lifted her knees to her chest and leaned forward until she knew Sam got a clear look at her back, where the two masses of skin just between her shoulder blades would give birth to her wings.

She felt Sam’s eyes roaming the tanned skin shrouded in rough flesh and dark ink. Her entire body was covered in tattoos, which seemed to catch Sam off guard when they had first met. His eyes had given her a poring once-over that made her feel somewhat violated, but she managed to grow used to it in what would be the five weeks she’d be with him.

The rolling muscle in her back toned with athleticism and altered genetics made Sam splay his hands on her slits. His hands were warm on her skin, save for the spasm of pins and needles that exploded in her back. She shuddered beneath him; his hands were pulled back.

“You good?” Sam asked, his fingers pulling back her hair and tossing it over her shoulder. Maddie felt a jolt of electricity rush through her. It was satisfying, yes, and her body begged for me. She glanced at him over her shoulder through her lashes and nodded.

Her shoulder lifted in half of a shrug. “They’re just sensitive. How close is the, uh, puncture wound?”

She watched him peer back at her shoulder, head turning to measure the distance. The wound in her shoulder still hurt like a bitch, and it took more courage for her to accept the fact that Sam’s hands on her were his way of helping her. Every faint touch of his hands on her made her jump and shrink into his legs more. Every brush of his fingers made her forget the throbbing pain the hook made as he sewed the puncture wound together.

“About an inch, give or take,” he guessed. He quickly picked himself up and went to the fridge. The appliance looked like as tinier as ever as he bent down to get a bottle of whiskey from the door. He shut the door with his foot, shuffling back over and handing her the alcohol. “Helps, trust me.”

One rather violent throb of pain made her snarl and whip her head around, her hand grabbing his hands and bending them back. One jerk down would break his entire arm or his wrist if she eased up on her strength. Her wing erupted from her right side, the muscle surrounding the mountain of rugged skin rippling with power. Sam leaned back a bit, his eyes widen a fraction. She didn’t see fear in his eyes, no.

She saw sorrow.

Her mood changed immediately. Her anger washed away as he stared at her, with her wing extending toward the farthest wall of the room, her eyes scanning the limb for any minor wounds. The feathers, where the wound from the machete would be, were soaked with blood. She gave her wing a twitch to test for pain. Nothing came, and it was Sam’s breathed awe that made her glare back at him.

Maddie tucked her wing in before Sam could say anything, pushing his hands back toward him. A blush warmed her cheeks when his forehead folded again. She flicked her hair out of her face and waited for Sam to resume unrolling the bandages. She took a rather long drink of the burning whiskey to drown the rumbling and thundering pain.

He had her kneel on the bed due to her height so he could wrap the bandage around her shoulder and part of her underarm. It took him at least three layers to finally contain the slight bleeding that oozed through the first layer. He had asked if she was a hemophiliac, to which she denied.

She got off the bed and lifted her wrists. They ached from the burns caused by the chains. Sam eyed them, too, and went to the bathroom. She watched him run a rag beneath the stream of warm water and wring it out. His muscles tensed in his T-shirt, making his biceps thicken. She clenched her jaw and stared longer than necessary, in her opinion, but the small smile on his lips made her glad as he pressed the rag to her skin.

A sharp wince left her clenched teeth when the warmth stung her wrist. Her hand took the rag from Sam’s.

Maddie watched the Hunter step away from her and go towards the bed. “What do you wanna do? I couldn’t find a case nearby, so I guess we have the day off,” he asked, spinning on his heel and plopping on his back on the bed.

She stared at him for a moment. He looked relaxed being in the same room with her, which meant that he would let his guard down around her. It wasn’t that she wanted to kill him. She wanted to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t steal any time for himself to possibly talk to his brother.

She didn’t trust this act for a second. Although the man had saved her life, she had lied to him so she could trust him. Lies were what kept people safe, in her opinion, but what lies were mounting on top of the other in this act? Sam seemed to be convinced she trusted him. Sure, a tiny part of her felt a strange version of trust towards the Hunter, and yes, maybe she enjoyed being in the presence of him . . . but she didn’t like being alone. She’s already spent at least fourteen years all by her lonesome when her family was murdered.

Being alone meant she had nobody. She understood hunting alone was a death sentence in itself, but she flew through cases like they were child’s play. Some of the more difficult cases were finished after at least three days, including the Wendigo case. She never found out if the boys had killed the beast when she was unconscious, but she didn’t want to know now.

She wanted to know why Dean has a vendetta against her.

Her head cocked when she thought about it. She realized she was still staring at Sam, but he was staring right back at her. Her cheeks warmed and she averted her gaze, fixing it on the duffle bag filled with fresh clothing. She longed for her old clothes covered in the smells of stale beer and cigarette butts.

She looked at the door and back at Sam. Her eyes roamed his athletic figure with pleasure, her tongue sticking out and wetting her lips in what she thought was sexy. His biceps looked magnificent in the lighting, both from the midday sun and the light streaming out from the bathroom.

She crossed her ankles as she scrunched her lips to the side. A question crossed her mind when she considered her own athleticism, a question that she was afraid that Sam would take offense to. Alas, her life was shortened the second she met him. Her mind shrugged, made up with its decision, and her mouth opened. It closed when Sam spoke.

“I tried to talk him out of it. I tried to . . . he wouldn’t listen, Maddie, for that I am so very sorry.” Emotion clung to his voice as she searched his face for any of that grinning Hunter she saw moments before. Her throat closed up on her when she tried to crack a stupid joke to lighten the mood. Her mind found nothing.

She pushed from the bed and in front of his, her hand grabbing his shirt and yanking him to his feet, his massive figure towering over her as she hugged his narrow waist. He seemed to be confused by how his arms just hovered above her, but his long arms eventually wrapped around her upper back.

Heat radiated from him. Despite wearing one layer of clothing, he was pretty squishy when she tightened her hands and buried her face in his chest. She smelled his cologne and a mixture of what smelled like alcohol, blood and books enveloped themselves around her, her body relishing in the calming aromas.

“It’s okay. It isn’t your fault.”

Her gut twisted when those words came out. Her brain cringed at that sorrowful sentence that nobody, not even her, would think of leaving her mouth. Her reputation was all snark and no kindness. Someone makes a stupid mistake? Call them out on it and patronize them. Somebody gets tragically killed? Say they deserved it and, again, call out their mistakes during the case that got them killed.

Two days later, Sam decided it was safe to go out in the open. Maddie, of course, took it upon herself to force the Hunter to take her shopping for new clothes. He was hesitant at first, his mind seemed like it was determined to keep a low profile until he was sure Dean was over Maddie’s escape.

That didn’t seem to be the case, she found out when pounding on their motel door startled both of the Hunters.

“Open up, Sammy!” a deep voice snarled, “just wanna talk.”

Dean.

Maddie sat up on her bed. Cold air drifted across her almost bare skin, her pajamas consisting of a camisole and new, somewhat scanty underwear from Victoria’s Secret. Her pulse quickened the second Dean’s fist slammed on the chipping white door. She fought dizziness as she threw the covers off her and leaped from the bed.

Sam seemed to remain calm. He must’ve planned this out in the three days they were rooming here, for his immediate reaction was to shove her into the bathroom and lock it from the inside. He instructed her to climb out of the window and run if things went south. The thought of that made her sprew hushed protests at the man, Maddie’s hands grabbing onto his shirt and begging him to come with her.

“Maddie, you know my brother’s pissed. He’s gonna kill you if he sees you . . . I can stall him,” he said, turning her and lifting her into the bathtub. The ceramic tub was cold against her shoulders as Sam left and shut the door, turning the knob a few times to confirm it was locked.

She found herself praying for him. Praying was extremely rare, considering her reputation for killing angels, but it was in occasional circumstances did she pray for the safety of herself and others. It wasn’t until then did she realize that she expected an answer. It was weird. To her, expecting an answer back would be like Satan crawling back to Heaven and apologizing; it’d never happen no matter how much she asked.

She wasn’t necessarily concerned for herself. She could be eleven-thousand feet in the air in a matter of seconds. It was Sam that she worried about. Sure, his brother was pissed that she escaped. But if Dean found out that it was Sam—his own brother—that got her out, who knows what he could do? He wouldn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re implying, Maddie, her mind muttered.

Right. Dean wouldn’t kill his own brother. Last time a brother killed a brother was with Cain and Abel. Then again, the boys are direct descendants of Cain and Abel. What’s the worst that could happen, right? Her mind tried to think of something else. Kissing Sam came immediately, but it faded when Sam and Dean’s voices filtered through the hideously green walls.

“I know you’re pissed . . .”

“Damn right, I’m pissed!”

“Dean, calm down.”

“‘Calm down’? Sam, Maddie is extremely dangerous. She’s us but ten times worse with great boobs!”

She sunk lower into the tub. Despite the humorous remark, she had to admit that Dean was right: her position in the hunting community was a terrifying one, at best, and nobody would trust her with their life. She couldn’t count how many Hunters or victims have been killed due to her temper and misjudgment.

Muffled crashes made her heart quicken even more. If she didn’t calm down, her heart might explode. She lifted her knees to her chest, pressing her ear to the wall behind her.

It got quiet.

Her eyes widened when she heard the doorknob shift and a displeased chuckle. “Did you have to lock the door, Sammy?”

She slowly crawled out of the tub and positioned herself beneath the window. Being tiny compared to the lumberjacks the Winchesters were, the window was higher than she expected. A curse left her lips that were pressed into a line, her teeth grinding against each other as she waited for the door to open.

Another crash came from the other room with adrenaline running through her veins. She felt the color fade from her face, although dizziness never came over her. The exhilaration that rushed through her made her throat close. This could be where she dies. She could die in a bathroom while one of the Winchesters was trying to protect her.

Come on, come on, she thought. A simple jump up could have her running down the hill in seconds. That, or if Dean managed to grab her feet, a powerful kick to the nose would kill him. Her nails dug into her palms.

“Come on out, Maddie,” Sam said, his words coming out quickly. Maddie could tell he was catching his breath, and when she slowly emerged from the bathroom, she saw the reason why. He had his gun aimed at his brother’s head, with Dean’s entire body being shoved against the wall. Sam’s chest was heaving.

She was hesitant on whether she should run to the door to freedom or help Sam kick his brother’s ass. Maddie found herself leaning towards the latter more than the former, but she decided to wait until Sam gave her further directions as to what he had planned. It wasn’t often that she took orders from others, but she decided to go down the safest route if it meant she’d live through this.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean purred, which got a frustrated groan from his brother. “Glad I got to see the show.” Dean’s eyes roamed her nearly bare figure. He licked his lips to her displeasure, but she had to admit that the subtle action was a bit of a turn-on. She inclined her head in authority and dodged Sam’s glare.

Sam, glancing at her, grunted when Dean whirled around and slammed his elbow across the younger Hunter’s face. Maddie went to grab the gun that slipped from Sam’s hands, but Dean had grabbed her in a backward hug.

Her arms were pinned to her sides in the tall man’s grasp, which felt unbelievably strong despite his being human. She snarled through clenched teeth as she whipped around in Dean’s grip, but to no avail did he weaken. Anger flooded through her as she saw Sam holding his nose as he gathered himself to his feet, legs wobbling the slightest. He seemed to be focused on something else, for the glare he sent to nobody consumed his attention.

Maddie slammed her head into Dean’s face. She felt the sickening crunch of his nose, and when the Hunter’s hands flew to collect the river of blood dripping from his nose, the Rayner struck Dean’s face again with her elbow, landing a final punch to his cheek that she knew was a one-way ticket to unconsciousness.

She took the time to grab Sam’s hand and haul ass, her fingers reaching and grabbing the duffle bags settled on the couch right next to the doorless frame. The door was somewhere near the bed, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was getting the hell out of that damned room.

Sam seemed to fail at trying to keep up. He yanked his hand out of hers and ran to the driver’s door of his 2008 Dodge SRT8. It was a charcoal color, one that seemed to suit the younger Hunter, and Maddie thought it looked nice despite the pitch black night.

Her eyes adjusted immediately to the darkness. She risked a glance back at the doorway, where she expected a slightly-injured Dean to aim a gun at her and pull the trigger. But nothing was there. Her heart rose in her chest at the time bomb that was her temporary freedom. She tossed the bags into the backseat as she dove into the passenger’s seat feet first.

The car roared to life as Sam jammed the keys in the ignition. A Ladyheart song played rather loudly into the car as the Dodge backed into the road and screeched off. The tail careened to the left a bit, which brought back glorious memories of how defunct her street racing career is.

The back window shattered when bullets slammed into the glass.

A groan flew from her lips. She covered her head and glanced back toward the motel, where the outline of Dean Winchester stood on the road with his arm outstretched. Her teeth clenched, and once the car turned with the curve of the road, she looked back out of the windshield.

“Your brother’s a psychopath, Sam, I hope you know that,” she spat loudly, rolling down the window and letting the August air blow her ratty hair about her face.

A soft chuckle from Sam made her bubbly inside. “Yeah, I know. You didn’t have to do that, y’know. I could’ve handled him myself.” He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her. She glanced at him, taking note of the bags beneath his eyes.

After about twenty minutes of driving to no particular place, Maddie asked him to pull over. He protested, of course, saying that he was fine and insisting on driving some more. She decided to get forceful, throwing out a seemingly harmless threat or pickup line that seemed to make him more uncomfortable or flustered than ever.

Sam and Maddie traded seats in the car. He looked tall in the seat next to hers, which made her feel even punier compared to the Winchester.

It wasn’t until she pulled off the road did Sam speak. His voice cracked a bit, with exhaustion creeping into his words. “You’re not gonna go fast, are you? We already have Dean on our asses, so it’s best not to piss off the authorities.”

This time it was her turn to chuckle. She let one hand fall from the wheel and into her lap, while the other shifted to be at the top of the wheel. She pressed her foot harder on the accelerator. She glanced at him with a smirk and said, “You’re gonna have to trust me on this.”

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

13x03 ~ Familiar Taste of Poison

Summary: Sam struggles to be on Maddie’s side as Dean continues torturing her, all the while Toni is becoming more of a bother.

Character(s): Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Maddie Rayner (OC), Toni Bevell

Word Count: 4,876

Warning(s): shit ton of angst, explicit language, mentions of the biggest bitch named toni, mentions of cas’ death that r really insulting to cas as a character but that’s just maddie being maddie so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

One | Two

“Hey,” Dean muttered, his flannel opening a bit at the hem as he walked into the library.

Sam looked up from his lore book. His mind was somewhere else as his eyes drifted across the page, facts about birds being included on the list of monsters he and his brother would hunt. He was dumbfounded when nothing on the combination of a bird, or anything avian, and a human was mentioned.

He lifted his brow a bit higher than it was when Dean jerked his thumb back in the direction he came. “She’s awake,” he finally said after standing there for a solid minute.

The youngest Hunter cleared his throat and slowly closed his book. “O-okay. I’ll, uh, be there in a minute,” he said, voice dropping to barely a whisper. A lump had risen to his throat, and his gut twisted. He tried to talk—he begged, even pleaded—to his brother, and knock some sense into what he was doing with one of the greatest Hunters in the nation.

Kidnapping a Rayner was one thing, but Tasing her? Tying her up and putting her inside of the Impala’s trunk? He felt sick about it, and he could only make himself feel worse when he found himself comparing his brother to Toni; he had kept his mouth shut during the ride back. He went with the flow of things and just . . .  went with it.

“Dee?” His brother stopped in his tracks. Sam understood this game all too well; using nicknames was when he wanted to talk about something serious or get something off his chest.  Dean pivoted on his heel. Sam didn’t give his brother a chance to speak. “Don’t you think you’re . . . kinda emulating . . . you-know-who?”

Dean frowned. “Who are you . . .”

“I mean, come on. Tasing Mads? Tying her up and putting her inside the trunk? I can’t really find myself not relating to her a little bit.” Sam let his voice trail off. He felt his patience wearing thin, especially when the devil herself clicked her tongue in disagreement.

Toni sat in the war room, her elbow leaning on what appeared to be the southern coast of Argentina. Her fair hair was done in a neat bun parallel to her eyes on the back of her head, with a tan leather jacket accommodating a white undershirt and matching dress pants. Black flats completed the look, along with beige eyeshadow to bring out those stupid eyes.

She shook her head slightly. “You don’t like me, Samuel, but I get it. Maybe Maddie would enjoy the same activities we endured during our time together. Or, perhaps, once that strapping lad of a brother leaves, we could have some . . . alone time, hmm?”

Sam glanced over at her with a slight shudder, tears springing to his eyes when he saw the needle in her hand. He managed to keep his fear and anger under control, but the second his brother rolled his eyes and retreated down the hall, the Hunter jumped from his chair and dashed down the stone stairs. He stopped at the world map, bracing himself on it with both hands trembling and his fingers turning white. Anger made his face hard, with his upper lip twitching in irritation.

His veins rose along his skin. Toni glanced down at them and licked her lips to his disgust. Sam lifted his arm and pointed at her with a stiff hand. “Shut. Up. You’re not . . . real.”

Standing, Toni sauntered her way around the table at a slow and predatory pace. Her eyebrow was arched slightly, with her tongue set between her teeth. Maddie had done the same exact thing in the motel parking lot. He thought it was hot, but now? He felt disgusted for even considering the action as sexy on Maddie’s part.

He shook his head at Toni, pressing his thumb into his palm where his scar used to be from years ago.

It still worked. Toni flickered away with an eyeroll.

He was finally greeted with silence. He finally felt calm in what seemed like weeks, or months if he counted the tension between his brother and his estranged mother. He knew Toni would be back later, but Sam decided to embrace this moment of silence with open arms.

A hand ran through his hair as he sighed deeply, feeling hesitant when he stepped back into the library. His book, checked out from the local library when he couldn’t find anything bird related in the Bunker, lay closed on the nearest table closest to the steps. His hand reached out and scooped it up with ease, the book opening to the page he marked with a sticky-note.

His mind went directly to Maddie the second he laid eyes on a depiction of the Greek god Eros. A marble statue of the god was said to be of Pompeiian decent, one line said, and a blush ran to his cheeks when he read that Eros was, officially, the god of sexual desire and attraction.

Even mythology can predict his future. He shook his head and turned the page, only to be greeted by another mouthful of a paragraph of Eros. His jaw clenched. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he read on. One part of the paragraph quoted a Greek comic playwright named Aristophanes that detailed the birth of Eros:

“At the beginning, there was only Chaos, Night (Nyx), Darkness (Erebus), and the Abyss (Tartarus). Earth, the Air and Heaven had no existence. Firstly, black-winged Night laid a germless egg in the bosom of the infinite depths of Darkness, and from this, after the revolution of long ages, sprang the graceful Love (Eros) with his glittering golden wings, swift as the whirlwinds of the tempest. He mated in the deep Abyss with dark Chaos, winged like himself, and thus hatched forth our race, which was the first to see the light.”

Sam’s lips parted a bit, his brow furrowing in deep concentration. He turned the page again, reading more on winged humanoids in folklore and mythology. There was the Greek legend of Icarus, the son of an Athenian craftsman who built the famous Labyrinth in Crete. Icarus and his father, Daedalus, were imprisoned in the Labyrinth when King Minos’ daughter helped Theseus, the enemy of the king, defeat the Minotaur.

He knew this legend all too well. He was always a fan of mythology, even if it wasn’t relevant to a case. Daedalus fashioned a pair of wings using wax, feathers and a thread given to them from Ariadne,  King Minos’ daughter. Escaping the Labyrinth, Daedalus instructed Icarus to not fly too low above the Mediterranean Sea or to not fly too high, for the Sun would melt the wax. Icarus disregarded his father’s advice and flew too close to the Sun, whose rays melted the wax and sent Icarus to his death.

The thought of death made his mind wander. He thought about how iron and silver were the two number one things that monsters could be killed, but he remembered seeing an iron ring on Maddie’s middle finger. Plus, not to mention, the angel sword she wields must be made of iron or silver, so she couldn’t be killed by either of those elements.

Maybe it’s not a mythological thing, he thought and shut the book. He stood from his chair and stalked to the staircase, hustling down them and jogging to his bedroom. He rushed past the closed dungeon door, not even taking a glance at it. He was worried about what Dean was doing to Maddie, but he was paranoid now that Dean would do worse if he didn’t get what he wanted.

Sam ignored Toni’s figure on his bed. Her jacket was off, and with that revealed her bare arms from the shoulder down. He hated to admit that her arms looked quite nice despite her age.

He blushed slightly when she crawled to the end of the bed at yet another predatory pace, her fingers wrapping around the footboard. Her hair fell from over her shoulder to rest above her breast.

Her hand reached for him when he finally found his tablet. He unplugged it from its charger atop his dresser. Toni’s fingers gripped his sleeve and tugged him closer to the bed, her other hand trailing up his chest. Sam clenched his fists with his jaw hinging forward in protest.

He knew she was trying to reel him in. She was trying so damn hard to make him fall for her again.

He shoved himself away and left the room, pressing his thumb into his palm as he did so. He heard the strained flickering behind him; he didn’t look over his shoulder. He felt her, though. He felt her presence looming over him from behind even though she was massively short compared to his monstrous height.

He ignored her again. He turned the corner and stopped in front of the dungeon door. It was the only thing that kept him away from Maddie. His heart tugged at what Dean was doing, and it tugged even harder when he heard her groaning inside.

Sam dug deep inside himself to find the courage to open the damn door. His hand shook as he turned the lever, the gears inside of the eighty-two-year-old door groaning in protest as it slowly opened. It was quite heavy, in his opinion, but he found it easier to open each time he did it. His daily workout routines were paying off, both on and off the job.

The bookcases were closed. Chains rattling echoed in the large room, with the combination of old books and blood making Sam’s eyes water. He blinked and shook his head. His hand trembled even more now when he reached out and pulled open the two bookcases, revealing a pissed-off Dean and a bloodied Maddie.

The first thing he noticed about her was the giant scar running from the center of her forehead to her jawline. It was a wide wound that was bleeding profusely, with thick trails of blood dripping into her lap and on the floor. Her left cheek was slashed, as well, as were both her arms. A dried pool of blood soaked her shirt in the stomach area; her shoulders were bleeding with large X’s carved into them.

How is she alive? he thought.

Dean set down a machete that was covered from tip to heel with blood. His hands were turning pink and crimson with new and dried blood.

The tray next to him, mocking the youngest Winchester’s former demise with Toni, was filled with instruments of torture. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably and cleared his throat, toying with the tablet as he swept his eyes over Maddie and the table.

Turning, his brother looked up at him. Suddenly Dean’s face lit up a bit, and that darkness in his eyes was gone. It disturbed Sam more than when Dee had the Mark of Cain, or when he was a demon. Eye wrinkles creased in the corners of his brother’s eyes, a characteristic that the women of the world couldn’t resist.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said with happiness in his voice.

Sam cast a concerned glance Maddie’s way. Her shirt and jeans were in pieces. Both items of clothing were covered in blood, with her lap being the most covered from the scar on her face. What alarmed him the most was how still she sat.

He shifted on his feet and showed Dean the screen. “Maybe she isn’t anything, Dean,” he muttered, pain cracking his voice. His gut churned the second he saw her like this. It pained him to see her tortured to a pulp and barely breathing while chained to a chair in a place unfamiliar to her. The least Dean could do was loosen the bonds, but even he knew that was a horrible idea.

His mind sent off alarms in his head. when he thought about what would happen if she got free. She’d kill us both, that’s for sure, he thought with a dizzying wave of uneasiness.

Maddie’s head lifted a bit. Sam’s jaw clenched when her shoulders rolled and her head lifted itself up to stare at the ceiling. The chains behind her rattled quite loudly when she began to struggle, her teeth baring and a snarl leaving her lips. She glanced behind her at her bonds and stared up at Dean with death in her eyes.

“Are the chains necessary, Dean, or are they here to satisfy your kinks?” she spat, a taunting arch of an eyebrow clearly setting the Hunter off. Sam fought a snicker on his part and managed to keep it on the inside.

Dean stepped over after he retrieved a dagger smaller than the machete. Sam’s gut churned the closer his brother got to her and tensed when Dee grabbed Maddie’s jaw in his hand and rested the tip of the blade on her chest. He chuckled to Sam’s dismay. The eldest Hunter’s head lifted a bit as if narrowing his eyes and twisted the blade on the surface of Maddie’s skin. Her face contorted to a slight grimace, but her expression remained taunting.

“I’m gonna ask you once and once only,” Dean spat, voice dripping with venom, “what are you?”

Maddie let out a devilish chuckle that mocked Dean’s. Sam felt a pang of regret for just standing there and not doing something, for the angel killer’s next words would haunt him forever: “Your questions can kiss my ass, Dean.” Dean’s hand flew between her side and right arm, his fingers grabbing the reinforced steel chains and pinning them to her wrist. Hissing filled the dungeon, mixed with Maddie’s pained grunts and profane threats she spewed at him. Sam shifted on his feet, fists clenched at his sides, and forced himself to not grab Dean and throw him across the room.

“Dean,” he said quietly, voice deeper than usual with emotion. Dean ignored him and grabbed the dagger from the tray and stabbed the blade into her leg. Flesh squished and blood boiled to the surface, pooling over her leg and dripping to the floor. A violent scream burst from Maddie’s throat, with the chains rattling loudly in the dungeon.

Bile rose in Sam’s throat. Toni stood behind the chair, an arm draping on Maddie’s shoulder. She was dressed in the same outfit as earlier, this time a blowtorch replacing the needle she had held. His jaw clenched when it turned on, which made him jump to his dismay, and told himself this wasn’t real.

This isn’t real, he thought when Toni placed the nozzle of the torch directly on Maddie’s scar.

Before he knew it, Sam was barreling down the hall towards his room. A wave of coolness slammed into the back of his head as he bent over the sink and vomited, his eyes squeezing shut. He remained there, arms braced on the sides of the sink, until nothing but stomach acid came up.

His throat burned, his mouth hurt. He shuddered and coughed, hoping and praying nothing else would come up. He rested his forehead on his arm, turning the sink on and washing his vomit down the drain.

When he looked up, a single tear slipped from his eye when, in the mirror, Toni stood behind him. A soft smile was on her face as they stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Those crystal pools haunted him both in and out of sleep, and today marks the eighth day he hasn’t slept a full night without nightmares.

She took a step forward. Another tear slipped, another drop of his dignity falling with it. His soul felt weak inside of him; it cowered in the corner when Toni stalked her way closer to him. He watched her in the mirror, his entire body shaking when her ice cold hands wrapped around his frame. He closed his eyes and shuddered in front of the sink.

“I missed you,” she purred, resting her head on his shoulder, hands snaking around his chest. He shook in her grasp, with tears dripping into the sink. “You know, Sam . . . I know you enjoyed our little fling together. How you groaned my name? I’d—”

Sam grabbed the glass sitting beneath the mirror and hurled it across the room over Toni’s head, with her figure fading away like smoke as he screamed, “Leave me alone!”

He stood there with his chest heaving in anger. He ran his hand through his hair and blinked, squeezing shut his eyes and opening them wide as the room swayed beneath his feet. Voices added to his dizziness, with most of them being different things Toni had spoken to him during his time with her.

Sometimes objects in his room flickered to things in the farmhouse. His duffle bag on his bed changed to cow prods, and his stash of ammunition flickered to needles and drugs of various sizes and doses. The voices grew in volume.

Toni’s degrading words and taunts rose to shouts, with moments of Ms. Watt carving into him flashing across his eyes.

The last thing he remembered was falling to the concrete floor.

It took him about five weeks to finally gather the courage to go back into the dungeon. He had busied himself with research sessions and bidaily jogs to the store, where he would stock up on whatever things the Bunker needed: beer, food, ingredients for his “disgusting and nasty” protein shakes, as described by his wonderful brother; and over-the-counter sleeping pills.

He drove himself to insomnia as the weeks crawled on without sleep. He had kept his lack of sleep from his brother, of course, claiming he had stayed up too late doing research for various or sparse cases; last week, there was a werewolf in Elkhorn, Nebraska, that took only four days to finish.

Dean had found him unconscious in his bedroom. Apparently, he had passed out from lack of sleep, and Sam even suffered a concussion from slamming his head on the floor. His brother said he needed stitches, but it didn’t take long for his memory to come back.

It didn’t take long for him to remember Maddie was still here.

Maddie’s screams slipped their way beneath his door. He flinched when her screams suddenly stopped. He slammed shut his book. It was a lore book on Chupacabra, and everything he’d read went out the window as he hurled himself off his bed and opened the door.

It took a while to make it to the dungeon. Even though he and his brother had been living there for almost five years, he still found himself becoming lost and continuing straight when he should’ve turned the corner.

Toni appeared next to him, her shoulder leaning on the wall next to the door. Sam ignored her, as per usual, as he stepped inside. The dungeon was consumed in darkness, save for the domes of yellow given off by the lights above him. His head shook in irritation when the soft clacks of Toni’s heels sounded seconds later.

The bookcases were closed suspiciously. It was obviously Dean’s very poor way of covering something up that happened to Mads, and it didn’t take long for Sam to realize how quiet it was in the musty room. It was too quiet, in his opinion, and as he made his way toward the bookcases, Toni couldn’t help but commentate.

“Quiet like you,” she whispered.

“Screw you,” Sam replied, his hands reaching out and wrapping around the shelf’s iron case. He gave the two rolling bookshelves a good tug, and the doors opened, sending a wave of pale light to shine on his lower body and on Toni’s entire, fictional and completely nonexistent body.

Maddie sat in the chair with her head bowed, her chest never rising and falling. A piece of duct tape was positioned over her lips, with her head wound bleeding more than he’d seen it earlier. It seemed like her knees were cut and bleeding to beyond restoration, but it looked like her wounds from weeks ago were already healing.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Toni quipped with intrigue. Sam’s heart twisted with disgust as Toni made her way to Maddie, stopping and admiring the damage on the Hunter’s body. “Beautiful handiwork.”

He ran over when he saw the machete embedded into her shoulder, keeping the right side of her body pinned to the chair.

Sam fell to a kneeling position, his hands immediately going to cradle her head. His hands stopped, however, and instead went to check her pulse. Her skin was cold beneath his, and a tear came to his eye when her pulse was deemed faint.

Her head snapped up and muffled screams filled the room. Her eyes were wide as ever, scanning his face for the apparent darkness she had witnessed with Dean. Sam clutched her face and rubbed his thumbs along her jaw, quietly shushing her as she struggled and screamed. His heart tugged.

“Hey. Hey, Mads,” he whispered, “Maddie. Maddie! Listen to me, okay? I’m not here to hurt you. Promise. Just lemme take this off and I can help you. Okay? Do you trust me?”

She quieted a bit. Her chest heaved and shone with sweat, soft grunts leaving her sealed mouth. Her head lolled when she lifted it up, to which Sam grabbed the sides of her neck and held her head up with his thumbs. His heart thundered in his chest as he shook her to try and keep her alive or conscious; he couldn’t tell if she was hyperventilating, passing out or dying.

Finally, she nodded and allowed him to pry the duct tape off her lips. Her breath shuddered and she shook in the chair. When Sam went to get a grip on the machete, she shook her head and let her head fall back slightly with exhaustion.

It took her a few seconds to find words. Seeing her so exhausted from fighting the pain Dean had caused her made him feel gross. For once in his life, he could relate to Rayner. For obvious reasons, the Rayner bloodline couldn’t necessarily be deemed as relatable, but now? He never felt so complete with Maddie.

He waited for her to speak, and once she did, his tormentor snickered next to him.

“Leave it in. I-I don’t him to think you’re . . .  he-helping me.” Maddie’s voice was beyond raspy, possibly from her five weeks’ worth of torture on his brother’s part. The thought of Dean made Sam tense and glance over his shoulder, thankful he didn’t see his brother.

Toni paced around Maddie and stopped at her side, legs bending so she could be level with the angel Hunter. Sam took his hands from Maddie’s head and pressed his thumb into his palm as hard as he could, grunting when Toni’s figure simply flickered like a television losing its signal for a few moments. Instead, he focused on Maddie. She was his number one priority at the moment, and at any time, Dean could return from his break. It pained Sam to know that he had a ticking time bomb in his hands, plus a hallucinogenic Toni Bevell weaseling into his life like Lucifer did.

Least you’re not with him, he thought. He felt a little better after that thought came and went, but the glare from the Woman of Letters made him resist making eye contact with her.

“The question is, Samuel, would you rather be with me or Lucifer? After all, you were tortured by him, so what makes you think I’m any better?” Toni’s voice annoyed him, and this accent in a pantsuit bitch made him want to punch a wall. He ignored her; it was the only thing he could do without looking insane. Sam clenched his jaw as he stared at Maddie. Her eyes, he realized, were struggling to stay open. He looked at the machete, which was probably the only thing that was keeping her from bleeding out.

He looked up at the second door not far from Maddie’s chair. If he could get her out of the chair without severing any major organs, he could have her in a motel a few miles away in less than an hour. An hour could save her life, he thought. His hand lifted to grab the machete, but he knew Maddie would start bleeding the second he moved the weapon.

Praying that Toni would go away out of annoyance, he waited until Maddie returned her gaze to him. Tears were in her eyes, and Sam’s soul felt crushed. She was scared—horrified was a better word—and in serious pain, possibly thinking that he was here to hurt her. He wanted to yell at her that he was here to help, but even he knew she’d think that was bullshit.

“Maddie. No, no, no, hey. Hey, Mads. Stay awake for me, okay?” Her head was bobbing up and down, and he knew it wasn’t long until she lost consciousness. Her lips barely moved as she looked up at him through her drooping lashes. “I’m so tired . . .” Her voice was barely a whisper, either, and it broke his heart. Just seeing her like this broken, defeated woman who didn’t deserve any of this.

Sam bowed his head, lips scrunching to the side in thought. His brow furrowed, too, and the idea that hatched in his brain went burning to the ground when the door opened behind him, and Dean’s halted footsteps stopped.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was deep with confusion and slight anger. “What’re you doing?”

Mads lifted her head as much as she could with a groan, the flesh around the machete squishing around. More blood oozed from the wound and dripped to the floor. The chains rattling filled the silence that wrapped its arms around the Hunters. Dean held his knife, twirling it on his fingertip nonchalantly.

Sam’s jaw clenched tightly when Maddie spoke. “Bet you wish Castiel could zap on in and heal me. Brand new slate for a brand new session, huh?” She drew in a sharp breath as if wincing and continued. “Ooh. Hold on. That’s right. He’s dead as a doornail.”

Dean stormed over and placed the dagger’s tip on her chin. Sam moved to push him away, but his brother’s other hand reached into the back of his pants and took out his pistol, cocking and raising it to Sam’s head without looking away from Maddie.

“Don’t even, Sam.”

“Course, I’m not saying that you wish he was here. You want him here, need him here. Is that right? That longing, depressive feeling that’s been eating at you for weeks is simply delicious, in my opinion. The greatest Hunter in the nation had his precious little boyfriend put down like a dog. But, alas. If only I were the one who made that killing stab, my life would be so much brighter.” He was shocked Dean didn’t end her right then and there. What happened, however, was his big brother grabbing the machete and twisting it clockwise, sending a fountain of blood to lightly spray from the wound.

Instead of screaming, Maddie let out a maniacal chuckle. “Y’know, the little bastard deserved it. Fucking up the world for one measly human, rebelling against his superiors for one measly human. Almost killing seven billion people for Dean Winchester.

“I wonder how it feels to have the love of your life taken from you so tragically, so soon,” she continued, her voice cracking and dipping as she spoke. “But, I guess he died knowing you didn’t love him. Bet he never got the chance to say, either, considering his little problems he had to deal with. His family never accepted him—his true family, might I add—and everybody talking about him like he was nothing but a piece of shit walking this earth. Oh, wait! He still is, even in death. I sleep great at night, by the way, knowing that he died without a purpose. Guess he’ll always be the one who got away, huh, Dean?”

Sam stared at her in horror. Tears were in his eyes at the degrading and shocking words that this woman just said about his friend, but he wasn’t prepared for the bone-rattling punch that Dean threw, Maddie’s head whipping back and going limp as she slumped to the side, unresponsive. When her chest rose and fell, a sigh of relief left both Hunters.

The younger Hunter stared awkwardly at his brother. Dean’s knuckles were bleeding and cracked, but apparently, he didn’t care. When Dee exhaled sharply, Sam cleared his throat. “Why don’t I take a stab at her? Y-you need a break, anyway.”

Dean turned and stared at him like he had said that Dad was alive and breathing. At first, he was confused, but then his brother shook his head and turned to leave. “Cut her tongue out next time,” Dean said over his shoulder as the door was opened. It creaked closed faster than Sam could unchain Mads and carry her towards the door.

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

13x02 ~ Until Dawn

haahahhahahahahahahaaha i lied it’s september 11 and here it is ;-; sorryyyyyyyyyy i’ve been sick so here *pukes words*

Warnings: again, badassery, sam being sassy as always, dean being sassy as always, mentions of torture and being shot??? mentions of the british bitch of letters™, toni bevelle

~~~

Read Chapter 1 HERE!

Read about Mads HERE!

“Okay, you’re being ridiculous, Sam. Madalyn wouldn’t be in a random bar in Arkansas, running the same case as us.”

Her head flicked in the direction of her name. She clenched her jaw slightly as she stared at the infamous Winchester brothers in full Hunter apparel: plaid shirts with jeans and work boots. She glanced down at her own outfit; a leather jacket over a faded Lynyrd Skynyrd crop top and ripped skinny jeans. She felt one with the crowd of Hunters milling about the roadside bar.

She could never tell the Hunters apart or put names to faces. She knew the Winchesters, especially, from their track record at screwing up the world every damn year.

She wondered what it was this year. Maybe God’s great aunt didn’t get invited to the family reunion. Or maybe it’s Abraham’s adoptive cat went haywire. The satire of the Winchester’s track record made her smirk softly as she swirled her beer around in its mug.

She glanced at the Winchester brothers. Dean, the oldest one, glared at her from his beer. His broad shoulders defined his thick biceps that peeked from his flannel and black canvas jacket. Hating to admit it, she felt a blush creeping up her neck and warming her cheeks. She was taking a drink of her beer when she glanced at Sam, and saw the sympathy in his striking eyes that made her sputter on the delicious delicacy.

Sam’s head cocked to the side a bit as the Rayner wiped her mouth as softly as she could without smearing her lipstick. It took her a few minutes to realize she was still looking at him. Her face turned even redder now, and she put her beer down and held up her finger for the check. The bartender, a seventy-something man who probably served in the Army or Navy, waddled over and told her some lucky gent had paid for her drink.

Probably so he can get in my pants, she thought as she pushed herself off the stool and down to the floor.

She didn’t notice both brothers darting from their seats.

In her short stature, she had to stare up at various people in order to reach the door. She nearly toppled over a couple’s table if she hadn’t tripped over a person’s foot (again), or if Sam hadn’t grabbed the back of her shirt to keep her from face-planting.

She caught a muttered, “Get up,” before he had her back pinned to his chest as he practically shoved her out of the bar. It’d be easier to just go with it instead of fighting. After all, the lumberjack of a Winchester would surely kill her easily due to her miniscule height.

The cold air clouded in front of their lips as Sam kept the Rayner’s biceps clutched tightly in his gigantic hands. She met the eyes of a few passersby, who looked initially alarmed or confused in whether this was a kidnapping attempt, involving a large man with sexy Jesus hair dressed in shady-looking clothing or not. The man’s outfit should’ve made the people connect the dots, but they simply shook their heads and went about their business as Sam dragged her toward the rear of the building, both their bodies lining the bar’s exterior wall.

The Dumpster hid them well from the apparent security cameras hooked to the corners of the brick building. A gas station was inconveniently placed up a small hill to their left, with just the right amount of homeless people and possible drug dealers to make the truck-stop a little too homey for both the Hunters’ tastes.

And there was the notorious Chevrolet Impala, it’s sleek body reflecting a lone streetlight in the alleyway. Dean was there, too, his hands in his pockets, a look of intimidation on his handsome face. The streetlight darkened his eyes and cheekbones, sending a weird yet kinda cute contour on his face.

Sam’s grip released her biceps, and a soft push toward the center of the large delivery area made her glare back at him with death in her eyes. She smirked at the slight retreated step on the brother’s part.

She moved her head to look at Dean. His expression hadn’t changed the slightest, but a flash of fear ran across his eyes when she spoke. “Tell your lumberjack of a brother here to ease on the death grip. What do you want?”

Shifting on his feet, Dean took his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. “Where you at our case?” He leaned forward to put more emphasis, but she simply scoffed at his poorly executed tone he called intimidation.

The Rayner mimicked the Winchester’s position and lifted her foot to balance on her heel. She lifted an eyebrow to taunt him, which succeeded by the slight shake of his head. Instead of turning to leave, she continued.

“Aw, poor Dean! Just because he thinks he got here first, doesn’t mean he can lay claim to whatever case he wants. I’ve been here a week; I can take care of this case alone. So, I’m gonna give you both two options: pack up that station wagon you call a car and get the hell outta here, or I will drag you out of here by your severed limbs. And that alone should make you think very, very carefully. You don’t wanna know what happens when I get impatient again, now do we, Dean?”

She could tell Sam was tense by how he cleared his throat. She glanced back at him with her tongue between her teeth. Dean, looking past her, narrowed his eyes at his brother. It was confusing at first, but she understood what he meant when it was his turn to shoot something back at her.

Taking a seat atop the Impala’s hood, he balanced himself with a hand. “You don’t stay a week, Madalyn. You never stay three days in a town, you take care of it in at least a day. The greatest Hunter in the whole nation getting bupkis on a Wendigo case? Never thought I’d see the day.”

He had her there. She frowned at the man when she found nothing witty to snap back at him. The only time she stays a long time in a town is if she runs into a dead-end, and that never happens. She had already visited the morgue with no luck, but who knows? Maybe working with the Winchesters could broaden her horizons on working alone.

It took her a moment to speak. She glanced back at Sam, who stood rigidly and defensively like a soldier. She rolled her eyes at Dean, finally giving in to the pressure the brothers weighed on her. “Fine, I’ll work with you idiots. And I go by Maddie.”

The next twenty minutes were the longest twenty minutes of her life. She had insisted on getting her car, but Dean denied it instantly and grabbed her arms, throwing her into the back of the Impala. She protested, of course, but she shut up when Dean pointed his gun at her without looking back at her. She slumped in the back of the seat, arms crossed, as the car drove down Seward Street towards a one-star motel that she calls home.

Sam and Dean weren’t rough with her, but they were suspicious of her reaching into her pocket and taking out her room key when they got out of the car. She was staying on the second floor, while the brothers were staying on the first and main floor.

“Relax,” she said, “I’m not gonna pull a gun on you. I’d pull a knife and keep your heads as trophies.”

When she got up to the second-floor balcony, she trailed her hand along the blue siding, humming a tune as she walked. Her gait was leisurely, mostly because she wanted to push the Winchesters’ buttons. It was fun to toy with people’s anger and emotions if she knew she’d get something out of it, and most of the time it was the overwhelming power of authority she’s never known that was exhilarating and dizzying.

She shoved open the door after shoving the key into the lock. A sigh left her lips as she glanced at her feet, leaning on the door with her back to shut it. The second the door shut, she looked up.

A handsome man stood in the center of the bedroom, dressed in a leather jacket, ripped jeans and work boots. The man looked like a Hunter, no doubt, but the evilness reeking from the vessel told her it was a demon.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The demon flung his arm out toward the wall to his right, where Maddie was sent flying into. Her body toppled over the television on a little coffee table with books and chargers for her laptop and phone. Her back slammed against the wall, where she thought she’d be hung. Instead, her body slid from the wall to the floor, crushing the coffee table. Pain exploded in her stomach.

“Hell’s been going crazy looking for you,” the demon continued, picking his way toward her. A groan left her parted lips, eyes squeezing shut from the pain. When she opened her eyes, she forced her arms to shakily push herself up to she could get a clear view of the demon. “Guess I get my prize,” the demon summarized simply, a grin lifting a corner of his mouth.

The demon stopped in front of her, its vessel’s leg kicking her in the stomach. She groaned with anger, the reverberating pain echoing in her painful abdomen. If she were human, her stomach would be more than bruised; her ribs would be shattered to pieces. Her bones, however, were at least five times stronger and thicker than a human’s, thanks to genetic engineering on her creator’s part, so she found herself thanking him for making her practically invincible.

She knew the demon’s intentions: hurt her until she couldn’t stay conscious and ship her back to Hell. She’s been confronted by plenty of demons in the past few weeks, but this was getting ridiculous. Now Hell was getting on Heaven’s scale of being obsessed with the last Rayner.

A soft knock came from outside. She could tell it was Sam simply by the politeness the sound had in it. His raspy voice came seconds later, words dry from possibly arguing at Dean. “Maddie, you good? We heard something fall downstairs.”

Suddenly imaginary chains grabbed her arms and yanked her against the wall with a soft slam, arms spread like she was on a cross. A pained grunt left her lips. The back of her head collided with the wall, as well, the demon grabbing her throat and shoving a hand on her mouth. A finger lifted to the demon’s lips, with a soft shh crawling to her ears.

Maddie gave a muffled groan as she stared lazily at the demon. She knew this wasn’t the end of this fight. No matter who or what she fighting with, she always held onto her final playing card until she had nothing left.

Her foot swung up and nailed the demon in the face. If the vessel weren’t possessed, then the person would’ve been killed easily with the amount of strength she poured into the kick. She had little control over how much power she put in her movements, but she tended to ease up a bit when she was simply sparring with another close Hunter or if she were fighting a human.

The demon’s nose crunched beneath her boot. His hand flew up to catch the blood that started dripping from his right nostril, which took his hand from her lips. Her bracelet slithered up to form her staff. The demon, eyes flashing to those fathomless pits of black, tried to foolishly knock the weapon out of her hand.

A quick swipe towards the door to her right sliced a rather scrawny line in the vessel’s forearm. A small pit of black brightening to a somewhat neon orange that allowed small sparks to float out of the cut. She assumed it was part of the demon’s soul, but she wasn’t for certain. Demons weren’t in her line of work.

Before she knew it, a giant hole in the motel room filtered into the room. Her leg ached from doing the hardest roundhouse kick she’s done in her life, it felt like, but it didn’t amount to the joy she felt when she was finally free of danger for a moment. Her chest barely heaved, but her lungs felt like they were in overdrive.

The demon wasn’t dead, yet. She figured Sam and Dean had heard the commotion, too, by how she heard Dean’s cursing from downstairs.

Thoughts of Sam and Dean left her mind completely when she heard the demon getting to its feet. She growled beneath her breath and took a running start toward the balcony, leaping onto the railing and jumping as hard as she could. She flew up at least a few more feet to her shock, but she didn’t let the height occupy her mind.

Maddie’s wings flew from her shoulder blades, the black monstrosities spreading and arching above her as she lifted her staff above her head. Her hair flew above her head as she let gravity do its glorious and beautiful job, bringing her down at at least twenty miles-per-hour. Her staff, the sharpened side, slammed into the demon’s chest, directly in its heart as she landed on one knee in a crouched position. The rest of the demon’s soul glowed against the skin as it died.

The second the body went limp, she straightened to a standing position, chest heaving slightly more than it did. Yanking her staff out, she twirled it around her wrist and allowed it to transform back into its bracelet form.

“Holy crap.”

Her head snapped up to look to her right. Sam and Dean stood with their pistols out, one trained on the demon and the other, Dean’s, aimed at her head. The Hunter lowered his gun a fraction of an inch but cursed when the Rayner flapped her wings and rocketed towards the trees with a huff.

The wind howled in her ears. Some would find it annoying, but after thirty-three years of having wings, she’s grown used to it. The cold air hissing along her skin and body sent chills down her spine. Her arms folded to rub her upper arms as she spread her wings.

Her bracelet scratched her wrist a bit as she rubbed her cold arms. It didn’t hurt, but all it did was send her mind spiraling into the world of hunting with the Winchesters. She knew they’d kill her, now that they knew she wasn’t human. A monster hunting monsters? She was shocked the things that go bump in the night haven’t sensed her inhumane DNA yet. After all, monsters could identify other monsters with a simple sniff.

What if they know? Every monster knows what every other monster is, whether it is humans or not, she thought with a shudder. No other monster has mentioned her abilities and attributes in her eighteen years of hunting. Even Hunters haven’t been suspicious, which is another reason why she hunts alone. It’s better safe than sorry, and in this case, she knew she had to get away from civilization as fast as possible.

She found a jet stream a few minutes later. Instead of tucking in her wings, she decided to ride the stream for a few hundred miles. Her speed increased slightly the second she entered, with her wings spreading out to their full length of seventeen feet.

“You’re an idiot, Maddie,” she muttered to herself, lifting her legs slightly to take her out of the stream an hour later. She descended towards the treetops; if she extended her arm, her fingertips would graze the elms and oaks. A smile spread her lips, but it faded as fast as it had come.

“Letting them see you with your wings out? Surely they’ll put a bullet in your head the second you return.”

Leave this case behind, a voice said in the back of her head. Sam and Dean are already on it, so it’s best to go back, get your shit and leave. They can take care of it. It’s not like you’ve let cases go before. Other Hunters take care of them.

Hunger made her dip into the canopy layer of the forest. Her stomach growled slightly, loud enough to wake the dead if she didn’t descend closer to the ground. The closeness of the trees hindered her landing, but she managed to tuck her wings in and take dive to the ground. Her body, on instinct, rolled into a ball. Her back made contact with the ground and soon she was walking towards the road.

She stopped to catch her breath. Being genetically altered has its drawbacks, including altitude sickness. Her stomach rolled in her gut. Her chest hitched forward as nausea crept up to her throat. Vomit came, as well, but she swallowed it along with the lump in her throat.

A twig snapped behind her. Movie cliche was dripping from the trees, and she whirled around, hands reaching out and snatching a silver pistol from Sam’s giant hands.

“How’d you find me?” she asked. Sam’s jaw clenched, his hands raising in surrender. His tight jaw made her shift on her feet a bit, hands getting clammy and breath hitching. Her core throbbed slightly to her disappointment.

Sam’s giant hand slowly tucked into his pocket. She suspected a gun, and she could pull the trigger right now. One bullet would drop one of the greatest Hunters in the nation.

His brows raised, his mouth curved into a snarky smirk. She despised that smirk, both because it was taunting and hot.

“Phone,” he simply stated. Maddie blinked slightly and felt the bulge in her back pocket. She kept the gun trained on Sam’s head as she felt in her pockets for her phone. Her heart sunk slightly with anger and pity consuming her. Such an idiot.

She put her hand back on the handle. “Where’s your brother?”

“Back at the car.”

“Am I supposed to be relieved by that, or are you here to kill me, too?” Venom dripped from her words. Sam took a slight step back at her retort, but he didn’t seem to let it faze him. He kept his hands raised, of course, but they lowered slightly.

His chest swelled as he inhaled sharply. “I wouldn’t do that, Mads,” he said, voice cracking a bit with emotion. Her face contorted to a look of disgust. She felt more than uncomfortable with the man, but she found a small part of her wanting to be with him. Dean wanted to put a bullet in her head, but Sam . . . there was something about the younger Hunter that didn’t make her want to crush his skull in her hands.

Her chest swelled as she readjusted her grip on the pistol’s gun. Her finger rested against the trigger, which made the Winchester shift on his feet and clench his jaw tighter. She narrowed her eyes at him with a devilish smirk. Her wings were shaken free of their prison inside her back. One of them spread out a bit, muscle tingling from being confined such a loathful place.

It was her turn to shift on her feet. Leaves crackled and rustled beneath her boots, with the silent howl of wind blowing through the trees. Her grip tightened on the gun as she stared Sam down with a slightly arched brow, until she finally, after a few moments of silence, she spoke.

“And why is that?”

Sam went silent. He shifted on his feet yet again, only for his jaw to clench when his gaze drifted to someone behind her. His head dipped slightly, which made nervousness grapple her nerves. Her own jaw clenched, and when her finger went to pull the trigger, another gun went off behind her.

She expected a bullet to burst from her chest, with blood soaking her shirt. She expected the pain greater than her fourteen years of being tortured by her creator to bombard her system, coming so fast and quick that she wouldn’t feel anything. Just a numbing sensation that would make her eyes glaze over and her body would collapse at Sam Winchester’s feet.

But she didn’t expect something to be injected into her back.

The force of the object being shot into her spine from an apparent distance made her leg catch herself from falling. Her breath hitched in her throat, eyes staring at nothing in particular. Although she felt another pair of eyes on her, she lifted her gaze at Sam and squinted at him a bit in confusion.

His face was set with frustration and . . . was that sorrow? She never knew that Sam would feel sorry for her, whether she was being shot by his brother or not. She felt her heart connecting with this damn man. She felt . . . one with Sam even though she’s only known him since that morning. It wasn’t until she focused on what was really happening, in this moment, did she feel Sam’s pity for her.

Her head cocked a bit, too, like a dog hearing a new noise for the first time.

She felt like a dog, in this situation. She felt like a rabid, hostile beast connecting to humans for the first time, humans that didn’t necessarily know what to do with her. Do they be kind to her? Do they shoot her with no questions asked? She had no idea, but she knew the boys didn’t, either.

Her body stiffened a bit, but she managed to reach being her and yank out the tranquilizer dart from her back. It hurt, especially when it was in her spine, but she brought it parallel to her chin. She stared at it for a moment before lifting her gaze to stare at Sam with death in her eyes.

The dart crumbled to dust as she crushed it in her fist. An eyebrow arched upward to intimidate the Winchester, but she really wanted to crush Dean’s skull. Her head turned until she caught the oldest Hunter in the corner of her eye. Her tongue peeked out of her mouth to rest between her teeth as she turned to face him, the shattered dart sprinkling out of her hand.

“You think a tranq is gonna stop me?” she spat, putting one hand on her hip. A devilish laugh left her lungs when Dean didn���t snap anything. “Oh, Dean. You poor thing.”

But Dean simply smirked as he took a few steps forward until he was at least thirty feet away from her. His brow furrowed slightly, his hand lifting and holding his index finger up as his other hand reached into his pocket.

Maddie clenched her jaw. Something didn’t feel right about this at all. Dean was being extra shady; shadier than he already was. She gave him a once over a few times, waiting for him to pull a gun or reveal something about the case she didn’t know. Her mind immediately went to five months ago, where she was abducted by some woman claiming she was with the British Men of Letters . . . whatever that went.

Finally, Dean took out a pair of handcuffs. Maddie scoffed and shook her head, narrowing her eyes at the Hunter.

His next five words made her freeze.

“No, but a Taser can.”

Three minuscule shots of pain embedded into her back, her body taking yet another step forward due to the Taser’s force. Electricity came seconds later, her limbs stiffening with all her motor skills going out the window. She snarled at both of the boys, but she didn’t expect to feel Sam’s hand on her shoulder, squeezing it as she sunk to the ground.

Her body felt like it was on fire. Her fingers (and toes) were tightly spread, tendons popping from the skin as her entire body shook. Tears sprung to her eyes, to her dismay, but she did manage to keep the floodgates from opening. Her eyes, however, began closing.

“No . . . no, no more, Toni, please . . .” She felt her lips moving, but she didn’t hear her voice over her groaning. She couldn’t tell if her chest was heaving or not from trying to stay conscious, but she could understand the slightly horrified look Sam gave his brother when she added, “I’ll give y-you n-names.”

The electricity faded from her system after a few more seconds. She was on her knees now, with Sam sinking to his knees with her. Her upper body swayed slightly, eyes staring at nothing again. A low groan left her parted lips. She looked up at Sam, who had a tear slipping from one eye. Maddie’s vision blurred, and everything was replaced with a cloak of darkness as she fell into Sa Winchester’s lap.

The last words she heard were from Sam. 

“I’m sorry.”

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

Sorry!!!!

Hey nerds. So, I’ve decided to do something drastic, and that is to discontinue Horrors and Hunters. I know I’ve been really sucky at updating, and I’ve literally been writing every day on random topics and honestly, most of it gets thrown away because I’m not content with it.

So sorry about being MIA. I’ve been immersed in this type of song called a musical, and Hamilton has taken over my life sorry .3.

On a happier note, I still plan on writing with Maddie. I’ll edit her little bio later today, since I’m in school as I’m making this post. I will also get to work starting on other OCs of mine (and of some friends, too; more on that later), their biographies, and basically settling them in their rightful place on my blog.

Anyway! I’ve also thought about this for a few months now, and instead of going along with season 13, I’ve decided to write my own season 13. I think it’ll have 22 or 23 episodes/chapters; I’m not sure yet.

There will be some dialogue from episodes that I think will help carry along the plot I have for this, especially how Sam and Dean will act now that Castiel is dead. (Still pissed over that . . . but then again, aren’t we all?)

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

13x01 ~ The Bionic Woman

A/N: Here it is, folks! I forgot to click post when I set messed with the queue, but chapter two should be posted on Labor Day, if not then I’ll set my queue for Wednesday, September 6.

For new people that find this appearing on their dashes, I’m gonna post Maddie’s bio in each chapter. With that said, click HERE if you want a good background on Maddie/no idea who she is and you wanna read this series. UPDATED with Masterlist.

Click HERE for a reason why I decided to do this shit.

Hope you all enjoy! Please note that this post and every other post involving Maddie/this fic WILL be mature so . . . I’ll add some warnings and add a saviorhide filter if I can figure how to do that.

Warnings: mentions of rape, badassery (is that a word??) Dean being a smart ass, mentions of the Wicked Bitch of England Toni

Fun fact: this thing is 3,512 words long :]

Masterlist

What made the Hunter stir seemed to increase in both annoyance and fear. His stupid mind was forcing him to endure his torture with Toni again, and there was more than the use of sharp objects and taunting actions that made him humiliated to an extreme extent.

He was drugged again and again and again, shoved back into that damned trunk with a gag in his mouth as Toni transported him from farmhouse to farmhouse, slowly making their way towards the east coast; now they were in Kentucky, somewhere near Louisville off a highway.

The room was smaller than the original farmhouse to his disliking. Candles (he knew he’d never see the damned things the same again) were lit along the bed and on the dresser across from him. The walls were old and wooden, with chips littering the floor when Toni had dragged him in here.

Each time unconsciousness greeted him, his hopes that Dean would save him wore thin like his chances of ridding himself from Toni. His brother’s face grew foreign to him as the nightmare trudged on, feeling as though Dean was just a figment; that all of this was a figment of his imagination.

That he was still with Toni, who lay six feet under at Wilson State Park four hours away.

She was there now, kneeling beside the bed he was bound to with a smile on her face. Memories of being tied to another bed in Becky’s cabin all those years ago came flooding back, making him bite down on his gag and tug on the burning ropes around his wrists and ankles. She chuckled at his efforts and climbed onto the bed. Sam tried pulling himself away, but he grunted in defeat when Toni put her head on his chest.

With Ms. Watt dead, Toni was the only one left who could lug Sam around when he was either unconscious or tied up. The woman was very small and intimidating, which added to the shame that cloaked the Winchester like a blanket. His own height should make her feel intimidated, not the other way around. He remembered staying near exits when she was in the Bunker with him and Dean.

He remembered being a coward when he was with Toni, shrinking back whenever she spoke or took a step forward. The head tilts to the side made fear slap him in the face, and eyebrow arches made him swallow and regret the words he snapped at her. He felt like a coward and convinced himself that he was weak in the presence of her, although Dean always made himself look dominant when he was with the Woman of Letters.

The ball-pointed pen and the small notepad—those damned things—she constantly had on her forced him to cooperate. If he was submissive towards her, she’d give him the least painful punishment, whether it be a slice of the leg or a session of harmless but degrading rape.

It was the rape that made him hesitate having sex with another person. The last woman he had sex with was Eileen, and throughout the earth-shattering euphoria, he expected her to flicker away and be replaced by a naked Toni Bevell. He expected her adorable voice to dip into an English accent with patronizing glares and smirks boring into his eyes. Eileen, although beautiful, reminded him that he was lucky Toni was dead.

Toni lifted her head and rested her chin on his breast. “It’s somewhat comforting to see you like this,” she purred, lust dripping from her words. Her fingers stood and walked up his shirt, stopping just below his nipple when she continued. “Tied up, unable to speak. It’s . . . soothing.”

Sam could clearly tell she was turned on. From the wild eyes to the slightly reddening cheeks, he eyed the hungry bite of her bottom lip as she slid her leg over his lap and crawled up his body until she was flush against him.

Her breath was labored as she fumbled with his shirt. He grunted in protest and pulled on the ropes, baring his teeth as best he could through the black cloth. He pulled his head back and stared at the ceiling, resting his head on the golden bed frame. It was cool against his hair, which Toni grabbed and forced him to look at her.

The Woman of Letters’ eyes were wild with lust and authority. Her hand remained on his breast and gave it a squeeze to his displeasure. She was trying her damnedest to turn him on, to make him cave in and allow her to rape him one more time before knocking him unconscious again.

Floorboards creaked. His eyes darted to a figure holding the longest staff he’s ever seen. The figure, donning feminine features, stepped into the light with stunning gray eyes. Her face was . . . he wasn’t trying to sound cheesy, but he found her just absolutely beautiful. Long brown hair up in a ponytail, she seemed to know her way around the makeup world as well, given her dark eyeshadow and contour on her cheeks. Pink lipstick made her lips seem plumper than they already were, adding to the growing list of how stunning she was.

She wore the usual Hunter apparel: a plaid shirt with another shirt beneath it. Her skinny jeans were ripped at the knees and thighs, sending his mind reeling towards athleticism. Combat boots rose to her calves.

The staff she held elongated with a muttered word. The handle of the weapon had hollow channels in it, emulating veins, that glowed bright blue. The sound the scepter made when it grew would be described as hissing or metal singing, but he couldn’t decide which adjective to choose.

Rolling off him, Toni stared at the girl. Sam craned his neck to see, but he couldn’t get a clear view. He lay there, patiently, and listened to the woman’s grunt when she slammed herself on Toni. Both of them fell to the floor to his left.

Sam took the time to wriggle his feet that were tied to the bedposts, finally freeing his right foot first. He went to work untying his left foot using his toes but grunted in defeat when his entire leg tingled from being asleep.

Toni and the girl remained on the floor for a second. Then a loud crash exploded when the girl was thrown across the room and into the chipping dresser. It crushed beneath her weight, sending her toppling to the ground. An impact like that with Toni Bevell fighting would surely knock someone like him unconscious, but the girl heaved herself to her feet with a deep gash cut into her forehead and staff still gripped in her hand. Her teeth were clenched and bared, a word dripping with venom leaving her lips: “Bitch.”

The girl, who he dubbed Xena, glanced at him for a second. She rolled to the right when Toni took out the cow prod and jabbed it towards her. The staff, being brought up in a defensive position, blocked the next swing from Toni. The women danced around the room like this for several minutes until Xena kicked the Woman of Letters in the stomach with such force he heard bone cracking.

Toni doubled over next to the bed. The cow prod fell from her hands and clattered to the wooden floor, with Xena backing away slightly to give Toni some ground. There was one thing about the girl that made him stare at her for a bit. She hadn’t broken a sweat, nor did her chest heave. Her gash stopped bleeding almost immediately.

Xena managed to take a fake stab Toni’s way before she bumped into the bed. It barely moved, however, the girl waved her arms back as if she were losing balance, her staff swinging right for his tied hand. He prepared for the worst, but part of the bed frame caved in as the weapon sliced the ropes off his hand.

She meant to do that, he realized.

Sam stared at the burn marks embedded on his skin. They hurt, no doubt, but he reached across his body and untied his other wrist. He cradled them when a surge of pain shocked through him. He removed his gag and tossed it aside, wetting his dry and cracked lips with his tongue. He leaned forward and, untying his foot and swinging his head up to stare at Xena, clenched his jaw.

She had turned and faced the wall, her back practically glowing with vulnerability. Toni’s head turned. Sam’s legs felt numb from being bound to the bed frame when he stood, but he got the hang of walking again as he rushed around the bed.

Toni, having gotten to her feet, gripped the cow prod like a baseball bat. Xena’s head turned slightly as if she were looking behind her, and, as Sam grabbed Toni’s elbows and held her back, the scepter-wielding woman spun and impaled the Woman of Letters with her scepter, stopping short of the scepter came though.

The two Hunters’ eyes met. A slight eyebrow arch of the woman made him loosen his grip on Toni, who stared down at the staff in horror. Her body went limp in his arms, and Xena withdrew her weapon. It was almost clean of blood, and as the girl leaned on it, the staff shortened slightly. Her gray eyes narrowed and her head tipped up in power, and when she opened her mouth, Sam Winchester’s bedroom replaced the cabin.

“So, it’s a girl?” Dean asked, a confused look on his face as he brought his beer to his lips. His hair was slightly mussed from sleep, but other than that, he was fully awake to Sam’s pleasure. A grin widened his brother’s lips. “Was she hot?”

Sam nodded with a soft chuckle. “Y-yeah, I’d say she’s hot. Anyway, she must’ve walked in while Toni was doing . . . things with me. T-the floorboards creaked, Toni turned and the girl just went to town with her. Y’know, tackling Toni, wrestling for a bit. I managed to untie myself to an extent, y’know? Then, Toni must’ve punched her hard enough to send her flying across the room to the dresser.”

Dean took a drink of his beer. “Surely she was knocked out? Toni kicked my ass,” he stated, scratching his head.

“Uh, no. She got up, fully aware, but there was a-a gash on her forehead.”

Dee leaned on his elbows and pushed his laptop closer to him. “Tell me about this staff?”

Sam started explaining it. He made sure to put in as many details as he could while it was still fresh in his mind, putting emphasis on important parts, such as the hollowed channels. He described them as veins to his brother, which didn’t seem to differentiate to him. He added the glowing blue essence he saw, as well, describing it as . . . angel grace.

“Whoa, angel grace? What kind of staff has ‘hollowed veins that glowed like angel grace’? Haven’t heard about that. Maybe a weapon of Heaven? You know, from Balthazar’s stash in his estate,” Dean threw out. His eyebrow was arched the same way Xena’s was, which made Sam avert his eyes from his brother.

A moment of silence filled the library. The smell of old books and whiskey made him take a deep breath and let it out. Dean’s tapping on the computer made him glance at the laptop hesitantly. It wasn’t until a few minutes later did Dean roll his eyes and put his head in his hands.

Sam straightened a bit and placed his clasped hands on the table. “Find something?”

“Yeah, a . . . case. Um, a college graduate was found in Russellville, Arkansas, hanging from a cave ceiling with her body torn to shreds. Miners found her last night at about two in the morning, it was just her. Parents reported her missing three days ago after she didn’t call them.”

“Thinking Wendigo? They like caves and mines,” Sam offered. These weren’t his favorite cases, but he learned to deal with it. After all, who would take this one? Besides . . . it’s been years since he’s been in the woods.

Dean nodded, standing from his chair and making his way back to his room.

The youngest Hunter sighed loudly as he slid further into his chair. He twiddled his thumbs for a moment. His mind kept going back to the dream, to the girl. He’s never seen anyone with moves like that, or with a weapon like that staff. He tried to find a name with her face, but nothing came up. He attempted to tie her face to any Hunter’s stories or anything Bobby might’ve known about her, but he still came up with nothing.

He looked up at the table. Dee had left his laptop open. Sam reached across and dragged the computer to him, his fingers flying across the keyboard and using the shortcut to open a new tab. Google lay blankly in front of him, the caret blinking at him intimidatingly.

First, he typed in ‘woman with glowing staff’. The results were the opposite of what he was looking for; all he got was illustrations and TV show wiki-pages on certain characters. He rubbed his forehead and changed his wording in the search bar, this time to ‘woman with glowing blue staff’.

Still, nothing of interest came up.

It wasn’t until Sam changed his final attempt at finding something did he find something. It was a police report from Ohio from two years ago, stating that a Madalyn Rayner was wanted for twelve counts of theft and two more counts of assaulting a police officer.

Rayner. Sam slammed the laptop closed and jumped from his seat, the table moving as he stood. The wood groaned against the floor, and the Winchester’s voice bounced off the walls. “Dean! We have a problem!”

The coroner’s assistant handed Sam back his badge. “What does the FBI want with a dead hiker?” she asked with a twinge of curiosity. Her dark skin reflected some light from the desk lamp in front of her, sending nice contour on her cheeks.

“We’re investigating an incident that happened in Ozark National, Dr. Russak,” Sam reassured, taking his badge and tucking it back in his suit. An eight-hour drive from Kansas to Arkansas took a toll on him, and his patience was hanging by a thread from what a pleasant conversation ensued during those 568 miles.

Clenching his jaw at the hesitant nod Dr. Russak gave, he watched the doctor shuffled over to the cold chambers embedded into the morgue’s far wall. The blinding white lights didn’t help the Winchester’s headache from all the protesting on his part about the girl from his dream, nor did the reflective surfaces of the autopsy table to his left. The tile floor beneath him gleamed brightly as the body tray was rolled out.

The graduate, named Dianna Hallisey, lay on the tray with a thin blanket covering her upper body. Her red hair was faded, as was her apparent tan complexion. Through the scars that slashed her face (and the stitches from the autopsy), he had to admit: she was very good-looking. He saw a piercing in Dianna’s bottom lip, with another piercing in her right nostril; a small stud.

Sam bent his knees to get a more level look. The scars were large and thick, measuring at least five to ten inches in width. Dried blood dulled the vibrancy of the slashes, and he could still make out the minute stones huddled in the crevices between skin and wound.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Dr. Russak chirped and left the room, closing the door behind her. Sam nodded softly and glanced up at the table holding medical supplies. He inched up his sleeves and reached across Dianna’s body to get a pair of gloves. Slipping them on, he took out his switchblade and flicked the knife out with a push of a small button.

Dean took a seat at the doctor’s desk, spinning around in the chair from what Sam could guess. He glanced behind him, and sure enough, there was his brother scooting around the room in the swivel chair. When he was close enough to the youngest Hunter, Sam reached out and swung his brother next to him.

Irritated, he asked, “Can we keep focused, Dean?” His brother smacked his lips and slumped lower into the chair.

Setting his knife down, Sam began feeling Dianna’s stomach for anything odd. He didn’t feel much, save for a rib or two. He was going to give up when his hand touched something sharp below Dianna’s left breast. Setting aside his knife, he took off the thin blanket that covered up the girl’s chest.

His eyebrows rose when he took in the massive gash that went from the side of Dianna’s breast to a place parallel to her belly button. It was caked in dirt, rocks and dried blood. What the hell? he thought when he saw something jutting out of the wound, something that looked like a claw or a bone.

His brother decided this was a good time to take a long look at the poor girl’s chest. Sam, admitting to himself ashamedly, thought Dianna had okay-looking breasts. Dean, however, was more vocal with his appreciation. “Damn,” he said, “least she died hot.”

“Dean. Have some respect, man, she was torn to shreds.”

Sam went back to work. He pressed his fingers on the skin where something sharp object was, picking up his knife and slicing into the skin more. He nearly threw up at how familiar the flesh squished against the blade as a small oval slowly emerged in the flesh, revealing a nasty, bloody—claw?

The Hunter’s brow furrowed in confusion. He set his knife down again and wrapped his fingers around the claw, wincing as he pulled it out. His lip twitched upward in disgust, head turning to inspect it.

Labored footsteps came from behind, and Dean voice eventually said, “Please tell me that is not a Wendigo claw.”

A slow nod was Dean’s reply. “Think it is. Look,” Sam said, turning the claw and running his finger over the base of it. It definitely looked like it was broken or sawed off. “Think it was snapped off? Maybe cut off?” He looked up at his brother innocently, a look he knew he could pull on just about anybody.

Dean straightened and adjusted his suit. “Yeah, but why the hell would anybody wanna Edward Scissorhands a Wendigo? Who the hell would Edward Scissorhand a Wendigo? I wouldn’t; that’d piss it off even more.”

“What about Madalyn Rayner? Would she?”

“Yeah, well, she’d do anything. And no, Sam”—Dean turned and his face was hardened with authority and sternness—“we aren’t gonna try and find her, you know the stats. I don’t wanna stick around while she’s out there killing angels left and right.”

Sam clenched his jaw. Rumors began spreading in the mid-80s to late late-90s about a family of Hunters popping up from Lincoln, Nebraska, however common sense tells they’ve been around for a much longer time. The Rayners were hardly talked about then, since they seemed to hang low during the 1950s due to the segregation issues down south, the only things that spread was that there were a few “activities” going on in the Cornhusker State.

It was Castiel that brought up the Rayners one day about three years ago. He gave the Winchesters a little pep talk about hunting with other Hunters, let alone the Rayner family. “Heaven has feared this family for centuries. They love the idea of ‘shoot first and ask questions later’. It wasn’t until after the Egyptians built the pyramids did angels finally start coming back to Earth. Before then, angels that came down never returned to Heaven,” Castiel had told the Hunters with fear cloaking his voice.

Cas, he thought with resentment. Dean was still grieving, using alcohol and anger as his mechanism. Sam, however, didn’t necessarily turn to the whiskey in the secret cabinet in the library. He didn’t turn to anything, really. He just kind of . . . went with it despite his friend’s death.

Dean buttoned his suit at his midriff with a cleared throat. “I’m starving. Let’s find a place to crash, somewhere to get some grub around here, and we’ll figure it out from there. Maybe Kinsley’s free.” Sam caught his brother’s wink as they left the morgue.

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

Madalyn Nicole Rayner

A/N: Hi! I’m happy you stumbled upon this little text post about my OFC, Maddie. In the fanfiction Horrors and Hunters (read book 1 here and book 2 here if you’d like! DISCONTINUED, SORRY), you’ll follow Maddie—a mutant who happens to be the number one feared being in all of Heaven. Hopefully, this page can help fill you in on what Maddie is all about.

Brief History of the Rayners

There’s a certain set of rules in the business of hunting, preferably derived from the location of Lincoln, Nebraska. The following rules are to be acknowledged to at all times:

1. Don’t piss off a Rayner.

2. Don’t piss off a Rayner.

3. Don’t. Piss. Off. A. Rayner.

The surname Rayner can’t be said without a few suspicious glances a Hunter’s way or a chill running down one’s spine. Nothing nice or even remotely kind can be said about the primordial bloodline. Death is celebrated amongst the lineage. Ingesting angel grace is said to give a Hunter extraordinary powers.

Powerful members have come and gone, some dying of old age and others far too soon; some marriages were even betrothed by cherubs, the least common angel to ever survive while being in the presence of a Rayner; for instance, the husband and wife who would adopt the last living Rayner in its heritage: Dante and Lilian Rayner.

Hunters then and now always have a story to tell about the Rayners, whether it be that one time Andrew Rayner looked Lucifer right in the eye and told him to fuck off, or when Lillian beat the living shit out of an angel so bad that its control center malfunctioned and spilled the entire plans of Heaven for the next three hundred years. But one thing’s for certain: no story is as big as the last Rayner falling for Sam Winchester.

Meet Maddie

Torture was always quite an art. In Rayner terms, it was the fastest way to get something to talk. Or it was just for the thrill of the screaming, the blood running down hands that were made to cause so much pain … but for X-948293, it was painstakingly agonizing.

She underwent fourteen years of the art. Fourteen years of being strapped down to an autopsy table while her screams bounced off the metal walls she called home. Torture was the only thing she knew of. The bliss of falling into that realm of unconsciousness only lasted hours when adrenaline was pumped through her again by her creator, Dr. Adam Stephen Dauer.

Life for X-948293 was a blur (sir..). One minute she wasn’t alive and the next she has her organs exposed to a laboratory a year later. Being created from scratch by Adam Dauer seemed fun on the latter’s end: no genetic disorders, no chronic ailments or potential diseases forming like Alzheimer’s or cancer. Taking the nickname Pilot, X-948293—later to be known as Maddie when she began complaining—was a fighter and a leader despite her being the only experiment to ever succeed in Adam’s line of work.

The very presence of Maddie made Adam’s demeanor change from cool and collected to downright sadistic in a matter of seconds. The smell of sage and coconut made Adam insane with the grinding feeling of wanted to be with her, to love her, to feel her. A widower of three years, Adam saw an innocent child in Maddie, and he loved her like his daughter who died in his wife’s arms while she bled to death.

Adam didn’t love her; he worshiped every scream, every struggle, everything she did like a gift sent from God.

Maddie grew up. She grew up to become a beautiful and genetically perfect human being with one minor setback: wings. With avian DNA fused with her human DNA, Maddie was physically stronger than anyone/thing, including Adam; not to mention her pain tolerance was much higher than a human’s.

But Adam raised her to be submissive. Control her emotions; channel the pain he gave her in a different and unhealthy way, like strangling fellow scientists that Adam was too lazy to relieve of their duties. Submission was always present in her behavior while at the lab. She never misbehaved towards her creator; never lashed out angrily when he hurt her just a little too much despite her pain tolerance. She’d shrink back when Adam yelled; she would do as he said no matter what the task was without objection.

During her fourteenth year with Adam, the man had gotten needy. Desperate for human attraction. His assistant, Dr. Sabrina Moisson, had previously had a sexual relationship with him, however it hadn’t lasted long due to disagreements on Maddie’s condition during a week’s worth of purposeful starvation, to “study how her body would cope with extended periods of inanition,” how Adam described it. Needy is the best adjective to describe him after the breakup with Moisson.

Adam soon became obsessed; preoccupied about what else he could do to Maddie while she remained tied down and vulnerable to all things horrendous and inhumane on Adam’s part. So preoccupied that he wasn’t completely aware that the CDC was looking into an anonymous complaint about human experimentation and torture. On January 13, 1999, the CDC and FBI stormed the laboratory tucked deep in the Rocky Mountains, arrested Adam on illegal experimentation charges, and took every experiment they could find, including Maddie.

While in captivity for three months, she made sure that she made her captors live in hell. She’d lash out every time they went near her cage and killed one scientist by biting his throat until he bled out. 

She finally snapped when they threatened to strap her down to a table. Thirty-eight scientists died that day when she snapped one of their necks and yanked another’s heart out of her chest. Maddie used their deaths as a diversion to break free from the CDC and feel the sun on her face for the first time. She’s still wanted after seventeen years.

A month later after living on the streets and cautiously flirting her way into bars to drink, Maddie was caught by police late at night and thrown into an orphanage. The place was chaotic, with screaming kids and teenagers with the lung capacity of an Olympic swimmer’s.  It was something she grew to annoy from the constant racket. Employees there knew how old she was; older than any of the girls at the shelter. Most of the boys tried either flirting with her or trying to get in her pants, which she kindly declined with a middle finger or a few punches to the bits.

Then a somewhat miracle happened. A woman by the name of Lilian came in with her daughter, Danielle, and adopted her. She was shocked to see how sad the woman was despite her smile when Maddie slid into the car. Danielle, however, couldn’t control her happiness at having a sister. What Maddie wouldn’t forget for the rest of her life were the massive bruises and cuts on Danielle’s arms and thighs.

She spent six years with Lilian, Danielle, and Dante, the father of the household. Six years of training to kill all things Heavenly made Maddie into the most ruthless person alive. Powers popped up over those years, such as her wings tightened around her spine when angels were nearby, or the chemical high she got when she consumed angel grace.

Plus a teenie tiny ability to control Hellhounds.

She and Danielle—who she grew to call Dani—had bonded over some time, becoming the best of friends despite the beatings Dante gave them both. Twice did Maddie lash out at Dante, landing a few punches here and there to set the man straight. But all that gave her was the torture of a lifetime as if she was an angel.

It wasn’t until November 2, 2005, did the inevitable happen. Maddie had actually gone to school after she escaped from Adam and the CDC, and was visiting a local college did she return to see her father with a bullet hole in his chest; Lilian with handprints around her throat; and Dani with her chest cavity revealed to the world, along with a missing heart. Maddie mourned Dani’s death heavily than she should have, nearly drinking herself into unconsciousness five times in a week.

Because she was still a teenager and not a legal adult, Maddie was thrown into foster care for four months. The Wright family waltzed into her life and adopted her as their sixth child.

And let’s just say they fucking sucked at raising her.

The family, along with their five other kids, were completely oblivious to the hunting life. The heedlessness made her smile every time she found a case in a newspaper one Sunday morning, or when there was a case right in their town of Louisville, Nebraska. Of course, she’d sneak out and kill whatever was hurting her neighbors, but all Mrs. Wright did was ask why she got this cut here, or why she snuck out at two in the morning and returned covered in blood and sweat.

After two months of being driven to insanity with this family, Maddie just got up and left. Her “siblings” were distraught, as were Mr. and Mrs. Wright, but she honestly give a damn about any of them.

Hunting, then, took over her life. She had enough money to handle herself for a few months, and pay motel bills when she finished a case. Overall, she’d traveled to almost twenty-six states with cases, finishing them in about a day.

Then, rumors began spreading around the Hunter community that she was the last Rayner. Hunters all over grew paranoid, getting the hell out of dodge when she happened to be in the same town as them. A few tolerated her, such as Tanner Hanning, who hunted with her for a while in Crete.

At the age of twenty-one, Maddie enrolled in college after graduating high school (she was held back twice for fighting). She got into three colleges: Stanford, Purdue, and Princeton for her Magna Cum Laude in her Latin class—she was taught Latin and Enochian by Dani, both of which she’s fluent in—and her unbelievable track career. She accepted Purdue’s invitation and majored in Fine Arts to become a photographer. There, she met Tyler Whitton, an incredibly handsome man who majored in Law Enforcement. Tyler and Maddie hit it off very well, eventually becoming a couple after three months of hanging out.

But what she didn’t know was that she was being watched by a demon during her sophomore year.

Jeredrith, a very high-ranked demon that was keen on killing humans, swooped in and possessed a roommate of Maddie’s and played dumb with her for months. He asked her questions about her family, all of which Maddie ignored or gave phony answers to that Jeredrith knew were wrong. Tyler, completely oblivious to his awaiting fate, invited the Rayner to a party at his sister’s near campus.

All Jeredrith did afterward was possess Maddie and stab the hell out of Tyler until he died in her arms. The only thing Maddie remembered was everything.

A month later, Maddie spent ninety years in Hell after she sold her soul for Tyler to be brought back. Her time was brief. Sure underwent the worst of the torture, but managed to escape through Purgatory.

That’s when the bounty hunts began. With the increasing rumors of Crowley’s suicide, demons begin making their own rules, most of which consisted of hunting down Maddie Rayner and dragging her back to Hell for the rest of eternity.

2008 was a strange year for the Rayner. She had continued hunting and killing angels after her family died, and by then, Maddie had grown used to blood running down her fingers or the feel of purity coursing through her veins at the ingestion of grace. A certain angel’s grace looked particularly delicious, but before she could drink it, sickening words flew from the angel’s mouth. “Dean Winchester is saved.” Just after that did the grace course down her throat before she stabbed the Heavenly asshole in the eye.

Winchester was an all too familiar name to her; to every Hunter, as a matter of fact. Dante and Lilian were tempted by the Winchesters, although they hadn’t told her or Dani to avoid them at any time before their deaths. It was wise for her, anyhow, to avoid them to be safe.

Six years later, however, a phone call from none other than Dean Winchester did she pick up the call. And that was when her life would spiral into the Winchesters’ forever.

Dean would tap that

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

13x05 ~ Alone, Not Lonely

*cue the chorus of Fight For Me from Heathers the musical*

Character(s): Maddie Rayner, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, mentions of Jack

Word Count: 8,058 oops

Summary: Maddie notices Sam’s anxiousness of Jack and finally sends him back to Dean. Finally alone, she takes on a task of her own: finding Jack before the boys do and making sure Heaven is out of the equation.

Masterlist

“Go,” she finally said, setting her beer can down on the windowsill of her motel room.She currently sat in the squishy sofa that was probably used for sex, but it was at this point in her somewhat career that she didn’t give a shit anymore. With Lucifer’s kid walking the Earth, who had time to worry about male reproductive organisms on a couch in a shitty motel?

Sam was seated on the bed facing her back. She felt his eyes on what wasn’t covered by her athletic bra; tonight's was a gray and pink Reebok bra, with the straps crossing in an X on her back. It didn’t bother her slits, but she could tell Sam was entranced by it. Ever since he’d seen her wings, he’d been (obsessed wasn’t the correct word here) fixed on trying to see her wings, let alone her without a shirt on.

She could tell his eyebrows were raised in confusion. “W-what?” he asked sheepishly and innocently as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Idiot Winchester, she thought.

Maddie let her bent leg fall to the floor from the seat. She was looking out one of the two windows in the entire room, and it was this one she chose to look out of because it was the one facing the woods. The last time she was in the woods was when she was tased by Sam. The thought made her shudder slightly, but she looked up at Sam nonetheless.

She stared at him for a moment. He was already dressed, shocking since it was at least three on a wonderful Thursday morning. His chest seemed thicker in the tan canvas jacket that covered a red and black flannel, and the jeans that crawled down his legs seemed to make her want to tear the entire outfit off him.

Very unbecoming, Maddie, she thought, the least you could do is offer to have him take your clothes off. You wouldn’t mind that, would you? No, sir, she would not.

She finally blinked when he raised his eyebrows even higher when she didn’t respond right away. She inhaled deeply and let it out with a sigh, her body forcing itself to its feet as she made her way towards the bed behind him. “Go help your brother with this Nephilim problem. I can . . . I can take care of myself.”

Sam acted as if it was the most bizarre thing she’s ever told him. “Really? I-I mean, I don’t have to go. Dean’s probably got this taken care—”

“Would you rather have Heaven have the kid or Winchesters? Trust me, as an enemy of the Great Penthouse, I’d go with Winchesters without a doubt . . . actually, let me help you.” She rolled her eyes at herself when she found that last bit leaving her lips, and it was to her shock that Sam smiled at her offer.

She hated that smile.

He gathered one of the duffle bags on his arm and slung another over his shoulder. “What makes you wanna help Jack?” he asked.

She didn’t really know why. Heaven (and Hell) were on her ass 24/7, but it was the least she could do. It would make her less of a target anyway. Why protect herself when she knew that this Jack couldn’t control himself? Maddie shrugged as part of her answer as she replied with, “Who knows? Maybe Hell’s interested in the bastard, too. Guess that means more me-time if it gets Heaven and Hell off my ass.”

Sam, looking at his feet, nodded slightly with a bite of his bottom lip. She hated that. She hated how her legs twisted over each other to try and control herself. She hated how hot that was, how every nerve in her body and core sang in rejoice at that stupid little action.

Finally, he looked up. His hair shifted to rest just above his shoulders in a way that complimented his blessed facial structure.

“Alright . . . well, check in, will you? Even with Dean distracted he could still have his sights on you,” he said with a final wave. Maddie smiled as he opened the door. Just as he was about to step out, she scuffled to him and wrapped her arms around him. She had to stand on her toes for her little arms to hug him, but she didn’t care.

She took in the smell of old books and gunpowder. She could still smell the woods on him despite that he showered every day when she was with him. She thanked him through his shoulder, to which Sam’s hand reached up and held the back of her head. His other hand wrapped around her back, his arm careful as to not disturb her slits.

Maddie jumped at the contact. The last time someone did that was before they died. It was the last time she felt intimate contact with her that wasn’t followed by a sharp blow. She felt tears form in her eyes, but she blinked them away as fast as they had come. No more love, she thought, love gets people killed.

“What do you want?”

Maddie stabbed her staff into the ground and made sure it stayed upright. The concrete floor created veins of cracks when her weapon was deep enough to remain straight by itself. She put her elbow on the handle and leaned on it, crossing her ankles as she stared at the angel. The Heavenly being was bound with chains to a chair settled in a ring of holy fire. The chains, enchanted with extra restraining powers, rattled as the angel struggled.

She crossed her arms with an authoritative expression. She could taste the angel’s fear radiating off its vessel, pulsating and vibrating. The angel shook in its restrained seat, the chains reminding her of her lovely time with Dean Winchester.

Leaning forward, she spat, “I want you to tell me about Lucifer’s kid.” The answer must have surprised the angel, for its head was thrown back and a bitter laugh slipped from its lips. A cheerful sigh made the laughter fade, and a grin widened its mouth.

“Lucifer’s kid? We don’t know squat about him, unlike Temperance. Heaven’s been looking for him, as has Hell.” The angel leaned forward in its bonds while mimicking her expression. Its eyes squinted slightly and narrowed with that same patronizing grin. “But don’t think we’ve forgotten about you. Heaven might crack down on your little fling with Sam Winchester after you’re dead. Dean’ll probably kill himself before that happens, so poor old Sammy will walk the Earth with nobody. Doubt he even knows about your feelings toward him.”

She glared behind her a bit at a deceased angel, wearing an African-American meatsuit, named Temperance. She boasted knowledge of the Nephilim child, going as far as to bargain with her on if she’ll live or not if she spilled. Maddie promised the angel her life, and it was after that the angel told her everything that she stabbed the vessel in the heart after a polite thanking for its service.

A soft smirk lifted the corner of her mouth. Her mind immediately went to Castiel sitting in the Empty. She had to give him props for being with Sam and Dean, but the reason he died was for nothing. Going against Heaven was unheard of since Lucifer’s days; even she knew the punishments and she hasn’t been to Heaven. Heaven seemed to be on the fence with their reaction to the Seraph’s untimely death, but that certainly didn’t stop them from spreading rumors that it was her that put the bastard down.

Maddie spun the angel blade on her fingers and stabbed the wretched creature in the heart, grace lighting up its mouth, nostrils, and eyes. The light intensified until she could hardly look at it without squinting, but the dull pain in her eye sockets faded when the light disappeared. The angel now slumped in the chair, stared at nothing as its wings were scorched into the wood and concrete floor.

The basement she turned into her very own private torture room cooled. Hairs on the back of her neck rose as she turned to face the wall closest to the staircase. It was now that she felt the sweat sticking her clothes to her body. She had started shedding her layers not five minutes into this torture session, and now she was only clad in a white tank top, jeans and boots. Numerous chains were attached to small hooks in the colorless wall, and it was the chains that snaked to the wrists of angels.

Looking up from the deceased angel, she raised her eyebrows at the terrified angels shaking in their bonds. Her head swayed to the right slightly with a soft smile spreading across her face. Her lip arched up as she lifted the corpse out of the chair (and chains) and tossed it behind her, where the body was plopped on the growing mound of other dead vessels. She’s already gone through seven angels including the angel that just died, a low-ranking Seraph named Apollyon.

“Anyone else?” She made eye contact with the rest of the angels quivering in their places. Their eyes were wide with fear at her presence and a few of them averted their eyes when she looked at them to her pleasure. Making the most powerful beings on Earth tremble in her presence due to her adoptive family’s name brought a warmth that made her smile softly.

A particular angel, donning a male vessel, looked at its brothers and sisters and back to her. Its chest shook as he gathered a breath, spewing words that would make it regret them: “You ... you’re sick!”

Maddie’s head swayed upwards again like a dog hearing a whistle. A grin clawed its way to her mouth as she slowly made her way toward the angel. Its mouth slapped closed with its fists clenching, a gulp being heard from across the room.

Stopping in front of the angel, she took its vessel’s jacket and unbuttoned it, exposing a white dress shirt beneath a burgundy tie. Instead of killing him right there, she grabbed the lapels and yanked the angel off its rack, the chains snapping off the mount on the wall. The ring of fire separated as she dragged the screaming angel into the chair, and it closed after she restrained the angel once more.

Protest filled the makeshift dungeon. The angel began struggling and apologizing, but even she knew that that wouldn’t get it anywhere. She grabbed the angel’s shoulder and slammed it against the back of the chair, her face lowering to be level with it. Instead of trying to be professional, she separated her legs and straddled on the angel’s lap.

It was on instinct did her hand bring up her staff, which shortened to the length of an angel blade with a glare, and rest the tip on the angel’s chin. She was much taller than it even when she was sitting on its lap, and with that brought an overwhelming sense of authority.

Her eyes squinted a bit. “What’s your name?” she purred, tossing her head back slightly to arch her eyebrow at the angel.

“A-Azrael,” the angel said.

Maddie lifted her head up a bit and dragged the blade across the angel’s cheek, sending a scream to grow from its throat. She dug the blade in deeper just for the fun of it. A tiny fountain of blood sprayed from the cut, some of it dripping to the vessel’s nice jacket and shirt. What a waste of clothing when you know you’re going to be killed, she thought.

She cocked her head again. “Wrong,” she snarled, grabbing the lolling head and straightening it so it could look at her. “Because Azrael died a few years ago from the Fall, so, I’m gonna ask you again. What is your name?”

The angel screamed again when she stabbed the angel blade in its cheek and let the blade hand there for a moment. She saw the sweat of the vessel gleam in the glow of the holy fire. With a final gasp of air and a spitting of blood, the angel groaned, “Tabbris. M-my name is Tabbris.” Its speech was garbled from having blade in its mouth, but it was fairly intelligible.

She finally lifted her hand to the blade and yanked it out of his cheek. She turned her head so she could see inside of the hole, her eyebrows raising at how clean it was. She crossed that off the bucket list, and now it was her goal to finally get some info on Jack before Heaven found out about what was happening to its inhabitants.

“Well, Tabbris,” she said, whipping her head back to look at the angel, “I should take your tongue for that. Those other words that are begging to be let out will never be spoken, mostly because you don’t have the balls to do it. That was brave of you if I’m being honest. But you know your fate, so, really, that was quite useless. Like you and your precious brothers and sisters.”

A sickening laugh filled the room. She gave a disgusted face to Tabbris’ amusement and plunged the blade into his chest. She kept the majority of the blade out, so if he didn’t cooperate, she could deepen the blade at any time. The angel, however, smiled through the pain.

“That half-assed, I-own-the-world attitude is gonna get him killed. Better yet, we’re gonna kill him while you watch. You are gonna get him killed.”

The final six words made her snap. Her lip arched up as she put pressure on the staff (slicing the shirt in half in the process) with screams of anguish echoing in the basement. Tabbris’ head rolled back as he shouted at the ceiling, sending ringing too high to be perceived by human ears. She carved the staff downward toward the vessel’s navel. Her mind dissolved the thought that there was a living person in that mind; all she cared about was sending Heaven a message.

The ringing increased in volume as she retraced her slice, this time stopping a third of the way to the top, rotating the scepter at an angle and creating a second line. She finally stopped with this line beneath the vessel’s nipple. She let Tabbris bleed for several minutes. It was during those minutes did the glass on the windows to her left and right shatter to pieces.

Heaven’s getting closer, a voice said.

As she plunged the blade back into Tabbris’ chest, this time carving a line downward toward the left hip bone, the angels still chained to the wall began muttering in Enochian. Their words were translated in her head almost instantly, and frustration was added to her anger when the words were basically pleas for mercy.

She glanced behind her numerous times before darting to the other side of the ring and grabbing angel blades that were confiscated and hurling four of them at each of their owners. Explosions of grace filled the room along with burn marks of wings on the walls, floor, and staircase.

She turned to face Tabbris. It was almost dead; she could tell by how weak its grace felt in her back. Her wings were crying with pain, which only fueled her anger toward Tabbris and every other angel, dead or alive. A growl bled through her clenched teeth as she pulled the blade out of the bastard’s chest.

She brought her face to Tabbris’. A thin line of blood was leaving the corner of his mouth and it was thickening by the minute, which made her hesitate. She could let this thing live. Let it live and be her messenger to Heaven. The mortal part of her begged to let it live. She could spare the human their life, however, if they ever ejected Tabbris, then they’d be eternally scarred with her warning.

Her hand had other ideas. It took the staff and let it hover over the wound that would kill Tabbris. Strands of her hair fell in front of her face, which seemed to terrify the angel. The rage displayed across her face was downright scary, apparently, by how horror radiated from the vessel.

Finally, after a moment of staring at Tabbris, she said, “You will never kill him, you will never hurt him.” She looked up through the window to her left and raised her voice. “You hear me?! Lay a hand on him and you’ll wish you never came down here centuries ago.” She stabbed the staff into the center of Tabbris’ chest, where angel grace shined through her artwork.

Screams filled the basement, and it wasn’t until the brightness of dying angel grace faded and did the light settle on the vessel of Tabbris. Etched in its skin and covered in blood was the letter K. It was a simple carving and not very small, no, it spread from Tabbris’ collarbone and stopped just above his navel. The Latin word the letter stood for was written in angels’ blood in the ring of holy fire: calumnia, translated as false accuser.

Her phone began ringing at two-thirty in the morning. Her head was pounding from the ringing that still reverberated in her ears, and the added noise didn’t help. Sleep didn’t help either, so here she at an odd hour in the night writing down as many things as she could about Nephilim.

Her eyes skimmed over her list and the now empty beer bottle sitting next to the paper. She glanced at her phone and picked it up, answering it with a swipe of her thumb without looking at who was calling.

“What the hell do you want?” Her voice was plagued with sleep-deprived frustration.

“Hello to you, too,” Sam greeted with slight shock. Her head perked up at his voice and her back straightened. She made sure all the blinds were closed before letting her wings out, the muscle groaning with relief. She stood from her seat at the kitchenette table and went to the fridge.

She opened the door and took out yet another beer. “Hi. Sorry, just . . . tired and frustrated. Why’re you up? It’s two-thirty in the morning where I am.”

A sigh was heard over the line. “I could ask you the same thing. I’m tired, too, let me tell you. Dean and I are on our way to Washington to look for Jack. It was my turn to drive, anyway, so I needed someone to talk to.”

“And Maddie Rayner is at the top of your list? Wow, Sam, I’m honored.”

He laughed at her joke. She smiled softly at the sound, and her body warmed at the feeling that her comment made him happy.

A flashback to yesterday’s events with Tabbris flew through her mind, and his, along with the other angel’s, haunting threats echoed in her ears. We’re gonna kill him. A twinge of anger flooded through her, making her grip tighten on the phone. Poor old Sammy’ll walk the Earth with nobody. She felt the screen crack in her hand. She walked toward the nearest wall and braced her hand on it as her breathing became a struggle. Doubt he even knows about your feelings toward him.

A scream of anguish burst from her throat as she slammed her fist into the wall. The plaster caved in like paper, and her bloodied fist brought out insulation and dust. She held the phone to her ear as she stared down at her knuckles, the skin there was split and gleaming with blood.

“. . . hello?”

She adjusted the phone for no reason. “Yeah, I-I’m here. I, uh, needed a moment.”

There was silence on Sam’s end. She didn’t wait for him to speak, nor did she expect him to. She stared at her feet and glanced at her fist. A small pool of blood was dripping from the floor from her knuckles, which would have been shattered if she were human. She lifted her hand to inspect it more, but Sammy’s voice interrupted. “You okay?”

She sighed. She didn’t want to bore him with details on last night, but Tabbris’ threats were still fresh. What if he was telling the truth? What if Heaven was now after Sam, too? She didn’t want to lie to him, either, and she was already worried about him when he had a ticking time bomb of a brother.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m . . . fine.” The lie slipped from her tongue as easily as honest words. Her eyes closed when Sam said it was fine, and she smirked when he told her to go to bed. She taunted him jokingly as a response, saying that she would if he pulled over and got some sleep himself.

Maddie could tell he was smiling at how his voice sounded. “Dean’ll get mad if I do. You’re not planning on meeting us there, right? I don’t want you to get too into this.”

Weighing her options, she found herself wanting to go to Washington. She knew it wasn’t necessarily a suicide mission, but it was dangerous nonetheless. If she went, Sam will be on her priority list and vice versa. If she went, Dean would be even closer to ending her life.

She wasn’t that stupid, though. Dean was already trying to find her while wrestling with Jack. Being stupid would be going to Washington and staying with the boys. Even her acquaintanceship with Sam was a death sentence combined with being with Dean for five freakin’ weeks.

Her foolish head found herself saying goodbye after denying profusely that she wasn’t going to Washington. Sam still seemed to be skeptical even when Maddie reassured him that she’d be fine. A chill ran through her as she told him that, but she shook it off as she hung up.

After twenty minutes of reading over her list and omitting things, she snatched the paper and crumpled it into a ball with a growl of frustration. She tossed it towards the trashcan filled with a growing mountain of other lists of great knowledge. Her eyelids drooped when she stared at the blank space on the desk. Her mind was racing, yet sluggish as she stood and grabbed her leather jacket.

Let me know if you need help, she typed into her phone and sent the text to Sam. He replied seconds later with a simple “Okay.” She rolled her eyes and smirked at the candid word before shutting her phone off and grabbing her duffle bag.

The air was cold when the door shut behind her. A sigh left her lips as her eyes were cast on her feet. She didn't remember putting on her steel-toed boots, but she recalled the day she got them. It wasn't that long ago, either; she had to be in her late twenties.

"Going hunting?" the clerk asked with an oblivious smile as she hoisted the pair of boots onto the glass counter. Maddie stared at the man. His fair skin, dark hair and lanky frame told her he didn't work out much, let alone belong in the hunting life.

"Sure," she replied with a weak smile.

A deep breath made her lungs sting slightly with cold air. She wheezed softly and a cough followed, billowing with it a plume of oxygen to cloud in the air. She felt her back pocket for a pack of cigarettes. Nothing bulged from her pants, and an eyeroll seemed to judge more than her lifestyle.

It wasn't that she was a smoker. Her body, naturally, couldn't become addicted to things. So, yes, she smoked. Yes, she knew she had a problem with alcohol and its glorious effects of making the previous day's events all a beautiful blur. And no, she didn't plan on stopping. She didn't necessarily preach it to the choir, but a small voice in the back of her head—the human part—whispered sweet nothings to her whenever she felt like a smoke would drown out her troubles.

The skin on her back that was mangled and horrifically scarred opened to allow her wings to slide through. The regular pins and needles feeling buzzed throughout the appendages as the air wrapped around them like a blanket. Jet black feathers, bristling in an effort to warm the raw skin beneath them, spread wide when she took a glance around her.

A gust of cold air blew in her face as she took a running start. She shivered in her skin, goosebumps rising along her entire body. The trees in the outer rims of her eyes blurred together when she finally managed to break into a clearing. It was dark out still, with soft flakes of snow drifting to the ground. Leaves crunched beneath her feet that skidded to slow her gait, her body preparing to shrink down in a jump skyward.

Slight pain spiked in her calves when she finally jumped with a grunt. She figured the pain was because of her torture from Dean, but she had taken a note of how the rest of her body was fully healed. The extent of her injuries given to her ultimately calculated the amount of time it would take her to heal, and since most of the injuries seemed to be hell-bent on permanently crippling her, she wasn’t shocked when some parts of her body still hurt.

Colder air brushed its fingers along her face. Her nose grew cold in seconds, a feeling she hated. She didn’t understand why it bothered her so much, but she didn’t let it hinder her flying.

The trip to Washington took at least three hours. The drive would’ve taken at least twenty-six hours minus stops. She had been grounded twice for snow, but she managed to fly above the clouds most of the trip. She flew in jet streams when she could, and had flown with a flock of eagles. Their behavior hadn’t changed when she flew into their formation, and they even moved to allow her to get in a position toward the front.

She chose the hotel closest to the border in case things went south fast. It was a one-story motel, one of the first ones in a long time. She didn’t have a preference; it just happened on random occasions. Once she checked in, she was pleased to see an outdoor pool. She couldn’t remember the last time she went for a swim.

Her room was a weird layout. The kitchen was toward the back, with the bedroom being the first thing she saw. The sheets were a pleasing brown color in a plaid combined with lighter browns and beiges. It was a queen with two dark oak end tables on both sides, each consisting of a table lamp and small cactus. An alarm clock was on the left end table, one of those digital ones from the nineties that never seemed to be laid to rest no matter what year it was.

“The least you could do is upgrade to the early two-thousands. God, it’s twenty-seventeen, get with the ages a little,” she muttered to herself at the sight of the poor kitchen. Hideous green counters were in a U-shape along the walls. White appliances stood out against the burgundy walls.

The bathroom was a different story. She shuddered on smell, and she soon found the source. A dead rat was lying belly-up in the bathtub that seemed to match the kitchen counters in a lighter color. Flies were crawling around its carcass, with its ass already decomposing. She picked the nasty thing up with her least favorite shirt she had packed, and tossed it and the rat away in the lake a mile away. “Disgusting.”

Her phone chimed in her pocket when she returned. The door behind her shut, and the first thing she did was take her laptop out and set it on the couch. It matched the bed color-wise, and she was pleased to see that it wasn’t that uncomfortable. She grabbed a beer from the gas station across the street and fell back into the sofa.

It was a text from Sam. He had asked if she was doing alright despite her seeing him last night. She chuckled at his worrying and replied that she was doing fine. She set her phone down and leaned forward to gather her things from the coffee table. Her laptop was by far the only thing on there, save for the motel’s tiny notebook it had in the dresser drawer and a beer bottle.

After stealing a swig from her beer, she lifted her bare feet onto the table. The glass was cool against her heels to her pleasure.

“Alrighty, Sam. Let’s see where you and your idiot brother are,” she muttered, opening the computer’s code system. The black screen stared back at her and awaited her commands. She cocked her head to the side a bit and began typing, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

She managed to find the last ping on Sam’s phone. It was in North Cove, which was an hour away (when she flies, of course) from her room in Spokane. A twenty-minute flight and a few muttered Latin words later and an angel was screaming its head off in a ring of holy fire.

The heat made her start shedding layers again. She tossed her thin flannel to the side, leaving her in jeans, boots and a crop top. She pulled her hair into a ponytail to relieve the angel, who she soon discovered was named Usiel, of its pain.

Heavy breathing left the vessel’s lips. It was a Caucasian male, one that wasn’t that bad looking, if she were judging by looks. He had to be in his mid-forties with graying brown hair and hazel eyes. A thin beard outlined his jaw and mouth, with flecks of gray glowing against the flames. Those eyes were cast downward, fear radiated from the body.

“Where’s Jack?” she asked again, this time her voice was tense with impatience. She’s been at this for close to two hours and the disgusting little maggot hadn’t spilled its guts. She picked up the drooping head by the hair and lifted it up so it could look at her. “WHERE IS HE?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, I swear,” Usiel screamed back, its chest heaving up and down. Blood dripped from the hole in its forehead, where she could see the brain if she really focused. She was shocked nothing important had come to mind (pun intended, of course) during the torture, but it didn’t seem to be well-informed on the whole angels-having-Jack.

She arched an eyebrow and dropped the angel’s head with an annoyed eyeroll. She muttered an Enochian word to the fire, and it separated to allow her to pass. Glowing sigils inside the ring kept the flames from weakening its powers on the angel at hand.

She tossed Usiel’s own angel blade on the chair she had set up. On it was a toolbox of enchanted weapons that were keen on hurting angels: a cleaver that burns the vessel, hex bags filled with ingredients that can do a myriad on vessels, and the most powerful thing in it was a syringe.

Her days of being tortured when she was young came rushing back to her when she picked it up. “If you don’t know, then . . . guess you’re gonna have to find out if you wanna keep all your grace.”

Usiel’s eyes widened. His vessel was, thankfully, chained to a wooden chair encased in the ring of holy fire. It began struggling harder than it did before, and she was eager to take it to a higher level. She made her way back into the ring, the fire, again, allowing her to pass through with ease. Her hand lifted the needle and positioned it right above the vessel’s heart.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure? Because the fear in your eyes is telling me I’m not the only thing you’re scared of.” Maddie let a smile crawl its way to her mouth. “Is it of the Devil’s kid? Probably not since your whole mission is about the damn kid. Or is your superiors? The ones that shaped you into the coward that you’re displaying for me. Are they supposed to be your alibi to your commander or are they the ones who’re gonna tear you a new one when you show up empty-handed?”

She cackled when Usiel screamed in frustration. She sighed with delight and looked back down at it with a grin. She repositioned the syringe in her hand so she gripped it in a fist and stabbed the vessel in the throat, instead. Another scream filled the shed she found, this time with agony. She began pulling on the plunger. Beautiful grace began filling the tube slowly.

After another minute or two of extracting did the angel start spewing answers. She lifted her head curiously in a mocking manner when it mentioned North Cove. She huffed softly and dropped to a squat so she was level with the angel.

“Are you saying that you lied to me?” she whispered with slight anger in her voice.

Actual tears slipped from the angel’s eyes. She didn’t feel sorry for it in the slightest. Lying to someone was rude but to a Rayner? Death was the immediate consequence.

“I-I-I-I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to . . .” Its voice trailed off when it looked up at her with fear and sadness in its eyes. She actually chuckled at its attempts at redeeming itself.

She left the syringe in the angel’s neck. She back up toward the edge of the ring, with the fire remaining closed. Until she muttered the word, it would remain closed. She felt flames begging to lick her calves, but she made sure she stayed away from them. Maddie shook her head and stormed toward the angel.

“I was thinking about killing you, but I’m guessing your superiors got my lovely message a few days ago. So, might as well have some fun,” she grabbed the syringe and pulled hard on the plunger, which filled the tube up with grace in seconds. Screams bounced off the walls.

Maddie ended the night by taking the hex bags and gathering them in her hands. She examined each one, taking note of their ingredients and deciphering their effects. One of them, she was sure, would burn the vessel to a crippling extent. When she placed a hex in Usiel’s lap, she was pleased with the outcome: hissing filled the room, along with the smell of burning flesh and bones; burn marks appeared on the vessel’s skin.

Usiel died twenty minutes later.

As she extinguished the holy fire, tossed the chair aside, and unchained the motionless vessel, her thoughts turned to Heaven. Surely they knew of her actions. She was ninety-nine percent sure that they got her message from Tabbris’ mutilated corpse. If they did, then she should see a decrease in angels hunting her down.

But would that still make them go after Jack? Or Sam? Her mind sent dangerous thoughts to her. Her heart shook when she thought about it. Heaven wouldn’t hesitate to use Sam against her, he was human. They could do whatever they wanted to him to make sure she was powerless and weak. Dean would be beyond pissed, and if he found out Heaven’s motive as to why they have Sam, he would surely kill her.

“Shut up, Maddie. Nobody wants to know about that,” she muttered. She hurled the body over her shoulder and settled it on the pile of lumber in the far corner. She looked at the corpse with a slight head tilt. Burn marks covered most of the arms and neck, with more faded burns on the face and legs. “Shame you didn’t live longer.”

Walking to the chair with her equipment, she closed the toolbox and shoved it in a spare duffle bag she bought at a Cabela's downtown. She took out a rusted gasoline container and took the cap off, aiming the nozzle at the lumber pile and squirting gasoline on it.

After ten minutes of gathering her things and making her way out of the shed, she was enveloped in a blanket of cold. Her breath clouded in front of her as she lit up the box of matches in her hand, and stared at it for a moment. She thought about extinguishing it and letting Heaven find Usiel’s body. Surely they were already wary of her message, but what could hurt with another one?

She decided to toss the lit matches in the shed. In seconds the thing burst into flames, with the chipping and creaking wood giving in to the heat and collapsing. The second it made impact an explosion of embers and sparks filled the air, their tiny paths of orange and yellow crawling their way to the cloudless sky.

Her hands reached out and warmed themselves. Despite wearing her flannel again, she was still growing cold as the flames licked the horizon. Her wings slipped from her back and surrounded her body to keep warm. She glanced at her phone and saw a notification that she had set up to tell her when Sam’s phone was being used. She smirked at her accomplishment and tucked the device back into her pocket, turning on her heel and leaping into the air.

The second she got to North Cove, the town was so tiny that she immediately felt angels near the north side. Her back tightened so much her wings locked in their positions in the air. She felt gravity being a little shit and taking her down to the ground like an anvil in cartoons. She angled herself so she would land on her feet, but she managed to land by rolling on the ground.

Gravel crunched beneath her boots. The police station was made of mostly brick, with a glass entrance and small vegetation making the building look homier. She saw the Impala sitting in the gleaming sun, its paint left untouched after decades of use.

A scream came from the back.

Her bracelet slithered down her hand and transformed into a sword. The sunlight hit it just right as she squatted a fraction of an inch. She trekked toward the back of the station, shade relieving her exposed skin of the blistering heat despite the winter months. A soft breeze brushed past her, sending her loose hair over her shoulders.

Her back was tenser than it already was, which sent shocks of pain to shoot up and down her spine. She fought through it as she decided to go the stealthy route.

She gripped the sword in one hand while the other dropped her duffle. She was thankful she had found weapons of her family’s a while back, for the things inside were truly a dream to have when one was outnumbered. She sunk lower to the ground and dipped her hand into the bag, taking out two grenade-like canisters filled with holy oil and gripping them tightly in her hand.

She brought the grenade to her lips and pulled the pin with her teeth. She watched the silver time bomb start to glow, and after five seconds she tossed it into the cluster of angels. Soft ticking was all that was heard until the grenade exploded. A giant cloud of white light filled the small patch of land, sending the angels screaming as their vessels were scorched to piles of ash. She leaned her head out to make sure every angel was dead.

And then there was one. It was a female vessel with auburn hair. She trekked toward the angel on quiet feet, her hand lifting the sword to stab the angel and—

The angel spun on its heel and slammed its fist into her cheek. Her head whipped to the side sharply, and her mouth was left agape. She scoffed and felt the immediate copper taste of blood in her mouth. She stood there for a second, a devious smile widening her lips when she looked back at the angel.

The foul creature’s eyes widened a fraction. “Rayner.”

Maddie lifted her eyebrows slightly while keeping the grin. “You’re gonna wish you never did that,” she said. She hurled her body into the angel’s vessel, which slammed against the brick wall. She grabbed the throat and squeezed before feeling the presence of another angel behind her. Glancing behind her, she waited until the other angel went to stab her before unfurling her wings and taking a quick leap upward.

The angel stabbed its sister in the heart. Grace exploded from the vessel’s mouth and nose, sending volleys of white light to shine on every surface nearby. In the midst of the other angel’s horror, a strained grunt left it as Maddie’s sword was plunged into its chest. It died, too, and collapsed next to its sister, wings brazed into the ground and sides of the police station.

Sam’s voice was soft as he called, “Dean? Dean!”

Her head snapped up. Two angels appeared ahead of her and didn’t seem to see her by how they strode inside without a cautious glance. The angels, one with short gelled blonde hair and the other seeming to be of Mexican descent as vessels, seized and yanked the emergency exit door using its powers. She was almost hit by the damn thing, but she managed to dodge it.

Ringing filled her ears. She cocked her head in frustration when all she heard were angels spewing words at each other, but a few were enough to peak her interest: “He’s here. We have the boy.”

She could hear punches being thrown. She stalked inside and tossed the second grenade outside after twisting one half so it would activate upon the command of an Enochian word. The blonde angel was struggling to pick up a boy that seemed to be in serious pain, and judging from his facial expression, she could tell it was angel radio.

A grunt left the other end of the jail cell. Her head flicked to the other angel landing punches and kicks to Sam, who struggled to gain the upper hand. Instead of going after the angel handling Jack (or so she assumed it was him), she stormed into the cell and stabbed it in the back. It wasn’t a vital part of the vessel, but at least it took its mind off Sam.

Her teeth clenched when she lifted the sword overhead, which sent the angel to rise with it and let the vessel to fall from it when she twisted it back down behind her. She yanked the staff out and slammed her boot on its head to make sure it stayed down.

Sam sat up after wiping his mouth of a thin line of blood that had begun to drip from his mouth. He leaned against the wall and looked up at her, chest rising and falling heavily. “Maddie?”

She grabbed his forearm and lifted him to his feet. “Thank me later,” she muttered and instructed to make that blood something useful while she stalked to the blonde-haired angel. She reached out and grabbed its shoulder, wrenching it from Jack’s side, and landed a punch on its cheek.

Maddie clenched her fists in the angel’s outfit, bringing its face close to hers. She slammed her head into the vessel’s and snarled, “Mess with him, you’re gonna wish Heaven spared you the mission.”

“H-hey!” She turned her head and saw Sam slap his palm over a banishing symbol. Both angels screamed and disappeared in a flash of bright light, which even Maddie had to shield her eyes from. Jack collapsed from one of the angel’s grasps with a thud. She glanced down at him and spared him. Just a kid trying to survive in a world that hates him.

Another door opened, revealing a third angel. She lifted her head and stared at the vessel, but she wasn’t fooled for a second. She stepped out of the jail cell, with Sam following, and positioned herself in front of him. Her wings were shaken out with a roll of her shoulders, and the two appendages rose and hid Sam almost completely, save for the very top of his head and his long legs.

Miriam lifted her head in authority despite the fear that shone in her eyes. “Madalyn. Glad to see you’re still in one piece,” she taunted with sarcasm.

“Glad to see Atheed’s bitch is still Upstairs. What happened this time, huh? Sleep with one of your superiors like a good little slut? I’m not surprised. Atheed would be very disappointed in you, Miriam.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do. Leave these boys alone, and maybe I won’t kill you. But if you decide to be a little bitch about it, then Heaven is gonna look like a daycare center when I’m done with you.”

The angel chuckled. “Oh, Maddie. Heaven is a daycare center. Crying babies about their father leaving the building? Always complaining and blabbing on and on and on! But at least Heaven’s gonna be much better with him in it.” Miriam turned her head to Jack, who stood a hair’s breadth away from her.

Sam gripped an angel blade in his hand. “Don’t,” he warned. Maddie’s sword shortened in her hand to be the length of a dagger. She saw Miriam’s head turn to see it, and looked up at her. She arched an eyebrow with a smirk.

The angel sneered at Sam. “Or what, other one?” It seemed to be proud of its taunt, and Dean’s response made it glance behind its shoulder. Sam warned it again to stay away from Jack, and this time it offered him its blade. “You’re right. But if you can’t have him,” she continued, turning the blade and swinging it into Jack’s chest. “No one can.”

The second the blade stuck in Jack’s chest was the same second both Sam and Maddie made a move on Miriam. Maddie shoved the Hunter back and grabbed the angel by its shirt and lifted it off its feet, slamming its back against the wall furthest from the boys and planting her blade to its throat.

She glared at the Hunters. She felt a spike of pain in her back when voices came from outside, but she ignored it when she stared into Miriam’s eyes. She put pressure on the blade and smiled when drops of blood began dripping onto the vessel’s chest. Maddie watched eyes grow wide when she dragged the blade across the skin in a swift motion, digging the blade in as deep as she did.

Beautiful, pure grace drifted out of the separated skin. It looked for another vessel. It was kind of funny to her when the vessels for both Michael and Lucifer were standing in the same room together with free-falling grace trying to find a host.

She watched the grace slowly float toward her. She opened her mouth willingly and felt the pure energy course down her throat. She closed her eyes when she felt her body being cleansed, the grace shining on her skin in her veins. She heard ringing in her ears, but no pain followed. She lifted her head up and opened her eyes.

In a swift motion, she turned to face the Winchesters. Her eyes must’ve glowed blue, for the horrified look on Sam’s face made her toss a mocking laugh.

“You should take your pretty little ass out of here if you know what’s good for you; more of these maggots will be coming.” She glared at Miriam’s vessel slumped on its side at her feet. Sam, staring at her, grabbed Jack’s arm and dragged him from the cell and toward the door. He stopped and turned, his eyes roaming her figure.

She was on him in a second. Her hands snatched him by his orange jacket and slammed his back against the wall that supported the prison bars. Her mouth was set in a silent snarl. She lifted herself on her toes, bringing her face close to his. “Am I speaking Greek? GO!”

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

Tell Me

Pairing: Protective!Sam x BAMF!Maddie

Word Count: 2,308 words

Summary: Rick interrogates Maddie in the prison with Sam (this is simply just a guess as to what will happen in 12x09 First Blood with Maddie).

Warning(s): All hail the f-bomb/cursing; sarcasm; angst; smartass humor that drives Agent Sanchez insane; physical abuse?

The very cell seemed to become smaller and smaller the more she was locked in this godforsaken prison. Already she’d recognized the chipping brick wall from previous tenants of this lovely little room, and the tally marks behind her bed. She counted twenty-five, plus the beginning of a twenty-sixth. The room was rather dark despite Maddie’s enhanced sight, and the single flickering fluorescent light above the seemingly never-ending walls and the coldness only fueled her Hunter’s instincts to grab anything as a weapon.

From what she could remember from the last time she was here, the bed was more comfortable than before. The pillow was fluffier; the frame didn’t squeak when she moved. Even the toilet that was rusted beyond restoration seemed to lose its sterility. The generators whirring above her seemed louder than the past times they hummed softly to their own beat. Every few details were in fact hazy despite her near-perfect memory. What’s wrong with me? she thought to herself.

When she had came to, she found herself being dragged by her arms. Her head was still pounding from her fracture skull. Her stomach was throbbing from the pregnancy, let alone the ever-growing fear what the guards or Rick did while she was unconscious. She found it particularly discomforting when she found her clothes were gone, her body placed in a hideous jumpsuit that seemed to hinder some of her movements. She had torn the sleeves off to allow her room to stretch, while she shucked the whole thing off to slice lines in the back for her wings.

The mattress groaned with relief as she stood. Her jaw was tight, as it should be when she was worried. Enochian damnation spells muttered under her breath, and she could just hear the bodies dropping outside her cell door. The sound of the thuds drove a wicked and sickening smile to lift the corners of her mouth, fingers trembling with insanity the longer she stood in the center of her cell, eyelids twitching and lips quivering.

Six weeks. It’s been six fucking weeks since she, Sam and Dean had been arrested on attempted assassination of the President. She was keeping track by the number of feathers that flitted to the concrete floor. While her molting was natural, she was worried she’d lose too many feathers that she wouldn’t be able to fly anymore. The wretched thought made her shudder uncontrollably.

Her bare feet slapped against the floor as she began pacing. Back and forth; back and forth she went. Latin profanity left her dry and bloodied lips while thoughts she didn’t even want to know existed flew across her mind. She stopped after twenty minutes and just . . . stood, staring at the wall in front of her like an insane person.

Hushed voices came from outside her door. Her ears seemed to twitch in the direction of the sound like an animal’s, nostrils flaring as if trying to catch a scent. Her wings flew from her slits, pins and needles sparking in her shoulder blades from disuse. In a near-silent flap, Maddie’s arms reached up above her and grabbed the pipes on the ceiling. She hoisted herself up onto it like she was doing a pull-up, hooking her inner knees over the metal so she hung upside down like a bat. Hell, with her wings, someone was bound to mistake her for a bat.

The door creaked open. Her hair fell from her head, thankfully not long enough to be seen right away. A masked guard in full armor and armed with a government-issued assault rifle stalked in, fingers trembling on the gun. She let out a chuckle so soft she could hear it despite the violent pounding in her head. The guard, whose blood she could hear pumping through his body in fear far greater than any angel she’d seen, stopped in the center of the cell as the door shut and locked. The man’s head turned and glanced at the door.

Whimpers echoed in the confined space as she continued hanging from the pipe. Crossing her arms, Maddie cleared her throat with a grin. The guard yelped and looked upward, brown eyes wide in horror as he stared at her. He looked at be about Dean’s height and weight, tan skin glowing with sweat beneath the armor. The gun cluttered in his hands as he tried loading a round inside of the magazine, but his trembling fingers dropped the bullet. It clattered to the ground, and when he bent to pick it up, Maddie straightened her legs.

She landed on the guard’s back, slamming her knee down on his spine. She heard the gut-wrenching snap of the vertebrae, and a scream flew from his mouth. Maddie’s hand slammed against the man’s lips, humming a shushing sound in his ear despite the horror-filled whimpers that were absorbed in her hand. Her fingers snaked up around his throat, and, with increasing pressure on his trachea, she let the man’s mouth slip free from her palm as she lifted him off his feet.

Her head cocked a bit in confusion like a dog hearing a whistle. She was surprised to see that this man was still breathing, in spite of his collapsed spine and soon-to-be broken windpipe. She smiled softly at the man, whose eyes were beyond wide with terror. She could feel the emotion seeping off of him and soaking into her, only fueling her pumping blood and calm heartbeat. The guard’s voice gurgled in his throat the high she lifted him, until finally she arched her lips up in a snarl as she squeezed his throat, feeling the windpipe collapse in her tenacious grip. Seconds later the man slumped to the ground, eyes staring at nothingness.

The door suddenly opened to reveal Rick standing with his arms clasped in front of him. Today he was clad in an expensive Gucci suit with fancy dress shoes. His graying hair swept upwards in a somewhat sexy way; she couldn’t place the right words to describe it. She smiled at him, twirling her fingers in a flirtatious wave. Rick’s dark eyes glinted with emotion, and only widened a fraction when they landed on the dead guard at her feet. He should have known not to send just one guard in here. That made it too easy.

Without a word, Rick stepped aside and leaned his head into the doorway. Three heavily armored guards stormed in with more shackles and handcuffs than she’d ever seen in her life. She felt the cold metal wrap around her wrists, waist and ankles, one chain in particular coming up between her legs. It almost made her slam her knee into the guard putting it there and letting his hand linger for far too long if it weren’t for the soft barrel of a gun being planted to her forehead.

Finally, Rick smiled and stepped inside, the chains clattering together as the guards continued linking shackles and tightening cuffs. He left the door open, however, a taunting sparkle in his eye as if he were going to offer freedom to her just like that. She narrowed her eyes at him, one corner lifting higher than her smirk would allow to make her seem authoritative despite the situation at hand.

“These won’t hold me, y’know,” she commented softly, wincing when the shackle between her legs rubbed up against her inner thigh. “And I’m dying to kick that sorry little ass of yours again. You and I both know that.”

Rick stormed over and landed a firm slap to her cheek. It stung, but by much when she let out a laugh. The fierceness in his voice sent chills down her spine as he spat, “Oh, I know. I made sure to avoid the reinforced steel chains for what we have in store for you.”

Maddie’s smirk faded a bit; this wasn’t like Rick. She’s known him for about a year before she got out of his case for her street racing debut. The first thing he’d do is interrogate her, and then torture her. Not the other way around. She began protesting, however Rick pressed a hard kiss to her lips. She cringed at how lustful it felt, attempting to talk or get words out to tell him to back the fuck off, but the agent’s hands pressed her head to his. The only thing she could do is slam her heel on his foot, which she graciously did with satisfactory results.

Another slap to her face nearly sent her falling to her knees. She caught herself, however, and stared at Rick with wide eyes. The lust and greed in the man’s face made her feel uneasy, especially when he pulled out a dark hood and covered her head with it.

~* 3 *~

Pale lights invaded her vision as the hood flew off her head. She squinted slightly, which wasn’t like her eyes to do so, and stared at Rick with confusion. The brightly lit interrogation room was an awfully lot like one at a police station, with a metal table chaining her in place and a hard metal chair that made her butt hurt when she shifted around. A video camera was set up across the table, its lens staring at her intently as if with concern as to what she had to say. She knew there was a one-way window behind her. She’d been through this so many times.

But what she wasn’t prepared for was a slumped-over Sam in a jumpsuit similar to hers to the right.

A deep and heavy sigh left her swelling chest. She looked up at the ceiling, thanking any celestial being who somehow made it by chance that they’d see each other again, thankfully without the other being dead. Labored footsteps came behind her, and she saw one of the guards that had helped chain her head to toe stop being Sam. Without his armor on, he was a fairly good-looking guy. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties with dirty blond hair and pale skin, dark eyes popping out despite his ivory complexion.

The guard’s hand grabbed a fistful of Sam’s hair and pulled his head up, drawing a knife and placing the blade to his cheek. He nicked a soft slice of skin, and Sam let out an exasperated gasp as his eyes flew open. Bags were underneath his eyes, so dark and defined she wondered how much sleep he’d gotten since they were arrested.

Maddie’s heart shattered when he struggled against the handcuffs keeping him chained in place, and his gaze seemed to autonomously look up at the ceiling, as if waiting for that freezing cold water to cascade down upon like it did with Toni. His amber gaze lingered on the guard for a bit, eyes shifting from each skin detail.

“Sammy,” she whispered, looking at the Winchester with sorrow. “Hey. Look at me.” She waited until his head turned in her direction, eyes widening at seeing her. She saw his eyes glaze over with tears of what she hoped was relief that she was alive and well. “This is real. No Toni, okay? I’m real. We are real, got it? Look at me if you need a reminder.”

Suddenly a pained grunt left Sam’s mouth as his head was slammed against the table with a loud bang. She jumped in her place and snarled at the guard, teeth bared and hands wrenching in the handcuffs. The guard looked up at her with a grin, and he stormed over to her, sliding himself on the table with greed in his eyes.

She raised her brow at the man. “Touch me and your lungs won’t be the only thing you’ll be shitting tonight,” she growled at him with defiance in her eyes. The guard seemed shocked at the threat by how his own brow raised on his face.

A door creaked open just in time before the guard could slap her. Rick walked in holding a manila folder and a pocketknife looped on his finger. His head dipped at the man and he whispered, “Mike, take a break. I got this.”

Putting a flirtatious smirk on her face, she watched Mike get up and leave the room, slamming the door in the process. She crossed her legs and bounced her foot, sending a few concerned glances Sam’s way. From what she could tell, he seemed completely fine aside from the bags underneath his eyes and the now bloody nose. She inhaled to ask about Dean when Rick cleared his throat. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Oh, we shall,” she drawled in a phony English accent, running her tongue along her teeth in a sexy way that made the agent shift on the corner of the table. She arched an eyebrow as she listened intently on what the hell Rick had to say.

“To start with, Mads, what can you tell me about your relationship with Sam here?” He gestured to the youngest Winchester, whose jaw was taut and boasted protectiveness, with the folder. The sound of Sam’s nickname for her being said in Rick’s voice made her sick, and she yanked against the chains as she leaned forward.

She let a smile widen her lips. “From the bottom of my cold, dead heart, fuck you,” she announced, clicking her tongue and leaning back. “I’m not telling you anything, you poor little asshat. And, to be clear on this whole attempted assassination thing on the Prez, we were saving him. Did he ever mention Satan to you or, offer an analogy referring to Lucifer?”

“Maddie, don’t.” She clenched her jaw at Sam’s gritted command. She cast a quick glance his way and nodded her head. He knows, she mouthed at him, winking and looking back at Rick with a sly grin on her face.

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

13x06 ~ Oh, Odyssey

Author’s Note: Here’s a much shorter chapter, this time following Asmodeus >:)

Characters: Asmodeus, mentions of Sam and Dean (and Maddie), mystery character :)

Word Count: 1,278

Masterlist

Asmodeus sat upon his throne, legs stretched out on one of the armrests. His loyal subjects knelt before him with fear radiating from their vessels. His head cocked to the side as he stared down the demons once faithful and devoted to their former King of Hell, Crowley. The maggot of a demon disgusted him, and he, since Crowley’s rumored suicide, has been glad of his passing. Hell could be his once again.

A particular demon wearing a rather gorgeous vessel looked up at him through her lashes, a suggestive and alluring expression making his vessel tingly. Asmodeus stood from the throne, straightening and smoothing his “royal” garments; a simple yet elegant white suit with matching dress shoes.

He dipped his head in an informal bow. His dark eyes lifted to stare at the demon’s, an eyebrow arching. “You seem to be new here, darlin’.”

The demon chuckled softly through sealed lips. “You seem newer than me, sir. See, I’ve gone through this dance before: new King, new rules. I’m open to suggestions, but I sense you are, too. There’s a soul I’ve been looking at for a while, but she’s a tough one to catch.”

The word soul was rubbish for the Prince of Hell. Souls were nothing but rewarding tokens that were part of the perks of being a demon. During Crowley’s rule, souls were the currency; the most sought-for thing since demons found souls outside of the planet. Now that he was in charge, Hell would be the most feared place. Angels would quiver at its mention, demons would raise their heads proudly. Hunters would run and hide. Hunters would be scared out of their wits, and only the stupid would even think of selling their souls.

Blasted souls, he thought.

This demon’s mention of a particular soul had him interested, however. He leaned forward just a little bit, intrigued by this demon’s interest in both him and a puny Earthling. “Go on,” he purred.

“Oh, now I’ve got you. I’m more of a veteran here, Your Highness, so here’s the deal: Grant me access to the Pit, give me a few Hellhounds and I’ll have this soul in your hands in three days. She’s affiliated with the Winchesters, though, but it’ll be easy to flush her out if I push the right buttons.”

Asmodeus nodded hesitantly. He had a feeling as to whose soul this demon was describing, but a dark part of himself felt like the demon was lying. She seemed pretty confident in herself, and he understood it was her that was awakened by the spell he had performed when he was first back in Hell. He was hesitant in letting this demon gain his trust, and it certainly wasn’t on the table at the moment.

He could wipe her off the face of the planet with the blink of an eye. If she turned on him, she’d live to regret it. Another part of himself found trust sparking within him; he was sickened by the feeling. The last time he trusted a demon he had Lucifer lash out—literally, in this case—and strike his vessel that was permanently scarred.

His head raised a bit in authority. “If I grant you access, what tells me that you won’t turn on me?”

The demon tossed her head back and cackled. She looked at him with a devilish smirk. “You don’t know me, Asmodeus. I was loyal to Lucifer, though, but I don’t mind becoming . . . affiliated with Your Royal Majesty.”

She brought her body close to his, her hand raising up and caressing his cheek. His scars tingled at the intimate contact, to which his vessel seemed to be aroused to his misfortune. He looked away from her for a second.

His mind seemed to wrap around the title she bestowed upon him. He was pleased that she was trying to impress him with titles, but he was growing skeptical of the demon’s intentions. She could be here to gain his trust and toss him into the trash when she was at his side. He would enjoy crushing her neck in his fists if they got to the end.

He stepped closer to the demon, his chest now flush against his. He could sense her arousal, as well, and was pleased to feel how hot she was beneath her vessel’s garments. He peered down at her and lowered his head to kiss her, but his fist wrapped around her neck and lifted her from her feet.

“As much as I’m flattered by your words, darlin’, I will humbly oblige to your request,” he finally drawled, his vessel’s accent adding venom to his words. He lowered his  lips closer to hers and squeezed his fist. Her hands reached up and grabbed his hand, nails digging into the skin. “But I will not be deterred by your interference to be loyal to only me. Is that understood?”

The demon’s blueing head bobbed up and down as she struggled to breathe. He released his grip out of disgust, bringing his hand in like he had stuck into a bucket of organs. Not that he thought ripping humans apart was disgusting. He found it rather fun.

“Y-yes, sir,” the demon stammered and held her neck. Asmodeus turned on his heel and strolled back to his throne. He climbed up the stairs and sat gracefully in the chair, lifting one leg and draping it over one of the armrests. He summoned a cane that went up to his hip, a glass orb of darkness making up the handle.

He stared at the orb for a moment. His eyes watched the lost demon trapped inside, spiraling and spiraling in circles for all of eternity. He noticed that the demon was still in the throne room, staring at him and slowly rising to her feet. He lifted his gaze to look back at her with an eyebrow arch.

“Who is this soul that you’re referring to?” he asked, trying to spark a conversation instead of engaging in any more awkwardness.

The demon smiled proudly. “Maddie Rayner. I’m sure you’ve heard of her? Most fearful being in the whole planet, scares the everliving crap out of Heaven? The one who, by the way, was once an inhabitant of this very place ten years ago?”

The infamous Rayner name made him toss his head back and laugh. His voice bellowed and echoed in the throne room, making passing demons stop and glance inside before resuming their task. The demon in front of him seemed nervous as to why he was laughing at her mention of Maddie, and it was his answer that seemed to intrigue her.

“Maddie Rayner was assigned to me when she arrived to Hell under Crowley’s orders; I went into hidin’ not long after that. She was a lovely little asset to my collection. Alright: I’ll give you access to the Pit, but if you don’t have her in three days, I’ll enjoy ripping your vessel apart. Tell me, sweetheart, what’s your name?”

An eyebrow arched seductively on the demon’s vessel. Her dark hair fell from its updo to cover part of her face, the leather jacket adoring her fit frame making Asmodeus question as to why he was accepting her generosity. The dark part of him wanted to slowly peel her skin from her bones, but the other part wanted to keep her as an asset, like Maddie had been. He rolled his shoulders and waited for an answer.

The demon, smiling, put a hand on her hip as she turned. She retreated to the exit, pausing in her step to turn halfway and reply, “Ruby. My name is Ruby.”

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

Masterlist, Yo

Here’s a shitty excuse for a masterlist, I guess :/

Characters (to be updated as more are added/created):

Maddie Rayner

Adam Dauer

Horrors and Hunters

13x01: The Bionic Woman

13x02: Until Dawn

13x03: Familiar Taste of Poison

13x04: The Notorious Few

13x05: Alone Not Lonely

13x06: Oh, Odyssey

13x07: Cravings: Part I

13x08: Cravings: Part II

13x09 ~ And There Was Non-stop Screaming