#magic!reader x dean

[seljepw]

Over the Hills and Far Away: Part the 7th

A/N: You guys have been so patient.  And here you go!  Answers!  Obviously, this isn't the end, but at least you have all the info, now!  Thanks for riding this crazy train with me, y'all.  Oh!  And I'm always happy to add people to my tag list.  So, if you want a heads-up whenever I drop new content, tellll meeeeee!

Synopsis: The reader is Bobby's adopted daughter.  She, Dean, etc find themselves in a strange alternate reality wherein there are no more supernatural things.  Except, of course, the reader.  Turns out, this is the land of Faerie, and the reader is in fact half Fae (thus, the magic).  They are currently trapped by the reader's Faerie Godmother (yes, for real), and are generally freaked out.  What to do, now?!

Warnings: Canon-style violence, swearing, angstiness

Word Count: 1,600ish

Then:

“The Sidhe, you stupid ape,” snarled Celine, somehow managing to make the word sound different, even though it was in fact pronounced ‘she’. “The ruling class of the Fae.  Your owner is a noblewoman, however loosely that term applies.” She flicked her eyes over you in a disgusted glance.  

You and Dean began talking at the same time.

“My owner?  Look here, bitch-”

“I’m sorry- are you telling me I’m a freakin’ faerie princess?”

“Of course not, girl,” snapped Celine (she ignored Dean completely).  “You are only half Fae.  Your birth was a necessary abomination.  Your cow mother never even knew what you are.  Or what you were born to be.”

You felt your cheeks flush, despite yourself.  “What was I born to be, then?”

“The Tithe to Hell, of course.”

Now:

“The what?” Sam said into the stunned silence.

“The Tithe,” you forced the words out through numb lips.  “It’s how faeries keep their immortality.  Every seven years, they pay Hell to keep Death off their backs.  It’s like blood money.”

“Not like, goddaughter,” Celine looked at you through her lashes, “It is quite literally blood payment.  Every seven years one of our people is sacrificed to Hell, to maintain the rest of us.  A few hundred years ago, we began to realize that even with our immortality, our numbers were dwindling.  We do not multiply as humans do, and eons of Tithes had decimated us.  Then, my brother hatched the plan to save us.  He discovered that he could mate with humans.  The resultant offspring would be half Sidhe- magical enough to pay the Tithe- but not of our own race, so our ranks would not diminish.  When the child reached seven years old, it would be brought to Faerie, and be reared here until its turn to be given over to the ruler of Hell.  You were bred for this purpose.  You are a sacrificial goat, nothing more.  But you were stolen from us,” she turned rage-molten eyes on Bobby, “and when we finally found you, you had been reared by humans, instead.  When we took you, we couldn’t just plop you in the pen with the other half-breeds.  We had to create an entire world, so you wouldn’t attempt to escape.”

“A whole world just for me?” You scoffed, sarcastically. “You really shouldn’t have.”

Celine continued as though you hadn’t spoken.  

“This pocket of Faerie that we are inhabiting- think of it as your holding cell.  We broke our backs to make it as comfortable as possible for you- going so far as to include your pet and his herd,” she waved her hand at Dean, Sam, Sarah and Bobby. “That even took a little burgling of Heaven, but we did it, to make you happy.”  She said it like she only had a passing acquaintance with the concept.  “However, you were continually ungrateful, and couldn’t just accept what had been handed to you.  So I had to step in.”  She sniffed.  “No matter.  My obligation is almost concluded.  The Hellking will be here to collect you when the sun sets again.”

You sensed Dean stiffen with a fear he couldn’t quite hide; at least not from you or Sammy.  He had been to Hell.  He knew what was waiting there.  His reaction terrified you more than you thought possible, but you fought to keep control of yourself.  

“Let me make somethin’ crystal clear to you, lady,” snarled Bobby. “I will be damned- again- if you are gonna hand my daughter over to Crowley!”

“Oh, but you are damned, old man.  Or as good as,”  said Celine.  She swept her eyes over Bobby and Sarah, and gave Sam a wicked smile. “You ate Fae food.  All three of you are ours, now.”

“What about me, huh?  Don’t want me after I kicked your asses, last time?”  Dean pulled Celine’s focus off of his brother.

“Oh, I would have loved to finally see you in chains, boy,” Celine sighed wistfully.  “But that mark on your back says you go with my goddaughter.”

“What mark?” You scoffed.  But Dean was shifting in his seat, looking nervous. “Dean?  What mark?”  

“When she tried to claw me,” Dean said in a low voice. “My back burned.  Like a brand.”

‘You Claimed him’ Celine had said.  Somehow, you had damned the love of your life along with you.  You thought of how you had spent last night- holding Dean, running your fingers across his lower back, fiercely telling yourself that you’d never be parted.

‘You Claimed him’

You began shaking your head back and forth, half in denial, half to clear your thoughts.  Dean would not go back to Hell because of you.  Sammy, Sarah, and Bobby would not be bound to Faerie because of you.  That was unacceptable.

“No,” you croaked around gathering tears.  You were on your feet.  You didn’t remember standing.  “No, no, NO!” You screamed.  “You can take me- fine!  Use me to pay your damn bar tab.  But you leave my family out of this!  You leave Dean out of this!  You hear me, bitch?!”

Your magic was surging through you again, and without conscious thought, you threw your left hand out towards Celine, like a shove.  There was another flash of golden light, and her head whipped to the side, as though you had slapped her.

Celine snarled and leapt out of her seat at you, but you were quicker.  You threw the silver knife at her, and it hit home- just under her collar bone.  At the same time, Dean ducked down to drive his ice pick into her side.  

Dean jerked back as lightning began to spark between the two blades, and Celine’s body arched in agony.  She screamed like metal scraping on a window pane, and... shattered.

That was the only word for it- she shattered like a glass vase.  You all threw hands and arms up to protect your eyes from the jagged bits of godmother-shrapnel.  A wild wind rose out of nowhere, and the glittering shards were swept up into a funnel of air and carried out the door of the shack, into the night.  

The knife and ice pick clattered to the floor.

A roaring silence followed, in which you all tried to make sense of what had just happened.  Sarah recovered first.

“Ok,” she said, looking around the shack, “we need something to use as paint.  Devil’s trap on the floor, sigils on the windows.  We are going dark until this shit blows over.”

“Blows over?” Sam looked at her, incredulous.  “Sarah, we’re stuck in an alternate dimension, waiting for the freaking King of Hell to come and drag away our sister-in-law!  It’s not gonna just blow over!”

“Maybe not,” said Bobby, “but that don’t mean we just sit here twirlin’ on our thumbs.”  He had cut his own arm, and was already using his blood to draw a warding sigil on the window over the sink.  

~~~~~

You all worked through the night.  There was some red paint on one of the shelves- it must have been leftover from when Cas made the sign, out front.  No, you thought, Cas was never here.  None of this is real.  How are we finding leftover paint from a sign that was magicked into being?  But you had more pressing non-metaphysical questions to deal with at the moment, so you used the paint for the devil’s traps at both doors.  No salt in the shack (no surprise there, Fae hate the stuff), but you were able to carve sigils into the walls and windows.  You emptied the cars of all your weapons and piled them on the table.  Sarah set to work organizing and cleaning them.  You watched her for a moment, as she oiled and checked the mechanism on a handgun.  She was perfect for Sam.  You mourned the fact that they’d never gotten together.  In the real world, anyway.  And now...  You swallowed hard and got back to business.

You were crawling around, focused on getting the back door devil’s trap just right, when Dean came over, crouched down beside you, and took the brush from your hand.  

“How you holding up, Hermione?”  The use of his personal pet name served to lighten the mood, but only by a fraction.

“Maybe you should switch to calling me Tinkerbell,” you gave him a half smile.  “Apparently, that’s more accurate.”

He pretended to think it over.  “Nah,” he said, “you’re too smart for that.  You’re my Hermione.  Always will be.  But you didn’t answer me.  How you doing?”

You sat on the floor, pulled your knees up under your chin, and regarded him for a moment.  Someone had found an old radio, and CCR was growling in the background.  

“Whoa, thought it was a nightmare, Lo, it's all so true, They told me, "Don't go walkin' slow, the Devil's on the loose." Better run through the jungle…”

“How am I?”  You pushed out a sigh that seemed to start in your toes.  “I am… freaking the fuck out. I finally get answers to all my questions, and the reality is worse than anything I could have imagined.  And I’m going to Hell.  And I’ve marked you as my carry-on.  It’s like… I'm so far past upset that I’ve gone numb.”

Dean scooted forward, careful not to smudge the paint on the floor, and wrapped his arms around you.  He held on so tight, your knees dug into your throat and your spine popped slightly and you didn’t care about the discomfort at all. When he loosened his hold, it was only enough to drop his big hands onto your shoulders and angle you to meet his eyes.  

“You listen here.  You are not going to Hell.  Crowley can come and give it his best shot, but I’ll go down swinging before I hand you over.  You hear me?  We all will.”  His eyes flicked around the room at everyone else.  He meant it as comfort, but it just reminded you that you had screwed things up. Not just for yourself, but for everyone you loved.  You put on your brave face and gave him a small smile.

“I love you.  So fucking much, it’s impossible,” you whispered.  Then you kissed him before he could say anything else, gave him a little nudge back, and said, “Now scoot.  I’ve got to finish that rune at the upper corner.”

~~~~~ ~~~~~ Tune in next Thursday for more!  And there will be smut in the next chapter! (Weee!)

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