#miles was a rebound love interest- he was only made to die

[yellourr]

and if I said that outta of the four, phoebe was the one who consistently had the best (and best looking) love interests

[brokasteltranslations]

Fate/Requiem: Chapter 4

Several days had passed since I had been relieved of my duties as the Reaper. No more work had come in from my master, Caren Fujimura, since the Kundry case, and I no longer received information on a preferential basis over the municipal network. I had been barred from the critical point where the Akihabara district barrier was located, and my access to Kanda Shrine and Yushima Temple, where multiple ley lines converged, had also been restricted. Stripped of my rank and duties, I was nothing more than another truant – and one dragging a nameless, powerless, useless Servant in tow to boot. A lone wolf not even worth employing as a guard dog.

Fortunately, Akihabara was a prime tourist destination, and as long as I wore my usual swimwear and windbreaker I would more or less blend in with the usual clientele. However, that did nothing to help me feel less out-of-place. Whatever I did, I just felt like running away and hiding in a hole.

I had received no more information on the Command Seal Hunter. It was worrying that the case had not yet been publicly acknowledged. My gut told me that it had not been quietly solved and faded away. It was merely biding its time.

Whispers of the “Woman with the Missing Hand” circulated Shibuya. It had become something of an urban legend among students.

Don't you know better than to cut that out? Keep repeating it and it'll become real, and then who'll have to deal with it? It'll be... actually, I suppose it won't be me. Not any more.

----

As a consequence of my newly-imposed freedom, I had taken to wandering the town aimlessly with Pran on a daily basis. Wherever we went, we found faint traces of Chitose's presence. It crossed my mind more than once to quit Akihabara for one of the other wards.

–

There were many things that seemed to draw Pran's interest, but over time I started to notice a broad pattern. It was live experiences that he seemed to enjoy - street performers, buskers, speed painters and the like were what most often caught his eye.

Thinking back to the episode with Kuchime, I tried taking him along to a shop geared towards those 'otaku'. It was crammed to the rafters with endless figurines of buxom girls, male-oriented toys and all manner of merchandise, to the point where I was almost sick of looking at it. However, none of it particularly seemed to resonate with him.

Maybe it's because they're all manufactured goods. Perhaps it's originality that appeals to him?

He stood by, a little sleepily, gazing into the distance as though squinting into the sun, watching faraway strangers. Only when we passed a shop selling astronomical telescopes did he exhibit a different reaction. He squatted down in front of a poster of the planets – clearly not hand-made – and stayed there for well over a minute.

“Do you know Jupiter?”

“This eye... it follows me.”

“Eye? Oh, you mean the Great Red Spot?”

“This planet's so big. It's so big...”

He shivered, then pulled the goggles resting over his head down over his eyes, and peered at the poster once more.

“A planet, huh? I'm surprised you know that word.” Had he picked it up from when I read The Little Prince to him? He had initially talked about coming from somewhere far away – perhaps he wasn't just making it up? Or maybe... no, was that even possible?

I chose my words carefully. “That's a very old photograph. From before the war. The Great Red Spot on Jupiter isn't there any more. It got smaller and smaller, and then it disappeared.”

He smiled gently at the poster.

“Maybe it went to sleep. I hope someone comes to wake it up.”

–

Before I knew it, the day of the Grail Tournament had arrived. I hadn't exactly been waiting with bated breath, but still I found myself in front of the Colosseum.

The colossal stadium was located on the outskirts of Akihabara, bordering the ocean. Its enormous silhouette threatened to overwhelm the surrounding cityscape. Towering arches, each easily the size of a skyscraper, rose high in three, four levels to form the thick exterior of the cylindrical structure and enclose the arena within.

This was a place of pure competition. The poets once spoke of the ancient Roman emperors giving their people bread and circuses; here was the circus reborn for the modern age, the manifestation of the people's right to entertainment.

–

I had ended up accompanied to the Colosseum by Pran and Karin. Koharu had, to my great chagrin, seen fit to furnish me with not one, not two, but a whole four reserved tickets – two Master-Servant pairs. Technically Servants had no need for tickets – after all, they could just assume their spiritual forms – but no-one willing to come to see the Grail Tournament in person could reasonably be refused a seat, and they were provided in pairs as a matter of course. That being said...

“How long's it been?”

It had been twenty minutes since the stadium had opened, and we were still waiting.

Enormous lines snaked from each and every one of the Colosseum's myriad entrances. At this rate, the tournament would probably have started before we got to our seats. Personally I hardly minded, but it must have bothered Karin, because she suddenly yelled out at the top of her voice.

“All right, fine! Flake out on me, see if I care! We're going in, you hear?”

“You really want to go in? You sure you don't want to wait a bit longer?” I did my best to keep my voice neutral.

“Damn right I'm sure! Never should've invited you anyway, you lousy no-show son of a...”

None of her messages had prompted a response, it seemed.

–

The individual keeping us waiting was the weary-looking guitar player, Kuchime.

Unsure what exactly to do with my four tickets, I had decided to start by offering them to people I knew. Karin herself had snatched the chance with typical zeal, but her partner Kouyou had been reluctant to join us, leaving me with one left over. However, a few days later the two of us had happened to stumble across Kuchime in a side-street in Akihabara, strumming away with his usual gloomy air and being flatly ignored by every passer-by. Karin had called out, probably taking pity on him.

“Hey, Kuchime, was it? Ever thought of checking out the Grail Tournament? Maybe the halftime show'll give you some tips on how not to make your customers run a mile.”

“Ain't got no need for that, little missy. I'm happy as long as I'm getting' through to people with ears to hear.”

“Think you're some kinda auteur, huh? Keep dreaming, idiot. Why don't you just go the whole way and die young while you're at it!”

I had watched blankly as she exploded at him unprovoked. Her tirade had ended with her snatching the ticket from my hands and thrusting it squarely into his unshaven face. Had she done it in a spontaneous surge of pity for this dishevelled musician, or had she been planning it all along? I may have been the Reaper, but even I wasn't so insensitive as to probe any further.

However, in the end, the chance she had taken came to nothing. She stalked towards the arena, fuming. I followed her, leading Pran by the hand.

–

Eventually, we arrived at our designated seats. The interior of the Colosseum was spacious, tall, and delightfully modern.

I now understood why the queues today had been particularly bad: the staff were conducting unusually extensive baggage checks and body searches on all attendees. I had even seen staff members flagging down particular individuals for Command Seal checks, and it was hard not to notice the guns at the hips of a number of security personnel dotted around the stadium.

I'm glad they didn't try to check my Command Seals. Maybe the reservations got us through...

In any case, it was gratifying to see that my warning to Hannibal hadn't gone unheeded. Although there was always the possibility that the organisers had gotten wind of the serial killings themselves, and acted of their own accord.

“Yo! Sorry we took so long.” Karin reappeared with Pran in tow. Both of their arms were piles high with soft drinks, packets of peanuts and other junk food. She tossed me a freshly-grilled hot dog.

“So this is the bread part, huh? Shouldn't be long until the circu- Yeowch! Aah! My tongue!”

“Circus? You mean the halftime show, right? Oh yeah, there was a stall selling some kinda porridge too if you want some. I tapped out though, seemed pretty weird.”

“Porridge, huh? How odd... Hey, who gave you those?!”

I suddenly registered Pran was decked from head to toe in tournament merchandise, complete with a little paper cap and a megaphone. He was ready for the show.

I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing, and soon both me and Karin were clutching our sides. She was so engrossed in the tournament now that it was hard to imagine she had been furious not twenty minutes ago. I could probably learn a lot from how quickly she rebounded.

Next to our seats on the very front row was a space to be kept open in case of emergencies. Fortunately, it was just large enough for Kouyou to squeeze in. Accommodating larger Servants was probably half of the reason it was there.

–

After a minute or so, the music playing throughout the stadium increased in volume and a rousing melody began to play. It seemed we'd timed our arrival perfectly.

The music faded away, and for a moment, the entire arena fell silent. Then, as if on cue, a voice rang out across the stadium. Below us, eldritch lights began to dance across the very front row where the patricii would have sat in the original Colosseum. A diminutive figure strode down to the aisle, and unfurled a pair of feathered wings. At the same time, the main screen cut to a close-up of a girl - a woman? - dressed in a plain white Grecian tunic.

“Good evening, my lovely little piglets!” Her greeting echoed around the Colosseum at amplified volume. “Welcome, one and all, to the ocean stage of the Grail Tournament! That's right! We're all setting sail for Okeanos, and I, the great witch Circe, will be your guide!”

She stoked the crowd's excitement, and they answered with a deafening roar… although I did pick up some rather crude jeers mixed in with the cheering.

“Thank you, thank you, my little piglets! I love you too! Now, before we meet all our brave warriors, I'd like to introduce our commentary team!”

Two burly men strode down the aisle to join her, waving to the audience.

“First, for the Ottoman Corsairs, we have a scallywag among scallywags! The Gentleman of the Caribbean! The one and only Blackbeard, Edward Teach!”

“That's me!” Blackbeard was greeted by deafening boos. He did not seem to care a jot.

“Sounds like you know him well! Let's move swiftly on!”

“Wait, that's all I get?!”

“Next, for the Carthaginian Alliance, we have the king of admirals! The man who saved the Roman Empire from the Ptolemaic Dynasty! Friend and advisor to Emperor Augustus, I give you Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa!”

Agrippa! The commander who led the Romans to victory at the Battle of Actium!

I expected him to bask in the applause of the crowd, but instead he rounded on the emcee.

“What is this? I never agreed to this! First you invite me to attend nigh on midnight last night, and now you expect me to commentate?! Explain yourself!”

“About that... Honestly, we wanted Eukleides of Alexandria, but he cancelled at the last moment. What are Foreigners like, right?”

“Some nerve on you, girl! You expect a general of Rome to commentate on the Carthaginians? And you! Yes, you, the Servant with the easel! You think capturing my face is funny, do you?!”

The sight of the irate Agrippa slowly being talked down by the witch emcee, and eventually taking a reluctant seat at the commentator's desk, drew no small amount of laughter from the audience.

“All right, everyone, make sure you have your channels all set to your favourite team! If you're feeling peckish, why not try some delicious kykeon?”

–

“Well, that sure was something.”

Karin was grinning next to me. I, for my part, was aghast. This was grotesque, a vulgar display that made a mockery of Servants' pride and nobility. It was difficult to tell how much was real and how much was acted, but the tastelessness of the ambiguity only made me feel more disgusted. The tournament itself hadn't even begun yet, and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

I guess the least I can do is watch it through. I probably won't be getting another chance.

My reasons for being here were twofold. Firstly, I wanted to see what I could learn about Koharu's mysterious Possession ability. I had also been deeply impressed by the way that, despite being aware of her naivety, she disapproved wholeheartedly of any wrongdoing, and the evident admiration with which she viewed her companions.

My second reason was that I wanted to see for myself the incredible power that Servants were permitted to wield here. I felt both awe and terror for Noble Phantasms. It was baffling to me that abilities so destructive might be allowed to be used freely.

The citizens of Mosaic City were different to Masters in the true sense. They were no magi, with magic circuits passed down from previous generations or developed through special training, and it went without saying that none of them possessed a Magic Crest. The mana that powered their magecraft originated from the Holy Grail, and was distributed throughout the city via ley-lines. This mana was more than enough to sustain a Servant in everyday life with no discomfort. However Noble Phantasms, which employed magecraft on a much larger scale and consumed vast amounts of mana, were another matter entirely. Activating them was highly challenging, and they could kill a Master unless attempted with extreme care.

Broadly speaking, the most common foes I encountered in my work were Masters who fought with little regard for their own lives, because they had found something they valued more.

Had the combatants in this Colosseum all reined their latent magical abilities to extraordinary levels? Or had the footage I had seen simply been enhanced in some way after the fact? I had come to determine the truth.

“Oh, there you are, Kouyou.”

In the formerly empty space in the midst of the cheering crowd, the enormous bulk of the Ogress had appeared. She sat with her belly pressed to the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible. Occasionally her eyes glanced sideways to meet with Pran's.

–

Feeling a little relieved, I turned back to the arena. The battlefield was enormous: a huge rectangular arena, two hundred metres on the larger side. Above each of the spectator seats floated semi-transparent screens that provided a closer view of the action.

Finally, the battlefield began to change. Cracks ran across the centre, and the stage began to fold in on itself with mechanical precision, forming a deep, wide basin. Water swirled in to fill it, and rocks rose from beneath its surface to form a maze of crags in the open water. Two galleys burst from the canals at either side of the stage, defying the current. They hung in the air for a second, like salmon poised mid-leap above a waterfall, and then crashed down into the water below with a mighty splash. A host of smaller boats and schooners followed them out, and quickly organised themselves into two fleets.

There was no magic in this, only the most cutting-edge stage equipment... although perhaps it was best not to think about the enormous, ominous shadow circling beneath the water's surface.

–

“Now, my little piglets, I think we've kept you waiting long enough! Let's get this naumachia started! We know you're tired of the same-old same-old, so this year we thought we'd change things up a little with a large-scale team-on-team battle! Which of our brave teams in Akihabara today will be crowned the conquerors of the high seas?

“First, we have the Ottoman Corsairs! For these terrors of the Mediterranean Sea, this man once more takes up the rank of Pasha! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the great pirate of Barbary, the Redbeard, Heyreddin Barbarossa!

“And that's not all! Next we have his second-in-command! There's not a man west of Austria who doesn't know his name: the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay!”

The witch introduced each of the competitors one by one, stoking the crowd's excitement. Illustrious admirals and infamous pirates lined up upon the deck.

“And now, last but not least, someone you know very well! The mightiest commander of the navies of the far east - can you say “Hassou-tobi”? Our favourite natural-born Heike-killer, Minamoto Kurou Yoshitsune!

“Could this samurai be the most dangerous competitor on the field today? I'm sure the other side won't be showing much quarter, so look forward to some spectacular acrobatics!”

–

The pretty young warrior looked a little uncomfortable in responding to chants of “Ushiwaka!”, but eventually gave in and began to wave to the crowd. The sight broke me from my trance, and a young girl standing nearby caught my attention; she hadn't been introduced.

Could that be Yoshitsune's Master?

She was dressed in elegant traditional Japanese robes and heavy facial makeup, matching Yoshitsune, but she herself appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary citizen. Behind or beside the other Servants stood similar unassuming figures. More than a couple of them were wearing masks that obscured their faces.

Eventually, the oriental arrangement of Mozart's Turkish March playing throughout the Colosseum drew to a close, and was replaced with an unsettling, savage, African-style drumbeat. The Grail Tournament was as tasteless as ever.

–

“Now swivel your heads the other way, my adorable piglets! Little corkscrew tails to the east,  and snouts to the west! Please give it up for the mighty heroes of the Carthaginian Alliance!

“Cast your eyes upon Rome's worst nightmare! At his back, the souls of three war elephants with whom he crossed the Pyrenees and the Alps! Ladies and gentlemen, the Lightning Commander, Hannibal Barca!”

The sight of Hannibal, cross-armed on the deck in traditional battle garments, was so wildly different from the garrulous old tourist I had met in Cafe Borges that I could hardly believe it was the same man. The mighty cheer from the crowd put not so much as a crack in his stern expression, and he harboured a menacing aura.

“And not to be outdone, his second-in-command: The Firebrand of Castile, El Cid!”

The witch continued with her introductions, each one punctuated with thunderous applause. I tuned them out. My attention was absorbed by a small figure on the deck, with a white coat draped across her shoulders. I followed her with my augmented vision as she stared keenly into the enemy ranks.

He stood a short distance behind her, head askew, hands on his hips. He seemed devoid of tension, as though this were nothing more than a routine warmup.

“And taking up the rearguard is someone I'm sure you all remember! None other than the warrior who took the Newbie Tournament by storm! Our proud Knight of the Round Table, Sir Galahad!”

–

With the introductions concluded, the galleys began to slip forwards, and each team assembled into their respective formations. Karin rapped on my knee with her megaphone, unable to conceal her excitement.

“I told you it was gonna be awesome! Dunno much about the pirates, but even I know Yoshitsune!”

“You expecting me to be impressed or something? You could hardly call yourself Japanese if you didn’t.”

I could not imagine it would be easy for this collection of pirates, outlaws to the bone that they were, to assimilate cleanly into everyday life in Mosaic City - although, of course, there were exceptions. Perhaps it was for the best that there was a place for them here, where they could put their talents to use while also entertaining the populace. However...

“I know it's just a mock battle, but don't you think this seems really one-sided? The Ottomans are obviously better at sea. Hannibal's famous for his war elephants, but he can't even use them on the water.”

“Haven't been reading up, eh Eri? Here's a flyer for you. See? Says right here the field will change halfway through, and turn into a land battle. There's your Carthaginian advantage.”

“Ah. I get it.” This was never supposed to be a fair battle, but a dramatic turnaround against overwhelming odds. The perfect script to drive the audience wild. I myself had to confess, I was looking forward to seeing Yoshitsune and Galahad face off – so much so that a part of me wished this were a real Holy Grail War.

“Yeah. Now I see.” I gazed around at the nearby spectators with dawning realisation. I felt as though I'd grown a little closer to understanding how these competitors could wield such extraordinary power, and the system that supported them in doing so.

----

“Eh?”

The back of my neck prickled. Someone, somewhere, was watching me.

I slid my gaze slowly around myself, careful not to let my reaction be noticed, but my stalker was impossible to discern through the interference of the crowd around me.

I'm being watched. No doubt about it. There's something else, too. A familiar, maybe?

The Borgia siblings' warning came to mind. Someone I'd previously crossed, out for revenge. As I looked around warily, hoping to forestall some impending attack, I noticed something strange: dotted throughout the crowd were spectators standing motionless, seemingly blind to the excitement around them.

Victims of the Command Seal Hunter? No, that doesn't seem right...

I focused, filtering out the auditory noise, following the sense of wrongness back to its source... and happened to catch a snippet of conversation from the row in front.

“You serious? A fire in Shinjuku?”

“Where? Tsunohazu? Kashiwagi?”

“Seems like it's around Hanazono way.”

Hanazono?

My old house was in Hanazono. Which was to say, Chitose's house was in Hanazono. I leaned forward a little, and stared at the woman in front's phone from over her shoulder.

“Eri, the hell are you doing?”

On the screen was a video someone had uploaded to the municipal network.

“What on earth...?”

A video of a building on fire. In real time.

A row of old wooden houses in Shinjuku wreathed in smoke. A human figure appeared from the billowing grey curtain, aflame from head to toe. However, they did not run or drop to the ground, but continued calmly into the next building, and even as their blood boiled and their skin charred with the flames' caress, began to feed the flames.

The video cut short - interrupted by a new upload of a public train brought to a standstill, flames licking at its roof.

-

As I watched, a buzz of concern began to spread throughout the crowd. It was hardly surprising; there were probably no small number of spectators here from Shinjuku. I turned around to see that Karin, too, was transfixed by her phone.

“What's wrong?”

“They say there's been some kinda 'pedestrian accident' in front of Shibuya station. A tram derailed and went across the cross... Oh. Ew. I'm not looking at that. Trains are stopped too. The hell's going on?”

Simultaneous incidents, all across Mosaic City.

“Ugh...”

I gripped my arm as a dull pain blossomed inside it. The stench of death was agitating the spirits. Black blood oozed out from beneath my hand, as their ire turned on my own body.

Just when I thought I'd gotten them under control...

-

This arena was no longer a place I should be. I was the greatest threat here, to the tens of thousands of spectators present and the partners by their sides. Right now, these simultaneous incidents concerned me.

Security here was tight, and more to the point, greater warriors than I could ever hope to be now thronged the main stage. This was perhaps the safest place in all of Mosaic City. My place was not here – as much as I had wanted to see Koharu fight, I no longer had time to worry about that.

“Eri, wait.”

Karin must have guessed my intentions as soon as I stood up.

“You're going? Just like that? Without me, again?”

“Sorry. I know I invited you out here and everything, but... there's something I need you to do.”

“What is it?”

I stared back at Karin for a moment, then looked down to the boy by her side.

“Kouyou, do you think you could take care of Pran?”

The ogress looked to Karin questioningly, then gave a slow nod.

“Consider it done. Just leave it to us, Eri.” Karin flashed her newly-recovered Command Seals, alongside an irrepressible grin. Just as I made to leave, Karin's phone buzzed with a notification, and she pulled it out.

“Who's texting people at this kinda time?”

She checked the screen and sighed.

“It's that Kuchime asshole. He says “Sorry.””

“That's all?”

“That's all.” She smiled, resignedly and a little sadly.

----

I left the seats behind and made my way to the outer hall. While still indoors, this was an airy, open space, with high arches modelled meticulously after Roman architecture. It extended far away in both directions, curving gently to match the shape of the arena. Shops lined the outer wall, still milling with a fair number of late customers. Here and there people clustered around screens outside the storefronts, drinking as they watched the matches unfold.

What's even the point of coming here?, I thought. You could be doing that at home!

–

As I hurried towards the exit, I organised the idea I'd hit upon earlier in my head: to whit, that the competitors in the Holy Grail Tournament were taking their mana from the crowd itself. Tens of thousands of pseudo-magi, all pouring mana into the Servants doing battle below. That was my hypothesis.

This Colosseum was not a post-war addition to Akihabara. It had been a part of this town since long before the world was restructured, and it was far too large an anomaly to be permitted to exist without a reason. And in ancient Rome, the battles that took place in the colosseums had been sacred acts; offerings made to the gods.

Heroic Spirits take on all of our thoughts, hopes and dreams. They draw power from them.

The greater the mark a Servant had left upon history, and the more fame they had earned, the more power they drew. Such was their nature – and as an unintended and tragic consequence, Servants were occasionally summoned with the strange and cruel skill, “Innocent Monster”.

How much of this do the Riedenflaus family realise, I wonder?

I couldn't help but wonder just to what extent thaumaturgical systems might be entwined with the structure of the Colosseum itself.

-

An unexpected voice called me to a halt.

“Erice, we need to talk. It's important.”

It was the first time I had seen Ms. Fujimura in several days. I wheeled around to find her standing in the dimly-lit outer hall, dressed like a librarian as always.

Why is she here? What could she possibly want to talk about?

I strode towards her, with the intention of grilling her on the events in Shibuya and Shinjuku.

-

As I opened my mouth, I heard an odd sound from the broadcast. As the camera focused on the Carthaginian flagship, the witch performing the commentary had yelped in shock. I spun around to look. Ms. Fujimura, too, focused on the screen.

What I saw defied comprehension.

Regardless of the fact that the enemy was still distant, Hannibal, the Carthaginian commander, whipped his blade from the sheath at his belt, and without a moment's hesitation thrust it deep into the chest of his second-in-command, El Cid.

“Gah!”

El Cid's face froze in an expression of disbelief. His Master rounded on Hannibal in his confusion. The Carthaginian pulled his bloodstained sword from his ally's chest, and without a care for the man's protests, swung his sword crosswise in a vicious slash.

Both El Cid and his master collapsed. Two heads flew from the boat, to splash down unceremoniously into the artificial sea.

[noladyme]

Skip To My Lou, My Darling - Chapter 5, Bloody Demons II

The road so far…

Lulu is reunited with Dean, when he, Sam and Castiel needs the journal Bobby left her. She lets Dean know that this will be the last time she will see him, as being in his presence hurts her too much. When a phone call from what she thinks is a friend in need, brings her face to face with The King of Hell himself, will she finally have a chance to break her bond with Dean?

Our story continues in season 8

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added)

@edonaspanca​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​

II

I made it to Pittsburg in a little over two hours. The bar I’d agreed to meet Tamara at was bustling with people; and I found my friend at the bar, wearing a very skintight dress and leather jacket; and fisting a pint of Guinness. “Drinking on the job, Tamara?”, I grinned. “Not like you!”. She turned around to face me, and her smile was broader than I’d ever seen it. “Lulu! You came!”, she smiled. “Told you I would”, I laughed, and gave her a hug. “So, what’s the deal here? Are we hunting, or drinking?”. “Bit of both, love”, she said. She leaned in close. “Vamps have been picking up girls from this place for a while”. I narrowed my eyes. “So we’re here to…”. “Pick up dates!”, Tamara grinned.

I groaned internally. The last thing I wanted was to play the part of wanton woman on the prowl for man-meat. Tamara caught darkness ghosting my face. “What’s wrong, Lulu?”, she asked. “Nothing… I’m just…”. I couldn’t finish the sentence. “On the rebound?”, she smirked. “Only one cure for that. Drinks!”. She ordered a round of shots, and I took a deep breath; downing the vile – and probably very cheap – tequila in one go.

“Let’s just get this over with”, I sighed. Tamara’s eyes lit up. “Oh! I almost forgot. Brought you something…”. She took my hand, and dragged me towards the restrooms. Once inside, she handed me a piece of flimsy fabric. “What’s this?”, I asked. “A dress…”, Tamara smirked.

I held up the garment in front of me. It looked more like a tank top with a little length to it. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”, I muttered. She raised a brow at me. “You look like a lumberjack”, she said. “Just put it on. Live a little”. I shook my head. “This is supposed to be a job…”. “These bloodsuckers have been going for the easy prey. Girls asking for it”. I winced at her words. The Tamara I knew was strong headed and feminist. “Asking for it?”, I grunted. She shrugged. “Sorry. It’s the alcohol talking”, she smiled. “But you know what I mean. Now come on!”. I slipped in to a booth, and shed my layers; before pulling the dress over my head. “I’m not changing my shoes”, I called out. “Fine, whatever. Combat boots it is”, Tamara laughed. “It’ll give you a rock star quality”.

Stepping back outside of the booth, I put my own clothes into my new bag. Tamara looked over my shoulder. “New equipment?”, she muttered. “Yeah”, I said. “Guess I have a guardian angel”. “Huh…”, she said. “Set me up with one of those, will you?”. I chuckled. “I’m not sure you’d like angels any more than demons”, I said, and closed my backpack; looking at her. Something dark ghosted her face. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to bring up…”. “Forget it, love”, she smiled.

I went to look in the mirror. I looked the part of a woman in desperate need of attention. My breasts were on display, and a small slit on the side of the red “dress”, made it so I could at least walk; in spite of the constricting fabric. “How am I supposed to hide a machete in this?”, I complained. Tamara lifted my hair, and put it in a knot on my head, with a hairband. “You’re not”, she smiled; and opened her jacket to reveal a large knife. “You’re the decoy”. I rolled my eyes. “Great. Thanks for the learning experience, Tammy!”, I sneered.

Tamara pulled out a red lipstick, and turned me to face her; so she could apply it to my lips. “It’ll be just like Ohio. Walk before you can run, love”, she said, wiped a stray smudge of lipstick from the side of my lip. She turned me to face the mirror again. “There we go!”.

The woman looking back at me reminded me of someone I hadn’t seen in a long time. She was myself, before the maren; before countess Erzebet – before hunting. I’d missed her, I admitted to myself.

“What’s this?”, Tamara asked, running a finger down my shoulder blade. I twisted my torso, and looked at where she was pointing. “My tattoo?”, I smiled. “Would have thought you had one… it’s an anti-possession tattoo”. Tamara pulled her hand away from the symbol. “Oh… yeah, I should think about getting one of those”, she smiled. “Let’s go! Leave your bag in here”. I put my phone and the car keys into my bra – along with Sam’s number, for reasons I wasn’t sure of yet. It just felt right. We left the restrooms, and went to sit down by the bar. “Now?”, I muttered. “Now, we wait”, Tamara said; scanning the room.

A short man wearing way too much cologne came sauntering over to us. “Hey…”, he smirked, bobbing his head to the song coming from the speakers. “I’m…”. “Not interested”, Tamara said. I sent her a look. She shook her head. I looked at the guy. “What she said”, I shrugged. He walked away, tail between his legs. “Can you tell me what I’m supposed to look for?”, I said. “Someone colder”, my friend said. “Vamps are usually paler, and don’t smell like the cheap aisles of a drugstore”. “Okie dokie”, I muttered.

We sat for a while longer, before suddenly, Tamara pushed me between my shoulders. “Plump up the puppies”, she muttered. “We got one”. A tall, dark man had stepped into the bar. If ever I’d seen a vampire tv-show; this guy looked like he’d stepped right out of the screen. Tamara pushed at me. “Go chat him up!”, she hissed. “Tammy!”, I almost whimpered. “I’m not gonna…”. She patted my bottom. “Yes you are. Go!”.

I took a deep breath, and began walking towards the man. His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be scanning the room; before his eyes fell on me. His lip twitched into a sly smile, and – swallowing hard – I returned the gesture. He walked over to me, and grabbed my hand. “Hi…”, he said with a deep voice. “What’s your name?”. “Uhm… whatever you wanna call me”, I tweeted. He leaned in close, to whisper in my ear. “Guess I’ll call you Honey then. How does that sound?”. I felt bile rise in my throat. “That sounds… hot”, I smiled. “What’s your name?”

The stranger pulled me out onto the floor, and slipped his hand behind my back; holding me against him, and swaying back and forth. His hand was so cold; and I shivered when it touched the bare skin on my back. “Does it matter?”, he smirked. “I like to know who I’m dancing with”, I said. I looked back at Tamara, who was giving me the thumbs up. She grabbed her phone from her pocket, and called up a number. She hadn’t told me we’d have partners, but at the moment, I was very happy we wouldn’t be alone. This guy gave me all sorts of creepy feelings. “Call me… Patrick”, he said, and dipped me. “Swayze?”, I fake giggled. He pulled me back up. “Sure”, he smirked.

We swayed back and forth a while longer, until suddenly the song changed. God, please not this one, I thought; when a sad guitar began playing. “Lying on your arms, so close together. Didn’t know just what I had…”. I cleared my throat. “I really hate this song”, I croaked. Patrick leant down again, and put his mouth dangerously close to my neck. “Do you want to get out of here?”, he said. “Sure?”, I said; my voice breaking. “I should probably tell my friend I’m leaving”. He looked into my eyes. “Go ahead, honey”, he smirked.

Prying myself from his grasp, I walked back to Tamara. “He wants me to leave with him”, I said. “Good!”, she smiled. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you”. “What? Are you crazy? I’m not leaving with him without my weapons!”. Tamara grabbed my shoulders. “You’re doing great, Lulu. I’ve got you, ok? Trust me!”. I blew out a deep breath. “If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you!”, I sneered. She rolled her eyes, and pushed me back towards Patrick.

Hooking my arm into his, we left the bar. Once outside, the chilly air hit me; and I shivered. “You cold, honey?”, Patrick asked. “A bit”, I said. “Should we take my car?”. “Sure”, he winked at me, and I led him over to the rusty Dodge. I got behind the wheel, and Patrick entered beside me. “I got a place a few miles out”, he said; his face suddenly dark. “Ok”, I said.

I looked out the rearview mirror, and saw Tamara exiting the bar, and halting to speak with a man I hadn’t noticed before. He was only a little taller than her, and seemed a bit to well dressed for a hunter. Tamara seemed perfectly at peace with his appearance though, and simply smiled in my direction; pointing at my car. The well-dressed man looked towards me; and his lips drew back in a large grin.

“Let’s go, honey”, Patrick said; and I started the car, driving us off the lot, and down the street.

---

We made it to a house a way outside town. The windows where dark; and when I stopped the car, my hands where shaking. “You look good enough to eat”, Patrick smirked. His hand found my knee, and squeezed it. “We should… go inside”, I said; and quickly got out of the car.

Where are you, Tamara?, I thought to myself. Patrick put his hands on my hips, and led my up to the front door. He turned the knob, and we stepped inside. In an instant, I was pressed against the wall, and Patrick slammed the door shut. He nuzzled my neck with his nose. “Smell so good”, he growled. “That’s nice”, I croaked; regretting every move I’d made since the moment I stepped out of bed the morning before.

Grabbing my arm, Patrick pulled me into what seemed to be a living room; though decked out like a ridiculous boudoir. I looked around, desperate for anything I could use as a weapon. Patrick smiled menacingly at me; before his lips drew back, and he revealed a second set of teeth. “Oh, crap”, I choked.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Tamara came running in. “Lulu!”, she yelled. Patrick was distracted by the sudden change in his plans, and as he looked at her, I kicked him in the groin; making him topple over. “Kill him!”, I yelped. “Not yet!”, she said. “Where are your friends?”, she hissed at the groaning vampire.

There was a slamming of doors, and the sound of feet running throughout the house, and suddenly we were surrounded by five more hissing vampires. “All part of the plan?”, I snarled at Tamara; as we took a stance, back to back. “Please tell me you brought my stuff!”.

“She brought something better”, a gravelly voice said. The well-dressed man stepped into the room. He looked at the vampires. “One, two, three, four, five… six. Perfect!”, he counted, and clapped his hands together. He snapped his fingers, and what looked like black smoke filled the room – separating into six parts, and entering the mouths of the vampires.

The vamps all shook themselves, and Patrick got up from the floor. “What’s happening?”, I muttered. “What’s happening, is my best invention to date!”, the man laughed. “Vampire-demons. I can’t believe I never thought of this before… Thank you, Tamara”. I turned around, and looked at my friend. Her eyes where charcoal black. “You’re welcome, my lord”, she smiled.

I took a step back; falling into the arms of Patrick. “Tsk, pet. Where are you going?”, the man said. “We’re not done here”. Patrick pulled my head back, and leaned towards my neck. “Hungry…”, he hissed against my exposed skin. He was much to strong for me to get away from; and I was sure this was the end. “Hold up, Pat”, the man said. “I’ll serve you a nice dinner later. For now, me and this lovely lady need to have a conversation”. Patrick pushed me forward with a snarl, making me jump.

“Who are you?”, I croaked. “What are you?”. “Right… you’ve never actually faced one of us before”, the man said. “Name is Crowley. I am a demon”. I swallowed hard. “What did you do to Tamara?”. Crowley stroked my friend’s cheek. “Tamara is still in there. Struggling something fierce”. He slapped her hard, but Tamara didn’t wince. “I had one of my favorites possess her”. “She’s too strong for that”, I croaked. “Fight it, Tamara!”. “Cute”, Crowley smiled. “Not convincing”.

I slowly walked towards Tamara, and stroked her cheek. Her black eyes widened, and she grinned at me. “Oh, that feels nice, love. Keep going”. I sighed deeply, and let my lips tremble, as if I was about to cry. Demon-Tamara tilted her head and pouted – distracted just long enough for me to grab the knife from the inside of her jacket. “What do you think you’re going to do with that, pet?”, Crowley asked. I elbowed Tamara in the face; and shoved the knife into his chest; taking a step back, when he didn’t even flinch. “Rude!”, he growled. “This is Armani!”. He pulled the knife out. “You can have this back, when you behave”.

“What do you want with me?”, I asked, my heart in my throat. He smiled again. “It’s nothing, really. A mere trifle”, he said. “The Winchester’s have something of mine. I want it back”. I sighed. “Let me guess; you’re gonna use me to get to them”. Crowley laughed. “Sounds like you’ve been here before, hmm? I’ve heard they have a tendency to drop everything and come running, whenever you have a hangnail. What does Dean see in you?”. He gave me a once over, pausing at my chest. “Right… that”. He met my eyes with a slight smirk.

I decided to play his game, and rolled my eyes. “Ok. Tie me up, poke me with something sharp; whatever it is you guys do”, I said. “Well, you’re no fun”, Crowley frowned. “Couldn’t you at least… scream a little? Plead for your life? I mean, I made all these vampire-demons...”. I shook my head. “Too much effort”, I said. “I mean, I’m shaking in my boots, don’t get me wrong – but I know how this ends”. “And how is that?”. “Well, you torture me for a while – then Dean and Sam show up and fight you…”.

Crowley laughed. “It’s like you read my mind!”, he said. “Ok, let’s call them”, I croaked. “Just like that?”, the demon asked. “No Please Mr. Crowley, don’t kill my sweetheart?”. I swallowed hard, and looked down. “No? You two aren’t…?”. “It’s not like that”, I whispered. Crowley raised his brows. “Well, if I had a heart, it’d be breaking for you right now… What happened? Really, tell your uncle Crowley, pet…”. My façade broke, and I slapped him across the face. Crowley simply raised a brow at me. “That tickled”.

Suddenly I was on the ground, Crowley’s hand on my throat – squeezing hard. The demon-vampires all looked down at me; baring their extra set of teeth. “Now, you call Moose and Squirrel, and tell them to bring back my tablet; or I’ll snap this pretty neck faster than they can say where’s my flannel”. I nodded as fiercely as I could under his grasp, and reached slowly for my phone, and the note with Sam’s number. I dialed it up.

“Sam’s phone. Who’s this?”. It was Dean’s voice. “Dean…”, I rasped. “Lulu… What’s wrong?”, he demanded. I almost laughed. “Take a wild guess…”, I said. Crowley was starring into my eyes intently. “You’re in trouble”, Dean growled. “Surprise…”, I muttered. “What is it?”, he said. I looked at Crowley. “Hi, Dean!”, he said cheerily. “You’re friggin’ kidding me!” “You have my tablet. I have your girlfriend. Let’s make a deal”. “Now you listen to me, you son of a…”. “He’s not on speaker”, I said. “Too busy strangling me… and possibly serving up as dinner for a group of vampires”. I heard things being thrown around. Dean was pissed. “This isn’t the time for jokes! You’ve got the King of Hell with his hands around your neck!”. My jaw dropped. “The crossroads demon?”, I whispered. My eyes began flickering. Crossroad demons made deals.

Crowley’s eyes widened, and his lips drew back in a wide grin. He snatched the phone from my hand, and got off me. “Hello, Dean…? Yes, yes, I’m a son of a bitch, I know. I’ve met my mother. Now listen… No… Stop talking. I’ve reconsidered. Kevin, the tablet; I’ll have those soon enough. I have something much more fun in mind for now… Yes, exactly… Why? Because it’ll piss you off!”. I stood up from the floor, and began backing away. Patrick grabbed a hold of me again; putting his teeth to my neck. “Hold that thought”, he said into the phone, before putting it to his chest. “Lulu, love. Don’t go anywhere. We’re not done”. He lifted the phone to his ear again. “Yes, I’m still here… No. She’s fine. She’ll stay fine. At least the next 10 years. Don’t worry… Yes, you can have her back”. He handed me the phone. “His voice is so deep when he’s angry”, he winked at me.

I put the phone to my ear. “Lou, don’t do this”, Dean pleaded. “I don’t… Maybe he can end it”, I croaked. The teeth of the vampire were scratching at my skin. “He can’t!”. “If he can’t, the deal will be off. I’ll be fine”. I looked at Crowley, who nodded in agreement. “This isn’t the way. We’ll figure it out. Please!”. Dean was almost whimpering. I blew out a deep breath. “When this is done, you won’t care if I did it”, I said. “I won’t matter to you anymore”. Crowley narrowed his eyes at me. “I can’t live like this”, I whispered. Crowley pouted in mock sympathy. “Where are you?”, Dean asked. “I’m… I’ll see you soon”. I hung up.

Crowley clapped his hands together. “Right! What is it?”, he asked. “Pat, let the lady go. She’s not a meal… yet”. Patrick pushed me forward with a growl. “An std? A few more inches for Squirrel…?”. I frowned. “Oh, is he impotent?”, the demon said, grimacing. “No…”, I said. “I want…”. “Yes, yes, come on. I don’t have all day!”, Crowley sneered. “I want you to break our bond”, I said. Crowley looked confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”. I swallowed hard. “I was made for Dean… To be his. Angels put me on earth for him”.

The demon suddenly let out a roaring laugh. “You think you were put on this planet to be with Dean?”. “Yes…?”, I whispered. “It’s too… perfect. I’m his perfect companion. Our feelings aren’t real”. Crowley rolled his eyes. “Well you are perfect for him. You’re just as daft as he is! Give me that…”. He stepped over to me, and snatched the phone from my hand; hitting redial.

“Come one, come on… Yes, Deano! It’s Crowley again… Could you stop cursing and turn down your car radio, I can hardly hear my own thoughts… Right, deal’s off. She asked. Can’t help. Get me my stuff, or I’ll kill her… Pittsburg… Yes, exactly… Toodles!”. He hung up, and handed me back my phone. “Now, we wait”.

---

I was tied to a chair. Tamara was filing her nails on a couch against the wall; and the vampires were spread throughout the house – waiting for Sam and Dean to show up. Crowley paced the floor in front of me; taking phone calls from who I guessed were his minions.

Suddenly the door flew open, and the brothers ran inside; guns at the ready. Dean’s face was locked in rage; but when he stepped into the room, he wasn’t looking at Crowley with said expression – he was looking at me. Tamara sprang from her seat. “Hi lads!”, she grinned. “Long time, no see”. “She’s a demon”, I croaked. “Still alive inside”.

“Let them go!”, Dean roared. “No”, Crowley said; hanging up on yet another bloody wanker. He put a hand on my shoulder. “First; my things”. “You think we’d bring it here?”, Sam said. “Well, it’s simple. Then I kill the girl”, the demon said, and put a hand on the top of my head, and the other on my chin; as if to break my neck. My heart jumped into my throat. “Crowley!”, Dean snarled. Crowley leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Almost makes my knickers slide right off when he uses that voice”, he smirked. “Now, where is my tablet?”, he roared.

Patrick and his friends entered the room, and surrounded us. “I’m done waiting, boys. And so are my lads here”. The vampires bared their teeth, and let their eyes turn black. “What the hell is this?”, Sam yelled. “My best idea yet!”, Crowley snickered; letting go of me. “Vampire-demons! Aren’t they just the cutest thing…”.

The Winchesters both looked flabbergasted. “Oh, come on!”, Dean growled. “Vamp-demons?”. Crowley almost giggled. “I know. Sometimes my wit even surprises myself”, he said. “Now… my tablet. Give it over, and I’ll let it be quick”.

I knew I’d be dead within seconds if I didn’t act. “I know where it is”, I said. Dean narrowed his eyes at me. “It’s in a bunker”. Crowley let go of me. “Atta girl! Where’s this bunker?” “Lou!”, Dean growled. I shook my head. “It’s over, Dean”, I said. “I’m not dying for your cause”.

Crowley went to stand in front of me, narrowing his eyes. “Where, pet?”. “I’ll take you. But you have to promise to let me go afterwards”, I croaked. “You have my solemn word as a gentleman… or, whatever”, Crowley said. “Patrick. Untie her”. Patrick loosened my restraints, and I stood up. “There’s a good girl”, Crowley smiled. “Lads, you hold down the fort here. But no dinner until I return. I want to watch”. “We’ll take my car”, I muttered.

Dean’s eyes met mine. His gaze was pained. “You can’t do this, Lulu”, Sam said. “Sam… don’t. This is my decision”. “Please, Lou…”, Dean pleaded. I looked at him with hard eyes. “I have to let him get in that driver’s seat”. It was a strange sentence, but I hoped Dean would let it lie. He looked at me questioningly. “Bye, boys”, Crowley called over his shoulder.

Once outside, I opened the door to the driver’s seat for Crowley, and he got in front of the wheel. “Ugh, I hate driving lefty… Keys?”. I took a step back. “I have them”, I said. “Well, get in and give them to me”, the demon demanded. “No…”, I responded. “No…? What are you talking about? Get in the bloody car, or I’ll drag…”. He tried to step out of the car again, but couldn’t. I crouched, and pointed at the ceiling of the Dodge. The devils trap I’d made with a marker over the driver’s seat, was still there. “I hope you know how to hotwire a car; because that’s the only way you’re getting anywhere…”, I said; and closed the door on the cursing Crowley. Grabbing a bottle of water from the trunk, I went back to the house. Crowley was banging the window; the demonic seal apparently making him unable to break it.

I went back into the house, and into the living room. Sam and Dean where in the process of being tied up by the vamp-demons. Tamara looked at me. “What?”, she snarled. “Crowley wants you to come”, I said quietly; sending Dean a look. He narrowed his eyes at me. Tamara rolled her black eyes, and followed me to the porch.

“That’s a really ugly car”, she grunted, and began walking down the steps from the porch. I opened the bottle of water; and poured it over her. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te”, I said as quickly as I could, and black smoke left Tamara’s body; making her slump to the ground. I crouched over her, patting her cheek. “Please, Tammy. I need your help. Wake up!”, I whispered.

Tamara’s eyes blinked, and she looked at me. “Is it gone?”, she rasped. I let out a relieved sigh, and pulled her into my arms, hugging her tightly. “It’s gone”, I croaked. “But we’re gonna have to fight. Are you up for it?”. Tamara’s lips drew back in a snarl. “Hell yeah!”, she said. “Weapons?”. My eyes searched the area; and I smiled, when I saw a black Chevy Impala parked a little way down the road. “I know where to get some…”.

We ran to the Impala, and I opened the trunk, lifting the false bottom. “Bloody jackpot!”, Tamara smiled. We each grabbed a machete along with some bottles of water. I picked up a knife as well. “What’s that for?”, Tamara asked. “You’ll see”, I muttered. She grimaced in confusion.

I walked back to the Dodge, and opened the door to the driver’s seat. “Let me out of here you sodding… Ow!”, Crowley snarled, as I stabbed him again; before pulling the knife back out. “What was that for?”. I looked at the bloody blade. “Your vessel. He’s dead, right?”, I asked. “Of course he is!”, Crowley hissed. “Great. Bye, your majesty”. I slammed the door in his face. “Let’s go”.

We snuck back to the door. “Remember the exorcism I used?”, I whispered. “I taught it to you, love”, Tamara smirked. “On three…”. I put my hand on the doorknob. “One… two… three!”. We sprang into the house, threw water at the monsters holding the Winchesters captive; and chanted in unison.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te!”

Black smoke poured out of the vampires. The beasts all looked confusedly at each other, before snapping their necks in Tamara’s and my direction. “Dinnertime, boys”, Patrick yelled.

One of the vampires sprang at me, and I slashed the machete across his torso. He instantly toppled over, rattling in pain; and I cut his head off. Narrowly escaping being taken down by another vamp, I threw myself towards Sam and Dean. “Lou, what are you doing?”, Dean yelled. “Saving your ass!”, I snarled, and cut the ropes holding him to the chair. “Here”. I handed him the knife, and slashed at another vampire trying to get me from behind. He grabbed my ankle, and pulled me to the ground; but Tamara cut his head clean off – spraying me with blood in the process. “Thanks”, I gasped. Dean cut Sam free, and they joined us in our fight. “Get out of here!”, Dean growled. “Hell no!”, I yelled, and got on my feet.

“Four left!”, Tamara yelled. One of the vamps was heading for the door, but I made it over to him just in time to cut the back of his knee; making him fall to the ground. The last thing he saw, was my face as I hacked his head off. “That’s two for me”, I grinned. “Leave some for me, Lulu! I only got the one”, Tamara laughed. I heard a crash as Sam pushed one of the vamps to the ground. He held the snarling monster down. “A little help?”, Sam yelled. “All yours”, I said to Tamara; who ran over, and cut the thing’s head off. Dean snatched the machete from Tamara, and quickly decapitated a vamp coming at him from a dark corner.

The house was silent. I looked around. “There was six of them”, I said. Dean looked at me; his eyes suddenly widening. “Lou, behind you!”. I twirled around; only to be caught by the neck, by none other than Patrick. “Hi, honey”, he smirked; before pulling me into his arms, and biting into my neck. The pain was excruciating, and I yelped out in pain - dropping my machete on the floor.

“No!”, Dean roared, and ran towards us. Patrick pulled his head back, and turned me around to face my friends. “Don’t!”, he snarled; my blood dripping from his mouth. “I’ll kill her”, he warned. Tamara went to step forward; but Sam held her back. I looked at the knife in Dean’s hand, and then at Tamara. She nodded, and snatched it from him – throwing it into the air. I caught it by the blade – feeling it cut into my stitched-up hand – before pushing it into Patrick’s side. The vampire laughed. “That won’t kill me, honey”, he said. “No, but the dead man’s blood on it will”, I rasped.

Patrick began letting out choking sounds, and loosened his grasp on me. I put my hand on my bleeding neck, and stumbled forward – Dean catching me in his arms. Sam walked up to Patrick, and cut his head off.

I let out a deep breath. “Ok… It’s over”. Dean gave me an angry look. “Try that again…”. I looked down, and pulled myself from his arms.

“Are you ok, Lulu?”, Tamara asked; and came over to examine my wound. “You did great, love!”. I smiled blushingly. “Thanks… I guess my vampire cherry is popped”. “Sure is”, she smiled. She looked up at the brothers. “Good to see you two again”. “Thanks for the rescue, Tamara”, Sam half smiled. Dean nodded at her with an insincere smile. “Yeah. Thanks for that, Tamara”. He made a point of shoving the brit his gratitude – not me. “Let’s get out of here”.

We went back outside. I was exhausted, and almost stumbled down the stairs. The door to the Dodge was open, and the seal on the ceiling of it was scratched at. Somehow, Crowley had gotten away. “Crap”, I muttered. Sam crouched down, and looked into the car. “Good thinking, though”. “Sam!”, Dean growled. “Lulu, get in the car”. I sighed, and went for the front seat of the Dodge. “Not that car”.

Tamara frowned at him. “Who do you think you’re talking to, Winchester? This girl just killed three vampires on her first hunt for those bloodsucking buggers!”. “I’m talking to the girl who almost sold her soul to the king of Hell!”, Dean snarled. “Stay out of it”. Tamara laughed sarcastically, and began rolling up the sleeves of her jacket. “Oh, I should…”. “It’s fine, Tammy”, I sighed. “I can fight my own battles… but thanks”. “You’re gonna let some boy talk to you like that?”, she sneered. I shook my head. “No, I’m not. But he has something of mine, and I want it back”, I said. “I’ll tear him a new one afterwards”. “If you don’t, I will”, she snapped.

I pulled her in for a hug. “I need to go back with them”, I muttered. “Thanks. For everything”. “No, thank you! Call me”, Tamara said. I handed her the keys to the Dodge. “Thanks. Might even make it back to my own car in it. The thing looks like it’s falling apart”. I kissed her cheek, and she got into the driver’s seat; turning on the engine, and driving away.

---

“What the hell were you thinking?”, Dean roared at me. “Demon vampires?”, Sam snarled. “You’re lucky Tamara was there!”. “She was a demon too, remember?”, I muttered. “I saved her ass, just like I did yours”.

The whole drive back had been quiet; and I felt like a teenager who’d missed curfew. We’d gone by the bar, and Sam has slipped into the ladies room to grab my bag for me; as I was covered in blood, and might freak people out. I was now seated – freshly showered, and once again stitched up and bandaged – in the library in the bunker; getting a verbal ass-whooping from both the Winchesters; while Castiel stood in the archway – sending me chiding eyes.

“You could have died!”, Sam yelled. “Worse; you could have gone to Hell!”, Dean growled. “Your soul, Lou? Do you have any idea…?”. “It’s my soul to do with as I want”, I said. Dean looked at me with enraged eyes. Sam’s gaze softened. “Lulu, you’re family… This wouldn’t just affect you”. “I’m sorry…”, I whispered. Sam sighed. “I’m gonna get back to Bobby’s journal; so you can get it back”, he said; and disappeared down a hallway.

I sighed, and shook my head. “I just wanted…”, I began “To get rid of me?”, Dean croaked. “Do you really hate me that much?”. “You know I don’t… that’s the problem”, I said quietly. “You know what? Cut the crap, Lou!”, Dean snapped. “This thing between us, angelic intervention or… whatever! You don’t make deals with demons”.

“What do you mean, angelic intervention?”, Castiel interrupted. I looked at him indignantly. “Cass, you know what we’re talking about”, I said. “This bond between Dean and me. It’s crap!”.

I stood up, and went to leave the room. “I’m gonna go get some rest. Let you finish your research”. Dean grabbed my shoulders, and held me in place. His eyes were welling up, and I felt my own tears approaching. “Listen… I’m letting you go”, he croaked. “Even though everything inside me is screaming for me, to hold on to you; because you’re mine. I’m letting you walk, because that’s what you want…”. “It’s not!”, I whispered. “I want to be here. I want to stay with you… But it’s not real!”.

Castiel walked over to us. “I don’t understand why you both keep saying that”, he smiled. Dean looked over his shoulder at the angel. “Stay out of this, Cass. You already said you couldn’t help, so just… don’t. Your kind has done enough to mess up this thing”. Castiel sighed. “I can’t help; because what’s between you has nothing to do with angels. I don’t even think a cupid hit you”. I looked at him, my breath bated. “W-what do you mean?”, I stammered. Cass raised his brows. “I didn’t understand before just now… You think Lulu was created for you”. Dean let go of me, and turned around. “She was… wasn’t she?”. I heard the angel chuckle. “Angels didn’t put you two together, Dean”, Castiel said. “Happenstance and probably lust did that. Maybe even love”. “So you’re telling me what we had… was real?”, Dean asked. “I think what you have is real”, Cass responded.

A jolt went through my body, and I suddenly felt cold. Dean turned to look at me; his eyes wide. “It’s real”, he breathed. I stumbled backwards, and ran out of the room, and down the hall. “Lou!”, Dean called after me.

My heart was beating so hard, I was convinced I could see my chest jump. It was real. All this time, I’d wasted it. This was why Crowley wouldn’t make a deal with me. “Lou, please, stop!”. I turned to face Dean’s pained face. “I’m… This is my fault… All this time…”. I shook my head. “Dean, I can’t…”, I whispered; tears streaming from my eyes. “Please… I did this to you. To us. I filled your head with lies that I made up myself, because I was arrogant…”. He let out a defeated breath. “I’m so, so sorry, baby…”.

“Years…”, I whimpered. “I wasted years I could have had, being happy…”. “Without me in your head, having a real life. I know”, Dean croaked. “No”, I shook my head. “With you, Dean”. I took a step forward. “I wanted you, all along. And it was real”. “You shouldn’t…”, he began. “But I do. Me – my own decisions, no manipulation – I want you”. Dean looked down; and my heart fell into my stomach. “But… You don’t want…”. Dean almost ran over to me. “I do, baby. I do”, he said; and his arms were around me.

I began sobbing for real. “Please, Lou. Don’t leave me. Don’t walk out of my life again”, Dean whispered into my ear. I turned my head, and looked into his eyes. “Give me a reason to stay…”, I said.

Suddenly, Dean’s lips were on mine. All that pent-up emotion – those intense feelings – they were all ok to have, because they were my own. And I let go; allowed myself to feel them, as my lips parted, and I breathed in the man in front of me. The scent of him overtook me, and my knees almost gave in, when Dean suckled at my lower lip. He tore himself from our kiss, and looked at me with pleading eyes. “Can I please take you to my room, now?”. I couldn’t answer; so I just nodded.

Dean grabbed my hand, and led me down the hall, to room 11. As soon as we were inside, he slammed the door closed; and his lips were on mine again. “God, I’ve missed you”, he breathed against my mouth. He shed his shirt, and I stepped backwards; suddenly strangely self-aware. Dean was about to lift the hem of his t-shirt, but stopped himself, when he saw my face. “I… We don’t have to”. “No. I’m just…”. I swallowed hard. “What if I’m not that girl you first met anymore? I’m different, now…”. “So am I”, he smiled softly. “Hell. Purgatory… all that crap. It changed me. I think the thought of you was part of what pulled me through…”.

I sat down at the foot of the bed. “That’s just it”, I said. “You’ve been remembering that first-grade teacher, who danced on a table to the Ramones. Who didn’t know anything about vampires or ghosts… And who didn’t hunt”. Dean blew out a deep breath. “I’m… I know things are different for you”, he said. “And that’s my fault. I got you into all of this stuff”. “No… I’m in this life, because I want it. You’re so dead set on me living a normal life”, I sighed. “That’s the girl you want. But this is the woman I am”. I gestured towards the bandage on my neck, covering the wound from the vampire’s bite.

Dean stood for a while, seemingly having an internal conversation with himself. “Well, I guess that’s the woman I’m going to have to get to know”, he concluded. “But that amazing girl, who sassed me even when she thought I was a fed… The one who got drunk, poked my ass, and called it firm”, he chuckled. “The girl who danced with me to a song that’s become kind of a guilty pleasure to me… That’s still you as well. And I think the woman is just an improvement on her”.

I blushed, and looked down. “Well, it was firm. Your jeans were tighter then, so I don’t know about now”. Dean laughed. “And there’s that smart-ass mouth again. She’s still there”. I stood back up, and walked over to him; putting my hand on his cheek. I narrowed my eyes, and looked into his. “And you still have nice eyes”, I whispered; before getting on my toes, and putting my lips to his again. Deans arm slid around me; holding me flush against him. I ran my hand up his chest, and relished in the shivers I could feel going through his body.

With a firm hand on my hip, Dean backed me towards the bed; and as it hit the back of my knees, I fell backwards. Dean leaned over me; but before our lips could meet, I tugged at his t-shirt – wanting it off. Dean obliged with a smile. His body was more toned than I remembered it being. Years of hunting and fighting had made Dean leaner – with sharper edges, and more scars – but no less gorgeous.

Sitting up on the bed – my feet still on the floor – I let my fingers trace over a slight scar down Dean’s abdomen. “Lamia”, he muttered. I traced another, down his forearm. “A friend… in Purgatory”. I pulled myself backwards on the bed; and Dean followed. With a knee between my legs, he was once again over me, kissing my lips softly; and pulling at my tank-top. I lifted my arms, and let him take it off. His eyes glinted from the sight of my mostly bare torso; up until he saw the tulpa scar again.

Dean ran his thumb down the mark; and while I was delighting in the sensation of him touching me again, I saw darkness ghost his face. “I’m ok”, I smiled. “I hate that you go out there unprepared… You don’t know what you’re doing”, he grunted. “Tell that to the three vampires I killed last night…”, I said. “Now, do you want to fight, or do you wanna take my pants off?”. Dean couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, that’s an offer I can’t refuse…”, he muttered.

Running his hand from my ribs, to the waistline of my jeans; he opened the button, and pulled down the zipper – instantly sending electricity through my warmth from his mere proximity to it. I let out a short breath, as his fingers hooked into the fabric, and he pulled my pants down – stopping, when he realized I was still wearing boots. I laughed as I kicked them off; and Dean smilingly completed his task – getting rid of my socks while he was at it. Then his face darkened again.

“What’s that?”, he said, and gestured towards a ragged scar on my thigh. “The leviathan…”, I muttered. His eyes widened. “The Pete leviathan?”, he almost growled. “He did this to you?”. “Yeah, right before I cut his head off”, I whispered; feeling a bit exposed in my undress, with an angry looking hunter towering over me. “Dean, you’re starring… and not in a way that makes me feel very sexy…”. His gaze softened. “Sorry”, he muttered, and sat down on the bed next to me. “How did you get out of that alive?”. I smirked. “Dumb luck”, I said. “I was washing the floors of the bar, when Pete came in; asking me to come back to Kansas with him… Then, his feet started melting, and I ran up the stairs, for my sword. When he finally came up after me, his feet were halfway gone, and he wasn’t moving very fast – so I just slashed, and his head came off… Adrenaline, I guess”. Dean grunted. “But he still got you”, he said. “Just the one cut”, I smiled. “I had a local vet stitch it up”. Dean let his index finger graze the mark. “They did a bum ass job out of it”, he muttered. I rolled my eyes. “Considering getting a tattoo to cover it up”, I said. “Yeah, you need one of these”, Dean retorted, and pointed towards his own anti possession tattoo. I grinned, and turned around – showing him the small tattoo just next to my bra strap. “This one?”, I jeered. Dean ran a hand down his face, and shook his head in defeat. “You’re something else”, he smiled.

I grabbed his hand, and pulled him down to lay with me. Dean put his one thigh between mine; and the friction between his jeans clad leg against my core, made me gasp slightly. He smirked at my reaction, and grabbed my thigh gently; pulling it around his hip – and pressed against me. I whimpered softly, and put my hand behind Deans head, to pull him in for another kiss. I ran my tongue over his upper lip, while he suckled at my lower one. I felt Deans beginning erection press against my thigh, under his jeans; and slid my hand down his back – over his taught muscles – and hooked my thumb into his waistband; pushing down. Dean got the message, and lifted himself off me; opening his jeans, and taking them off.

Hooking my leg around Deans, I invited him back between my thighs; and he returned to his former position – pressing his thigh against my core. With his face in the crook of my neck, he began nibbling at my neck on the opposite side of the bite-wound – probably leaving hickeys. “Marking your territory? What are you, 16?”, I giggled. “You taste nice”, Dean breathed against my neck. “And that vamp got to bite you. Why shouldn’t I?” He grinded his thigh against me, and I whimpered again. He let his lips, teeth and tongue travel down my neck, and across my collarbone. I swayed my hips to rub against his leg, and he chuckled softly. “I like that I can still do this to you”, he muttered. “And I love that it’s because you really want to”, I breathed; and pulled his face up to kiss him again.

Our almost naked bodies entangled in this manner, was heavenly. Deans soft skin covering his firm muscles, so close to mine – it was as if we were built specifically to lay like this, together. But we weren’t built for it; which just made it so much better. It was just perfect all on its own.

Kissing Dean deeply; my tongue demanded access to his. Dean didn’t take much convincing, and with a stifled moan, he brushed it against mine. I tried to pull him all the way on top of me, but Dean shook his head – continuing to press his thigh against my covered folds. It was as if he knew something I didn’t. Putting his hand on my breast, he squeezed it for a moment, before pulling down the cup under it – giving him access to my nipple. He rolled it gently between two fingers, sending shivers down my spine, and pulsating jolts straight from it, to my core.

I used all my strength to move my one leg, so that Dean would be all the way on top of me, between my thighs; but once again, he shook his head – and tweezed my nipple a little harder. “Please…”, I pleaded against Dean’s lips. He used his free hand to hold my leg in place. “Not yet”, he breathed. “Like this. I wanna see you…”.

He pressed is flexed thigh even harder against me; and began moving back and forth. He wanted me to come undone on his leg – without any skin to skin contact on my folds. The sensation was frustrating, and yet amazingly pleasurable. I wanted to feel him inside me, but all I got was this rubbing; this intense and hot friction.

Dean’s lips left mine, and he looked at me intently, as my breath grew ragged; and the warmth in my vagina grew into a pulsating fire. He put one hand around my back – grabbing on to my shoulder to keep me from pulling away from his leg – and the other dug into my thigh; forcing it to stay around his hip. “Move, baby. Don’t stop”, he demanded in a soft voice. I ground my hips back and forth, desperately – and suddenly the coil in my lower abdomen snapped; and I came against his thigh, with breathy moans and squeals.

Coming down from my high, my whole body almost shivering from the orgasm along with the frustration of not feeling like I actually finished properly; I looked pleadingly at Dean. “That wasn’t fair…”, I whimpered. He looked at me confusedly. “You didn’t…?”. I was still shaking. “Obviously, I did… But I wanted you inside”, I said quietly. Dean chuckled. “Baby, you think I’m done with you? I’m making up for lost time, here”, he smirked. “That was just prep-work…”.

I attacked his lips with a fervor, pushing him to lay on his back. Straddling his waist, I opened my bra, and took it off – throwing it over my shoulder – and earning a pleased smile from the man between my legs. “Touch me”, I breathed. Deans eyes widened, and his hands found my breasts – pushing them together, and massaging them. He looked at me like I was a delicious piece of pie he couldn’t wait to chow down on. As he ran his thumbs over my nipples, I carefully moved my bottom backwards; and felt his hardness against me again.

Dean drew in a short breath, when I began moving my hips back and forth on top of him – grinding against his penis, over his boxers. He moved his hands down to my hips, and tried to get me off him, so he could take off his underwear; but I just smirked, and shook my head. “Not so fun, when the tables are turned, is it?”, I said. “Lou…”, Dean said warningly, as he raised a brow at me. “You’re playing with fire here…”. “Am I? I thought I was playing with your…”.

Suddenly I was on my back again; and Dean pulled off my panties, and his own boxers. He laid down between my legs, and looked at me intently. “I don’t wanna play anymore. I just want you”, he breathed. I smiled, and nodded.

With a hand around his member, he positioned himself against my entrance; and pushed himself inside me with a muffled moan. For a moment we just laid there; looking into each other’s eyes. “Can I say it now?”, Dean breathed. I swallowed hard. “Only if you mean it”, I croaked. His brows furrowed, and he put his hand on my cheek, stroking my cheekbone with his thumb.

“I love you”, he said. My breath hitched. “I love you too”, I whispered; and our lips met in a soft kiss.

---

[itsworn]

The Chaotic World of Funny Car Chaos! Race weekend from a Promoter’s Point of View

For the past fifteen years, I have dedicated my life to the sport of drag racing as a photographer, race reporter, and participant. My wife and I spend every weekend from mid-January to early December at a drag race somewhere across this great country. In addition to serving as President of the Southwest Heritage Racing Association, which is the largest and most rapidly-growing independent drag racing series in the Southwest, I also find the task of hosting large, single events very intriguing. After five years of success organizing and promoting the annual Pro Mod vs Fuel Altered Showdown each summer in Texas, I decided to challenge myself on an even bigger event.

Funny Cars are without question the most entertaining vehicles to ever take the starting line at a drag strip. For decades, they have entertained spectators with their ill handling unpredictability and aggressive style. When funny car lays down a full track burnout, the hair on the back of your neck stands up. That’s what drag racing is all about. We needed to bring Funny Cars back to the main stage in the Southwest, and make it big. The challenge was clear, host a Funny Car race that appeals to both the racers and the spectators like nothing we’ve seen since the 1970’s and early 1980’s. Since that time, smaller eight car shows and two- or four-car match races were all fans and racers had. It was time for a legitimate, mass appealing, large, well-paying and Funny Car event. Thus, Funny Car Chaos was born.

Knowing the amount of Funny Cars not only in the mid-west but across the country, I was sure we could certainly attract sixteen cars to make the tow to North Star Dragway in Denton, Texas if we didn’t require them to fit a certain rules profile and we paid them decent money for their efforts. When I announced Funny Car Chaos in December 2016, I had no money or sponsors, just a date, a track owner who gave me a chance. Over the next six months, I spent tireless hours hunting sponsorships, and after lots of time on a calculator, I knew I had to get the payout announced to make these racers know this was for real. A group of local teams had confirmed interest, and after the announcement of a $25,000 payout, we subsequently attracted the attention of several out of town teams. My title sponsor and biggest supporter, Randy Ranew and the Red Line Shirt Club, played a huge role in getting me to this point.

Holy cow! Now I’ve got 25 cars pre-entered into this race and was only planning on qualifying 16. Back to the calculator, let’s figure out a way to let all these teams who are willing to dedicate their time and money have a chance at a first round and be part of the show. The format was finalized with an elite eight top qualifiers making up the ‘A’ field and remaining nine through twenty four qualifiers slotted into the ‘B’ field of sixteen, qualifying twenty four cars total. With the format and payout set, 25 teams pre-entered and sponsorship commitments higher than I’ve ever raised before, it was time to promote, promote, promote. Could term “Funny Car” be enough to attract people to the event? Who doesn’t love a Funny Car, right?

Fast forward to the week of the race, and my cell phone hasn’t stopped ringing. I literally carried battery packs in my pocket to keep my phone from dying. Teams started arriving on Tuesday. What? You only see things like that at the U.S. Nationals or the March Meet. A dreary forecast for Thursday and Friday had me nervous, as we had test sessions, pre-parties, and lots of action scheduled. Thankfully, we were blessed with a dry Thursday night, and the pre-party went off better than expected. The local restaurant had to quit taking food orders at one point because the kitchen was so backed up. After talking with the owner, more alcohol sales were recorded through the register since the opening of the venue in 2013.

We were off and running at 6:00 am Friday morning, and I was starting to feel the anxiety. After all the hype, I had better deliver the goods with the next two days of drag racing. A steady drizzle hung over North Star Dragway until just before noon,then the track staff took charge to dry the quickest eighth mile in Texas for a 2:00 test session for Funny Cars.

With 22 tech cards turned in at the drivers meeting, all the racers knew they were “in the show”, however, three of the pre-entered teams were unable to make it. We had it all at Funny Car Chaos: nitro cars, alcohol cars, new body styles and old body styles, heck, we even had a ‘topless’ Funny Car. Several teams took advantage of the open rule book and made changes to their engine combinations, choosing to bolt on bigger fuel pumps, more powerful magnetos, etc. It was like Funny Cars on steroids!

With such a wide assortment of cars, some who run regularly and some relative novices, I knew we’d face some losses as parts failure took its toll. Testing went well, Mark Sanders ripped off a stout 3.72 elapsed time, which proved the track was ready to hold whatever these cars wanted to throw at. At 8 p.m., we fired the first pair of floppers to officially kick off Funny Car Chaos qualifying. This was the roughest, longest, most challenging session of twelve pairs of cars I’d experienced in my life. Midway through the session, the most iconic Funny Car to ever call Texas home, the “Blue Max”, came to the line with driver Ronny Young lined up against Marc White in the “Crop Duster” from Illinois. At that moment, I quit breathing for several seconds.

At first, it was with disbelief that I was hosting a drag race that included “Blue Max” which is, in my opinion, the most badass Funny Car to ever see the face of the Earth. But after a 3.82 at 192 mph pass from Young, I heard a series of throttle whacks at the top end that was far from normal, followed by the ambulance lights coming to life as the safety crew rolling onto the track.

It’s hard to describe the feeling you get as an event promoter when something scary happens to one of your racers, one of your friends. I had no choice but to get down to the top end and see what had happened. Upon arrival, the first thing I saw was Ronny Young standing in the sand trap with a look of disgust on his face. Thankfully, Young was completely uninjured, but the famed flopper suffered race-ending damage, possibly with a bent frame. Young went into the sand trap after a late chute deployment kept the car from making the final turn off. I shook his hand and expressed my relief that he was alive and well, so thankful for that opportunity. After repairing the net system, we were back in action.

Two pairs later, the dreadful, full-track oil down showed it’s ugly face. So, the staff was back at it, with mops and dry sweep and starter David Strickland manning the scrubber machine. After an hour of delay removing the “Blue Max” from the sand trap and repairing the catch net, another hour of oil clean up ensued, flat lining the momentum we had built to this point. By this time, I already had cars in the lanes ready for their second qualifying pass, but still had six cars left to run in the first qualifying session. Schedule? Throw that out the window. After discussions with the remaining drivers and teams ready for their second shot, we agreed to run as long as the track stayed safe. Thankfully, the evening dew we commonly get never materialized, and those die-hard fans stuck around for one of the most impressive Funny Car runs I’ve ever witnessed.

John Hale lit up his Guy Tipton-tuned “One Bad Texan” to kick off the second qualifying session with a burnout that literally kept the rear tires blazing to the mile per hour cone at the eighth mile. The crowd went wild! Hale finally came to a stop well past the scoreboards, then backed up and brought it to the line. The green light dropped and Hale blasted off the starting line like a rocket, flames dancing from the pipes. The scoreboards lit up with a 3.77 at 194 mph to qualify number two. Wow, what an epic pass! Hale qualified behind Mark Sanders’ 3.68 at 205 mph which led the sheets with one more session remaining on Saturday afternoon.

With Friday a thing of the past, the task at hand was to rebound with a stellar effort on Saturday and that goal was met with flying colors. Plenty of sunshine, temperatures in the high 80s, the front gate flowing with cars and the parking lot filling up, things were looking good. I always try to make sure the events I host provide continuous and flowing entertainment. An arsenal of between round action filled the pits past the normal parking area and almost to the first turn off at the top end of the track. We crammed 125+ trailers in the facility made up of match racers and exhibition machines like K.C. Jones, who was pulling double duty driving both the “Crazy Train” wheelstander and “Chattanooga Choo-Choo” jet dragster. Howard Farris was in the house determined to break the 3.53 track record with the “War Wagon” AA/Fuel Altered. John Robinson had his turbo diesel powered dragster on hand among many others. Capping off the show, the Dirty South Gasser series brought back the old school vibe with more than thirty five participants lined up for the Beat The Heat World Finals held on Saturday.

All remaining Funny Cars had a solid spot in the field, so I expected maybe just a few to come up for the final qualifying session. To my amazement, almost every car found a spot in the lanes and were eager to take the track as the stands were literally filled to capacity and spectators were four and five deep on the fence past the scoreboards. Let’s fire ‘em up!

The final qualifier went off with just one oil delay, and it was now time to compose a ladder. With the assistance of my loyal announcer David Rattan, we put together the field and made copies, then I hopped on the scooter to deliver a ladder to each team. The original plan was to host a pre-race parade of cars, but to make up time, I hesitantly scrapped that part of the show, preferring to make up lost ground on my timeline and have this event completed at a reasonable hour. As a promoter, photographer, spectator, whatever, nothing gets under my skin worse than racing at one or two in the morning in front of empty bleachers on a subpar racing surface. So with the parade scrapped, the call went out for the first round of Funny Cars to head to the lanes, it was time to pair them up and let them ride.

Announcing is a crucial part of hosting any form of entertainment, but especially drag racing. Thankfully, I’ve got a dedicated team behind me including David Rattan in the announcer booth and my long time staging lane director Justin Haas, who also handles the lanes for the SHRA nostalgia series. With this team combined with the hard working staff at North Star Dragway, we were ready to go as Justin sent the first pair to the water box.

The first round saw several upsets, especially in the ‘A’ eliminator as John Hale and Marc White suffered first round losses after qualifying in the top half. Watching from between the lanes on the starting line, directly behind the starter, let me tell you, the nitro fumes were thick and plentiful during the ‘A’ field. A lifelong nitro junkie, it just didn’t get any better than that! ‘B’ field contestants held their own with some great side-by-side racing as we cut the fields in half and teams returned to the pit area for servicing. K.C. Jones did his thing in the wheelie car and jet dragster, the Dirty South Gassers kept the front wheels up on their exhibition runs and rounds were underway in the Beat The Heat program. We had the ball rolling now.

Being the “guy in charge” means you are the one who deals with all the random stuff that happens. I’ve seen more than my fair share of unexpected issues, but thankfully only a few incidents were reported over the weekend. One young spectator whacked his head open on the bleachers running unsupervised between the frame work of the bleachers. An adult spectator took a rolled up t-shirt to the eye from a race team shooting t-shirts into the crowd with an air cannon, bad aim I guess. Those issues were easy to resolve. A few years ago at an event I promoted called “Match Race Madness” we had breaker boxes overloaded and on fire, the water well ran dry and we had to use cases of bottled water in the burnout box, we even lost power to one side of the track lighting system, so a couple bumps and bruises were easy to manage.

Before I knew it, we were into the finals; where did the time go? I felt as if we just held first round an hour ago, but it was now 11:30 p.m. and final round cars were in the lanes. Mark Sanders and Keith Jackson would square off in the ‘A’ feature while Andy Mears and Jordan Ballew were up in the ‘B’ field final. Wait, don’t forget to notify all the photographers and videographers of the fireworks show set for the conclusion of the final round. We had wired a system down the side of the track in both lanes, set to go boom as the ‘A’ field final round went through the finish line. Fireworks ready, media members notified, track clear, let’s crown some winners!

The ‘B’ field was up first with Mears and Ballew coming to life. Mears in a 1957 Chevy entry branded “Dragon Slayer” from Lubbock, Texas and Ballew rocking the 1969 Chevy Nova “Ballew Thunder” tuned by his father Russell. Both personal friends of mine, both great race teams, this one was going to be fun. The ambers dropped and they were off. Side-by-side they charged to the finish line, where Mears’ 4.76 at 144 mph narrowly defeated a 4.77 at 145 mph from Ballew in the closest drag race of the event (.021 margin of victory). Yes! A great side-by-side final round is always what you want to see.

The big boys were up next. Keith Jackson was a funny car racer I grew up watching as a kid on family vacations to Bandimere Speedway for the NHRA Mile High Nationals, his hometown race in his time running NHRA Funny Car. The disbelief that this man was now racing in an event I was hosting in Texas was shocking enough, but to think he might win the event was simply thrilling. Mark Sanders was the last team to pre-enter, notifying me just the week before that they had planned on attending. Sanders had shown no mercy thus far: top qualifier, low elapsed time, top speed, but a thrash in the pits had ensued when the rods decided to exit the block on the “Mr. Explosive” 1970 Ford Mustang entry. Son and crew chief Jake Sanders led the team into battle with a new bullet between the frame rails as both cars pulled into the waterbox. Crew members hung the starters on the front snout of their blown nitro powerplants and gave the nod, we’re ready, crank em’ up.

Nitro fumes pumped from the pipes high into the sky as the bodies dropped and burnouts were underway. This race was a toss-up. Sanders had been quicker, but the newly installed engine always causes a bit of uncertainty. On the line, crew chiefs made their final adjustments and sent their drivers into the beams. That wicked sound when fuel cars put it on the high side (engage the second fuel pump) will straighten the hair on a nitro junkie’s arms, mine for sure. A flash of amber and the green lights were on as Jackson took a slight starting line advantage. They looked, from my vantage point, glued together at half-track, and I could see Jackson drifting towards the guardrail while Sanders also had his hands full keeping his hot rod in the groove. Both were out of the throttle right before the finish line as Sanders’ win light came on with a 4.12 at 141 mph to Jackson’s close 4.25 at 154 mph, both surprisingly off pace, but with the win going to Sanders and company as the team celebrated on the starting line after their thrash to make the call for the finals paid off.

The fireworks went off- well, most of them did- as the fans started making their way towards the exit and preparation for the winners circle festivities began. Typically I’m the guy lining up the cars in the winner’s circle area, making sure every person in the group is visible to the camera lens, but this time I was the guy handing out the cash, jumbo size check, and custom-designed trophy. For racers to come up and tell you this is the most fun they’ve had in years means a lot. Thankfully, I got that from a lot of the participants and sharing the winners circle photo with these teams was a special feeling I’ll never forget. Everyone was going home safe, the racing was very exciting, the stands were packed, and that’s a wrap, Funny Car Chaos was in the books.

I’d like to personally thank North Star Dragway owner Gene Nicodemus for believing in my vision and giving me the opportunity to make reality of this crazy idea. Secondly, my wife Tera, who was the only person who kept my sanity in this process and poured hours of help into making it happen. Finally, the sponsors and racers, without their involvement no drag race was possible and it is with their support that brought this event together. Thank you all.

A weekend filled with unknowns, triple checking of every piece of the puzzle, answering countless questions, making sure everyone was in place, ensuring your racers and spectators were having fun, it was all worth every second. From back up girls to header flames, the Funny Car teams put on a spectacular show, and my sincere thanks goes out to each team who trusted me in this effort. Not a single driver expressed any issue with the event, and to my surprise, every single team made sure to tell me before they headed home, “I’ll be at the next one!”

I guess that leaves me no choice. Let’s do it again! A few months prior to the inaugural Funny Car Chaos, I had already reached out to a few tracks in hopes of securing a second date for 2018, set for some time in the spring, while keeping a permanent home at North Star Dragway for a fall race. Amarillo Dragway is where I’ve chosen to take Funny Car Chaos 2 and we’re gearing up for a bigger and better edition of this flip top frenzy at one of the most historic drag racing facilities in the country. So look forward to more folks, as we charge ahead full throttle into next year where we will again pack the pits with Funny Cars, it will be, Funny Car Chaos!

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