#oh rowena you were becoming family faster than even you knew!!!

[shallowseeker]

BONUS: Sam’s “please don’t make me hunt Rowena” eyes:

SAM: WE DoN’T knoW it wAs HeR BbQ-iNg ppl!

DEAN: …so we’re leaning on the "spontaneous” in spontaneous combustion?

SAM: TBH, I thought we'd just trust her judgment and look the other way like how we’ve done with demons we’ve teamed up with...

He sooooooooo does not wanna fight her. And he agrees that her victims were rotten to the core, ehehe.

[allegra-writes]

“The Devil all the time”

Hunter!Tom x Demon!Reader

Supernatural AU

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

"Break the silence, damn the dark

Damn the light..."

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac

Forget everything you thought you knew, you had every reason to be afraid of the dark when you were a kid. In this world where monsters are real, the Holland brothers hunt them so normal people can continue to live in the bliss of ignorance.

But when something goes terribly wrong, Tom will do anything to save his brother's life, including selling his soul to the devil. Well... Not exactly the devil, but close enough.

You don't need to watch Supernatural to read this AU

MY MASTERLIST

He knew it was you, even before turning. He knew it as soon as he heard your deceptively delicate footsteps break the supernatural silence that had fallen over the forest the moment he had buried the little metal box in the old crossroad. Tom didn't want to think about what it meant, having such an intimate knowledge of you to be able to recognize you by the cadence of your steps, being so in sync with you that he could tell whenever you were in the vicinity. 

So he used his favorite deflection technique whenever it came to you.

"Y/n? What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? Sorry, did I say nice girl? I meant evil skank"

The insult didn't phase you. None ever did. It was hard to take them seriously when you knew how many nights he fell asleep with your name on his lips, after pathetically releasing himself into his own hand, or fucking his boring girl-next-door girlfriend, chasing orgasm over unsatisfactory orgasm that would never completely satiate him. Because it wasn't your face the one contorted in pleasure looking up at him from the mattress.

"You called. I came" You batted your lashes, sweetly. "I always come when you call…" 

He gulped, the innuendo not lost to his ears. It threw him off guard, like it always did. 

"I would have thought this would be… beneath you" Tom cleared his throat, looking away, trying to regain his footing, "collecting a deal, like a vulgar crossroad demon"

There was nothing vulgar about the soul of a Holland. But he didn't need to know that, so you just shrugged,

"Queen Rowena has an interest in you boys. She finds you entertaining. I'm just being a good subdit" 

He scoffed,

"Funny. I would have never peg you for a sub"

You took a step closer to him.

"You don't have what it takes to make me submit, Holland" Your hot breath fanned over his skin, setting his skin on fire. Making his blood boil. You had a way of doing that, of bringing out the worst in him. Of making him lose control. And you thoroughly enjoyed it, poking at the bear until the claws came out, laughing at the carnage.

Another step, and you could physically feel it: The hate, radiating from his every pore, his mind screaming with it. He hated you. He hated your kind. He hated your beauty. He hated the pretty white dress you were wearing, so pure and innocent, glowing like a beacon in the dark. A lure, guiding uncountable men before him into perdition. 

But above all else, he hated that, even then, he couldn't help but to want you. Fervently. Desperately. Irreversibly. 

"I came here to make a deal" He croaked, cursing himself internally for showing weakness. 

"Let's negotiate, then," you replied, stepping away, mercifully letting him breath. 

"My brother-"

"I know" You interrupted, sounding bored already, "Reapers everywhere are going berserk. Who, oh who, will get to reap the soul of a Holland?" 

The wind picked up, making your long dress billow around your legs. You twirled a little, admiring the way it moved. Tom's eyes were glued to you, almost hypnotized. Partly because you were too dangerous to be left unsupervised even for a second, partly because you looked beautiful like that. It had never been more obvious to him that you were an unearthly creature, you didn't belong to this world. There, surrounded by greenery, barefoot, swaying softly under the twilight light, he wondered how could anybody ever mistake you for a human.

"Of course" your apathetic voice took him out of his revery, "being reapers, watching them go wild is rather boring. I swear they are the most uninteresting beings of all creation" 

That made him see red.

"Boring? Boring?!" He knew his voice was rising with every word but he just couldn't help it, "They're waiting for my little brother to die!!"

"Which could happen any minute now," You reminded him, all playfulness gone from your demeanor, "so if you wanna strike a deal, I suggest you start making me an offer worth my time"  

He was taken aback by that.

"I- My soul in exchange of a wish, and you collect it in ten years" He tried and failed not to think about what that implied: vicious, invisible hounds of hell tearing apart his body and dragging his soul to hell, "Isn't that the usual deal?"

You scoffed,

"After all the things you did in your life, what makes you think your soul doesn't belong in hell already? And if your brother dies, that is one less Holland on earth to worry about. You and your brothers have managed to become a big pain in the ass for us…"

He pulled out a knife, a strange one, with runes in the blade. You arched a brow in recognition

"The Winchesters' knife. Are you threatening me, little hunter?" 

Your lack of reaction was another blow. He had hoped you'd be more impressed than that. Nonetheless he turned it in his hands, offering you the handle.

"I'm throwing it into the deal" 

To his surprise, you didn't immediately take it from his hands, choosing instead to pace the clearing, deep in thought. 

The truth was you couldn't care less about the knife, it wasn't more dangerous to you than a toothpick. And while it was true it could certainly damage your queen, she had a far better weapon to protect herself: You.

But it did confirm your suspicions about the Hollands having access to the old Winchester arsenal, which meant they had access to something way more dangerous than that rustic weapon made of steel and bone. A book, made of ancient dark magic and human skin, written in blood. A book that was precious to queen Rowena and by extension to you: the Book of the Damned. 

The Hollands were a family of extremely talented, yes, but old fashioned hunters. The stab first, ask questions later kind. They probably had no idea what they had in their hands… but you did. 

"Very well then," you finally declared, "this is my offer: Your soul and that knife in exchange for sweet Harry's life and one year for you to get all your businesses in order" 

Tom felt all the blood drain from his face. One year. Just 365 more days to live, before an eternity of torture in hell. 

"O-one year?" He breathed.

"One year" You confirmed, "More than enough time to go see the Grand Canyon, eat the world's spiciest burger or whatever you have on your bucket list" 

The disdain in your words only made him hate you harder.

"Not nearly enough to live" He replied through clenched teeth. You rolled your eyes, 

"You're a hunter. You lead short, violent existences, charging head first towards what most humans run away from. Things faster, stronger, more powerful than you, surviving each encounter out of sheer luck. Killing one monster after another, until that luck runs out. Because the monsters? Unlike you who rely on it everyday, they just need. One. Single. Lucky. Strike." You punctuated every word with one step in his direction, until you were face to face again. Until, for the first time ever, you could see the fear, the desperating hopelessness he kept hidden inside, reflected on the warm coffee of his eyes. You knew a lesser man would be already crying and begging for Mercy.

Tom wasn't like other men though, that was the whole point. 

"Or…" You soften your tone and your stance, letting your fingers ghost over the back of his hand, his whole skin erupting in goosebumps. That was the very first time you touched him. Ever. 

And it was as if nobody had ever touched him before, the light caress enough to set every nerve ending, every single one of his cells, alight.

He was so distracted by the sensation and his body's response to it, he almost didn't hear your next words over the sound of his own pounding heart. 

"Or you could keep your little pocket knife, and even have your ten years if…"

"If?" He struggled to focus.

"You let me borrow a book"

His brows furrowed in confusion,

"A book? What book?"

"Any book of my liking, for as long as I want" You shrugged it off, "Do we have a deal?"

There was a catch there, it was obvious. He knew he was going to regret it but, what choice did he have? 

"Deal"

Your smile was blinding, luminous. If he didn't know any better, he would have called it angelical. Now, that was one ridiculous thought.

"What now? We seal it with a kiss?" His eyes fell to your lips, so soft looking and inviting. He wasn't eager to put his mouth on a filthy demon and doom himself. He wasn't. 

You chuckled, but there was no humor behind it.

"Oh no, darling. This is big. This is special" You're special, "A simple kiss just won't cut it…"

No. You couldn't mean… could you? Was there no limits to your hatred for him? Did you really want him so defeated, so humiliated? 

"What do you want?" He spat through gritted teeth.

"The same thing you want" You put your hands on his chest, rising to your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "The same thing you have wanted ever since we first met . The thing that's obsessing you..."

"I don't know what you're talking about"

You smirked,

"You can lie to your family, you can even lie to yourself, little hunter... But you can't lie to me." 

He couldn't hide, you could see every fantasy, hear every single one of his thoughts of you on repeat, like a prayer in your direction. Just like he couldn't hide the way his skin was burning now for you, the way his blood rushed south, the way all logical thought left his brain, his iron grip on his emotions finally breaking as he snapped. 

Lightning fast, in just a blink, he twirled you around, your back hitting the rough bark of a tree, as he towered over you, demon blade to your throat, every inch of his body pressed against yours. His eyes were ablazed with rage, and passion, as he surged forward, striking you with his best hit.

He kissed you. 

Lips vicious against yours, teeth biting and scraping only to soothe the offense seconds later with his tongue, until he was dizzy, light headed with the lack of oxygen and the taste of you. The hand not holding the knife to your neck fell to your breast, squeezing the pliant flesh with enough force to cause pain on a human woman, merely making you moan. He swallowed the sound, letting his fingers trace your waist, your hips, clawing at your dress until he finally, finally, felt skin under his fingertips. 

It was better than anything his mind had conjured in his feverish fantasies in the dead of the night. The skin of your inner thighs velvety soft, as they parted under his touch, the sweetest sounds leaving your lips as his fingers found your naked core. You weren't wearing any underwear, probably never had. The realization that, in all your past encounters and fights you had been standing there, just feet away from him with nothing under that damn dress hit him like a truck, making his head swim. 

He searched between your folds, and suddenly his fingers were inside you. He was inside you, a part of him was buried deep within you, within your silky heat, claiming you as his, if only for the night. 

And you were so wet for him, and only getting wetter as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, scissoring them, opening you up until he was able to slip a third one in, fucking you with his hand in earnest. You were sobbing, clutching at his biceps, head thrown back in pleasure. He took advantage of that to suck bruises on your neck, only to see them fade before his eyes. Your skin tasted clean, smelled like wild flowers and rain. Ozone. Lightning. Like those coursing through his veins with every cry, every delicious gasp you made. 

He found the perfect spot inside you, the one that sent sparks through your nerves with every stroke of his calloused fingers. 

"This what you wanted?" To make him lose it? Lose his mind, himself, in you? "For me to make you come on just my fingers, like the little slut you are?"

The floor disappeared from under his feet as you sent him flying away from you, a searing pain exploding at the back of his head as he landed, sprawled at the feet of an old, dying oak. With blurry eyes, he saw you stalk towards him, all power and cold, controlled fury. 

"Let's get one thing straight, Holland. I'm not one of your sluts" You sneered, "and I'm definitely not your basic bitch of a girlfriend. So you better start showing me a little respect, are we clear?"

He gulped, sitting up. He had to be seriously fucked up in the head, for his cock to be twitching inside his pants at your threatening tone.

"Crystal" 

"Good" You declared, coming to a stop right in front of him, standing between his parted legs, "Now, let's put that mouth of yours to a better use"

He knew that image was going to be forever tattooed on his brain: You standing in front of him, holding the skirt of your dress up, waiting for him to put his mouth on you. Tom took a moment to admire you, before delving in, flattening his tongue over your slit, before drawing tight, precise circles on your clit with the tip. God, you tasted so divine it was messing with his head; something as dark and corrupted and twisted as you, feeling so exquisite, so perfect, so heavenly to his every sense. 

He helped you hook your knee over his shoulder, his other arm snaking around your leg, pulling you even closer. You could feel his smirk against your cunt the moment he realized your legs were shaking, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care, not with his wicked talented mouth devouring you like a last meal, rocking your whole world, making you see stars behind your closed eyelids.

You always knew that man would make the stars fall. 

Tom kept on, penetrating you with his tongue as far as it would go, his whole face moving against you. The slight burn of his scruff felt delicious against your delicate labia, as he used his fingers to open you up like a flower, separating your petals to get to the delectable nectar inside. You were close, he could feel it, the obscene sounds you were making, the waves of sweetness falling on his lips feeding his ego, filling him up with pride. By the time the night was over, you'd be unable to forget him. He would make sure of that. He would make you come, over and over, until the only thoughts left in your brain were of him, the only word your lips knew how to speak was his name. He would mark you, like a bloodstain, like you had done to him. 

Almost there, he almost had you. Your muscles were locking, your walls starting to tremble, when a loud crack resonated over his head, and you stepped away on unstable legs, breathing hard. You didn't even need to breathe, it was just his effect on you. He made you feel human. And it was both exhilarating, and terrifying. 

You took another step back, but he took hold of your ankle, tugging hard enough to make you fall on his lap, white skirt covering the place where his hands were fumbling with his zip, with his boxers, aligning himself with your entrance.

"Fuck!" He cursed, as you sank on his rock hard cock, not giving him any time to get used to the feeling of you around him, before starting to move. 

"How does it feel" You taunted, "fucking a monster? Is it as good as you dreamed of?"

Better. You felt even better. Tom hadn't thought it was possible, but he loathed you even more for it. 

"Shut up" He growled. 

You leaned forwards, breath hot against his ear,

"Cause you feel amazing, Tom. Your cock feels like heaven" 

His hand tangled in your hair, keeping you in place as he crashed his mouth to yours again, the other fumbling for the buttons at the back of your dress, tugging and pulling, tearing at the fabric, in his haste to feel more. More of your skin against his, more of the body that had been his hyper fixation for far too long. 

You sat up, still grinding on his cock, letting the tattered dress fall to your waist, watching in satisfaction as his eyes went wide, zeroing on the way your breasts bounced in sync with your hips. 

Reaching up, for a glorious second Tom could feel one perfect pebbled nipple against his palm, the roundness, the weight of your soft flesh on his fingers; before an invisible force pinned his hands to his sides. 

You tsked.

"Still don't get it, do you little hunter? This?" You let yourself fall all the way down his thick cock, hard, tearing twin moans from his mouth and yours, "This isn't about you. This is about me." 

Leaning back, you braced yourself on his strong thighs, changing the angle, changing your movements to a slower rocking against his pelvis. The friction against your clit was perfect, the feeling of his big, throbbing dick so deep inside you, stretching you like no one before, sending electrical pulses through your spine. It was decadent. It was ecstasy.

It was torture. Underneath you, Tom was sobbing, eyes bright with unshed tears, fighting in vain against his bonds. He needed it faster, harder, anything to help tilt him over the edge you were keeping him on, your sweet cunt too tight, too good around him to allow his cock to soften, your rhythm too leisured to let the tensed, strained coil inside him to snap. You were uncaring, using him remorselessly to get yourself off, your little moans getting higher in pitch the closer you came to your climax. Tom felt himself getting higher just by looking at your beautiful pleasure ridden face. You cried out, and suddenly it was happening, you were coming, pulsating around his cock, falling apart on top of him.

And the ground beneath him quaked. The sky above his head bled, the blue twilight torn open by lightning, and thunder, despite the fact that there wasn't a single cloud marring its diaphaneity. You fell forwards, hand braced on the tree, next to his face, ridding the aftershocks of your orgasm until the end. 

"No!" Tom cried when, after a few seconds of catching your breath, you dismounted him, letting his dick slip out of you. 

You arched a brow,

"Something you want, Tommy?" 

He locked his mouth shut, gritting his teeth. You smiled, amused, knuckles stroking his still iron hard cock.

"Do you need more, little hunter?" You enveloped him in your hand, moving it up and down his member, watching the head disappear under his foreskin, "Do you need to come?"

He banged the back of his head against the bark.

"Yes!" He finally admitted, "So badly…"

"Then beg" You commanded, stilling your hand. He snapped open the eyes he hadn't realized he had closed. Oh, if looks could kill…

"Never" He hissed, livid.

"Very well, then" You picked up your pace, pumping him fast, your grip almost too rough. He gasped for air, feeling the telltale tightening of his balls, the coil inside just about to break under the tension. But you must have felt it too, cause your hand let go of him altogether. Too late, he understood what you were doing.

One beat. And then another, and he was coming all over his t-shirt, orgasm completely ruined. 

He cursed, tears escaping through the corner of his eyes, fingers digging into the moist ground under his hands. You chuckled, cruelly, standing up and stepping out of your shredded dress. He could have ganked you with the demon blade in that moment, he really could have, except his hands were still pinned by an invisible force at his sides. 

"Let me go, you bitch," Tom growled, tossing, fighting against his restraints to no avail, "aren't you done?!"

"Not quite." You smiled, mockingly sweet, "Just one more thing before I leave. Don't worry, it will only hurt for a minute…"

He renewed his efforts to escape, as you bended over, reaching for his chest, white hot pain burning through his ribs. He almost cried out, but what he saw stole the voice from his throat, turned his blood into ice inside his veins, leaving him shaking, jaw slack and mouth open in a soundless scream: 

You, naked and gorgeous and terrible. Transfixed, eyes glowing with a supernatural indigo light, the shadow of two massive, bended, broken wings projected on the trees behind you.

Not a demon, he thought. You're not a demon.

You smiled, and it was terrifying.

"No. I'm the thing demons have nightmares about" You replied out loud to the words he had only said in his mind, "And now, little hunter, you belong to me. Mind, body and soul"

[lmpala97]

Not your Dean (Dean Winchester x Reader) PART 1

Warnings: NONE

Summery: Takes place in season 10 shortly after Charlie’s death. Dean let’s the mark take over. You just want the man you love back. 

All parts under #not your dean

PART 2 OUT NOW

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

“Go faster! Please!” I pleaded with Cas.

Sam had tracked Dean to the bunker. Charlie’s death had sent him over the edge, his frustration with Sam...and me, for going behind his back and NOT burning the book of the damned.

That Styne trash had let it out that the book was enchanted - it can’t be destroyed. No force on earth could destroy that damn thing, and the Stynes wanted it.

I’ve never seen Dean so mad as I had when he found out about what we were doing. Dragging Cas and charlie into our “dumbass” idea as he called it. I felt no guilt. No regret. I wasn’t about to feel bad for saving the only man I have ever loved from becoming a monster. That was until we found charlie’s body….

No one said a word as we cut the logs and burned her body. Sam and I knew it was our fault she died. If only she had just listened and stayed put with Rowena. None of this would have happened - she would still be alive.

Dean left shortly after that. He couldn’t look at me. “That should’ve been you up there” and “you don’t get to say sorry” were the only things he said to Sam and I before he left. Not gonna lie, that first line twisted into my heart like a knife. That hurt. But i know he didn’t mean it. I knew he loved me.. He was just angry and Dean isn’t known for being a thoughtful speaker when he’s pissed off.

I was jerked out of my thoughts as Cas put the car in park. We had made it to the bunker and i felt sick. I didn’t know what to expect when I saw Dean, especially now that he’d been giving into the mark. Cas and I shared a look before stepping out of the car. I drew a deep breath and quietly marched to the bunker door behind Cas.

There was talking. Two voices. Someone was here. The Stynes came to my mind immediately. Of course they’d come back for all the lore and knowledge the bunker had to offer. Sons of bitches.

“Please stop! I’m not like them. I hate my family”  I heard a male voice yell as I turned the corner.

Dean - covered in blood - was standing with his gun pointed at some nerdy looking kid, that couldn’t have been more than 17.

“Dean stop!” I yelled. “That’s enough”

Dean whirled around, gun now towards  me

“What are you doing here. I thought i told you to leave me alone” he asked. He looked like a complete psycho. His face was twisted into a rage and his eyes were menacing.

“I came to find you.  You need to stop. You need to fight the mark, Dean. Look at you! This isn’t the Dean I know and love. You’re acting like a mad man.”

Cas came and stood beside me. Dean glared between the both of us.  I wanted to hold him so bad. Tell him i was here for him always. That we could fight the mark together. I wasn’t scared of Dean. I knew that he would never hurt me in his right mind, but he wasn’t in his right mind and I wasn’t about to close the distance between us with that look on face.

He opened his mouth to say something but the movement from the scared kid in front of him  caught his attention. He whipped back around, once again facing his gun toward the boy’s head - whose face was now drained of all colour.

“Dean, you don’t have to do this.” Cas said

“Yes, I do”

The deafening sound of a gunshot went off and I flinched in shock. The kids lifeless body fell to the ground, Blood leaking from the bullet hole Dean just placed between his eyes.

“What the actual hell dean!” I said. “He was just a kid!”

“He was a monster. And I don’t have to justify myself to you.” he said as he tucked his gun back into his pants. “You both can leave now.”

“Dean. you aren’t going anywhere. You’re coming with us.” Cas said as he placed a hand on dean’s shoulder, stopping him as he was heading for the door of the bunker. Dean’s head slowly followed his hand. It looked scary, and calculated. Threatening.

“Y’N and I were trying to cure you. We still are. Sam is too”

“Yea, like hell” dean cooed

“We can read the book now.” I interjected

“Oh, so what?” Dean turned to me sarcastically “So you might find a spell that MIGHT take this crap off my arm? But even if you do, what’s it gonna the cost? Because magic like that does not come free. No, it comes with a price you pay in blood,  so thanks. But i’m good.’

Dean turned away, again heading for the door. This wasn’t really dean, I could feel it.

Cas reached ahead of me grabbing Dean’s shoulder again. “If there’s even a small chance that we can save you, i’m not letting you walk out that door”

“Oh you think you have a choice?”

To be continued..

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!! :)

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

Broadchurch: the short story collections. Part 1

Available over here.

The first book contains four short stories, all of which take place before S2, so if you want to read this, it might be nice before re-watching S2.

1- “The End Is Where it Begins”, Ellie, After S1: how she comes to transfer precints and end up as the traffic cop we see in S02E01.

2- “The Letter”, Maggie, a few days before S2: STruggles with Echo finances, works on a story, thinks about resigning.

3- “Old Friends”, Jocelyn, 10-20 years before S1: insight into her past, her career, her character, Jack Marshall, and what was going on in town around the time Danny and Tom were born.

4- “Over the Side”, Tess, months before S1 (three days into the Sandbrook case): a twenty-four hour window into that case, her perspective on the case, her affair, and Alec’s behavior/character/etc at that time. This is the night Pippa’s body is found, from her perspective.

I’ve included summaries, my notes, excerpts, and other Things Of Interest under the readmore. this book was interesting, short, and very worth the read, for me!

1. Ellie- Between S1 and S2.

“Going back into uniform was Ellie's choice, but it usually means demotion. It’s shorthand for disgrace. As far as Ellie is concerned, the uniform helps. Her collar and cravat help her hold he head up high, and she walks easily in regulation flat shoes. This is a move sideways,  not downward; she’s still a Sergeant. Her salary stays the same, and that’s important. Ellie’s staring down the barrel of single parenthood, paying for the childcare Joe used to do for free. Resigning would mean sacrificing her pension, and with a good fifteen years of service left in her, that’s not an option. “But there’s more to it than the money. It doesn’t feel right to go back into CID until Joe’s been sentenced. She’s never told anyone this, but it feels like that way, she’ll be able to put Danny behind her. But going into uniform, that felt right. Ellie understands now what Hardy meant about atonement. [Look! Thinking about him!] by serving another community, she can atone for what Joe did to her own. Leaving the force, taking a sabbatical, all the other things tat people told her to do: none of these was an option. This move is, above all else, a massive /fuck you/ to Joe.  Fifteen years, Ellie's been on the force. When he took Danny’s life, he took Ellie's best friend, their community, and her eldest son. She will not let him have her career as well.”

And in the car with her new loudmouth partner: “after ten minutes she finds herself yearning for Alec Hardy’s brooding and sulks. At least he was quiet. She wonders where Hardy is now: under a doctor’s observation somewhere, she hopes, contemplating the salvage of his own career from the confines of a hospital bed.”

In general her new partner is a bit of a sexist good-old-boy who thinks the problem with youth today is the welfare state... She thinks the problem is lack of outreach and enrichment. She is struggling to get everything in line in her life.

Tom’s voice breaks while they are separated. And her heart breaks to have missed that.

She successfully overrides her partner, follows her instincts, and saves a family, some kids, from a domestic situ while on the job… and then falls to fucking pieces after. Realizes she doesn’t have the emotional fortitude to handle cases without breaking, right now. Calls in sick, and then transfers to traffic.  “She is bitterly aware of the irony that while she has gained her colleagues’ respect, she now understands that she doesn’t deserve it. It’s either this or leave the force, and then Joe’s won. She is hanging onto her career by her fingernails, marking time until his plea next week. “Ellie has always prided herself on putting people before anything else but life as a black rat is about enforcing the letter of the law, or rather its numbers. She’s reduced to the digits and codes of traffic policing: stopping distances, speed limits, milligrams of alcohol and penalty points. Even her fellow traffic officers, infamous for their pedantry, started calling her robocop after he first shift. “Inside Ellie's locker, there’s a photograph of Tom and Fred before the blast. She marks a tally on the picture’s white border, inky scratches in the gloss, to count down the days until Joe stands in the dock at Wessex County court and says the magic word that will give her back her son.”

Aw hell, Ellie.

2- Maggie- A few days before S2 begins. 

Budget cuts are crippling the Echo. Finally, she is ready to submit her resignation in protest, but a story she runs down locally (to do with land use, and, eventually, marijuana), turns out to be leveragable to do some good in town, force some good change, and she figures that's still worth doing, so she'll hang in a little longer.

No mention of Lil, so, still not sure when they broke up/if they are split... oh, and a passing mention of Jocelyn's home. Just, that it is there.

3- Jocelyn- Her story is set farther back, but is fascinating. It's set partially at least twenty, twenty five years pre-S1, and then partially right around the time that Danny Latimer was born. 

It's a little window into who Jocelyn was at that time and what she did. Talks about her outlook on her career, her relationship with her mother, her habit of spending no more than four bank holidays a year in Broadchurch, and staying in London, her preference, her work, the rest of the time.

Also, it turns out she represented Jack Marshall and convinced him to plead guilty so that he would get a shorter jail sentence and get back to the Rowena faster, which he did, and then married her.

Jocelyn was quite reserved even then, but they kept in touch and Jack confided in her after the accident that took his son's life and caused their split, that he needed a new place to go... She suggested Broadchurch because she knew the newsstand was up for sale.

The last scene of the short story is her visiting him at the newsstand. She's noticed her vision is starting to go, she's watching the Latimers with their three-day-old baby boy walk along the beach.

There are references to lots of things and folks there in town, throughout the story, the sea brigade, Oliver, the fact that she's lost touch with Maggie long since and she's a bit grateful for that because otherwise Maggie would surely have sniffed out her connection to Jack and outed Jack's past to everyone. Oh, and Ellie is 10 days overdue and fit to burst with Tom and so Beth (Beth and Ellie had become friends in their pre/antenatal classes) had been dropping by with Danny over there, hoping that holding Danny would maybe induce labor.

... and finally.

4- Tess- Day 3 of the Sandbrook case, well before S1

I didn't look ahead, I totally had no idea that this was coming. But this is Tess' side of a 24-hour period from the Sandbrook case. I'm going to sum some of it, and then I'm probably just going to end up posting big chunks of it. Or you can go read it yourself. That's good too. XD

It's April 2012, day 3 after the Sandbrook girls disappear. She and the other DS she's cheating with were getting it on, for what was clearly not the first time, in the backseat of his car. Made a comment about the fact it next time they would take it back to the hotel, doing it in the car was foolish and uncomfortable. Which also seems to imply that this is a regular thing. Tess thinks a bit on the fact that Dave is present with her in a way Alec isn't, though she feels guilty about all of it.

The cheating is a release for her, like other people might smoke a cigarette or go for a run. She knows Alec is really struggling with how close in age Pippa is to Daisy. 

"Alec works sixteen-hour days, forgets to eat, and gets angry. She hasn’t seen him since they got the shout two days ago. He’s sleeping on the sofa in his office, if he’s sleeping at all. At least Tess got four hours in her own bed last night and a shower in her own bathroom. Daisy was staying with a friend; Tess and Alec rely a lot on the generosity of friends’ parents in the first few chaotic days of a case. The house was too quiet this morning. It’s strange; Alec can stay away for days and Tess feels nothing but relief, but Daisy sleeping somewhere else feels wrong."

Tess knows what Alec is like on these cases. Her affair with what's-his-face went on much longer than the case itself. I’d guess months, at least, prior to this story.

"She hasn’t seen Alec since last night. Tess hopes he’s not in the office. The chances are small; as Senior Investigating Officer, he likes to work the field as much as possible. They used to work so well together – professionally, at least, she’s never been more compatible with another officer, and that includes Dave – but at the moment she can’t concentrate if Alec’s even in the same building. Dave sits opposite her at work, and Alec’s got the corner office just behind them. Every time he walks past, she shrivels with guilt and with contempt for her husband. Guilt over the adultery, contempt that Alec can’t see it.

[Lends more weight to Hardy’s perception of the affair, as we saw it in the S1 novelization-- namely that it was shameful, that he felt ashamed to have been cheated on. I bet she says/said something nasty, along these lines, and he internalizes it]

“If she and Dave so much as brushed past each other at a crime scene, he’d notice. That’s the problem in a nutshell: the tunnel vision that makes him a brilliant detective means he hasn’t seen Tess – really seen her – in years."

[Oh God, I see where this is going. This is the night he finds Pippa, isn't it?]

‘Where’s Alec?’ Tess asks Chrissie, a fellow DS who’s already got three empty mugs on her desk. Chrissie creases her brow. As always, whenever Tess refers to her husband by his first name, it takes her colleague a few seconds to get who she means. But what else can she call him? She can’t call him Hardy and she’s damned if she’ll call him the boss or the guvnor.

[”Guvnor”? is this a British thing, or personal nickname? if the latter, Ellie would laugh herself sick over it, if she ever found out.]

“Chrissie checks a memo on her screen. 

“‘He’s overseeing a fingertip search of the river Sandbrook.’ 

“‘The Sandbrook?’ echoes Tess. It’s right on the edge of their patch, a slow-flowing river with great stretches straying miles from the nearest road and barely accessible on foot. ‘On what basis?’ 

“‘On the basis of it’s the only open space left on our ground that we haven’t covered, and there’s still no trace of either girl,’ says Chrissie grimly, her eyes travelling to the clock. Tess flinches at the reminder of how far behind they are, and boots up her computer, not wanting to waste another minute. When Dave comes in, she looks up with a cool hello...”

She thinks about potential leads in the case, she interacts with Dave a little bit, mostly through facial expressions. And then

“Tess is giving Dave one more warning look when his phone rings. His face loses its colour as he listens; Tess pulls out her earplugs but the call is already over. 

“‘That was the boss,’ says Dave, pushing his chair away from his desk, car keys in hand. ‘They’ve found the body of a young girl in the Sandbrook.’ 

“South Mercia University Hospital is across the dual carriageway from the police station, eight storeys of white concrete and foggy windows. 

“‘I knew it’d be murder,’ says Dave, as they get into a lift marked STAFF ONLY. ‘I knew from the first shout, but it doesn’t stop you hoping, does it?’

“‘You always hope,’ says Tess. ‘But I can’t remember hoping like this for a long time.’ Dave reaches for her hand and circles his thumb on her palm. 

“‘You OK, babe?’ His tenderness melts her, but she can only squeeze his fingers in reply. She can’t afford to soften now. The lift spits them out two floors underground and Tess and Dave walk through a dingy yellow corridor lit with flickering strip lights. It is maybe ten degrees colder here than in the station. This is not the way to the viewing room, where victims’ families see their loved ones still beneath a white sheet. This long walk is for the professionals, the dealers in death. There is nothing beautiful down here: a few laundry bags piled in a trolley, a mop and bucket and a yellow CLEANING IN PROGRESS sign. Tess tries very hard not to think about what gets mopped up down here. 

“‘I don’t understand why it’s just the one body,’ she says. ‘Nothing about this case makes sense.’ 

“‘Just the one body so far,’ Dave corrects her. There’s another fire door ahead; he lengthens his stride to open it for her. Tess isn’t used to these little chivalrous touches. She is astonished to find that she quite likes them. 

“‘Did Alec say if he was staying to continue the search?’ 

“‘He pretty much hung up.’ Dave bites his lip. ‘I’m sure he knows, sometimes, the way he talks to me.’ Tess shakes her head. 

“‘That’s how he talks to everyone.’ But she shakes her shoulders, as though to recalibrate her body language, and by the time they get to the end of the corridor, there’s a big space between her and Dave. When – if – they go public, it must be a long, long time after this case has been put to bed. A technician in mint scrubs is waiting behind a glass door; she punches a number into the keypad to let them in. 

“‘Five minutes,’ says the technician. Her voice is steady but she looks like she’s been crying. ‘Dr Kendall’s just preparing her now. You can wait up here.’ 

“Tess and Dave follow the technician on tiptoe up a short flight of stairs. In the viewing gallery, there’s a row of seats, almost like in a cinema, and the blind is down on the panoramic window so it looks like a blank blue screen. There are a handful of flattened paper bags on the table. Waiting for them is Sanjeev, a newish DC. He’s not long out of uniform so he won’t have worked a case like this before. Tess hasn’t spent much time with him, but she knows Alec really rates him. There’s a weird, stale, boggy smell and for a moment Tess retches, thinking it’s the dead-body-rotting smell she dreads so much. It takes her a few seconds to recognise the smell of stagnant river water, and that it’s coming from Sanj. 

“‘Sarge,’ says Sanj to Tess. ‘How comes you’re not upstairs with the boss?’ Tess doesn’t bother to hide her confusion. 

“‘What’s he doing upstairs?’ 

“‘Don’t panic,’ says Sanj. Immediately Tess starts to panic. ‘It’s just a precaution. He got into difficulties in the water.’

“Tess is bewildered. ‘What was he even doing in the water?’ 

“‘He found her,’ says Sanj, dipping his head. ‘Pippa’s body. He carried her out. You know what he’s like, he stalks off on his own, all impatient, no one can ever work fast enough for him. We didn’t even know he’d gone until he’d got her out. He reckons he went under a few times. He took in a lot of water and they’ve got to be careful about it being in his lungs, or Weil’s disease or something.’ Sanj looks down at his feet; he flexes them, and his shoes squelch. Tess is rooted to the spot, horrified at what Alec must have been through today. She is torn. Instinct urges her to go and check on him; after fourteen years of marriage, you can’t just turn off the concern like a tap. But he’ll be in good hands. He probably won’t even want her, he hates being fussed over. And with him indisposed, she’s the senior officer. 

“She’s still debating with herself when the blinds go up and the theatre is revealed in all its spot-lit, chrome glory, and there, splayed on the slab is— Tess’s vision blurs. There’s a whole team of people, but the pathologist and his team, in their scrubs, are reduced to green blobs. Tess can’t look at anything but Pippa Gillespie’s body. It doesn’t look human. It has been completely bloated by the water; her face is swollen and grey, her limbs pasty and distended. Water has matted her hair and dirt outlines her nails. Tess thinks of the picture they have on the board, that perfect little girl, playing tennis, golden skin, long brown hair, and it is all that she can do to stand. She’s seen bodies destroyed by water before, but never one this young. Tears try to push their way out of her eyes but Tess pushes back harder. She’ll cry later, in front of Dave, but she won’t fall apart in public. She gives silent thanks that Pippa can be identified forensically. Her mother will never have to see her like this. 

“She steps up to the microphone, forcing her voice to hold steady. 

“‘DS Tess Henchard,’ she says. ‘Is there anything you can tell us just by looking at her?’ Dr Kendall looks up to the gallery and nods hello. 

“‘Only that she’s been in the water for at least two days.’ There’s a tenderness in his voice at odds with the gleaming surgical instruments in the tray behind him. ‘So that narrows down your time of death, I suppose. As for the cause … I’ll be frank with you, Sergeant. There’s no obvious wound. Water covers death’s tracks. It gets into the body through the orifices and starts decomposing from the inside as well as out. It affects the tox report. We will work quickly, and to the highest standard, but I can’t guarantee that we’ll find the cause of death. Let’s talk in the morning.’ 

“‘Christ.’ She pushes the heels of her hands onto closed eyes, but the image of Pippa’s face is imprinted on the back of her eyelids. She looks to the door; she ought to check on Alec, for form’s sake as much as anything. Dave doesn’t need to be told what she’s thinking. 

“‘I’ve got this,’ he says. ‘You go to him.’ It is possibly the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for her. He places a hand on her arm, a light gesture but it’s not lost on Sanj. Tess notes his double take, then watches as the horror below wipes the suspicion from his mind, for now at least. She leaves Dave and Sanj to watch the post-mortem. 

“In the lift, her legs go. She has pulled herself to her feet by the time she gets to the front desk. The receptionist points her towards Accident and Emergency. Tess concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, reading the signs, breathing through her mouth, and trying to close her mind’s eye to the sight of Pippa Gillespie’s body, but the image is imprinted on her for ever. Her badge helps her to jump the queue – she can’t help thinking she gets more respect from the triage receptionist as a Detective Sergeant than she would as a wife – but it still takes her the best part of an hour to find out that Alec has discharged himself. She boils with rage – if he’s gone back to the scene with his health in tatters, she’ll kill him. She asks to see the registrar who treated him; another half-hour wait. 

“She calls Daisy, who’s still at Molly’s. They’re lucky she’s popular. If she has dinner with a different friend every night, that can take them ten days into a case. After that, repeat requests usually get awkward. This time, though, everyone knows the case they’re working on. Friends are falling over themselves to have Daisy for the evening, offering sleepovers, weekend shifts, school pickups. ‘Whatever helps you find those girls’ is the phrase they hear again and again. Tess hopes the goodwill continues into the murder inquiry. Lately, she’s been wondering if the hospitality would extend to a single mother trying to juggle shifts around work and a new relationship. 

“‘It’ll be a little while yet,’ says Tess. ‘Home in time to see you to bed, though.’ ‘Have you found her?’ says Daisy. She has become fixated on Pippa Gillespie; she knows they’re the same age, and she can see what the case is already doing to her parents, three days in. Tess feels a pang for the innocent days when Daisy thought that all they did was direct traffic. Tess and Alec naturally never tell Daisy anything before it’s released to the media. ‘Not yet, sweetie,’ she says. ‘Be good for Molly’s mum.’ 

“Eventually, the registrar comes in, a young man smelling of coffee and sweat. There’s a comet of blood on his white coat. ‘Mr Hardy discharged himself against my recommendation,’ he says. ‘I’m telling you because I’m concerned for his health. Physically, he was fine. I mean, the water doesn’t seem to have done any lasting damage. But he’s suffering from acute stress, and there are more tests we’d like to run. With anyone else I’d recommend that he take time off work, but …’ He spreads his hands. Tess doesn’t know whether he’s implying that the case is more important than one man’s health, or whether he’s simply got the measure of Alec already and knows his advice would fall on deaf ears. 

“There’s a voicemail on her phone from Alec’s second in command, DS Beauman, wishing the boss well and telling him that they’ve got SOCO in now. Alec hasn’t gone back to the crime scene. So where is he? Alec is not at home and he’s not answering his phone. Tess sees Daisy off to bed and opens a bottle of red. She searches Google maps on her iPad, scrolling up and down the length of the Sandbrook looking for patterns, clues, inspiration, until she feels dizzy. 

“She calls the incident room; Sanj answers and immediately asks after Alec. So he’s not there. Dave’s working the scene at the Sandbrook; she texts him to see if Alec’s turned up, then again to see if they’ve found anything new. Both questions come back negative. She deletes the message thread out of habit even though this time there’s nothing incriminating. 

“She’s really starting to worry now. This disappearance is completely unprecedented. She pictures him collapsed behind the wheel somewhere en route to the Sandbrook, and she works herself up into a fury. For all his dedication to his job, he neglects what ought to be his number one priority: making sure he’s in good enough health to do it. There’s real fear under her concern, though, and she’s about to call the hospital when she hears his car on the driveway. It’s 10 p.m. 

“As his key turns in the door, she’s waiting for him in the hall. The sight of him makes her stagger. He’s wearing a grey tracksuit, the police-station-issue kind they give to people whose clothes have been seized as evidence. The trousers are too short and his ankles are exposed, making him look ridiculous. His hair is plastered down.

“She stopped touching Alec a while ago--”

[Oh god, I remember that comment in the first novelization, that Miller is the first person to take his hand in so long he couldn’t remember...]

“-- it started to feel like betraying Dave-- and he doesn’t seem to have noticed, or to miss it.”

[Oh God.]

“She hesitates before going to hug him, and when she opens her arms, Alec folds his and shakes his head. Dave wouldn’t do this, is her first reflex thought. 

“‘Where’ve you been? she asks. It was supposed to come out concerned but it sounds derogatory.

“Alec pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes nd lets them stay that way. ‘Driving.’

“It’s five hours since he discharged himself from hospital. The thought of him going round and around the ring road in these clothes tugs at the leftovers of her love.

“‘Oh, Alec. What about your clothes?’

“He nods to a clear plastic bag on the doorstep. INside, weeds are wrapped around clothes so muddied that Tess has to think back to what he was wearing when he left for work this morning. His new blue suit. They’ll have to throw it out. Even if the can get it clean, she knows he’ll never be able to wear it again.

“When he pushes past her into the house, Tess can smell the soap from the police station showers on him.

“‘D’you wan to talk about it?’ She pours Alec the last of the wine. He looks into its dark red surface like he’s seeing through it into something else. 

“’I saw her in the mortuary,’ says Tess, ‘It must have been awful for you.’ Alec doesn’t even blink. Dave or no Dave, Tess recognises a man who needs human touch. She puts her hands on his shoulders. When they first got together, she used to massage his shoulder blades at the end of every day, feeling the knots unravel under her fingers.

[An interesting detail.]

“He used to say she had the magic touch, that no one else could relax him like she did. Now, he shrugs her off.

“‘ I’m going to check on Daisy.’

“Tess follows him upstairs and they stand at Daisy’s open bedroom door for a while. She is asleep under a garland of IKEA fairy lights, watched over by a peeling Taylor Swift poster. The tweenage sneer she wears all day has vanished. Her lips are an open rose; her brow is smooth. The difference between their perfect sleeping daughter and the deformed corpse of Pippa Gillespie hits Tess in the guts.

“‘Is she breathing?’ Alec asks suddenly, an octave higher than his usual register. ‘I can’t see her moving.’ Before Tess understands what’s happening, he’s kneeling at Daisy’s bedside. He used to do this when she was a baby, leap out of bed to check she was still alive. Tess had completely forgotten about it until now.

[That’s interesting, does he have past trauma with stuff like that? seems like he already had dead-kid PTSD BEFORE he went into the river after Pippa Gillespie. poor sucker...]

“’She’s not moving!’ He puts his hands on Daisy’s shoulders.

“’Alec, stop it!’ Tess keeps her voice to a whisper even though his was a shout, but it’s too late, he’s already shaking her awake. Daisy’s body flops, but her eyes snap wide.

“‘Daddy, what are you doing?’ She says, as Alec pulls her into a clumsy embrace and buries his face in her nightie.Tess doesn’t have enough hands as she tries to pull him off and calm Daisy at the same time. 

[LET THE MAN HUG HIS DAUGHTER]

“In the end, she has to tug at the collar of his tracksuit top. The pressure on his windpipe seems to knock the panic out of him, and he lets Daisy go.

“‘Out,’ snarls Tess.

“‘I’m sorry, darling.’ Alec walks backwards towards the door. ‘I just needed to make sure you were OK.’

“It only takes Tess a couple of minutes to soothe Daisy back to sleep; she’s confused rather than frightened, still young enough that a few soft words from her mother can chase the monsters away, and Tess hopes that in the morning they’ll be able to dismiss it as a bad dream. She waits until Daisy’s breathing regulates, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her daughter���s ear, and tiptoes out onto the landing.

“Alec sits in the half-dark like a little boy, his knees pulled up to his chest, leaning against the wall as if he has slid down it. Tess kneels next to him on the carpet. His eyes glitter.

“‘I can still see her face,’ he says. He holds out his arms in front if him, palms upwards, elbows bent. ‘I can still feel the weight of her.’ Tess pulls him against her shoulder; he resists for a moment, then collapses and weeps into her neck. This time when she reaches around and starts to work on the muscles in his shoulders, he lets her. His back feels like a sheet of metal; she keeps going until her fingers ache and she starts to feel bone and sinew under his sweatshirt. 

[How is this man constantly portrayed/described as looking like he is shit warmed over, and yet he is one of the most compelling/interesting/attractive characters Tennant has ever played???]

“When Tess shifts position, Alec seems to gather himself, like he’s let out exactly the amount of emotion that was clouding his judgement, and not a drop more. He doesn’t move his head from her breast, but there’s an edge to his voice that almost thrills her.

“‘We’re no longer dealing with a missing persons inquiry. We know where we stand now. We’ll get this.’ Without warning, he leaps to his feet. ‘We know who we’re dealing with now. A monster, someone who can leave a child to rot in a river.’ He starts to pace, his ridiculous bare ankles going backwards and forwards in Tess’s eyeline. ‘This is what we trained for, isn’t it? to get justice for families like this.’

“His new confidence is infectious. Tess often forgets, in all the frustration of living with Alec, what a brilliant detective he is. Or rather, she forgets why he’s so good at his job. It’s the quality that first attracted her to him, that pure, almost old-fashioned belief that good can vanquish evil.

“He is a good detective because, underneath it all, he is a good man.

“It’s going to make leaving him so much harder.”

...

Ouch.

See you next time!

[hekate1308]

Renunciation

Things are slowly heating up. Enjoy!

“So I’ve been working“ Claire says instead of a greeting when he picks up.

Cas is immediately worried – he of all people should know some hunters tend to run into dangerous situations without thinking of consequences first – but he’s learned that she won’t respond well should he choose to express this, so he asks “On what?”

She chuckles.                                                                                                                

“I can tell you’re freaking out. Don’t worry, I’m safe and well. Listen. Since you obviously don’t want me on the front line, since you didn’t even tell me someone’s trying to kill all of you, I thought I could do some... campaigning.”

“Campaigning?”

“Yeah. I talked to Jody. Turns out not those she and others contacted are standing behind you – “

“We are aware, but we think that with the support we have – “

“I get that, but it’s always better to have more friends, right?”

She pauses, probably for dramatic effect, as teenagers are wont to do.

“So I have been talking to their kids – well, of those who have them, anyway.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, Cas, it’s easy. Being neutral is fine and all, but you can’t ignore planned genocide forever, not even if you’re a hunter who only sees black and white. You might be able to contradict your peers, fine enough. But if a nice young girl befriends your nice young girl and your nice young girl learns the truth about the Winchesters she’s only ever heard crazy stories about before... you guys are legends, by the way. It’s insane.”

“We do our best” he deadpans, hoping it will get a chuckle out of her. It does.

“So eleven more hunter families at the east coast are keeping their eyes open.”

“Claire, that’s... thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just stay safe, alright? And invite me to the wedding.”

“Dean and I aren’t en- oh. That was a joke.”

“Getting better all the time. Talk to you soon, Cas!”

“Take care of yourself, Claire.”

He will be eternally grateful for the bond he’s developed with Jimmy Novak’s daughter. He sends a short prayer of thanks to his father before he goes to tell Dean and the others of the newest developments.

They’ve developed a routine of sorts. Dean jokingly refers to the room next to the library they’ve filled with the information their contacts give them as their “war room”. Usually at least one of them can be found there at this time of the day.

He enters to find Mick checking out their map of the west coast. He’s busy circling towns he considers as probably desirable for the Men of Letters to stay at. They’re too smart to risk being taken down in one swoop.

And yet that’s exactly what they are planning. The Men of Letters don’t know how far their network reaches, thanks to Crowley having used the loopholes the spell he was under allowed and them feeding him false information during that time.

That reminds him –

“Have you seen Crowley?”

He wasn’t at breakfast today for the first time since Rowena lifted the spell, and according to Dean, the talk they shared last night was “intense”. Maybe Crowley needs some time for himself.

Cas a feeling how this story will end.

He’s already lived through it.

“No. But I don’t think he’s in trouble. The Men of Letters know better than to try something that already failed.”

He nods, noting that Mick doesn’t bat an eyelid anymore when he mentions his former employers. He’s found a place for himself in their midst remarkably quickly.

Certainly faster than Cas ever decided he wished to stay with Dean.

“Cas? Are you alright?”

He blinks.

“Yes. I just... remembered something.”

Mick grimaces.

“I know how that feels like.”

His phone rings and his face lights up. With a polite excuse, he brushes past Cas.

And the former angel knows exactly how this feels like, he reflects with a smile.

Falling in love.

He’s aware that... problems may arise with the budding romance they’re witnessing. Mel is a water wraith, a creature meant to live for centuries, and she does not possess the luxury that Cas had. She can never become human.

But then, she wouldn’t if she could. Mel is her own spirit, she is one with her element. She knows what she wants... and for the time being, it’s Mick.

Cas hopes their friend won’t get hurt.

Dean comes into the room.

“Hey. Mick’s busy talking.”

He grins the easy, happy grin Cas has gotten used to ever since they set off on the road together, and as always, his heart skips a beat.

“Claire called. She has been “campaigning”.

Dean chuckles and kisses him.

“Should have known she wouldn’t stay put. So what did she say?”

When Cas is done bringing him up to speed, they hear the tell-tale heavy steps of the golem.

Dean smiles.

“Aaron got a little distracted by the Hebrew section of our library today. Apparently he already found three texts he believed were no longer available.”

“Crowley really stocked it well” he responds. “By the way, have you seen him?”

“No. Don’t expect to. Trust me, he just needs some time alone, is all.”

He relaxes. Dean knows Crowley well. If he says there’s nothing to worry about, there isn’t.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asks Aaron and Matan after they’ve come in.

Aaron grins speepishly.

“Sorry. But the text I found may give me some close how to unravel their necromancing spell once and for all...”

“Don’t be sorry, that’s great news.” Dean nudges him. “Cas here has some too. His kind of-daughter has been working for us.”

“Not my daughter, Dean.”

“Close enough.”

“She’s yours too, then” he teases him, his beloved blushing and looking away.

He’d make a wonderful father, Cas is sure. Dean is great with children.

And perhaps, who knows, once things have settled down...

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on the thought.

After Sam has joined them and Mick has come back from his phone call, still smiling happily, everyone except Crowley knows about the newest development.

He saves them from trying to contact him by crashing into the war room a moment later.

“What the – Crowley!”

Dean hastens to help him up.

“You alright? Were the Men of Letters – “

“No” he admits, grimacing. He doesn’t appear to be injured, although his suit is dirty and torn.

“Demons.”

“Demons? Don’t they know better than to attack you?”

Crowley dis- and a moment later reappears with a glass in his hand.

“That’s better”. He takes a huge gulp.

“I went to Hell. I figured if I could get enough support, I might be able to break the wardings as I did before.”

“What happened?” Cas asks.

“Turns out, the reason I saw no one during my last short visit is that they are not exactly keen on my leadership.”

“We knew that before” Dean comments.

“Yeah, and you’ve always been able to reel them in, right?”

“Not this time. Turns out...” he trails off.

It’s Matan who guesses the answer.

“Your true face has changed.”

Crowley nods.

“Your – what does that mean?” Dean demands at the same time as Sam requires, “Was it the spell?”

Crowley shoots him a look that’s... almost offended.

And Cas understands.

All the time he had under the spell to think about what he wants and where he belongs, his talk with Dean, his admission that he hates Hell...

“No it wasn’t” he says simply.

Crowley nods.

“I’m afraid yours truly has become too good to lead Hell.”

“So what happens now? Is there someone else?”

He smirks.

“No, don’t worry. The Princes and Knights of Hell are either uninterested in taking over or dead. And there is no one around who could do what I have done. They wouldn’t even attack me. They’re scared of the changes the golem’s noticed.”

“But then why...” Dean gestures towards his suit.

“Using that to tell them what I thought of them once and for all might not have been the best idea” Crowley admits.

Dean groans.

“You didn’t.”

“Can you blame me? They’re all these whiny, egotistical, annoying sons of bitches who can’t understand why they haven’t taken over the earth despite being dumb as bricks!”

“Tell us how you really feel. You got away okay, right?”

“Yes. They tried, but most were still too scared to do anything, and I’ve still got my powers.”

“So you’re not the King of Hell anymore?” Aaron asks.

“I have resigned.”

“Pah”. Dean shakes his head, taking Cas’ hand. “A honorific can easily be bestowed. You’ll always be King to us, right guys?”

“Definitely very... kingly” Cas lightly agrees.

Now, dirty and hated by demonkind, more than ever. He almost wishes he were still an angel so he could see the changes in Crowley’s soul.

He squeezes Dean’s hand.

Almost.

“The royal family has got nothing like him” Mick says.

“A reformed demon is worth all of Hell” Matan announces.

Sam actually raises his hand for a fist bump, which Cas can see surprises Crowley.

Yes, they’ve changed a lot since the King of Hell first showed up and helped him and Dean deal with that dragon two years ago.

“Sadly this means I won’t be able to break through their security” Crowley explains, downing his glass.

“We’ll just have to find another way, then”. Dean turns and looks at Matan.

“I assume you can break Brits as easily as Nazis?”

“Of course. I can do anything my rabbi orders me to.”

“Requests. What he requests” Aaron is quick to correct him.

He was hesitant about the whole aspect of ownership from the first, Dean told Cas.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Sam asks. “According to Lizzie, they expect more reinforcements”.

“Quite frankly, I’m tired of these bastards running around our country. I think it’s time we throw them out.”

“Alright then, time to attack. I can get behind that” Crowley replies.

“Yes, there’s just...” Dean trails off.

Cas is still holding his hand. He can guess what his beloved will say next. He’s been thinking about it ever since Rowena left.

“I think we should try and talk to Mary again”.

“What?” Sam splutters. “Dean, she called you a monster! She’s not interested in – “

“I am not saying we should give her a get out of jail free card. Hell, I’m not even saying call her Mom and try to grovel hoping we can somehow get her back. All I’m saying is we try to reach out and explain to her what we’ve been doing one last time, without giving anything away, of course. And if she still insists that all monsters must be eradicated and that I am one of them... That me and Cas and Crowley are monsters, than that’s it. One more chance to listen. That’s all she gets.”

The brothers share a long look.

Eventually Sam nods.

“Alright. Just one more try. And if she doesn’t want to listen...”

“She’s going down with the rest of them” Dean finishes.

[erule]

Can you see it?

Title: Can you see it?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4.200+  

Warnings: romantic, fluff, angst, teen!reader, time travel  

Summary: The reader dies and Dean asks Rowena help to bring her back, but it’s not that easy. He’ll have to come back in time and make her remember him.  

Notes: This is the story I wrote for the Fandom Writing Challenge, my prompt was pudding. This contest is such a great idea! Hope you like the fic :)  

<< Can you see it? >>

<< Yeah, I can see it. >>

Dean smirks, his eyes still closed, while he’s laying on the grass, the left arm under his head and the right one on his stomach. She’s laying next to him, breathing slowly, an eye opened now.

<< You’re cheating. >> Dean says.

<< Nope. >>

<< I bet you have your eyes opened. >>

<< Just one! >>

<< Unbelievable. >> Dean comments, opening his eyes, propping on his elbows, turning to look at her, raising his right eyebrow.

She looks at him, a lock of her hair that descends on her shoulder, a roguish smile just mentioned. Dean lives for moments like this, when they’re playing like two teenagers. He feels younger (and a bit dumb) whenever he’s with her, but maybe it’s a good thing after all, since they had to grow up so much faster than the other kids. Since he has to play the parent all the time, with Sam (it’s not as bad as it may seem, that’s just his job, to look after his pain-in-the-ass little brother). Since he has to kill the monsters to clean up the whole world, a mess that he didn’t start, but that he has got to finish. His heart feels heavy, sometimes, because he thinks he doesn’t deserve a corner of peace in this world, especially with her, but Y/N taught him to be a little selfish when it comes to them, to spend two minutes alone, because he has to stop to pay for Atlantis’ punishment: the world doesn’t need him to take it on his back. She is the one who needs him.

<< What are you thinking about? >> she asks, bringing him back to the Earth.

<< I don’t deserve you. >> he replies and she rolls her eyes, sitting down. Everytime he tells her these words, she gets angry. Everytime, except for this one.

<< Dean, you know you do. >>

<< I don’t. >>

<< That’s not your call. >>

Dean snorts. He always loses against her.

<< Fine. >>

She smiles, this time for real and Dean’s heart skips a beat, when she does it.

<< You know I love you, right? >>

And that’s here, in this moment, that he understands it: this is a dream. She doesn’t say it. It’s not in her DNA to tell these three words, like him and like his dad. That’s why she didn’t get angry. But Dean nods, holding back his tears, because there’s only one explanation of this dream.

<< I know. >>

Out there, she’s dead.

 He still has nightmares, about what happened three weeks ago. He just can’t get through it, he can’t forget. There’s her blood on his hands, red, too red like strawberry’s juice and sticky. The world is crumbling down from his back, an avalanche, hitting his spine, crushing his bones and flattening his lungs. It just feels wrong. Wrong that she got to die so young, wrong that he had to watch her leaving for the last time, wrong that she was still holding the gun and not his hand.

There’s not a way back from the darkness. That’s what Sam told him, before he got out from the warehouse and slaughtered the witches who hurt her. Even the newspapers talked about it. His moment of unglory. His first memory without her. Even though she was with him, somehow, in his mind.    

<< Can you see it? >>

<< Yeah, I can see it. >>

Dean opened an eye, then the other one, while she was still listening to the wind, eyes closed and legs crossed. He put himself closer to her, his hand a few centimeters away from hers. His dad would have said that he was a coward, but the truth is that he didn’t want to rush the situation. He let it evolve.

He gulped.

<< What do you see? >>

She remained silent, moistening her lips before she could talk, while he was completely kidnapped by the movement of those.

<< I see… an enormous pudding looking at me and asking me to eat it! >> she exclaimed, opening her eyes and then Dean tickled her. She tried to run away, but he succeded to hold her back, listening to the beautiful sound of her laughters.

<< Y/N, you’re such a liar! >>

<< Alright, alright, I’ll tell you what I saw, if you let me go. >> she said and Dean did what she asked. << Thank you. >> she stated, adjusting her t-shirt, that had risen. << I saw it. There was this… white house and… >>

<< Am I the new President of the United States? Awesome! >>

<< Jerk. >>

<< Bitch. >> he answered.

Y/N snorted.

<< Can I keep going? >> << Yes. >> << Good. This house was ours and Sam lived with us, but like in the basement. Don’t laugh, Dean. Then… Oh! You were a mechanic and I was a waitress. >>

<< Wow, humble. >>

<< Yeah, very humble. We were happy and… nothing more. >> she finished, shrugging her shoulders.

Dean nodded.

<< Something else? No? I like it. >>

<< Do you? >>

<< Yes, I do. It’s… simple, real. I like it. >>

She looked at the grass, without even seeing it. Dean raised her chin with a thumb, forcing her to lock her eyes into his. Stars, stars that suddenly were becoming constellations.

<< We won’t have it, right? >>

Dean promised her that the lies were not considered in their relationship, but it turned out he lied anyway.

<< Yeah, someday. >>

Then, her hand reached for his.

 He was outside Rowena’s door, with a bottle of beer in his right hand, banded because he punched the bartender. Not that he was concerned or something, but Sam would have thought the worse, so he had to keep it for himself as a secret. He didn’t have secrets with her.

He knocked. He heard her footsteps behind the door, hoping he didn’t have to force her to do things she didn’t want to do. He wasn’t that kind of man. Or, at least, he wasn’t once.

<< Dean. >> she said, with her accent, smirking. << What are you doing here? >>

<< Sam doesn’t have to know about all of this. >>

She rolled her eyes.

<< No, I won’t enter in your stupid family feuds! Not anymore! >> she shouted, trying to close the door, but Dean stopped it putting a shoe between the door and the jamb. She gave him a bad look. << You better be convincing, Dean Winchester. >>

<< Trust me, I will. >>

She looked at him one last time, then she let him enter. Her hotel’s room seemed so expensive, he asked himself how she managed to pay for it, but it was none of his business. He just shaked his head.

<< Tell me. >> she crossed her arms, annoyed.

<< It has to be a way to bring Y/N back to life. >>

<< No, there’s not. >>

<< Listen to me: your coven did this to her, so you’re gonna fix it! >> he screamed, angry.

<< I was running away from them, they were not my coven! >>

<< Yeah, but we were trying to help you and it’s your fault if she died! You owe me, Rowena. You’re gonna clean up this damn mess. >> he said and Rowena swore she saw actual flames in his pupils.

She snorted, but he got a point. He was half right. There was a sperimental way to help that girl, but it was stupid to give this information to a desperate man.

<< There’s something. >>

<< Okay. >>

<< I can bring you back in the past, in an exact moment of her younger age, to warn her. >>

<< It doesn’t sound hard. Where’s the catch? >> << She has to remember who you are. >>

Dean shaked his head, counfused.

<< We didn’t know each other. It’s an oxymoron. How can she remember me, if we’ve never met? >>

Rowena gloated.

<< This is the difficulty. There has to be something inside her soul that only you can reach. It will be like she met you in another life, like she did, because I’ll send you in the past of a parallel world, in which you will never meet. >> she explained. << In or out, Dean. >>

He thought about it for a minute, then he nodded. Perhaps, he was just being selfish, because in that world she would have never become a hunter, qithout knowing him and she would be stilla live right now, but he needed her.

<< In. >>

She didn’t have feelings, but she knew that if she could have ones, she would have felt sorry for him. The last time she saw those sad eyes, was when Fergus killed Alonzo. That’s why she felt the need to warn him.

<< You could remain stuck in the middle, Dean. >>

Dean shrugged.

<< As long as I’m with her, I don’t care. >> he responded.

Rowena nodded, then she prepared the elements for the spell. An hour after that, Dean was laying on the bed, his eyes closed and Rowena was moving her hands, casting a sort of sleeping spell.

<< You’re gonna sleep for two days, Dean. You don’t have very much time. >>

<< It will be enough. >>

 When he opened his eyes, we found himself in a graveyard. He saw some people around a tombstone, grieving and crying. Between them, he recognised her. She was younger, her eyes were circled in her, but she was not sheding a tear. She had her hair tied up in a ponytail, whitened knuckles and she was looking at the ground. Then, he looked at the picture on the easel. She had his father’s eyes. That’s what happened in her life that made her kinder, stronger, nicer. She buried her father, when she was eighteen. She never told him. He knew her age, because he saw some old photographs. It was the most important moment of her life, probably. The moment she became the Y/N he learned to love.

He came closer to them, thinking about what he should have said. Sam was the good one at this, not him. He was always too rude or too embarassed. So he took a deep breath and walked.

<< Hey. >> he said to her, after the priest was gone.

She raised her eyebrows.

<< Does we know each other? >>

<< Yeah. I meant, no… I knew your father? We worked together? >>

<< Were those answers or questions? >>

Damn, he was already making a bad impression on her. So he did it again, he lied to her. This time, he would have been convincing.  

<< We did. >>

<< Oh. What’s your name? >>

<< Dean. I’m Dean. >>

Something, like a switch was pressed in her head, but Dean wasn’t sure.

<< Hi. >> << Hi. I’m sorry for your loss. >>

<< Yeah, thanks. >> she answered. << It was… >> she bite her bottom lip. << It sucks, to be honest. >>

<< I know. I lost my father too. I didn’t love him as much as my mother, but it was hard anyway. It always is, when you lose someone of your family. >>

It was hard when I lost you, he would have liked to say, but he couldn’t and so he didn’t.

She nodded.

<< Despite everything he did, he was a good father. >>

<< What did he do? >>

<< I thought you knew. He stole all the money from his society. That’s why you have been fired. The company has failed. He did this for us. I hated him for a very long time, but I can’t be angry at him now, right? He payed his debts. >> she said, looking at the tomb. << He payed for all of it. >>

<< Y/N, he did a good thing in the wrong way. The company was already sinking like the Titanic… >>

<< I’m sorry, I have to go. Thanks for your presence, Dean. >> she said, wanting to go away from him.

She didn’t want to hear the truth. She didn’t forgive her father. Never. Not that he couldn’t sympathy for her, but it was the reason why she couldn’t move on and it was the reason why she didn’t say those famous three words to him in so many years. Because she loved him, she let herself be fragile by trusting him and he died. He betrayed her.

He followed her. Firstly, she went to her house with her mom and the guests. After half an hour though, he catched her escaping from the window. There was the Y/N he knew. She went outside a school, maybe her old one and she stayed there, looking at the guys that went out from it. Her gaze was full of melancholy.

<< Do you remember something good? >> he asked, coming closer to her.

<< Are you stalking me, old man? >>

<< I’m barely thirty years old! I’m not old. >>

She smiled a bit.

<< Don’t worry. I don’t like boys of my age. >> she answered, her hands in the pockets and an off brightness in her eyes.

<< Sweetheart, I’m not here to fill your ego. Tell me what you’re doing here. >>

<< My mom sent you, right? >> she questioned. Dean nodded. Is it a lie, if you don’t say it? << Tell her I will be fine. >>

<< You won’t. >>

<< It’s not your call. >>

She was stubborn, like always. He loved it. The problem was that he had half a day to make her “remember” him, so he couldn’t enjoy her company for too long, sadly. He just realised how much he missed her.

<< Listen, Y/N: I don’t wanna seem an old man that gives you a crappy advice for your life, but I know the feeling. >> he started and he had suddenly her attention. << Look, I… recently lost a person that I really loved and I blamed myself for a long time, before I realized it wasn’t my fault. That was, perhaps, the worst part, because I didn’t have anyone to blame. So I reached agreements with the truth: I loved her and she died, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t in my heart anyway. >>

She looked at him, his eyes were glossy.

<< Was she your girlfriend? >>

He shaked his head.

<< Sort of, but not really. We just enjoyed each other company. >>

<< Did you forgive her? >>

<< For what? >> he asked, confused.

<< For leaving you alone in this world. For missing her so much, it hurts in your chest all the time. >>

<< You’ll fill the void, someday, Y/N. Or you won’t, but it will be okay anyway. Someone will take the pain with you. >>

She nodded, holding back the tears.

<< Thanks. >>

<< You’re welcome. >>

She dried out her tears, gulping.

<< Can I see you tomorrow, again? >>

Dean smiled.

<< Of course. >>

<< Okay. See you tomorrow, then. >>

And now he had just 24 hours to make her fall in love with him.

 The day after the tragedy, Dean was waiting for her outside the door like it was a date. He prayed that her mom didn’t see him. Y/N looked so young, he almost felt like a maniac going out with her, but in their reality she was twenty-nine, so he felt relieved.

<< What’s your profession now, Dean? >>

<< Oh, well… I’m a hunter. >>

<< Cool. My granpa was a hunter too. >>

<< Yeah, I know. >> << Did we bump into each other some years ago? Probably no, I would remember you. >>

<< I wish you did. >> Dean murmured.

<< What? >>

<< I don’t think so. >>

<< Yeah, I would remember your pretty face. Hell, if you’d be just three or four years older than me, I would really have dirty thoughts about you. >>

Dean really thought for a minute that Rowena was messing with his head, making fool of him with that prank, because he didn’t even get to kiss her once when she was still alive. He didn’t have the chance. He didn’t even know what he was to her.

<< Can we talk about something else, please? Do you want to go eat something? I’ll take a pie and you’ll take pudding. >>

<< How do you know about my favourite food? >>

Dean gulped. Damn.

<< Your father told me, I think. >>

<< Oh, right. He used to bring me one when he was late for dinner. >>

<< Maybe your father and I were very similar, after all. >>

Then, they entered in the bar. It was nice and good-looking, but Dean kept looking at her instead, because if something would have gone wrong, he could have returned in a world in which she wasn’t alive and the idea killed him on the inside.

For about two hours, he totally forgot it. He just sat down and watched her eat her pudding, laughing at his jokes, talking about their favourite things, learning some new elements about her younger version and listening to the old ones he already knew, but without getting tired of her. He just couldn’t get tired of her. He missed her so much, a hole in his heart just opened and threatened to swallow him alive.    

<< I can’t believe I forgot it! >> she exclaimed, suddenly. << Dean, I’m sorry, but today I have to babysit my little nephew, so I have to go home. Can we see each other tomorrow? >>

Dean’s heart fell in his stomach. He had got two days. Just two days and they were slipping away from his fingers. He couldn’t pretend anymore.

<< We can’t. >> << What? Why? >>

<< Look, I’m tired of lying to you, because I know that lies are the worst thing to you. I’m gonna be honest with you and I hope that honesty doesn’t make me lose you. Again. >> he answered. She seemed confused and a bit scared.

<< Again? >> she repeated, her voice was shaky.

<< Y/N, this is a parallel world in which we weren’t supposed to meet. Probably, it’s a world in which you survive. Yeah, I’m sorry to tell you that, but in the other world you die and I couldn’t live without you in it, so I asked a witch what I had to do to bring you back, but I only have some hours. I know that it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me. >>

She gulped, processing all the information he just gave to her.

<< What are you supposed to do, to help me? >>

<< I’m supposed to make you remember me, even if we’ve never met. >>

She rolled up her sleeves around her fingers, nervously.

<< How did we first meet? >>

He smiled, remembering that day.

<< It doesn’t sound like you, but I swear that you were dressed with this pink ribbon, tied up to your hair, looking like a vintage girl, outside this cafeteria in California, giving tickets for the new opening. I took one and then I made a very dumb joke to impress you, but you laughed at it. You laughed and I fell for your laugh. >>

She had tears in her eyes and it hurt him to see her like that.  

<< So, the dead girl that you loved… was me. >> she whispered.

Dean clenched his jaw.

<< Yes. >>

She brought a hand on her mouth, just a moment before she went away from there. He tried to follow her, but she had always been faster than him, so he let her go away.  

 It was night, when he was laying on the grass of her courtyard. He was looking at the dark sky. There was just a star and it was about to explode, because it was too bright and too far away. Like her. How can you dig so deep into someone’s soul in order to make them to fall in love with you? He didn’t do it in six years, he couldn’t do it now in six hours. He was about to be brought back in a world he didn’t belong to, without her. Or he would have been stuck in the middle with her, that probably hated him right now. But, at least, she was alive. She would have been in love with someone that would have deserved her more than him.

<< Pudding? >>

He sat down immediately. She was standing next to him, offering him some pudding to eat. He nodded.

<< Thanks. >>

They remained silent for a while, just eating.

<< I’m sorry. >>

<< Shh. >> << Y/N… >>

<< Okay, just tell me. Just tell me how you got it. How did you fall in love with me? How did you understand it? When? Why? >>

He clenched his jaw.

<< I don’t know. >>

<< You suck. Just like my father. >> she said angrily, standing up and walking away.

<< Please, don’t go! >> he yelled, following her.

<< You are a liar! I could tell, if I loved you! >> she shouted, turning to face him. << I could tell you from the way that you look at me, that makes me blush, because that’s too sweet, no one looked at me like that. I could tell you, because you make me shiver, when you talk like you know me, but I don’t recollect a first meeting with you. I could tell you, I could tell you, because I feel a connection with you that I’ve never felt with anyone, anyone. I want to spend hours with you talking about stupid things and eat pudding, because hell, that’s all I want. And I’ve met you just yesterday! I don’t believe in soulmates, Dean, but I do believe that I’ve felt something for you in the other world. >>

Dean gulped, holding back the tears, trying not to look like a complete fool in front of her.

<< How would you feel, if I told you I loved you? >>

She bursted into tears, without being able to answer, but it was an answer to him.

He felt the wind the was trying to bring him back. It was all around him, calling him with Rowena’s voice. He was returning to his world, the world that didn’t belong to him, because she wasn’t in it anymore. Maybe he would have preferred to stay there, stuck in the middle with her. Alive, but not alive, at the same time. But existing, existing in her heart.

<< I remember you! >> he heard her shouting. << I’m not leaving you! >>

She reached out a hand and her fingertips touched his for a second, right before he disappeared.

 When he woke up, Rowena was biting her nails.

<< You’re back! I was already thinking what to say to your brother, you know, just in case… >> << She remembered. >> he said.

<< What? >> she asked, astonished.

<< Yeah, but I guess it didn’t work very weel after all, uh? >>

<< Dean, if she remembered, it worked. >>

Dean’s eyes staring to wander.

<< Where’s she now? >>

<< In the same place you left her. >> Rowena answered, pushing him outside the door. << Where she broke your heart. >>

When the door closed behind him, he found himself in that warehouse again. It was a mess: blood on the walls, witches on the ground, Sam in a corner, trying to fight against one of them. He was back in the past, that was the night she died!

<< Dean, go help Y/N! >> Cas shouted and he woke up. He had a knife in his hand.

He ran away, looking for her in the room she left the world forever. He screamed her name, but she didn’t hear it. The witch was casting the spell that killed her, but this time he was there, he was ready. He threw the knife along the room and it cut his throat. She fell on the ground, the blood on her face, but she wasn’t dead. He took a breath of relieve and went to hug her.

<< Hey, hey, hey, I’m okay. I’m okay. >>

<< I love you. I should have told you. >> he said.

She remained quiet, her hands on his back.

<< I love you, too. >>  

                                                                ***

 Laying on the grass, Dean was holding her hand, looking at the sky. It wasn’t a dream, this time. He was smiling, even if he was trying not to or she would have made fun of him.

<< I’m gonna repeat the question: do you see a future with me? >>

<< True answer or sarcastic answer? >> she replied.

<< True one. >>

She chuckled.

<< You’re such a dumb guy, Dean Winchester. >>

<< Yeah, but you love it. Alright, now do it. >>

<< A future with you? >> << A future with me. >> he repeated.

<< Okay. >>

She looked at him, while he was still fixed on the stars. She smiled softly.  

<< Can you see it? >>

<< Yeah, I can see it. >>