#or wondering if the new colt was going to put me six foot under

[anonwyvern]

I know it’s purely for his cowboy aesthetic, but there’s no way in hell Coop would’ve kept those big fucker spurs on the minute Sugarfoot had been turned into Sugarjerky.

[rreyie]

𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙗𝙞𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙞- 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙤

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: an idea pops into colts head after fucking your brains out the night before, craving you again.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: smut! vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, fem! reader, semi public sex, cursing, overstimulation

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: smut/nsfw

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: colt grice, reader insert

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: you asked, i provide. after getting so much great feedback from you all about part one (view here), i decided, hey, let’s make a part two! also, thank you so much for 95 followers, it means so so so much to me 😩 also, hey, look! i’m using proper capitalization when i write now!!

DISCLAIMER: cant believe that i even have to clarify this, but IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM DO I HAVE AN OPINION ON GABI. people will probably come for my throat if i even say that i like or dislike her, so i’m neutral to her.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the morning was... awkward, to say the least. Eventually, you all began to laugh it off. Porco would crack the occasional joke about it (when Falco and Gabi weren’t near).

After breakfast, you ran back up to your room to change, grabbing that white bikini that you washed and folded last night. You smirked at your memories from yesterday, how Colt admired you looking so very attractive. His hazel eyes would constantly be on you, unwavering.

After slipping it on and tying the straps, you made a quick stop in the bathroom, Colt at the sink furiously brushing his teeth. You can see his eyes widen in the mirror, looking at your figure.

He quickly spits out the toothpaste and wipes his mouth. “Wow, you’re lookin... awfully lovely today”, he says, kissing your lips. You take in the minty breath breathing down your chin.

“Colt, not now...” you say, pulling your lips from his. “The door is open, We can’t do this now, plus we have plans for the day.”

Colt pouts, frowning at your words. “Fine. But I’m expecting affection tonight”, he says, walking out of the bathroom. You smile, and continue to get ready to get back on the beach.

It looked like Pieck, Porco, Reiner, Colt, Gabi and Falco had gotten out early, since they were all sprawled out on different parts of the beach. Pieck was dipping her dainty feet in the water, while Gabi and Falco aggressively splashed each other with the water from the lake.

Pieck turned around to see you walk down to the beach, greeting you with a warm smile. “Hello, y/n!” She says, stepping out of the water that washed upon her feet. “Just getting used to this water. I don’t know the last time I’ve gone swimming, but I figured that I should try.”

You stand next to her, and dip your foot into the water. A shiver ran down your back, feeling that the water was slightly colder than yesterday. “I cant blame you. I’m more of a sunbathing person myself.” You look around, and see the men in their same old spot, floating in the water in their tubes. Pieck lays down on a nearby towel, and puts a pair of sunglasses on her face, blocking the burning sunlight that washed upon you all.

“Come, sit”, she says. “The sunlight feels wonderful.”

You sit down beside her, also putting on your own pair of shades to save your eyes from the sunlight. You wonder how Pieck never manages to tan and always keeps her pale, nearly lifeless complexion.

Back over by the guys, Reiner and Porco were still teasing Colt about the noise from last night. Colt pretended not to care, but deep down he was semi embarrassed about the situation.

“Well, if you want to really switch things up, you should try a new position or something, maybe add a vibrator”, Porco says. “I think girls like that.”

Reiner let’s out a laugh. “Porco, how would you know? You’ve never gotten an ounce of pussy in your life.”

Porco snaps, splashing Reiner with a wave of water. “At least I get into meaningful relationships and don’t just settle for one night stands, Reiner.” Colt sighs, as the two continue their bickering. He looks down by the shore, seeing you and Pieck laying on the beach. How could he possibly be this lucky to have a girl like you as his girlfriend?

Wait. Hang on. Colt had an idea pop into his head. If he wanted to get laid again, he probably shouldn’t do it inside the house, hence the thin walls. He had seen some porn of people fucking on a beach, and always wanted to try it, and added it to his bucket list. What better time to do it then now?

Colt began to think of you slipping off that bikini like you had done last night, untying the straps, revealing your dazzling body. He could feel himself getting hard, and covered his crotch. If he was going to follow through with this plan, he was going to have to do it at night, after everyone had gone to bed to take away the risk of getting caught or being heard (again).

As soon as night came, you cleaned up the dishes after dinner and went upstairs to the bathroom. On the sink was a note, in colts messy handwriting.

𝒴/𝒩,

𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃.

𝒳𝑜𝓍𝑜, 𝒞𝑜𝓁𝓉

Shit, you think to yourself. Sundown was forever ago. I should get down to the beach before Colt thinks I ditched him or something.

You don’t even bother to change into normal clothes, and go back down there in the white bikini Colt adored seeing you in, you couldn’t go wrong in wearing that.

You make your way down to the beach, the starlit sky twinkling in the distance, the moon hovering over the lake reflecting white waves. Colt is down on the beach, a large towel laid out, on his phone.

You walk towards him feeling the sand crunch beneath your feet, and his eyes immediately look up to you, wide with excitement.

“Y/N!” He says. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming or you didn’t see the note.”

“I wouldn’t forget about you Colt”, you say, sitting beside him. “Never ever.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you kiss his lips, tasting like just a bit of alcohol.

You pull away, Colts smile slowly fading away at the fact that you stopped kissing him. “Colt, baby, have you been drinking?”

“Fine, maybe a little”, he said. “But I paced myself this time to the point where I won’t get hammered, I did it for you.”

You smiled. “I’m proud of you!” That smile didn’t last long, feeling the right corner of your mouth rise forming a smirk. “And good boys get rewarded.”

You see Colts cheeks get red, flushing as you move your head down to his crotch, still covered in fabric. He lets out a breathy moan when you gently tug at his elastic waistband with your mouth. You stop for a minute, trying to remember why you were down here in the first place.

“Hey, wait, why did you ask me to come down here in the first place?”

Colt grins, and pulls out a bottle of lube from his pocket. “Well, I wanted to switch things up. I thought the beach would be a nice place to... you know. But keep doing what you’re doing please, baby.”

You continue your quest to tug down Colts swim trunks, but getting impatient and moving your hand up to the waistband and tugging it down with a singular motion. His cock sprang out, slapping against his stomach, already half hard. Your hand gripped his length gently, thumb rubbing the tip as he slowly began to grow increasingly hard under your touch. He let out a gasp at your movements. Your hand traveled down father, slowly jacking him off as he looked down upon you, hazel eyes filled with desire as you pumped him.

“Just like that, babe...” Colt said, voice cracking. He whimpered, voice high because of the stimulation you were providing him. “Oh... oh god... please, you’re doing so good baby.”

Your heat throbbed at his praises. This only encouraged you to go quicker, his eyes starting to roll into the back of his head. You cupped his balls, eliciting another whimper or moan, possibly a combination of the two.

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum-“ Colt is cut off by his sudden orgasm, covering your hand in his hot seed.

“Normally, i would stop and make you beg, but you’ve been a good boy tonight. I wanna make you feel good.” Colt is panting underneath you, still sensitive from his last orgasm. His cock grows hard again. He gives you a weak smile as he lays down on the towel.

“What’s the matter?” You ask. “You’re not tired already are you? You’re still hard.”

“B-baby...” Colt whispers. “C-can you ride me? Pretty please?” Your heat grows hotter than before at the idea. You fiddle with the straps of your bikini, and undo the knot in the back, making the top portion fall off easily. You slip off the bottom half, and sit on Colts lap.

Just to tease him, you kiss him on his lips, grinding your hips against his. Seeing him so vulnerable, so sensitive made you incredibly turned on. His eyes were squinted, his cheeks (and cock) red. His dick was throbbing even though he just came, and beads of sweat rolled off of his body. You thoroughly enjoyed the sight.

You grabbed hold of his cock once again, and guided it to your entrance, teasing the tip around your hole. Once you had enough of all this teasing, you skipped it in, not needing that bottle of lube since your walls were coated in your arousal already.

“Fuck- so... tight...” Colt mumbles.

You grind your hips against his cock, feeling it move in and out inside you. Colt contributes to the movement, thrusting his hips up to penetrate you deeper than you thought possible. Colt wasn’t incredibly endowed, maybe six inches, but you were shocked at how good he could use it.

His dick began to rub onto that one spongy spot inside of you, the one that drove you crazy. “Colt! Aah! R-Right there!”

Colt appreciated the praise, and was thankful that you two were away from the house for tonight. His pace picked up, continuously hitting your sweet spot with all his might.

Before you knew it, you had creamed around his cock, feeling the wave of your orgasm crash down upon you. Colt, not done yet, was still thrusting into you.

With a loud groan, Colt thrusted into you sloppily one final time, and released himself into you. Now was a time that you were grateful to be on the pill, feeling his warm seed coat your walls was one of the best sensations you could possibly experience.

Out of breath, you lay on colts bare chest, completely fucked out. Cum was still dripping down from your cunt to your inner thigh, which you most definitely did not hate. Colt kissed your neck, his kisses messily leaving a bit of saliva on your neck.

“You’re- you’re amazing, y/n.” He kisses you again, this time right on your lips. You were too tired to even respond. You just shut your eyes, feeling Colts heartbeat against your ear.

Eventually, Colt carried you into the house as if you were a sleeping baby, while being careful not to wake anyone else up. He placed your body on the bed, and laid beside you, careful to tuck you into the covers while doing the same to himself. Wrapping himself around you, he snuggled into you, even more grateful tonight than ever that he was your boyfriend.

[starkeristheendgame]

middle of it the avengers alarm goes off. The argument spills over during the battle (and of course everyone can hear them and is trying to ignore it) and it ends with one of them saying they should just break up. Then something happens and they make up lmao

So there seems to be a part missing to your ask, but I pretty much got the gist! I hope this is okay, and that you enjoy! Ages are ambiguous so let your imagination run free. Its mostly angst but at the end there’s hopefulness for a brighter future. Tony is kind of portrayed as a bit of an ass in this, but we all know he just struggles with relationships and emotions so I hope you won’t judge him too harshly.

TW: Angst | Fighting | Temporary break up | Very brief note of minor injury.

Tony’s words still ring like Church bells through his head, even hours after they’d been spoken. That harsh spitfire tone, the broken fury in his eyes as he spat the words in the midst of battle, launching that anger against their enemies. Tony’s eyes, normally rich brandy that made him think of warm nights in front of a fire, had been been inferno and rage all day.

“We’re better off without each other”.

He flinched at the echo memory, staring dully off into space as he held the pack of cooling gel against his bruised side, the taste of copper drying on his tongue. His bruised sides were his own fault; his blind rage and anguish at their fighting had transgressed into the battle. His hits had been sloppy, unkempt, and it had fallen to the rest of the team to try and hold together their splintered edges.

Even now, the rest of the team are as sullen and awkwardly tense as the seething, newly un-coupled pair. Even Steve, normally so brazen and uncowed, sits grim in the pilot seat, jaw set and gaze on the miles of clouds before them. Clint, nursing a leg and his checked pride, is a comforting but ever silent presence at his side. No warm jokes, no lopsided smiles.

Tony is the worst. Cold and impassive at the rear of the jet, working on his Gauntlet with silent fury. Peter wondered what would happen when they got back; he’d more or less moved into the penthouse with Tony by this point, their lives entangled. Peter had no idea about post-breakup protocol. Tony had been his first real relationship, the first one to have any true weight and meaning.

The aching tiredness of war had settled in. His body felt leaden and tender, and on any other day he would have curled up against Tony’s side and napped the journey home away. Now, he leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes, focusing on keeping his breathing measured and even. The battle he’d just fought seemed nothing in comparison to the fight that had began this morning and had broken like a storm on the battlefield.

“You’re unseasoned! You’re a child. Our worlds have been nothing alike and neither are we!”

“You’re half a lifetime behind me, Peter. Sometimes, I think that’s how it should be. Apart.”

“If you hadn’t been bitten by that spider, me and you? We wouldn’t ever be in the same circle”.

When he opened his eyes again they were wet and they stung, and they were home.

No. Not home. Not for him, anymore. Peter accepted the hand that Steve offered him, and followed the rest out in stony silence. He wondered if this would be the end of it; the legacy of his time as an Avenger. His entire relationship put on blast over the comms, his friends and childhood heroes unable to look him in the eye.

Medical cleared him with two cracked ribs and his own teeth imprints on his tongue. Two painkillers and a glass of water later, and he itched to be out of the suit, to be clean and to curl up in a soft bed. His only clothes were in the penthouse, however, and he reluctantly shuffled to the elevator, head low and arms wrapped around himself for comfort more than to relieve the pain.

He crept cautiously into the open space, ears perked and eyes alert. He couldn’t see Tony anywhere, though, and by the time he reached the small staircase that led up to the balcony-style second floor, he was relaxed.

A fool’s act. No sooner had he rounded the corner, light-footed on the plush carpet, he stopped. Perched on the edge of the bed, with one smartly dressed Pepper Potts between his splayed thighs, was Tony. He had his head tucked down against her stomach, arms loose around her waist, and though he could see only her back, he could tell she was running her fingers through his hair.

Heart clenching, Peter turned away and fled before they could notice him, taking the elevator down to the foyer. It was easy enough to ask for a car to drive him home, the wide eyed receptionist sympathetic and astounded by his presence. The driver who pulled up was not Happy, but he was soft and cheerful, and roused Peter gently from where he’d fallen asleep against the window on the ride home.

His bed was cold and empty, a sore trade-off from where he would normally be. But the shower was warm and a balm to his aching muscles where the painkillers had stemmed the pain but not cut it off completely. When he was dressed and beneath the sheets he turned his cheek to his pillow, and let his mind wander.

“I’m - Not - Helpless!” He snarled, kicking furiously at the robotic figure that tried to swing for his jaw. He obliterated it, pieces flying in all directions as he waded through the outburst and onto the next, his partner’s bitter tone a soundtrack to the splintering of metal before him. He lashed out again, ducked, used a web to throw the sentient steel away from him.

“You’re untrained! You’re green! You’re a fucking colt amongst stallions and I won't stand by and watch you get hurt!” Tony’s eyes were wildfire like his voice, and any other moment his appetite for war would have made Peter’s thighs squeeze together and his teeth catch his tongue. Then, it terrified him, enraged him, and saddened him. They spat fire at each other and used it to fuel their defence, and they both steadfastly ignored the pleading protests of their colleagues over the comms, tuned in to their every word. The shame had only made Peter angrier.

He awoke with it burning inside him, smothered quickly by the sight of the bare pillow before him. No sleep-warm brown eyes looking back at him, just the residual stiffness from his injuries and the bitter taste of loneliness. Peter shifted and pushed himself to his feet, forcing his morning routine. He dreaded the text that would ask him to pick up his things, or the call that would tell him Happy was on his way with his stuff.

It never came. But neither did any other call. His phone was silent from any Avenger, none of the usual post-mission calls to fill in paperwork or check-ins from the others. No Steve asking if he wanted to jog together on Wednesday, no Tony asking him to come to the lab with sexual emojis.

Only Ned, MJ, Aunt May, even Flash. Though the latter was just another request for Tony's attention. No matter how many times Peter secretly prayed each time he picked up his phone, it was never the name he wanted. By the 6th day, he'd well and truly come to realise that was it.

It was over.

They were over.

He sniffled into his ice cream. The past six days had melted into scrolling through his old messages, bawling, and watching Elle Woods get her happily ever after. He'd taken her example in the first film and had stomped silently to the grocery market to buy several litre tubs of ice cream in varying flavours. He'd put the Spidersuit under his bed and hadn't looked at it since.

Except by the next Saturday he'd run out of emotions to cycle through and messages to cry over and the itch to be out in the nightlife, sailing between the stars took over.

Putting on the suit felt like a punch to the gut and a glass of cold water at the end of a desert.

He stood on the roof of the apartment complex, swept his gaze slowly over the cityscape, then stepped off the ledge. The drop made his heart skip a beat and the adrenaline crash through his veins, and flicking his wrist with a web at the next building felt like salvation. He dropped, swung, pulled and sailed until he was panting behind the mask, arms quivering as he roamed steadily from the lower city level to the skyscrapers and business buildings, towering above the rest like sentinels and watchmen.

He ignored the nagging memories of doing this with Tony. The two of them laughing through the comms, of clinging to each other above the clouds where nobody could see them. He focused on the ache of his muscles as he climbed higher, higher. The Stark Tower was the tallest building in New York, but the Reach Building was a close second, and empty at this hour.

He threw a web and let the momentum take him, swinging a steep arc and letting go so that it tossed him high into the empty darkness, the cool breeze buffering him as he raced in the sky, baring his stomach to the stars above, arms spread and head tipped back on a delighted, breathless sigh.

One moment, he was gazing at stars, twinkling and careless above him. The next he was rolling backwards, over, and what should have been cityscape became two slats of neon blue, surrounded by peony red and rich gold. He startled, jerked, and they fell in graceful tandem. Peter's heart thumped behind the bars of his chest, and he was left breathless as he stared, the fall ignored for the jarring reality that Tony was here.

The cityscape rushed up towards them and solid arms slid around his waist, driving the breath from his lungs. The firm press of metal was something Peter had resigned himself to feel only in his memories and dreams, and he couldn't remember how to breathe in at the feel of plated fingertips digging into his hips.

They free-fell down, plummeting fast. A shift of Tony's leg and they tipped, rolling gracefully until they were upright and then Peter's entire body tingled as he heard the thrusters of the suit engage. Falling became flying upwards, held safely against warm, solid metal, though he didn't dare to lay his cheek against Tony's chest as he might've before.

He did turn his head away and close his eyes though, relishing in the feel of their bodies together last he suddenly wake up and realise, not for the first time, that it had all been a dream. It was only a cluster of seconds, but it felt like an eternity before he was being set down as gently as if he were glass, held tight by an arm around his waist as Tony's reached up, tugging off the mask as his own faceplate flipped up.

"I can't ". Tony's voice broke over the word, breathless and agonised as he clung to Peter, holding him tight. Shock rendered him speechless and he simply stood lax in Tony's grip, on his tip-toes and leaning back into the solid arm around him. Tony's eyes were dark and red, glossy like he'd been crying mere moments before they landed. He looked sleepless, exhausted.

"I can't do it" he repeated, slower, weaker. "I can't be without you. I hate myself for it, because you deserve better. Because being with you automatically means risking losing you. But I can't lose you like that". He slumped at the end of it, defeated, and Peter finally managed to swallow the knife that had lodged itself in his throat, robbing him of his words and leaving tight pain in its wake.

“You don’t get to dictate what I am and aren’t capable of doing anymore. You don’t get to keep comparing me as weak or useless against the rest of you” he breathed, tears stinging at his eyes and turning Tony into a large, red blob. A red blob that hesitated, before nodding. “And you don’t get to break up with me because you’re being a selfish ass” he added after a pause wherein both of them were too afraid to say or do anything else.

“I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. I’m undoubtedly gonna fuck up again at some point. But... Fuck, I want us to be able to fight about it, and stay together. I want you to tell me I’m wrong and I want to fall asleep next to you in the same night, because I haven’t slept since you left. And-”

Peter sucked in a breath on a sound between a laugh and a sob, wiping heavily at his eyes before he reached up and pressed his palm over Tony’s mouth, muffling whatever tangent he was about to spiel off into. The prickle of Tony’s signature stubble against his palm was a sensation he wouldn’t trade for the world in that moment.

Tony stopped, breathed in a puff of warm air, and watched him with docile hope as he leaned forwards, slowly and carefully, ducking his head out of the way of the faceplate. Tony’s eyes shone with broken adoration as he removed his palm and tipped his head, pressing a brief, weak kiss against Tony’s mouth. His legs felt weak for it and he moved his hands to Tony’s shoulders, clinging to the burnished metal.

“Come home” Tony whispered against his mouth, fingers flexing into Peter’s sides, and he nodded immediately, ducked his head down to Tony’s chest as the faceplate snicked shut and they soared towards the stars.

It wouldn’t be perfect. But that was okay, because they’d work through it and keep loving each other anyway.

[lovehugsandcandy]

Eight Days a Week, Eight Seconds a Kiss (Part 3)  (Colt x MC)

A/N: Sorry, y’all. I was writing other things and having a rough week and I definitely didn’t forget about the series, but it was on the back burner (thanks for those who asked about it, it makes me feel so touched!). But now we back! With wingman Colt, oblivious Ellie, and day three of JUST KISS DAMMIT!

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: 2320 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing, probably, because I swear a lot.)

Summary: Ellie wants to live her life to the fullest, starting with her first kiss. She just needs a little encouragement.

Monday:  I Was Young and I was Selfish

Ellie pulled into the shop, driving her very own freaking car, through the bay doors, carrying her very own license, smiling ear-to-ear. This was amazing! Her time on the bus was over!

She jumped out, spring in her step, and made it five steps before almost walking straight into Logan. “Oof.”

He caught her, strong hands wrapped around her forearms. “Hi, troublemaker.”

She looked up and flushed. He really was impossibly handsome; she definitely wouldn’t mind if he was her first kiss. Maybe Colt was right and she was really getting in her own way. She had just started daydreaming about how soft his lips would be and what it would actually be like to kiss someone when he interrupted her.

“Uhhh...Ellie?”

She snapped to attention. “Yeah?”

“Your car is rolling away.”

She turned and froze. Her car was, indeed, moving, rolling down the slight incline of the shop, headed towards a giant toolbox and the lanky figure digging through shelves in. She started to sprint but knew she wasn’t going to make it in time.

“Toby, MOVE!”

Toby looked up just in time to dive out of the way and her car rolled right into a toolbox. Luckily, it wasn’t going fast, but still; the boom of the collision made her wince, as did the three wrenches that rained down onto her hood.

“Oops....���

Toby stood up, brushing himself off dramatically. “I’m ok! I’m ok!” His grin turned to a frown as he looked at her car. “It’s ok! I can fix that! Just the bumper. And a few dents here. And here.” He caressed the paint with a frown.

“I am so sorry! I could have hurt you.”

“No worries!” He squatted to look over her bumper. “It actually doesn’t look bad at all.”

Logan walked up behind her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Did you put the e-brake on?”

“Apparently not.” She put her head in her hands.

Logan laughed. “Hey, troublemaker, don’t worry about it. No harm, no foul.” Ellie could feel the eyes of the entire crew on her and her face burned. He pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tight before letting go. It made her feel marginally better, though her cheeks were still hot. “Give me your keys. I’ll move it and start fixing it up with Toby.”

“You’re the best.”  With a wan smile, she turned to head into the shop.

I am such an idiot.

Head down, she didn’t notice where she was going until she felt someone grab her wrist. She looked up and groaned, holding up a hand. “Stop. Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear whatever insult you have up your sleeve.” Colt studied her silently, so she continued. “I know, I obviously don’t belong here,  I am shooting myself in the foot, blah blah, I don’t need to hear it from you.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Yes, you were.” She rubbed her temple, headache already starting to form. I can’t believe I crashed my car already.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“What?” Ellie sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. “What, I can’t stay here and embarrass myself anymore?”

“As great as that is for my personal amusement, no.” Colt stood, clutching a spare helmet, unsnapping it and handing it over. “Come on.”

“Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if that look is because you don’t think I can refrain from kicking you when you’re down or because you don’t trust me to get you there safely, but I don’t care. Come on.”

She sighed and took the helmet, looking up at him as he tightened the strap and then brushed her hair away from her neck. “If you kill me....”

“You can haunt the garage all you want. Let’s go.”

~~~~~

Once they stopped, she realized that she could definitely see the appeal. On a motorcycle, everything was more real, the pavement racing by, the air whipping around, the roar of the engine underneath her. She didn’t think she could be converted away from her car, but she could see why Colt liked it as much as he did.

They were outside some bar and Ellie looked around, anxiously, trying to smooth down her hair as much as she could. “Where are we?”

Colt took her helmet from her and put it under his arm. “Just a dive. I was going to head up to the cliff but then I realized that the cliff was not conducive to meeting our two objectives.”

“What do you mean, two objectives?”

“Stop your moping and get you your kiss. Duh.” He held the door open for her and followed her into the dark. The dingy hallway opened up into a bar, exactly as dark and forbidding as it looked from the outside.

There were only a few other patrons here; Ellie would have guessed it was a quiet night but, judging by the exterior of the building and the dinginess of the room, all nights were quiet nights here. At least they could spread out. “Colt, why are we at a bar?”

He shrugged, sitting at a bar stool, putting their helmets on the bar next to him. “I figured a drink would loosen you up.” He laughed when he caught the look on her face. “Relax, relax. It has really good fries and no ones asks any questions.”

“Apparently....” She couldn’t help but look around again. Was it still legal to smoke in bars? She didn’t think so. “How do you know about this place?”

He laughed, bitterly. “What, did you think my parents would ever step foot in a Chuck E. Cheese’s?”

She watched him as he turned to order to a soda and loaded fries from the bartender; what must it have been like, growing up with Kaneko as a father? And Colt never mentioned his mother.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Huh?” Ellie looked up to see both Colt and the bartender staring at her. “Sorry, a soda, please.”

She flushed as Colt raised an eyebrow at her. “You still thinking about your car? Toby will make it just like new, you know.”

“I just feel stupid.”

“You think that’s the worst thing to happen in that shop? Ha.” He tilted his head, thinking. “Once, we were doing electrical work on the lifts and something shorted, dropping two cars straight down, 8 feet to the pavement. I was sweeping glass out of the corners for weeks!”

Ellie chuckled despite herself.

“This other time, Toby had it in his head that he could rig up a NOS system to work both in drive and reverse. If you look closely at my dad’s office, there are still burn marks from when that exploded.”

“Oh crap.”

“But the worst. The WORST.” Colt leaned over the bar, edging closer, eyes sparkling. “Mona was hooking up with this psycho, this absolute nutcase, and, when she finally smartened up and called it off, this girl spray painted the entire exterior of the garage, all f-bomb this and c-word that, with the evil eye thrown in for good measure, all hot pink like your car. My dad flipped his shit.”

Ellie started giggling and could only laugh harder when Colt threw a napkin at her.

“Not funny! Who do you think had to clean it all up?”

She laughed, playing with her straw; when she looked up again, he was watching her. “Colt? Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever, don’t-”

“Seriously. Thank you.” She caught his eye, holding it, as the bartender worked behind the bar and as the crappy music filled the room and as she wondered why on earth he was actually being so nice to her.

He coughed, breaking the spell, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me yet. Still working on that kiss. Hmmm....slim pickings.” He looked around the bar until his eyes lit up. “How about six o’clock, by the jukebox?”

She groaned. “Are you seriously picking the worst people in the world?” She watched the man stuff another dip of tobacco into this mouth.

“I got the demographic right this time, at least.” He looked around halfheartedly, sipping his soda before focusing on her again. “You know, why are you so hung up on this? It’s like eight seconds out of your life! Why are you so desperate for it to happen?”

Ellie rested her chin on a hand. She never should have said anything to Colt, of all people. “I guess it’s what it represents. I never did anything except what my dad wanted me to do and I think I missed out, on a lot, you know?”

“Your dad sounds like he’s trying to protect you. I mean, you’re sitting at a dive bar, on a school night, trying to kiss someone you don’t even know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Out of all the trouble you and the crew get into, this is what you’re worried about?”

Colt’s eyes flashed, trailing down her face. “If I were your old man, I would be very worried about it.”

Ellie swallowed, grateful for the fries that arrived between them. She wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but she didn’t think she was brave enough to ask. “I don’t know...Maybe he’s going about it the wrong way.”

“He’s doing it out of love, you know.” Colt caught her eye meaningfully. “It sounds like he thinks you’re God’s gift to earth. But it also sounds like he needs to respect who you really are.”

“Yeah.” She studied his face, thinking. “Colt, you know your dad-”

“Stop.” He rubbed his temples. “You don’t even know him.”

“He seems protective of you too.”

Colt looked at her, hands gripping the bar, teeth gnawing his lower lip. “My pop’s never been protective of anyone or anything. Ever.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, watching him eat. “You know, I didn’t think you would care so much about what someone thought of you.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why do you let your dad’s opinion of you rule your life?”

He stopped chewing, mid bite, to gape at her. “Are you seriously giving me family advice? You?!?”

“You know I’m right. You may hate the source, but you know I’m right.”

“Easier said than done.” He looked down at the bar.

“What isn’t?”

He looked over at her, considering her for so long she started to feel uneasy, fidgeting in her seat. He shook his head as the bartender walked over to take their plates, glancing between the two of them. “You know, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard you were looking for someone willing to kiss you.” He looked meaningfully at Ellie. “I’m single.”

Ellie froze, caught in his gaze. He was cute, surprisingly, for the bar, a little more clean-cut than she was typically attracted to but definitely handsome, especially with the smile he was throwing her way.

Next to her, Colt choked on his drink, sputtering as both she and the bartender gawked. Once he could breathe again, before she could even think of a response, Colt jumped in, voice rough, bar stool dragging across the floor as he stood. “No. We’re actually leaving.”

Ellie stared at him in surprise, watching as he threw some money on the bar, grabbed the helmets, and turned on his heel. Ellie smiled apologetically at the bartender, shrugging, before following, heading out into the warm night.

“The hell, Colt?”

He shrugged. “I thought you wanted them to think you were tolerable.”

“Yeah?”

“Pretty boy didn’t even know you.”

“He would tolerate me enough to kiss me! And neither did chewing tobacco guy!”

Colt stopped next to the bike, leaning over it with a dramatic sigh. “Fine! Just go back in there!”

Ellie stared at him, the crease between his eyebrows, his eyes fixed past her, staring into the distance, avoiding her eyes. She sighed. “You know, you’re right.”

“No shit.”

She rolled her eyes but continued. “You are. I want it to be real, not just some rando you find for me.” She took a deep breath. “So I have a request, an addition to the deal. I want them to think I’m attractive.”

“Wait, what?” Colt did a double take. “What?”

Ellie stared him down, hands on her hips. “I want them to think I’m attractive. Do you think that will be a problem?”

Colt wisely paused before saying anything. Ellie waited, eyes sharp, waiting for the insult. However, she was surprised when he opened his mouth to speak.  “I am just commenting, with no ulterior motive, not insinuating anything so stop looking so exasperated, Christ...it seems like you are adding caveats after the fact. I thought they only had to think you were tolerable?”

“Someone said it was a low bar. Maybe I am trying to raise my standards a little.”

He looked at her and she was taken aback; instead of the usual insolent smirk or fixed glare, he was considering her, eyes almost soft, voice even softer. “Maybe you should.” He looked like he wanted to say more, to continue, but he paused, just looking at her. “Fine. Fine. They will think you are tolerable and attractive. Anything else?”

“Nope. That’s it.” She smiled. She didn’t know why he agreed to help her but at least he wasn’t being a total ass about it. “Thanks for taking me out tonight. I needed it.”

Colt looked away. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, that was really-”

“Stop.” He put up his hand. “Seriously. I told you. I don’t want you to mention it. To anyone. Including me.”

She blinked, watching him turn and put his helmet on, bathed in the streetlight, before he turned and handed her the spare helmet. Their fingers brushed as she took it, yet another thing from tonight that she resolutely was not going to think about.

Tags:  @deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah@flowerpowell@poeticscolt@brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira @umiumichan @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices @leelee10898 @maxwellsquidsuit @desiree-0816

[foreverwayward]

“Wayward Hearts” Season 1 Chapter 11: Salvation

Summary: As Sam and Dean begin the search for their father, a chance encounter with another hunter will change the roads ahead. Riley Munroe is a hunter, raised by her father after her mother tragically died when she was only six months old. Brought together by loss, grief, and the family business, Sam, Dean, and Riley join forces. They’ll find that their stories are intertwined and lean on each other as they search for answers and to avenge those they’ve lost. They’ll face evil, darkness, and hell itself…as a family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 9,350

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

Sam, Riley, and Dean sat in a small café in Omaha, Nebraska. A recent hunt had brought them into town, but there were no leads for other possible cases. The three were itching to get back on the road. Not knowing where John or the demon were, had them on edge. If they weren’t working, they were left alone with their thoughts and they all desperately wanted to avoid that.

Dean worked through newspaper articles and Sam searched the web for anything that might catch his eye.

As Riley came back to the table she huffed as she sat. “I’m so bored,” she whined. “We’ve been sitting in this town with nothing to do for a week. Someone give me something to shoot already.”

“I know,” Dean agreed. He sighed in frustration as he folded up his newspaper. “I couldn’t find one decent lead in Nebraska. Sam, please tell me you found something before we all lose our minds.”

“Uh--” Sam started as he scrolled through articles. “Well, a man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home over in Colorado.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Elkins. How do I know that name?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell for me.” Sam exhaled deeply. “Anyway, looks like the cops don’t know what to make of it. At first, they said it was some sort of bear attack, but now they say they’ve found signs of robbery.”

The oldest Winchester reached into his bag to pull out John’s hunting journal. He flipped through the pages as Riley waited to see what he’d find. Dean turned the notebook in their direction and pointed to a name. ‘D. Elkins”.

Riley looked over the page and saw a phone number beside the name. “That’s a Colorado area code. Wait, are you thinking it’s the same Elkins?”

“Only one way to find out.”

------

After a long day’s drive, the hunters found themselves on a snowy Colorado mountain. 

A small cabin sat alone among the trees. The light from the moon illuminated the blanket of white. Nothing but silence filled the mountain as more snow softly fell to the ground.

Dean picked the lock and the three stood in the doorway with flashlights. They split up and looked for anything to give them more information on the man who had died there only days before. 

The home had been trashed. Furniture was overturned, items laid broken on the floor, and papers had been scattered and thrown about.

Sam and Dean walked ahead as Finn sniffed near the door. 

Riley bent down to see what he had found and picked up white flecks into her hand. “Salt. It’s all right in front of the door.”

“Are we talking ‘protection-against-demons’ salt or ‘oops I spilled the popcorn’ salt?” The cabin was small, so even in the next room, Dean could engage in the conversation as he rifled through Elkins’ desk.

“Well, it’s definitely a ring.” With Riley at his side, Finn began to sniff more through the house. He had been trained to know when something smelled off or strange. It had helped on hunts when it was just the two of them.

“You guys think Elkins was a player?” Sam asked.

“Definitely. Hey, guys…” Dean called. “Come check this out.”

The others found their way to him. Dean had a notebook opened in front of him. The pages were filled with random notes, newspaper clippings, phone numbers, information on supernatural creatures, and more.

Sam scanned over the pages. “Looks a hell of a lot like Dad’s.”

“Yeah, except this dates back all the way to the ‘60s.”

Finn’s whining could be heard in another part of the cabin and the three followed the sounds. When they found him, he was in the doorway of an office space. 

That one room had seen the worst of the fray. The floors were cluttered with debris, glass, books, and other odds and ends. With almost nowhere clear to walk, the hunters trudged their way through it. 

The dog continued to whimper at all the smells he picked up on. Blood stains covered the wooden walls and had found their way to the floor. Sam, Dean, and Riley had found where Elkins spent his last moments in terror.

Glass crunched under their boots and Riley looked up. The sunroofs had been shattered through. “Well, whatever came for this guy--there was definitely more than one.” She shined her light across the room. “This dude put up a hell of a fight from the looks of it.”

As they continued to search the room, Dean found what looked like an old wooden gun case among the chaos. It was empty and the shells it once held were missing as well. 

He moved his light to the other side of him and stumbled on what looked like scratches on the floor. Using a piece of paper and pencil, Dean rubbed the led over it to reveal a message.

“Sam, Rye…” Dean turned to give them the paper as they both studied it. “Three letters and six digits. It’s the location and combination for a post office box. ...that’s exactly how Dad does it.”

------

The team got back into the Impala after finding the right post office. Inside they had found an envelope addressed to ‘J. W.’ Riley sat in the back with Finn as the boys got in the front. 

They all debated whether or not to open it, wondering if it had been left for John.

A knock came from the driver’s side window and the hunters jumped at the sound. Smiling back at them, was John Winchester.

Seeing that he was coming for the backseat, Riley scooted over and made room as Finn laid in her lap. 

John got in the car and closed the door behind him. The three were shocked to see him.

“Dad! What are you doing here? Are you alright?” Sam had quickly shifted in his seat to look at his father.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I read the news about Daniel. I got here as fast as I could.” John looked over at the blue-eyed hunter beside him. “Saw you guys up at his place. I had to make sure you weren’t followed by anyone or anything.”

The youngest Winchester grew was almost jealous. “Wait. You came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?”

“He taught me a lot about hunting. We had a falling out years ago, but he was a good man.” Putting his hand out for the letter John said, “I should look at that.” When he was handed the letter, he opened it and began to read. “If you’re reading this, I’m already dead…” John paused as he read on. “That son of a bitch. He had it the whole time. When you three searched the place, did you see an antique gun? A Colt revolver?”

“No, sir,” Dean replied. “There was an old gun case, but it was empty.”

“The things that killed Elkins, they have it. We gotta pick up their trail.” John hadn’t even finished his statement before he was already getting out of the car.

“Wait, you want us to come with you?” Sam was stunned.

“The gun--if Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta go get it.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s important that’s why,” John spoke more firmly. He never had the patience for when his children questioned him. After a deep breath, he looked back at them. “We’re gonna be going after a nest of vampires. That’s what Elkins hunted--it was his specialty.” 

Hurrying back to his truck, John got in and started it up knowing the young hunters would be behind him.

Dean looked quickly back at the others and started up the car.

------

Later into the night, John sat listening to the police scanner in the subpar lodge they had all shared for the night. Sam had fallen asleep and so had Dean and Riley on their own bed as the cuddled up together. A tired Finn laid on the floor at the foot of their bed.

A call came through and John ordered everyone up. Groggy and disoriented, they all struggled to wake themselves.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“Heard a call on the scanner. It’s the vamps.” John grabbed his jacket as he hurried for the door.

“What? How do you know?”

John turned to his son, slightly irritated. “Just follow me, okay?”

Still trying to fully wake up, the three grabbed their things to head out the door as Riley patted her leg for Finn to follow.

------

Riley was never a morning person and the lack of sleep started to hit her as they waited near the scene. She yawned. “Fuck, it’s early. Doesn’t your dad ever sleep?”

Sam leaned against the car, irritated that John had left them behind to talk to the cops. He didn’t feel like a partner, but like a child. 

John and his youngest son always butt heads, mostly because Sam didn’t believe in being his father’s soldier.

John walked back to the car and told them they were on the right trail and that the vampires had come through and taken a couple. “They’re headed west. We’re gonna have to double back to get past the roadblock”

“How can you be so sure?” Sam asked in defiance.

Dean mumbled under his breath. “Here we go again.”

“I found a vampire tooth at the scene.” Handing it to Dean, John looked at Sam. “So, yeah. I’m sure.” With that final comment, he headed back for his truck. “Oh, and Dean. You might wanna give the car a touch up so you don’t get rust. You even got a fucking dog in it for Christ’s sake. I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were gonna ruin it.”

Even little comments like that made Dean feel as if he was failing his dad.

Riley felt it too. It got under her skin how much control and power John had over the man she loved. 

Dean could face any monster head on and never doubt himself. But his greatest fear was not being enough for his father.

------

The two vehicles had been driving down the highway. Sam’s irritation with his father continued to seep from him. His hands squeezed around the wheel as he drove.

How pent up he was had been giving Riley anxiety as she felt it all. Negative energies and emotions were always harder to block out.

Trying to get her mind off of it, she offered her thoughts. “Odds are, those vamps drug that missing couple back to their nest.”

“That’s probably what Dad’s thinking,” Sam agreed. “Bu,t I wouldn’t know. The man won’t ever tell us what he’s thinking.”

“Alright, Sam. We spent the last entire year looking for Dad. Now, we’ve barely been with him for more than a couple hours and you guys already have shit between you?” Dean knew that was just how things were between his brother and father. He also knew that meant he would always get put in the middle.

Sighing, Sam replied, “No. It’s not like that. I’m glad he’s alright. I’m even happy that we’re all working together.” He couldn’t bite his tongue another minute as his tone changed. “He just treats us like children, Dean. Dad just barks orders at us and expects us to jump to his every command.” Sam’s anger grew and he began to vent. “He keeps us on some fucking stupid ‘need-to-know’ basis. This may have been alright when we were kids, but not now--not after everything we’ve been through. I mean even you, Riley. Are you guys just fine with him running the show?”

Riley just sat quietly knowing it wasn’t her place to speak on Dean’s behalf, no matter how much she wanted to.

“If that’s what it takes, Sam.” Dean was willing to humble himself to John. His phone rang and after he was given his order, he replied, “yes, sir. Got it,” before hanging up. “Take the next exit. Dad said he got the vampires trail.”

“How?” Sam asked with bite.

“He didn’t say.”

That was all it took for Sam to have had enough. Laying into the pedal, he sped up the car and passed his father’s truck. Whipping the Chevy around to a stop, John’s car barely missed the Impala. 

A furious John got out of his car and marched towards them as Sam did the same.

“Oh, shit. Here we go.” Dean was familiar with the fights they would have and hated every moment. He got out to be the buffer while Riley sat in the backseat trying to breathe through the storm of rage and anger that surrounded the car.

“What the fuck was that?” John barked.

Seething with anger, Sam addressed John. “We’re gonna talk. Right now.”

“About what?”

“Everything! Where are we going, Dad? What the hell is the deal with the gun? Huh? First, you say it’s too dangerous for us to all be together and then suddenly you need our help?”

Desperate to defuse the tension, Dean stepped up to them. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s deal with the vamps and we can do the Q&A later.”

“Your brother’s right, Sam. We don’t have time for this.” John stood stoically like the Marine he always was.

“Obviously, something big is going on, Dad and we want to know what!” The anger Sam had been keeping inside finally bubbled over as he yelled in his father’s face.

John took an almost threatening step closer to his youngest son and commanded for him to get back in the car.

“Look, you guys. We’re all tired. We can talk about this later.” Grabbing his brother’s jacket, Dean shoved his Sam towards the car. “Sammy, I mean it. Come on.”

“This is why I left in the first place,” Sam scoffed under his breath.

“Yeah! You left!” John had tolerated enough of his son’s disobedience. “Your brother and me--we needed you! You walked away, Sam. You walked away!”

“You’re the one that told me not to come back, Dad! You’re the one that closed that door, not me!” Sam began to shout as his rage consumed him. “You were just pissed off that you couldn’t fucking control me anymore!”

John reached out to grab Sam’s coat in frustration as the two were ready to fight. 

As Dean went to push himself between John and Sam, Riley stepped out of the car. Their rage had become her own.

“That’s enough!” she yelled forcefully as she slammed the door. “Sam! Get in the car. Now.” She turned to look at John and wasn’t afraid of him the way Dean was. Riley was firm as her brow furrowed. “Get back...in your car, John.”

As the Winchesters tried to calm themselves, clouds formed from their lips as their breaths hit the air. The tension was palpable.

“She’s right.” Dean looked at them both in frustration as he pushed them apart. “This is over.” John and Sam both got into their cars and Dean was left there with Riley as they tried to steady their breathing. 

“Fan-freaking-tastic,” he added sarcastically as he threw his arms up in annoyance.

------

The truck and Impala found their way onto a dirt road behind a row of trees. Ahead of them, was an old barn with beat up cars out front. The wind blew through the overcast morning and the leaves rustled as the trunks of the two vehicles opened revealing their arsenals. 

It was time to gear up. The nest was in that barn and John wasn’t leaving without that gun.

Luckily, tensions had died down to an extent since the stop on the highway. 

Everyone was readying themselves with machetes. They knew that the fastest way to get this job done was to be as stealthy as possible while the vampires slept. But if they were found out, beheading the creatures was going to be the only way out.

Finn would have to wait in the car, though Riley wasn’t concerned in the least. He was trained to stay quiet and would wait patiently for them to return.

She turned towards Sam as she strapped her gun holster to her waist. “Look, I’m sorry if I was out of line earlier.”

Sam scoffed with a smile. “Nah. I’m cool with you letting me know when I’m being a jackass.”

“Oh, so it’s okay when she does it?” Dean snarked. The others let out a small laugh.

As John prepared his weapons, he looked over at the young hunters. “You kids really wanna know about this Colt?”

“Yes, sir,” the boys replied.

“It’s just a legend. Well, I thought it was. I never really believed it until I read Daniel’s letter.” He turned to face them. “Back in 1835, when Halley’s Comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun--a special gun. He made it for a hunter. A man like us--only on horseback.” With a sigh, John continued, “the story goes, he made 13 bullets. This hunter used the gun a half a dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. They say--this gun can kill anything.”

Riley’s face changed as the stress from earlier began to melt. Nothing else mattered at that moment. She looked at John as her heart practically jumped into her throat.  “...like the demon.”

“Yeah--the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail, I’ve been looking for a way to destroy that son of a bitch. Find the gun...and we may have it.”

The three young hunters stood frozen in time as they realized the Colt might be the key to the end of their lifelong nightmare. 

------

John, Riley, and the boys found a large barn window to the rafters that would give them a way in. One by one, they climbed in to softly land on stored hay. 

A foul smell of death wafted through the air as it mixed with that of the hay and dirt. The light that peeked through the panels of the barn would have to be enough to guide them.

The four spread out without a command. They worked like a well-oiled machine. Armed and ready, they meticulously moved through the barn through rows of hammocks. The vampires were fast asleep to avoid the hours of painful sunlight. 

On the opposite end sat a makeshift cage. Rusted fencing metal was used to keep in the nest’s prey. Six weak and fading people sat wasting away as they were slowly being drained of blood over time. 

Riley signaled towards Dean, motioning for them to head towards the prisoners. Dean went to work to break the hinges of the door as quietly as possible. 

Putting a finger to her lips, Riley told the captives to remain unheard.

The amount of fear and suffering she could feel as she stood there was about to make her sick. She had to fight to keep all the pleas for help that rang through her mind under control. Riley was overwhelmed hearing more thoughts than one at a time as the terrified victims feared for their lives.

While John found the back of the aged farm building to find the leader of the nest, Sam saw a young woman tied to a post. She seemed unconscious and wore a blood-stained white blouse. The girl had obviously been bitten. 

Sam pulled out a knife from its sheath and crouched down as he began to cut her free. When he looked up, her eyes began to open.

He whispered, “hey. I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” 

The woman’s jaw dropped open as she released a horrifying and inhuman scream. She had been turned.

All of the hunters jolted at the sound of the noise, realizing their cover was blown. 

As if the girl had set off an alarm, the sleeping creatures woke ready to attack. 

John yelled as he came from the back, “run! Go! Go!”

Doing as he said, the three found themselves in a full sprint towards the entrance of the barn. They hurried into the embrace of the sun as they ran in the direction of the cars.

Sam, Dean, and Riley tried to catch their breaths as John came from the trees behind them. “They won’t follow--they’ll wait ‘til tonight. Once a vampire gets your scent, it’s for life. They’ll come for us.”

“Alright,” Riley said through her deep breaths, “so, what do we do?”

------

The motel room had every shade drawn as they prepared for nightfall. Sam and John sat alone in awkward silence while Riley and Dean had run an errand.

With Finn at his side, Sam sat on the bed stroking his fur as his father went through his research. The feeling of bad blood from the night before still hung in the air. Neither knew how to cross the bridge they had seemed to burn.

“I never told you this,” John’s voice broke through the quiet in the room as he played with a pen in his hand. “But I had college funds started for you boys. I wanted you to go and make something of yourselves someday.” He turned to look at his son. “This was never the life I wanted for you.

“Then why’d you get so mad when I left?”

“When your mother died, all I could see was evil. All that mattered to me was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you both ready. Except, somewhere along the line I stopped being your father and became your drill sergeant.” Sam went over to the desk his dad sat at, ready to hear what he had to say. “When you told me you wanted to go to school--Sammy, I was just so damn scared. You would be alone and vulnerable. I guess it just never really occurred to me to think about what you wanted. Maybe it was just because of how different we are.”

The silence returned, but with a different feel. The Winchester men breathed a sigh of relief as the air around them felt less thick. It was the first time that Sam had ever felt like he could begin to understand John. He never knew that the way his father reacted to him leaving wasn’t about control; Ii was about the crippling fear of losing his little boy.

“Dad,” Sam started. “We’re more alike than you think.”

“How so?”

“With what happened to Mom, and then to Jessica? I think we have a lot more in common than just about anyone.”

John mourned the fact that Sam knew the pain he had gone through in losing his wife. No one should have to endure that kind of suffering, let alone his child. Though as his tears formed in his eyes, there was a glimmer of hope--hope that their relationship could mend itself. 

A smile formed at the corner of John’s mouth. “I guess you’re right.”

The door opened as Riley and Dean came in. Dean held a brown paper bag in his hand as he held the door for her. After greeting Finn, Riley walked over to the desk to join Sam and John.

“We just stole blood...from a funeral home. How did this become our lives?” she asked with sass.

Dean chuckled as he removed a bottle from the bag. Thick blood filled the glass container that he sat on the desk. “That was a lot of security to protect a bunch of dead guys.”

Looking up at the others John gave his command with a single nod. “You know what to do.”

------

On the side of the road, late in the night, Dean leaned over the Impala’s open hood. The headlights were off as he felt around the metal engine.

“Car trouble?” the voice of a woman spoke out from behind him. 

Dean spun around to see a long-haired brunette. She was in washed out jeans with a matching vest that wrapped over her black long sleeved shirt. 

“Let me give you a lift. I’ll take you back to my place.” Her tone was seductive as she got close to the hunter.

“Pass. I mean, I’m into some kinky shit, but I draw the line at necrophilia,” he replied sarcastically.

The woman gave a chuckle before striking him with the back of her hand. Her strength sent Dean straight to the ground. 

As another vampire approached, the female creature grabbed Dean by the face and lifted him up in the air leaving his feet to dangle.

“You’re a forward one aren’t ya?” Dean grunted as he grabbed at her wrists. “I don’t usually get this friendly 'til the second date.”

“You know, we could have some fun. I always like to make new friends.” She lowered him down, still holding his face, and forced him into a kiss. When she was finished, she held him out in front of her.

“You know, I wish I could, but I’m not exactly on the market right now.” An arrow was heard whisking through the air before it thudded into the other vampire’s chest and another into her back. “Sorry. Looks like you may have pissed off my girlfriend.”

The vampire turned around as Riley walked out from the shadows with a crossbow in hand. 

John came from the opposite side with one as well while Sam held a machete. 

Looking at the other hunters, the vampire snickered, “barely even stings.” She released Dean ready to fight the others.

“Give it time, sweetheart,” John replied in a cocky tone. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood.” The creature gave a look of shock before falling to the ground nearly unconscious. Pointing to her body John ordered to the others, “load her up in the truck.” The remaining vampire was still alert, but on his knees. John glared at him, taking Sam’s machete. “I’ll take care of this one.”

------

A small bonfire had been set ablaze as Sam patrolled the area. 

John walked over from his truck with a sack of items that he handed to Dean. “Toss this on the fire--saffron, skunk's cabbage and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready.”

“Ugh. This friggin’ stuff stinks.”

“That's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes and you stand a chance of not being detected.”

Riley turned to look at her boyfriend. “First you make out with a dead chick and now you smell like actual shit. How did I get so lucky?” she asked in sarcasm. 

Dean chuckled as he playfully went to kiss her. She cringed and pushed him away.

“They’ll come for the girl. Vampires mate for life, so she means more to the leader than the gun. The blood sickness will wear off soon though, so we don’t have a lot of time.” John closed up the trunk. “Thirty minutes or so and then you all get out of the area as fast as you can. I’ll have the Colt so I’ll handle the rest of them.”

“Okay,” Sam started hesitantly. “But afterward we’re gonna meet up and use the Colt together? Right?” There was a long pause as John refused to answer. “You’re gonna leave again and go after the demon alone, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “You know, I don’t get you. You can’t keep treating us like children, Dad.”

“You are my children,” John barked. “I’m trying to keep you safe!”

Dean couldn’t stand staying quiet any longer. “Dad, all due respect but, uh--that's a crock of shit.”

Riley’s eyes grew watching him challenge his father’s words. She wasn’t sure she would ever see a day where Dean stepped out of rank.

“Excuse me?” John was thrown by his son’s words.

“You know what Sammy, Riley, and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.”

“It’s not the same thing, Dean.”

Crossing her arms, Riley stepped closer to be a part of the conversation. “So, what is it then, John? Why don’t you want us to be a part of this? This fight means just as much to us as it does to you.” Her words showed her lack of patience with the man.

He turned to face her. John always knew that Riley was a fiery woman but was still surprised she spoke out against him. “This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you all alive.”

“You mean you can’t be as reckless,” Dean bit back.

“Look...I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death--it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't.”

Riley braced herself as the emotions from the Winchesters began to engulf her. She was learning to always be ready for them whenever the family would have to talk.

“What happens if you die?” Dean stepped up to his father. “Dad, what happens if you die and we could have done something about it? You know I’ve been thinking. I think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together.” 

Sam nodded in agreeance.

“John,” Riley’s voice was softer and more pleading. “We’re stronger together. You know we are.” There was a moment of silence and Riley tried to read his thoughts. She could only catch pieces. It was almost as if his thoughts were too scattered to make sense.

Finally, John turned towards his sons. “We're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order,” he said as he headed back for his truck.

The three stood there unsure of what to do. They knew there was no arguing with John, but there was no way in hell they were going to wait on the sidelines for the most important fight of their lives.

------

John was going to find the leader and make a trade for the Colt on his own. At that time, Sam, Dean, and Riley had gone back to free the prisoners in the barn.

Cars had been following John for quite a long stretch of road. He had been watching from his rear-view mirror, keeping an eye on their distance. With one more glance, he saw that the cars had gone. John turned his head to get a better look, only to see the fog rolling behind him. 

As he turned back to face the road ahead of him, John had to slam on the brakes as he saw the nest of vampires waiting in the road. The headlights created a glare in their eyes that gave them a strange, supernatural glow.

“Get out,” the leader ordered. He was tall with long shaggy hair and wore a black leather jacket. As John got out of the car the vampire continued. “I’m Luther. Who the fuck are you?”

“Name’s Winchester.” Reaching into the truck, John drug out the weak vampire. She was bound in rope and still groggy. “She’ll be fine.” He paused to look at their leader in the eyes, “...dead man’s blood.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“A trade. I want the Colt--the gun you took from Elkins.”

Luther started to laugh. “That’s what this is about? You think you can just shoot us?”

“Oh, I don’t need it for you. I’m saving it for something else.” The hunter gave a cocky smirk. “So, put the gun down or she goes first.”

Obeying the demands, the vampire placed the Colt onto the road. He stepped back to give a safe distance for the hunter to retrieve it. 

As John went to reach down for the gun, the drugged vampire had regained her strength and pulled from her restraints. She swung around and struck John with force, causing him to fall to the ground.

A snickering Luther walked over to John as he stood back up. The monster hit him hard enough to fly back into his door’s window. The glass shattered around John’s weak frame as he met the pavement once again as he was knocked out cold. 

Arrows shot through the air and impaled two of the nest members. 

Sam, Riley, and Dean had finished their mission, but weren’t about to leave John on his own. Orders be damned.

They charged at full speed into the road ready to fight. Dean swung hard, taking off one of the creature’s heads off as Sam fired another arrow.

Riley came out from behind a tree with her crossbow ready and Luther tackled her to the ground. She groaned out in pain as her back hit the floor and the wind had been knocked out of her chest. 

As he looked down at Riley, she could hear a strange hissing come from the monster. It wasn’t audible, though she could almost feel it in her bones. 

Luther’s cold hand grabbed her up off the ground and he wrapped his arm around her throat.

Dean immediately reacted to her being taken and turned towards Luther with the machete. His eyes were filled with hate and his blood boiled watching the monster hold onto her. “Let her go, freak!”

“Don’t,” Luther hissed. “Put it down or I snap her neck.”

Being too caught in the moment, Riley had no thoughts to attempt to send Dean’s way. She gasped for air as her throat began to feel squeezed. T

he moment she had to fight for air, Dean put his hand up in surrender. There was no way he would risk her life. His blade clanked on the ground as he conceded to the demands.

“You people.” Anger poured from Luther as he held tightly onto the hunter’s throat. “Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do.”

“I don’t think so,” a deep voice spoke out from behind him.

Luther turned to the voice, still holding Riley. He was met with the barrel of the Colt pointed in his direction as John held it firmly in his hand. 

Before Luther could respond, the hunter pulled the trigger. A loud bang exploded through the empty highway as a bullet found its target in Luther’s forehead. A large, almost rotted-looking circle immediately appeared at the entrance wound. Luther stumbled and released Riley. 

She gasped for air as Dean grabbed her to hold her close and Sam hurried to their sides. 

Blood seeped from the vampire’s skull and ran down his face as a mystical glow came from the bullet’s entry. A rush of wind blew in as Luther’s face quickly flashed an almost skeletal appearance. Black veins stretched out across his pale skin and he fell to his knees. He groaned out in pain as a light shot through his skull, finally snuffing out any life in him. The then still corpse landed on the ground.

Luther’s mate screamed in fury and pain. Her wrath and monstrous-like screams echoed in Riley’s mind. 

Another nest member took the woman by the arm and drug her away back to her vehicle. Once inside, the driver laid on the pedal and sped them away in a desperate escape.

John stood still in his spot as a satisfied grin curled at his lips. 

It was true. The Colt was real.

------

Riley filled up Finn’s bowl of water and sat it in the corner as she tidied up. Sam and Dean worked to clean off their gear after an eventful night.

“You boys ignored a direct order back there,” John stated as he walked in the door.

“Yes, sir,” Sam replied.

Dean looked at his father with no fear. “But we saved your ass.”

Sam’s face was shocked as he looked at his brave brother. 

Riley was bursting with pride for Dean. So much so, that she somehow found him even more attractive.

“You’re right,” John admitted.

“I am?” Dean was in no way prepared for that response.

Nodding his head, John looked at his children. “It scares the hell out of me. But you two are all I’ve got.” He turned to Riley and Finn. “Well, the four of you, I guess.” Riley smirked as she pet the faithful dog at her side. “You were right, Riley.” John looked at the three young hunters in front of him as he surrendered to their only chance of ending it all. “We go after this damn thing...as a family. Together.”

------

The next day, John had set up a station at the desk. Papers, pictures, news clippings, weather reports, and more were pinned to the wall behind him. Books were stacked on the desk and years of endless research was spread out.

Sam sat near John as they worked through his findings. Dean had been pacing when Riley came in from a walk with Finn.

“Good, you’re back.” Looking up at her, John motioned for her to come to him.

Dean gave her a kiss hello and they walked over as his hand found her waist.

“Look, our whole lives we been searching for this demon right? There hasn’t been a damn trace of it, until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail.”

“That’s when you took off.” Dean finally understood and John nodded. “Alright, so what's this trail you found?”

“It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, and then California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us.”

“Families with babies,” Riley added.

“Yeah. On the night of the kid’s six-month birthday.” Sam and Riley turned to each other. “You both were exactly six months old the nights the demon came.”

“So, basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason.” Sam began to walk away into a pace. “The same way it came for me? So, Mom's death--Jessica? It's all because of me?”

Riley’s head snapped in his direction. “So, what? Does that mean I’m to blame for what happened to my mom and to Deb? Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know, Rye. I mean, as much as it sucks, that’s kind of what it looks like.”

“For the last time,” Dean’s voice was filled with frustration. “What happened to everyone was neither of your faults.”

Sam scoffed. “Fine, so it’s not my fault, but it’s my problem.”

“No! It’s not your problem. It’s our problem.” Dean had listened to his brother blame himself for too long and he wasn’t about to let his self-hatred feed into Riley’s.

John stood and his chair squeaked on the wooden floors. “Okay, that’s enough.” Everyone took a moment to take a breath and calm themselves. “I don’t even know what the evil bastard wants with these kids. I wish I had more answers, I do. I've always been one step behind it. I've never even gotten there in time to save…” John couldn’t even find the words to finish that sentence as he hung his head in shame. “I failed them all. Just like I failed Mary,” he thought as he ran a hand down his face.

Riley could feel the conflict in him and in his thoughts. “Okay, so how do we find it before it strikes again?”

“There are signs. It took me a while to see the pattern, but it's there in the days before these fires signs crop up in an area.” John handed different papers with information to the three hunters. “Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms. And then I went back and checked...they all happened in Lawrence, a week before your mom died and in Palo Alto before Jessica. Riley, the same things were going on before what happened to your mom and to Debbie too. And these signs,” he paused. “...they're starting again.”

“Where?” Sam’s tone was filled with a sense of urgency.

“...Salvation, Iowa.”

A lump formed in Riley’s throat as she came to a realization. She walked over to her canine companion and crouched in front of him. Finn licked her face knowing that she needed the comfort. A tear ran down her face and she sniffled. 

Riley cleared her throat. “Guys,” she started. Sam and Dean turned in her direction as she struggled to compose herself. “We gotta take Finn to Missouri’s. It’s too dangerous and we’re going through Kansas on our way to Iowa.” She wiped her face and rubbed the dog’s ears. “I can’t risk it.”

Dean moved over to her and she stood to meet his embrace. His hand rubbed up and down her opposite arm in comfort. “I know it’ll be hard, sweetheart. We’ll go get him when it’s safe. I promise.”

“I’ll give Missouri a call.” Sam grabbed his phone and made his way outside.

Riley squat down to the ground, looking Finn in the eyes and lovingly petting him. “I gotta keep you safe, buddy. But I swear, I’ll come back for you.”

------

In the Impala, Dean sat fixated on the road as he followed his father’s truck. 

Riley sat in the back. She strummed at the strings on her guitar in an attempt to take her mind off her aching heart.

Riley knew Missouri would take care of Finn--that he would be safe. Still, leaving him behind felt wrong. She knew how much she would miss him and she tried to ignore the tears that urged themselves from her eyes. 

Saying goodbye to Finn earlier that day was like a knife to her gut.

John’s truck pulled to the side of the road and Dean followed. The two cars parked as John got out and began to curse through his growing emotions. 

“Goddammit!” His hands ran through his hair before he struck the car in anger. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dad, what’s going on?” Dean asked as the three of them hurried his way.

“I just got a call from Caleb,” he paused as his head fell. “Jim Murphy’s dead.”

Riley struggled to keep herself in check as John’s inability to control his pain began to soak into her core. When she was vulnerable, the feelings she picked up on seemed to magnify to an unbearable level. 

She knew Pastor Jim. He helped take care of her and her father several times when they needed him most. Jim was a good man and a respected hunter.

“How?” she asked as her voice broke.

“His throat was slashed--he bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place.”

“A demon?” Dean paused. “The demon?”

John shrugged as his hands found his jacket pockets. “I don't know. Could be he just got careless and he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. “So what do we do?”

“Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week.”

“John that could be an impossible number of kids,” Riley said in worry.

“So, we check ‘em all.” John began to shake as his anger rose thinking of his friend’s death. “This ends, now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes.” John turned towards his car and got in before slamming the door.

Sam, Riley, and Dean shot each other a look before hurrying back to Baby.

------

The Winchesters and Riley had reached Salvation. Their only hope of finding the families that were in danger was to search hospital records. Dean and Riley worked through the files of one hospital while Sam and John searched two others.

As Sam walked out of the Salvation Medical Center front doors, he flipped through his notebook of information he’d gathered. A familiar pain rushed through his skull as he clutched his forehead. It was another vision.

Flashes of a nursery in the middle of the night took over. A brown-haired woman walked into her daughter’s room as the sound of a train whistle blew from outside. Sam breathed heavily through the pain as he saw the shadow of the demon next to the cooing child. The next flash was the room set ablaze as the woman was pinned to the ceiling, screaming.

When it had finally passed, Sam’s head shot up. “A train.” 

He pulled a map from a pocket in his backpack looking for tracks nearby. Spotting where he thought he should go, Sam took off. He was going to find the house he had seen in his vision. Sam had to know if what he saw was real.

------

The hunters had all made their way back to the motel they had checked into. John sat with his hands clasped as he leaned against them. Riley and Dean sat side by side in silence as Sam told them all about his vision.

“A vision?” John’s tone went flat. “And you think this will actually happen to the woman you went and found because…”

“Because things happen the way I see them.” Sam rubbed his head still recovering from the lingering pain.

Dean looked towards his father. “They started out as nightmares. Then they started happening when he was awake,” he said as he got up to go pour a cup of coffee.

“It seems like the closer I get to anything involving the demon,” Sam winced, “the stronger the visions get.”

John stood in a huff. “When the fuck did you all plan on telling me this? Jesus, Dean, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me.”

“Call you?” Dean asked in sarcasm. “Are you kidding me? I called you from Lawrence when we went back to the house. I called you when Riley’s aunt died.” 

“John, I called you when Dean was dying.” Riley had bitten her tongue long enough. “We got a better chance of winning the lottery than getting you on the phone.” She felt John’s energy shift. 

He knew they were right. Silence fell in the room as no one knew what to say.

“You’re right,” John admitted. “Although I’m not too fond of this new tone of yours, Dean, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He looked over at Riley. “You both are right.”

Sighing, Riley closed her eyes as she worked up the courage to ‘rip off the band-aid’ and tell John the rest. “It’s not just Sam.”

John’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to--” Dean started before Riley interrupted him.

“It’s okay, Dean,” she said putting a hand sweetly on his arm. “John, Sam isn’t the only one dealing with this stuff.” Riley took another deep breath. “I’ve been developing empathic abilities. I feel people’s emotions. And…”

John sighed, “there’s more?”

“I still don’t know how to control it...but, I can hear thoughts sometimes.”

“...telepathy.”

Riley nodded. “It all started around the same time Sam’s nightmares started.”

Again, the silence had returned. John rubbed his temples as he tried to absorb the overwhelming information. “What would Jackson think if he were here?” he thought.

“He wouldn’t judge me, John. He would tell me not to be afraid.”

John’s head shot back up to look back at her. His eyes were wide and he knew it was all true.

“Look, psychic abilities or not, we know the demon is coming tonight.” Sam knew they were wasting time. “And another family is gonna go through what both of ours did.”

“No, they’re not,” John replied in certainty. “No one is, ever again.”

Just as John finished speaking, Sam’s phone rang. Flipping it open, he answered. “Hello?”

“Well, hi, Sam. Long time no talk.”

The familiar and sinister feminine voice sent a chill down his spine. “Meg.” The others turn to Sam in a slight panic. “Last time we talked, you fell out of a window.”

“Yeah, that really hurt my feelings,” Meg teased. “Let me speak to your dad.”

“I don’t know where he is, Meg.”

“It’s time for the grown-ups to talk, Sam. Let me speak to him...now.”

Sam hesitated before he gave his father the phone. John brought it to his ear. “This is John.”

“Howdy, John. I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood.” There was a pause as John’s jaw clenched with rage. “...still there John-boy?”

“...I’m here.”

“Well, that was yesterday. Today I'm in Lincoln--visiting another old friend of yours. You and Caleb go way back, don’t you, John?”

“You listen to me. Caleb’s got nothing to do with anything. You let him go.”

Sam, Riley, and Dean jumped at the name they knew all too well. John’s heart sank in his chest.

“We know you have the Colt.”

Trying to compose himself, John lied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, okay, John. Well, why don’t you give this a listen?” Immediately, the sound of Caleb gasping and gurgling came through the phone. Meg had slit his throat. “You hear that? That's the sound of your friend dying,” she snickered. “Now let's try this again. We know you have the gun John, word travels fast. So, as far as we're concerned you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties.”

“I’m gonna kill you. You know that?”

“Oh, John please, mind your blood pressure,” Meg taunted. “So, this is the thing. We're going to keep doing what we're doing. And your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved--they'll all die unless you give us that gun.”

John swallowed hard as he realized he had no other option. “...okay. I’ll bring you the Colt.”

“There's a warehouse in Lincoln, on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there. Midnight, tonight.” Her voice was calm but stern. Meg knew she John him right where she wanted him.

“That's impossible. It's gonna take me about a day’s drive to get there. I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane.”

“Oh. Well, I guess your friends die, don't they? Such a shame. But if you do decide to make it, come alone.” The line disconnected.

John closed the phone as he looked up at his boys and Riley.

Sam shook his head. “Do you think Meg is a demon?”

“Either that or she’s possessed by one,” John answered.

Riley looked distressed as her mind went a mile a minute. “Oh, my god.”

“What is it?” Sam asked reaching for her shoulder.

“She’s possessed. It all makes sense now.” She scoffed as she began to pace. “When we were in the warehouse, I felt something. Well, actually...I didn’t feel anything. It was like she was a shell of a person--like there was nothing but darkness and emptiness inside of her.” Riley stopped and looked up at the Winchester men as another realization came over her. “I heard her.”

Dean could see the almost panic-like state she was in. “Heard who?”

“The girl Meg is possessing.” Riley sat on the bed in almost a moment of defeat. “I--I heard a faint, distant scream coming from her--like someone was crying for help. I didn’t know what it was at the time. But...I was hearing the woman trapped inside.” As she looked up, tears formed in Riley’s eyes. She felt she should have known that trapped woman needed her. What was worse was that the girl been left in there with the demon the whole time. 

Crouching in front of her, Dean took her hands. “Look at me.” His green eyes found her crying blues. “There was nothing you could have done. You did nothing wrong.” He wiped a tear that fell down her cheek. “I think you might be more powerful than we thought, Riley.”

“He’s right,” John agreed. “I’ve never even heard of anyone being able to do that.”

Sam bit his lip before speaking. “It’s so strange, mine haven’t evolved like that. It’s almost like Riley’s abilities are tied to souls--emotions, thoughts, presence...it’s their essence.”

“Well, whatever it is,” Dean stood to sit beside Riley. “We’ll figure it out.”

John turned to grab his things and start collecting his research. “I’m going to Lincoln.”

“What?” Dean couldn’t believe his father would cave in to their demands.

“It doesn't look like we have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die--our friends die.”

“Dad, the demon is coming tonight,” Sam pleaded, “for that woman and her family. That gun is all we got. You can't just hand it over.”

“Who said anything about handing it over?” John put on his coat as he readied to leave. “Look, besides us and a couple of vampires, no ones really seen the gun, no one knows what it looks like. We’ll go to an antique store--find another old revolver.”

“Wait a minute,” Riley said giving John a confused look. “You’re just gonna try and pass a fake and hope she doesn’t notice?

“I just need to get one that resembles the Colt. As long as it’s close, she won’t notice. I just need to buy a few extra hours.”

Sam understood where his father’s plan was headed. “You mean for us and Riley.” He paused and dread filled him. “You want us to stay here...and kill this demon by ourselves.”

“No, Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean and Riley to build a home together if they want to…” John began to weep and his voice broke with every word. “I want Mary alive...I just want this to be over.”

------

Somewhere down a muddy road, the four hunters met under an old wooden train bridge. The rain softly fell and rippled in the pools of water at their feet as a whistle blew in the distance.

Dean pulled a brown paper bag out from inside his jacket and handed it to John. “You know this is a trap don’t you?” 

As he pulled back the bag, John could see an antique revolver. The barrel was long and silver and it had a brown wooden handle. It looked like a distant relative of the Colt. 

“That’s why Meg wants you to come alone.”

“I can handle her,” John smiled. “I got a whole arsenal loaded--holy water, Mandaic, amulets…”

Dean interrupted. “Dad, promise me something.” Riley hooked into his arm as his hands sat in his pockets and leaned into him to comfort him. “This thing goes south just--get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed alright? You're no good to us dead.”

“Same goes for you.” There was a long, drawn out pause between them. “Alright, listen to me. They made the bullets special for this Colt. There's only four of them left. Without them this gun is useless. You make every shot count.”

“Yes, sir,” both sons acknowledged.

“Been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it's here...I'm not gonna be in it. It's up to you three now. It's your fight. You finish this. You finish what I started. Understand?” John handed the Colt to Dean as he hesitantly took it.

“We’ll see you soon, Dad.” Sam tried to control the sadness and worry that swam through him.

The emotions between them all under that bridge were intense. Riley had stayed quiet trying to be their rock while she tried to steady herself.

“I’ll see you later.” John patted Sam’s shoulder with a smile before turning to leave. With one last look at his children, John got into his truck and the door slammed shut. 

As he drove away down the muddy road, the three stood where he had left them as they watched him disappear into the distance.

Riley reached out her hand for Sam’s and clasped it in hers. She pulled him closer to her side. Holding onto her brother and linked with the man she loved, they stood silently in the rain. 

They had never been closer to the end of it all. And as afraid as they were for themselves and for John--Sam, Dean, and Riley knew that they would fight to the end. ...as a family.

------

Chapter 12: Devil’s Trap Part 1

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[junker-town]

Why 5 rookie receivers can and can’t keep balling out all season

Ken Blaze-USA TODAY Sports

A.J. Brown, Terry McLaurin, and Marquise Brown put up some impressive numbers during their rookie debuts.

Week 1 of the 2019 NFL season came with plenty of surprises, but one of the coolest was seeing so many rookie wide receivers show out. On Sunday, they even combined to set an NFL record. The league saw four first-year players reach at least 100 receiving yards, marking the first time three or more rookies have done so in NFL history.

In terms of yards, this year had the top three rookie Week 1 games in the past decade, including five of the top 10.

As exciting as these debuts were, a big question remains: can the five most productive rookie receivers keep this up all season long? Let’s take a look at why each player can or can’t.

A.J. Brown, Tennessee Titans

The second-round pick from Ole Miss led the Titans in receiving with 100 yards in a road win against Cleveland. He had three catches, including this nifty 51-yard gain:

Big Play A.J. Brown #TENvsCLE pic.twitter.com/isEELwM1Yi

— Tennessee Titans (@Titans) September 8, 2019

Why he can keep it up:

Morgan Moriarty: While Brown wasn’t the first receiver drafted this year — he was the fourth, in fact — his play on Sunday should be surprising. Don’t forget, Brown was Ole Miss’ most reliable receiver. From Bill Connelly’s 2019 NFL receiver projections:

No, when Ole Miss quarterbacks — be it Shea Patterson (before he transferred to Michigan) or Jordan Ta’amu — needed a completion, they knew to go to A.J. Brown. He not only provided pretty easy pitch-and-catch opportunities out of the slot, he also actually did something with those catches.

That should mean something, shouldn’t it? Metcalf is an exciting downfield threat and looks extraordinary with his shirt off. But he’s like a one-pitch reliever — an intimidating, Lee Smith-level one, for sure, but still a reliever. Brown was the staff ace. (And, to be fair, is not exactly chopped liver as a specimen.)

Brown finished his Ole Miss career as the school’s all-time leading receiver with 2,984 yards in just three seasons. With his steadiness under a number of Rebel quarterbacks, I don’t think he’s just a flash in the pan.

Why he can’t:

Christian D’Andrea: Brown thrived against Cleveland’s biggest defensive weakness, exploiting an uneven secondary that seemed shocked a man so wide could run so fast. More impressively, he put up a 100-yard game while playing only 43 percent of the Titans snaps. Sunday’s game was evidence he’s due for more targets, but it won’t be that easy.

Over the next two weeks, he’ll face much tougher defenses — the Colts and Jaguars — ready to derail his hype train. The rookie’s big performance came on a day the Browns focused much of their attention on limiting Corey Davis, who only earned three targets for no receptions that afternoon. Davis will see extra targets going forward as other clubs realize the Titans are more than a one-man band at wideout, and that’ll cut into Brown’s numbers as well.

Marquise Brown, Baltimore Ravens

The first receiver selected in this year’s draft, Marquise “Hollywood” Brown, helped the Ravens score the most points in franchise history on Sunday against the Miami Dolphins. Brown finished with 147 yards and two touchdowns, including this dope 83-yard connection from Lamar Jackson:

So pretty. Go ahead and watch that 83-yard TD from @lj_era8 to @Primetime_jet again. pic.twitter.com/jBEV3AKU71

— Baltimore Ravens (@Ravens) September 8, 2019

Why he can keep it up:

Morgan Moriarty: Brown hit his stride as a consistently productive receiver at Oklahoma during the Sooners’ 2018 season. During his final year in Norman, he had at least 100 yards receiving in six games. In the games that he had fewer than 100, he still managed to average over 10 yards per reception in all but one.

While Brown suffered a foot injury that kept him out of combine drills and his pro day, he isn’t showing any signs of that holding him back. On Sunday, he set an NFL record by being the first player to score two 40+yard touchdowns in his first game.

The Ravens do have a tough schedule ahead — including games on the road against the Chiefs, Steelers, Seahawks, and Rams— but even if Brown isn’t putting up huge numbers every game, I expect him to still be a reliable target for Jackson.

Charles McDonald: Like Morgan said, this is what Brown did in college. He got open deep, he took slants to the house, and did everything in between. Eventually, the Ravens will run into a team that decides to play a safety deep, but Brown should continue to rip off big plays throughout his rookie year.

There is going to be some variance with him this year, though it’s an encouraging sign that his first NFL game looked identical to his career at Oklahoma.

Why he can’t:

Christian D’Andrea: Brown took advantage of a Miami defense that seemed to forget he existed in stretches. Having career performances against the 2019 Dolphins is going to be a trend this fall. The Oklahoma star underwhelmed in the preseason while rehabbing his foot injury, sliding down the depth chart and then playing just 14 snaps in Sunday’s explosive debut. His struggles against the Ravens’ secondary in practice are more in line with what we can expect from him early on versus actual NFL teams this season.

Terry McLaurin, Washington

Washington’s third-round pick had a breakout season during his senior year at Ohio State, and on Sunday, he finished with more receiving yards than he ever had in a collegiate game. In his first NFL start, he totaled 125 yards on five receptions and had a nice 69-yard touchdown.

Scary Terry #WASvsPHI pic.twitter.com/6JgM0iwMzL

— Washington Redskins (@Redskins) September 8, 2019

Why he can keep it up:

Christian D’Andrea: McLaurin was on the field for 93 percent of Washington’s snaps Sunday and would have had a bigger day had Keenum not overthrown him on another wide-open route downfield in the second half. While he’s going to see more defensive focus as the most dangerous weapon in a depleted WR corps, he has the speed and separation to make things work. Keenum has his flaws as a passer, but his big arm and ability to throw the ball into windows deep downfield make this a sustainable combination.

Why he can’t:

Charles McDonald: The only thing that can get in the way of McLaurin having a star-making rookie season would be his quarterback. Case Keenum had a dynamite game to open the season, but given his track record, it’s fair to wonder if he can keep that up. McLaurin was lethal during the days that I was at Washington’s training camp, and that transferred right over to his first game. The sky is the limit for him, but quarterback play can absolutely end up hindering him.

T.J. Hockenson, Detroit Lions

The Lions taking a tight end at No. 8 overall might have worked out for them. Hockenson had 131 yards and a touchdown during his debut against the Arizona Cardinals. He owns a new NFL record, too:

#Lions TE T.J. Hockenson (@TheeHOCK8) has set an @NFL record for receiving yards in a tight end's first game with 124 yards, passing 49ers TE Monty Stickles' previous record of 123 receiving yards, which he set on Sept. 25, 1960.#OnePride

— Detroit Lions PR (@LionsPR) September 8, 2019

Why he can keep it up:

Christian D’Andrea: The Lions need weapons beyond Marvin Jones and Kenny Golladay, and Hockenson immediately stepped into that void to be one of Matthew Stafford’s top targets. The Iowa standout earned nine targets in his debut — as many as Golladay and second only to Danny Amendola. After burning first-round picks on limited returns from Eric Ebron and Brandon Pettigrew, there’s plenty of pressure on Detroit to make a Day 1 tight end finally look like a franchise building block. Hockenson has the chops to be that guy. Stafford will give him every opportunity to earn that spotlight.

Why he can’t:

Morgan Moriarty: The Lions took a risk taking a guy like Hockenson so high (in fact, Hockenson was the highest-drafted TE since Vernon Davis went No. 6 in 2006), and I’m not so sure it’ll pay off all season. Hockenson’s numbers were great, but he didn’t have production like that much in college. During his last season at Iowa in 2018, he put together just two games with over 100 yards receiving, and the year before that he had none. Those were the only two seasons he played in college.

Don’t get me wrong — Hockenson is a talented tight end, and a solid weapon for Matthew Stafford. But I think he needs a year or two in this system to get these types of performances week in and week out.

DK Metcalf, Seattle Seahawks

The draft’s biggest (and somehow, one of its fastest) wideout showed up in a big way for Seattle’s offense, hauling in four catches for 89 yards — more than double any other Seahawk’s receiving output. He also had the most receiving yards by a Seattle rookie receiver in a debut. The 230-pounder was dinged for a shallow route tree in college, but had no problem finding ways to burn Cincinnati’s secondary in a Week 1 victory.

Why he can keep it up:

Morgan Moriarty: Ahem —

DK Metcalf has somehow gotten bigger since last we saw him pic.twitter.com/DdkEZ2my6g

— Bunkie Perkins (@BunkiePerkins) February 11, 2019

His jacked physique aside, he was able to show off some real value to his game on Sunday, hauling in two third-down passes and making a couple difficult catches.

Not to mention he did all this after missing the Seahawks’ last three preseason games with a knee injury, and had surgery for it a few weeks before the season. That’s absurd!

Why he can’t:

Christian D’Andrea: Metcalf will get plenty of opportunities in a Seahawks offense that’s light on targets, but he doesn’t have much of a resume to fall back on. The burly wideout had only 67 catches in 21 career games at Ole Miss, finishing his final NCAA season with a 26-569-5 line in seven games. After battling injuries throughout college and into the preseason, there’s a good chance he fails to play a 16-game slate as a rookie.

That limited route tree is concerning, too. Metcalf wasn’t asked to get too tricky in his debut (and didn’t need to in order to find space against the Bengals). Better secondaries will swallow him up if he can’t diversify his downfield portfolio.

[sweetwatersong]

AU prompt: Clint/Natasha - horse (in whatever variety) AU. :)

I got incredibly side-tracked on digging into this because I knew I had something sketched out involving this combo from years back, and I had to dig through about three years worth of poorly labeled files to find it. Ha!

I hope you don’t mind a fleshed out one-shot in lieu of the original intent of the prompt. ;)

rustler, avengers, Clint & Natasha, pg, no warnings

A stranger shows up the day before the drive, riding a bare-boned buckskin with a long face and scars that ripple under his shaggy mustang coat. She calls herself Romanoff, wears a hat worn by dirt and rain and blood that shades eyes cold and weary with its sweat-stained brim, sits like she was born on a horse in a duster that slips over her scuffed boots as it flaps in the autumn wind. The Boss hires her for the trip since they’re two riders short - and Clint, watching her from where he’s working with his sore-footed bay mare, wonders if there’s a reason those old hands didn’t make it. But he keeps his mouth shut because no one argues with the Boss, not in this outfit, and when they start to move a thousand head of cattle out across the plains the silent rider and her yellow-toothed pony go out with them.

Sometimes he wishes his gut wasn’t right about these kinds of things.

“I’m not sorry,” Romanoff snaps at him, gray eyes defiant and hard in the shade of her hat, an accent sliding around the edges of her words that he can’t place. Around them the cattle low and moan, stumbling to their knees or to a halt in the grass, exhausted. “I did what I had to.”

Clint looks at her, remembering how more than one shot had been aimed in her direction, and wonders if those she has betrayed good men to have orders to remove her as well. All he does know is that she knows he’s trying to decide if he can believe her, can risk another threat at his back when so many lie in front of him. But his mare is dancing under his seat, pinning her ears back unhappily at the howls coming up over the ridge, and Clint realizes he’s never really had a choice.

“You take the left side, I’ll take the right,” he tell her, switching the shotgun to his right hand and aiming it at the ground instead of her heart. She nods shortly, her buckskin already pivoting on his hind feet to launch himself through the straggling cattle before Clint’s mare can do the same.

It feels like an endless moment while the wind whips at his face, tearing away the distressed groans of the cows and even the calls of the men riding to steal them, to hunt down the drivers and murder them in cold blood for colder cash. The bay swings wide around the edge of the hill she crested only a minute earlier, flying over the trampled grass and racing back towards the bodies of men he worked beside for five seasons or more - and then his pursuers are in his line of sight, riding up the ridge in a line, laughing and urging the mutts before them.

He takes down one of the outlaws in his first shot, reloads and puts a hole through another with the second. Then his mare is crashing into a third’s mount, slamming it sideways so he can bring the butt around and bash it into a grease-stained temple; as the man falls to the ground, limp and as good as dead, Clint jabs the paint on the rump and sends it panicking into the fourth horse. There are shots from his left, from the direction Romanoff should be coming in from, but he can’t look because the mad dogs are turning, snarling, their teeth long and glistening in the sun. Half-wild, to go after cattle as they have, and he doesn’t have time for wondering if they could listen to any command he might give. He puts down the three in his sight with the Colt tucked in front of his knee rest, and it’s not just the gun-smoke that’s acrid in his nose, on his tongue.

When the chaos clears and the bay swings around under the pressure from his knees, he sees Romanoff riding towards them, one hand clamped over a soaking wound on her arm.

“That’s all,” she says shortly, a trail of bodies left behind her. He counts, sees the neat holes in chests and heads and hearts, and doesn’t feel the need to check for signs of life. Instead he nods shortly and wheels the bay back the way the outlaws came, pulling her up short by the side of the first collapsed cattle hand he comes across.

Clint doesn’t know how long it is until he rocks back on his heels from the last man accounted for, wiping away sweat on his forehead with the back of a bloody hand, and accepts the canteen Romanoff offers him. He can tell out of the corner of his eye that she’s gathered more of the rustlers’ belongings; must have been, to be providing him with makeshift bandages for human injuries and ammunition to put down the horses too injured to let live. Then his thoughts pause while he takes one swallow, another, a third.

The water is lukewarm and leathery and in the pounding heat of the sun a miracle in and of itself, like Jimmy’s potential to pull through, Canty surviving his gelding falling on him. But it has to be rationed, has to be measured out carefully now. He lets the remaining water slosh in the canteen as he squints up at Romanoff, gauging the way the lowering sun splashes light across her face. Her hard expression hasn’t changed, but she’s here. Still here. And that’s another kind of miracle.

“So what comes next?”

"You are asking me?” She replies, the question sarcastic and bitter as the corner of her mouth twists wryly. “I told you, did I not? That is everyone. If you are as smart as I think you are you will round up the herd, put the two who are still alive on the horses that are left and ride back to town tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, could do that.” Four days out from the outpost with at least six, maybe seven hundred head of cattle to wrangle and only two wounded men to help? Instead of continuing that thought Clint tips his head towards her wound. It’s been wrapped up over the coat with a crumpled bandana that it’s already bled through, although the blood has dried to a shade that matches her hair. He wonders if that is intended as a warning. "Does that need looking at?”

She peels the bandana, freeing blood to run down the leather in fresh red trickles. It’s better than he thought at first, more of a graze as long as it’s missed the bone. “I’ll be fine.”

They wait in silence while she shrugs off the coat enough to wrap a new rag around her wound, tying it with her teeth. She never once looks to him for help; he never offers it. When the coat is back on and the pained look has slid off her face, he looks up at her.

“Ride back with us.”

Her eyes go sharp and flat and hard. “I’ve done all I can do.”

Clint can’t manage enough strength to get angry, not with Cook lying trampled in the grass four feet away. "I figure that whoever you owe is still back in some cushy town, sitting fat and pretty while his hired hands were out here to rob us. Maybe even the town that we last rode out from. But the next post is another six days away. So it seems to me that you either go back and face him, maybe with some help, or you keep running.”

“I don’t need your advice.”

“No, but I need you.” He stands and ignores how she tenses, shifting her weight subtly. “I can’t get us back to town without your help. We’ll make it a trade. I’ll take down your boss in exchange for losing mine.”

“You didn’t even like him.”

He nods. “Yeah, I didn’t. And he wasn’t a good man. Not a problem, because I’m not either. But I am a survivor, Romanoff, and I’m pretty sure you are too. This is your best bet.”

She snorts, soft and harsh. “You’re a poor bet, Barton.”

Jimmy is still sitting close to the ridge, holding himself together through sheer will. Canty has hauled himself into the saddle of Marshal’s gelding and is heading towards the small knot of loose horses and mules that has formed off to one side. And on the air comes the distant lowing of the cattle, lost and aimless.

“Maybe, but I’m still standing.”

Clint whistles and his mare, planted a cautious three paces away from Romanoff’s mustang and watching him with a wary eye, pricks her ears and trudges towards him. He grabs the saddle horn and swings up into the saddle, working out how long they have to round up the cattle before they need to use the damaged supplies from Cook’s wagon to start a fire and make dinner.

“Offer’s still on the table, Romanoff.”

She doesn’t reply as he turns his mare’s head towards the task at hand. But when the knot of cattle he’s cornered begin to string out away from the herd a streak of faded gold turns them back to him, leather and hide and a flash of dark red, blood red,running free across the pale glory of the open country.

[sensitivefern]

I have lately apparently been suffering from a mild form of auditory hallucination. I seem to hear the telephone ringing early in the morning just as I am waking up. At first, I would go to answer it, but would find that it was not ringing. Now I simply lie in bed.

[Edmund Wilson]

===

A MILD ‘COMPLAINT’ I do not know exactly ‘what’ it ‘is’, but ‘something’ about a close and reverent ‘exposure’ to the work of Henry James seems to lead his commentators into a virtually ‘manic’ use of quotation marks. I have just read – or, rather, ‘read’ until my eyelids became abraded ‘beyond endurance’ by incessant typographical ‘pricking’ – the introduction, by Alma Louise Lowe, to ‘the master’s’ **English Hours*. The edition was ‘printed in England’, so the intrusive ‘marks’ were ‘single’. Some ‘specimens’...

[John Updike]

===

BALTIMORE, APRIL 13, 1945. The Sun editorial on Roosevelt this morning begins: ‘Franklin D. Roosevelt was a great man’. There are heavy black dashes above and below it. The argument, in brief, is that all his skullduggeries and imbecilities were wiped out when ‘he took an inert and profoundly isolationist people and brought them to support a necessary war on a scale never before imagined’. In other words, his greatest fraud was his greatest glory, and his sufficient excuse for all his other frauds. [...] Roosevelt’s unparallelled luck held out to the end. He died an easy death, and he did so just in time to escape burying his own dead horse. This business now falls to Truman, a third-rate Middle Western politician on the order of Harding. [...] It seems to me to very likely that Roosevelt will take a high place in American popular history – maybe even alongside Washington and Lincoln. It will be to the interest of all his heirs and assigns to whoop him up, and they will probably succeed in swamping his critics... This a demigod seems to be in the making, and in a little while we may see a grandiose memorial under way in Washington, comparable to those to Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln.

[H.L. Mencken]

===

Holly is another wind-, salt- and rabbit-resistant shrub. There is an area of shingle near us, on the coastal boundary between Kent and Sussex, called ‘the hollies’ on account of its curious, sporadic colonization by these shrubs in 10-foot-tall lumps that slope gradually upwards on their windward side but rise almost sheer on the sheltered north-east face. There is a huge selection of delightful ornamental hollies of which every gardener is likely to want one or two specimens, if not a complete wind-breaking outfit.

[The Well-Tempered Garden]

===

HACKBERRY: (Celtis) Related to the elms, the common hackberry tree (Celtis occidentalis) grows as high as 100 feet, is hardy throughout almost all the United States. It is also known as the nettle tree. The sugarberry (Celtis laevigata) grows mostly in the southern states, has red fruit changing to dark purple, grows to 60 to 80 feet high. The trees generally do well in ordinary garden soil.

HARDPAN: Hardpans are impervious horizontal layers in the soil that may exist anywhere from six inches to about two feet below the surface. A true hardpan is formed by the cementing together of the soil grains into a hard stone-like mass which is impervious to water. A more common condition is an impervious layer in the subsoil caused by the pore spaces becoming filled with fine clay particles... When hard or claypans exist, the surface soil is cut off from the subsoil; no new minerals are added to the lower part of the soil; plant roots often are unable to penetrate these layers. Plant roots usually grow down to this hard layer and then extend horizontally over the top of it.

===

June 26 [1853]. At Cliffs. – The air is warmer, but wonderfully clear after the hail-storm. I do not remember when I have seen it more clear. The mountains and horizon outlines on all sides are distinct and near. Nobscot has lost all its blue, is only a more distant hill pasture, and the northwest mountains are too terrestrial a blue and firmly defined to be mistaken for clouds. Billerica is as near as Bedford commonly. I see new spires far in the south, and on every side the horizon is extended many miles. It expands me to look so much farther over the rolling surface of the earth. Where I had seen or fancied only a hazy forest outline, I see successive swelling hills and remote towns.

[Thoreau, Journal]

===

❚I discovered Ralph du Carrois's wonderful Share Tech Mono font five years ago. It's been my font of choice off and on over the years. Share has a unique look and feel. There's no mistaking it for another font. The characters are blocky and each one is distinctive. I particularly like the distinction between 1, l, and I. It may not seem like a great font at first. I think that's because it's so different than most monospaced fonts.

Molly, aka the Thing of Evil, did a few too many Colt .45s on New Year's Eve. Still recovering. Loved Mariah Carey, though.

Marion Nestle The FDA’s report on antibiotic use in farm animals: still increasing.

David Frum Same Sean Hannity who devoted an entire program to people accusing Bill Clinton of rape? Or different guy? ...Sean Hannity traveling to London to interview Julian Assange inside the Ecuadorian embassy. Airs tomorrow.

Sarah Silverman Look who got her new laundry detergent! Meeee!

David Frum Lessons from Poland in how populists govern... "Independent institutions are the most important enemy of populism."

The looped square (⌘) is a symbol consisting of a square with outward pointing loops at its corners. It is referred to by this name, for example, in works regarding the Mississippian culture. It is also known as the place of interest sign[2] when used on information signs, a practice which started in Nordic countries in the late 1960s. Also, the symbol is known as Saint John's Arms or Saint Hannes cross (related to Swedish sankthanskors, Danish johanneskors, and Finnish hannunvaakuna), as Gorgon loop, and as command key symbol due to its use on the command key on Apple computer keyboards.

Trump Knows All About Hacking. In the 'Age of Computer'

The Washington Post had an article about Ken Ham and his Ark Encounter, the first theme park ever devoted to a mass genocide event, and they said that he believes the (non-existent) flood killed off the dinosaurs. And he’s mad because...

Huston Smith, a renowned scholar of religion who pursued his own enlightenment in Methodist churches, Zen monasteries and even Timothy Leary’s living room, died on Friday at his home in Berkeley, Calif. He was 97. Professor Smith was best known for “The Religions of Man” (1958), which has been a standard textbook in college-level comparative religion classes for half a century. Professor Smith may have reached his widest audience in 1996, when Bill Moyers put him at the center of a five-part PBS series, “The Wisdom of Faith With Huston Smith.”

Two men get into a fight over a parking spot at the mall. Good thing they both had guns

Snake eats entire wallaby