#telling sam that wanting to go to college would mean he was dead to them and if he left he shouldn't come back

[ormakeasaintofme]

#THAT MAN WAS BEATING HIS SON #THAT MAN LEFT HIS SONS ALONE FOR DAYS AT A TIME AND USED THEM AS BAIT FOR MONSTERS #THAT MAN ROUTINELY ABANDONED HIS SON FOR DAYS AT A TIME FOR SUCH CRIMES AS STEALING BREAD AND PEANUT BUTTER TO FEED HIS 12-YEAR-OLD BROTHER #DEAN COULD TELL WHEN JOHN HAD BEEN DEMONICALLY POSSESSED BECAUSE THE REAL JOHN WOULD NEVER SAY HE WAS PROUD OF HIM

sam told john "you did your best" and i whisper-screamed into the void of my empty apartment NO HE DIDN'T

[audrey-carr1]

The Heiress and the Lady of the House (part 1)

Author's note: Due to a lack of Hetty x reader fics I decided to fix that. This will more than likely be a series! For future writings, I will take requests as well! Please don't be too upset with how i write because I'm still learning how to write for Hetty. We all know she's a simple yet complex lady. We learn as we go. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

warnings: fem!reader, hettyxreader

It was an accident when I stumbled upon the "Woodstone B&B "hiring ad". As a child visiting my grandmother, I remember riding my bike past the mansion. My grandmother used to take me trick or treating there, and the older woman who lived at the manor always gave the children king-sized candy bars.

After a near-death experience as a teen, I've been able to see ghosts. It began to happen on occasion before it became an everyday thing. I would pretend it wasn’t real and ignore every ghost I encountered. Unless they looked sorely out of place, I couldn't really tell if they weren't living anyway. Ignoring all of them had worked...at least up until I walked into the Woodstone B&B.

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

“So is there a history convention in town or something?” I ask Sam teaches me the basics of the B&B website.

“Um no, why do you ask?” Sam questions nervously

“Because of the people in costume? Do you not see the Viking and Revolutionary officer in front of us?”

Sam gasps, “ Oh my gosh You can see them!?”

“She can see us?!” The two men ask.

“Am I not supposed to?” I asks

Sam quickly takes my hand and leads me into the living room. She has me sit and takes a seat in the spot next to me.

“What I’m about to say is going to seem absolutely insane,”

“Okay?” I say unsure of where Sam is taking this.

“This place is haunted, and everyone you see besides me and Jay are dead,” Sam explains

I didn’t mean to burst into laughter, but I did. How could something so absurd be true?

“My word what is all of this laughter about? Can you plebians be joyous outside of my napping hours,” a voice says

I turn to see a red-headed Victorian woman descend the main staircase. We both lock eyes and I feel as if time has stood still. My heart starts to beat a little faster and are my palms sweating? I could be mistaken but is that blush on the other woman's cheeks? "Can ghosts blush?" I ask myself

The redhead quirks and eyebrow before breaking the silence, “You can see me?”

Suddenly unable to speak I nod still looking into blue eyes.

“Hetty, this is (y/n). She is our new employee,”

“And she can see us? She’s not dead? How can you see us?”

Finally finding my words I reply, “I can see you, I’m not dead, and I’m not sure as to why I can see you but I can,”

“Did young girl fall and hit head like Sam?” The Viking asks

“I don’t remember falling recently,” I reply

“Have you always been able to see ghosts,” Sam turns and asks me.

“It’s a long complicated story, I’d rather not get into,” I say.

The redhead purses her lips not enthused by my answer. Soon I hear whispering of what I assume are the other ghosts.

“It’s okay guys, you can come out,” I say not sure of what could happen next.

Entering the room is a flapper, the Viking, the war officer, a hippie, an oversized Boy Scout, and a man without pants. My mind is filled with questions, but mainly I'm wondering why that man doesn’t have on pants. Before I can question his attire, Sam begins introducing everyone.

“There is one more of the main 8, his name is Sassapis, but we call him Sass. He’s out on a walk with Crash, our occasional headless ghost.”

“I see, well it’s nice to meet you all,” I say to them.

“Well go on tell us about your little cute self,” Alberta says “We want to know everything,”

“Well okay I’ve graduated college with a (insert major) degree, and my grandmother recently passed and left me with more money than I know what to do with. Which means I'm technically a heiress. I’m not sure I want to go into my field of work yet, that probably has something to do with my imposter syndrome. I’m an only child, my parents passed away when I was 19. Oh, I love jazz! I actually play piano and know almost all of the Jazz standards, my favorite pizza is pepperoni, and after reading a dystopian novel series I got into archery but that didn’t last long. Let’s see what else,” As I try to recall information I notice the redhead Victorian woman, Hetty looking at you. I begin to blush as I start my next sentence, “I was crowned queen at my senior prom, I love playing vintage Super Mario Brothers in my spare time, My favorite fish to cook is cod, I have a stuffed teddy bear named Daisy, and my favorite musical of all time is Hamilton,”

Isaac, the revolutionary war officer, scoffs and throws his hands up in exasperation while Hetty pats his shoulder while holding back a smirk.

“What about the juicy stuff, like do you have a significant other and have you ever killed someone?” Alberta asks.

“Oh well," I say a little overwhelmed, "I do not have a significant other, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet. To answer your other question, I have not participated in a murder at least not to my knowledge,”

“Sam you have to keep her! She’s perfect for the job,” Flower says

“Except for the Hamilton thing,” Isaac says off the side.

“Plus she’s incredibly hot,” Trevor says. “Not like Tara Reid hot but she’s almost at your level Sam,”

Everyone rolls their eyes at his comment, “I find it best if you ignore his comments. He’s harmless ” The victorian woman who's the name I've learned is, Hetty, whispers in my ear and I try to ignore the sudden butterflies in my stomach. I don’t need to add attracted to a ghost to my resume.

“Well it seems like everyone is on board with you being here even though you were already hired. Why don’t we go back and get some training done,” Sam says heading back to the front desk.

I go to follow her, but I trip over my untied shoelace. Before I can hit the floor, I find myself caught by a pair of soft hands.

Everyone gasps, and I can tell it wasn’t from the fall.

“Did Hetty just catch a living?”

-end-

A/N: Oh I hope y'all don't hate it! This is the first fanfic I've written in about 11 years, so I'm a little rusty. As I said before this is the first part of this many-part series. I may even add this to AO3. Tell me what you think! Until later!

[tmpestuous]

moth to a flame - 8

series masterlist

summary: bucky barnes was the love of your life, and you were his. there was no denying it. but after two years of dating, you found yourselves on different paths and decided it was best to go your separate ways. the only problem was how drawn you’d always be to him even after moving on.

pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

warnings: smut (mutual masturbation, 18+), angst, toxic relationships, emotional torture/abuse, kidnapping, physical torture, physical injury

word count: 6.4k

a/n: this is where everything gets juicy… already working on the next chapter as we speak. last bucky pov chapter! (:

“I genuinely think I want him dead,” Natasha said, a lot more angry than confused or sad. 

“I just cannot believe you didn’t tell us anything,” Wanda interjected. “I yelled at her in that hospital, I called her a traitor, she moved out.”

“I could not tell anyone without knowing what I wanted to do,” Pietro explained. “Bucky has only known about it for 4 days.”

“So what is it that you plan to do?” Sam asked. “You said yourself Sharon is gonna tell Atlas. What does that mean for Y/n?”

“Buck?” Steve spoke up next, noticing Bucky’s silence.

The brunette had been staring off into space, flipping his phone in his hands. 

Steve knew his head was running at a million miles a minute; he was worried that if anything happened to you, it’d be on him. Bucky may have not been in love with Sharon, but he trusted her. He told her they were all worried about you, and she was feeding it back to the last person he’d expected her to talk to.

He should’ve known. She was so adamant on him being at that party. Pietro got hurt that night, she must have known what was planned. She must have known that you were on edge. She must have known that him finding out about Pietro and your knowledge of it would ruin your life, your friendships. Leaving you isolated, what else did you have besides Atlas? She knew the entire time.

Bucky hated himself for letting his guard down. He didn’t even want to move on in the first place but he thought it was what was best for him, for you, for your friendship. 

“Bucky,” Steve said again, interrupting Wanda’s ramble about getting into danger and prompting Bucky to look at him. 

“What?” Bucky said, no attitude in his tone, in which Steve gave him a look in response that Bucky fully understood. “The only way we can help her is if we play into his hand.”

“You can’t seriously put yourself in danger,” Natasha said as she sat up, staring at Bucky with tears in her eyes. “We saw what happened to Pietro and he only had a piece of information on Atlas. Just imagine what he’s going to do to you, Bucky.”

“It’s the only way, Nat,” Bucky’s tone was completely monotonous, void of any emotion. “Y/n won’t like it either but it’s how we trap him.”

“So I ask again,” Sam came from the kitchen with a bottle of water and sat back on the couch. “What’s the plan?”

“Like Bucky said, we play into Atlas’s hand,” Pietro leaned forward on his knees. “They have their party in two days, so we have two days to get what we need. Bucky has to provoke them any way that he can. Talking to Y/n in public, testing their patience, whatever it takes. But we also need Atlas to admit on a recording to what he’s done to Y/n.”

“So we have to tell her,” Steve concluded.

“I’m seeing her tonight,” Bucky spoke up, though if everyone wasn’t sitting together, there’s no saying who could’ve heard him. “I’ll tell her.”

“I’ll go with you,” Steve offered, with Sam adding a ‘me too’ immediately after. “If Atlas is there, you’ll have backup. Pietro and Thor will stay with Wanda and Nat.”

“I don’t need backup,” Bucky assured. “I just have to get there before he does.”

After a 2-minute back-and-forth with Steve about protection and safety, Steve gave in. Everyone then decided to get some rest while Bucky planned to head out.

Bucky honestly wasn’t in the mood. The usual frown that adorned his face when he was irritated made a reappearance, the stare Sam would always tease him for before they got close.

Between Atlas basically keeping you hostage in a relationship, Sharon playing him like a card game, and his friends all of a sudden having everything to say about the situation, Bucky was tired. He was annoyed. He was in a mood that he knew only you could fix.

He approached the building carefully, keeping an eye out for the one guy whose face he wanted to punch in. He decided against texting you, not wanting you to get in any kind of trouble if Atlas was there. His idea to have Nat text you also fell short given the possibility of Atlas knowing about what transpired at dinner.

Luckily for him, as he pulled into his usual space in the parking lot, Bucky spotted Atlas getting into his car, thankfully oblivious to Bucky’s presence. He looked irritated, letting Bucky know that he definitely knew what had happened. Once he got in his car and left, Bucky made his way into the building, greeting the overnight security and heading up to the office.

The building you both worked in was always fascinating to Bucky; the fact that you could access it 24 hours a day, 7 days a week helped you have an escape. It was good for you, he recognized. Amidst the chaos, the solitude, the hurt, you had your work. At any time you wanted, any time you needed. All Bucky hoped was that it wasn’t just tainted for you.

Scanning into the office, Bucky saw you with your head in your hands from the couch in the office. You immediately looked up when he walked in, Bucky noticing the tears in your eyes and streaming down your face as you held a startled then softened expression. He attributed it to you realizing that it was him and not the person who had just left not too long ago.

“Bucky,” you said softly.

“Hey,” Bucky responded as he closed the door behind him.

“Is it- is it true?” You asked, your voice shaky. “Please tell me it isn’t true.”

Staring at you with an expression of hurt in his eyes, Bucky obviously knew he couldn’t lie to you. He never intended to, even if he had gotten here before Atlas, especially with the plan at hand. But as you approached him with so much fear in your eyes, Bucky could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could muster.

You let out a broken sob, rubbing your face with both of your hands with so many emotions—frustration, anguish, fear. Bucky pulled you into his arms as you finally let everything out, whispering the same apology repetitively as you clung onto him for dear life. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said before kissing the top of your head, but then you shook it and pulled away.

“It’s bad enough that you know but now he knows that you know and I— Bucky, I can’t and I won’t be able to look you in the face if he hurts you.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about, prinţesă,” Bucky assured you. “We’re going to fix this. We knew he was going to find out.”

“How?”

Bucky sighed, rocking on his heels with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He hadn’t even changed before leaving the apartment, wanting nothing more than to be with you and decompress.

“He’s seeing Sharon,” he admitted, still not looking you in the face. When you didn’t say anything, unshockingly, he continued. “That’s what Pietro knew. That’s why they took him. Pietro told us everything right in front of her, so we assumed she’d run off and tell him.”

“Buck…”

“It’s okay,” he looked at you, an unreadable expression on your face. “I don’t love her, I didn’t love her, I love you.”

Sighing and wiping your tears, you made your way back to Bucky, embracing him with all of the energy you had left that he returned with no hesitation.

“I love you too,” you said, not letting up on your grasp. “I’ve never stopped loving you, I will never stop loving you, Bucky, but–”

“But?” Bucky grabbed your face in hands, making you look at him.

“You have to promise me you won’t provoke him.”

Scoffing, Bucky shook his head. “Baby, I can’t promise that.”

“You have to,” you said with a sniffle, your tears making a return. “If something happens to you—”

“I will be okay,” he interrupted, planting a chaste kiss on your lips. “We have a plan, it’s going to work.”

“Does this plan involve you giving Atlas what he wants?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Bucky stared at you. “How did you know that?”

“I know you, Bucky. And I’m telling you that it cannot happen,” you lifted a hand to wipe your tears away. “You don’t get it. If they were just planning to mess with you a bit and let you go like they did to Pietro, then maybe you could convince me to let you go through with this. But they’re not going to just give you a black eye, bloody nose, and a concussion, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed, his gaze moving away. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because he’s talked about it, detailed every single thing he wants to do to get you to leave me alone.”

“Funny,” Bucky looked back at you. “Nat insinuated the same thing.”

“I’m serious.”

Sighing once more, Bucky knew you wanted nothing more but to protect him. Hell, you had done it for the past few weeks. But if there was anyone in this world that he’d risk it for, other than his family, it was you. He wanted you safe, even if he didn’t end up with you at the end of the day. 

“I need you to listen to me,” Bucky started verbalizing his string of thoughts, shaking his head at you as you began to protest. “Please, okay? I knew you wouldn’t like this, and I can’t blame you. If I was in your position, I’d feel the same way. But… if I’m being honest, I am in your position. From the opposite side of the aisle. I have watched you destroy yourself for this guy; you have let him threaten your work, ruin your friendships, take your free will from you. I can’t sit by and watch it continue to happen and I won’t. So just trust me on this, please.”

After a few moments of looking into his pretty blue eyes, filled with sincerity and as much fear as you held on your own, you leaned into the touch of his hands still on your face.

“Okay,” you said in a whisper with a single nod. “But you have to tell me the entire plan so I’m not out of the loop.”

“Of course, prinţesă,” Bucky kissed your lips softly again. “It involves you actually… let’s sit down.” 

Bucky led you back to the couch he found you sitting on when he first walked in. Pulling you into his lap, Bucky wrapped his arms around you. You could’ve melted into his touch, it having been so long since you’d just been held with so much care. Bucky could tell you were trying not to cry again, rubbing small circles on your back, pressing a few kisses to your temple.

“We need you to record Atlas admitting to what he’s doing to you,” Bucky said as you got comfortable, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Task of the century,” you joked, planting a kiss on Bucky’s neck.

“Kiss my neck again and we will christen this office,” Bucky joked back, eliciting a giggle from you. “Think you can get it done?”

“I already have.”

“What?”

Fiddling with the collar of Bucky’s shirt, you shrugged. “Guess I was a few steps ahead of you guys. I’ve been recording almost everything, usually when I’m at his place. All the threats, every single one. I don’t really know what I planned to do with them, but they’re there.”

“Keep recording them, especially now that he’s on high alert with you and us,” Bucky moved a piece of hair away from your face. Once Bucky had detailed the rest of the plan, regurgitated in similar words to Pietro’s speech in the living room to everyone else, you nodded without a word. Bucky noted your silence, which didn’t seem solemn. “What are you thinking about?”

“You smell really good,” you answered with no hesitation, placing a few more kisses on Bucky’s neck before sitting up to look up at him. “And you look really good.”

Bucky’s tongue darted across his bottom lip as he stared between your lips and eyes, your faces mere centimeters from each other. “You always told me I clean up nice.”

“Mm, you do,” your tone was a bit more sensual, your hands moving up and down over his torso. “You always leave the top two buttons undone.”

Moving his hands to grip your waist, Bucky leaned his face a bit closer to you, his lips brushing against yours. “Are you gonna undo the rest of them?”

Closing the rest of the gap, you pressed your lips against Bucky’s, his grasp pushing you to straddle his lap. You were both moaning into each other’s mouths, tongues tangled together. Your hips grinding down on Bucky’s crotch was encouraged by his grip on your waist guiding you back and forth, pulling away from your kiss to lean his head back with his eyes closed, a groaned ‘fuck’ from his lips only making the heat between your legs that much hotter.

Bucky moved his hands to start unbuttoning your pants, your gaze making its way down to his current task at hand though your hip movements didn’t falter. As soon as your button was undone and the zipper was down, Bucky laid you down on the couch, hovering over you as one of his hands made its way into your pants and underwear, fingers sliding smoothly through your folds before he rubbed circles on your clit. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden pleasure, almost forgetting what it even felt like.

“Holy fuck,” you said, your voice a lot more breathy than he anticipated.

“Mm, you’re so fucking wet, prinţesă,” Bucky’s voice was low, his hand movements picking up before he slid a finger past your entrance. “So fucking tight, my pretty baby’s been neglected.”

You knew good and well he wasn’t talking about you, but rather talking about your pussy in third person which only made you want to melt under him even more.

Shoving a second, then a third, finger inside you, Bucky didn’t let up fucking you on his hand, only as much as you started fucking yourself on his hand, his thumb expertly still rubbing circles on your clit. It was all so overstimulating, but it felt so good.

Somehow, even amidst how fucking good Bucky was making you feel, you thought about him needing to feel good too. You made a way of undoing his slacks, ignoring his pleas of only making you feel good, which quickly fell short as soon as your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him the way you knew he liked.

He was groaning so loud in your ear, you could fucking cum just from the noises he was making. You stroked him faster as he picked up the pace of his own hand, your climax just around the corner.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, baby, fuck,” Bucky’s jaw hung open and his face was contorted in so much bliss, it was like he hadn’t been touched in ages. “Cum all over my fingers so I can taste you, sweetheart.”

“Fucking hell,” was all you could say as your orgasm creeped up so quickly, the most intense you’ve ever felt. 

You kept stroking Bucky even as he left his fingers inside of you, slowly pumping them in and out as you rode out your orgasm. By the look on his face, you could tell he was close.

“Cum for me, Bucky,” you said, your tone soft and sultry to send him over the edge. Stroking as fast as you could through the confines of his boxers, Bucky was moaning so hard as he kissed and sucked all over your neck, making your own moans hard to control. “Cum for me, please.”

“Fuck, baby,” Bucky said, groaning again as he fucked your hand, his orgasm catching up to him shortly after as he lazily thrusted into nothing while you caught his release in your palm, pulling your hand out of his boxers afterward. “Jesus Christ.”

“That mouth of yours is a sin,” you said after he collapsed on top of you, making him chuckle as he pulled his hand out of your underwear, being obnoxiously obvious as he licked every single finger that was just inside of you.

“Come home with me,” he said, looking down at you with so much love and lust in his eyes, though your gaze showed a bit more hesitancy.

“Bucky…”

“Everyone regrets what they did and chances are they’re all asleep anyway,” he tried his best to convince you. “I don’t want you staying here or being alone at your place. Come home with me, baby, please.”

You always gave in to Bucky when he begged for you, something Steve and Sam would never let him live down but he always did it especially for you. But Bucky could tell you weren’t going to give in this time.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to see everyone yet,” you said, running a hand through his hair. “And Atlas has my location anyway, so that’d get cut short really fast.”

Bucky sighed. “Okay.”

“What if you stayed with me instead?” You asked, Bucky’s eyes softening at the thought of you not wanting him to go. “I don’t have any roommates and the place is all mine, we’d be all alone.”

“Trying to let me christen your new place too?”

Giggling, you shook your head. “You are so horny.”

“Weren’t complaining about that when I made you cum on my fingers two seconds ago.”

You rolled your eyes. “Are you in or not, Barnes?”

He smiled at you, making you admire his gorgeous face, the one you missed so much. “Let’s go home, baby.”

Once you both washed up a bit in the bathroom and Bucky helped gather all of your things, you both shrugged your jackets on and shut off the lights in the office. Making your way to the elevator that led straight to the parking garage, Bucky could tell you were stuck in your own thoughts again.

Everything about this situation overwhelmed Bucky, so he couldn’t imagine how much it was overwhelming you. He’d hoped he could ease your mind, but the fact of the matter was that you did not agree with the plan in place. It was dangerous, and above all, it threatened Bucky’s wellbeing.

Bucky has never shied away from a challenge, including those where he might end up hurt in the process. It didn’t come as a result of a big ego or too much pride, but rather always wanting to do what was best for everyone involved in a situation. 

He’d do anything for you and for your happiness. He once traveled for 3 hours to get a cake you’d been craving from a bakery in downtown Manhattan with a looming snowstorm about to hit New York City. You’d scolded him for two whole days about it, even though he knew you were grateful. He also once nearly got into a fight at a party for a guy who got too rough with you, calling you a bitch and nearly pushing you to the ground. You said he was being dramatic but he didn’t think so. He’d do anything for you, and anyone who threatened your happiness and wellbeing was a threat to him.

He’d always felt the same about Atlas. There was something wrong with that guy from the start, but seeming like the brooding, jealous ex-boyfriend wasn’t really Bucky’s goal. That didn’t cease his ill feeling about Atlas and his constant possessive nature over you when he didn’t care to actually love you. 

Bucky had no issue challenging the blonde, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit anxious. From what you described as “being beaten ten times worse than Pietro was” to Atlas’s eager state to hold leverage over him, Bucky was nervous. He could hold his own and put up a fight against the guy, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case. Pietro essentially was jumped by these guys and even that was gruesome. Anything ‘ten times worse’ than that meant Bucky was indeed facing the possibility of looking worse for wear.

“Maybe we should take my car,” you said as the elevator reached the parking garage, Bucky holding your bag. “I don’t really want to have to face the wrath of you-know-who if he decides to surprisingly swing by my apartment at any point tonight or tomorrow.”

Bucky scoffed. “He’s that ridiculous?”

“Probably worse,” you said as you unlocked your car with your key fob.

Bucky put your bag in the backseat before getting in the passenger seat while you were putting your seatbelt on. After his seatbelt was fastened, you pulled out of the parking spot, assuring Bucky that his car wouldn’t get a ticket for being parked overnight.

The drive to your apartment was fairly quick. It kept you at a decent distance from both work and school, though you were really only at home to sleep. You technically only worked 4 days out of the week, but you were analyzing data every day. You had classes 3 days out of the week, which let up on you a bit, though your schedule was more than hectic those days. You got extra money submitting your class notes to the tutoring center, along with the clubs you were involved in on campus. 

The picture-perfect model student. Model person. Bucky honestly didn’t know how you did it. But it was evident that your enjoyment in a lot of these things was taken from you. Your mind was always focused on trying not to piss off the man who claimed to be your boyfriend. 

When Bucky advised you to give Atlas another chance after missing one of the biggest moments of your college career, he genuinely believed Atlas cared about you. It was one mistake and none of us were perfect. But as you described Atlas’s incessant disdain for him, Bucky realized he was just too insecure to truly love you beyond his doubts.

You two would always have history, but you never intended to make Atlas jealous. You honestly never even intended to leave him for Bucky. But you would always gravitate towards each other. Your breakup was mutual, a rough decision made in the middle of figuring out what you wanted to do with your lives. With opposite schedules, grasping for gaps to spend time with each other, then often failing, it was what was best.

It hurt, but there was no indication that you were done for good. 

Making it to your apartment after a quick 10-minute drive, one you attributed to the lack of traffic, Bucky finally saw where you called home for a short while.

Taking it all in after taking his shoes off in the doorway, it was very… you. You didn’t shy from displaying the pictures of the gang, even having a polaroid of you and Bucky at Sam’s birthday last year where you both had cake on your nose on your refrigerator door. Thanks, Nat. 

It made Bucky happy that you were finding some peace amidst chaos. He knew how resilient you always were, but it was great that you didn’t shy away from finding the good in a bad situation.

“It’s not much but it is all mine,” you said, Bucky’s attention now on you and away from the pictures and notes all over your fridge. You stifled a yawn, Bucky helping you take your jacket off and mentioning that you should get some sleep.

You nodded, grabbing Bucky’s hand and leading him to your bedroom. It was cozy, not as decorated as your living room but just enough. It smelled like you had let a candle burn before you left, the scent of your favorite candle still looming in the air. An en-suite bathroom was the coolest part to Bucky, especially in the heart of New York.

You pulled out an old t-shirt that Bucky gave to you, hidden away in one of your drawers, handing it to him. 

“I’m gonna shower,” you said after grabbing the pajamas you were gonna wear. “I don’t know if you want to shower but you can. Or we could shower together. I don’t really know how to do this anymore.”

Chuckling at your rambles, Bucky moved towards you and kissed your cheek. “Come on, let’s shower.”

After a warm, peaceful, and much needed shower, you and Bucky were both longing for how domestic you always used to be in your relationship. Of course, there were far more intimate showers, but there was nothing lustful about this. Just two people who loved each other getting ready to hit the hay.

After you were both dressed, Bucky previously stifling a laugh about a pair of boxers of his that you once used as shorts still living in your drawer which you now gave back to him, you settled into bed. 

Your head took its usual place on Bucky’s chest, his arms wrapped around you with a comforting pressure. 

“I missed you,” you said softly. “I missed us. I’ve thought about you every single day since we broke up. Sometimes I think to myself why we didn’t just let things run its course, save ourselves from all the heartache, you know?” Bucky graced his fingers from one of his hands up and down your back as you spoke. “I think we would’ve been okay in the end. We would’ve worked everything out and been okay. I kind of regret it now given everything.”

“Hey,” Bucky cut you off gently. “I get you, sometimes I regret it too, but we will still be okay. Everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to fix this, I promise.”

You nodded, not wanting to protest again, knowing Bucky was set in his decision on catching Atlas red handed. You had to admit it wasn’t a bad plan, but you wished it didn’t involve Bucky risking his health, his well being.

Soon enough, Bucky’s soft breaths as he slid into slumber helped you fall asleep too.

The morning came all too fast, neither of you wanting to get up to face the day. You didn’t have class which technically meant you were on Thanksgiving break, and after the day you had yesterday, work was a distant thought.

You woke up a few minutes before Bucky, getting to savor his most peaceful state for a bit before he caught you staring.

“I could easily get used to waking up to you every day again.” Looking away with a blush, you tried to sit up before Bucky encased you in his embrace again, kissing all over your face and neck. “Stay with me.”

“As much as I would love to do that, I should head to campus,” you said, trying not to giggle as Bucky continued to pepper kisses down your throat. 

“For what?” He said, resting his head back on the pillow to look at you. 

“I have a few things to do before break.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“And risk you getting caught by Atlas’s minions?” 

Bucky sighed. “We talked about this, prinţesă.”

“I know, and I’ve somewhat made peace with this plan you have in place,” you moved to straddle him, Bucky placing his hands on your hips. “But chances are they’re already plotting how they’re going to snatch you off campus like they did to Pietro. I don’t want to make it worse by them finding out that you and I are close again outside of work.”

Bucky nodded, knowing you were right. He fought his urge to keep an eye on you since Atlas left you so shaken up last night, but he trusted you. You’d made a life outside of the one you missed more than he probably would ever know, and you’d been surviving. That was the most important part.

As you leaned down and gave him a kiss filled with more understanding than any words could describe, everything was right again. When you pulled away, you smiled at him.

“We still have our little bubble,” you promised, pecking his lips one more. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Bucky whispered against your lips. “I should head back to my place anyway, I’m sure they’re wondering what’s happened.”

You nodded, quickly smiling as Bucky gave you yet another kiss, one of his hands gravitating to the back of your head. 

—

Walking into his apartment, Steve and Natasha were watching TV in the living room. Sam was making his sister’s famous tea yet again, and everyone else seemed to be out.

You and Bucky had headed to the lab so he could get his car, though he hated the idea of leaving you at all. He stole a kiss from you before you got into your car, stopping him before it turned into you two making out in the garage. 

Natasha noticed Bucky entering the apartment first, her attention moving elsewhere making Steve look in the direction of his best friend as well.

“You could’ve said you didn’t want us to tag along because you weren’t coming home last night,” Steve teased.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Why are you guys leaving Sam in the kitchen again?”

“Shut up and tell us everything already,” Natasha sat up. “I’ve been sitting in anticipation for over twelve hours.

Bucky put his jacket on the back of one of the lounge chairs in the living room before sitting down. “It’s a go.”

“She agreed,” Steve stated, though clearly a question.

“Not necessarily,” Bucky leaned forward on his knees. “But she knows it needs to happen. She already has proof of Atlas admitting to everything, I told her to still get as much as she could, and she agreed to that. She’s more worried about what’s gonna happen to me.”

“See?” Natasha exclaimed. “I told you so.”

“Whatever happens will happen,” Bucky accepted the possibility. “She says they’re probably already looking for me, so I think we get a start on this today.”

“We don’t even have the location of where this is happening,” Steve added. “I don’t think they’re going to keep it at their usual place.”

“We’re running out of time, Steve. He already knows that we know. Maybe Nat can scare some information out of Sharon.”

“I can do a lot more than just scare the bitch,” Nat crossed her arms as Steve gave her a look. “What? She’s a weirdo.”

Steve shook his head. “We have to work fast then.”

And that they did. 

After dropping all of the news in the group chat, Bucky was everywhere on campus. He could tell Atlas’s frat brothers were keeping their eye on him whenever they were in the same room as him. Bucky invited it. He talked with a few other people, getting random gossip from Maria Hill, asking T’Challa about how his little sister was doing with college applications, and having an awkward conversation with Tony about the Stark Internship. 

Bucky’s favorite part of his campus escapades, however, was when he saw you. You had just bought food from the dining hall, making your way to what he presumed to be the tutoring center or some club meeting.

Catching up to you, Bucky pulled you behind a building, out of sight from anyone walking on campus unless they were a faculty member using the parking lot behind said building.

“What are you doing?” You exclaimed, looking him up and down. “I told you I don’t want you to get caught up, Bucky, and I was very serious about that.”

“I know,” Bucky nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “We’re out of sight, prinţesă, don’t worry.”

“I have to worry, it is literally my job to worry.”

“They’re already onto me, I’m just provoking them a bit, but I would never put you in harm’s way, okay?”

Giving in as always, you said a soft ‘okay’ before Bucky told you everything he’s experienced all day. Nat’s working on Sharon, the boys are figuring out a location on a new house Atlas’s frat somehow got ahold of and are rumored to host their next party at.

“I know that house, it isn’t new,” you interjected. “Unless there’s some other house they’ve managed to acquire in a week but I can just text you the address of the one I’ve been told the party's at.” You pulled out your phone, quickly sending Bucky the address that he forwarded to everyone else.

“Will you be there?” He asked as you put your phone back in your pocket.

You shrugged. “I want to be there to help you but–”

“I know,” Bucky interrupted. “I wouldn’t want you to see that either.”

“Please promise me they’ll try and find you quickly.”

“They will,” he assured. “The plan is to use your recordings, Pietro’s injuries, and the address of the party to catch them in the middle of the act. We’ll move fast tomorrow, I promise.” You nodded. “We still have our bubble, prinţesă. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Meet me at our spot by the lake later? We can get dinner after and then stay at my place again. I just want another night with you before tomorrow.”

Bucky nodded. “Of course. How’s 6 sound?”

“See you at 6 then,” you looked around before kissing Bucky on the cheek, leaving him behind the building. 

Much to Bucky’s demise however, he was quickly grabbed and thrown into the back of a van only a few minutes after you left him.

—

If Bucky had ever imagined getting kidnapped and/or jumped, he’d assume the guys holding him hostage were a bit smarter.

His head was killing him, no thanks to all the fucking punches they decided to give him with a bag over his head. But as soon as they were taking all their breaks, they dropped every single detail possible.

Bucky quickly learned he was the “star of the show” for this party tomorrow and they needed to rough him up enough, but as little as possible. Atlas’s orders.

The idea of Atlas giving orders was hilarious to Bucky, even more hilarious that these brutes even listened to him. He knew he was in for a beating but he guessed Atlas wanted Bucky all to himself.

After what seemed like a few hours, Bucky was tied to some dingy chair with that same bag over his head. His nose was starting to bleed again and his migraine had gotten worse. He’d been kicked in the ribs, punched in the face and had his face slammed into the floor a few times. Nothing he couldn’t handle. Or so he thought.

“Bucky fucking Barnes,” he heard Atlas speak, the grin on his face evident just from the tone of his voice.

He ripped the bag off Bucky’s head, Bucky’s eyes adjusting to the light of the room he was in. It wasn’t a basement or a shed, but just an empty bedroom in the house that clearly seemed out of use. It was dirty, some of Bucky’s blood from his nose dropping on the floor as he avoided Atlas’s smug stare.

“You know, it’s like you wanted to get caught today,” Atlas chuckled. “I could see you testing my brothers. Staring at them with a look that said ‘try me’ and I honestly almost told them to let it go. I was going to have them take you tomorrow, but then I found out the missing piece of the story I heard from our bitch yesterday.” Bucky looked at him, a glare in his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s not her. I mean Sharon. Of course she didn’t know you already had Y/n back in your hands, I mean—you wouldn’t want her to know you were cheating on her? Saved yourself that she was doing the same thing. Now we’ve shared two cunts.”

“You’re talking too much,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “If you’re gonna fucking hit me, then do it. We both know that’s what you came here for.”

Bucky became even more irritated at the tsk, tsk, tsk coming from Atlas as he picked up a metal baseball bat from the corner of the room. Both of the men knew just how bad this was gonna hurt, though their feelings about the situation were on completely opposite sides of a spectrum.

“I was gonna ease you into it,” Atlas said with a smirk, “but here goes nothing.”

Atlas swung the aluminum bat on Bucky’s left arm with so much force that Bucky swore he could hear the bones in his forearm fracturing. He repeated a few times, reveling in the screams of pain coming from the back of Bucky’s throat, kicking the chair so the brunette was suddenly on the floor, writhing in pain. The tears he was trying to hold back brought Atlas the most satisfaction he had in weeks. He was about to swing again when the door swung open, Bucky trying to mentally count his blessings to distract him from the throbbing of his arm.

“What the fuck do you want, Beck?” Atlas snarled.

“Your girl’s here.”

Both Atlas and Bucky froze.

“Why is she here?”

“Said you told her to come over.”

“Yeah, later,” Atlas sucked his teeth in frustration, throwing the aluminum bat on the floor, making Bucky flinch. 

Then Bucky was alone in the room, focusing on your frantic voice outside the door, wishing he could ease your pain. That you could ease his. 

He stared at the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. The pain from his migraine translating to his arm. His wrist being tied only made the pain worse, Bucky realizing he shouldn’t try and move it. 

He’d only been here a few hours and his arm was already fucking broken. All he could do was try to relax, knowing it was only downhill from here.

After about a half hour, Atlas came back into the room, the two guys who threw him in the back of the van following behind.

“Ready for some more fun, Barnes?” Atlas said, picking up the bat again.

It was gonna be a long fucking night.

[maskedemerald]

Weaving Webs CH8

Here is chapter eight of my Invisobang fic! Almost done with the editing so by Friday the whole fic should be up!

The wonderful @pricklenettle did some fantastic art that you'll see embedded through out the first half of the fic so if you haven't seen it go check out their blog now!

You can check out the fic here or on AO3!

If you like this consider dropping us both a follow!

Warnings: Body horror, manipulation, Spectra is her own content warning, Burns, Spider - for like 2 chapters then it goes away.

The Fenton parents were there when the accident happened, they saw Danny die in an act of sabotage. Now they’re just trying to go on with the strange ghost that is all that's left of Danny. While their old college friend is wondering where the subjects of his revenge are.

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Chapter Eight

Jazz paused in front school, she took a deep breath. She needed to steel herself. Since the moment she had gotten out of her car, eyes had been on her. Gossip was flying around her, even when she couldn’t hear them. Almost a month gone, of course it was going to draw attention.

She eventually forced herself to walk in, making a b-line for the school office. She didn’t know what her parents had told the school about what happened but she knew that it was protocol to have a return meeting after such an event. They’d be putting things in place to support her. They’d arrange sessions with the school counselor.

“Jasmine? It's good to have you back. Should we be expecting Daniel soon too?” the secretary said looking up.

Jazz froze, tears pricking at her eyes. They were expecting Danny. They didn’t know. Her parents hadn’t said. What had they even said? Did the school even know there had been an accident. That realistically Jazz needed to talk with the counselor.

“Jasmine? Are you alright?”

She was crying, Jazz blinked away tears. “I… I don’t know.”

“That’s okay dear. He can come back when he’s ready. I was told to give you a light schedule today and to see Mr Lancer for some catch up work. Do you want me to sign you up to speak with the counselor?”

“Please.” Jazz didn’t know how it was going to work when they didn’t know but she still needed it.

“Okay, take it easy today Jasmine. If you need a break then take it.”

“Right.”

Jazz breathed deeply to settle her nerves once outside the office. It was worse heading to class. People asking how she was, how Danny was and she couldn’t answer. Not truthfully. She got through one class before having to slip into the library for most of the rest of the day.

It was there that Mr Lancer found her.

“I won’t bother you for long. I know it's been a hard day. I have a couple of work packs for you and Daniel. Take your time with them though. No need if you’re not up to it.” He said sliding two folders across the table.

“Right… thank you…. I don’t know how much he’ll manage…” She said, awkwardly trying to explain while knowing that she can’t say anything.

What could she even say? What would happen if she said Danny was dead? Would they understand he was a ghost? What would happen to their parents? It wasn’t a good look to have not reported it.

“However much he can do is fine at the moment.” He reassured. “Maybe go home for the rest of the day, I’ll sign you out.”

“Thank you.”

She slammed the front door behind her.

“Hey Jazzy! What’s wrong? Had a bad day?” her Dad asked getting up from the sofa.

“Bad day? Bad day? Everyone kept asking about Danny! They didn’t even know he was… Why didn’t you tell them what happened!” She snapped.

“We couldn’t,” her Mom insisted.

“Why, he’s dead. Just because his ghost is still around doesn’t mean we can pretend nothing happened. They’re expecting him back at school. How’s he supposed to do that? Sooner or later they are going to notice he’s not coming back.”

“We’ll withdraw him. Say he needs special care?” Jack suggested.

“We can’t just isolate him. He needs some sort of normal. Maybe at least have Sam and Tucker…” the lights flickered at the names. She couldn’t see him but it was clear he was listening. The fact that he remembered his friends meant he needed to see them even more.

“We can’t… if people find out we risk losing what’s left of him.” her Mom defended.

“What are they going to do? He can literally go through things.”

“It's not that simple Jazz, there are people out there that will take him if they find out he’s here. People we’ve supplied. We know how they think… how we thought. They won’t understand that this is different because they don’t know Danny.” Her Mom explained, a guilty look on her face.

Jazz dropped into the seat outside the counselor’s office, her head already turning over what she was going to say. What she couldn’t say. One wrong move and she’d loose Danny. Still she needed help. They all did. Psychologically it had to be damaging to not be able to grieve properly. Danny was still there but he was different. He needed it too. She’d have to help him but her books didn’t really go into how to give therapy to your dead brother’s ghost. She couldn’t even ask about it hypothetically!

“Ah and you must be Jasmine!” Dr Spectra greeted her with a chipper tone.

Jazz plastered on her best coping smile, she knew it was shaky and fragile. She was fairly certain Dr Spectra saw right through her.

“Yes, that's me.”

“Come on in and we’ll get started,” she let Jazz into the office and paused by the thermostat dial to turn it down, “I hope you don’t mind the cold too much. I find it helps keep the mind sharp.”

“Oh um that’s fine,” she was used to the cold by now. Danny was cold. Being around Danny was cold. She was sure they were using more energy at home just to counteract the chill he produced.

Dr Spectra sat on the desk and gestured for Jazz to take a seat. She sat and looked up at Dr Spectra, still not sure what she was going to say at all.

“So where shall we start? I hear there was an incident at home?” Dr Spectra said with a pitying look. Or was that just the angle.

Jazz nodded, “there was an… accident, Danny… he got hurt,” hurt was an understatement, accident was also an understatement. She didn’t know if her parents had noticed that she had overheard them talking about that.

“Oh the poor dear, and who do you think is responsible for that?” There was something about the tone that just raised Jazz’s hackles.

Or maybe that was just her making assumptions. Jazz was probably reading in the accusation. Dr Spectra probably thought Jazz blamed herself. That was a normal problem according to her books.

“Responsible? I don’t blame myself if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied, cutting off the avenue of questioning. That wasn’t the help she needed. She wished that she could just ask for the help she needed.

Help coping with loss and the complication of Danny still being there. Even if she could say something without getting her parents into trouble for not reporting what happened to Danny how would anyone believe that he was really still around as a ghost. Well without seeing him for themselves but she didn’t think Danny was ready for strangers yet. And that wasn’t considering her parents' employers who might take him away.

“Accident implies mistake, someone had to make one,” Dr Spectra pushed.

She probably thought Jazz was lying. Being cagey about her feelings of guilt. She was avoiding saying too much so didn’t blame Dr Spectra for having that deduction. She wished she could just be honest.

Once she was home she settled at the kitchen table, it was a fight to get Danny to join her. Jazz flicked through the work packet for Danny, she glanced over to him where his glass face chewed on the old phone that he had been given to help him communicate. The thing had been bricked the moment it was in his hands. It was her old one. It at least still crackled out his speech.

She frowned, she wasn’t sure if he could handle it. His comprehension had not been good. Her parents said that not a lot of knowledge would have been copied over. That it would have been more emotional than actual memories. He could listen and talk but he didn’t really understand the point. What was the point when he wasn’t going to get any older?

She shook her head. She wasn’t helping thinking like that. Just because he was different and wouldn’t get older that didn’t mean he couldn’t benefit from learning. And maybe this would help him reach a sort of normal. Jazz tapped the table again drawing Danny’s attention back to the worksheet.

“How is Danny doing? I hear he hasn’t been getting through those homework packets Mr Lancer put so much effort into,” Dr Spectra asked as she settled into her seat and picked up her notepad.

“He’s managing, focusing on school work is hard for him right now,” Jazz explained.

It was as close to the truth as she could get, though it was frustrating that she wasn’t able to get Danny the help he needed to get through it.

“Oh? Maybe you should be helping him more?”

“I’ve been helping him every night,” Jazz insisted, maybe a little sharply.

She took a deep breath, Dr Spectra was just trying to help. She didn’t know how bad Danny’s situation was. She didn’t know how hard helping him was. How hard it was to keep him focused, especially once it got dark. Jazz many times had to drag him from the roof. He still loved the stars, she was grateful that he hadn’t gone any higher than the roof.

“If you worked harder he would be coping better.”

That hurt. Both of them were trying their best.

“Your parents are scientists, right?” Dr Spectra asked as she flicked through her notes.

“Yes, they are.” Jazz replied wondering where she was going with this.

“Where do they work?” She looked down at her, the question curious.

“Oh in the basement actually. They have a lab down there,” It wasn’t like it was a secret. Pretty much common knowledge. She’d be able to find out with just a question to pretty much any of the teachers.

“Isn’t that a bit reckless of them?” She didn’t look surprised, “not exactly the safest thing. Oh and poor Danny’s accident was down there, right? Honestly, good parents should be more careful.”

Jazz frowned, did she already know. What was she even trying to do? Did she still think Jazz blamed them and was just trying to get an admission before trying to help her through it? Dr Spectra was the expert, no matter how irritating, she had to know what she was doing. Maybe it wasn’t Dr Spectra, maybe it was the fact that Jazz couldn’t tell her the truth of what happened. How could she really know how to help if Jazz kept lying?

“It wasn’t their fault,” Jazz insisted.

Dr Spectra raised an eyebrow, “really? I doubt they had nothing to do with it. All the staff have been talking about it. They say your father isn’t exactly the smartest man.”

Jazz saw red. Her Dad wasn’t stupid. Easily distracted, yes but not stupid. He knew how to manage his distractions. He wasn’t a danger in the lab. She’d seen the safety level in the lab, the only reason the incident had happened was sabotage.

“He’s not stupid! It wasn’t his fault!” She yelled.

“Oh dear, Jasmine breathe. I didn’t say he was stupid, though it can’t be easy with others thinking that. Thinking that it was his fault,” Dr Spectra soothed her hands up.

Had Jazz misunderstood. Had she really only been bringing up a rumor that she thought Jazz might have heard to try and deal with the hurt from it. Surely she could have phrased that better.

“If that bothered you so much I can’t imagine how you’d feel about what they are saying about little Danny,” it was so off hand.

Jazz scowled, anger still simmering, “what are they saying?” she shouldn’t even be humoring this. It was terrible counseling. Dr Spectra shouldn’t be bringing this up unprompted but she had to know what they were saying about Danny. Danny didn’t deserve anyone talking crap about him.

“Oh I shouldn’t…” she didn’t linger long, “however, surely Danny shouldn’t have been playing around down there. Not the smartest thing to be doing but then again teenage boys will be teenage boys.”

“Danny wasn’t playing around! He was helping them, he’s been studying with them for years,” Jazz snapped.

“And they agreed? You didn’t stop them? Surely you would know that’s not safe. I thought you had more sense than that,” Dr Spectra looked at her with a pointed look.

Jazz’s eye twitched, “MY parents knew what they were doing! Danny knew what he was doing! It wasn’t either of their faults!”

“Maybe you distracted them? Him even? You do talk a lot,” Spectra needled.

“I… I wasn’t even down there!” Jazz gave an exasperated shout.

“If you’d been down there maybe he wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” Spectra said not even looking fazed by the shouting.

Jazz stood sharply not even caring that the chair clattered to the floor, “that’s it, we’re done! I’m sick of this. I don’t know what your goal is ‘Dr’ but it sure isn’t helping.”

“Jasmine? What are you talking about? I’m here to help,” Spectra hopped to her feet with a clack of her heels.

“Then you’re not very good at your job,” Jazz bit as she slammed the door behind her.

She stormed through the corridor, each step an echoing stomp through quiet after school halls. That woman was completely unprofessional. A counselor wasn’t meant to behave like that. At first she thought she was just misunderstanding ‘Dr’ Spectra’s methods but now it just seemed like the woman just wanted to kick her down further instead of lifting her up. Was she even a qualified doctor?

By the time she reached her locker to grab her bag tears of anger were streaming hot down her face. A strangely welcome change from the grief based tears that she had been dealing with so much. She was looking forward to the safety of her car to calm down before driving home. She slammed her locker door.

“Hey Jazz, wait up!” she flinched at the sound of Tucker’s voice.

She couldn’t face them, not now. She hated lying to them. They were Danny’s friends, he needed them but she couldn’t. How did someone even tell someone else that their friend was dead but not. She kept going, trying to ignore the hastening footsteps squeaking on the laminate.

“Jazz! Stop avoiding us! You can’t keep doing this!” Sam snapped, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her to turn round.

“Yeah we just want to know how…” Tucker trailed off, “Jazz, you alright? Did something happen? Danny’s okay, right?”

Jazz looked down, she couldn’t look him in the eyes, “I’m… fine…” she winced, that was a Danny line, “he’s fine, just a bad session with Spectra.”

“Ugh, shrinks,” Sam rolled her eyes, “they’re all a bunch of quacks.”

“Maybe we should walk with you to your car to make sure you’re okay,” Tucker started and then quickly finished, “and then we can come over and see Danny.”

Jazz had been about to say yes. She’d wanted the company. She paused, her mouth open. He’d been trying to trick her into agreeing to something she’d been avoiding. She didn’t have any right to be angry at him. He was trying to trick her, badly she might add and meanwhile she was lying to them and avoiding the Danny situation.

“Sorry… you can’t… he’s not up to…” she awkwardly tried to brush them off.

“No! I’m sick of hearing that! That’s what your parents keep saying. I want to hear it from him,”  Sam shouted.

“Sam…” Tucker started.

“No! I don’t care how upset she is Tucker! She’s not the only one dealing with all this! What about Danny? He’s not answering his phone! He could at least text or call!”

“He can’t, his phone broke,” it was the only thing that was easy to say. Easy because she wasn’t exactly lying to them. Broken was an understatement. It had burnt up in the portal along with everything else.

“It's been almost a month Jazz, he can get another phone! Hell I’ll buy him one if he just uses it!” Sam pulled down the weak excuse, “you can’t keep doing this, all of you. I want to see Danny and if you don’t do something I’ll find my own way!”

“I… I’ll see what I can do,” Jazz surrendered, she doubted her parents would agree but Danny needed some sort of normal and she couldn’t let Sam and Tucker face this without some warning.

[First] [Previous] [Next]

[somerandomcryptid]

In your Crypt AU what happened to Drista and Dream after Sam gone missing?

Especially since even Dream gone missing (if I read correctly)

*giggles evilly* well this will be a fun one.

Also major spoiler warning as well as warning for copious amounts of murder. Like so much murder only 5 people who are involved in XD's whole backstory get to live. and only one of them is an obviously major character.

Honestly I'm not sure what I what I shouldn't spoil but I guess this au isn't getting a fic anytime soon sooo tis fine :) I wanna talk about it anyway.

First of all Dream did in fact go missing! You read that right!

But I'll leave that situation for last since your asking about what happened to them in general c:

For some context Dream was almost 15 when Sam got murdered(and everyone knows that he is in fact dead, his body was very much there), Drista was not even a year old.

This drives a... conderable wedge between him and XD. Because Dream isn't stupid. And frankly, XD's isn't trying to seem all that aggrieved, just towards the cops and his acquaintances. This is also what sort of tips off Callahan(who is a whole nother can of worms ksjskshskjs).

Basically Dream kinda knows XD did it. But also doesn't want to believe it and can't prove it. He would have run away, but he had a baby sister to take care of, and he wasn't going to just.. leave Drista behind.

He thinks about it more after he turns 16. His close friend Foolish even offering that his dad would take him and Dris in in a heartbeat. And Dream already has a good relationship with Puffy anyway.

But uhhhhh XD likes Foolish, he really does, he does not in fact like him enough to allow him to steal his son. Safe to say Foolish pops up a few days later in less then alive pieces :)

Puffy moves away fast enough that XD doesn't think she'll be a problem.

Anyway. This does not strengthen Dream and XD's relationship in the slightest. It only keeps him there for two more years before he goes to college.

He hates leaving Drista alone, but so far XD hasn't been violent towards him or her, and he just.. needs to be out. He absolutely visits all the time though, just to check that Drista is ok and doing well.

and he actually gets a good support network at college! He meets George and Sapnap, and even the man he decides he wants to spend his life with, Fundy :).

They don't end up being able to get married. Because uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh well Fundy is kinda his own can of worms but the short version is that Fundy has some... Personal beef with XD let's say. And XD doesn't do well with a gun pressed to his head. Safe to say Fundy's body is never found and was probably fed to the gators.

At this point Dream is pretty sure that XD has killed, his dad, one of his best friends, and his fiance. (Oh actually also Punz, who was a close online friend that I couldn't fit in neatly) Somehow it takes him a year to try and kill him.

It doesn't go well, to say the least.

XD at least feels bad about this one of though. Like sure, Dream tried to kill him and has been making it his mission to be (in XD's perspective) an annoying little shit about everything. But that's still his baby boy. That's his kid. And he sort of did it in a rage, he didn't mean to. Dream was just so wrong about all these people. But he still regrets it so much.

Dream's the only one of his victims to get a proper burial.

He can't bear to report him dead though. Just missing. Forever missing.

Now on the Drista side of things :D

She has a pretty normal first 8 years of her life honestly beyond the absolute tension between her older brother and her dad.

Like sure sone people just. Go missing. But she doesn't have enough of a sense of object permanence to really think they're dead.

The only one she really processes that for is Sam, even though she doesn't remember him, Dream makes sure she knows about their dad. Telling her stories and going through his old coding files to teach her about his work. She's pretty good at coding for an 8 year old!

But it's on one of these visits from her brother that stuff completely changes for her. Because she doesn't like. See Dream's death. But she hears it.

The next 2 years are rough. She absolutely hates XD for his actions, and she tries to run away a lot. She always gets dragged back and XD shows disgusting slivers of humanity. He cries every time she runs away, he never starts mad. Just so so terrified.

Then he angry once she's back inside and he's held her for a while. He never hurts her though. Not physically at least, and he doesn't shout either. He still treats her like glass even when he's mad at her and even when she's scratching and biting and kicking and squirming.

No matter how many times she's brought back though, she doesn't stop trying. And one time, she just manages to do it.

Now where she is and what she's doing I'm not actually going to say, but she is most definitely alive. XD thinks she's dead though, he doesn't really see how she could have survived out there and yet he or the police couldn't find her.

She's alive and .... Well I can't really say she's well but she isn't homeless. And that's all I'll say on the matter.

Sorry if this was too long lol I just have a lot of thoughts for this au.

And uhhh just going to put the @calamari-minecraft-corner here :D (for context Cala asked me to @ them in posts about this au so that's why it's always somewhere)

[laurel-finch]

'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch10: Winds of Change

Summary: Returning to the Winchesters does not meet expectations... Referenced Episodes: S1 E16 "Shadow" CW: Alcohol. Arguing. Normal Supernatural things. Another ridiculously long chapter, my b. Word Count: 8209 Recommended Song: Winds of Change -- Scorpions Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

I gnawed on my lower lip as I jammed another number into my phone, praying that this time one of the brother’s would pick up. I had a handful of Dean’s phone numbers and only two of Sam’s, but I knew they had more that they hadn’t felt the need to share with me. It all came down to which phone they were actively using for the case they were on. There was no consistency with them.

I glared down at the number I knew to be linked to Dean’s ATF persona. There was a chance he would answer, but it was slim. I really needed a better way to get ahold of the brothers. I sighed and hoped I would have better luck with Sam as I dialed one of his numbers next.

After six long rings, the call dropped. No answer. I pinched the bridge of my nose and kicked at a pebble in the middle of the deserted motel parking lot. Apparently, I'd need to call all of their numbers.

Three numbers in I finally heard a receiving click on the other end and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hello?" came Sam's gruff voice on the other end. I was surprised to hear his voice instead of his older brother's.

"Sam? Hey, it’s me," I heard a lot of shuffling from the other end, like he had bolted upright from shock. “Where, um… where are you guys?”

Sam was silent for a beat before speaking again. "Is everything alright?" I flinched at the wariness in his tone.

"I'm fine, Sam. Better than fine actually," I answered quietly. I placed my other hand over the speaker of the phone and turned my back to the motel parking lot conspiratorially. My voice dropped to a soft tone. "Look, I… I know it’s been a while and you probably don’t want to see me, but-"

"I do," he interjected quickly and I clamped my mouth shut. "Believe me, I do- we do. But what about your pack? And, well… I mean, Dean’s pretty pissed. He’s been pissed. He’s been throwing himself into this hunt for dad."

I frowned at the worn pavement beneath my feet. I figured he would be mad at me, but facing the reality of the situation hurt regardless. Maybe I could just… ignore it all. Go back to my pack, forget it ever happened. Like I never met them. Would that be easier?

No. No, that would hurt more. I mentally cursed myself for getting so attached. "Did you tell him why?”

"Yeah, yeah I tried to explain it to him. But… well, look at it from his perspective. Dean’s spent his whole life killing, and the one time he decides not to…" he sounded distraught and I heard more shuffling from the other end.

He didn’t need to finish his thought for me to know what he meant. Dean had done me a favor by not killing me when we first met. At the time it hadn’t felt like much of a favor – maybe death would have been safer. But now, with how much our lives had changed… it was understandable that he was frustrated. The one different choice he made led to a human being killed and me running off without a word.

I fell silent, pondering what to say next. How was I supposed to explain to them why I left? I think Sam understood better than he was letting on. It wasn’t too dissimilar to why he left for college, although his reasoning wasn’t nearly as bloody. But Dean… it made sense that he would be hurt…

"I want to see you, Sam – both of you. I want to apologize to Dean, but I can't do that unless I see him."

Sam sighed from the other end. "OK. I'll… keep you updated on where we are.”

After a flood of profuse thank-yous and Sam's chuckles, the line finally went dead. He had given me a location amongst my gratitude and I was already slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

—

After half a day of travel, the sun was setting and I was thoroughly exhausted. Upon seeing the welcome sign that coaxed me into the small city I stretched my arms high above my head and allowed myself to slow to a steady walking pace.

Oddly enough, my heart felt heavy, like something severe was weighing on me. It was... an odd sensation that I hadn't felt in a very long time - not since my parents were still with me. Oddly enough, it was less of a weighing feeling and more of a tug. The tug itself was heavy, and it felt like it was pulling on a part of me that I didn't want to be released.

Something didn’t feel right.

I hummed and frowned slightly, my eyebrows creasing with worry. Maybe it was a mistake to come looking for the Winchesters before the pack? I had half a mind to turn back, but... I still didn't feel ready. If Sam and Dean were afraid of what I had done, how would my pack feel? They depended on the stability and different lifestyle my home provided. I kicked the occasional large stone out of my way as I traipsed down the road, headed toward whatever lay at the end of it. Hopefully a warm bed.

After another thirty minutes of walking, something I grumbled about to myself, I finally spotted dim lights behind a row of thick pine trees. My ears pricked at the sound of the engines roaring to life in the early night, something that oddly warmed my heart and made me want to prance. It wasn't long after that the stench of alcohol hit my nose.

The bar was a brick building on the edge of town, a neon sign glowing above the door and the building itself set into the corner of the block. The occasional car or motorcycle was parked out front. I smiled and brushed my hand affectionately over the front of an older motorcycle – I had always wanted to learn how to ride them. I wondered what it felt like to be on something so small, barrelling down a highway faster than I could run.

My eyes rose, scanning the line of cars until they settled on a sleek older model across the street. My eyes widened and a grin tore across my face. It was the Impala.

I whirled toward the door so fast that I nearly fell over, tripping over my own feet like a stumbling drunk. My senses dulled as the stench of alcohol hit my nose once again. The harsh smell practically threw me off my feet and made my eyes water. I couldn't place any other scent amongst the heavy, bourbon-filled air and that alone sunk anxious claws into my lungs, oxygen being stolen from them.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, grounding myself. The overwhelming scents and smells were driving my wolfish senses crazy, as they still hadn't calmed from my last escapade with the brothers. It had been weeks since I was in a room with this many people. I felt small and large at the same time. Small with worry and nerves. Large with fearsome hunger.

I rolled my shoulders and took a few more deep breaths, sifting through the heavily masked scents. My eyes flew open as a familiar scent hit my nose and I struggled to keep the rising gold color down.

Cherries.

I pushed my way through the crowd of drunkards and bikers. It was exactly the kind of scene Dean liked. Loud enough to quiet his own raging thoughts. Dark enough to dull the headache behind his eyes. Music he could get lost in, and a drink that burned just right.

"Hey," I spoke cautiously as I sat beside him and rested my forearms on the bar counter. Dean spared me a glance from the corner of his green eye and suddenly jumped. He did a double take out of shock and turned to me with wide eyes and parted lips. As suddenly as his surprise had come, it was gone and darkened with spite.

"What do you want?" he growled and took a long sip from his whiskey glass, failing to hide his frown.

I frowned, my brows knitted with frustration. I could already tell this wasn't going to be a good conversation. "I came to apologize."

Dean scoffed and tightened his grip on his glass. "Apologize for what? Abandoning us without a word?" he exhaled and glared at me. "That's not something I'll accept an apology for, sweetheart." I bristled. Although most of his nicknames were endearing, this one was spat out like it burned him.

"I had my reasons, Dean. You know I wouldn't leave without a good one-"

"Do I know that?" he snarled, spinning his stool to face me. "Cause it seems like you don't give a damn about Sam or me, or how we felt." I winced and opened my mouth to speak. He shushed me with a raised finger. "So what's your excuse? You got tired of us holding you back from going apeshit?"

Ow. I glowered at him. "You know I would never do that."

"Yeah? You seemed pretty content when you had your teeth sunk into Jared Bender's heart." I winced again, my glare cracking. "You didn't even know his name, did you?"

"He was trying to kill Sam," I growled, trying to justify my actions. "You would have done the same."

"Damn right I would have killed him. I would have shot his ass dead, would’ve been dead before he hit the dirt. But I certainly wouldn't have torn him apart and strung his organs around the room!" he growled between his teeth. He tried to keep his voice low, despite the uninterested roar of the bar occupants.

I balled my fists in my lap and glared at him as he twisted to face me. His jaw was set sternly, lips pressed into a thin line. It was the same look he gave Sam when the two argued. “You’re a hypocrite.” My tone caused my words to lose their bite.

"I'm a hypocrite? You fucking killed and nearly ate a man, and now you're trying to justify it to me!" he snapped, one corner of his mouth drawn up in a sneer. "You left Sam and me without a word! And now you're crawling back here to apologize and call me a hypocrite?"

My blood was boiling and once more my senses were raging. I couldn't quite grasp it, but it almost felt like a separation inside me, one side longing to beg for forgiveness and the other itching to sink its fangs into Dean's neck. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, struggling to ground myself again.

Maybe a few months as friends wasn’t enough to convince him I wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe he should’ve aimed for the head when we first met.

Without missing a beat I snapped back at him. "Quit acting like a girl whose prom date stood her up. I had my reasons and if you'll shut up for a few minutes, I'll tell you what was going through my head," I exhaled shakily and glared, steeling myself for his own reproachful response. "I left to protect you, to protect Sam, and to protect everyone around you. I wasn't stable – you know that, you saw it. So stop talking like a self-righteous prick."

Despite the quick tongue-lashing, I still didn't feel better. I hadn't said half of what I wanted to. If I could have given Dean a glimpse inside my thoughts, I would have in a heartbeat.

His frown remained stalwart on his features, furrowed brows unyielding. His viridescent eyes surveyed my own with contempt and barely contained anger, an emotion I mirrored. Eventually, his gaze reluctantly dropped back to the beer I had passed him, which he took a swig of. I felt a small victory until he spoke up.

"Get out," he grumbled.

"What?" I demanded with equal, if not more, frustration.

"Get out," he ordered more firmly this time with rage coating his words. I blinked in confusion – not just at his harsh words, but at the gripping pain in my chest and the harsh scratching, I felt in the back of my mind, like something fighting to escape. It struck me that Dean was really, truly angry with me for leaving, despite my reasoning – and from what I knew of him, he wasn't just going to forgive and forget.

He swore under his breath and whipped his head toward me, eyes raging with rage and, to my amazement, pain. "Are you deaf?" he snarled lowly, "I don't want to hear your excuses. Fuck off." He gripped his beer tightly and guzzled it then slammed it onto the counter.

Wrath hit me like a semi-truck, and that familiar clawing sensation I kept hidden in the back of my thoughts lunged forward. Those nagging thoughts took the form of my wolf, black fur ruffled and fangs bared in anger.

Whatever wolfish instincts I had let escape were now clawing to take control. For the first time in a long time, I felt like two beings at once. As I had surmised earlier, I had the very human side that wanted nothing more than to avoid conflict, that just wanted to apologize to Dean and work things out. But my monster side...

I gulped and glared viciously at Dean.

I felt a rumble low in my chest, a familiar rumble that I had last felt with my father. My wolf wanted me to tear into Dean, a human that we had somehow bound to our pack. Now this pup was blatantly challenging me, as she put it. She snarled at him and I resisted the urge to follow suit.

She was pacing in my mind, stalking back and forth, her molten eyes fixated on Dean. My own eyes faded to match the warm gold of hers, whiskey-colored in the faded glow of the bar lights.

I hadn't even realized just how much I was shaking. My wolf wanted out, wanted to shred him for his disloyalty. It was an odd feeling to be separated from a piece of myself, although the more I focused on her, the more I realized that we had been separated for a long time. For years, I lacked the fluid mobility between myself and my instinct, not the mobility that I once had. I hadn't had it since I was fifteen. It felt like I was holding back a tidal wave of torrential emotions, a painful instinct that wanted me to embrace the monster I was and chow on some hearts. Not Dean though. She wanted him back in his place as my... pack member? Was that what she- I viewed him as?

Dean swore again, finally breaking eye contact. He reached for his beer with a shaky hand and took another final swig before wiping his mouth and standing. "Fuck this," he grumbled, "I'm out."

He hadn't even made it three steps before something in me snapped and I snarled. "Sit your ass down before I sink my teeth into you and drag you back."

Dean whirled on me, chest heaving with fury. I turned my blazing golden eyes on him, slowly, with my mouth set into a firm line and eyebrows slightly drawn together. It struck me that this was the same look my mother had given my father when she was pissed as all hell, a look that clearly said he needed to shut up if he wanted to keep his testicles intact.

Like my father, Dean responded with a slack jaw, opening and closing his mouth in surprise and confusion. His resolve, although still strong, was withering.

 I nodded toward his vacated stool. He sat and shot me an angry glance, trying (and failing) to mask his nerves.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves. I stretched my fingers, feeling my joints pop after being balled into tight fists for god know how long. With a sigh, I locked eyes with Dean once more, his narrowed and wary.

"You know full well I had to leave, Dean." I snapped. "If I hadn't left, I guarantee you would have eventually sent me home, thinking my pack could help. Don't act pissy with me for doing what I felt was right."

Dean glowered and his nostrils flared. "Having a reason doesn't change that fact that you left without a word-"

"- If I had told you I was leaving, would you have asked me to stay?"

"Of course, I would have!" he hissed and leaned forward. "Whether you like it or not, you're part of this family now. I'm not going to just let my family walk out on me like that."

"That's the problem, Dean!" I argued. "I know that, if you had asked, I would have stayed! Sam wouldn't have asked, he would accept my decision and move past it, because he’s made that decision before for himself! You though, you would have gotten so caught up in your familial ideas that I wouldn't have been able to leave!"

"What's so wrong about staying with us!? About staying with me!?" he shouted back, a snarl set on his features. My eyes widened and he followed suit, realizing just what he had said.

"Dean, I had to leave," I uttered quietly. "For the second time in my life, I royally fucked up. I needed- need to get back on the same page. You know that feeling better than most."

"Why are you risking it?" he grumbled. I smiled weakly.

"Because you're my family too, Dean. Whether you like it or not, you're part of my pack now. You're family," I answered quietly. His own eyes softened. "Are you still mad at me?" I inquired with a nervous smile.

"Hell yeah, I'm still mad," he grunted. "But yeah... I get it. Wish I didn't, it would make staying mad at you a hell of a lot easier."

My nervous smile grew to a true grin, the gold fading from my eyes. My wolf scoffed and sat back on her haunches, melting into the background of my thoughts.

My human side had won yet again.

"Don't think you're off the hook," Dean huffed and stood from his stool. "You've got a lot of work to do to make it up to me, Scooby."

"Would pie be a good first step?" I teased, standing up with him.

His expression softened slightly. The harsh lines of his scowl faded and the corners of his mouth dipped down in a frown. His brows pinched inward, hiding slight surprise. “It’s a start.”

—

Unlike his brother, Sam was happy to see me. I practically threw myself at him when I saw him in the motel room. Dean sulked and ate his pie while Sam and I caught up, discussing hunts and my own journey.

"Wait, so what do you mean you can't change shape?" Sam said, raising a forkful of pie to his mouth. "Isn't that, like, literally part of being... you?"

"Kind of," I uttered through my own forkful. "It's a mental barrier. Sometimes I can get it… close, sometimes I can't. The times that I can take multiple tries and usually it's kind of painful. Hurts my joints."

"What kind of mental barrier? Like a trauma barrier or you just don't want to?"

I huffed and reached for another bite of my slice. "I don't know. It's... it's like my mind knows I won't always be able to control what I do in that form. It's like a piece of me is trying to keep that instinctive part of me tied down."

I heard a snort from behind me and spun to face Dean, who was sitting at a little table under the window next to the door. "Why're you talking like it's two separate people? It's still you, right?"

I exhaled softly, choosing my words carefully when I spoke up. "Yeah, it's still me, but it's a side of me that I'm not very... in touch with. I haven't been in a long time."

"So your wolf is that instinctive part of you that you're keeping 'tied down'?" Sam inquired. I nodded.

"I think so. And she's been a lot rowdier since Minnesota. Over the years I've just... made a habit of keeping her chained down so that I don't have any screw-ups."

"And yet," snapped Dean, "you still didn't have a strong enough grip on her." He shoved a large bite of pie into his mouth and chewed, his jaw tensing. I practically wilted and stared down at my feet that were stretched out in front of me. His opinion on the matter had changed so drastically since before I left.

"Dean!" Sam hissed. "I know you're pissed, but you don't need to be an ass-"

"It's fine, Sam," I uttered. "He's not wrong." I huffed and brushed a hair out of my face. "I know it's not an excuse but... when my pack is involved, I just lose control. I'm going to keep working on it," I sighed. "I've never had a pack before – never wanted one – so, it's all so new to me. And now I have to worry about six skinwalkers and two humans that have somehow wormed their way into my family-" Dean winced. "- I've got to worry about my self-control and make sure I don't kill anyone, I have to figure out these damn whispers, and-"

"Hold up," said Sam, throwing up a halting hand. "What whispers?"

I paled. I hadn't meant to let that slip out. I didn't want the brothers to worry about whatever weird-ass whispers I had been hearing - I knew that they'd get fixated on figuring it out and potentially killing whatever it was. They didn't have the time or resources to help me with that -- hell, I didn't even know if it was actually a living thing talking to me. For all I knew, some celestial entity was trying to give me advice. At worst, I was going nuts.

"I- uh," I stuttered over my words. I jumped as Dean stood, tossing his paper plate in a trash can and sitting on the bed beside Sam. I refused to turn to him and continued staring at my feet and my place on the floor. "I've just been hearing these weird whispers. It's nothing too crazy-"

"Whispers are pretty frickin’ crazy,” Dean remarked firmly. I frowned. "Keep talking."

"There's not much to tell, Dean," I snapped, twisting to face him with a scowl. "I just hear this whisper. When I try to follow it, it... it shows me things."

"It shows you things?" Sam asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Like, I was chasing it when I met Marcus and Caeden. I just... followed the whisper and it led me to them. And with Calliope, it was... it wasn't whispering. It was screaming, frantic. It made me frantic. It knew she was in danger and it took me to her."

Dean swore under his breath. "How long have you been hearing these things? What are they saying to you?"

I scrunched my brows in thought. "It's been about three months I think? Maybe a little more?" Dean scoffed.

"And you're only telling us about this now?"

"Well, what was I supposed to say!?" I snarled back. "'Oh hey Dean, just wanted to let you know that I might be going a bit crazy, cause this voice I know literally nothing about it talking to me'!?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "That is exactly what you tell us! And then we help you figure out whatever the hell it is and maybe kill it!"

I huffed and turned away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't think it needs to be killed."

"What?" Dean growled and leaned forward, "What if it leads you into danger huh? What if it drags you into something you can't handle!?"

I whipped around to glare at him. "Would you even care, Dean? Last I checked, you didn't want me around anyway."

"Guys," Sam silenced us with a warning tone, snapping out of his deep thoughts. "Quit going at each other's throats, it's pointless."

"She wouldn't go for the throat, Sammy," Dean growled, balling his hands into fists, "She'd go for the heart."

"If you don't shut the hell up I will beat the shit out of you," I hissed back.

"I'd like to see you try," he snapped back.

"Would you two just shut up!" Sam snapped and glared at the both of us like he was ready to maim. "We've got bigger problems than you dumbasses not getting along." Dean and I fell silent, dropping our harsh gazes from one another and onto the floor. I could practically feel Dean's blood boiling - he was seething. I was too. I hated the way he was talking to me, treating me. Sam placed his hands on his face, dragging them down languorously, and sighed out of frustration. I perked up as he said my name. "What are the whispers saying to you?"

I hummed in thought. "Things like 'come', mostly," Dean snorted and I glared at him. "Last time it said 'see' and 'go'. Pretty much as soon as I realized something was wrong it changed what it was saying."

"Is it always only one word?"

"Yeah, one word at a time. Usually, there's a long pause and then it says something else. Last time... last time it was screaming so loud that it felt like it was clawing inside my skull," I mused for a second, mulling it over. "Pretty much every other time it's been like an existential thing like I was chasing someone just ahead of me. That time it felt like it was... pushing me, almost. Like it was urging me forward instead of urging me to chase."

Sam ruminated for a few moments, looking puzzled. Finally, he turned to Dean and muttered, "What do you think? Have you seen anything like that in dad's journal?"

Dean shook his head and fiddled with the odd-looking charm hanging around his neck. "No, I haven't. Honestly, sounds like a possession of some sort," his words faded into deep thought. His eyes rose to meet mine. "Can skinwalkers even get possessed?"

"Not that I know of. To my knowledge, you have to have a soul to get possessed."

Sam's eyes widened and he leaned forward with interest. "You don't have a soul?"

I shook my head. "Don’t think so. My dad told me it's why we don't go to heaven or hell when we die."

Dean quirked a brow. "Then where do you go? And how did he know?"

I shrugged. "For all I know there's nothing after death for monsters. It's just... over..." my shoulders slumped. I had always hoped that my father was wrong, that maybe there was something, anything after death. I didn't want it to just be over.

"Well, if it's not possession," Dean grumbled and leaned back on his hands, "maybe it's a demon?"

"Dean, why would a demon be talking to her?" Sam countered. "It's not like she can sell her soul."

I frowned. "What if it's not anything bad? What if it's, like, her? Instinct? Maybe I just subconsciously know when something is wrong with the pack?"

"No," Sam stated. "It can't be that. You said it led you to Marcus and Caeden? They weren't part of your pack at the time. Unless your instinct latches on to potential pack members nearby, I don't think that's it."

“Well if it were that, it would have led me to Sasha, Booth, and Andrew long before you guys rolled into town.”

“Unless they were the catalyst that sent your… pack honing abilities into overdrive?” Dean offered. 

"Whatever the reason is for it talking to me-" I started, referring back to Sam's previous statement, "- as long as the thing stays out of my way, I don't care what it says or leads me to."

Sam chuckled. "Fair enough. We can figure out our game plan for dealing with this thing later." The younger brother yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.

"We?" I questioned teasingly. "I don't remember agreeing to that."

Dean huffed and stood from Sam's bed and marched toward his own. He flopped onto the bed, landing on his back and locking his eyes with the ceiling. "Damn right this is a 'we' operation. No way in hell are we letting you figure this out on your own."

I chuckled dryly. “Doesn’t sound like you’re mad at me anymore.”

He scoffed. "Sure, soon we'll be frolicking in a meadow full of flowers together."

Sam chuckled with me as he rummaged through his bag, hunting for a toothbrush within it and setting out a set of clothes for the following day. "Alright, you two," he said, "we've got a hunt tomorrow, so enough talking."

I quirked a brow, my grin falling away. "We've got a hunt?"

Sam nodded and hummed in response. "Murder in Chicago."

I barked out a laugh. "Yeah, like that's uncommon for Chicago." A rustling caught my attention and I turned to see Dean rummaging through his own luggage.

Sam smirked down at his bag and turned to face me, toothbrush in hand. "This is the second one in two months. Two people found dead in their apartments, no sign of forced entry."

My brows rose in surprise. "Spirit maybe?"

Dean huffed. "We were thinking a cursed object. No way a spirit could move between houses like that." I nodded in agreement. I wasn't exactly knowledgeable on all the spiritual aspects of the supernatural world – ask me anything about certain monsters, and I could answer more than most hunters. But ghosts, psychics, witches... those were all foreign. Hell, I had only heard stories about psychics before meeting Missouri Moseley.

"We'll find out what it is soon," interjected Sam, always the mother of the group. "Just get to sleep - especially you, Dean, since you'll be driving tomorrow."

Dean grumbled something under his breath and flopped back onto his bed, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. I grinned and made my way toward a rather large armchair in the corner of the room. I dragged a cushion off the chair and motioned for Sam to toss me a pillow. To my delight, he tossed two and a heavy blanket that had been folded and lain across the end of the bed.

After putting together my relatively comfortable nest, Sam turned out the light and the sound of peaceful snores filled the room.

—

The Impala rolled to a halt on the side of the packed road and Dean expertly parked against the curb. Sam sighed and ruffled his hair, scanning the newspaper seated in his lap.

I leaned forward and gazed out the front window at the apartment building before us. The room was somewhere on the third floor. I fiddled with the hem of my costume and followed the brothers out of the car, my eyes following Dean as he moved toward the trunk and withdrew a toolbox. He had hardly said anything to me since the night I got back. The most he would do is give me the necessary information for the case or give me a clipped answer to a question.

I missed bantering with him. I didn't like this odd silent treatment I was receiving from him. It put me in a bad mood every time he gave me a brief answer or even none at all. I wanted nothing more than to scream at him to get over himself and just forgive me already.

"You know," Dean started as he paced down the sidewalk toward where Sam and I were standing, "I've gotta say, dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a high school drama dork." He grinned and swung his toolbox lazily at his side. "What was that play you did?" he asked Sam, a smirk dawning on his features. He stumbled for a moment, struggling to remember the name. "What was it - ‘Our Town’? Yeah, you were good, it was cute."

Sam scoffed and a blush tinged his ears and cheeks. I chuckled, punching him teasingly in the shoulder. "You never told me you were in a play, Sam."

He chuckled nervously and turned his head to me. "It was a long time ago, and I really didn't have a big part. I was a background character."

"Main character in my heart," Dean teased. Sam rolled his eyes.

"But honestly, Dean. This getup helps us look the part. Do you want to pull this off or not?" Sam quickly changed the subject.

"I'm just saying, these outfits cost hard-earned money."

"Whose?" I countered and glared teasingly.

"Ours. You think credit card fraud is easy?"

It didn't take us long to reach the third floor and the door of the victim. The landlady grumbled and fumbled with the keys before pushing the white door open to let us in.

"Thanks for letting us look around," Sam said to her politely. Dean and I paced around the hallway, him fumbling with the alarm system while I checked for any signs of forced entry on the door.

"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so..." she trailed off and sauntered into the room with Sam close behind. I shut the door and quirked an eyebrow at the severed chain lock. I caught Dean's attention and nodded toward it, holding the two ends of the golden chain delicately. Dean frowned and turned to follow the landlady and his brother. "You said you're with the alarm company, right?" the older woman asked and spun to face the brothers.

"That's right," answered Dean, flashing his most sincere smile. It looked more like a grimace, in all honesty. He really wasn't that good at the acting part of this job.

The woman huffed wearily in response. "Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man." I choked down laughter and covered my mouth with a hand. She leaned around the boys to cast me a sly grin.

Dean cleared his throat and flashed his own tentative grin. "Well, that's why we're here. To make sure it never happens again." The woman nodded and stepped aside to allow us to peruse the apartment.

"You found the body, right?" I asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She nodded and swallowed dryly. "Were there any signs of a forced entry?"

"Any windows open?" Sam asked. "Was the alarm still active?"

"Windows were locked, front door was bolted. We had to cut the chain to get in here," she grouched in response. Dean frowned – that chain was the only lead we had. We were back to square one.

"Did you find her right after it happened?" Dean asked, referencing the girl who had been killed. The landlady shook her head.

"No, a few days later. Her work called and said they hadn't seen her in a while. I knocked on her door. That's when I noticed... the smell," she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the memory.

"And what condition was she in?" Dean pressed. The landlady huffed and glared at him.

"Meredith was all over the place, in pieces. I tell you, the guy who did it must have been a whack job. If I didn't know any better, I would have said it was an animal attack." The brothers looked first at each other and then Sam's eyes met mine. My brows furrowed. What could possibly have shredded her like that?

Sam's eyes flitted toward the woman. "Ma'am, do you mind if we take some time and give this place a once over?"

The landlady shrugged in response. "Go right ahead, knock yourself out." My eyes followed her as she walked out of the apartment, waiting for the door to latch before giving the go-ahead to speak.

"So a killer walks in and out of the apartment, no weapons, no prints, nothing..." Dean grumbled, trailing off as he rifled through his toolbox. I hummed quietly in response.

"There's got to be a trace of something here, some sort of clue. There's no way something could have killed her and not left a trail," I said, tracing a few fingers lazily over the large spots of blood.

"I'm telling you, the minute I saw the article I knew this was our kind of gig," Sam said, inspecting the windows. He jumped when Dean's EMF meter went off.

"I think I agree with you," Dean answered as he held up the box to show off the number of lights indicating supernatural presence.

"Did you ever talk to the cops yesterday?" I asked him.

Dean nodded and stood from his crouch position on the once white carpet. "Oh, yeah," he said, smirking. "I talked to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law." I rolled my eyes.

"What'd you find out?" Sam pressed. I flashed him a quick glare which he looked rather confused by.

"Well, she's a Sagittarius, loves tequila - I mean, wow," Dean sighed almost wistfully, "Oh! And she's got this little tattoo-"

"Jesus, Dean!" I snapped. "Not about your hook-up, about the case!"

Dean grumbled something I didn't catch. I glared at the back of his head, almost wishing I could bore holes into it. "Nothing we don't already know," he carped. "Except for one thing they're keeping out of the papers."

"Enough with the suspense, Dean," I said. At this point, I just wanted this case to be over. I already was not a fan of Chicago.

"You're no fun," he sighed. "Meredith's heart was missing."

Sam and I both jumped to attention, whirling on Dean with twin, wide-eyed stares.

"Her heart? What do you think did it to her?" Sam inquired.

"Landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe a werewolf?"

I barked out a laugh. "No way it was a werewolf. Moon cycle isn't right, and even if it was, I'd smell it. They reek, like the worst combination of rotten meat and cigarettes." I scrunched my nose at the thought. "My money's on a spirit. If it was a monster, I guarantee they would have left some trace other than blood."

"Yeah..." Dean mused thoughtfully. His eyes scanned the patches of blood, drawing a pattern in his mind. "Sammy, see if you can find a roll of tape."

Sam dug through his brother's toolbox as I went to stand beside Dean. "Notice something?"

"Maybe," he offered, holding his hands up to catch the roll of tape Sam had tossed his way. "We'll see in just a minute."

Dean got to work, connecting the patches of blood in a pattern I had never seen before. Hell, I wouldn't have even thought it would make a pattern like that. I chuckled morbidly, thinking that whatever killed Meredith must have been some sort of abstract artist - first the body, now the blood.

Dean stood and surveyed his work, crossing his arms. Sam moved to stand beside him, a puzzled look on his features.

"You ever seen a symbol like that?" Sam inquired, eyes following the sharp corners of the z-like symbol.

"Never," Dean responded curtly.

"Me neither."

—

"He could at least be helping us, Sam," I grumbled, flipping through the worn pages of their father's journal. "Instead of off doing- whatever it is with that poor bartender."

Sam snickered. "He is helping. Meredith worked here, so the bartenders are bound to know her."

"There's a distinct difference between helping us with the case and flirting with some painted bimbo, who we all know he is never going to call," I muttered, resting my chin in the palm of my hand as my eyes lazily scanned the page.

Sam opened his mouth to retort and quickly shut it, seeing Dean make his way back over. My gaze moved quickly toward him and fell right back to the paper. Honestly, the journal was a hell of a lot more interesting than anything Dean had to say.

John was incredibly thorough – he rivaled my uncle, who had always been compulsive and meticulous about his case notes. The journal might look like a mess of pages and hastily scrawled notations, but to me, it showed his dedication.

I flipped another page slowly, tuning out the brothers' conversation. My finger dragged along each line of writing with my eye following closely behind. My eyes fell on a string of numbers and my finger stopped its movement. I exhaled shakily.

I knew those numbers.

"Hey, Sam!" Dean called out, a tight grip on his beer. "Where are you going?"

I lifted my head, staring with a glazed look after Sam as he marched away from the table. Dean turned his confused eyes on me before standing and following his brother.

I looked back at the page, my finger running haphazardly over the string of digits. Why would John have his number..? I tightened my jaw and marked the page so I could find it later and shut the little book, tucking it under my arm and following the brothers. My eyes widened as I noticed Sam talking to a blonde girl, giving her a tense hug. My ears tuned in to their conversation as I stalked up behind Dean.

"Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while," the girl said, fluttering her lashes at Sam. I took a deep breath, ready to interject, and coughed, gagging on air. God, this girl was drenched in perfume, it was blocking all of my other senses.

Dean cleared his throat and patted me lightly on the back. I brushed his hand away and took shallow breaths.

"You're from Chicago?" Sam asked.

"No, Massachusetts – Andover," the girl said with a giggle. "Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other?"

"Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again." Although his back was turned to me, I could tell he was puzzled. It must have been written all over his features.

"Well, I'm glad you were wrong..." she trailed off and gazed up at Sam from under her lashes. I rolled my eyes. Dean cleared his throat and the girl's eyes snapped to his, a disgusted glare rising on her features. "Dude, cover your mouth."

Dean looked shocked and I suppressed a laugh, for fear of inhaling more of her sharp perfume. God, the girl must have bathed in the stuff. Did the boys really not smell it?

"Yeah, um, I'm sorry, Meg. This is, uh—this is my brother, Dean," Sam said, scratching the back of his head. The girl, Meg, looked surprised.

"Oh! This is Dean?" she confirmed. Sam nodded and Dean smirked at her.

"So you've heard of me," Dean mused, attempting to be smooth. Now it was Meg's turn to roll her eyes.

"Yeah, I've heard of you," she snapped. "Real nice, how you treat your brother like luggage." Dean’s eyes widened and I stared at Meg in shock. When did Sam even have time to meet this girl without Dean knowing? "Why don't you let him do what he wants?" she continued, spite lacing her words. "Quit dragging him all over God's green earth-"

Sam held up his hands in a silent plea to make her stop. "Meg, it's fine, really, we're fine." The three of them stood there awkwardly, Meg surveying the two, glaring at Dean with contempt and at Sam with an almost overprotective gaze. Her eyes skirted over me, likely because I hadn't been introduced.

I cleared my throat. "I'm, uh- I'm going to get a drink. You want to come with me, Dean?"

"Yeah- yeah," he said, already moving toward the bar. I flashed a sheepish grin toward Sam and Meg, waving goodbye and running to catch up with the elder Winchester. "Damn, that was awkward."

I sat on one of the bar stools, placing John's journal on the counter and running a finger over the spine. "So... when did she and Sam first meet."

Dean scoffed. "Probably after our first real hunt with you, in Kansas. He and I got into a spat and he left for a few days."

I glared at him, clenching my fist and resting it on the counter. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Well, we weren't exactly super close then. It was kind of a family matter, not something for you to stick your snout into."

"You are family, Dean," I hissed. "I have a right to know when these things happen."

He frowned and rested his hands on his lap. We sat in silence for a few minutes, long enough for Dean to get another beer from the bartender and have about a third of it.

"Listen, I-" he started. I cut him off, flipping open his father's journal to my marked page.

"Dean, I found something in the journal earlier, when you first came back to the table." He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something and shut it when I cast him a warning glare. Whatever he wanted to say, I really wasn't in the mood for it. He looked toward his lap bashfully and then his eyes rose to face mine, his jaw tightening.

"Anything relevant to the case?" he asked.

"No," I answered quickly. "But look at this," I slid the journal toward him, highlighting the phone number at the bottom of the page. His eyes flickered toward mine and he raised a brow in confusion. "I recognize this number, Dean. It's-"

"Hey!" called Sam, sauntering back toward us with his cell phone in hand. "You guys ready to head out."

Dean turned to face me, a promise being held in his green eyes. "We'll get back to this later." He stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and following Sam toward the door.

I groaned and dropped my head dramatically on the open journal. "Sure we will..." I muttered to myself. I stood, slamming the journal shut a little more roughly than I intended, and followed the brothers out the door.

"No, man, I mean like our kind of strange," I heard Sam say as I rushed to catch up with the brothers. "Like, maybe even a lead."

"What makes you say that?" Dean probed, sparing me a glance as I jogged up to him.

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don't think that's a little weird?"

Oh. They were still talking about her.

"I don't know," Dean said with a dramatic sigh. "Random coincidence? It happens."

"Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong-"

"Dean," I interrupted Sam. "I think maybe Sam's right. There's something off about her. I mean, did you not smell the buckets of perfume on her? Had me gagging within ten feet of her."

"Perfume doesn't make someone a murder suspect," Dean countered.

"It does if it causes me to choke and die."

"Well, then it's a good thing you're not dead, right?"

"-I'm just saying that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on," Sam added to his unfinished sentence.

"I bet you'd like to. I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a thing for her, huh?" he chuckled and nudged Sam with his shoulder. "Maybe you're thinkin' a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?"

Sam rolled his eyes as we stopped on the side of the road, waiting for the go-ahead to walk. "Do me a favor. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor." Sam marched away from Dean and I before his brother could protest.

"What are you going to do?" Dean asked as he ran to catch up.

"I'm going to watch Meg."

Dean laughed and clapped Sam on the back. "Yeah, you are!"

Sam grimaced and shrugged Dean's hand off his shoulder. "I just want to see what's what. Better safe than sorry."

The two bickered, Dean teasing Sam, and Sam arguing. I stopped on the sidewalk, watching the brothers make their way toward the Impala, Sam fishing the keys out of his pocket.

I glanced down at the heavy, leather-bound journal in my hands. Something about this case didn't add up. First the weird symbol, and now Meg showing up? Something was wrong, I could feel it. She was hiding something.

Dean called my name from his spot beside the passenger door and I perked up immediately. "You coming or not?"

I nodded and shoved the journal under my arm and crossed the street to where the boys were waiting.

[wrenwinchester]

Thinking about the year between season 7 and 8, and the line “I fixed up the impala and just drove.” (Then he hit a dog but I’m not talking about that.)

The impala has been through a crap ton, and she was sitting in a storage locker for most of the year, then they send her through a sign and she definitely has damage on her undercarriage from how she landed. It’s not going to be an easy fix, and getting parts is probably going to be difficult actually scratch that, Bobby’s house may have burned down, but the salvage yard is still there and was left to the boys 100% so maybe not so difficult. But Sam would still have to get the car to Bobby’s old place, maybe he even stayed with Jody for a little bit, while working on the car.

Sam isn’t the most experienced with taking care of Baby. That’s Dean’s job, sure he showed Sam how to do touch ups and tune ups, but most of it, Sam wouldn’t know how to do, but there was no way he was going to let anyone else work on his brother’s baby. That’s not a choice, so he spent a couple months, maybe more, pulling pieces out, putting them back in, trying to match parts from other vehicles and finding ones that worked because it was all he had left of Dean, and it needed to be perfect.

Finally, after like 5-6 months, it’s done, she runs and drives, and she sounds as close as Sam remembered to what she was after Dean would modify, or fix something. (It really wasn’t all that close, but she runs and drives,) then, he spends another month driving around, he drives to Vegas for their annual Vegas week, checking every towns first motel in the yellow pages, just in case, along the way. He doesn’t stay in Vegas long, just long enough to play a round of Dean’s favorite game.

Finally, he ends up in Texas, and somehow, thinking about everyone he’s lost, he hits a dog. Up until this point, he’s been checking motels to see if anyone had checked in under the name Jim Rockford. This time, he checked in under the name. Dean could find him.

Sam did what he could. He even took on a few cases before Vegas, but it felt wrong without his brother by his side. (Of course it did, it always did.)

The dog didn’t do much damage to Baby, and the little it did, Sam had fixed within a week. (He’s grown to know Baby quite well, and understands what every noise she makes means. (Sometimes she whines as he starts her, and he just sighs and says, “I miss him too.”))now we’re at month 8, he’s been staying at this motel for a few weeks, working on maintaining the building so it’s safe, and that’s when he runs into Amelia once more after the dog barges in to her room. And they end up talking about loss and loneliness. And Sam feels seen for the first time since Dean died, (he’s still not sure he believes Dean is dead, but also he exploded right in front of him. It’s the easiest way to rationalize everything and stop him from starting another apocalypse to bring his brother back. Because believe me he considered it.) and he feels accepted and she doesn’t push about his past.

They buy a house 9 months after Dean’s death. Sam just wants to call his brother and tell him, but he wouldn’t get the message.

He meets her Dad month 10, and life is moving on. He has a job, and maybe he could have the normal life he always wanted. The one Dean wanted too. Maybe he could go back to college, and he starts looking into things.

Month 11 is when Amelia’s husband is back from the dead, he wasn’t ever actually dead, but it doesn’t matter to Sam. He’s been in her position before. A loved one coming back from the assumed grave is a big deal, not as big as a loved in coming back from an actual grave that you put them in yourself, but it’s enough.

Everything comes crashing back to reality. He starts looking for Dean again, but more so just looking for signs of him from his home with Amelia. Amelia who now has to decide between her husband, and the broken man she grew to love.

Then, a full year has gone by since Dean’s death. Three hundred sixty-six days (it was a leap year) without his older brother. Not really knowing what happened, not really sure he wants to find out, so he doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t push, he doesn’t even ask about Kevin and tries not to think about him, even though he has nightmares about Kevin being stuck with Crowley, he can’t handle even the idea of anymore pain.

But then, he gets a call from Dean.

There’s not a doubt in his mind that it’s his brother, though maybe he should, and he leaves in the middle of the night. Yes he loved Amelia, but Dean is his brother, and nothing is more important than his brother. He leaves without a second thought, if his brother was alive, life wasn’t so topsy-turvy.

Dean wasn’t supposed to be the one that died first. He gave his life for Sam. Sam should have died in that abandoned town all those years ago, but Dean traded places. (Sam should probably consider the fact that Dean was supposed to die instead of their dad all those years ago, but he doesn’t. Dean wasn’t dead then, he was just mostly dead.)

Sam would be the one that died for real first. He had to be.

His relief upon seeing his brother’s face for the first time in a year could have collapsed him on the spot, he was truly alive, then guilt came crashing over him.

[hekate1308]

There Was Winter’s Cold A Destiel Advent Calendar December 12

Masterpost

Dean, he realized that night, and grown used to living with someone again remarkably quickly. Maybe because he and spent his entire childhood with his little brother at his side – well – whatever the reason, it was just nice to have someone to talk to at dinner. And at least Cas seemed to agree, because – well – now that eh had seen the outside, he and questions about everything, and Dean meant everything.

To be honest, he himself wasn’t quite sure how certain things worked, but he did his best to tell him anything he could be interested in.

Even so, in some ways he was in well over his head (well, in others too, but again, he was not going to think about that).

“And what happens after you have “lit up a room” – where does the light go?”

“That’s not quite – “ Dean reminded himself not to use metaphors. “What I meant to say…” and they were off on another tangent.

Well, it was kind of nice to be listened to so attentively, which –

He took a deep breath. Nothing to do it but see it through, now.

It was during a lull in the conversation, when he thought Cas was just taking it all in that he said, “Tell me more about you and your brother,”

“Sorry?” He was pretty sure he and covered all the basics – who Sam was, that they and been adopted by family friends, that they were now –

“From your – from your childhood. I don’t – I’ve never been close to my siblings.”

Oh. Now that was something that Dean could honestly say he did not understand whatsoever, but he was no fool, so he understood trauma-bonding and what not (just because he hadn’t gone to a fancy college, didn’t mean he hadn’t done some research in his early twenties, and let them just say it had… taught him certain things) and of course there were families where siblings were so very close or clung to one another because they were all they had.

So, he shrugged and said “Well, man, all people are different. They don’t have to be super close with their siblings.”

“I think it’s nice.”

“Yeah it is, in a way but you get woken up by your brother drunk-crying at three am about his crush, and then you can tell me that again”. He would never let Sam live that one down, not even when they were a hundred and ninety-six and were watching his great-grandkids play around.

Cas tilted his head to the side gain and Dean told himself for the umpteenth time that it did not look cute.

“Since you were smiling when you said that, I have to come to the conclusion that you were not actually annoyed.”

“No, Sherlock, I wasn’t, imagine that.”

“My name is Castiel. Or Cas, as you seem to prefer to call me”.

Oh god. He had forgotten that – “I – alright that’s it I’m making a list. There’s some things you have to know about, man.”

And another head tilt. This was going great.

 Now, if there was one thing Dean was serious about, it was his movie nights, so he always had snacks in the house. Of course he did. What was he, a heathen?

Cas seemed to be a little surprised upon seeing all of the stuff, but well, some things had to give. Couldn’t properly watch movies without snacking now, could one. Even if he and Sam and never agreed on black licorice.

And so, they soon sat in front of the TV, with Dean choosing the movie again because Cas had no idea how to even start. He seemed to have grasped the concept of television by now and so, he simply nodded when Dean asked if he wanted to watch the Godfather.

He only realized that he might have probably rushed things when he became aware that he was yet again showing him something where people died left and right, but Cas simply told him he and seen enough dead bodies in the water, and he decided not to ask.

It would have ruined their relaxing evening, he was pretty sure.

And anyway, he was busy watching Cas. Because seeing him react to plot twists that dean and known about forever, experiencing something new for the first time – it was – it was –

Yes, Dean was in trouble. Very very big trouble.

But that would not change in the next few minutes, so he could just enjoy a movie with a hot guy for one evening and forget anout all that other stuff, because certainly they would eventually figure it out and find a way to deal with all of this and send Cas  home.

Certainly.

[my-supernatural-rewatch]

Episode Seven: Hook Man

Dean Winchester in the Supernatural episode Hook Man

I was racking my brain trying to remember this episode as it began. The synopsis I read didn't ring any bells and the opening seemed completely unrecognizable to me. I guess after watching 300+ episodes multiple times you're bound to forget one or two.

So I was a little excited to get into this one and see what I forgot.

Sam and Dean investigate murders seemingly committed by the Hook Man of urban legend.

Another episode where we see Dean on the laptop looking for jobs. Sam is worrying that they can't find John and that there has been no sign of him at hospitals or morgues. (Weird thing to be worried about, Sam, but okay.)

Dean has a revelation that they both end up forgetting about before the season is over:

"I don't think Dad wants to be found." Dean is seemingly (and oddly) okay with this.

So the first dude the Hook Man kills is a frat boy which means Dean and Sam get to pretend to be frat boys to infiltrate the kid's inner circle. More of Dean as a frat boy would have been fun but, yeah, I get it, this is about Sam's journey this week.

Sam can relate to the girl whose date got killed (you know, because his girlfriend is dead. Did you know Sam's girlfriend is dead?) except Sam is a lot more broken up about Jess than this one is about her dead boyfriend.

When Sam tells Dean he believes the girl's story, we get a line from Dean because the writers want to bang it over our heads that Dean is a womanizer.

"I think she's hot too."

This is me rolling my eyes.

Daen does a lot of research in this one.

So FINALLY I start to remember this episode when the actor whose name I missed at the beginning of the episode shows up: Dan Butler. The minute I saw him I yelled "Bulldog!" and then remembered what the outcome of the episode was. Yeah pop culture clues!

Interesting note about canon/lore/whatever we're calling it. Up until now, Sam was not aware of using rock salt packed shells to shoot at spirits to slow them down. So sometime after Sam went to college John and/or Dean figured this out?

Oh, it was Dean. Who gets another great dig in at his brother when Sam, impressed with the rock salt shells, asks, "You and Dad think of this?" and Dean replies:

"I told you, you don't have to be a college graduate to be a genius.'

You fucking go, Dean.

So Sam gets arrested (man I hope no one is reading this for a true summary of the episode) and Dean gets him out by telling the sheriff they were in a frat and Sam was being hazed.

Dean to the fucking rescue again - and using his big brain too.

Two co-eds walk by Sam and Dean at one point, prompting Dean to exclaim, "Dude, sorority girls! Think we'll see a naked pillow fight?"

Because of course someone wrote that line for Dean.

Weird little thing that happens in this ep that never gets mentioned even as Dean takes it off the windshield, the Impala gets a parking ticket. Now there's no way Dean ever pays a parking ticket and they keep the same license plate for years so I guess the whole thing about Chuck watching out for them really did start in season one, huh?

They hit a frat party that Dean actually (begrudgingly but voluntarily) leaves to go to the cemetery and look for the unmarked grave of the Hook Man while Sam goes and stares at Dan Butler's house waiting for the daughter to do something unhinged.

This is the first episode where a body gets salted and burned. (They've tried in other eps but this is the first one when it gets done.) Dean uses matches. I'm sure it's noted in some wiki when they start using the Zippo but I'll wait.

Also, Dean digs the grave alone, prompting him to say, "Next time I get to watch the cute girl's house." (And in this case, the line is perfect.)

Sam gets to kiss a girl who isn't Jess! But it's only because she's so fucked up about all the death stuff...and it doesn't matter because he's not feeling it because of the whole dead girlfriend thing.

So the girl is the one inadvertently sending the Hook Man/Violent Spirt dude to kill people who are doing wrong...it's a little whackadoo as far as reason go but we're going with it because it's Supernatural.

When the Hook Man comes to get the dad (for having an affair with a married woman) Sam and Dean figure out just burning the bones didn't help and we learn that no one thought to get rid of the hook...you know, the thing doing the killing. Yada yada yada, Dean comes up with the idea to check the church records to see if the church had it...it did and they melted it down to the chain Sam's new girlfriend (joking!) is wearing.

But first Dean gets to save Sam's ass by shooting the spirit when it is about to attack him...then Dean burns the chain.

Let's be honest, Dean does most of the work in this episode.

At the end of the episode, Dean is in the Impala waiting for Sam to day goodbye to the girl (whose name I have already forgotten). He's visibly disappointed that Sam makes no attempt to SAY goodbye if you get what I'm saying.

Once Sam gets into the car, Dean offers to stay - presumably so Sam can get some (although in fairness, I think Dean really does think Sam made a connection and is running from it) - but emo Sam is back and all he does is shake his head sadly...which is what Dean does too before they drive away.

Some notes for posterity:

The significant music from this episode comes from Quiet Riot: Metal Health and Boston: Peace of Mind

The brothers pose as fraternity brothers from Ohio transferring to the school in Iowa. They use their real first names when introducing themselves to everyone.

This is the first episode in which Sam gets arrested

Movie References: Sam mentions The Invisible Man, Dean calls Sam "Dr. Venkman" (from Ghostbusters), the naked pillow fight comment is most likely a nod to Animal House, and Dean gets a TV reference in as well by calling himself Matlock because he talked down the sheriff.

This hunt takes place in Ankeny, Iowa.

Dean wears John's jacket but not through the entire episode.

Recognizable Guest Stars in this episode: Dan Butler

[motownfiction]

black oak

They buried Sam near a black oak tree. They hadn’t planned it that way, but Charlie’s glad that’s how it worked out. These days, he mostly comes back home in the summertime, and it’s nice to have the shade. Dad always said they were pretty good for that.

Charlie leans up against the trunk of the tree today, looking down at Sam’s headstone. He reads the inscription from “Here Comes a Regular” like he doesn’t already have it memorized – like he didn’t have it memorized long before he ever thought Sam could die, that any of them could. He smiles a little.

“Westerberg wasn’t lying,” Charlie says. “A person can work up a mean, mean thirst.”

He pulls the bottle of water from his bag and chugs. He knows that’s not what Westerberg was talking about, but in this heat, it’s all he can think to do.

He is alone. For nearly twenty years now, every time he’s gone to the cemetery to see Sam, he’s gone alone. The last time he was here with someone, it was Daniel, who damn near broke his nose after Charlie told him he was sleeping with Elenore O’Connor. It makes him laugh now. They were under the same black oak tree, but it looked different without any leaves, with bright red blood in the patches of snow.

Since then, seeing Sam has been a solitary thing.

Interestingly, though, Charlie is here to talk about Elenore. He talks a lot about Elenore when he visits Sam. Figures that as her godfather, he’d want to be kept abreast of what’s going on in her life. He told Sam about when Elenore was pregnant (by him), when she had Veronica (his daughter), when she got married (not to him), when she got divorced (the same year he did). Wherever he is, he probably knows all that, but Charlie thinks it means something to hear it from him. It’s like Confession.

“So, uh, this one’s kind of a big deal,” he says, looking down at his remarkably ringless left hand. “You know Carrie and me … we split up for good a few years ago, ‘round that lockdown that would have killed you if the truck hadn’t first.”

He laughs, and he knows it’s OK. Sam would have laughed, too.

“Anyway,” Charlie says. “Elenore and Sean, they broke up, too. Something about Sean changing, but Elenore staying the same. I don’t know. I don’t care. I never liked Sean. Never thought he was very real. But, uh … look, I didn’t mean to keep this from you, but about a year ago … I kinda hooked up with Elenore again. She came by to tell me some stuff about Veronica’s college visits, and … look, we’ve got a kid together, it’s easy to roll with it. We know how. I thought it was just … I thought it was just gonna be a one-time thing, you know, both of us trying to recover from getting divorced. But it wasn’t. And I’m kinda … dammit, I guess I’m asking you if it’s OK if she’s my girlfriend.”

Charlie’s hands are shaking. He knows it’s ridiculous, trying to get your dead brother’s approval to date his goddaughter, more than twenty years after they put him in the ground. Elenore is thirty-nine now, and she’s always been able to make her own decisions. Charlie’s still a little too afraid to tell Will, who punched his lights out when Elenore got pregnant. But practicing on Sam, who can’t talk back and still has the right to know, seems like a good place to get started.

“I’ve been going to a lot of therapy, and I’ve been working on my relationships,” Charlie says. “Cordelia and Cal … we’re all better than ever. Veronica, too. Hey, isn’t that part of the theme song for The Archies? ‘Veronica, too.’ I don’t know if you know this, but Archie comics became very in a few years back. Anyway. I’ve been going to a lot of therapy, and I’m just … I’m different now, Sam. I’m not perfect, and I’m not even great. But I know … I know how Mom fucked me up. I think I know how she fucked me up, too. And I guess I’m just sorry we never had a chance to talk about it. I think that would have been good for us.”

Charlie takes another long sip of his water.

“But Elenore,” he says. “Damn, Elenore. It’s like … I don’t think it, man, I know. I know I …”

He can’t say it all the way yet, but he means it. Sam would know. Sam always knew.

“Well, anyway,” Charlie says. “I thought I’d tell you what was up.”

He leans up against the trunk of the black oak tree and lets it all hit him. While he’s in town, he should probably hit up Daniel again.

He pulls out his phone and sends a text.

(part of @nosebleedclub january challenge -- day 19!)

[jessilynallendilla]

Danny Phantom Episode Breakdown

Part 1

Fucked Up Facts In Bold 

1 MYSTERY MEAT 

Danny states he wants to be an astronaut  

Sam thinks ghosts are mainstream like cellphones (this show aired in 2004 cellphones we’re common but not every teen had one but Sam is rich so unsure if she’s just playing being disinterested to throw Jack off or she’s genuine)   

First appearance of Danny’s ghost sense  

Ectopusses first appearance  

Jack is an expert in ghosts but has never seen one  

Fenton thermos first appearance  

Jack was born in a log cabin in the woods doesn’t remember where but as a child wanted a pony but had to eat horse meat during the war and had a problem with it (show aired in 2004 he was in college during the 80s so which war)  

His parents invent the Fenton Finder and when outed by it almost comes out 

The one-time Jazz drives Danny to school Jack immediately thinks she’s a ghost  

“Why can’t they accept me for who I am?!” first hint of Sam’s issues with her parents  

It’s been only a month since his accident he still can’t control his powers and thinks he should tell his parents  

He already wants to be normal and Sam gives him the unique is good speech  

Sam’s an ultra recyclo vegetarian Danny explains she doesn’t eat anything with a face on it (does this mean she’s just a vegan)  

Tucker has a heighted sense of smell when it comes to meat can tell what someone ate for dinner the night before  

Sam’s wore down the school to make a new lunch menu to entirely conform to her particular diet (which is grass on a slice of bread)  

Lunch Lady first appearance she was summoned because the menu was changed  

Jack built a new weapon to use on his daughter who he believes is a ghost with no proof and only Maddie is concerned he is wrong and could hurt her Jack says it can’t unless it gets into hair which it does and painfully rips all the hair off his head  

Lancer first appearance  

Tucker can sense the totally not real all steak buffet in the teacher’s lounge  

Dash first appearance and he’s angry his order of mud pies has mud blaming Sam calling her Danny’s girlfriend which they both deny  

Dash acknowledges these are his best years and after high school his life will suck  

Sam says the mud is actually topsoil (I think parents will have a problem with the school feeding their children dirt)  

Lunch Lady looks like Tucker’s grandmother  

Lunch Lady is angry the menu was changed after fifty years (so was she this school’s lunch lady did she make the menu has she been dead for at most fifty years)  

First appearance of “going ghost” catchphrase and on-screen transformation  

First appearance of ghost tail  

If superheroing doesn’t work out he can have an exciting career as bus boy  

Lunch Lady can control lunch and everything related to lunch  

First appearance of Danny turning others intangible and is excited it worked  

Lunch Lady makes a meat suit out of the actually real all steak buffet from the teacher's lounge leaving them only one bone  

First appearance of Lancer cursing in book titles “Paradise Lost”  

Danny depowers on accident  

Tucker was repeatedly in trouble for loitering by the girl’s locker room  

After 34 broken beakers Danny’s been banned from handling fragile school property  

Lancer is biased against students willing to exempt Dash from punishment because he’s a star football player  

Tucker’s meat sense is strong enough to scent out where the meat is in the school   

The school keeps boxes of meat in the basement with no refrigeration  

Danny has ghost powers but Tucker is the weird one  

Tucker just carries around a fork and knife (those better be plastic because real ones would get you into major trouble at school)  

First appearance of Danny able to stretch himself  

After his first fight Danny passes out from exhaustion and depowers  

As soon as Jazz walks through the door her parents throw a smoke grenade and attack her  

Danny sleeps as his friends carry him all the way home  

Maddie tells Jack Danny isn’t a ghost Jack doesn’t think he is but is still suspicious of Jazz and she tries to get the modified vacuum cleaner to let go of her hair  

Tucker freaks Danny out saying he was unconscious for days when it was only a few hours  

Tucker and Sam then leave having an argument on whose fault it was and about changing the menu   

Overnight Tucker arranged a meat fair/protest at the school and Sam a vegetarian protest and demand Danny take a side  

Sam says ultra recyclo vegetarians don’t have to waste time cooking their food (so ya’ll just eat raw veggies)  

The Lunch Lady attacks first appearance of Star and the two hug Danny so he can transform  

Jazz is attacked by her parents after she just told Spike if he opens up to his parents they won’t attack him (can we have Spike be Jazz’s only friend at school can we make him into his own character like we did Wes)  

Danny flew through a plane twice but he was invisible/intangible what were those people reacting to before Danny shouted thanks and stole that man’s water (it was in a glass didn’t planes already switch to bottles in 2004)  

Jazz got her father to have a change of heart and Jack even stated he was turning his back on ghosts  

First appearance of Danny using his foot as a scythe  

Danny depowers   

Jack says ghosts don’t exist throwing the thermos at Danny  

Those little meat gremlins threw Danny to the ground from that height they fully expected to kill him a human child   

Danny manages to transform and save himself and him saying thanks for the thermos was enough for Jack to feel vindicated ghosts are real and gloats in Jazz’s face  

Danny uses his ghost powers to operate the thermos (he changes human again off screen between that and capping the thermos)  

Danny decides not to tell his parents having decided fighting ghosts is what his powers are for  

Lancer blames this all on the trio and has them clean the school grounds until nightfall  

Danny being petty with his powers and crushing Dash under an avalanche of garbage dumpster meat 

2 PARENTAL BONDING 

First appearance of the Fenton Ghost Fisher  

There is a Fenton urinal  

Danny reels in Dorathea’s dragon form/first appearance of Dorathea 

Dorathea loses her cursed amulet as if falls into Danny’s bag changing her back to normal and she goes back into the ghost zone crying that her horrid mummy won’t let her go to the prince’s costume ball  

First appearance of Paulina and she’s so hot boys can’t take their eyes off of her to the point of tripping over themselves  

Sam says girls like her are a dime a dozen Tucker and Danny immediately start counting their pocket change  

Sam says you can’t judge a book by it’s cover (this will be the theme of the episode won’t it)  

Sam takes offense when Danny says he gets weak kneed when he talks to girls implying she’s not cute  

Sam pushes Danny to go shoot his shot but his uncontrolled powers cause his pants to fall down in front of Paulina  

“a gentleman usually tips his hat but I’ll give you points for originality” (I can’t tell if she was making fun of him or trying to lighten his embarrassment)  

Sam calls Paulina shallow which she takes offense to and as revenge will lure Danny away from her (she calls Sam a goth geek but to me she seems more like a poser)  

Dash pushes Danny into a locker to introduce himself to Paulina (does this mean they didn’t know each other before this)  

 Danny is petty with his powers again overshadowing Dash/first appearance of overshadowing and gets Dash to say embarrassing gross stuff (note eyes turn green when overshadowed by Danny)  

“Why do I suddenly feel like scrubbing my mom’s feet?” (so does this imply when overshadowed it can have aftereffects of the influence is it permanent how long does it last)  

Paulina finds the amulet and thinks it’s beautiful (it’s not) and Danny lies that he got it for her in case she said yes to go to the dance with him  

He manages to stop his pants from falling down this time  

Paulina says he’s cute and has great taste in underwear (I don’t know if she’s genuine or this is her manipulation ploy)  

Paulina puts on the amulet and immediately becomes influenced by it  

Since Paulina is interested he forgets about getting the amulet back to his mom or sister who he believes could own it then his pants fall down  

Lancer sees his pants fell down again saying it’s the third time that week calling it “dropping trow”/first appearance of him using dated slang and he wants to meet with Danny’s father to talk about it in the meantime gives Danny a belt to stay “outta trouble with the man”  

Jack is so frustrated with his fishing he’ll take out his rage on the first person that gives him bad news so Danny doesn’t tell him about the conference  

Danny overshadows his father for the conference about the incidents with Danny's pants   

Jack/Danny lies that Danny studies so hard he forgets to eat Lancer says that explains things  

Jack/Danny flatters Lancer that’s he’s Danny’s favorite teacher and the Fenton's consider teachers underpaid and underappreciated (well he’s not wrong)  

Lancer is impressed and has Jack chaperone Friday’s dance “catch you later G”  

When finding out Danny can control people and they don’t remember Tucker wants him to overshadow a girl for about two minutes but Danny refuses telling him he can get his own date like he did  

Sam asks if he has to take off his pants and act like a dweeb for it  

A discontinued fleecy tee is so trendy the sales lady tells Paulina without one she’ll have to languish as a toxic social outcast for five to sixteen weeks   

This enrages Paulina so much she turns into a dragon and burns the display table  

Sam says she’s glad she’s not going to the dance saves her from wearing the lame dress her parents bought her (by her tone you can tell she wanted to go)  

Tucker can tell no one’s asked her and Sam is bitter that if she was as pretty as Paulina Danny says being pretty isn’t a crime Sam tells him looks are deceiving (this will play into the theme of the episode)  

Paulina’s dragon form is knocked out causing the amulet to fall into a lady’s sales bag she transforms back having no memory of the fight she puts the amulet back on and thinks the tee in the bag is hers saying good things happen when you maintain a positive attitude  

First appearance of Valerie she states she won’t go out with Tucker unless something happens that makes her dateless Kwan then appears/first appearance of Kwan saying his first choice said yes so he’s ditching her Tucker takes the rebound date  

Jack has no memory of agreeing to chaperone it’s just a vague blur  

Jazz says she knows Danny’s sudden clumsy nervousness is because he has a girlfriend Danny panics denying he’s not a ghost  

Jazz warns he better warn his date his family is insane if she finds out after marriage that’s entrapment (I don’t think it is)  

Danny walks out of the doorless kitchen but it then cuts to him opening a door and walking down the stairs  

Sam being dateless facetimes the two with the dragon research she did but the first picture of the amulet of Aragon shows it on a thin chain when the whole time it’s thick and sectioned like a snake chain (is it because if the serpent theme also the picture is colored and the dragon depiction is accurate and it’s supposed to be from the medieval era is it an artist's rendition is Dorathea and her dragon form from actual history does this world have ghosts and cursed objects and the general populace is just unaware)  

Sam’s final remarks hoping they have a wonderful evening on the date with the dragon is a cue for Danny to see she really wants to go they’re her best friends they should have known  

Despite Tucker’s protests Danny overshadows him to ask Sam out (so Valerie is gonna think Tucker ditched her)  

After Danny leaves his body Tucker was about to tell Sam no until he saw how hot she was in her dress (Sam you said your parents bought you that dress but it’s so your style I doubt that were you just deflecting your hurt feelings)  

Paulina’s dad is the protective Papa bear type and basically gave Danny the shovel talk  

“Let’s get down with our bad selves” “Yo shake that thing” “Hey G you’re my dog” (Lancer going full how do you do fellow kids)  

Danny lies to Paulina that the amulet is actually Sam’s Paullina is pissed but not enough to turn full dragon  

As Lancer talks to Jack about their discussion about Danny Danny overshadows Jack again and Maddie notices he sounds strange  

When Jack/Danny goes up to Tucker and Sam Tucker is all too quick to throw Danny under the bus  

Paulina refuses to give back the amulet or Danny believing he’s Sam’s boyfriend  

Sam explains he’s her best friend and maybe that’s why she why so hard on her and says she didn’t mean to call her shallow (this could be a great character moment for them both)  

Paulina then confesses she only went out with Danny to steal him from her and is disappointed so she put the amulet on Sam calling it crummy and goes to dump Danny calling him dorky  

This enrages Sam calling her a shallow little witch (you know it this wasn’t rated 8+ on Nickelodeon that would be bitch)   

Paulina faints from the shock (I mean yeah) 

Sam’s dragon form breaks a giant hole in the school roof and no one notices  

Danny sees the dragon is holding Paulina so it’s Sam he’s fighting confirmed when Sam calls Paulina shallow  

Jack doesn’t recognize Lancer and demands to know why he’s talking to Maddie  

Danny overshadows Jack again and lies that he didn’t recognize him because the light made him look like George Clooney (was he popular in the early 2000s) 

Apparently Jack/Danny and Maddie’s dancing is so good the people on the dance floor cheer  

Danny tangles dragon Sam up in the Fenton Fisher fishing line and removes the amulet and tells Sam she had a roaring time at the dance   

Dash tries to flirt with an unimpressed Paulina  

Danny and Sam go off to dance  

As Tucker bemoans being dateless again Dorathea reappears wanting to go to the ball and Tucker freaks out   

3 ONE OF A KIND 

First appearance of the Box Ghost (they’re fighting in a warehouse does this imply Boxy is a dead warehouse worker)  

That address on the box is labeled for Arlington Heights Illinois (they're also at a shipping at a port so is Amity Park in Illinois)  

Danny thinks seals are canines (I don’t think he’ll be an astronaut)   

Tucker fumbles the thermos dropping it and releasing dozens of ghost businessmen and the Box Ghost and it’s only 9 PM  

First appearance of Skulker who states Danny being half human half ghost makes him one of a kind making him a fine addition to his collection  

Skulker threatened Boxy that if he touches the cage he’ll adorn his fireplace with his pelt (so ghosts can be skinned)  

Jazz considers her mom a genius and is happy Genius Magazine a magazine by women geniuses for women geniuses about women geniuses will answer her request to put her on that month’s cover  

Danny thinks it is the swimsuit issue and thinks it’s gross his mom will be in it  

Jazz sees it as an opportunity for the world to see her parents as normal and not ghost hunting freaks Danny denies they’re freaks  

Maddie considers Jack to also be a genius as besides every genius woman there’s a genius man and Jack also wants to be beside her on the cover the world deserves to know the Fenton's are a family of geniuses cuts to Danny getting a D on the test (which makes sense those answers he wrote are nonsense also throw back to when they taught cursive in school and made us write in it)  

Sam tells Danny he can to research on the endangered Purple Back Gorilla proving they deserve to be set free (Sam you have a fundamental misunderstanding on the importance and purpose of zoos)  

Even Danny says he doesn’t have time to deal with her agendas but Tucker (blaming Sam for making him let all the ghosts out) uses his PDA to manage Danny’s time  

First appearance of Mikey and when he continues screaming after Skulker webbed him to the wall and yells at him about being the world’s greatest hunter Skulker scolds him to be quiet in the library and gags him  

Dash and another football player come in and the football player says he didn't do it but can appreciate high quality bullying (so bullying is highly prevalent at Casper High)  

The trio spent 6 hours watching a gorilla scratch his butt  

Tucker and Danny fall asleep hugging and Sam takes a picture to use as blackmail (I haven't seen a polaroid camera in years after everything went digital to the cloud they’re only just now bringing them back)  

Sampson the gorilla freaks out when he hears Skulker fight a tiger he points and pulls on the door and Sam just lets him out of his enclosure (not only is the switch unlocked it’s also unguarded did this zoo just let three teens spend the night unsupervised)  

Skulker’s binoculars alert him to an attacking gorilla right before Sampson goes apeshit on him (so is it because animals can sense ghosts or can Sampson sense Skulker is a threat)  

Danny and Tucker sleep through the gorilla fight and Skulker crashing through the observatory tower window and most of the gorilla ghost fight round two  

They are startled awake by the noise startled that they’re hugging and startled for a third time by the loose gorilla  

Sampson freaks out and runs from Danny’s ghost form   

Danny cuts Sam off before she warns him of the ghost and when Tucker threatens to tell everyone at school she released a gorilla she threatens them with the photo so they keep it a secret  

Maddie sees Danny looking like crap and doesn’t like his overnight zoo research Danny says they just some kids at a zoo at night alone  

Danny has a large sign on his door that says “DANNY’S BEDROOM”  

Tucker gives him 13 minutes to sleep but Skulker was waiting calling him ghost child and captures him  

Skulker explains he’s a collector of the rare and unique and that’s what Danny is and more (Skulker’s hair is now blue instead of green is it because of the dramatic lighting)  

Jack and Maddie hear the loud noises from the fight and assume there's a ghost in the house (well they’re not wrong)   

Sam says the noise Danny is making is from him lifting weights Maddie says he doesn’t have any when Danny yells about Jazz’s computer Sam says he’s using that  

Danny crashes making a hole through the ceiling and falls into the kitchen shattering the table and Skulker kidnaps him Tucker plays off the damage as him doing karate  

The interviewer is more interested in talking to Danny and Maddie wants to know what he’s doing too  

Skulker has a device that can turn on the ghost portal  

Sam starts lecturing about cages like how Sampson's a beautiful animal and deserves to roam free telling Skulker he should be ashamed  

Skulker than takes Tucker’s PDA to Tucker’s complaint that he had three more payments on it (so technology is ghost compatible)  

Now Skulker’s suit has to abide by Danny's schedule  

Danny hurries and stops his family and the interviewer from seeing his destroyed room the interviewer takes his brooding messy and reclusiveness as a sign of a true genius but complains he’s not a woman  

Tucker has a backup PDA to track Danny and Skulker’s schedule  

Skulker hid a booby trap in a milk carton but is interrupted by the schedule now Danny realizes he could use it to his advantage   

Danny gets Dash to open his gym locker triggering him to be the booby trap's victim  

Even Skulker knows Dash will have an average life after high school  

Danny now decides to plan to use the schedule to trap Skulker  

Where did Sam and Tucker get that lifelike gorilla costume  

Tucker hacks Skulker's PDA to mess with him as Danny fights him not taking the opportunity to power hi down before Skulker destroys that one and Tucker bemoans it had four more payments (I just looked it up the average price for a PDA in 2004 was about $350)  

Skulker has had enough and plans to keep Danny’s pelt at the foot of his bed instead of having him live in a cage  

Danny uses gorilla habits to call Sampson to fight Skulker declaring it was easy to learn his language when all he does is scratch his butt  

Tucker wonders why a ghost would need a high-tech battle suit right when Sampson tears off Skulker's head to reveal a little frog sized ghost  

Bending down to pick up the tech Danny is low and close enough to see something shocking about Sampson  

The Genius Magazine publishes about Danny being the genius child of a genius woman discovering Sampson is actually a Delilah “Nobody at that zoo bothered to see if it was a boy or a girl?” (I know this was meant as a joke but it is possible to be mistaken recently a zoo discovered a male gorilla was a girl after she gave birth)  

Lancer acknowledges he was desperate enough risk being mauled by a gorilla so gives him a C for it telling him next time try the library to get his grade up  

Danny wants to take his misplaced aggression out on something then Boxy shows up he has five free minutes four more than he needs 

[luna-nigthshade-wood]

What they don´t know, will hurt them

Summary: Dean Winchesters attempts suicide on a dirty motel bathtub, ending brain dead on a hospital. A trickster promises John and Sam that he will save him for “free”, as long as they both get through watching a series of Dean´s memories, good and bad. The twist is that they will feel everything Dean did at the time and they can stop it at any time, but then Dean will die. They both accept thinking it cant be that bad. Spoiler: it is worse.  

Chapter 37

Sometimes, back when his sons were young, John used to fantasy on the What if´s? What if Mary hadn’t die? What if their house hadn’t burned down? What if his kids had grown up in a normal safe environment? Would Mary and him still be together? Would he still have had an unhealthy relationship with alcohol? Would Adam still exist? Would Sam had still loved school? Would he had still gone to law school at Stanford or would he have chosen a different path? Somehow the what if´s that kept him up at night weren’t these, the ones that prevented him from sleeping were the ones regarding his oldest. Would Dean had gone to college? Would he have been a scholar or a jock? Would he have been more social or have few trusted friends? John´s mind was full of what if´s, but perhaps if he had paid more attention to the reality, none of this would have happened.

The screen lights up once more, and Sam almost chokes recognizing which case their past selves are heading, would it have been too much to ask that they skipped this one? Back then, Sam hadn’t given any thought to his brother´s inner struggles, hadn’t really care to figure why Dean was so adamant to return to their childhood home, and yes, they have saved the day at the end, but Sam didn’t want to uncover the hurt he had put his brother trough.

The scene doesn’t stop though, and it shows Dean trying to find a new case, while “Sam” all but ignores him, drawing something in a note pad. Dean questions his brother, until “Sam” tells him that they need to go back to their childhood home, “Sam” shows his brother and old photo and suddenly sadness and nostalgia fill the room as Dean looks at it. “Sam” keeps talking on the background of the screen, but to Dean (and therefore the viewers) it sounds like miles away, until one sentence catches Dean attention and he snaps back of the trance he was in

-This is going to sound crazy, but the people who live in the house, I think they might be in danger.

-Why do you think that?- Dean asks confuse and nervous

-You gotta trust me on this okay?- “Sam” says ignoring Dean completely

-Trust you? Yeah, I think that I will need a little more than that- Dean says pissed off, but the nervousness is still there- I am not going anywhere until you explain

-I have these nightmares- “Sam” confesses- and sometimes they come true- he tells Dean and Dean´s face goes pale as “Sam” continues- I dreamt about Jessica´s death for days before it happened

-Sam- Dean says sitting down- People dream terrible thing all the time- he says but his voice is shaking

-I dreamt about the blood, about the ceiling, the fire, and now I am dreaming about some woman screaming for help, and that has to mean something- “Sam” says, Dean losing color the more he talks, and John wants to reach out inside the screen and hug his oldest, as he watches the lost look on his face

-I don’t know- Dean says looking lost, the world coming out slightly slurred

-What do you mean you don’t know?- “Sam” screams- This might be the thing that killed mom

-All right. Just slow down, would you?- Dean says, shaking slightly as he buries his nails inside his thighs, a movement only perceptible by the sting the Winchesters get. Dean stands up, and Sam cant honestly keep track of his brother´s feelings, before he exclaims- First you tell me, you got the Shining and then you tell me that I have to get back home. Especially when…

-When what?- “Sam” says

-When I swear myself that I would never go back there- Dean says, tone vulnerable and soft.

-Look, Dean, we have to check this out, just to be sure- “Sam” exclaims, and the mask goes up once more on Dean´s face as he nods and the scene ends.

And Sam wants to rage and shout and his past self for this, this alone is one crime he could never forgive himself, for once in his life Dean was letting the mask slip, his brother was as close as begging for him not to make him go, to the place where his life had burned overnight, and Sam refused him. The walls his brother put had quickly gone up, because Sam hadn’t care to find out what was wrong, he hadn’t care beyond some callous words, because he always had to be right, doesn’t he?

John takes a deep breath knowing what case his sons are working, and it would be a lie if he told himself that he wasn’t close to tears just by the opening. Before this “experience” he was too busy playing the victim to think what his sons had lost, but now, seeing the devastation on Dean´s face he had a clue of what was to come. He also remembered a particular voicemail that he hoped wouldn’t be shown (as if the Trickster would let him get away with it)

The scene progresses and this time it shows the brothers pulling over outside of the house, Dean´s house visibly shaking. They knock on the door, which is answer by the new tenant named Jenny. “Sam” introduces both of them with their real names, and the woman lets them in, telling them she found old pictures of them while cleaning the attic. The woman introduces the brothers to her kids and Dean tries to make small talk to fish for information but his attempts fall flat, with “Sam” having to take the lead. The awkwardness and discomfort Dean is feeling is felt by his family like invisible ants crawling inside their skins, and both of them wonder how Dean was able to stood there long enough without bolting.

Sari, Jenny´s daughter, tells the brothers that she saw a flaming figure and both brothers´ hearts almost stop. They make their excuses and rush out the door, with Dean almost tripping in his haste to get away, “Sam” hot on his heels, all but screaming at his brother his theories about how it might be the thing that killed their mom, with Dean rationalizing that they cant take the people out of the house without investigating more. The brothers drive away to a gas station, with “Sam” asking Dean how much he remembered about that night

-Not much- Dean says and somehow it tastes like a lie- I remember the fire. The heat. Then I carried you out the front door- he admits

-You did?- “Sam” asks surprised, and the Sam in the room feels a pang of hurt just thinking about it.

-Yeah, why, you never knew that?- Dean asks, with “Sam” shaking his head quietly, before Dean continues- And well, you know Dad´s story as much as I do, he found Mom- Dean says, before losing his voice for a couple of seconds and then continuing, with every word almost getting dragged out of him- Whatever out her there was long gone by the time Dad found her

-And he never had a theory about what did it?- “Sam” asks, and Sam gives a side glance to his dad, who avoid his eyes, they both know the answer to that

-If he did- and this sounds sarcastic in Dean´s tone- he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.

-Okay- “Sam” says with a small voice- So we have to figure out what happened that night and see if it is the same thing- the younger says before adding- Does this feel like a normal case to you?

-I will be right back- Dean says ignoring the question- I gotta go to the bathroom

Dean walks towards the bathroom, but only once he is away from “Sam” does he lets himself lose composure, his fingers tremble as he pulls his phone out of the pocket, a couple of stray tears falling from his eyes, as he dials a known number, getting the voicemail once more

-Dad- Dean says, voice breaking- I know I have left you messages before. I don’t even know if you get them. But I am with Sam and we are in Lawrence and there is something in our old house. I don’t know if it’s the thing that killed mom or not…but… I don’t know what to do- Dean says before breaking down- So whatever you are doing, if you could get here. Please. I need your help, dad- Dean pleads, before he hangs up the phone, and yes maybe, John should have expected the punch to the face that Sam gives him

-He asked for your help- Sam says, once the flow of blood slowed down- He practically begged for it and you refused.

-Sammy, I…-John says trying to excuse the inexcusable

-No, dad- Sam furiously says- Don’t even try to explain. Dean, who never asked anything from you, asked for your help and you ignored him, just like you ignore him every single need or want he has. What possibly stupid reason would you give, that would excuse this, huh?- Sam asks screaming

-I did go- John confesses and Sam has half a mind to punch his father again- But by the time that I arrived you two had practically solved the case

-So what?- Sam retorts- You didn’t think that perhaps you could have talked to us, instead of leaving us hanging?

-You have to understand, Sam- John tries to defend- The demon was after me, I was protecting you

-No, dad- Sam replies with a hollow voice- You were protecting yourself- he says and well what can John respond when presented with the truth

The memory continues as Dean slowly sinks in the ground, disappointment and desperation filling him, before shakenly pulling his phone out once more and making another call, the first sentence he says making John´s stomach turn

-Give me a reason why I shouldn’t just blow my brains out and be done with it?- Dean says as soon as the call connects on the other end

-Because your family will miss you- a familiar female voice tells him

-They wont care- Dean laughs humorless- Hell, they will probably be happy to get rid of my useless ass

-I will miss you- Faith responds

-You will get over it- Dean retorts, tears falling freely

-I wont, and that is something you cant refute, because it involves myself and you know it- she tells him- Also you will be flanking on your promise, and that is an insult to fae culture

-What are you gonna do?- Dean asks- Kill me? Make my life a living hell? Because trust me, it already is- he says, but even with the grim topic the Winchesters realize that Dean has finally stop shaking

-Maybe revive you- Faith answers- You know, as punishment- she says, getting a small laugh from Dean, before she asks- What happened?

-I am at Lawrence, in a case that involves my old house- Dean answers- I guess, I kind of got lost inside my head.

-Do you need help?- the Fae asks with no hesitation

-No- Dean says- At least I don’t think so, I think I just needed to talk to someone that would listen. Thank you- Dean tells her, with the tears finally stopping

-Happy to serve and be of service- Faith responds- And I am serious, if you need help, you can call at any time.

-Thank you, F- Dean says one more before disconnecting the call, as the scene ends

The fact that something (someone, his mind reprimands) that he would have called a monster and gank without a second thought shows more kindness and support to his son that his own father, hits something deep inside John. Because the truth is that there is a monster in this narrative, and he sees it everytime he looks in a mirror.

Sam, for his part, is stunned into silence. He never acknowledged Dean´s struggles with more than a path in the shoulder and perhaps a quick hug, and then proceed to never mention it again. He never knew how close he was to lose Dean (he never knew how close to the edge his brother was)

The memories continue this time showing the boys at the garage that John used to own, bringing back memories to the man that had long been forgotten. The brothers interrogate John´s partner at the garage asking him if he knew something about the Winchesters disappearance, the man tells them that after the fire John claimed that something caused the fire and killed Mary, even though it was an “accident”, starting to read odd books and seeing a psychic in town. Afterwards, “Sam” starts to research psychics in town with Dean recognizing the name of Missouri Moseley as one he had read at their dad´s journal, so they head to the woman´s house to speak to speak to her.

Missouri recognize them upon arrival, giving his condolences to “Sam”, while also telling them that she doesn’t know where their father is. Dean doesn’t take the news well and makes a verbal jab towards the psychic but she rebuts telling him that she can only read thoughts and energies. She tells the boys, she is the one that told him the truth about what was out there and if the Winchesters hadn’t been paying attention they would have missed the barely there resentment that Dean quickly feels and dismiss. He recovers quickly asking the woman if she knows what killed their mom, and she tells them that she went to the house with John looking for clues, but she doesn’t know what it was, only that it was evil. “Sam” tells her that they think the creature is back in the house and that it might be related with their missing father and Jessica´s death. Dean and Missouri both getting pale at hearing this.

The scene moves on, showing the boys and Missouri going to the old house. Jenny opens the door and tells them it is not a good time, Dean, clearly off his game, tries to interject but Missouri slaps him on the back of his head, and tries to explain to the frighten woman was going on. All in all, a normal for them conversation but a phrase that Missouri says repeats inside the Winchester´s head:

-Forgive the boy- Missouri says- He means well. He is just not the sharpest tool in the shed. Now hear me out…

But whatever she says next, they don’t quite hear, too busy getting confronted with Dean´s feelings of hurt and self-hate, that he quickly tries to contain to keep his mind on the game.

Whatever Missouri says works, because Jenny grants them access to the house. They climb to Sam´s nursey and for a moment Dean feels panic as he tries to do anything possible to block bad memories from resurging. Missouri tells them that it is not the same thing that kill their mom, but it is related. She thinks that the creature that is terrorizing the family is a poltergeist that was attracted by the evil energy related to the house and that there might be a second more benign spirit. She tells them that they need to purify the house to expulse the creature.

The three split up to cover more ground and Dean takes a deep breath as he starts to work, a noise is all the warning he gets as his instincts kick in managing to duck before a knife invades itself where his face was a second before, he doesn’t hesitate either using a table as a cover and managing to put the herbs in place. He rushes upstairs to find “Sam” getting strangled by a cord, that only stops when he puts the ingredients in the spot in the wall, a white light is seen before it disappears, with Missouri exclaiming that is finally over, even if “Sam” is not convinced.

“Sam” convinces Dean to park outside the house for the night, telling him that something isn’t right, with Dean secretly agreeing that things seem to have been too easy. “Sam” looks at the window and sees Jenny asking for help making the boys jump into action. Dean hurries to the woman´s bedroom trying and failing to open the door, before kicking it out, managing to get Jenny to safety, Jenny´s kids come out the door soon after, but there is no sign of “Sam”, the little girl claims something grab him, so Dean hurries and tries to enter the house taking down the door with an ax.

Dean enters the house, finding “Sam” and a fire figure, he goes to shoot but “Sam” stops him, and Dean´s heart (along with John´s) skips a beat at seeing his mom´s ghostly figure.

The sight leaves Dean speechless, with a wheel of emotions intermixing. The moment last only a few minutes tough and as quickly as Mary appears she disappears taking the poltergeist with her.

The scene jumps to the next morning showing Jenny thanking the brothers and giving Dean some photos she found. The nostalgia Dean feels is mixed with melancholy, before he locks them inside one of the boxes inside the trunk of the Impala, before he and “Sam” drive away closing the scene and finishing the memory.

Sam stares at the blank screen for a minute, trying to keep his emotions at check. Now more than anything, he regrets not having pay attention to his brother. Through the whole case, Dean was struggling, with reason, trying to keep his head in the game, without letting it show how it was affecting him. The nostalgia and melancholy still in the air, but there is bitterness in there too, bitterness at thinking of the life they could have had in another life, and Sam doesn’t know how to process this new information

There is something inherently broken in his family, John thinks, something he broke and never bother to try and fix. Because, back then Dean needed him more than ever, and he gave excuses once again to avoid confrontation, prioritizing once more his own feelings, telling himself that Dean was going to be okay. But Dean wasn’t okay and he hadn’t been okay for a while. And one day, near the future of the memory, his eldest would climb into a bathtub and (try to) kill himself and he wouldn’t ask for help, why would he? He had no reason to believe someone would help him.

AO3

Masterlist

[getblackout503]

1776, New Clover City

Today was a terrible day so far. Asta just received word that his application for Golden dawn college was just rejected, on the account he was too young. Not to mention he had just got into a fight with a bursar, ending with Staria punching him. Not a good day indeed. So as he walked down the streets of New Clover City, he was shocked yet excited to see the very man he was looking for. As he prepared himself to talk to the brunette man, he walked behind and asked the question.

“Pardon me,” Staria began. “Are you Gauche Adlai, sir?”

The man turned around, having a book in hand.

“Well that depends, who’s asking?” He said in an unreadable expression and tone.

“Oh right, sure sir,” Asta bowed. “My name is Asta Staria I’m at your service, sir”

“I’m getting nervous,” Adlai said as he watched the staria closely.

“Sir, I heard your name at the Golden Dawn college. I was seeking an accelerated course of study, but I may have gotten out of sorts with a buddy of yours. I may have punched him!” He puts his hands up in defense. “I may have punched him, it was a bit of a blur sir, he handles the finances?”

Gauche seems to take a moment and think for a bit before it hits him.

“Oh, you mean the bursar?”

“Yes!” Asta answered a bit too loudly. “I wanted to do what you did, graduate in two years then join the revolution!” He seemed to get louder, much to Gauche’s dismay. “But he looked at me like I was stupid, I’m not stupid”

Gauche chuckles a bit at that, as he puts his book in his bag he thinks for a bit. Before he is brought back out of them by Asta.

“How did you do it sir? How did you graduate so fast?”

Gauche paused at his question, normally he wouldn’t disclose personal information but something about Asta made Adlai trust him.

“It was my parents dying wish before they past”

“You’re an orphan?” Asta asks, he then seems to get excited. “Of course! I’m an orphan! God I wish there was a war so we could prove we’re worth more than anyone bargained for”

Gauche turned to face the young man.

“Can I buy you a drink, Staria?”

“That would be nice, sir.” He responded gratefully.

“Now, while we’re talking let me give you some free advice,” Gauche started walking to a nearby bar, with Asta in tow. “Talk less,”

“What?”

“Smile more,” Gauche said to the ash blonde man. Who responded with nervous laughter. “Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”

“Sir, you can’t be serious?”

“Do you want to get ahead?”

“Y-Yes, sir”

“Well, fools who run their mouth wind up dead.” Gauche says, as he opens the door of the bar to let Asta in, to which Asta is immediately met with three men in the tavern making a ruckus.

“Yo, what time is it?” One of the obviously intoxicated men asked two of his comrades, one of which Asta knew. But the man who asked the question had black hair, golden eyes, and a pendulum around his neck.

“Showtime!” All three men said at the same time.

“Like I said.” Asta heard Gauche say as they began to walk closer to the men.

“Yo, my name is Yuno Grinberryall, in the place to be, had two pints of sam adams. But I’m working on three.” He cheered as his friends hyped him up. “Those redcoats don’t want it with me, because I’ll Pop-chicka-pop these cops til I’m free!”

“Oui Oui, mon ami, je m’appelle Leopold Vermillon.” One of the redheaded men said in french, he wore clothes that showed he came from nobility. As all his clothes were made from expensive materials. “The lancelot of the revolutionary set, I came from afar just to say bonsoir, tell the king casse toi, who’s the best, c’est moi!”

Asta laughed slightly at Leopold just said for the king to go away, as Asta understood French alongside many other languages.

“Brrah! Brrah!” The final man began, and Asta already knew he was for he was the man who suggested he looked for Gauche. But he still listened to his friend's ridiculous banter. “I am Zora Ideala. Up in it, Lovin’ it. I heard your mother say "come again.” The joke made the other two men laugh. “Lock up your daughters and horses, of course it’s hard to have intercourse over four sets of corsets.”

“Wow,” Responded Leopold.

“No more sex, pour me another brew son,” Yuno grabbed his glass before raising it into the air. “Let’s raise a couple more to the”

“Revolution!” All three said at once, that is until they spotted Gauche. While Zora spotted his friend Asta.

“Well, If it ain’t the prodigy of Golden Dawn college.” Yuno stated, walking over to Gauche.

“Gauche Adlai.” Zora said in a low playfully mocking voice.

“Give us a verse, drop some knowledge.”

“Yeah, right.” Gauche chuckled lightly. “You’re taking a stand, you guys spit, I’mma sit, we’ll see where we land.”

“Boo!” Both Zora and Leopold said in disappointment.

“Adlai, the revolution is imminent, what do you stall for?” Yuno asked.

“If you stand for nothing Adlai, what will you fall for?” Asta said, now grabbing the attention of Leo and Yuno.

“Oh, who are you?”

“Who are you?”

“Who is this kid, what is he gonna do?” They asked together.

“Gentlemen, that’s Asta Staria, a friend of mine.”

They turned to Asta to see what he had to say.

‘I am not throwing my shot’

“It’s nice to meet you gentlemen.” He started. “I plan on getting a scholarship at Black Bulls college, I know I shouldn’t brag but dang do I amaze and astonish. But the one problem I have is I have a lot of brains but no polish, I got to holler just to be heard. But with every word I drop knowledge. I’m a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal trying to reach my goal, my power of speech? Unimpeachable. I’m only nineteen but my mind is older, and as these New Clover streets get colder and I shoulder everything burden and every disadvantage I have learned to manage. While I don’t have a gun brandish I walk these streets famished.”

“Phew” leopold exhales, this kid was rapid fire. But he had so much confidence with every word he said.

“But the plan is to fan this spark into a flame, but damn it’s dark so let me spell out the name, I am the A,S-T,A S,T-A-R,I-A and we are meant to be a colony the runs independently, and yet Old Clover keeps shitting on us endlessly, and essentially they tax us relentlessly then King Kira turns around and runs a spending spree, he ain’t never gonna set his descendent free, so there will be a revolution in this century. (Enter me)”

“He says in parentheses.”

“Don’t be shocked when your history books mention me, I will lay down my life if it sets us free and eventually you’ll see my ascendancy. And I am not throwing my shot, I’m just like my country. I'm young, scrappy, and hungry, and-” Asta was cut off by Yuno.

“Not throwing my shot.” Yuno smiled back, as well as Zora and Leo. “Gentlemen, it’s time to take a shot.”

“I dream of life without a monarchy, the unrest France will leave to onarchy, onarchy?” Leo said, as he struggled to find the right word as he was still new to the English language. “How do you say? Oh! An-archy.” He says, still with some struggle but he manages. “But when I fight, I make the other side panicky with my shot!”

“Yo! I’m a tailor's apprentice, and I got y’all knuckles head as a loco parentis, but I’m joining the rebellion cuz I know it’s my chance to socially advance and instead of sewing some pants Imma take a shot!” Zora said loud and comfortably.

“Yeah, But!” Yuno starts off. “We will never be truly free unless those in bondage have the same rights as you and me.” Immediately Asta agreed with Yuno. “You and I, do or die. Just wait when I sally in on a stallion with the first black battalion. Have another Shot!”

They all cheered until Gauche came in.

“Genius’ lower your voice, you have to keep out of trouble and you double your choices. I’m with you but the situation is fraught, you have to be carefully taught, if you talk you’re gonna get.”

“Shot.” The other four men said, solemnly.

“But Adlai, look at what we got, Mister Vermillion hard rock like lancelot.” Asta turns to Zora. “I think your pants look hot,” Then to Yuno. “Grinberryall I like you a lot, let’s hatch a plot blacker the the kettle calling the pot! What are the odds the gods would put us all in one spot! Pop a squat on conventional wisdom whether you like it or not! A bunch of revolutionary, manumission, abolitionists? Give me a position, show me where the ammunition is!” Asta says in a flash, but soon realization and embarrassment hits him. “Am I talking too loud? Sometimes I get over excited and shoot off at the mouth. I’ve never had a group of friends before but I promise I’ll make you all proud.” Asta really liked them, they were his first friends ever, and he wanted them to like him. Soon Yuno broke the silence.

“Let’s get this guy in front of a crowd!” He yelled, his voice full of approval.

Soon the four guys ran into the streets gathering people as Gauche opted to stay behind. As the crowd grew the more anxious Asta got, he had to speak in front of them all, he had to leave a good impression. Yuno was already rallying the crowd.

“Rise! When you’re living on your knees you rise up! Tell your brother he has to rise up! Tell your sister she has to rise up!”

So once they arrived at town square he prepared himself.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I…I imagine death so much it feels like a memory, when is it going to get me in my sleep? Or seven feet ahead of me? If I see it coming do I run or let it be? Is it like a beat without a melody? I never thought I would live past twenty, where I come from some people get half as many. We live fast, we laugh, and we reach for a flask. We have to make this moment last, that’s plenty. But no! This is not a moment, it's the movement, where did all the hungriest brothers with something to prove went? When foes oppose us we take an honest stand. We roll like Moses taking our promised land. And if we win our independence, does that guarantee freedom for our descendants? Or will the blood we shed begin an endless cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants? And I know the action in the street is exciting, but between all the bleeding and fighting I’ve been reading and writing. We need to handle our financial situation, are we a nation of states? What is the state of our nation? I’M PAST PATIENTLY WAITING! I’M PASSIONATELY SMASHING EVERY EXPECTATION! EVERY ACTION IS AN ACT OF CREATION!” Asta screams out, inspiring everyone in the square. “I’m laughing in the face of casualties and sorrow, for the first time I’m thinking past tomorrow.” He was on the verge of tears, he was feeling so many emotions. “And I am not throwing my Shot!”

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

The latest episode Honestly features something a little different. It’s a replay of an episode of my friend Sam Harris’s podcast, Making Sense. I wanted to put this episode down the Honestly feed—despite the amount of Israel-related content we have already published—because of the moral confusion plaguing this moment. It’s everywhere: from college campuses to Congress. 

Sam, better than almost anyone I know, is able to speak to that confusion, with facts, nuance, and clarity. Read an edited excerpt below, or click to listen to the episode in full. Sam’s words are illuminating and well worth your time. —BW 

Link: Podcast audio (1 hour)

By: Sam Harris

Published: Nov 13, 2023

In the wake of Hamas’s October 7 attack, it’s important to keep in view the bright line that exists between good and a very specific form of evil. It is the evil of bad ideas—ideas so bad that they can make even ordinary human beings impossible to live with. 

There’s a piece of audio from October 7 that many people have commented on. It’s a recording of a cell phone call that a member of Hamas made to his family, while he was in the process of massacring innocent men, women, and children. The man is ecstatic, telling his father and mother, and I think brother, that he has just killed ten Jews with his own hands. He had just murdered a husband and wife and was now calling his family from the dead woman’s phone.

Here’s a partial transcript of what he said:

“Hi, Dad—open my ‎WhatsApp now, and you’ll see all those killed. Look how many I killed with my own hands! Your son killed Jews!”

And his dad says, “May God protect you.”

“Dad, I’m talking to you from a Jewish woman’s phone. I killed her, and I killed her husband. I killed ten with my own hands! Dad, ten with my own hands! Dad, open WhatsApp and see how many I killed, Dad. Open the phone, Dad. I’m calling you on WhatsApp. Open the phone, go. Dad, I killed ten. Ten with my own hands. Their blood is on their hands. [I believe that is a reference to the Quran.] Put Mom on.”

And the father says, “Oh, my son. God bless you!”

“I swear, ten with my own hands. Mother, I killed ten with my own hands!”

And his father says, “May God bring you home safely.”

“Dad, go back to WhatsApp now. Dad, I want to do a live broadcast.”

And the mother now says, “I wish I was with you.”

“Mom, your son is a hero!”

And then, apparently talking to his comrades, he yells, “Kill, kill, kill, kill them.”

And then his brother gets on the line, asking where he is. And he tells his brother the name of the town, and then he says “I killed ten! Ten with my own hands! I’m talking to you from a Jew’s phone!”

And the brother says, “You killed ten?”

“Yes, I killed ten. I swear!”

Then he says, “I am the first to enter on the protection and help of Allah! [Surely that’s another scriptural reference.] Hold your head up, father. Hold your head up! See on WhatsApp those that I killed. Open my WhatsApp.”

And his brother says, “Come back. Come back.”

And he says, “What do you mean, come back? There’s no going back. It is either death or victory! My mother gave birth to me for the religion. What’s with you? How would I return? Open WhatsApp. See the dead. Open it.”

And the mother sounds like she is trying to figure out how to open WhatsApp. . . 

“Open WhatsApp on your phone and see the dead, how I killed them with my own hands.”

And she says, “Well, promise to come back.”

I don’t speak any Arabic, and it seems to me that not every word in the audio that’s being circulated was translated, but I think we get the gist. When I spoke to Graeme Wood about this, he said that to him, the mother and father sounded more shocked and worried than anything else, which would be understandable. But I would submit to you that this piece of audio is more than just the worst WhatsApp commercial ever conceived. It is a window onto a culture. As I told Graeme, this is not the type of call that would have been placed from Vietnam, by an American who just participated in the My Lai massacre. Nor is it the parental reaction one would expect from an American family, had their beloved son just called them from a killing field. I mean, as terrible as Vietnam was, can you imagine a call back to Nebraska, “Mom, I killed ten with my own hands! I killed a woman and her husband, and I’m calling from the dead woman’s phone. Mom, your son is a hero!” Do you see what a total aberration that would have been, even in extremis? 

This call wasn’t a total aberration. This wasn’t Ted Bundy calling his mom. This was an ordinary member of Hamas, a group that might still win an election today, especially in the West Bank, calling an ordinary Palestinian family, and the mere existence of that call, to say nothing of its contents, reveals something about the wider culture among the Palestinians.

It’s important to point out that not only members of Hamas but ordinary Gazans appear to have taken part in the torture and murder of innocent Israelis and the taking of hostages. How many did this? And how many ordinary Gazans were dancing in the streets and spitting on the captured women and girls who were paraded before them after having been raped and tortured? What percentage of Palestinians in Gaza, or the West Bank, many of whom are said to hate Hamas for their corruption and incompetence and brutality, nevertheless support what they did on October 7 with a clear conscience, based on what they believe about Jews and the ethics of jihad? I don’t know, but I’m sure that the answers to these questions would be quite alarming. We’re talking about a culture that teaches Jew hatred and the love of martyrdom in its elementary schools, many of which are funded by the UN. 

Of course, all of this horror is compounded by the irony that the Jews who were killed on October 7 were, for the most part, committed liberals and peace activists. Hamas killed the sorts of people who volunteer to drive sick Palestinians into Israel for medical treatments. They murdered the most idealistic people in Israel. They raped, tortured, and killed young people at a trance dance music festival devoted to peace, half of whom were probably on MDMA feeling nothing but love for all humanity when the jihadists arrived. In terms of a cultural and moral distance, it’s like the fucking Vikings showed up at Burning Man and butchered everyone in sight. 

Just think about what happened at the Supernova music festival: at least 260 people were murdered in the most sadistically gruesome ways possible. Decapitated, burned alive, blown up with grenades. . . and from the jihadist side, this wasn’t an error. It’s not that if they could have known what was in the hearts of those beautiful young people, they would have thought, “Oh my God, we’re killing the wrong people. These people aren’t our enemies. These people are filled with love and compassion and want nothing more than to live in peace with us.” No, the true horror is that, given what jihadists believe, those were precisely the sorts of people any good Muslim should kill and send to hell where they can be tortured in fire for eternity. From the jihadist point of view, there is no mistake here. And there is no basis for remorse. Please absorb this fact: for the jihadist, all of this sadism—the torture and murder of helpless, terrified people—is an act of worship. This is the sacrament. This isn’t some nauseating departure from the path to God. This isn’t stalled spiritual progress, much less sin. This is what you do for the glory of God. This is what Muhammed himself did. 

There is no substitute for understanding what our enemies actually want and believe. I’m pretty sure that many of you reading this aren’t even comfortable with my use of the term enemy, because you don’t want to believe that you have any. I understand that. But you have to understand that the people who butchered over 1,400 innocent men, women, and children in Israel on October 7 were practicing their religion, sincerely. They were being every bit as spiritual, from their point of view, as the trance dancers at the Supernova festival were being from theirs. They were equally devoted to their highest values. Equally uplifted. Ecstatic. Amazed at their good fortune. They wouldn’t want to trade places with anyone. Let this image land in your brain: they were shouting “Allahu Akbar” (God is great) all day long, as they murdered women and children. And these people are now being celebrated the world over by those who understand exactly what they did. Yes, many of those college kids at Harvard and Stanford and Cornell are just idiots who have a lot to learn about the world. But in the Muslim community, and that includes the crowds in London and Sydney and Brooklyn, Hamas is being celebrated by people who understand exactly what motivates them. 

Again, watch Hotel Mumbai or read a book about the Islamic State so that you can see jihadism in another context—where literally not one of the variables that people imagine to be important here is present. There are no settlers or blockades or daily humiliations at checkpoints or differing interpretations of history—and yet we have same grotesque distortion of the spiritual impulse, the same otherworldliness framed by murder, the same absolute evil that doesn’t require the presence of evil people, just confused ones—just true believers. 

Of course, we can do our best to turn the temperature down now. And we can trust that the news cycle will get captured by another story. We can direct our attention again to Russia, or China, or climate change, or AI alignment, and I will do that on this podcast, but the problem of jihadism and the much wider problem of sympathy for it isn’t going away. And civilized people—non-Muslim and Muslim alike—have to deal with it. As I said in a previous podcast on this topic: we all live in Israel now. It’s just that most of us haven’t realized it yet.

==

many of those college kids at Harvard and Stanford and Cornell are just idiots who have a lot to learn about the world. But in the Muslim community, and that includes the crowds in London and Sydney and Brooklyn, Hamas is being celebrated by people who understand exactly what motivates them. 

This is the nub of the current insanity. This is an extreme Islamification, supremacist movement, and you have stupid idiot kids who have no idea what's going on - many of whom would be murdered in a heartbeat and their bodies dragged behind a motorcycle to the cheers of the faithful - endorsing and enabling it against their own interests because they've succumbed to shallow "social justice" rhetoric, and you have the true believers who do know, and are more than willing to be supported by the useful idiots who will eventually be thrown on the fire.

"Israel is only the first target. The entire planet will be under our law." -- Mahmoud al-Zahar, Hamas Commander

[devonian-error]

I had some thoughts on Ray's backstory, and why he became a defense attorney.

I think he had an older brother, Samuel, let's call him, around 16 years older than him, with a neighborhood reputation as a troublemaker. Petty theft, asault, property damage, Sam has spent more time in juvenile detention than in school, but when Ray was born, he promised to turn his life around for him. For the most part he did. He never went to college, and still lives at home, but he found a job that pays well enough to handle christmas gifts, and Ray's 11th birthday present, a game boy.

He's the person the parents at school are talking about whenever they tell their kids "you wouldn't want to end up like that, would you?" Which Ray doesn't understand, because Sam is the best brother he could have asked for.

Then 1994 hits. Ray is twelve years old. a woman, one of Sam's former high school teachers, is shot three times in the back on their street corner. Sam cracks a joke at dinner about how lucky Ray is that she won't be his teacher, and Mama yells at him.

1994, Ray comes home from school to see his apartment building surrounded by police cars, his brother sitting handcuffed on the ground. When Sam sees him, he throws him a playful shrug.

It does nothing to mask how scared he is.

1994. He's never heard anyone call his brother such awful things. Low-Life, Good-for-Nothing, Lost Cause. The prosecution reads off Sam's previous charges, as if they happened yesterday and not before Ray was even born. A jury member clicks her teeth. The gallery bursts into quiet murmers. Mama just stares at her lap. Praying, he thinks. Sam doesn't say anything.

Guilty.

Raymond is 12, as he watches, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, watching his brother get taken away in handcuffs.

He is 12 when he learns that over a decade of reformation means nothing in the face of a 2 year long criminal record.

He is 12 when he learns that, in the eyes of the law, in the eyes of the prosecution, his brother will always be a criminal.

Mama says you shouldn't hate anyone. Clearly, Mama's never met a prosecutor.

1996. Raymond is 14. He attends his brother's high school, and pretends not to notice the way his homeroom teacher's face drops once he affirms the question "are you related to Samuel Shields?"

He recieves double checks for plagiarism on his first few homework assignments.

His teachers raise a doubtful eyebrow when he tells them that he wants to become a lawyer.

He aces all of his classes.

1998. Raymond is 16. Sam was discovered dead in his cell. (Suicide, they said. He doesn't believe it) He wears one of Sam's old suits to the funeral. Mama can't afford to buy him one of his own. The body in the coffin doesn't look like his brother. His hair is too short (they made him cut his hair) he's far too skinny (they weren't feeding him enough), his glasses are broken. (He would never be that careless)

He visits his grave after school everyday.

1999, Ray is 17. The real killer, the woman's ex-boyfriend, is found, tried, and incarcerated. He confessed to everything. Ray doesn't care. It doesn't fix anything. Sam still spent the rest of his life in prison for a crime he didn't commit. Sam is still dead.

2000. Raymond is 18. He graduates high school with a 4.0, an LSAT score of 175, a full ride scholarship to Ivy University, and an internship at a local law firm straight out of high school. He wants to tell his brother all of this. That he's going to fight for people like him.

There's no one to tell but a gravestone. It'll have to do.

2001. Ray is 19. His mentor has been murdered. (Did no one bother to do a proper investigation? Typical.) A man is condemned to spend 18 years in prison for a crime he did not commit. They both leave children behind.

2019. Ray is 36.

Gregory's kid is alive, he's a prosecutor (Of all fucking things, of course) and he's fucked up a lot of people's lives (he tries not to think about Sam. He fails. He's been doing that a lot recently.) but Miles is trying, he supposes.

Kate invites him back to the mansion. The missing body from that last, awful case, shows up, perfectly preserved. The statute of limitations (On a murder case. What a fucking joke.) is almost up. This is his last chance.

Maybe he can at least help someone.

The gas goes off, the pieces fall into place. Kate was just as desperate to find the killer as he is, only just a little more.

Jeff Masters goes free. Dane Gustavia goes free, too.

Both of their children are arrested.

The law is never going to be truly fair, is it?

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Fun fact! One time, I moved to California (5 year stint, it was fine, met some cool people, about went insane because of number of people, heat, and lack of distinct seasons as I was familiar with them). I was living in some dorms, heard that there was a dude nicknamed Alaska! And I was like fuck! That's a cool nickname! Also he's ALSO from Alaska so I gotta see if we know any of the same people.

Anyways over the next few months I nursed a burgeoning jealousy that this guy, who has lived maybe two years in Juneau, was being called Alaska, which meant that there was no chance that I, who had lived 15 years in a place in Alaska that could only be reached by boat or plane (technically not an island!), would not be getting that sick ass nickname. I mean I got over it, obvi, but I did find it hilarious and I do now have to share with you, a stranger on the internet, because your posts came across my dash and Alaska. Also yeah, sudden tourist death is just. Horribly common. And so many times it's someone you look at and you, from the state, can't fathom how they got there in the first place.

That said I have a serious hate for inappropriate food storage (can you tell I've worked for campgrounds and adjacent), at best you're giving the ravens a fucking heyday and they're gonna make mess, at worst you're gonna be the first link in a chain that ends up with a dead bear. However the reason this annoys me so much? Food Storage Is Not Unique to Alaska. There is nowhere in the world you can go where you DON'T have to consider about how your food is being kept! Unless you live ALONE you gotta think about appropriate food storage!! Anyways thanks for coming to my Ted talk by which I mean reading my Ted talk that I shoved into your inbox.

I had a friend who went south for college, and was known as that Dude From Alaska for a bit. While he's a very sweet dude, he's maybe not the most socially adept because there was this girl who was not from Alaska but she did have the opening verse of The Cremation of Sam McGee tattooed on her ribs beneath her tits. And she showed him her tattoo. And he politely complimented her tattoo and DID NOT pick up the i-want-to-fuck-a -dude-from-Alaska vibes until he was back home and telling the story.

So three cheers for being from a notable place that makes people lose all their common sense.