#thanks for letting me pinch on of your head canons Haley

[godamnarmsrace]

Even When I Lose My Head

I am ignoring the shit storm Emmerdale is trying to feed us at the moment.

@aarondingel has the best head canons and here is just one of them: Before they go to sleep Robert needs to show Aaron his scar of the gunshot wound and Aaron lays his head on Robert’s chest to hear his heart beating

Lyrics in Italics – Guillotine by Jon Bellion

Happy 1 Year Anniversary!!!  I hope you enjoy :)

For the first time in weeks Robert actually slept well, having Aaron home and with him made all the difference but Robert wasn’t at all surprised when he was woken in the middle of the night by his husband thrashing about in the middle of their bed.

Unsure about what to do Robert sat up in bed and switched on the light next to him. ”Aaron,” Robert called out not wanting to touch him when he was feeling vulnerable. He didn’t want to cause his husband any more pain “Aaron,” he called again when Aaron didn’t stir.

Aaron let out a whimper and it broke Robert’s, heart. He didn’t know if these were old nightmares or new ones, but demons were haunting his husband and Robert hated that he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop them.

Robert knew that Aaron had been through hell on the inside. They had both been through the wringer but Aaron was home and Robert just wanted to mend everything that was broken inside them both even though he had no clue where to start.

Against his better judgement, Robert placed a gentle hand on his husband’s face and brought his lips to Aaron’s forehead, kissing him, Robert whispered, “I love you, you’re safe here with me now, I promise. Aaron, wake up please!”

“Robert,” Aaron grabbed a hold of Robert’s wrist tightly, coming awake slowly. “I’m sorry,” he apologised loosening his grip on Robert’s arm and stroking his fingers softly over the red marks he’d left behind.

“Don’t ever apologise for needing me. I love you, Mr Sugden,” Robert said pressing another kiss to Aaron’s head.

“I love you too Mr Dingle. I just hate that I woke you because you look like you need all the sleep you can get,” said Aaron turning into Robert’s touch and pressing a kiss to the centre of his palm.

“I’ve slept better in the last few hours with you in our bed beside me than I have in over a month without you. So, don’t concern yourself with it. All I need to be at peace is you here with me, safe and sound,” Robert replied.

Sleep on me, feel the rhythm in my chest, just breathe

Robert lay down on his back and tugged on Aaron arranging him so that he laid his head on Robert’s chest. Aaron pressed a kiss to the bullet scar that almost took Robert from him before settling his ear over Robert’s heart and the sound of his heartbeat soothing Aaron in a way he didn’t realise he needed.

Robert was here. He was alive. They were alive. Here together.

“I can’t believe you stuck around after all I’ve put you through. I don’t deserve you, Robert,” Aaron’s words were like little daggers in Robert’s heart because it pained him so much that Aaron had no idea how fucking amazing he was to Robert.

If anyone wasn’t worthy…

“Trust me, we deserve each other. No one else would do. I could never leave you, Aaron, you’re my whole damn life, without you everything else seems to cease to exist and the day’s pale into nothingness. I never want to feel like that again. Fair warning, you’re never getting rid of me ever,” Robert whispered his voice gruff with emotion against the top of Aaron’s head.

I will stay so the lantern in your heart won't fade

“You know I’m here if you want to talk about it. You can tell me anything, Aaron. I promise not to judge or get mad,” Robert offered stroking his hands up and down Aaron’s naked back over the warm silky skin. It had a grounding effect on Robert the panic from earlier slowly receding from his gut. “There is nothing you can say that will ever turn me away from you.”

The secrets you tell me I'll take to my grave There's bones in my closet, but you hang stuff anyway

Aaron’s silence didn’t last long a sob escaped him and Robert held onto him tight, as the shudders that wracked Aaron’s body threatened to tear them both apart. “Is it Gordon or Jason?”

Aaron shook his head against Robert’s chest, “Yes and no,” he said. “It’s stupid. I’m home now, with you. I know I’m safe I know Gordon’s dead, that he can’t hurt me but he’s still inside Robert and sometimes I feel like I need to cut him out of me before he poisons everything good that’s left of me.”

“It’s not stupid to be scared, Aaron. I’m scared all the time. I’m terrified I’m going to hurt you or let you down. Hell, I’m scared shitless that you will wake up one day and realise I don’t deserve you, that you can do better, that I’m not worth your time, let alone your love. But Aaron please promise me when it gets to be too much that you’ll talk to me. And believe me when I say that there is nothing of him inside you. Don’t give him that kind of power and Aaron you’re all good. All your parts, every cell, every thought, every deed. You are the best person I know, even if you are a Dingle,” Robert hoped he wasn’t saying the wrong thing. He wanted Aaron to come to him, to talk to him.

Aaron’s sobs were broken by a small burst of laughter, there and then gone. “I’m sorry Robert. I just don’t know how not to feel this way and when I was inside I tried to be strong Robert I did but I was so scared. I already tried to kill myself once, what if that weakness in me is because of him? How do I get away from that?”

Robert was terrified to hear Aaron talk about hurting himself but this was good, that Aaron felt safe here with him to share how he felt was a good thing. He just had to try and remember that. “Did you want to hurt yourself this time when you were inside?”

Aaron sucked in a deep breath before answering, “No. I just wanted to come home. I knew you were here waiting for me, looking after Liv and I just wanted to be home. I held onto you. I might have been a bit of a smart ass when taunting him about how good sex with you is.”

Robert smiled without meaning to, “I bet. You have a mouth on you. It’s always been one of my favourite things about you.” Robert brought one of his hands to Aaron’s head, he used it to tilt Aaron’s face towards his so they could meet eyes. “You’re stronger than you know you are Aaron. I’m in awe of you every day. Maybe, talking to someone about some of the new stuff that is sticking with you might be a good idea?” Robert didn’t want to force the issue. Hell, he could probably use some counselling too.

“Liv said I should dance on the bed after a nightmare apparently, it helps, but the counselling thing might be a good idea…will you come with me?” Aaron asked looking unsure of himself.

“Like couples counselling?” Robert asked confused.

“No, like we both get a little help but we do it together,” Aaron answered sounding hopeful.

“Can we dance on the bed instead?” Robert joked. “I wouldn’t even know where to start Aaron but if that is what you need from me you know I’ll be there.”

“I think Jack would be a good place to start, don’t you?” Aaron said rolling so that he was laying on his stomach on top of Robert.

“Aaron, that was nothing. I…you can’t compare that with everything you’ve been through,” Robert argued shifting so that Aaron was covering him almost completely. The weight of Aaron’s body making him feel safe and protected.

Aaron cupped Robert’s face in his hands so he couldn’t look away and said, “Compare, no, but he hurt you as sure Gordon hurt me. He broke your trust and abused your body, he just used his fists. Your pain is real Robert. Your internal scars are valid as my external ones are.”

And if you have nightmares, we'll dance on the bed I know that you love me, love me Even when I lose my head Guillotine, guillotine

Robert knew he should say something but words failed him. That Aaron thought any of that even mattered floored him. Robert had never told another soul about what had happened with Jack because he honestly didn’t think anyone would believe him or care. But Aaron did. There was so much love inside Robert he didn’t even know what to do with it. He wanted to give it all to Aaron it was almost all his anyway but he didn’t know how.

Before Aaron, Robert didn’t think anyone would ever be able to love him, the real him. All of him but Aaron did. Robert felt like he should pray to some deity somewhere that he’d found Aaron, and that Aaron had loved him back. Did love him. “I love you,” he whispered bringing their lips together in a kiss.

Kiss my lips, feel the rhythm of your heart and hips I will pray so the castle that we've built won't cave

“I need you,” Robert whispered against Aaron’s mouth.

“I fucking love you, Robert Sugden. There’s only you for me,” Aaron said in between licks against Robert’s lips. ‘I need you inside me, now, please Robert please.”

“God,” Robert muttered using his fingers to test how ready Aaron actually was, his hole still loose and fluttering around his fingers from their earlier lovemaking. One finger, two then three slid in with little to no resistance.

Aaron let out a moan and hitched himself up Robert’s body a little, one knee bent and hooked up to give him the leverage he needed to thrust himself back towards where Robert’s hard cock rested twitching and leaking against his own belly.

“Wait! Just wait a second. Shit!” Robert grabbed the slick from under his pillow where he’d shoved it after the last time and poured some on his hand. Reaching between their bodies, he used it to slick himself even as Aaron pushed his hand away so he could get at Robert’s cock.

Robert swallowed his throat suddenly dry as Aaron thrust himself down onto Robert’s cock his eyes full of so much love and desire, that Robert had to force himself not to look away. The urge to run and hide still strong but he wanted Aaron to have all of him. He met Aaron’s gaze and clutched at his hips as Aaron began to thrust against him. The slow drag of Aaron’s heavy cock against his stomach made his own harden further still where it was nestled inside his husband.

You fill me up, you fill me up You set my soul ablaze You fill me up, you fill me up Your love is so amazing You fill me up, you fill me up You set my soul ablaze You fill me up even when I lose my head

Robert was almost asleep again when Aaron kissed him on his neck. “Oh, Robert…” Aaron whispered into the darkness.

“Yeah?” Robert asked, wrapping his arms tighter around his husband.

“Happy Anniversary!” Aaron exclaimed before settling down again to sleep and Robert laid there in the dark and thought about all their other anniversaries and all the ones they would have to come. Glad that this was one that Aaron wanted to acknowledge because much like the day Robert met Aaron when he really started living, this day a year ago was when Robert started breathing again.

You fill me up, you fill me up You set my soul ablaze You fill me up, you fill me up Your love is so amazing You fill me up, you fill me up You set my soul ablaze You fill me up even when I lose my head

[winterscaptain]

a horrible first.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this takes place during rite of passage, where the unsub is the cop committing murder of undocumented immigrants crossing the border. we pick up right at the end, at the quasi-standoff in the desert. let me know what you think and i hope you enjoy it!! 

words: 1.3k warnings: language, canon-typical violence and death, reader shoots and kills the unsub, mild dissociative symptoms following trauma, nothing too horribly graphic

summary:  “the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” ― g.k. chesterton. au!march 2010

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You brace yourself for a screaming stop in the SUV, immediately following Aaron to cover as Boyd flies out of the decrepit structure on an ATV, firing an automatic weapon of some kind. 

You take a shot.

Time seems to slow as you watch Boyd go down, tzhe innocuous red dot in the middle of his forehead beginning to weep even before he hits the ground. 

Derek fires his rifle from inside the car, but the deed is done. Boyd’s dead. 

Aaron raises his head. If you had your wits about you, you’d see him counting off, making sure all of you are there. “You all right?” 

“Yeah!” Morgan shouts as he leaves the car, but you’re stuck in place. 

“No!” Emily immediately answers, turning on Derek. “Are you out of your mind? You blew out my eardrum.”

Aaron’s been there - the ringing is damn near unbearable. 

“What did you want me to do? He was coming right at us!” 

“I told you I had him.” She’s holding both hands over her ears, but you’re sure that’s not the only reason Derek’s raising his voice. 

“He was shooting at us, Emily.” 

“Well, you could have given me a heads-up!” 

“The loaded MP-5 and the lunatic shooting at us wasn't enough? Come on.”

Aaron lets them bicker, but notices something odd. 

You haven’t moved. You’re staring at Boyd’s body, your service weapon still in your shaking hand, your breath shallow. 

He approaches you slowly from the side, extending a hand toward your gun. He says your name quietly, but you can’t hear him. He repeats himself and you startle as he gets a little closer. 

He’s not as brave as you were when you pulled him off Foyet. He’s almost afraid to touch you, afraid you’ll hurt yourself or draw away from him. 

The look on your face also scares him - it’s simultaneously blank and absolutely horrified. For a moment, he thinks back and realizes, with a little bit of shock, that he knows what it is.

You’ve never shot to kill before. 

“Hey hey hey,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. He places a hand over the barrel of your gun. “Give that to me, okay?” 

Another voice echoes in front of you. It’s Derek, who’s reached Boyd’s body. “Great shot, kid! Right between the eyes on a moving target. They teach you that at the academy?”

You let Aaron take your weapon from your hand, blinking a couple of times. He flips the safety and tucks it into his pants at his lower back, keeping his hands free.

Derek catches on, turning around and sobering. 

Aaron can feel the rest of the unit creep up behind him, but he waves them off. They take a few steps back, watching with bated breath. 

They all remember the first time they shot an unsub, their first kills in the field. A horrible, wretched first. 

“Can you take a step back toward me?” Aaron asks.

You take a step back and trip, stumbling over your feet. 

Aaron’s there to catch you under your arms, pulling you close. All at once, the levee breaks and you let out a sob, turning into him for refuge. 

He closes his eyes and wraps around you. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You did the right thing. It’s okay.” He huffs, and it’s almost a laugh. “That was a really good shot.”  

You clutch his vest, your arms locked around his waist. He keeps whispering to you as the crime scene techs arrive and start their work, shielding you with his body. 

+++

You sleep on the plane home. Aaron sits across from you, working on the after-action report on your behalf. He looks up every couple of minutes as if he’s afraid you’ve disappeared in the time between his last check-in and that moment. 

Derek, Spencer, and Emily watch him watch you. 

“That sucks,” Emily says. “My first hit me hard, too, I think, but like… days later.” 

Derek nods. “Yeah. It’s a shitty first, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m glad Hotch is over there. Probably the best person for this kind of thing.”

“Best person for the kid, too,” Dave says. Derek and Spencer frown. 

Dave continues, clarifying, “Every one of us has someone we prefer when the day gets hard, whether we know it or not. Anchors, if you will. Good to have.” He looks over at the two of you again and doesn’t elaborate further. 

You stir, and when you open your eyes, there’s a fresh glass of cold water next to you on the little side table. You take it gratefully, taking a couple of sips.

Aaron watches you orient yourself, check the time, and start your search for your report. 

“I’ve got it here,” he says, offering it to you. “You have a bit more to do, and I have to keep your gun until all the paperwork goes through - protocol for use of lethal force with a firearm. It’s a simple review, no need to worry.” 

You nod, taking it and thumbing through the extra pages in the back. You’ll probably ask Derek about the best way to fill them out. 

Could ask Aaron, too. 

Hotch. 

Ask Hotch. 

“How should I fill these out? 

He takes a second, interrupting his own reply to stand and promptly plop himself in the seat beside you. “First things first - tell the truth. You did the right thing and nobody in their right mind will dispute that.” 

“Thanks.” 

The shadow of a smile passes across his face. “You’re lucky - this is cut and dry. Not all of us get a dirty cop on an ATV wielding an MP-5 for our first review.” 

“Lucky?” You sound skeptical, at best. 

His mouth quirks. “I know. Poor choice of words. You’ll probably have some rough nights. Do you want me to set up an appointment with the psychologist? The unit technically has one on retainer but -” 

“You never use them because you’d rather hold all your emotions right there -” You poke his chest “- until you die?” 

 The little smile appears again. “You been listening to Haley again?” 

“What, from beyond the grave? You bet. So, watch your ass, Hotchner.” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll be sure to do that.” He sobers, his eyebrows pinching in an adorable look of concern. “But really, if you want…” 

“That might be nice, actually. To talk to someone.” 

“And you know you can always come to me, right?” 

You nod. “Of course.” 

The dull hum of the plane fills the silence between you for a little while. 

“I was really scared, Hotch.” 

He resumes his listening posture, leaning on his elbow with his fingers laced together. 

“It all happened so slow - and so fast? - at the same time. I don’t know. He just… He went down and I was so afraid that he’d shot Derek or Emily I mean -” You take a breath. “I heard the gunfire behind me and the glass breaking and I just didn't want to turn around and find them dead you know?”

“Yeah,” Aaron whispers. “I know.” 

“I was so stuck that I didn’t even realize Derek was talking to me - he was right in front of me and I couldn’t see him. And then I started thinking about Boyd and all that hate and…”

You trail off, unable to continue with any degree of coherency, so you ask a question instead. 

“Is it always this hard? Does it get easier?” 

Aaron wavers for a minute. “Yes and no. It’s never ideal - you know you’ve made a mistake when you have to use lethal force, but you get more confident about making the right call in those situations as you see more of them. You’ve been with us for two years - I’m - No.” 

He stops and his brow crumples. 

“I was going to say I’m surprised you made it this far, but I’m not. I’m impressed. And proud. It took a dirty cop on an ATV -” 

“Wielding an MP-5?” You finish for him. 

“Yeah. It took that much for you to pull your trigger with any lethal intent, and even then you didn’t want to. The entire way you were talking about a de-escalation strategy - don’t think I didn’t hear you.” 

A flicker of warmth blossoms in your chest and maybe, just maybe, you feel a little better.

+++ 

tagging:  @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @s-unflowxr @imlottiie @stummdummrumstehen @hqtchner @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner

[ssa-sugar-tits]

Before It's Too Late

Request: this one

Have this scenario in mind: Hotch is working on a case where the victims look like the reader and he feels he should tell her his feelings before it's too late like what happened to his ex wife. Smutty or fluffy, it's your decision

Pairing: Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner x Reader

Content warnings: canon typical violence (torture/murder), mutilation, cursing, mentions of haley's death, smut, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex

a/n: yeahh we're doing the classic there's only one bed shit. enjoy, my horny lovelies.

The entire team saw it, instantly. When JJ pulled up the victims with an uneasy gaze. They looked like you. All four women. You saw yourself in their cold, dead eyes. Your hair matched theirs too under the bloodstains. Hell, they could all be your sisters. The only difference was the glaringly obvious: the terror spilled all over those poor women's faces before they'd been tortured and murdered.

Wheels up in 20.

Hotch's meaningless words echo in your head as you stare deeper and deeper into your victim's eyes.

Hotch sits at his desk, the team's leaving in 10 minutes. He can't shake what everyone knows damn well. The women. They look like Y/N. They look like his clandestine love, Y/N. Hotch won't let anything happen to you, he'll die a thousand times before that happens. But he can still feel Haley's heavy, limp body in his arms and his heart shattering. It took a long time but piece by piece, you put it back together and now you hold Aaron Hotchner's heart in your oblivious hands.

"Y/N, we're leaving," Emily yells to you, walking with JJ out to the jet. You're forced to leave your trance and join the others. You feel hazy and have to focus your breathing as you take a seat next to Hotch.

"Hey babygirl, you're on." Derek places a laptop down with Garcia's live image displayed. Quickly looking up at the team and not wanting to show any sign of weakness, you share your thoughts.

"Well clearly, our guy's got a type. Same ethnicity, hair color, even the lip shape is insanely similar. I'm thinking surrogate." Receiving nods from the team, you hope precariously the profilers beside you don't notice how you're doing everything you can to avoid looking at the crime scene photos. Hotch agrees with you, not looking up from his file for fear of showing just how miserable the very idea of something happening to you is making him.

"Y/L/N is right. Garcia, start by looking at men in the area 20 to 40 years old who are related or romantically involved with a woman fitting the physical parameters of our victims. It'll be long but somewhere to start."

"Yes sir!" Penelope says enthusiastically, already beginning to click away at her keyboard. JJ stays at the back of the jet, making a phone call and Emily speaks up.

"Actually Penelope, cut that down to only romantic involvement. The torture and mutilation of the women's genitals is an act of sex in itself, I doubt he'd be doing that for a mother or sister. And the rage is evident so focus on recent breakups or rejections." Rejection. Why does that word stand out to Hotch?

"Very helpful, my raven-haired beauty," she chirps. "We are down to... 2700 matches!"

The word rejection still makes its way, floating around Hotch's mind like an annoying song he can't get out of his head. That's it, isn't it? You're the song he can't get out of his head. A song he loves, one that may not feel the same way. A song he can't lose.

"Garcia, try looking for large places of residence. Our unsub wouldn't torture in an apartment where neighbors can hear or in a house with other people around." Reid says.

"Look for areas with basements, sheds, garden houses, and such." Rossi adds.

"Hit you back later! P.G. out," she signs off.

Instead of, as he probably should be, doing his job, Hotch lets himself get lost in his thoughts. Thoughts about what happened to Haley, what could happen to you.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Those three gunshots ring in his mind.

Is this why your marriage fell apart, Aaron?

Foyet's words taunt him. How can he let himself love someone again? After failing Haley, at the cost of her life? At the cost of Jack losing his mother.

"Hotch?" you tap him lightly. "We landed, the team's outside."

"Thank you." He gathers his things, taking a quick deep breath.

"Sir," you say it with a careful tone. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine Y/L/N," he reassures you quickly and starts to leave but looks back at you. "Are you? We've all noticed that the victims...."

He trails off but you know what he's talking about.

"It's scary," you admit. "Definitely offputting, but I'll manage."

"If you need anything, let me know."

Your heart skips a beat. He's only being a good boss, you tell yourself.

"Thank you Aaron."

A rare sight, Hotch smiles at you. It's the first time you've called him by his first name.

The team sets up in the precinct and it's a slow day for the case, all in all. The suspect list is narrowed, slowly but surely, and interviews are conducted but no arrests are made. Most of your friends have turned in for the night, urging you to get some rest but you can't. Not when you're-- and you hate to admit it-- fucking scared. How could you possibly not be? Every time you look at the bloody photos, it's almost like looking into a future mirror. Hotch stays in the next room, alone. Gazing down at the file, he has to wonder. Is it really protecting you if he hides his feelings for you? Or is it a selfish attempt to guard his own fucked up fears? He doesn't have time to think about it much, interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hotch?" You call.

"Come in, Y/L/N."

The object of his misery enters.

"I'm going back to the hotel for the night, I came to see if you wanted to ride back with me." Saying it confidently, not worrying he'll know your true desires. He almost objects but can't resist, especially not when he's made the decision to tell you before it's too late. To tell you he loves you.

"Give me a few minutes, I'll meet you outside."

"Got it," you smile genuinely, pleased that he agreed.

Checking into the hotel, the owner gives you a key, saying it's their last available room. Not a problem, you think. You step into the elevator and notice a hitch in Hotch's breathing.

"Y/L/N, I need to speak with you regarding something."

He cringes at his own words. How formal does a goddamn love confession need to be? This is stupid, what is he even doing?

"I'm not in trouble, am I?" you laugh, unlocking the room. He doesn't respond but one thing catches your eye when you walk in. You turn to face Hotch and your face is mere inches from his, able to feel the heat of each other's body.

"Hotch," you breathe out your words, low and shaky, feeling the tension you'd convinced yourself you'd been imagining all this time. "There's only one bed."

"That there is." He says calmly, not breaking eye contact. With a small burst of confidence, you place a hand on his rising chest.

"What'd you want to talk about, Aaron?" He almost moans just at the way his name sounds on your precious lips.

"This," he growls. You don't resist when he grabs your face to mash his lips against yours. In fact, you throw yourself on top of his and deepen the kiss. Without breaking the kiss, you push him onto the bed and straddle him. You take grip of his shoulders and he wraps his hands around your waist. He grunts and you take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, attacking his with yours. Hotch tilts his head to have more access to your mouth and you feel his growing bulge against your thigh. You throw him down and smirk as he stares lustfully.

"Is this what you want Aaron?" you tease. He doesn't give you an answer, only exhaling and undoing his belt.

"Y/N, I need you." he pants, hungrily.

"Yes sir."

Pulling down his strained boxers with one swift movement, your mouth salivates at the sight of his already hard cock. His pink head glistens with precum and you bring your head down to swipe your tongue on it, making sure he's watching you.

"Fuck," Hotch moans, grasping a handful of your hair. You slide your mouth down on his cock, moaning against him and stroking what you can't fit with your hand. A long noise escapes him and he grips your head tighter while you bob your head up and down.

"Just like that baby, so good Y/N."

"Mmm," you hum, savoring every moan that travels from his mouth. Tears pricking your eyes, you take him down your throat determined to taste every inch of him, making him hum with delight. Cupping his balls in your hand, you work on him with your hands and mouth at the same time and you feel him near the edge. You pull your head up from him, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his dick.

"I was close," he mutters roughly. You lift your shirt over your shoulders and pull down your skirt, leaving you in your lacy white bra and panties set. Glad I wore something nice, you think. When he sees your body hovering over him, he's a man captivated. Rapidly, he unclasps your bra and takes in the view, starting to knead them sensually.

"Fuck me, Aaron." you command, somehow sounding sweetly. Hotch pins your wrists above your head and kisses you again, like he's waited his whole life to have you. He takes hold of your hips and moves your underwear to the side, holding his shaft to enter you. You moan in sync and he enters your pussy all the way.

"Aaron, fuck."

"You feel so good, baby." He praises.

"God yes!" you scream with his first thrust. "Fuck me as hard as you can, please sir."

You plead and Hotch complies. As he fucks you faster, moaning all the while, his hands tighten on you. You're sure he'll leave bruises for the morning but you don't care experiencing the pleasure you have right now. His fingers roll your nipple in his hand, pinching and squeezing lightly and he thrusts hard and passionate.

"I'm gonna cum," you warn and your pussy's blissful walls tighten around his nearing cock.

"Me too Y/N," he grunts. Exploding inside of you, he throws his head back messily and moans, pushing you over the edge. Your juices drip down your thighs and Hotch pulls out of you.

Breathing heavily, neither of you say a word. Only holding on desperately to any last drop of what you just did.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm in love with you."

You stare into his deep brown eyes, still floating internally and inhaling the smell of sex. You trail a hand down his firm arm. It wasn't in your head.

"I'm in love with you too, Aaron."

[spn-safeandsound]

02. Saving the Day

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x02; Wendigo

Word Count: 8,436

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy! Reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

"Dean, please."

"Nope."

"I'll do anything."

"No fucking way, Junior."

"Oh, Dean, come on!" Julia whined, falling back against her seat. "Just one song. You'll like it, I swear."

"I'm not listening to Mariah Carey or Carrie Underwear," Dean scowled at her in the rearview mirror.

"Well, I don't even like country, so..." she shook her head. "And I think you would like Fall Out Boy."

"I think I wouldn't," Dean retorted.

"What about Elton John?" Julia raised her eyebrows at him. "He has older music. My mom loved him."

Dean's face visibly softened when she spoke about her mother. He knew she missed her, especially since the fourth anniversary of her death was coming up. He didn't blame her. Naomi Petersen was a great lady and had treated him and Sam as her own, even though she already had four children to take care of. He could still remember the taste of her famous peach cobbler. He wasn't usually a cobbler man, either, but he couldn't turn down Naomi's food.

"Fine," he gave in reluctantly; Elton John wasn't that bad anyway. "but only one."

The smile that Julia gave him was worth more than one song but he kept quiet, not wanting to give away complete control of his music. If Julia knew that flashing a smile would get her whatever she wanted from him—like it did for the rest of the world—he was done for.

Julia dug her cassette jack that she bought at the last gas station out of her bag and practically climbed over the front seat. She was careful not to hit a sleeping Sam because he really needed the rest; he hadn't been sleeping much since Jess and she spent most of the nights they shared motel rooms making sure he was okay.

She set up the jack and plugged in her iPod, turning it to her mom's favorite song.

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band...

Julia let out a relaxed sigh as she practically melted back into her seat. She smiled softly as she listened to the lyrics, remembering all the times her mom sang this song to her while she was growing up.

Her mom had been a dancer for years in her childhood and well into her adulthood. That was how her parents met, actually. When she was in college, her mom was in a recital that her dad coincidentally went to during one of his earlier hunts. He used to tell Julia that he was mesmerized by her mother and that she really was his tiny dancer.

Hold me closer, tiny dancer...

Dean appreciated the silence that fell over Julia because it seemed like she was always talking. And she was actually staying still, a stark contrast to her chronic fidgeting that drove Sam nuts. What he appreciated more than that was the small and contented smile on her face. It seemed like it was the first time he saw that smile in days; she had been grieving Jess, too, and trying to take care of Sam at the same time.

Despite being two years younger than his little brother, she had always been one of his caretakers.

You had a busy day today...

Dean let her bask in the last few notes of the song and then unplugged the jack, passing it back to her without a word. Julia was just as silent as she took it from him, her lips turning up at the corners when he popped in one of his cassettes.

Sam awoke with a start as the drum beat kicked in. Dean gave him a hesitant look as Julia leaned forward worriedly.

"You okay?" she asked him, trying not to hover as much as she had been the last few days.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam answered groggily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Another nightmare?" it was Dean who asked this time.

Sam cleared his throat loudly, refusing to answer.

"You wanna drive for a while?" Dean offered.

Sam laughed in amazement. "Dean, your whole life you never once asked me that."

"Just thought you might want to," Dean shrugged casually. "Never mind."

Sam looked between Dean and Julia; he could easily read the worried look on Julia's face but Dean's was a little bit harder to decipher. "Look, guys, you're worried about me," he acknowledged. "I get and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay."

Dean hummed doubtfully. Sam looked back at Julia for her reaction but she just smiled sweetly and looked over to Dean, changing the subject as a distraction for Sam.

"You know, I can drive—"

"I don't think so, Julia," Dean cut her off, causing her to pout at him.

"All right," Sam chuckled and looked back at her. "where are we?"

"Um..." she looked at the handheld GPS that she was in charge of while Sam slept and found where they were. "we are just outside of Grand Junction."

Sam sighed and grabbed the GPS so he could look at the location of the coordinates John gave them. "You know what, maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon."

Dean blinked slowly; Sam always got so depressed when he brought up what happened to Jessica and it was starting to worry him. "Sam, we dug around there for a week and we came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica—"

"We gotta find Dad first," Sam finished, having already heard this speech before.

"Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence," Dean theorized. "Dad will have answers. He'll know what to do."

Sam shook his head and focused on the device in his hands. "It's weird, man," he changed the subject and studied the map. "these coordinates he left us, this Blackwater Ridge..."

"What about it?" Julia spoke up, leaning her chin on the front seat.

"There's nothing there," he informed her and Dean. "It's just woods. Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?"

Dean didn't answer as they drove into the town of Lost Creek. They headed straight to the ranger's station so they could look at a 3-D model of the area around Blackwater Ridge.

"So, Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote," Sam sighed as he pointed at the location on the model. "It's cut off by these canyons here. Rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place."

Though Julia was listening curiously, Dean wasn't paying an ounce of attention. His focus was on the huge taxidermized grizzly bear on display.

"Dude, check out the size of this fucking bear!"

Julia smiled at his childlike amazement and added, "And I'm guessing a couple of grizzlies?"

"A dozen or so," Sam confirmed with a grin as they walked over to stand by Dean. "It's no nature hike, that's for sure."

"You three aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?" a ranger walked up to them, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, no, sir," Sam assured him politely. "we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder. We're just working on a paper."

"Recycle, man," Dean held up a supportive fist.

"Bull," the ranger called them out, his eyes flitting to each one of them. "you're friends with that Haley girl, right?"

"Actually, we are," Julia played along, sending him a sweet smile. "Ranger Wilkinson."

The older man looked charmed by her, though not in a way that she considered sexual. Maybe he was just fond of a kind soul now or then.

"Well," Ranger Wilkinson's voice was considerably nicer, causing Sam and Dean to exchange impressed looks. "I will tell you exactly what I told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying her wouldn't be back from Blackwater Ridge until the twenty-fourth."

Julia nodded understandingly.

"It's not exactly a missing-persons, is it?" Ranger Wilkinson asked rhetorically. "You tell that girl to quit worrying. I'm sure her brother's just fine."

"We will," Dean promised with a smirk. "Well, that Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?"

The ranger nodded in agreement, grabbing his coffee mug off the large front desk. "That is putting it mildly."

"Actually, you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit," Dean said casually. "You know, so she could see her brother's return date."

"I'm sure that will calm her down," Julia added.

Dean had to admit it was nice having a pretty girl around to convince people to cooperate with them. Ranger Wilkinson melted at the pleading look Julia sent him and quickly copied the backcountry permit so they could take it to Haley. He gave it to her with a smile and a fond goodbye as they left the station.

"What, are you cruising for a hookup or something?" Sam asked Dean as they walked to the Impala.

Dean gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge," Sam pointed out. "so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?"

"I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?" Dean said obviously. He gave his brother that had Sam stiffening in irritation.

"What?"

"Since when are you all shoot-first-ask-questions-later, anyway?"

"Since now," Sam's voice went flat.

Dean gave Sam an unimpressed look as he got into the car but before he open his mouth to speak again, Julia cut him off. Sam was delicate right now, no matter how tough he acted, and his emotions were all over the place. She didn't need the brothers to have a big blowout right now.

Dean sighed and got into the car. An hour later—after Dean stopped to make a fake ranger ID—they were knocking on the door of the address they got from Tommy Collins' backcountry permit.

The door opened and a pretty brunette a couple inches taller than Julia greeted them.

"You must be Haley Collins," Dean grinned at her. "I'm Dean and this is Sam and Julia. We're, uh, rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. We wanted to ask a few questions about your brother, Tommy."

Haley pressed her lips together as she looked them over. "Let me see some ID."

Dean pulled the fresh ID out of his wallet and presented it to her with a smile. Haley quickly looked it over and opened the screen door to let them into the house.

"Come on in," her eyes swept past Dean and locked on the Impala. "That yours?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Nice car," she said, impressed. She walked away from the door, leading them through the front room to the dining room. Julia and Sam exchanged eye rolls as Dean gave them a salacious grin, his eyes trailing to Haley's back.

There was a younger kid sitting at the table when they entered the dining room, frowning down at his placemat as he waited for his dinner to be served. He looked up when he heard their arrival and Julia smiled at him in greeting but his eyes quickly avoided her.

"So, if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?" Sam asked Haley as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed a hot serving bowl.

"He checks in everyday by cell," Haley brought the bowl to the table. "He emails photos and stupid little videos. We haven't heard anything in over three days now."

"Maybe he can't get cell reception?" Julia suggested.

Haley shook her head. "He's got a satellite phone, too."

"Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?"

The kid, Ben, looked up in offense at Dean's comment. "He wouldn't do that!"

Ben, who sounded much older than he looked, looked down, ashamed at his outburst. Julia gave him a reassuring smile, hoping that he wasn't feeling uncomfortable in his own home because of them.

"Our parents are gone," Haley informed the three of them. "It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other."

Julia knew a little of what that was like. Despite her dad being alive, he didn't check in with his children much. So, Julia, her brother, and her sisters all made sure they were okay in the meantime. Levi, the oldest twin and only son, always made sure they were all safe. Bethany, the oldest sister, mothered over Julia and Abby like it was her job. Abby, the middle child and previously the only hunter of the siblings, checked in to make sure everyone was keeping up on their self-defense and protective charms. And Julia did all of the above, just making sure that her siblings knew that she loved them more than anything. They didn't always get along but they were family—who didn't argue with their siblings?

From the look in Dean's eye, Julia knew that he could relate to Haley, too.

Sam nodded understandingly. "Can I see the pictures he sent you?"

"Yeah," Haley pulled out her laptop and pulled up the most recent video that her brother sent. A man a few years older than Haley with the same dark hair as his younger siblings flashed onto the screen. "That's Tommy."

"Hey, Haley," the video played. "Day six. We're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow."

Julia caught Sam making an intrigued face and wondered what he saw on the video that she or the others hadn't.

"Well, we'll find your brother," Dean assured Haley. "We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing."

"Then maybe I'll see you there," Haley replied; she saw the look of confusion Dean gave her. "Look, I can't sit around here anymore, so, I hired a guide. I'm heading out in the morning and I'm gonna find Tommy myself."

"I think I know how you feel," Dean stated seriously.

"Hey," Sam interrupted the intense eye staring going on between Dean and Haley, gesturing toward the laptop. "do you mind forwarding these to me?"

"Sure," Haley agreed easily.

-

The bar they sat in for a late dinner was loud and filled with local college kids on Thanksgiving break. Julia was used to the loud scenery of college bars, though, being a college kid herself, and she had to admit the burgers she and Dean ordered were good. She was just paranoid that someone would catch on to the fact that she was underage—her fake was great but she was always worried every time she walked into a bar.

She didn't drink anything alcoholic just in case. She spent most of her time learning how to research the meticulous way that Sam likes it to be done, both of them searching for any local history of mysterious disappearances having to do with Blackwater Ridge.

"So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic," Sam told Dean as he sat down with a fresh beer. "Local campers, mostly. Still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found."

"Any before that?" Dean asked as Sam opened John's journal.

Julia cleared her throat, looking down at the local newspapers they had collected. "Yeah, in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. The rangers said it was a grizzly attack."

She slid a newspaper over to Dean, the headline reading, UP TO EIGHT HIKERS VANISH IN LOST CREEK AREA. HIKER'S DISAPPEARANCE BAFFLE AUTHORITIES.

"And again in 1959 and again, before that in 1936," she finished. "Every twenty-three years this happens."

"Like clockwork," Sam commented, opening his laptop now. He moved it so Dean and Julia could see. "Okay, watch this. Here's the clincher. I downloaded that guy, Tommy's, video to the laptop. Check this out."

There was a video on the screen. Sam pressed play, showing a slowed-down version of Tommy's video. Julia's eyes widened in surprise when she saw a shadow move behind the missing man.

Dean blinked. "Do it again."

Sam played the frames again. "That's three frames," he told them. "That's a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move."

Dean excitedly hit Sam in the shoulder, a know-it-all expression on his face. "I told you something weird was going on."

Sam nodded in agreement, only looking a little annoyed by Dean's smugness.

"One more thing," Julia spoke up. "In fifty-nine, one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. It was a kid and he barely made it out alive."

Dean raised one eyebrow. "Is there a name?"

Julia smirked and passed him the newspaper.

-

The next morning, Julia, Dean, and Sam set out to find Haley and Ben before they could go up to Blackwater Ridge on their own. They carried multiple weapons because they weren't exactly sure what they were going up against.

The night before, after leaving the bar, they questioned the witness that Julia discovered. He was an old man now but his memory of the night his parents were killed by whatever was out there was still fresh in his mind. The bear—or what the rangers were calling a bear, anyway—had unlocked the cabin the man was staying at, slaughtering his parents while he was asleep. Dean thought that the creature might be a skinwalker or a black dog but he and Sam both agreed that whatever it was, it was corporeal.

Sam wasn't happy about their babysitting job but Dean wouldn't hear about leaving Haley and Ben to fend for themselves. He was adamant that they continue like any other case while Sam was just gunning to find his dad. Julia, on the other hand, went with the flow, not wanting to get in the middle of one of their notorious arguments.

Dean pulled the Impala up to the trail entrance where Haley, Ben, and an older man were talking. They got out of the car, Julia being the only one actually prepared for a long hike.

"You guys got room for three more?" Dean asked Haley as he locked his car.

"Wait, you want to come with us?" Haley said skeptically.

"Who are these guys?" the older man looked the three of them over with disdain—especially the duffle bag that Sam was carrying over his shoulder.

"Apparently, this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue," Haley informed him.

The man raised his eyebrows. "You're rangers?"

"That's right," Dean said confidently.

"And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?"

Julia smirked, having had the same argument with Sam and Dean before they left their motel room, and passed by her to stand with Sam. "I told him the same thing."

"I don't do shorts!" Dean called after her.

The man didn't look impressed with Dean's cocky tone. "Oh, you think this is funny? It's dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt."

Julia turned back to Dean, begging him with her eyes not to lose his temper on the naïve man.

"Believe me, I know how dangerous this could get," Dean stated firmly. "We just wanna help her find her brother, that's all."

The group of them started up the trail, all six of them walking in a single-file line. Roy—the older man—led them with Haley and Dean in front, Julia and Ben in the middle, and Sam bringing up the rear.

As they hiked, Julia shared some of her trail mix with Ben, who was turning out to be a sweet kid. He didn't talk much—he was clearly very worried about his older brother—but he spoke with her a little about how his freshman year of high school was going.

"Roy," Dean spoke up about two hours into the hike. "you said you did a little hunting."

"Yeah," Roy answered reluctantly, clearly not wanting to talk to the younger man. "more than a little."

"Uh-huh," Dean wasn't bothered by the man's grumpiness. "What kind of furry critters do you hunt?"

"Mostly buck, sometimes bear."

Dean sped up, passing Roy in line. "Tell me, did Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?"

Roy didn't answer as he reached forward, grabbing the back of Dean's jacket to stop him from continuing. Julia and Sam stiffened, ready to intervene in case the men got a little violent.

"Whatcha doing, Roy?" Dean asked warningly.

Roy let go of his jacket and bent down, picking a stick up off the forest floor. He held it down to the ground, where there was a freaking bear trap, and pressed the stick into it. It popped up, chopping the stick in half.

Julia's eyes widened; Dean was about to step in that!

"You should watch where you're stepping, Ranger," Roy advised Dean with a knowing smirk.

Dean pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw as Roy walked past him, looking back at the others. "It's a bear trap," he informed them needlessly.

"Yeah," Julia rolled her eyes to hide her worry. "We noticed."

As they hiked on, Haley confronted Dean, severely annoyed, "You didn't pack any provisions. You guys are carrying a duffle bag," she pointed out, grabbing Dean's arm to stop him. "So, who the hell are you?"

Julia didn't envy Dean, who now had to explain to Haley what they were actually doing out here. She smirked at him as she and Ben passed him and Haley. Sam paused a little but when Dean nodded at him to go on, he continued and caught up to Julia and Ben.

"You don't eat the M&Ms first?" Ben asked Julia curiously as she continued munching on her trail mix. "That's what I do."

"Well," Julia handed him a couple of M&Ms, which he threw in his mouth. "They're my favorite part of trail mix and I probably wouldn't eat the stuff if there weren't any in there. I save them for last to make sure I eat the healthy stuff first."

Ben nodded. "That makes sense."

"My best friend here is a health nut," she gestured to Sam, who rolled his eyes. "He likes to keep an eye on me."

"You have an insufferable sweet tooth," Sam interjected.

"Bite me," Julia playfully snapped back at him.

Ben gave them a small smile; Julia was happy that she could help get his mind off of his missing brother.

Only an hour later, they arrived at their destination.

"This is it," Roy declared, looking at his GPS. "Blackwater Ridge."

Sam stepped around him and stopped, looking around at the trees. "What coordinates are we at?"

"Thirty-five and minus one-eleven."

Dean wandered over to Julia and Sam. "You hear that?"

Julia stopped, listened, and nodded; the thing was, there wasn't anything to hear. That was the whole problem. There should be some noise considering the fact that they were in the middle of the woods.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "Not even crickets."

"I'm gonna go take a quick look around," Roy told Haley and Ben, causing Julia and the brothers to turn around cautiously.

"You shouldn't go off by yourself," Sam advised, knowing that it was too dangerous for a regular hunter in the woods around here.

"That's sweet," Roy scoffed mockingly and raised the shotgun he had been carrying around. "Don't worry about me."

"Just let him go," Julia grabbed Sam's arm to stop him from following Roy out of the area. "He's an asshole anyway."

Dean made a noise of agreement as Haley and Ben joined them. "All right, everybody stays together. Let's go."

Despite the fact that they all wanted to leave Roy—besides Haley and Ben—they followed the older man anyway. It didn't take long for Roy to find something and when he did, he called for Haley.

She took off at the sound of her name and the rest of them followed her. They came across a campsite that was absolutely ravaged apart. The tents were shredded with some blood on the bigger parts, there was clothing everywhere, and food packages flattened into the muddy ground.

"Oh, my God," Haley breathed.

"Looks like a grizzly," Roy examined the mess.

"Tommy?" Haley called her brother's name, unclipping her backpack. "Tommy!"

"Shh!" Sam hissed at her, jogging over to her side to calm her down.

"Tommy!"

Sam shushed her again and Haley whipped around to face him with an angry stare.

"Why?"

"Something might still be out there," Sam answered.

As Sam and Haley spoke, Dean gently took Julia's arm and pulled her away from Ben. He led her a couple of feet away from the tent, looking at the ground intently. Once he saw what he was looking for, he called his brother's name to get his attention.

"The bodies were dragged from the campsite. But here," Dean explained to Julia as Sam made his way over, pointing to where the tracks stopped. "the tracks just vanish."

"That's weird," Julia wrinkled her nose.

Dean nodded at her. "I'll tell you what, it's no skinwalker or black dog."

Sam nodded in agreement and the three of them wandered back over to Haley, Ben, and Roy. Haley was perched on the ground, holding onto a broken cell phone and crying lightly. Julia guessed that it had been Tommy's.

Dean crouched next to her to offer some comfort. "Hey, he could still be alive."

Haley gave him a look, clearly not believing him.

And then, there was a scream from somewhere in the woods.

"HELP! HELP!"

Dean pulled his gun from his jacket as he, Roy, and Sam took off running toward the voice. Julia, Haley, and Ben followed them at a slightly slower speed, all of them hoping that it was Tommy that was alive and screaming for help.

However, when they came upon a clearing, there was no one there.

"It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?" Haley asked, slightly out of breath.

Sam looked around cautiously. "Everybody back to camp."

They ran back to the messy campsite where Sam's duffle bag and Ben, Roy, and Haley's packs were missing.

"Our packs!" Haley groaned.

"So much for my GPS and satellite phone," Roy grumbled.

"What the hell is going on?" Haley turned to Sam and Dean for answers.

"It's smart," Sam said bitterly. "It wants to cut us off so we can't call for help."

"You're saying someone—some nutjob out there just stole all our gear?" Roy's voice was flat as his eyes darted around the trees.

Sam rolled his eyes at the older man and walked over to Dean and Julia, who were each searching the outer rims of the campsite to see if the creature left anything behind.

"I need to speak with you in private," Sam told them quietly, leading them a couple of feet away from the others so they couldn't overhear. "Okay, let me see Dad's journal."

Dean immediately looked to Julia, who pulled off her backpack and unzipped it. She reached in and grabbed the journal from atop the water bottles she packed, handing it to Sam without a word.

Sam flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. "All right, check that out," he showed Dean and Julia, pointing out a sketch which looked like a weird stick-figure drawing that reminded Julia of the First Nations.

"Oh, come on," Dean scoffed. "Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or Northern Michigan. I've never heard of one this far west."

"Dad hunted one in North Dakota once," Julia recalled unhelpfully. Her dad hadn't been expecting the creature since they normally didn't pop up west of Minnesota and he had come home from his hunt badly injured. Julia's mom didn't let him out of the house for a whole week.

"Think about it, Dean," Sam tried to convince his brother. "The claws, the way it can mimic a human voice."

"Great," Dean muttered sarcastically, pulling his gun from his jacket. "Well, then this is useless."

"What kills wendigos?" Julia asked them.

"Fire," Dean told her. "Flare gun, flamethrower, torch, Molotov cocktail. Anything that can blow the fucker up."

Julia winced; that sounded like hard work especially since wendigos were apparently lighting speed fast.

"We gotta get these people to safety," Sam declared as he started heading back to the campsite. When they arrived, he got the others' attention. "All right listen up. It's time to go. Things have gotten more complicated."

"What?" Haley looked at him in shock.

Julia put John's journal back in her bag as Roy gave Sam an annoyed look.

"Kid, don't worry," he stated. "Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it."

"It's not me I'm worried about," Sam replied. "If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave, now."

"One, you're talking nonsense," Roy faced Sam head-on. "Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders."

"Relax!" Dean warned him, not liking his tone.

"We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right?" Sam continued, trying to get them to leave. "I'm trying to protect you."

Roy stepped forward, getting in Sam's face. "You protect me?" he laughed mockingly. "I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight."

"Hey," Julia snapped at him, bristling at the man's verbal attack. "Back off."

Sam glowered at Roy, losing his temper. "It's a damn near perfect hunter. It's smarter than you and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid, sorry ass out of here."

"You know you're crazy, right?"

"Yeah?" Sam retorted back. "You ever hunt a wen—"

Dean pushed him away from Roy before he could finish his sentence; Julia grabbed Sam's arm, holding him in place just in case he wanted to beat the shit out of Roy.

"Roy!"

"Chill out!"

"Stop it," Haley protested, stepping in the middle of Sam, Julia, Dean, and Roy. "Everybody just stop. Look, Tommy might still be alive and I'm not leaving here without him."

Dean looked at Julia and Sam before sighing. "It's getting late," he pointed out. "This thing is a good hunter in the day but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves."

"How?"

Dean held out his hand toward Julia at Haley's question. She gave him a look, annoyed that he just expected her to have his dad's journal out and ready, and pulled the backpack off her shoulders once again. She handed him the journal and pulled out her water bottles, handing three of them to Ben, Haley, and Roy so they could keep hydrated.

Dean flipped through the journal until he got to the pages about the wendigo. He found what he was looking for, a row of protective symbols that would keep the wendigo away from them, and he and Sam got to work on etching them into the dirt around the campsite.

As it got dark, Roy and Ben started a fire so they could keep warm and be able to see who—or what—was around them.

"Okay, so what exactly are these?" Julia asked Dean, hovering behind him as he drew in the dirt with a large stick.

"Anasazi symbols," Dean spoke loud enough so everyone could hear, Julia having told Haley, Ben, and Roy what exactly they were up against. "It's for protection. The wendigo can't cross over them."

Roy laughed in disbelief, slinging his gun over his shoulder.

Dean gave him an annoyed look. "Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy."

Dean stood up and walked over to where Sam was sitting on a log, a melancholy look on his face. Julia let them have their privacy and went back to join Ben and Haley at the fire.

"So, how do you know about all of this?" Haley asked her quietly.

"Honestly, I'm still training," Julia admitted. "but my family has always been involved and Sam and Dean grew up in this. It's like a family business for all of us."

"Your families do this?"

"My dad and one of my older sisters, yeah," Julia confirmed. "Sam and Dean's dad hunts, too."

"Does it scare you?"

"Yeah, of course," Julia said honestly. "It scares the crap out of me but it's better that I know and help out than other people dying, right?"

Haley nodded and Ben looked thoughtful. Suddenly, a voice—the same voice that called for help earlier—started shouting in the distance. Everyone perked up at the noise, getting to their feet in shock and fear.

Dean pulled his gun out of his jacket while Sam flooded the area in light with his large flashlight.

"He's trying to draw us out," Dean stated, cocking his gun. "Just stay cool and stay put."

"Inside the magic circle?" Roy scoffed, raising his own gun for protection.

Everyone ignored his skepticism as the voice shouted again.

"Okay," Roy admitted. "that's no grizzly."

Ben hurriedly grabbed Haley's hand and burrowed into her, frightened beyond belief. Haley had an equally afraid look on her face and held her little brother tightly so she could protect him.

"It's okay," Julia assured them with a calming smile. "You'll be all right, I promise."

Something rushed past the campsite, too fast for anyone to see. Haley shrieked in fear and Ben squeaked; ignoring her own fear, Julia took a protective step toward them.

"It's here," Sam muttered darkly.

As the wendigo sped past them again, Roy shot his gun. Nothing happened but when he took another shot, it sounded like something took a hit. Whether or not it was the actual wendigo and not a tree, Julia didn't know.

"I hit it!" Roy crowed before rushing out of the protective circle to see just what he shot.

"Roy, no!" Dean called after him. He looked back at Julia, Haley, and Ben and warned them not to move before running in the direction where Roy took off. Sam rushed after him and Julia kept a sharp lookout, flashing her light around every couple of seconds.

They couldn't see what was happening to Roy, Dean, and Sam but they could hear shouting. Dean was calling for Roy and Roy was shouting back but his voice abruptly got cut off, putting them in an uneasy silence.

"Roy?" Dean shouted into the quiet.

Within minutes, the brothers came back without Roy in tow.

-

The night passed slowly with Dean and Sam taking shifts to watch out for the wendigo. Julia mostly sat with Sam—who didn't seem to sleep even when he wasn't on watch—restless from the lack of bed and intense paranoia she was having.

They didn't talk as they sat side-by-side, Julia's head resting on his shoulder. They often had silences like this, it was comfortable and it was sometimes relaxing just to stop talking and get lost in your thoughts—that was Julia's point of view, anyway.

"I don't," Haley spoke up a half-hour after sunrise. Julia and Sam were in the same spot, against a tree trunk, and Sam was playing with his dad's rosary. "I mean, these types of things—they aren't supposed to be real."

"I wish I could tell you differently," Dean sighed.

"How do we know it's not out there watching us?"

"We don't but we're safe for now."

"Julia said that you grew up knowing this stuff," Haley said hesitantly; Julia perked up at the mention of her name but laid her head back down on Sam's shoulder once she realized that it was just a passing mention.

"It runs in the family," Dean confirmed.

Sam patted Julia's knee, warning her that he was getting up, and stood up when Julia leaned away from him. Julia hopped to her feet right away, picking up her water bottle to take a sip. They walked over to Dean, Haley, and Ben, who were all in the middle of the protective circle.

"Hey," Sam greeted them; Haley stood up to face him. "So, we've got half a chance in the daylight. And I, for one, want to kill this evil son of a bitch."

"Well, hell, you know I'm in," Dean grinned at his brother. "Give them the rundown, Sammy."

Sam opened up John's journal where he used the rosary as a bookmark and started to explain to Haley and Ben about wendigos. "Wendigo is a Cree Indian word. It means evil that devours."

"They're hundreds of years old," Dean added. "Each one was once a man. Sometimes an Indian or other times a frontiersman or a miner or a hunter."

"How's a man turn into one of those things?" Haley asked curiously.

"Well, it's always the same," he answered. "During some harsh winter, a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help. He becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp."

"Like the Donner party," Ben supplied.

"Exactly," Julia confirmed.

"Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities," Sam continued on with the lesson. "Speed, strength, immortality."

"If you eat enough of it, over the years you become this less-than-human thing," Dean stated. "You're always hungry."

"If that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?"

"You're not gonna like it," Dean sighed, exchanging a hesitant look with Sam before continuing, "More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time. When it's awake, it keeps its victims alive. It, uh, stores them so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We gotta track it back there."

"And then how do we stop it?"

"Well, guns are useless and so are knives," Dean sighed and picked up a bottle of lighter fluid, a discarded but still intact beer bottle, a white cloth; a homemade Molotov cocktail. "we gotta torch the sucker."

After making a couple of Molotov cocktails, one of which Julia was allowed to hang onto after a stern lecture from an overprotective Dean, they started off in search of the wendigo and whatever cave it was hiding in.

They walked around for a half-hour before Sam spotted some claw marks in the trees, all off them high up and covered in blood. There were a lot of marks, making a circle in the trunks high above their heads.

Julia scrunched her nose; why wouldn't the wendigo cover its tracks? It was like it wanted them to find it.

"Sam, aren't these a little too distinct?" she quietly asked her best friend.

"I was thinking the same thing," he agreed with her. "they're too easy to follow."

A vicious growl came behind their group, causing all of them to whip around. Once they were facing the opposite direction, another screech came from behind them again, moving so fast that the trees rustled like they were in a major storm.

Suddenly, Haley screamed and fell to the ground, looking terrified. Roy's dead body fell right in the spot where she was standing, his neck broken so drastically that his head was almost turned around.

"You okay?" Sam asked her as he helped her to her feet. "You got it?"

"His neck's broken," Dean said needlessly; he stood up and urged them back toward the campsite. "Okay, run, run, run! Go, go, go!"

The five of them took off running, trying to get away from the wendigo as fast as humanly possible. Julia and Ben were at the back and when Ben tripped over an overgrown root in the ground, she accidently dropped her cocktail as she went to help him up.

Sam doubled back to help her and they started running again. They were almost back to the campsite when they heard Haley let out a loud scream. They raced toward the sound, stopping when they didn't see Haley or Dean.

"Shit," Julia sighed anxiously, spotting the Molotov cocktail that Dean had been carrying; it was on the ground, smashed to pieces and very useless. "It took them."

Ben didn't look as panicked as Julia thought he would be since his sister was now missing, as well as his brother. He pulled himself together and clenched his jaw, pushing back his anxiety so he could help find Haley, Dean, and Tommy.

"If it keeps its victims alive why would it kill Roy?" he asked Sam as they continued walking back to the campsite.

"Honestly, I think it's because Roy shot at it and pissed it off," Sam replied; Ben nodded, seeming to accept that answer.

Julia kept her eyes on the ground as she walked, making sure that they wouldn't step in any random bear traps that may be lying around. She gasped excitedly when she saw a large M&M in the mud, more of them following a few inches from each other.

"Look," she pointed them out to Sam and Ben. "Dean's peanut M&Ms."

Sam scoffed in surprise and picked one up. "It's better than breadcrumbs."

They followed the trail of M&Ms to one of the old mines that Sam told her and Dean about the day they got into town. There were signs warning them of intense danger but it was dark and hidden in there; a perfect spot for a wendigo to hide.

Julia, Sam, and Ben stepped through the broken door and made their way further into the mine. Julia pulled out her flashlight the darker it got, illuminating a clear path for them. They heard a growl and hid as the wendigo sped past them, leaving the mine; it was probably searching for them.

Once the wendigo was out of sight, they kept going. Eventually they came upon a larger cave. It was full of old human bones that made Ben flinch in disgust. They also spotted Haley and Ben's hiking gear and in the corner Dean and Haley were hanging up by their arms, both of them unconscious.

Julia sighed in immense relief and sped toward Dean, Sam right on her heels. To be honest, she had been so worried about him and was afraid she might never see him again. If they all got out of this alive, she was going to tease him about being a damsel in distress just to see that annoyed look in his green eyes that she secretly liked.

"Dean!" she exclaimed, reaching for his torso to shake him awake. While she did this, Sam reached up and started cutting at the rope that detained him with one of his knives. "Hey, Dean, wake up. Rise and shine, sleeping beauty."

Dean grunted as he slowly blinked. "Shut up."

Julia beamed at him and laughed softly, bracing him against her as his rope finally broke. Sam went to help Ben get Haley down and Julia slowly helped Dean sit down on the stone floor.

"Are you all right?" Julia asked softly as he groaned in pain.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean assured her quickly. "Where is it?"

"It's gone for now," she told him.

Haley stood up when she was freed from her ropes, way better off than Dean was. She gasped when she saw her older brother hung up in another corner. She, Ben, and Sam went over to him, waking him up and freeing him from his bindings.

Dean huffed and looked over at the bags Julia had set him down by, spotting a few flare guns that would really be helpful. He grabbed three of them, giving one to Julia, and slowly and painfully got to his feet.

"Check it out," he walked over to Sam with a slight limp.

"Flare guns," Sam grinned while Dean twirled two of them dramatically. "Those'll work."

They started out of the cave, Julia and Dean in front of the group—helping a man that was almost a foot taller than her walk was actually hard work—with Ben, Haley, and Tommy supporting each other in the middle, and Sam in the back to protect them.

The wendigo growled threateningly as it came back into the mine and Julia figured that it was upset she, Sam, and Ben weren't back at the campsite for it to bring home to dinner.

"Looks like someone's home for supper," Dean spoke quietly.

"We'll never outrun it," Haley said worriedly.

Dean looked back at them, his eyes flitting over everyone in the group. Finally, he pointedly looked at Sam last. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"All right," Dean caught the attention of the Collins siblings. "listen to me. Stay with Julia, she's gonna get you out of here."

"What are you guys going to do?" Julia gave him a concerned look.

Dean gave her a dramatic—and only slightly attractive—wink and pulled away from her. He started running back down the mine with Sam on his heels, both of them screaming for the attention of the wendigo.

"Chow time, you fuckin' bastard!" Dean shouted over Sam's voice. "Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby! I taste good!"

Any other time, Julia would have laughed her ass off at Dean's nonsense. Now, though, she had work to do and innocent people to save—she was kind of like a superhero now, she guessed.

She held up her flare gun in front of her as she continued out of the mine, the Collins siblings right behind her. She checked to see if the coast was clear before urging them to hurry up out of the mine's entrance.

"All right, come on," she said quickly. "Hurry!"

"Hey! You want some white meat, bitch? I'm right here!" they heard Dean shout.

He's having way too much fun with this, she thought.

Just as the siblings started climbing out of the entrance they heard the wendigo growling a little too close for comfort.

"Get out of here," Julia urged them, coming to a quick decision.

"Julia, no!"

"Go, now!"

"Come on, Haley!" Ben begged his older sister, reaching for her and Tommy through the entrance.

Once Haley gave in and she and Tommy left the mine, Julia turned around to head back toward wendigo's growls. When she heard quick footsteps, she hid behind the way and held her flare gun up, ready to shoot at a moment's notice.

A low snarl from her left caught her attention; she slowly turned to look and screamed when she came face-to-face with the wendigo. She heard Dean and Sam calling her name as she shot the flare at the ugly bastard but it quickly ran off.

Julia didn't waste any time; she sped toward the entrance, hoping that the wendigo wasn't going after Haley, Ben, and Tommy.

"Julia?"

Julia jumped out of the entrance where the siblings were waiting and quickly slipped Tommy's free arm over her shoulder to help bare his weight. "Come on, go, go, go," she urged them. "Hurry, hurry."

There was another loud snarl and the four of them turned around in horror. Although still in the mine, the wendigo had spotted them. It looked absolutely furious in what little expression it had and it was definitely not going to mess around and keep them for the winter.

"Get behind me," Julia ducked from under Tommy's arm, Haley taking her place, and stepped in front of them.

She stared down the wendigo, fearful for her life. The wendigo snarled angrily as it got closer and closer to the entrance, out for blood. It was only a foot or so away from the broken planks when something caught its attention.

"Hey!" Sam and Dean called from behind it.

When the wendigo turned around, both of them shot their flare guns. Their shots rang true and the wendigo burst into flames. Its body burnt into a crisp as it slowly lowered to the ground, finally dead.

"Holy shit," Julia sighed in relief.

"Not bad, huh?" Dean called over to her with a smirk; Julia let out a breathless laugh as he walked over to her, surprisingly cupping her chin and lifting her head to look for any injuries on her face. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured him with a tired smile. "How about you? Did it get some white meat off of ya?"

Dean chuckled. "Oh, it fucking wished, shortcake."

-

Hours later, they had buried the wendigo's corpse so no one could find it, used Tommy's satellite phone to call for medical assistance, and hiked back to the trail entrance. Paramedics, police officers, and park rangers were surrounding the area, offering their assistance immediately.

Tommy went straight into one of the ambulances while Haley and Dean were tended to at the other. Ben and Sam were questioned by a deputy—Sam there in support so Ben would give the officer the correct, but fake, details of what happened—and Julia was questioned by another.

Her questioning was over quickly since she was the only witness the deputy had to talk to, so she quickly took a bottle of water from a helpful park ranger and walked over to the Impala, leaning against the trunk.

She watched as Dean and Haley conversed, likely saying their goodbyes, and smiled when he sent the girl a flirty look and got a kiss on the cheek in return. Same old Dean. Sam and Ben joined them and they quickly said their gracious goodbyes. As the siblings walked toward the ambulance that was bussing their older brother to the hospital, they waved enthusiastically at Julia, who waved back happily.

She was so glad that they had each other and they were all safe. Honestly, she felt great. Despite the fear she had while facing the wendigo, she was pretty proud of herself. She helped save people and it felt damn good.

Sam and Dean walked over to the Impala, their hands in their pockets. Dean leaned against the trunk next to her, sighing heavily.

"Man, I hate camping."

"Me too," Sam agreed.

"Glamping is way better," Julia stated honestly.

Dean gave her a weird look. "What the fuck is glamping?"

"Glamorous camping," she ignored the weird looks the brothers gave her.

Sam's face quickly fell into sadness and Dean gave him a sympathetic look. "Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Sam said sullenly before perking up. "But, in the meantime, I'm driving."

Dean wordlessly tossed him the keys.

"Ooh," Julia squeaked excitedly. "Shotgun."

"I don't think so."

"Fine," she shrugged, unbothered as Dean gently pushed her away from the passenger seat. "At least the driver gets to pick the music."

"Ah, hell, I'm regretting this already."

(Gif is not mine)

[setaripendragon]

Trapped in the Amber - 1x01

I promise I’m not dead! I know I haven’t been posting anything lately, but that’s because what I’ve been writing is mostly... well, this. The most ridiculously self-indulgent bullshit I’ve written in a long time, and it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever written, and it’s still not even half way done. I admit, I’m very self-conscious about this, because the nastier side of fandom has infected me with some bullshit prejudices that I haven’t completely managed to exorcise yet, but... I’m tired of being worried it’s not ‘good enough’, and maybe, if people do like it at all, it’ll motivate me to pick it back up. So, here I am, retelling Supernatural right from the start, with a next gen OC tagging along, fixing things here and there. (...Yeah, god, I know how that sounds...) It’s going to start out... sticking pretty close to the Supernatural script, although I tried to limit the amount of times I quoted the show verbatim, it still happens sometimes. The story will diverge from canon more and more as the little changes start piling up and having an effect, but... That’s a long way off, tbh. (For anyone who cares and doesn’t know me well enough to guess, the primary future!ships are Dean/Cas/Gabe and Sam/Mia, but apart from the main character being a Dean/Cas/Gabe baby who loves her parents, there really isn’t that much more focus on romance than there is in the show. For now.)

Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado – Friday 11th November 2005

Landing in the past feels like hitting the emergency stop on a bullet train, like she left her internal organs behind somewhere on the timeline. Meira knows it’s the past because the timeline had felt thick and gooey as she fell. Falling in the other direction would have felt worse, but that doesn’t mean she enjoyed the trip. Add that to the sensation of her grace suddenly retreating to coil up under her skin like a wounded animal, and she thinks it’s no surprise that the first thing she does once there’s solid ground beneath her feet is throw up.

“Oh, son of a bitch.” She groans once her stomach feels like it’s settled mostly back where it’s supposed to be. She braces her shoulder on a tree that’s conveniently nearby, and tries to get her bearings. She’s in a forest, she sees, as she looks around. There are a lot of forests on earth. There are forests elsewhere in the universe too, but she’s… pretty sure this is earth, anyway. And she’s somewhen in the past, although she can’t get any sense of where she actually is on the timeline, and when she tries to reach out with her grace to find out, a sharp, awful pain lances through her soul. She groans and staggers, leaning more of her weight against the tree and forcing her knees to keep her upright out of sheer force of will. She is not trying that again.

The thought that there might be something wrong with her grace is terrifying. She’s stranded, and she can’t get home. She thinks she might be able to manifest her wings, she can still feel them, after all, so they’re not gone, but she wouldn’t be able to fly on them. She can’t fly. She can’t fly.

The panic sits sharp and cloying in the back of her throat, and she swallows hard, as if that might get rid of it. It doesn’t. “Motherfucker.” She swears, and hates that it comes out more reedy than fierce. She has no idea how this happened, either, which doesn’t help. Well, she has some idea, because Heaven, Hell, and everyone in between has been trying to get rid of her for her entire life, and if whatever’s wrong with her grace is why she fell into the past, then she’d say someone finally succeeded. Dad’s going to go ballistic, she thinks, not sure if it makes her want to laugh, or cry.

“Hey, lady.” Someone barks, and Meira flinches so hard she nearly falls over. It’s only a decade of various combat training that saves her from ending up on her ass in the dirt. She has never in her life been unable to sense the people around her before. She’s always felt the shades and shapes of people’s souls. Until now, apparently, with her grace trapped under her skin and unable to reach out to feel the nuances of her environment.

The man standing a little ways off is fairly nondescript, with short-cropped light blonde hair and a touch of stubble, wearing what looked like wilderness gear. Meira has no idea what lies beneath his face, whether she can trust him or not and it makes her uneasy. “What’re you doing out here?” He demands.

“Getting lost?” Meira sasses, because nervousness has never helped shut her up.

And then, another man steps out of the underbrush, but this one, Meira recognises. It’s her dad. Even though he looks so baby-faced and young, she’d know him anywhere. The relief is like a physical blow and she sags against another tree. “And my name’s Meira.” She adds. “Not ‘lady’, thanks.”

Dad quirks a grin, enjoying her sass, and then says, with every ounce of cocky bravado she’s ever seen him use and then some; “Nice to meet you, Meira. I’m Dean.” He glances over at the other guy. “And this is… I’m sorry, what was your name again?” The question is so obviously insincere, and Meira chokes on an incredulous laugh, because she’s seen her dad playful before, even bordering on mean when he’s trying not to admit something’s wrong, but that was something else. It’s macho-posturing, she realises, with a mixture of hilarity and dread. He’s showing off, like a twat, for her.

Oh, god. She’s going to have to nip that right in the bud, or she’s going to throw up again.

“Roy. Roy Roberts.” The other guy replies through gritted teeth, glaring at Dad – at Dean, she’s going to have to get used to that, or she’s going to slip up, and things are going to get awkward real fast – with enough venom to bring down an elephant.

“Hey, mind if I tag along with you guys?” Meira asks, to diffuse some of the angry tension in the air. Absently she wonders if this is before Dean has admitted that he’s into guys, too, because that might explain some of that. Roy is a fairly good looking guy, after all. He reminds Meira of that guy who played Bond in those movies Dad likes from before she was born. That… probably haven’t even been made yet. Damn it. She’s going to have to be careful with things like that. “I have no idea where I am right now.” She adds, because Roy does not look convinced.

“We’re heading further in, not back out.” He warns her.

Meira shrugs. “You’re still a better option than trying to make it by myself.” And she has absolutely no intention of going anywhere without Dad. It’s not really very rational, but he’s her only point of reference right now, and until she can get her feet under herself and figure out what the fuck to do, she could use the illusion of support. So she grins into the face of Roy’s unimpressed glower. “You know I’m just asking as a formality, right? If you say no, I’ll just follow you anyway, because what the hell else am I gonna do?”

Roy’s glower shades towards resigned, and Meira knows she’s won. Her grin sharpens, and he rolls his eyes, but nods his acceptance. “Come on, then, if you’re coming.” He instructs, heading back the way he came without any further ado, leaving Meira alone with her baby-faced father.

There’s a brief moment where they stare at each other, both of them at a loss, and then Dad – Dean – jerks his head towards the bit of forest Roy disappeared into, and Meira takes that as her cue to fall into step with him. “So, before you were getting lost, what were you doing out here?” Dean asks, looking at her with open curiosity. Then his eyes flicker down and up again, and Meira catches herself before an Enochian exorcism can fall out of her mouth on instinct.

Instead, she switches to the first lie she can come up with that might make her dad stop looking at her like that. “I was running away from a dickbag who wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She says without looking at him.

There’s a beat of silence, and a glance shows Meira that Dean is grimacing. “What an asshole.” He comments, just as they catch up with the others again. Roy looks sour, but he’s attentive, scanning the surroundings with a keen eye, which Meira appreciates, and standing nearby is Uncle Sam. Only he’s a squishy-cheeked, smooth-faced, gangly-limbed baby-Uncle now. Meira has to bite back the urge to coo and possibly pinch his cheeks.

The other two in the group are people Meira doesn’t recognise, a teenage boy with close-cropped hair, and a young woman with cute dimples that show when she smiles at Meira in greeting. Meira smiles back with extra warmth. “This is my brother, Sam.” Dean says, taking it upon himself to do introductions. “And this is Haley and Ben Collins. Their brother’s gone missing, which is why we’re here, looking for him.” He explains, gesturing.

“I hope we find him.” Meira says, specifically to Haley. She’s just decided that Haley is her salvation, and she offers her hand to the other woman to shake. “I’m Meira.” Haley takes her hand with just a hint of befuddlement.

“Alright, let’s keep moving.” Roy calls, before Meira can add anything else. She does let her hand linger, though, just a touch, before she retracts it. Their group moves off again, and Meira makes it a point to walk beside Haley.

“Tell me about your brother?” She asks, just to strike up conversation.

Haley glances at her sideways, but obliges. It’s clear she loves her family, just the way she talks about them, and Meira catches herself smiling for real, and not just as a flirtation, although it’s that as well. She does make a point to tell Haley how admirable she thinks it is, that sort of devotion to family, and Haley ducks her head with a rueful smile, bashful.

Behind them, Sam snickers. Meira glances back and catches a disgruntled pout on her dad’s face before he smooths it out into something more neutral once he realises she’s looking. She makes a bit of a show of glancing between Haley and Dean, and then grins, unrepentant, and shrugs in faux-apology. Dean snorts and waves her off, conceding defeat gracefully enough.

When Meira turns back around, Haley is watching her, one eyebrow arched. Meira refuses to feel sheepish at being caught out, and just nudges her with her shoulder, gentle and teasing, and asks her another question about her life. Haley rolls her eyes, but answers.

The conversation carries them on through the afternoon, until they reach a point where Roy stops. It’s almost a clearing, if it wasn’t for the waist-high undergrowth. “This is it.” Roy says, looking about them. “Blackwater Ridge.”

“What coordinates are we at?” Uncle Sam asks at once. Roy answers, and Meira aches a little at just how incomprehensible the numbers are. Before, she would have just known where she was, and she feels a little sick, being made aware of just how little she can tell about the world around her now. She looks around, hating how small she feels, how muffled everything is. She doesn’t dare try to reach out with her grace again, but she wants to, just to make that feeling of wrong go away.

“I’m going to go take a look around.” Roy announces.

Meira whips around to give him an incredulous look. He might not be in the know, might not realise that Sam and Dean are probably on a hunt right now, but even so, it seems reckless for anyone to go off on their own. “You shouldn’t go off by yourself.” Sam points out, so Meira doesn’t have to.

“I’ll go with you.” Meira offers, since no one else seems like they’re about to.

It earns her incredulous looks from all quarters, and a disparaging one from Roy. Meira gives him a hard look in return, the sort of ‘do you really want to try me, bitch?’ look that Pabbi has always told her makes her look like her qaada. And she might not be able to bring her grace to bear along with it like she usually does, but she is still an angel, no matter how constrained, and it would take a tougher man than Roy Roberts to not even blink in the face of heavenly wrath.

“Look,” he says in a carefully reasonable tone, “I know these woods, and I’m just going to have a look around, see if I can find any signs of people. I’ll be fine. You’ll be safer staying here.”

“You’d be safer staying with the group, too.” Dean interjects, making no effort to sound inoffensive. Roy gives him a sour look.

“Why don’t we all go?” Haley suggests, all false brightness and impatience.

Roy raises his hands in frustrated surrender, and heads off into the woods. The rest of them follow along like good little ducklings. They do spread out a little as they go, looking for any signs of other people in the area. Meira is not an expert woodsman, but she’d learned a few things growing up with a hunter family, and she tries to pay attention, to be helpful.

“Haley! Over here!” Roy shouts suddenly. Everyone bolts towards the shout, and they come out in a clearing with three tents lying there in mangled wreckages, blood-splattered and torn. “Oh my god…” Haley breathes, sounding horrified. Meira doesn’t blame her. She feels a little bit sick, too, and it’s not her brother’s campsite. The thought of something like this happening to Jace makes her want to smite something, and her grace roils under her skin, pushing at the boundaries of her physical form and aching every time it brushes against the inside of her skin.

“Looks like a grizzly.” Roy remarks, cool and practical.

Meira thinks not. Not only because if it was, it’s unlikely her dad and her uncle would be here, but also because there would be more blood and less wanton destruction if it had been a normal animal. If a bear had been hungry enough to hunt people, there would be a lot more blood, at least, and if it was pissed at them being on its territory, there would be bodies. But there aren’t. Just a bit of blood splattered about here and there, and a lot of claw marks.

Haley begins shouting for her brother, and Meira grabs her arm before she can walk any further into the camp. “Don’t.” She warns, eyeing the surrounding woods warily.

“What?” Haley demands, eyes a little wild. “Why not?”

“Something might still be out there.” Sam interjects, giving Meira a respectful nod. She tries to smile back, but she’s not too proud to admit that she’s scared. She ought to be able to tell what did this, to feel the spirits and souls around her and know. But she can’t.

“Sam!” Dean calls, and Sam heads off at a brisk clip.

Meira heads after him on instinct. Haley follows her for about three steps before Ben calls out in a voice that wavers despite his best efforts, and she turns back to him without hesitation. Meira catches up to Sam just in time to hear Dean saying “-tell you what, it’s no skin-walker or black dog.” Then Dean turns and stalls at the sight of her. “Uh…” He says, staring at her like a deer in the headlights.

In other circumstances, Meira might glory in making her dad look like that for once, instead of the other way around, but she’s still feeling unnerved enough that it’s hard to wring any humour out of the situation. “Why are we ruling out skin-walkers and black dogs?” She asks, propping her shoulder on a tree and crossing her arms. It looks less pathetic than curling her arms around her sides, but it still serves to make herself feel better. What would be best would be a hug from her dad, but there’s no way she’d ask for that when he’d probably just take it the wrong way.

“You-” Sam begins, realisation dawning in his expression.

“You’re a Hunter?” Dean demands.

“More or less.” Meira agrees. It’s never been a title that sits right on her shoulders. Not when she’s spent her whole life surrounded by people who actually dedicated themselves to the job, while she’s always felt more like a kid mucking about with a hobby. At Dean’s sceptical, bordering on suspicious look, she elaborates. “I was raised to it, but I’ve never… dedicated myself to it.” She hedged. “I just help out here and there when something crosses my path.”

“Right.” Dean acknowledges, and then jerks his head towards something behind him. Meira comes closer to look, and Dean explains the tracks. It’s almost like being a kid again, with Dad schooling her on this or that aspect of hunting.

“A skin-walker or a black dog could drag a person away, but you’re right, the tracks just stopping like that is weird.” Meira acknowledges, wracking her brains for what could do this. “A phantom cat could, too. Or a wendigo or a moonfiend. Or a harpy, maybe. It’s too early for a werewolf.”

“Werewolves don’t tend to drag their victims off, never mind vanish with them.” Dean points out.

“What’s a moonfiend?” Sam asks.

Meira blinks, reminded suddenly that this is not really her uncle. “It’s a… It’s kind of like a mothman, but less aggressive. They’re mostly harmless, actually, really shy, but if they’ve staked out a territory, you don’t want to go wandering into it.” She explains absently. “It’s just that they can fly, which would explain…” She gestures at the vanishing tracks. “Like Harpies. Wendigos are strong and agile enough to lift a human body, and phantom cats are spirits. It’s possible a phantom cats could transport a victim that way, but they don’t tend to drag people off, either.”

“Phantom cat. That’s the animal version of a poltergeist, right?” Dean checks.

Meira nods. “Yeah, pretty much. Although normal poltergeists generally just want to hurt or kill you, but some legends suggest that phantom cats steal souls.”

“The pattern of attacks would suggest it’s hunting, not protecting territory, so I don’t think it’s a moonfiend.” Sam adds with a grimace.

The three of them look at each other, all of them coming to the same conclusion, none of them actually willing to say it out loud. Before someone can muster their courage, the forest air is shattered with a shout.

“HELP!”

Meira startles, and then lurches into a run before she’s had time to think. Of course, Dean and Sam are already on the move, too, even as a second, and then a third cry echoes through the forest. They converge with the others, a wordless scream that sounds closer than ever egging them on. Then the forest goes silent, and they slow to a stop, wary and alert, listening hard. “It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn’t it?” Haley asks.

Meira feels painfully vulnerable, and she tests her grace, to see if she can conjure her blade. It’s made from her grace, and it’s still there, so the blade should be there, but when she tries to manifest it, a lance of white-hot pain ricochets through her, and she clutches at her wrist, gritting her teeth against the agony.

“Everybody back to camp.” Sam orders, and Meira obeys on instinct. She’s never felt so vulnerable before in her entire life, and it only gets worse when she realises they’ve fallen for a trap and all their gear is gone. Before, she wouldn’t have worried. She’s an angel, she can survive off the ambient energy of the universe if she needs to. It’s not fun, but it’s possible. But now, she has no idea what she can and can’t do. Her grace is still there, warming her bones, but every time she reaches for it, all she gets is pain.

“Alright, listen up.” Sam says briskly, looking around the camp with a tight expression on his face. “It’s time to go. Things have gotten more complicated.”

“What?” Haley asks, incredulous and irritated.

“Kid, don’t worry. Whatever’s out there, I think I can handle it.” Roy says, and Meira’s tempted to deck him for the condescending arrogance in his voice.

“If you don’t even know what it is, you have no idea whether you can handle it.” She snaps. It seems to startle everyone, but Meira doesn’t care. Yesterday, a wendigo wouldn’t have frightened her. She could move faster than it, could burn it to death with just a touch of the holy light in her soul, but today, she’s as helpless as Roy Roberts, and it pisses her off that he’s not as scared as she is.

“Sweetheart, when you’ve been hunting as long as I have, there isn’t much the woods can throw at you that you can’t handle.” Roy retorts smugly.

Meira scoffs incredulously, suddenly hating him. “Oh, that’s what this is. Did Sam taking charge just now wound your fragile male ego? Are you really going to put everyone here at risk because of your god damned pride?”

“How dare you suggest-”

“Hey, relax.” Dean interjects. Even though it isn’t directed at her, Meira can’t help but subside, too used to Dad mediating arguments between her and Jace, or her and Rob, or her and Pabbi that way.

Apparently, Uncle Sam hasn’t gotten the memo, though. “She’s right.” He says, as if Dad hadn’t said anything at all. “You have no idea what’s out there, what it can do. I’m just trying to protect you.”

“You, protect me?” Roy scoffs. “I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight.” He spits, getting into Uncle Sam’s face.

“Isn’t it about time you retired, then?” Meira snarks.

“You shut your mouth.” Roy barks, rounding on her.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Dad snaps, getting between them with both his hands out as if to physically hold them away from each other. “Just chill out, okay?” He prompts, giving Uncle Sam a pointed look. Meira tucks her arms around herself and tries not to freak out any more than she already has. Haley putting a hand on her shoulder makes her jump, but the comforting squeeze she gets helps a little.

“We don’t have time, Dean. We have to get these people out of here before this thing eats them alive.” Uncle Sam protests furiously.

“Look.” Haley speaks up, interrupting whatever Roy had been about to say in answer to that. “Tommy might still be alive.” She states, and Meira knows what’s coming next. She knows, because it’s what she’d say if it was Jace out here, in the claws of a wendigo. It’s what Dad would say if it was Uncle Sam. “And I’m not leaving here without him.”

“Then we’re going to need fire.” Meira says. “Lots and lots of fire.”

Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado – Saturday 12th November 2005

They build up a large campfire, and several smaller fires, too, and Meira helps her dad draw protective symbols around their camp. And then they sit and wait for morning or the wendigo, whichever comes first. The hours draw on interminably, and Meira sits right by the fire, close enough that she feels a little feverish with the heat baking her face, but it’s close enough that she could grab one of the big branches out of the fire if she needed to.

Sitting and waiting isn’t the best plan though, she thinks grimly. For morning, yes. Wendigos don’t really like bright sunlight, so they’ll have that small advantage once the sun rises, but after that? Haley isn’t leaving without her brother, and her brother, if he’s still alive, will be in the wendigo’s lair. Which they’ll need to find, and get into, and get out of, without dying or getting caught themselves.

“What’re you thinking?” Haley asks quietly, nudging her.

Meira glances at her, sees how worried she looks, and musters up a smile. “I’m trying to figure out how we’re going to find Tommy.” Haley blinks, then almost smiles, except not really. Meira knows the feeling, and goes back to staring at the fire. “Even if we kill this thing, we’d still need to find him, and… Shit, that’s a lot of wilderness to comb through.”

“We’ll do it.” Haley insists stubbornly. “I’ll do it.”

Meira smiles, slanting a fond look at her. “I know.” She assures her. “I have a little brother, too. I’d take on a wendigo for him, too.” That wouldn’t really have been saying much before, but now? Like this? She still means it.

“A…” Haley falters, frowning. “I’ve heard of that before. Isn’t that some sort of Native legend or something?”

Meira nodded. “Algonquian peoples, primarily. They tended to live more northward, where the long, lean winters often led to starvation. And starvation sometimes led to people who who looked at their families and friends, and saw not people they loved, but food.” Haley shudders in distaste. “And once they’ve eaten someone, they start craving it, and every time they eat someone else, they turn a little bit more monstrous.”

Haley gives her a sharp look, fear buried under anger. “You mean this thing’s going to eat Tommy?” She demands in a harsh whisper.

“It’s planning to, yeah. But it probably hasn’t yet.” Meira reassures, reaching out to put an arm around Haley’s shoulders. Haley grabs her other wrist in a desperate, unthinking motion, clinging to hope. “Wendigos are born of deprivation, they know what it’s like to go hungry, and they hate it. They tend to hunt in spurts, and hibernate for long stretches of time in between, but they don’t gorge themselves. They’ll take people alive if they can, so they have food for later.”

Haley squeezes her eyes shut. Then she sets her jaw and nods. “How can we kill this thing?” She asks in a hard voice.

Meira looks away. “I’m starting to wonder if we should.” She admits.

“What?” Haley asks, so sharply that Sam and Dean look over at them from where they’re sitting together across the fire, heads bent together and discussing something.

Meira opens her mouth to explain what she’s thinking, what she doesn’t want to be thinking, but before she can, someone out in the woods calls for help. She cringes, even as everyone else leaps to their feet, those with guns aiming them out into the night. She knows that it’s the wendigo, knows that it isn’t some poor bastard getting chowed on, but… well, before, she would have known, would have felt it, would have been able to tell for sure that, no, the only soul out there is the corrupted one of the wendigo. Now, all she has to go on is cold logic. It’s enough to convince her head, but not her soul.

Some part of her still feels the need to go and check, to be sure, because what if she’s just sitting here, listening to someone die when she could have helped them? Then the gunfire starts up. “I hit it!” Roy shouts suddenly, and Meira’s head jerks up just in time to see him dodging around one of their extra fires and rushing out into the woods.

She’s on her feet before she can think about it. Then she hesitates. What is she going to do, without her grace? But she can’t just leave him to his fate, either, no matter how much she doesn’t like him. “Don’t move!” Her dad orders, right before going after Roy himself.

That cinches it, really. Meira’s not leaving her dad out there with a wendigo. She snatches up one of the burning sticks, and bolts after them. “Meira!” Uncle Sam shouts, reaching out to try and grab her, but Meira’s played that game a million times, it’s habit to flex her grace to give herself just a little bit more speed so that she’s not where he expects her to be.

And this time, it works.

It’s such a relief she nearly stumbles, but she doesn’t have time to waste, so she catches her balance and runs on. She’s right behind Dad, and Roy is up ahead, and she can hear the wendigo in the trees. “It’s over here!” The wendigo calls with someone else’s voice, and Meira can see it reaching for Roy. The world blurs as she lunges, practically tackling Roy out of the way just as the wendigo’s hands flash out and the claws sink into her face.

She could retaliate, she has her stick, but she remembers the thoughts that had been plaguing her earlier, and doesn’t.

The wendigo jerks her, hard, but Meira’s grace isn’t gone. It’s just trapped, which means that when her neck snaps, it’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Painful, sure, but her grace heals the damage almost as soon as it’s been done. The wendigo gives her another shake, nearly breaking her neck again, and then wrenches the burning stick away from her, tossing it back down to the ground. She lets it, because she doesn’t want to have to heal being eaten, and then plays limp ragdoll as the wendigo darts off through the trees with her. It won’t fool it forever, but it should fool it long enough for it to take her back to its lair.

They drop back to the forest floor eventually, and then further down still, underground, Meira realises. A cave, or an abandoned mine, perhaps. She’s tossed into a larger cavern, lets herself roll limply along the floor, and the wendigo retreats. Meira’s just going to have to hope that her dad and uncle can keep Haley and Ben alive through the night.

“Ugh.” She groans and sits up, rubbing at the back of her neck. She’s human enough that that sort of damage is still unnerving, and leaves her feeling vaguely squeamish for hours afterwards. So worth it just to know her grace still works, though.

“Holy shit!”

Meira stills, looking around. The cavern is not, in fact, pitch black. There’s faint light seeping in from somewhere above her head, moonlight, and it’s just about enough for her to see by. There’s a man strung up from the rafters that looks enough like Haley and Ben that Meira feels pretty safe in guessing “Tommy Collins?”

“Yeah.” Tommy says breathlessly. “I thought you were dead.”

“That’s what I wanted it to think.” Meira tells him with a shrug, clambering to her feet and dusting herself off. “Now, let’s see if we can’t get you down.” She wishes, briefly but intensely, for her blade. It’s right there, sitting inside her soul, and she can’t manifest it. Instead, she casts about for something in the cave that they’re in, and settles on a broken shard of rock from the floor of the cave. It worked for prehistoric people well enough.

“How- how’d you know who I am?” Tommy asks after Meira’s been sawing at the ropes for a few minutes. They’re starting to fray, finally, which is a relief.

“Your brother and sister have come looking for you.” Meira tells him. “Brought me and a couple others along with them.”

“Oh, god.” Tommy groans. “Are they okay?”

“Worried about you, but otherwise, yeah. Last I saw, anyway. And D- Dean and Sam know how to handle a wendigo. They’ll look after them, I promise.” Tommy lets out a shuddering breath, nodding to himself.

“I think this is backwards.” Tommy says in a tone of forced cheer. Meira hums curiously, scowling at the rope as she continues to work at it. “We’ll the beautiful damsel is rescuing the handsome knight from the monster.” He points out.

Meira snorts her way into laughter, and leans back to get a better look at him. “You are cute.” She acknowledges, and in other circumstances, she might have flirted back, because she’s gotten the feeling that both Haley and Tommy are straight. “But your sister’s cuter.” She adds, going back to her work. The rope gives way before Tommy manages to muster up a response to that. He staggers when he drops, having been strung up for so long and deprived of sustenance that his balance is shot to shit. Meira catches him and slings one of his arms over her shoulder. “Do you know if your friends are still alive?” She asks him. There’s no one else in this cave, she doesn’t think, although she can’t be entirely sure of that with her grace locked down like this, but she’s pretty sure this won’t be the only place the wendigo has to stash its snacks.

She feels more than sees Tommy shake his head. “N-no, it-” He stammers out. “Oh god.” He says, and Meira recognises that tone well enough to shift the way she’s supporting him so that when he doubles over and retches, she doesn’t get covered in bile.

“Easy.” Meira soothes, rubbing a hand over his back. He dry heaves a few more times, but manages to regain control of himself after that. “Yeah, I can’t imagine watching something like that was any fun.” She muses, tugging him back upright and setting off. She hopes she can remember the way out. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“What about- about that thing?” Tommy asks her as they stagger along, into the first of several pitch-black tunnels.

“It’s almost certainly out in the woods right now, hunting the others.” Meira tells him, which she is aware is not as comforting as it could be, given that ‘the others’ includes family for both of them. Tommy swears, and Meira grimaces, figuring she can at least help a little bit. “Sam and Dean know how to handle something like this.” She assures him. “And they have plenty of fire. They’ll keep Haley and Ben safe. And I’m going to keep you safe.”

“In normal circumstances, that would sound ridiculous.” Tommy mutters.

“Don’t be sexist.” Meira chides, but she keeps her tone light, and gives him a gentle little jostle with her shoulder to let him know she’s mostly teasing. Then she sobers, because short of actually eating her alive, which admittedly is a possibility, the wendigo can’t kill her, but it could definitely kill Tommy, and if he’s going to play machismo bullshit because she’s a lady, she really does need to nip that in the bud. “But I’m serious. If it does come back, if we run into it, don’t you dare try to play the hero, alright?” She puts a touch of divine command into her tone. “I am not your responsibility, do not wait for me, do not come back for me, do not try to throw yourself into harms way to protect me. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy mumbles, resentful and bewildered.

The rest of the slog out of the mines is made in silence, save for Tommy’s ragged breathing and Meira’s occasional curse when she makes a wrong turn and they have to double back. Finally, though, Meira picks out a hint of light and follows it to the exit. It looks like it might have been boarded up once, but the wendigo has made a neat little opening for itself, and she and Tommy stagger out into in the dim grey-blue light of false dawn.

Tommy chokes back a sob of relief. Meira grins at the sound and shifts him higher on her shoulder. “Come on, we don’t want to get caught here if it comes back.” She points out, and that convinces Tommy to pick up his pace. It’s still slow going, because he’s still pretty unhealthy after two days chained up in a cave with minimal sustenance. The wendigo probably wouldn’t have fed him, but they had been known to give captives water. They also have undergrowth to contend with now, and Meira might heal a broken ankle, but Tommy won’t.

“Where… are the others?” Tommy asks.

Which is a hell of a good question. “I have no idea.” Meira tells him, feigning cheer. “Right now our priorities are water and some way of making fire.” She informs him, and Tommy drags them to a stop.

Tommy clearly knows more about wilderness survival than she does, because within a few minutes of her pointing out a need for it, Tommy has somehow managed to get a small fire going. They’re still too close to the wendigo’s lair for Meira’s comfort, but having a weapon that might actually do something to it is more important than trying to escape something that could outstrip a bullet. They build up a campfire, draw some protective sigils, and Meira fashions them both makeshift torches, wishing bitterly that she wasn’t reduced to such primitive tools all the while.

Meira risks leaving Tommy alone with the sigils to protect him just long enough to see if she can find any hint of running water nearby. She does, so they relocate, going through the whole process of warding all over again, this time closer to the water. Tommy looks a lot better for the chance to drink and wash his face, and then they have to figure out what the hell to do next.

“Finding the others ought to be priority over killing the wendigo.” Meira muses. “There’s just the problem of how to actually go about that.”

Tommy nods grimly. “If it wasn’t for the monster out there that wants to eat us, I’d say set up a base camp, search outwards, leave signs.” He summarises. Meira is about to suggest that they should do exactly that, then, when a furious snarl echoes through the woods. Tommy flinches so hard he falls over where he’s sitting, only barely catching himself with one hand in the dirt.

“Think it noticed we’re missing?” Meira asks rhetorically.

They sit, tense and wary, in the ensuing silence, waiting for something to happen. It doesn’t for long enough that Meira begins to wonder if she should do something. Then the yelling starts. “Help! Help me!” Meira clenches her hands into fists, heart squeezing.

“You know that’s not going to work, right?” She calls, standing slowly and bringing two of their burning sticks with her, one in each hand. Tommy hisses at her, grabbing at the hem of her coat as if that might make her sit and stop baiting the monster. A snarl answers her words, echoing oddly as the wendigo moves mid-sound and the doppler effect turns it multi-toned. “What? Pissed because you couldn’t kill me? We’re pretty tough prey, I bet you’ve figured by now. All this exertion must be making you kinda hungry.”

The roar that follows shakes the forest, full of fury and malice, and Meira nearly giggles hysterically. She only has the barest idea of what she’s doing, and her hands are shaking with the terror of having a predator that’s bigger than her focused solely on her, but she knows, she knows from painful, bitter experience that making someone angry makes them sloppy in the short term. And any advantage she can wring out of this situation, she needs.

Tauntingly, she steps a little closer to the edge of the protective sigils. And there it is, sprinting too fast for the mortal eye to catch, close enough to make the underbrush rustle right next to where Meira is standing, but not quite close enough for her to hit with one of her torches. Meira doesn’t want to start a forest fire, but oh, boy, is she tempted right now. “Is that supposed to scare me?” She mocks.

The wendigo rushes by again, and then- stops. In plain view. Not even looking at her. Tommy makes a choked noise of horror, and the wendigo doesn’t even twitch. Meira is so tempted to lunge out of the sigils at it, but it’s too easy, and she hesitates. She hesitates like an idiot until it’s suddenly gone, bounding off into the forest, and she realises what must have happened.

It heard something she couldn’t. Something that was easier prey.

“For fuck’s sake!” She explodes, and goes after it, even though it’s probably going to get her eaten.

“Hey! Hey, wait!” Tommy calls.

“Stay in the circle!” Meira calls over her shoulder. “If it comes back, set it on fire!”

The wendigo appears in front of her in an instant. Meira swings on instinct, a little too slow because she’s so off her game right now, but a little too slow is still something, because the flames pass by the wendigo’s emaciated flesh with inches to spare, and it must feel the heat, because it shrieks, an awful, too human sound of pain. A huge clawed hand strikes out, and tears right through the sleeve of her leather coat and into the flesh beneath. “Shit!” She curses, pained and indignant in equal measure, because if she’s guessing right about the limits on her abilities, she’s not going to be able to fix that.

“Meira?!” Uncle Sam’s voice shouts.

The wendigo ignores him, which means Meira succeeded in pissing it off. She ducks the second set of claws aiming for her throat, and then swings both torches up and in. They crash into either side of the wendigo’s head, and the smell of scorched flesh fills the forest just as Sam skids into view. The wendigo screams, rearing back and disappointingly not dead. Meira gears up for another swing, and the wendigo bolts. It’s gone in a flash, and Meira is about to go after it, to press her advantage, but then Uncle Sam is right in front of her, eyes wide. “Are you alright?” He demands, looking between her face and her arm.

“I’ll be fine.” Meira assures him, lowering her arms and hissing when the wound pulls. “My jacket on the other hand…” She bitches, tugging at the shoulder to get a better look at the tears. She whines when she gets a proper look at the damage.

“You bitch-slapped a wendigo in the face with a medieval torch, and you’re just upset about your jacket?” Sam asks incredulously.

Meira considers that. “I… huh. That was pretty cool, wasn’t it?” Sam snorts, shaking his head like he genuinely can’t believe her. Meira grins, before the situation catches up with her, and she jerks her head back the way she came. “We should get behind the wards I set up if we’re going to catch up.”

Sam, though, shakes his head. “I’ve gotta-” He gestures after the wendigo. Meira is just about to point out that running off half-cocked is going to get him dead, despite the disorientation of having to tell her Uncle that, when he goes on. “It took Dean and Haley.”

Meira stares at him for a long moment, then tips her head back. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me!” She whines at the sky. “I just got Tommy out!”

“You got Tommy?” Sam echoes, brightening.

Meira nods, and realises there’s really only one thing for her to do. “I’ll wait with him while you go help the others?” She offers, and Sam nods once, sharp and decisive. Meira thrusts one of the torches at him. “Here. Take that.” Sam does, muttering a quick thanks before he’s rushing off again, and Meira goes back to sit with Tommy.

It’s not even half an hour later when she hears footsteps, people moving through the woods, and then the others appear through the trees, all of them in a straggly exhausted group. Haley and Ben both let out cries of relief when they see their brother, and stumble into a sort of run while Tommy clambers to his feet in order to embrace them.

“Wendigo’s dead?” Meira checks.

“Yeah.” Dean confirms. “Shot it point blank with a flaregun.” He adds proudly. Meira whistles, impressed. Dean grins back at her. “Heard you hit it in the face with a torch?” He asks, jerking his head at Sam to indicate just where he heard that. “Pretty awesome.”

Meira shrugs, grinning bashfully. “I did what I could.”

Then she realises that Roy is watching her very intently. He looks more than a little worse for wear, something a bit wild around his eyes that suggests he’s not taking the existence of the supernatural very well at all. “You’re alive.” He says when Meira catches his eye.

“Yeah.” Meira confirms.

Roy swallows. “Coulda sworn that thing broke your neck.” He says, all of a sudden not quite able to look at her and instead staring somewhere over her shoulder.

“Oh, man, it tried.” She replied, grinning in a strange, giddy relief at the memory of how easily her grace had healed her. “Shook me like a ragdoll. But I’m fine.” She adds to reassure him, because he still looks a bit haunted.

Roy nods. There’s a long pause, and then he clears his throat. “You saved my life. When I was being an idiot.” He adds briskly, grimacing at himself. “Thank you.”

Meira shrugs, smiling ruefully. “Just because you’re an asshole, doesn’t mean you deserve to die.”

Dean snorts in amusement at that, and interrupts before Roy can say anything else. It doesn’t look like he knows what to say in any case. “Come on, let’s get back to civilisation. I don’t know about any of you lot, but I’m getting a little sick of these woods.”

No one’s going to object to that, so they get themselves organised, and follow Roy’s recovered GPS out of the forest. Along the way they discuss what, exactly, to tell the authorities, getting their stories straight. Meira’s mostly quiet as they hike, trying to figure out what she’s going to do now. Ideally, she wants to stick with Dean and Sam, but she isn’t entirely sure how to go about inviting herself along. She knows from her dad’s stories that he and Uncle Sam had been kind of codependent when they were younger, and trying to insert herself into such a close-knit dynamic is going to difficult.

She still hasn’t come up with any good ideas when they get back to a road and call the paramedics. Then it’s all chaos as everyone asks questions and gets medical attention. Sam tries to point the paramedics at Meira, but Meira dodges them with the excuse that it was just a scratch, she’ll be fine. “Hey.” Someone says behind her, and she turns to find Haley standing there, looking exhausted and overwhelmed.

“Hey, you alright?” Meira checks, touching her lightly on the arm.

Haley nods. “Thanks to you.” Meira shakes her head, but Haley presses the point. “You saved Tommy. You saved my brother.”

Meira relents with a smile, and shifts her hand up to brush her knuckles lightly over Haley’s cheek. “I’m glad I could help.” She says sincerely. Haley huffs, smiling incredulously.

“You never let up, do you?” She asks.

Meira shrugs and retreats. “I do mean it.” She points out.

Haley considers her for a long moment, then nods. “Yeah, I got that.” She acknowledges. Then she glances over to where Dean is finally escaping the paramedics himself. “I should go and say thank you to them, too.” She says, and Meira nods, watching her go. She watches them talk for a moment, before an idea occurs to her, and she hurries off to pickpocket a ranger, talk to Roy, and then circle back around to Haley. She gets there just in time to hear her say “Must you cheapen the moment?”

“Yeah.” Dean replies, as if it should be obvious.

Haley shakes her head, catches sight of Meira, and rolls her eyes. “The pair of you, I swear.” She huffs, and Meira grins. She’s heard it before, mostly from Qaada. Dad always protested that she’s way more like Pabbi, but given that the pair of them are the same flavour of irreverent flirt, she figures that’s one and the same.

Meira flips her stolen pen over in her fingers and proffers it to Haley. Haley takes it with a quizzical expression, while Meira shoves up her sleeve and presents her arm to her. “Gimme your number, and once I can get my hands on a new phone, I’ll text you.”

Haley narrows her eyes playfully. “And why should I?”

For once, Meira doesn’t rise to the bait. “Because then if you get into any other trouble, or if you see anything else weird, you can call me.” She explains. Haley’s eyes widen a little, and then she nods and scribbles a phone number onto Meira’s arm.

“Smooth.” Dean comments, half complimentary, half resentful, and Meira elbows him in retaliation. He elbows her back.

Haley shakes her head at both of them again, and then, surprising the hell out of Meira, she leans in and kisses them each on the cheek, Meira, and then Dean. “I hope you find your father.” She says to Dean, who sobers at that, and then Sam and Ben amble over and Haley guides Ben off to go to the hospital with their brother.

“You going to be alright getting home?” Dean asks, startling Meira out of watching the little family leave in the ambulance.

Meira winces, trying not to think too hard about exactly how far away from home she really is. Dean catches it and raises his eyebrows at her. Over his shoulder, Sam is frowning in concern. “Don’t really have one of those anymore.” She admits quietly, since it’s mostly true. She’s just muddling her tenses a little bit. She swallows and glances sideways at Dean. “Mind if I hitch a ride with you guys?”

Dean glances back at Sam, who shrugs. “Sure.” Dean says, a little uncertainly. “I guess.”

Relief makes Meira’s shoulders slump. “Thanks.”

“You really don’t have anywhere to go, huh?” Sam asks, sounding sympathetic.

Meira gives a slightly bitter laugh at that. “No, I don’t. It’s… it’s all gone.” She raises her arms a little in indication. “This is everything I have right now.”

“Shit.” Dean breathes. “What happened?”

“What always happens to hunters.” Meira hedges, tucking her hands into her pockets and hunching into her coat uncomfortably. It’s not even entirely a lie. “They missed one, and it came back to bite them.”

“Well, you can stick with us for a while.” Sam offers.

“Thanks. I don’t mind helping you look for your dad for a while as repayment.” Meira replies, and they both nod their acceptance. Then Dean tips his head towards the Impala, and Meira goes, aware of the pair of them following along behind her.

She’s pretty sure she’s not really meant to hear it when Dean says, in an undertone. “Sam, you know we’re going to find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam agrees heavily. “But in the meantime… I’m driving.”

There’s a long pause, long enough for Meira to reach the back door of the Impala and turn to look at them. She’s just in time to see Dean flip the keys across to Sam, and she ducks her head on a smile. As long as she’s stuck here in the past, this is exactly where she wants to be; with her family.

[winterscaptain]

caught out.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader 

a/n: i am SO excited to share this installment with you! There are a few key developments in this chapter, so get excited! we fly through route 66 and in the blood in this part, and we might get a ring..... :)

an ajf fic that requires little to no context!

words: 5.3k warnings: canon-typical injury, medical setting, some really soft stuff

summary: foyet’s scars leave more than trauma in their wake, but aaron finds he has more to live for - a future, a life, a family. (au!october 2013)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

Before this moment, you’d never fully considered what it would be like for Aaron to die in front of you. You’d certainly come close before - between close calls with unsubs and a fair few stupid decisions, close calls weren’t unheard of by any means. But even in those moments, as scared as you were, there was always part of you that knew he’d be okay. A part of you that knew he’d come home to you. 

Right now, that knowledge is universally absent as he collapses out of nowhere in the conference room. 

“Aaron!” You shoot out of your chair and drop to the floor beside him, immediately reaching for his wrist. You’re relieved to find a pulse, albeit a weak one. You know you’re already crying, absolutely terrified. 

Somehow, you manage to look up at JJ, meeting her wide, scared blue eyes. “Call EMS. They’re in the building and faster than an ambulance.”

She snaps to, running to Aaron’s office for the direct line. 

“Hang in there, baby.” You wrap his hand in yours, and Derek helps you turn him over. Aaron’s halfway in your lap now, your body bowed over him. 

He stirs a little, and you shush him, brushing the hair off his forehead. His breath rattles in his chest, struggling, as he reaches for you. 

“Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” You don’t realize you’re talking until Derek lays a hand on your shoulder. 

EMS arrives, and you’re not sure how much time has passed by the time they get him onto the gurney and down the stairs. You keep up with them for as long as you can before Anderson and Derek snag your arms, holding you back. 

Derek tugs you once, gently, by the wrist, and you fall into him. He’s already moving, guiding you to the elevators and down to the car. He repeats the same things, over and over, every minute or so, as you make the long journey to the hospital. 

“It’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s tough. Hotch isn’t going anywhere.”

+++

A doctor opens the doors, a clipboard in her hand. “Hotchner?”

You rise, approaching the doctor. “Yes?”

“Are you his next of kin?”

You nod, reaching for your wallet. 

The doctor smiles at your obvious agitation. “No need to show your credentials. Agent Hotchner is out of surgery and resting comfortably.”

“What happened?”

She sighs. “The scar tissue from his previous wounds tore, causing slow, but significant internal bleeding. It was touch and go on the table, but he’s a fighter. Something kept him here. Your attending will have more information for you once you’re settled with him.”

You swallow, trying to keep your throat clear as your eyes well up again. 

She presses a hand to your arm. “You can see him now. He was asking for you before we put him under.”

“Thank you.” 

When she disappears behind the doors again, you return to the chair you’d been glued to for the previous six hours. 

Dave stands with you as you gather your things. You look at him and he leans forward to kiss your cheek. “Take your time. We’ll be reachable. Let us know when he’s awake.” 

You nod. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you mentally draft a text message to Jessica before sending it off. JJ let her know what happened after she called EMS, and she’s been standing by ever since. 

As a pair, you decided to keep things from Jack until you were certain of an outcome. No need to make him worry longer than necessary. 

4:27pm Aaron’s out of surgery. Not sure how long they’re keeping him. I’ll let you know when it’s a good time to bring Jack over. 

She replies right away. 

4:27pm. It never ends, does it? 4:28pm I’ll have my phone on me. Thank you. 4:28pm Love you. 

With a little tug at your lips, you reply. 

4:28pm Love you too. Kiss our boy for me. 

A little whoosh sounds as she replies. 

4:28pm Of course xx

You’re finally able to breathe when you see Aaron. Though he looks shockingly small in that big bed, hooked up to intimidating machinery, he is alive. 

Bar’s on the floor, today. 

He’s still out, like the doctor said, and probably would be for another few hours. You cross to his side - the one without the IV - and sit beside him. When you get there, you take his hand and press his palm to your forehead, leaning into him. Even among the sharp, antiseptic smell of the hospital, he smells like himself. 

His touch, as it always does, heals you from the inside out. You can feel your blood pressure drop, your heart rate slow. The warmth of his hand sinks into your head, your chest, letting you take deeper breaths that are far more satisfying. 

After you're sure he’s well and truly alive, you wrap his hand in both of your own and scoot your chair so you can drop your head against his pillow. Uncomfortable in the extreme, you close your eyes, happy for the weight of his hand in yours. 

+++

When Aaron wakes, he’s confronted with a few things that confuse him (the ache in his ribs and the pounding in his head, to name two) and a few that don’t (the smell of your skin, the familiar feeling of your fingers laced through his). He decides to address the less confusing elements first. 

He turns his head, a shockingly difficult maneuver, and finds you out like a light - your head on his pillow, your arm tucked under your face. Even in sleep, your brow pinches and your mouth draws a tense line. 

There’s an attempt to move his hand so he can touch your face, but you wake and startle before he even makes it a quarter inch. 

Your eyes meet his and you heave a sigh of relief. “Aaron.”

His lips pull at the corners. “Hi.” There’s a scrape in his voice, raw from disuse. 

You haul yourself up, bringing one of your hands to his face, mindful of his nasal cannula. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know that?”

“I’m sorry.” His sincerity breaks your heart, and he tries to sit up, but you shake your head, reaching for the remote. 

You prop him up a little and he reaches for you again. You meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his. 

He whispers against your lips. “I’m so sorry.” He leans back, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Did they tell you what happened?”

You nod, your eyes still roaming over his face. “Well first of all, they lost you twice on the table, but before that, the scar tissue from your stab wounds tore and caused significant internal bleeding. They’re sure it was a slow bleed - over the course of hours, maybe days.” 

You swallow, and a fresh set of tears fall down your cheeks. It’s frustrating. 

“If you didn’t go down when you did, when you were awake, it’s possible you could have bled out in your sleep without even realizing it.”

You’re proud of yourself for getting through your thought, even if you were shaking toward the end. It’s close to unbearable to consider the possibility of waking beside him, finding him cold and unmoving beside you. The horror of it pushes at your eyes and a sob rips through your chest. 

For some reason, you apologize. 

He shakes his head, his brow crumpling. “Come here, honey. Come here.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I -“

He shushes you and moves over, leaving space for you to shuffle onto the bed beside him. “You’re not gonna hurt me. Come here. I’m alright.” You tuck your face into his neck as his other arm wraps around you the best while attached to his IV. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

You kiss the skin you can reach, placing a hand over his heart. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.” 

One of his hands traces up and down your back, dancing in patterns you don’t have the brain space to follow, while the other covers yours on his chest. Soon enough, you’re asleep again. 

+++

When Dave comes back to check on you both, he finds you curled together - as much as you can be - in the hospital bed. Aaron’s cheek is smooshed against your head, his cannula knocked out of place, your leg hooked over one of his on top of the covers. Your hands are still clasped together over his chest, his IV easily accessible to the nurses that flutter in and out as the day passes. 

The tear tracks are still visible on your face, the exhaustion still pulling at your eyes. 

In all his years of knowing you, Dave had never seen you as distraught as you were when Aaron went down in the conference room. Up to that point, he thought you both somewhat invincible, even at your weakest. 

Though you both had your fair share of hospital stays over the years, none of them ever broke through that ceaseless calm that arced between you and Aaron. When you’re in the room together, there’s a pervasive comfort, almost moving as two halves of the same person at any given time, hardly capable of the wild panic he saw in your eyes this morning. 

Satisfied you’re both alright, he takes his leave. There is a case to solve, of course. 

+++

Jessica brings Jack over the next morning, and he’s quick to gingerly crawl into his father's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. 

Jack says something you can’t hear, but Aaron’s response carries across the room in his low, murmuring baritone. 

“I’m okay, buddy. We’re alright. I’ll be home soon, and off work for a little while, so we’ll get to spend some time together.”

You meet Aaron’s eyes over Jack’s head before his flicker to Jess’s. He nods once, and holds Jack tight to him. 

When they part, Jack trots back to you and you rake your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. 

He looks up at you, and something passes between you. 

I’ll take care of him. He’ll come home safe to you, bud. 

Jack sighs and tucks into you, wrapping his arms around you. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, baby.” 

+++

“I saw Haley.” 

You look up at him, your chin propped on his shoulder. “What?”

“I saw Haley. We -” he laughs a little, with only the barest hint of a wince. “We were dressed like old Hollywood movie stars and we were in this...theatre.” He shakes his head a little and you know he thinks it’s absurd. 

“Don’t do that. Tell me. What did you see?”

He throws you a grateful look and continues. “She found me in the lobby and we went inside. Foyet was there too, but she wasn’t scared. They were almost friendly. It was...strange.” He squints, remembering. You gingerly place your hand on his chest, feeling the heat from his healing wounds. He places his hand over yours again, his thumb tracking back over the back of your knuckles. “There was this massive screen and she had popcorn...and then a bunch of little scenes from our,” his arm flexes around you, “life since she died started rolling. We talked - about Jack, about you, the way you are with him.”

He’s holding something back. “What did she say?”

“She said,” he swallows thickly, “that you’re good with him. She looked really happy watching you two together.”

You smile, but there’s an edge to it, something long-suffering and raw. “I’ll never be her, though.” You know he misses her and you know it’ll never be the same. But even then, you know you aren’t a replacement, either.  

Aaron closes his eyes and presses a desperate kiss to the top of your head. “You’re just what we need, sweetheart. You’re everything.”

You look at him and he looks at you. There’s something at work behind his eyes. You blink once, slowly. “What are you thinking about, over there?”

The thing playing in his eyes sneaks down to his mouth, dancing at the corners. “Marry me.”

A hysterical laugh leaves you, but there’s no anxiety in it, just disbelief. “What?”

“Marry me.”

He’s dead serious. Weirdly, that observation doesn’t send your heart racing like you thought it would. Nevertheless, you find yourself without speech. You open and close your mouth a couple times, struggling. 

Of course you’d talked about this before. You already lived together, already co-parented Jack with teamwork and consistency - almost every step accomplished completely out of the traditional order of things. There were moments where you brought him a beer or cashed in some favor or another in the bedroom and Aaron would say, “I could marry you, just for that,” but there was always a playfulness to it. You always told him you’d meet him in Vegas by way of response, only half-kidding. 

Marriage was always on the table, always the implication, but you always figured you’d get around to it later. It never seemed to be the right time and you’re happy right where you are, so it never mattered much. 

But here you are, suddenly sitting at the proverbial table, staring engagement in the face. 

Aaron Hotchner just asked me to marry him. 

Well, actually he told you to marry him.

True. I mean it’s not like he has to ask. He already knows the answer. 

So answer him, stupid!

He waits for you with an endless patience. There’s not a hint of concern or anxiety in his gaze - just a soft adoration you’ve seen thousands of times before. He knows what your answer will be. He always has. 

“Okay.”

Aaron snorts. “Okay?”

Your face breaks out into a grin. “Okay, Hotchner. I’ll marry you.” You shrug while he gingerly lets out another laugh. “I’m more than happy to be more than your quasi-spouse and Jack’s quasi-parent.” It’s obviously a joke and he mirrors your grin. “So...okay. Final answer.”

He shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Go into the back pocket of my go-bag and bring me what you find in there.”

You frown at him, but follow instructions, clambering off the bed. 

There’s a little, flatish box with the smallest of code-locks securing the lid in the pocket. It’s made of something reinforced, and it’s heavier than you anticipated. 

Returning to the bed, you sit on the edge, handing him the box. He adjusted while you were shuffling about, now sitting up almost all the way in the cocoon of pillows you built for him. 

With a sly smile, he rolls the code into the lock, and the box springs open. He turns it around toward you, and you’re confronted by a simple, gorgeous ring. 

You blink rapidly, your eyes shifting from the ring to Aaron, and back to the ring. 

“I bought this after I installed Derek as unit chief, four years ago. You rightfully tore into me after I pulled that stunt with that unsub, and I…” he trails off, thinking. 

You can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, picking around years and years of feelings. 

“I don’t know. I knew something I didn’t know, if that makes any sense at all. I knew it was yours, too, when I got it, but I didn’t acknowledge it even after I tucked it in my old go-bag for safe keeping and kept it there, ever since. The only time I didn’t have it with me was in Pakistan. I left it in a locked box in the office at home.” 

He laughs at himself, looking down at the cable-knit blanket over his legs. 

“I’m an idiot, and of course you set me to rights after Pakistan, and Haley told me I was still an idiot not fifteen hours ago. She said you’re the best thing that’s happened to our family, she misses you, and I’ll only be four years late if I ask you to marry me now.” He looks back at you with a little smile. “I love you. It’s not enough, but I love you.”

There’s nothing to say, so you just let him take the ring from the box and slip it in your finger. The silver shines against your skin, the tiny diamonds casting rainbows against the wall in the morning sunlight. 

It’s gorgeous. 

When it’s in place, you scoot closer to him. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, smiling against your mouth. 

“Your flair for the dramatic never ceases to amaze me,” you say against his lips. You lean back, carding your fingers through the hair at his temples. “You couldn’t have proposed to me in the absence of a near death experience, could you?”

He shakes his head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

+++

Wearing your ring around the house feels right. Jack was, of course, in on the whole operation and was absolutely stoked when he saw the ring on your finger as you helped his father through the door. 

You take a few days off together before the next case. Much to your surprise, Aaron lets you help him as he recovers, taking it easy until all of his wounds close back up and his whole regimen of pain meds are almost completed. 

He’s home for a few more days while you return to the field. The team asks after him when you return, and you keep them abreast of his recovery without mentioning your change in status. 

“They’re gonna figure it out eventually,” Aaron said, putting his toothbrush back into his toiletry bag. 

You roll your eyes, throwing your pajama shirt over your head. It’ll likely be removed once you actually get into bed, but it’s the thought that counts. “Yeah, but I’d rather handle that when we’re not actively solving a murder without you, don’t you think?”

His brow quirks and his head tips the slightest bit - a concession. “Fair point.”

When you lean over to grab your jeans off the floor, the ring and chain slip out of your collar and hang down, swinging a little. It falls back against the center of your chest as you straighten, bouncing against your shirt with the lightest of clinking sounds. You find Aaron’s eyes on it when you look over at him and offer him a small smile. “Hey.”

He startles and his eyes jump to yours. 

“I love you.” 

A wide smile and an eye roll return your sentiment.

Wearing your ring on a chain seems like the best way to keep it safe in the field. Aaron doesn’t mind, and you like to have it close to your heart anyways. The indent it leaves in your skin when you remove your vest brings a smile to your face. 

“What’s with you?” JJ asks. “You’re all smiley.” 

You shrug. “I just feel good. It’s nice to have Aaron home and safe, you know?”

She nods, squeezing your shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” 

+++

When you get to the door with Aaron and Jack in tow, Penelope opens the door with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you were going to make it!” 

She wraps Aaron in a tight, but careful hug, presses a kiss to your cheek, and ruffles Jack’s hair. Her all-intents-and-purposes nephew jets past her, finding Henry and Spencer in the dining room playing cards together. 

“We were feeling up to it, and Jack’s friend offered to pick him up here for a last-minute sleepover, so we figured we’d come crash the party,” you tell her. 

She snags Aaron’s sleeve as she steps back into the house. “Oh, happy almost-birthday, sir.” You glance at Aaron with a suppressed smile, and he presses a finger to his lips. “I’ll keep it on the DL, don’t worry.” With another wide smile at the both of you, she ushers you into the house. “Alright everyone .” 

Emily rounds the corner to get Spencer, leaving the boys to play. You have your photo ready, as does Aaron (but he cheats - he always has his photo with him), when you all step up to the beautiful altar Penelope has set up in the middle of the living room. 

Penelope grabs a glass of wine with a fake eyeball in it for Aaron, and one with a fake ear floating in it for you. 

“Uh... I want to thank everybody for doing this with me,” Penelope smiles at you all, “and our altar's burning, and I just feel so blessed to have you all here. I will start. Uh…” She pulls a photo out of her dress. “This is my mom and dad. I miss them.” 

She places another photo, this time of a cat. “And this is my cat Simba with his usual bowl of soda pop. He's a weird cat.” Everyone laughs, and she passes it to JJ.

“Uh, ok. Well, uh, this is my sister Roslyn.” She sets a photo of her sister on the altar. The resemblance between them is uncanny. “Ros. She always dreamt that someday she'd live in Paris, so, um...it didn't happen, but I thought this would bring her some happiness.” Careful fingers drop an Eiffel Tower trinket beside the photo and it draws a little smile to your face. 

Dave steps up, pinning a photo of two smiling young men in Vietnam and two tickets on one of Penelope’s tiny easels. You recognize one of the men as a very young Dave. 

A much older Dave tells you the other man is, “Private First Class Darryl Jenson. We lost him during the Tet offensive.” 

Derek looks around, trying to get a better view. “What are the tickets?” 

“Opening day next season, Wrigley, right behind the home dugout. Jenson was a die hard Cubs fan.” 

“Sweet.” Derek claps Dave on the shoulder and you all direct your attention to Alex. 

“Um... My mom.” Alex places a photo of a smiling older woman next to Roslyn, propped up with a fountain pen. “She was the one who got me into crossword puzzles-- no erasing allowed-- which got me into linguistics.” She looks over at Spencer, who pulls two photos out of his pocket. 

“You said we could bring more than one, right?” 

Garcia nods vigorously. “Oh, yes. This is a come one, come all altar.” 

Aaron pulls you close, and you loop your pinkie through the belt loop at his hip. 

Spencer places a picture of Maeve near a red rose, and your heart breaks for him. He doesn’t say anything until he’s got the second of his photos ready in his hands. “Nikola Tesla. I figured he's probably been inventing things on the other side, so hopefully he'll bring something to us.” You smile as Spencer meets your eyes. 

I love you. 

He smiles a little back. Love you. 

Derek’s next. “I guess that's me. Ok. I brought... My pops.” He props a photo of his dad against a candle, keeping him secured with a cigar. “He was a cigar aficionado, big time.” He laughs a little, as do the rest of you. “And, actually, Rossi, he was also a huge Cubbies fan, so I was thinking maybe he and Private Jenson over there, maybe they could go to the game together.” 

Rossi smiles, and tips his glass to Mr. Morgan. “They can sort that out when they get here.” 

They look at you, and you slip the photo out of your back pocket with your right hand, keeping the other tucked against Aaron. “This is Jenny. Some of you know her as the late Director of NCIS, but she was a mentor of mine for the entire time I knew her. She was killed in the line of duty back in ‘08, protecting a friend.” You laugh a little. “Once, over lunch, she told me to chase what I wanted, to push hard, and advocate for myself.” You throw a glance at Hotch and he catches it with warm eyes. “The next day, I asked the SSA in charge of my NAT class to consider me for a unit placement to complete my case hours.” 

A little smile pulls at your lips. “I wouldn’t be at the BAU, I wouldn't have my life,” My Aaron, you add to yourself, “if it wasn’t for her.” You place her photo next to a candle on the other side of Roslyn. Jenny’s red hair and bright smile match the flame. 

Wordlessly, Aaron pulls the photo of Haley out of his wallet and places her beside Jenny while the team looks on with quiet eyes. He carefully places an opalescent barrette beside her. You recognize it from her box of jewelry - the same one that holds her engagement and wedding rings - that lives in his bedside drawer. 

He tucks you under his arm and kisses your temple. You rest your head against him, wrapping an arm around his waist under his sport coat, winding your fingers in his shirt. You’re wearing your ring, but nobody’s noticed it yet. 

Dave takes the proverbial stage again as he raises his glass. “Well, I guess this is proof positive that ancestry ain't all bad.” 

Garcia follows suit, raising her glass as you all share fond looks. “How about a toast to the... 30 or 40 of us?”

You all cheers, and drink to those in the room and out of it. Haley and Jenny smile back at you. You look at them both, for a moment, before meeting Aaron’s pensive gaze. The same thought floats through your head. 

These are the women that lead you to each other. These women built your future, your present. One to guide you to Aaron and the other to guide Aaron to you. 

It’s only when you absent-mindedly reach over JJ for a snack, after Aaron abandons you for Dave, that the levee breaks. 

“Oh my god.” 

Finally caught out. 

Instead of looking at you, her head whips up toward Aaron, who’s watching her with a smug smile on his face. Her mouth drops open and she grabs your hand, looking at the ring in the low light. It’s all happened within a split second, but Penelope is the next to catch on. 

“‘Oh my God’ what? What’s going on? What did I miss?” She turns, trotting over in her heels to see what JJ’s going on about. 

Her squeal almost deafens you, and you crane your neck to look over at Aaron, who’s taken refuge by the fireplace. 

With a squint, Asshole. 

What? His brows say. I’m just standing here. I didn’t do anything. He takes a sip of his wine and you roll your eyes. 

Help me!

You can see him snort. Not a chance. 

“I can’t believe you got engaged and nobody told me!” Penelope’s indignant shout carries across the room, and Derek’s the next to whip his head toward you. 

“What?” 

She turns toward him, her hands on her hips. “Hotch proposed and nobody said anything.” 

You bite back a smile as the rest of the team advances on you. Your hand seems to fall into everyone’s palm once or twice as they look at the ring. They all coo over it in one way or another before the information actually sinks in. 

“Wait, hold on.” As usual, JJ is the first to bring everyone back down to the ground. “When did this happen?” 

Two hands land on your waist, and you tilt your head, giving Aaron space as he slides his arms around you. “There’s nothing like a near-death experience to straighten your priorities, don’t you think?” 

Alex laughs. “Don’t tell me you proposed in the hospital.” 

You give her a yikes expression, and she huffs.

“C’mon Hotch. Really?”

He chuffs good-naturedly. “Like I said, I experienced a certain...clarity regarding the direction of our lives.” He squeezes you, and you laugh. “Don’t just jump on me for this, though. This one,” you know he’s gesturing to you with his chin, “just said ‘okay’ when I asked.” 

You twist around to glare at him. Traitor bastard. 

He looks way too smug. 

“No you didn’t,” JJ insists. “No you didn’t!” 

“Oh come on, Jayje. You left Will hanging for three years. You don’t have a single leg to stand on.” 

She rolls her eyes, but you know you’ve got her when Will steps up beside her and kisses her cheek. “Got you there, darlin’”

Rossi, of course, takes your face in his hands and plants two kisses on your cheeks and then does the same to Aaron while Derek pulls you to his chest. 

“I’m so happy for you,” he says. He looks over your shoulder at Aaron, still holding onto you. “Hotch, if you fuck this up, I’ll make your death look like an accident and cry at your funeral.” 

Aaron laughs, and you duck out from under Derek’s arm while they embrace with some manly back smacks. 

Alex gives you a hug, followed by Spencer, who offers you a quiet congratulations. Jack and Henry wander out after a few minutes, drawn by the commotion. Henry goes straight to his mom, while Jack runs to you. 

“Did you tell them?” He asks. 

You nod, running your fingers through his hair. Both Hotchner boys have the best hair - thick and soft - and it's nearly impossible to keep your hands out of it whenever one of them makes themselves available for head scratches. It also helps that they’ll do anything for head scratches. 

Win-win, by your standards. 

Dave taps a fork against his glass, getting the attention of everyone in the room. “We have much to celebrate tonight. Not only do we celebrate the lives of people no longer with us, we celebrate the love between two people who are.” He raises his glass. “To our past, to our present, to our future.” 

The rest of you toast, clinking your glasses together. A sense of something you can only describe as normal winds around you all as you drink and chat and laugh in Penelope’s living room. 

Aaron steps up beside you and kisses your temple. “Having a good time?”

“Mhmm.” You lean into him as he wraps his arms around you, pressing his chest to your back. “Really good time.” 

There’s music playing - one of Dave’s playlists - and you sway back and forth, only loosely connected to the beat. You tip your head back, letting your weight rest in his arms for just a moment before remembering he’s still healing, pulling away from him all at on

You can feel him pull you back toward him. “I’m fine, honey. Relax.” After a moment, you do, melting back into him. You almost feel silly for pulling away from him. If you’ve learned anything in the years you’ve known Aaron, he’s anything but fragile. 

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