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georgialouisea · 6 years

Text

No, Nope.

Pairing - Dean x Reader, Sam. Word count - 800 Warnings - Swearing. Written for - @spnfluffbingo Square filled - Fighting for the remote. SPN Fluff Bingo Masterlist

Ever since Dean built the ‘Dean Cave’ he was easy to locate, your room, Dean cave or the garage.

Today he wasn’t in the fortress of Deanitude you had the huge TV to yourself. Changing into a pair of yoga pants and a grey hoody you’d stolen from Dean a few months ago, taking a detour on the way back you stopped to grab a bag of chips and a glass of wine. Settling in Dean’s armchair you pulled your knees up resting them against the arm of the chair, clicking on a recent episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians you got a little excited about finally being able to watch it on a big screen and not just on your laptop, Dean hated your guilty pleasure with a passion.

“What the hell are you watching?” Sam asked flopping down in his chair next to you a beer in his hand.

“Kardashians.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I love it and Dean hates it and he’s not here so it’s on.”

“You’re really enjoying your Saturday night aren’t you?”

“Hell yes, I am.” Pulling your eyes away from the latest Kardashian drama you looked over at him. “Do you seriously have nothing better to do?”

“Nope.” He shrugged taking a sip of beer.

Looking back at the screen you settled in watching the episode play out, taking a few minutes out of your week to distract yourself from your more than Halloween like life.

“We saved the world for this?” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, you did.”

“They have so much money, could you imagine having that much money?”

“I’d love it, God I’d buy a huge house with a pool somewhere hot, but I’d also buy so much pointless shit.”

“Nope - fuck no.” Dean walked towards you and Sam. “Nope turn it off.”

“No.” Scoffing you focused on the TV.

“Yes, turn it off.”

“You don’t even want the TV, plus Sam’s watching it too, so it’s two against one.”

“It’s not.” Dean folded his arms over his chest. “Turn it off.”

“No.”

“Y/N-”

“Bite me.”

Dean walked towards you, leaning down his palms rested on each arm of the chair, his face inches from yours. “Turn it off.”

“No.”

Sam had the foresight to take your wine glass and chips out of your hands, his arms moving around Dean’s.

“Turn it off.”

“No, fuck no, It’s an hour a week, shut up and sit down.”

Dean leaned in kissing you hard, his lips crashing against yours one of his hands moved to cup your cheek. Pulling away his forehead rested against yours. “Turn it off.”

“No.” Smiling at him you pecked his lips. “I don’t do this with your stupid westerns.”

Dean’s hand dropped from your cheek to your thigh, his fingers slowly slipping towards the leather of the armchair. Your hand caught his wrist before his fingertips could touch the remote. “Don’t you even -”

Dean cut you off with a kiss, dragging his hand back to your thigh you grabbed the remote and held it to your chest. Dean pulled away his hand still resting on your thigh “Y/N”.

“Dean.” You cut him off. “Let me have this.”

Dean grabbed the remote from your hand, you came with it, your hand wrapping around Dean’s bicep as he took a step backwards. Sending you both into a heap onto the floor, straddling his waist you looked down at you him. “Please let me watch the Kardashians.”

“No, It’s crap.” He pulled the remote up over his head using his height and stupidly long limbs to his advantage.

“It’s not! You won’t give it more than thirty seconds of your time.” Grabbing for the remote again you heard Sam laughing behind you. “Shut up Sammy!”

Dean gave in handing you the remote, getting off him you helped him to his feet watching him flop into his armchair you quickly settled in his lap as his arms wrapped around your waist as you all watched the end of the episode. “See that wasn’t so painful was it?”

“How you two haven’t divorced yet is beyond me,” Sam smirked plucking a chip out of the bag in his lap.

“Shut up you love having me around.” Winking at Sam you kissed Dean’s cheek. “Thank you.” Whispering in his ear you gave him a small squeeze.

“I love you too.”

“Hey, there’s another episode on catch up.” Sam somehow had the remote clicking play on the next episode.

“No! No way in hell!” Dean jumped up nearly throwing you to the floor, Sam was out of his seat in a flash.

“Hide the remote Sam!” Grabbing onto Dean’s leg you tried to slow him down. “Run Sam! Run!”

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seenashwrite · 7 years

Text

Build Me Up, Buttercup - Part Two: An Angel, A Demon, And A Vampire Walk Into A Garage.

Status: Part 2 of ___ Word Count: 3.5K Category: Multi-Part; Alternative Universe:Fantasy [maaaybe] ; Pseudo cross-over [“The Princess Bride”]; Adventure; Humor; Parody; Friendship; Family; see Grandpa’s list in Part One as well [wink] Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, Female O.C., Grandpa & Grandson, various SPN past & present Pairing(s): Sorry, kiddos - you’ll have to wait & see Warnings: None Author’s Note(s): Shifts between the “real world” and the "book” are in larger text; see more post-story Overall Summary: See Part One Part Two Summary: Dean struggles with his new reality - and a familiar trio arrives on the scene to shake it up.

* ~ * Build Me Up, Buttercup : Master Post * ~ *

Flipping to the next page, the old man went on.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. "What if something happens to her? I'm afraid we'll never see her again!"

"Offffff course you are," Dean replied with a sly grin, having not missed the way his brother had been stealing glances and blushing around their - he had to admit, quite intelligent and pretty - former apprentice for months.

"She has always said she would drop everything for us if we needed her, that she'd be there for us, and you had to go and---"

"How can you be so sure she’d come through for us? She hated my guts, Sam. Absolute pure hate, right down to the knee in my junk, you think that happens every day!?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "To you?! I haven't got a clue how many times that must've happened to you!"

As fate would have it, Sam was right - not the crotch thing, the first thing. Their one-time hunter-in-training never made it to her destination. It seemed that during her travels, she decided to investigate a case she'd gotten wind of and ended up on a ferry that was attacked by vampirates, who never leave captives alive.

And so when the Winchesters got word that she'd been murdered---

"Murdered by vampirates is good!" exclaimed the kid.

---a frustrated Sam fought with his brother before quickly packing up only what he needed, and leaving the bunker, driving through the night, neither eating nor sleeping - not even reading any of The Lore - for days.

Dean ate an entire large pizza with extra mushrooms and their accompanying bread sticks, gave shots of coconut rum a try, ate three bags of Doritos, vomited down the hallway, then indulged in a ten-hour porn marathon, all interspersed with the occasional forkful of apple pie straight out of the tin, and a case and a half of beer.

The first day.

"I will never rum again," Dean muttered to himself, just before letting loose one final belch and passing out.

More than a few years came and went, during which something very strange and inexplicable was happening to their world - and for the Winchesters, this was saying quite a lot.

Sam had not spoken with Dean since the night he'd left, though he kept tabs on not only his brother but the ever-evolving drama within and amongst the various supernatural factions.

Without the brothers' influence on otherworldly doings, politics began playing more of a role than they had in the past. Contracts and treaties in place for years, possibly centuries even, were regularly challenged. Deals were made under tables. Established powers were pushed out - or murdered - to make way for new sovereigns. And one self-appointed monarch in particular had recently come out on top.

In the front yard of a newly-constructed mansion (near castle, truth be told) that was quite out-of-place in a modest province of the country called Florin, people were packed nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. They were waiting to hear an announcement from their ruler Rowena, the once self-proclaimed Queen Regent of Hell, current self-proclaimed monarch of Florin, and it was a very special announcement, indeed - she was about to reveal her husband-to-be.

Trumpets blared and the crowd hushed as Rowena stepped out onto the large balcony several floors above the front door of her earthly pseudo-castle, flanked by members of her coven.

"My perky peasants! In just one month, it will be the tenth anniversary of what I know has been the happiest times of your putrid existence - the day I started my reign. And at sundown on that day, I shall wed a wee lad who was once a commoner, like yourselves. But I suspect you won't find him so common now, will you? Would you like to meet him?"

The crowd roared - many due to the threats being whispered to them by Rowena's minions who were sprinkled throughout - but most were excited for the reveal because it put them that much closer to the buffet and ‘80s cover band awaiting them in the backyard. Plus, word was the pool had a slide.

"People! I present to you my little Buttercup, the Crown Prince of Florin - Dean!"

Dean gradually stepped into the crowd, walking slowly on a red carpet that stretched from the gazebo in the side yard, then across the circular drive, through at least twenty flower-laden archways, ultimately finding himself next to the gaudy, jewel-accented fountain that featured two sculpted cherubs pissing on each other instead of down into the basin.

The sneer on his face was locked-in tight, as was the shiny gold crown atop his head. Like Rowena, her coven, her bodyguards, her minions - and all the townspeople, as required by the new laws - he was dressed in clothing that was close to, but not quite hitting the mark of, something one might see on people living around the year 1700. The colors seemed too bold, the gold accoutrements too shiny, and his shoes all seemed to have heels.

Dean looked at the crowd, actually a little envious - at least they didn't have to wear brocade tunics that felt more like dresses, and stupid tights that cramped his junk, and those damned heels. Even the bum who was perpetually wandering about the town square - or, to Rowena's great disdain, lounging in front of her mansion - got to wear boots. On the other hand, they were worse off than he was in a lot of ways. Rowena had sent the entire continent back into a dark age. Not like the Dark Ages, but close enough - the people were both literally and figuratively in the dark.

After only a little less than a decade's worth of her spell-casting, it seemed like everyone, excepting those heading into this world-upending disaster with prior knowledge of the supernatural, had forgotten where they were and what time period they lived in. They simply accepted any modernity from Rowena and her crew as par for the course, just a royal's life versus a peasant's. Though her coven had provided a few changes of clothing for each person, handed out horses and cows like crazy, and worked their mojo to get crops to spring up right away, she'd cut off all utilities, drained every service station of gas, even shut down land lines, isolating everyone completely.

And Dean had absolutely no idea why, or what he could do about it, especially without his friends. Without Sam. Hell, he'd have even taken help from what's-her-face, though her getting ganked by vampirates still made him a bit giddy to imagine.

But nevertheless, his emptiness consumed him. Although the new laws of the enchanted land gave Rowena the right to choose her groom, and despite what he suspected was an abundance of attempted spell-casting on him specifically by the coven, he did not love her.

Dean gagged when he thought about the upcoming wedding night. He'd been drinking so much over the years - that is, the ones since Sam left, and the one during which he’d been stuck in Florin - he couldn't even get fully drunk anymore, so how he'd manage to get through it was beyond him. Didn't matter that Rowena reassured him that it'd be the best night of his life due to her centuries of experience; after that tidbit, he actually had thrown up.

He would cheer himself by sneaking away at night - minus the tights - and would stay in the shadows of houses for a few miles til he could cut across the old mini-mall parking lot that was now occupied by grazing sheep, in order to reach his favorite place. Dean always took a deep breath once he'd entered, inhaling the comforting smell of motor oil and metal. Taking apart cars - or just pieces of them - and putting them together again was his only remaining joy.

And he was so focused on his task at hand, laying on his back, rolled underneath his latest project, that it didn't register with him initially how unusual it was to hear another person's voice that late at night, much less inside the abandoned garage.

"A word, sir? We're male models looking to pick up a little work, you happen to know of any runways around here?"

"Nope, nothing for miles."

Then Dean frowned as he felt himself being yanked out from under the car, and thought he got a glimpse of someone familiar before everything went black.

Crowley stood to the side, inspecting the knuckles of the fist he'd just used, while Gabriel helped lift the unconscious Dean, keeping him propped upright as Benny squatted a bit, then hoisted the passed-out prince up and over his shoulder.

"You know, it really annoys me when you do that," Gabriel said to Crowley. "I had a great zinger all ready to go: ‘Then there will be no one to hear you scream' - I mean, come ON."

"What's that you're doing, there?" asked Benny, watching as Crowley meandered around the garage, splashing little drops of something from a small bottle on the floor.

"I'm leaving a clue behind for Mother's hounds. A touch of Eau de Moose."

Benny and Gabriel shared a confused glance - Crowley saw their expressions when he turned back to them, then sighed before he explained.

"Not an ounce of forethought between you. That was watered-down fancy shampoo, one that's not readily available around these parts now-a-days, but via my contacts, I happen to know entire cases are whipped up by Rowena's little band of bitches and sent as peace offerings to the only thing standing between her and access to the last active hellmouth on the continent."

Benny and Gabriel stared at him blankly.

"The kingdom just a hop-skip away? Guilder? Used to be Texas, Louisiana, New Mexico, actual Mexico, whatnot? Where we're headed shortly? Across that abyss of a bay that popped up, formerly known as Oklahoma?"

No response.

"Where the big little brother of our princess here---" Crowley gave Dean's ass a sharp WHAP that echoed through the room "---has set himself up on the throne? You lot are too dumb to breathe."

Crowley made his way out of the garage then, shaking his head.

"Uh, vampire," Gabriel pointed out, jabbing a thumb in Benny's direction, then swinging it around to himself. "Angel. We don't exactly need to have a lot of breathing happening."

They followed after Crowley, keeping behind buildings and speaking quietly, guided by a soft glow Gabriel let out of his eyes - not even worth a 100 watt bulb, as the coven's double-downed stranglehold on the energy in and around Florin extended to demons and angels and any other creatures trapped in the their bubble.

"So what, boss, idea is your mama will think Sam came and got Dean?" asked Benny.

Crowley nodded. "And when Dean's body is found on Guilder land---"

"Whoa!" Benny exclaimed, stopping immediately. "You never said anything about killin' anybody."

Crowley whirled around to face him, angry.

"I hired you to help me start a war. It's a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition."

"I just don't think it's right... killing Dean. Don't ever seem to work, anyhow."

"Am I going mad, or did the word think escape your lips?! You were not hired for your brains, you sharp-toothed bucket of gumbo!"

"I agree with Benny," said Gabriel, crossing his arms.

"Oh, warped-wings has spoken! What happens to Dean is not your concern. I’ll kill him! And remember this, never forget this - when I found you, you were so depleted of grace, you couldn't even conjure strippers and candy!"

Crowley turned back to Benny.

"Then you! Pale, munching on mangy, anemic animals, hopeless! Do you want me to send you to where you were, hiding in caves, in Purgatory?!"

They continued on to the docks in silence, all climbing into the modest wooden boat that was powered only by a combination of wind in the sails and - mostly - Benny's rowing. After they settled the unconscious Dean, Gabriel untied the line. Benny sat near the middle, picked up the oars and began to row, while Gabriel lit a small lantern near the bow.

And Crowley pulled a flask from his jacket, leaned back, closed his eyes as he began sipping.

Benny's grip on the oars was tight and his jaw was clenched and twitching. Lack of full strength and diminished powers aside, Benny was a big dude. And while Gabriel still had enough juice to at least get himself out of the vampire's way should he opt to let the fists fly, he was pretty sure Crowley would get quite the beat-down if the muscle of their trio got angry enough.

He didn't want to kill Dean, either - would’ve been happier if it was Crowley. Still, like it or not, they were going to need Crowley and his contacts to get hold of Sam. Then it was left to hope, that Sam hadn’t changed, that he would still go to bat for Dean, and if not Dean, then for the greater good in general - not terribly unlike the need for Benny to cool off and realize Crowley couldn’t be dealt with quite yet. They needed all the allies they could get, even the questionable ones.

And so it was, Gabriel decided to do what we was best at: making a joke of a serious situation.

"Yo-ho-ho, matey," he said to Benny with a cautious grin. "So... any limericks you, ah... know know know?"

Benny's rowing slowed just long enough for him to shoot Gabriel a look that was somewhere between puzzled and annoyed, then got back on rhythm.

"Whoo, tough crowd," Gabriel said under his breath.

A few moments of silence passed, and Gabriel scooted a little closer, spoke a little lower.

"That Crowley, man, he sure can... bitch."

Silence for another few moments, but then:

"I bet it's 'cause his mama's a witch."

Gabriel stifled his laughter, but a glance over his shoulder told him Crowley had caught the retort due to the exaggerated roll of his eyes, followed by a large pull off the flask.

"Aw, he's just a little sack of... charm," Gabriel said.

"Well I’m gonna help him buy the farm," Benny shot back immediately.

Now Gabriel snickered loudly, and Crowley spit most of his mouthful out, spraying it over the side of the boat but also sending a healthy amount down his chin and onto his jacket.

"Enough!" he growled at them.

"Hey Benny, should we choke him dead?"

"’Fore we do, I best get fed."

Crowley cursed under his breath and went to drink more from his flask, only to find it empty. He chucked it into the water, then whipped his head around to face his companions - the flash of red in his eyes silenced them effectively. For several hours, the only sound was the swish of the paddles and the occasional gust of wind hitting the sail.

The sky had been overcast but now handfuls of clouds dissipated. The moon and stars were bright enough that Gabriel extinguished the lantern. There were little waves to speak of, and they could now see the smog-topped crag looming in the distance, the ones rumored to make climbers insane - and they’d have to scale it, their captive in tow, in order to get to the Guilder border.

"We'll reach the cliffs by dawn," Crowley commented, then frowned at Gabriel. "Why are you doing that?"

He was referring both to Gabriel’s present location and the focused expression on his normally affable face - the archangel was still near the bow, but was facing backwards, looking behind them.

"Making sure nobody's following us," he replied slowly.

"That would be inconceivable," Crowley declared.

"Despite what you think, you'll get caught - and when you are, hoo-boy, is Rowena gonna light into your sorry asses."

They all looked to the sound of Dean's voice.

"Hey, you're up!" Benny exclaimed, a genuine smile on his face.

Dean's jaw dropped. "Benny?"

"Yeah, brother. Good to see ya."

"Wish I could say the same - what the hell, man?!"

"You know, of all the asses on this boat, your highness, the one you should be worrying about is your own," Crowley said to Dean, with nothing but contempt - and perhaps a touch of jealousy - in his voice. He received an enthusiastic bird in response.

Gabriel sighed, then turned back to his scouting.

"Stop doing that! We can all relax! It's almost over," Crowley demanded.

"You're sure nooobody's following us?" Gabriel responded without turning, still studying the waters behind them with concern in his eyes.

"As I told you, it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable! No one in Guilder knows what we've done, and no one in Florin could have gotten here so fast." Crowley paused, his eyes narrowing. "Out of curiosity, why do you ask?

Gabriel shrugged. "Oh, I dunno, I just happened to look behind us and something's there?"

"What?!"

Crowley scooted away from Dean and closer to Gabriel. He was pulling at his collar in a rare show of nerves, but then cleared his throat, adjusted his tone and posture back to one of nonchalance.

"Probably some local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise at night."

"Oh, totally - through the witch's eel-infested waters," Benny tacked on sarcastically, pausing his rowing to take a look as well.

"Yep, like you do," added Gabriel.

But the ne'er-do-well trio jumped in sync at the sound of a splash, turning around just in time to see Dean emerge from his dive, paddling furiously away from them.

Crowley shoved Gabriel's shoulder. "Go in! Go after him!"

Gabriel gave him a look. "I don't swim! I snap fingers, badda-bing, badda-boom, I'm there."

They both looked to Benny.

"What?" he asked.

"Go!" they answered.

"I only dawg-paddle," he replied, moving his arms in said stroke’s motions for emphasis.

The demon and the angel raised their eyebrows in near-unison.

"You were a sailor," Gabriel said slowly.

Benny let out a half-chuckle. "Yeah, the boys always gave me hell for that. Funny, huh?"

"Aarrrgggh!" Crowley yelled, and lunged at Benny, rocking the boat briefly.

"For cryin’ out.... just..... here, come on, start getting to the left," Gabriel said, pushing Crowley aside, taking one of the oars from Benny.

And then they all froze - including Dean, who stopped moving forward and started treading water - as a horrid screeching sound filled the air.

Crowley began to laugh, saying,"You know what that sound is, you wet little squirrel? Those are the shrieking eels! If you don't believe me, just wait - they always grow louder when they're about to feed on flesh!"

Dean's eyes grew wide and he was startled as he felt something large brush past him, causing more than a few extra ripples in the water.

"If you swim back now I promise we'll figure something out, Dean - and I doubt you'll get such a deal from your new scaly friends."

But Dean didn't have time to reply because one of those aforementioned scaly friends had circled back around, hovering just below the water about ten feet out, seemingly prepping to head right at his face.

"H-hey there, buddy?" Dean tried, tacking on a shaky grin, though his charm was wasted.

Suddenly it began its charge, obtaining such speed Dean knew there was no chance he could swim away in time, and right when it was moments away, unhinging its jaw and letting out one final victory screech----

"Dean does not get eaten by the eels at this time."

The kid blinked, startled out of his concentration. "What?"

"The eel doesn't get him - I'm explaining it to you, because you looked nervous," his grandfather said, glancing down.

The kid followed suit, noticing for the first time that he'd been wadding up his bedding in his hands as he'd listened to the story.

"I... I wasn't... wasn't nervous," he replied, loosening his grip. "Well, maybe I was a little bit concerned but that's not the same thing."

"We can stop now, if you---"

"No, you could read a little bit more, I mean, if you want to," the kid jumped in immediately.

With a nod of agreement, and an adjustment of glasses, the old man went back to the page.

"'You know what that sound is, you wet little squirrel? Those are the shrieking eels! If you---'"

"Past that, Grandpa. You read it already," the kid interrupted.

"Oh... oh my goodness, I did. I'm sorry. Beg your pardon. Alright, alright, lets see... uh... he was in the water, the eel was going after him, he was frightened, the eel started to charge him and then..."

----Benny leaned over and knocked out the eel with one punch while Crowley and Gabriel hauled Dean onto the boat.

Crowley was already beginning to tie a shivering Dean's hands with rope, Gabriel holding him in a semi-choke hold, when all three turned towards the stern due to a loud, sucking, toilet-plunger-on-a-mission type of sound.

Benny looked up and over the eel, to which he was currently giving a deep-fanging, mumbling, "What?"

They continued staring.

"What?!" he demanded, greenish-blue blood sneaking out the corners of his mouth.

"Let's give the little fella a burial at sea, huh?" Gabriel suggested gently, and though Benny seemed disappointed, he let his late dinner - or early breakfast, depending on how you looked at it - slip back into the water.

But now that Benny was back to rowing and Dean was tied up to Crowley's satisfaction, Gabriel released him and stood, resuming his survey of what was now clearly another boat, similar in size to theirs, and not terribly far behind.

"I think he's getting closer," Gabriel muttered.

"He's no concern of ours! Sail on!" Crowley snapped. Then he turned narrowed eyes back to Dean. "I suppose you think you're still brave, don't you?"

Dean was gazing absently over Crowley's shoulder, at the cliffs which were just beginning to glow thanks to the barely-there sunrise, when he quietly responded.

"Only compared to some."

See Nash Write EVEN MORE!

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

"Is that a rapier?" Gabriel asked, astonished, turning from the edge of the cliff to look at the others. "Have either of you got a sword, because I sure as hell went and left mine back in the pocket of my other pair of homemade britches, in my other life, pre-Rowpocalypse, oh no WAIT, no it’s not, because I haven't ever NEEDED one!"

"I thought you were a soldier," Benny said, in a snotty tone not unlike the one used on him when being asked how it was a sailor couldn’t swim.

"We weren’t fencing,” Gabriel replied, testy, though he shrugged, adding, “Besides. I blew the horn."

"You were the boogie-woogie bugle boy?!"

Barely sputtering the sentence out, Benny then fell into gales of laughter, bending at the waist to grab his knees, gasping.

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

"I don't mean to pry, but - you don't by any chance happen to have any red lipstick?"

The masked woman paused in her boot-shaking task and stared for a beat or two. "Red's not your color," she informed him.

Gabriel chuckled, glanced down, but when he looked back up, she was surprised to see slightly glassy eyes.

So she pulled a tube from her bra, because where the hell else was she supposed to stash it in that getup? And further, it wasn't like she was gonna leave it on the boat to melt. She liked the pop of color against the monochrome clothing, not to mention the vitamin E and SPF. After all, those of the vamp persuasion needed to be mindful of peeling or chapped lips. It was just common courtesy, don't judge her.

She uncapped it, rolled up a bit, and tilted it towards him.

He noted the deep neutral hue and gave a satisfied nod, saying, "Thanks."

She nodded in return, then began putting her boots back on as he - without being asked - launched into his backstory.

"My sex life was ruined by a red-lipsticked woman..."

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

"Abs, you know how much I love watching you work, but I've got the anniversary celebration to plan, my wedding to arrange, my husband to murder and Guilder to frame for it - I'm just swamped!"

"Oh, Ro," Abaddon said sympathetically, walking back over and giving Rowena a quick, no-bodily-contact, pseudo-hug. "Listen to a former queen, alright?"

"Do not tell me to get some rest," Rowena said flatly.

"No, I'm going to tell you to get a pedicure. If you haven't got your open-toe Manolos, then you haven't got anything."

And with a blood-red, half-hearted smile - plus two quick air kisses - Abaddon turned away and headed down to the pit, though she did pause, glanced over her shoulder, gave Rowena one last piece of advice.

“Might wanna run by the salon, too - your roots are showing.”

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

"I don't envy the headache you'll have when you wake up - but in the meantime, sleep well, Benny-boy. And dream of Cajun women."

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

"There's a shortage of perky nipples in this world - so hell, what’s two more?"

Dean jumped, dropped the angel blade, and wheeled around, eyes widening when he realized who was lying on his bed.

“YOU?!?” he bellowed.

“What’s up, Buttercup.”

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

"Okay, you know-it-all: what about the A.S.S.E.S.?" Dean demanded.

"Angels Sulking Silently, Especially in Swamps?” she asked, then shrugged. “Eh. I don't think they exist."

Which is, naturally, when she felt like a steamroller came at her from a particularly dank grouping of trees just off to her right - and whatever it was, it smelled pretty dank, too.

Author’s Note #2: I should *NOT* have to say this, but here we are -

The samples/teasers above from upcoming parts BELONG TO ME; they are not ideas or concepts that are free for other authors to use, even if I NEVER USE THEM; I often toss people “freebies”, but I make it clear when I am fine with them taking a concept & running with it.

Author’s Note #3: Tangentially related: I am aware that maaaaany many many many others have done this cross-over. I have only scanned over two, myself, and was actually asked advice on one of them. As noted, the first part was intended as a one-shot spoof, but it grew.

None of the others [see above, RE: two] I’ve seen have tackled it the way I am/will be doing and, as I stated in Part One of this story, >40% is completely of my imagining, minus the re-creation of certain scenes in the novel/the movie.

This story began on 21 March 2017, so if you stumble upon a TPB/SPN cross-over story that was published prior to that date & has such stark similarities to mine that you think I should address it, please don’t hesitate to let me know.

* Removed old tag list for length’s sake! - Jan 2018

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #The Princess Bride #SPN Meets The Princess Bride #Nash Writes

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