#when i can finally walk at a normal pace (and have a hand free!) hatchet is going to be so fucking confused

[gar-a-ash]

Finally some progress on the knee, still waiting for worker's comp to approve everything but finally setting up for an exploratory/corrective surgery. If things get moving with some speed I MIGHT be walking again in February. Which means going through the first half of winter five miles south of the Canadian border on crutches. :)

[whaleofatjme1920]

The Ends of Hallways (Proxies X F!Reader)

The Ends of Hallways

[Proxies X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight language]

[AN: Y'all are just gonna have to thank Eris for always sending me the best requests. I don't have favorites,,, but Reader, I have favorites. Also no Kate sorry :( ]

Your face was practically squished against the glass of the car Hoodie had stolen as the four of you pull into the parking lot of woods that brim with the Operator’s energy. You’ve never seen these woods in person - only in dreams. You’ve never even really seen your master in person, once again, like these woods, he too has been confined to your dreams. But you hear him, and often. His voice falls down on your ears like gentle rains that fall from the heavens. He is everything and more. That is why it is so exciting for you to finally be here, so close to him, and to his presence.

“You excited?” You hear your group leader ask.

You nod and press harder up against the glass. “Are we going now?” You’re ready to bounce out of the car and everyone can see that.

He chuckles in response. “What do you think Hood? Time to go?”

The hazel eyed man behind him shoots the driver a look. “Masky, just look at her, she’s gonna break the window if we don’t.” There’s a slight playfulness in his tone that tells you the right hand really isn’t annoyed with you.

“Fair enough,” Masky smiles. He then reaches behind his seat, hand slapping at who used to be the runt’s knee. “Tobes? Tob-Tobes, get up.”

Toby’s eyes shoot open as he lurches forward. “I’m u-u-up, I-I’m u-up,” he yawns as his hands rub tiredly at his eyes. “Are w-w-we here a-alaready?” He asks, the exhaustion still clear in his tone.

Both of the men in the front seats nod. “C’mon, let’s get going,” Hoodie says as he pulls up the lock on his car door before sliding out.

You wait impatiently for Masky to unlock the car then zip out like a bat from hell. You’re immediately at the edge of one of the forest’s many trails and taking in the sights and sounds of your boss’s woods. They’re beautiful, really. The autumn colors bathe the woods in fiery oranges and passionate reds with threads of gold to interlock it all together. The sky is just the slightest shade of blue as clouds cover the sun. There weren’t any people here either - not under the little structures, not exploring, not anyone but you and your comrades.

“Wrong one,” Hoodie says as he closes the trunk to the car before tossing a backpack to Toby, who catches it like second nature.

You whip your head around to see that Masky, Hoodie and Toby are smiling at how excited you are before silently asking you to follow them. “Where are we going?” You ask, eyes wide as you jog up to them.

“Across the field. There’s this cool tunnel of trees we think you’ll appreciate,” Masky replies as he leads his group across the grass. It crunches slightly as the four of you move, like it hasn’t been watered in a long time.

“R-Really?” Toby hums as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You s-s-sure we’re n-not gonna be l-late?” The young proxy gives a slight look to his group leader, eyebrow raised as if he’s sure the Operator is okay with them possibly being tardy.

Masky shakes his head before tapping his temple with his free hand, “he told me it’s okay.”

“He did?” You ask as stars cloud your eyes. The Operator, as you’ve heard so far, is to be feared and respected. He’s like a father you can look at but never touch. He seems so out of your range, like he’s not even visible - not even if you squint your eyes. You wonder what makes you so… interesting… in his eyes. You really don’t think you’re worth all the fuss. Clearly he does.

Masky chuckles before ruffling your hair with his hand, “yeah. I think he finds your enthusiasm endearing.” Masky’s not entirely incorrect. When they first got Toby, the Operator was strangely favorable towards the young proxy as well - maybe because he was hand plucked, special, and therefore deemed worthy of his time. You were similar to Toby, albeit, you accidentally got involved with the Operator. He liked you, chose you, then kept you.

Hoodie whistles slightly as the four of you step into the trees, his gloved hand reaching up to tear off a branch from one of the low hanging trees then swing it aimlessly as his side. “Seems pretty obvious in my opinion,” he whacks Toby lightly with the stick making said proxy laugh. “Looks like Toby isn’t the only golden child anymore.”

“P-Probably not,” Toby hums, a slight melancholy coming into his tone. “Think I-I’ve been losing f-f-favor with h-hin for a w-while.” He glances over his shoulder and smiles at you.

You frown slightly and place your hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think so,” you say. “Just means he has two golden child-s now.”

Toby beams.

You do too.

The group continues to move through the trees, mostly silent save for Masky and Hoodie pointing out little memories from time to time. Things such as some guy named ‘Alex’ chasing them through here, Masky’s waking up with no memory, Hoodie’s nature shots, and everything in between. You learn a lot about the hands of your group from when they were just scared film students to the things they’ve done as proxies here. It’s kind of nice as you’ve never really spoken to them this way before.

When you first came into this life and were placed in this group, the hazing process kicked in like wildfire. Almost every day was a mentally or physically, sometimes both, a draining task and a bonding agent. Authority was not to be questioned and they made that more than clear. Eventually, the hazing grew lighter and lighter until it just… didn’t exist. That was how it went - you were no longer considered naive and starry eyed. Still, authority was not to be questioned, and it’s why you and your comrades have never really talked on this specific level before.

It’s why it’s such a treat that you get to talk to them like this now.

Eventually, the four of you make it to an odd stretch of trees. They tunnel over each other, a lot like a thorny funnel, but they frame the sky so well.

“If the sun was setting,” Masky starts. “It would look like a cradle.”

You take a step back and observe the tunnel of trees, trying to imagine the setting sun. The mental image is pretty. “Will we ever be back here to see it?”

“Oh definitely,” Masky continues. “But uh, the business we’re here for today? Don’t know if that’s meant for anyone but me and maybe Hoodie.”

You look on instinct to Hoodie who nods. “Is that normal?”

“Sure is,” Hoodie says as he takes in the scent of the cooling autumn woods. He knows the group is almost to the limits of the Operator’s realm. “Tell me what you feel right now, Reader,” he says in passing as he flicks the stick somewhere off the given trail.

With a glance around at your surroundings, you attempt to get a feel for the area you’re in. It’s cold, much colder, but the atmosphere still feels a little thick. The further you go into the woods (and by extension the Operator’s bounds to which you don’t even know exist yet), you get that odd feeling in your legs that feels like they’ve fallen asleep. It’s like the physical sensation of static. You try to explain it in words, but they fail. Instead, you allow Hoodie into your thoughts.

“Nice,” he smiles. “Alright, try to ask for permission in.”

“I need to ask for permission?”

“E-Everytime,” Toby begins as he and the others pause. They’re right on the edge of the bubble and can feel it so much stronger than you can. “It’s t-to ensure n-normal humans c-can’t come in,” Toby begins to explain as you gaze around your surroundings, wondering how you’ll even begin to ask. “T-Though, their f-feelings sometimes k-kick into o-overdrive and they e-end up p-piercing through the v-veil on a-a-accident.” He chuckles softly and you know exactly what he’s referring to - you’ve heard tales of the people who get stuck wandering where they shouldn’t: always ends in someone strung up in the pines. “W-We’ve all learned t-to ask p-permission like b-breathing.”

You shoot your comrade a confused glance, wondering what that will mean for you. “I just ask?”

“Kind o-of,” Toby says. “Just l-let your f-f-feelings guide you. She’ll t-t-tell you whether you’re a-a-allowed in or not.”

You close your eyes and begin to hone in on whatever your heart is telling you. It’s a cold feeling, mostly like vines that slip up and down your limbs as they grow upwards and then inwards towards your heart. It’s an odd feeling. Once the static vines pierce through your heart, you physically see a fog roll into the forest around you. It consumes you and your comrades before you remember Toby mentioned ‘she.’ The fog thickens. “Wait, she?” You say as the static begins to leave your system. It feels like you’re tearing through roots as you walk forward.

“He didn’t mean it,” Masky quickly replies as he begins to pull you through the fog. “Good job on asking though. Strong response,” he says as gestures to the fog, his hand swimming through the billowy clouds. “Wives’ tale is the stronger the fog, the more genuine you were in response.”

You wade your fingers through the thick fog as you and the others walk forward, deeper and deeper into the darkness where there was none. “Must’ve had a really genuine response, huh?” You mumble to yourself. The fog doesn’t even feel like normal fog - it feels thick and heavy and leaves slight dew on your clothing as you walk. How interesting.

‘Head talk from here on out,’ Hoodie says as the four of you reach a stretch of woods that feels slightly dangerous.

‘Did you feel it too?’ Toby asks, his hand at his hatchet.

Hoodie nods slightly, his eyes narrowing as he slows his pace so he’s guarding the back. He gives you a slightly concerned look as the fog evens out. Everyone but you knows that they’re in perhaps one of the most dangerous parts of the veil. The Operator’s mere presence is usually enough to deter the things like the Rake from his grounds, but that often means they get trapped here - in the in-between - and lash out on the first thing they sense. The sooner the four of you get out of this dangerous spot, the better.

‘What do you sense?’ You ask, cutting mentally through the rough silence, your own hand moving to your blade.

Hoodie looks like he’s about to answer you before he holds his fist up and the other three of you duck down instantly, dipping below the fog. Just then, some deer begin walking past.

‘Deer?’ You say in a questioning tone.

‘Not just any deer,’ Hoodie begins as the deer slowly nibbles on the leaves and other things. ‘Take a good look at their bodies. They look normal to you?’

You narrow your eyes slightly and get used to peering through the fog as the deer pass. Eventually, you’re able to look at their coats. There’s something off about them, something wrong. Something you can’t quite place. The longer you watch them as they move in front of you, the stronger that off feeling gets. They have every physical part of the deer down but it’s just not right. It’s like their joints don’t fit well beneath their skin. And their eyes… Their eyes are completely hollow.

‘You see it?’ Masky asks as the last of the deer passes by. He glances over his shoulder briefly to see you nod. ‘We’re lucky they didn’t change this time,’ he mumbles, slowly inching forward while crouched against the earth.

‘What would’ve happened if they changed?’ You inquire, moving quietly alongside your comrades.

‘Nightmare fuel,’ Toby finally pipes in. ‘Nothing about them looks right. Big mouths full of sharp teeth, black eyes, too many limbs, like a messed up centipede,’ he finishes, a slight shudder coming into his mental tone.

You notice the other two of your group members nodding in agreement before finally deeming it safe enough to stand up and finally exit the in-between of the veil.

You’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful, rustic looking Germanic mansion surrounded by iron gates that hold honeycomb patterns that trail skywards only to end on sharp peaks that you’re almost certain your boss has spiked people on plenty of times. There’s also flowers of every kind in the front gardens that catch your eyes the moment you step through the grand gates. There’s fountains and topiaires, statues and benches that tell you the Operator drips with style and elegance.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Masky smiles.

You nod, “it’s gorgeous.” The air smells slightly expensive, but mostly sweet. How is it that a place like this can even possibly exist? Around the mansion are autumnal trees, mostly maple, some sycamore and other birch. Scattered on the front lawn are other proxies and some independents, mostly catching up and talking before leaving through the same gates you entered from. Some of them smile and wave as they pass you, others grunt and turn their nose up at you upon realizing you’re the youngest. This place sings with the Operator’s overwhelming presence.

Your comrades continue to watch your amused expression as they lead you to the front doors of the mansion. They’re large and stained glass, slightly gothic in woodwork and tower over you.

“Go ahead,” Hoodie chuckles as he nods for you to open the doors.

You glance back to him, then at the large doors before tentatively placing your hands on their surface. With a small breath, you push them open and find yourself greeted to the most exquisite foyer you’ve ever seen. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, sapphires and rubies drip from the fixtures and shine the light beautifully across the marble floors. Gold leaf adorns almost everything that juts out while the huge staircase in front of you beckons you forward.

“Doesn’t seem like he needs us yet,” Masky says as he checks his watch. “Got here earlier than expected, huh?” He lightly ribs Hoodie who rolls his eyes in response. “C’mon, let’s go to the sun room. Don’t wanna wait around in here.” He nods for the three of you to follow.

Toby clears his throat slightly as if to remind the two in charge that you’re still very much here and new.

“Oh, right,” Masky says. “Reader, this is super important, so listen up,” your group leader begins as he turns on his heels to eventually rest his hands on your shoulders.

You raise a brow at his sudden contact. Masky normally didn’t touch you unless what he had to say was important - which really, really didn’t happen often.

“This mansion likes to play off your thoughts, feelings, and logic,” he says, his hand gesturing to the staircase that’s slowly moving directions. You didn’t even hear it begin to shift. “The Operator usually keeps things in line for when he summons you, it’s almost a guaranteed path you’ll make it to him, but,” his eyes go serious. “If it’s just you and you’re moving around, you need to have a place in mind or it’ll accidentally spit you out somewhere totally random. We’ve had people get lost in here because the mansion is slightly playful and weirdly baneful depending on the individual walking around.”

“The Operator has a playful side?”

Masky stifles a laugh before shaking you lightly. “I legitimately mean it, you need to have a place in mind or you’re gonna get lost and the Operator isn’t gonna be happy. By extension, I won’t be happy because I need to come get you.”

“Mhm,” Hoodie nods in agreement. “And you can’t have the thought in passing either, it’s gotta be on your mind until it’s in sight.” After Hoodie’s words leave his mouth, Masky lets you go.

You take all the information in and wonder just what makes the place run. It’s like it has its own personality - it’s playful and baneful? You have to ask it permission to even enter its grounds and it deems whether you’re worthy or not? What kind of power does the Operator even have and why on earth would he even care about that kind of stuff? If he truly wanted his proxies to access him, he’d do it with no hesitation. The humans that would wander into his rooms would just end up tasting someone’s blade.

“Sun room?” Hoodie reminds Masky.

Your entire walk to the sun room you try to conjure a mental image in your head. They say it’s doubtful you’ll get lost so long as you’re with them, but you consider it good practice. When you finally make it to the sun room, you’re pleased to see it’s relatively empty save for a few groups interspersed in the large, window adorned room overlooking a silver lake. There’s a few independents walking around with carts holding different tea time finger-foods and waiting tea sets on every table. Maasky leads you over to one of the tables nearest to the view of the lake.

“So, what business exactly are we here for today?” You ask as you waste no time in pouring yourself some tea.

Masky shrugs, “no idea. He said he just wanted us to come.”

“T-Think he r-really only n-needs an audience w-with them though,” Toby adds before silently thanking you for pouring him some tea as well. “L-Leaves us some t-t-time to chat. Y’know, t-the thing H-Hood hates us d-doing,” he lightly jokes.

Hoodie scoffs and feigns being annoyed, “I only hate you two chatting when we’re in the middle of tearing out some guy’s entrails.”

“Y-Yeah, which is a-all the time,” Toby giggles.

You laugh as well.

The four of you are in a heated argument about something relatively stupid when static overtakes Masky and Hoodie’s hearing. They visibly pause, as if they’re trying to key into something you can’t understand when it suddenly stops.

“Have t-to go?” Toby inquires before taking a strawberry tart and popping it into his mouth.

Both Masky and Hoodie nod.

“Yeah. Keep an eye on Reader, please? We won’t be too long,” Masky replies with a small, tired smile.

Toby flashes the two a thumbs up before the both of you watch them leave, a clear destination on their minds.

It’s not long until Toby gets distracted by some other independents that stroll into the mansion. You recognize the two of them as relatively minor legends - well, maybe not the one with the smile. His name is Jeff.

“So, this is your fresh meat, huh?” Jeff chuckles as he lightly pushes Toby’s shoulder. “She looks a little scrawny. Are you feeding her right?”

Toby laughs and nods, “Masky w-w-would lose his m-mind if you s-s-said that.”

Jeff’s chest rumbles as he laughs. “I’m joking,” he holds his hand up as a sign of truce. “Hope you know you’re running with one of the only decent groups out there, Reader,” he says before picking up his tea cup. It looks slightly comical as he brings it to his lips.

You offer him a smile and nod, “yeah, I know.”

The man to Jeff’s left nods in agreement, “Masky’s really good at what he does. Got one of the best.”

Toby immediately fights the notion (playfully) and the three engage in conversation that’s lively and vibrant all the same. You listen to the three verbally duke it out before you find yourself bored. You can’t just leave though, but you want to move at the same time.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I excuse myself?”

“W-Where to?”

“Washroom,” you reply.

“Do y-you need m-me to a-accompany y-y-you?”

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff scoff.

“She’s a big girl, let her go,” Jeff says as he nods his own approval for you to go. “You told her about the mindset thing?”

Toby nods.

“Yeah, then she’s good to go,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

You flash the men at your table a smile before getting up. You push in your chair and then make it to the entrance of the sunroom, leading into the halls. You don’t have a set destination in mind. The moment you step out of the sunroom, you feel the air change. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s different. On instinct, you turn your gaze over your shoulder to see the sunroom is gone. It’s just hall and lining the hall are doors upon doors.

Alright, you can work with that! A small smile comes to your face as you begin to walk forwards, allowing your curiosity to bloom. The first door you decide to open is one that’s honestly not that exciting. It was just a storage unit. Another was a study. Then it was someone’s room. Another room. And another. How many residence rooms are there?

You close yet another door and then feel a thought come into your head, taking a seat on your train of thought like a butterfly sunbathes on a flower. She - Toby had mentioned it. And you wondered. You let the thought stay. Before you know it, you’re walking through the halls guided by forces you don’t quite understand, and the further you get into the mansion, the stranger the atmosphere becomes. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not a normal feeling either. You watch as the light fixtures change from something relatively modern and regress into something more vintage. The dust begins to kick up. Irish lace begins to pepper the ceiling. You notice how the doors change style as well. How strange.

Eventually, you reach a dead end stretch of hall. At the very end of this hall is a singular door that looks weathered, as if it was sunbleached and painted over in oils. There’s an elegance to it you can’t quite place, and like a siren song, you find yourself being beckoned to it. Your proxy instincts kick in like second nature the closer you draw to it. You feel your breathing lighten, your steps as well, and you move towards it with a silence that is unmatched - as if you’re floating on air. You draw closer and closer to the door. It’s so magnetic, and you can’t quite explain why/ But closer still you must be to it.

Your hand tenderly grasps the doorknob - it feels like ice - and you twist it open. You wonder if you should be doing this. A part of you feels like you shouldn’t be doing this, but another part of you says this is what you were meant to see. You push the door open ever so slightly, just enough to be able to see inside, but the door is heavy, almost as if it doesn’t want you to. Like it’s trying to protect you from something further. You wonder if it just wishes to keep its secrets.

It’s gorgeous, it truly is. It puts the rest of the mansion to shame. It looks old - perhaps from 16th century Germany and fit for royalty. Plants of all kinds line the walls. They look like emeralds as light shines through their leaves. The sunlight kisses the flowers that sprout from the stalks. Beautiful woodwork surrounds the windows that are covered in fairytale-esque stained glass pieces. The scent is of something much, much sweeter and warmer than the rest of the mansion. Your eyes then draw to the center of the room, where an ornate table sits. There’s gold leaf decorating its legs followed by symbols you can’t really pin down. A tablecloth that looks like it was weaved from the stars above is the only thing that separates a delicate tea set from the precious mahogany table. The tea smells heavenly from where you stand.

Before you can press into the room, you pause upon seeing slender, pale hands take hold of the tea pot. Your eyes follow upwards to the owner of the hands only to see a woman so much more beautiful than the moon in twilight and the sun in the morning. Falling from her shoulders was golden hair that looked like a sea of amber as it cascaded down near the floor. Flowers were woven into it - mostly snowdrops, baby’s breath and queen Anne’s lace. She’s dressed in something from medieval Europe, and never once does her sleeve touch the table. She begins to pour herself some tea, a honey like hum coming from her being as she pours the sweet liquid. Her eyes flick upwards for but a moment when she hears a bird chirping outside. Her eyes are so dark, there exists no white sclera. They’re so dark, like black holes that hide in the depths of space, but you feel as if she holds the universe inside of them. She’s so beautiful, you’re not sure she’s real. A cat has jumped up onto the table, purring at her. When she smiles, your heart sings.

You want to say hello to her and spend time in her presence when you attempt to open the door some more. It creaks slightly. The hinges are ancient. Before you can say anything, the door is slammed shut, sending you flying backwards. You let out a sound of shock before seeing Toby reaching down to get you.

“What t-the hell a-a-are you thinking?” He hisses as he picks you up, grabbing your bicep and beginning to drag you away from the door that still holds your attention. “You r-really just w-wandered off l-like that?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, attempting to get free of his grasp as he continues to pull you along. No matter how hard you smack at him, he doesn’t let go.

“M-Masky said it’s not s-safe for y-y-you to wander o-off. A-And without m-me? D-D-Did you have a-any cognitive t-t-thought when you w-went out on a l-limb like t-that?” He sounds so heated.

You find he’s bringing you back to the sunroom, undoubtedly going to tell Masky and Hoodie about your misbehavior. “Why are you being so weird?” You retort as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. “It’s just a room!” You cry out in an exasperated tone.

Toby only reprimands you louder. It’s a losing game.

You eventually find yourself back in the sunroom. Only, instead of Eyeless Jack and Jeff, you see the deeply concerned and slightly pissed off faces of Masky and Hoodie. They’re not happy to see you, and you’re not exactly thrilled to see you either.

“Take a s-s-seat,” Toby says in a harsh tone as he thrusts you back into your seat.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Masky asks, not even attempting to mask his voice because that’s the privilege of being a proxy. You’re able to reprimand your proxies without anyone giving a care.

“You can’t just go off like that,” Hoodie continues as he furrows his brows. “You could’ve gotten-”

“Hurt? This is the Operator’s mansion, what the fuck is gonna hurt me in here other than himself or you two?”

“That’s it,” Masky points out. “He can seriously hurt you if you snoop where you shouldn’t!” His hands grips at your wrist, tightening to a point of pain.

When you feel tears prick your eyes, Hoodie sighs and puts his hand on Masky’s shoulder, “stop it.”

Masky hesitantly lets you go.

“What did you see?” Hoodie asks with a deep sigh, his posture tensing. He’s really hoping you didn’t see the Operator’s trophy room.

You give your comrades a concerned look, not sure whether you should answer or not when Hoodie raises a slight brow. Damn it. You’re emotionally compromised. He’s seeing what he needs to without your permission.

“That’s… Odd…” He says.

Masky glances to Hoodie. “No.”

“Unfortunately, I think yeah,” Hoodie says with a growing frown. He glances to Toby for confirmation, and upon seeing Toby’s nod, says “yeah,” again.

Masky groans and puts his face into his hands, finding comfort in being buried into himself.

You hold your wrist in your hand and lean back in your chair. “Just… What is it you guys aren’t telling me?” You question, hoping they’d just bite the bullet and tell you.

The group shares a look, debating whether they should even say it or not. When no one says anything, you press them again.

“Come on,” you sigh. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It really could be,” Masky says as he finally releases his face from his hands. “No one knows what seeing it does.”

Your eyes widen before you bark a laugh. “What?”

“No, he’s serious,” Hoodie picks up. “Seeing that door is rare, like, rainbow pikachu rare. Proxies think it’s an omen or a bad luck thing. To see it means a group’s eventual demise.”

You briefly scoff at the thought of proxies being superstitious before you remember some of you can actually cast portals. It’s really not that out of pocket.

“N-No one has e-e-ever found o-out though,” Toby shrugs. “W-We just know t-that the g-groups that h-h-have n-normally e-end in death.” He looks a little uncomfortable as he says the words, like there’s a legitimate truth to what he’s saying even though he’d rather it be utter BS.

“To be fair, we thought it was a rumor prior to you sneaking off,” Hoodie says as he tries to calm down his group.

You take in this information with a small frown. How could something that beautiful be that evil or a harbinger of doom? The thought of it left you perplexed as your comrades continued to lecture you on not wandering off until Masky and Hoodie were called away.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable leaving Reader here with-”

Toby rolls his eyes, “you c-cant just s-say you want m-me to come with i-instead. N-Not need to insult m-my competence a-a-as a babysitter,” he mumbles before glancing down to his hatchets.

Masky sighs and nods for Toby to follow him out. Looks like it’s just you and Hoodie.

“So,” you awkwardly begin, not really sure what to do or what to say.

“So,” Hoodie hums back. “Anywhere you wanted to go?” When he sees the glint in your eyes, he shakes his head. “Like, a normal place. We’re gonna be here for a while while those two are out,” he chuckles, watching as you visibly deflate.

You allow the question to bang around in your head until you nod with a thought in mind. “The library. I’d like to go to the library.”

Hoodie smiles at that suggestion and finishes the rest of his tea before standing up. He stretches for a moment, then leads you to the hallway your original snooping began. You noticed as his thoughts immediately became clouded with the word and vision of ‘library’ as the two of you trekked the halls. As you walked, you barely recognized any of the doors you passed. They weren’t on your radar, which was odd in your opinion as you had opened a lot of door you probably shouldn’t have.

Eventually, you reach two large oak doors. Hoodie pushes them open and you’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful library. It’s impossibly huge - how could such a place exist in the mansion? You’re well aware it’s a huge place, but the fact that all of this is here… It’s bigger than a downtown city library you visited when passing through Chicago a few months ago. The Operator’s influence is beautiful, isn’t it?

“I’m gonna be in the sci-fi section,” Hoodie says as he nods over to the right wing of the library. “It’s on the second floor.” You notice the spiral staircase that leads to what appears to be a balcony - it must stretch backwards forever. “Check in with me in about 15 minutes. Don’t do anything stupid.” It’s surprising how relaxed he’s being with you. You would have expected someone like Hoodie to be a lot angerier and more observational.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you nod and flash him a thumb’s up before bounding over to the left wing of the library. Nothing is properly labeled, but you get a strong bout of intuition where everything is. Right now, you’re on the hunt for history.

The aisle that holds the history books looks just as old as you would have expected it to. The books here aren’t any you’ve ever seen in stores either - they’re largely from the time period they’re to be representing. Some are more modern, but you get the feeling that they don’t exist anywhere else but under the Operator’s influence. You find a few books that talk about the early history of proxies, some on independents, but nothing to inform you on what you had found.

It’s honestly a little maddening. You check in with Hoodie when you have to - he asks you to list the spines of the books you’re currently looking at - and then you’re back to your fruitless search. You run up and down the halls of the history section looking for anything when you hear static begin to buzz in your heads. The feeling travels upwards like the vines you felt earlier from your heels to your chest. When they claw deep into your heart, you feel a pull. And once again, like a sailor beckoned to the rocks due to a siren’s song, you follow it.

It twists and turns you through the shelves, making you zip past the few proxies and independents that are currently visiting this wing of the library before you’re drawn to a rotunda. You look backwards and see in the distance the front doors of the library. When did this place get a middle wing? It was just straight shelves and a wall with large windows overlooking the rolling hills of the woods. You turn your attention upwards to the ceiling of the rotunda. There’s a large skylight that allows sunlight to cascade down. Around that are gems you don’t even know the name of that weave a mosaic of something positively divine. You allow your gaze to follow the shaft of warm sunlight down, and there, sitting at a table with a book in hand (it looks like a journal) is the Operator himself.

“S-Sir!” You manage to squeak out as you find yourself startled to be in his presence, Heat rises to your cheeks when he looks up from his book to turn his attention to you.

“How did you get here?” He asks, confusion etching his body as he curiously tilts his head.

Your breath hitches. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize, bowing your head almost immediately. “I don’t know how I got here. It just felt like a pull and suddenly I was here? I was in the left wing and looking over history books and I-” you continue to rattle off until the Operator holds up his hand, silently signaling you to stop. You do so as soon as he asks.

“I-. It’s no matter,” he waves off. “Come, sit down beside me.” An inky black tendril sprouts from his back as he pulls the chair in front of him out, allowing you to sit in his presence.

You will your stone-like legs forward and attempt to gracefully take a seat in front of him. It’s a slightly awkward silence before he speaks again.

“How have you been, Miss Reader?”

“I’m alright,” you reply, voice no higher than a whisper.

The Operator hums. “Good.”

Another pregnant pause.

“Child, where is your book?”

“I uh, didn’t grab one?” You answer softly. You can tell the Operator is looking at you with what he can convey to his fullest as confusion. “When I was pulled here I just.. Followed,” you attempt to explain. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“And what have you done today?” He asks, giving his passing attention to you like a father would.

You bite your lip before steering the conversation towards the room you saw. “I think I met someone.”

“You did, did you?”There’s a passing interest as if he’s saying ‘that’s nice, honey.’

You nod. “She was in a tea room-”

He pauses.

“I found her by accident-”

He makes sure he’s hearing you correctly.

“Her hair was golden-”

He looks up.

“She had plants-”

He’s sitting upright now.

“She had a cat-”

He leans forward.

“Her smile rivaled the stars-”

He’s focusing so intently on you now.

“Her voice was like honey-”

He entirely focused on you.

“She was beautiful.”

The Operator’s ichor pauses for just a moment as he takes in the description of the woman you described. It makes a part of him sing and another part of him sob. He hasn’t heard of her in so, so long.

When you look up, you see the Operator practically leaned halfway over the table and entirely focused on you. It makes you jump. “I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, thinking you saw something you shouldn’t have. “I wasn’t thinking and I uh, think the mansion led me to her?”

The Operator wordlessly nods. “Was she pouring tea?” He asked, voice so much gentler than anything you could ever expect him to conjure up.

You slowly nod. “She was.”

The Operator suddenly slumps down, making you jolt. You rise on instinct to help him when he waves you back down. “Do you realize who you’ve come into contact with?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I’m afraid not, Sir,” you say with slight remorse.

The Operator chuckles deeply - it rumbles his chest and in your head. “You found her.” He could smile, you were sure it would be from ear to ear if he had the correct facial features. “All these years later and you found her.” He emphasizes you like a bittersweet affirmation.

“Who is she?” You ask softly.

Your boss sits back up again. “Someone who loves me,” his tendril sprouts once again from his back and moves towards you. “Someone who loves you,” it taps your nose. “Someone who loves us.” The tendril makes a grand, sweeping gesture.

You take in the words and nod, still not knowing what they mean. Upon seeing your confusion, he decides to elaborate.

“A long, long time ago, in a realm you could not begin to fathom, there was light and there was dark,” he begins, his voice slipping into something akin to someone saying a bedtime story. “I was the light, and that cur we call Zalgo was the dark.”

You scrunch your nose at the sound of his name.

“The dark and the light were born from nothing, and she was beautiful.” His audible smile is actually endearing to hear. “Throughout the years, the light and the dark fought, constantly at each other's throats. It was woven in the threads of history, it had been our birthright. When we came to this place, this planet after being cast from our home - a palace amongst all palaces, a kingdom that rose far above any other, the nothingness came with us. She called herself Liebevolle Frau. She loved her children.” By this point in the story, the Operator has taken the liquids from the coffee cup he drinks from and animated them into the characters for this story.

You watch with stars in your eyes.

“But no guardian is without its favorites, and I happened to be hers.” Liebevolle Frau’s figure was shown sheltering the Operator’s much smaller one. “And this caused a rift that could not be mended through the light and dark. Eventually, the dark waged war on the light.”

It’s a war you’re still fighting to this day.

“In the 1500s, long after this mansion had been built and my power continued to grow, Zalgo had almost wiped us off the face of the earth to splatter out remains across all the five realms. Liebevolle Frau, thought caught off guard,” that would explain the tea, “sheltered me and protected this place and all who resided in it. At the time,” the Operator looks at you. “Independents and proxies had lived here much more commonly than they do now.”

You smile softly.

“Liebevolle Frau’s power had been pushed to its limit in holding back her first born son, and mind, as well as her heart, broke because of it. In her remaining moments of lucidity, she imbued herself, her soul,” the liquids take the form of something fluttering and soft, like a bird, “her everything, and became the place I hold jurisdiction over today.”

Your eyes widen as you think back to the odd feelings you’ve had coming here for today - and Toby’s slip-up.

“I have not been able to find her since the late 1500s,” The Operator explains as the liquids dance back into the coffee mug, the figure of Liebevolle Frau taking a hair longer than the rest. “She lives in everything.”

You’re honestly speechless over everything the Operator has said because it’s so… It’s strangely heartfelt. You’ve never even spoken face to face with your boss and when you do, it’s because some force is guiding you to do so. But if that force felt so alive, it must have meant she wanted you to know.

“Her physical form,” you finally manage to wisp out. “She wanted to be at peace, didn’t she?”

The Operator chuckles deeply. “I would assume so.”

Before you can respond to anything or even come up with another response, you hear both Masky AND Hoodie yelling for you in your head. The jarring difference between your boss’s gentle voice and Masky and Hoodie crying out for blood is enough to make you jump (once again).

Upon seeing your sudden switch in atmosphere, the Operator hushes the voices in your head and calls them to his side.

Toby is the first to show up though, and quickly trailing after him is Masky and Hoodie. They both look ready to reprimand you but upon seeing you sitting with the Operator, nothing but reverence crosses their minds and bodies.

“Good evening, Sir,” Masky says as he bows his head. “Are you well?”

“Thoughtful, aren't you, Timothy?” There’s no animosity or anger in the Operator’s tone, but it makes Masky blush all the same.

A pregnant pause passes.

“I was just speaking with your newest member, Miss Reader,” a pale hand gestures to you. “Come, join us. I could use the company.”

You watch as confused glances get shared between your three comrades before they take a seat beside you.

A pleasant silence passes through the air before a gentle humming that’s sweeter than honey overtakes it like a passing breeze.

[castielscarma]

Undercover

Part 9 of the #SpnStayatHome challenge @bend-me-shape-me​ @helianthus21​ @pray4jensen​ (it’s long. 11.5k) 

Dean paced back and forth in the Bunker kitchen, playing with a slinky. It was the metallic kind that had a heavy, sweet feeling to it as he held it in his hand. And the sound wasn't too bad either. It almost felt soothing, like the tick-tock sound a hypnotist used to lull his victims into a creepy sleep.

“Dean, would you stop that?” Sam looked up from reading his newspaper, an irritated frown on his face.

“What? Does the sweet sound of the magic spiral disturb your sudoku-solving abilities? Or is it crosswords this time?” Dean played with the slinky as he raised an eyebrow in question. “Come on, Sammy, don't tell me you're not even a little bit tempted to play with this wonder of technology?”

“The only wonder is that I haven't grabbed your slinky yet and thrown it out the window,” Sam muttered.

“Good luck with that, we live underground.” Dean grabbed hold of the slinky while taking a handful of peanuts from a small bowl on the table.

Sam reached for the bowl and pulled it towards himself. “Dude, these are meant to be for the Pad Thai later.”

Dean looked affronted. “Hey, you can't just put nuts in the snacks bowl – and the bowl is in a public space, so it's a free for all anyway – and expect the nuts not to get eaten. They're practically begging for it. Roasted, salted, and with a touch of sour cream. It's 'Nuttylious'. Man, they really were on point with that slogan.”

Sam just sighed and pushed the newspaper towards Dean. “You've been without a cause for almost fourteen days. You need to go out and hunt, Dean, and more importantly, I need you to go out and hunt. We need to do something while we try to find a way to defeat Chuck.”

Dean frowned and went for the bowl again. It earned him a slap on the hand. “Hey, I bought those!” When he saw that Sam wouldn't budge, he frowned. “Fine, I'll take a look at the creepy case. Let's see.”

After Sam had given Dean a few minutes and Dean still hadn't said anything, he couldn't be quiet anymore. “So, what do you think?”

Dean looked longingly at the peanuts. “I think it's really not cool for you to stash those nuts away.”

Sam smacked him on the arm. “I mean about the case, Dean!”

Dean sank down on the chair next to Sam. “You mean the killer that targets grooms?”

“Well, not just grooms. The second vic was a newlywed. The wedding had been less than three weeks earlier. The wife, Mrs. Karstark found Mr. Karstark on their kitchen floor. Body was drained and the heart was missing.”

“Mrs. Karstark felt betrayed. He cheated on her. I've seen Game of Thrones. They're a bloodthirsty lot.”

Sam shook his head. “Funny, Dean. The first victim was a groom. Found dead in the bedroom, two days before the wedding was to take place. Same m.o. No blood whatsoever left in the body and both the heart and stomach were gone.”

Dean sniffed. “Well, it looks like there's a monster lurking about. What do the local authorities say? Any leads?”

“Nope, they are going by the theory that a madman is on the prowl.”

“A madman? What about the drained blood?”

“They have no clue. Oh and this was also found on the scene – “ Sam pushed over a photo and a piece of paper towards Dean.

Dean looked at the photo at what appeared to be horizontal stains on a wooden floor. “What am I looking at? So the Karstarks were messy? We thinking the monster has a grudge against bad housekeeping? Maybe it just wants them to keep the area nice and clean. Would explain the loss of blood in the bodies. A bleeding body is a bitch to clean.” Dean glanced at the paper next to the photo. “Hold on, Sammy? These all happened in the same neighborhood?”

“Yes and from what the police think, the attacks happened at night time.”

“Mm, must be someone close by then. So either a monster or maybe a witch with a spell? Okay, I'm game. Let's go.”

Sam grabbed the papers and photos. “To Okay it is.”

Dean frowned. “I already agreed, Sam. Just gonna pack. Need my driving snacks.”

“No, the town's called Okay. It's a five-hour drive.”

Dean grinned. “Okay. Something is definitely not OK in Okay.”

“Then we're on the case?”

“Hell yeah.”

Six hours later Dean, Sam, and Cas arrived in the small town of Okay and pulled into a parking lot.

“It wasn't any five hours, but we're finally here. The fine town of Okay.” Dean looked around. “It looks kind of deserted to be the buffet table for a monster but hey, what do I know about monster diets? So, we going with the FBI thing or?”

Sam shook his head and smiled. “The trip only took that long because of you, Dean.”

Dean clicked his tongue. “It was a Thai buffet. You sample everything, that's the rule.”

Cas nodded. “He does like his Thai food, Sam.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah – About the FBI thing, Dean. I've given this some thought, and I think that it's in the best interest of the case that I don the FBI coat.”

Dean blinked. “What? You? You as in you solo? What about me and Cas?”

Cas looked back at Sam, an eyebrow raised. “You have a better idea than going in as FBI?”

Sam cleared his throat again and smiled slightly. “I was thinking that you and Cas need to be in the thick of it. We need to lure this creature out, whatever it is. And the common denominator is – “

“That it leaves its victims dry? That the victims all drove a Prius? I won't abandon Baby for some goddamn – “

“They were all in relationships newly formed, just married or really in love.”

Dean blinked. “So... you want me and Cas to do what? Play house?”

“Yes, let's call it that. I knew you guys would agree. There's a vacant house for rent on the same street as were two of the victims lived. I sent in the application yesterday. Since you were the only ones that applied and your records were spotless as were your references, and the recent murders make them eager to rent – “ Sam pointed at his phone “ – you're now officially renters, Mr. and Mr. Krushnic.”

He slid over an envelope that Cas grabbed. “I must say, Sam, you've been working very diligently with this case. We'll solve it in no time.” Cas opened the car door and stepped outside.

When Dean didn't follow, Cas poked his head back in. “If you don't like Krushnic we can always go with Plant.”

“It's not the last name I have a problem with! “Dean sputtered as he stepped out of the Impala.

Both Sam and Cas looked at Dean with patient but questioning faces. When Dean didn't elaborate further, Cas spoke. “If you're worried about our normal routines in the Bunker not being followed, nothing will change, Dean. I'll still make you coffee in the morning.”

Sam got out of the car, a smug look on his face. “See, nothing will change, Dean.”

Dean looked at Cas with huge eyes. “That's not – You know what? Gimme that folder, Sammy.”

Sam smiled and handed Dean the folder with the case information. “There's also some pamphlets for the local restaurants in there. Don't forget your bag, Dean Krushnic.”

“You couldn't have picked a better last name? What kind of name is Krushnic?”

Cas spoke up. “It does have a certain ring to it. I like it.

“The house is right over there. You'll receive the key shortly. Oh, and Miss. Lee, fiancee of the first victim lives right next door. I'll go and interview Jessica Karstark and we'll keep in touch on the phone afterward.”

“You not coming over?”

Sam shook his head. “You don't think it'll look suspicious if the FBI-agent that interviewed the people that last saw their loved ones dead under odd circumstances visit the new couple that just moved in? You just stay put. Act as normal as you can” – Sam raised a meaning eyebrow at Dean – “and I'll call you later.”

Dean grabbed the bag from the trunk. “I don't like this. Who says this monster, whatever the hell it is, will fall for me and Cas playing bait? Didn't you say relationships needed to be newly formed, like what? I've known Cas for over a decade. The monster will not fall for a stunt like that.”

“I'm sure you and Cas will be very convincing.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sam reached out and snagged Dean's keys.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Sam smiled patiently as he walked over to the Impala's driver seat. “I'm the FBI-agent. I need a car. Besides, you and Cas need to be at the house to lure out the creature. Try to find out what kind of monster we're dealing with.”

“You just gonna leave us here while you go play cop?”

“That's the plan. I'll play cop and you'll play house.” Sam pressed the gas and Baby roared to life.

“You got to be gentle! And don't park to close to the – “

Sam honked once as he drove off with the Impala.

Dean turned to Cas. “He better take care of Baby or I swear that – “

Cas grabbed his bag. “Sam is very much capable of taking care of Baby if you just let him.”

“Let him?! Did you see how he just floored – “

Cas was already a few steps ahead of Dean. “Come along, Mr. Krushnic. We have a house to move in to.”

The house was way better than a motel, so Dean couldn't really complain even if he wanted to. The kitchen was nice and modern, and Dean shouted excitedly at the garden out the back, not necessarily for the garden but for the huge outdoor grill that graced the space.

“Sweet, Cas. You see the size of that monster? We can barbecue some nice steaks on that grill.”

“It's very impressive, Dean.”

Back inside, Dean sat down in the L-shaped couch in the living room. The flatscreen was mounted on the wall and the house even had a minibar. “Oh, hell yeah, I'm really gonna like it here.”

Cas headed to the rooms upstairs. “We're not gonna stay here permanently, Dean.”

Like he didn't know that. “The screen is huge, Cas! Imagine us with a bowl of popcorn and a Western flick on, or a horror movie. 'Hatchet-Man 4 - the dull axe.' A classic.”

“Which side are you gonna take, Dean?”

Cas' voice sounded muted so Dean got up from the comfortable couch, – almost too comfortable, he felt himself dozing off – and followed him upstairs. “What are you shouting about?”

“I was just wondering which side you prefer?” Cas was standing in the bedroom.

There was a wardrobe there and the wall was painted in a soft blue-chalk paint. The huge window on the right side of the beds allowed the natural light to flood the room. Dean could imagine it being a nice view to wake up to. He could see another door that probably led to the on-suite bathroom but his eyes kept flitting back to the bed. He had totally forgotten about the sleeping.

“Um, I'm not really sure.”

“You do favor sleeping on your right side, Dean, so I'd suggest the right side of the bed. The additional closeness to the window will make it easier for you to wake up in the morning. Natural sunlight does wonders for when you want to wake up feeling refreshed.”

Dean swallowed. He was going to sleep in the same bed as Cas. They were gonna sleep together. Heat curled inside his stomach. Of course, they were not gonna sleep sleep together but Cas was going to be right next to him.

“Dean?”

Dean nodded. “Um, yeah Cas. That works fine. I'll do the right side.”

“Fine. Now that that's settled, let's see what we can gather about this case. We can shop for new bed linen, towels, and whatever else we need later.”

“Shopping for bed linen, Cas? Take it easy, there tiger.”

Cas gave him a strange look, so Dean cleared his throat. “I'll set up the laptop.”

An hour later, they had reread the police reports three times and not found any new leads.

Cas spoke up. “I think we should go over and interrogate Mrs. Lee. That way we can take a look at the crime scene. Maybe there's some hidden hex bags that the police overlooked?”

Dean rubbed his eyes. “So you think it's a witch?”

Cas got up and walked over to the kitchen. “That seems the most plausible scenario.”

“Yeah, what about the blood? What kind of vamp leaves them completely dry? I've looked at our vamps and the Carpathian kind. Might be a muroni. The bodies were drained of all blood.”

“Muroni? But those markings were not made by an animal, even by the looks of it, though the authorities might go for that angle.”As Cas opened a kitchen cabinet, he made a pleasing sound. “Not the usual, but it'll do.” He grabbed something and bend down, opening another cabinet.

“Cas, we're talking case here. What are you doing?”

“Well, since we're doing this husband chicanery I think we should go all in, Dean. So, as any good husband, I'm making you coffee.”

Dean's heart beat faster, which was ridiculous. It was just coffee, which Cas made him every morning. It was not like this coffee was different. “Uh, thanks.”

Cas was putting the ground coffee in the machine when he turned to Dean. “What do you prefer, honey, or sweetheart?”

Dean turned to Cas, all thoughts about what he'd just read erased. “I don't follow...”

“Since we are married, we need to have an affectionate nickname to call each other. That is standard among married couples I think.”

Cas seemed to be taking the marriage- ruse very seriously. As he should, Dean mused. They wanted to catch this monster, and if Dean needed to go all in – all in, in the name of the case of course – then he would. It was just the professional thing to do and Dean Winchester was a pro.

“I think honey would work.”

After he turned on the coffee-maker, Cas returned to the table. “Honey it is. How about you? What will you call me?”

Cas stared at Dean with such an honest expression that Dean had to turn away. “I don't know, it's not like I have given this much thought.” Which was a lie. In the deepest recesses of Dean's heart, he'd given much thought about how a life with Cas would be like, a slightly different life where they were more than just best friends hunting monsters together.

“I have a few suggestions that will pair nicely with honey,” Cas mused. After a beat of silence, he said. “How about 'hubs?”

“You're not going to call me 'hubs' in public, Cas. No way. Let me think.” He was silent for a few seconds, then he smiled. “ I got it! 'Beeloved'? You get it? Bee cause I'm the honey and you're the bee that...” Dean saw something flicker over Cas' face but it was gone so fast, that Dean was not sure if it hadn't just been his imagination.

“It is a nice joke but I do think we need to take this more seriously if we want to lure out the monster.”

“Yeah, monster.” The nickname was on the tip of Dean's tongue without a second thought. “Angel.” He cleared his throat. “Angel would work.”

Cas' smile was so earnest that Dean had to look away. “Honey and angel.”

A sudden knock on the door interrupted them. Maybe that was for the better, this whole fake marriage thing was getting under Dean's skin and only a couple of hours had passed. He needed a beer.

A woman dressed in a yellow summer dress flashed her smile as Dean opened the door. She had her hair up in a tight ponytail and her slanted eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled. “Greetings. I'm Chiyoh Roman. I live just across the street and I'm the president of the HOA committee in this area. I'm so happy to have you here. Here.” She handed Dean a tiny basket stuffed with tea, candies, and fruit, all neatly wrapped in cellophane.

Dean looked at the basket and back at Chiyoh. Candies and fruit. Where were the beer and coffee?

“Here, let me take that, honey.” Cas swooped in and grabbed the basket from Dean. “Leaf tea? How thoughtful, we love this, don't we, Dean?” Cas casually kissed Dean on the cheek.

It was just a swift kiss but Dean's body reacted as if it was a love declaration. His stomach swooped as an unnamed feeling washed over him. His mouth went dry.

Cas had kissed him.

Dean's rational mind tried to tell him that it was all due to the undercover gig they had going on but his heart refused to listen to that. Already hope surged inside him, that maybe, just maybe Cas felt the same about him as Dean did.

Cas noticed that Dean was silent and gave him an odd look. “Thank you so much for the welcoming gift. Excuse my husband, it's been a long week with the move and all. He's usually more well behaved.” He extended his hand. “I'm Castiel Krushnic and this is my husband Dean.”

Chiyoh laughed. “Oh, I totally get that moving is rough.” She shook Cas' hand. “Chiyoh. Nice to meet you.”

Dean finally found himself and cleared his throat. “Sorry, Castiel is right. It was a long drive, moving can be exhausting. I'm Dean.”

“Nothing makes me happier than a handsome couple like you gracing our neighborhood with your presence. As long as the relationship is thriving, and not the grass, we'll be good.” She laughed again, a shrill sound that grated.

Dean narrowed his brows in confusion. “The grass?”

“Yes, HOA regulations stipulate that the grass might not grow above two inches. I suggest you buy an automover. It's much easier to keep the grass short that way, and we don't have to pollute our neighborhood with noise. Well, I'm off but I'll see you around the neighborhood.”

As the door closed behind them, Dean looked at Cas. “We are solving this case quickly. “I'm not going to buy an automover. HOA! What does that even stand for? Homeowners outright anal? Two inches!”

“I don't think you have to be a homeowner to enjoy anal, Dean.”

Dean blinked. “What? That's not what I –

Cas titled his head in confusion.

Dean shook his head. “Let's go over and see what we can find out about miss Lee and her late fiancee.”

As they closed the door behind them and walked on the small walkway to the neighboring house, Cas' hand snaked into Dean's.

Dean stopped and looked at Cas in horror, sure that it had been a mistake. He didn't want to be caught showcasing one inch of his true feelings towards the angel. But Cas laced his fingers tightly with Dean's and gave him a short smile. His voice was low and he spoke carefully. “I hope this is good?” After a brief pause, he added. “For the case.”

Dean could only nod. “Yeah, for the case.”

When they arrived at the door, Dean couldn't bear to let go of Cas' hand to knock. Sure, he might have drenched Cas' hand in sweat but it felt wrong to let go. It was nice to have Cas' hand in his, to feel that strong hand against his own skin. Dean pictured Cas relaxing even more, his thumb casually stroking Dean's skin.

He knocked harshly on the door with his other hand, banishing all fantasies.

A buxom woman opened. Her hair had light brown curls but they seemed matted and it looked like she had slept in her pants and hoodie. They were wrinkly and when she smiled, it seemed hoarse. She was guarded as she spoke. “Yes?”

“Hi, Ms. Lee. Sorry to bother you. We just wanted to say hi. We're your new neighbors, moved in today actually. I'm Dean and this is Castiel.”

Cas nodded. “I'm Dean's husband.”

Dean tried not to shake his head.

“Oh, I'm Laura. I wasn't aware that – “ She stopped and chewed her lips. “I'm sorry, come in. Me and my – .“ She paused, and her face twisted.

As Dean closed the door, Laura started sobbing. “I'm so sorry. I don't wanna burden you, it's just... I'm having it really rough right now. I just lost my fiance. I don't know why I'm telling you this, you're strangers.” She wiped at her eyes. “I'm sure you don't wanna – “

Cas put a comforting arm around her. “Sometimes an unburdened heart helps, even if it's to strangers.”

They sat down in Laura's living room; an open space with a huge couch, dark wooden floors and windows with curtains that were closed.

“It's messy. I sleep down here since... I can't step foot in the bedroom. I'm heading out of town this evening. Going to be with my sister for a while. The police have my number. I'm sure they'll have more questions.” Her eyes flitted to a wall with a picture of her and her fiancee. “It's hard being here. Everything reminds me of William.”

Dean nodded in sympathy. “Do you have any idea of who could've wanted to harm William?”

Laura shook her head. “No. We moved here a year ago. William was the kindest man, always saw the good in people. I think that's one of the reasons I fell for him. We met in college, and sure, he goofed around like any other guy there but there was this genuine, sweet feeling about him you know.” She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “And this is a good neighborhood. With good people...”

Dean reached out and stroked her hand. “I'm very sorry for your loss, Laura.”

Laura looked up and nodded. “I... I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back.” She moved past him and Cas.

Dean and Cas looked at each other and stood as one. They searched quickly and when they found the bedroom, they silently opened the door.

Everything looked normal which – Dean figured – made it harder for Laura. With a room that was disturbed or contained evidence that something gruesome had happened, the mind at least had something tangible to cling to, even though the heart refused.

Cas headed over to the headboard when something made him stop. “Dean.”

Dean was there and looked down at the floor, where Cas was pointing. “It looks like some marks on the floor, like something wet was trailed along the wood. It seems out of place.”

Cas bent down to the floor and sniffed it.

“Dude, no.”

“I don't smell anything besides human blood. And I can't sense any residue of magic, angelic grace, or anything demonic.”

Dean grimaced. “That's good but next time don't stick your nose in it. You still thinking witch?”

“It's a possibility.”

They searched the room quickly, looking for hidden spaces in the wardrobe or secret hideouts in the walls or bed were a hex bag could've been stashed. They found nothing.

They were back in the living room as Laura come back.

Cas' voice was sympathetic. “We are heading out. It was not our intention to bother you.”

Laura shook her head. “It's alright.”

They parted at the door. As they were heading out, Dean noticed a pamphlet on the dresser. Welcome to Perfection Peak. Where we peak beyond perfection. HOA greetings and guidelines.” He doubted Laura would think her time in the neighborhood was perfect. Dead fiancees hardly screamed peak perfection. What did that even mean?

Dean looked at Cas. “Alright, let's talk case but first we need to go shopping. I'm starving. We need to put food in the fridge, and pour some drinks down our throats.”

Luckily, the local Wilmart was just a fifteen-minute drive away.

Cas took a cart and they strolled in together. Dean worried his underlip. Maybe he should hook his arm in Cas' arm? But that would make it awkward to push the cart and they were supposed to act as husband and husband, not a couple of lovesick teenagers that couldn't get enough of each other and went all touchy-feely in the middle of the supermarket.

Dean had a sudden vision of Cas' ripping his shirt off, buttons flying everywhere in the middle of the fruit aisle and them kissing with all the gusto from a couple in a romance novel.

“Honey. Honey... Honey!”

Dean startled as he realized Cas was calling for him. “Yeah, wings, what's up?”

Cas arched an eyebrow as Dean walked over to him. “Wings? I thought we agreed on angel. Wings sound like you want to eat me.”

Dean swallowed harshly and pushed down the positive answer, that yeah, he wouldn't mind that at all.“I improvised.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry for going blank there, I was just uh, thinking about the case and everything we know so far.”

Cas answered in his gravely voice. “It's OK. Yellow or red bell peppers?”

“It's not Sam you're married to. I don't eat red stuff if it ain't meat... or ketchup.”

“Your doctor said that your cholesterol is high, Dean. I just think some vegetables would go nicely with our tacos. I'll go grab the avocados.”

“Ourdoctor has never said – “ Cas just winked at Dean and headed over to the pre-smashed guacamole section.

Dean grumbled and grabbed some dressing. He was not sure what he'd put it on, but it would come to him eventually.

“We can do some chicken wings and oven-baked potatoes. I already bought potatoes,” Cas announced proudly.

“Good thinking, Cas. I bought dressing. For your uh, bell peppers.”

“Our bell peppers. We can shop for two meals in advance. Roasted chicken in the oven and tacos. Quite fortunate, since it's a Thursday today. We'll do Taco Thursdays. Like everyone else.”

Dean felt a pang of longing in his chest at Cas' words. Sure, he knew what he was. A badass hunter, the gatekeeper against evil, the guy that saved the world. Together with Sam, Cas and Jack of course and he liked doing that. He was good at that. But he was also acutely aware of what was missing in his life.

He glanced at Cas who was perusing the taco aisle, picking up salsa, tortillas, and nachos. He'd have Cas any way he could. If that were just as friends, cause he had no delusions Cas liked him as more, then so be it.

The phone rang just as Cas looked back at Dean. He waved at him to go ahead and took the call.

“Hi, Sam. What you got for us? Any leads?”

“So get this. I talked to Mrs. Karstark. She was understandably upset but agreed to talk. The police report matches up. She found him in the kitchen, body completely drained. Heart and stomach were gone.”

“Right. Same as our first vic. Maybe the monster was in a rush for the second killing and only had time to take the heart.”

“Maybe. And judging by the police report both attacks happened at night. So it probably means that this is a creature that's nocturnal, and sleeps during the day. Or it can be in hiding, either somewhere safe or walking disguised as a human.

“Cas and I talked to Ms. Lee. We did some off-the-record investigating and nada on the hex bags or anything like that. But Cas did find some odd spot on the floor. Almost like something wet had been dragged – “

“ – dragged along the floor.”

“Huh, I hear it's the same as with Mr. Karstark.”

“Yes, but it was more than an odd spot on the floor. I saw blood.”

“Hmm. And it can't be Karstark's and Lee's cause their bodies were drained so we know it came from our mystery monster.”

Cas came up to Dean and stroked his arm before pulling at him gently. A rush swept over Dean with feelings he didn't have time to dissect, especially not at a freaking Wilmart. “I think we're done, honey. I grabbed the last items so we're ready to head to checkout.”

“Thanks... Ca – “ Dean stopped himself when Cas looked at him intently. “Angel.”

Cas seemed pleased as he walked away.

“Honey and angel, eh? Seems you and Cas are doing pretty good on the whole marriage thing.”

“Fake marriage, Sam. This is just a trap for our monster, alright. We need to ace this.”

“Well, no worries there, you're really nailing it, Dean. Oh, I also found an opened letter from the HOA, signed from a Ms. Chiyoh.”

Dean perked up at that. “Really? What it say?”

“It was a notice for them to maintain their lawn properly. Cut the grass and prune the apple trees.”

Dean rubbed his eyes. The HOA really was everywhere. Dean stopped. “Did Mrs. Karstark say anything about a fight or her and her husband not getting along? Him cooking meth on the side and hiding his cancer kind of thing?”

“What, no? No, they had barely been married a month. From what I gathered from her, and the written statements from friends and family that were interviewed, they seemed happy. Extremely so. They'd been together for years before tying the knot and friends said they acted like they'd just met.”

“Alright, let's keep in touch. I need to finish grocery shopping now.”

“How domestic.”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“I'll text you the address to my hotel. We'll talk later tonight after we hit up the lore books now that we have more to go on.

“Right, lore books...”

“You did not pack any... Fine, see what you can find online then. Bye, Mr. Krushnic.”

“Bitch,” Dean muttered into the phone, but Sam had already hung up.

Dean grabbed a bag of barbecue coals and a six-pack of beer. They were not doing the chicken wings in the freaking oven. No, Mr. and Mr. Krushnic were barbecue-pros and since it looked like they'd be in the house for some time, they were making the most of it.

“The potatoes are in the oven, thyme and salt on them.” Cas handed Dean a beer.

He opened it and sighed in satisfaction as he sat down on the recliner in the backyard. “This is nice, Cas. Sun is out, meat is getting charred, cold beer in hand, you and me just chilling. ”

“I don't think charred meat is that pleasant but I agree with the rest of your sentiment.” Cas took a gulp of his beer and grabbed Dean's hand. “You don't have a ring on.”

“So put a ring on it.” Dean laughed but Cas looked serious.

“It is a custom that husbands have rings. It's an outward sign of claim. Do you want a ring?”

“I'm sure that people will believe we're married.” Dean eyed Cas' blue T-shirt, how it fit snugly, highlighting all the muscles that the usual trench coat outfit hid. He licked his lips. “We're already at the coordinated clothes stage.” Dean pointed at his own blue T-shirt. “See, we're practically married anyway.”

Cas squinted at Dean but didn't say anything.

“I mean in theory. I'm not saying that we – we are married, it's not like we have a marriage license. Not that I wouldn't say no... but for the case...” A marriage license? He needed to shut up, like yesterday. “I'ma go and see if the chicken wings are done. Go set the table.”

“I already did that. And made the bed, and cleaned the bathroom.”

Dean shook his head. “Wow, Cas. You're the Energizer bunny. When did you have time to do all that?”

“When you tried to achieve the 'perfect marinade'. It's good to know that one of us is organized.”

“I'm organized. Who did you think fixed all the dirty laundry Sam created when he was a teenager? Or who had to clean up all his messes when he was in his terrible two's – which went on way beyond him being two I might add? But marinades take time, Cas. It's like the finest spell work, each ingredient necessary for the final product. You can say I'm a marinade magician.” Dean flashed a smile towards Cas.

“Let's not say that,” Cas grumbled. “Do you want us to do some more research before dinner?”

Dean knew that they should; they were not in Okay to have dinner parties and sunbathe but for once, one part of the hunt was to actually do some R&R, and Dean wanted to just savor that moment. Savor time alone with Cas. “Nah, let's just enjoy ourselves for a moment.”

“I can't believe that you actually think Val Kilmer is the superior Batman. Do I even know you, Cas? Have you not seen the recent Batman movies?”

Cas chewed on a potato, shaking his head. “No, it wasn't on your list.” He paused for a moment. “If you want we can watch one of the Batman movies with Christian Bale. To rectify that mistake.”

“Alright.” Dean tried not to get too excited. They were actually doing Netflix and chill in the literal sense, nothing else.“I'd love to.” A buzz in his pocket made him jump up.

He fished up his phone. It was a message from Sam. I think I found it. Look up the Manananggal.

The man and the gal? “Time to hit the computer, Cas.”

“I think this is it, Dean. A cannibalistic vampire that sucks its victims dry.”

Dean took a sip from his beer. “Sure fits the bill. Anything on how it chooses its victims?”

Cas was silent for a moment, reading. “It says here that the manananggal haunts newlyweds and couples in love. I wonder why Sam thought we would be able to bring it out.” He looked at Dean quickly before averting his gaze.

Dean coughed slightly. “Um, the fake marriage thing. If it thinks we're married, it might just go for us.”

“We are in a fake marriage, Dean. You think this will be sufficient?”

“Hope so.”

“I think the best course of action is to 'lay it on real thick' as the kids say. Make the manananggal believe we're married.”

Dean took another swipe of his beer but it did nothing to mitigate the dryness in his throat. He and Cas had been holding hands all freaking day outside. Not that Dean objected but what else could they do? “Provoke it and goad it into attacking us. So we need to exude love and sunshine?”

“I wouldn't put it exactly like that but yes.”

A line further down caught Dean's attention. “Check this out. The word manananggal means “the one who separates itself. Apparently it hunts at night and hides the lower body somewhere since it's vulnerable. It becomes immobile. The upper half of the torso sprouts wings and off it goes hunting for couples. It was left at the altar so that's why it targets grooms.”

“That makes sense with which people were attacked.”

“Oh, and it drags its body along, entrails hanging out and sucks its victims dry with an elongated tongue. You remember those marks we saw on the floor. God, that must have been... fluids left behind from its inside bits saying hello. Gross.”

“Nothing on how to kill it though. Maybe Sam can check his lore books, there might be additional information there. You can pour salt in the corner of your house to shield yourself from it.”

“Mm, but we don't want that, Cas. We want the son-uva-bitch to come to us.”

Cas leaned into Dean, their arms pressing against each other. A flush of warmth passed over Dean. He needed to stop, Cas just wanted a better look. “You see this, Dean?”

Dean read the paragraph. “Great. It's can disguise itself as a human during the day. So we're looking for something that looks like a human.”

“Yes. But we still don't really know how it knows who is in love or newly married.”

Dean shut the laptop down. “No. If it poses as a human, it must be someone who knows everything about the neighborhood. A person that's nosy. An old lady! They're nosy. Always spreading gossip and chit-chatting about Sudoku. We know about any old neighbors around?”

“No, most seem to be fairly young or families with kids.”

“Great.” Let's just try to refocus tomorrow. Now we have a lead at least.”

The hours passed quickly and Cas seemed to enjoy the movie. “Are you still gonna claim Val Kilmer is superior?” Dean spat the toothpaste foam in the sink and continued brushing.

“This Christian Bale had his points. But I do think his voice was rather gravely.”

Dean shook his head and paused his brushing, the toothbrush hanging by the corner of his mouth. “There's no such things as a voice being too gravely, Cas. People dig gravely voices... Your voice is gravely.”

Cas stopped his brushing. “It is. Do you... dig my gravely voice?”

“Uh, I mean, not that I've put much thought too it but. I – You do have a gravely voice, I've noticed that.”

Cas cleaned his toothbrush. The harsh bathroom light did nothing to hide the intensity of the blue in his eyes. He leaned in close to Dean and put the brush back in its place. “Mm.”

“It's nice. Your voice I mean.” Dean tried not to think about how Cas' body pressed against his own and how much he enjoyed the feeling.”

“It is nice. But do you like it?” Cas waited patiently like this was some goddamn quiz that Dean needed to pass.

Dean was under no illusion that he was gonna ace this, he was failing miserably. “I do?”

Cas just hummed and raised his finger to Dean's cheek. Casually he swiped over Dean's skin. “You have something there, honey.”

The touch left a burning trail behind and Dean feared to speak. He was wide-eyed and trying not to moan with the sheer hotness of it all.

“Some toothpaste.”

“Mm, I'm a messy brusher,” Dean whispered.

“I know.” It seemed that Cas wanted to say something more but he turned and left Dean alone with his very confused feelings.

Dean sat down on the toilet, only to stand up again. He splashed his face with some water but it still felt like his face was on fire. He needed to remind himself that this was only fake. Cas did not love him for real, not like that. This was all in the name of catching some two-piece winged vamp monster.

As Dean walked into the bedroom, he saw Cas in bed. Under the freaking covers.

His body went cold. He had not thought about sleeping arrangements at all. “I see you picked a good spot there, Cas.” He laughed hoarsely.

“Yes. Husbands sleep together, you can join me.”

Dean chased away all the images of himself and Cas his mind provided at Cas' statement. “Right. Of course.” He slipped down under the covers and tried not to be acutely aware of the warmth coming off of Cas' body. He was like a furnace or maybe it was Dean's own body that was on fire.

Cas turned off the lights. “Good night, Dean.”

“Good night, Cas.” Dean exhaled slowly and turned to the side. He realized that he was facing Cas' face, mere inches apart from his own. Who the fuck made this bed and how on earth was this considered a proper size for two adults?

Cas looked at him. “I don't require much sleep. I think I'll meditate for a while.”

“Like that? With open eyes?” “I can get up if you want.” Cas paused.

Dean waited for something more but when it didn't come he broke the silence. “No. Stay. I can sleep anyway.” Dean turned the other way and stiffened when he felt Cas' groin pressed against his ass. He didn't know what to do. If he moved, then things would get really awkward. If he didn't move... well, things were already awkward.

Dean decided to go for option number three: breathe slowly and hope sleep would find him quickly.

The light shone through the blinds. Dean stirred slowly, squinting against the sun. As he turned, the fleeting thoughts from a dream came to him. Someone that had intimate knowledge about the area and its people. Someone who greeted him and Cas as soon as they moved in. The HOA woman, Chiyoh Roman!

Dean was about to shake Cas awake to tell him his Eureka moment when he became aware of things that were not his body. During the night, Cas had snuggled in close or maybe it was Dean and now they were clinging to each other like overcooked spaghetti.

Dean realized that his left arm was heavy and numb. It was stuck under the pillow and Cas had put his head over it, effectively strangling all blood-circulation for God knew how many hours. His arm was draped over Dean's waist and their legs were touching each other.

He stayed like that for a while, pretending that this was mutual. Something that they both wanted and not an accident of nightly sleep movements. Cas stirred in his sleep, turning more towards Dean.

A smile bloomed on Dean's face. Cas really was beautiful. He never had time to really look at Cas unapologetically but now he took it. Cas' disheveled hair, the fullness of his lips, how his eyelashes cast tiny shadows underneath his eyes. The smoothness of his skin. Dean wanted to reach out and touch him.

Azure blue eyes looked at him suddenly.

Dean startled and tried to move away but his arm was still stuck under Cas' pillow. He pulled harder and Cas' head flopped up and then down on the pillow again.

Cas flew from the bed but where he was elegant, like a swan or some other bird creature – Dean did know jackshit about birds – he managed to tangle himself into the bed sheets and fell face-first on the carpeted floor.

He groaned and wished that the earth would swallow him.

Cas was by his side and pulled him up to kneeling. “Dean, are you alright?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks to whoever invented polypropylene, right?”

“You do have a thick skull, I think you'd be fine even without the carpet.”

Dean glared at Cas, and suddenly the embarrassment he felt earlier was gone. It quickly came back when he realized he was staring at Cas' groin. He hurriedly got up on his feet.

Cas cleared his throat. “Here.”

Time stopped as if this was a pivotal moment. Dean imagined touching Cas purposefully, taking his hand and holding it to his chest as any husband would do. Husband. If things could be so effortless between them. Not necessarily that Dean wanted to marry Cas but to know that Cas loved him like he loved Cas, that would have been a good thing.

Dean smiled slightly, red coloring his cheeks – he really enjoyed looking at Cas when he slept, although it made him sound like a creep. “I can't,” he chuckled.

“What do you mean?”

“My arm is asleep. I couldn't move it if my life depended on it.”

“Oh,”. Cas looked surprised but sprang into action. “I'll do it.” He spread the cover and went around Dean. Wrapping his arms around Dean's waist, he tied the cover off.

“Thank you,” Dean whispered.

“You're welcome, honey.” Cas' hands lingered on Dean's skin and when they fell away, a stab of disappointment hit Dean.

“Anytime angel.” After a moment of silence, Dean groaned. “Crap, we were supposed to eat tacos yesterday! It was Thursday and all.”

“I don't understand Dean, it was you who insisted we barbecue. And I fail to see how this is so relevant that you jump out of bed.”

“It's not about the tacos, Cas, even though that was a huge mistake. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you when we get back to the Bunker. It's about the house lady!” He pointed towards the window.

Cas looked at Dean and spoke slowly. “We don't have... a cleaning service.”

Dean shook his head, and grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on. “No, no. You remember how we read that the Manananggal could shift? The HOA person! Chiyoh! It's the perfect disguise. If she doesn't suck your energy dry by wanting you to mow the freaking lawn four times a week and grow yellow tulips, then she sucks you dry literally because she's jealous of your awesome love life.”

“That sounds plausible, but we don't exactly have a love life, Dean.”

We could fix that, Dean wanted to say. But he was not that big of an idiot. “We do as we've done in this marriage until now, Cas.” Dean grinned. “We fake it.”

Cas was more efficient than Dean and had already put on causal clothes while Dean was still fiddling with his T-shirt. “I mean, think about it. It all makes sense. She greets all the new-comers, probably does a whole fucking interview while spilling all HOA-rules and there she has time to do her manananggal magic and sniff out the ones that are high on the love-juice.”

“That may be, but how do you propose we get close to her?”

“Oh, I have a plan.” Dean walked over to the wardrobe and dove in. After a few seconds, he pulled out a pair of binoculars. “Ha, look at these babies, Cas. Premium quality, for Wilmart anyway, and most importantly, they have night vision!”

During breakfast, they called Sam.

”Hey, Mr. Krushnic and Mr. Krushnic. How is life?”

Dean swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs and drank a sip of juice, letting the silence drag on.

“Dean?”

Cas raised an eyebrow but Dean shook his head.”

“Dean, can you hear me?”

“Nope, Mr. Krushnic is deaf to bullshit.”

Sam sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright, sorry. Now tell me why you called.”

“Chiyoh, the HOA-lady. Her name come up during the investigation?”

“No, I mean, yeah, since they found a card with her name on it. They talked to her briefly but let her go. There was no physical evidence whatsoever to tie her to the crime scene – the card could've been from an earlier time. And no motive according to the detectives. You thinking she's the manananggal?”

“Yep. I think we should pay her a nightly visit and check if she has a penchant for blood-sucking.”

“Alright, so what's the plan?”

After relaying the plan to Sam, Dean and Cas agreed to meet later in the evening.

“You think the bait will work?” Cas sounded skeptical.

Dean nodded. “Of course, angel. We fake it until we make it.” He smiled but the words tasted bitter on his tongue. He got up.

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere, just need to clean my gun. You can never be too prepared.” Grabbing his plate with some leftover eggs, Dean moved to go to the kitchen.

Cas intercepted him, a hand on his arm holding him back. His blue eyes shone with concern. “Dean, are you alright? You haven't even touched your coffee.”

Dean glanced at the full mug and cleared his throat. “Mm, I'm fine, Cas.” The truth was that he wasn't fine. He was glad they were close to catching the monster, but a substantial part of him dreaded them leaving the house. Sure, Cas was not really his husband, but the stolen glances, and hand-holding – how they had slept close together at night – he was going to miss that.

Cas smiled weakly. “A marriage requires honesty.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Funny, Cas. Fine... I'm just gonna – miss this.”

“Sleep-ins, a hearty breakfast and monster hunting. We do that all the time.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

As the day progressed, Dean got antsier. It was an odd combination of preparing for the night's hunt and losing something that he'd finally gotten a taste of, something that he wanted more of. He wanted not just more, he wanted all of it. If his want was a spine, he was ready to crack it open and suck that marrow out.

They were almost home from an evening walk Cas insisted that they take. Dean had complained but it felt nice and it was yet another excuse to hold Cas' hand. He ignored the voice that added 'one last time' to his every thought.

“Tacos tonight?”

“Sure, Cas.”

“Alright, honey.” Cas smiled proudly and waited. When Dean didn't say anything, Cas poked him in the chest.

“Fine. Alright, angel. Tacos sounds good.”

Cas squeezed Dean's hand. “Can't wait for those bell peppers to be eaten. I've prepared them. I read somewhere that cooking food can be a good way to bring couples together.”

“So can fucking.” What was wrong with him? Did just a few days with Cas playing at being his husband rob him of all common sense?

Cas was silent for a beat, then a small smile played on his place. “So can fucking. I'll start with the tacos.” He turned, hesitated for a brief second and then leaned in close to Dean, giving him a soft peck on the cheek.

Dean was almost starting to think that Cas flirted with him... but on the other hand, he was probably just really into capturing the blood-sucking creep.

The tacos were good, even with the bell peppers, Dean had to give Cas that.

“So I trust I'll see bell peppers on the table from now on when we have taco night?”

Dean wiped his mouth and opened another beer. “Sure, Sam will be ecstatic. What time is it?”

“Soon eight.”

“Since we're not getting any shut-eye tonight, let's watch a movie or... do you have something else in mind?”

Cas seemed thoughtful for a second. “I've been thinking. We should maybe do something that really brings couples together. Just to solidify this... husband bond so that the Manananggal really picks our house tonight.”

Dean's mind flashed to them in bed, legs tangled together, Cas' arm draped over him. “Uh, sure.”

Cas walked over to a cupboard and picked up a Wilmert-bag. He opened it and brought out a square-shaped box.

Looking at the box, Dean huffed out a small laugh. “You want us to play Scrabble?”

“It's a fine game, Dean. Competitive, hones your word-skills and we get the satisfaction of doing something together.”

Dean grabbed a rag and wiped down the kitchen table. “When we agreed to do this whole fake-marriage thing I should have specified what stage of marriage. I had in mind more newlyweds and less old retired couple-vibe. But hey, we are doing something together so that's always something.”

After too many games to count, Dean finally glanced at the clock. “It's way past midnight. Let's go.”

They both left the game standing and walked upstairs to the bedroom.

Cas picked up his phone, his fingers flashing as he typed a message. “There, message to Sam is sent.”

Dean checked his gun and grabbed the tiny bag he'd prepared earlier. “Man, all the sneaking will be ruined by this stupid bag. She will smell us a mile away.”

“It's one of the few things that can hurt it according to lore and if your plan works, she won't be near us anyway.”

“I know but still. It's a ton of garlic.” Dean grabbed the spare covers, pillows, and blankets they had and bulked up their bed. Then he pulled the covers over it. Finally, he put a detached mop head on the pillow.

“What's that supposed to be?”

Dean smacked his tongue. “Hair, Cas. And in the dark, she won't see that it's grayish.”

Cas walked around the bed, surveying Dean's work. “What about my hair?”

“You don't need hair. Your head is under the covers.”

“Really? That's a strange sleeping position.”

“Yeah, you always had weird sleeping habits. Thankfully, Mr. Krushnic loves you anyway.” Dean froze and glanced at Cas.

Cas walked up to Dean slowly. “He does?”

“Yeah...” Dean's voice was hoarse.

“That's good to know.” Cas looked intently at Dean, as if he waited for something more to be spoken. Finally, he spoke, his voice cautious. “Any specific reasons why?”

If silence could thunder, Dean's mind would be a freaking storm. After what seemed to be way too long, Dean found his ability to speak again. “Uh... I mean you're an awesome person, Cas. Strong, loyal – I don't know how many times you've stood by me, even when you shouldn't. You're smart as hell, smarter than Sam and that says a lot – that guy was basically born with a book in his hands. You're... I mean Dean Krushnic would say that you're easy on the eye. From a purely neutral standpoint.”

Cas smiled faintly but there was an odd fire there. “I see.” He reached up and touched Dean's cheek.

Dean was sure he would spontaneously combust, right on the spot. “Yeah,” he managed to rasp out.

“Dean Krushnic seems like a catch. I'm curious about another man though.”

A faint but sudden burst of jealousy coursed through Dean. He tried to relax his face, as not to frown. “Who?”

“What does Dean Winchester think about me? Does his sentiment echo Dean Krushnic's?” Cas dropped his hand but his gaze commanded attention. “Do you... love me, Dean?”

Dean had no idea how this had happened. He tried to recall how they ended up with Cas asking Dean, not the fake Dean, but the real bacon-loving, beer-drinking, song-singing Dean– and came up blank. But he knew by all that he held holy that he did love Cas.

“I – “

Suddenly Cas moved away from Dean and ran to the window.

Dean was confused for a brief moment before realizing what was happening. He grabbed his night-vision binoculars and ran to the opposite side of the window. “Where?”

Cas pointed to a window on the first floor, in the house across the street. “There, by the kitchen.”

A small movement flashed in the room before it was gone. It didn't have to mean anything; a lot of people were up after midnight but Dean was sure that Chiyoh was not like other people. He was sure she was not people at all.

Dean squeezed his googles and let his gaze go to the left. There, behind another car, he saw the Impala. Sam would go in as soon as she left the house. Two huge trees grew nearby and together with the darkness of the night that would provide enough cover.

Cas opened the window slowly. The cool night-air drifted inside. It smelled faintly of the neighbor's roses and with it came the sound of insects and night birds. It was not the normal cacophony of sound though but more subdued as if even nature itself held its breath.

The front door to Chiyoh's house opened and she flew outside. The lower half of her body was gone and dark, leathery wings had sprouted from her back, She flapped them and hovered for a few seconds on the porch, before flying across the street.

Dean shook his head. “Look at her, so confident. She isn't even in a hurry. Didn't lock the door. Well, your day nap will be longer than usual.”

Cas was silent.

“It'll be longer cause she'll... she'll be dead, Cas.”

“I figured that, Dean. If it was a joke, the very act of explaining it defeats its purpose.”

Dean grumbled. “Maybe you should've laughed then. Whatever. Sam would've found it funny.”

They could hear a tiny rattle coming from downstairs and soon the tell-tale sound of a door slowly being opened came to them. It was showtime.

They jumped out of the window and landed with a soft thud on the grass.

Sam was already skulking around the trees, seeking the darkest shadows.

Dean and Cas sprinted across the street and sneaked inside.

“Alright, let's stick to the plan. Me and Cas will take the downstairs, Sam, you take the upstairs. “Time to find some legs.”

“You got some garlic and salt,” Sam wondered.

“Yep, we're good to go. Let's hurry. I don't think the makeshift pillow bodies will work for long.”

Sam arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He quickly ascended the stairs.

Dean was not sure if the salt would work on the Manananggal's own home but he quickly sprinkled salt on all the window sills and the front and back door, just in case. “Gotta tell you, she sure lives dangerously. Why would she go hunting just a few hours before sunrise?”

“Maybe it's complacency. Encounters with hunters being rare? I'll start in the back. There are only so many places were you can hide legs.”

Dean made a face. “Tell me about it.” He opened the restroom and pulled back the shower curtains but found it empty. Next, he rummaged through some closets in the hallway but found nothing. He could feel the seconds ticking away. Any moment now she'd be flying back in a flurry of rage.

“Kitchen is clean,” Cas shouted.

“Son of a bitch, where are you? Sam, anything?!” Dean cried.

Cas was checking the living room and Dean wanted to laugh. It was not like the legs were just chilling on the couch.

Sam came running down the stairs. “Nothing, I didn't find anything.”

“Well, search again!”

The door busted open, pieces of wood flying everywhere and there Chiyoh was. Her wings flapped furiously, but oddly enough it sounded like it came from far away. Blood dripped from her hanging entrails. She tried to cross the threshold and Dean held his breath.

When she shrieked in frustration, Dean exhaled. The salt line held for now but he couldn't count on his luck to last. Experience had taught him it could always get worse.

Chiyoh glared at him and beat her wings, disappearing from sight.

Dean realized she was in the back yard when she beat on the door, her claws scraping against glass.

The legs had to be in the house! Dean went back to the kitchen, his gaze sweeping over the floor and desk spaces, but nothing. Then he saw it. A thin, rectangular outline right on the wall behind the door to a storage room.

He shut the door to the storage room and opened the thin door. Bingo.

The bottom half of Chiyoh sat there, bloody and gory. “Found her!” Dean shouted. Fucking gross, this was worse than witches and the bloody rags of skin the shapeshifters left behind. Dean pulled up his bag, hesitating.

Sam was behind him. “Dean, what are you waiting for? Do it!”

Dean dropped a piece of garlic on the legs but Sam objected.

“You have to smoother the legs, rub it in! Hurry!”

Dean grimaced but grabbed a fistful of garlic and rubbed it all over the legs. He carefully avoided the bloody top parts. When he was done, he sprinkled it with salt for good measure.

Outside the house, an unholy sound escaped the manananggal's throat.

Dean and Sam ran out of the kitchen and into the living room just in time to see the first sunlight touch the world.

Chiyoh turned, her huge, leathery wings beating as she tried to escape but as the sun washed over her, they stopped beating. She screamed and hissed. “No!” It was a last protest, shouted in disbelief – garbled and wrong – nothing a human voice could produce.

She fell down with a thud, unmoving.

“It – I think it worked. She's dead.” Sam exhaled in relief.

“Let's just wait a few more minutes. I want her dead dead.”

Cas came to him. “I think Sam is right, she's dead, Dean. And we need to go. Neighbors are waking up and they'll have questions soon. Questions we can't answer.”

“Alright. Me and Cas gonna' head back to the house and grab our stuff. Sam, you wait in the car. Don't you dare sit in the driver seat.”

They were driving out of Okay seven minutes later, Dean's foot heavy on the gas pedal.

They talked about the hunt, Sam's sleuthing, what they had done during their hours separated. Dean didn't tell Sam anything about the more domestic things he and Cas had done while doing the whole fake marriage but Sam made small jokes here and there. Dean let him have it.

One hour into the drive home, Sam was knocked out. Dean had counted on it. Sure, they were used to little to no sleep but when they were safe and opportunity arose, Sam always took a chance to nap.

Silence reigned for a few minutes until Dean thought it was unbearable. Yet he remained silent.

The thought of knowing was worse. No, that was a lie. He wanted to know but he wanted it to be the right answer, the good kind of answer.

The answer he hoped for.

Dean gritted his teeth. Better live in uncertainty than know the truth and be forever disappointed and heartbroken.

Cas cleared his throat. “You never answered my question.”

Dean's mouth turned drier than the Sahara desert. “There's been a lot of questions during these couple of days, Cas. Yes, I like cheese. Nope, I don't take too long showers. And I guess, fine, bell peppers are OK on tacos.”

Cas' gaze hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes were serious – it was the look of an angel that had been the leader of a garrison, commanding, and present – but Dean also detected a hint of sadness there.

His heart plummeted down into his stomach.

“That wasn't the question I was referring to. I was talking about – “

“I know which question you're talking about Cas...” Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter. Just fucking say it. It's just three goddamn letters. Just say it. Y-E-S. Yankee, echo, sierra. Yes, yes. Yes!

It came out much more quiet from Dean's lips than the bombastic declaration it had been in his mind. “Yes.”

Cas stilled.

Dean could feel it. Like a shift in the air, an aura of something that pushed against him, a heaviness that wrapped around him. Maybe he was having a heart attack.

“D-dean?” Cas sounded uncertain and hopeful.

It wrecked Dean. Not the hopefulness, never that but that Cas felt uncertain and hesitant. And that he was the cause of it. He never wanted Cas to doubt his feelings for him again.

Dean cleared his throat again, his eyes flitting to Cas for a second before he decided that his best option was to have them steady on the road. “Look, Cas... shit's complicated, our lives are complicated. Monster hunts and apocalypses every other week. And if it ain't that, then it's freaking God going all SuperSaiyan on us. Billie is hiding Jack somewhere so he can achieve his Jedi-status and everything just keeps piling up on us.”

Dean licked his lips and dared to look at Cas.

He was looking at Dean intently, waiting for him to be finished.

“And you were gone, after Mary and Jack.. I was a fucking douche for saying those things but I said them. And you came back. You always come back. And now this case, and the whole fake marriage thing, I just – Look I don't wanna marry you, Cas.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “You're... confusing.”

Dean shook his head. “You still have that mixtape, Cas?”

“Of course. I... listen to it regularly. It means a lot to me.”

“I'm not good with words, always been a doer but even that doesn't seem to mean much when all that I try to do turns to dust. But this case, you and me 'playing house' as Sam called it... I saw a glimpse of what I could have. With you. And I'm tired, Cas. So fucking tired. So yeah.” He paused. “I love you. Have for a long time.”

He felt Cas' eyes on him like a fire, burning heat enveloping him. He was afraid to turn and look at Cas, afraid that he'd misread the whole situation, that everything had just been an act to catch Chiyoh. He was so fucking tired of being afraid but here he was nonetheless, fucking drowning in the emotion.

Dean grabbed the steering wheel tighter, bracing for rejection.

“Dean.”

A gentle touch on his arm brought him back from his dark musings. “Dean?”

Finally, Dean dared to look at Cas.

Cas was glowing. It had nothing to do with his grace or with him being an angel. The sun played no part in it, even though the rays that danced across his face as they continued their drove home painted a gorgeous picture.

No, Cas' eyes shone. The soft lines around the corner of his eyes deepened as a breathtaking smile overtook him. “I love you too, Dean.”

“You do...?” Dean had a hard time processing what had just happened, so he nodded sheepishly and looked back at the road. “That's... wow... You love me.” Dean blinked but nonetheless tears formed, threatening to spill over. “You love me.”

“Are you alright, Dean? Baby is all over the place.”

Dean blinked again; a tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. “Baby is exactly where I want her to be.” He looked at Cas again. He looked the same but something was different. He seemed at peace. What a cliche sentiment that was but it didn't make it any less true.

Holy shit. Cas loved him back. Was it possible to pass out and be conscious at the same time?

“Dean?”

Dean grabbed Cas' hand, his heart hammering in his chest the whole time. He imagined Cas' flinching, yanking his hand away, laughing and declaring it all to be some huge, awful, joke.

Normally, Dean was totally against driving Baby with only one hand. She was a beauty and deserved a two-hand grip on the steering wheel but these were hardly normal times.

“I'm good, Cas. I'm good.”

Cas' voice was deep, dark, and content. “Good. That's all I ever wanted for you. To be good. Happy.” He squeezed Dean's hand once.

Dean exhaled and couldn't stop his smile from breaking out. “I'm happy, Cas. No question about it.”

“When are we gonna tell Sam and Jack?”

Dean barely heard the question, still marveling at the sensation of Cas' heavy hand in his. “Um, soon. In the Bunker. You and me are gonna have some alone time first.” His cheeks turned red. Christ, he was giddy as a teenager again.

The landscape flew past them – occasional trees, neighborhoods, other cars. Even a Prius. It was all very mundane, just another drive home from a successful hunt. It was all the same, yet suddenly it struck Dean, the beauty of it all. Chuck was a fucking douche that needed to be stopped, monsters lurked and there was evil in the world.

But the world had two badass hunters, one kickass, angel and one juiced-up Nephilim kid. The world would be fine

Everything would be fine.

“Alone time?”

“Yeah, alone time. Just you and me, no prying eyes. You know how many times I've dreamt of kissing you? A kazillion times, Cas.”

Cas nodded, that content glow still present. “A kazillion is a significantly high number.”

“Yeah.”

“To the Bunker, then.”

Dean shook his head in amazement. “To the Bunker, Cas.” https://archiveofourown.org/works/24487438

[imladris-soldier]

Lashes (pt 17)

Bill Williamson is a racist asshole. Everyone knows it. They just punch him and go on about their day. When a Lakota woman joins the gang, everyone expects things to go on as normal, slurs and all, and for a time, it does. But her curiosity gets the better of her, and she finds that hatred is something learned - which means it can be unlearned, if given time, care, and patience. And she has plenty of those… the first two, anyway.

Bill Williamson x OC

One day passed, and then another without Kieran showing back up in camp. Star didn't like it one bit. Any trail he might have left was long gone by that point, and without knowing which direction he'd left in, there was no use going out and trying to find one. Bill watched Star fidget and pace, but he never said a word. They would have fallen on deaf ears anyway.

It was ultimate Sadie who took Star by the shoulders late one afternoon and sat her down. “Now, you frettin' all over this camp ain't gonna bring that boy back any sooner. He's grown. He'll come back when he's good and ready. Now you just settle yourself down.”

The stern, motherly talking to was enough to force Star to calm down a bit. Sadie was right, of course. There was nothing she could do, and it was a waste of energy to think otherwise. To distract herself, she went and found Javier to ask about the riverboat job.

The man laughed and pat the log next to him. “It is quite a tale, amiga. Let me see if I can get Arthur to say señor the way he did that night.”

The cowboy refused, blushing and waving off a giggling Javier as he walked away to speak with Dutch. Star watched him go, grinning. “So, what? Then you all just leaped from the boat into the water? Strauss too?”

“That is exactly what we did. We had what we came for, and any other method of escape was either too slow or too obvious, and they were already onto us.”

“Jesus. When Arthur said it was a hair-brained idea, I didn't realize he wasn't exaggerating.”

“With Josiah Trelawney, there is never too much exaggerating.” He laughed quietly to himself, then changed the subject. “Ey, tell me something. You and Bill. This is a... permanent arrangement?”

“I... well, I don't know about permanent, but I don't foresee an end currently. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “I've just been thinking. When I first met the man, he curled up his nose at me. Called me greaser and other names – mostly whatever poorly formed insult he could come up with at the time. He doesn't do this anymore. Not to me or Charles or Lenny or Tilly. I admit wondering what it is you did to him. He treated you just as badly when you arrived, and yet...”

“I know.” Star sighed and looked at the ground. “He treated others badly to feel better about himself. You see how people treat him. He might act big and tough, but it hurts him to be so demeaned, and he took out that hurt on those around him – those he had been taught were less than. I simply told him that what he was taught is wrong, and that he is worthy of love in his own right. It took time, but... once he realized I was not trying to fool him, he really listened. Deep down, he wants to please and be accepted.”

Javier nodded a bit. “I noticed once that the worst of his words came when he was drunk. I thought that interesting.”

“Hm. True. I believe the alcohol was a double-edged sword. It helped him escape that which he did not wish to face, but it also heightened his vulnerabilities. I don't know what demons whispered in his head, but they were very unkind. To drown them out, he yelled unkind things at others instead. Perhaps he meant them at the time, I don't know. But... the demons seem quieter now, and he does not lash out so much. When he does, it is at those who deserve it. Does this make sense?”

“It does to me.” Javier smiled. “You read the man like a book, then ripped out the pages and made him start writing it all over again.”

“That is an interesting metaphor. But I suppose you're right. He...”

“Dios mio!”

Javier cut across her, staring over her shoulder in abject horror. A scream ripped through the air of the camp, followed by chilling words. “It's Kieran!”

Star stood and spun, unable for a moment to reconcile reality with what she was looking at. Kieran's headless body sat atop a horse that wasn't his, and his missing head rested in his hands. His eyes had been gouged out and left open so that deep, bloody caverns stared back at her. The raw stump atop his shoulders still oozed slightly which meant that the wound was recent. It couldn't have been more than an hour since his head had been removed. Which meant that he couldn't have been far. If they'd been paying attention, maybe they could have heard him scream.

“Everybody take cover!” Dutch roared from the balcony of the house as gunshots started ringing. “O'Driscoll boys comin' in!”

Star didn't hear him. She just kept standing there, staring. Even after the horse had reared and run, leaving Kieran's body in a heap on the ground, she couldn't tear her eyes from the spot. “Get down, Star!” Javier shouted, grabbing her by the shirt and dragging her behind one of the defenses that the Raiders had left behind.

It took Star a long moment to get her bearings and realize that they were under attack. O'Driscolls. Dutch had said O'Driscolls. Like Kieran used to be. They took him. They tortured him. They killed him.

The war cry that tore from her throat as she drew her hatchet and leaped over the battlements hearkened back to a day long past. She channeled a rage in that moment that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. This is how she fought for her family.

Between her hatchet and her pistol, several men fell, but that did not make her impervious to bullets. One cut through her upper arm, but between the adrenaline and the anger, she barely felt it. Swift feet carried her from man to man. She was vaguely aware of her fellows yelling at her to get inside the house, but there weren't any O'Driscolls in the house.

Finally, Charles' large hand closed around her arm and pulled her away as she roared and fired off shots into the trees. As they neared the house, however, a scream came from out back, and Arthur called, “That's Sadie! I gotta go help her. Cover me!”

It was enough of a distraction to slacken Charles' grip, and Star broke free, barreling around the house and diving on the first man she saw. By the time her hatchet stopped falling, his head was removed from his body, and she was on to the next.

The last man she tackled to the ground before the O'Driscolls retreated felt her knife at his throat as she hoarsely whispered in his ear, “Lé mitháwa thiwáhe. This is my family. See how the Lakota protect and avenge their family.”

Her well-maintained knife bit into his skin and sliced like butter while he gurgled and jerked in her grip. In his last moments, that knife moved to his hairline and ripped backwards, removing a long strip of dark hair. She gripped it in her hand, and shouted her victory at the backs of the retreating men.

“Cowards!” Dutch yelled.

Hosea came out of the house, followed slowly by others. “We ok?”

“I think so. Except for Kieran here. Poor kid. Mr. Swanson, will you take this boy and bury him? Someplace near, but... not too near.”

“Of course,” the reverend replied. “Charles, help me with the body.”

“We need to get this place cleaned up,” Hosea called. Mr. Pearson! Ms. Grimshaw!”

“Already taking care of it!” the woman called back.

Star stood on the edge of the property, still clutching the scalp of the man her feet. She was covered in blood again, but this time it did not call up bad memories. At least... not for her.

When she turned around to come back, she saw Bill standing by the gazebo, staring at her. His eyes had glassed over slightly, and he didn't seem entirely able to move. Given the position of his body, he seemed to have been stuck that way for some time. His gun was still pointed at the trees.

“Williamson, move your ass and help!” Hosea snapped.

Star immediately snarled, “Leave him alone!” Her instinct was to run to him and usher him away, but she knew that she was the cause of his current state. To do so would be to invite disaster. “He... he needs... take him somewhere quiet. Away from... away from me. Someone.”

Arthur was the only one to react, going to Bill's side and gently taking his rifle from him. “Come on, big man. Let's go cool off.”

Bill relinquished the gun almost as if he had no control over his limbs. He followed Arthur's hand on his shoulder without question, eyes just staring out in front of him. Star couldn't imagine what horrors were replaying in his mind, and every part of her felt remorse for having triggered them. Still, she could not take back her actions and would not anyway. The O'Driscolls hopefully learned a lesson about messing with the Van Der Linde Gang that day.

Though she knew it was tradition to keep the scalps of enemies, Star let it fall into the grass. Keeping it would only serve to cause Bill more problems, and she had made her point. Instead, she made her way to the water to wash her face and hands. After helping Reverend Swanson, Charles fell into step with her.

“You ok?”

“I'm fine. Well... I'm not fine. But if you're asking me if I'm going to have a breakdown like I did at Clemens Point, the answer is no.”

“I see.”

They walked in silence to the water, then knelt and washes themselves as clean as they could get without properly bathing. Star sighed and leaned on the backs of her legs. “Will you go check on Bill please? My actions have caused great distress. I didn't even think about it. I just... reacted.”

“Sure.” Charles stood, but paused. “He'll be alright. You'll work through it.”

“I know. But it's best if I keep my distance for a while. Just tell him... tell him I'm sorry.”

“I will.”

With that, Charles left her. She knelt by the water a while longer, then noticed an alligator on the opposite bank, watching her. “Fuck off, you beast,” she murmured, splashing water at it and getting up to leave.

Knowing well that her presence in camp might just be a source of trouble that the gang did not need, Star gathered up her things, mounted Rhiannon, and rode out. She wasn't really sure where she was going, but space was needed, so space she would give.

As she rode, she realized that she and Arthur were meant to be meeting with Eagle Flies in a few days anyway, so she made the decision to head up to the Heartlands and wait for them both at Citadel Rock. It would give her time to be alone and think.

The ride north went without issue. She traveled through the night and arrived at her destination not too long after sunrise. Once she set up a small camp, she finally took a moment to simply collapse on the ground. The tension she'd been subconsciously holding in her body had locked up every muscle, and when she finally gave them leave to relax, they ached.

That tension had also been holding in her grief, so a quiet sob accompanied her exhale. She didn't implode quite as much as she had over Sean, but the pain of knowing that Kieran had been in trouble the whole time and no one had helped him was overwhelming. She kept imagining his frightened, bruised face as they tried to beat the location of camp out of him. Perhaps he'd broken and told them, or perhaps they had already known and just wanted to see if they could break him. Either way, she gave no blame to him.

Once she had run through all the scenarios of Kieran's murder, her mind turned to Bill and his vacant expression after the fight. She'd seen him go white at her actions before, but he'd never just... disappeared from his body like that. She couldn't blame him. Just knowing the story about the night his previous lover had been killed was enough to know some of the things he had seen. Every action she had taken would have been a reminder he did not need. She cried for him too, knowing how much she had inadvertently hurt him.

The tears led to exhaustion, and she ended up sleeping the afternoon away. Her growling stomach woke her after nightfall. She settled for some salted beef, deciding to hunt the next day and instead enjoy the stars while she patched up her wounded arm. The sky was clear and cool, and she caught sight of many falling stars that streaked over the canvas above her. In her heart, she wished Bill was with her.

On the appointed meeting day, as luck would have it, Arthur showed up first. He gave a wave as he dismounted and led his horse to Star's camp. “Thought I might find you here.”

“Sorry I didn't tell you.”

“It's alright. I knew why you didn't.”

“How is he?”

“Better. Worried about you.”

“Me?” she snorted. “Of the two of us, I came out mostly unscathed.”

“Yeah, but... well, he knows you probably feel bad and all. Kept sayin' he didn't mean to space out like that. Couldn't help it none.”

“I know. But it's something to think about, isn't it? If I can cause something so terrible in him... maybe...” Her throat constricted, making the next few words very hard to say. “Maybe I shouldn't be with him.”

“That's shit, and you know it. You two been through a lot'a pain and memories together, and you always come out the other side. Just talk to him. That's all I'm sayin'. Before you make any decisions, just talk to him.”

“Reasonable enough request.” She sighed and stood, turning her gaze to the oil fields on the plain below. “Won't be easy getting in there. Or getting out.”

“Ain't nothin' been easy in a long time,” Arthur chuckled.

“True.”

Before long, Eagle Flies rode up the path to them. “You came!” he called.

“Said I would, didn't I?” Arthur replied with a wave.

The Wapiti man hopped down from his horse and came to stand with them on the ledge. “Now, Star, is there another game you're playing, pretending to be something you are not, or can you properly introduce me to your friend?”

Star laughed and nudged Arthur. “I told you he knew. We're not very good at subterfuge.”

“Never claimed to be,” he answered with a smile.

“Arthur is one of the members of the gang I fell in with. We were not expecting to see each other that day on High Street, so we panicked and pretended we didn't know each other. In any case, he's a good man, and I trust him.”

“I see.” Eagle Flies nodded. “Well, if you trust this man, then so shall I. I've been doing some scouting in the last few days. There is a foreman named Danbury. He keeps the files we need locked up in his office, above the refinery room.” Arthur pulled out his binoculars, and Eagle Flies pointed. “There. It's the window with the shade pulled up.”

“I see it.”

“If the files are as incriminating as we believe, Mr. Conwall's men will destroy them if they know you're coming.”

Arthur nodded. “Well, there's only one of me, son. I don't intend for them to know I'm comin'. What will the files say?”

“They will be a report from the Leland Oil Development Company.”

“You got the money your daddy promised me?”

Eagle Flies sighed, giving a sidelong glance at Star. “Yes.”

“Any ideas how I sneak into this place?”

“You could crawl under the fence, or hide in one of those wagons that keep rolling in.”

With a nod and a deep breath, Arthur put away his binoculars. “I'll go take a look.”

“If there is problem, call for us.”

“I thought the whole point was that this had nothin' to do with you!” he called over his shoulder as he made his way down the hill.

“Ideally.”

Star crouched with Eagle Flies on the ledge, watching as Arthur crept onto a wagon that eventually rolled through the gates to the refinery and out of sight. Anxiety left Star tense and breathing shallowly which Eagle Flies noticed.

“You say you trust this man, but you seem very worried.”

“It's not lack of confidence in him that causes me distress. Just his safety. We were recently attacked by a rival gang. They captured and killed one of our own. My heart still aches from the loss. I could not bear another.”

“Ah.” He paused a moment before looking back at her. “You speak highly of this gang. They... treat you well?”

“They do. Very well. I have not been treated so well by white people anywhere else.”

“What about the man at the party? The one who hit you?”

Star smiled softly. “He... is a complicated man, but he now treats me best of all. It took time and effort. But it's true.”

The man at her side squinted slightly in suspicion. “You and this man have found love, haven't you?”

“Yes. We have.”

“Fascinating.”

“You don't know the half of it,” she chuckled.

Gunshots echoed across the plain, coming from the refinery. Star nearly fell off the ledge in her haste to stand. “We have to help him!”

Eagle Flies stood as well, casting his gaze wider. “Look there. The oil pump. Let's blow it. Should be a proper distraction to give your friend time to escape.”

They mounted up and flew down the hill, taking a roundabout way to the pump that was on the other side of the field. Star whistled for Arthur's horse, and he came running along behind her, eyes wide.

The two natives sped in, and Eagle Flies sent a flaming arrow into the tower which immediately caught on the oil and spread until the pressure was too much and the pump exploded. The workers were thrown into chaos. Star rode into the mess, using her bow as well to make less noise and thus be less of a target.

When Arthur came running out of the darkness in her direction, she sighed in relief. “Did you get the files?”

“Yeah!” he called, leaping onto his horse. “But we need to get the hell outta here!”

“Follow me!” Eagle Flies yelled over the din.

The two raced to join him, fending off the few men that managed to try and fight back as they fled. They thundered across the plain, away from the refinery and into the growing darkness of the night.

“That explosion came just in time!” Arthur called.

Eagle Flies smiled. “I was happy to watch some of that oil burn. Did you meet Mr. Danbury?”

“Yes, don't worry. He was very obliging.”

They pulled to a stop to rest, and Arthur climbed off his horse. “I thought you two wasn't gonna get involved.”

“I thought you were going to enter and leave silently,” Eagle Flies retorted with a smirk.

Arthur grinned and held out the papers. “Well, thank you. You saved my life.”

Eagle Flies looked over the paperwork. “Thank you. I hope... well... I don't know what I hope. Maybe these will be of some use to us. Here's your money.” Arthur took it with a grateful nod. “Star, if you have need of us, my father and I will be returning to our village soon. Do you remember where it is?”

“Donner Falls?”

“Yes. If we would like to find you... how would we do so?”

Star glanced at Arthur, then replied, “We move around a lot. Send a letter to Tacitus Kilgore – to any post office. It may not be timely, but it is the best way.”

“Understood. Strange. But understood. Be careful out there.”

“And you as well. Goodbye.”

With that, Eagle Flies waved and rode off.

Star turned to Arthur, joining him on the ground. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Agreeing to help them. Even if you did get paid. Many wouldn't help a native, money or no money.”

“Don't matter to me what color someone is. You know that.”

“I do,” she agreed with a smile. “But it's nice to see it in practice.”

He smiled too. “Come on. Let's get back to camp. I'll catch you up on the trolley incident.”

“Oh dear god.”

[chille-tid-universe]

Welcome to Daggerford

As the party continued down the dusty road, a light breeze drifted through the air. They had come across an increasing number of travelers, from obvious adventurers to merchants to small regiments of guards, and thus they knew they were reaching the next stop in their trek: Daggerford.

As the sun started to fall, the four spied the rising walls of the city. It was larger than any settlement they had seen since Orlane, but the walls showed signs of neglect, and wary guardsmen and women stood stationed atop the parapets, bows strung and with arrows in easy reach. There was a short queue of travelers ahead of the group, each person answering to a gatekeeper before being admitted. Brienne took all this in, eyes sweeping from crumbling stone to fidgety archers to stern gatekeeper, taking in the terse atmosphere around their fellow travelers. Wun Way softly teased a few notes from her pan flute, while Poc stood as far from Nissa as he could.

The gnomes had been frosty since the incident a few days past which had ended with Nissa’s crossbows pointed directly at Poc. The poor cleric had made sure to keep Brienne and Wun Way between himself and Nissa since then, but he still flinched whenever Nissa glanced his way. For her part, Nissa seemed to have moved past the whole ordeal, but during his night watch Poc could have sworn that he caught her eyes staring at him as he paced their campfire. He told himself that he was being silly, that being a member of the group meant they both had buried the hatchet, but she was a Svirfneblin, after all…

Poc was brought back from his musings as the merchant ahead of them was waved through the wooden gates. The gatekeeper raised his free hand as they approached, a tall halberd in his other. “What is your business?” he asked in a gruff tone, only the barest hint of inflection indicating a question. Wun Way stepped forward and flashed a smile to the guard, stating that they were a group of travelers passing through. The guard eyed her, but seemed otherwise unimpressed. When he pressed for how long they intended to stay in Daggerford, Wun Way smiled again and assured him they would be no more than a week. He grunted and raised his hand again, signalling for them to enter.

Before they did, Brienne asked if there was an inn or tavern the gatekeeper might recommend. He gave an almost mechanical answer, as if he had anticipated the question. “River Shining Tavern’s the oldest you’ll find in the city, and better run than most others. They’ll have room for ya.” Brienne thanked him, then lead the party into the city.

As they passed under the wall, Poc noticed that its ramshackle state extended to the buildings it hid. The city was busy, but not particularly well kept, with rotted timber and crumbling arches, especially out in the extremities of the city. As they continued on, however, Castle Daggerford rose before them, and Poc instantly recognized the solid craftsmanship of dwarves in its regal buttresses, in the sure blocks of stone that seemed to proudly stand above these lesser constructions as if to attest to its makers’ long-lasting accomplishment. Poc made a mental note to seek some information as to the construction of the castle.

As they continued down crowded roads, Nissa shook her head. “Last time you were recommended an inn, we almost ended up snake food.”

Brienne glanced at the cityfolk passing by, at the bustle of street vendors and hagglers. “Orlane is a long way off, and these folk seem much more… human.” Nissa shrugged, eyes darting from face to face, and Brienne sighed. “If you can find another suitable location, we can stay there, instead.”

Nissa only nodded, then shot off from the group. Brienne and Wun Way pushed through the throng of people, with Poc hanging from their cloaks, to find Nissa conversing with a halfling by the side of the road. As the group finally made their way to Nissa, the halfling walked away, and a gnomish grin spread on Nissa’s face. “I found a new place to stay!” she exclaimed. “The Happy Cow Inn!”

Brienne frowned. “And you trust this new place over the River Shining Tavern because..?” Nissa jerked a thumb at the receding halfling.

“He’s the size a normal person should be. More trustworthy.” Poc had the grace to look embarrassed for Nissa as Wun Way giggled. Brienne just shrugged and gestured for the svirfneblin to lead the way.

As they made their way in an arc around the central Castle Daggerford, they wound their way through many streets. Some were in better repair than others, and in one out-of-the-way alley, a shabbily cloaked beggar stumbled into their path. “Spare a coin?” the pitiful voice rasped. Though the other three made to skirt around the beggar, Brienne paused. She glanced around the alley, aware of potential threats, before reaching into the bag of holding and pulling out a couple of coppers. She placed them in the scabrous, outstretched hands, and was rewarded with a brilliant, toothy smile. Brienne smiled back, and caught up with the group. A few minutes later, however, there were two more beggars almost waiting for them around a turn. The other three rolled their eyes and stepped around the ragged forms while Brienne counted out the last few coppers, splitting them between the beggars. As Nissa sneered back at the generosity, Brienne simply shrugged.

Minutes later, the gang ended up before a spacious inn. As they stepped inside, however, Brienne rolled her eyes. “A halfling inn?” she asked Nissa incredulously.

Nissa couldn’t, or wouldn’t, hear Brienne’s tone, however. She nodded excitedly, gesturing at all the “normal sized” fixings of the inn. There was also an area of the room with larger tables, hosting a handful of humans and elves, and one strange figure playing, but the majority of the inn was miniature tables and a crowd of halflings.

Wun Way looked around doubtingly, but Nissa practically hopped to the bar and motioned to the halfling barkeep, a stout halfling woman who introduced herself as Nendy. Her first reaction to Nissa’s ashen features was slight surprise, as if she hadn’t been expecting Nissa, but that soon gave way to an easy joviality that seemed prevalent in the room. Nendy described prices that seemed fair and even offered a “tall folk” room for the two “giants.” While Brienne settled the tab, however, Wun Way had eyes only for the strange being playing in the corner of the “tall folk” section.

She was a brilliantly beautiful asimar, as Wun Way recognized her from tales of her father. With a voice like flowing honey, the woman’s song filled the room, a subtle undertone to the boisterous conversations. Like a moth to flame, Wun Way drifted over to the stage and sat enthralled.

Through her song, the asimar identified herself as Melpomene, an enchanting musician whom Wun Way took a shining to immediately. As Wun Way listened, Poc and Nissa were pulled into the boisterous crowd of halflings. Brienne called for Nendy and inquired about the happenings in the surrounding area. The halfling woman simply shrugged and said that things had been pretty normal around the city recently, other than a few bands of orcs and their “helpers” in the surrounding area. When Brienne pushed, Nendy suggested reaching out to the militia to see how they were faring. Satisfied, Brienne thanked her and settled in to enjoy the music.

The night wore on, and before too long the halflings had tired themselves out. As one, they seemed to decide the day had held enough excitement, and there was an exodus, both to the doors of the inn and to the stairs for those staying the night. Warm farewells were bandied across the room, and in a manner of minutes, the group of four was alone in the inn, apart from Nendy and the exotic Melpomene.

Nendy continued tending to the countless mugs that littered the bar while the party regrouped, and Wun Way began to approach the asimar. As she passed by a table, however, the light from its single candle flickered, then burst into a large flame that rose a foot off the table. With a start, hands went to weapons, and more flames erupted on the other tables. As maniacal cackling began to echo in the room, Nendy threw her hands into the air and retreated with a scream to the side door in the room. Nissa attempted to follow her, but seemed to collide with something in the open door frame. Wide-eyed, she backed into the room, and began brandishing her crossbows in various directions at the air.

Frowning, Brienne quickly reached into the bag of holding to remove the lantern of revealing. “Ready yourselves!” she cried, as she fiddled with the wick, borrowing from a jug of lantern oil behind the bar. As the lantern’s seemingly redundant flame sputtered into life, the winged forms of imps flickered into view, their invisibility dispeled. As the imps realized they could see their comrades, the cackling became shrieks of annoyance, and they swarmed the remaining patrons of the inn.

Wun Way raised her rapier, but the imps were too quick. With a series of opportune strikes, they felled the half-elf, gleeful jabbering filling the air as their tails pierced her. In a heap, she fell to the floor. Brienne, seeing this, cried out and struck at the swarming imps around her, the fell battleaxe cutting easily through a pair of imps in a single blow, the backswing taking another two. The remaining imp near her cackled, but it glanced warily at the fallen bodies on the floor.

Nissa ducked beneath the stinging tails and fired at the cretins, reaching her blade up to strike at the winged menaces while Melponene revealed a blade from the folds of her cloak and struck out with a beautiful war-cry. Poc, seeing Wun Way fall, darted between the flitting enemies and reached for her fallen form, chanting to his god as life flowed from his fingers into her unconscious body. With a gasp, Wun Way sat up, sheepishly grinning thanks at the gnome.

With Wun Way revived, the party was reinvigorated, and in short order they had regrouped and cut down most of the imps. As they fought, however, the devilish fires spread, and soon tables and chairs joined the conflagration. In less than a minute, the last three imps glanced about the room and flew up to a high window, smashing it. “Oh no you don’t,” Wun Way grunted, then prestidigitated the appearance of the unbroken window back into its frame. This flabbergasted the imps for another second, in which time Brienne’s thrown axe cleaved one of them in two, but when an imp attempted to break the window again, it comically fell through the illusion, sending it drifting like a cloud. With a shriek, the last imp fled after its fellow.

The imps gone, the party’s attention turned to the room. The fire was spreading, and smoke was beginning to gather at the ceiling. Melpomene shouted over the roar, “There’s a barrel of water in the back room, where Nendy ran!”

Brienne nodded and pointed to the door. “Go bring it in here! We need to get everyone out!” At this point, confused patrons from the sleeping quarters had begun peering down the stairs. Wun Way motioned for Nissa and Poc to stand back, then shattered the wall near the burning entrance, leaving a gaping hole to the chilled outside air. With a gesture from Brienne, the halflings began picking their way through the burning tables to the outside, but not before Nissa could dash through the rubble. Brienne darted up the stairs around the halflings and began banging on doors, making sure each room was vacated.

Poc and Wun Way began using the heavy curtains to beat out the flames as Brienne ran back down the stairs. Noticing that Melpomene still had not returned, she darted into the back room. There, she found Nendy curled up in a corner, rocking herself back and forth, while the asimar struggled with a large barrel of water. “Let me help,” Brienne offered, gripping the wide barrel and hefting it over her shoulder. As the two carried it back to the burning room, Wun Way motioned for them to lay the barrel on a table near the middle of the room. With concentration, the half-elf centered another shatter spell in the middle of the barrel, sending bits of wood and gouts of water spreading across half the room.

By this time, a bucket brigade had formed outside the inn, passing buckets of water into the room. Poc placed a protection spell on himself and went to the front of the line, taking the buckets and tossing their contents over the remaining flames before passing them back. The flames were beginning to recede, though it didn’t seem like it would be fast enough, until a lone figure walked out of the night’s darkness, in cowled robe and holding a tattered scroll. He spoke a powerful word and unfurled the scroll, and a sphere of floating water materialized within the room. He gestured and uttered another word, and the water spread, coating the room in a manner of moments. After that, only a few smoldering spots remained, which were contained easily by the volunteers. As the old man turned and walked away without another word, Brienne asked one of the halflings about him. He explained it had been Ol’ Man Ondanbarl, the Wizard of Daggerford.

After the party had found Nissa again, they stood and stared at the scorched inn. “Guess we’ll be going to the River Shining Tavern, after all,” Poc commented, drawing a sharp glance from Nissa. Wun Way glanced over at Melpomene, instrument slung over her shoulder, staring furtively at the blackened husk of an inn. The half-elf walked up and cleared her throat, drawing the asimar’s attention.

“You know… If you’re looking for a new place to stay, we were going to head to the River Shining Tavern. In case you wanted to join us.” The asimar grinned slyly, remembering her last interaction with the Tavern’s owner.

“I suppose I’ll be needing a new hall to play in,” she mused, voice like crystal in the night air. She nodded at the other bard and followed her back to the party. As she approached, Brienne nodded a greeting.

“You fought well, and I appreciate your help with the flames,” the human said. “We’d be honored to travel to the Tavern with you.”

There were thankfully no more burning buildings as the augmented party made their way around the city to the River Shining Tavern, and although the hour was late the innkeeper had been roused by the commotion nearby. They were welcomed to their rooms and tiredly set up watch, the long night catching up to them. As most of the party sunk into sleep, mad cackling could be heard over the rooftops, far across the city.