#yeah I'm calling it Portland It's close a damn enough

[etakeh]

I mean make up your mind.

Do you want us to have a happy 4th of July, or do you want us to not damage police cars?

{Not feeling bad about the "slightly injured" part, considering what they consider major injuries when it comes to cops}

{also loving how when someone throws a firework at a police car, it's a felony, but if when it is thrown at another civilian It's no big deal}

{Please don't burn down anyone's house or start a forest fire though please. Please. Please.}

[apollabarnes]

fluffebruary alternate prompt 9: spa day

in my defence, no one said that they both needed to be at the spa! this is definitely fluffy for the au, but not as tooth-achingly sweet as some of the other ones. i do like giving these two a little sass, what can i say? more tracker au here

@bucktommyfluffebruary

Buck stretched out on the massage table, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He loved getting out to Portland. "So, how have you been?" "Shh, you'll crack the face mask," Charlotte hissed, poking his bicep with a sharp nail. "Thumbs up, thumbs down only. You talk too much and you always end up losing part of it." "Bossy," Buck told her, biting back a smile as she glared at him again. He pretended to zip his lips and throw away the invisible key, giving her a thumbs up when she laughed. "Now, how do you feel about polish?" Charlotte asked, holding two bottles up. Buck waggled his hand indecisively and she shrugged, putting them aside. "We'll revisit that after the massage."

Buck gave her a thumbs up as Charlotte stepped up to his head, smoothing her hands over his shoulders. "I can already feel the knots," she told him. "Front and back. Have you considered trying to relax in your daily life?"

Buck opened his mouth, quickly closing it when she arched an eyebrow. He wasn't sure what else she expected when she asked him a question, but to each their own. Charlotte kept up a steady stream of chatter as she dug out each knot and cramp, telling Buck about the biography she was working her way through.

His phone went off just as she was asking him to flip over, with the ringtone that he'd reserved for Maddie. "Shit, shit, sorry, it's my sister," Buck apologized, lunging for the phone before it could connect to his voicemail. "She doesn't — hey, Maddie, what's up? I — this better be important, I'm actually in the middle of — yeah. Of course. No, I'm glad you called, I just wish it had been half an hour either way… yep. I'll be there as soon as I can. Tell him not to say anything. I know he knows, but—"

Buck stared at the phone as Maddie hung up on him. "Rude," he muttered to himself. "Charlotte, I'm so sorry, I need to cut this… short," he finished, taking the robe Charlotte was already holding out to him.

"Let me guess, it's all the stress you carry in your shoulders," she said wryly.

"This is why they pay you the big bucks," Buck told her, just as wry. "Any chance if I make it back here before close you can fit me in."

"Give me a call first, I'll see what I can do."

That was a no. Buck sighed, heading for the changing room.

"Really? You were…" Buck checked the papers he'd been given at the front desk. "overcome with grief about the loss of your friend, so you broke into his house."

"Close enough," Tommy agreed, resting his arms on the cell bars. "They missed a few details in the report."

"All of which I'm sure you'll tell me once we're on our way. The judge agreed to let you out without bail until the case gets sorted and they decide whether or not they still want to charge you." Buck gestured to the cell door, looking over at the officer standing guard. "I'd like to retrieve my client," he said, hoping Tommy could hear the heavily implied 'who's a pain in my ass' in his voice.

"Sure thing, Mr. Buckley. Sarge wanted me to remind you the deal with the judge is null and void if he tries to leave town in the meantime."

"Oh trust me, he will not be leaving town," Buck reassured both of them. "I'll be watching him the whole time."

Tommy stayed quiet until they were out in the parking lot, looking over at Buck. "You've got a little something…" he gestured to Buck's right temple.

Buck reached up, his hand coming away with a faint green smudge. "Damn it," he cursed, shaking his head. "That was there during court?" He hoped it hadn't been that visible from the bench.

"And what exactly were you up to while I was cooling my heels?" Tommy asked, amused.

"I was trying to relax," Buck said, getting into the driver's seat of his rental car. "An exercise that is now right out of the realm of possibility, thanks to the fact that you were, and I quote, cooling your heels."

"You didn't have to come. I would have gotten out tomorrow," Tommy slid into the passenger seat, doing his best to look repentant. Whether it was about ruining Buck's day or getting caught, Buck wasn't sure.

"And can your case wait until tomorrow?" Buck raised an eyebrow. "That's what I thought. You know, having a lawyer on retainer means that you can just give my card to the arresting officer and they have to call me."

"You were— relaxing," Tommy gestured broadly around the car. "I told Maddie to call someone else."

"As if I would let someone else deal with you," Buck sniffed. "You owe me. So much."

"I'll make it up to you."

Buck shot him a glance, but Tommy was looking out the window. "How?"

"I've got a few ideas," Tommy did look at him this time, the corner of his mouth curling up in a slow, sure smile.

Buck inhaled slowly.

"For starters? A six pack and face masks in your hotel room. Since you're keeping an eye on me for the judge."

Son of a bitch.

[mycasandstarrs]

SPN 8x21: “The Great Escapist”

THEN: Cas takes the angel tablet and runs. Naomi. The three trials to close the Gates of Hell. After each completed trial, Sam seems to be doing worse. Kevin’s convinced Crowley knows where he is. Now he’s in the wind.

Back at Fizzles Folly??

Ahh, ok, HERE are demon Sam and Dean.

“You forgot the knock. What's the point of a secret knock if you don't use it?” And that’s when Kevin knew...but he played along.

Why that face thoo.

“We got a tip that Crowley was moving his earth-side operations, so we, uh, laid ourselves an awesome trap.”

“So, uh, Special K, you keep your nose to the God-stone, we're gonna drive out and make a lotta noise a long way from here, keep the safeboat safe for you.”

Yeah, this is definitely not Sam and Dean.

“You. Fake Sam. If you're gonna tip our hand, I'll have to scrub Kevin's short-term memory again. And that's risky, so watch the patois in there.”

“Patois?”

“Your slang. Special K, nose to the God-stone, that's the way Dean speaks. Sam is... more basic, more sincere.”

Crowley has a good read on Sam and Dean tho.

“Alright, here we go. John Winchester's famous cure-all kitchen sink stew. There you go. Enough cayenne pepper in there to burn your lips off, just like Dad used to make.”

Nurse Dean.

“The bloody handkerchiefs, the fever, the shaky legs... this is not good.”

“Well, I'm not good. And I'm not going to be good until we can start moving again. Until I can start the third trial.”

Was that supposed to make Dean feel better?

So Crowley definitely sent this message, right?

“Sam, Dean. I've set up this message with some software on a remote server so it'd send itself to you if I didn't reset it with a command once a week. Which means I didn't reset it this week. And there's only one reason I wouldn't. Which means if you're watching this, then I... then I— I'm dead. I'm dead, you bastards! So screw you, screw God and everybody in between!...Crowley must've gotten to me. And the one thing I know is that I won't break this time. Not sure how I know, but— but I do. I've been uploading all my notes, the translations, I'm sending you the links so you can get all of it. You guys are gonna have to try to figure out the rest. I'm sorry. I know it was my job, but I— but I couldn't...I'm sorry.”

That’s about as well as Dean takes Kevin’s real death.

“Garth still MIA?”

“Yeah.”

Garth is officially MIA aka officially a werewolf. 

“How about the other prophets in line? I mean if Kevin is, uh... is dead, then won't one of them be activated?”

“Nothing, no, not a peep.”

There's your clueee.

“We should've moved him here.” Yeah, that’s a great idea! Do it when you get him back.

Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Cas looks so strung out.

“Uh, I'm sorry, mister, but you're gonna have to order more than coffee if you wanna keep the table.”

“Of— of course, um. I'll have the smart-heart beer-battered tempura tempters.”

That actually sounds good.

“They're getting closer.” Time to go.

Ion. An interesting name.

Palm Bay, Florida. Denver, Colorado. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Portland, Oregon. St. Louis, Missouri...so on and so forth.

“He's using a clever tactic. It's a restaurant called Biggerson's. The humans have built hundreds of them, almost exactly alike....Castiel is using it against us. Now, we try to orient ourselves, but it's as if we're in every Biggerson's at once— Trapped in a quantum superposition. Now, he chooses which to go to next—That's what's giving him the edge.”

That’s an amazing strategy.

“Very well. You say he can't be caught? Then we will simply have to make him stop.”

Sam took a humanities course at Stanford.

“This one belonged to a tiny tribe in Colorado, more of a— a clan, really. It says here they held on to their scrap of mountains when all the other tribes fell to the white men. So this glyph was a territorial marker—closest translation: ‘messenger of God’.” Sam’s got it.

“Messenger of God—Dean, we have to go there!....I'm only gonna get worse. I mean, until we get back to the real job, until we find the third trial—we're out of prophets! We're not gonna figure out what Kevin couldn't! I'd say we go to this messenger of God who wrote it in the first place!” I know he’s right, but Sam looks and sounds off his rocker.

“And you think this Metatron is hiding out in the mountains with a bunch of Indians.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I do....You're not— you're not really supposed to say Indians, it's... We should go.”

This is one of the worst things Naomi has done, and that’s saying something.

RIP people at Biggerson’s. Killed by angels.

Cas wanted to heal her. :(

Route 34, Colorado.

Sam can hear something Dean can not.

RIP Kara, Cas’ waitress. Killed by Naomi.

“How— how many times have you torn into my head and washed it clean?”

“Frankly? Too damn many.”

Oh yeah sure, brag about your brainwashing. That’ll make you look good.

“Honestly, I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassis. You have never done what you were told. Not completely. You don't even die right, do you?”

HE DOESN’T STAY DEAD AT ALL B I C T H

“Where is the angel tablet, Castiel?”

“In the words of a— good friend... bite me.”

Balthazar.

“Go. Search all these Biggerson's. He must have hidden it along the way.” DId he now?

“I can barely see. I need food.”

“Alright, uh, barbecue ribs, mashed potatoes...”

“Garlic mashed potatoes.”

“Garlic mashed potatoes, mixed greens with... baby lettuce, cornbread, and, uh, Pad Thai?”

“Garth says there's a good little place on the other side of town.”

Kevin took complete advantage of these demons, bless his heart. 

“If I wasn't running everything, I could've played Dean myself.”

“Oh, you would've made a great Dean, sir.”

I actually agree.

Winchester stories!

“Hey, you remember when uh... when Dad took us to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, on that pack-mule ride?”

“The what?”

“And you're, uh... your mule kept farting, just— l-letting go, like, gale force?”

“Dude, you were like, four years old. I barely remember that.”

“I'm gonna— I'm gonna, uh. I'm gonna follow the hotel manager, D-Dr. Scowley-scowl. He's like a villain from Scooby-Doo.” Why are you so precious, Sammy?

“No, hey, uh, little big man? You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, I can do that too.”

Me.

“What did the great spirit's sacred messenger ask for?”

“Stories. He asked the people to tell him stories.”

Sam finds the boxes of books...then passes out trying to call Dean. 

“I'm just going to have to pull you apart, aren't I?” That would’ve worked.

RIP angel. Killed by Crowley.

“Found you on the floor, passed out, your temperature was a 107. I had to force it down or you were toast.”

Metatron is definitely there.

“I had my R&D people melt down one of your angel blades, cast it into bullets. Seems to do the trick.” Huh, AU!Bobby discovers that little trick too.

“That's right, Cas. I got me an angel on the payroll.” Wow, Ion.

“You guys were right, I— I do need the other half of the tablet to get the trial. It's not too far from here.”

“Awesome. Uh, what's the 10-20?”

Fake!Dean got the lingo right, at least.

“I've been getting regular updates from my expensive friend here.” What did it take to buy Ion out?

Castiel SWALLOWED THE DAMN ANGEL TABLET. WHAT A MADMAN!

“Spanish Flea” by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass.  

“The kid told us where the other half was, but it... wasn't. Dab of crap tricked us, sent us into some kind of Hunter mousetrap.”

Kevin has style.

Dean used to read to Sam! I’m telling you, I love learning the smallest details about characters.

“Knights of the Round Table. Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and, and he was kneeling, and— and light streaming over his face, and— I remember... thinking, uh, I could never go on a quest like that. Because I'm not clean. I mean, I w— I was just a little kid. You think... maybe I knew? I mean, deep down, that— I had... demon blood in me, and about the evil of it, and that I'm— wasn't pure?”

H O W could a young child ever think that?????

Again, I know he’s right but he doesn’t come off as convincing.

Look at all those books! What a dream room.

Hello Metatron, you fcikgn worm.

“What, you really haven't heard of us? What kind of angel are you, we're— we're the freaking Winchesters.” lmao Sam.

Cas swallowed the damn angel tablet AND pulled a bullet out of him. My hero.

“You little prat. Having fun yet?”

“Screw you.”

Fuck yeah, Kevin!

“It started when they forgot the secret knock. But really, it— it was the way they acted.”

“So... my demons were too polite?”

“Yeah.”

“What about Gabriel? And Raphael?”

“Dead.”

Half right at the time.

(Irrelevant-ish question, but what happened to the Words of God in the Apocalypse AU?)

“You soldiers, down in the garrison, at least they let you believe the lie. Upstairs, working for Naomi, working in intelligence, we had no option but to live in the dirt. She never reset me completely. I always knew too much, I had to— I had to do my job.” Ion’s last words.

“Ion...shut up.”

RIP Ion. Killed by Cas.

“That is the true flower of free will. At least as you've mastered it so far. When you create stories, you become gods, of tiny, intricate dimensions unto themselves. So many worlds!”

One thing I have in common with Metatron: our love of storytelling.

“You know what? Pull the frigging trigger.”

“What?”

“Pull the freaking trigger, you cowardly piece of garbage.”

Okay, Sam, hold on.

“You want a story? Try Kevin Tran's story. He was just a kid. He was a good, straight-A kid, and then he got sucked in to all of this— this angel crap. He became a prophet, of the Word of God. Your prophet. Now, you should've been looking out for him, but no! Instead, you're here, holed up, reading books.”

“He’s dead now. Because of you.”

I don't know about that. At least, not yet.

“You have no idea what's on this demon tablet. Right, the power you could have gotten with this, if you weren't running around like a chicken with his head cut off.”

“You think I can't make you tell?”

“I know you can’t. And you do too.”

Kevin was so resilient when he wanted to be.

The power of Metatron compels you!

Metatron saved and healed Kevin.

“You really intend on closing the doors of Hell?”

“Seems like the thing to do, don't it?”

“It's your choice. And that's what this has all been about, the choices your kind make. But you're gonna have to weigh that choice. Ask yourself: what is it going to take to do this, and what will the world be like after it's done?”

Oh boy.

Trial #3. Cure a demon.

Holy mother of god.

“Cas?”

“A little help here?”

Team Free Will reunion.