#yup it is now are you gonna just mope or are you gonna suffer while doing something fucking rad

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

Til the End of the Night / Ch22: Finale pt. 2

Previous / Masterpost 

Summary: It’s time to go home.

Warnings: same fantasy violence stuff as ever, the emotional aftermath of All That

A/N: it’s f i n i s h e d holy shit i’m done

AO3

~ ~ ~

Virgil did not like the plan. Virgil, in fact, hated the plan, but it was the best they had, so he went along with it- story of his freaking life, lately. He huddled behind the shield with Logan and Patton, who still hadn’t moved after what Virgil had accidentally done to him, and watched as Roman stormed up to the witch again.

She wasn’t even in her dragon form anymore, that was how confident she felt that the fight was over. She smoothed out her clothing and merely smiled at Roman’s approach. “Well?”

“Undo it,” Roman demanded. “Now.”

“Why would I do that? Caring about whether things are fair is more your, ah… personality flaw.”

He glared at her.

“You’re not going to threaten me. There’s nothing you can do.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken, fiend,” said Roman, and threw a potion rather dramatically in her face.

The witch blinked and wiped the liquid away from her eyes. It was clearly taking a lot of restraint to stop herself from just punching Roman in the face, but she managed to keep her dignity. “What,” she bit out, “exactly, what that supposed to do, aside from making me want to kill you even more than I already did? You can’t hurt me. You’re only doing more damage to him.”

Roman smiled back, just as confident suddenly as she’d been a second ago. “Oh, I don’t know… I’d say it worked exactly as intended.”

That was Virgil’s cue- no, literally, Roman had insisted on taking a minute to come up with an actual script for all this. He looked down at Patton, who, thank god, was starting to wake up and open his eyes again and looked a little more alive, if no less unsettlingly empty. That final healing potion had done its job. Logan carefully shifted Patton over to him before scooting back a healthy few inches. Virgil took a steadying breath, placed his hand over Patton’s heart, and looked up to lock eyes with the witch, who had finally realized something was up and shifted her attention to him and Logan. The fear present in her eyes for just a moment was, he had to admit, extremely gratifying. Maybe even worth the effort of getting the timing right, although he was absolutely never letting Roman know he’d had that thought.

“Sorry,” he whispered to Patton, just in case he could hear him and just in case this didn’t work out perfectly. He gritted his teeth and focused, and shot all the offensive magic he could muster directly into his best friend’s chest.

The Dragon Witch screamed, stumbling back. “This isn’t over,” she somehow managed to yell at them all, and then she was gone in a highly ambiguous puff of smoke. Logan and Virgil looked at each other uncertainly before both turning to Roman.

“What did that-”

“Is she-?”

Roman hurried back over to the rest of them. “Don’t worry, she does that every time she’s defeated. I can’t very well kill her off for good if I want to keep using her as a character, although I’ll be very sure to keep better control of things next time.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m letting you anywhere near here after this,” Virgil snapped.

“Bold of you to assume you can stop me,” he shot back, before sighing. “It will… probably be a while before I do come back, though. After this.”

Patton stirred, scrunching his face up in pain and confusion, and everyone went quiet. After a second that felt like an eternity, he opened his eyes and looked up at them.

“Did you win…?”

Roman smiled reassuringly and squeezed his hand. “The witch has been defeated, dear Padre.”

“Oh… good.” He smiled back at all of them and closed his eyes again. This time, the sleep he slipped into was much more peaceful.

“He’ll be okay now,” Logan said quietly, partially to himself and partly for the sake of everyone else’s nerves. “Roman? Please don’t tell me we’re going to need to walk all the way back to the portal we came here through. I’ve run out of materials for healing potions, and… I’m tired.”

“Oh! No, no need to worry yourself about getting back. Now that we’ve resolved this story, the Imagination should just…”

They didn’t get to hear the rest of his sentence, but they also didn’t particularly need it. A bright light filled the room with no visible source, whiting out everything, and there was a feeling almost like falling. When the sides’ vision cleared again, they were no longer in the wrecked throne room of the Dragon Witch’s castle, but clustered together on Roman’s bedroom floor sometime in the middle of the night.

It was… jarring, almost, to be so suddenly back to normal. No, not almost. It was incredibly strange. Their usual outfits had returned, the bag Logan held was once again full of snacks and other supposed essentials, and none of the harm they’d suffered in the fantasy world carried over- they weren’t even dirty. Roman was surely used to this sort of transition, but Logan and Virgil were still struggling to adjust when Patton blinked himself awake and sat up.

“Patton!” Virgil grabbed his hand. “I… are you okay?”

He looked down at himself, brow furrowed. Flexed his hands and patted at his limbs. “I… I guess so? None of that was real. It was just- imaginary.” He laughed, but it didn’t come out quite right. His hands were shaking. “I’m fine.”

“Pat…”

“It’s- I mean, I’m not hurt! None of us… everything is, everything is fine, a-and it was all…”

Roman touched his shoulder, and he flinched. Virgil’s grip on him tightened reflexively. Logan still hadn’t spoken, looking distantly around the room as if trying to memorize it.

“…Hey. Listen to me, okay?” Everyone turned to look at Roman. “I understand… well, first of all, I understand that all of this was… at least somewhat my fault, and I take full responsibility for that. If you want to be angry with me, I only ask that you wait until we’ve all had a nap, because I do not have the energy to get yelled at right now.” He smiled thinly and didn’t quite laugh at his own joke. “But I also need to make sure you all understand that… well, just because it happened in the Imagination, doesn’t mean it wasn’t real to us.”

“As real as anything else that happens in Thomas’s mind,” Logan muttered.

“Exactly. And I know better than anyone that these things can still leave a mark, even if it isn’t physical. What I’m saying is…” He sighed and tugged on Patton and Logan’s sleeves. “Come here.”

“Group hug,” Patton said quietly, leaning in and pulling Virgil with him, and then his breathing hitched and he was crying into Roman’s shirt.

“There you are… there, I know I- I really messed this one up, and I’m…”

“You didn’t know.” Logan’s voice was muffled somewhere in the tangle of a group-hug. “If you had made that happen on purpose, it would be another matter, but… I seem to recall you weren’t enjoying yourself much, either.”

“…No.”

There was a long silence, in which everyone slowly began to calm down and then began to realize how exhausted they were. They were going to be in danger of falling asleep where they were and waking up very uncomfortable if they didn’t get up soon- apparently, tiredness was the one thing that didn’t go away as soon as they returned home. Logan was the first to sigh and sit up, muttering something about going to bed, although he didn’t look any more eager to move than anyone else. The others followed suit and reluctantly gathered themselves in preparation to get off the floor.

Patton stifled a yawn and paused, looking thoughtful. “It wasn’t all bad, though, right? The adventure?”

Virgil looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “We almost died, Patton. A lot.”

“Yeah, but before that… It was fun at the beginning, right? At least a little?”

He exchanged a look with Logan, and they both made vague and begrudging noises of assent.

“A little. Maybe.”

“I thought that little town was really nice,” Patton insisted, and it didn’t escape his notice that Roman perked up from his guilty moping at the compliment. “And… some of the forest, anyway.”

“I could take you back there sometime, I swear it would be safe-”

“Nope,” interrupted Virgil, “don’t even wanna hear you talk about that, no…”

Patton leaned over to Roman and whispered in his ear. “Maybe when we’re all feeling a little better, okay?” He smiled.

Meanwhile, Virgil wasn’t done. “Actually, you know what, I’m not letting any of you out of my sight for like, a week, and you’re all just gonna have to deal with that ‘cause you don’t get a choice.”

No one disagreed.

“You can all stay in here for the night,” Roman suggested. “I’ll just…” He waved a hand behind him, and the bed in the middle of his room, which was already large enough for at least three people and ridiculously luxurious, expanded even further.

Logan nodded slowly, blinking. “Good. Sleep… is good,” he said seriously, clearly needing some very badly himself. Patton covered his mouth with his hand and pretended to be yawning again rather than laughing at him.

“Yup,” Virgil agreed, pulling him upright. “And you need to get some before you pass out on the floor.”

“Mm.”

The tangled pile they ended up sleeping in, once they got themselves into bed, was comfortable in that special “I would be okay with sleeping on Legos right now and this is infinitely better” sort of way. The low ambient light in Roman’s room was comforting, and they all held on to each other, each assured the others were with them and safely home, and drifted off to sleep. Everything else could wait until the morning.

---

Thomas Sanders woke up to the sound of his alarm going off, and smacked at his phone blindly until he managed to turn it off. “Five more minutes,” he muttered to himself, turning over to shove his face into a pillow and hide from the sun. “Or maybe more like five more hours. Or… days.” For whatever reason, he felt like he’d hardly gotten any sleep at all, and his mind was still disoriented from… wait.

He sat up straight in bed, blinking against the light, and fumbled for his phone once again. A minute later, Joan picked up, sounding almost as tired as he felt, and very reasonably asked why the hell he was calling them first thing in the morning.

“Sorry,” Thomas said quickly, a little sheepish. “But, listen- I just had the craziest dream.”

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Game, set, match

In which Sam decides to push Dean in the right direction.

This was written in a very short amount of time (though the entire story was mapped out in my head before). I apologise if there’s more grammatical errors than usual. I have a strict time schedule today.

Let me know what you think. Also, give me a shout if you want on – or off – my tag list. 

Word count: 1966

Finally a hotel. A real hotel. Y/N couldn’t believe her luck when Sam had told her. The case had led them to a haunted bar, and the only way to access it was as guests. It turned out to be a simple salt and burn, but none of them were ready to leave the comfort yet, so they decided to stay another night and celebrate in the now ghost free bar.

The evening had started great, but of course it couldn’t last. After a few drinks, Dean had left with a giggling beauty on his arm, and after that, Y/N had lost her appetite for alcohol. She was sad. It was that simple, and Sam knew exactly what made her blue. He left the bartender he was chatting up and joined Y/N at the table. “Hey there,” he said softly, sliding down over the couch’s armrest.

“Hey.” She barely even looked up: just continued to stare at her hands and sigh every few seconds.

“What’s wrong?” It was a stupid question, but he had to say something to get her talking.

“Nothing.”

So much for that plan. “It’s Dean, huh?”

She turned in her seat so she was facing away from Sam. No one was allowed to see the tears in her eyes. So she swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked hard, concentrating on the soft music to keep from sniffing.

Sam smiled to himself. He’d hit the nail right on the head. “What did he do?” he asked, layering his voice with just the right amount of annoyance.

“…’s nothing,” Y/N insisted, but she couldn’t keep the slight crack from her voice. Sam grimaced. “Okay, don’t give me that look. It’s just… I don’t have any right to complain – I have no claim on your brother, I know that. But it hurts so bad when he… when he flirts like that, and I know it will never be with me.” She shrugged, carefully setting her face to neutral before turning back to Sam. “I thought I was used to it, but…”

Sam stroked her arm gently, wanting nothing more than to shake some sense into her – unless he counted shaking some sense into his brother. “What if you, I don’t know – this is just a crazy idea – talked to him or something?”

“Are you insane?” She looked at him like he’d suggested they’d barbecue a puppy. “I’m not gonna…” Scoffing, she got to her feet and backed away from the sofa. “I’m… he’s not… You’re crazy.” She would rather suffer through every one of Dean’s random chicks than endure the pain of his rejection, and she had told Sam this on several occasions.

“Y/N, please. It hurts to see you like this. And he won’t stop unless you tell him to. Because…” He hesitated for a second.

“Because that’s who he is, Sam. Dean doesn’t want a relationship. And certainly not with me. Come on! He’s the epitome of one night stands.” Sam of all people should know this. Dean would never even look at her as anything other than a friend. “I’ve learned to live with it.”

Sam shook his head. She had it all backwards, and she was too stubborn to let him convince her otherwise. “No. It’s… that’s how he copes,” he began softly, hoping she’d sense the sincerity in his voice. She never did. “Dean… he’s a dumbass, an idiot – he doesn’t notice the way you look at him, or the way your smile changes when he enters the room. He is – and this I can say with absolute certainty – head over heels in love with you. But he thinks that he doesn’t stand a chance, because let’s face it: you’re way out of his league. So he medicates his heartache the only way he knows how: with booze and sex.”

Y/N stared at him. “You’re… that’s… You’ve lost your mind, Sam. I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, I really do. But… has he ever said anything to you about this? Or is it all from your own brain? He hasn’t, has he?”

Sam shook his head again. “No, but –“

“See? You’re imagining things. I’m gonna go to my room, read for a bit, and then hopefully not cry myself to sleep. Goodnight, Sam,” she finished and marched out of the bar, leaving Sam, her drink, and the good-looking bartender behind.

Dragging his hand over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose between his hands, he leaned back in the couch. Sighing, he looked up at the door she exited through and groaned silently. “ – he looks at you the way I looked at Jess,” he finished after a little while. “Damn! Fuckin’ stubborn…!!”

“Whoa, Sammy. You’ll have smoke coming out of your ears soon. Who’s stubborn?”

Sam got to his feet and spun around to come face to face with his stupid ass brother. Dean was grinning happily, drunk and satisfied.

“You!” Sam growled, poking his finger in Dean’s chest. A plan was forming in his brain, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

“Me? What did I do?” Dean really had no clue: his whole face glowed with innocence. He looked concerned for half a second before the look in his eyes changed to offence.

“It’s all your fault,” Sam snarled, keeping his voice lower than normal. Rolling his shoulders back, he stretched to his full height.

“My – ?”

“Yes you! You’re the reason Y/N is leaving!”

“What???” The smug smile instantly disappeared, and was replaced with surprise, then fear.

“Yeah. She told me that she couldn’t bear seeing you with random chicks anymore: that it hurt too much, so she needed time alone. Don’t know when – “ he delivered the point of his lie flawlessly, “or if – she’ll come back.”

“Shit!” Dean circled around himself, dragging his fingers through his hair.

Sam had trouble keeping a straight face. “You can say that again.”

“I’m an idiot!”

“Yup.”

“A jackass! A… a dick!”

“Those too.” Sam gave himself a mental pat on the shoulder. Damn, he was good. He definitely was going to reward himself with that pretty bartender. She was funny and seemed to like him. A lot.

“When…”

“Couple of minutes ago. She was crying.” Game, set, match. He almost didn’t get to finish the sentence before Dean had ran out of the bar too, muttering to himself and cursing his own stupidity. Sam grinned and downed the rest of his drink. The bartender winked in his direction. He deserved it.

Dean knocked rapidly on Y/N’s door. No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. There was still no answer, but he could hear movements from the room.

The door was locked, too. Wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he pulled. Looking over his shoulder, he fished a lock pick from his pocket. The work was slow: his intoxicated brain didn’t have complete control over the finer movements of his fingers, and it felt a bit wrong, invading her privacy like that, but he figured he’d rather face her wrath than her absence.

The room was dark, and in what little light the open door provided, he saw the bed; untouched and neat, and nearly had a heart attack. Then he spotted Y/N’s duffel sitting on the table next to a bundle of papers and her jacket. It looked like she had shoved all her belongings into it and forced it close faster than the bag wanted to cooperate. Dean’s heart beat faster.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he noticed a tiny stream of light shining through the crack under the bathroom door. A shadow moved back and forth.

“Y/N?” His voice shook, and it startled him.

The door opened, and Y/N strode out, humming and swaying her hips to unheard music. For a moment she saw no one, and Dean stood perfectly still – mesmerised by the sight of Y/N in her pyjamas; skin flushed, hair still damp. She looked like a goddess.

Then he stepped closer, calling her name again. She spun around so fast it was almost impossible to see, and a fraction of a second later Dean found himself pressed hard against the wall with a fist to his chest and a knife hovering over his throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Y/N exclaimed after a few seconds: once she had regained control of her breath. “You scared the crap out of me, Winchester. What the hell were you thinking, sneaking up on me like that?!” Slowly, deliberately, she let go of him and sheathed the knife.

“Sorry,” he breathed, uncertain what he really had expected, and focusing on the confusion and anger in her eyes: using it to spur on his mission. “I had to – before it was too late. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Don’t… don’t go.”

“What?”

“I’m ramblin’, I’m so sorry.”

She frowned and sat down on the bed. Whatever it was he had done, it had to be bad to leave him is such a state. He was shaking for god’s sake. “Sorry for what, Dean?”

“Please don’t leave…”

“I’m not -?”

“…because I want you to stay. I… I need you to stay. Been a fool all this time –“

“But –“

“ – too scared to tell you how I feel. I love you. Please don’t leave us… me –“

“Dean!” It felt like she was soaring through the sky; higher with every word from him, but she needed to get her own feelings out too. So she got up again and grasped his hands, holding them tight within her own. “Will you shut up and listen for a minute?”

He fell silent and nodded, brows creased and cheeks red, and his hands were trembling. He looked frightened. She had never seen him look this frightened before.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she continued with a gentle smile. “I don’t think I have it in me to leave, even if you settled down and got married. Maybe I’m a masochist or maybe I’m just stupid. I don’t know. But I’m not leaving until you tell me to.”

Dean blinked once. Then again. She could see the cogs turning in his brain. “But…” he said with a confused look, “Sam said…” Suddenly all the pieces clicked together. “You’re not leaving.”

“No. And I’m guessing Sam came up with this genius idea after he found me moping when you ran off with that woman. I’ve… been in love with you for a long time.” It felt weird saying it out loud, especially to his face. Embarrassment lurked in her chest like a slimy fish, even after Dean’s hurried confession. But relief washed over her like a pleasant summer evening when he didn’t pull away.

“And though it hurt seeing you with others, I never once considered leaving.” She thought for a second, then added with a wink: “I think I’m addicted.”

Dean’s face relaxed into a wide smile. It was as if his whole body smiled, and he pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms. “I never knew you felt…” He interrupted himself and leaned back to look at her face. “I’m so sorry! Idiot, that’s what I am. God! I deserve a good beating –“

Reaching up to kiss his nose, she looked into his eyes. “We were both idiots. Let’s leave the past in the past and concentrate on our future.”

Our future. Such simple words, yet they shot through Dean like a burning arrow. He leaned down, just to be closer to her, resting his forehead on hers.

A wicked glint appeared in Y/N’s eyes. “And on finding a suitable punishment for Sam, for scaring you like that,” she added. “I mean, I’m gonna thank him, but he’s gonna regret what he did.”

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