Jaded Letters

Wash Away My Sins - Chapter Twelve - Supernatural

2009-07-08T15:42:25Z

Title: Wash Away My Sins
Authors: aragornslove and lastwordslinger
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC, OC!villains
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to Kripke and the CW. Nina belongs to aragornslove, and Janis belongs to me (lastwordslinger), so no using them without our permission. We make no profits from this and are just having fun!
Summary: A year after the events of "Unity in Duality", Janis and Nina are a bit savvier regarding the world of the paranormal, but the resurgence of old enemies has left them needing the help of the Winchesters once more.
Previous Chapters: 1 : 2 : 3 : 4 : 5 : 6 : 7 : 8 : 9 : 10 : 11

Chapter Twelve

While sitting in the living room, feeling like a Grade A loser for being so easily cowed, Dean now got up the courage to enter the kitchen. He was ready to demand he be told what was going on, especially after he’d heard that chair striking the linoleum floor. “All right, you mind telling me what the fu…” He trailed off when Janis snapped around, fresh tears streaking red cheeks.

Sam was a beat behind, offering up a glare that was tempered with quiet sympathy. Dean looked at him and could tell instantly that he knew what was happening, and this only served to make his anger simmer as he tried to keep it in check. The hard look he gave was enough to make Sam feel adequately accused of being at the root of this, though Dean still remained confused as to the context.

He crossed over to her, ready to say whatever silly crap he had to if it would make her stop crying, but she thrust herself into his arms before he could even begin. Her hands were fierce but gentle, as if she wanted to both tear him open and kiss every inch of him.

“Hey,” he soothed as well as he could, and it was difficult. He wanted to demand answers, but he’d learned that he couldn’t treat such moments with her as an interrogation. Not if he wanted to keep the peace. “Shh, baby, it’s okay…”

Nina peered at Sam over Janis and Dean, and he fixed her with solid frown that made her bow her head. She stood and silently walked past him into the living.

"You told her, didn't you?" Sam asked, his arms folded across his chest.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but she read me like an open book. I couldn't keep it from her," Nina replied, her head still bowed. "That's what all the antics were. She knew I wouldn't talk unless I was alone with her."

"Dean is going to kill us both," was Sam’s muttered reply, which caused Nina to giggle slightly, turning back to Sam and enveloping him in a hug. He was stiff in her embrace, but he raised his arms to rub her back, running his hands over her hair. “She deserved to know, but Dean wasn’t going to bend on that. But… I guess I know why you did it. There comes a point when someone knows you too well for you to hide.”

Within the kitchen, Janis had gone from gripping Dean relentlessly to kissing any part of him she could reach. His chest, his throat, his chin, his mouth and cheeks. Normally, he wouldn’t try to dislodge her, but she was still weeping with every press of her lips.

“Slow down, babe,” he purred and pulled her back slightly. “What’s going on?”

“I want you,” she said in a rush, her words barely penetrating how thick her voice had become. “I want you alone, in bed, now.”

“What?” he laughed a little. “You never claimed to be normal, but that’s kind of a weird way to react to… whatever you’re reacting to.”

“I don’t care,” she blurted. “I love you.”

Just as he had been the first time, he was stilled by those words. He nodded mutely and ran a hand across her cheek. “What’s really going on? Tell me.”

“Nothing, I just love you,” Janis sniffled. “I do. I have for a long time. You know that. Let’s just go to bed. Let me show you--”

“Yeah, you show me all the time,” Dean replied. “You’re avoiding something.”

It became even more clear just how alike they were. His temper was rising as he looked straight through her. Too much alike.

“Later,” she promised in a whisper. “Right now, I don’t want to think about it. I just want to be with you.”

He searched her eyes one last time, then nodded and allowed her to lead him toward her room. He caught a glance of Sam and Nina as he passed, and his suspicions began to rise, but he wouldn’t lay that on Janis. Not yet. He never thought he would feel this way, but this was about to be the most challenging sexual encounter of his life.

Shortly after Dean and Janis had passed them, Sam shifted his gaze to the top of Nina's head where she was still resting in his embrace.

"Nina?"

"Yeah?" She pushed back, glancing up at him to see a grin on his face.

"Do you still want to bake those cookies?" he asked.

Nina's reply was to grab his hand and pull him into the kitchen, where they spent the next hour baking cookies and laughing. Nina of course, couldn't pass up the opportunity to dab dough on Sam's nose, and to her surprise, he in return smeared some across her cheek.

For Sam it felt like heaven as the kitchen filled with the scent of fresh baked cookies. The thoughts of Dean's deal and the world of demons outside faded from his mind as he allowed this good moment to fill him instead.

"Sammy?" Nina asked, breaking his thoughts as she pulled a cookie out of the oven that was slightly larger than the others, a smaller one nestled next to it. "These are for Dean. Think he'll like 'em?"

Sam laughed when he looked at the cookies, nodding. "I do think that might ward off some of the anger, yes."

* * * * *

Dean and Janis had become used to the frenzy that was their lovemaking, but this was a new sort of madness. It was even more volatile than just their bodies uniting, for even though Janis cried softly, she begged him not to stop. Dean had to push through, shatter those instincts to be gentle with her. He still remembered her as that young woman he was meant to protect from a year ago, regardless of how she fussed and fought over how much she’d changed. It was obvious that her heart was still gentle enough that something had broken it, and his suspicions as to what hit a fevered pitch in harmony with the rest of him.

And that anger poured, and Janis took all of it on herself, letting him hammer desperately between her legs. She would feel this long after they were done, and that’s just what she wanted. To be branded, purified by fire.

She squeezed her eyes so tightly shut that there was a flash of fireworks behind them, and the world became those colors, flesh, and Dean’s harsh growls in her ear. Between these, he said something about her having asked for this, that he’d tried to warn her. Is this what you wanted? And her answer was yes, it is. She arched and sobbed, a signal that she was finished, but he wasn’t done with her. Several, rough thrusts later he was collapsed atop her, snarling into her breastbone and clawing at her sheets. She made an attempt at petting him, stroking his hair and trying to soothe the savage beast, but he shoved himself away from her and glared up at the ceiling.

“Sam or Nina one told you,” Dean snapped, finding no reason to pretend any longer. “I’m guessing Sam told Nina, and she told you. Which is why you two were running around like a damn silent movie, picking on each other and acting like nothing was going on but… failing.”

Janis slipped a hand between her legs as she rolled onto her side, her fingers slipping through what Dean had left there as she listened but offered no reply. Not yet. She didn’t want to argue in the afterglow like this, not when she had silently vowed to show him paradise on earth if he wasn’t going to get it anywhere else.

“I did it for Sam,” Dean grumbled. “He knows that, so why he chose to go behind my back and tell the two of you when I made him promise--!”

“He’s scared,” Janis said simply. “Same as the rest of us. And in all fairness, you should have told me yourself.”

Dean turned his glare on her, and she could see he wasn’t going to make this easy. “So that you could freak out like you just did?”

“Yeah, and so that I can have a chance to do something,” she said with just a trace of temper entering her tone. “Like help?”

“If you do, Sam dies,” he warned coldly. “So you better just keep any do-gooding to yourself.”

“I heard,” Janis breathed. “That was a bad deal, Dean. Bad terms, I mean. I know you couldn’t just lose Sam.” She reached out now with her free hand, running it along his shoulder and sighing at what a wound coil his muscles were. “I just wish it didn’t have to be you instead, baby. I love--”

“Just… stop with the lip service, okay?” Dean grunted. “This isn’t helping.”

“Lip service?” she laughed. “Since when is me telling you how much I adore you ‘lip service’. I kind of swore to myself I wouldn’t judge you or try to change anything about you, but…” She let her other hand join those gentle touches and grinned when his breath caught in his throat as her warm, sticky fingers grazed his abdomen. “Stop pulling away. That game was never fun, but it’s worse now knowing we don’t have time for it.”

His gaze turned sleepy at this, and she could see that he was tired of running in more ways than one. Possibly tired of talking on top of that, but she wasn’t relenting just yet. Dean might be content with letting hard feelings linger, but she was not. She craved peace in some fashion, and this was the closest she could get with a world of evil waiting outside her door.

As if to put off the need for a reply from himself, Dean rolled over, sliding his arms around her slender waist and drawing her in. When they kissed, she moaned softly and felt she could go again were he up for it. He might be, but for the moment, he was preparing himself for something difficult, something painful in its potency.

In Dean’s opinion, it was easy to fuck. He knew how to please a girl when he fucked her, never really disappointed any of them that he remembered. Yet when he considered being there for any of them, as in a boyfriend or husband or something that didn’t stop at his cock, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. His chest would clench a little, because deep down he knew he would suck at that. No one ever wanted to make an attempt at something when they were sure to fail. It made his breath quicken now as he tried to disregard that tight feeling, and his lips pressed to her cheek while he willed himself to give her what she’d earned through all this. Dammit, she hadn’t just earned it. He meant it. But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Baby?” Janis asked, shocked to find that his hands were trembling, one against her back and the other on her thigh where it draped over him.

“I love you, too,” he croaked.

Janis jerked back to stare at him, which only made him that much more self-conscious about having let it slip. She wanted to be shocked, and the fact that he’d allowed himself some vulnerability was surprising. But the first thing that entered her mind was not, wow, really? It was, did I actually doubt that? From this came her reply.

“I think I knew that already,” she whispered, and before he could offer some angered retort about feeling stupid for saying it then, she pushed him onto his back and straddled him. She’d really felt him this afternoon, the very core of him and how molten hot it was. Now it was her turn to show him.

* * * * *

Janis emerged from her room, trying not to appear saddle-sore and twisting her hair up into a messy bun. Dean was behind her, keeping a hand on the curve of her hip as he followed her toward the smell of food. They had worked up an appetite, to say the least, and neither was very ashamed of it. Though Dean figured Sam would have a prudish frown all ready for him.

Nina turned, plate in hand, as Dean and Janis entered the kitchen. Sam finished plating the rest of the cookies they made before going to Nina's side.

"Hi, Dean," Nina chimed, a huge smile on her face as she tilted the plate so he could see what was on it. "We made this for you! Be happy!"

Dean blinked down at the cookie, which was almost as big as the medium-sized plate it rested on. The chocolate in it had somehow been arranged into a googly, melted smiley face, and he chuckled gently before saying, “that’s pretty awesome. But…” He looked to Sam. “That doesn’t change anything.”

Nina's nose wrinkled, and she pulled the plate back, a smaller one appearing from behind her back.

"Fine, if you're going to be that way, you get this one." She presented a cookie that had its chocolate chips arranged into a pitiful, melted, sad face.

Dean took the plate with a frown, but he looked tired more than irritated. Sam offered up a glass of milk with the oddest smile, and to this Dean could only chuckle and take that as well. “Listen, I just wish you had--”

“What?” Sam asked. “Begged you to be reasonable? I’ve been doing that for a month now, but you won’t hear me. To the point that I just want to scream at you, so eat your sad face cookie and just shut up for now.”

Janis snorted at this, particularly at how Dean didn’t seem too pleased with the order. Before the argument could start anew, the house creaked alarmingly, and that’s when Janis realized that time had gotten away from them. The sun had set, and they weren’t exactly prepared if this was another, demonic onslaught. The sound of glass shattering caught their attention even further, and Dean sloppily thrust his food aside and ran for the shotgun in the living room.

“Nina, holy water,” Janis barked, then dove for the cabinet under the sink. She pulled up a loose board from inside it and snapped up an iron blade, then jumped up to follow on Dean’s heels.

Nina had already bolted out of the kitchen and into the living room where she was assaulted with a strong wind that was whipping through the now shattered window. She flung open the hutch doors and snatched up a gallon of holy water, her free hand darting behind the hutch and pulling the second shotgun out from behind it. She then tossed the gun to Sam. They both spun back towards the kitchen as the window there was shattered, the mysterious wind storm sending deadly shards scattered throughout the room.

“Dean!?” Janis called as she followed him toward the bedrooms. He must have heard something from that direction, and she didn’t doubt his instincts whatsoever, therefore she followed without question. They entered her bedroom to find the window broken and the salt strewn. “Not like it matters,” she began and was about to signal toward the devil’s trap when the house shook alarmingly, a long crack sliding across her ceiling. The symbol there was now split, imperfect, and she could see a grin just outside the open window.

Dean raised his shotgun, but Janis pushed it away. “That’s Vicky!” she shouted. “I work with her! Don’t.”

The cracking and shouting caused Sam and Nina to bolt back into the bedroom in time to see a woman jump into the room through the shattered window.

"Shit… the trap is broken," Nina hissed, taking a step back as the demon grinned in their direction.

Janis dove for the book on her nightstand, one containing a rite of exorcism that she wished now she kept on her person rather than on a shelf. When she did so, Dean roared at her to stay back, and he was right to. For Vicky snatched at Janis’s arm and jerked her up so they were facing each other. Before Janis could even begin to protest, black smoke was billowing from Vicky’s mouth and down Janis’s throat, the both of them shrieking in unison.

“Jesus!” Dean blurted. “Fuck…” His hands were now sweating on the barrel of the shotgun as he searched his mind for some quick solution to this. “Sammy!”

Vicky’s body thudded to the floor, obviously dead from whatever exertion had taken place in her via the possession. Janis stumbled back from the body but regained her equilibrium quickly, a soft smile crossing her lips as she opened blackened eyes on the world.

Sam was already reciting the Latin exorcism that he’d memorized over the years. Once he’d started saying it so often, there seemed no other choice but to learn it by heart. Unfortunately, he only managed a few syllables before Janis thrust a hand at him and sent him into the wall, knocking the air from his lungs and pinning him there.

"Fucking hell…" Nina hissed, stepping up to Dean's shoulder, picking up on the exorcism where Sam had left off. She'd always had a knack for remembering random things, and when she'd set out to memorize this, Janis had teased her, asking when she'd ever need to exorcise someone.

Janis turned her attention on Nina, her hand tightening into a fist and cutting off her words as her windpipe closed. “Mmm, sorry, sis. Is this too Star Wars for your tastes?”

Nina's hands scratched at her throat as she gasped for air, trying desperately to choke out the rest of the chant as her legs weakened from lack of oxygen. Janis laughed at her futile efforts as she went down and didn’t stop until she was fully on her knees. When she did relent, it wasn’t without a warning.

“Now don’t do it again, or I won’t stop next time,” Janis said, her tone patronizing. She looked up at them, then glanced down at the iron knife she’d dropped throughout the commotion. “I didn’t like that one, but Janis tells me, whether she wants to or not, that there’s plenty of knives to choose from in this room. You’ll understand if I take a moment to find one I do like.” As she headed for the closet, Dean snapped the shotgun in her direction, and Janis snorted at this. “Be careful. Wouldn’t want to damage this pretty, little body, would we?”

"Get the hell out of my friend," Nina growled, clambering back to her feet and moving towards the demon.

Janis turned and, with an almost comically, light-handed gesture, sent Nina into the wall where she stayed. “If you all would just cooperate, this kind of thing wouldn’t happen,” Janis scolded. “You had a chance to go along with a deal in which you’d have had it made in the shade. But not only did you refuse. You insulted my friend. He’s not too happy about that, so… who’s really in the right here, I ask you?” She glanced at Dean, smiled at the way he wavered with that gun, how he wanted to shoot and couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. “Aw honey, that’s so sweet. You’re actually playing nice for me! Never would have thought Dean Winchester had it in him.”

Dean growled and leveled the shotgun again, with more resolve this time. “This might hurt her, but it’s better than listening to this shit. She’ll thank me…”

Janis sighed long-sufferingly, then ran for him, knocking the gun from his grip, seizing his wrists, and pressing him roughly into the nearest wall. He flinched and growled at her as she smirked up into his furious expression. When she stepped away, he was fastened there as securely as Nina and Sam.

She took them all in with a hearty cackle. “Oh, it’s like musical hunters. Just look at you…” She turned then and went back toward the closet, tossing boxes aside until she found a suitable blade.

Panting, Nina struggled, trying to free herself from the wall. If only she could reach the dresser, she knew the bottle of perfume on it was really holy water. If she could get to it… She paused as her eyes caught the glint of the blade Janis now had in her hands.

She glanced back at Nina and breathed a laugh at her efforts. “Yeah, you’re not getting down.” She flipped the blade then caught it, taking them all in once more. “Is it the black eyes? I could change them back if it would make you more comfortable?”

"Oh, no, those are actually sexy," Nina rolled her eyes. "Fucking bitch."

Janis smirked. “Go right ahead. Shoot your mouth off. It’s not like it’s your fault Janis is in this position, is it?”

"I know it's my fault, you hell whore, so why don't you just come over here and possess me then? Wouldn't that be sweet revenge for your little one-armed friend, huh? He'd get me after all."

“Not exactly.” And though Janis’s mouth smiled, it wasn’t the sort smile she’d ever worn as herself. It was far too cruel. “See, this is all part of the fun. You do a lot of research, reading all those damn books, but apparently you’ve not learned a thing. Demons kind of have an appreciation for true torture, having been through it ourselves, so possessing you would be too easy. I mean, really… Doesn’t this hurt so much more? Deliciously so?”

"Not really, see, I actually have a very low tolerance for pain, so possessing me, would be far more painful," Nina said sarcastically then nearly screamed. "You harm her and I will fucking…!" she trailed, forcing herself to cool her temper.

“Yeah, I get it,” Janis snickered. “All of you will have my black-eyed ass on a pike. Well, guess what? As long as I’m in this body, you won’t make a move against me. Fuck, we should have thought of this earlier.” Janis crossed over to a very sour Dean, and slid the blade down his chest. “How we doing, cowboy? Holding up?”

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“I bet you’d like to,” Janis grinned. “Janis says you get rough sometimes. She doesn’t mind that, though. She’s such a trooper. She’s awake in here, you know.” She moved to scratch the back of her neck with the edge of the knife. “And screaming her head off, jeez. I would shut her down, but it’s too fun listening to her freak out about what I’m doing, all that I’m saying.” She snapped her fingers. “That reminds me! You pouring your heart out? Secretly, she wonders how much of that is… what’s that word you used? ‘Lip service’? She loves the living crap out of you, Dean, but ever since you left, she’s had trouble believing you feel anything close to what she does.”

“You’re a lying sack,” Dean smirked tensely. “None of this is even close to her talking, so you might as well stow it.”

“Come on,” Janis grunted. “You saw how she cried at the airport. Like the little, heartsick twat she is. She cried for weeks. It started to stave off after a while, but she never really felt right after that. Was always looking for you, someone like you, then finally gave up and just waited. Don’t believe me?” She stepped back and gestured with the tip of her weapon toward Nina. “Ask her! She was there through all of it!”

Nina's eyes narrowed in return, but she didn't say anything. She didn't want to agree with the demon, but she also knew Dean could tell if she was lying, and the demon would surely call her on it.

“None of you are any fun, period,” she grunted, flipping the knife again with a bored look. “But it is true. She wanted you, and you weren’t there. The stuff she did to try and appease that raging lust for you? Holy hell, if you knew? You’d be harder than a left turn downtown.”

“You know, if you’re going to cut us up, why not get it over with?” Dean mocked.

Janis stepped forward with a smile, pulled her hand back, and brought it around with a loud clap across his face. He winced as he was suddenly facing Sam, his brother growling and trying to free himself as their eyes met.

“Don’t be stupid, Dean,” Janis snarled in his ear. “This isn’t for you.”

Positioning herself as well in the center of the room as she could, she brandished the knife in such a way that she resembled a magician, trying to prove there was nothing up her sleeve. She swung the hilt around until the tip of the blade was pointing at the floor, and her left hand blocked its path should she go for a downward stroke.

“This is going to hurt us both,” Janis warned them. “But it’ll hurt you all most, I think.” She reared back and plunged the knife through Janis’s palm, crying out miserably and huffing with intense pain.

A string of curses shot out of Nina's lungs as she struggled wildly against her place pinned to the wall. "I'm sending your fucking ass back to hell!" she screamed, spit flying from her mouth as she began to chant, hard and fast.

Janis’s screams rose in volume, but she managed to wrench the knife from her hand, blood slinging across the room when she did so. And with this injured hand reached for Nina and slammed her head back against the wall, staggering and huffing as her wicked spirit settled back into Janis’s body for the time being.

“You try something like that again, I will slaughter her right in front of you,” Janis warned coldly.

Nina could feel hot blood trickling down the back of her neck from where her head had been slammed against the wall. She wasn't keen on taking orders from the demon, but she remained still, quietly seething.

“That’s better,” Janis huffed at her, then gazed at the gash she had created on both sides of her hand. “I could heal this to make things more comfortable for myself, but you know what? I don’t think I will. Instead, with something like this, I think I’ll just shake it off.” The freely flowing blood that was traveling down her arm was slashed across each of them as she flung her arm wildly, laughing at the stripes and dots that spattered them in the process.

“You’re gonna pay for this,” Dean snarled. “I’ll kill you.”

“Janis appreciates that,” she grinned. “But we both know that’s bull. Cheer up, baby doll! I’m almost done.” She turned back toward Vicky’s body and gazed down at it with a pout. “Dammit, I don’t want to go back there.” She ran the bloody knife from her thigh, across the crotch of her jeans, and up between her breasts, leaving a red trail. “I like this body. I like it, because you do, Dean.”

“Get the fuck out of her now, you bitch!” Dean roared, wrenching against the invisible force that still held him.

“You asked for it,” Janis chuckled, placing the blade against her wrist and holding it out for him to see. “Huh? That’s what you want?” She pressed it into the flesh tauntingly, waiting for one of them to say the right thing, or the wrong thing, for her to act.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Sam murmured, finally speaking up, his voice strained as he tried to keep himself under control.

“What other way can it be, Sammy-Wammy?” she asked. “You’re itching to kill me just as bad as your brother. Somewhere along the way, you got that murdering streak in you. You might have made a decent leader after all, but it’s too late for that, hmm?”

Sam quieted at this, knowing he had no leverage and that arguing further would only reveal things he didn’t want said here.

“What a boring, predictable bunch,” Janis grimaced, still holding the knife to her wrist as if in warning to them. “I guess that means I’m done here.” With that, she gritted her teeth and let the knife tear, blood spurting up into her face.

“Janis!” Dean bellowed and was already bolting forward before he realized he’d been released. He stopped short at the sight of swirling black fog as it escaped her and tumbled into Vicky’s fallen form, reanimating it.

“Dean…” Janis meant to catch herself when she fell to her knees, but her hands were slippery, the knife twirling across the floor as she crumpled on her side. She tried to grip her wrist and stop the torrent of blood, but she was too weak to get a proper hold.

Nina was skidding to a stop beside Dean, already on her knees. "Oh God, oh God…" she muttered, grabbing the nearest piece of cloth she could find, which happened to be one of Janis's dirty shirts, and wrapping it tightly just above the gash to cut off the blood flow. "We have to get her to a hospital, Dean. Now."

“Tourniquet,” Janis muttered. “Get a… belt around my arm…” She fumbled for her own belt with her free hand, her head falling back weakly and tears coursing down her cheeks. “Ah, this hurts.”

Sam raced to the window just as Vicky leapt out and ran into the darkness again. “She’s gone,” he announced angrily.

“Shit,” Dean muttered. About Vicky’s escape, Janis’s condition, everything. He knelt by her and helped her sit up, bracing her against his chest. “I know it hurts, darlin’,” he sighed, then nodded to Nina. “You and Sam get the holy water and salt. We’re gonna make a break for the Impala.”

Having given this order, he unhooked his belt and strapped it around Janis’s arm, pulling it tight and shushing her when she yelped from the pressure.

Without a word, Nina stood, ignoring the dizziness that threatened her from her head wound and bolted out of the room, Sam hot on her heels. She brought up two super soaker squirt guns and bags of salt, handing one of each to Sam.

"Seriously?" Sam glanced at her, and Nina ignored him, turning to Dean as he entered the room carrying Janis. She pulled a small, handheld, lime green squirt gun out of the back of her pants and handed it to him.

Dean held it up for a moment and frowned before realizing this must be the holy water supply he’d asked her to collect. Why hadn’t they thought of that? Still, they were short on time, and Dean positioned himself behind the front door, easing Janis’s feet to the floor and holding her up against his shoulder.

“Baby,” he breathed in her ear. “I know you’re tired, but you’re gonna have to run with me, okay?”

Janis nodded, blinking and clinging to what remnants of consciousness she could.

“All right, both of you cover me,” Dean ordered, snapping his attention between Sam and Nina. “Nina, you’re going for the backseat with Janis, so get ready to grab her when I slide her in.”

"Don't worry, Dean," Nina said quietly, positioning the bag of salt in her arms so she could easily handle her super soaker. "On your mark."

He nodded to her, reached for the doorknob, and wrenched the front door open. The salt at their feet was scattered, and they each bolted down the porch, Sam flanking Dean’s right side and Nina his left. Janis hurried along beside him, leaning heavily. Dean pulled her up until she felt more as if she were floating than running, her feet shifting beneath her as her knees threatened to buckle.

Sam was pouring salt as he went and shot a stream of holy water as a snarling face and outstretched arms raced his way. A yelp was heard as Nina shot a stream of holy water out into the darkness, whatever demon was nearby slinking backwards again.

Dean was already at the Impala, the back door wrenched opened, and was helping Janis in. "Nina!" he yelled, and she bolted for the door, salt pouring out steadily behind her as she leapt in beside Janis and slammed the door shut. Sam bolted for the passenger side, and Dean fished his keys from his pocket, turning and firing the squirt gun rapid-fire into a demon’s face as it attempted to sneak up behind him. He then slid behind the wheel and started the engine, hurtling them down the road with a squeal of tires, leaving dust in their wake.

To Be Continued...

Wash Away My Sins - Chapter Eleven - Supernatural

2009-07-01T17:00:16Z

Title: Wash Away My Sins
Authors: aragornslove and lastwordslinger
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC, OC!villains
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to Kripke and the CW. Nina belongs to aragornslove, and Janis belongs to me (lastwordslinger), so no using them without our permission. We make no profits from this and are just having fun!
Summary: A year after the events of "Unity in Duality", Janis and Nina are a bit savvier regarding the world of the paranormal, but the resurgence of old enemies has left them needing the help of the Winchesters once more.
Previous Chapters: 1 : 2 : 3 : 4 : 5 : 6 : 7 : 8 : 9 : 10

Chapter Eleven

Sam awoke the next morning to find that Nina was already up. He could smell a fresh pot of coffee brewing in the kitchen and figured that must be where she was. He stepped over the clothing strewn on the floor, smiling at the memories of the past night as he gathered some fresh jeans and a shirt, dressed, and made his way to the kitchen.

"Morning," Sam grunted into Nina's ear as he slipped up behind her, his arms going about her waist.

"Good morning to you, sleepy head." Nina set her coffee mug down and turned in his arms, ruffling his unbrushed hair.

He leaned in for a kiss, then broke away when he heard Dean crowing something encouraging at him as he strode in with Janis. “Finally! Sammy, you’re always a step behind, dude.”

Janis snickered at this. “You’re not easy to keep up with,” she noted, leaning over and pecking at his chest, since it was the best she could when barefoot as she was.

"Oh shush, you two," Nina scolded, her hand dipping behind Sam's head pulling him in for another kiss and making it as passionate as she could manage, her body pressed into his. She pulled back slowly, allowing her fingertips to trail a line down Sam's jaw before turning a pointed look to Janis and Dean and handing them both empty coffee mugs. "Coffee's ready. Help yourselves."

Janis rolled her eyes and took her mug, watching with amusement as Dean smirked at the two of them. She would have expected disgust, then again she knew well there was a part of him that only wanted his brother to be as happy as humanly possible. She ran an affectionate hand down the side of his face and watched as he turned that contented look on her, her insides melting at the sight.

As they shared their meal and discussed how their day would involve more waiting on their part, Janis was assaulted by the strength of the connection they’d all made. They were as a family, one she’d not anticipated having, and it felt strangely good, even with all that loomed, to sit with them like this. Yet there was a cloud over Nina that Janis could sense, as though catching a glimpse of something from the corner of her eye. She was just distant enough to be noticed by the woman she called a sister, who knew her moods better than any other.

When they began rising from the table to go about clearing it, Janis moved up beside her at the sink and dunked her plate in the soapy water. She pursed her lips and moved in close enough to whisper. “I know this is going to seem silly, but I get this feeling something’s bugging you. Do you need to talk maybe?”

Nina shook her head, perhaps a little too quickly at the insinuation, trying to push off whatever feeling had caused Janis to hone in on her. "Nope, nothing at all. Just a bit tired is all, long night." She smirked disarmingly at Janis.

“Oh, I see,” Janis laughed, though the impression given had not been one of pleasure. The more she thought of it, the more she wondered if it involved Sam. “Did he act okay? Didn’t say anything weird that’s got you second-guessing? It’s okay to tell me, you know. That’s what I’m here for.”

"Oh, Janis, honey, no. Nothing like that at all. Sam is perfect." Nina smiled lovingly at him on the other side of the room. "I know you're there if need be, but there isn't a need, really." She grabbed the dishes she had just finished drying and called out to Sam. "Could you put these back in the cabinet over there, please?" She pointed once he stepped over and took the plates. Sam nodded and moved off with them, Nina turning back to the silverware that was in need of rinsing.

Janis nodded to her. “I’ll let you guys take care of that then,” she said and gestured toward the dishes that were being taken care of. Nina was doing an admirable job of hiding whatever wheels were turning within her, but Janis could still see that there was more there than what she allowed for on the surface.

Throughout the rest of the day, she made small efforts at getting Nina alone, only to have her cling to Sam like some sort of lifeline. When he was finally forced to leave her side, Nina would find any reason to start badgering Dean for his attention. This was when Janis became acutely aware that something wasn’t just off, it was entirely wrong. If Nina and Dean were having any sort of exchange, it usually involved one playfully mocking the other, not an in depth conversation on hunting tactics.

They were well into the afternoon when Janis stalked into the kitchen, Nina and Sam already beginning preparations for the third meal of the day. In fact, this gave Janis a little leverage. “You don’t normally cook this much,” she said as casually as possible.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, well we have two big boys in the house who need good meals," Nina replied with a smirk, before turning back to Sam, handing him a whisk and pointing him towards a bowl full of mixture. She could tell what Janis was up to, she had noticed her attempts to get her alone, and this was going to turn into another ploy at that.

“Why don’t you rest a little?” Janis smirked. “Doesn’t do us any good if you work yourself into a tizzy.”

"I'm good, hon; I don't mind cooking." Nina shrugged the suggestion off, turning to the fridge and pulling out the egg carton, setting it on the counter.

“Well, what about Sam?” Janis asked, turning to him with a contemplative frown. “I bet he’s not used to all this cooking and housework. Why don’t you join your brother in the living room? Have a seat and relax?” She moved in to take the whisk from him. “I got this.”

Sam shrugged, and looked at Nina as if to say now what?

"Well, if you're going to handle stirring, Sam, you can come over here keep an eye on these burgers. I'll start on something else," She said quickly, handing him the spatula.

“You know, that’s not necessary,” Janis responded quickly. “Three people in a kitchen is just too busy. Sam, really… Go rest. After yesterday, you earned it.” She turned to glare at Nina, daring her to argue that point.

Sam turned to leave again, and Nina grabbed his arm, pulling him back around. "I need someone to watch the burgers. I'm going to start making a salad. And this kitchen is plenty big enough for the three of us."

“I can stir and watch the burgers,” Janis insisted. “It’s fine, Nina.” Then with a hard look. “Let it go.”

"If you want to multitask, go for it. Sam, you can start on the cookies for dessert." She grabbed an egg and pulled it out of the carton, handing it to him. "Bowl and mix are on the counter."

Janis took the egg out of his hand as he moved to crack it on the side of the bowl. “We can handle that later. Sam, just go sit down.”

"You can't do everything, Janis," Nina plucked the egg back out of her hand and gave it back to a very bewildered looking Sam.

“Maybe not,” Janis said, taking the egg back from his open hand. “But neither can the boys. They need time to themselves like everyone else. Sam, go sit down.” She was becoming more stern with every contradiction that left Nina’s mouth.

Sam just stared wide-eyed at the two, not sure what to do as the egg, was yet again, placed in his open palm by Nina.

"Sam and I bought the cookies to make together, and if he wanted time to himself, he'd ask for it," Nina growled back at Janis.

Again, Janis took the egg away. “I’m sure he’s happy to be with you at all times of the day, but maybe he wants a little quality time with his brother. Hmm? You think of that?”

“Actually--” Sam tried to speak up, but Janis put a hand in his face to silence him, which he swiftly did.

"Stop putting words into his mouth! Sam is a big boy and can speak up when he wants something!" Nina grabbed the egg and pushed it quickly in Sam’s direction, a little too quickly perhaps because she missed his hand all together and they all were pulled from their thoughts by the unmistakable crack and squish sound of an egg breaking.

A triumphant glint entered Janis’s eye as she crowed, “HA! Sam, go in the bathroom and clean off.” She was already turning him toward the door and ushering him out.

"No! You'll track egg all over the house! Take your shirt off and we'll wash it off in the sink." Nina grabbed his arm and pulled him away from Janis.

“Just hold it like this!” Janis jerked the hem of his shirt out, pulling at it violently enough that he was yanked back in her direction. “It won’t drip that way, and I don’t want anyone putting a nasty t-shirt in the kitchen sink where we do our dishes. Bathroom, Sam.”

"And I don't want egg all over my bathroom! Egg is supposed to be rinsed down the kitchen sink! SAM! NOW!" Nina snapped her fingers, causing Sam to jump and dart towards the kitchen sink.

“It all goes to the same place!” Janis argued. “Sam, I swear to God, if you don’t get in that bathroom right now, I won’t be responsible for my actions!”

"Fine, you know what, Janis? You win! Come on, Sam, let's go clean your shirt off." She grabbed his arm, and snatched him, yanking him out of the kitchen faster than Janis could react. They sped past Dean and darted into her bedroom, Nina slamming the door behind her and locking it.

Janis managed to get into the living room in time to hear that she was too late. She threw her hands up and let them come back down, slapping against her jeans in frustration.

Dean sat with both eyebrows raised, having caught the last few, shouted bits of her argument with Nina. “Something going on?”

“Everything’s fine!” Janis shouted at him. “I’m taking care of it.” She began stomping to Nina’s bedroom, then turned when she heard Dean trying to follow, thrusting her hand out. “Don’t!”

“You know, I’m just going to get Sam and--”

“Sit down!” she roared.

Dean stepped back and plopped into the chair he’d just vacated, then winced and stood back up, as if confused by his own actions. “Hey, now wait just a damn minute. You can’t--”

“I said sit down!” Janis repeated, stepping forward and watching as Dean sat, gazing up at her in shock. He’d never seen her like this, not even when things were at their worst, so he was officially staying the hell out of whatever disagreement she and Nina were having. Satisfied, Janis moved into Nina’s room and sat down on the bed. She was perfectly content waiting, because they had to come out sometime.

"Um, what's going on?" Sam asked quietly as Nina rinsed his shirt out in the sink.

"I'm sorry, babe, Janis can tell something is on my mind. She knows we talked about something, and she won’t be satisfied until she knows what it was. That's why I've been sticking to you like glue," Nina explained, handing his now wet shirt back to him and opening the bathroom door.

She followed him out, only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw Janis sitting happily upon her bed.

"Um, Sam, go back in the bathroom. I think we missed a spot…"

“You get right on that, Sammy!” Janis barked as she jumped up. She grabbed Nina by the arm and slung her around until she was at the foot of the bed, shoved a foot at Sam hard enough to send him into the bathroom, then slammed the door. She turned and stood in front of it with a smile. “All right, now what? We gonna talk?”

"Talk? That's right, you reminded me, I have something to tell Dean!" Nina spun out of Janis's grip and started towards the door. "DEAN!"

“No!” Janis growled and grabbed Nina by the arm. “Dean, you stay where you are!” Which was her way of saying that he should ignore the ruckus he was hearing. Sam opened the bathroom door to peek out, and Janis caught him, offering a warning glare that made him slam the door again. “Nina, that’s enough. This isn’t funny anymore. Wasn’t funny in the first place.”

"It's not your business, Janis. So stop pushing." Nina turned to face her.

“Since when?” Janis asked her, then pointed accusingly. “Something’s happened, something big, and you’re not telling me. I can’t figure out why for the life of me, because you’ve never had a reason to hide anything before. It’s scaring me, okay? So just spill it so we can all go back to our semi-normal lives.”

"Janis, it's not mine to spill. It's between Sam and I, it's his business, and it doesn't involve you." Nina felt the last part of that lie bite into her and winced, not enough for anyone other than Janis to notice.

“Yeah, but…” Janis trailed off, confused by such harsh words, even more so by how forced they sounded. “I thought we were all in this together? Whatever is on your mind is usually the first thing out of your mouth when it comes to you and me, so how bad can this be? That’s the part that freaks me out.”

Sighing, Nina shook her head slowly. "It is just something that is between Sam and I, a private conversation. I can't betray his trust by telling you." Nina looked back up at her. "Please understand that."

“I can’t,” Janis admitted, the concept occurring to her as she spoke. “We don’t have secrets, Nina. Especially not now, with all that’s happened. This isn’t kindergarten. We’re adults, and we need to handle this decently without leaving each other out. Not when I can see the pain you’re in as if it was written across your face.”

"Exactly, we're adults. This doesn't have anything to do with our current situation. Sam entrusted me with it. Janis, please don't make me tell you," Nina said, her eyes pleading with her.

“Why is it that big of a deal?” Janis laughed, then pointed at herself adamantly. “It’s just me! I just don’t get it! You’re acting like it’s personal, but it’s about Sam! Explain to me how that works.”

"Because it is Sam, that's how it works," Nina replied, trying to explain to her. "He asked me to keep it to myself. It’s like if you told me something and asked me not to mention it. We've had those moments before, and we both know how important they are."

Janis shook her head. “I’m not buying it. Come on, maybe if I could get you out of earshot from him for five seconds, we could at least have a more in depth talk about how your feeling, whether it has anything to do with Sam or not.” She moved toward the door and waved for her to follow.

Hanging her head, Nina followed obediently behind her, knowing she was unable to avoid her at all. They trudged through the living room, Dean peering at them from his chair, a confused look on his face as they disappeared into the kitchen.

Sam poked his head out of the bathroom when the voices had died completely down. Once he was sure Janis was not in the room to yell at him, he made his way into the living room, and lifted his eyebrows at Dean.

"In the kitchen?" he asked.

"Yeah, don't go--"

"Oh, don't worry, I won’t." He sat himself down on the couch and just put his head in his hands.

Once fully alone, realizing she’d won the battle for what it was worth, Janis turned on her. “Keeping secrets is one thing, Nina. Carrying the weight of the world is another, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say that’s what you’re doing.”

"Sam just need to share something with someone he trusted. I'm helping him carry a burden he shouldn't have to carry. It's what people who care about one another do, you know that," Nina replied, leaning against the counter.

“I understand that part,” Janis sighed, helping herself to a chair and gesturing for Nina to do the same. “But knowing what Sam is into most of the time, the nature of said secret bothers me some. Maybe if he worked a nine-to-five somewhere and came home to a normal life, I wouldn’t question it. But he’s a professional monster killer… You must be able to see where I’m going with this.”

"I do, Janis. Just… ah, if it was anything else I'd tell you, I would, but…" She stopped herself as she sat down, not wanting to say anything else.

“If something’s wrong with Sam,” Janis replied in a low voice, leaning further in, “Maybe I could help. Whatever it is, one more person carrying the burden could only make it that much lighter, right?”

"Janis, nothing is wrong with Sam," Nina said quietly.

“Well, he’s obviously going through something,” Janis laughed. “Or else you’re freaking out over nothing, to which I might be forced to kick your ass.”

Nina looked up at Janis, her eyes sad, no hint of a smile on her face, but she said nothing. She knew Janis deserved to know what was going on with Dean, but if she spoke, how would Sam feel? Would he be upset? Would he forgive her? But what about her loyalty to Janis, her lifelong friend, her sister in all the ways that mattered. "Honey, it's not Sam. It’s Dean."

That hint of frustration became the full-blown fear she teased of. Her heart did the impossible, both jumping and sinking at once, as she paused to gather her thoughts. “What about Dean?” she managed at last, reminding herself to keep her composure. It was probably something as silly as a disagreement they shared that Sam wasn’t over yet. Brother stuff, nothing more.

"Honey…" Nina paused, taking a deep breath, starting the story from the beginning. "A month or so ago, Sam got into some trouble, trouble that ended badly. He died, Janis. He was killed, but something that Dean did managed to bring him back."

Janis’s heart was racing, yet she had to control her breathing so as not to seem panicked, and this was no small feat. She clasped her hands together on top of the table, swallowing as she let this information settle. Now the question posed was what magical thing had Dean discovered that could return the dead to life? Nina was definitely the one who would know more about rituals and undoing the undoable. But if she was this bleak, then that meant it couldn’t be good.

“He did something there was a price to, didn’t he?” Janis ventured timidly.

Nodding, Nina asked, "Do you know about the Crossroads Demon?"

“Yeah, made famous by a Blues guitarist back in the day…” She knew there was no need to explain this to Nina since she was the one who’d brought it up, but her mind was slow to grasp what was being said, mostly from the shock of it. She would have asked if Nina was kidding had she thought that would do any good. It wouldn’t, of course. She looked away, out the nearest window. “He traded himself for Sam. That’s what you’re going to say next.”

Nina reached across the table, taking Janis's hand in her own. "Yeah, honey, he did."

Janis pulled her hand away sharply. “And you were going to keep this from me.” Misdirected anger it may be, but it had to go somewhere. “How is that fair? That you should know and I wouldn’t?” Her hand was shaking where she held it in mid-air, out of Nina’s reach.

"This wasn't mine to tell you," Nina replied softly, keeping her voice calm. "It was up to Dean to tell you, but he didn't. I'm sorry he didn't; he should have. I shouldn't have been the only one to know."

Janis curled her fingers into a fist and pressed it against her mouth, looking amused though she felt anything but. “It’s a proper ending, you know. To all this. Jesus.” She paused to rub her eyes, this being the only way she could think of, on such short notice, to hide the tears building there. “So in ten years, he’ll be dragged off by hellhounds, is that right?”

"Under normal circumstances, yes. But sis, you have to remember, this is Dean. He's a Winchester. The Crossroads Demon wasn't apt to give him ten more years to slaughter her kind."

“Then how much time did he get?” she asked, and she felt so hollow she was sure the words echoed.

"One year, and Sam says she was generous to do even that," Nina replied, her eyes holding steady on Janis.

“Generous my ass,” Janis grunted, dismissing the fact that she knew curse words always sounded odd coming from her. Though she was trying to carry herself as one with more strength than they knew what to do with, she was terrified and shaken to her very foundations. “Well, there’s still time. To find an answer, a loophole in the deal. Sam’s working on that. He must be.”

"Of course he is, and so is Bobby. However," Nina paused as Janis cut a sharp look to her at these words. "Sam isn't very hopeful. Dean is refusing to help. He won’t let Sam do a few of the suggestions he offered. And it's because the demon said that if he tries to get out of the deal, in any way, Sam will drop dead on the spot."

That certainly put a secure lock on the deal, and the demon had obviously known that. Aloud she fumed, “Have they thought of confronting her? Killing her maybe? I bet there’s a way. That could break the deal. Or sacrifice someone else. Has Sam cracked any of those dark magic books we’ve got in there? The stuff that talks about black altars. There must be something just as horrible that could be pulled on them and reverse this.”

"He and Bobby are looking through everything they can get their hands on," Nina told her, "but anything that might even be the slightest bit risky, Dean won’t let them do. Sam wants to go after the demon, but Dean won’t. He's not taking any chances. And, honey, neither of the boys will use that dark magic, you know that. There are always consequences to using it, hence what is happening right now."

“Then I’ll do it,” Janis seethed, her lip trembling as her eyes grew redder by the second. “I’m sick of trying to play by these fucking rules. Those evil pieces of shit don’t care, so why should I? Maybe it’s time I started playing the game their way. That’s the only way we can win this. I mean, they have us cornered in our own house, Nina.” A flash of the day before, the gash on Dean’s arm, came back to her. “That asshole. God, it’s like he doesn’t even care what happens to him.”

"You can't get Dean out of this deal, Janis. You try to, you kill Sam, do you want that on your hands? We're stuck between a hard place and a rock right now, I realize this." Nina sighed, slowing down and lowering her voice that had slowly risen. "Yes, they have us cornered in our own house, but we also don't have a surefire way of moving after them. We can't just shoot them. There are still humans in there, and we can't kill them."

“Then I’ll just sit in a pile of salt and wait for them to find a way in, like everyone else,” Janis replied helplessly. “I’ll just wait for Dean to die and wave as the dogs pull him out the door, kicking and screaming. That sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it? It’s the only one we’ve got.”

She shoved herself away from the table and let the chair clatter to the ground. Never one to be violent, this felt strange even to her. There was a portion of her that remained sane but highly disconnected from the overwhelming emotion that threatened to send her crashing to her knees. She’d been so optimistic and pleased and ready for anything up until this very moment. Had she known this was “anything”, she would have felt differently from the start. Now there was only the maddening sensation of running out of time, of everything slipping through her fingers.

“What am I supposed to do, really?” Janis asked tiredly, bracing herself against the kitchen sink. “You tell me, Nina.”

"I can't answer that for you, Janis," Nina started slowly. "I can tell you what I would do though. I'd make sure Dean knew how much I cared, that his life wasn't a waste, that he wasn't worthless. I'd not hound him about his decision, because dammit, Janis, something like that had happened to you, I'd be in the same place Dean is. Hell, you know better than any of us the weight of the decision he made. You made the same one a year ago, when you saved me. You were prepared to die for that."

That was true, and a strange thought occurred to her then. Maybe they were just too much alike, but she knew that wasn’t the case. In a very deep place, where they both believed in self-sacrifice, they were the same. And it wasn’t too hard to believe that these instincts were the sort of thing that connected them even in their differences. There was no use in denying it, so she nodded.

“I told him last time that I loved him,” she murmured. “I told you about that… I guess it bears repeating.”

"It always does. Even if you know someone loves you, hearing it can do worlds of good," Nina replied softly with a smile. "I love you, sis."

The little tics and twitches, which had been signaling a near breakdown since their conversation took its dark turn, grew more pronounced until she was sobbing softly into her hands. “I love you, too.” It was muffled and shaky, but she managed to get it out.

To Be Continued...

Wash Away My Sins - Chapter Ten - Supernatural

2009-06-15T18:44:59Z

Title: Wash Away My Sins
Authors: Aratocriel and Jade Blood
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC, OC!villains
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to Kripke and the CW. Nina belongs to Aratocriel, and Janis belongs to me (Jade), so no using them without our permission. We make no profits from this and are just having fun!
Summary: A year after the events of "Unity in Duality", Janis and Nina are a bit savvier regarding the world of the paranormal, but the resurgence of old enemies has left them needing the help of the Winchesters once more.
Previous Chapters: 1 : 2 : 3 : 4 : 5 : 6 : 7 : 8 : 9

Chapter Ten

Afternoon gave way to evening, and eventually hunger brought the four together in the dining room. Leftovers were heating up in the microwave since neither Nina nor Janis felt like expending the energy to cook.

"So," Nina finally broke the silence. "What did you guys find at Codi's shop?"

“A mess,” Dean muttered, rubbing his sore arm. “A lot of blood, though the cops had cleaned the body out. It might do you good to know she fought every inch of the way, though. We could tell.”

Nina huffed a laugh. "Of course she did. She was a strong person." She shook her head, pulling leftover chicken out of the microwave and setting it on the table. "But warning her didn't exactly do any good, did it?"

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sam interjected. “She knew what to expect, and there has to be something that can be said for that.”

“She wasn’t snuck up on,” Janis nodded. “It’s better than nothing, I suppose.” She took a seat by Dean, where he was already chowing down, though he had earned the right to ignore the conversation for the moment and replenish some energy.

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe we should have just let her stay here," Nina mused, more to herself than to them. "Fucking demons." She growled as she sat down. "Did they leave anything behind? A message or anything? Like they did at Reg’s?"

Janis glanced at them both and almost jumped at the sharp “no” that Sam tossed their way. She squinted at him, watching as Dean raised his head to offer his brother one of the oddest looks she’d seen them share.

“No,” Sam repeated more softly. “Sorry, it’s just… the scene itself was message enough.”

Dean added no commentary to this, which Janis found a tad strange, but she also said nothing. Perhaps a slight change of subject was the course to take. “What about Laura’s house? I realize it didn’t go well, but I’d like to hear what you found there.”

“Your neighbor doing pretty much what we thought she would,” Dean muttered around a mouthful. “Pretending to be a regular, awesome citizen. I guess they knew we’d be coming, because she had this dude with her.”

“Most likely, it was one of the others we saw outside the house that night,” Sam explained.

"A dude? What did he look like?" Nina asked and tilted her head slightly. "I wonder if it's another one of our neighbors."

"Uh, he was a shorter, Asian looking guy," Sam replied, squinting as though trying to remember details. "I think he had a small scar on his forehead. He must have been in his late forties."

Nina and Janis both shared a wide-eyed look. "No way…" Nina muttered.

“What?” Dean asked as he perked up once more.

“Our Taekwondo instructor,” Janis breathed. “Chin Lee. So I take it the cuts and bruises…?”

“Mostly him, yeah,” Dean replied and began favoring said wounds as he was reminded of them.

“This is starting to make me wonder if the rest are people we know,” Janis grunted. “Was anyone else there?”

“Some lady,” Dean shrugged. “Brunette, average everything…”

“Could be anyone,” Janis sighed. She looked at the food before her and suddenly didn’t care to eat any of it.

All their thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the house phone.

"I'll be right back." Nina excused herself from the table and stepped into the living room to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Nina? Hi, honey!"

"Dad, hi," Nina replied, her mood instantly changing at hearing her father’s voice. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Your mother and I haven't heard from you in a few days, and we were starting to get worried. We heard about Codi on the news this morning. We're really sorry. Do you know what happened?"

"Nope, but the cops think it's related to Regs' death. Other than that, they have no idea." Nina sighed, the lie to her father burning her tongue.

"Why don't we have lunch tomorrow, honey? It sounds like you could use some time to unwind."

Nina smiled at the thought. Whenever something had happened in her life, her dad had been there for her. She wanted nothing more than to go see her father, to hug him, and just be a little, worry-free girl again, but she knew it wasn't safe, for her or him.

"I'd love to dad," Nina started, "but Janis and I have a lot to deal with right now, between Codi's death and some things going on around the house. Plus, Janis and I already have plans."

"Are you sure? We’d just do a quick lunch. I can pack a picnic, like I used to when you were little."

She closed her eyes, awash with memories. "I'm sorry, dad. Maybe later on in the week. I'll call you."

"Alright, honey, we love you."

"I love you too, dad. Tell mom ‘hi’ and I love her."

"I will. Bye, dear."

"Bye, dad," Nina finished and hung up the phone, sitting down on the couch, not too quick to return to the kitchen. Her eyes were foggy with the threat of tears. She wished more than anything she could be with her dad right now, as he always had a way of making her feel so safe.

“Nina?” Janis called. She’d heard the farewell, but Nina hadn’t returned, and these days even the slightest quirks were catching her attention. She peeked into the living room and asked, “More bad news?”

"What?" Nina turned in her seat, her hand swiping at her eye. "No, nothing like that. It was just my dad. He wanted to have lunch tomorrow."

“Oh,” Janis said softly, and then it struck her just how upside-down their lives had become. “You had to turn him down.” She stepped closer and laid a hand on her shoulder, rubbing her back soothingly. “Things will get back to normal, and we’ll all go out to lunch. My parents, yours… We can watch them get into arguments, hmm? The yuppies versus the hippies? It’ll be great.”

Despite herself, Nina laughed. "We were the only ones out of our family that could consistently get along." Nina rested her head on Janis's hip and sighed. "As childish as it sounds, I really do wish I could see my dad right now."

“You’ll see him again, hon,” Janis smiled down at her. “This can’t go on forever.” She glanced back toward the kitchen. “I think we’re going to have another demon-watching party tonight. If you’re not up for it, you can go on to bed.”

"I'm up for it. Actually I hope those fuckers show themselves, ‘cause I'm sick of this cat and mouse game. We need to get it over with," Nina grunted, pushing herself up.

“You say that now,” Janis giggled as she followed. “Just wait until it happens, then we’ll talk.”

This time, Janis was able to see to her meal. Somehow it helped center her when she was more concerned about Nina. Yet even deeper than what had happened with her father calling, she sensed that Nina was holding something back, just beneath the surface. Janis tried not to read more into it than general worry over the situation.

They stayed mostly tight knit late into the evening, the boys getting up to make rounds every so often. By midnight, they tired enough to go to bed, and without signs of their enemy, they felt safe enough to do so.

"See you guys in the morning," Nina was saying as she and Sam disappeared into her room for the night.

"You know," Sam said once the door was securely shut behind them, "You never did wrestle me."

Nina blinked as she turned to face him. "What? Wrestle? You're bringing this up now?"

Shrugging, Sam said, "Yeah, well, if you kick my ass here, Dean doesn't have to know about it."

"Ahh, that's your motive," Nina laughed, her eyebrows wiggling. "And what possessed you to make you think I wouldn't tell him anyway." Nina wiggled her eyebrows advancing on Sam who was crouching slightly, his arms out as though to grab her.

"Just a small hope, I guess." He grinned in reply as she circled him.

Nina lunged towards him and in one swift motion Sam caught her up and flipped her head over heels onto the bed. He flung himself on top of her, pinning her hands above her head. She gasped, her body responding to the sudden full contact Sam was making with her.

"I guess this means you don't have to worry about Dean teasing you," She breathed out as Sam's face grew closer to hers.

"Guess not," was his mumbled reply before his lips covered hers.

She melted into his kiss, growling lightly as Sam sat up, jerking her with him. He grabbed the hem of her shirt, and yanked it over her head, tossing it across the room, her bra quick to follow. Once satisfied, he shoved her back into the bed, his mouth finding its way to her breast. She gasped when he trailed his tongue around her right nipple, leaving a wet trail across her chest to the left nipple. His hands worked between them, fumbling with her jeans. When she was sufficiently naked, he sat back for a moment to remove his own clothes and take in her bare form.

"You're more beautiful than I remember," he muttered and Nina smirked up at him.

"You've already got me naked, no need for flattery." Then she grabbed his arm, yanking him back on top of her.

To Be Continued...

"The Hunter and The Game" - Batman/Catwoman

2009-06-10T06:41:39Z

Title: The Hunter and The Game
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: NC-17 (ADULT CONTENT)
Disclaimer: All this belongs to DC comics, and I made no profits from this.
Characters/Pairings: Batman/Catwoman
Prompt: Written for Porn Battle VIII - caught
Summary: In his pursuit of Catwoman, Batman has the tables turned on him.

Selina had taught Batman enough lessons in agility and the cost of not hitting the right marks that she could safely note he was getting good. Or Catwoman had taught said lessons, she reminded herself. Maybe those useless thugs that tripped over their own feet didn’t require any finesse, but Catwoman demanded excellence. Mistiming a single leap or losing sight of the quarry just as it rounded a corner would not do, and Batman had learned that well.

“You want me?” she huffed as she neared what would be a truly glorious, flying leap. “Come and get me.”

She sailed over the gap between the evenly matched buildings, not daring to look down at the alley below and chance missing her destination. Her body stretched and soared, then tucked easily to allow for a somersault. She was back on her feet, listening to the thud of Batman’s heavy boots a beat behind her. Could it be that she was underestimating him?

“You’re quick!” she snapped over her shoulder, yet even the sharpness of her voice couldn’t suppress the purr beneath. “Most girls aren’t impressed by that.”

He growled in return, and if there were words in it, she couldn’t make them out under the sound of her own, merry laughter. He was used to pummeling targets, not chasing them. He missed his car, the pang in his side an indicator of just how deeply.

“You won’t get away!”

That was the perfect thing for someone like him to say, and she smirked to herself. “You could use a workout,” she murmured and sprinted toward another, great leap. For this one, Selina led with her chest. Not as aerodynamic, but she did love how it felt, how she knew it must make her appear. Like an ascending, Egyptian goddess.

Her mood was broken by the collision against her back. She was snapped forward and weighed down, slamming into the oncoming rooftop with a thud. Luckily, she managed to breathe out and empty her lungs before the air could be forced out of her. She wasn’t entirely breathless, but the intensity of his sudden bulk on the small of her back did leave her feeling rather crushed. With a fierce snarl that blew up a cloud of dust, she thrust her elbow backward and into his neck. It was a spot that was fairly protected, as most of him was in his costume, but the blow was forceful enough to make him choke and loosen his grip for a second. In that second, she slithered and twisted, until she was crouching in front of him.

“No!” He wasn’t going to go through all that just to watch her scamper away. Her mouth opened for a sneered remark, but it never came as he swept her legs out from under her.

Selina connected roughly, but her recovery time was impressive, bringing her up within a moment so that they were face-to-face. She moved to claw at him, but he sidestepped like a pro. She’d known that getting this close was where she would lose. She was good at hand-to-hand, but Batman was better than good. He was damn good. She wasn’t sure what he’d been through to be as skilled as this, so much so that he was holding both her arms pinned against her back before she knew what was happening, but the fact remained: he was damn good.

But she still had tricks up her sleeve. Like fighting dirty. She slammed the heel of her boot down over the top of his foot and heard him groan in her ear, but he still didn’t budge.

“You’re going to be stubborn, aren’t you?” she fumed, wriggling in his unrelenting grip. She snapped her head around, tempted to slam her skull against his nose and free herself once and for all, but instead she locked eyes with him, mask to mask. Maybe she was enjoying the position she was in more than she had counted on. “Can you even feel anything through that suit?”

“What?” he rumbled in return, and for a moment he sounded genuinely perplexed by the question. “Whatever game you’re playing—”

“Won’t work?” she interrupted with a smirk. “I think it could. For both of us.” She leaned back and into him, and she didn’t know if a thrill was going through him, but one was certainly going through her. What woman didn’t dream of being with the mysterious Batman and getting a peek under that outfit? Even as a supposed rival, she’d been as thirsty for this moment as a literal cat craving milk.

Her head dropped back onto his shoulder, and while he seemed reluctant to release her, he didn’t know what to do with this odd change of heart. “You’re under arrest.” His voice held no authority, and even he felt pitiful at how dispassionate it sounded.

He was pliable, and this would be the perfect moment to flee. Instead, she slowly guided his hands from her back to her front, urging him to encircle her and rest his palms against the leather clad curves of her breasts. To anyone else, the layers keeping them apart might seem frustrating, but Selina thought she’d never felt anything more erotic than his gloved hands on her second skin.

“This is not right.” He was moments away from grappling her into a new position that would make her his captured game again, but she wouldn’t allow it. Selina whirled in his arms and gripped him, her legs braced against his hips and her nails digging into his shoulders. He winced when he felt the barbs prick his skin, but there was something in his eyes that told her he was officially past stopping her.

There were unspoken rules to this. No one was taking off any masks. As far as they were concerned, all that existed was Batman and Catwoman, experiencing the impossible together on this rooftop. This didn’t change anything. They were still rivals. He was righteous, and she was a criminal, and that was the end of it. They couldn’t allow this to confuse them. It was physical. They wouldn’t talk. They’d simply do.

Of course, Selina did have a comment or three about how impossible his costume was. Her own zipped down the front, and all that was needed was a hand to pull it open and apart while Selina shimmied out of it enough to expose herself. His suit was tight and unruly, and when she released him at last, it was with the two of them panting triumphantly against each other’s mouths, pleased with a job well done.

It was worth the effort, she found. As soon as she saw his erection, she had to taste it, licking her way up and down his length, holding him carefully in her clawed hand. Something of his real tone came through then, his growl shuddering into a moan that sounded almost natural.

“That’s not all the fun I’m going to have with you,” she warned and pulled away before he could release. She straddled his hips, hovering above the prize in her hand and eyeing him as if she had all the patience in the world. If she were to be truthful, her insides were already clamping together at the thought of having him inside her.

Wordlessly, he begged with his eyes, and she knew then that she was the real predator here, not him. She impaled herself on his cock, hitching and showing a moment’s weakness as her hips jerked to take in all of him. Weakness be damned, she thought, and quickly became a writhing, grinding mess atop him, the pressure of his hands on her hips a welcome guide. Claws bit into skin, eliciting a harsh bark, his hips nearly bucking her off of him with the strength of the thrust that followed. Her head rolled back on her neck, and she saw that infernal signal was glaring against the smoggy clouds overhead. They really wanted him to catch her, didn’t they? She laughed throatily then, ecstatic and so tickled.

There was leather and rubber and hard plastic all interfering with skin. Their kisses were demanding and rough, pressed around the corners and curves of masks. He growled at her, and she purred down at him. There was wet and warmth and heat so dark and deep that they both began to sweat uncomfortably in their half-shed outfits.

The noise that left Selina’s mouth when she came was like a yowl, a long crowing plea, and moments later she on her back with a white mess splashed between her breasts. She trembled and moaned at this, her fingers trailing through it curiously, tasting his seed experimentally as she smiled up at his undone expression.

“It’s smart, really,” she commended in a lazy tone. “You didn’t have a Bat-Condom, so what other choice was there?”

Batman pushed himself off of her, as if the orgasm had cleared his head, and began adjusting everything back where it belonged. Selina did the same, redressing in her catsuit. His cum squelched between her breasts as they were zipped back into place, and she huffed a husky laugh at this. She would have fun peeling this off and cleaning it later, she was sure.

“You’re still coming with me,” Batman grunted at her, standing a mere two feet away and yet not making a move for her.

“That depends,” Selina said, her tone conversational. Her legs were weak, and she had a feeling his were, too. Still, she was always up for a good chase. “On whether or not you can catch me.”

The End

"As Real As Life" - Terminator - Kyle/Sarah

2009-06-09T06:08:42Z

Title: As Real As Life
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: NC-17 (ADULT CONTENT)
Characters/Pairings: Kyle/Sarah
Disclaimer: None of this is mine, no profits were made, so please don't sue.
Prompt: Written for Porn Battle VIII - dream
Summary: Sarah allows herself a very vivid dream of her lost lover, Kyle Reese.

He was dead, and yet there he sat. No matter how she wanted, her mind could not justify both of those things as being true, and the inevitable question crept out of her mouth. “This isn’t real, is it?”

“It’s as real as you want it to be,” Kyle replied. The words were wry and almost teasing, but his eyes were so damn sincere that it pained her to look this closely.

“I’m dreaming,” she breathed, wanting to reach for him but staying herself. This was all her mind playing tricks, responding to how badly her body missed the vividness of his touch. “I’ll wake up alone.”

“You’re not alone,” he said, and his arms went around her. It certainly felt as real as she wanted, just as he’d promised. His body was slender and hard from the unrelenting life of a soldier, and his scent was natural, not doused in cologne and aftershave like the men in her time. He demanded nothing aside from the dubious honor of comforting her.

She was meant to be several months along with John, but she could feel her flat stomach pressing against Kyle as their bodies conformed to fit one another. It was then that she realized they were both nude, the swiftness and nonsensical nature of it entirely befitting a dream.

“I told you I came across time for you,” he was saying, his voice coming from nowhere and everywhere. “So what’s death to separate us? It can’t, Sarah. I’m here.”

She expected her mind to have conjured the motel where they’d spent their one and only night, but she’d gone the extra mile and believed herself to be in her home. She thought of it as a “home”, but it was far from that. More like a bunker, a place to wait for a storm and make a stand. It had never been a place to love until this moment, with Kyle urging her legs around his narrow hips.

The penetration, that felt as real as everything had so far. She shuddered with it, so hungry and so hurt from missing him. Just as before, the first and last time, he was worshipful. His hands moved as if she were not fragile but already cracked, as if he might break her with a single misstep. Maybe he wasn’t too far off in that. Every day gave her more reasons to let sanity go. Even having seen the horrors herself and having lost Kyle to them, she questioned her mind. Why wouldn’t she when she was capable of having visions as deceptively lucid as this?

He took the time to admire the way her body had transformed from that of a soft, scared girl to a woman taut, strong, and ready for battle. But she was supposed to be several months along, not svelte and toned as she was now. She understood with sudden clarity that she would be this way later, and that if Kyle were alive, this is how he’d touch that body.

The touch was indeed fine, and her body’s instantaneous reaction to the thrust of his hips and caress of his hands was to turn her back into a lovely curve, her breasts presented for him to taste. Even his tongue was cautious, licking and pulling her nipple between his lips, but he wouldn’t dare grazing her with his teeth. She’d never seen someone so violent with so much control during such a brutal act, but it reminded her yet again how his love was adoring and not demanding.

Her hands wove into his hair, her hips bucking up off of the mattress and grinding over him. “I’m yours,” she told him. “I can’t settle for anyone else. This is it.”

Sarah was full and surrounded, both outside of herself and within. She could feel his gradual thrusts become a tumultuous pump, forward and back, but she could also see how his hips rolled and his shoulders clenched where he held her. She could see their mouths lock in a kiss and feel the scorching heat of his mouth. Floating above and experiencing it simultaneously, the rub of his body on hers and the sight of it became too much. She felt she understood all the implications of a words like “tight” and “clench” and “grasp” when she came, shaking and jerking as if near death. And in a way, for that second, she was, and it brought her as close to him as she would ever be again until she truly let go of life.

“Kyle, I love you.”

The sun was up. Her head was thick from sleep and the heat that had built in the room. Her stomach was round again, as it had been becoming increasingly so over the past, several months. And her hand was sticky.

“Dammit.”

She wanted to be angry or to cry, to feel the way someone grieving for lost love would feel. But she was just so grateful to still remember him as if it had been yesterday. What she would mourn more than anything was the day she forgot. Or worse, the night she stopped dreaming.

The End

"Mark of the Beast" - Supernatural - Sam/Madison

2009-06-08T17:23:11Z

Title: Mark of the Beast
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: NC-17 (ADULT CONTENT)
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Madison
Disclaimer: All of this belongs to Kripke and the CW, and I make no profits.
Prompt: Written for Porn Battle VIII - bite
Summary: The worst case scenario becomes a reality: Madison has bitten Sam. AU for "Heart".

“God, Sam, I told you.” The words should have sounded horror-stricken, but they were so heartfelt and sad, quiet. “I’m so sorry. This is a nightmare.”

He vaguely remembered her teeth sinking blood deep and thinking to himself, they look like razors, but they feel so blunt. The stupidest observation to make, a delirious one, but the only other truth to be realized from the bite was that it had made him like her.

“What will we do?” she asked, and the use of the word “we” made him raise his eyes from the bite on his bicep to her. That indicated that she intended to help, return the favor regarding all he done for her. It was the sort of sweetness and generosity that he’d come to know her for in the very short time they’d been acquainted. “I mean, if I changed you, and killing the one that changed you reverses the—“

“We’re not doing that.” His eyes were wide now. When it was only himself in peril, he’d felt a low panic bubbling under the surface, the sort that seemed to hound him constantly these days. Yet the idea of killing her in some selfish, half-assed attempt to save himself was outrageous and sent that panic flying up into his throat. “Don’t even say that.”

She nodded, understood that in Sam’s world, she would never have to be a martyr. Still… “Being a hero is awfully sweet, Sam, but sometimes you have to help yourself.”

“Killing you won’t save me,” he insisted, feeling this closed the subject.

“What about your brother?” she asked gently. “What will he do?”

“He’ll try to help us,” Sam said. And that was true, to a point. When there was no more help to be found, Dean would kill Madison and tear himself apart trying to protect his little brother. Because that’s just how the man was wired. Monsters were monsters. Family was family. The end.

“He won’t like this, will he?” Madison added, searching his eyes.

“It ‘ll be all right.” Empty words. Shallow solace.

“You should have shot me,” she murmured, shaking her head ruefully. “Whatever I did, however I came at you, you had to be armed, right? You should have shot me and saved yourself.”

“We’ll find a way,” Sam replied, as adamant as he had been from the start.

“Stop it, Sam!” Her face and tone were hovering somewhere between laughing and crying, that limbo where one existed just before true hysterics set in. “Just stop. That’s enough. I’m a monster, and you let me make you one, and that’s not all right. It won’t ever be all right.”

“Maddy.” The impromptu nickname, born of forced familiarity and a heartfelt intimacy that shown in his eyes now, calmed her. So did the weight of his hands as they fell on her shoulders, steadying her where she stood. He wanted to tell her that whatever fix they were in surely had a cure. They would look after each other now, and Dean would come to understand what they were, and everything would be all right despite her words to the contrary. He wanted to thrust pipe dreams down her throat, believe them himself, but instead he found his desperation translating itself into an embrace.

This animalistic behavior they shared wasn’t new. It wasn’t from a bite or a dark power overtaking them, unless natural lust could be considered paranormal. Though the mark she’d left brought forth a different sort of clinging despair, quick and hot. They were hurting and brutal with one another, Sam tearing at her clothes and not seeming to care if he ruined them, pinning her to the bed with enough pressure on her wrists to bruise. Then the next moment, his touch along her side would be feather light as if he feared breaking her, his mouth fixating on a patch of nerves and making it ache in a way that couldn’t possibly inspire fear. Madison gave as well as she received, both wilting beneath him and demanding of him with her fingernails in his flesh. They could’ve been growling or crying, rutting in the woods or lavishing each other with loving attention, all of it open to interpretation. The speed with which their moods shifted spoke of no control, great fear, and insatiable appetites.

The red imprint on his arm could’ve been an exotic lipstick mark, and for the time being, that’s all Madison would see it as. She set to licking it, as if it were a wound she could heal this way. It made him grope at her, angry and so grateful all at once. Finally he could take no more of this attention and rolled her so that her back was pressed into his chest. Her leg hooked over his hip, his invitation to enter, and he followed it without hesitation. He immediately set a frantic pace, and Madison caught his frenzy, arching and backing herself over his cock, shutting her eyes tightly enough that a fireworks show played on the insides of her eyelids.

Their flesh was a blur of white hot muscle and slick skin, until she found herself arching over him, somehow riding him backwards with her head craned back against his shoulder. His long, calloused fingers rubbed furiously against her nub, his other hand gripping her left breast. She wasn’t even certain how she’d contorted herself this way, but it didn’t matter. It felt incredible. So incredible that her walls tightened about him and caused him to spill moments later.

His teeth grazed her shoulder then, experimenting and baring down enough to leave a superficial mark, but he didn’t break the skin. Somehow that restraint touched on a sore spot within her, the idea that he could be a monster and still be himself, and it gave her twinge of jealousy. She realized that wasn’t entirely true. He’d not experienced the full effects of the bite yet, but she wondered if Sam was capable of truly losing himself to the curse the way she felt she had.

Their afterglow was silent and still. They both knew that they would fall asleep and wake as something else, possibly running out to hunt together. Maybe even to truly mate as animals would with even more viciousness than mere human lust could account for.

Madison said she was sorry again, that she’d never meant for this to happen.

“No one ever does,” Sam said with a helpless sort of laugh, the kind that could turn to crying at the least provocation. “Just… sleep with me.”

The End

"Gauge Is On The Red" - Supernatural - Dean/Impala

2009-06-08T17:17:18Z

Title: Gauge Is On The Red
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: NC-17 (ADULT CONTENT)
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Impala
Disclaimer: All this belongs to Kripke and the CW. I make no profits from this.
Prompt: Written for Porn Battle VIII - growl
Summary: Dean just turned nineteen, and he celebrates with his best girl.

“Happy birthday to me, huh, baby?”

Dean was nineteen, had been able to call her his own for a year now, and wouldn’t change one moment of it for the world. He’d always brushed off his birthday, since depending on the year, it was as likely to suck as to be mind-blowingly awesome. He’d had birthdays that hurt him to think about and ones that were so nice it almost felt like it had happened to another guy.

“How about we think of this as our first year anniversary instead?” he asked her, running his hand along the steering wheel. The leather there was still supple, because he took care of her. Always would.

The only positive thing he’d noticed about getting older was the increase in freedom. Sitting out in the dark now, alone, just him and his car, these were the moments where being nineteen actually felt like something special.

He rested his arm along the back of the seat and laid his head back as the engine idled. His baby didn’t just idle, either. She purred and growled beneath him, trembling as if affected by his closeness. He moved to stretch his legs out and his boot grazed the accelerator. He was parked, so the only effect was a roaring rev that made him bolt upright. The entire car had felt taken over, every inch of him shuddering with her in that great blast of power.

“Damn.” He knew she had it going on beneath the hood, but she still surprised him.

The shock had resulted in an interesting reaction below the waist, as well. It made him shift a bit in his seat, a building erection that could rival many he’d gotten in the past pressing into his jeans. He wasn’t embarrassed by his libido, was proud of it, in fact. He’d had sex in this car before. He’d masturbated before. He’d never masturbated in this car. The only logical answer to why he hadn’t was because the opportunity had never properly arrived, but the truth wasn’t that logical. Really, he respected the Impala as something more than a car. It had never felt right before.

“That’s fucking weird,” he laughed, as if someone else had just divulged such a secret to him. “But you know…” He was caressing the wheel again, like he would the neck of a lover. “Maybe tonight’s the night?”

His boot met the accelerator again, the rumble of the engine running through the car and into him. It made him curse when he felt his clothes chafe just right. She wasn’t even really going yet. She was just toying with him. More pressure, and she was really gunning, though she stood still.

His jeans were thumbed open in a hurry, the zipper all but yanked off, his right hand diving under the waistband of his boxers. God, she was such a tease, quaking all around him and practically begging for this. She still had space between the pedal and the floor.

“You want me to drive you hard?” he asked, hand sliding up and down his shaft, his boot slamming down on the pedal. She bellowed a long, hoarse note that could’ve been his name if he really wanted to believe that badly. In this moment, almost biting through his full bottom lip with the smell of burning gasoline and the stars overhead, he did want to believe it. He would regret it later and just be glad no one knew about this incident but him, thanking whoever-gave-a-shit that he could be madly in lust with his car within the privacy of his own mind. For now, this was paradise.

Dean’s hand moved furiously, his hips jerking, his body giving in the way it only did when he was alone and not trying to posture madly for some girl. He didn’t need to flex or pout to get attention. The Impala was running for him, through him, and it was all he needed.

His climax felt like it came too fast, quickly enough to be mocked, and sprayed white across the steering wheel, splashing up onto the windshield. As if the Impala had reached her own limit, the engine cut off all at once.

“Jesus,” Dean huffed, fumbling with sticky hands for the ignition. “Oh, fuck, I didn’t burn you out, did I?” He cranked once, twice, and she responded the second time.

The radio came on with it, though he’d touched none of the dials. It was “Trampled Under Foot” by Led Zeppelin blaring at him, and he stayed stock still while Robert Plant tossed one euphemism after another his way. “You better not be fucking haunted,” he warned her.

Then again, was it so hard to believe, in his line of work, that she was just saying “Happy Anniversary” in her own way? Whatever the case, this was one he’d take to his grave.

The End

"What We Make" - Terminator: Salvation

2009-05-23T15:03:26Z

Title: What We Make
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: John, Kyle, Sarah, hints of Kyle/Sarah
Disclaimer: None of this is mine. I'm just playing in the sandbox, so to speak. Please to not be suing.
Spoilers: For Terminator: Salvation
Summary: Kyle receives a photo of the legend, Sarah Connor.

“She’s beautiful.”

John’s attention snapped upward, his eyes catching Kyle’s just as the younger man attempted to look away. This younger man who was his father. His mother had been right about one thing: he could go positively mad thinking about that at too great a length. He’d been lost in thought about such things as time and the headaches it caused, how it wasn’t as linear as everyone seemed to believe. He wasn’t startled so much as taken aback by a compliment for his mother from his father who had yet to meet her. Another time puzzle.

When Kyle looked away, seemingly having thought twice about what had just left his mouth, John glanced down at the picture again. It had seen better days, but considering how old it was, he was simply glad to have it in his possession still. He was rough on everything: equipment, soldiers, himself. But he’d not lost the picture. That must mean something, or so he chose to believe.

“She is,” he finally agreed. John could sense Kyle’s tentative stare, one that could dart away again with a timidity John didn’t usually see in him. “You want to ask me something.” He allowed a rare smirk. “Just ask.”

“Who is she?” Kyle ventured with care in his tone like that of a surgeon making his first incision. Perhaps he knew he might well be overstepping some carefully drawn line. Maybe he was all too familiar with the idea of loved ones lost, and this was no doubt someone John had lost to the machines. Surely Kyle had learned at least one hard lesson about asking questions he shouldn’t about folks who were long gone. All of the above wasn’t out of the question either.

“My mother,” John replied with a smile that exposed emotion both bitter and sweet. “She died before the war, but…” He snorted, though what was to come wasn’t the least bit funny. “She knew about things that were destined to happen. About the struggle we’re now in.”

This left Kyle at a sudden and distinct loss, and it showed. His mouth worked but nothing save a croak in his throat would come until he at last managed a single word. “How?”

John wasn’t sure how to explain something so delicate without giving away too much, and he was forced to settle for the simplest reply imaginable. “Time travel is a very strange thing, and I think we’re all going to learn a thing or two about it. There’s a sort of loop to it. I teach her things that she later teaches me. It’s complicated.”

Kyle merely trusted John’s word, as he was apt to do. He knew by now that if he was meant to know something, John would tell him. Otherwise, it would be taken care of. There was no need-to-know basis. There was only the knowledge that John knew what he was doing, and Kyle needn’t worry. It was this confidence that sealed Kyle’s loyalty, that gave him an instant fascination with the woman who had raised such a leader.

“What was her name?” Kyle asked, attempting to appear nonchalant and failing.

“Sarah,” John answered. “Sarah Connor.” He looked from the picture, with its varied imperfections, to Kyle, his young father. John took his wrist and pulled it toward him, pressing the photo into Kyle’s palm before he could hesitate. “Take good care of it.”

“Wait, what?” Kyle asked, his hands grappling with the plastic and Sarah’s lovely, sad face before his sweaty palm could warp or stain it further. “No. No! Sir, I didn’t mean--”

“I know you didn’t,” John interrupted sternly, the steel in his eyes calming Kyle at once. “Think of it as a gift.”

“You’ve already given me a gift I could never repay.” The sincerity in his voice was heartbreaking, burning with an intensity at its core that John admired, that he wondered if he had inherited. “I wouldn’t ask to take something like this from you.”

“You’re not asking,” John corrected softly. “I’m giving. Keep it. Remember her and all the incredible things she’s done. Honor her strength. Think of that whenever you look at her. Trust me when I say that will help.”

Kyle wanted to tell him that he couldn’t very well stop himself from being in awe every time he looked at that picture. He imagined her being even more beautiful in person, exuding a sort of raw power as a goddess might. Already he wondered what made her appear so troubled and lonely, and he considered that it was the knowledge she carried falling heavy on her shoulders. Even then, he could be wrong, and other scenarios began to occur to him already. Oh, and she glowed, the sun hitting her face just so while the wind teased at her hair…

“Thank you,” was all Kyle said.

John nodded to him and stepped away. He refused to consider whether or not this would have an effect, whether this would change or encourage anything. The rebellious teenager that still hid beneath the surface of him didn’t want to think that he was playing matchmaker between this young man and his mother. It was too bizarre, too farfetched. Yet at the same time, he knew he was following his own advice. No fate but what we make.

The End

"Misfits and Runaways" - X-Men - Rogue/Gambit

2009-05-06T19:58:12Z

Title: Misfits and Runaways
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All this belongs to Marvel and Fox and NOT ME.
Characters/Pairings: Rogue, Rogue/Gambit
Summary: Rogue tells about her life after the cure and how things don't always work out like you plan.
Spoilers: For X-Men: The Last Stand and possibly X-Men Origins: Wolverine (though light on that second one).
Author's Note: This is my attempt at reconciling the movie and comic -verses. So it's movie-verse with comic influence. Enjoy! :D

Some cure. It didn’t take. Well, that’s not all true. It did for a while. Maybe I should start over.

When the government started demanding mutant registration, I was one of those that decided to voluntarily opt out of my powers. It wasn’t because I’m all “rah-rah establishment” either. When you’re incapable of touching someone without hurting (or worse, killing) them, there’s a temptation to jump on whatever cure they toss at you.

Plus, there was a boy. Isn’t there always?

Long story short, it came back. That nasty feeling of having worms crawling in my skin, in my head, while I laid next to Bobby. It was the most literal rude awakening either of us could’ve been treated to. Then began the decent of our relationship into what it was before: I can’t touch you; you can’t touch me; why are we bothering?

I’m good at running. I bet Logan is so pissed at me because I took that route, but I just couldn’t deal. All the people in that school were just so close, and the physical distance I felt translated itself into emotional distance, too. I don’t want to get into that. It is what it is.

Of course, I could’ve stood to wait until I was older. Employable. Something. I was on the street. I started doing things. Bad things. Nothing sexual, because… well, I can’t. But I was using my powers to steal. I know that might sound nonsensical almost, but it actually makes perfect sense when you think about it. I would touch them, trying to be sneaky about it, and they’d get weak enough to pass out. Then I’d take some money from their purse or wallet. I got good, too. I got so I could do it in plain sight without freaking out because I was absorbing stuff (memories, personalities, the usual). I would crouch by them when they fell, and the other folks that stopped to check would just assume I was helping. They never saw me sneaking the cash.

Well… Not totally true. One did, but he wasn’t one of them. He was like me.

He was an older guy, and I say that like it’s a bad thing, but it really isn’t. For one thing, he knows more than me, which has got to be good. He’s pretty hot for being older, too. You know, he’s not that old. This kind of talk is embarrassing. Like it matters at all. I’ve got a white streak in my hair, so I bet plenty of people assume things about my age.

Anyway, he saw me and picked out what I was doing immediately. When I made a break for it, he was there to catch my arm. Thank God, or whoever watches, that I was wearing long sleeves as usual. I still had the typical reaction, though: don’t touch me! He wasn’t listening, and I’ve come to realize he has that kind of stubborn streak to him. He dragged me aside, and I saw his eyes do this weird thing. They flashed a kind of red, and that’s when I knew. That started a scuffle, and I came pretty close to draining him before we reconciled over it. Apparently, this guy wanted to help me. He called himself Gambit, and I didn’t question it. I’m “Rogue”, after all.

I was lucky to have him, for more reasons than just needing a place to live and honest (Gambit? Honest? What am I saying?) money to keep me going. It turns out there were side effects to absorbing people all willy-nilly without tempering myself. Remember when I described the sensation as worms in my head? Suddenly, I had a brain full to overflowing with worms. All of them nibbling and talking and making me lose myself as they ate.

Before, it was easy to manage. There were flashes where I felt the worms talking or acting through me. Like when I was really affectionate and playful, that was Bobby. When I was angry and lonely, that could be Logan. When I was deeply afraid, mostly of myself, it was Magneto and what he’d done to me with that machine. There were other people I’d never known for more than the few seconds it took me to get their money, and that’s where things really started to get bad. Cravings, bizarre sexual attractions, isms I’d inherited from strangers.

Bottomline: I was losing it. I couldn’t hold that many minds. Mutant, I may be, but I was still only meant to be myself, not all these people. These feasting worms. If the professor were still alive, I would’ve run to him. Even if just Dr. Grey was around to turn to, that would have been a reason to go back. I was half-tempted to return for Logan, for that stability I had in knowing he’d always catch me when I fell. Like a little girl to her dad.

“You’re a grown woman, chere.” He’s got this voice that just rumbles. It goes right through you. Did I mention that? Guess not. “You gotta deal with this.”

I told him I was scared.

“That’s natural. And you aren’t alone, so stop acting like you are.”

So that was that. We weathered it. Some days, I was downright schizophrenic. He still teases me about some of the stuff I did that made him positively baffled. Like when I insisted on taking all the American cheese out of the fridge and unwrapping every, single slice. It seems funny now, but at the time? Not so much.

You know, Remy (yeah, he eventually told me his real name, and I told him mine) acts like this tough, impenetrable force. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Play for keeps, because you might not get a second chance. Life in the fast lane. If you ever meet him, and he acts this way, tell him I said he’s full of shit. That is the sweetest, most heroic man you’ll ever meet. And yeah, he might be a little right when he calls himself a charming asshole, but underneath all that… You just have to dig.

Oh, and he kisses like a guy who is well-schooled in the art. I risked having another worm in my head to do that, but what of it? You would have, too.

He smiles at me and calls us “misfits and runaways”. A couple of thieves. That’s how he knew me, because he can see his own reflection from a mile away. I’ve toyed with the idea of taking him to the school, because they’re the kinds of people who would take me back and invite him in with no questions asked, but I like this life. Maybe I like it too much. It’s both quiet and loud, him and me. I still have my weirdo spells every once in a while, but they’re getting fewer. I’m starting to learn control of a sort. We have to travel a lot sometimes, because Remy tends to leave a trail of burnt bridges behind him everywhere he goes, but it doesn’t bug me like I thought it would.

I’m almost scared to say it. Damn, I’m terrified to say it. But I think I’m happy.

The End

"In Conclusion" - Chuck - Supernatural

2009-04-19T23:59:12Z

Title: In Conclusion
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This all belongs to Kripke and the CW. I'm just playing around and making no money from this.
Characters: Chuck, mentions Dean, Sam, and Zachariah
Spoilers: Through 4.18
Summary: Chuck finishes his latest book.

“So where are you headed next?” Carver asked expectantly.

“You tell us,” Dean replied, smooth and cocky as ever.

Carver nodded to him, understanding the words and the power they held as both brothers exited. He could hear the Impala’s doors close, metal on metal, the engine roaring to glorious life. They may not meet again in this lifetime, but Carver would be waiting for the signs.

Chuck paused there, wondering if this was any sort of line on which to end. The whole thing felt very Maudlin, trying too hard to be epic in places, and he was taking great pains to omit what he’d felt in that moment. He didn’t mention how Dean’s words had unnerved him, how he’d felt a phantom tremor go up his back. He failed to note how the phrase wasn’t only perfectly timed and delivered with a roguish smirk, but it was accusatory. It had pressed down on an already hefty weight Chuck was carrying, joke or not.

Then there was all the external mess “behind the scenes.” Like how Chuck couldn’t help but notice that the best part of this passage was Dean’s line. That was great, inspired, but it wasn’t the product of Chuck’s mind. The one part that could be seen as genius had nothing to do with him. That was all Dean with his charm and wit, exercising free will by being as facetious as he liked. Chuck might as well be a human tape recorder.

“A cheap one,” he muttered to himself as he tapped between the left and right arrow keys on his keyboard. The blinking cursor danced back and forth over the period in his last sentence. He wanted to be better at this. He’d thought he was, considering how original the subject matter had been. The characters were different and very real. He wanted to laugh at that stray thought. “Real is the word for it.”

That’s why he sucked at this. All he had left was the way it was written, and that wasn’t very good. No point in pretending.

“You’d think they would’ve called on someone like…” He searched his mind for the great writers of his time, waving a hand in the air and not caring that he spoke only to himself. “…Tolkien or King or Gaiman. Or hell, Dan Brown might actually be better at this point.”

That nervous, ugly shake had entered his hands, and an ache pierced above his right eye. To think he’d been considering finally making that doctor’s appointment he’d been avoiding for the past, handful of years. It was fear that had done that. If the source of his pain was something neurologically unsound, let it take him unexpectedly rather than have him spend the remainder of his short life trying to cure himself to no avail. Let it take him in his sleep, and he would dull the pain with alcohol until then. Now he knew he couldn’t die, even if he wanted to. Before, he feared death and the unknown. Now he had the answers and an indeterminate lifespan that could go on for centuries if God (no, the angels… not God) willed it.

“So much worse,” he snorted as he reached that shaky hand toward a bottle.

When his fingers curled around the neck and tipped it his way, bringing the soft reek of booze just beneath his nose, his eyes darted of their own volition toward his phone. He’d been eyeballing it warily for days now. He thought of Zachariah, of Dean and Sam, and he turned back to his latest novel after a long, bitter swallow.

He deleted the last paragraph in a swift highlight of his mouse and a smack of the backspace button on the keyboard.

Only one sound in the world sounds like the squeak-and-creak of an aged Impala door, and Carver was hearing that eerie noise now. He knew on some level that as a writer, he was all too apt to put significance on small stimuli where it wasn’t needed, but he couldn’t help but hear more than a squeaky door and a deeply purring engine when Sam and Dean drove away. That was the sound of a haunted house that held too many memories, rattling chains in the night, the scraping in the walls you pretend are rodents.

Right then, he wanted to run and stop them before it was too late. It wasn’t a vision but a compulsion, as a creator, to protect what he had recently learned should be held sacred. Prophecies aside, Carver still looked to the brothers as his characters to guide. He would trade a connection to God for the power to hold their destiny any day, and he would treat them right. Sam would go back to college, and Dean would settle down and start a family. Jess would return and make Sam happy as she was meant to. Their parents could rise and live, and demons and angels would be in hell and heaven where they belonged.

Carver ached all over. He needed a drink. So he poured one. Then he sat down and began to write.

Chuck wiped furiously at his cheeks and the moisture that had mysteriously appeared there as he typed a final “The End” and centered it at the bottom of the page.

“I’m writing about myself writing about myself,” he muttered tiredly. “My head hurts.”

This last was certainly no lie. Which meant the next book was only beginning.

The End

"Practice Makes Perfect" - Castiel/Anna - Supernatural

2009-04-16T17:37:06Z

Title: Practice Makes Perfect
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all seen here belongs to the CW and Kripke. I'm just playing around, and I made no profits from this.
Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Anna, mentions Dean/Anna
Summary: Anna continues her attempts to teach Castiel to feel. This time with a kiss.

Castiel would never wish to disappoint her, but so far this experiment was only uncomfortable and a bit damp. He was all too aware of how close she was and didn’t understand how this was supposed to be anything but disconcerting. According to Anna, this was affectionate and comforting. She’d been careful to avoid calling it the other things it was: sensual, carnal, and lustful. Yet it was there between them in the way her fingers curled into the forearms of the flesh he wore.

Castiel parted from her, not jerking away or shoving. He merely took hold of her shoulders and moved her from against his mouth to over a foot away again, where she’d started.

“That was very nice,” he recited with barely any inflection to his voice.

“You didn’t feel a thing, did you?” Anna accused softly.

“It was wet,” he countered with a tilt of his head.

“Well, it’s something,” Anna muttered, more to herself than to him. “I should’ve expected this.” She moved further away, and though Castiel wasn’t very learned in the ways of body language, he could tell that he’d done something wrong.

“We could keep trying,” he offered.

“There wouldn’t be a point,” Anna said, her voice strained with the effort it took to keep her disappointment properly buried. “I’m sorry I brought it up, really. I don’t think you’re ready to understand the ways of the flesh, Cas.”

“Does one have to fall to feel it the way it is meant to be felt?” he ventured carefully, thoughtful as always.

“That may be,” Anna replied, but it was plain that she didn’t care about the reasons. She only cared that it hadn’t worked, and Castiel felt a weight fall on him when he considered that he’d let her down.

“I am… sorry.” The words were almost a question, awkward with a tinge of inappropriateness to them. But if there were words for such a situation, Castiel didn’t know them.

“Me too,” Anna sighed with a smile as strained as her voice.

Castiel searched her eyes for a moment as something welled up in him, some new realization. He wanted to compare it to revelation, that feeling of receiving orders and having a direction being given to him, but this felt more internalized. This was not delivered from some outside source. This was only him. Him and a memory.

“Dean could do that for you,” Castiel grunted and could hear something new in his tone that hadn’t been there before. “He kissed you and felt everything he was supposed to feel.”

Anna, who had averted her gaze, snapped it back in Castiel’s direction now with a hint of confusion. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was jealous. Perhaps that was too simple a label to put on something as complicated as this, but there was something dangerously bordering on a sin there, lurking around the corners of his words like a shadow.

She was near to answering him, moments away from finding the right words that would soothe and calm him. She wanted him to be real, but it shocked her to find that the notion of an envious Castiel was frightening. Perhaps not to her, but to others certainly. She wasn’t given a chance to smooth the jagged edges, steer him onto a more even path. She was besieged.

This kiss was like fire, full of movement and fervor, and while she wasn’t sure he felt anything more now than he had moments ago, he was having no trouble in making her feel. Her body was not strictly angelic, and that was another way in which she would likely never find anyone else who understood her uniqueness, but she wasn’t numb. Their locked mouths was a bold reminder of just how much sensation she could sustain, how much it lit her up inside.

The room had been turned white from a harsh glow, and neither of them noticed until they were parted a second time. It seemed that Anna’s wings had slipped free when she wasn’t looking, and Castiel felt another of those odd surges (pride this time, but he was still too naïve to pair words with emotions with any success).

“Was that better?” Castiel asked, and Anna could see a splash of color on his cheek, proving in some, small way that he perceived more from his vessel than he let on.

Anna was mere seconds away from saying “yea, verily,” but she figured Castiel wouldn’t understand that sort of humor. “Yes, I’d say so.”

“We should continue to practice this,” Castiel said evenly. “I feel I am improving.”

Anna snorted, then before he could become defensive, she pressed her hand tenderly against his cheek. “You are at that.”

The End

"Strange Allies" - Ghost Rider/Iron Man Crossover

2009-04-15T22:34:36Z

Title: Strange Allies
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All this belongs to Marvel! I'm just playing in their sandbox. No profits were made from this.
Characters: Tony Stark, Johnny Blaze, James Rhodes, and Jarvis.
Summary: Iron Man has a rocky first meeting with the Ghost Rider. (Movie-verse)
Author's Note: Ghani, I blame you! You writing A Ghost of a Chance made me sit down and work on this until I had finished it. And I might even write a sequel if I can work it out in my head. :D

“That went well,” Tony intoned calmly.

“If you consider leveling a parking garage ‘well’,” Jarvis replied.

Tony made a scoffing noise. “It’s after dark. No one was in it. You ran a scan first. A quick one, yeah, but it was clear.”

“Of course,” Jarvis replied. “Should we be heading home now, sir?”

Tony considered the question, executing a barrel roll over the top of an office building to which they were coming eerily close. “Actually, I’d like to patrol a little. My civic duty. Maybe it will make up for that wreckage back there.”

“It is the thought that counts,” Jarvis said.

“I should have never let Pepper convince me to download little nuggets of joy into your memory banks,” Tony grumbled.

Night flights still held a taste of nostalgia for him, though he would never admit this out loud. His first flight had been after dark, heading straight for the moon. Of course, he’d nearly died in the process, but then that simply brought back memories of the rush it had given him. He had realized then what he’d been setting himself up for, that with this awakening would come the responsibility of laying his life on the line for others. Cutting through the blackness, narrowly avoiding obstacles as he soared too low for his own good, reminded him. Albeit, he was also enjoying the ride and “patrolling” was an excuse to continue.

Tony knew it wouldn’t be long until Jarvis shot another quip about the late (or in this case, early) hour his way, so he readied himself to turn back home when his sensors picked up a yellow and orange streak below. He would have ignored it if not for the fact that they were registering temperatures that were simply unheard of.

“Good God, what the hell is that?” Tony asked, skidding to an awkward, hovering stop in midair. “Like a grease fire on crack?” He paused, and when Jarvis didn’t answer, he wondered if the AI had been baffled into silence for once. “It’s like… a comet. That’s just not possible.”

Jarvis finally did speak up when Tony angled himself to dive in for a closer look. “Sir, this sort of phenomena--”

“Don’t start,” Tony grunted as he soared further in. The trail of flame that was steadily and rapidly moving down the mostly deserted street had a source, and now that he was allowed to get a zoomed in view, Tony couldn’t hardly believe his eyes. “Uh, Jarvis? That guy on the motorcycle. Is… his head on fire?”

“I believe so,” Jarvis answered, sounding puzzled but not horrified.

“Should I… help him?” Tony asked, though it was unclear if the man felt any pain, not to mention that the fire seemed to have progressed until his skin was entirely gone.

“If you feel a pressing need,” Jarvis replied. “Only allow me to point out that his vehicle is reaching speeds well beyond the norm. We are currently traveling at over one hundred miles per hour and not having the easiest time keeping pace with him, sir.”

That pestering voice in his helmet was barely a blip on Tony’s personal radar. He was much more concerned with either seeking a resolution to this new “problem” or getting to the bottom of its mysterious origins. After outing himself to the press, Rhodey had been sure to scold him up and down, and one of the subjects his friend was most adamant about was that of adversaries Tony would face. With all the patience of a man speaking to a five-year-old, Rhodey had told Tony that enemies, possibly foreign ones who didn’t have America’s best interests in mind, would start coming out of the woodwork. With Tony using a superhuman suit, they would start to boost their efforts in return, and things would soon get ridiculous. Tony felt his stomach flip and sink when he considered this newcomer alongside Rhodey’s warning.

He swooped in close, watching his speeds clock in at a hundred fifty miles per hour, to greet the flaming rider as casually as possible. “You do know your skull is on fire, right? You might want to see to that.”

Eye sockets, empty aside from turning flame, whipped his way as the creature’s entire head turned. Tony was jarred by this and allowed a short yelp to escape him, slowing enough to put a great deal of distance between him and the rider in only a matter of seconds. If he didn’t know better, he’d say there had been a note of confusion in those barren features, but it had been a meager assessment. It was obvious now this man (thing) was in no sort of peril. Truly, he didn’t wish to examine this other long enough to know more than that. Before he could count himself lucky that the rider was speeding away, the motorcycle made a sharp U-turn and halted, facing Tony where he now hovered.

“Oh, shit,” he groaned. “Jarvis, I think I made a mistake.”

“What else is new, sir?” was the reply.

The rider taunted him with a series of loud roars as he revved his engine.

“What is this?” Tony muttered. “1950s greaser flick? Are we playing chicken?”

Apparently they were, for the rider’s bike suddenly went from growling playfully to surging forward in earnest. Tony could see a simple solution to this: fly up. But his ego was being tested, as was his resolve, so he stood his ground. He could hear Jarvis blurting statistics about surviving the impact should it come to that, but Tony merely extended a hand and fired his repulsor. He expected the air to clear and reveal the skeleton in the leather ensemble to be tumbling through the air. Instead, it plowed through with some jittering of the motorcycle’s front wheel, then steadied and rammed Tony’s midsection full force.

Tony never considered himself lost to gravity under any circumstances anymore, and with a twist and fire of his repulsors, he was balanced on his feet. Any other vehicles would have crunched like aluminum foil against his suit, but he was starting to understand, just as with its rider, this was no ordinary bike. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he saw more odd confusion with a touch of irritation in that bizarre, bare visage. Whatever this creature was, it was sentient enough to deduce that his bike would be no threat. He dismounted and trudged purposefully in Tony’s direction.

“You know, I’m as much of a fan of zombie movies as the next guy…” Tony was muttering, more to himself than the rider. Before he could finish his thought, his metal encased throat was seized, his entire body lifted off the ground.

“Look into my eyes,” the rider snarled, and Tony found he was compelled to do so. That commanding voice, deep and doubled over itself into forever, didn’t allow for argument. If he hadn’t liked what he saw there when those sockets were basically empty, he knew he would hate what he would soon see even more. He struggled to free himself, but the rider’s grip was absolute. Fire swirled, creating shapes that were becoming more and more discernable. People, places, his life.

“Jarvis, optical shut down, now!” Tony snapped.

“That would--”

“Do it now!” Tony bellowed as he attempted to twist his head away.

Luckily, there was no need as the inner workings of his mask went suddenly and entirely dark. There was a low, questioning growl, bones digging into his throat, twisting the metal until he could feel it constricting and biting into his skin. Then he was thrown, the action almost arbitrary though he knew it was out of anger. Whatever that thing had been trying to accomplish, Tony had just thwarted him, and it wasn’t being taken lightly.

Without eyes to see, Tony couldn’t stay himself from crashing and rolling until he slammed into some solid wall that stopped him. He heard the clipped sound of boots approaching and huffed out, “Back on! Turn it back on!” His sight blinked back into life, as if he’d just opened his eyes, right as the rider gripped and lifted him from his awkward landing.

Tony was slammed backward into the building he’d been huddled against, and he felt his head crack against the inside of his helmet as metal met brick. Before this could happen a second time, he redirected the power flow from his repulsors to his arc reactor and sent a shockwave through his enemy. While it took a great deal of force, this managed to wrestle the rider away and onto the ground. Tony was on him at once, throwing punches that were useless but at least served to keep him busy.

Until the sun rose.

Tony noticed the change almost at once, mostly because the creature actually started expressing some modicum of pain. Flame was extinguished, skin growing over bone as naturally as a lizard might grow back a tail, though much more swift and, therefore, stunning. Tony staggered back, listening to the weak chug of his hydraulic joints as the man’s face, now complete, grimaced and grew still where he laid on the ground.

“This is the part where I would be pulling out a bottle covered in Xs and tossing it over my shoulder if this were a cartoon,” Tony told himself calmly.

“He is alive,” Jarvis replied as though Tony had asked. “His vitals appear to be weak but stable. Shall I call 911?”

“No, you shall call Rhodey,” Tony countered as he plopped down next to the still figure with a scrape of metal. “I beat the ever-loving snot out of this… person, so I can stand not to send him to an ER where they probably won’t know how to treat burning skeleton men anyway.”

“You wish to know more about him,” Jarvis supplied.

“That, too,” Tony huffed. He glanced over at the motorcycle out of curiosity. It was only a bike now. How convenient.

“Do you think bringing him back to your home is wise?” Jarvis asked.

Tony was rubbing his throat as if he could feel it beneath the now warped metal surrounding it. “No, but look who you’re talking to.”

* * * * *

Johnny had the typical headache he associated with his powers. The typical dehydration, too. Unlike awaking in Carter Slade’s shack, there were no glasses of water awaiting him. He was semi-cognizant of the fact that he shouldn’t be this worn out when he’d gotten so used to his powers, that something must have happened, but he was too weary and out of sorts to put his finger on what. All he knew was this place was brightly lit, so it wasn’t a bar, and there were bickering voices. Bickering, not fighting. Another good sign.

“So this guy was on fire, and you beat the ever-loving snot out of him?” came one voice. “Then you brought him back here of all places?”

“You know, it’s irritating the way you oversimplify these things,” came another. “Don’t get mad. I’m telling you this for your benefit. A military man has to have his people skills, and, yeah, you could use some work.”

“Tony,” the first implored again. “I don’t know whether to believe you’re making this up or what. Where’s a calendar? Is it April first?”

“Yeah, because my pranks consist of knocking a guy out and putting him in a leather outfit,” Tony snorted. “Rhodey, please. If it were April Fools, that would be a girl in there. And she’d be naked with--”

“Stopping you there,” the other, obviously Rhodey, surrendered. “I know you don’t take much seriously, but this could be very, very bad. Especially when he wakes up.”

“Too late,” Johnny greeted. His voice sounded more raw than he would’ve liked, but he was smirking and hoped the look was disarming enough. It was obvious he’d startled them both, and they jerked their attention to him as he leaned against the end of the hall he’d just stumbled down. He was facing a large, sunken living room and wondering how much money this guy made. More than he ever had, even in his heyday. “You got water?”

“Uh…” Tony offered Rhodey a combination shrug-frown that the other man shook his head at, then gestured to the kitchen. “Bottled in the fridge.”

“Tap water’s fine,” Johnny was saying as he shuffled that way. He rummaged through a couple of cabinets, not caring if he was welcome to or not, and found a glass to fill with water. It was usually unlike him not to care about manners, but at the moment he was just too damn thirsty. Not to mention that “Tony” had all but admitted he had kicked him around, and that explained a lot of why he was so tired now. A glass of tap water wasn’t too much to ask for in that case.

After drinking down an entire glass, he refilled and moved back into the living room. He took the steps carefully and helped himself to the big, comfy sofa, resting the glass on his knee and glancing up at his hosts with a smile. “Morning.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey shot back with a careful, sideways glance. “Sorry, I’m not exactly sure if I should be offering you reparations for getting assaulted or kicking your ass myself.”

“Don’t worry,” Johnny replied easily. “Happens all the time.”

“Which part?” Tony prompted.

“All of the above,” Johnny nodded, then took another long gulp of water.

Tony tilted his head, thinking this made all kinds of sense as well as none at all. “So what was all that?”

“Which part?” Johnny returned with a laugh. “The fiery stuff or…?”

“Let’s start with the fiery stuff and see where that takes us,” Rhodey replied, having already decided he’d be sitting in on this conversation whether he was welcome or not. Tony seated himself nearby while Rhodey chose to continue standing, too restless for sitting at the moment.

“You won’t believe the explanation I have to give,” Johnny warned them both lightly, his Southern drawl making the way he chose his words seem even more odd. “It’s the truth, but you won’t believe it.”

“Try me,” Tony urged, shooting a glance at Rhodey, then leveling his eyes on Johnny once more. “You know what? Don’t even start with the fire. Let’s try your name first.”

“Johnny Blaze,” he replied. Absurdly, he put out his hand and waited for Tony to take it, even though it took several beats.

“Blaze,” Rhodey mumbled as they shook hands. “The motorcycle stuntman that disappeared?”

“I didn’t disappear,” Johnny corrected softly. “I’ve known where I was the whole time.”

Tony had to admit that was clever but didn’t allow himself to smirk despite the urge. He still wasn’t sure if this guy was just waiting to get his second wind before attempting to throw him out a window. “Speaking of motorcycles, your bike is in my shop downstairs. Nice piece of work, though it looked a little different last night.”

“About that,” Johnny began. He put up a finger to indicate that he needed moment, downed the last of this second glass of water, then set the empty glass on the coffee table. “Several years ago, I made a deal where I sold my soul to the devil. In return, he gave me these powers that come about only at night, turning me into a flaming skeleton. My bike is affected by that, too, as you saw. This has been going on for several months now. Years? I’ve lost track of time, truth be told.”

“So this guy’s crazy,” Rhodey announced.

“I might be,” Johnny shrugged, unaffected by this appraisal. “But your friend knows what he saw.” He turned tired, ice-blue eyes on Tony, who was watching him avidly. Johnny then lifted his hand to gesture at the scrapes and cuts along Tony’s neck. “I did that. Or it did. Whatever. And if memory serves, which it does more often these days than it used to, that wouldn’t have been possible unless I was telling the truth. That suit you wore was…” Johnny leaned forward suddenly, elbows on his knees and eyes brighter than they had been thus far. “Iron Man. Tony Stark. That’s you! Holy… I read about you.”

“Great,” Rhodey laughed tiredly, burying his face in his hands as if trying to hide from this fiasco. “I told you, Tony. I told you, and I sound like my mother right now, but I told you!”

By now, Tony and Johnny had effectively tuned Rhodey out in favor of being innocently in awe of each other.

“I heard there were others,” Tony was saying with a slowly dawning kinship of some kind, tentative and full of wonder. “I just didn’t think… You have rocked my whole world view within the space of a couple minutes. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“About like finding out the devil is real and that you can stare people into a coma?” Johnny shot back with a breathless laugh.

“So that’s what you were trying to do to me!” Tony crowed with a snap of his fingers.

“It’s called a Penance Stare,” Johnny shrugged. “Makes you see all your sins at once and be held accountable. It’s not pretty.”

“Considering my track record, I might’ve dodged a bullet,” Tony grunted. “Screw that. I dodged a missile. No, a hydrogen bomb. You see where I’m going with this, right?”

“Pretty clearly,” Johnny nodded. “Listen, there’s no hard feelings, right? I mean, the powers come from kind of a weird place, so I’m not always myself when I’m like that. I get turned around… Shoot first; ask questions later. It’s not like I plan things that way.”

“You just said you could’ve sent him into a coma,” Rhodey replied, staring at them both. “And you’re asking for ‘no hard feelings’?”

“Well… he didn’t mean to,” Tony countered, turning big, brown eyes up at Rhodey as if imploring him not to be a spoilsport.

Rhodey moved his eyes between the two of them, to Tony then Johnny then back. They were like lonely kids who had maybe discovered the barest opportunity to make a new friend. He’d known Tony a long time, barely knew Johnny at all, but he felt this was true for the both of them. They were experiencing something so different, even from each other, but they wanted someone to understand, desperately. That desperation was shining between them now, having found the oddest of homes.

“What do you want, my permission?” Rhodey asked Tony, trying to make light of how pitiful this all was. “If you want to take him on his word, then do it. If this goes sour--”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less than for you to come after me personally,” Johnny told him, and this was an admission that Rhodey hadn’t expected, one that gave him pause. “If you didn’t, I would think something was wrong with you. But we’re all on the same side. Promise.”

Tony smirked and spread his hands as if presenting the fact that Johnny had said everything that needed saying. “Well, that got tense for a minute, didn’t it? All right, so you want to go check on your bike? I could upgrade it, you know. Not sure what effect that would have on the Devil-Went-Down-To-Georgia half of it, but it couldn’t hurt, right?”

Both he and Johnny were already moving toward the stairs to his shop, and Rhodey watched them go with a touch of a rueful smile. “I will never get used to this,” he muttered, yet he was following dutifully behind.

The End

Wash Away My Sins - Chapter Nine - Supernatural

2009-04-12T16:37:04Z

Title: Wash Away My Sins
Authors: Aratocriel and Jade Blood
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC, OC!villains
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to Kripke and the CW. Nina belongs to Aratocriel, and Janis belongs to me (Jade), so no using them without our permission. We make no profits from this and are just having fun!
Summary: A year after the events of "Unity in Duality", Janis and Nina are a bit savvier regarding the world of the paranormal, but the resurgence of old enemies has left them needing the help of the Winchesters once more.
Previous Chapters: 1 : 2 : 3 : 4 : 5 : 6 : 7 : 8

Chapter Nine

“Tell me again,” Janis sighed as she turned from the front window for the millionth time, “exactly what Sam said.”

Nina sighed audibly back at her, turning to face Janis. "He said that they were leaving Codi's shop and that it was definitely the demons, like we needed that reassurance. He said the scene was very bloody and was glad we didn't come along. They are heading to Laura’s house now and will tell us more when they come back." Nina shrugged. "That's it. He sounded hurried, and I suppose they were trying to go over some kind of a plan or something. That that was nearly forty-five minutes ago…" She trailed off, fixing Janis with a worried stare.

“Yeah, I know,” Janis replied, returning to the window again. “I’ve been counting, too.” She paused and pressed her hands to the pane when she saw a black shape moving in closer, one that could easily be an Impala. At first, she thought it had to be her worried mind concocting sights that weren’t there, but when it hurled its way into the driveway with a screech of tires, she knew it was them. “Oh, thank God. Nina…”

Nina spun towards the door and flung it open, just as quickly leaping out of the way of the brothers as they stormed into the house.

"Dean, that was completely reckless!" Sam roared at his brother, causing Nina to lift both eyebrows as she fixed the salt after shutting the door, then stepped over beside Janis. “I can understand wanting to go after them with what they’ve done, what they most likely will do, but pushing me out of the way? Telling me to run? Three against one, Dean! That is not fighting smart.”

Janis noted that they were both cut and bruised, but Dean certainly looked more worse for the wear than Sam did. She was further horrified by his tirade, proving that some unnecessary risks were taken.

“Is that why you told us to stay behind?” Janis asked softly. “So that you could use yourselves as bait?”

“You don’t understand, Janis,” Dean told her at once, then turned his attention back on Sam. “I wanted you out of there because they were ganging up on you, and history is not going to repeat itself, you understand me?”

Sam glanced at the girls, realizing at once he couldn’t fully speak his mind in front of them, and began striding toward the kitchen. He grabbed Dean’s jacket on his way by in an attempt to drag him along but was swatted away.

“This isn’t over,” Sam snarled at him and gestured sharply for him to follow. Dean shot a glance at the girls before going along.

When they got to the far end of the house, Sam spun on him. “Ever since you made that deal, it’s like you have a death wish. What, a year’s not soon enough? Hell’s already on your heels. What more do you want?”

“I want you to get off my damn back!” Dean roared. “Is this the thanks I get? Huh? You’re ungrateful, Sam. You are.”

“I don’t want to be grateful!” Sam bellowed in return, then forced himself to lower his voice. “Not for a supposed gift I never wanted. I never asked for anything from you except for you to be my brother. I never wanted you to die for me. If I’ve said it once…” He laughed helplessly, running his hands down his face before continuing. “This is what dad did to you, and for some bizarre reason, you saw fit to do it to me. But you know what? At least I got you angry. I proved you’re feeling something.”

Dean glared, his jaw ticking as he pushed that anger back down. He didn’t want to unload on Sam, and it was taking every ounce of restraint he had not to. Instead, he growled a warning. “You were right to do this out of earshot of them. Say whatever you want to me, but Janis better not get wind of this.”

“Last wish of a dying man?” Sam asked, and his voice was thin as he tried to contain further emotion, his rage dissolving into choked sorrow.

“If you have to make bitchy, sarcastic jokes, then fine,” Dean breathed with a shrug. “I’ve made enough of them about it myself. But Janis can’t handle knowing this. This isn’t about you and me right now, okay? Keep it together.”

"Um, boys? Is everything alright?" Nina asked from the door of the kitchen, having followed after them shortly after they stormed into it.

"It's nothing," Dean muttered, pushing past Nina and moving back into the living room.

"Sammy? Honey, come with me." Nina took his hand and tugged him behind her. "I have a first aid kit in my bathroom. We need to get your cuts cleaned up."

Sam followed, unable to shake the sadness and anger that seemed to have etched their way into his features. After they entered the bathroom, he leaned back against the sink and asked, “How much of that did you hear?”

"Probably more than I was supposed to," Nina answered, pulling her first aid kit out and leading Sam back into her bedroom, motioning for him to sit while she opened the kit and pulled out some anti-bacterial wipes. "Sammy, what's going on?"

He flopped down and shook his head, not knowing what to say. If he told Nina, it would get back to Janis, and he would have broken his promise. But it was such a weight. He didn’t want to carry it alone anymore. Taking on the weight of the world was something he’d always chastised Dean for. Doing so himself could only serve to make him a hypocrite, but that hardly made anything he was about to say justifiable.

“It can’t leave this room,” he said with a hard look.

"Of course Sam," Nina replied softly, taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze before turning her attention to the cuts on his face.

Sam winced minutely when the sting of her ministrations met the first cut on his cheek. “About a month ago, I…” He sighed in frustration, knowing the story was far too long and winding to make much sense to her, but he would have to try. “Do you remember the Yellow-Eyed Demon?”

"Yeah, I do. I've actually found mention of him in a few of my sources," Nina nodded, satisfied with the cleanliness of his first cut and moving to the next. "He make another appearance?"

“Something like that,” Sam replied, trying to stay still as she worked. “He took me and several others with powers like mine to a ghost town and made us fight to the death. Sounds almost ridiculous when you say it like that. But it happened, and I… wasn’t the winner.” He pulled her hands from his face to still her for a moment. “I died. I wouldn’t be alive right now if Dean hadn’t… done what he did.”

The small wipe in Nina's hand fell to the bed as her eyes widened. "Sammy, you died?" She shook her head. "There's no power on earth that can bring someone back…" She trailed off, her eyes jerking back to his. "Dean saved you? Oh my God, Sam, did he… did he make a deal?" Her mind reeled through the files of information she had read on Crossroad Demons and the deals they made, none of which ever turned out well.

“Then you did hear that,” he muttered. “Yeah. His soul in exchange for my life. Usually they give ten years. He got one. We’re down to eleven months now and counting, and I still don’t know of any way to get him out of it. Part of the terms were if I save Dean, I drop dead. So everything I suggest is immediately shot down. Bobby’s looking like crazy, and there’s just… nothing. Not yet, anyway.”

"Sammy you've got Bobby on your side, you can't lose," Nina offered him a brave smile. "Honey I can't believe you've been carrying this around; it felt like something was off between you two, but I couldn't put my finger on it."

“He’s different since it happened,” Sam agreed. “Then again, I have been, too. And that crap he pulled today…” Sam laid back on her bed with a weary noise. “I can’t make him care about his own life, Nina. He basically told me that he wants it to be over. It’s like he’s looking forward to it.”

Nina stared at him in silence, hardly able to believe what she was being told. "I… I'm not sure what to say." She scooted up onto the bed next to him, pulling his head into her lap and running her hands gently down the unscathed parts of his cheeks. "I know Dean's had a hard life, both of you have, but I never thought he'd bring death down on himself."

“It’s a lot harder than you think,” Sam whispered, turning to press his face into her thigh. “Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t appreciate how much. I like to say it’s worth it, and I still believe it is. Saving people, hunting evil. Dean told me once that he didn’t think it was fair, that our family had to make so many sacrifices while everyone else gets a normal, comfortable life, and I was the first to say that I wouldn’t change that.” He’d never felt more vulnerable in his life than he felt now, but he also didn’t want to stop until it was all out. “Maybe now I would. For Dean.”

"Do you honestly believe that pulling Dean away from hunting now would help anything?" Nina asked softly, her fingers weaving a gentle path through his shaggy hair. "I don't. Yes, your family has made so many sacrifices, but think of all the lives you've saved because of those sacrifices. People who wouldn't be alive without what you and your brother did." Nina was silent for a moment before she continued. "It isn't fair, what some people have to give up, but you and your brother are heroes, regardless of how many people know. And you really aren't that different from someone in the military, Sammy. They give up their lives to protect ours, just like you're doing. Just like Dean is doing."

“To turn back now wouldn’t change anything, no,” Sam agreed. “But… I don’t know what I think.” He sat up, looking more tired by the moment. “I think we’ve got time, and I’m concentrating on that. Time to turn this around.”

"I believe in you, Sammy, as cheesy as that sounds." Nina smiled at him. "I'll do some research too, see if I can't dig anything up. The more eyes looking the better. Just try for your brothers sake not to ride him so hard. I realize it's upsetting when he seemingly throws his life away, but you two need to spend the time you have as brothers and friends, not arguing about something that is already done."

“I try. But you know he doesn’t make it easy.” It was an inopportune moment for a flashback, but he had one. To nearly a year ago, when everything Dean said threatened to set Nina on a path of destruction. “He’s the lucky one, you know? He gets to be as fucked up as he wants to, especially now because he feels like he’s given himself an excuse. And I get to be the one left holding the bag.” Then came the perfunctory brave smile, the one he was all too used to flashing. “Sorry. I think that’s what’s called a floodgate that you opened.”

"It's alright; I'm excellent swimmer." Nina gave him a crooked smirk. "Besides, you can't be expected to hold all this in on your own. That's too much of a burden to carry." She picked up the small tube of Neosporin and began applying it to the clean cuts on Sam's face. "I know you and your brother have to leave again after this is all over," she said softly, the words harder to say then she thought they would be. "But you do have my phone number. Keep in touch with me, call me whenever you need to, hell Sam, let me come to your rescue once, huh?"

Sam smiled and huffed a laugh at this, mostly at what a foreign concept it was and somewhat at how nice it sounded. “I’ll call,” he replied simply, growing quiet as Nina continued dabbing at the small cuts he’d received. It felt like being pampered, which had both wrong and right sensations that accompanied this. He watched her closely behind a veil of stillness, how attentive she was to every nick. His jaw clenched as something stirred in him, something he’d thought buried, and he lunged forward, catching her lips with his own.

A small squeak of surprise escaped from Nina as Sam's lips pressed hard against her, though the shock only lasted a moment before she melted into him, feeling his arms take her in a secure embrace. They finally drew back, both needing air, Nina grinning from ear to ear. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

That would be a complicated answer, so he settled on something more straightforward. “It was overdue.”

* * * * *

“So are you going to tell me why your cuts are deeper and more numerous than your brother’s?” Janis asked as she applied a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol to Dean’s wounds. Luckily, none were fatal, but her assessment of the damage in relation to Sam was no less correct.

Dean reclined on the sofa, his head resting on the arm of it as Janis disinfected the superficial cuts on his bare chest. His ruined shirt was wadded up in his fist, and his face was deceivingly blank. She had already wiped away the excess blood with a washcloth and had been relieved to see there was more blood than actual injury. When given a chance to get a closer look at the marks left on him, they appeared disturbingly like claw marks, though they weren’t quite deep enough for that. She could only imagine it must have been someone’s fingernails. There was a cut on his bicep that was a lot nastier, and she had a curved needle and thread beside her, praying he would stop her and just take the scar first.

Silence spread out as Janis tossed the bloodied swab in the trash. “Not answering, I see.”

She was glared at for her trouble. “Don’t feel much like talking.”

“That’s a shame, isn’t it?” Janis asked and turned to the gash on his arm, cleaning this more meticulously and making him wince. “Because you’re going to.”

“What is this?” he growled. “You gonna torture me?”

Janis paused with a longsuffering sigh and kissed his temple. “No, it would just give me some peace of mind to know what happened.”

That simple request was more effective than authentic torture would have been. “We got overrun. I didn’t think they’d be waiting there for us.”

“Well, if Laura walked up to Nina in the store,” Janis mused aloud, running a damp washcloth over his arm, “then she must have been setting us up for this. All but screaming, ‘come find me!’ Chances are it was a trap all along.”

“Thanks,” Dean grimaced. “Always appreciate a vote of confidence like that.”

“Did I say you were stupid?” Janis asked, pausing in her work to stare at him, waiting until he returned the look to continue. “No, I didn’t. You did what it’s in your instincts to do. You struck back at them. I wanted you to. I’m just saying that in hindsight, which is always an infuriating 20/20, we should have thought about it more carefully rather than acting spontaneously. We let them get to us, and that was a mistake.”

It didn’t surprise her to see that his eyes were steely and brimming with unspoken fury. He was still angry and wanted someone to direct it toward. Whatever he and Sam had argued about, it must have been a doozy.

“Do you want me to sew that up?” she asked softly, nodding toward the open cut.

“You better,” Dean grunted, turning away again.

Janis shut her eyes wearily, picked up a lighter that had been among her emergency supplies, and flicked the flame to life. She waved the needle back and forth through the heat to sterilize it, chewing her lip nervously as she let the fire die with a click. The needle’s point hovered just over his skin, then Janis drew away with a sigh that was forceful enough to resemble a gasp.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she laughed. “If it was anyone else, I don’t think it would bother me as much.”

“Hand it here,” Dean muttered with irritation, flicking his fingers at her as he sat up. “I’ll do it myself.”

“No,” Janis snapped, pulling her arm out of his reach. “Dean… if it’s between me helping you, and you doing it yourself, then I’ll help. Jesus.”

She wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but she didn’t hesitate this time to push the needle through his skin and pull the thread through the other side. Dean groaned grabbing the half-drained beer he’d brought into the living room with him and finishing the rest hurriedly. Janis’s eyes reddened, and though it was a demanding test for her compassion, she ignored the affect his pain was having on the both of them. She sewed and cleaned carefully until the deed was done, the stitches surprisingly straight even to her own, fairly untrained eye.

“Better?” she asked as coldly as she could muster, wanting to turn away before an eye spilled or lip trembled.

Yet somehow the callousness had fallen from him. She admitted that she’d not been watching his face as she worked, and she couldn’t say what it was that had made it leave. Perhaps he was just too drained to hold onto his negativity, which she could understand. Perhaps the pain was cathartic to him, a possibility that terrified her. Either way, he glanced at the patched wound and nodded approvingly, then dipped in close for a kiss, his tongue glancing hers when she opened her mouth to gasp.

When he pulled away, it was with a soft, moist noise and a smile. “Perfect, babe.”

To Be Continued...

"Life's Not So Terrible" - Dean/Janis - Supernatural

2009-04-11T19:22:42Z

Title: Life’s Not So Terrible
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: NC-17 (Adult Content)
Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, and I don't pretend it does. But Janis is my character, and Nina belongs to Aratocriel, so they can't be used without permission. No profits were made from this story.
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Dean/OFC
Spoilers: For 4.17 "It's A Terrible Life"
Summary: Dean Smith needs a secretary, and he believes he's found the perfect woman for the job in Janis.
Author's Note: Yep! It's Dean/Janis AU, sort of. You don't have to have read any of the previous stories to get what's going on here, but I think it makes it more fun. Also, there's a couple of Easter eggs (in keeping with the season? Heh.) for those paying close attention. Enjoy!

Day One

Janis walked the short distance to Mr. Smith’s office in her sensible heels with her pleated skirt moving against her thighs in a soft, swishing to and fro. She checked the buttons of her white blouse, a compulsive move that spoke of her nervousness. She hugged the folder that held her resume against her bosom as she tapped on the open doorjamb.

Mr. Smith raised his head and smiled disarmingly at her, then stood from his desk. “Hi, come on in. Have a seat.”

“Good morning,” Janis greeted, hoping she didn’t appear as anxious as she felt. He was gesturing to a pair of chairs before his desk, and she managed to tear her eyes away from the view outside long enough to take one gracefully and cross her legs at the knee. “Did you receive the fax I sent of my resume?”

“I did,” he nodded approvingly as he seated himself and retrieved his copy. “Worked at the Gallagher and Weems law firm for four years. I know those guys. They aren’t easy to keep up with, so I bet that was a feat.”

“Slightly disorganized, yes,” Janis replied with a soft smile. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

His eyes cut up to her with an odd flash of a smirk, then back down to his paper. “Arizona,” he intoned gently. “What made you move out here?”

Strangely, she wasn’t sure how to answer that question and nearly floundered before settling on something generic. “I wanted a change of scenery, I suppose. To try something different.”

He was nodding at her answer as he looked over the attached application. “So you don’t have any issue working with computers?”

“Not at all,” Janis answered.

“Well, we have a rather full tech support team downstairs, so you really don’t have anything to fear.” He smiled at her again.

“That’s good to know, sir,” Janis laughed, a bit breathless from the force of that handsome smile.

“Call me ‘Dean’,” he chuckled modestly. “We don’t need ‘sirs’ and ‘misters’ here.”

“All right, Dean,” she laughed again. She would have to stop that, as the sound was becoming practically giddy.

The interview continued until they were no longer discussing her work history or education or anything on her resume. Instead, the conversation had taken a turn toward current events, winding its way through several topics before lighting upon some cleaver thing Dean had read in a Dilbert comic. Janis wasn’t sure if she found the joke funny so much as the way he told it, and the two of them cackled over it until they realized they’d lost their composure.

“I’m sorry,” Janis snorted, wiping a stray, amused tear from her eye. “Just… that face you made.” And she let loose a sharp giggle once more.

Dean shrugged as if it were nothing, then let a slightly awkward silence fall over them. “Listen…” he began after a moment. “Could you start tomorrow?”

Janis blinked at him, a slow smile dawning across her lips. “Does that mean I’m hired?”

“I think it does,” Dean laughed. “You just really know how to make a first impression.”

“Thank you, sir!” Janis barked as she rose, then waved her hands at herself. “I mean, Dean.” She took his hand once more, his grip tempered about her slender fingers. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Day Two

It was only her first day, and already her head was spinning. Dean wasn’t as picky as past employers had been, but he still liked things a certain way. There was a protocol to follow regarding what calls he would take and from who, what paperwork was to be delivered at once and what could wait, and where he would be regarding his own schedule, though most of his time was spent attached to his desk. Janis took liberal notes, terrified of missing anything, and kept them between the flat screen computer monitor and telephone at her humble desk.

Despite being physically imposing, Dean never came across as outright intimidating. There were times that he seemed like a typical businessman, with his head so firmly planted in his work that it was almost painful, but he didn’t speak down to Janis anymore so than she’d been spoken to before by his kind. Her only complaint was his wardrobe. He appeared to be the type that obsessed over his clothes exuding a sense of power, when really they only made him seem color-and-pattern-blind. She consistently conjured images of Christian Bale in American Psycho, and while this worried her on some level, she said nothing.

Once they’d spent a couple of hours on the general rundown, he dismissed her from his office and set back to work. Things moved slowly enough that she wasn’t sure why he needed a secretary at all, and it began to occur to her that she was more or less a status symbol. The sales manager had to have a secretary. Not because he couldn’t handle his own workload, but because it made him seem that much more powerful compared to his rivals. But at thirteen dollars an hour, she wasn’t being paid to question such things.

Just before lunch, she peeked her head into his office with a questioning look. “Sir?” She touched her forehead as if wanting to slap it but just staying herself. “Dean. Sorry, that’s going to take some getting used to. Um, what do we do for lunch?”

“Huh?” Dean turned minutely, just enough that both she and his monitor were within his field of vision. “Lunch! I bring mine. And there’s a cafeteria on the second floor if you want to take a break.”

“Really?” Janis asked, then let herself into the room more fully, pulling the door to behind her. “You don’t go out with a bunch of guys from management?”

Dean stared at her for a long moment, following this with a slow shake of his head. “Should I?” He seemed amused by her preconceived notions.

When she realized she may have thrust her foot firmly in her mouth, Janis laughed and began to backpedal. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“No offense taken,” Dean shrugged easily. “But I’m still considered a rookie here. I work through lunch.”

“Seriously?” Janis asked and realized she was practically repeating herself. “It’s just that… Should I be working through lunch?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Dean replied, rolling his shoulders as he typed in a quick command on his computer.

“Okay,” Janis replied softly, then backed out of the room as if this ended the conversation.

She didn’t give him much more thought until five o’clock rolled around. She peeked into his office again after a full afternoon of speaking to him only through an intercom. “Dean? I’m heading out for the day. Are you staying?”

“Another hour maybe,” he agreed, his tie loosened and his suspenders lax against his arms. “Just gotta finish up. See you in the morning.”

“Have a good night,” she murmured, and shut him in with the soft glow of his desk lamp. She wondered momentarily if the money was worth being overworked and lonely, then dismissed herself for the evening.

Day Three

The Styrofoam to-go plate was in her hands. She was poised outside the door. She just needed to knock and make herself known. Either that, or eat at her desk like a quitter. She just needed to get on with it. Then again, hesitation was to be expected at a moment like this. What if he laughed and sent her away? What if she was stepping over some invisible line that wasn’t meant to be crossed?

“Get a grip Janis,” she scolded herself, then raised her fist to tap lightly at the door.

“Come in!” She did as she was told and smiled warmly at the piece of lettuce protruding against Dean’s full bottom lip. “Need something?”

“No,” she said, and her tone was much more affectionate than she’d meant for it to be. She shut the door behind her and said with some authority, “I am joining you for lunch.”

Dean pulled the bit of lettuce into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed before finding a voice to reply with, and by then she was already making herself comfortable across from him. “Why? You don’t have to--”

“No, I don’t,” she said with a smile. Her container was open and her fork poised to dig in. “But I want to.”

Dean tilted his head at her and made a face that seemed to indicate he didn’t quite understand, but he would allow it. After eating in silence for a few minutes, he peeked at her food, then gestured at it with his fork. “That stuff’s terrible for you.”

“This?” Janis asked, now pointing with her own utensil at the spaghetti and meat sauce.

“Yeah, that,” he snorted. “It’s all just empty carbs.”

“Deliciously empty carbs,” Janis teased as she twirled a bunch of noodles on her fork and popped them into her mouth. “Mmm, carbs,” she groaned theatrically. “Not to mention protein in the hamburger. And tomatoes are a vegetable.”

“Fruit,” Dean corrected, spearing another mouthful of lettuce.

“Which is also good for you!” she challenged.

“Natural sugar is still sugar,” he replied, striking the air with one finger as if he’d just made a point for himself against her.

“Yeah, and I bet those vegetables in your blessed salad are covered in pesticides and full of genetically engineered additives,” she replied with a laugh. “Nothing in this country is sacred and clean anymore, the least of all being our food.”

“That sounds awfully cynical,” Dean laughed. “I know the economy is in the crapper--”

“Putting it lightly.”

“--But it’s not all bad.”

“No,” Janis chirped. She placed the end of a noodle into her mouth and sucked it up between her lips, its journey ending with a soft pop. “There’s still cafeteria spaghetti.”

Dean blurted a laugh at this, then leaned forward with a sweep of his thumb across her lower lip. Apparently, she’d smeared a generous amount of sauce there, and he was merely brushing it away, but he did a curious thing. Once he’d sat back from her again, already having jarred her with the physical contact, he stuck his thumb between his lips and licked it clean. Janis drew her bottom lip between her teeth, her own tongue darting out to not only taste the sauce that remained but the flavor his skin had left.

The moment stretched and lingered until Janis tossed her plastic fork into her half-eaten meal and closed the lid. “Well, I’m done,” she announced. “I’ll get back to work now, sir.”

Dean didn’t bother to correct the formal way she excused herself and merely nodded while his cheeks colored. As she exited, she watched him disregard the rest of his salad the way she had her spaghetti, cradling his head in one hand as he began his work again.

Day Four

“Yeah, I’m doing good here… Him? He’s all right, I guess. Obsessed with work. Typical business junkie… Since when do you care? …Living vicariously through me again. Maybe if you weren’t such a goodie-goodie… When my love life seems exciting, that’s when you know you need some help, girl… Listen, I’m actually calling from work. I just wanted to check in, but I don’t want to get into trouble… Love you, too… Bye.”

Janis looked up and saw Dean standing a few feet away, his stance indicating that he’d been waiting for her to get off the phone. She managed a weak syllable, more a grunt than part of a word, when Dean closed the short distance and laid down a stapled packet in front of her.

“I don’t know what the policy is on personal calls,” Janis managed, her cheeks turning pink.

“There isn’t one,” he told her. “It was short and sweet, so I don’t think we have a problem.”

Janis nodded and hung her head in favor of seeing to the papers he’d laid out before her. Her attention snapped back up at his next question.

“So who was it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh,” Janis breathed, then folded her hands awkwardly in front of her. “My sister, Nina. I’ve been so busy lately I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her, and we’re usually pretty inseparable.”

“And apparently she’s a… what did you call her?” He grinned. “A goodie-goodie?”

“She’s reserved,” Janis replied and began busying her hands with the neatly stapled packet. “Sir, may I ask what this is?”

“Just something I need revised and typed up by this afternoon,” he grunted. “And I told you. It’s ‘De--’”

“Dean,” she breathed, then shot him a slightly annoyed look, like a kitten who’d been poked one too many times. “I understand. I’ll get this to you shortly.”

“Thank you, Janis.” He smirked, shook his head, and retreated to his office again.

When he was out of sight, the door shut between them, Janis dropped her face into her hands. She didn’t doubt that this was going to result in a lot of teasing and wasn’t certain she could bear it. But why should it be so hard to bear? The only thing that could make it difficult on her was if she was harboring an attraction. Certainly, he was attractive, and she’d been downplaying it to Nina so that her sister wouldn’t prod her over it. But just how honest was she being with herself when she called him “all right”? Despite his fashion sense, he was much better than just all right.

Her work on the document went quickly and was a welcome distraction, but when she attempted to print the finished product, there appeared to be some snag that disallowed the action. She tried restarting the computer and hitting the “print” icon a second time, but nothing happened. There was paper. There was ink. There shouldn’t be a problem.

“Why?” she asked the ceiling as she picked up her receiver and hit the extension for tech support. “Can you send someone up here? Dean Smith’s office. It’s the printer.”

When the man arrived, she wasn’t sure they’d sent “someone” so much as “something”. He was enormously tall, squeezed into a polo shirt and khakis that only made him look even more absurdly huge, yet he had the face of a kid and a gentle, quiet manner that seemed to contradict the rest of him.

“Printer not working?” he asked with a quirky smile that seemed to say “this is what I do all day, and I bet I already know what’s wrong.”

“Yeah,” Janis huffed, then stood from her chair and backed away from the device as though he were about to dismantle a bomb. “It just… won’t print.”

“Let me see what I can do,” he mumbled, then hit the printer’s power button. He waited five seconds or so, then hit it once more. After the printer prepped itself and chugged to life, a piece of paper slid into the machine’s workings. The familiar noises of ink being applied to a page filled the small space. “All fixed.”

“Thank you,” Janis laughed. “Wow, couldn’t you have told me that over the phone?”

“Actually, it’s nice to take a walk away from that cubicle every once in a while,” he admitted. Something in his face changed, his eyes narrowing and his mouth working without words. “I’m sorry. I’m Sam. Sam Wesson.”

Janis took his hand just as he extended it and shook with a smile. “Janis Bozic. I just started here.”

She had assumed that the look he’d been giving her was because she was an unfamiliar face, until he went on to say, “I feel like I recognize you.”

Janis tilted her head with a short laugh. “I think I’d remember you. Big guy, yellow shirt.”

Sam snorted then and shook his head. “No, I mean.” He sighed, searching for the words. “I have these dreams sometimes…”

“Oh?” Janis asked and could feel her face distorting as she tried to keep it straight. From the sound of it, this guy was about to tell her they’d met in a dream. Like she’d never heard that line before. “I hate to be rude, but I have to get this to my boss right away.”

“Sure,” Sam murmured softly, then waved as he rushed himself out of the room.

Day Five

“Morning coffee,” Janis announced as entered Dean’s office. She pressed her fingers against her mouth and winced apologetically when he waved to her and indicated the Bluetooth at his ear. She mouthed a quick “sorry” and crossed the room to set the cup in front of him.

Just as she was reaching the door to let herself out, she heard Dean draw a hasty end to his conversation, followed by, “Janis! Hold on a sec.”

“Sure,” she replied amiably as she whirled to face him again. It made her nervous to think that he’d ended a phone call prematurely just to speak with her. It must be important. Or bad. “Something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Dean grinned from across the room. “I just… didn’t want to be rude.”

“Oh please,” Janis huffed, cutting her eyes to her shoes with a hint of embarrassment. “You were talking to someone. I understand that. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I wanted to say ‘good morning’,” he added as if she’d not just put on a bashful show. “So… good morning.”

“Good morning,” she repeated, feeling stiff, out of place. “Did I get the coffee right?” It felt good to change the subject, even slightly. “It has that vanilla cream you like so much.”

“It’s great,” he replied, though he had yet to take the first sip. “Thank you.”

The smile that flitted across his face was tight, a bit anxious, so Janis backed toward the open door again. “I should leave you to your work,” she announced.

“You don’t have to do that,” Dean grunted back with a shake of his head.

Janis’s fingers were hovering over the door handle, curling around it lightly, experimentally. Then she shut the door, leaning against it and eyeing him with the slightest squint, as though examining a specimen under a microscope’s lens. There was something undeniable that had been building between them, and this renewed sense of uneasiness, despite having worked together for days now, only seemed to intensify it. Dean was adamant about shedding any formalities in their work relationship, and she unnecessarily fought it. Even in being the one who insisted they not act overly professional with one another, he was holding something back. She was starting to think she understood why now, particularly when their eyes locked and each seemed to see well beyond what they were meant to see.

“What do you want from me?” she found herself asking, softly but not without force.

“To talk,” Dean answered at once, a tad defensive though he worked to hide this.

“What about?” she asked. It seemed the safest place she could be was in secretarial mode, and she went there again, striding toward his desk and trying to ignore how he watched her calves scissor with each step. “Is this about my job performance?”

“No,” Dean grunted and cleared his throat, gazing up at her with something akin to innocence, though she thought it was more or less a performance. “Your sister. Does she not live here with you?”

“She’s thinking of moving, yes,” Janis answered carefully, not sure why they were choosing this topic of conversation. She circled the desk and balanced her backside against the edge of it, not entirely understanding what made her choose this stance. Why hadn’t she taken a chair across the desk? This seemed a little intimate, too close. “The idea of leaving home scares her, though. She’s kind of timid.”

“Goodie-goodie,” Dean snorted, the laughter genuine and breaking the awkward spell they seemed to be under. “Makes me wonder what that makes you.”

Janis opened her mouth to speak, then stalled by dragging her tongue across her lips thoughtfully. “Dean…”

“That was out of line,” Dean grumbled at once, turning to the neatly arranged office supplies on his desk and shifting them about nervously. “I don’t know what made me say that. I really never act like this. I mean, that was bordering dangerously on sexual harassment, wasn’t it? Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it.” Janis reached out, meaning to go for his fidgeting hands but finding her fingers sliding under his chin instead. She urged him to turn his face to her, pushing her hand further across his jaw and up into his close-cropped hair. She skirted the product that held it in place and teased the sides, where his hair remained soft and touchable.

They’d known each other five days, counting this morning, but the look that crossed his face (he wants me; his eyes; he’s ready to drag me down to the floor) seemed so familiar. It was like an unscratchable itch. Janis hadn’t allowed herself the fantasies that had threatened, but she felt now as if that was unnecessary. Somehow, somewhere, she’d already entertained a hundred fantasy with this man. It wasn’t quite a memory. More an instinct, proving she was more of an animal than she was willing to admit.

They both chanced the barest glance at the door, as if willing someone to burst in and stop them before this went too far. As fate would have it, they were left alone. That’s when Janis fell onto him, the two of them joining lips furiously in a kiss so long and wet that Janis sincerely believed she’d never been so thoroughly kissed in her life. Not thinking herself capable of such speed and nimbleness (then again, she’d not thought herself capable of anything happening recently), she was straddling his lap, forcing her knees between his hips and the arms of the office chair. Broad, greedy hands forced her skirt up to her hips then rummaged between their bodies to loosen his belt and dress pants.

“Wait,” Janis ordered as she broke away from him, marveling at the mess he already looked just from their fierce kisses. She saw something akin to panic cross his face and smirked down at him, hoping this might alleviate whatever fear she’d instilled. “We have to do this right. I’m the secretary. You’re my boss.”

Dean looked as if he didn’t understand her meaning whatsoever, then she began sliding from his lap and under the desk. She was careful to watch her head as she crouched into the alcove there, reaching out with slender fingers to finish the work he’d begun with his belt. There was a jangle of metal on metal, then a soft zip. The suspenders he wore (bright red… that clashes so bad) proved a hindrance for a moment until she managed to pull them free just enough so that his pants could ride a bit lower on his waist.

Just as her hands began digging their way into his briefs, Dean asked, “you sure about this?”

“No,” she breathed, blinking up at him. “But I can’t stop. I want you.”

“This doesn’t come off as sexist and misogynist and--?”

Before he could go on, Janis slid forward over his lap and pressed a finger to his full lips. “Maybe a little, but I’m not worrying about it, so you shouldn’t either. ‘Kay?”

He nodded wordlessly and allowed her to get back to work. She urged him to tuck his chair beneath the desk, as far as he could while still allowing her some freedom of movement. She then freed him from the confines of his white briefs, marveling at what he had to offer. The cliché of the businessman with a small package who tried to compensate by taking a seat of power was well-known, but she found it didn’t fit Dean whatsoever. It made her want to ask what he was even doing here with his muscles and good-looks and now this, but she wasn’t about to waste anymore time than they already had with small talk.

Janis began with licks, kisses, soft nips with her lips and tongue. There was a taste she had to acquaint herself with, one of a man who ate a lot of health food and probably needed more natural protein in his diet just as she’d suggested. When she took the swollen head between her lips, she saw both his hands move to grip his armrests. The thrill that surged up her spine and back down again resulted in a dark laugh that felt so out of character and yet so right.

Her nails teased his thighs through the fabric of his dress pants, then up under his shirt, finding tight abs to rake across. His composure was well lost, tossed out the window as if it decided it would rather be with the view outside than its master. She’d never imagined seeing him like this, growling and grabbing for her hair. He contained all the strength and ferocity of a predator dressed in sheep’s clothing, and with a flash of certainty, she knew he didn’t belong here. Neither of them did.

The heated whimpers that left her mouth as she saw to him genuinely couldn’t be helped. This entire situation felt so much larger than her, out of control. So much so that his orgasm was the perfect punctuation. Perhaps he’d been trying to warn her, but she’d not heard either way, and she came up sputtering and gasping, swallowing frantically so none would dribble down her chin.

“Dean!”

“Sir!”

Janis froze anxiously beneath the desk, eyes wide and her fingers curled about her mouth as if she were witnessing a horrific murder as it happened. That sounded like Dean’s supervisor, she was sure of it, and her skin drained of color at once, leaving her even more pale than usual.

“Are you all right?” she heard the newcomer, who could stand learning to knock, ask with a thread of concern in his tone. “You’re sweating… Are you sick?”

“Yeah, actually,” Dean chuckled. He sounded weary and breathless, perfect for faking an illness. “Breakfast didn’t agree with me, I guess.”

“I was going to ask your secretary if you were available to chat for few, but she wasn’t at her desk,” he went on.

“Must’ve stepped away,” Dean said, and she could barely see his shoulders roll in a shrug from where she was hidden. It occurred to her then that it couldn’t be easy trying to carry on a conversation with his privates hanging out beneath the dubious security of his desk. She reached to tuck them back in place but realized too late that this might only complicate things for him. He barked an odd noise, then began hacking as if doubling his chances at appearing ill.

“You sound really awful,” she heard the supervisor intone gently. “Maybe you should take the day off.”

“I’m okay, really,” Dean replied.

“No, I insist.” The man’s tone was gracious, forgiving, and Janis was beginning to understand that she would not be forced to shimmy out of her safe spot, wiping demurely at the corner’s of her mouth. She was going to get away with this, and unbelievably it made her want to pop out into the open and thank him.

“If you think that’s best,” Dean was saying as he allowed a hand to stray under his desk and find her cheek. This was partly a reassurance for what she was already celebrating, but there was something else there, a kind of affection she’d not expected.

“I do,” was the playfully stubborn reply. “Get some rest. Can’t have my sales manager wandering around sick. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dean replied with a smile in his voice.

As soon as the door clicked shut, she heard him whoosh as though all the air had been let out of him. It was safe to bet that they were alone again, and Janis quickly began scrambling to shove him out of the way and emerge into the open air again. She stumbled at first, smacking his hands away when he tried to assist her, and was not satisfied until she was standing upright with her skirt smoothed out.

“We almost got caught,” she heard herself shudder, then turned on him. There was a mad gleam in his eye, one she was sure she possessed, as well. “That was exciting, wasn’t it?”

“Come home with me,” Dean said at once, so quick and demanding that it actually caused her to blink.

“What?” Janis asked. “I… have to stay here.” Why, she wasn’t sure. If he wasn’t going to be in his office, she’d have no tasks to see to besides sitting at her desk and telling everyone asking that he’d gone home for the day.

“You said yourself, I’m your boss,” Dean challenged with a smirk. “And I just gave you the day off with me. You gonna turn that down?”

He was ruffled, rumpled, relaxed, and more gorgeous to her than she had observed thus far. Just how affected she was, the slit between her legs offering up enough moisture to soak through her panties, dared her to turn him down. It wouldn’t be fair, she reasoned, to give him this incredible fantasy without receiving anything in return. That smile, the way he reached to smooth a hand over her hip, promised it would be well worth her trouble.

Janis laid her palm over his knuckles as his fingers traveled up her side, then she reached out to touch his hair experimentally, finding it as stiff with product as she’d feared. “On one condition: we wash this shit out of your hair.”

“Done,” Dean responded without hesitation.

First things first, they split up and took different routes to the parking lot, as if this made them less conspicuous. They left notes about food poisoning on their desks, tidied up in the bathrooms designated for their separate genders, then met at his parking spot in the expansive, concrete garage. Of all the things to do when two people were having a fling, he opened the passenger door for her. Janis awkwardly accepted this invitation, then sat beside him as they pulled out, questioning her decision for the first time. Once they had cleared the office building and away from those who might pry, these misgivings started slowly vanishing. His radio was blatting some AM station where the major concern appeared to be politics, and as they drove, he reached out and dialed the volume down until it was nearly silent.

“I never do stuff like this,” he chuckled nervously.

“Me neither,” Janis blurted, hoping the laugh that followed tempered how offended she’d sounded. “I never… I don’t just blow guys, you know. Particularly not ones I work for.”

“I didn’t think you did!” Dean replied at once, wide-eyed, snapping this look between her and the road. “I’m just saying…”

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Janis ventured. “The way that happened.”

“Like it was supposed to,” Dean said.

And this stuck between them. “Meant to be” was the sort of phrase people bandied around in romance novels where character’s motivations couldn’t be explained because the author was too lazy. Yet Janis was unable to put her finger on it in any other way. This was not quite love at first sight. She wanted to say that she felt she’d known him much longer than just under a week, but that didn’t quite fit either. They weren’t even necessarily comfortable with one another, because something was different. That seemed to be the ungraspable crux of their situation. Something was different.

His house boasted of success, populated with items that he might have bothered to justify if he weren’t past attempting to impress her. Still, she was silently intimidated by how much money he obviously made, how out of her league he was based solely on what he owned. Before she could ask why she was here, he was tossing his keys and briefcase aside in favor of pulling her in for a kiss, and she was reminded. She was here for this.

They didn’t quite grapple, and once more Janis found herself wondering how many times they’d done this before that finding the right pace was so easy. Dean said something about sharing a shower but that it needed to wait until after this. Before she could ask what “this” was, he was peeling her panties off and burying his face between her legs. The leather couch he was treating her upon was expensive, and for a moment she actually worried about making a mess of it. Until his tongue dragged the longest, most heated stroke across her parted slit and her hips were forced to angle her further into his mouth. Suddenly, letting him make a meal of her seemed to be most important.

And a meal, she was. He lapped and drank like a man starved, suckling on the small, stiff bud that sent bolts of sensation up her back and down her legs. The sloppy noises he made were gradually drowned out by their shared moans, his low and hungry, hers loud and desperate. Then it all seemed like too much. His bent shoulders appeared too worshipful, his mouth felt too soft and slick with her juices, his tongue was too quick, and the large hands gripping her backside were too strong. One final kiss, deep with the brush of his teeth and nuzzle of his nose, transformed her into a weeping, arching, trembling bundle of nerves. When that surge met his tongue, his licks became slow and deliberate, as if he were licking a wound.

“Ready for that shower?” he asked.

She raised her head on a neck that creaked, let out a breathless laugh at his glistening lips, and thumped her head back on the cushion. Apparently, he took that as a “yes”, because he clambered over her and gathered her into his arms. She allowed herself to be wrapped around him, stripped and fondled, and pulled under a torrent of warm water. She hung off of broad shoulders, whimpering when the touch was sweet, laughing when it tickled.

“This is why I have to keep my hair tamed,” he told her when he’d shampooed and rinsed. Even when wet, sprigs of dark-blond hair stuck out in every direction as if it was trying to escape his scalp.

Janis giggled merrily, running her fingers over and through the damp spikes. “But I prefer this! It suits you!” Then she kissed his modest smile.

After a few minutes toying with shower gel that smelled of cologne, they moved to the bedroom. Janis wanted to ask if she should be getting into his big, lush bed when she was still mostly wet, but he was tugging her down with him and answering her unasked question rather loudly as his hands cupped her breasts. His sheets were soft, but the mattress was a bit too unyielding for her. This was all barely noticeable outside of how his body felt as he reclined beneath her. His renewed erection brushed her backside, and she was marveling all over again at how well-worked his body appeared. He gazed up with a similarly stunned expression, watching her hips rock gently above his midsection.

Janis reached to angle his cock against her opening, then backed over him with a soft cry that almost sounded hurt. She could see the question in his eyes: did I hurt you? No, but the pangs she felt were being tortured into an ache so needy that she couldn’t help but begin with a furious pace. He urged her hands to steady against his chest as she rode him, and she found he was more than sturdy enough to withstand her weight. His jaw clenched, his eyes shut, and his hands assisted her with every roll and grind of her hips.

When her walls seized about him, her pleased sobs filling the room, Dean rolled with her. Janis thought her nerves were too shot and over-stimulated to even feel him hammering way between her legs, but this fresh sensation soon had her crying out a second time. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his sides as she begged him to finish, and he emptied into her with a long, tense growl.

Their afterglow should have been awkward. Lying in his bed, in his arms, shouldn’t have felt natural. This was a stranger and his unfamiliar house, and while the house still gave her pause, the stranger didn’t. They both wanted to talk, but the only things to be said would mystify further. “I love yous” were not appropriate here, as much as it felt like the thing to say. They attempted to say so without words, hoping touch sufficed, but that feeling of being incomplete lingered.

“I don’t know what this is,” Janis breathed against his shoulder.

“Neither do I,” Dean answered as he stared at the ceiling.

“Should I go?” She could’ve been standing in his office, asking if she were dismissed.

“Do you want to?” he murmured.

“No,” she answered, trying to huddle closer even though she was draped across his side.

Dean nodded at this, his hand making lazy patterns over the length of her back. “I’ve never felt this weirdly close to someone before.”

Janis didn’t know what to say beyond agreeing, and she did, her hand moving to grip his and weave their fingers together. “Close your eyes,” she told him. “Sleep.”

Sleep wouldn’t allow this to make any more sense, and Janis knew that. They would wake just as confused and in love, blind and groping for each other through the veil that seemed laid across their eyes, but it would quiet them. She welcomed being quiet with him, so long as she was with him.

The End

"Angel Playing With My Heart" - Anna/Castiel - Supernatural

2009-04-09T21:57:29Z

Title: Angel Playing With My Heart
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Anna, mentions Uriel and Lucifer
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke and the CW. I'm just playing in their sandbox. No profits were made from this.
Spoilers: Up to 4.18 "The Monster at the End of This Book"
Summary: Anna is still trying to teach Castiel about emotion and what it is to be human, but he has to let her in first.

Castiel liked the outdoors, and he liked these books. The park bench was solid beneath him, reminding him of strong foundations, and even though he was well aware of the events in each book and their ultimate ends, he enjoyed reading them. How well he blended into the background, reading on a park bench, wasn’t lost on him either. Moments like these gave him time to stop thinking, a selfish sentiment that was surprisingly welcome.

Of course, he could never have more than a moment’s peace.

“Anna, if I did not know better, I’d say you are developing an unhealthy interest in me.” Castiel raised his eyes toward the redhead standing before him, allowing the barest glance, then cut them back down to the pages in his hands.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re developing a sense of humor,” she replied with a smirk. She tilted her head upward, as if trying to peek at his book from where she stood, and though she knew what it was, she still asked. “What’re you reading?”

Castiel drew his full attention to her at this, then held the book up as she approached. The cover showcased the title Croatoan, as well as over-the-top renditions of both Winchesters and their Impala. He returned to gazing at the pages when Anna seated herself to his right. She could sense him attempting with all his might to be apart from her even as she sat so near, therefore she allowed the silence to linger until she herself could take no more, having hoped he would break first. She should have known better.

“I came to see about you,” she murmured gently, turning liquid amber eyes to his, which seemed permanently stormy and full of sorrow. “After Uriel--”

“He’s dead,” Castiel grunted, a sharp dismissal. “He sided with Hell, and there was only one solution, which you and I saw to. Is there more to be said?”

“Apparently, there is,” Anna sighed and nearly reached for him. At the last moment, she thought better of it and curled her fingers in toward her palm. “What he was doing had to be stopped. We both know that. We did the only thing we could.”

“I know, Anna,” Castiel growled, turning away even though he wished to burn her inside out with the force of his gaze, to accuse her with it.

“But it’s all right to feel bad, too,” Anna instructed softly. “To feel regret? He was a brother. More than that, he was a friend. It’s a tragedy, truly. There is no shame in knowing you did the right thing yet wishing it could’ve have been different, simpler.”

“He made his choice,” and his words were a veritable huff. He didn’t like how Anna encouraged these dangerous feelings in him. “This is…”

“It’s painful,” she agreed. “You’re grieving. Not just for his death but the creature he became, a monster. You’re questioning what you could have done, how it could have been different. If only you had paid closer attention to Uriel’s anger and outrage. If only you had--”

“Stop this,” Castiel seethed at her, a flash of pain crossing his face that was there and gone within an instant.

“I’m not questioning our actions,” Anna insisted. She leaned in closer and allowed her slender fingers to fall over his wrist, noting how he stared down at the contact with blank interest. “I’m questioning whether or not you’ve dealt with how it made you feel. Things have never been this complicated before, and while I would never doubt your resolve, I don’t think you’ve been tested quite like this before.”

“Do you believe…?” He trailed off, then found the courage to meet her eyes and continue the thought. “Do you believe that God is testing me?”

“I’m not the one you want to be asking about God, Castiel,” Anna chuckled. “I don’t think my opinions would sit well with you.” When he nodded absently, she added, “I only want you to consider what you’re feeling a good thing rather than a weakness. That’s all.”

“Anna…” He hesitated, something he’d never done in such abundance until recently. “If this is what you sacrificed your grace for, I do not understand the decision. Hurting for another and mistrusting your own wisdom is painful, as you said. Miserable. I don’t want this.”

“You only say that because you haven’t tried chocolate cake yet,” Anna replied in an attempt to lighten the mood. As usual, the joke appeared lost on him. She took a deep breath and replied in earnest. “There is also caring for others, isn’t there? You honor Uriel’s memory by feeling regret and remembering who he was before his betrayal. There’s nothing wrong in that. And my understanding is you helped Dean and Sam recently by… Let’s call it bending the rules rather than breaking them.”

Anna’s smile was teasing, and Castiel searched her eyes a moment before asking, “you heard?”

“Again, I have friends,” Anna shrugged easily. “If you’d not done that, Sam surely would have died, and you could scratch Dean off your list of allies in that case.”

“So I did the right thing?” Castiel asked, and that look of searching for answers in the color of her eyes remained.

Anna blew a frustrated sigh at this. “I wish you would stop asking me these things. I don’t know. That’s the point.” She plucked the book from his hand and gripped his fingers in hers, noting that he squeezed back. “You’ll never know if you’re loving too strongly, hating too deeply, or fearing needlessly. You can only do your best, and you’re doing that so far as I can tell. And if you insist on making it about God, then how could our Father not be proud of you? Of the good you’ve done?”

Castiel allowed their stares to remain locked, but the look was broken when his eyes wandered down to their joined hands. “Why do you insist on touching me? Or is that another of those questions I should not be asking?”

Anna blinked then snorted aloud, give his hands a playful squeeze. “Touch is beautiful, that’s why. Be honest: does it soothe you?”

“This body is a vessel,” Castiel said as though reciting from a script he’d prepared. “It is not mine. Therefore--”

“Just…” Anna shut her eyes to contain her irritation. When she reopened them, she snapped up Croatoan and presented it to him once more. “Read your book.”

“I have made you angry in some way,” he noted with confusion.

“No, you just reminded me that I’ve been places you haven’t, so you don’t understand yet,” Anna murmured.

For the first time in the conversation, something made sense to him. He was getting better at reading emotion, slowly improving in feeling it even, but he still lacked experience. Anna wanted him to be on her level so that she was not so alone, but there was only one other angel who had fallen, and Lucifer was not someone she would wish to see, Castiel was sure. She could be neither human nor full-fledged angel again, and in that way, she was apart from everyone and everything. She was lonely.

“Would you like to sit with me a bit longer?” Castiel asked. “While I read?”

Anna watched him cautiously, then nodded. “I would like that. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” he answered, offering a curious look that might have been trying to be a smile.

Castiel picked up where he had left off, with Dean discovering that the townspeople in River Grove had cut off all means of escape, while Anna settled her back against the bench with a faraway look. Just as she was considering departing, she felt his fingers curl around hers. She glanced at this, then to him, but he was still seemingly engrossed in the book. A grin threatened to break out across her face, but her lips pursed to temper it into a tight smile. After another moment, she leaned against him and let her head fall on his shoulder, noticing that he didn’t tense up as he usually did when they touched. It was then that she decided that if there was hope for Castiel, there must be hope for them all.

The End

Wash Away My Sins - Chapter Eight - Supernatural

2009-04-06T23:25:02Z

Title: Wash Away My Sins
Authors: Aratocriel and Jade Blood
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC, OC!villains
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to Kripke and the CW. Nina belongs to Aratocriel, and Janis belongs to me (Jade), so no using them without our permission. We make no profits from this and are just having fun!
Summary: A year after the events of "Unity in Duality", Janis and Nina are a bit savvier regarding the world of the paranormal, but the resurgence of old enemies has left them needing the help of the Winchesters once more.
Previous Chapters: 1 : 2 : 3 : 4 : 5 : 6 : 7
Author's Note: I apologize for the wait on this next chapter for those of you that were following along. It's been a rather busy semester for both me and my co-author. I hope to get into a regular, weekly routine of posting these chapters again though. I appreciate your patience, though. Without further ado, enjoy!

Chapter Eight

Nina slapped her hand all over her dresser, searching for the cell phone that was so rudely interrupting her sleep.

"Hello?" She muttered once she flipped the phone open. "Easy, Fred, slow down. What about Codi?" At the mention of Codi's name, Sam was upright in bed, staring at her. "Oh my God, okay. Fred, please, go home. Let the police take care of everything… Okay, alright, thanks for letting me know. Bye."

The phone snapped shut as Nina faced Sam, wide-eyed. “Fred found Codi in the shop this morning, completely torn apart, limb from limb."

Sam looked as though he wanted to wilt at such news, but he set his jaw. He ran both hands through his hair as he considered the best mode of action. “Dean and I will look into it, but it’ll have to wait until the cops clear out. Otherwise, they’ll recognize us, and… trust me, no one wants that.”

He deftly avoided saying anything about their criminal records, but it was certainly on his mind. He got out of bed and immediately began fishing for a fresh shirt and pair of jeans. “For now, just get dressed. We need to let Dean and Janis know.”

She stood up, almost numbly, and dressed, allowing Sam to guide her out of the room. As she suspected, even though it was already past 10:30 in the morning, Janis and Dean were still asleep.

Nina knocked lightly on Janis's bedroom door. "Janis, honey?"

Stirring beneath the covers, both Dean and Janis attempted at first to block the sound of knuckles on wood. Then they both recalled where they were, and Dean was up first, sliding his boxers on and crossing to the door. Janis sat up but kept herself covered as she listened from the bed.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Dean asked, rubbing his eyes with one hand. When he pulled back, they were half-lidded as he openly struggled with wakefulness.

"Sorry to wake you guys." Nina glanced past Dean to Janis. "But I just got a phone call. Codi's been killed."

“Oh God, Nina…” Janis ran a hand through her tangled hair and floundered before managing, “I’m so sorry.”

“Give us ten minutes,” Dean murmured to Sam, who nodded in compliance.

The door was shut between them, and Sam did as Dean had just instructed, taking Nina away and into the kitchen. He got a pot of coffee going while they waited, and it was more or less fifteen minutes before the other couple joined them, showered and dressed.

“Do we know what the status of the scene is?” Dean asked. “Cops?”

“Swarming the place, no doubt,” Sam sighed as he nursed a steaming mug. “She was at the shop when it happened. Unless they moved her there after the fact?”

“Either way, that’s going to look really funky,” Dean muttered as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Reg turned inside out, now Codi. You girls are about to get some strange looks.”

“We already do,” Janis grumbled. “So what you really mean is it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

"They're going to kill off everyone we know before this is over." Nina shook her head. "All while we hide away in this house, all because of some stupid shit I pulled a year ago. Oh God…" Tears formed in her eyes, and she grunted, shaking her head, swallowing the sadness that was creeping up. "What is our next step? I mean, after we check out the crime scene."

“We start making some noise back at ‘em,” Dean growled, his hard expression saying far more than his words.

“What’re you saying?” Sam asked with a tilt of his head. “Just…” He frowned and shrugged. “…Waltz in and punch them in the face? Wherever they are…”

“Nina, you said one of them was your neighbor?” Dean prompted, ignoring his brother for the time being.

"Yeah, Laura; she lives just a few houses down," she replied. "Are you thinking of trying to capture her?"

“If not that, then exorcise her,” Dean answered. “Level the playing field and make this at least a little more fair.”

“Who’s to say she’ll be there?” Sam argued.

“Because if she’s bothering with trips to the grocery store, she might be trying to fake her way through a normal day still,” Dean said, and he was starting to sound strained. “They won’t expect a strike back, so maybe we can catch her alone.”

“And if we don’t?” Sam spat. “What if that’s exactly what they want and it’s an ambush?”

“That’s why we go alone,” Dean shrugged. “Packing holy water and rocksalt rounds, lil brother. Like always.”

“No, not like always,” Sam pointed out. “Because ever since--”

Dean slammed his fist down on the table in front of him and leaned in with a dangerous glint in his eye, one that stilled even Janis though she’d thought herself past being intimidated by him. “Sammy… Shut up.”

Sam held his brother’s glare, and it was Dean that broke the staring competition they’d found themselves in. “We’ve got a few hours before we can even bother with the crime scene,” Sam breathed. “So you might as well cool down.”

“And you might as well get ready,” Dean barked before striding away. The room was cleared of the argument that had barely begun, but tension still tainted the air.

“What was that about?” Janis asked.

“Nothing,” Sam snarled, pushing himself up from the table and trudging out.

The next, few hours passed slowly, the house mostly silent aside from Janis and Nina's soft conversation and the occasional sound of one of Dean's guns clicking as he cleaned it. Sam had taken to the sofa, flipping through the books the girls had on their shelves.

It was Dean who finally stood, breaking the quiet gathering. "Sammy, time to head out."

With a nod, Sam put the book back and joined his brother.

"Let me go get my keys so we can get in the back of the shop," Nina said, starting towards her room.

"You girls aren't going," Dean shook his head, stopping Nina.

“So we’re having this argument again, hmm?” Janis asked, sounding monumentally bored with the idea. “Let’s just get through the highlights, shall we? Dean, we’re grown women with a lot more experience under our belt now.” Before Dean could answer, Janis took on his tone and answered for him. “‘That doesn’t matter! I don’t wanna hear that! Go in the kitchen and make me a sandwich!’” She shifted back to her normal voice and continued. “But, Dean, this is a threat on us, so anything you find affects us. Not to mention she’s Nina’s boss. She should be allowed to see for herself, just as I did with Reg.” Again, she switched voices, crossing her arms over her chest when she did. “‘All the more reason for you both to stay here, because I like contradicting everything you say! I’m awesome like that! Look at me!’”

Dean blinked at her. “When have I ever said ‘look at me’ for no reason?”

“Whatever,” Janis dismissed. “I’m trying to get it through your head that this conversation is so played out I think I might explode if I have to go through it one, more time.”

"Fine, we'll settle it this way,” Nina put in as she crossed her arms over her chest. “If Janis and I can get past you, we're going. And maybe it'll help you realize that we're not helpless damsels in distress this time around."

“You do realize that after we get done with the scene itself, we’re going to be heading straight to Laura’s house,” Sam put in carefully. “This is not going to be pretty, and I think you both know it.”

“You know what?” Dean smirked with a sweeping gesture that seemed to say he was going to concede the point to them. “Sure. Let’s go.”

“I really don’t want to do it this way,” Janis sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I already said I’m not going to fight you for any reason, but especially not one this childish.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Dean grunted. It was obvious he’d been in no mood for the confrontation in the first place, and it was only more plain as he was fought against every step of the way. “Sam, let’s go.”

Nina stepped forward, grabbing Dean's arm and spinning him back towards her, her foot sweeping out as she pushed, toppling him over backwards. He hit the ground with a thud, and she looked down at him with one eyebrow raised. "Aside from the fact that Codi was a friend, I can get you into the shop a little easier, and it wouldn't be so weird for me to be there."

“Nina!” Janis howled, kneeling down beside Dean and sweeping a hand under his head as he winced from where it had struck the floor.

“That doesn’t count, you know,” he grunted. “It was like a sucker punch.”

Janis sat back, looking down at him as though he were unbelievable. “What, are you calling a do-over?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered as he struggled to sit up. “You gotta call ‘go’ first or something.”

“This isn’t Mortal Kombat,” Janis argued. “You acted like you were ready.”

“Ready for a sloppy kick?” Dean laughed. “I must not have been. I understand you took your self-defense courses, but that doesn’t make either of you prepared for a real fight.”

“That’s it,” Janis growled, and swung her fist around so that it connected with his face and sent him onto his back again. “How about that? Did that feel like a sucker punch from a little girl?”

Sam winced and actually took a step back, ultimately deciding that he did not want to receive any well-deserved punishment for having a misogynistic attitude.

“I didn’t want to do this,” Dean snarled as he reached for her wrists.

He had no intention of hurting her, but locking her in his arms with nowhere to go might humble her a bit more. Janis actually allowed him to press her back into the floor, then kicked and used his own leverage against him so that he tumbled on his back again. Janis came down on top of him with unforgiving force, forcing him down. She could tell that if he wanted, he could toss her off as though she weighed nothing, but he looked far too impressed with her at the moment.

“Wow, baby,” he breathed. “You weren’t kidding.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she huffed down at him. Her legs were pinning his to the floor, her dainty hands holding his wrists above his head. She let her finger tighten where they rested and saw his eyes narrow. “Do you give?”

A slow smirk crossed his face, and he took a moment to squirm beneath her. “Uncle.”

Leaning in for a quick kiss, she slid off, then helped him to his feet.

"Granted, you both have learned self-defense, good job," Dean grunted. "But Sam is still right. We're heading to Laura’s afterward, and if it's an ambush, it'll be easier for the two of us to get out rather than the four of us."

Before Nina could protest, Sam stepped forward, placing a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. "Please, Nina. Let Dean and I handle this. You girls called us for help, so let us do just that."

Nina was silent, her eyes catching his before she nodded in defeat. "Fine, but call us before you go in and when you come out of the shop." She fished in her pocket and pulled out a pair of keys connected by a ring. The plastic bauble dangling from this announced that she had PMS and a gun, so she wasn’t to be messed with. "Here's the master key to the shop. It'll get you in all the doors, and this'll get you into any of the safes or cabinets that are locked."

Sam reached for the key ring, his hand lingering on hers before he pulled away and pocketed them. “Thank you.”

“Be careful,” Janis sighed, miffed that she wasn’t coming along to keep an eye on them herself.

“Says the woman that just kicked my ass,” Dean laughed, planting a soft kiss on her lips, then turning to go out the door. Sam nodded to them silently and followed.

* * * * *

“How long does it take to unlock a door, dude?” Dean hissed. “I think this would actually go quicker if you had to break in.”

“It’s an old lock,” Sam argued in his defense as he forced the key in. With even more muscle applied, it turned, and they entered. Sam was quick to jerk the key back into his possession and close the door behind him as the unmistakable tang of blood came to their attention.

They were welcomed by several feet of police tape which were doing a fairly terrible job of closing off the sensitive areas from the rest of the shop. Based on the sheer amount of blood and the way it was spattered, worse than Reg’s home if possible, the murder had taken place right where they stood. As would be expected with only the most savage display, there’d been no move made to clean up. Demons didn’t care if they got caught.

“This is sick, man,” Dean grunted. “I mean, even for us.”

Sam winced and nodded. “I didn’t think you could underestimate a demon, but I think we officially have. Because I’m… This is just beyond.”

“I know,” Dean murmured, and his expression softened. “We’re gonna make this quick.”

They roamed as carefully as possible, trying not to leave tracks in the blood that was so liberally puddled on the floor. The cops had done a slightly better job with this scene, attempting to map where body parts had been laid in tape.

Sam looked about, then offered Dean a puzzled look. “Missing an arm and leg…”

Dean was inspecting a piece of bloodied wire that hung from the ceiling. “They were probably strung up…”

Approaching the front counter almost on tiptoe, Sam peered at the large, red stain surrounded by haphazard tape. “I think the head was here.”

“It’s like she got attacked by Pinhead or something,” Dean frowned, then caught sight of pock marks in the wall. He stepped closer and tugged a small flashlight from his pocket, shining it into the tiny holes with a soft smile. “She didn’t sit back and take it, though. She fought.” When Sam turned, he waved the light over the damaged plaster. “Rocksalt imbedded in the walls. How much you want to bet that at least a little of this blood is theirs?”

While he wanted this to be uplifting, Sam could only continue to grimace at the mess around them. Across the counter, he saw a puddle that looked more pink than red, as though the blood were watered-down. When he turned to see if there was more, he wasn’t disappointed.

“Holy water,” he said, then grunted a sharp laugh. So it did make him feel a little better.

“At least they know we’re not playing anymore,” Dean said. He was crouched down, shining the light into a particularly thick puddle, realizing now that it was not gore that made it seem so. It was salt.

“And we know the same about them,” Sam sighed. “There was a calling card last time, wasn’t there? A message.”

“Yeah, but I bet the cops would have collected it,” Dean answered. “Then again, you never know. They aren’t exactly the smartest guys around. The biggest crimes that happen in towns like these are teenagers leaving flaming bags of crap on your doorstep.”

“Didn’t you get caught for that once?” Sam asked as he roamed behind the counter.

“I didn’t get caught,” Dean grinned playfully. “But I sure as hell did it.”

Sam rolled his eyes and knelt down in front of a safe that was tucked nearly out of sight. The combination lock and handle had bloody fingerprints that appeared to have already been dusted. He wasn’t too keen on adding his own, so he slid his hand into his sleeve when reaching for the handle and used the smaller of the two keys to unlock it. When opened, he found it was nearly empty aside from a lone piece of notebook paper folded in half. He stood and crossed back over to Dean as he opened the note.

“‘Thanks for the fresh meat,’” he read aloud, drawing Dean’s attention instantly. “‘She wasn’t a target until you made her one. We love it when you do our job for us.’”

Dean stared at the scrawled words coldly, as if a demon would fly out of it at any moment. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“You think they saw Codi come over and decided to hone in on her?” Sam asked softly. “I thought--”

“No, no,” Dean grunted. “They had to have known that Codi was Nina’s boss. They knew about Reg, so how else do you explain that? They’re just trying to screw with her.”

“We probably shouldn’t let her see this,” Sam suggested.

“Well, keep it until we get out of here. I don’t want you leaving your prints anywhere. Unless you want a murder rap like your big brother.”

“No thanks.” Sam then wadded the paper into his jacket pocket, and the two of them made a hasty exit.

To Be Continued...

Wash Away My Sins: Chapter Seven - Supernatural

2009-02-15T16:52:10Z

Wash Away My Sins: Chapter Six - Supernatural

2009-02-02T21:04:34Z

Title: Wash Away My Sins
Authors: Aratocriel and Jade Blood
Rating: R (sexual situations and dialogue)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC, OC!villains
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to Kripke and the CW. Nina belongs to Aratocriel, and Janis belongs to me (Jade), so no using them without our permission. We make no profits from this and are just having fun!
Summary: A year after the events of "Unity in Duality", Janis and Nina are a bit savvier regarding the world of the paranormal, but the resurgence of old enemies has left them needing the help of the Winchesters once more.
Previous Chapters: 1 : 2 : 3 : 4 : 5

Chapter Six

"Why the hell is there a tie on our doorknob?" Nina questioned, plucking the tie off the handle and unlocking the door.

"I wouldn't--" Sam reached for her but was too late. The door had already swung open.

Nina stepped in and was assaulted with blaring Metallica as well as the sight of Janis bobbing up and down in Dean's lap to the music. "WHOA! Fuck! JANIS!" Nina cried, her hand slapping over her eyes.

“NINA!?” Janis scrambled to cover herself, blushing in blotchy spots all over, even across parts that shouldn’t be visible at this point yet were.

Dean was more composed and quick to act, grabbing the throw that had fallen from the chair and draping it across her back. He held her tightly enough that she was no longer heating up the neighborhood through the open door. He noticed that Sam hadn’t entered the room yet, so at least little brother had sense enough to know when it wasn’t wise to just barge in.

“Didn’t you see the tie!?” Janis shrieked, causing Dean to grimace since this was done awfully close to his ear.

Nina peered at Janis through splayed fingers, her other hand waving around wildly as she spoke. "Yes, I saw the tie! I didn't think anything of it! Besides, what am I supposed to do? Stay locked outside of my own house while demons are after me just so you can have sex? AND! You're doing it in my chair! Personal space issues! Gross!"

Janis sighed angrily, which resulted in nearly a growl. Dean realized then that he’d never heard her make a noise like that before, not that he should be considered an expert. He wasn’t around her often. Still, it just seemed odd coming from her. Like a kitten hissing, trying to be mean and failing miserably.

“Of course, when I try to use it for something, it’s your chair,” Janis grumbled. “And no, I don’t expect you to stand outside and wait to get torn apart, but knocking would be nice. Seriously, necktie on the door? Universal symbol for sexy time inside!”

"Like you've ever used this symbol before! I thought Dean just hated it and left it hanging around," Nina replied, shaking her head. "And now I have sex stains and Dean ass on my chair. That is not coming out!"

“Hey, what’s wrong with my ass?” Dean argued.

“Lots of things,” came Sam’s muffled reply from outside.

“Fine, I’m not arguing about this…” Janis tried to get up, then realized if she did so, she’d leave Dean exposed. “Dean, just… Take the blanket…” She turned to Nina. “Could you give us two minutes at least?”

"But of course." Nina turned around and peered at Sam out the door, a quirky smile on her face. She heard movement and turned back just in time to see Dean's pale ass disappear down the hall, Janis having already made it to her room. "Wow, little early for a full moon, isn't it?" Nina shouted after him.

“HA!” Dean peered around the corner and pointed at her. “You peeked! Yeah, that’s right. You wanted to-- HEY!” Janis’s arm sneaked around and yanked him back by the shoulder.

“All clear?” Sam asked, poking his head into the living room with a frightened look, carrying the bags in his arms.

"Yes, all clear. No Janis boobs or Dean butts around." Nina laughed, closing the door behind Sam and resalting the entrance. Sam cut the music off, dousing them in blessed silence once more. They put their groceries away, and Nina grabbed the Lysol from the cabinet and bolted off to spray the chair down.

The conversation that transpired between Janis and Dean involved a lot of wheedling and blushing on her part. He asked, more gently than she’d expected, if she wanted to finish now that they were alone, but the mood was soundly destroyed. So he’d kissed her and abandoned the subject with a promise of “later”. She wasn’t sure if even that would help, but knowing Dean, he would easily heat her up again and make her forget that embarrassing incident had ever taken place.

They emerged, fully dressed, and reentered the living room. Janis sidled up to Nina and muttered close to her ear, “Thanks a lot, cock-block. You just set my body back a week.”

Nina gave her a wry smirk. "Payback for the times you've walked in on me. Besides, I'd imagine Dean has the ability to make you wetter than a slip-n-slide."

“Not like I wanted to see that,” Janis grumbled. “And… you’re gross.” Yet she blushed even hotter than she already had at the accusation, proving there was more than a little truth in it.

"Oh, come on, you learned a few tricks walking in on me." She winked at Janis. "Have you tried the position yet where you stick your feet in the air, up the side of the bed, and he stands over you while you're upside down?"

“What?” Janis winced. Here she had thought she was sexually liberated, yet there were still things that baffled her and conversations she didn’t want to have with two men in the room. Even if they were keeping their voices low. “Dean knows what he’s doing, and that’s all I’ll say about it.”

"I'm sure he does." Nina moved to head back to the kitchen then spun around, nearly bumping noses with Janis. "OH! Have you gone down on him again? I noticed the amount of carrots that have gone missing over the past year…"

“Not yet,” Janis sighed. “I’m building up to it. Somehow he keeps ending up between my legs before I can make that move.” Then she giggled, unable to help herself. It wasn’t like she put up much of a fight, so there was no one to blame really. “I want to. And I will.” She glanced back where Dean was furrowing his brow at them and smiled, receiving a smirk in return. “Yeah, he knows I’m talking about him.”

"Of course he does, dirty boy." She leaned in closer to Janis. "By the way, if the rest of him looks as good as his ass, I must say, you are a lucky girl."

Janis gave her a faux-jealous glare and playfully shoved her shoulder. “Damn skippy, girl. No touchy. Not that you would with tall and shaggy over there.”

Sam was oblivious to the conversation, having found a book on demonology on one of their bookshelves and settling onto the sofa with it. Dean walked over to nudge him, and Sam flinched as he followed Dean’s gaze toward the girls. He offered Dean a questioning look and was only treated to a enigmatic eyebrow waggle. He shook his head at this and returned to his reading.

“Then again…” Janis turned a dubious look on her. “I think Dean got all the reproductive instincts in that family.”

Nina laughed softly to herself. "He may be easily distracted by books, but I'm here to tell you he knows exactly what he's doing in bed." She gave Janis a wicked smile. "Maybe I should slip him my book on the Kama Sutra."

“So have you made a move with him since he got back?” Janis asked softly. “I know things were fairly mixed with you two after what we went through with them.” On the few occasions Nina had spoken about it, there had been a lot of regret in her voice. More for the lost opportunities than actually missing him as a lover. It had been Janis who needed the late night talks over ice cream with lots of sniffling and reminiscing involved.

"No," Nina shook her head, though she was smiling. "We spent a completely peaceful night cradled in one another’s arms. It was like a perfect dream. I wish…" she trailed off and looked up shyly at Janis. "Sorry, now I'm the one rambling on."

It was positively wonderful to hear Nina talk this way after the obvious mixed emotions she’d felt earlier. In spite of being somewhat lost in her time with Dean, Janis was not ignorant of Nina’s discomfort, and she actually threw her arms around her friend at this news. “Are you serious? That’s amazing. But don‘t hold back. What else was on your mind?”

Nina laughed at Janis's sudden embrace, wrapping her arms around her in return and squeezing her. "I was just thinking how nice it would be to actually get to see the boys when something paranormal wasn't going on." She sighed softly, pulling out of the embrace to give Janis a small smile. "I guess we should enjoy the time we have, huh?"

“We should,” Janis agreed. “We definitely should, but don’t think it’s not a wish I haven’t made myself. Still, they’re here now.”

She squeaked as a set of arms took her from behind, lips planting a solid kiss into the side of her neck. This was followed by a growled request. “Stop whispering about me.”

Janis battled a grin, trying to stomp her foot. “No, you stop eavesdropping.”

“Don’t leave a man much of a choice,” Dean replied, then pulled her back into the living room. He smacked Sam’s shoulder to get his attention again. “All right, status report, you two. Anything happen while you were out I should know about?”

Nina walked around the end of the couch, plucking the book out of Sam's fingers and seating herself in his lap.

"Funny you should mention that…" she sighed as she leaned back against Sam's chest. "Ran into a demon at the grocery store, and my boss is coming over tonight so we can warn her about demons."

Sam smirked at the way Nina made herself at home all over him, his hands resting on her hips and waist. “Only holy water could really prove whether or not that woman was possessed, but I think we should call it a near ‘yes’.”

“The grocery store?” Janis asked. “I thought we agreed they wouldn’t--”

“She didn’t attack,” Sam put in swiftly. “But she was acting very strange. Nina would know even better than I would, since it was someone you know.”

“Oh God, you’re kidding,” Janis breathed, sinking into the chair she and Dean had vacated only minutes prior. “Who?”

"It was Laura," Nina replied. "She was acting so strange, not like her normal, sweet self at all. She was bizarre, prying, even for her."

Janis shook her head. “This kind of raises a new question, doesn’t it?” She looked up at Dean. “How many of those things are our friends and neighbors?”

“Exactly, which makes me wonder why you’re trusting this boss of Nina’s to come over here,” Dean added in Sam’s direction.

“If she’s possessed, she won’t even be able to cross the threshold,” Sam reminded him. “And if she’s going to be the next target, which would make a lot of sense, we want to try warning her first.”

Dean nodded. “All right, so when does she get here?”

Sam rubbed Nina’s back. “About an hour? Nina called on the way back.”

“So… what’s for supper?” Dean asked, rubbing his hands together.

Janis furrowed her brow at him as she chewed her bottom lip. “I’d say lots of awkward will certainly be on the menu.”

"Yeah… Codi is pretty cool though, so I'm sure she won’t totally flip out on us." Nina shrugged. "Anyway, I guess I need to start cooking, we're having fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and some kind of vegetable… Creamed corn sound good?"

Janis could tell by the look on Dean’s face that it all sounded amazing, and she rolled her eyes affectionately, planting a kiss on his cheek after she rose. “All right, big boy. We’re gonna get started on it.”

About an hour later the house smelled as one might imagine an old country home would. The chicken was fried and placed on the table in a heaping pile with the potatoes and corn in separate bowls next to them. Nina was just finishing setting the fifth place at the table when she heard knocking from the next room.

"Wait." Dean stopped her just short of answering the door and took the shotgun out from behind it.

"No, Dean, I don't want the first thing she sees when she enters this house to be you with a gun pointed at her face." Nina shook her head, reaching to take the shotgun back from him.

Dean yanked the barrel out of reach. “Just answer the door.” He put himself in a position to the far side, where he would be behind the door and still able to gauge Nina’s expression, showing that he would be as tactful as possible about this. He nodded to her as he took aim, his eyes locked on hers as he waited.

Janis and Sam stayed nearby, ready to move for defensive positions if need be.

Nina forced a friendly smile to her face and opened the door. "Hey, Codi."

"I thought you were going to keep me out here forever," Codi smiled and stepped into the house, too busy wanting to greet Sam and Janis to notice the salt poured on the floor for the moment.

Dean turned and stashed the shotgun behind the bookshelf, satisfied at seeing her step over the salt unscathed. He turned back with a big grin, stuffing his hands in his pockets in the most innocent gesture he could muster.

With some relief, Janis embraced Codi. “Good to see you again,” she said, and the smile in her voice was genuine.

"Glad to see you, too. I heard about Reg." Codi returned the embrace and pulled back, a tight smile on her face. "I'm sorry about that."

“Reg was a good friend,” Janis said simply. “But I’m doing all right.” She glanced back at Dean. “I have this guy helping me through. I’m pretty fortunate to have him here. Dean, this is Codi. Codi, Dean. You met his brother, Sam, earlier.”

Dean waved and gave a nod to her, not sure what else to say until they got into revealing the truth. Not to mention that he was having a hard time not diving for the salt and reapplying it in front of the door.

"Nice to meet you," Codi smiled and turned back to face Nina, who was still standing by the door. "Do I smell frie--" she trailed off, her eyes focusing on the scattered salt by her feet. "Did you spill something? A lot of it?"

"That's one of the topics we need to talk about over dinner, actually." Nina shrugged this off, placing a hand on Codi's back and guiding her to the kitchen. "And yes, you do smell fried chicken."

As soon as her back was turned, Dean began pouring fresh salt in place, waving Janis and Sam into the other room as an added distraction.

“We have a whole spread laid out,” Janis announced, taking a seat and saving the one beside her for Dean.

Sam, feeling the need to be a gentleman, held out a chair for Codi. “We can go ahead and get started.”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” Dean announced as he entered and plopped down next to Janis.

Codi lifted an eyebrow at Sam. "Thanks, but I can get my chair," she told him in an easy manner.

"I… oh… yeah, sorry," Sam muttered, taking his hands off the chair and seating himself.

Nina laughed softly to herself at Sam's sudden awkwardness. "Beer sound good for everyone?"

“Sounds great,” Dean smiled broadly, and Janis nodded her agreement, as well.

Leaning toward him, she asked, “Is it just me, or are you enjoying the hell out of this?”

“It’s fried chicken and beer,” Dean murmured back. “You bet that sweet ass of yours I’m enjoying this. Why? You nervous?”

“Kind of…” she whispered back.

“Beer’s fine,” Sam nodded as he seated himself between Nina and Codi. He wasn’t sure how soon was too soon to bring up the true reason for Codi being there, but he didn’t want to stall too long either, since he could see that the whispers passing between Dean and Janis were not the usual, flirtatious kind. “Codi, just out of curiosity, have you noticed anything strange in town lately?”

Codi popped the top on the beer that Nina handed her and shook her head. "Not really. Nothing out of the ordinary that would be considered strange. Why do you ask?"

"Well, we actually have a specific reason for having you over tonight, aside from just dinner," Nina said slowly. "It has to do with why I haven't been at work lately."

"Oh?" Codi sat back, setting her fork down almost as soon as she picked it up.

"This is all probably going to sound insane, but keep an open mind." Codi nodded that she would, and Nina continued. "Janis and I are kind of in trouble… We… uh… dammit, Sam, Dean? Either of you want to jump in. I'm sure you've done this more than I have."

“Well,” Sam broke in, trying to rescue her. “Nina and Janis both have been through a lot since a year ago, when they first met…” He gestured toward his brother. “Dean and I. Things that… Not many people would be apt to believe. What happened then is part of what’s happening now.”

“It would be a lot to go into,” Janis sighed with a weak smile, then turned the look on Sam, encouragingly. “Why don’t you tell her what you guys do?”

“We’re hunters,” Sam sighed. “Of… paranormal beings. Spirits, demons…”

Codi stared at Sam like he'd grown another head. "Is there a hidden camera around? Are you guys trying to prank me or something?"

"I'm afraid not, Codi." Nina gestured to the kitchen window, then to the ceiling. "That salt you saw at the door, and on the window, is to keep pretty much anything evil out. The painting up there is a devil’s trap. It’ll trap a demon if it gets past the salt. Janis and I are being targeted by demons, and they've turned to picking off our friends as scare tactics. Reg was the first."

"Nina, I think you've lost your fucking mind," Codi blurted out, her own mind swimming with the information that was assaulting her.

“Yeah, they always say they’ll be open-minded,” Dean chuckled, setting his half-finished beer aside. He’d been eating through all this and had finally dropped his utensil aside to join the fray. “Then they realize what open-minded really means. Listen, I’m used to being called crazy. And a lot worse than that, too. But facts are facts. You can believe us or not, but either way? We think you might be next on a short list of people close to these two that have bull’s eyes on their heads. You can either give us the benefit of the doubt. Or you can go home and get ganked. Up to you.”

"Oh well, when you put it like that, I just have to believe you. I suppose I shouldn't step on mushrooms too, because of the fairies I could be possibly killing." Codi rolled her eyes and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. This is just not the kind of dinner conversation I was expecting." She was silent for a moment, her eyes scanning the people at the table, ending on Nina. "You really believe this stuff, huh? You're serious?"

"Unfortunately, yes, I am,” Nina replied. “Deadly serious. If I hadn't had to experience it firsthand, I'd be the first to tell you that you were insane for thinking there were actual demons in the world. We’re not telling you this to scare you, but we have access to things that can allow you to protect yourself better. I really don't want you to end up like Reg."

"Alright then, I said I'd be open-minded, right?" Codi gave the group a half smile and poked at her chicken.

Janis pursed her lips and nodded. “Yeah, you did. And we do expect you to do more than humor us.”

Dean glanced at her and snaked a hand across her back, rubbing gently.

“We’ve been through a lot in that last twenty-four hours or so,” Sam explained as a semi-apology for how blunt Janis was. “I don’t want this to sound like a threat, but what happened to Reg was nothing short of what you might expect from a psycho. That’s all demons really are. Pure insanity with the ability to overpower you unless you’re equipped to fight them.”

"I've got plenty of weapons, if that's what you're talking about," Codi shrugged.

"That won’t really do anything aside from injure the person their possessing,” Nina explained carefully. “I can supply you with holy water, salt, and some rock salt ammo for a shotgun."

"Holy water? You've got to be kidding me…"

"Don't start that again, Codi,” Nina cut her off. “You've gotta believe us."

“Well, you don’t have to,” Dean said, frowning playfully. “But I can tell you some really drawn-out, nasty stories about other folks who didn’t.”

Codi laughed suddenly leaning back in her chair. "Fine, I'll trust you guys. Besides, if you're just off your rockers, all that happens is I go home with some blessed water and extra salt."

“You may even thank us,” Janis smiled, softening when she realized that Codi was no longer battling the idea. “I know we’ll all feel a lot better.”

“We would have told you earlier, but…” Sam snorted when he thought of how this must all seem. “We decided an intervention style meeting would be better?”

"Always up for company and a free meal," Codi grinned, finally digging into the food on her plate now that the weird situation seemed to be defused.

"I knew you'd be cool about this," Nina smirked.

"I'm always willing to listen if it involves my life, whether or not he idea seems a little crazy." Codi took a bite out of her chicken. "Man, this is good. Who cooked it?"

"Janis and I took turns, though if the piece you're eating is amazing, then it was probably me," Nina joked, giving Janis a wink.

Janis giggled at this and dug into her own meal, though Dean was already halfway through his own. Sam followed suit. They tried making lighter conversation, but none of it seemed to fit after the dark news they’d delivered. Still, Codi didn’t seem to mind. Part of her obviously understood the courage it had taken to tell their story, how much this mindless hostility and loss was affecting them. On her way out, she was given two gallon of holy water and was not afraid to laugh because they were in milk jugs. They also loaded her down with salt and rock salt shells for her shotgun.

“If you can make it through the night,” Sam told her as they congregated before the door, “You might be in the clear.”

“We can’t promise that,” Janis sighed. “But making it through the night is a start.”

"I'll call you all in the morning," Codi promised. "Thanks for everything, dinner included."

"Stay safe." Nina embraced her as best she could with the armload of stuff Codi had, then closed and locked the door behind her. She turned back to everyone and shrugged. "That went well, at least."

“Better than most of the encounters we’ve had like that,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah, let’s just hope the rest of it goes as planned,” Dean muttered as he watched Codi load up her car via the window. “You know, we can’t guarantee that they’ll go after Codi tonight. Or any of your other buddies for that matter.” He turned back to them with a tight expression. “They may be gearing up for another direct strike for all we know.”

“So what then?” Janis asked. “You obviously have something in mind.”

“Pair off,” Dean grunted. “Stay up and keep watch. Maybe you were expecting something a little more impressive…”

“That works,” Janis smirked. “So who first?”

"Is it really necessary to have watches going throughout the night? They can't get in here," Nina questioned.

“I’m trying to play this smart,” Dean growled at her. “We’ve seen these demons pull shit you wouldn’t believe.”

“Maybe we can compromise,” Sam stepped in before an argument could ensue. “So far, they’ve been most active early in the evening. I think it’s safe to say you could call it off about ten or eleven, and we’d still be in the clear.”

Dean nodded at this. “You up for that, Sammy?”

“Why Sammy?” Janis murmured. “I could stay up with you. I have no problem with that.”

“If something happened--” Dean began.

“Then we’d wake up Sam and Nina,” Janis shrugged. “I know how to look out windows, Dean.”

“We’d need to be split up,” Dean explained, trying not to sound too condescending as he did so. “Across the house from each other. If something did manage to get in, and I might not get to you in time.”

“So me sleeping in my room by myself is a better option?” Janis asked with a laugh. “It’s just as easy for something to get in through there.”

"If we're not pulling an all-nighter, then we can all just stay up," Nina suggested, taking a seat on the couch.

Janis gestured to Nina proudly. “The voice of reason. Seriously, I think we’d both feel better just hanging close with you two.”

Dean gave her a sly look and nodded. He’d already learned that she would not be deterred, and the lot of them staying up together wouldn’t be a liability, at least not one he could foresee. “Fine. The four of us, it is.”

To Be Continued...

"Scorching the Blood" - Sam/Lenore - Supernatural

2009-02-02T04:48:47Z

Title: Scorching the Blood
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Lenore, mentions Sam/Ruby, Dean, mentions Gordon
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke and the CW. I'm just playing in their sandbox. No profits were made from this.
Spoilers: Post-"Heaven and Hell"
Summary: Sam meets up with Lenore again unexpectedly.
Author's Note: This one was written for ghanistarkiller for the gift meme I had set up on my personal LJ. I hope you enjoy this little peek at one of your favorite ships, dear! :D

The blade rose in a glittering arc, the moon flashing off it like only an object in a poem could possibly achieve. The trees parted just enough for the light to cause this effect, the wind teasing green-black leaves in a wicked dance. Sam didn’t notice, of course. He was too busy keeping his eyes squarely on the creature baring its teeth at him; two rows of fangs to be exact. He was confident that the downward stroke to come would end their tussle once and for all. His throat ached from the strangulation he’d endured, and he was more than ready to end this.

“Wait!”

Having not expected the interruption, Sam did as he was told, the machete staying poised in mid-air as he snapped toward the speaker. Even the dark-haired vampire held beneath his boot looked surprised at this rescue and diverted her attention along with Sam. They looked like a shadowy painting of the impossible as they stared at the pale figure that stood poised off to the side.

Her hair was a straight, brunette tumble that brushed her shoulder and drifted down her back. Her eyes shown darkly but caught the light just right so that her place as a fellow vampire was apparent. She was soft-featured enough that her exquisitely peaceful expression seemed gentle rather than commanding, but her eyes demanded her orders be followed just the same.

“Lenore,” the vampire beneath his boot squeaked with relief, wiggling and reaching for her with one hand. “Get this bastard off of me!”

“She’s one of mine, Sam,” Lenore assured him, just restraining herself from smirking at his dropped jaw.

“But… she attacked me,” Sam defended as he stumbled back, his arm falling to his side.

The vampire went from a vicious animal to a whimpering, scrambling mess of desperation as she hurled herself into Lenore’s arms, her leader soothing her with shushed whispers. “Go back to the nest, Jen,” Lenore ordered. “Run. We’ll be leaving soon.”

“Thank you,” Jen wept and kissed her knuckles deliriously before doing as she was told.

Lenore watched her retreat until she was out of sight, then turned on Sam again. “Good to see you again, though I would have chosen… different circumstances.”

“She attacked me,” Sam said again, doubly defensive at repeating himself.

“She’s a fledgling,” Lenore explained carefully. “A stray we picked up. She’s still learning. Control has to be relearned when we become what we are.”

“So the victims…” Sam ventured as he recalled the research he and Dean had done. The grisly newspaper articles that had led them there were archetypal vampire attacks, and it was more than obvious they had been on the right trail. “Those were her fault.”

“I’m afraid so,” Lenore sighed. “This was a second strike for Jen, but she is improving.”

“You expect me to let that go?” Sam huffed at her, his knuckles white around the hilt of the machete.

Lenore pulled the coat she wore tighter around herself, popping the collar so that it covered her neck, but not because she was cold. “This process, choosing to go against our nature, is not easy. You of all people should know that.”

Sam’s face fell into an expression rife with sarcasm and obvious guilt. He raised a hand as if to dismiss her, then chose to wipe it wearily down his face. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve kept up with you,” she explained, then hastily added, “and Dean. It’s not difficult. The two of you are infamous.”

“So I keep hearing,” Sam breathed. “You must have heard about Gordon then, too. How it happened.”

“Yes,” Lenore replied, dropping her gaze down to her feet. “Part of me wishes to believe he understood in the end, that an inkling of what he’d put us through passed over him. But I doubt it.”

“If you know about that,” Sam ventured carefully, “about him and what else I’ve been up to… I bet that’s disappointing.”

Lenore’s eyes cut back up to him as she raised her head, every movement as gradual and tender as a breeze. “Far from it, Sam. I choose not to shed blood, but don’t think for a moment that makes me unable to grasp why you must. You walk a fine line in an ugly world, but I’ll be the very last person to hate you for it.”

Sam watched her, searching her eyes and finding sincerity. He nodded gratefully and breathed a tired “thank you.” He was being very cautious with her yet felt as though he owed her some modicum of concern for her trouble. “What about your nest?” This felt like asking someone about how their kids were, so to temper it, he added a bit of what he hoped was wry humor. “Does Eli still think of me fondly?”

This appeared to be the worst thing he could have said since she turned away as though physically struck. “Eli’s dead.”

“God, I’m sor--”

“No, Sam, don’t,” Lenore interrupted, the words sounding as though they were strain to impart. “You didn’t know. It’s all right. Just know that you’re a rare breed as far as hunters go. Few of them are even as persuadable as your brother. And Eli never was happy with the way we hide ourselves, constantly on the run. I just hope he’s at peace now.”

It stunned him for the second time since meeting her how calm and kind she was. “I know it’s been said, once by me, but… you’re nothing like the others, Lenore.”

When she crossed to him, he knew not to flinch or run. They were so far beyond fearing each other that the mere notion was absurd. The machete hung limply at his side, her fangs were tucked away beneath her gums, and not even a muscle ticked when her arms went around his neck. She was cold, and he instinctively encircled her as if to breathe some life in her that was long gone. Winter chill fell on his lips, spring upon hers, and it wasn’t until he’d drawn back that he realized they’d just kissed.

“I know about Ruby, as well,” she whispered up at him, falling back on her heel from where she’d stood on tiptoe to reach him. “I won’t pretend I don’t wish it was me instead.”

“Ruby and I…” He wasn’t sure how to explain that. He wasn’t even sure he understood it himself. “I needed her.”

“And that’s all right,” she smiled softly. “I can tell you’ve kicked yourself a bit over it. You shouldn’t.”

He opened his mouth to ask her who had told her, why she was doing this, where this was going. But Dean was shouting his name in the distance with justified anger and fear. He turned his head that way, then looked back down at Lenore as if to apologize.

“Another time and place, things might have been different,” Lenore responded to his silence.

“That almost made it sound like you believe in reincarnation,” Sam joked quietly.

“It would be a nice thought, wouldn’t it?” she asked him, untangling her arms and drifting back the way she’d come. “That come what may, you keep finding the same souls over and over. The ones that really matter.”

“We’ll leave you alone,” Sam promised, taking a deep breath that made his chest puff up, not realizing how this made him look the part of the reluctant knight that he was. “Jen, too.”

“Take care of yourselves,” Lenore replied, then she was gone.

“SAM!” Dean was as demanding as ever, trudging toward his brother with scratches covering his face where he’d wrestled through brambles, his breath a white cloud. “The hell are you just standing there for!? You coulda said something. I was losing my mind.”

“Not much there to lose,” Sam countered distractedly as he attempted to track the direction Lenore had taken.

“Teehee, smartass,” Dean growled. “You find anything?”

Sam glanced back at him, trying to think of the best way to explain without going into detail. “A reason to leave this one alone.”

“Huh?” Dean asked, his face pinched with confusion. “What’s that mean?”

“Just… let’s get back to the car, and I’ll tell you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, as if silently concluding that this was typical of his annoying, little brother. Sam took the unspoken jab in stride and followed him back toward the edge of the trees where the Impala waited. Yet he couldn’t keep himself from checking over his shoulder, imagining he felt cold kisses along the nape of his neck, unconvinced it was only the wind.

The End

Wash Away My Sins: Chapter Five - Supernatural

2009-01-25T21:57:58Z

Title: Wash Away My Sins
Authors: Aratocriel and Jade Blood
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC, OC!villains
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to Kripke and the CW. Nina belongs to Aratocriel, and Janis belongs to me (Jade), so no using them without our permission. We make no profits from this and are just having fun!
Summary: A year after the events of "Unity in Duality", Janis and Nina are a bit savvier regarding the world of the paranormal, but the resurgence of old enemies has left them needing the help of the Winchesters once more.
Previous Chapters: 1 : 2 : 3 : 4

Chapter Five

Janis and Nina lived in a neighborhood just on the edge of the main city, so the car ride didn't take long. The talk had been casual; Nina pointed out the street she and Janis had grown up on as they passed it. Nina had smiled fondly as she told Sam about the time she and Janis had raced their bikes down the road after a summer rain only to go skidding off the side and end up in the ditch, covered from head to toe in mud. She also pointed out the Eagar Times, where Janis worked, though passing by it and seeing the flowers people had laid near the door on Reg's behalf only served to remind them of the situation they were in, yet neither spoke of it.

"Here we are," she announced as they pulled into the parking lot of Ol' Jim's Supermarket. "I suppose we should be quick. I'd like to stop by my work on the way home, just to check up on everything. If you don't mind."

Sam nodded his agreement to both statements despite his doubts. Already he was feeling that being away from the safe haven she and Janis had built for themselves was a mistake. Dean had been right to call it a fortress, and being anywhere else at a time like this left him feeling somewhat exposed. When they exited the car and made their way inside, he draped his arm casually about Nina’s shoulders. This was partly to deter anyone from approaching and partly to keep her from getting out of his sight.

Once a cart was selected that didn’t make too much noise, they began navigating aisles and picking out food. There were the obvious items they’d thought of before leaving: ice cream, beer, and bacon. Once these were out of the way, they concentrated on essentials.

After placing a loaf of bread among their purchases, Sam offered her a shy smile. “You know, it couldn’t hurt to pick up some things we want to cook together.” He immediately realized how corny that sounded and laughed at himself. “Just because… that might be nice.” And that made it worse.

"That would be nice," she agree. "Well, what do you want? We could pick up steak and cook that if you're up for an actual meal, or we could go get ingredients and bake cookies." She turned a huge cheesy grin towards him.

“If we got steak, Dean would eat it all before we even got the first bite,” Sam joked. “Make it chicken, and we might actually have a chance.”

He took a moment to consider the idea of homemade cookies. Had he eaten one since Jess had died? That was a horrific thought, both in how ill-timed it was and how depressing. It hit suddenly and violently because homemade cookies were associated with the women in one’s life, the little ways they say “I love you.” He’d had no mother in his youth, so Jess was the first one to do that for him. She’d been so astounded by his enthusiasm for something she’d known since childhood, but she’d not questioned it. As much as his heart ached, he knew she wouldn’t want him destroying himself over something that should be meaningless. Yet the symbolism still burned.

“You know what?” he answered softly. “Yeah, let’s go ahead and do that.”

"Alright," she replied, frowning slightly at the way he answered but not questioning it. They continued with their shopping, pausing slightly to figure out which kind of cookie they wanted to bake and finally settled for the classic chocolate chip. They picked up some chicken, as well as steak, potatoes, and a few other odds an ends before starting toward the checkout line.

They rounded the corner at the end of the aisle just as Nina heard someone calling her name. She paused, turning to see one of her neighbors walking in her direction, an older lady who lived a few houses down from her and Janis.

"Hi, Laura," Nina smiled as the older lady stopped in front of her.

“Why hello there, dear!” Laura replied as she drew in closer. She had no cart and seemed to have nothing in hand to buy. Sam tilted his head at this but tried not to jump to conclusions, considering she may have just arrived. “How are you doing?”

"Well enough," Nina replied. "Oh! Sorry, Laura, this is Sam, a friend from out of town." She gestured between them by way of introduction.

Laura nodded to him with a smile then turned back to Nina. "Honey, you haven't seen Jewel, have you?"

"Jewel? Your cat?" she asked.

"Yeah, she's been missing for two days now, and I can't seem to find her anywhere," Laura replied.

"No, I haven't seen her, I'm sorry." Nina shifted a little closer to Sam. "Have you tried the pound? Maybe someone picked her up."

“Well, we did check there,” Laura fretted gently, then shrugged. “Not like her to run off, but we can always get something else to play with.” She smiled disarmingly, and Sam slipped an arm around Nina’s shoulders.

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” he put in. “If we see her--”

“Oh, and how long will you be staying?” Laura interrupted.

Sam smiled and replied as easily as he could manage, “Not sure yet. As long as we need to.”

“We?” she asked, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead. “You wouldn’t be hinting at taking our Nina away?”

"Sam and his brother are in town helping Janis and I with some home remodeling," Nina replied.

"Ah, what are you doing to that beautiful home?" Laura tilted her head slightly.

"Repainting, perhaps adding a back porch," Nina shrugged. "However, I do think Sam and I need to be running; our ice cream is going to melt." She nodded towards the carton of Moose Tracks in the cart with a smile.

“Can’t have that!” Laura giggled, yet she reached a hand out and took Nina’s fingers in a grip that might be a bit too strong. “I worry about you and Janis all alone in that house, honey. I heard what happened to poor Reg up at the paper. Janis must be all to pieces.”

Nina held back a wince, her fingers feeling like they were being crushed. "She's upset, of course, but she's a strong girl."

Laura narrowed her eyes for a mere second, but it was enough for Sam to feel as though they shouldn't linger here any longer.

"Are ready to go, Nina?" Sam asked, plucking her hand away from Laura and finding it took more force than it should.

"Yeah," she nodded and gave Laura a half smile. "Nice seeing you. Take care."

Laura watched them go, and Sam could feel her eyes on their backs. The checkout line wasn’t long, and the woman at the register wasn’t slow, but they still felt like it took far too long before they were outside and stuffing their groceries in the backseat.

When Sam got behind the wheel and started the car, he paused to glance at Nina. “That was no mistake… Call me paranoid, but I’m pretty sure that was another attempt to scare you. I think she might have been possessed. I’m sure you didn’t want to hear that…” He trailed off as he pulled out of the parking lot, not wanting to linger even a moment more.

"No, I didn't want to hear that, though I kind of figured as much." Nina leaned back in the seat and sighed. "She just didn't seem the same. You think she's the only neighbor they've possessed?"

Sam shook his head. “I think they’re getting sick satisfaction from striking you and Janis close to home, and possessing your neighbors is part of that. So you may be seeing more of the same before this is over. Are you sure you still want to stop by work?”

"Yeah, we need to, a quick stop, but I want to check in on everything. Besides, Codi is going start wondering if I've dropped off the face of the earth if I don't check in." Nina gave him directions, and they were off.

A few minutes later, Sam was pulling into the parking lot at Green's Armory. Sam eyed the shop once they were inside, taking in the walls upon walls of various guns, knives, and bows.

He turned to her, smirking. "Somehow this fits perfectly."

She returned his smirk and walked over to the counter where a woman was helping a customer. She looked up when she was finished, a grin passing over her face, the ring in her bottom lip shining.

"Nina!" She propped her tattooed arms up on the counter. "I was going to call you today. I thought you'd dropped off the face of the earth!"

Nina and Sam shared an amused look before Nina answered. "Janis and I have been going through a rough time. Family stuff."

"I hope everyone's alright," Codi's face fell slightly.

"Yeah they are, for now," Nina replied with a weary shrug.

"Hopefully it'll stay that way," Codi said and turned her eyes to her Sam. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Sam. He's visiting from out of town. Came to help Janis and I."

"Ah," Codi winked at her. "Good lookin’ boy, though not my type."

Nina chuckled at this, knowing full-well Codi's type was the complete opposite of Sam. In fact, Nina was closer to her type than Sam was.

Sam smiled shyly. He worried a little about saying too much in front of her, afraid this might be a replay of the nearly disastrous, grocery store trip. While he said nothing of this to Nina, he urged her to stay close to him. “Me and my brother actually. We’re friends from way back.”

"We need to be heading back, but I wanted to stop by and let you know I'm still here," Nina told her. "I'll call you when I can come back in, if that's cool with you."

"That'll work. Take care, hun." Codi nodded to her and smiled at Sam, "nice meeting you."

“You, too,” Sam replied. As they stepped outside again, Sam leaned into Nina’s ear. “Do you think we should warn her? I could get some holy water… Be sure we’re dealing with the actual Codi, and then try telling her what’s really going on.”

Nina balked at Sam's question. "For one, she's not possessed. She's perfectly normal. And secondly, aside from freaking her the hell out, do you think warning her would help her?"

Sam stopped her short just before they reached the car. “The way that neighbor, Laura, acted back there was sloppy even for a demon. Believe it or not, they can be extremely deceptive, so don’t speak so soon. And… I don’t know her, so I can’t say. How do you think she’d take that kind of news?”

Nina glanced back at the shop. "I actually think she'd take it rather well, to be honest with you." She looked back at Sam with a frown drawing her mouth down. "We should tell her. How do you want to go about it? We can go back and tell her now, or I can call her and have her come over for dinner tonight."

Sam glanced at the car, then at the shop. “Part of me thinks we shouldn’t put it off. But at the same time… Maybe if she saw the house, that could help. Or it could make her feel like she was being kidnapped and indoctrinated with the craziest thing she’d ever heard.” He paused and offered Nina a wince. “I’ve been through this too many times. But truly, there are pros and cons all over the place. I just don’t know…”

"My choice, huh?" Nina sighed. "If we take much longer, Dean and Janis will be coming after us in full force. I'll call her when we get home, and we can tell her then. Sound like a plan?"

Sam nodded and held out hope that their enemy wouldn’t get brave in the next couple of hours.

* * * * *

“You’re sure this isn’t making your legs go to sleep or anything?” Janis asked, wincing at the thought.

Dean shook his head with an indifferent frown. “I’m fine, darlin’.”

She nodded and remained sprawled across his lap, glad to hear that he didn’t wish for her to move. Truly, she was content there, safe and sound. Neither of them minded the silence that had taken them over for the moment, and it was nice to know that they could be comfortable in it, having reached the point beyond pretense and useless small talk.

Yet Janis did have questions and news of her own that she’d held back, and now was as good a time as any to let it go. “What have you and Sam been up to? I know a year is a lot to cover, but… just give me the highlights.” Dean’s eyes widened as he blew an exaggerated sigh, and Janis cackled at his expression. “Loaded question? I’m good at those, if you’ll recall.”

“Nah, just…” Dean smirked at her, and she was reminded of a thought she’d entertained so long ago. That he was rarely as real as he wanted to be. “Like you said, a year is a long time.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m aware,” Janis huffed with a tired laugh. “Nina and I… Well, you get the gist of that.”

“Starting to,” Dean chuckled, looking about himself again. “You seem…” He shrugged. “You know your shit now. I almost feel like you don’t need us.”

“Oh, don’t even,” Janis giggled. “I need the hell out of you.” She paused to cup his cheek, leaning in for a kiss that lingered longer than she meant for it to. “I don’t want to say that this is bigger than last time, but five demons is decidedly more than two. And? No powers for me or Nina to fall back on.”

“This is nothing,” Dean replied with a cocky grin. “Sammy and I butted heads with seven. And I mean ‘the’ seven.”

“Deadly sins?” Janis asked breathlessly. “Greed, Lust, Wrath…”

Dean nodded and shot her with a finger gun. “It was wild. Bobby was there.”

“Bobby!” Janis crowed and planted her hands on Dean’s chest, batting at him in her excitement. “Oh God, how is he?”

“He’s great,” Dean laughed. “Ornery as ever.”

“Oh, I miss him,” Janis smiled. “When you see him again, give him a hug for me.”

“Well… I’ll tell him you said ‘hey’,” Dean grunted, and Janis snorted at the way he brushed off the idea of randomly embracing Bobby. “Besides, you may be doing that yourself before this is over. I don’t want to bug him if we can help it, but if this gets much bigger?”

“Understood,” Janis conceded. “I wouldn’t mind another veteran in our midst. Nina and I may know our shit, as you put it, but that doesn’t make us hunters. Far from it. We know just enough to make us dangerous, more to ourselves than them.”

“So… what?” Dean asked gently. “After we split, you just started keeping up with this stuff?”

Janis nodded. “Couldn’t exactly fall back into sleeping awake like everyone else, pretending the world is all candy and roses. So I took a job with the Eagar Times in an attempt to keep up with current events that might seem off. Nina started reading everything she could find on demons and spirits. We fortified this place to the point that… we can’t invite people over or they’ll think us mad. We know how to kick a little tail now, too.”

“Seriously?” Dean grinned.

“Tae Kwon Do,” she nodded. “We’re not that advanced yet, but we’re getting there. Slowly but surely. In other words, no, I won’t fight you.”

“Aww, what a chicken,” Dean snickered.

“You are… what?” she whined. “Six-foot-one? Two? All muscle? Screw you.”

“That’s right,” he replied, tightening his grip on her. “And you love every inch of it.”

“True,” she purred and pressed a soft kiss into his temple. “I do.”

Though he looked entirely pleased with himself, he chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. There was a subject they’d not broached that he was in no hurry to bring up, yet he was so damn curious. He knew he wasn’t the only man in the world who found Janis hot, as illustrated by the very dead man who had chased her around the office. Small town or not, there had to be others.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Janis asked. “I don’t like suspense, baby.”

“Just… speaking of a year apart,” Dean prefaced with an expectant look.

“The guy situation?” she asked playfully. “Well, I could ask the same of the girl situation.”

“You first,” he said and donned his poker face.

“Okay, so I dated here and there,” she replied truthfully. “Tried to get serious with a couple, but it didn’t pan out. Slept with three of them.” She paused and tried to gauge his expression, but he wasn’t having it. “They weren’t what I was looking for. Not what I wanted.”

“Hmm,” was his non-committal reply.

“Don’t,” Janis breathed, “be jealous. Just don’t.” She set her jaw, then prompted him. “Your turn.”

“Flings,” he muttered and waved his hands back and forth to emphasize his point. “Meaningless.”

“Smooth of you to put it that way,” Janis laughed. “Honey, we didn’t even think we were going to be sitting here like this again. I don’t really think we have any reason to try and justify ourselves or beg forgiveness for things that… don’t count as cheating in anyone’s book.” Yet they both felt a twinge of jealousy, and she knew it. Perhaps the mood needed lightening. “Then again, if you left the house right now and tried to screw the first girl you saw, I might have to go back on what I said about not fighting you.”

“Hey, I’ve seen the heat you pack in this house,” Dean said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I ain’t stupid.”

“No, far from it,” Janis giggled. “Smartest man I know. You liking these ego strokes? I can keep going.”

“Eh, I’ve got other strokes in mind, personally,” Dean growled and dove for her throat.

Janis cackled at the ceiling, mostly at how incredibly cheesy that line was. Her hands moved down the line of buttons over his chest and began sliding them open. Yet before they got too far, she yanked his tie off over his head and ran to the door, opening it long enough to hang the tie from the knob. After pouring more salt in place, she raced back and collided with him, almost toppling the chair as she did so.

She kissed him hungrily, then moaned and broke away again. “Oh wait!”

As she hopped down and crossed the room, Dean’s expression turned petulant. “Baby, come on…”

“You’ll like this!” she promised, flipping the small stereo on the shelf to “CD” and pressing play. A wicked grin crossed her face as Metallica’s Black Album began playing, the intro for “Enter Sandman” unmistakable.

“You’re kidding,” Dean laughed, and he had to do so loudly to be heard above the speakers. “You want to fuck to this?”

She sauntered back over, plopped onto his lap again, and smirked. “I happen to think this is the perfect soundtrack for love making.”

“How’d I get so lucky?” Dean asked, nipping a trail down her throat.

“How did I?” Janis asked quietly in return, yet the music was already drowning her out.

To Be Continued...

"Story of My Life" - Gordon Walker - Supernatural

2009-01-24T02:05:41Z

Title: Story of My Life
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Gordon Walker, his sister (whom I named Patty for story's sake)
Prompt: .047 - Xenophobia
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong to Kripke and the CW. No profits were made from this as it was only done for fun.
Summary: How does one go from hunting evil to hunting their family?
Author's Note: More or less a character study of Gordon Walker and how hunting changed and twisted him into the man we saw on the show. Hope you enjoy!

Gordon never thought it would be so easy to get so ruthless, but fangs didn’t respond to being asked nicely. And he had to know. He would get the answers he sought even if it meant cutting his way through every vampire in every nest. It was garnering him a reputation among his peers. An oddly positive one.

He only knew this because he was starting to meet more and more men like himself, all of them secretive and solo as he was. Yet get a few drinks in them, and they started talking as if he had asked them for their life stories so that he might write a book and cut them royalty checks. Then again, he was becoming that way himself, if only because with every night that passed, he had more tales to tell.

Like the one about the fang that killed his sister.

That had been months ago, and it was at first an emotional tale he didn’t like retelling. He relived it every time he did. Then his heart started to harden. Slow at first, then so solidly stony that he’d almost not seen it coming. Now he related the story more like a conquest than with any attachment, smirking at all the right spots.

He’d gotten good at telling it, too. He knew when to smack his hand on the table when he got to the part about the fang tackling him into the wall. He had special spots for chilling pauses that made him seem all the more cold and calculating for how he’d handled himself. He growled when he repeated what he’d said to it, despite the reality being that he’d screamed and wept in that vampire’s smug face. And the end was a real winner, too. No words. Just a silent slice of his thumb across his throat to indicate how his enemy had lost his head.

Before all this, the story becoming tweaked until it was perfect and his own distance from it as anything but a memory someone else had lived, Gordon had wrestled with it. All of it. Just because he’d killed Patty’s murderer didn’t mean he could go home. He was a hunter now with a family somewhere who cursed his name for not being able to save his sister. This also drove home that fact that there was no triumph in the vampire’s death because Patty was still dead and always would be. Therefore, no peace was had, not even in victory.

The next best thing after being denied peace was having a purpose. That meant destroying every fang he came across. At least it was noble. The bonus was the stories to tell, the people that stayed just far enough away to be impressed and not screw with his solo act. Things were good.

Then he got some bad news.

Something else he’d discovered that no one had ever warned him of was the lengths fangs would go to in order to get off the hook. They were apt to blurt some strange things just before they got cut. Anything to see if they could gain one more second of immortality. One of them even shouted “you’re my mother!” at him. That always got a laugh at the bar. Yet they weren’t all funny.

This bitch had been wreaking havoc upon a dwindling farming community that could barely support itself much less ward off vampires. She had her own personal smorgasbord and was helping herself at every turn. Gordon was damn near giddy about this one, knowing there was no question about how good it felt to do what he did in a moment like this. Then she opened her dirty, blood-stained mouth and said the most god-awful thing.

“Your sister is still alive!”

It was like a blow to the chest, particularly the heart. His brain instantly rejected the idea without even considering it. This was one of those near-death blurts. That was all and nothing more. Yet he was hesitating long enough for her to hurl more nastiness at an even quicker pace.

“You’re Gordon Walker,” she heaved. “The hunter. We know your story. You’re famous. Your sister didn’t die. I’ve seen her.”

His response came without even a blink. “You’re a liar. All fangs are liars.”

“Yeah?” she challenged, and even at the brink of death there was a cockiness to her tone that set his teeth on edge. “Her name is Patricia Walker, but she went by Patty mostly. Dark-skinned like you. Beautiful. She was turned young enough that it makes it pretty easy to get food. All she has to do is sit down on a park bench in the middle of the night and get some crocodile tears going until--”

She wasn’t allowed to finish, because Gordon finished the arc on which his blade had hesitated. Perhaps not the smartest thing he could have done, since he still wasn’t sure where to find Patty, and finding her was now a necessity.

“Alive” was a very relative term, or so he surmised. Vampires called what they did living, but he knew better. If they wanted to play semantics, then he could certainly put it in their terms. He’d rather she “die” than continue on like that. If she was going to “die,” it should be by his hand. Someone else might stop short because she so resembled a young girl. Compassion wasn’t part of this game, and he knew that. Not to mention that this was personal.

Every night was a carving fest with plenty of dead man’s blood to go around. His job sustained him, kept him moving forward, and there was nothing wrong with that. It wouldn’t be long before he found Patty. Maybe she’d recognize him. She might try to use who she once was in her favor. He’d hear that sweet, lyrical voice of hers calling him “big brother”. Those big, dark, doe eyes would spill what that fang had so aptly referred to as crocodile tears. He wouldn’t be moved. He’d heard hunters talk about getting in situations that affected them emotionally where they hadn’t expected it, but Gordon knew what was to come, and he didn’t think it would hurt that much. After all, she was already dead.

Plus, he’d get another story to tell. One that would ensure his spot as a force to be reckoned with and a man to be left alone. He was getting closer everyday. Closer to infamy. Closer to feeling absolutely nothing, and that would feel so good.

The End

Prompt Table: Supernatural

2009-01-20T23:16:20Z

This is not an "official" thing. I merely wanted to try having a prompt table as a way of sparking fresh inspiration for myself. My responses to these prompts may be as little as a paragraph or as long as a chapter story. It could be canon or include my own, fanon characters. We'll see how the mood strikes me. Like I said, this is not official, but I did get the table from ficlets100.

001.	Answer	002.	Bound	003.	Bail	004.	Strip	005.	Conceive
006.	Pour	007.	Dophamine	008.	Chemical	009.	Entrance	010.	Balance
011.	Flake	012.	Snap	013.	Game	014.	Affirmative	015.	High
016.	Long	017.	Ice	018.	Estrange	019.	Joke	020.	Elves
021.	King	022.	Nail	023.	Larvae	024.	Choke	025.	Mandrake
026.	Seep	027.	Naked	028.	Wind	029.	Open	030.	Blind
031.	Pillow	032.	Gas	033.	Queue	034.	Poke	035.	Recieve
036.	Incense	037.	Sugar	038.	Pop	039.	Transmit	040.	Flame
041.	Underworld	042.	Mystery	043.	Veritas	044.	Amulet	045.	Wonder
046.	Phobia	047.	Xenophobia	048.	(Black) Cat	049.	Young	050.	Torture
051.	Zen	052.	Mystic	053.	Action	054.	Medium	055.	Bend
056.	Sunburn	057.	Cape	058.	Complete	059.	Dupe	060.	Savage
061.	Endless	062.	Smirk	063.	Fresh	064.	Struggle	065.	Relocate
066.	Limbo	067.	Defy	068.	Grapple	069.	Insects	070.	Jinx
071.	Garden	072.	Mutate	073.	Virus	074.	Yawn	075.	Evolve
076.	Kindred	077.	Question	078.	Tangible	079.	Whisper	080.	Zodiac
081.	Coffin	082.	Overnight	083.	Restrain	084.	Bitter	085.	Sweet
086.	Forbidden	087.	Amuse	088.	Taste	089.	Never	090.	Unknown
091.	Afar	092.	Dragon	093.	Treasure	094.	Wings	095.	Breathe
096.	Writer's Choice.	097.	Writer's Choice.	098.	Writer's Choice.	099.	Writer's Choice.	100.	Writer's Choice.

Wash Away My Sins: Chapter Four - Supernatural

2009-01-15T18:16:56Z

Title: Wash Away My Sins
Authors: Aratocriel and Jade Blood
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC, OC!villains
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to Kripke and the CW. Nina belongs to Aratocriel, and Janis belongs to me (Jade), so no using them without our permission. We make no profits from this and are just having fun!
Summary: A year after the events of "Unity in Duality", Janis and Nina are a bit savvier regarding the world of the paranormal, but the resurgence of old enemies has left them needing the help of the Winchesters once more.
Previous Chapters: 1 : 2 : 3

Chapter Four

The Impala pulled up to the curb, just outside the gaggle of police tape, cars, and uniformed officers. Dean twisted toward the backseat to face the Janis and Nina, giving them each a look that told them volumes about how much he didn't want them there.

"You girls remember the plan, right?" he asked. "We go in, you give us five minutes, come around to the side window, and we get you in."

"Yes, Dean, we know the plan,” Nina replied sarcastically. “We've only been over it a hundred times."

“Don’t forget to--”

“We got it, babe,” Janis chuckled. “Just go.”

Dean grunted and climbed out of the car with Sam a beat behind. Both of them adjusted the black suits they were wearing and headed towards the house. Flashing their fake FBI badges got them past the “Do Not Cross” tape and into the crime scene. It was apparent from all those milling about that the evidence had been collected, the work done hours ago, but the officers were still staring at the remnants of murder left in this man’s home and sharing bewildered glances. As Janis had known would be the case, these small town cops hadn’t seen anything of this caliber in their careers, and they couldn’t seem to break themselves of its presence.

“How did they find him?” Sam asked one of the officers with no introduction beyond that. He was slipping on rubber gloves as he spoke, preparing more for not leaving his own prints behind than any worry for disturbing the scene.

The officer he’d addressed started and turned. “Oh… The neighbors heard him screaming, called 911, and a cruiser was sent over. Found him…” The officer pointed to the ceiling, “pinned spread-eagle. He was real messed up. Coroner’s got the body.”

“Thanks,” Sam replied with a tense nod, trying not to imagine just how bad “real messed up” could be.

“Okay, party’s over!” Dean roared with enough authority that, though they looked shocked and miffed by the interruption, they didn’t question it. “FBI! We’ve taken over this investigation. My partner and I have to reassess the crime scene, so… Yeah. Clear out!”

They watched him vapidly for a moment, as if not believing what they’d just heard. Sam glanced between Dean and his blank audience then waved his hands in a gesture of dismissal. They moved en mass, grumbling and muttering about how the FBI always did this, just like in the movies, as they went.

Dean frowned at their retreating backs, then quirked his eyebrows at Sam. “Like sheep, man.”

“Important sounding acronyms tend to do that,” Sam snorted, then moved to the window. He peered out and saw Janis and Nina approaching around the back corner of the house. He unlatched the window and raised it, taking Nina’s hand and pulling her inside. Next up was Janis, who he steadied and almost didn’t release, realizing the gruesome sight would affect her most of all.

Janis pulled delicately away, her hand lingering in Sam’s for only a moment, squeezing then dropping from his tender grip. The ceiling was awash with blood, four holes punctured there to mark where Reg had been pinned. The bloody pool on the floor seemed to indicate that there had been more than just a maroon stain there earlier. Had they gutted him? Just how bad had it been? She turned toward the front door and noted that it looked as if it had been kicked in and hung awkwardly off its hinges. Furniture was overturned with streaks of blood adorning the walls as if someone had taken red paint and slashed in haphazard patterns. There were dried shoe prints in the carpet. So much blood she couldn’t fathom Reg having this much in his body.

“I guess that’s the catch,” Janis muttered. “It’s not in his body anymore.”

Placing a gentle hand on Janis's shoulder, Nina glanced over at Sam and Dean. "Alright, what do we need to do first?"

“First?” Dean fished in his pocket and tossed her a pair of rubber gloves. “No prints. We don’t usually worry about that as much as we would here, ‘cause…”

“They’re looking for a scapegoat,” Janis whispered more to herself as she was passed a pair, staring down at the thin rubber as if fascinated by it.

“Right,” Dean replied, watching her until she glanced up at him and then holding her gaze for a moment, as if trying to remind her that he was there and to stay strong.

"So what… we're looking for traces of sulfur?" Nina asked, slipping the gloves on her hands.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "We're pretty sure it was demons, but this will just help assure us."

She moved to the other side of the room, careful to step around the splatters of blood on the floor, her eyes looking for anything that might prove helpful.

Janis stayed in basically one spot and turned to look about her. They’d asked for her to mention anything out of the ordinary, but that was everything at the moment. Her eyes couldn’t seem to settle on anything that wasn’t signs of a struggle.

It was Dean who chanced moving toward the front door where he was within sight of the officers outside. He crouched and ran a finger across the carpet, then inspected the tip of his glove, taking a short whiff of the yellow powder there. “Found it,” he called out. “Sulfur.” He rose again, moving back across the room toward Janis. “Anything?”

“I’d have to get a look around,” she murmured. “The other rooms, maybe?”

“Yeah, I’ll follow you,” Dean nodded, pulling his gun out and motioning ahead of himself with it.

The kitchen was untouched, as was the hallway, and they moved through each space quietly with the sort of gradual ease of a pair that expected the worst to come pouncing on them. They peeked into Reg’s study only to find it in perfect condition. They stopped just in front of the bedroom, and Janis felt her stomach lurch. Of course she’d known this would be the logical place to find something specifically for her or Nina if they were going to.

Dean put his arm out, sweeping her behind him as he kicked at the door. It snapped open, the knob cracking against the wall from the force of his entrance, but there was no one to meet them. Janis pushed her way in beside him, then halted in mid-step, clinging to his arm.

The wall above the bed held a short message, painted in drippy, dark red letters. “A hand for a hand.” Janis glanced down at the angry, nearly black stain on the bedspread.

“How much you wanna bet his hand was right there?” Janis asked softly, yet her voice still shattered the silence.

“I’d take that bet, but I know I’d lose,” Dean growled, turning with her and ushering her out of the room, pulling the door closed as well as he could.

Within the living room, Sam had done all he could by way of investigation. Nina continued the search, and he smiled softly at her efforts. He couldn’t help thinking that she’d make a good hunter if given the chance. She had the tenacity.

His reverie was broken when he heard one of the higher ranking cops in the yard shouting at a rookie, asking why he’d not thought to check those badge numbers. He then went on to roar that even an idiot should be able to tell that “Agents May and Mercury” were obvious aliases. Had he never heard of Queen before?

“Oh shit,” Sam huffed. “Nina, come on…” He took her arm and began dragging her to the back of the house, where he was intercepted by Dean, who was dragging Janis in the opposite direction.

“Hey, what--?” Dean began.

“They checked up on our names,” Sam replied hurriedly. “We gotta move.”

"Everyone out the way Janis and I came in," Nina turned, taking the lead and moving back towards the window. It was just out of sight of the door, but they could hear a ruckus outside as the cops were preparing to come in after them.

Nina slipped through the window with Sam, Janis, and then Dean bringing up the rear.

"The car's where I told you to put it, right?" Dean asked, taking a quick look behind him to make sure they hadn't been spotted as they made their way across the backyard.

"No, drove it to the gas station down the road and left it there," Nina replied tersly, slipping over the chain link fence and into the backyard of Reg's neighbor.

“For your sake, I hope your kidding,” Dean growled.

Janis could hear the thump of footsteps inside Reg’s house and gave a last glance back at the place, then turned to run when she felt Dean tugging her arm. The Impala was safely parked one street over, and they needed only cross the next yard to reach it. They did so at a hurried pace, each of them taking a door and hurling themselves inside.

“Keys!” Dean shouted, reaching into the backseat. “Janis?”

“Nina drove,” Janis informed him.

“I told you to do it!” Dean yelled.

“Give him the keys before he bursts a blood vessel,” Janis sighed, rubbing her temple and leaning against the window. “I am really not in the mood for this…”

Nina flung the keys at Dean who caught them and jammed them into ignition. The Impala roared to life and sped off. Dean took a few side roads, making doubly sure that they hadn't been spotted before heading back to the girl’s house. The car ride was quiet, and Nina kept an eye on Janis, who stared blankly out the window for the duration of the short trip.

When they reached the house, they all hurried inside, each relaxing visibly when the door was locked shut behind them and the salt replaced in front of it.

"Did you guys find anything in the back of the house?" Nina asked, seating herself on the couch. Sam took a seat beside her and looked up expectantly.

Dean glanced at Janis, then seated himself in a worn-in, comfortable chair off to the side. Janis stayed where she was, feeling somewhat cut off as she gathered her thoughts. She wanted Dean’s support, but perhaps she should be strong on her own. She was the one crowing about how she was different, more independent now. Perhaps it was time to put her money where her mouth was rather than run to him at the first signs of distress.

“A message,” she answered Nina at last. “Written in blood. Hand for a hand. And a spot on the covers where… there must have been a severed hand. So not much of a question as to who was behind it. As if there ever was.” She rubbed the back of her neck wearily and shut her eyes.

Nina closed her eyes as well, leaning back into the sofa as a pit formed deep in her stomach. She felt completely responsible for Reg's death. If only she'd had more control over herself… She was pulled from her thoughts by Sam's hand gently squeezing her leg, reassuring her as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"We need to trap them and exorcise them," Nina said matter-of-factly. "There are enough devil’s traps in this house that if we pull the salt away, something is bound to get caught."

Dean shook his head. “That one at the front door? Mrs. Fix-It with the hammer? Saw the trap. They won’t just walk in here like that.”

“There’s nothing else we could use against them?” Janis asked helplessly.

“Anything else would be… a moot point,” Sam answered her. “Exorcising them is all we have. We could always lure them somewhere else. Unfamiliar ground.”

“That would be just as unfamiliar to us,” Dean countered. “Nah, I’m not resorting to that just yet.”

Janis felt her mouth quirk with a hesitant smirk as she asked softly, “Those wheels turning?”

Green eyes cut her way, and he really took her in for the first time since their morning had taken a dark turn. She was spread thin, trying to be braver than she felt, debating with him because she didn’t want to be the scared little girl in this equation. All because she wanted him to be proud of her efforts, to view her as someone equal to him instead of a burden. The way her eyes begged him for some kind of reassurance while her body language was stiff and guarded told him all this. If there was one thing he could do well, beyond any doubt, it was reading people. She needed him now, had since the beginning, and he was starting to feel he’d dropped the ball.

Janis felt scrutinized but said nothing, since she could ask for no finer set of eyes to be so locked on her. His hand rose, his fingers flicking toward himself as he bid her near. Her head dropped to watch her feet as they moved her closer.

“It’s just that Reg was a friend,” she was saying as he caught one of the belt loops on her jeans and tugged. “I bet you already knew it might come to this, but even after all this time, my head isn’t wired to think of these things…”

“Hey, s’all right,” Dean muttered, finally sliding his arms around her and pulling her down into his lap. Her legs were draped across his, and she was huddled against his chest, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry about Reg…” He found it hard to feel any deep sympathy, since the guy was obviously after her affections and Dean had never known him beyond that sad fact. But he could at least say that by way of comforting her.

“He was annoying sometimes,” Janis muttered. “That’s a fucked up thing to say right now, but he was. He was always asking me out on dates, trying to get in my pants, but he meant well. I’d never have wished that on him. I didn’t.”

“This is not your fault,” Dean growled, nearly angry that she should feel the need to shoulder such a burden.

"Honey," Nina spoke up. "This is not something you can in any way blame yourself for. Reg being your friend doesn't make you responsible."

Janis raised her head and snapped, “I should have told him! Warned him about what we knew. Keeping this to ourselves is as bad as murdering him. So yeah, it is my fault.”

“Yeah, and what then?” Dean asked, drawing her attention again. “You think he’d actually believe that demons are holding you two hostage in your own house? Let me tell you from experience, darlin’… He wouldn’t have bought it. Wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

“That doesn’t make it right that I stayed silent,” Janis whispered. “I could have saved him, Dean.”

Her eyes were filling, and Dean found he couldn’t stand to see that. He pulled her tight against him, his fingers tangling in her hair. “You think Sam and I haven’t lost people before? Hey, it happens.” She was crying softly, unable to help herself. “Aww, babe, don’t…”

Nina bit her tongue against the words she wanted to say to Janis. She wanted to tell her she hadn't let him die, that this wasn't her fault. That if Janis wanted someone to blame, then she should blame her, since it was her recklessness that pissed the demon off in the first place. She knew the words would only bring about an argument that would end in Janis being more distressed than she already was, and Nina didn't want that.

With a weary sigh, she pushed herself up off the couch and walked to her bedroom, laying down on the bed and burying her head under her pillow.

Sam watched her go at first, unable to believe how the day had turned so dark within the space of a couple hours. He hoped he wasn’t stepping over any lines as he rose and went after her. He loosened his tie as he went, shedding his blazer. When he entered her room, he draped the jacket over her dresser then eased himself onto the edge of the bed, his hand pressing into her back. For a moment, he simply allowed the warmth of his touch to linger in her as he found the right words.

“Nina,” he rumbled gently. “I know you feel responsible, but that’s just as ridiculous as Janis trying to carry this, and you know it.”

A small smile passed over his face when he heard her try to say something, the words completely muffled. "Sweetie, pillow." He plucked the pillow from the top of her head and set it aside. She rolled over onto her back, staring up at him.

"Sorry." She gave him a soft smile. "What I said was, it is more my fault then Janis's, because if I had controlled my temper, then I wouldn't have gone and pissed off a demon. And he wouldn't be here right now."

“I was there,” he reminded her. “There was no ‘controlling yourself’. We did everything we could, all of us, and those powers proved stronger. The thing that’s most unfair about it is precisely how innocent you both are. Neither of you deserve this.”

"I don't suppose we could tell the demons that? That it was some freak accident, and we didn't mean to. We're sorry, and can we please just forgive and forget?"

“Uh…” Sam laughed. “We could try, but I think your white flag would just burst into flames.”

Nina sighed, adjusting herself so that her head was snuggled into Sam's lap. "There is so much I want to do, yet so little I really can do."

“Definitely add ‘convincing demons they’re mistaken’ to the list of things no one can do,” Sam assured her, his hand moving through her dark hair, pulling stray strands away from her face. “But there are other things we can do. We’re not helpless.” His jaw tightened with anger when he thought of the position they’d been put in. “Trying to corner us was their first mistake. We’ll see to it that it’s their last. I promise.”

The sudden darkness in Sam's eyes made Nina remember that beneath the gentle face and soft hands was an experienced hunter. One who had been through so much, scarified so much, and was willing, yet again, to put his life on the line to help her.

She snaked an arm up and around Sam's neck, pulling him down to her lips. "We should check on Janis and Dean, see what the game plan is for the remainder of the day," she said when they parted.

Sam nodded his agreement and rose with her to make their way back into the living room. They entered in time to see Janis nod to something Dean was relating in a low, intimate voice, something that carried a reassuring air as his hand brushed over her cheek.

“I’m not pissed at you,” Dean murmured. “Okay? I got no reason to be. I just… get mad when shit happens I can’t control. Has nothing to do with you, baby.”

“Okay,” Janis whispered back, her fingers teasing their way into the gaps between the buttons of his shirt. “I don’t mean to be so timid like this…”

“Timid?” Dean smirked. “You walked right into that room with more balls that I’ve seen on most guys. Don’t talk to me about timid.”

Janis snickered at this, then peeked up at Nina. “Hey…” she said softly, a little embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate conversation with Dean, and yet she felt that both Sam and Nina were welcome to know about whatever went on between them.

"Hey," Nina replied, smiling at her friend. "Feeling better?"

“Yeah, I am,” Janis huffed, though her eyes were still red, her tear tracks spread across her face. There were also wet marks against Dean’s shirt. Yet they both ignored them. It was a moment they had shared, and it had passed. Her hand tugged absently at the Dean’s tie as she replied, “And you? I noticed you left…”

"I'm fine," she assured her. "If Sam is willing to go with me, I'd like to run to town." She glanced at Sam who nodded. "I want to stop by the shop, check on people, and we need some things from the store. The demons probably won’t chance anything else today, and we still have a few hours before dark. Should be fine."

“Yeah, okay,” Janis nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stick around the house. That sort of drained me.”

"Of course. You need anything from the store? Some moose tracks ice cream?" Nina grinned.

“Oh, you know me too well,” Janis laughed. “That would be great, actually.”

“Hey, you gonna share?” Dean asked with a bright smile.

“You are such a giant child,” Janis giggled. “But yes. I will. Wait a minute…” She squinted at him. “You’re not going to argue the point? Just gonna let them go?”

“Chances are, the… pack, for lack of a better term, is laying low and plotting their next move,” Sam answered for him. “Reg was just another scare tactic, like the animals they killed before.”

“They’re working their way up the food chain,” Dean agreed. “And if you ask me, they haven’t learned any new tricks. Even if they did want to attack you, broad daylight in a grocery store would be too risky. Demons are dangerous, but even they have a self-preservation streak they can’t ignore. They wouldn’t out themselves in public like that. Besides… It’s beer.”

Janis rolled her eyes, then smirked up at Nina. “Thank you.”

"Not a problem, and Dean, I'll make sure to bring back extra beer for you." She smirked at him as his grin widened. "See you before dark. Call my cell if you need anything else." With that, she snatched up her keys and purse, and she and Sam headed out.

To Be Continued...

"Burning Empty" - Uriel and Castiel - Supernatural

2009-01-11T17:17:55Z

Title: Burning Empty
Author: Jade Blood
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Uriel and Castiel, mentions Dean, Sam, and Anna
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong to Kripke and the CW. I'm just having some fun and making no money, mind you.
Summary: How should an angel be expected to act when they were created to act as God's wrath?

He spent several centuries burning. Not personally. He was no hellbound fool. No, he was God’s flame. The torch that God stretched out toward sinful lands, Uriel flickered at the end of it. Those were good days, productive. Since then, he’d begun to feel overlooked and lazy, but things were picking up. There was work to do, sinners to punish. Just like the good ole days.

Every time excitement (he thought the emotion was excitement, though it might have been better described as readiness) entered his voice at such prospects, Castiel became reproachful. He allowed the chastisement, because Castiel had not learned one of the first lessons Uriel had been treated to: humans were ungrateful. God gave them everything. They had a world to do with what they saw fit, and they chose to destroy it. They were given rules, but it was up to them to follow. They had His unconditional love and needn’t strive to obtain it, but they rejected Him without thought. He cried tears of blood, wore thorns, and allowed Himself to be nailed to a tree, but they still doubted and spat on His name.

They weren’t worth the clay they were molded from.

Castiel looked upon children and saw hope. He told Uriel glowingly of how Dean, his pet project, had seen the same things. He claimed that must mean something. And off he would go to brood some more. Uriel merely scoffed behind his back, looking upon those same children and wondering when they would grow too old to believe in the “fairy tale” of God. Perhaps they’d not even heard the story at all, and by the time they did, they would act the way Castiel’s precious human had: disregarding what was right in front of him and acting as though he was owed something God had not already given.

Uriel wore a smile now, the look comfortably smug. He liked human faces, the way they moved to accommodate conversations and relate what was happening beneath to a fine point. And yet he resented needing this muddy suit to walk the earth. It was quaint but beneath him, and that went for both himself and Castiel. Still, this wasn’t what was primarily on his mind.

“Are you proud of how Dean Winchester has acted?” he mocked in a rumbling tone. “The Lord has chosen some very flawed men throughout the ages, but I don’t recall any of them lying with a fugitive angel in the backseat of a muscle car. That can’t possibly sit well, Castiel.”

Castiel lifted deep, grey eyes toward Uriel, his face belying whatever might lurk beneath. “You were gifted many things, Uriel, but I have learned compassion was not one of them.”

“Compassion would have only slowed my work,” Uriel replied coolly. “I’m grateful to have been spared it. Unlike some who appear to have an abundance.”

Those swirling storm eyes flitted away again, staring into some unknowable distance. Uriel knew he was being dismissed but wouldn’t allow it.

“And his brother,” he added, his voice greater in volume, as if daring Castiel to ignore him. “Talk was in Sam’s favor, dubbing him the kindhearted, intelligent half. I was told of how he immersed himself in meditation and prayer. Even the devout among these creatures is disappointing.”

“Would you have the Father hear you speak of His work this way?” Castiel questioned, still enjoying a long stare away from Uriel. “I’m certain He would disapprove.”

“You speak of Him as though you’ve met Him,” Uriel reminded, his voice bitterly sweet. “The truth is you’ve not. So how can you speak on His behalf?”

“If He has put these tasks in Dean’s hands, then He has done it for a reason,” Castiel said. “There’s wisdom in it.”

“There is no wisdom in trusting man,” Uriel countered. He stepped up between Castiel and his staring spot, forcing the other to meet his eyes. “Between the two of us, I’ve seen their wickedness fully realized in ways that you apparently don’t have the ability to fathom. God cannot look upon sin, so I do it for Him, and the things I’ve seen…”

“It is a burden I would not ask to carry,” Castiel admitted. “And Dean has done some… dubious things so far, but he is attempting the right path.”

“And the business with Anna?” Uriel asked.

If Castiel didn’t know better, he would say that Uriel’s intention was to be cruel to him. He was both apart from it and vaguely offended. Even he wasn’t sure he understood how that “business” made him feel. There was a bond between Anna and Dean, and watching it, knowing he’d been Anna’s compatriot longer than Dean could ever hope to be, made him feel just how numb he was if that were possible. The way she’d told him he couldn’t really apologize had stung, as well. Insult to injury. Yet even then, he felt like a stone attempting to breathe. He had characteristics, not emotions, and the most he could muster now was righteous indignation.

“Our focus should be on the seals,” Castiel said stalwartly, his eyes wide and challenging. “If she shows herself, we will act. That’s all that can or should be done. It shouldn’t be dwelt on.”

“Then stop thinking of it,” Uriel spat in return, disdain permeating every pore as he turned to walk away.

Had he enjoyed that? Uriel didn’t enjoy anything. He received satisfaction from his work, and even that was a loose term for something only one of his stature could understand. Was that pull in his chest regret for what he’d just said to a friend? No, that couldn’t be. He was a flicker of fire, and nothing more. He didn’t feel. He only burned.

The End

Icon Meme!

2009-01-09T05:39:19Z

MAH ICONS.

default	oldest	newest


saddest	happiest	angriest


cutest	sexiest	funniest


fave ship	fave fandom	fave animated
		n/a

best quote	best textless	best stolen idea


use the most	favorite

HOW MANY ICONS DO YOU HAVE: 62
OUT OF HOW MANY AVAILABLE ICONS SPACES: 105
IF YOU COULD BUY SPACE FOR MORE, WOULD YOU: For now, I'm good. ;)
DO YOUR ICONS MAKE A STATEMENT: That I like having icons for my original character, hehe.
WHAT FANDOM DO YOU HAVE THE MOST ICONS OF: Supernatural
AND THE SECOND MOST: Heroes
WHAT SHIP DO YOU HAVE THE MOST ICONS OF: Dean/Janis and Dean/Jeanie (I like "J" names)
ARE YOUR ICONS MADE MOSTLY BY OTHER PEOPLE: Nope, these are mostly by me
DO YOU MAKE ICONS: Obviously ;)
ARE THEY ANY GOOD: I like to think so
ANIMATED ICONS ARE: LOVE!

DO THE MEME.
Coding can be found here